The Crowned (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga, Book 6) (20 page)

When the dark princess arrived, the result was an event
unlike any other. Sigrant watched as Sara careened towards him like a force of
nature, a blast of wind trailing her ,with dust and debris rising up from her
every step in a swirl that was caught up and carried aloft in her wake. Without
slowing and without hesitation the princess came for him, but she had not
expected his wives.

Like a pack of beasts the harem leapt at the leather-clad
princess in an attempt to drag her down and they nearly accomplished their
goal. Sigrant watched as they bit and clawed at the princess who fought
savagely on. So strong were those in the fight that they gouged huge chunks of
flesh and bone from one another with their bare fingers, tearing limbs from each
other’s bodies. So powerful were they all, however, that as soon as the
normally fatal wounds were scored, they would regenerate back just as fast. Before
long the combatants were all totally nude, their clothing having been
completely destroyed and still they fought on.

It was odd to Sigrant, that such a fight would appear as it
did. If you took away the spraying blood and disembodied limbs and scraps of
bone and flesh, the fight looked very much like an orgy. His dozen wives and
the demon princess were a writhing mass of nude flesh and long hair that in
other circumstances might have been arousing. It would have helped too if the
screams were of pleasure and not pain. Well, at least some of them. Watching on
at the damage inflicted upon the parties involved, Sigrant wondered if it were
possible that any of them could die any longer. Though sadly, it was not a
question that remained unanswered to him for very long.

* * * * *

Sara knew his face, and with her superior vision she sought
him out and found him simply watching her come. He looked confidant, defiant
even. Perhaps he was unaware of her power. So focused was she on her once
captor that she did not notice when the women gathered around him. She planned
to hit him full speed, hoping she would heal faster and simply be able to
dismember him, but plans were what you made while the world changed around you.

With the force of two boulders colliding, Sara was struck
from the side unaware and nearly went down as her spine, hip, and left leg
shattered before the blow. Bone fragments protruded from her flesh as she
faltered a step or two, though she maintained her control. Pain shot through
her entire body before it vanished again, only to return when her spine mended
and then vanished once more as the healing continued. Her momentum carrying her
forward, her injuries healed nearly instantaneously, but just barely before she
was struck several more times in rapid succession. Before Sara knew what had
hit her, more than ten women were upon her, biting and clawing but Sara was
determined to succeed though she had lost both of her blades in the initial
attack.
Ignore the pain.

Fighting just as savagely as her foes, she snapped and
clawed, hissing and growling like the predator she had become. Grabbing one
would-be assailant by the hair she flung the woman, tearing her scalp away as
she was tossed bodily through the air. Another sunk her teeth in Sara’s breast,
while another two worked to grasp each of her arms and pin her down. Twisting
and kicking, Sara fought her way through the wriggling mess landing just as
many blows as she was taking.

Slamming her now bare foot through one attacker’s head, she
watched the blood spray another in the face as she grabbed an arm at random and
heaved with all her might. The arm came free of its socket, the flesh and sinew
tearing easily away. Using the arm like a club Sara smashed the face of another
attacker, a poor girl who looked barely thirteen. It angered her further that Sigrant
had tainted such young children to such a degree.

Fighting on, it felt like an end would never come. She still
felt the influx of power, and knew that in time she would be too strong for all
of them, but as it was, they were a formidable force. Sara could not wait
longer, she dared not give Sigrant’s minions time to gain entry to the city and
begin swelling his power once more. Instead she let her instincts take over,
and unleashed the monster that she had become. For at least a while, she would
free that which she sought to contain on a daily basis.

Savagely she grasped the nearest woman, one who had long
golden locks, one who attempted to hold her still by straddling her. Sara
pulled the woman down close, so fast her neck broke in several places. Jerking
her head to the side viciously, Sara bit into the flesh of her exposed neck,
ripping out her throat, blood vessels, and other important tissues the woman
could not survive without.

