208. Of depravity, entitlement and a little bit of revenge

Cassandra Pendragon

I didn't feel filthy, nor guilty while I surveyed the scene of destruction we had caused. Some soldiers had been cleanly cleaved in two, while others had been ripped apart, their limbs littering the floor around them. Others had been crushed, their armour had become a death trap that had turned them into a bloody pulp, seeping through torn steel, courtesy of my mom's telekinesis. Only a mere handful were still drawing breath, the stunned priests among them.

I made my way over to them, carefully avoiding the growing pools of blood, and hooked my foot under the girl in the black robe to flip her over. I crouched down to remove the hood form her face, my senses still flooded with energy in case she was only pretending to be unconscious. As soon as I saw the streams of cold sweat, running down her cheeks, and her fluttering eyelids, I knew she was well and truly under, the backlash of her spell too much for her frail body to handle.

"Now what," I mumbled, the question a rather rhetorical one, but my mom answered nonetheless.

"Now, we try to help. Their spells are broken, the vampires who have survived should be able to regenerate but I imagine they'll be starved. As far as I know, they need blood to replenish their reserves and healing themselves from wounds, inflicted by this kind of magic, must have drained them. I haven't seen any slaves around here and the handful of human servants will hardly suffice to sate their thirst. Maybe the ones we haven't killed can still be useful to us." I would have liked to protest, despite everything, the thought of serving another thinking being to a predator on a silver plate didn't sit well with me. Hypocritical as it was, considering what I had just done, but sentiments were seldomly rational and it just felt… wrong. But I didn't.

"We've got them." I dropped the thought into the web of telepathic connections Viyara had established. "Most are dead but the casters… priests are still alive and so are three of the soldiers. What's happening down there?"

"The light is gone," Ahri replied, "and the vampires who haven't burned up completely are stirring, they'll be up in a few minutes. Aurelia is still catatonic, as are our friends. I think they have a much harder time shaking off the sleep spell than the vampires, since they still have to sleep naturally. It shouldn't matter, I think, it will simply take them longer to come to. Viyara and I can keep an eye on them and make sure the vamps don't use them as a source of blood and start to rampage as soon as they wake up, but other than that…" her thoughts trailed off.

My gaze travelled over the macabre, bloody tableau and up the stairs that led to the tavern. I was already moving when I said: "it's Alassara's home, she'll have to decide what she wants to do with the ones who are still alive and how to proceed from here on out. I can't do anything down there at the moment, my healing doesn't work the same way with the undead and I'm convinced Alassara would take it personally if I either bound or incinerated whatever was left of her underlings. Mum, can you keep an eye on our prisoners? The soldiers aren't unconscious, they're just pretending. I'll have a look around upstairs, see if there's anything I can do. Maybe a few of the tavern staff or its patrons are still alive. Oh and, even if they want to, make sure they don't kill the priests, not before we had a chance to talk."

"Can't you simply read their minds now? Everything we need to know should be hidden in there," Viyara rightfully asked. She was surprisingly calm, the frantic hustle of the last minutes hadn't unsettled her in the slightest. Then again, she didn't care much for those who had died and she had already been through worse, much worse. We all had.

"Unfortunately, no. I can take a peek at their dreams but that's not going to help, will it? I can't sift through their memories, only glance at the thoughts that are already fluttering through their minds.

We'll have to wait until they wake up and we can prompt them with questions, make them think about what we want to know. Either that, or we need the help of someone well versed in breaking minds. I'm not that skilful. Erya, maybe, or one of Alassara's cabal."

"You basically want us to sit tight and babysit the whole lot," Ahri stated scathingly.

"I'll gladly take Viyara with me, if you think it's sensible to wait. But you have to stay," one of the promises around my core hummed dangerously and I quickly amended: "and I'm only going up the stairs anyway. Maybe there's still more of them left. I don't want them to report back."

"There are," my mom slowly said, her nose twitching. "A handful of soldiers and someone who smells…odd. Expensive oils, incense and something else… a disease, maybe? I'm not sure."

"That's enough, or do you honestly believe I'm going to need help dealing with a few unprepared humans, honey? Keeping the vampires form using our friends as a buffet will be the harder task."

"Somehow I don't believe you," Ahri said darkly. "But fine, just… don't take too long. If you're not back in 20 minutes, I'll follow you. And keep the link open, whatever happens."

"Your will, your majesty. Same goes for you. Anything happens, you tell me, right?"

