The Soldier

Damek was incredibly nervous about today, which bothered him greatly because he felt he should be quite happy about turning twenty. Turning twenty was a big moment in the life of a vampire. It was the day you chose your life’s path, deciding to play a specific role in the community for the rest of your days. Most parents groomed their child for a certain career, usually one of their own, seeing as legacy was something vampires held in great esteem. Damek was a special case in the sense that both his mother and his father had very high-ranking roles in the country of Verfold, and so there was plenty to live up to. His mother, Anna, was a member of the governing group known as The Blood Council, and his father, Marton, was the general of the Verfold army. Ever since he could remember, Damek had been trained by both parents to one day follow in their footsteps as either a grand politician, or a skilled soldier.

           Choosing which parent’s legacy to continue on was difficult, but it was easier when one parent clearly had the more important, or at least more appealing, career. For Damek, no matter who he chose, the pressure to be as successful as his parents would always weigh heavy on him. He also didn’t like having to choose between his parents, despite having a better relationship with one of them over the other. Damek and his mother shared a love of language, something they bonded over heavily, and both were generally kindhearted vampires. It also helped their relationship immensely that Anna was always ready to give Damek praise when he earned it. She loved her son dearly, and she was never afraid to show him that. Marton, Damek’s father, was cut from a different cloth. He was hard, rough, and showed little emotion, at least when it came to Damek. He never praised Damek no matter how successful he was in his training or how many competitions he won. Their relationship was strained, lacking any true connection, something that Damek was hoping to fix with his decision today.

           “Ah, there’s my boy!” Anna said as she welcomed Damek with a quick hug. “Happy birthday, Damek.”

           “Thank you, mother,” Damek said before looking over at his father.

           Marton was a large man with sharp, intense features that made him quite intimidating. He was relatively quiet, and was never one for conversations that didn’t have to do with training, war efforts, or anything else of the sort. Damek stood there and watched his father longingly as Marton drank his blood wine while looking over a rather long letter. Damek’s father remained quiet until Anna nudged him.

           “Have you decided on your career?” Marton asked, not looking up from his letter.

           “I have,” Damek answered. “I plan to continue your legacy as a soldier.”

           Marton, still looking at his letter, chuckled. “Continue my legacy. You’re a politician, boy. Just like your mother. That’s where you belong.”

           “I thought you would be happy with my decision,” Damek said.

           Finally, Marton looked up at his son, his red eyes fierce and focused. “Why? You know as well as I do that you would only place a blemish on my legacy. At least with your mother you have a chance at some success. Carry on your mother’s legacy, as best as you can with your limited ability.”

           With that Marton downed the last of his drink and rolled up the letter. He stood from the table he was seated at, his armor clinking as he straightened himself out. He put a hand on his wife’s shoulder, the most intimacy Damek had ever seen his father show, and he left. Anna came to comfort her son, but Damek shook off her hand and stormed away, angry and determined. His father didn’t think he was fit for the life of a soldier, that he would only tarnish his legacy, but Damek would show him he was wrong. He grabbed his sword from his room, went down to the stables, and rode off in a hurry. Becoming a soldier entailed a few menial tests, but to be a leader in the army, your trial was much greater. It was a test that his father had completed many, many years ago, and it was one Damek would complete as well. He would go north to the country of Farslang, the land of the vampire’s sworn enemy; the lycans.

           Bring home three lycan heads, that was the task. You were only allowed a sword, and you had to go alone. No armor, no aid of any kind, save for your weapon and your skill. Damek rode his horse hard, reaching the border between Verfold and Farslang in a day and a half, traveling through the day despite the risk of the sun. He reached the border town of Hartava and exchanged his horse for a fresh one. He rode across the tundra until he reached the great forests that engulfed Farslang. Tying up his horse at the treeline, Damek ventured into the trees in search of his prey. Night had just arrived an hour before, and already the moon was shining brightly high above. Damek of course didn’t need it to see, but the moonlight added a sense of mystery to the forest. The young vampire waded through the trees until he thought he heard someone talking. He stayed put, hiding in a nearby bush.

           “Gotcha!”

           Damek was dragged out of the bush and thrown onto his rear by the man who had found him. The man wasn’t alone; two more hairy, muscular men wearing no clothing at all stood around Damek. The three imposing men formed a circle around Damek and sniffed the air around him.

           “What’s a virgin killer doing all by his lonesome this far north?” one of them asked.

           Damek quickly got to his feet, causing the three men to take a step back. “Poorly educated, as is well documented.”

           “What?” the same man asked.

           “We don’t kill virgins,” Damek said.

           Another of the hairy men laughed. “Yeah and you don’t inbreed either, right? Come on, you can tell us. Your mommy and daddy brother and sister?”

           Damek’s pride took over his sense. “Filthy hounds! My parents are highly respected amongst my people. Marton and Anna Eroyar are not inbreeders, unlike your parents I imagine.”

           “Marton Eroyar is your father?” the tallest of the three men asked, his yellow eyes widening. “That bastard killed my grandfather.”

           “I…um…” Damek realized his foolishness and quickly drew his sword.

