Chapter Four

A Smattering Of Slaughter

Rhitarr, Home World of the Kaerqans

Their legs aching and heels dragging, the four males approached the log cabin. They were deep in the woods now, and an uneasy feeling was swelling in Jennah’s stomach. The wind tore by with evil howls and the chill in the air was biting, penetrated all exposed skin. Why they had decided to venture out at this time in the evening, he could not say. Life on the planet Rhitarr was dull at times, it was true, but he believed there were better places to spend the next couple of days than out here. However, it was Morrigan’s idea to undertake this trip. If they were to be eaten by harans, so be it – the blame lay with Morrigan.

Every ounce of Jennah would rather be at home with his fiancé, Sera. Still, he would be able to cope without her company for two days, would he not? It would probably do them some good, Jennah reflected. Their relationship had become one of relentless arguments. Their wedding was fast approaching, and that situation put a strain on most relationships.

He had hoped theirs would be different, but that was the way of the world - most Kaerqan lives went the same way, with little variation – they would quarrel with their lovers in sight of their wedding, but eventually, once they made it to their wedding day, they would settle down with one another to their mundane existence, plodding along, hopeless and lethargic. It was often said that Kaerqan youth was the best time of life, not least due to the accompanying bachelorhood. Yet, being unattached past the age of 25 was a disreputable concept for both males and females.

In this respect, Jennah was the outsider. His companions – Jan, Morrigan, and Sala – were all unattached, and far beyond the age of 25. These three were three decades older than he was, and they had remained single all their lives - something they found demoralising, as it was not by their choice (no matter how often they protested otherwise). They were good men and were friends of his father… but Jennah recognised they had flaws. Of course, he had flaws too, but his overarching flaw was not misogyny, as was the case of his three friends. This attitude, it transpired, presented a major stumbling block when it came to relationships.

In a selfish manner, the plights of his friends illustrated how lucky he was to have Sera, as opposed to growing old, bitter, and alone - even in this tense phase of their relationship.

These things all conspired to the quartet desiring a break, electing to take a camping trip out into Morrigan’s wood cabin. After several hours trekking through the wilderness, the trees growing thicker and denser with each mile, they had reached the cabin. It was no larger than a bungalow; ivy of such a deep green it neared black gripped the windows like claws, blocking every sliver of light from entry. A thick film of moss coated a roof so rain-battered it appeared to be one half-decent storm away from collapse.. The trees drew into a tight circle, guarding the cabin. Jennah thought it could not look less appealing; a desire swelled within him to walk back the way they came (despite the fact it would be morning before he reached home), apologise to Sera, and cosy up in their home of light and warmth.

Regardless, the group entered the cabin. They ruffled the moisture from their granite-coloured wings – on top of the long journey, there had been a downpour for the last hour, from which the trees had proven less than useless as shelter, like they had altered the positioning of their branches to ensure the quartet got soaked as recompense for daring to enter their domain – and removed their thick, cumbersome cloaks. Morrigan went into each of the corners where gas lamps hung. Small flames flickered into being, illuminating the room in a low, yellow glow that was invisible to the exterior.

Below each lamp was a tattered, animal-skin armchair. In the centre of the room was a firepit – which Jennah felt was asking for trouble – and on the walls were haran heads, their fangs bared and their golden eyes louring at the group’s invasion of the property. They seemed to follow the men around the room; although they were dead, Jennah fancied he could see the hunger in those orbs. Beyond this, the meagre furnishings were capped off with a couple of cabinets.

Jan pulled out four large skins of mead from his pack and passed one to each of the others. Jennah took his (though he didn’t enjoy the beverage, and Sera did not condone drinking either), and took a tiny sip, so as not to offend his companions. Morrigan and Sala, who had no such qualms, grabbed theirs without hesitation from Jan’s grip and drank long and deep while Jan turned his attention to the firepit. A moment later, it bathed the cabin in warmth and washed it with the scent of woodsmoke. Jennah’s misgivings about the location faded.

After an hour, during which the quartet spoke at length about the gods (Kaerqans, as a rule, were deeply religious and their gods, the Rever-Kaer, were real and had communicated with the race directly throughout history, generally to deal with crimes against their religion). As they grew more intoxicated, the conversation turned - as it always did - to women.

