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The Alpha’s centrehouse was coming into view, and he knew he would need to act quickly to extract Seraphina, but a spanner was thrown into his plan when the door opened on its own. She was already on her way out. Asher turned his head and saw two hunters rounding on her position. He notched two arrows and fired them rapidly into their necks.
“Seraphina!” he shouted from across the square. “Cover up! Don’t get in the way of those mirrors!” Asher shot another arrow furiously as another hunter appeared from behind the house, cutting through the air mere inches from Seraphina. The hunter dropped with a gurgle, the arrow piercing his windpipe before he could even raise his knife at her. With his injuries still weighing him down, he knew better than to join the midst of the fray. He could still drop some bodies from afar, but if anyone came upon him close, his chances seemed low. The best he could do now was cover for some to escape, but soon enough he would run out of ammunition.
He found a vantage point by climbing on top of her house, his back to a chimney for cover. The Clan had archers of their own, and he needed to find them and pick them off. As long as they remained, they wouldn’t let any of the villagers escape. The first was easy enough. The fool still wore a shield on his back, and was easy to spot in his oak tree. He went down with a loud ‘clang’ in the distance. The second noticed his partner drop, and fired back. Asher took cover behind the chimney, then at the first opportunity swiveled and launched it at his target, running it through his stomach. Two down, and he was certain there were more. He only had ten shots left. He would need to make them count.
His Clan blood was rebelling again. It was difficult to focus, and he could sense the overwhelming number of vampires in his vicinity. Asher could feel it boiling just under his skin, an itch which could only be scratched by spilling the blood of others. In truth he didn’t want to kill anyone. The necessity was unfortunate. He peered back down into the village, trying to find Seraphina. She was missing. She was strong, he thought. Still, he worried. If she ran into the Chief, things could go pear-shaped quickly.
A concussive force struck him from behind, shoving him forward and nearly off of the roof. He whirled, the world spinning in his vision, knowing already the attacker was a vampire from the village, probably mistaking him for one of the snipers picking off his people. Asher couldn’t blame him for the mistake.
“Stop.. I’m…” he was cut off when the vampire pounced on top of him and wasted no time in making a go at his neck. He succeeded. His fangs closed over Asher’s windpipe, and in a brief moment, he thought it was over. Suddenly, the vampire lurched and began to convulse, and let go. In moments, Asher was the one on top, pinning him down and slashing open his attacker’s throat. Ruby liquid spilled forth. It was sweet. It filled his body with energy, and the pain in his leg disappeared. The puncture wounds recently opened in his throat sealed quickly. He felt strong. Stronger than he’d ever been. He needed more.
His eye seemed to glow in bright golden fury as he leapt from the rooftop, slamming his boots into a Clansman and crushing his skull with magnitudes of force. He tore off into a frenzy, savagely cutting down anyone in his path, vampires and Clansmen alike. He stopped momentarily, licking the blood away from their wounds. He held a huntress in his arms, drinking from her open throat when none other than the Chief stepped before him.
“I know you can’t be turned, boy,” he grunted, drawing his weapon of choice- a massive warhammer almost as tall as Asher, “I don’t know what manner of monster took hold of you, but it’s clear you must be put down, along with the rest of these beasts.”
The Chief dashed toward him with astounding speed for a man of his stature, but Asher was faster. He jumped aside, dodging the man’s first swing, then leapt in front, gaining purchase on his hammer and launching himself over the Chief. The Chief spun without missing time, bringing down his hammer where Asher landed. He rolled moments before impact, but the swing was sobering. He felt as if the fog was cleared from his mind. The taste of blood in his mouth almost made him hurl.
“Why won’t you move on?!” he demanded. The Chief made no effort to answer, and continued his onslaught. He dodged another of his swings, then rolled under his legs and began to sprint away. Where was Seraphina?!
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