Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Academy or anything surrounding it (but I do own this plot :D)
JPOV
Within a second of hearing the first shrill wail, my stake was grasped firmly in my hand. I initially suspected that this was merely a minor disturbance, perhaps a training exercise at most, but as the screams became more and more frequent, that opinion left me very quickly. I was now fully both ready and eager to throw myself into battle, but was also acutely aware of Ibrahim's presence behind me – he was now my first priority. Taking that notion as gospel, I placed my body defensively in front of his and settled into a slight crouch, scanning the area for any signs of movement. There was an eerie silence which occupied the walled-garden where we were situated. I could hear distinctly the commotion of the Court getting louder and louder – screams and cries becoming clearer and clearer – with each step.
"Stay behind me." I ordered the Moroi with whom I had been conversing; general propriety and hierarchal societal dictations were out of the window as I was now solely responsible for keeping him alive. Thankfully, Ibrahim had the better sense to argue with this new shift in dynamic and merely nodded in response, knowing speech would distract me from my mission. I was grateful for this consideration and my gratitude was only increased when Ibrahim mercifully stayed in my shadow as I began to move through the walled garden. The path remained clear and I picked up the pace. Even a Strigoi would be foolish to mount an attack through what, for all intents and purposes, was essentially a maze. The twists and turns would not only slow you down, but also tire you out simultaneously. Therefore, it became a momentary point of safety and one which I fully intended to use.
But for how long?
It was obvious that we couldn't stay here long and I had to get Ibrahim to a more secure environment. Guardian Croft had briefed us on all the bunkers within a five mile radius, but I doubted even he would've predicted their necessity tonight. Nonetheless, I had memorised them all regardless and knew the nearest one was to the east of the hall. Of course, I needed to first establish the source of the attack before deciding upon the quickest and safest route, but that was only a matter of–
"Janine!"
I snapped my head up at Ibrahim's warning. A male Strigoi stood before us, grinning demonically as only a Strigoi knew how. He had clearly been a Dhampir before he had turned as I saw remnants of training as he mounted his attack. He was strong, as all Strigoi were, but sloppy: aiming directly for Ibrahim, he completely underestimated my response. I kicked him back and he fumbled, allowing me to drive my stake through his heart with little resistance. As he collapsed, I saw Ibrahim flinch slightly and I forced myself to remember how he had not been trained as I had to deal with the killing Strigoi – to him, it would have appeared as a form of murder, however pure and beneficial the motives were.
I now really needed to get him out of this.
Little did I know how impossible that would be, for as I approached the entrance to the walled gardens, nothing could prepare me for the sight that lay ahead:
Strigoi in there masses had flooded into the gardens. Emerging from every angle and closing in on the Great Hall like missiles locked on a target. The Dhampirs had mounted their counter-attack, creating a blockade of sorts between the oncoming onslaught and the Great Hall, but appeared overwhelmed by the sheer number of their enemy. The shock of seeing this level of coordination was enough to make even the best of us falter, added to this was the shock of seeing this many Strigoi manage to break through the wards – they were supposed to be indissoluble!
This was definitely not a training exercise...
I could see bodies – both of the living and the un-dead – begin to pile up. Many of the Moroi had retreated back into the hall which appeared to have the highest concentration of Guardians defending it, but some still remained outside and began to flee through the gardens, only to be slain by the relentless and merciless army. I could see Ibrahim's face turn to that of horror as he too realised the same revelation that had just dawned upon me:
The Strigoi were not alone...
Figures in black, masked and vicious, were fighting alongside the beasts of the night. Whilst they may have been covered, it was clear that they were not Strigoi. They were not fast enough. Not strong enough. Yet, they were no so weakened as to appear to be human. No. They were vampires: Dhampirs.
I was shocked. Stunned into silence. However, there was no time to remain so, thus I was brought immediately back to my senses at the approaching swarms of the un-dead caught sight of me. Impulse took over: I ran, Ibrahim in hand, through the battlefield and across the line of Guardians that blocked the entrance to the Great Hall. With Ibrahim safely inside, I told him to go to the bunker before turning back and mounting my attack. All my training flooded back to me as I quickly and efficiently dispatched my enemy. With each battle, and each victory, I noticed how – in spite of their numbers – most of the Strigoi were young: freshly transformed and still clumsy with their newfound power. This gave me a distinct advantage and one I used to the full. I ran into the thrust of the battle, driving my stake into unsuspecting Strigoi and aiding my fellow Guardians. I caught sight of Ruth fending off two female Strigoi and jumped to her defence. Her grateful smirk told me she was thankful for my interference and once both of the unmentionable abominations were sent back to where they belonged, we separated, adopting a principle of divide and conquer.