‘Ah, your lass is a fantastic piece, if you catch my meaning,’ Sala said with a toothless grin. ‘If I were twenty years younger, oho…’ He belched and patted his stomach. ‘I’d be all over that, no questions asked. You’d have a right rival then, boy.’

Jennah smiled. He knew this came from a place of envy. Even if Sala, or Morrigan, or Jan for that matter, were twenty years younger, Sera would not go within a mile of them. He suspected that they said these things to elicit some sort of reaction from him… but he never obliged.

‘I’m sure you would be,’ he said, retaining his dainty smile. Sala’s own smile dipped somewhat. Jennah took another shallow sip of his mead (he had gone through an inch of his drink, while the other three had consumed more than half). ‘But, as it is, I’m the lucky one. Perhaps, one day, a maiden will look your way. Or, more likely, an elderly widow.’

Jan and Morrigan guffawed, oblivious that the same applied to them. Sala recoiled. ‘Watch your tongue, boy.’

‘Relax, Sala, I jest - don’t take it so seriously. Have you found any potential suitors recently? Last I heard there was that one… who was it? Someone’s wife?’

Sala’s grin returned. ‘Ah yes, Merelda, the Canon’s wife. Alas, that was no more than a single night escapade. I’m afraid… she and her husband rectified their issues and,’ he clicked his fingers. ‘Just like that, I was tossed aside. These women are all the same, boy – they only want you when they’re bored or wish to spite someone else. When they’re no longer interested, you’re cast aside. They treat us as pieces of meat. Nothing more. You watch, boy – I guarantee yours will use you in exactly the same manner.’

Jennah nodded, less in agreement and more to shut Sala up, in no doubt this was not the case. He and Sera may argue, but they treated each other with respect and as equals, which was more than could be said for Sala and any of his previous lovers. This tale Sala was spinning was false, yet there was an element of truth – Sala and Merelda indeed only had the one fornication, yet she had been willing to leave her husband for Sala, but it was Sala who had spurned her, an act which had encouraged Merelda to rectify her issues with her husband, rather than waste her time chasing Sala. Sala’s reason for rejecting her? Merelda was too old for him and he desired to hold out for someone younger. In Jennah’s opinion, Merelda was better off.

Morrigan spoke up. His voice was soft and tinged with despondence. ‘Fear not, my good man. One day, a fair maiden will be interested and you’ll be liable to pursue that and get your happy ending. I pray to Sanhiel that the same happens for each of us. I,’ he twisted his body to face Jennah. ‘For one, am thrilled for you, young man. I’m very much looking forward to the wedding, but I have no shame in admitting that I look forward to my own more. Provided, of course, that it happens.’

Jennah lost his smile, feeling a wave of sympathy for Morrigan. Jennah knew little of Morrigan’s backstory, but what he did know was that he had previously experienced a great love in his youth, and had never moved on from her. ‘I’m certain that it will, Morrigan. You’re a good man, and someday soon that will be seen by an available woman, and you will have a life partner at last.’

He shrugged. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

Silence fell once more. Sala, Morrigan, and Jan drank deeply, each staring at different points on the floor, each lost deep in his thoughts. Jennah watched them, observing the shadows that fell over them: the depression in the bags beneath their eyes, the way their wings sagged, lifeless.

‘I wish I had a female partner. I can’t deny that. I wish it more than anything. I wish I had a woman to call my own,’ Sala mumbled.

Morrigan echoed the sentiment. ‘As do I. The one thing that’s always been missing from my life is a beautiful woman to call my partner.’

Jan rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. ‘Me, too. I’d enjoy having a woman to share my bed with.’

Jennah remained silent, shifting in his seat. He felt a touch guilty now these wishes were being expressed. Never before had any of these men been this direct about their wishes – it had always been subtle hints and veiled barbs dripping in jealousy. To hear them be so forthright, despite him knowing for years it was the case… was striking.

At that moment, there were three light knocks on the door of the cabin.

All four heads snapped around. They shared terrified looks and none of them moved for a long time, their faces as white as a youngling’s wings. Eventually, Morrigan got up and went to the door. His hand lingered on the door handle and he turned to look at his companions once more, hoping one of them would relieve him of this task. When none came forth, he twisted the handle and pulled the door open.

