Brother's Blood, page 37
part #4 of The Vampire Reclamation Project Series
William had help from another unexpected source. He sat astride a magnificent, white mare named Boda. Being of angelic origin, the horse was acutely tuned into her rider’s every thought and emotion. Each time she’d felt William faltering in weariness and fatigue, she’d swung her head round and had used her teeth to get his attention back where it belonged.
William was both grateful and irritated by her actions, not knowing whether to thank her or cuss her out when his leg suffered from her painful nips. But she was sure footed, fast and nimble, turning on a dime when he had to change directions. Still, William needed more than an angelic horse if he was going to successfully meet the challenge he faced.
Arel and his forces weren’t there to play nice. After all, Arel was testing out the powers of darkness. He seemed to have given himself wholly over to being the bad guy. William wondered if he was enjoying the role. When Arel appeared on the field, he looked damn scary. He and his men had worn shiny armor during their drills. Now they were decked out in blackened suits. Arel’s helmet had an added black plume. A flash of color was displayed in his flowing, purple cloak. When he cantered about the field on his grand horse, his men couldn’t miss his presence or ignore his orders. They were bellowed out in a strong, commanding voice.
There were supposed to be rules that governed conduct, but Arel ignored them and so did his men. Even if there was no bloodshed, it wasn’t easy for William to watch one of Arel’s brutal soldiers trying to take the legs out from under one of his noble, cavalry steeds. Because the game was supposed to be realistic, there was always the compulsory scream of the horse as it disappeared from the field.
Sound could be a terrible device on a battlefield. William lived in a modern world of car horns and traffic, but as a child, he’d known the terrified cries of animals in pain. His father hunted with dogs that weren’t above tearing apart an innocent fox. Arel was aware of that fact and used it to his advantage when he trained his soldiers. William’s only defense was to remind himself of the truth. The brutes in Arel’s army were brainwashed innocents. They were following orders and trying to serve their master. Unfortunately, they were really good at doing just that.
Arel also used other tactics. Fireballs were catapulted through the air and exploded on impact. The energy shields that William maintained around himself and his comrades were the only things that protected them from the blasts. William’s controlled inner rage and anger wanted to explode too when he was caught off guard and lost dozens of his warriors. But he couldn’t allow any such weakness to be expressed. It would only strengthen Arel’s position.
The strain shown on William’s pale face as his belief in himself and his abilities was battered and pounded by his relentless foe. When he feared that he would fall, he’d call out to Michael. Over and over, the magnificent angel would instantly be there for him, with his hand on William’s heart, strengthening it, readjusting it’s rhythm like a divine pacemaker. It helped, but William wondered if anything would be enough to get him through a battle that seemed to go on forever.
William didn’t dare focus on another pressing issue. He and Arel were exceptions when it came to actual bodily harm. If injured, he’d carry that injury back into his normal world. He’d promised himself not to harm Arel, but would Arel and his men respect his person?
* * * * *
Rolphe was barely aware of Myra’s apartment as he continued to pray. He repeatedly asked for the assistance of the Creator and His angels. While Rolphe’s lips moved in reverence, his gift of sight was focused on Arel’s world. The war that he’d feared had started. As he zeroed in on the battlefield, his prayers increased in volume. He hated looking at the violence, but he couldn’t make himself turn away.
Amid the battlefield’s ugliness, he located Arel. The man sat erect and sure on his black stallion. He traversed the field of battle confidently. In return, his men looked up to him with veneration. When Rolphe tuned into their minds, he felt how deep their devotion went. They knew Arel was their protector, and they were willing to give him everything in return, even their very lives.
The most fervent among them was a man who rode at Arel’s side. Arel referred to him as General Wolf. As Rolphe watched the intent man go about his duties, he had a new respect for this mouse turned soldier. General Wolf had a true and faithful nature. He was always attentive to Arel’s safety, constantly making sure to keep his master out of harm’s way if at all possible.