Several more dead Strigoi later, I came face to face with one of the assailants. He was a Dhampir – no questions asked – and appeared much older than myself, perhaps in his late thirties, but still had managed to maintain his physical fitness. He stood before me in all black, only his deep brown eyes visible from the opening in his black balaclava. I was dumfounded: I could not comprehend why he had sided with the ones we had been trained to despise and to kill. As a result, this confusion caused me to hesitate.
And that hesitation nearly killed me.
He, seemingly having had no omission in fighting one of his own kind, launched towards me at a formidable rate. Tackling me to the ground, he used his free hands to lock onto my neck, choking me within his grasp. I flailed, but managed to kick my leg upwards and towards a rather sensitive area for the man on top of me. He flinched and his grip loosened. It was enough for me to kick him again and shove him off me and scramble free. Re-positioning myself, I went to an offensive crouch and propelled my small frame against his larger. He, regaining his resolve, countered: meeting my attack with one of his own. Changing tact, I dodged and ducked down, using my lack of height and striking his legs, causing him to fall to the ground. Seeing my opportunity, I tried to scramble to my feet, only to see him already up. Without needing to see the rest of his features, I could tell he was angry – positively fuming – as he thundered towards me. Instinctively, I gripped the stake in my hand and threw it towards him. It flung through the air at a speed he could not avoid and struck him in the throat. His halt was immediate. The blood gargled ground the protruding stake and out of his open mouth and he fell forward to the ground, motionless.
I remained where I was: my breathing heavy and my thoughts manic. I had just killed a Dhampir. A Dhampir! Never had I ever expected – at any point in my entire career – that I would have to do that. We were not trained for this. There was no protocol. I could feel my breathing quicken further still and the tears begin to overfill my eyes. I forced myself up and walked towards the lifeless corpse, staring at it in momentary horror and wonder. Reaching down, I pried my stake from where it was lodged in his throat. More blood squirted through but I was in too much shock to properly react. In my observation of the still corpse, I noticed something on the back of his neck and leaned down to get a closer look: tattooed over where his promise mark evidently used to be, was a sun: a golden circle with identically coloured rays shaped like that of a compass. Within it, encircling the small gap between the central circle and the rays was an inscription: La Luz: el victorioso y el eterno.
I staggered back and away from the body, still completely horror-struck. Around me, I could hear the fighting continue: the groans and snarls of the Strigoi; the calls and shouts of Dhampirs; the screams and cries of Moroi. The sounds of battle and of loss: fusing together and making my head pound and ache. I could no longer concentrate. Every moral I had had been shattered. How could he side with the Strigoi? Was everything a lie? What was just? What was true? What was right?
But, just as quickly as it had gone, my concentration came rushing right back upon hearing one particular scream...
Harriet!
I snapped my head round to see her cowering on the ground. Her dress torn and smothered in mud and grass and through its tear I saw her right ankle misshapen and out of place. A Strigoi loomed over her, grinning menacingly and licking his lips voluptuously. All thoughts of my higher moral standing were replaced by animalistic vengeance. I sprinted towards my friend, stake – still blooded by gorged throat of the traitorous Dhampir – seized in my hand. I bolted faster and faster, rising my arm up before thrusting it down through the beast's shoulder blade. I felt the bone shatter upon impact and his body convulse forward only to be thrown back again by a force striking him on the other side. As he fell I met eyes with that other force.
"Janine..." I saw the hardness and seriousness in Emyl's face and nodded my response, not trusting my voice. He offered me a small smile, understanding my silence, before we set into motion. Something I had always cherished was our ability to coordinate without speaking. Emyl and I did not need words or discussion, just one look and we'd fall into synchronisation. That day was no different: I picked up Harriet from the ground whilst Emyl forged out path in front of us, like Moses through the Red Sea. With Harriet in between us, limping slightly on her damaged ankle, I focused on the back making sure nothing came up behind us. Emyl pushed forward, slaying everything that dared to threaten his charge. We ploughed through the swarm and broke free – running through the open ground and towards the woodland that backed onto the Court gardens. Emyl took Harriet's hand and pulled her beside him as a loud siren echoed through the evening air, signalling only one thing:
The Royal Court had been breached!
The wail pulsed through the entire campus, awaking everyone. This was a signal that that same everyone had been taught, but had never, as far as the records went back, had been forced to use. The bunkers we no longer an option. The safest place in the vampiric world had been compromised. There was only one option now: run. Run far and run fast.
