Chapter 5: My Name is Sorrow
As Anaya neared the heart of the village she found that all around her was turmoil and chaos. Her breath hitched in her throat as she saw her tribesmen stubbornly fighting against a hoard of foreign soldiers. Her heart sank knowing that they were not prepared for this. She looked over at Godric who had his eyes fixed on the sight before them.
The enemy warriors were throwing flaming torches atop the roofs of houses, setting them ablaze. Women and children ran from the flaming buildings, unable to take shelter in them. They were mercilessly cut down by the foreign soldiers who were waiting outside.
It was difficult to tell in the darkness who was the enemy and how many numbers they had. But it was clear by their strategic precision that this had been a planned attack. They had caught them completely off guard and the villagers had barely any opportunity to run or fight back. This was not a battle, this was a slaughter.
"We have to get to my house so we can arm ourselves," Anaya cried above the noise, trying to distance herself from the mass panic. Godric nodded and quickly gathered her up in his arms and ran across the field, up the hill to her house.
The thatched home seemed untouched; there were no lights shining through the windows and no discernable noises coming from inside. Anaya approached the door, feeling that it was safe to go inside.
Godric stared intently down the hill, looking for anyone who might have followed them. "I'll wait outside and guard the entrance while you get your weapons," he told her, backing into the dark shadow of the house to conceal himself. Anaya nodded in agreement and headed inside.
It was darker in the house than it was outside and Anaya had to wait for her eyes to adjust to the poor lighting. She knew that her bow was leaning against the wall next to the door so she reached out and felt for it. Once her fingers brushed against the polished wood, she quickly slung it over her shoulder and tiptoed further into the house to find her quiver of arrows. The silence in the space around her coupled by the utter chaos coming from outside set her nerves on edge, her very bones felt as if they were quaking beneath her skin. She felt deep inside of her that something about the house was wrong. The sense of danger loomed heavily over Anaya and compelled her to move as quickly as she could. She grabbed up her arrows and her hunting knives. The last thing she needed was the dagger in her father's room.
She pushed passed the deerskin hanging in the doorway and knelt by her father's sleeping mat. Searching beneath the head of it she found the dagger. The hilt was made of antler that had intricate carvings of stags and other animals on it; a gift from her grandfather to her father. Gripping it tightly in her sweaty hand, Anaya whispered a small prayer and sheathed the blade in her leather vambrace. Just as she was about to get up, she heard the dry pats of footfalls from behind her. She immediately jumped around to face the noise, her heart seizing in her chest. It was a man, not one of her tribesmen but one of the foreign warriors, standing at the front of the room. Anaya stared at him fixedly, not saying a word as she shot daggers into his eyes with her gaze. The warrior marked her fierce manner and slowly stepped in front of the doorway, purposely blocking her only exit. How he got in the house, Anaya didn't know; unless he had already been inside waiting. Death would not have let him through, she thought.
"Look at this sweet little cunny, wonder how much a Roman would pay for a piece of you," the barbarian taunted, wrapping his fingers around the handle of the sword he had at his belt. Anaya said nothing to the man blocking her exit, her stomach clenched tightly in disgust at his words. She knew very well what happened to women slaves, the very thought of it was revolting to her. "You still a virgin?" He asked, slowly advancing on her as if she were a small animal he could simply corner and grab. Anaya was not so much frightened as she was infuriated by the offensiveness and gall of this stranger and she had enough of hearing this pig's talk.
Suddenly Godric appeared behind the man, half his face hidden in shadow, ready to strike. Startled by his sudden entrance, Anaya quickly glanced over at Godric. The man in front of her noticed her rapid eye movement and realized immediately that someone else was there with them. He turned to attack Godric, however Anaya took out her dagger from behind her and lunged forward at him with amazing speed. In one swift, succinct move she plunged the blade into his neck as if he were a piece of carving meat. The man gasped in shock, his scream was more like a violent choke as blood gargled up from his mouth and over his quivering lips. Anaya then pulled the blade across his throat, slitting it in half. She felt the warm spray of blood shoot forward onto the thatched wall and watched as the man who dared call himself a warrior crumple to the ground in a lifeless heap. Anaya was breathing heavily, overcome with adrenaline, and angrily kicked the body several times, calling him a bastard.
Godric watched all of this unfold before him in a matter of moments. He was extremely pleased by what he had just seen and instantly thought of pinning her against the bloodstained wall and crushing his lips to hers. Yet he suppressed this urge, knowing that it would not be something Anaya would have particularly welcomed at that moment. Still, she made a very impressive show and he realized he wanted more than anything to watch her kill again.