Jennah heard him gasp. Morrigan’s back straightened and he adopted a calm, suave demeanour. He spoke with the visitor in a hushed tone, leaning against the doorframe.

He turned to Jennah, Sala, and Jan. ‘We have visitors, gentleman.’

He opened the door wide and stood to one side, allowing the new guests entry into the cabin. In strolled four beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous women.

The lead, and the tallest, was silver-haired, with sharp, violet eyes. Her skin was metallic and her body full. She was smiling, but the way her lips curled up at the corners and the manner the smile failed to spread left her with a menacing expression. She examined each man from head to toe in a glance. She, along with the other newcomers, wore a sweeping, emerald dress that dragged along the ground and revealed no skin aside from her hands and face, accompanied by a simple, black travelling cloak coated in small droplets of moisture.

The second, trembling and fidgeting, also examined each of the men, though her gaze did not linger long, flitting from one man to another and back again. She was blond, with blue eyes, fair skin, and ruby red lips. Though he would never confess it, Jennah saw Sera in her.

The third and the fourth were twins. Dark-skinned and -haired, they were as confident and attractive as the first, and eyed Jan and Sala hungrily. Their cloaks were open wide, and their chests were extended outwards. They moved with elegance, gliding on the balls of their feet; though, with every few steps, they seemed to lurch. It was subtle, but became hard to miss once Jennah noticed it the first occasion.

The third moved over to Jan and placed her arms around his neck, giggling as she did so. Jan looked startled, but naturally did not resist such direct affection. He righted his hair and smoothed over his eyebrows instead. The fourth approached Sala and ran a finger across his cheek and jaw, caressing his features with a ravenous grin. Sala returned the grin and pulled her down onto his lap. She squealed but did not protest. However, his attention was divided - he continued to ogle the lead blond as if the woman who had chosen him was insufficient for his desires.

The first woman nudged the second, whose wide eyes raced between the woman and Jennah. At a nod from the first, she approached Jennah. With a shy smile, she perched herself on the arm of his chair but did not make any sort of physical contact with him. Even her eyes refused to meet his, immediately refocusing on the first woman. Jennah squirmed, distancing himself from her as much as possible while remaining in his seat.

Morrigan closed the door and wrapped his arms around the waist of the first woman. She melted into his grip, rested her face against his chest, and wrapped her own arms around him. After an extensive moment which was likely the highlight of Morrigan’s decade, she broke the embrace and addressed the room.

‘Hello, young gentlemen,’ she said, beaming. ‘We were… passing by and could not help but overhear your pleas for company. Being the faithful women that we are, we had no choice but to grant your wishes. My name is Rhea, the twins are Sofia and Ximena,’ she gestured to the ebony-skinned pair. ‘And the blond,’ she inclined her head at the woman on the arm of Jennah’s chair. ‘Is Novalea, the youngest and… purest of us. To whom do we make our acquaintance?’

‘Morrigan,’ he said, putting his hand on the small of Rhea’s back. Jan and Sala introduced themselves with gusto.

‘My name is Jennah,’ he mumbled, unsure whether to give Novalea or Rhea more attention. He didn’t trust these women. It made no sense for them to be here; after all, it had taken himself and his friends endless hours to get here themselves, being in the depths of the woods. The woods were rarely frequented, and even when they were, travellers always came with packs and supplies, not least because the journey through the woods, regardless of the road that was taken, took days, but also because getting lost was effortless. For these four beauties to appear right at that very moment, unencumbered… it made him as comfortable as he would be sleeping on a bed of glass shards. What was equally disconcerting was that none of his companions had the same realisation.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Rhea looked him dead in the eyes and her smile widened, revealing sharp, gleaming white teeth. Her own eyes, however, narrowed, and it seemed to Jennah like the distrust was mutual. ‘You are the one that did not express a desire for company, correct?’

Something in Jennah’s gut froze. How could she have known that? Surely their conversation had not been that clear?