Emyl's eyes widened in shock and my own expression mirrored my own. I could see the Moroi sprinting from the building, risking the world outside the wards as it had now become the lesser of two evils. The airstrips were open and every helicopter, plane, car, truck and bike was now in motion. The guardians split – some to make sure as many of the Moroi escaped as possible, whilst the other remained and fought off the invasion. The latter knew their efforts would lead to their demise, but it would not be in vain: it would buy the others time.
As for us, we were too far away from the airstrips or roads: our only option was the woods. How far we would get was incalculable. Our chances of survival were equally inconclusive. But we had no choice.
"Janine, we have to go." Emyl's voice – usually so composed – was panicked and broken. He did not know what to do. No-one did. This was an attack like no other – never seen before in all our history. What were we supposed to do? The Court itself had called to abandon ship!
We were not trained for this.
A Strigoi, lingering on the outskirts of the battle, one who had not yet entered the main building of the Court that they had conquered, caught sight of us. She wasted no time and charged towards us with uncommon grace which solidified my greatest fear: she was old. Very old.
"Go." I whispered.
Emyl's expression shattered as he realised what I was suggesting. "Jenny..."
"Go!"
There was no time to argue. And Emyl knew it. Harriet screamed in protest as Emyl tried to drag her away. She resisted. "Janine! No! Please, God, No! Janine!" Emyl swept her into his arms and ran, out of the clearing and into the darkness of the woods, sparing me one last glance. His eyes full of sorrow and pain. If I had not been so intently focused on my approaching attacker, I would've wondered if I would ever see my friends again: if I'd ever hear Emyl's laughter, his jokes, his teasing. Would I ever hear Harriet: her giggle, her kindness and her faith in all that was good. As it was though, I thought of nothing but my first move...
The Strigoi darted towards me; she had built up quite a momentum and there was no way I was going to be able to match it, so I dodged. Instead, extending my leg enough to trip her and break her speed. This enraged her. She lashed her body round and struck my shoulder. The force sent me staggering backwards and I could feel something was broken. Nonetheless, I was not giving up so easily. I launched my counter-attack, knowing that I could probably best her in close combat where my height (or lack thereof) held its greatest advantage. And so, I pushed forward: blocking each of her hits and striking with some of my own. Our battle became like chess, with each player making moves and counter-moves. I pressed for my advantage, as she pressed for hers; both switching between defensive and offensive effortlessly.
"You're a clever one," she said, circling me. I mirrored her movements with perfect synchronisation, "and you fight with your heart. That will make it so much sweeter when I rip it from your chest!" and with that she pounced. I was prepared, but the attack never came. Instead, the earth growled, throwing us both off balance. The grass parted and the underlying rock crumbled away; the ground beneath her feet slowly began to dissipate into ash. She tried to flee, but stumbled. Her distraction was enough for me to plunge my stake into her heart before she fell into the crumbled ground. Under normal circumstances, the ground just melting away like that would have completely freaked the hell out of me, yet with all the disorder and shock of what the Ivashkov Ball had transformed into, this impossible act appear almost as normal as any natural phenomenon. I looked up and around in search of answers and was stunned by what I saw.
"Mr Mazu-Ibrahim!?"
His expression, that just had been so serious and focused fell into one of slight amusement and, if we're honest, one of a rather smug disposition. He lowered the hand that had been raise in front of him: his fingers spread and muscles tensed. There was a certain weariness in his countenance and suddenly everything came together.
It was then when I first learnt that Ibrahim Mazur was an Earth User...
"Good evening, Guardian Hathaway..." he smiled before his body swayed involuntarily. I reached him just as he began to fall, losing control of his ability to stand. He collapsed against my shoulder and I was acutely aware that this was the second time a Moroi had fallen against me. Granted, Alastair was faking the loss of consciousness whilst Ibrahim was fighting to keep his. I allowed him to use me as a crutch and lead him into the tree-line. I glanced back only to see if we were being followed. As we weren't, I pressed forward and through the woodland before us.