"We will," Viyara promised before we could slip back into our usual bickering. As much as I understood where she was coming from, I still missed the half serious exchanges Ahri and I usually shared. They simply reassured us that we cared more about the other than ourselves and that we were truly fine… that we'd see each other again, no matter the circumstances.

"Take care of yourselves, don't let them bite you when they wake up. I'll bring some more… food with me, hopefully. See you in a bit."

Without another word, I hurried up the stairs and retracted my wings. I wouldn't need them and there was hardly a more unsettling sight than seeing a creature of light and magic burst from the dungeon you had just tried to invade. If the people who had remained behind were in any way the same as the back line commanders I had read about, they would surely have some of the answers I wanted and maybe I could persuade them to share. Well, persuade might have been a bit misleading. I was thinking more along the lines of ordering them. As long as I restricted the power I used with my voice to a minimum, I wouldn't endanger Amazeroth's wards. At least I hoped so.

The aged wood beneath my feet creaked quietly as I made my way along the dark corridor, the smell of blood slowly changing from the bitter tang of aggression and desperation, I had left behind, to the more acidic aroma of fear, surprise and spilled tears. There hadn't been a fight, I was headed towards the scene of a massacre, an undiscriminating slaughter that had devoured the tavern before the people inside had even realised what had been happening. I didn't need my second sight, my nose was sensitive enough to paint a clear picture of what I was going to find.

Workers, relaxing after a tiring day, serving maids, ready to fulfil their desires, a bearded barkeep I had seen when I had fist come through, and of course, the vampiric guards who always mingled with the locals to keep an eye on the entrance, they were all gone. A faint whiff of charred flesh told me how the vampires had found their end and the even fainter, bitter taste of pain, or rather agony, whispered of a prolonged death. Some of the soldiers had taken their time, torturing and asking question before they had put the poor souls, who had survived the first attack, out of their misery. My hesitance, where it had come to handing the last remaining warriors over to Alassara and her children, dwindled with every step and when I finally slipped through the cellar and snuck towards the taproom, the last remains turned to ash and withered to nothingness.

Before I even opened the door, I heard a murmured conversation, suppressed moans and rowdy laughter. When I listened more closely, the creaking of a table, the scraping of studded boots and several heartbeats, elevated until they resembled a ferocious orchestra, became clear. Two of the maids were still alive, but I imagined they weren't actually thankful but rather cursing their luck. I inhaled deeply. Their luck hadn't run out completely, yet, but every thought I might have had of toying with the remaining soldiers evaporated on the spot.

A few quick steps brought me to the sad splinters of a fortified door, shredded and torn. Without slowing down, I rushed around the corner and took in the scene before me. Corpses had been piled up along one wall and a disgusting mixture of spilled alcohol and blood covered the floor. The counter had become a torture rack, the desecrated body of the barkeep strapped to it, his arms and legs spread wide, covered in a myriad of ragged wounds. Only one table was still standing, the rest had been smashed. A young looking human, clad in expensive clothes, precious metals and luxurious gems had been worked into the cloth, was holding down a young and pretty woman, her cheeks wet and already swollen where she had been beaten. He was using his weight to pin her to a wall, one of his hands slowly making their way up, below her skirts while the other muffled her cries. Two older soldiers sat at the remaining table. They were conversing quietly and occasionally sipped from two large, wooden mugs in front of them. They had donned the same steel plates as the ones we had killed and if there had been any doubts left, concerning their allegiance, the coat of arms on their flowing cloaks, depicting a black raven and a golden gryphon, would have utterly assuaged them.

The vulgar voices of three younger recruits were flowing down the stairs while they were trying to have their way with another one of the servers on the upper floor. From what I could hear, she was still fighting and the bastards even took pleasure from her futile struggles. Fortunately, she wouldn't be alone for much longer. But first, I had to lodge my complaints with their leader.

"Enough," I roared before anyone could comprehend my appearance. "On your knees!" I might have overdone it, my voice didn't only cut through the ruckus like a whiplash, the windows exploded outwards, small ripples formed on the sluggishly moving puddle on the floor and the humans in the taproom fell to the ground, like puppets when their strings were cut, blood seeping from their ears. Clicking my tongue, I hurried over to the mistreated girl and pulled her to her feet. She shied away from my touch at first, pressing her hand against her ears, cross eyed, but after a moment, she allowed me to help her up and guide her to a chair.

