August 6th, 1894
† Braddock †
The conscriptions had been hard on everyone. Braddock noticed, as they travelled from town to town, that few families were prepared for the reality of war. The weather did not help; with bitter winds and the winter snow already falling, many of their oldest soldiers had already come down with the winter illness.
As he stopped his horse by the last house in this town, a young boy of only his first dozen years exited the front gates and approached.
"Where is your father, child?" Braddock asked, atop his black stallion.
"Dead, sire. As are my two older brothers. There are none within our home able to fill the conscription, but me," he explained, reaching for the papers.
For a moment, he hesitated. The war they were about to enter into was nothing for a young boy to take part in. The humans had not taken kindly to their departure from the shadows and vampires were hunted ruthlessly; young children yet to turn should not be placed between the two worlds.
Though Braddock fought in the human army, with many of his kin, it was only for the sake of their future. Humans and vampires alike must survive this war and learn to live side by side. If they could not do that, it would be ruin for all. Without humans, the vampires would have no food source. Without vampires, the humans would kill each other and continue this ridiculous cleansing of their population.
"Very well, lad. Arrive early and we will see you fitted with armour," he promised, handing over the rolled parchment that would explain where and when he must appear at their camp. It contained a list of items required for fighting, for those families rich enough to provide for themselves, but he imagined this lad incapable of gaining those supplies.
The boy nodded and stepped back from the horse, allowing him to move on.
But, as Braddock let his horse trot to the next village, his heart was heavy with the responsibility they all bore. There were only a few factions of vampires who had acted like overlords to the humans, extinguishing lives as they saw fit. It was reckless and ignorant of men and woman who had lived for decades and centuries; long enough to know better.
As he rode from village to village, town to town, with a dozen men behind him, Braddock could not shake that boy from his thoughts. To think that such a young lad would take part in war – battling men twice and thrice his age, cutting down foes to save his own life – terrified him.
Braddock had been barely fifteen when he entered the army, but that had been a different time and the war had required every available man to fight. With vampires able to fight freely this time, humans were an asset, but hardly required to win the war.
Perhaps if enough young, fighting men arrived on training day, after the conscription, he could send the boy home. It was the last hope of saving a young soul from the torture of having to kill a man.
"Captain!"
Braddock looked up from his horse's mane, where he had let his gaze settle, trusting his horse to lead him in the right direction. "What is it?" he asked, giving the reigns a tug to tell Moray to hurry towards the scout who had travelled ahead.
"The next village, Melas, is under siege! Humans and vampires are fighting in the streets. Much blood has already been shed," the scout, Pharis, called as he approached.
"Damn it!" He swore and turned his horse to the right, to communicate with the nearest soldier. "Prepare to defend everyone! Unless it means your life or theirs, spare everyone you can." He shouted to his men.
With a quick hand signal, they rode into the distance, with four miles until they reached Melas. It may be too late to save lives, but they may salvage the village and supplies. Right now, all they could do was prepare for the worst and hope for the best.
The journey took no time at all, despite being careful and allowing the horses to find a safe route. But Braddock often found that to be the case, when on his way to a battle. His mind was so focused on getting there that no amount of time – hours or days – could slow him.
The sight of Melas that gave him pause, when they finally arrived.
Buildings were ablaze, children and women screaming as they ran for safety. There were men of all shapes and sizes defending themselves.
It was impossible to tell who were the enemy and who were the innocents.
He dismounted just outside of the village, to keep himself and his men safe, while keeping the horses out of danger. They would need them to continue their conscription notices and in case reinforcements were needed.
He unsheathed his sword and turned to head into the village, only for something to roll towards him and knock his boot. When Braddock looked down, he found a man's dead brown eyes gazing back at him from a dismembered head.
Raising his eyes to the battlefield, they immediately settled on a young woman, possibly no more than her late twenties, who fought ferociously with three men at once.
With a butcher's cleaver in one hand and what appeared to be a broken piece of door in the other, she successfully defended herself, while leaving enough room to lash out at her attackers. The woman's feet were bare and her clothes were ripped. She had been attacked.
Braddock gave the signal to his men that they could venture forth and assist the locals. The intriguing woman would have to wait until the battle was over.
Running into the village square, he let out a furious battle cry that suitably distracted two men from where they attempted to push aside a blockade from a shop door. They came towards him; Braddock met them halfway.
In a clash of his sword against their improvised weapons, made from knives and tools, the fight began.
Though these men were clearly peasants, they attacked anyone in sight and were wildly incapable of fighting. The reek of alcohol was clear, even without Braddock backing into one man, to throw him off balance, while he stabbed at the overhanging gut of another. The proximity to the stench was revolting, but he did not let it affect his senses.
He parried with a third man, who had appeared out of nowhere, while casting a glance at the barricade they had attempted to push aside. Three young girls, barely older than their early teens, hid inside the shop door. He did not need to ask why they would be targets for these men.
War brought out the worst in humans.