The deeper we walked into the woods, the safer I felt: a fact that would have been very contradictory under normal circumstances but it certainly was not every day that the Moroi Royal Court was breached by a strange unity of Dhampirs and Strigoi. I do not think, at that moment, the full weight of the situation had hit me yet: we were fleeing, running for our lives, whilst the home we once called 'safe' was now in the hands of an enemy we were not prepared for. Two hours ago, I was cowering in a maze after I realised my first kiss had been for a bet. It seemed like a lifetime ago and oh-so insignificant: it paled in comparison to what had just happened. I did not know how many of the Moroi had escaped, whether Alistair was among them. Or Tristan. Or Julia. Tamara or Robert. Tatiana. I did not know if the Dhampirs had, improbable as it was, managed to defeat the Strigoi and Dhampirs and reclaim the Royal Court. Nor did I know the extent of the damage, the number of lives lost (though I could guess we were well into treble figures). I did not know anything, save that I was travelling deeper and deeper into the woodland that surrounded the Court, getting closer to the ward boundary, though what good it was doing was beyond me.
"Janine..." I heard Ibrahim whisper, weariness and exhaustion laced in his tone.
He needed rest, fast. What had possessed him to intervene in my battle, draining him of his energy through the use of his magic, was beyond me. I did not know a lot about Moroi abilities; to me, they only seemed like a cool party trick or sorts. I had never seen them use it outside a classroom environment, where variables were controlled and monitored extensively, and definitely not in the context of a battle. But then again, Ibrahim Mazur seemed incapable of ceasing to amaze me. Though in this instance, it appeared he had maybe pushed too far. The fatigue was rapidly growing on his face, but we were too exposed where we were to stop. "Hang in there, Mr Mazur," I encouraged, looking around for somewhere to stop. I spotted a fallen tree ahead: it had collapsed against another, forming a shelter of sorts. Whilst it wasn't perfect, I was in no place to be picky and began to guide an ever weakening Ibrahim towards it.
"How many..." he made to speak again, but his voice trailed off and he continued in a losing battle against his fatigue.
Not wanting him to fall asleep just yet, I nudged him a little, keeping him awake. "Hmm?"
He took several laboured breaths as we reached my fallen tree. I placed him under its shelter and he looked up through heavy eyelids, smiling a little. "How many times must I ask you to call me Ibrahim?"
I smiled slightly at his comment before glancing around me. Being the dead of night, the darkness dominated the weak moonlight, which had been obstructed further by the slowly leafing trees, and made it difficult to see as far as I would've liked. Yet I was thankful that the shelter I had found lacked in points of attack, making its defence a little easier. I was sure we had passed the ward border, but could not say for certain. My bearings had been thrown and, having never explored this part of the surrounding campus as I deemed it to be a wasted exercise, I was no sure how to get out of these woods. My plan, if you could call it that, was to get us to civilisation, at least then we'd stand a better chance, though what we would do from there was beyond me. Perhaps I'd try and get us to a safe house. Whilst the Moroi were certainly not expecting their heavily guarded fortress to fall in the hands of our enemy, they were not so stupid as to not have a rendezvous point. The nearest, I believed to be north, passed the border and into Canada. It seemed that now the Court had fallen, the whole Pennsylvanian state was now considered a hazard. I suppose, we could not afford any chances and I certainly wasn't going to take any with Ibrahim. This made me think that it was perhaps a better idea to head towards Pittsburgh and catch a flight, rather than attempt to trek north. It was a little more risky, but on balance I thought it better. Of course, we still had to find a town, with a road, to even start, so I decided that I'd cross the metaphoric bridge when I got there.
I glanced back at Ibrahim, his head rested against the side of the trunk but his eyes remained open and fixed on me. I sighed. "You should really get some rest."
He quirked an eyebrow. "You think it possible to sleep after what just happened?"
He had a point. I was still trying to comprehend the whole thing. The Royal Court: captured!? Abandoned!? Overthrown!? The wards alone were supposed to be ridiculously resilient, and yet... I suppose, the combined effort of the traitorous Dhampirs (I could not think of what else to call them) was not something to be taken lightly. Since Strigoi could not touch either stakes or wards, it had to be their allies who had sabotaged the defences. Staking the wards would have resulted in the Court's first line of defence rendered mute. It seemed so frivolous a defeat in that respect – so easy for them – but no-one could have imagined Dhampirs actually sided with Strigoi. What possible outcome could this have?
I remembered the Dhampir I had slain earlier that evening, or more specifically, his tattoo: La Luz. The Light. What light? There was a chance that this was just a tattoo he'd gotten off his own back, but it seemed too planned and well-thought-out – much like the attack itself – to seem coincidental.
Regardless, I was much too exhausted – both mentally and physically – to be trying to decipher what it could possibly mean. Thus, I turned my attention back to Ibrahim and his need for sleep.
"You're right, but you should really try to sleep." I said.
