Gatekeepers Book 3: Redemption

“Well, now. This is certainly a surprise. I never expected to see that face again,” Río commented as he stared down Damrabe. “I thought you died the moment I expelled you from our tribe. How has trash like you managed to survive this long?”

Damrabe’s fists curled into tight fists the second Río spoke. His body shook slightly from rage as he glared at his enemy. “So it’s you, huh? Figures. I had a feeling you were somehow involved in this fiasco.”

Río laughed. “Come now, is that any way to speak to me? Oh, but where are my manners? I suppose I should show you my real face.” Lowering his hand that held the massive orb of blood suspended in the air, Río placed it on the far side of his face. Digging his claws into the scales, he pulled hard. A grotesque ripping sound filled the air as Río began pulling his face off. With a loud snap, the flesh parted from the rest of the body like a mask.

A new, dog-like head, similar to the welsh dragon, sat on Río’s shoulders. Maroon scales covered the flesh while a rack of black horns sprouted between the ears. Bright green eyes flashed at Damrabe while a black forked tongue flicked in and out of the mouth periodically. The lips were pulled back in a savage smile, revealing the razor-sharp teeth that filled the inside of the mouth. A short, black-grey beard sprouted from the end on the lower jaw. It was the face of the last person Damrabe wanted to see; Olafoc, the leader of Sangues Draconis tribe, and Damrabe’s father.

“I was really hoping to never see that face again,” Damrabe sighed. “What are you doing here, Olafoc?”

“Is that any way to talk to your father?” Olafoc laughed. “I helped give birth to you; there’s no denying the bond between us.”

“It’s a bond that I refuse to recognize!” Damrabe spat. “You have no right to call yourself my father after all you’ve done to my mother and I!”

“Come now,” Olafoc snorted. “Are you still hung up on the death of that wench?”

“That ‘wench’ was the only reason I stayed with you for as long as I did!” Damrabe roared. “Don’t you feel anything for the mother of your son?!”

Olafoc’s head tilted to the side in confusion. “Why should I have felt anything for her? She was nothing more than a means to an end for me. There was no point in keeping her around after it was clear you were going to live; why can’t you see that?”

“That’s no reason to kill her, you cold-blooded bastard!”

Olafoc hissed softly. “Watch how you speak to your father, brat,” he growled. “I may have banished you from our tribe, but I still require the respect I deserve from you.”

“You aren’t my father! You’re just a monster!”

A low growl rumbled in Olafoc’s throat. “Say what you want; you still can’t break our bond.”

Damrabe snorted. “Think what you want; I don’t care.” He pointed at the fleshy mask that still hung from Olafoc’s left hand. “Since you seem to be in a talkative mood, mind telling me what that thing is about?”

Olafoc’s loud cackle filled the air. “Going straight to the point, are you?” Olafoc lifted the mask and pressed it against his face. There was a soft flash of red light, and the mask reattached itself to Olafoc’s face. Olafoc removed his hand while his face rapidly twitched in several spots before it slowed down to a stop. “As powerful as Vinkex is, even he is not strong enough to win a battle against the Dragon King’s army alone. He reached out to the Rogue King in an attempt to convince Río to support his claim to the throne, but Río refused the request. So Vinkex contacted me and we worked out a deal. I masqueraded as Río so Vinkex could have access to the Rogue King’s troops. My tribe and I stand to gain much by assisting him.”

“So, I’m guessing Vinkex offered you something that’s too true to be good, right?” Damrabe guessed, folding his arms over his chest.

Olafoc’s eyes narrowed as he glared at his son. “You make it sound like you already know what he offered.”

“Oh, I have a rough idea, alright,” Damrabe snorted. “Living with you for eighteen years certainly gives me some insight on what makes you tick. Vinkex could definitely get his hands on something you desperately desire.” Damrabe paused for a moment while he continued to glare at his father. “What did you do to the real Río? He can’t be dead; you’d need a constant supply of his blood to keep that disguise together. I assume he’s probably inside the castle?”

