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Jackie @sinfulwolf

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War of the Damned Chapter 10: Game of Wood and Flesh

Posted by sinfulwolf - October 17th, 2010


I said I'd get chapter 10 out sooner than 9, and here it is. Bit longer, and starting to implement a few new directions I've decided to take the plot in. I hope you all enjoy.

In personal news, I'll be helping to judge the literary portion of all the Halloween entries here on Newgrounds. For any writers out there, I recommend trying to put something up and get your name out there. I may do a Halloween special for Blood of the Damned, but I promise nothing in case I can't deliver on time.

I'll also be doing a sketch of Gwenhwyfar's sword 'Caledfwlch' that I will be uploading here for anyone curious about how the sword looks in my mind... mostly.

*edit* The sketch is completed, you can find it via my profile.

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Previous Chapter

Chapter 10: Game of Wood and Flesh

Alan's eyes opened to the sunlight trying to pierce the fabric of his tent. The scouts were all still deep in sleep, gently snoring as the knight quietly got up from his cot and buckled his belt around his waist, feeling more comfortable with the weight of his sword pulling down against his hip.

The muted chatter of morning in the Saracen camp greeted him as he stepped into the desert air, the heat already shimmering above the rocks that surrounded this sanctuary. The sun had only just crested above the small cliffs, making him squint against its brightness. One of the Afghans were silhouetted against the blazing orb, and Alan could not tell what the nomad was looking at.

Raising an arm to try and block out the worst of the light, Alan spotted Salaam in the largest tent of the camp, the sides rolled up to offer free access, but still a welcome reprieve in its shade. The Saracen warrior was sitting at a small table and as Alan entered the tent he noted the chessboard sitting atop it. The pieces were beautifully carved from wood, but they showed the wear of the desert. The paint was starting to chip and peel away and what were once sharp angular edges were starting to lose their shape.

"Do you play friend?" Salaam said waving his hand towards the board.

It had been a few days since the unveiling of the undead creature, and even Curtis had been able to see these Muslims as allies. Alan couldn't even bring himself to call them heathens anymore, even when he watched them go to prayer with the rising and setting of the sun. It was alien to him, but somehow fascinating.

"My father taught me. He said that it was not merely a game for kings, but of all warriors," Alan said sitting himself opposite Salaam, adjusting his sword so it sat comfortably.

"Wise words," Salaam said, turning the board so that the white pieces faced Alan, who frowned as he looked down at the figures.

"But I must admit that these do not look the same as I recall," the knight said picking up the vizier piece, or what he assumed was the vizier.

"This is much closer to the Persian game. I assure you though that despite appearances the rules are much the same," Salaam said to which Alan responded by replacing the vizier and moving one of his knights from behind the protective wall of pawns. Salaam raised an eyebrow before settling his fingers on a pawn of his own.

"Sounds much like our two worlds," Alan said, pushing a pawn forward, freeing a path for his vizier and his bishop. In his mind he wondered if the Saracen across from him had different names for these pieces he was so used to. For a moment he remembered the smell of a damp rainy day back in England, his father towering above him as he carefully explained the pieces and their moves, and how they tied to warriors on the battlefield.

'Everything is expendable to a king my boy, so long as he keeps his crown. To win this game you must think like a king. But in the real fields, remember that even the lowliest pawn is quite capable of slaying the king,' his father had said all those years ago.

"Indeed. It is a shame so many can not see past that," Salaam said with a chuckle, though Alan could hear the sorrow in his voice.

He nodded quietly, looking down at the board and its odd pieces. He nearly had Salaam in his trap, and was prepared to spring it, until the Saracen moved a knight to take a pawn still in formation. Alan frowned, realizing his king was in danger. He used a bishop to take the flanking piece, only to find Salaam's vizier taking that same bishop and putting his rook in danger.

"I'm sure you will be happy to go home to see your father in England, and leave the hypocrisy of this land behind you," Salaam said, almost cheerfully, but again Alan could sense the sorrow behind his words.

"A fever took my father some years ago. Still, my wife and son wait at home for me," Alan said, choosing to sidestep the second part of what Salaam had said as he brought in a knight to try and salvage his lines.

For a few moments his opponent said nothing, merely moved pieces carefully across the carved and painted board. It seemed so haphazard, like everything should be easily countered. But every move was calculated, precise. It did not take much longer for Salaam to trap Alan's king with one of his own pawns, and his vizier and a rook.

"Well played my friend," Salaam said.

"If only tonight would be so easy," Alan said looking across the camp to where he saw one of the Afghans drinking water.

"All of life and war is a game. The only difference is that we can change the rules."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Night had long since fallen, and Gwenhwyfar sat at the front of the coach beside Elishka, watching the trees pass by, rays of the moon flickering through the branches and dark leaves of the forest. Elishka calmly held the reins and guided the horses along the beaten road. Gwenhwyfar flicked her eyes forward for a moment, taking in Adara's form as the vampiric beast of war pulled the carriage, a task she had not been bred for all those years before, but one she did regardless.

Both of the horses were draped in black caparisons, their legs and hooves wrapped in dark sheets to obscure their flesh when the dawn came. Unlike living horses, these two would be able to continue eternally without tiring, so long as the daylight was kept off of them.