He smiled, his eyes glancing towards me as he was too shattered to move his head. "So should you." I shook my head at his implication and broke our eye-contact, once again surveying the area. "Janine, come and sit down – I promise I won't hurt you."
As much as I may have wanted to, I remained steadfast in my resolve. "I must keep guard."
"What for? They've taken the Royal Court – no-one is going to be out here when they could be in there." He argued weakly, the dejection over the whole thing clear in his tone.
I shook my head again. "There still could be danger."
"And I'm sure you'll protect me when it comes, but for now: please sit down before you fall down." His tone was both stern and authoritative.
I frowned and spoke before I could think it through. "I don't think you are in any position to be making orders." I saw his eyebrows rise, but I wasn't going to give up now, "Go to sleep." When he made no effort to comply – in fact, I think he was now trying harder to remain awake – I scowled at him and huffed irritably, "You are unbelievable."
That made him smile. "No, I just have an unfortunate tendency to not follow orders..." he trailed off, teasing me.
"Don't I know it." I grumbled remembering how I had given him the order to go insid-
I cut myself off as another horrid realisation filled my mind. I told him to go inside. I could feel my eyes well with water; my heart pounded at a rate I did not think possible; the guilt that ruptured through my body was so overwhelming it was physically painful. I told him to go inside the Royal Court – the very one that had now been captured. If he had listened...if he had followed my command...he would be dead.
I froze, my eyes widening and my breathing became staggered as I became more and more horror-struck. Ibrahim's teasing smirk had vanished, only to be replaced with one of deep concern. "Janine?" he asked and when I did not respond, he forced himself to his feet, wincing as he heaved his heavy limbs to a stand and walked towards me.
I was in too much shock to stop him, even to chastise him. All that came out of my mouth was my overflowing guilt. "I told you to go inside..."
His frown deepened and he took a tentative step closer. "So?"
I met his gaze with a vengeful passion. "You could be dead."
Realisation filled his expression. His brown eyes widened as the revelation hit him, but changed quickly to one of compassion. "You are in no way to blame for any of this."
"But I could have killed you!"
He placed his hands on my cheeks, forcing my wandering and manic gaze to meet his eyes. I once again found myself entranced: locked in the intensity of his expression, which appeared unscathed by his ever increasing exhaustion. "Janine, look at me! Am I dead?"
"No, but if you had listen-"
"But I didn't. You cannot beat yourself over something that never happened. If everyone did that, then we would not know happiness – only suffering. Unnecessary suffering." I felt the tears fall from my eyes and onto my cheeks where his hands remained, cupping them gently. He brushed them away with his thumbs; the act gently caressed my cheekbones and brought a strange comfort in the midst of my trauma. "It pains me to see you so upset, Guardian Hathaway." He whispered, still running the pads of his thumbs against the side of my face and I remembered how he had said that before.
I swallowed my grief, forcing myself to speak once again. "Mr Mazur, I really think you should get some rest."
He smiled softly, barely turning the sides of his mouth, but the message remained clear. "If that will make you happy." He said, removing his hands from my cheeks and easing himself back into the shelter. I watched as he settled himself to a more comfortable position and felt an odd sense of disappointment at the loss of his touch. Taking this to be the tiredness, I cast it aside and took up my defensive stance. The guilt I felt still pressed against me; it made me feel worthless, pathetic and dejected. The idea that I could have led a Moroi – a friend, as he called himself – to his demise was heart-wrenching. My life's one purpose, as I was so often told, was that of servitude and failing that brought me to the very brink of despair.
"But what does my happiness matter?" I muttered aloud, laughing slightly at my thoughts. But even through my amusement, echoed in the darkness of the woodland and the cold February air, I could've sworn I heard a voice whisper a response:
"It matters to me."
Hello my dear Comrades in comrade
The Royal Court has fallen! And Dhampirs helping Strigoi – what madness is this!? Muhaha, you shall just have to stay a find out ;)
This chapter was a little different for me; I don't usually write a lot of action-y, fighting stuff, but I feel that is was necessary. I hope it turned out okay. Also, Janine and Abe's relationship is proving to be a little tricky. I am trying to keep this story as mobile and as...exciting isn't really the right word, but I can't really think of a better one (not great if I want to be an author xD) as possible. With Cold as Ice, I took absolutely ages to get Romitri together and for the plot to actually go anywhere, so I am endeavouring to improve with this one. Do let me know how it's going: I am so glad that so many of you are enjoying this story and really hope you continue to do so :)
As ever, all the very best,
Mariarty