“That’s none of your concern,” Olafoc sneered. He raised his hand above his head and pointed at the orb of blood still floating above. “Worry about yourself instead; you can’t expect to stay uninjured in my presence after showing your face to me.” Olafoc’s outstretched finger flicked down and pointed at Damrabe. The blood orb shuddered before the surface began to change shape. Numerous spikes grew from its surface, all of them pointing directly at Damrabe.

“Pierce him,” Olafoc commanded, snapping his talons at the same time. With a loud pop like a balloon bursting, the spikes shot out of the orb and flew at Damrabe faster than the human eye could see.

Damrabe appeared to be unperturbed by his father’s assault. On the contrary, he appeared to be downright disappointed. He let out a soft sigh when the spikes were on top of him before glaring at Olafoc. “You really don’t understand who you’re dealing with, do you?” he hissed. The blood spikes suddenly froze in mid air, just before piercing Damrabe’s skin.

Olafoc’s eyes shot wide open at the sight. He lifted his hand and tried to force the spikes to move as he pleased, but his own weapons refused to respond to his command as they slowly backed away from Damrabe.

“What the hell did you just do, brat?” Olafoc growled, glaring daggers at his son.

Damrabe sighed again. “Surely you haven’t forgotten the reason why you exiled me from the tribe?” Olafoc immediately froze, his expression slowly changing from shock to one of horror as a loud, sucking sound filled the air. Damrabe was sucking air into his mouth at an incredible rate. Slowly at first, the blood spikes began to lose their shapes as the streams of blood were sucked into Damrabe’s mouth. When the last of the blood spikes disappeared, Damrabe stopped sucking up air and belched softly.

“I rarely rely on those powers; I try to avoid using them whenever possible,” Damrabe growled, picking his teeth with a talon. He got a curdle of hardened blood out from between his teeth and blew it off the tip of his talon before returning his gaze to Olafoc. “But as much as I dislike relying on them, I hate you even more.”

A nervous smile crept across Olafoc’s face as a cold sweat broke out over his body. “Ah, that’s right. I actually did forget about your abilities for a moment there. It’s pointless to fight a vampire with Blood magic.” Olafoc put a great deal of emphasis on ‘vampire’ as he spat in disdain.

“You’re right about that,” Damrabe growled. “This is one fight that you can’t win.”

“Don’t be too sure about that, brat!” Olafoc gestured at the blood orb with his hand once more. More spikes protruded from the surface of the orb. However, unlike last time, steam rose from the spikes this time.

“Hmm? What are you trying to pull…?” Damrabe muttered as he noticed this.

“Let’s see if you enjoy drinking boiling-hot blood!” Olafoc roared before the spikes shot out of the orb.

Damrabe merely sighed at Olafoc’s attempt to adapt his attack. “I can’t believe you’re dense enough to think that will work on me.” Damrabe pulled a test tube of blood out of his sash and popped the cork off the top before swinging it around him. The blood shot out of the test tube and snaked through the air around Damrabe. Damrabe stretched his right hand out before him and grabbed some of the blood. A short, simple line of Dragonscript escaped from his lips, almost too softly for Olafoc to hear.

“Iika gor van.”

The blood suddenly let out a brilliant flash of crimson light, blinding Olafoc. Startled, Olafoc covered his eyes to protect them from the light. A sound like hundreds of mirrors shattering filled his ears before all became quiet. As the silence continued, Olafoc slowly uncovered his eyes and looked around.

The blood spikes were nowhere to be seen. Instead, Damrabe hovered before him, unharmed and holding a staff of what appeared to be made out of bones in his hands. A skull decorated each tip of the staff, and wicked-looking crimson blades extended from the sides of the skull on the top, forming a scythe. The skull’s jaws hung wide open, revealing a white rose that peeked out past the teeth. As Olafoc watched, he noticed the very tips of each petal of the rose had turned to a slight shade of red.

“What did you just do?” Olafoc growled, eyeing the weapon cautiously. The weapon seemed to radiate a weak energy that made all of Olafoc’s senses scream danger. Some of the scales around Olafoc’s neck rose from his body slightly.

Damrabe didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he rotated the staff one-hundred and eighty degrees until the blades rested atop his foot.

