Shouts of the Dead
Luka smirked in the mirror at Matilda as he attached his royal cape above his armor. “You fret,” he spoke amusedly. She ceased chewing her bottom lip to glare at him.
“I fret not.”
“You fret,” he repeated. “Do you not have faith in your king?”
“Must I remind you who saved you from the wolves, my King?” she purred, running a hand across the expanse of his back until she successfully wedged herself between him and the mirror. He tipped her chin up and kissed her luscious lips, pulling away with a hungry sigh.
“We saved each other, my love.”
Matilda snorted. “Is that how you recall it?” she asked, running her hands up and down his breastplate beneath the fur-lined cape.
“If it weren’t for my—”
“Be silent and kiss your queen.”
“Kiss? Is that all? Should I not be entitled to more?”
“There is more when you return victorious.”
“I prefer to take my spoils of war now,” he replied, gripping her curls.
He tilted her head to the side and eased his fangs into the crook between her neck and shoulder.
He groaned appreciatively as her saccharine blood filled his mouth.
Matilda’s body became malleable in his hold, easily molding against him.
He released her once he had his fill and smoothed his tongue over his bite marks.
“I can taste your fear in your blood,” he mumbled.
“Again… you are mistaken,” she exhaled breathlessly, placing his hand on her stomach and her forehead against his.
“War makes him excitable.”
“War makes her excitable,” she corrected before reaching for his lips again for a brief kiss. “I apologize, but we must part, my King.”
“Oh?” he asked, quirking a brow.
“Aye. I must prepare myself for battle,” she said confidently, releasing herself from his hold. “Obviously, I will not be capable of hand-to-hand combat, but I can provide excellent support from above in the turrets.”
“You, my beloved, must have the most acute case of brain rot that has ever been witnessed if you believe I will allow you to take part in this haphazard insurrection. You’ll be in the Great Hall with your lady-in-waiting and Ezra.”
Matilda sighed disappointedly. “I figured as much but thought I could persuade you with my womanly guiles.”
“You possess no guiles,” he mocked, leading her out of their private quarter.
“We shall see what you think of my guiles if you return.”
“When I return,” he said, joining Ezra and Belzara, who waited outside their room. She is all yours,” he said, performing the handoff.
“Words I never wish to hear,” Ezra mumbled. The man changed his tune when the king fixed him with a stern glare. “Although… it is my sworn honor and duty to protect her at all costs.”
“See that you do,” Luka said.
He turned to Matilda, stroked her cheek lovingly, whispered that he loved her, and left to put the madness outside their castle walls to rest and extinguish another lineage of noble vampires.
***
Their army approached House Bryne’s army, led by their general, General Casimir. The two armies halted a safe distance away from each other.
“King Alesi, I am staggered to see you on the battlefield. I assumed you would be too busy lying with your human whore,” Casimir spat.
Luka’s jaw clenched, and his hand tightened around the leather reins, pushing them to the brink of snapping. He needed to collect himself. He couldn’t allow the man’s venomous words to get to him. Anger and rage on the battlefield often beget mistakes—usually fatal mistakes.
“How can the citizens trust a king to protect them if he will not protect his own castle?” Luka answered.
Casimir scoffed. “You have lost the citizens’ trust when you took up with an inferior being and plan to make her your bride! And more so when she resorted to trickery to defeat Alaria Marquis!”
“Trickery did not occur. The ancient texts specifically state that any number of weapons in any form are allowed. Poison is a weapon, and she simply outwitted the disillusioned woman.”
“And the slaughtering of the House of Belmore?” Casimir questioned.
“A necessity.”
It was Casimir’s turn to bare his fangs. “We will not wait around for you to deem us ‘a necessity’. We will take our kingdom back.”
“I see that Talgor Bryne isn’t present for your suicide mission. For his sake, I hope he retained soldiers for his protection.”
Luka’s blood ran cold when Casimir shot him a toothy smile.
“It is not Talgor Bryne who is in need of protection. Did you think that sodomite Lord Gustafson, a handful of guards, and that beastly orc would be enough to protect your whore?”
Terror closed around Luka’s throat, but his expression remained neutral. The bastard was watching him, waiting for the slightest crack in his composure.
“Come now. Don’t look so appalled, King Alesi. As I have stated, you have lost the citizens’ trust, especially the ones behind your castle walls who are forced to bow and kneel in submission to the human.”
Luka knew there was potential to have a disgruntled servant or traitor in their midst; however, the level of inside knowledge Casimir had was alarming.
“Let us end this and usher in the fall of the House of Bryne,” Luka demanded, unsheathing his sword and forcing Casimir to do the same.
“After I cut you down, I will cut that abomination from her womb, and the House of Bryne will rule over the lands of Night Falls.”
Something inside Luka snapped. He moved before Casimir could react.
He launched himself from the saddle, wings tearing free and spreading wide as he shot across the distance separating them.
Casimir barely had time to reach for his sword before Luka struck him with enough force to rip him from his horse.
Shouts erupted from both armies as Luka’s hand closed around the general’s throat. He shot upward, dragging the brazen general into the clouds.
