Balance of Death Page 2

  There is an unusual amount of guards in the plaza. The increased presence doesn’t fit well in an area more accustomed to a modest number of guards. Nelfan stands in the center facing the entrance to one of the main buildings of the villa at the north end of the plaza.

  “Daeva let the unnecessary violence end with the incident at the tavern.” Nelfan urges.

  Daeva is a tall muscular yet slender man wearing leather pants and a long coat; a braided beard and tattoos all over his body. His mien indicates a lack of concern for appearance and confidence that comes from violent experiences. He walks over to Vicar who is still feeling the pain of his wounds; his body is slouched and head down as if he is broken. Daeva grabs Vicar’s face with no regard for Vicar; assessing his wounds. Reflecting on the violence Asta inflicted. He turns back towards Nelfan; “I’ve learned too much of this world to leave it. So, it is always intriguing when another man seems so eager… is he stupid or enlightened” Daeva taunts Nelfan for his boldness in returning after killing men of the circle. Daeva walks towards Nelfan who stands at the center. The rest of the guard’s match Daeva’s pace and begin closing in on Nelfan just behind Daeva.

  “Perhaps you’re right, but we are all bound by our options are we not.” Nelfan says hoping to catch Daeva’s attention and calm the tone. Daeva stops with his face right next to Nelfan’s.

  A voice from a-far echoes through the plaza; “Enough!” A handsome well-dressed man emerges from the corner of the plaza. His features are distinctly softer than those of his companions. He wears a shirt open from the neck to his stomach exposing his muscular physique, with suit pants and formal shoes. The tone in the room seems to shift to a more obedient note and everyone seems less ready to act and more cautions. “I am Treggin, welcome.. “A brief pause as the circle's highest-ranking member, Kentro of the circle, introduces himself. “Daeva!” he shouts, instigating Daeva.

  As his command still echoes the villa Daeva launches Nelfan forward with a powerful open palm strike to his chest. Nelfan crashes through the fountain in the center and lands rolling backwards. He catches himself as he rolls to his stomach. He begins lifting himself up slightly and coughs blood onto the ground. Before his blood can reach the ground Treggin tears through the crowd faster than the normal human eye can follow and is standing above Nelfan. “Where shall we meet?” Treggin asks uninterested in bantering with Nelfan.

  Knowing what is to come Nelfan reflects on his decision to break from the circle and coordinate with Asta. He finds solace in knowing the circle will find nothing, but blood and death by her hand. “It’s too late for such pleasantries she will find you!” Nelfan scowls before spitting at his feet. In an instant Treggin drives his foot down on Nelfan’s helmet crushing it. The pop of his skull shattering reverberates around the villa and his blood floods the area around his body.

  Treggin poises himself facing south and suddenly as if struck by his own thoughts he breaths in and calls out; “Enforcers!”

  Two flashes bolt through the villa to Treggin and kneel before him. They both are wearing full black dire leather armor and a small hood; their faces disguised behind a coif. Enforcers, the deadliest the circle has to offer. Few can count themselves amongst them; even fewer yet benefit from the binding of their conscious energy to their corporeal form. This provides them great strength, endurance, and durability. Such power comes with the cost of locking one’s chakra. Forcing them to seek it through other’s blood.

  “There are spies, find them.” Treggin commands without looking back. The two speed away so fast they disappear into the wind.

  A great distance away two death dealers in licentious Boem leather armor are perched on trees. With their heightened senses they take note of the events in the plaza. Typha the more experienced of the two discerns that the enforcers headed their way are very powerful. She looks to Edite her fellow death dealer and figures she will be of little help in a battle with the two enforcers. The lack of time before the enforcers reach them hastens her thinking. “Quickly to the rendezvous point” Typha orders Edite hoping to lose them in the forest.

  They speed through the forest leaping from tree to ground to tree navigating the most efficient route through the tangled vines. Their movement like a gust of wind blowing through the forest, the sound of bending and cracking wood echoing as it passes.