I squeezed her shoulder and whispered: "you're safe, now. I'll be back in a moment. If they move, just scream for all you're worth. You're not alone anymore." Then I was off again, my feet barely touching the coarse, wooden steps while I practically flew up the stairs, my breath rasping in my throat. I was angry enough to feel my tails twitch involuntarily. Killing and even torture I could understand, I didn't approve, but I'd never claim that I was above either, I couldn't even say that I'd only resort to despicable acts of violence out of necessity. If Amon ever fell into my grasp, his end wouldn't be quick, I'd want to make him truly feel the pain he had caused and with Shassa I had already proven that I'd be willing to go far beyond the boundaries of inflicting wounds.

But rape? The heinous atrocities they had made the barkeep suffer through? Simply to relieve their boredom and because they thought they were entitled to punish the wicked, just because they could? There was nothing to gain, no feelings of revenge to be satisfied and that… that was plain evil, an evil fuelled by the illusionary conviction of righteousness.

A blurry memory rose in my mind, a burning village with stakes at its centre and a zealous cry: "burn the witches!" I hadn't held back then and I wouldn't do so now. They would become food, food for the ones they had deemed unworthy of existing, convinced the vampires were nefarious enough that they had the right to play judge, jury and executioner for the ones who had simply been associated with Alassara. It might not be just, maybe some of the soldiers even had had their reservations, but I truly didn't care anymore. An eye for an eye. They would bleed and they would suffer. If might made right, I'd teach them where they actually stood.

Like a wrathful thunderstorm I arrived on the upper floor, the doors to the adjacent rooms swinging sadly in the winds of my passage. The patrons had rushed downstairs as soon as the fighting had begun and now, only one room was occupied. I blew through the door, my eyes shining like shards of the moon itself, my wings materialising without a conscious thought. I must have looked like retribution incarnate, framed in blood. Three men were gathered around a straw bag that served as a mattress, two of them holding down a blonde girl while the third was in the process of dropping his trousers. Like an ugly still life of violence and cruelty, they gaped at me and froze.

My wings shot forth and I had to restrain myself to not castrate the half naked monster on the spot. He might have bled out, something I wanted to postpone until there was an upside to it and I wasn't going to use my healing powers on a single one of them. Even the idea was repulsive.

Instead, I cut their tendons and pulverised their knees. They went down, my wings still dancing around their legs. As if time had suddenly resumed, they began wailing, their hands clutching the torn flesh and bloody craters that remained, scarlet drops oozing out from between their fingers.

"Silence," I hissed and silence there was. Without sparing them another glance, I glided forwards, gently lifting the girl from the stained, smelly sheets. Her eyes were bulging in fear, hot tears ran down her cheeks but as far as I could tell, she had gotten through unscathed, except for a couple of minor bruises on her arms and legs where the thugs had held her down. Like the last one, she struggle against me, trying to escape my grip, panic and desperation still flowing through her veins, her need to flee intensifying with every beat of her heart.

I sighed and closed my eyes, suppressing the burning flames of fury that still coursed through me. When I looked at her again, my wings had vanished and the glow from my eyes had diminished to a smouldering spark. With a wry smile I relinquished my hold and allowed her to stumble away from me, carefully guiding her towards the door with a slight shove.

"I'm not your enemy," I said, "there's no reason to fear me. I… I can't claim to know how you feel or what you must have been through, but if you let me, I'll make sure no more harm comes to you." I extended my hand towards the shivering girl but she only stared at me, her mouth working furiously without producing a single sound.

"Oh, right, sorry," I mumbled with a sheepish look. "Here," I quickly brushed against her, focusing my intent through the connection. "I recant my command," I whispered, quietly enough that only she could here my words. The very next second, a stream of incoherent words escaped her, a mixture of sobs and angry screams I couldn't decipher for the life of me. Until she suddenly shouted: "watch out, behind you!"

I didn't hesitate and whirled around to see the sparkling trail of a glinting dagger, headed in our direction. One of the soldiers had managed to hurl his side weapon at me, despite the excruciating pain he must have been in. It didn't do him much good, though. Another wave of energy raced through my mind and the flight of the polished knife slowed down to a crawl. Lazily I plucked it from the air, without so much as suffering a single scratch.

"Nice try," I complimented the flabbergasted human. "Unfortunately… you have no idea whom you're dealing with," I added, while I sashayed across the room and nailed his main hand to the floor, driving his own weapon through flesh and bone and deep into the wooden planks.