Bloodlust Excerpt

The sharp, potent sting of smoke sent my nostrils flaring and my eyes began to water as I reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the fortress’ entry hall. Banners of crimson and gold hung from the rafters, thick beams made of dark-red wood. Sunlight streamed in through tall, narrow windows of shining glass high overhead. The regalia of the Ordus Empire and the sigils of Clan Latos—the Golden Ram and Lidless Eye—decorated the walls. The Legionnaires wore metal cuirasses and shining steel helmets, armed with shields and spears standing before the great doors. They were holding back a screaming horde of attackers in head scarves and thin robes, carrying heavy clubs and notched swords. Armed men and women stood by the narrow windows, firing their pistols and long guns at the enemy, filling the room with more of the stinking smoke.

It was, in a word, pandemonium. And I was trapped in the middle of it.

One man dressed in Imperial steel grabbed me from behind. “You shouldn’t be here, Mistress!” he said, raising his voice above the raucous noise. As he spun me about, I beheld a man with short, trim brown hair, a close-cropped beard and mustache to match; his face was weathered, but the only grey I saw was in the shine of his eyes. A familiar-looking weapon was at his waist: a long knife with a curved tip in a blood-red sheath, and I only knew one man who ever wore such a weapon. “Josef?!”

Josef Barrett dropped my arm. “Jaska Isrodel!” He was startled, but recovered more quickly than I did. “What are you doing here?!”

“I could ask you the same question!” I hadn’t seen the man in almost fifteen years, and even mourned his death. A flood of old memories came rushing back at the most inopportune time: thoughts of ruined plans, broken promises and mournful whispers in the dark. The entire trajectory of my life once hung on his every word until things took a drastic turn and I found myself in the arms of another man. And now…here he was. There wasn’t time to ask questions or to demand answers. It was difficult to focus on the present, to shake off those memories that hadn’t troubled me in so long, even in spite of the shouting and the furious sound of gunfire.

Even so, Josef still shook off the distraction faster than I could. “It isn’t safe here, Jaska!” he said, taking my arm again. “You should draw back to somewhere safe!”

I looked down at his hand, then up at his face as I firmly pulled my arm out of his grip. “I’m looking for Commander Ghaliban! Do you know where she is?”

“Indisposed, at the moment!” he answered, gesturing towards the fighting at the doors. “Last I saw, she was outside, leading the fight against these Chalean bastards; Saints can say whether she’s still alive or not.” The fighting at the door suddenly took a turn as we watched the Legionnaires claim the upper hand, and soon began to push back the attackers and force their way out into the courtyard.

ENOUGH WITH WORDS, BEARER! THE TIME FOR FIGHTING IS NOW!

“Who’s in command here?” I asked. I was half-tempted to try to take control of things myself. These soldiers were all that was left between me and the mob outside, so it was imperative that they succeed.

“I am, at the moment, actually. I’m Second Officer of this garrison.”

“You’re in command?!” I bit my tongue, cutting off a chance to say something regrettable. After a short breath, I nodded. “Alright. We need to go find her.”

“We’re cut off,” he said. “If I lead a search party now, the fortress could be overrun!”

“So I’ll help you lead one.” I gestured at the gunners who were hunkered down at the far end of the hall. “You can go with me or stay behind. Just get those fools to stop firing off their guns at anything that moves outside.”

Josef gave a look of consternation, but quickly nodded. “As you say…Matriarch.” He turned about, shouting orders as he went, gathering his soldiers together.

I stared at the man’s back as he departed, overwhelmed by more memories that I wasn’t prepared for. Part of me wanted to call him back, to start over in spite of the madness unfolding all around us. Our reunion in so many years had been less than a gracious one, but there were more important things to worry about at that moment. I drew Bloodlust at last and clenched his hilt tight as I faced the door. “It’s time,” I said.

FIGHT! FIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!