  “Keep moving.” Typha shouts to Edite as she collides with the face of a large tree stopping her forward progression and exploding the bark and wood as her momentum is released from her feet into the tree. She leaps forward and catches what would seem to be another breeze. Her arm makes contact with one of the Enforcer’s necks. The force sends her spiraling, and the enforcers blinding speed is diminished. Converted into a backward spin until the enforcer collides with the ground his rolling slows slightly as he digs into the dirt and vines breaking through them until his motion is rectified by another large tree.

  At that moment another figure takes shape as it slows to trackable speeds swinging a medium sized blade at Typha. She ducks under the attack and the enforcer lands just past Typha; positioning himself towards her and his blade behind him in a specific pose. The man against the tree gets up and pulls an identical blade from his back sheathe.

  Both accelerate towards Typha and all that can be seen is a blur of colors as they slash and swing at her, she narrowly manages to dodge their attacks. After a moment of this, one of the enforcers grabs Typha’s arm. She grips his thumb and wrist; twisting it outward breaking his grip. The other enforcer jabs his blade at Typha’s head; she moves to the side; using her free hand to grab the enforcer’s, controlling the blade. However, this allows an opening for the other enforcer to drive his blade into her ribs. Typha’s grip loosens freeing the enforcer’s hand. Taking advantage, he closes the distance between her face and his blade slicing her cheek; disorienting her further. The other enforcer with his blade in her side, pulls it through her gut and opens up her stomach. Typha drops to her knees meeting her defeat with the fire and grace of a warrior.

  The first enforcer quickly severs the woman’s head and tosses it into the dark tangled forest; with complete disregard for her death. Both enforcers then sheathe their swords and continue in the same direction Edite went.

  Meanwhile Edite further ahead reaches the rendezvous point. She stops glances behind her before quickly rubbing her -pearl looking- necklace between her index knuckle and thumb uttering a spell: the words of the spell cause her conscious energy to flow in a very controlled and specific fashion; inducing a particular reaction from the energy stored within the Jade crystals. This activates all other crystals with the same signature.

  “we are being pursued by Treggin’s vampiric enforcers. I will be at our rendezvous point awaiting either you, my lady, or a fight.” The vibrations of Edite’s words are absorbed into one of the crystal spheres. Those words will be magically translated to crystals of the same signature; a common form of communication, albeit not usually a necklace. The woman releases the necklace and turns facing the direction she came from. There is no fear in her only readiness. A readiness born from the shadows of much suffering.

  Asta has built her ranks from the tortured and beaten women of this world. This allows them to meet its brutality in kind.

  A short time later the two arrive surrounding Edite. They draw their weapons and poise themselves. They seem to hear something in the distance that they cannot reconcile. Suddenly a figure appears at the edge of the clearing.

  “Justice” Asta declares as she walks towards the three of them. “Are the scales balanced by good, or by the bad?” she pauses to look at them both. “I imagine you don’t concern yourselves with the concept much at all. Yet here you are victims of my form of it” They turn towards Asta as the other woman walks backwards away from the group. “Your blood and pain will serve to balance the scales.” Asta declares.

  She races forward lifting the first enforcer by his neck; he has just enough time to unsheathe his sword and point it towards her,
as she closes in. He is astonished when his expertly crafted adamant blade only superficially pierces into Asta’s stomach before being jetted backwards from the force of her forward momentum.

  As she holds him in the air by his neck, she digs her nails into his skin, blood begins to leak down.

  The second enforcer races towards Asta while she is seemingly distracted with his brother. He jabs his adamant blade into Asta with all his might. His movement comes to a sudden stop upon impact. He looks at the point of contact between his weapon and Asta’s sternum and is alarmed to find barely a scratch. As a vampire ages, more and more chakra binds with their physical form making them stronger, faster, and more durable.

  3.26 Asta, still holding the first enforcer by his neck, grabs the second by the side of his head and pulls him towards her as she sinks her teeth deep into his neck. Tearing his throat and neck outward spitting it to the side only to dig deeper and deeper into his neck and shoulder. She rends her head moving so fast only a blur of red and hair flurrying is visible. The enforcer being eaten cries out for a moment till his cries are silenced as his voice is torn out of his throat, and the rest of his neck and chest is devoured.

