Blood Traveler (Book 2 of Chronicles of Grey)

Chapter Seven

I woke to the familiar sound of fighting.

For a moment, I thought that I was dreaming again. I expected to look at my hands and see that they were not my own, or to hear a voice that was unfamiliar. I expected that the ghost – that shenz ghost – would flicker into my view and send chills down my spine as it whispered my name it should not know.

But when I opened my eyes, all I saw were boots. They were familiar boots, too – three of worn leather, one of those was dragon hide and two of ceberous stripped of fur; one of silk; another of leather, small and dainty, but laying down instead of moving. The sole was no more than a twig from my face.

Arion, Roriq, Cronin, Baion, Jazera.

Four of the five were moving quickly, flicking in and out of my vision as they side-stepped and leaped behind me, only to appear again a moment later. There was the sound of iron and steel clashing and of grunts and groans in effort or injury or both. Blood splattered on the ground in front of me, a near-perfect line between Jazera's soles and mine, separating us. I thought it fitting.

I stared at the drops as they spread out in the sandy-dirt atop the stone ground, mesmerized by the way it moved, weaving between the grains, dying them from beneath. It was oddly beautiful. Almost alive.

"Shenz!" I heard a familiar curse of surprise, then in anger, "You bloody mutt-kisser, I'll get you for that."

I blinked, the action making me loose focus on the blood. Arion. Arion was hurt.

With that understanding, I sat up quickly, then nearly fell back onto the stone at the wave of lightheadedness. I felt weak, as if my body had suffered severe loss of blood or a terrible illness I was only just recovering from. It made me confused. Why was I this way? What happened to me?

Still, the moment I could, I stumbled to my feet, nearly falling into Cronin.

Cronin was the one who caught me, yet Arion somehow knew though his back was turned, facing off against his opponent. He snapped, "Stay down, stupid girl!"

I ignored him as I usually did when he tried to order me around and I pulled my sword out of its sheath – this movement, at least, was smooth and graceful – trying to see who it was that we were even fighting up here on the mountain.

It was dim light – sunrise, by the looks of it, though since we were in a dip in the mountains, I was unable to see the sun, nor was I able to tell which way was east - so the lighting made it difficult to see, but not impossible. Yet I had to stare for several seconds to be sure I was truly seeing what I thought I was seeing.

Strigoi?

They were blood drinkers, but the more civil of the kind due to their intelligence. They usually fed off the dead, but it was not uncommon to find the occasional pack hunting down entire herds of animals and slaughtering them for food instead. They were strong, powerful, and deadly, but they rarely ever were a danger to man.

They especially avoided Shadows, because though they had a natural camouflage that made them almost appear ghostly – the reasoning for my excessive squinting – Shadows could see them as clearly as they could see any other creature.

It didn't really matter why they were attacking us though, only that we kill them first. However, I couldn't seem to let go of Cronin's arm, and there were too many of them besides. Difficult to count with their camouflage, I estimated around thirty, not including the twenty-or-so already dead or dying on the ground around us, showing where the circle of protection was around the sleeping Jazera and I.