With her other attackers still ripping and tearing at her
flesh Sara discarded the throatless carcass and turned her attention to her
side where yet another nude blonde was ripping the flesh away from her leg,
digging her claws deep into the tissue of the muscles and ripping it out a
handful at a time. Back-handing one of the smaller women, sending her flying
through the air, Sara kicked out at another before reaching for the one upon
her leg. She never made contact.

No more than she sought to grasp the woman dismembering her
leg, than another leg lanced out and kicked Sara. The blow was astonishing,
connecting with her elbow so powerfully that the arm simply detached at that
point, the skin and muscle tissue severing with jagged tears, her blood
spraying out like pink mist into the air in the wake of the blow.

Disconnected ligaments and tendons snapped up into the stump
of Sara’s arm, and she screamed both in pain and rage as the new bone formed
quickly and new flesh stretched over the limb as the muscles grew and matured
instantly.

Thrashing wildly, she disentangled herself from the mass of
attackers and struck out with her newly formed arm and hand. With her fingers
straight she stabbed into the chest of the one who had injured her arm, her
hand spreading and breaking the ribs as it entered the other’s body. Then,
grasping the woman’s heart, Sara ripped it free of its confines, feeling it
beat once within her hand so slowly it nearly felt still. There she held it out
for all to see as she tore into it with her fangs, destroying it in entirety.

The woman she tore the organ from looked astonished for what
seemed an unnaturally long time to Sara, though was likely only a fraction of a
second, before she crumpled to the ground in a heap, the hole remaining in her
chest.
The heart!
That was the key.

The rest of Sigrant’s defenders would have been easy to
dispatch the same way, Sara thought, had the resulting seconds not changed her
battle so drastically.

* * * * *

Seth watched with his god vision as the vampires below him
tunneled deeper into the wall, the sounds of fingers and bones on stone making
hairs rise up on his neck and goose pimples to form on his skin. For now he let
them tunnel, hoping Sara would make quick progress.

He watched as she was intercepted by others of her own kind,
their many bloated auras becoming a soupy mess of power overlapping too much to
distinguish them as individuals. Seth had known there were other powerful
vampires in Sigrant’s camp, but had not expected Sara to face them all at once.
Even so he watched as her aura grew by the second, making her stronger than her
foes by an ever increasing amount.

Then something happened that they had overlooked. Seth
watched as one of the auras dissipated, its power retuning to the god the foe
worshipped, and watched still as several thousand auras returned to human. The
frenzy that ensued was absolutely horrifying. Even those vampires below within
the tunnel fled its confines, smelling the flesh that was not already altered.

Screams arose all around Valdadore where once vampires were
restored and then set upon. Blood-curdling cries filled the air in a deafening
wave as thousands were fed upon instantaneously, but that was not what bothered
Seth.

Watching, as only he could, he saw the event for the real
problem that it was. When vampires fed they gained power. When they gained
power their creator gained power, and the creator above that one too and so on.
So although Sara had felled one of her foes, she had made all the rest stronger
because they suddenly had fresh power to feed upon. If she did it again, and
then again, she would not stand a chance for long. He needed to act.

Seth thought for a long time, it seemed. He could not simply
rush in and do something that might lead to unforeseen consequences.
Lives
and collisions.
He needed a means to help Sara before those she fought and
Sigrant grew more powerful. Then another several thousand of Sigrant’s troops
reverted to human only to send up another agonizing wail of anguish. Sara’s
opponents grew stronger yet again before they returned to their task of tunnel
digging.

Discarding idea after idea, he watched as Sara seemed to
reach a plateau. She was gaining power at nearly the same rate she was
expelling it, burning through the power to heal herself. Seth studied the situation
over and again and only came to two real discoveries. First, he could not
simply kill those fighting Sara with lightning as he had done others, they
moved too fast for him to target accurately, and he was unsure if such strong
creatures would be affected the same. Secondly, there was a small measure of
time, perhaps a couple of minutes between when Sara killed a foe and the others
regained all the power from the reverted humans. There was a window of
opportunity.