"We should reach the monastery just before dawn. We can restock for our two companions," Elishka said without taking her eyes from the path, referring to the two humans currently sleeping within the carriage. An aging soldier named Swiegsgard, and Arya now dressed much as a middle class merchant's daughter.

"They will need it, it is not comfortable to sleep in this damned thing," Gwenhwyfar replied, happy that she would be able to rest within proper walls this day.

The two fell into silence once more as the carriage careened through the forest, the horses' hooves thundering on the well travelled path.

A raven fluttered down from the arching branches and perched on the edge of the carriage. Black eyes stared into Gwenhwyfar's own, the bird unflinching as it faced down the vampire for a moment, before taking off and vanishing into the night.

"The Morrighan has given us a warning this night. Be ready for a fight," Gwenhwyfar said, grasping Caledfwlch nestled beside her, happy she was wearing her riding clothes for the journey rather than the gift dress.

Elishka glanced over at her companion, an eyebrow cocked in confusion, before a crossbow bolt buried itself into the wood of the carriage beside her. Figures burst from the trees, many of them wielding crossbows with axes and clubs dangling from their hips. They were clad in patchy dark brown garments and bits of chainmail armour doubtlessly looted from battlefields. Two of the attackers stood in front with long spears aimed towards the horses.

Whether highwaymen or mercenaries, Gwenhwyfar cared not. She leapt onto the back of the carriage, crawling along the top as the two horse's raised up onto their hind legs, letting out whines of distress. Gwenhwyfar looked back to see a spear piercing Adara's chest, dark blood rolling down the length of the spear before the war horse brought her hooves down on her assailant's skull, dropping him to the ground and snapping the spear in two.

The carriage brought to a sudden stop, Gwenhwyfar moved quickly along the top on all fours while Elishka pulled out her own blade and leapt off to meet the bandits head on. Crossbow bolts hammered into the side of the coach, and within Swiegsgard was pulling himself from sleep.

As Gwenhwyfar reached the back of the coach, where her chest for her gear was strapped down tightly, one of the highwaymen leapt up towards her, holding a small dagger. The vampire snarled, baring her fangs as she grabbed the man's wrist. A single twist was enough to snap the man's bone making him scream in agony before teeth found his jugular, tearing through flesh and sinew. Blood spurted from the wound across Gwenhwyfar's face and across her thirsty tongue.

Letting the corpse drop and spitting out the chunk of flesh trapped in her jaws, the former queen jumped down behind the carriage and found her trusted long bow and quiver of arrows. She quickly notched an arrow and turned to face the forest, drawing the string back to her cheek, thumb brushing against her skin, before releasing an arrow towards a charging attacker.

The arrow sliced through the patchwork leather he wore and buried itself in his chest. As the corpse collapsed to the ground clutching at the wound Gwenhwyfar felt an intense pain flare from her thigh. A glance down revealed the bolt stabbing into her flesh, blood coursing around the missile and soaking into her breeches.

Swiegsgard opened the side door of the coach, smashing someone in the face, before he jumped down and hacked down his axe into the fallen man's guts. Gwenhwyfar notched another arrow to her bow and loosed an arrow towards the crossbowman who had wounded her, tossing her ranged weapon back on the carriage when the arrow pierced the man's skull.

The vampire warrior pulled her ancient sword free from its scabbard, the blade glimmering in the moonlight as she moved around the coach opposite of Swiegsgard who was busy fighting one of the assailants, axes clashing against one another.

Gwenhwyfar found one of the bandits climbing into the carriage, where Arya was screaming in terror. The highwayman laughed coldly, before a strong hand grasped him by the collar tossing him to the ground. He let out a single yelp of fear before Gwenhwyfar's steel plunged between his ribs, cleaving his heart in two.

Slamming the carriage door closed Gwenhwyfar moved around the front, where she saw Adara struggling against the reins keeping her in place, blood staining her hooves and a broken body laying beneath her, ignoring the shaft of woof protruding from her flesh. The other horse was much the same but was unable to claim a victim. Elishka however was fighting off four attackers, two already lay slain at her feet.

Gwenhwyfar came up behind one, grasping his shoulder and stabbing him from behind, forcing her sword through flesh and innards, spilling his blood to the ground and letting the now lifeless body slump after the crimson stains. One of the bandits turned from Elishka, chopping down with his sword hoping to sever Gwenhwyfar's head.

Gwenhwyfar easily parried the strike before swinging Caledfwlch down and through his leg. As scarlet sprayed from the stump of his knee, hands clutching desperately at the wound as he lay on the ground Gwenhwyfar turned to her companion who had disarmed one of the assailants and swung two blades at his neck, easily severing his head, before turning to face another.

As Elishka fought, Gwenhwyfar turned to the final man, who started to back away, fear plain in his wide eyes as he reloaded his crossbow, hoping for one good shot at this creature before him.

The bandit managed to prepare the weapon before the former queen grasped the crossbow and head butted him square in the nose. She felt bones break, felt the sudden gush of blood from the man's face as he screamed. As he collapsed to the ground Gwenhwyfar stepped on his chest, looking down at him, before bringing her boot hard down onto his neck, crushing his windpipe with the blow.

