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The following is a quick one shot piece I did for a contest. The contest itself was rather open. Write two stories, both of them linked together in some fashion, but the first one could be only 20 words. I decided to do my pieces as a lead up into my War of the Damned story. I ended up winning fifth place out of somewhere between 15 and 20 pieces. Anyway, here I present the finished products to the community here. Enjoy.
And ye can comment on this page. They're finished.
Story 1 - Secrets Under Blood
Lurking in shadows beneath the moon, secrets hidden from the eyes of man. Hide them beneath a blanket of blood.
Elishka pulled her hood forward as it started to slip back, casting a shadow across a face obscured by a black cloth wrapped tightly around her features. She dared not look up, where the glowing flame of the sun awaited, seeking to burn the flesh from her bones. With cloak billowing behind her, she kept her heels pressed into the flanks of her horse, galloping across the French country side towards her goal; a lonely little estate with nothing around but empty and rolling hills.
She hated traveling by day, she hated having to wrap herself so that only her eyes and the bridge of her nose showed itself. It was uncomfortable, and despite what she was, sweat soaked into the heavy brown cloth of her tunic. It was better than the alternative however, and no one who wished her kind eradicated would think that one of them would be riding in broad daylight.
Pulling on the reins to direct the horse off the ill kept Roman road, and onto what could scarcely be called a dirt path. Regardless, it was the easiest way to get to her destination without losing herself amongst the endless trees and fields between villages and towns.
The sun had reached its peak in the sky above before she slowed her mount to a slow trot, moving through the opening in the short stone fence surrounding a single house. Flames hungrily curled up what remained of the walls, and the roof had collapsed into the interior long before she arrived. Smoke rose into the sky like an angry serpent, partially obscuring that damn sun. Two men stood before the burning building, one dressed in the robes of a priest with a crucifix in hand and shouting prayers to God above. The other wore a tattered traveling cloak, with long dark, unkempt hair, and most importantly, a sword sheathed at his hip.
Neither of the two noticed Elishka as she guided her horse towards the well dug in the middle of the fenced off courtyard, nor did they pay attention to the charred body lying on the ground behind them. Though, with the wooden stake plunged through its ribcage, paying attention was not needed.
Dismounting, Elishka patted her own sword tied to a bundle on the horse's saddle, before pushing the bucket perched on the stone edge of the well, down to the water below.
The priest continued to chant, but the other turned, hand resting on his sword as he looked this new arrival over. Elishka paid him no mind as she began to lift the bucket, satisfied with the weight that it was indeed full of water.
"This is a dangerous place traveler. What brings you here?" the man asked, fingers tapping the hilt of his weapon. He had a near perfect grasp of French, but his accent sounded Germanic.
"A drink, and a rest for my horse. But I have not heard of brigands in this area that would make it so dangerous," Elishka said slowly, ignoring the burning house that this man had more than likely been the cause of. Her words caused him to startle slightly, not from content, but as her voice revealed her to be a woman. The man to his credit recovered quickly.
"The danger is not of man my lady, but of the undead. Vampires stalk these lands, and you are far from any refuge. You will not make it to safety before nightfall," the man said.
So he was a vampire hunter. There were quite a few of them popping up across Europe, and they had the support of the church. That explained the priest's presence, and his words of damning the slain man's soul as vile and evil. Elishka could not help but wonder to herself if there were any priests who followed the word of Christ.
"It looks like he is dead. How is that dangerous?"
The priest stopped his prayers, an abrupt end punctuated by a wall falling into the inferno, a shower of sparks spraying up into the air, and soon diminishing. The robed man turned, pulling his cross closer to his chest. It was a pretty thing, made of gold and emblazoned with a solid emerald in the centre. Elishka wondered how many starving mouths the coin from selling that thing would feed.
"The body is dead, but the unholy taint this blasphemous demon left here must be cleansed," he said, and the other man rolled his eyes, as if he didn't believe a word of it. His lot was to kill, and be damned whatever soul was within. Poor ignorant sod.
