Hunters - The Tyrant Prophet. Chp 7

The Tyrant Prophet

Under Construction


The sun was nearly set when the black clad figure that Barros had seen briefly on the mountain appeared. As the Vampire approached the birds stopped chirping however the Highlanders, who had been chanting for the last hour, reached a climax chanting louder and faster than they had done before.

The figure stopped with its small entourage of three others and the Highlanders as one fell down on both knees. Barros saw Rowan’s men loosen their axes as they did. The black horned helmet gazed over the assembled Highlanders, satisfied it then made its way to the altar that was raised like a stage at the eastern side of the grounds. Before reaching the altar, the figure stopped once more stretching out his hand towards it.

Suddenly two enormous red flames leapt into the air and bastions filled with wood continued to burn. ‘Magic or trickery’, thought Barros. Vampires where known to have little magic usage at their disposal. The black clad figure reached the altar and raised its hands towards outstretched to the crowd. The sudden silence was deafening as all Highlanders had abruptly stopped chanting. A flowing and commanding voice swept across the grounds. It was dripped in a sour sweet substance that enchanted anyone that listened to it.

‘Brothers and sisters! We have been threatened from outside our ancestral mountains. The two that have been captured will soon be executed to show that we are not a people to be reckoned with. Some of you are concerned that the Shaman and the ancestors will not approve of our actions here today…’

The leader’s voice trailed off as Barros caught sight of Piero nodding at him. ‘Today we march on the rest of Taagras’, as Barros’s crossbow came to bear on his target. The bolt flew towards the black helmet, high enough to drop into the flesh that may be exposed. Another three bolts followed seconds after as a roar erupted from Piero and Rowan’s men. Axes rang on axes covering Piero from blows that might cut him down. Barros’s bolts had covered the several hundred meter leap to their targets and bought two to their knees in an increasingly large pool of blood.

Seeing his manservant’s dead the assailant leapt up onto the building directly behind him. Piero broke away from the fighting, retreating chasing down the Vampire. The remaining bodyguard stood to defend his master’s retreat. Barros’s fifth bolt took him in the throat. Using his remaining bolt on a Highlander, Barros reloaded and jumped off the gazebo sprinting after Piero.

Rowan’s now nineteen men stood shoulder to shoulder against the rest of their village. Shouts of ‘For the Shaman’ continued to be voiced. They would be cut to shreds if the Vampire was not killed soon. Barros doubled his efforts.

Running past the altar Barros came to a crossroad and turned left, to find Piero on the ground, back against a wall, his sword over a meter away and the helmet of the Vampire much closer, its fangs exposed under the mouthguard. Piero was unconscious and unable to save himself. Blood trickled from a small gash on his forehead.

Without hesitation and a new magazine in the crossbow, Barros fired three bolts in rapid succession. The first two sunk into the black helmet and the third buried itself into its left shoulder. The Fyndfire on the bolts did not ignite, this Vampire was a Count. It could contain the fire inside itself as Sophia had done.

Running forward unsheathing his sword as he ran, Barros raised his right foot and aimed a kick at his foe. The Vampire had turned and braced itself however it was too late. The studded leather boot caught the Vampire on the chin and sent it sprawling backwards, removing the helmet.

Barros followed it, holding the sword to its throat when it landed. This Vampire had taken the form of a Highlander, in his mid thirties with black hair. Scars ran down almost his whole face, barely visible underneath the burns that masked it. A hideous sight to be sure, why it had worn the helmet.

‘Why this village?’ demanded Barros. ‘What for, it’s insignificant’.

‘Ah, do you not know Barros Toldar? The man, so powerful one would think he is a Dreyth himself. The man who will bring every Dreyth in Taagras and beyond to his so called justice through his son. Yet one day you will fear him like the rest of us. What will you do then I wonder? Kill him? Or keep running from him like you are doing now’.

‘What are the Dreyth of which you speak, fiend?’