  The first enforcer, still held in the air, begins to panic and tries to kick at Asta. Throwing the devoured enforcer to the side she slams the first one from the air down into the ground. The other enforcer’s head barely attached via a small portion of skin and tendons. Most of his upper shoulder and chest is torn apart. Asta breathes in deeply and stares at the enforcer on the ground. Blood and meat dripping from her face.

  The enforcer stricken with fear pulled into her gaze murmurs; “How…“ Interrupted by his inhale as if he isn’t sure how to verbalize his thoughts. “How old are you.”

  Asta runs her fingers through his hair till her hand is on top of his head and her thumb just above his eye. She replies; “It is rude to ask a woman her age.” as she digs her thumb into his eye socket and tears his head from his torso tossing it into the forest. She stands blood dripping from her chin. “Edite! where is Typha” Asta inquires.

  “She held them off while I contacted you.” Edite responds.

  Asta clenches her jaw; “feed. And, bring the ladies” she replies. Asta’s tone and phrasing is unmistakable, she wants as many death dealers that can be reached to descend upon the villa.

  Daeva is talking to Treggin in a hall with a long dining table full of food that leads up to a throne Treggin is sitting on. “You think it wise to be so contentious? She has built quite a reputation.” Daeva questions.

  Ignoring Daeva Treggin runs his hand down the cheek of a beautiful woman in a robe. She trembles at his touch. “Go get your sister. I want to have some fun.” Treggin says with a disgusting smile. She scurries up the stairs to the right of the throne.

  “Don’t you think these matters more important than your cock!” Daeva raising his voice in anger.

  “After almost 400 years of life; I finally have reach throughout Prósdesi, and even managed to secure an understanding with Amneka. So, no I don’t have the patience or desire to negotiate with some upstart.” Treggin replies with annoyance.

  “Yes, but given the stories.. “Daeva starts.

  “That is all they are..” Treggin interrupts him before pausing to regain himself; “stories, and I will not listen to exaggerations of some newcomer!” He stands and walks past Daeva to the end of the long table grabbing some food. He continues; “besides…” a thunderous boom coming from outside in the villa stops him mid-sentence. Perplexed they both look in the direction the sound came from. A couple more times the sound vibrates through the room; as small dust and debris falls from the ceiling in their after-math.

  After a moment the large doors are blasted inward tearing the hinges from the stone structure. Both men seem taken back unsure how to react. A body flies through the doorway slides across the table shoving the food and drink to the ground. The body makes its way to the other end before falling off and stopping at their feet. It is one of their men dead with his bottom jaw missing. Asta speeds in and before they can react she stands between them and over the body at the end of the table. “which of you sorry fucks is Treggin?” Asta inquires.

  Daeva moves to strike her, and she raises her arm opening her palm.

  Asta’s chakra builds at her palm. The pressure mounts until Asta releases it. The blast outward violently crashes Daeva into the thick concrete wall; the wall fractures around Daeva’s body. As she drops her hand; Daeva drops to the ground. His body sizzling from the heat the pressure created. Daeva’s skin already beginning to heal.

  Treggin punches with his right hand, Asta ducks under it jabbing his ribs shattering them. Then grabbing the back of his head and battering it into the table, splintering the solid oak board before throwing him backwards.

  After hitting the ground Treggin attempts to regain himself. Asta’s strength baffles him; how could she be this strong? He feels his broken ribs as they begin to heal. Trying to understand the situation he yells; “this isn’t possible… do you know who the fuck I am…”

  Asta walks towards him. Just to the right of the throne there is a doorway, leading to some spiral stairs. As she walks past Treggin; “Follow me.” She commands.