"More may dwell in this region, indeed I'm sure of it," the hunter said, clenching a fist.
"Well... I may need protection then," Elishka said in the most sexual tone she could muster. It came out husky and coarse. She needed work on her seduction. Still, as the words came out, she moved closer to the man, and he took a step forward as if to embrace her; it had been enough.
"Of course I shall," he said, arms reaching out wide.
The dagger was pulled from its sheath in the small of her back, and plunged into the hunter's throat before he even registered that the woman had a weapon. Pulling the steel blade free, blood spurting from the opening in the flesh, the hunter grasped at the wound. While blood seeped between his fingers the priest began to babble out prayers, holding up his crucifix like a shield.
Elishka stabbed the man a second time as he tried to reach for his sword, crimson staining his lips and rolling down over his chin. The sight made her thirsty. Her tongue flicked across the fangs in her jaws, feeling the sharp tips press against her own flesh. With her foot she kicked the hunter in the chest, and he sprawled across the dust, his blood turning it to patches of mud.
Gaze snapping to the priest, the cloaked woman walked towards him, ignoring the cross, not hearing his words.
"Demon, step away. You can not harm the lord's work," he sputtered, almost crying as fear took him. Elishka grasped him by the back of the head, gloved fingers curling through what little hair he had left, and forced him to look at the charred body.
"Look there holy man. Where in your book did Christ, who himself rose from the dead, ever say to treat a man like that?" she said, as she herself took in the look of agony on the burnt features. Of course, how could he look anything but in pain with most of his distinguishing marks turned to black?
The priest cried in way of answer, and was rewarded with a back handed slap across the face, splitting his lip. His wails got louder.
"Answer me damn you," Elishka demanded, her grasp tightening, fingers digging into his scalp.
None was forth coming, and she sighed, before stabbing the sobbing man in the stomach. She felt hot blood gush forth around her dagger, soaking into her gloves, before pulling the blade free. His sobs were replaced by pained gasps, and his body went almost completely slack. He was easy to drag, his sandals diggings rivets in the dirt. The crucifix fell from limp hands, falling into the hunter's blood, smearing the emerald as a ruby. Elishka pushed the body into the still burning wreckage, and that's when the screams started.
She stood where had before, as he prayed for God to take the dead vampire's soul, and burn it for eternity, and she watched him burn for the remainder of his life. Limbs flailed, and clothing burnt away leaving the priest naked as his skin peeled and his blood boiled.
The screams eventually died, so only the crackle of the inferno filled Elishka's ears. She wanted to say something, but no words came to her lips, her actions had been enough.
Grabbing a small pack off her horse, it was time for her to do what she had hoped not to. She had obviously been too late to save Philippe. While there was no true sadness in her heart as she knelt by his body, it pained her that he could have been saved if she had been only a little faster in getting here. Letting out a sigh she reached out with her bloody glove and pushed back the dead vampire's upper lip.
She ignored the blackened flesh sliding off the charred skull beneath, instead focusing on the fangs she had revealed. Pulling a small hammer and a chisel from her back Elishka took a deep breath. She hated this part the most, it made her cringe, as if she could feel the pain that the dead could not.
The tip of the chisel settled over one of the fangs' base, where the gums would have been. A single sturdy tap with the hammer cracked the tooth from the skull, falling into his mouth. She ran her tongue over her own fangs again, to make sure they were still there as a subconscious feeling starting to throb in her forward jaw. Repeating the process with the second fang, and now all she had to do was pull the teeth out. She reached between his jaws, frozen open in eternal agony, and accidentally pushed down on the lower mandible.
There was an audible crack as skin broke and bone dislocated, and the lower portion of his head swung down to touch his neck. Elishka shuddered, but pulled the fangs out and pocketed them. Sure she could bury them right here and it would be unlikely that anyone would find them, but she had to be sure that no one would.
