Tales of Anderida: Blood Bats

The young man in the nondescript grey uniform alighted in front of the headquarters of Roger's Bastards the infamous commando unit. “Could you fellows tell my servant where to stow my luggage” he asked the men lounging there. One of them told him exactly where his servant and he could both stuff his equipment. Surprisingly, the young man laughed and asked “Shouldn't you say ‘permission to speak freely sir' before telling an officer and a member of the royal family where he can stuff his equipment”.

He passed into the headquarters, and by the desk of the headquarters sergeant who rose to stop him, then saw the skull and cross bones embroidered on the uniform and abruptly sat down again. “The colonel is in conference with his officers. Shall I announce you sir”.

“No need I shall announce myself”. He opened the inner door and lounged into the office of the commander. “Major Breck Alpein of the royal necromancers brevetted to your commando unit reporting colonel”.

Colonel Rogers, a massive man with a face ravaged by fire and wounds, simply pointed to an empty chair. “We have just now finished planning the expedition up into The Storm Breaker Mountains. Perhaps you could give us some insight into what sort of creatures we may be facing there. You have been sent because something is flying or gliding down from those mountains to attack small villages and farms. They come by night and leave bloodless husks of men, women and children behind when they fly away”.

Breck nodded and spoke, “Any theories I have now could all be wrong. We should be flexible and expect the unexpected when we reach the summit of the mountains. Just let me point out that true vampires tend to feed off victims of the opposite sex and that feeding generally takes weeks to kill. Your traditional undead does not suck all the blood and soft tissue from its victim. Also, none of the people killed by these creatures have come back from the grave to plague the living. Ergo we could postulate that a flying creature that feeds on blood has been attacking our people. It is probably not an undead, or at least, not a type of undead familiar to our scholars in the school of necromancy at the capital. Other questions that need answers are ‘why is this happening now' and ‘are these free willed creatures or under the control of a necromancer who is our enemy''.

“This is my first field assignment. I volunteered because none of the older, more experienced members of my unit could make the climb with you. I have done some climbing and have been trained to use the katana. So I hope not to slow you down too much and take care of myself in a fight.

Chapter two: Part way up the Storm Breakers:

Breck hung from his harness attached to pitons dug into the rock above him. He had long since given up on sleeping as he swayed back and forth like a caterpillar in a cocoon. Climbing the mountain was tiring, but he could keep up with the commandoes who also had to hoist equipment up the cliff sides. Lack of sleep, though, was going to be a major problem. He might be too tired to memorize spells or use the right ones. Tomorrow night before they reach the summit he should drug himself to sleep.

“What's it like being a Prince “, another sleepless dangler asked.

“Well I can't tell you about being the crown prince”, he responded, “but being a minor prince is bloody boring. You hang around all day sucking up to the people with real power and the people with even less power suck up to you all day. Then there are the ugly daughters of very rich merchants whose parents want them to marry into royalty and are constantly trying to shove their daughters at you.

“The reason I joined the necromancy corps is that it scares people away. Nobody wants a necromancer for a son in law and even the rest of the royal family is a little scared of me now. I am living with a beautiful young widow when I am at the capital and everyone leaves me pretty much alone.”

Upon reaching the top of the escarpment after three nights and days of climbing they found themselves in fog rising from the damp rock and blowing in from the snow fields ahead of them. All the mountain was grey, completely leeched of color. Breck leaned upon his staff as he tiredly followed Colonel Rogers. He was beginning to rethink the issue of whether or not their quarry was undead. Certainly this sunless environment would be perfect for a large coven of vampires. A wizard's staff or wand was simply a power focus helping the spell caster to direct and enhance his or her spells. Still very valuable even if the benefits were mental and not magical as most laymen assumed.

Roger's Bastards spent most of that gray dismal day moving slowly forward through the fog, careful to avoid becoming separated and fearful of falling into some unseen crevice.

The sun peeked out of the mist for almost an hour that afternoon, then disappeared again into the winter twilight. The last few rays of the sun lighted a fortress, bleak and run down that lay ahead of them. Colonel Rogers told the men to take a ten minute rest and eat some rations and have a shot of whiskey. He summoned his officers to conference.

“Give your men an hour to rest after eating, then we are over the walls. My orders are keep moving into the fortress whatever the cost. Kill everything within, no prisoners, no looting till the fighting is over. Nightfall is not the best time to assault a fortress filled with undead but it sure beats waiting here all night for the blood bats to find us. Any comments Major.”

“You are correct of course, Breck responded. Nothing could be more demoralizing than spending the night in the fog waiting to be attacked. I agree we should attack. When we find whoever or whatever is leading this pack of blood suckers, I shall burn him out with spells, holy water and fire.” Breck was merely expressing the arrogance all necromancers need to function. Some might say that military commanders and wizards also need a certain arrogance, but not so much as necromancers.

Rogers bastards moved silently toward the fortress, grapnels ready to cast over the walls. The lead scouts signaled for a halt and to take cover. Upon the wall a dozen winged creatures had appeared. They were tall cadaverous shapes, an inky black against a grey sky. One after another, they spread wing like membranes and glided towards the escarpment and the farms and villages below. The last one circled briefly above the commandoes then flew on. Warning the fortress that it was under attack seemed a low priority to the creatures. Breck wondered if that were a good sign or the reverse.

No one opposed them as they scaled the walls, but deep within the fortress a deep bell or gong began to ring. The undead who came to oppose them may have been human at one time. Skeletons with bits of rag and flesh clinging to their bones formed barriers in halls and doorways. Rusted iron weapons swung slowly but with tremendous power at men trying to force a passage. Weird spectral creatures only partially corporal dropped from the ceiling upon the commandoes. Whenever they seized a man, that man screamed and his flesh began to putrefy and slough off.

Breck used his staff as a focus for fire spells. The semi corporal specters burned quite well. He left the skeletons for the commandos who used their grapnels to pull the undead out into the open where they were smashed to bits with war hammers and the flat of axes. Breck splashed holy water upon the decaying bodies of the dead commandos.

No comrade should endure the shame and horror of coming back as an undead minion of whatever evil ruled in this place! The battle was going well. Men died horribly, but many more of their opponents were being destroyed. The only problem was that Breck was using up his fire spells and holy water in the fight with these undead minions. What would he have left when the commandos finally confronted the evil that ruled this place?

Breck was beginning to suspect the manner of horror that ruled here. The rot that immediately corrupted bodies hinted that their adversary was not a King Vampyre, but an arch demon of corruption. Perhaps they would confront the Lord of Ghouls himself or one of his chief demons. “Zujnathar God of the Hungry Dead” would be a dangerous opponent for a dozen high priests armed with holy talismans. Breck was not equipped to fight such a creature.

Something ponderous was approaching from deeper within the fortress. The floor moved as if a series of ripples spread out across a pond. Small chunks of wall and ceiling came crashing down.

To Be Continued:

Author's Note: If you enjoyed this story try “Zujnathar Lord of the Ghouls” on my website “The Sunless Realm”.