Chapter 128 - Exodus of the Neirie, 23,000 Years Ago part 6

I was disappointed I couldn't wear my cloak into the fray. What a frightening figure I would have made, swooping down upon my enemies like a monstrous bird of prey. Alas, Ilio needed the garment more than I! He was still too newly made to endure the glare of the sun.

I swiped at the tacky black tears the sun had squeezed from my eyes. Even for me, the pain was nearly unbearable. It felt like my skull had been cleaved open and filled with molten lava.

Pushing my discomfort aside, I raced forward, pumping my legs faster and faster until the high plains grass hissed past me on both sides. My body cut through the field like the prow of a boat. I took two great leaps, each more powerful than the last, and then I threw my arms to my sides and catapulted my body into the sky.

My garments snapped upon my flesh. The wind whistled in my ears. My shadow leapt across the plains below like a fish breaching the surface of an emerald lake.

Flight… it is one of the few vampiric gifts that I unconditionally enjoy. All the rest of our preternatural abilities have at least one unpleasant drawback. Our penetrating senses often overwhelm. Our superhuman strength and speed can maim, even kill, if we are not careful to govern our movements. But flight… Ah, but I'm sure you've dreamed of it yourself! I revel in its sensations: being unanchored from the earth, the wind battering my cheeks, lashing through my hair. Glorious-- even when it carries me to war!

As the battleground swelled quickly beneath me, I surveyed the chaos. Just a few seconds had passed from the time I launched myself from the earth to my descent into their midst, but it was enough to take an accounting of the armies that clashed below. It was enough to see that the Neirie were desperately outnumbered.

I counted twenty-seven Neirie. They were fighting more than sixty Oombai soldiers.

It was easy enough to distinguish between the two groups. The Neirie were dressed in no finer garments than they'd worn in the Oombai slavepens. Frayed rags hung from their wiry limbs, and those were the fortunate ones. Some of the Neirie men were fighting naked. And their weapons were just as poor as their clothing. A few of the Neirie were armed with knives or spears. Most, however, fought with crude clubs or heavy stones—and some even bare fists!

Brave men-- doomed, but brave. Already, many had fallen.

I came hurtling out of the sky from the north, so my shadow did not fall among the combatants. Still, two dozen pairs of eyes watched me descend from the heavens. I saw Neirie and Oombai alike fall back in superstitious awe, their eyes bulging, their jaws dropping to their chests in disbelief. I heard cries of horror. A few men shouted in joy, but only a few. Optimists. Or the pious, thinking their prayers had been answered.

I landed in the midst of them, the blood-speckled grass rippling outwards in an expanding ring. The confused and frightened warriors fell away on both sides. "What is it? Who has joined the fray?" the men in the back shouted as their brothers pressed against them, trying to retreat. Those who had kept their wits replied: "It is the white god from the mountains! The blood god who destroyed the Elders!"

Ah, now you flee, you wicked, wicked Oombai!

I rose slowly from my crouch, displaying my fangs with a fearsome hiss. If they were not already frightened, the sight of my razor-sharp grin must have frozen their hearts with terror. Tall, powerfully muscular, and with a great shaggy mane of dark auburn hair, I can strike an impressive pose when I want to—even without a fancy cloak!

The Oombai warriors on the front line turned immediately and fled, stricken with mortal fear… and rightly so! In their haste to escape, they actually began to trample the men standing behind them.

I couldn't let them go. I knew I had to break the backbone of the Oombai-- now, this day-- else they'd continue to be a thorn in the side of the Neirie refugees. If I didn't, they would pursue the bedraggled fugitives until they'd recaptured or killed them all.

The knowledge filled me with sadness for the killing I must do… but I wouldn't be telling you the truth if I didn't admit that it was only a little sadness.

Mostly I was pissed, to use the modern vernacular.

With a blood-curdling snarl, I launched myself upon the frightened phalanx of soldiers. I sliced into their ranks, loosing the reins of my careful control. Indeed, I pushed my powers further than I ever had before!

I moved in a blur, flattening skulls with my fists, sending heads, like startled crows, flapping from the shoulders they once had perched upon. I laughed, seeing some of the headless bodies continuing to run, though it was a terrible sight, and my laughter born more of horror than amusement. I tore the heart from the chest of one, and still clutching the bloody organ, punched my fist through the face of another. One Oombai warrior fell, and I seized his ankles and tore his body in half. Ten, I killed, then twenty. I ripped off one warrior's arm and swung it into the face of another, sending the mutilated man whirling bodily across the field.

In minutes I was covered in their blood, my chest heaving, my mind empty save one thought: Kill!

That single word drummed inside my skull, throbbing like a heart, or a hard cock: Kill! Kill! Kill!

I knocked a man down and stomped his skull flat. I grabbed another by the arm and flung him as high into the air as I could. He sailed into the sky, spinning end over end, as I blurred forward and threw another, and they collided at the apex of their flight.

Forty men I killed. In a whirlwind of bloody fists and feet, that number rose quickly to fifty. 

The last few fell to their knees and began to beg for mercy. Crying. Clutching their hands together and shaking them.

"Mercy?" I snarled in disbelief. "I'll show you mercy! I'll show you the mercy that the Oombai showed their slaves!" Then I threw myself on them and sent their souls shrieking to whatever deity judged their race in the ghost world.

Dead. All dead, I thought, their blood dripping from my flesh.

And there was so much of it! I looked like I'd bathed in a river of it!

I brought my hands up, watched the blood trickle down my arms. The thirst for all that hot salty blood squeezed my insides, yammered inside my skull to be satisfied. I put my bloody fingers in my mouth and sucked them, my eyes rolling back in ecstasy. I licked it from my forearms. More! I wanted more! Desperate to slake my hunger, I seized the last man by his plated vest and brought his broken neck to my fangs.

That drumbeat of desire--! It pounded inside my skull, driving me to gorge myself. I had to silence it. I had to drown that fire or I'd be goaded to kill them all. I would turn on the Neirie and tear them to pieces just as surely as I'd destroyed their pursuers.

Blood! More blood! Must feed!

I tore the man's neck open with my teeth.

Oh, ancestors, yes! The blood! Still hot! Drink it all! Suck it out!

The mortal was still twitching. A faint spark of life lingered in his eyes, but I gave no thought to his pain or fear. I drained him, and then I squeezed his body against mine, crushing it to my chest to squeeze out every last drop. His bones crackled inside his flesh. Bloody shit spattered the grass beneath him. I drained the mangled corpse, and then I threw the empty husk aside.

The Neirie stood at a distance, moaning in horror and disbelief. I could hear them behind me. Smell them behind me. There was a part of me that wanted to kill them. Slaughter them like I'd slaughtered their enemies. I wanted to feed upon them until my belly sloshed with their blood--

No, monster! You have sworn to protect them!

I stood with my back to them, trembling, until I'd gotten myself under some semblance of self-control. It was no easy task. I'd never unleashed my lust for violence so completely, and like a ravening beast, the monster didn't want to go back inside its cage. I ground my teeth together, taking deep breaths like a mortal man would do. I squeezed my fists.

Finally I turned to address the Neirie warriors.

"No!" I cried out, horrified by what I saw.

The Neirie were down on their knees, their faces to the earth. They were worshipping me!