She tried in vain to close his mouth, and only managed to remove the jaw completely. She let it drop then straightened her back. The hammer and chisel were pushed back into their pouch and her eyes closed gently. Two of her fingers pressed against her forehead, chest, then both shoulders before coming together.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. May you find peace of the arms of God Philippe. Amen," she said in a whisper. It was no true prayer, but she was sure Christ would approve of that much, even as he frowned upon her killings.
She stood, leaving the body for the next traveling to come along and discover. Her attention once again turned to the hunter, laying in his own blood, limp hand lying uselessly on his torn throat. She spotted a cross hanging from a chain around his neck. She reached down and pulled it off, and began searching his body for any valuables. While she didn't necessarily need them, she wanted this to look like bandits, or mercenaries. People who would not leave behind anything that could help line their pockets with coin.
All she found was a small purse that jingled with gold as she shook it. Slipping it into her pocket alongside her tools she looked around for the crucifix the priest had been wielding. Little good it did him against another Christian. She easily found it, and wiped the blood off before slipping it into her belt.
She walked back to her horse, who had nudged the water bucket back into the well. She had no words for the men she killed, for their souls were being judged even as she climbed up onto her mount, who neighed in discomfort.
"Don't you start whining, we have a long ways to go yet, and I still need to feed," she berated the horse, pulling out a scroll she had stashed away.
She broke the red wax seal and unrolled the parchment, taking in the neat handwriting from the clerk of the council, and signed by one Lord Von Kessel, one of the eldest vampires on the council.
War was brewing in the east, even as the Crusades waged in the holy land, forces were beginning to move against the council, and humanity as a whole. Someone was overstepping their bounds, and the knights of the damned were being summoned. Philippe had been one of them, but the hunters had found him. The next she was to retrieve was in the north.
"Scotland... damn it," she muttered and pushed the scroll away once more, and checked to ensure she had indeed sheathed her dagger after slaying the two men.
Satisfied with her work here, Elishka turned her horse and rode off under the blazing sun. Behind her she left no trace of her kind, and the secrets of the damned would live on only in rumour.
And ye can comment on this page. They're finished.
Story 1 - Secrets Under Blood
Lurking in shadows beneath the moon, secrets hidden from the eyes of man. Hide them beneath a blanket of blood.
Story 2 - Secrets Under Sun
Elishka pulled her hood forward as it started to slip back, casting a shadow across a face obscured by a black cloth wrapped tightly around her features. She dared not look up, where the glowing flame of the sun awaited, seeking to burn the flesh from her bones. With cloak billowing behind her, she kept her heels pressed into the flanks of her horse, galloping across the French country side towards her goal; a lonely little estate with nothing around but empty and rolling hills.
She hated traveling by day, she hated having to wrap herself so that only her eyes and the bridge of her nose showed itself. It was uncomfortable, and despite what she was, sweat soaked into the heavy brown cloth of her tunic. It was better than the alternative however, and no one who wished her kind eradicated would think that one of them would be riding in broad daylight.
Pulling on the reins to direct the horse off the ill kept Roman road, and onto what could scarcely be called a dirt path. Regardless, it was the easiest way to get to her destination without losing herself amongst the endless trees and fields between villages and towns.
The sun had reached its peak in the sky above before she slowed her mount to a slow trot, moving through the opening in the short stone fence surrounding a single house. Flames hungrily curled up what remained of the walls, and the roof had collapsed into the interior long before she arrived. Smoke rose into the sky like an angry serpent, partially obscuring that damn sun. Two men stood before the burning building, one dressed in the robes of a priest with a crucifix in hand and shouting prayers to God above. The other wore a tattered traveling cloak, with long dark, unkempt hair, and most importantly, a sword sheathed at his hip.
Neither of the two noticed Elishka as she guided her horse towards the well dug in the middle of the fenced off courtyard, nor did they pay attention to the charred body lying on the ground behind them. Though, with the wooden stake plunged through its ribcage, paying attention was not needed.