‘You know what I mean’, it spat out. ‘I speak from the old tongue, now forgotten to all but those who have reached my age. A Dreyth is half of your son’s being. A Dreyth is mine, as it is your wife’s. Yes, she fled past here. What a right state you put her in. A Dreyth in time will soon be your essence to, Barros Toldar’, it said staring at Barros’s neck.

The fiend’s eyes quickly turned red as the locked onto the location where Sophia’s fangs had scraped against him. Instinct drove Barros to slap what felt like two large mosquitoes biting him. He drew his hand away and found it covered in blood. The Vampire smiled a wolf’s smile at him.

‘You should soon begin to feel the changes occurring inside you. They will hurt at first, but after that the pain will decrease substantially. I’d suggest getting your son as far away from yourself as possible, for he will always be stronger than you. But I wonder, how will your friend feel once he has learnt of your betrayal to your order?’

‘Enough of the bullshit!’ shouted Barros and his sword came down upon the fiend’s neck severing it from the torso in the blink of an eye. Maroon and black blood oozed from both sides of where the sword had cut. The Fyndfire that Rowan had coated onto the sword did its job penetrating the outer layer of skin which protected the Vampire from normal weapons.

The job was finished and any threat that this small, insignificant village posed to the rest of the world. Hopefully the Highlanders would be left in peace however Barros could see potential in the men that Rowan had led into battle. He hoped they would be able to become Hunters. Barros would have to speak to Rowan on the matter. Or perhaps Piero could. Either way the men would be recruited.

Barros left the smouldering body of the Vampire where it lay, and collected his equipment. Piero was still unconscious however his pulse was still strong. Barros also gathered his partners gear and left it in the appropriate slots. Once Piero was kitted up, Barros lifted his friend onto his back and made way for the center of the village. The Highlanders mingled with each other like they were at a party. Rowan spotted Piero upon Barros’s back and came rushing over his battleaxe chipped and cut from the fighting.

‘Is he alright?’ Rowan asked helping Barros put him down gently on the ground. Barros nodded. ‘A herbalist is here if he needs anything. I can’t thank you enough for the service you have done here for my people’, sweeping Barros into a tight embrace. ‘Is there anything I can do to repay you?’

‘Actually now that you mention it there is’, replied Barros now holding Rowan by the shoulders looking into his eyes. ‘I want you to come out of retirement and for you to bring your men with you’.

‘No’, he said a taken back. ‘That is too much to ask for. Not with Bianca and my son here. I couldn’t take them with me, you know the rules of Hunting. That’s why I suspect you are taking your son to Malvrok. Yes I know’, he said at Barros’s raised eyebrows. ‘My men will go with you however. Wherever you will lead, they will follow’.

‘You’re going to abandon them without a leader?’ asked Barros. ‘They want glory as much as you do. Go talk to Bianca and bring Abner back with your answer’, said Barros. ‘I’ll attend to Piero’.

Rowan returned shortly with the baby Abner in his arms, and a slight smile on his ragged face. He handed Abner back to his father and took a step backwards. He was pleased with something.

‘Here is your son. Bianca said I can come with you’, he announced. ‘On one condition though. She wants me to have six month leave every year to come visit her and my son. Besides I can keep an eye on things when I’m here’.

‘How old is your boy?’ enquired Piero.

‘He’s just fourteen. You want him to join, don’t you?’

‘No, not just yet. He’s got to meet the board’s age requirements. They’ve really cracked down on that since you left the age limit. Lost us a fair few recruits, mind you. Minimum of fifteen years new recruits have to be. And that’s not mentioning the year of intensive training if they haven’t proven themselves with at least the basics of survival’.

‘He’ll be fine then won’t he? Bianca is really worried’, said Rowan.

‘Of course he will. With his bloodline I’d expect him to do quite well. He can join us when summer breaks upon us. Or does Bianca want to send him to a closer Huntrey?’

‘No she wants to send him to wherever I’m going. That much is final’, said Rowan.

‘Good. We will expect you to arrive at West Anacore in two months from now. That should give us enough time to fill in all the paperwork and the like’, said Piero with a quick grin flashing his teeth. ‘The Gods only know how much is needed for a reinstatement. Barros and I ride at first light tomorrow’.