Anaya's heart was beating rapidly in her chest, thumping against her ribcage, and her hands were trembling from the adrenaline rushing through her. She had killed a man- this was her first thought and her second was that even though it filled her with fear, she was glad she did it. After a few passing moments, the only fear she felt was for the safety of her family and the rest of her was filled with a determination to protect them. She was terrified to think that something might have happened.
Godric switched his sharp gaze back and forth from the body at his feet to Anaya. Anaya just stared down at the dead warrior, her eyes fixed on the lifeless form. Brushing her hair from her face she kneeled down next to it and started searching it to see if she could find any information about where he might be from.
"They're not Romans," She said, very sure of this fact, "they're Gallic, from the southern tribes, I recognize their marks." Anaya whispered, brushing a finger over one of the dark blue tattoos on the man's arm. The tribes had had difficulties with each other in the past but ever since the conquests of the North by the Romans, they had been united in their cause to push back the enemy from their borders.
"Your right… but this sword," Godric said, picking up the gladius from the dirt floor, "this is Roman." Godric easily recognized the fat, double edged blade and short wooden handle. He had seen many of these in both his human and vampire life.
This discovery was shocking to Anaya. Their resistance had been betrayed by their brother's from the South who must have joined Rome in their campaign for Gaul. The Roman's must have bribed them, promised them something that they thought was greater than being the rulers of their own homeland. But she could not imagine how they attacked the village so easily. How did they know when and how to strike?
Suddenly her gaze met Godric's and it turned cold and vicious, "Are you with them?" She asked, standing up and pointing to the body. Anaya did not know how she would control herself if his answer were yes.
"No," He answered her calmly. visions of his own past flashed before his eyes as he looked down at the sword in his hand. "I have not lived among humans for many decades. These men are far worse beasts than I." He told her, tossing the blade to the ground. His hate for the Romans that once blazed inside of him had long been extinguished. During his second life he learned that evil resided everywhere, not just in Rome.
Anaya stared at Godric for a long moment, trying to discern if he were lying to her. She had to think that he was a stranger and even though she felt as if she knew him, the truth was she did not. He could have killed her that night when he had pounced on her in the forest, in fact she thought that he had meant to. He was dangerous and perhaps untrustworthy in his nature; Anaya could not yet discern the latter. Still, whoever and whatever he was, he did not seem to be with these men… he was nothing like them in many ways. Anaya slowly relaxed her tense stance and put away her knife. "I believe you," she told him. Godric could sense some of her doubt in her words but did not question it for he would show his loyalty to her soon enough. He then bowed his head in gratitude for her trust.
"We should go," he said, "your people need you."
Anaya and Godric headed off with great speed down the hill and into the thick of the battle. The minute they crossed swords with the enemy they never ceased fighting until the battle was over.
Godric fought right by Anaya's side, watching out for the spritely warrior as she took on one opponent after the other. The enemy kept coming at them and she slashed each one of them to ribbons in a matter of moments. Godric used only his speed and his fangs to kill his challengers. Those were the only weapons that he needed when he was fighting against mortals. Anaya however was using everything she had at her disposal; her dagger, her knives, her arrows, her hands… Godric feared that the growing smoke from the fires would thin the air and cause her to collapse. She was an extremely skilled fighter, however she was still human. He made sure to never let her out of his sight in case she had need of his help.
…
The battle was over before dawn. It had started like a flash of lightening and ended with a crash of thunder; one moment it was there and the next it was gone, its presence still buzzing in the atmosphere. Anaya sat prostrated in the grass and brushed the sweat off of her brow and looked across the battlefield at the ruins which once was her home. There was no one left to fight, nor anyone left to save. The enemy tribe had raided the village and moved onwards, leaving behind nothing but rubble. The only people still there were the dead and wounded.
The last man she fought lay on the ground only a few feet away from where she had collapsed from exhaustion. The warrior had caught her on the calf with his sword, ripping a huge gash through her flesh. Thinking that she had killed him, she had foolishly turned her back to him when he fell to his knees. However, the man vengefully struck out at her one last time before crumpling over.
Godric had let down his guard as well and did not see the man ready his sword for one last blow. He heavily berated himself for it, angry that he allowed harm to come to her when he was right there to prevent it. Anaya on the other hand did not seem very phased by the wound. She was too drained, mentally and physically, to pay it much attention. Instead she continued to mop the blood and sweat from her brow and rest in the red-stained grass.