When Rolphe readjusted his focus to the other side of the field, he didn’t see William at first. He was nearly blinded by the splendor of the angels who were fighting under the man’s command. They were resplendent in the dreary world of warfare, and they were trying to protect someone in their midst.
Rolphe panicked when he finally located William. Unlike Arel, the man looked tired and worn. There was no enthusiasm in his stricken face, only a look of struggle and need to do what needed doing. Rolphe understood how difficult it was for William. When a person’s heart wasn’t in something, it made them weak and vulnerable. He feared for William’s life.
He’d no sooner had the thought when he saw William’s horse rear back. A ball of fire exploded nearby and debris was flying in all directions. William wasn’t prepared for his mount’s sudden reaction. He tried to keep his seat and failed. He fell backwards, flailing helplessly at the air and then slamming to the uneven ground. When his head struck a rock, he stopped moving.
The scene was so upsetting that Rolphe lost his focus. He was back to praying even more desperately, trying to block out what he’d just witnessed.
* * * * *
A great shout of elation made Arel pull Frick up short and turn around. His troops were all celebrating. A quick scan of the energy on the field validated their elation. The balance of power had tipped dramatically in his favor. He urged his horse into a fast canter and headed towards the front lines. The stallion felt the excitement too and leaped into action.
General Wolf was soon riding alongside Arel on his capable steed, Whisk. Arel’s general had been checking on the battle from an elevated position on the field. He was eager to deliver his news.
“It’s happened, my Lord. He’s down. The prince is down,” he said in a gasping voice.
Arel’s eyes widened with surprise and confusion. General Wolf and his men were reveling in a great victory. His side was winning. Yet the thought of what that meant nearly took his breath away. He spurred Frick forward. He knew his adversary, William, was in trouble. The man’s energy was definitely waning, but how badly was he hurt? What if he died?
In his heart, Arel shouted out his concern. “Dammit, Will, you can’t let it end this way!” But even as he made his declaration, some darker part of him knew he had to stay true to what he’d started.
“Alert the men, we have to finish this now!” he shouted at his general.
* * * * *
William lay very still. He was afraid he was going to pass out. His head was a blinding spasm of pain, but he couldn’t let his condition deter his focus. He needed to properly direct his energy if he wanted to maintain his army. A multitude of angels on the ground were depending on him.
He’d been shouting out orders when a fire ball had exploded close to his position. In his distracted state, he’d forgotten to maintain his personal shields. But his mount, Boda, was very aware and quick to react. Throughout the battle, she was lightning fast on her feet and constantly positioning her body as a buffer to keep him safe. When she reared, she was trying to protect him from flying debris. William was caught off guard and lost control. Horsemanship had never been one of his strong points.
After William fell, Boda swiveled round and nudged him with her muzzle. Her encouragement and energy helped. William pulled himself back from the pain enough to steady his resolve. Fortunately, when he looked up, Michael was rushing over.
“Hold on, William, hold on for a little while longer,” Michael said in a calming voice.
William didn’t have the strength to answer him. A number of his troops were quickly gathering around him, protecting him like Boda tried to protect him. But he was the one who had to stay clear-headed and remember why he was on the battlefield. From the very start, he’d needed to prove something crucial to himself. Fear could only overpower him if he let it. As he tried to stay alert, the concept weaved in and out of his wounded head.
Unlike William, Michael never lost his poise or focus. He was always vigilant and attentive to whatever was required. He gave William a reassuring smile, then turned his attention skyward. His eyes were bright and expectant.
* * * * *
While Michael was on the ground, Carey was high above the field, standing on a viewing platform. When he’d seen William fall, he wasn’t surprised. The man was exhausted.
William was a powerful and willing leader, but he didn’t have any experience in directing an army of angels. It was like a teenager trying to drive an eighteen wheeler with eighteen forward gears. Learning to handle a truck like that took time and practice. So did directing a large battalion of angels.