           The three men laughed and backed away, standing in a line in front of Damek. The one in the middle, the tallest one, whispered something to his two friends and they stepped back some more. Stretching his neck, the man stepped forward.

           “My name is Geza Zurkat,” he said as his body began to shift and crack. “And I will avenge my family.”

           Geza’s body became even hairier than before, and his arms and legs grew long. His face stretched outward into a snout and his ears crept up to sit higher and taller on his head. When his transformation was complete he howled loudly and growled at his prey. Damek readied himself as Geza charged forward, lunging at him with his newly formed jaws wide open. Damek quickly rolled out of the way. However, as fast as he was, Geza was seemingly just as quick. The lycan swiftly followed up his first attack with a second, catching Damek’s side with his claws. Damek reacted to the pain, and it gave Geza an opening to swat at him with his large hand. The blow knocked the sword from Damek’s hand and rendered him to the ground. Damek heard his father’s laughter in his head and anger grew in him. He used that anger as fuel, getting back to his feet with great quickness. His own claws were smaller than Geza’s but they were just as sharp. Damek swiped and clawed in between ducks and dodges until Geza was covered in scratches. Geza grew frustrated and took a giant, desperate swing at his foe, leaving himself open for Damek to take his back. The young vampire wrapped his arms around the lycan’s neck and squeezed as tightly as he could, using his great strength to finally snap his enemy’s neck.

           When Geza fell to the ground, his two allies roared and shifted into their own wolf forms. The two of them charged Damek together, but he used his great speed to move out of the way and recover his sword. It was a risky choice, however, and it cost him a claw mark on his arm. The pain of the injury screamed, but Damek refused to give up. He quickly moved out of the way of the next attack and swung his sword in an upward swipe, cutting open the neck of one of the lycans. This angered the other one, and he put that anger behind his next attacks. The lycan caught Damek’s leg just barely with his claws, causing him to fall to a knee. The lycan then went to bite at Damek’s neck, but he brought his sword up to defend himself, the blade getting caught in the lycan’s jaws. Damek pushed, causing the lycan to step back, before kicking at one of its legs, sending the bone backwards. The lycan roared in pain just before Damek withdrew his sword and came forward with a sharp stab into his enemy’s neck.

           Damek took a breath of relief, and found himself proud of what he had just done. Still, he had to get home now. Just as he thought of what his father would say, a loud howl broke the silence of the night. Out of the dark woods came a massive lycan, roughly eight feet in height, a size that Damek believed possibly no one had seen before. It closed the distance between them swiftly, swinging a mighty clawed hand in Damek’s direction. He managed to get out of the way while taking a slash at the beast’s leg. The lycan targeted his sword after that, dodging out of the way himself before wrapping a large hand around Damek’s forearm and squeezing. The pain as his arm broke caused Damek to drop his sword. The lycan raised his other hand, ready to strike a final blow, but Damek defiantly kicked at his gut. Despite his effort, the lycans claws still came down, scratching over Damek’s right eye. The pain he felt was immense, and he began to panic.

           “The only true pain you will ever feel, is the pain of defeat,” Damek heard his father say in his head.

           He gathered himself and faced his enemy. He went on the offensive, feinting a swipe at his head before ducking under an arm and kicking heavily at the lycan’s large leg. The bone snapped this time too, causing the massive lycan to fall to a knee. Damek quickly went over to the other leg and did the same thing, the sound of the bone snapping like music to his ears. Rendered to his knees, the lycan desperately swiped at Damek as he calmly walked over to retrieve his sword. The lycan stared the young vampire down, snarling and foaming at the mouth, his yellow eyes trying to pierce a hole in his enemy. Damek raised his sword and swiftly lopped off the lycan’s head. All of a sudden, the pain and exhaustion finally hit Damek, bringing him to his knees. He wanted so desperately to just lay down, but he knew the peril he was in. He needed medical attention, and he needed to leave Farslang as quickly as possible. Refusing to leave his prizes behind, he took the heads of the other three lycans and tied the four of them all together before slowly making his way back to his horse.

           Damek pushed his horse hard once more, keeping his skin as covered as he could from the sun as he rode through the day. He came back to Vamotton, the capital of Verfold, in the midst of the twilight that comes with a setting sun and a rising moon. The busy city marveled at the sight of four lycan heads tied to his horse, some even cheering Damek’s success. The young vampire made his way to his home, the guard there calling for a doctor right away.

           “No,” Damek managed. “My parents. Bring them here.”

           The guard nodded and left his post. Damek dismounted and grabbed the four heads, making sure the largest one was in front, and waited. After a short while his father exited the house, clad in his armor as usual, his red eyes as fierce as ever. He walked over to Damek and stood before him. He said nothing. He simply looked into his son’s eyes with great intensity. Damek met his gaze, and dropped the heads at his feet. Damek’s mother came out of the house and screamed when she saw the condition her son was in. She rushed to help him, but Marton held out an arm to stop her. Damek expected a lecture, or a remark of how damaged he had allowed himself to be. Instead, Damek’s father put his hands on either side of his son’s bloodied face and nodded.

           “My son, the soldier.”