CHAPTER 134: THE DESERT WAR

The loud clopping of the horses echoed through the desert as dust swept into the air. Things could hardly be seen by a normal person—or any other person—but not for the werewolf soldiers.

They were trained to see through such conditions, and even when the dust moved into their eyes, it did nothing but fuel their fierceness to push further. The dust surrounded the place as they moved with seriousness. Zavren was at the front, leading the way, and they had been going for hours now.

Luckily for them, they had set out early, knowing that if they had wasted even a day, the villages would have been destroyed. Even the palace would have been less safe. Now that the vampires were aware of the Senerp, they would change their plan to drive them into extinction. And knowing his wife was a target, Zavren was certain the palace was surrounded not just by soldiers, but by layers of protection as well.

They continued moving as the horses made noise with each step. They pressed on until Zavren finally stopped, prompting the other horses to halt as well—they too had been trained to take commands. His face was neutral, yet so cold that the aura surrounding him was not just dark, but bloody as well. The greyness of his eyes was so deep and dark it was as if some grey orb was covered by darkness itself.

He moved as he climbed down, and the dust began to settle. The place became a little clearer to the eyes—it was pure desert. More like a land of sand, as the sands stretched everywhere. There was no sign of water or life, just sand covering the distance until even the eyes could no longer reach, and it felt as though the sand touched where sight itself could not go.

Zavren silently began walking. They all walked behind him, as many were curious, but everyone was wise, as they knew Zavren never made rash decisions. Zavren walked further, and now they all began to walk.

Further and further, the air was heavy..very heavy, that it could make a person collapse to the floor by staying there alone. Time passed, and Zavren finally stopped. Just as he did, the others stopped as well. The soldiers were all assembled, all wearing a straight face, all holding their swords—except Zavren. His sword was still there, but he was not holding any, not even a little one.

Silence fell. No one dared speak, as the only sound that could be heard loudly was the wind. Finally, they began to notice from far away, horses approaching. After some time, the horses stopped, and the vampires climbed down. They walked and walked until they were a road apart from each other—more like fifty centimeters apart from each other.

Vrazen stood, a slow grin curling up his lips as he stared at Zavren. Even if they were far apart, their eyesight was perfect, and they could see each other clearly.

His lips curled wider as he noticed the king looked so calm.

He raised up his sword and pointed it upwards one of his soldiers stepped out as he spoke.

"The King demands the Senerp, or it will be taken forcefully," he said loudly, his voice echoing through the quiet desert.

Another silence followed before Vrazen laughed, this time as if he had found something funny in what was happening.

"I’m not sure they can speak the English language any longer," he said mockingly as he lowered his sword. His eyes moved to Zavren’s hands as he noticed he was not holding any sword.

Just as expected of him—putting so much trust and high expectations on himself.

Zavren moved as he calmly raised his hands. He had noticed Zekel stepping forward, and just as Zekel saw his signal, he stopped. Zavren’s eyes were blank, and Vrazen, who stood at the other side, finally moved his sword, hitting it gently against the sand. The soldiers roared, all beginning to move toward the werewolves, who remained standing still despite the chaos, waiting for Zavren’s signal. But Zavren remained where he was.

The perfect time—he knew he was calculating something in his head. He knew why he did not attack first, knowing that if they did, they would run out of breath, and trying to catch up might be their weak point. Knowing the vampires had speed, they could not just rush in, as not only would the dust enter their nostrils, but the sand as well.

He knew how dangerous this already was, as normally wars happened on dry lands, but for some unknown reason, this was where the vampires were heading—meaning they had other plans at the back of their minds. Zavren finally moved just as the vampires were five feet near, and the werewolves moved.

They clashed, the sound of sharp metal ringing out as fresh blood already filled the air. Some of the vampire’s men were out, but even though that happened they were many, it was hardly noticeable.

Zavren dodged swiftly after noticing a sword moving to attack him. A slow smirk formed on his lips as he held the man’s neck. His other hands moved to the man’s elbow swiftly as he twisted it sharply, earning a crack. A sharp hiss left the man’s lips. Zavren took the sword he was holding, his other hand still on the man’s neck.

He turned swiftly, carrying the man’s sword, and held the blade as he flung it toward one of the soldiers coming toward him. It hit his eyes straight. He flung it up, and as it swiftly somersaulted, he used his leg to kick the handle, sending it slashing straight into one of the vampire’s necks.

He took another man who was trying to attack him, connecting his head with the other smashing it together earning a sharp crack.

Another soldier moved to attack, but one of the werewolf soldiers was already in front. A vampire soldier, noticing Zavren was caught up with two soldiers, moved to press his sword into Zavren’s back, as Zavren was not wearing any shield. But before he could, Zavren turned sharply, putting the man he was holding in place as the sword pierced into the man instead, making the vampire soldier’s eyes widen—he had killed his own man.

The man moved his sword swiftly out, but Zavren intercepted with the other, making that man slice his fellow soldier in half once more.

Zavren moved swiftly, throwing them both to the floor. His eyes now rested lazily on the man who was in front of him. He moved his hands to the man’s shoulders, bending them backward. He used his leg to strike the man’s stomach so hard that the man’s eyeball fell out, blood gushing from his mouth. Zavren then moved to his head and twisted it.

PLUCK

The man’s head fell to the sand as the blood seeped down, drying on the sand. The war became more brutal, and the people dying became like ants. Still, there were more and more soldiers.

Zavren finally leapt up and landed calmly on the ground. His eyes lazily looked as Vrazen had just pulled away his sword from one of the werewolf soldiers. The blood flew as it splashed across the sand.

His lips widened as he turned to Zavren.

"I see this was what you wanted." He lazily examined his sword as his head moved to the soldiers who were still fighting.

"Your wife," Vrazen spoke, and Zavren stilled. He ticked his jaw as his grey eyes turned red.

"I want her... what’s her name... Aria—" and just as Vrazen was about to finish his sentence, Zavren moved.