Casimir’s boots kicked uselessly beneath him as the battlefield fell away. His hands clawed at Luka’s wrist in vain as the vampire king flew higher.
Luka let out a throaty laugh, amused by the fear in the general’s eyes.
“Where has all the bravado gone?” he asked, continuing to climb with the squirming general in his clutches.
“You may kill me, but my beloved will avenge me! She will carry out our mission!” General Casimir shrieked.
Luka determined that General Casimir’s lover worked closely with Matilda because only a handful knew she was with child, since she hid her figure with flowing dresses. Belzara, the nurse, and the seamstress were the only women who knew.
He decided to take an educated guess.
“Vivian will taste steel from the blade wielded by the same woman she despises.” He smirked when Casimir blanched. “Yes, I know. I wish I could stay and converse about all the ways we plan to torture your beloved, but duty calls.”
Luka dropped the man and soared towards the castle as fast as his wings would take him. Briefly, he enjoyed the panicked screams and the subsequent splat when Casimir collided with the ground. He prayed to the gods he wasn’t too late.
***
Matilda cried out as her dagger sank into flesh. She yanked it out of her victim’s neck with a fearsome cry, slinging blood through the air. Her chest heaved with every move as she fought to keep herself alive.
As customary, Matilda and Belzara were escorted to the Great Hall, where they were to wait out the battle with the women servants.
Barely a minute passed when the doors flew open, and a horde of insurrectionists, led by her seamstress Vivian, filled the banquet hall.
Vivian spewed her hatred of her and declared with a vicious war cry that she’d have her head on a spike.
Belzara immediately complained that she wished she’d never been forced to apologize.
Instead of being shocked and mortified, Matilda was prepared with two daggers on her hips and the will to keep herself and her child alive. What better time to end the queen than when the king was on the battlefield?
“Belzara!” Matilda shrieked over the clanging of steel, desperately trying to get the orc’s attention as she fended off the guard’s blade with one dagger and disemboweled him with the other. “No!” she screamed when Vivian beheaded Belzara.
She watched with horror as Belzara’s head rolled onto the floor and her body pitched to the right before meeting the same fate.
“I hate you, you disgusting animal,” Vivian snarled as she mutilated Belzara’s body with her blade—stabbing the deceased orc in a manic frenzy.
The ringing of swords and the shuddering death rattles seemed to fade away as she watched the scene before her. Her dearest friend was dead, and she was to blame.
“Matilda! You must fight!” Ezra’s voice rang out from across the hall, where he was fighting off three men.
She snapped back to reality, pushed her grief aside, and abandoned her daggers for the broadsword laid at her feet from the fallen guard.
She raised the sword above her head just in time to deflect a direct blow from Vivian.
Matilda jumped back when the wicked woman kicked at her stomach.
She thanked the gods that Vivian missed, but she needed to end the fight quickly.
She was exhausted, and the longer the battle ensued, the higher the risk she’d tire out.
“Y-you are proficient at swordsmanship,” Matilda said, hoping to force the woman to talk and become distracted as they exchanged blows.
“I… was… taught by the best!” she snarled, swiping at Matilda’s neck. Matilda ducked and the blade sliced through the springy curls at the top of her head. Seeing an opening, Matilda chopped at one of her opponent’s ankles. Vivian sidestepped her blow and stabbed at her stomach.
Matilda’s mouth dropped in a silent scream as her body was pierced. She glanced down at her hand impaled by the sword. The tip of the blade was mere inches from her belly. A scream erupted from her when Vivian slowly sank the sword further through her hand. Vivian released a maniacal cackle.
“It still humors me that you, a dirty and disgusting human, thought you’d sit on the throne and be the Queen of Night Falls! I will send you and your abomination to the underworld where you belong!” she snarled, baring her fangs.
“You have conveniently forgotten that Night Falls has and always will belong to the humans. Your kind may be stronger physically, but to believe you are superior to us will be your ultimate downfall because we are still here after enduring your worst!”
Matilda swiped at Vivian’s ankle again. The vampire collapsed to the floor with a shrill cry, her foot dangling precariously from her leg.
Matilda gritted her teeth as she removed the sword from her hand.
She used the remainder of her strength to climb to her feet and wield the sword above her head.
Sweat dripped down her face and neck, mingling with the blood of her fallen enemies.
“It seems you were mistaken, Vivian. You were not trained by the best. Because if you had, you wouldn’t be delivered to the underworld by a dirty, disgusting human,” Matilda said, panting with effort.
“It is truly a shame. You crafted such magnificent dresses. This… this is for Belzara,” she declared, bringing the sharp edge of the blade down onto the screaming woman’s head, splitting her in two down to her chest. “H-how is that for inferior?” she whispered, discarding the weapon with a resounding clank.
Matilda glanced around the hall, relieved to see Ezra in one piece and the traitors extinguished. She dropped to her knees and crawled her weary body through blood, bones, entrails, and piss until she reached her fallen friend.
“Belzara,” she whispered before lying at the fallen orc’s side. “Belzara,” she whimpered, tears blurring her vision. “I’m so… sorry,” she apologized, hugging her friend close to her.