‘Yes.’ Acting on instinct, he took the hand of Novalea and she jumped, but the simple act relaxed them both. Without speaking, they both knew what the act was – a gesture to soothe the pair, to make them feel more at ease in a situation they were both uncomfortable in, and nothing more. Even if he couldn’t ignore how close her resemblance was to Sera. His nerves settled, and Novalea squeezed his hand. She flashed Jennah a half-smile and the pair pivoted to Rhea.

Her smile faded. ‘I see. Why would that be?’

His voice was level now. ‘I have a fiancé at home, you see. And, I’m sure you’re all delightful people, but… if I could choose between your company and my fiancé’s, I’m afraid I’d choose hers a million times over.’

Rhea bristled, but Novalea’s reaction was stranger. She squeezed his hand and smiled at him again, signalling that he had obtained the right answer to a test he was not aware existed. His stomach turned, but he had his three friends as allies. Perhaps even this new girl.

‘Very well,’ Rhea said, and she turned away from him, addressing Jan, Sala and Morrigan. In fact, she flat out ignored Jennah from then on.

Rhea, Sofia and Ximena spoke in soft voices while Sala, Jan and Morrigan poured out their hearts, telling long tales encompassing their entire lives, while the women caressed and cajoled them, hanging on every word.

Jennah and Novalea, on the other hand, felt removed from the group. They remained in their corner, chatting in low murmurs audible solely to one another. At one stage, Novalea tired of looking over her shoulder at him, and Jennah allowed her to swing her body around and rest her legs on his own.

Novalea, like her companions with his friends, hung on his every word. The difference was, she conversed with him, rather than letting him speak without interruption, leading him to feel that she was more trustworthy than the others; that Rhea, Sofia, and Ximena were putting on a show, while Novalea was genuine.

As the night wore on, Jan, Sala, and Morrigan grew more intoxicated. They began to dance with their partners in the centre of the room. Jan had his hands around Sofia’s waist. Their pace was slow but clumsy – Sofia barely managed to avoid her feet being stood on by Jan’s awkward ones. A very drunk Sala leaned on Ximena, who guided him with his head squashed against her chest. Jennah could have sworn he was drooling. Morrigan and Rhea, by contrast, danced a coordinated, comfortable waltz.

‘Do… you want to join in?’ Novalea asked him, a very slight tremor in her voice.

Jennah’s hand twitched. ‘Erm… no. I don’t think I do. I enjoy talking to you, but… I feel like dancing with you would be a step too far. I know it would mean nothing, but… I wouldn’t like Sera to put me in that position, so I don’t feel comfortable doing the same to her.’

Despite being rejected, Novalea’s shoulders relaxed, her expression brightened, and she returned to her comfortable demeanour. They conversed further, and he learned that Novalea was 20 years old – in Kaerqan terms, five years from adulthood – hailed from a land far away to the north, and that Rhea was a distant relative of hers, whom she’d come to live with after her parents disowned her (the reason for which she would not give, something Jennah could understand, agreeing that it wasn’t something you’d want to share on your first meeting with someone). The others continued to dance.

Before Jennah could extricate more personal information from Novalea, however, events took a turn for the strange.

Novalea adjusted her legs and her dress hiked up to her ankles, revealing goat hooves for feet.

The pair froze. Jennah stared at Novalea and adrenaline began to spread through his body. His heart raced. His vision sharpened. His muscles tensed.

When he was a boy, a popular legend in his village – and indeed, Rhitarr as a whole – spoke of a vampiric race of women, with goat hooves for feet, who preyed on isolated young men. The tale was believed to be an unfounded myth, a cautionary tale to prevent younglings from wandering unaccompanied into the woods, but there had been multiple confirmed sightings over the generations.

Novalea blanched. Before she could get off the armchair, Jennah, in shock, pushed her off, and she sprawled onto the floor. Rhea, Sofia, and Ximena snapped around, their visages contorted in rage.

The rage faded, falling off their faces like raindrops sliding down a window, and menacing grins spread.

Morrigan, Jan, and Sala were slower to notice, but when they tired of their companions’ distracted behaviour, they too looked over. Their eyes flashed straight to Novalea’s hooves, and their faces lost their colour faster than you could say ‘sex’. Each attempted to step away from their companions, but found themselves locked in iron grips. The women turned their heads back towards the panic-stricken men and giggled.