The doors were three or four meters tall at a glance, sheathed in shield-steel with thick, shining rivets. I raised my voice above the din: “Clear that exit!” The looks of surprise I got might’ve been comical any other time—this was not one of them.

Josef was right behind me. “Legionnaires! Get ready to move out! We’re going to find the Commander!” There was a cacophony of sound, heavy boots beating the stone floor as the soldiers approached behind us, weapons raised. Most of the Imperial defenders were women, armed with short spears and oval-shaped shields embossed with the Imperial ram’s head. We shared a glance, Josef and I, and nodded at each other. “Forward!” he ordered, and was greeted with a loud roar as his fellow Legionnaires cried out and hurried to meet the Chalean forces, crying chants of Death! And For the Empire!

I raised my Sword and shouted as well. I knew Bloodlust wanted me to use his magic, to let his power loose as I rushed out to engage the enemy. The mottled bloodstains on my Sword looked dull and rusted in the morning light, but the rest of the ensorcelled steel flashed like fell-fire.

We stepped out into the glaring light of morning. Smoke rose in black plumes into a sky so blue I wanted to swim in it. Bodies dressed in silver or chestnut brown were strewn about the dusty grounds, blown to bits or chopped into pieces. A crowd of brown-clad men were waiting for us, brandishing swords and iron-bound clubs in their hands. The Legionnaires lunged forward, spears in their hands, skewering anyone standing too close. Josef was shouting commands as fast as I’d ever heard a man speak, and watching the Legionnaires move as a fluid, single unit was a sight to behold, shields flashing and spears gleaming in the sun. The sheer press of countless screaming men came up against proper training and martial prowess, and for the moment, the Legionnaires forced their enemies back.

There were far more Chaleans than Legionnaires—they had strength in numbers, even if we had momentum and a determination to survive. The Imperial soldiers were all shouting and raising their voices, crying for revenge for their fallen comrades. Soon the Chalean forces began to melt away in the face of a well-trained force; some that fled were skewered or shot in the back, left to fall and bleed out in the dust.

“What’s going on over there?” I asked, pointing across the courtyard. A smaller force of Legionnaires stood in the shadow of the fortress entrance, where a great portcullis gate still blocked entrance into the courtyard—if not for them, that gate would’ve been wide open, allowing the rest of the enemy to pour in and overwhelm the remaining defenders. The attacking army had split themselves into two, and their backs were to us.

“That’ll be the Commander,” said Josef. “You should take some of my company and go to her; she’ll need any help she can—”

“Second Officer.” I cut him off. “You get to your Commander, push back the assault and give them all a chance to catch their breath. Send anyone with me that you can spare and I’ll do what I can to plug that gap in the wall.” For a split second, I thought he might argue with me. “Quickly!”

Josef nodded. “Second Squad, follow the Matriarch and get to the wall! The rest of you, follow me!” We locked eyes for a moment, and it occurred to me that our short-lived reunion might be the last time we ever saw each other. “Good hunting, Jaska.”

“You as well, Josef.”

Splitting our already-pitiful numbers in half felt suicidal, but we had few options and those were running out quickly. I’d never led any sort of charge in my entire life, but now nearly twenty of the steel-clad Legionnaires closed in around me as we ran forward towards the smoking crater in the shadow of the fortress wall. As we approached the gap, I could hear shouting from the Chaleans as they saw us coming, both those wearing Clan Chale’s colors and the mercenaries fighting with them. They still outnumbered us, but we had the element of surprise, and I had a Spellsword for good measure.

GIVE THEM THE DEATH THEY DESERVE! screamed Bloodlust.

“Drive them out!” I shouted.

The Legionnaires shouted with me, crying out for the Empress’ favor or the Saints’ protection. Those who had guns raised them, filling the air with smoke and lead while steel crashed together and cries of anger and pain rang in my ears. Bloodlust flashed as I swung him high, cleaving right through my nearest opponent’s club, as well as taking his arm and half of his skull with it. As he dropped dead to the ground, I swung hard to the other side, forcing a uniformed Chalean to block with his own sword with one hand before he raised a pistol to shoot me with the other. I ducked, letting the bullet fly harmlessly overhead before I gored him with my Sword and spilled his guts, staining the dusty ground as he toppled with a cry.

