The Attack

Lying in the shade of a rock above the soon to be battlefield, Turel sighed. How typical that he had drawn the short straw, and would be the legion holding back today. It wasn't that he particularly liked desperately fighting for his life in a melee with powerful beasts literally howling for his blood, but he didn't like to be the only banner not on the field. An uninformed observer would assume he had gotten lost or fled. Of course, any uninformed observer in a position to watch the battle was either criminally stupid or insane or both, and thus their opinion could be safely discounted, but still, it galled.

Examining the banners of the Vampire Clans facing the Sarafan army, he noticed one conspicuously absent. Audron. Of course, that was not actually particularly surprising, as Janos never left his retreat except to feed, and then infrequently, but Vorador's banner was present. That was unusual. The four other surviving Ancient Vampires were all present. With several fledglings raised especially for this battle for use as fodder, coupled with the absence of Turel, the Sarafan army seemed pitifully small. Then he realized this was more than an optical illusion and began counting banners.

Here- was Mortanius, tall and imposing in his death mask.

Here- was Moebius, less impressive, surrounded by a mere dozen guards, the staff in his hand more protection than the rest of the army combined.

Here- was Malek, spear shouldered and seeming almost bored by the display.

Here- was Arrel, Mind Guardian.

Here- was Tarracia, Dimension Guardian.

Here- was Medion, Energy Guardian.

Here- was Raziel, studying the opposing army careful-no. He wasn't wrong. The States, Nature, and Balance Guardians were missing. Odd.

Both armies began forming up, with Thralls and fledglings as fodder on one side, demons and zombies for the other. The four Ancient Vampires, flying back and forth exhorting their soldiers, alighted behind the army and signaled the advance, while the adult vampires launched projectiles from behind. Most of them were aimed at Moebius, whose staff was blazing like the sun. A legion of thralls immediately charged his dozen soldiers, but the rest of Moebius legion immediately barred their way. Moebius and his bodyguard charged around the battlefield and in a circle around him, vampires fell like wheat before a scythe.

Mortanius, positioned to the rear of the Sarafan army, casually exploded with lightning bolts any opponent who came near, all the while raising more soldiers from their rest to join the fray.

Nearby, Medion and Arrel launched projectiles at the vampire captains. One such struck an Ancient, who collapsed bonelessly, wreathed in flame. His children then inundated Medion with Force projectiles, shattering bone with the impact. He collapsed, and was carried to safety by his legion.

At this point Turel was distracted as a scream reached his ears. Snatching up the nearest weapon to hand, he was on his feet just as he was attacked. By Thralls bearing the Audron banner.

- - - - - - -

Malek dodged aside from the wild slash of his opponent, then spun and delivered a counter slash that removed the creature's head from the mouth upwards. Using the falling body as a shield from his next attacker, he darted around the other side and removed its arm. Leaving the screaming vampire for the men behind him to deal with, he broke clear of the melee, ducking as force projectiles targeting his distinctive armour shot past. A man behind him was struck in the face, and there was an audible crack as his neck snapped. Stepping back to fill the gap, he ordered his legion to fall back. Although huge numbers of fledglings were falling to them, by the time they reached the adult vampires, they would be exhausted.

All around him, the other Sarafan Generals were coming to the same conclusion. They were falling back. When the clouds broke, the fledglings would be incinerated, and the Sarafan could launch a counterattack. Until then, it was better to conserve their losses. But...this would be considered a lost battle, and heads would drop. People would believe that they had fled barely ten minutes into a battle. They would lose heart, logical decision or no. He had to give them something to boast of, to convince them that today had not been a waste of effort. At least one powerful vampire had to be defeated.

Stepping back three ranks deep into his legion he scanned the battlefield.

Ah...there. Vorador was standing on a small knoll, his children arrayed in a neat phalanx behind him. He would not be an easy mark. But Malek had little choice.

The energy wave mowed down every fledgling between knoll and legion. Vorador saw it coming and leapt aside, but the two females behind him did not react so quickly. Drawing his sword, he led his children towards Malek's legion, who were charging into the gap. Since no Sarafan soldier wished to combat a vampire Lord as renowned for using weapons as for making them (which was a high compliment for a former Serioli), and no fledgling wished to face an equally renowned fighter who could match most vampires strength for strength, Vorador and Malek were left with a clear space around them.

"An impressive charge, Malek. Such a tragedy your effort shall be wasted."

"Do you believe so? If I am to die, it will do you no harm to enlighten me as to who is commanding your modest army. Or are you not so confident as you would have me believe?"

"A clever trick, Malek. Either I admit lack of confidence or I reveal knowledge. I shall not fall into that snare. Perhaps I command, or Janos? Or some other, unknown to you. It matters not."

Malek laughed. "You, Vorador? You are a blacksmith, not a general. You could not lead sheep."

Vorador's face tightened and suddenly he lunged. Malek parried the strike, but instead of counterattacking, pulled back, allowing Vorador's momentum to carry him forward and slashing at his legs as he hit the ground. Sidestepping this, Vorador turned to face him.

Because they were facing each other, their backs were to the opposing army, who were not too awed to take advantage of it. Reversing his grip on his spear, Malek thrust backwards, impaling the first vampire fledgling, and cutting in half another two attackers with a spinning slash. He didn't see what Vorador did to his attackers, but when he turned there were two Sarafan corpses on the ground. They both lunged again, and this time Malek drew first blood, a light gash in the forearm that quickly healed as Vorador countered with a Blood Gout that hit Malek in the shoulder, but slid off his armour. After another clash, they were back among their own troops. Malek's second energy wave was again dodged by Vorador, but mowed down hundreds of his children. As he landed, Malek swept his feet from under him with his spear haft, before spinning it and thrusting it point down into...the ground, actually. Hundreds of bats were fleeing the field. Cursing, Malek turned back to his legion. It was still a victory, whether Vorador lived or no. Now he just had to find a way to get back to safety through the thousands of fledglings who had filled the gap between the knoll and the rest of the Sarafan army. He knew the Sarafan order would survive this day, thanks to Moebius, but that did not mean his legion would not be massacred. Another energy wave, if he could summon the strength, would cut them a path, but would also hit Sarafan soldiers ahead of him, perhaps slaying many. But his legion was surrounded, and he had to find an escape.

There was nothing. The only option was to fight valiantly until they were overwhelmed or unless another legion came to their rescue.

As though to contradict the thought, it started to rain. And thus came salvation.