  Treggin measures the situation. Her strength, however unexpected, is highlighted by what must be a mastery of magic he tells himself. He has never seen or heard of a vampire being able to use chakra, it must have been magic. Moreover, to cast such a powerful spell without her voice, she must possess a grasp of magic he has rarely seen. This leads him to the conclusion he must flee.

  At blinding speed Treggin moves to the door. Asta races after him catching him just at the doorway, digging her nails into the muscles of his shoulder, halting his movement. She tightens her grip forcing him down and begins to drag him back towards the throne.

  Treggin caught off guard tries to retaliate by launching himself up swinging his fist towards the side of her head. She intercepts his blow with her free hand and sends her knee into his skull buckling it. The concussive force causes Treggin’s limbs to go limp. As his arm drops she grabs the back of Treggin’s head and repeatedly drives her knee into his skull at blinding speeds. The whole time never releasing her piercing grip of his shoulder muscle. She eventually lets go of his head, his face is bloodied and unrecognizable.

  She begins dragging his body towards the throne again. As she reaches the doorway to the right of the throne Daeva stands and unsteadily walks towards her. Asta flicks her hand and warns; “stay” as she continues through the doorway. Daeva laughs and drops to his knees spitting blood on the ground. The stark recognition of his argument only moments ago is almost comical. This situation seems to analogize his relationship with Treggin. Treggin’s arrogance and personal indulgence; thwarting Daeva’s access to greater power.

  Before long Asta and Treggin enter the room there is a large canopy bed. A woman dressed in lingerie, sits at a vanity. The room is well furnished and comfortable yet there is an air of misfortune that accentuates the luxury. Rare Jade and Jacalyte crystals laying on the shelves and dresser.

  Asta tosses Treggin across the room and walks over to the woman and sits next to her. The other woman froze with fear unsure of how to react.

  Asta assesses the room and the woman; quickly understanding the implications. “My name is Asta.” Asta says as she raises her hand that was dug into Treggin’s trap muscles, and puts a bloodied finger in her mouth sucking off the blood. “And, yours?” Asta says. She instinctively uses Treggin’s blood to guide her chakra back to Treggin’s corporeal form. After securing a connection between her and Treggin’s chakra reserves she begins pulling his chakra in order to keep him in his weakened state.

  “My name is star….” Star replies with her head down. “I am of no importance. I will leave you and the Kentro to your business.” She finishes.

  “Would you lable me of importance?” Asta stands commanding the room. Star takes stock of Asta and the semi-conscious Treggi
n. The situation stands as an aberration of what she has come to expect from her life. The abnormality of the situation serves to fracture the foundation of what life has taught her thus far. Making room for Asta’s words to resonate even if just a little. “If so, trust me when I say you are wrong, and I will show you.” Asta says as she rests her hand on Star’s shoulders. “Fate is merely a word lazy folks use to describe their decisions.” Asta finishes. Their gaze locked as Star’s breathing goes from shorter to longer, and more controlled breaths matching Asta’s. As Star studies Asta’s eyes she can sense the sincerity in her words.

  Asta stands and races over to Treggin. Asta grabs his neck and lifts him up against the wall. “Drekavak said you were a stubborn prick!” Asta remarks. Her mood shifts from almost welcoming to sharp. Treggin shocked, not expecting to hear the name of his maker; the reaction Asta was hoping for. She knows Drekavak’s name carries weight. Asta is betting that it will be enough to control Treggin.

  Back down in the hall Daeva is sitting with his chair angled backwards and his feet on the table. Sipping a drink before setting it down next to him. A group of men armored to various degrees, mostly dire leather, run in with their weapons drawn. A man in front sees Daeva and seems relieved. He rushes over to him on the other side of the room the other men remain at the entrance poised for attack. “Has everything been resolved my Radian?” Jerek questions. Puzzled by Daeva’s lack of urgency.

  “I suppose you could say that.” Daeva responds with a chuckle. He casually takes another drink. Jerek’s anxious energy and combative posture is contrasted by Daeva’s composure. Daeva lifts his drink from his mouth for a moment and questions; “What sort of force were you able to secure?” Daeva inquires.