BLOOD! shouted the mad thing in my head. BLOOOOOOOOOOOOD!

Another attacker lunged forward with a short spear in his hands, screaming as he came. I ended him with another wide swing, and Bloodlust sent his head rolling while his body collapsed, quivering in the dirt.

“Push forward!” I shouted, gesturing with a sweep of one arm over my head.

BEHIND YOU!

I turned back in time to watch another uniformed soldier aiming a long gun at me. It went off an instant later, and the bullet struck me in the same arm. “Saints!” I shouted and tucked the injured arm to my side, gritting my teeth against the pain but refusing to drop my Sword. Blood stained the side of my dress as pain, hot and bitter, shot down my left side and wrapped tight about my heart.

“Matriarch!” I heard one of my soldiers shout. Another gun went off from behind me, striking the enemy gunner right between the eyes. He fell backwards onto the ground and never moved again.

 I stumbled back, still clutching my injured arm as silver-clad soldiers rushed around me, forcing the enemy back towards the broken wall. The pain in my arm was already lessening, and each breath was less labored than the one before it. In moments the bullet wound was closed, the flesh woven whole again, leaving only an unsightly blood stain and a bullet hole in my clothes.

The brave Legionnaires pushed all the way to the broken gap in the wall, forcing the last of the attackers out of the fortress at last. The defenders at the front gates had rallied and come to our aid, and now we had control of the whole courtyard—and the fortress with it, for the moment.

“Are you alright?” Josef asked as he came up beside me. Behind him was a woman with greying hair who was taller than I by a head or more. It was Commander Fatima Ghaliban; she had a gash to her scalp, and both her temple and ear were soaked in blood.

“I’m well enough,” I said. “Commander, you’re hurt.”

She shook her head. “A flesh wound, Lady, nothing more.” She gave me brief, sharp salute. “I saw you during the fighting. I’m grateful.”

“I’m just relieved you’re ali—” The sound of wild, terrified screaming cut me off. Imperial soldiers were falling back through the gap, fleeing from some threat on the other side. From out of the thinning smoke, two halves of a Legionnaire flew through the air and landed at my feet; the dead soldier’s face was pale and drawn, frozen forever in disbelief at whatever had managed to cut her in two. The remaining defenders about us held their weapons and shifted uneasily.

“Hold!” Fatima ordered, raising a fist. As one, her soldiers stopped and fell in together, weapons ready.

I could hear a muffled roar coming from the Chalean army on the other side.

“What are they shouting about?” Josef asked.

A NEW DANGER COMES! Bloodlust sounded gleeful in my mind.

Through the wisps of smoke came an immense shape, and never in my life did I behold such a creature. It was a man but somehow grown to a giant’s size, standing taller than two and a half meters in height, maybe even three, with a muscled, grotesque body covered in pale scars, dressed in nothing but a soiled loincloth. A longing for violence and worse things shone in his dull eyes, while his mouth and chin were stained wet with blood as though he’d bitten off his own tongue. His weapon was a long, rough-hewn slab of metal with a point at one end. The weapon’s long hilt was clutched in his thick fingers, and a long steel cable stretched from its pommel to a rough, metal cuff on his wrist; the sword’s edge was shining with blood that dripped into the dust at his feet.

The Chalean shouting increased. “Spellblade!” they called, crowing the word to the sky, again and again. “Spellblade! Spellblade! Spellblade!”

The creature raised his weapon, pointing it at me. Both of his lips peeled back, showing a grinning mouthful of mismatched, twisted teeth. “Bear-Urrrrr,” he said with a slurred voice like the snarl of a mad beast, spitting thick gobs of spittle and blood.

“Oh, bugger,” I said. It appeared that my fight was only just beginning.