Bloodlust - Chapter 1

Arrasha, the kingdom of sand. What a dreary place.

How many days had it been since he'd accepted the job? Four, five? How many miles had it been?

Hell if he knew.

Sand and more sand - as far as the eye could see. From a distance, the sand dunes were starting to look like the waves in an ocean.

A sea of sand, perhaps?

The man laughed to himself.

It was a fitting description.

He was finding the most interesting of ways to entertain himself.

The sun hung high and brilliant in the cloudless sky, a merciless tyrant,nothing able to obstruct it's rays from reaching the vast desert below. The man wore a cloak with long, loose sleeves to protect his skin from the sun, and a hood that drooped over his forehead to protect his face from the sand which was frequently thrown up by the strong desert wind.

The air was far drier than what he was used to. It was hard to breathe, and he could feel the skin in his throat and nostrils growing increasingly parched. The terrain wasn't helping much either. The ground was far from firm; with each step his sandals sank deep into the warm, loose grains of sand, slowing down his pace significantly.The occasional sand dune he had to scale was also proving an annoyance. The outer garments which he wore to protect himself from the sun's rays were starting to make him feel as if he was being baked underneath them.

Nature's a bitch at times.

The man lifted his hood and scanned the surroundings. Still no sign of civilization. He was in no hurry; his employers were surprisingly patient, but the climate was getting to him and he was running low on water. He felt for the sword at his side, running his fingers across the hilt and the sheath. It granted him an odd feeling of comfort,as if it was a companion of sorts. Perhaps it was because his sword had a soul embodied in it. The man stopped and unslung his haversack, reaching inside for his wineskin. He took a single gulp of water from it, relishing the feeling of moisture in his mouth and running down his throat. He had just placed the wineskin back into his bag when he felt the ground begin to vibrate. Several metres in front of him, the sand began to churn vigorously and cave in, as something began to rise from beneath it.

The man steadied himself.

The first thing he noticed was the creature's shiny, black exoskeleton, which starkly contrasted with the light, beige-coloured desert sand. More importantly, however, was it's immensity. Whatever it was, it was huge; easily over five times the size of the man. As the rest of it's frame emerged from the sand, he could make out eight segmented, insect-like legs and two massive front claws, all attached to a gigantic main body. It's most distinct feature, however, was it's long, narrow tail, carried in a forward curve over its back and ending with a stinger the size of the man's head.

A giant scorpion.

The creature's two huge, shiny eyes were like two gigantic marbles attached to it's head. They twitched up and down and from side to side as the creature examined the man, almost in a curious manner. Or perhaps it was sizing him up. A few feet away from the creature, another scorpion rose from beneath the sand.

Two on one?

The man drew his sword, the blade glistening in the sun. He licked his lips.

It would be a good warm-up.

The first scorpion's eyes stopped moving and stared straight at the man. It had made up its mind. It was hungry. The creature screeched and charged at the man with both claws raised.

The man flung his haversack as far away as he could, before swiftly throwing himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the scorpion's massive pincers. Just as he had gotten back on his feet, the creature turned and thrust its tail at him; the entire length of it straightening above the creature's body, shooting its massive stinger straight at the man.

As if he knew where the strike would land, the man calmly side-stepped, causing the stinger to slam into the sand next to him. Before the scorpion could withdraw its tail, he slashed. The scorpion's stinger slumped onto the sand, cleanly dissected from the tip of its tail. Purple blood spewed from the gaping wound. The scorpion lumbered backwards, letting out a shrill howl in agony and rage. The second creature joined in as it prepared to attack the man as well.

The man considered releasing some magical energy to knock the creatures unconcious or activating the soul within his sword, but thought against it. His employers wanted him to be as covet as possible. People might grow suspicious if they sensed the amount of magical energy he possessed; he was already trying to suppress it as much as possible.

Besides, he was having fun.

The second scorpion lunged at him, claws swinging. The man ducked, feeling the wind across his scalp as the first claw missed him by a hair's breadth, simultaneously sweeping his hood off his head. He rose just in time to parry the second swing with the flat of his sword. He braced himself, grabbing the hilt of his blade with both hands, but the force still sent him sliding backwards on his heels. In front of him, the creature rose for another swing. This time, he ducked and threw himself forward into the empty space between the creature's claws and head. As he made eye contact with the creature, it fixed its eyes on him in a deathly stare and bared its mandible, about to screech in shock and rage. But it never got the chance.

The man swung his blade, hitting the scorpion in between the eyes. Its head split cleanly in half, purple blood splattering all over the man's tunic and face. The creature thrashed around, its claws snapping at an invisible enemy, before it finally lay dead. The man stepped over its motionless claws and turned to face the remaining scorpion. Its stinger had been severed and its comrade had perished. It was deranged. It lowered its front pair of legs, as if preparing to pounce, and flailed it claws.

Suddenly, it froze. As if stricken by paralysis, the scorpion continued gaze into the man's eyes, but did not move for what seemed like an eternity. Then, almost as abruptly as it had frozen, it turned around, and started to dig. Before long, it had burrowed away and disappeared.

Odd.

The man was puzzled, but he had more important things to think about. He stepped away from the corpse of the scorpion and found his haversack. After spending a moment dusting sand off it, he reached inside and pulled out a cloth to wipe the blood off his sword and face. Once he was content with the cleanliness of both, he threw the cloth back into his bag and sheathed his sword. But as he was doing as, he noticed the reflection of his eyes on the flat of his sword.

The pupils of his eyes were glowing bright red.

The man sighed. He still could not fully control it.

At least the earlier mystery was solved.

He also noticed he still had a speck of purple at the corner of his mouth. He licked it off. It was bitter. Human blood tasted better. The man almost smiled in avidity. He would be having some soon.

The man slung his bag over his shoulder, pulled his hood over his head, and continued his walk. He was getting close. He could feel it in his bones.

He would find the swordsman he was looking for.

He would find the one called 'Four'.

Then he would kill him.