Dismounting, Elishka patted her own sword tied to a bundle on the horse's saddle, before pushing the bucket perched on the stone edge of the well, down to the water below.
The priest continued to chant, but the other turned, hand resting on his sword as he looked this new arrival over. Elishka paid him no mind as she began to lift the bucket, satisfied with the weight that it was indeed full of water.
"This is a dangerous place traveler. What brings you here?" the man asked, fingers tapping the hilt of his weapon. He had a near perfect grasp of French, but his accent sounded Germanic.
"A drink, and a rest for my horse. But I have not heard of brigands in this area that would make it so dangerous," Elishka said slowly, ignoring the burning house that this man had more than likely been the cause of. Her words caused him to startle slightly, not from content, but as her voice revealed her to be a woman. The man to his credit recovered quickly.
"The danger is not of man my lady, but of the undead. Vampires stalk these lands, and you are far from any refuge. You will not make it to safety before nightfall," the man said.
So he was a vampire hunter. There were quite a few of them popping up across Europe, and they had the support of the church. That explained the priest's presence, and his words of damning the slain man's soul as vile and evil. Elishka could not help but wonder to herself if there were any priests who followed the word of Christ.
"It looks like he is dead. How is that dangerous?"
The priest stopped his prayers, an abrupt end punctuated by a wall falling into the inferno, a shower of sparks spraying up into the air, and soon diminishing. The robed man turned, pulling his cross closer to his chest. It was a pretty thing, made of gold and emblazoned with a solid emerald in the centre. Elishka wondered how many starving mouths the coin from selling that thing would feed.
"The body is dead, but the unholy taint this blasphemous demon left here must be cleansed," he said, and the other man rolled his eyes, as if he didn't believe a word of it. His lot was to kill, and be damned whatever soul was within. Poor ignorant sod.
"More may dwell in this region, indeed I'm sure of it," the hunter said, clenching a fist.
"Well... I may need protection then," Elishka said in the most sexual tone she could muster. It came out husky and coarse. She needed work on her seduction. Still, as the words came out, she moved closer to the man, and he took a step forward as if to embrace her; it had been enough.
"Of course I shall," he said, arms reaching out wide.
The dagger was pulled from its sheath in the small of her back, and plunged into the hunter's throat before he even registered that the woman had a weapon. Pulling the steel blade free, blood spurting from the opening in the flesh, the hunter grasped at the wound. While blood seeped between his fingers the priest began to babble out prayers, holding up his crucifix like a shield.
Elishka stabbed the man a second time as he tried to reach for his sword, crimson staining his lips and rolling down over his chin. The sight made her thirsty. Her tongue flicked across the fangs in her jaws, feeling the sharp tips press against her own flesh. With her foot she kicked the hunter in the chest, and he sprawled across the dust, his blood turning it to patches of mud.
Gaze snapping to the priest, the cloaked woman walked towards him, ignoring the cross, not hearing his words.
"Demon, step away. You can not harm the lord's work," he sputtered, almost crying as fear took him. Elishka grasped him by the back of the head, gloved fingers curling through what little hair he had left, and forced him to look at the charred body.
"Look there holy man. Where in your book did Christ, who himself rose from the dead, ever say to treat a man like that?" she said, as she herself took in the look of agony on the burnt features. Of course, how could he look anything but in pain with most of his distinguishing marks turned to black?
The priest cried in way of answer, and was rewarded with a back handed slap across the face, splitting his lip. His wails got louder.
"Answer me damn you," Elishka demanded, her grasp tightening, fingers digging into his scalp.
None was forth coming, and she sighed, before stabbing the sobbing man in the stomach. She felt hot blood gush forth around her dagger, soaking into her gloves, before pulling the blade free. His sobs were replaced by pained gasps, and his body went almost completely slack. He was easy to drag, his sandals diggings rivets in the dirt. The crucifix fell from limp hands, falling into the hunter's blood, smearing the emerald as a ruby. Elishka pushed the body into the still burning wreckage, and that's when the screams started.