‘Dinner time,’ Ximena said, tilting her head with another giggle.

Rhea locked her jaws onto Morrigan’s neck. He didn’t have time to register the attack before the light left him. His lifeless body sagged against Rhea, his skin growing greyer by the second.

Sofia dismantled Jan in a similar way. She may have drained him slower, and he may have struggled for longer, but the end result was the same.

Ximena, on the other hand, taunted Sala. Keeping him welded in her grip, she launched towards his neck but allowed him to retract his head multiple times, cackling each time. She allowed him to drag her back with him. Sala tried his utmost to resist, pulling back as hard as possible, ignoring that his efforts were futile and that it was already over.

He gave a mammoth tug which failed to dislodge Ximena. Sala lost his footing and fell to the ground, dragging Ximena with him. She whooped all the way down.

Her smile faded. This time, when she launched her mouth towards his neck, Sala had nowhere to go. Ximena’s sharpened fangs dug into Sala’s jugular. He screamed so loud Jennah’s eardrums threatened to burst. The sound cut off, replaced with a horrific gurgle.

Novalea scrambled up and hurried to Jennah. Jennah moved backwards. It wasn’t sufficient.

Novalea was on him. She trapped his arm so tight her hand could have turned to stone. An awful realisation set over him - this was the end.

Novalea dragged him, not towards her, but towards the door. With her free hand, she wrenched it open while her friends were distracted with their feeds and pushed Jennah outside.

Never had the feeling of mud and twigs been so comforting.

He gaped at her. ‘Why?!’

Novalea winced. ‘We can’t hurt you. You didn’t summon us. But that doesn’t mean you’re safe – the others will kidnap you, or forego the accord and feed on you anyway! You need to leave, now!’

Jennah stumbled backwards. Although his situation was dire, he needed to know - ‘if I had summoned you… would you have killed me?’

Novalea’s expression softened. ‘I… the others would have tried to make me. I suggest you never endeavour to find out. Now GO! Get out of here!’

Jennah didn’t wait to be told again. He sprinted through the forest all night, and didn’t stop until dawn came. He reached its edge, his village in sight, and his friends gone forever.

*

Deep in the centre of a valley far removed from the rest of Kaerqan society, backed up against a mountain range that tightened around like a noose and left one solitary route into it, was a fortress of epic proportions. Part of the fortress was constructed outside of the mountain range, but a hidden section more monolithic than what was visible stretched into the mountains. The exterior stretched so far that even if you knew it was there, it was difficult to discern where the fortress ended and the mountain began. Here, the Kaerqan Gods resided, safe and far from the knowledge and reach of the general populous.

The fortress itself was constructed from the rock excavated from the inside of the mountain range and was the oldest known settlement on the planet Rhitarr. According to legend, the fortress was over a hundred thousand years old, built long before the time of the Kaerqans.

Of course, this wasn’t true. It was a myth perpetuated by Sanhiel and his colleagues. The truth was the fortress had been built some 15,000 years ago during their first conquest. Nevertheless, he saw no harm in misleading the people. After all, it gave him and the rest of the gods an escalated air of mysticism and reverence, which was simply beneficial to all involved.

Sanhiel, the leader of the Kaerqan Gods, was eight feet tall with ashy blonde hair and skin white as milk. He was built like an ox, but his facial features were soft and calm, like the ocean when the tide is in. His wings were white, something that had only been seen three times in Kaerqan history, such was his uniquity (he had always dyed them - not that the Kaerqan populace needed to know that). He was dressed in a golden robes embossed with silver, a pattern of ancient pre-Kaerqan runes embossing the satin fabric. Around his neck a silver crescent moon gleamed on a chain of brass. Gold circles were tattooed around his neck, while silver circles lined his fingers. He sat upon his golden throne wearing a crown of ivory curls ande sparks of sunlight. His slim, gilded Staff of Ruling leaned against the arm of the throne. He looked out into the throne room, filled with the bright white light of the early morning, where stood the First Titan, Nhelqas.