Boda was also a problem for an inexperienced rider. She was an excellent mount, the best there was when it came to being battle ready. Her responses to both the conditions on the field and her rider could be almost instantaneous. She’d done her best to adapt to William’s lack of skill. However, she had to protect him even if it meant he might not be ready for her sudden responses. Of course, if he’d been riding a lesser horse, it wouldn’t have been as able to protect him as effectively as Boda had. It wouldn’t have been as capable of boosting William’s energy either. All in all, Boda had been an excellent choice on Michael’s part.
Carey smiled as he nodded down to his fellow angel. Michael was comfortable in just about any situation. As Arel once observed, Michael had been around longer than dirt. So had Carey. They’d been there to watch the earth evolve and become a place suitable for life. Now, they were eager for humanity to continue on its quest for happiness.
The battle that William and Arel were fighting was significant. It was a kind of marker denoting what was possible for people like William and Arel. The two men had been comrades and sometimes enemies in many lifetimes. In this life, they were seekers who needed to define themselves in a way that went beyond the norm. Michael felt they had a very good chance to succeed.
However, as Carey studied the two armies, he saw Arel and his troops advancing very quickly towards William’s position. It was a decisive point. If William lost hope, he’d do more than suffer from a head wound. A little help was needed. With William’s petition and focus in place, Carey heeded Michael’s signal to proceed. It was time for a different kind of angel to come forth. It was time to call upon an angel named Grace. She’d demonstrate how versatile an angel could be.
For an angel, changing their appearance was like putting on different clothes. Grace normally looked very sweet in her role as Carol’s angel. She wore matronly dresses. Sometimes, her hair was pulled back in a bun. She’d adopted that particular look when Carol was a little girl and had caught a glimpse of Grace. Since the child had imagined Grace to be her fairy godmother, Grace appeared in grandmotherly apparel. But grandmothers had no place on a field of battle. Grace needed to be a much more impressive angel to engage Arel’s army.
Sixty-Three
AS AREL SPURRED Frick down the field, one thought took hold and repeated itself over and over. It was his father who had won the war he was fighting, not him. That hard, wooden cane that the man had used to beat a small boy, had never stopped punishing Arel. As a man, he was still feeling the blows of being the child who had no value. Only now, those blows had taken hold of his mind. They’d become a terrible filter that didn’t allow him to see anything properly, including who he really was. In the end, he’d lost touch with anything valuable in his make-up.
The worst part was that his twisted vision hadn’t allowed for good decisions. Arel had broken and defiled everything he’d held sacred. Despite his efforts to survive and seek out what was good and true, he’d let his father’s venom poison him. Its toxic nature made him weak when it came to holding on to what really mattered to him. Now he was surrounded with the result, and it sickened him.
He wanted to blame the Creator for the darkness, for the ugliness of battle, but the Creator hadn’t started the war he was fighting. The Creator had never made him turn against a brother or train innocent creatures to fight and battle someone he’d chosen to make an enemy. If evil was more powerful than good, he’d been the one to give that evil its power.
As he closed the distance between himself and William, he saw Michael looking at him. The angel was standing close to where William lay, but his eyes were trained on Arel’s eyes. Even though Arel wore a helmet, it couldn’t stop Michael’s gaze from penetrating the metal and seeking him out. But there was no judgment or condemnation in Michael’s eyes, only understanding and kindness.
It was Arel who still harbored a sense of failure, a failure to leave his past behind. He’d dragged it along throughout his life, a dead thing, a corpse that didn’t belong in the present. There was no life in his father’s hatred. It needed to be given a decent burial, a final resting place. Instead, Arel had been too angry to let it go.
The thought drained more of the blood from his face as he rode. Yet a few words slipped out before his despair took hold completely. “Help me, Michael!”
As he uttered the words, he was shaken out of his morbid mood by his men. They were screaming in panic all around him. His horse, Frick, was screaming too, fighting the reins and coming to a sudden stop. All eyes were on the horizon. A dragon was silhouetted against the meager remains of daylight.