Then Seth had his answer. It was a risk, but would work. He
knew it.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized into the night, then began to
gather his power and focus it. Then with a rumble that shook him, the world was
ripped out from beneath him with an earth shattering explosion.

* * * * *

Ishanya stared at the tapestry of time splayed out before
her. The battle of Valdadore had changed. It had changed immensely, but even so
she could see that at least her puppet survived. Looking further she saw the
possibilities of the future she desired, and noticed that some alterations had
occurred there as well, but all appeared to be intact nonetheless.

It seemed other players in this grand game were beginning to
take notice of her schemes, but already her plans were in play and taking
effect in the world. Soon, she would hold claim to vast reserves of power and
be able to confront them. Soon her puppet would claim for her the lives she
needed to fulfill her own destiny. Soon she would destroy her brethren, or
banish them as they had done to her. Soon she would rule the heavens of Thurr
and lay claim to it all.

Could she smile, Ishanya would have done so, and reveled in
the victory she felt was owed to her. But without physical form, she could not
and so did not smile, though she did take pleasure in knowing that the end she
sought was drawing nearer. Turning her attentions to other affairs, she watched
as other portions of the tapestry designed of time, fate, and destiny wove themselves
together, and again was pleased. The threads of her other servants were coming
along nicely as well. It would take time for their roles to be seen, as she was
just now able to use her power to create more champions to do her bidding.

With the spread of her followers on Thurr, it was time she defended
her following with champions, and blessed them with powers unrivaled upon the
mortal plane. Soon, very soon, her mortal followers would lead the charge that
would end the other gods for all time. All she had to do was wait, and gently
guide the collisions that wove the tapestry together.

* * * * *

Borrik stood near his master and heard his nearly whispered
words seeking forgiveness, when everything seemed to change at once. Upon the
wall, under constant random barrage of magical fireballs and the like,
Valdadore’s troops hid behind the ramparts simply waiting for the enemy to
come, though for several hours they had not. Borrik had taken several
opportunities to rise and peek over the side, but all that could be seen below
was a dense fog that blanketed everything. From below he could smell the enemy
and blood, and he could even hear the king’s sword clanging off metal as he
chuckled in his menacing way.

One man on the battlefield, the rest lying in hiding hoping
for the end to come. Valdadore did not have much going for it at present. Twice
now something had gone awry, and screams filled the fields surrounding the city
and the scent of blood drifted heavily upon the air, but it did not last long
either time. It was not until a few minutes after the second occasion that
Borrik felt the battle was over.

With a loud blast the wall shook, dust and stone fragments
exploding up and outwards in all directions. Hundreds atop the wall were
injured from the sharp shards of stone and then the shockwave blasted them all
from their feet. Yanked from their feet they fell, but found no bottom beneath
them.

Below Borrik and his master the wall gave way, destroyed by
some unknown means from below. Buckling in several places, large portions of
the immense thirty story wall began to lean and crumble beneath the tumbling
defenders.

Screams began but choked out on the thick clouds of dust in
the air, and before the stone wall even settled in the rubble of its own ruins,
Sigrant’s vampires were upon them. Borrik leapt to his feet, pulling a large
shard of stone from his thigh that had penetrated his armor. Touching his
bracer, he said the words that unleashed his blessing and with a boom he
exploded in size to meet those foes nearest him. Seth hovered a few paces away,
his expression blank and eyes unfocused as his great leathery wings flapped to
keep him aloft. Borrik’s master appeared as if he had not even noticed that the
wall of the city had collapsed beneath him.

Vampires by the thousands spilled into the void that was
filled only by a handful of injured defenders, seeking an entry to the buffet
that was Valdadore. Borrik knew the battle to be over. Valdadore was lost. But
he still had duty to his master.