***
Braddock encountered the young fighting woman three more times in the course of a two hour fight. Many men were cut down, when they gave him no choice but to take their life or sacrifice his own. And, by the time the village descended into a peaceful silence again, he found his men had been forced to make the same difficult choice.
He turned from the last human he had injured and found three men standing ready to fight him, while a fourth fought with the young woman. "Surrender and you will not need to die," he warned.
"No!"
Braddock turned, as he realised that it was the woman who had protested, not any of the three men facing him, with weapons at the ready. Her blonde hair swirled around her, as she spun out of her attacker's grasp and her butcher's cleaver sank into his neck.
She did not seem to notice the blood that sprayed her face, as she placed herself between Braddock and the three men who faced him. "These men have done nothing wrong. You will release them!" she demanded.
"And who are you to be giving orders?"
"I am," The woman stopped and looked around, in a frantic panic. "The girls!" she exclaimed. She threw down her weapons and hitched her skirt high, to run for the nearby shop. She pushed aside the horse trough and bits of furniture that had been used to barricade the door, without once pausing to ask for help. Then she disappeared inside, to the sound of much crying.
Braddock ventured to the shop doorway and knocked on the wooden frame, to announce his presence.
The young woman looked up at him, with startling green eyes, while hugging each of the three girls. "What do you want?" she asked gruffly, as though he and his men had not just arrived to save the day.
"An explanation, if possible."
The woman rolled her eyes and whispered softly to the girls, who gave nods of agreement. Then she left them, walking proudly out into the early evening light. She neither seemed to care nor notice that her golden hair looked as though she had been dragged through the streets.
She walked towards the well in the centre of the town square and dipped her hand into the water, before dabbing it to the back of her neck. "The three men I was fighting, when you arrived, were ignorant vampires. They believed that they could enter this town and lay claim to whatever and whoever took their fancy. I disagreed," she announced, appearing ready to fight him, if he took offence to that. "These three men," she said, gesturing to the older men, who had faced him. When she noticed that they were no longer there, she continued without hesitation. "They are the fathers of those young girls. When they attempted to stop the vampires from taking the girls, and there was a risk of all the humans coming to harm, I stepped in."
Braddock raised an eyebrow and stabbed his sword into the ground, that he could lean on the handle. "And what made you believe you could fight off such men?" he questioned, becoming more intrigued by this woman the more he saw of her.
With a smirk, the blonde looked around and frowned in dissatisfaction. "May I borrow a knife or your sword?" she asked politely.
"I have seen you fight. That is not enough to convince me that you made the wisest choice."
"Knife or sword!" she demanded, holding out her hand.
Grudgingly, Braddock reached down to his right boot and removed a small blade that he kept there for close combat. When he handed it to the woman, she raised her left hand, held it palm up and slashed the centre of her palm with the blade. Before he could protest to the foolishness of the action, the wound healed itself before his very eyes. "You are a vampire?" he guessed, as that was the only explanation that made sense. "And you have the gift of healing?"
The woman nodded and handed his blade back with a look of pride. "Yes. If only my brothers and father shared the same gift they would be here now," she lamented, with a faint shrug that suggested she had grown so used to being alone that the grief no longer touched her.
But her words made him curious. "You say that your brothers and father are dead. Yet, I believe you have a younger brother?" he checked, to see if his theory was correct.
Instantly, the woman looked stricken and straightened, to make herself appear more threatening. "How do you know this? What have you done to Balloch?" she asked angrily.
"Nothing." Braddock smiled and touched his thumb to his lips, as those green eyes become more like a stormy sea. This woman was fascinating and beautiful; a pleasant distraction from the blood and war that surrounded him. "We are serving conscription notices throughout the land, in preparation for the war. Your brother claimed there was no other to take the place of your father and brothers, so he accepted the notice on their behalf."
"You served a war conscription to a child!"
"I took pity on a lad who said he was alone in the world," Braddock corrected her, in anger. "I did not insult him by saying so, but we will need squires and a kitchen boy. I planned to tell him so, when he arrived at camp."
This seemed to please the woman, who backed down and looked around the village, pretending to still be angry with him. But Braddock knew that she was not angry; she simply did not wish to thank him or imply gratitude.
"I will take his place," she announced quietly.
Braddock rolled his eyes. He had never had a woman in an army camp before and did not believe it a good idea. But he was beyond caring, at this moment. This woman had riled his temper and shown how ungrateful she was, both for saving her life and those of the girls, and for his kindness in taking in a lone boy who thought he could become a warrior just because he was the right gender.
"Do what you please. I assume you would not listen to me, either way." Straightening, he removed his sword from the mulch of the ground and returned to his horse. He had cut down at least ten humans and five vampires this evening and could only pray that the rest of his conscription duties passed without incident.
As he mounted his horse and his men rallied, with a few injuries but no losses to their rank, Braddock set the pace for the remainder of their journey. They had far to go, before returning to their commander, and he now had to prepare his men for a woman joining the rank.
God help them.