Struggling to cling to life, and unable to breathe the man desperately clutched at his throat, staring up at the sky as his eyes began to roll into the back of his head. Gwenhwyfar looked over to her companion, who was wiping her blade clean on the torn jerkin of a dead bandit. With nostrils flaring, the former queen turned her gaze towards the forest, pulling back her lips in a snarl.

"Leave him be. He will not bring any harm to us," Elishka said, smelling the last of the attackers hiding in the wood line as well.

"Or follow us and kill us later," Gwenhwyfar said, lifting the dying man at her feet. She could hear his heart pounding desperately in his fear as death crept slowly towards him.

"Let me speed your passing," Gwenhwyfar said, and bit deeply into the man's neck.

Blood welled up from the flesh, pouring down her throat as she drank deeply from his life. Weakening arms tried to punch her shoulders, tried to break the vicious bite, but Gwenhwyfar would not budge. They were close as lovers, and she could feel his heart slowing as his life faded from him.

After a few moments Gwenhwyfar tossed the body down, her thirst satiated.

"We should continue on my lady. Dawn approaches fast and it would be best to get to the monastery before then," Swiegsgard said from the side, tying his greying hair back in a tight ponytail.

"Agreed. We have to leave as soon as possible," Elishka said, climbing up onto the carriage, while Gwenhwyfar knelt before Adara.

The beast stared at her master, ignoring the pain of its wound. A gently smile crossed Gwenhwyfar's features as she grasped the remains of the spear and pulled it free, letting Adara mend her torn flesh.

The warrior then took her place beside her companion, and leaned back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Watching from the shadows, Andrzej watched his hired thugs butchered like lambs before the unholy might of the two creatures he'd been hired to kill. It had taken him only a few days to travel up here and hire the wayward mercenaries, and the promise of payment had easily gained their loyalty.

Luckily the hunter had not paid them up front, and the purse of coins still hung from his belt.

The ambush had not been fruitless, he had seen what he is up against, seen what the two vampires were capable of. The scroll had mentioned nothing of the two humans currently in the carriage; daytime guardians. Worse yet, they knew he was here, yet they were sparing him. He didn't know the answers, but he'd been hired to do this job.

As the carriage began to move again, the demonic horses pulling it once more down the road, Andrzej followed as quietly as he could.

Hours passed by, and the sky began to glow with the coming of the sun. Birds began to sing their morning songs, and the nocturnal hunters scurried back to their homes. Dew glistened on the leaves, and the carriage pulled onto a side path that cut deeper into the German forest. Between the rows of trees, Andrzej spotted a single stone structure surrounded by a short wall; a Christian monastery.

Stopping his tired horse, and lashing the animal to a tree, Andrzej crept closer to the structure, peering through foliage at what was unfolding before him.

The two vampires got down from the carriage, meeting with a monk in brown robes who invited them quickly inside while the two humans unloaded the coach. Some more monks emerged to help them, and the hunter watched curiously.

Why was the church helping these two? What had he stumbled upon?

Next Chapter

War of the Damned Chapter 10: Game of Wood and Flesh


Comments

again i am reminded of why your the one of the best authors i know.

truly brilliant chapter as always

Thank ye much. Glad ye enjoyed.

Argh, was gonna leave a comment on the day you posted, but I ended up forgetting to hit Leave it and closed the tab. Urgh...

I feel stupid for underestimating Andrezj. And he didn't pay up front either, the sly son of bitch. Smart though he was, he did still underestimate his prey. >:-P He and I have a common curiosity: Vampires being helped by the church? And here, I was questioning just how much deeper you could make this...

Rawesome fight scene was indeed rawesome. >:D I would critique and review, but at this point, there's no possible way for me NOT to repeat myself. Besides, it's rawesomeness speaks for itself.

If I have never once before told you that your dialogues scenes like this opening are on another level entirely, let me say it now. I honestly think you have made one of the most exciting and interesting chess scenes in literature ever, you should get a medal! :D

Eagerly looking forward to Chapter 11,

-DarkX.

YOU ARE A CHAMPION!

I hope to make Andrzej an interesting character. Skilled with blade and shrewd in mind. A trickster with morals, but one who is in the end, still very human. Still, his curiosities as well as your own will be explained, even if the Polish hunter does not get the answers as quickly as the reader. More layers have yer to be peeled back to reveal the truths and darkness of this world. Not even Elishka and Gwenhwyfar know everything.

I'm glad you enjoyed the fight sequence. I did try to make it entertaining, and it was the longest on paper, and second biggest in scale so far in the story. More will come, maybe even larger and bloodier. Time will tell.

It's good that you find the dialogue interesting. It is imperative for Salaams character as he is not a protaganist and the reader cannot see his thoughts and emotions quite so clearly. I wanted something calm but also to build on both characters as well as the world around them with simple dialogue rather than throwing chunks of text on the page.

Chapter 11 should come out soonish. Some time shortly after Halloween if not earlier.

Happy Halloween!

Happy Samhain