Chapter 3

The raid began with a bloodthirsty vengeance, Atlas taking all the men he had into hell. The battle was both untamed and putrid, the casualties increasing by the minutes...

Darkous smiled and chaos unfolded around him, the wave of battle was here, the smell of blood invading his nostrils. All around him were people fighting for their lives and for the lives of their loved ones, but this did not disrupt or unsettle Darkous. It in fact made him more agile and alert as he stalked into the centre of the battle, the hand crafted sword strategically by his side, ready to strike at the first person who would dare to threaten his power. He thrived on the pure adrenalin that came with battle and loved the helpless look on people’s faces as he landed the killing blow. But nothing compared to the total satisfaction of knowing that his brother once again failed to carry out a full scale surprise attack on hell, no nothing could compare to the feeling Darkous got as he butchered his brothers finest solders.

A pathetic excuse of a man charged Darkous from the left, his long sword drawn at the ready. “What a fool.” Darkous laughed deeply, “But a dead fool none the less.”

Darkous slashed his katana and lashed out at the man, hacking the man with two precise slashes to the lower chest and neck. The now corpse of a man dropped to the ground, any future he had lost in his quest for honour. His soul forever trapped in limbo, never permitted peace.

The man that Darkous was proud to call companion slowly stalked towards him, the scar over his left eye more prominent against his blood stained face. Michael was covered from head to toe in black leather armour, his light machine gun by his side. His short brown hair clinging to his blood covered head; he stood an inch shorter than Darkous measuring at 6 foot 4.

“Sir the battle is all but won, we are just chasing off the strays.” Michael announced, standing to attention.

“At ease Michael, take no prisoners.” Darkous replied, glancing into Michaels pitch black eyes for only a moment before turning his attention to the masses of bodies that littered the battlefield.

“Yes, sir.” Michael said slowly, before turning back towards the battlefield, his gun already locking on unknowing targets.

Darkous touched his right ear before passing orders through the small mouth piece, “Joey take out the deserters.” he barked.

“Yes, sir.” sounded a voice of one of Darkous’s most trusted soldiers though the small headset. Seconds later bodies began to drop from every corner of the battlefield, as Joey finished off those who dared to retreat. His bolt-action rifle never failing to hit its target.

As Darkous searched the battlefield once more his eyes landed on one medic who had been with Darkous from the time before the war. Darren the most skilled and agile medic in all the kingdoms rushed from body to body, assessing and then mending the wounded. Darren’s blonde hair clung to his head with sweat as he worked tirelessly on those wounded in battle, his sky blue eyes scanning every inch of the body before him. He wore black combat clothes with a compact medical vest that held all he would need to mend those who fought bravely for their lord Darkous. Although Darren was a medic he was also adept in battle, his skills lying mostly with his assault rifle.

When the battle was finally over Darkous called a meeting with Michael, Darren and Joey. He was ready to strike back, the adrenalin running through his body still heightened from battle.

Joey was the last to arrive in the small meeting room; he was the cleanest of all the men. His brown hair cut short and his hazel eyes standing out from his chameleon blood camouflage gear. The combat gear was specifically designed so that Joey could hide and keep his cover easily in battle, which as a sniper is useful. His gear was specifically made with the blood of chameleons so that with a single though Joey could blend into the toughest of surroundings with all but no effort.

Darkous sat at the head of the large rectangular table, his patience holding steady as his men silently took their seats in front of him. When the men were settled, he unfolded the blueprints revealing the layout of Atlas’ palace. They had been preparing for months continuously sending scouts to document every entry and exit, hidden or not. The blueprints held every logical angle of attack and gave them an advantage against Darkous’ brother. The psychopathic lord would never make emends with his brother, never repair the wound that remained open. Atlas had sided with their father, something that couldn’t be forgiven. The pain his brother had caused continued to ache, pushing Darkous further into the demon. Further into his sorrow and hatred.

“This is it boys, the best thing since sliced bread. We move in through the secret passage beyond the gardens. The celebration of the youngest child’s 16^th birthday is our queue to enter the grounds unnoticed.” Darkous relayed, his men nodding in response. He believed that it would be interesting to meet the legendary daughter, the only girl born to the bloodline. The psychopathic lord was curious about her, about what she could do.

“Indeed sir, but we do need a plan of attack to gain entrance into the building.” Michael announced, unaware of the full scale of the mission.

“Yes Michael, we send in a diversion through the village as we scale the back entrance. Giving us time to move through the palace unnoticed, leaving the scouts behind to warn us of a counter from the back.” Darkous turned his attention to Joey, who was sat to his left. “While we enter through the back you will be positioned on the outskirts of the village, picking off anyone who will run for help.”

“Of course sir, it sounds easy enough.” Joey laughed, knowing all too well that this would be of ease to him.

Darkous nodded, clearly pleased with the confidence Joey emitted. “Once we’re in we proceed through to the throne room, picking off anyone who stands in our way. Take no prisoners, we leave at night fall.” The psychopathic lord paused, stroking his beard as he thought of his brother’s daughter. “What do you think about having a family member stay with us?”

Michael raised an eyebrow as he spoke, his voice coated in confusion. “What do you mean, sir?”

The psychopathic lord chuckled, finding Michael’s confusion quite amusing. “We shall take the legendary daughter of my bastard brother. We will keep her as our prisoner. I have grown curious of her.”

The men nodded enthusiastically, their adrenalin peaked at the thought of an oncoming battle. Darkous smiled as he was left alone in the small meeting room, black blood swimming through his veins as he imagined the bloodshed that was to come. He envisioned the screams of the innocent and the look on his brothers face as he killed all those he held dear. Darkous’ smile grew as the day fell to a close, his men back at the barracks cleaning and preparing their weapons for the onslaught.

The night sky spread out over miles in all directions, the moon serving as the only light for miles. Darkous bared his white teeth as his grin turned sour and menacing, his dragon skin armour shinning brighter than the moon itself. The waiting was becoming unbearable as Darkous waited for word of the attack, his hands becoming restless on the hilt of his katana. Just when the dark lord thought he would snap and kill all men present Michael began to approach, his armour too reflecting the glow on the moon.

“Sir, everyone is in position.” Michael informed Darkous as they camped just beyond the entrance.

“Good, send in the diversion now.” Darkous commanded, smiling as his voice sharpened with power.

The sound of battle quickly reached their ears, giving them the cue they needed to advance. With silenced weapons at the ready, they slowly crept along the hidden passage their steps as absent and soundless as the wind. Silently disposing of two palace guards, they made their way in through the rear entrance.