Arel watched as the beast rose up slowly. Her emerald green scales glistened in spite of the dim light. Her massive wings were a much darker green, almost black. Even from a distance, her bright, yellow eyes were visible. They remained steady and unwavering.
As she stared back at Arel and his army, she began to fan her wings with more determination. She ascended higher into the fouled atmosphere. Her breast glowed with the fire she carried within. When she’d reached a sufficient height, she hung in the air for a moment. In the next, she began her dive, leaving tendrils of smoke in her wake.
Arel’s mind froze in horror. The old memory of being burned consumed him, making the reins slip from his hands. Frick tossed his head and backed up. The horse was gripped in fear and panic too, moving erratically, stumbling on the uneven, deeply-rutted ground. When Frick’s back hoof got stuck in a hole, the horse began to fall, taking Arel with him.
Arel’s armor saved his leg from being crushed. Frick didn’t seem to fair as well. When the horse managed to get to his feet, he was limping badly. But even in his injured state, he returned to where Arel lay and stood over him. Wolfie was there the next instant. He’d thrown off his helmet and tossed it aside as he knelt down and positioned his body over Arel.
“Great One, tell me what to do,” he asked in a shaky voice. “How can I protect you?”
Arel knew Wolfie was terrified, just like all his men. Not only was their leader cowed by the winged monster, but their basic rodent nature was in total survival mode. An aerial attack activated their need to run for cover. But they didn’t scatter like he thought they would. They ran towards him, forming a great circle, protecting him against the alien creature in the sky, covering their heads with their shields.
Arel’s face turned to the heavens as he waited for the end. “Michael, please, help these innocents! I’m the one who started all this! I’ll pay for anything I did, but don’t let harm come to these brave creatures!”
As his prayer was leaving his lips, Arel saw the dragon appear directly over him. She stared down with her hard, unblinking eyes. The smoke from her massive exhalations filled the air around her. But instead of using her fiery breath, she shook her head, as if she was a great mother bird chastising a fledgling. Then she rose up again and slowly left the battle field.
Arel tried to get up and couldn’t. Everything about him felt broken. Even if his armor saved his leg, he felt himself slipping away. He had to act quickly. He told Wolfie to order the men to remove their helmets. After they did, he used what breath he had to thank them, to tell them they had served him well. With a snap of his fingers, he released them to Michael’s care, knowing they’d soon be in a glorious, mouse heaven. Only Wolfie remained a soldier, but not for long.
Arel reached up and touched the face of his beloved friend. “I’ll never forget you, Wolfie. I promise you, there’s never been a better man than the man you have been. But now, I want you to go back to those who have served with you, not as their general, but as that amazing creature you’ve always been.”
Wolfie didn’t say anything. He nodded and smiled back. When Arel snapped his fingers again, Wolfie was gone.
Arel noticed that Frick had wandered over to where William’s white horse was standing. Wolfie’s horse, Whisk, was with them too. The three horses looked back at him, as if they needed permission to move on. He smiled as he released them too. “Go with her, you two, enjoy perfect health and green pastures again.”
* * * * *
William pushed himself up into a sitting position, ignoring his head. He needed to know why there was so much discord coming from Arel’s men. They were all looking to the skies and screaming out in fright. The reason was soon obvious.
William had only seen dragons in books and in the movies. But the one flying over the field made him forget his pain. His mind and thoughts were transfixed by the size and powerful energy of the amazing creature. She was alternately gliding and flapping her wings in purposeful manner. She was flying directly to the spot where Arel had fallen. She did glance in William’s direction briefly. It wasn’t a comforting glance. The great winged reptile seemed rather annoyed with him. At least, that’s what he felt when he tried to tune into her mindset. Thankfully, she kept moving. William gasped. “Oh hell, what’s she going to do to Arel?”