“Well, it’s certainly been a long time since you’ve called for me, hasn’t it, master?” a small, high-pitched male’s voice suddenly spoke. Startled, Olafoc glanced around until he noticed the skull sitting atop the staff move slightly. Dumbfounded by what he was seeing, Olafoc was rendered speechless as the skull twisted around to face Damrabe with an eerily sound of cackling bones.

“I didn’t summon you to have a chat,” Damrabe answered icily.

The skull sighed dramatically. “Still as cold as ever, I see.” The skull’s empty eye sockets glanced around at its surroundings. “What do you need of me this time?”

“I need you to shut up and do your job,” Damrabe growled, tightening his grip on the staff. Two more vicious, crimson curved blades erupted from each side of the skull’s head.

“Ah, what are you doing?!” the skull shrieked. “My head’s been split open! I’m gonna die!!”

“You’re already dead!” Damrabe snapped.

“Oh, that’s right,” the skull responded simply. “I'd forgotten about that.” The skull’s movement ceased after that and mirrored the skull on the other end of the staff with its mouth hanging open, revealing another white rose.

With a deep sigh, Damrabe held the weapon out before him and twirled it around like a baton in his hand. Without warning, both ends of the weapon shot out and went straight for Olafoc, the two blades of the scythe moving close together like snake fangs. Taken by surprise, Olafoc barely managed to dodge the attack by a fraction of an inch. The blades continued to fly past him and sunk into the blood orb overhead.

“Not bad,” Damrabe observed. “Not everyone has been able to dodge my Guadaña de Sangre’s initial attack before.”

Olafoc turned back and glared at Damrabe while blood seeped out of a small cut on his cheek. “I’d suggest you don’t underestimate me like that,” he hissed. “I can’t be taken down by a surprise attack like that.” Olafoc raised his hand and tried to command the blood orb to attack Damrabe, but to his shock, the blood failed to obey his will. Surprise, Olafoc glanced up and saw that the blood orb was shrinking rapidly. After a few seconds, the orb completely disappeared, revealing the scythes suspended in the air. The scythes suddenly retreated back to Damrabe and snapped back into its original appearance. The color of the two white roses in the staff slowly changed to a deep shade of crimson.

“What the hell did you just do, you freak?!” Olafoc roared, rubbing the cut on his cheek. Despite his best efforts, the cut refused to heal, and the area around it was gradually growing numb and spreading out at an alarming rate. It took just a few moments for the numbness to affect half of Olafoc’s face, and half of Olafoc’s violent expression went completely slack.

Damrabe brandished the weapon before him. The weak night light gleamed off of each individual crimson blade. “Isn’t it obvious?” he growled. “My Guadaña de Sangre soaked up all that blood you were using as a weapon. And it has a nasty ability to steal blood from any poor soul unfortunate enough to be cut by its blades.”

“Enough of this!” Olafoc spat as a red mist rose from the cut on his face. Despite his frantic attempts to stop the blood loss, the mist continued to swirl between his talons and through the air until it entered the open mouths of the skulls.

“I think I’ve got enough now,” Damrabe commented after a minute, lowering his weapon. The mist ceased flowing out of Olafoc’s cut. Breathing raggedly, Olafoc raised his head and lowered his hands from his face, showing off the shriveled left half of his face.

Damrabe’s fingers slid down the length of his weapon until they reached one on the skulls. With a swift movement, Damrabe delicately plucked the crimson rose from the skull’s mouth and dangled it out before Olafoc.

“Even though this came from my allies, I should thank you for collecting so much blood,” he growled. “Don’t worry; I won’t let a single drop of it go to waste.”

“Wh..what are...you going...to do?” Olafoc huffed, struggling for each breath.

Damrabe simply smiled at his father before holding the flower above his head. Releasing it, Damrabe allowed the rose to fall into his open mouth before snapping his jaws shut and swallowing the rose whole. The instant he finished swallowing, a strong shockwave radiated from him, almost knocking Olafoc out of the sky with its intensity.

“Now, then,” Damrabe growled. He raised his weapon at Olafoc as a dark red aura enveloped his body, crackling with intensity. “Why don’t you and I end our little family quarrel already?”