PUREBLOODS #1 [+16]

CHAPTER 16

The evil creatures were long gone. The grand celebration amount the villagers had happened after two months of zero cases of deaths caused by the creatures and the kingdom gained peace once more. Important things came up and the king grew busy and after a few more months, he had to leave his kingdom for something of importance.

He had left Commander Harold in charge, but even though he had proved himself to the king, John still didn't trust him and because of this lack of trust he had Soldier Ethan watch over the kingdom also.

King John set out on his journey with almost all of his best men including two of the commanders very own.

After a few days of the successful business meeting the king was on his way back to his kingdom. The travel was serene until three large wolves suddenly jumped out of nowhere and blocked their path. Startled, the horses jumped back, scared, and kicked out making the soldier and the king himself fall onto the ground.

Without any hesitation the wolves charged forward and bit into the first set of soldiers they dug their canines into and killed them. The king was terrified at the gruesome sight and scared for his life even though the remainder of injured soldiers did their best to protect him the best they could.

They rushed away from the wolves, desperately trying to find safety for the king but to know avail. Their horses were dead and there was absolutely no hope. Putting on a brave expression, the three remaining weak soldiers stood their ground as a way of distraction so that the king could run and save himself.

As the king ran, he could hear the horrified and painful cries of his soldiers and his head snapped towards the sound of the loud growl behind him. Distracted, he fell and tried scurrying back but his hands that were on the ground felt water. He whipped his backwards to look around but watered stretched out to as far as his eyes could see.

Dead end.

Slowly, the three wolves emerge into his vision and menacingly growls at him. Their stare was intense, they were ready to kill him. Their eyes were hungry. Hungry for his death.

John tensed his body and squeezed his eyes shut preparing himself for the impact, for the pain, but suddenly, from a small mountain on the right side of where John laid in fear, stood a tall man in defence position, sword in hand, ready to protect the King.

Noticing the threat, the wolves turned to the man and growled loudly, ready to attack. Underestimating the man, the wolves charged forward. The first wolf that attacked had it's head sliced clean off of its body. He hadn't even moved anything but his hands but fear radiated from his body and that was fuel to the werewolves. Removing their gaze from their fellow partner the both rushed unto end the man's life but it was nothing of the sort. Instead, the man swiftly gutted the second and stabbed the last and with a blood and sweat coated face he inhaled deeply before his eyes fell on John.

"Patrick...?" John stood to his feet, shaking.

"I will protect you! Just as I promised your father and reassured your mother, John," Patrick vowed before jumping down from the mountain and in front of John ready to slice through the human like wolves.

The wolves ran towards them in a flash and just went John almost cried, Patrick sliced through each neck of the beasts with ease. He stood over John grinning.

"Oh come on now John, get up," he chuckled aiding John to his feet.

"Uh, wow...," John grimaced at the gruesome sight of the dead wolves as the stench of blood wafted to his nostrils.

Rustling in the near bushes made John scurry behind Patrick, Patrick immediately prepared himself but what emerged made them sigh in relief. It was two soldiers who came to rescue the king. Apparently it was past the time he was supposed to arrive.

"Sir...," they grunted in monotone.

Patrick moved back along with John.

Something about the way they looked and talk made them feel uncomfortable out.

"I,uh....WHAT?!OH MY GOODNE-"

The soldier's bones were shifting and fur was sprinting through their skin.

"What the hell?" Patrick was fascinated yet slightly terrified.

Standing before them now we're two large black wolves. Saliva dripped unpleasantly from their sharp canines and they were breathing heavy.

Patrick was ready to kill the grotesque creatures but instead they backed away and ran back in the direction they came from, regaining their human forms and putting on the east kingdom's soldier uniform. Presumably to inform the commander on what had taken place.

The other members and citizens of the kingdom were all awaiting the kings arrival but instead saw the two soldiers limping their way back into the kingdom looking tired and clinging to their skins were blood and sweat. The people gasped in shock and immediately assumed the worst for their king.

Something was terribly wrong.

The soldiers looked at no one or anything but the castle as they entered its large doors and entered the throne room to where Commander Harold had summoned them. As they entered, their eyes fell upon Harold sitting in King John's throne with his other crown on and scuff lightly.

Harold frown and demanded information on what took place. Harold's lips curled into a mischievous smile as he impatiently waited on the supposedly sad --for everyone else but him-- news that the king was finally dead.

Unfortunately he only received news that the king was still alive and was being aided by the same man Harold promised you'd take revenge on for disrespecting him. That man and his son. Patrick.

His facial expression morphed from one of excitement to confusion. A glint of fear flashed within his eyes even. The fear of his plan failing. If it failed, not only will he not get to take over the kingdom, but if the king came to the realisation that he was behind all the murders... he'd lose his life.

He felt defeated, confused and without option and thus came up with the most horrific and dangerous conclusion. He had announced to the entire kingdom about the kings death that night, and though it wasn't how the kingdom traditionally did things, he began a party. A celebration for the noble life that their great young king lived.

Knowing they'll get a chance to roam the grounds that the castle laid upon the villagers automatically accepted and went to the so called party.

Soon Harold's plan was coming together, the party had commenced and he laced the alcohol with every drop of the remaining potion.

He held the alcohol bottle in his hand after he himself poured out a reasonable portion of it for every soldier he came across. Almost immediately after the consumption of the alcohol he guided the complaining men out the room out the back entrance of the castle. The protesting soldiers did of course follow Harold. Their stomach churned.

Harold used his necklace he received from the witch in order to control the beasts. A loud roar shook through the forest behind them as every single soldier transformed into the blood curdling beasts that they were.

"You know your purpose! KILL! KILL THE KING! KILL THE MAN WHO SAVED THE KING! KILL WHOMEVER GETS INTO YOUR WAY!"

His order was as clear as crystals and they ran swiftly through the trees on there where to kill the king and the man who saved him.

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Word Count: 1281