She stood where had before, as he prayed for God to take the dead vampire's soul, and burn it for eternity, and she watched him burn for the remainder of his life. Limbs flailed, and clothing burnt away leaving the priest naked as his skin peeled and his blood boiled.
The screams eventually died, so only the crackle of the inferno filled Elishka's ears. She wanted to say something, but no words came to her lips, her actions had been enough.
Grabbing a small pack off her horse, it was time for her to do what she had hoped not to. She had obviously been too late to save Philippe. While there was no true sadness in her heart as she knelt by his body, it pained her that he could have been saved if she had been only a little faster in getting here. Letting out a sigh she reached out with her bloody glove and pushed back the dead vampire's upper lip.
She ignored the blackened flesh sliding off the charred skull beneath, instead focusing on the fangs she had revealed. Pulling a small hammer and a chisel from her back Elishka took a deep breath. She hated this part the most, it made her cringe, as if she could feel the pain that the dead could not.
The tip of the chisel settled over one of the fangs' base, where the gums would have been. A single sturdy tap with the hammer cracked the tooth from the skull, falling into his mouth. She ran her tongue over her own fangs again, to make sure they were still there as a subconscious feeling starting to throb in her forward jaw. Repeating the process with the second fang, and now all she had to do was pull the teeth out. She reached between his jaws, frozen open in eternal agony, and accidentally pushed down on the lower mandible.
There was an audible crack as skin broke and bone dislocated, and the lower portion of his head swung down to touch his neck. Elishka shuddered, but pulled the fangs out and pocketed them. Sure she could bury them right here and it would be unlikely that anyone would find them, but she had to be sure that no one would.
She tried in vain to close his mouth, and only managed to remove the jaw completely. She let it drop then straightened her back. The hammer and chisel were pushed back into their pouch and her eyes closed gently. Two of her fingers pressed against her forehead, chest, then both shoulders before coming together.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. May you find peace of the arms of God Philippe. Amen," she said in a whisper. It was no true prayer, but she was sure Christ would approve of that much, even as he frowned upon her killings.
She stood, leaving the body for the next traveling to come along and discover. Her attention once again turned to the hunter, laying in his own blood, limp hand lying uselessly on his torn throat. She spotted a cross hanging from a chain around his neck. She reached down and pulled it off, and began searching his body for any valuables. While she didn't necessarily need them, she wanted this to look like bandits, or mercenaries. People who would not leave behind anything that could help line their pockets with coin.
All she found was a small purse that jingled with gold as she shook it. Slipping it into her pocket alongside her tools she looked around for the crucifix the priest had been wielding. Little good it did him against another Christian. She easily found it, and wiped the blood off before slipping it into her belt.
She walked back to her horse, who had nudged the water bucket back into the well. She had no words for the men she killed, for their souls were being judged even as she climbed up onto her mount, who neighed in discomfort.
"Don't you start whining, we have a long ways to go yet, and I still need to feed," she berated the horse, pulling out a scroll she had stashed away.
She broke the red wax seal and unrolled the parchment, taking in the neat handwriting from the clerk of the council, and signed by one Lord Von Kessel, one of the eldest vampires on the council.
War was brewing in the east, even as the Crusades waged in the holy land, forces were beginning to move against the council, and humanity as a whole. Someone was overstepping their bounds, and the knights of the damned were being summoned. Philippe had been one of them, but the hunters had found him. The next she was to retrieve was in the north.
"Scotland... damn it," she muttered and pushed the scroll away once more, and checked to ensure she had indeed sheathed her dagger after slaying the two men.
Satisfied with her work here, Elishka turned her horse and rode off under the blazing sun. Behind her she left no trace of her kind, and the secrets of the damned would live on only in rumour.
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