"Anaya," Godric said calmly, kneeling down next to her and examining her calf. Her leg looked in bad shape and he knew that if it was not healed it would get infected and she would die from it. She already was not responding to the pain, which was not a good sign. He knew that this was his fault.
Anaya did not answer him, she just looked down at her leg with a vague expression, not knowing what to do or say. Rest was the only thing that she could think of at the moment. Godric knew that if she did not drink from him, she would perish in a matter of days. He knew too that despite his rules, he owed her life for not looking after her as he had promised himself he would.
Typically Godric would have refused to give a mortal a taste of vampire blood; he had been taught that it was sacred. But Anaya was an investment of his, to give her his blood would not be a frivolous waste. Soon enough she would be vampire and their bond would be valid, he reasoned. Giving her his blood now would serve as a platform on which to build their future bond.
Making his decision, Godric bit into his wrist, making two large punctures into his vein. "You must drink from me," he told her, offering her his bleeding arm. He took note of her startled expression and smiled, realizing how strange his offer must have seemed to her. "If you drink my blood it will heal you and you will be able to walk again," he explained, pulling himself closer to her.
"Like magic?" She asked, her brows knit in confusion.
"Yes, like magic," he told her, trying to coax her into taking the blood he was offering her.
Anaya knew that magic in medicine was real, her people used it all the time however she never heard of this sort of remedy. It seemed dark and forbidden to drink of another's blood, yet he was willingly giving it to her as if it were the simplest of tonics so perhaps it was nothing to fear. Besides, Anaya's mind was too clouded to think of a reason why she shouldn't take it.
Unsure of how to go about drinking from him, Anaya tentatively inclined her head towards his outstretched arm then hesitated before deciding to take his hand in hers and bring his wrist to her mouth. When the red-copper taste hit her tongue Anaya felt an instant rush of energy flow through her body, the feeling wrapping around her senses and entwining with her very soul. This was magic, Anaya realized, real magic.
Discerning when she had drank enough, Godric pulled his wrist from her lips. His wound healed immediately and so did hers. Anaya looked down at the gash in her leg in amazement as the flesh began to close up and weave itself back together. Other than the dried blood, there was no trace that a wound had ever been there, no scar, no scratch, just smooth skin. There were so many questions that Anaya wanted to ask Godric regarding this magic of his yet she knew that they would have to wait. She felt a resurgence in her stamina and her mind was no longer veiled with fatigue and pain. She remembered her family was out in the ruins somewhere, perhaps in need of her help. Pushing herself up off of the ground as if nothing had happened, Anaya set out in search for her family determined to find them safe and alive.
…
There was nothing but death all around her; no survivors no wounded to tend to, only the dead remained in the ravaged village. The foreigners must have taken all of those able to walk with them. In war, living prisoners were worth a lot to the right buyer. She could not lose hope, she told herself. She just kept searching for survivors, trudging on through the dirt and blood. It was all Anaya could do.
Suddenly, an agonized moan then hit the air, instantly sending Anaya running as fast as she could towards it. Godric heard the cry too and followed close behind her, ready to defend them if he had to. Anaya came to a dead stop, looking around her to find the owner of the voice, yet she could see nothing in the tall grass.
"Is someone out here!" She called, hoping that she would hear an answer. She took a few steps backwards, surveying the field. Her ankle then hit something behind her and she jumped around to find a dead body, face down in the dirt.
"Anaya!" The same voice cried out, only a few yards off. Hearing her name, Anaya's heart seized in her chest and she went towards the voice. The grass and weeds whipped at her legs as she desperately pushed through them to get to the owner of the voice. Reaching a clearing she was finally face with the sight that she had dreaded seeing from the moment she hear her name being called.
"Father!" She cried in alarm as she ran up and threw herself down beside him. Her wide eyes fell to the sword lodged in his belly, the black-colored blood staining his clothing indicated to her that the wound was indeed mortal. A pang of sorrow unlike any she had ever felt before hit her in the stomach. She gazed into his clear blue eyes, not being able to believe what she had already known. "No… no this cannot be, you will live, father," she proclaimed in denial stroking his long hair back from his face, desperately hoping that if she said the words they would be true.
"No my daughter, I will not," he rasped, placing his hand atop hers in comfort. Anaya shook her head, her fingers wrapping tightly around his.
"Don't say such things, I cannot lose you," she said, hot tears now streaming down her face.