Nhelqas was the ruler of Rhitarr, and the representative of its main continent, Taxasis. He was shorter than Sanhiel, but his build was stockier. His skin and hair were dark and thick, his features and muscles rough and scarred. This was a man who, unlike the majority of Kaerqans, tired of peace and relaxation quickly, so sated his violent dispositions with regular (reckless) hunts. This nature was how he rose so high so fast. It was said that he bowed for no one, and yet, here he was on his knees before Sanhiel, such was the sheer reverence Sanhiel was held in.

He would never tire of being a god.

‘Your magnificence, I come bearing urgent reports of a disturbance in my province,’ Nhelqas said. His voice was oily and gravelly; not pleasant, but he was not employed for the enjoyability (or lack thereof) of his speechcraft.

Sanhiel looked down at him. ‘I believe we agreed long ago that you would deal with any uncomfortable situations yourself, and not disturb my rest with them. I suggest you do not extort your right to enter my presence with needless updates of business well within your power to deal with.’

Nhelqas chuckled and stood. His right hand furled and unfurled. ‘Indeed, your magnificence, except this particular instance is not within my jurisdiction to placate. You see, I have received news that the Baobhan Sith have killed again. Three of my people, and very nearly a fourth, were massacred in this single incident. This brings their tally this month alone to 428 people, and their tally for the year so far has nearly exceeded 14,000. An alarming rate even by their standards, and my people look to me for answers. For a solution. For retaliation.’ He began to pace the room.

‘Little do they realise, I cannot do anything, because of the accord you stup- I mean…’ Nhelqas caught himself, chuckled again, and continued. ‘In your wisdom, you saw fit to grant the accord, which doubtless was a good idea at the time. But, these are my people.’ He faced Sanhiel again, his head tilted upwards, his left eyebrow elevated in defiance. This wouldn’t do. ‘And I require that the accord be revoked. I will not have any more of my good citizens drained of their blood.’

The Staff twitched in Sanhiel’s grip as he stared out of the window, to the rocky outcrop of the Eastern mountains. ‘Well, my young Nhelqas… the accord was struck to prevent them slaughtering tens of thousands a day. I know their numbers have since dwindled, but to me, this is a fair compromise.’

Nhelqas started forward. His foot hovered on the bottom step for a moment before he retracted it and backed up. ‘So, you’re telling me it’s acceptable to you that thousands of people are needlessly dying?! These Baobhans are a plague on this land, and you know it as well as I! The only way to deal with a plague is to cut it off at the source!’

‘Did they break the accord? Did their victims, any of them, not utter the summoning declaration of desire?’

‘Well, not that I am aware of, however-’

Sanhiel held up a hand. ‘In that case, there is little you or I can do, I’m afraid. They have broken no agreements, therefore, I cannot do so myself.’

Nhelqas fumed. ‘No! What you cannot do is leave them out there to leech off my people!’

Sanhiel hesitated, his gaze still on the Eastern mountains. ‘Do you have the names of the specific Baobhans who committed this atrocity?’

‘Yes, of course, or I would not have come. We have them in custody – Rhea, Sofia, Ximena, and Novalea. I’ve also come to request the right to execute them specifically, but that is secondary to the eradication of their kind.’

‘In that case… perhaps… perhaps there is something I could do that wouldn’t break the accord… after all, it would be beneficial to no longer have to tolerate their presence on my land… their endless pleas for further sustenance…’

Nhelqas backed up and bowed his head, leaving Sanhiel to his ponderings. He was well aware he almost had his wish.

‘The assassins may need a contract… yes, that would be perfect. That way… there is no loss of life on our side of things. We make no sacrifice. And, we rid ourselves of the vermin once and for all, without evidence nor consequence. I am sure Alyssa strongly desires to return home… you know,’ he looked back at Nhelqas. ‘Before she left for Archaic, she was my personal choice for your position. I am certain she would be welcomed back by the people.’

Sanhiel stood and the light hit his robe, shining off him, making him seem exactly like the benevolent god he was. ‘Go forth from this place, my young Nhelqas, and say not that I am unjust, for I will rid you of this plague upon my land once and for all. The vampires shall spread their pestilence no more. I shall carry out this act of justice. And… I consent to the execution of the four you mentioned. All I ask is that you ensure it’s public.’

Nhelqas bowed once more. ‘Thank you, your magnificence. I shall leave you to rest.’