"I'm afraid you must mo chroí- my heart." He was saying things that she did not want to hear, that she just could not allow herself to hear. The thought of her father dying was impossible for her to believe. He was right there with her, how could he be gone forever in the next moment? It too much for her.
Anaya shook her head, knowing that she could not imagine being able to live without her family. "Do you know where Gallia and Caio are, are they safe?" She asked suddenly remembering to her great distress that she had no idea of their whereabouts. The two other cornerstones of her life were missing and the other fading fast in front of her. She realized that she would soon be alone very shortly.
"They are gone, I saw them being taken," her father hissed out in pain.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head. If they were not rescued, they would be forced into slavery. Anaya knew that she could not allow that to happen. "I will get them back, I swear father," She promised.
Langer nodded, "I know you will. Promise me you will live for this family, that through you we will survive."
"I promise," Anaya vowed, leaning over and holding her father's cold hand to her forehead as if in a prayer. He was fading fast and Anaya knew that he would be gone at any moment.
Their gazes met and Langer squeezed his daughter's hand. With a proud smile he spoke his last words, "Out of any daughter or any son, I loved you the most my child."
A sob escaped Anaya's throat upon hearing his declaration. "I love you father," Anaya whispered through her tears, not knowing if he had even heard her. Once his hand went limp in hers, Anaya cried out in despair and threw herself onto his body. Godric quickly knelt down beside her, easing her away from her father and into his arms.
Anaya sobbed into Godric's chest as he held her. He stayed silent for a long while, gently stroking her back as he allowed her time to grieve. Anaya's tears fell from her bloodshot eyes and ran down his chest. He had not seen, much less felt, human tears for many decades. The sensation had become foreign to him. Yet Godric remembered what mourning was like. One by one he witnessed his family being taken away from him by the Romans. They were either brutally murdered or sold off into slavery to work at the salt mines; a death sentence in itself. Godric was sold to a Roman nobleman as a body slave. He never saw any of his family again and grew up abused and alone. Indeed, he knew what loss was and had felt if for the greater half of his human life.
"I can take the pain away," Godric told Anaya as he held her tightly to his chest. "I can give you a new life free from the agony of this one. Let me do this for you Anaya."
"How?" She asked, not able to believe that a future without the agony she was feeling was possible.
"I will make you what I am," he said, stroking her hair. "Then you can walk through the night with me, blessed with powers you couldn't imagine, and never be harmed again."
Anaya thought that all this sounded like a wishful fantasy. Yet this powerful creature that held her in his arms existed so perhaps he could indeed give her a new life.
She looked down at her father's body, considering what he had offered her. Her eyes burned with tears as she scanned over the desecrated village. There was nothing left for her here, she thought, coming to terms with the truth. She could never go back to the life she once had, nor was there any hope of moving on from it. Everything she had known was stripped away from her. Yet she had not forgotten the promise she had made to her father. She could not abandon her family, not even if it meant the end of her.
"I want to," she told him, "but they took my sister and brother. I must live in order to save them no matter what agonies I face in doing so. Please let me live and after I've avenged my family I will gladly part from my human life and follow you into the night."
"Find your sister and brother," he told her after a moment of consideration. "But you must promise me that you will allow me to turn you after you've fulfilled your mission."
Anaya nodded in consent, not caring what the price was, she yearned for justice, "I will. Thank you Death-"
"My name is Godric," he told her.
"Godric," she said, testing his name on her tongue. "Thank you Godric."
Reaching out, she closed her father's eyes, allowing his soul the chance to slip into the world beyond their own. Anaya hoped with all her heart that she may someday meet him there.
AN: Hey! Thanks so much for continuing to read my story. I've been pretty busy so I'm sorry for the delay in updates. Let me know what you think.
Sneak Peek for Chapter 6 Vengeance:
"Are you hungry?" She asked him one night. Dawn was approaching and it was almost time for him to go to ground.
Godric was confused by her question for a moment but when she held out her slender wrist to him he shook his head and gently pushed it back. "No, little one," he told her softly, setting her arm down in her lap. "I can go a while without feeding and you need all your strength. We're almost upon them."
"How many more nights will it be until we catch up with them?" She asked, this news obviously catching her interest.
"Tomorrow night I should think." Godric said with a grin as he lay down on his back and looked up at the stars, "Their scent is close."
Anaya nodded, her gaze fixated on the fire, imagining her vengeance being satiated. "I will kill them all."