A Slayer's Tales

The First Slayer

Nicholas sat beside Leo. The wind blew a gentle breeze and made the trees around them dance. The odd parakeet green leaf fell around them, joining them on the dry dirt floor. "Have you ever heard about the first of our kind?" Nicholas asked as he took a sip from the waterskin. "Not really. I've heard songs and ballads back home but I don't know if they were about the first Slayer." Nicholas smiled at Leo as he passed him back the waterskin. "It's a good story. It's important for you to know too, now you're a Slayer. You should know your history."

    The sky was red. The clouds a terrible ash black. The people of Old Winterria, as it's known now due to the real name being lost upon the rebirth of the world, were in panic. For years before, a Great Plague had killed many individuals across the world. Now, as the sun bled, the dead rose and they were feeding on the living.

    Bor Huldrich was a simple man. He was a blacksmith in Old Winterria and a good one at that. The King's men were all armed with blades he'd made for them. It was a shame they didn't know how to use them. The streets were littered with corpses of King's men, nobility and peasants alike. The léfmenn didn't care who they were killed and feeding on.

    Bor was hidden in his smithy, with a blade in hand. He watched out the window to see whether or not he was in imminent danger and he never was. But he saw some horrific things when he looked out the window. Across the road, léfmenn had gotten to the Bailey family. They were some of the kindest people in Old Winterria. It hurt Bor to see them dragged from their home by the léfmenn and torn apart. He wanted to step in. He considered it, and even gripped a sword to act with. But Bor saw the King's men littered in the street and knew he wouldn't stand a chance. He went back to hiding. He couldn't watch as the Bailey brothers, young twins no older than 10, were eaten alive by the monsters.

    He didn't watch but Bor couldn't ignore their screams. They haunted him. From the moment he heard until the day he died. Slayers who fought beside him later in life claimed he would whisper to himself, begging the screams to stop. That was the price Bor paid for his inaction.

Once he heard the screams stop, Bor knew he'd made a mistake. He could've helped, or at least tried to. He was burdened with guilt and the guilt brought about a realisation for Bor. The léfmenn that were attacking were killing everyone and everything. He would most likely die anyway, so why didn't he at least try to save some people? It was only after realising he was a dead man regardless that Bor decided to act and help.

    It started with him leaving his hiding spot. He walked out of the smithy with a sword in hand and butchered the léfmenn that killed the Bailey family. There was three and he sliced through each like a hot knife goes through butter. He was stained with their black blood and something in him changed. The moment that first drop of tar-like blood hit his face, Bor changed. He became a Slayer. He became the first Slayer.

    He ventured through the city and cut down any and all léfmenn he saw. They didn't stop though. For every léfmann he killed, three more crawled there way into the city. He was fighting a losing battle, but he'd always known that. He didn't care. He just wanted to take as many léfmenn with him as he could before his inevitable death.

    Nicholas smiled as Leo watched him with awe. "He killed thousands of daemons that day, or so it's said. He worked his way from the lower city all the way up to where King Harmut's castle is now." Leo smiled as he picture Bor, covered in black blood and guts, standing atop the hill, slicing all the daemons as they tried to get him. "He stood there and lured all the daemons too him. Because of him, countless lives were saved. One of them being, no doubt, both our great grandparents."

Bor stood atop the King's Hill, as it's now called, and panted. The next wave was coming. He was tired but he couldn't let them go back to the city. He had to fight. The léfmenn charged him and flung themselves at him. He cut one in half, mid-air, after dodging it. The rest came at him and he swung his blade. The swings weren't as graceful as modern Slayers or swordsmen. He was untrained and tired. His strikes were heavy and slow, but they did the job. After fighting léfmenn for hours, he'd gained a bit of knowledge on the beasts. A léfmann cannot be killed like a normal man, they don't bleed out. They bleed, but they don't bleed out. Slicing their wrists, neck and arteries elsewhere will not be fatal. A léfmann can only be killed with decapitation, being cut in half or a swift thrust through the heart.

    This was the knowledge that Bor passed on. He fought atop King's Hill and killed hundreds of léfmenn so he could pass on his knowledge and make sure that Old Winterria and the rest of the world was ready for them the next time they came.

    "Nick, how did he do that? Bor, I mean. How did Bor kill so many?" Leo asked, curiously.

    "He was a great fighter." Nicholas smiled as he got back to his feet. "And he wanted to live. You'd be surprised the length that people go to when put in life or death situations." Leo watched as Nicholas began walking out of the woods and back to the road. He stayed sat down until he realised he was meant to follow. "Have you ever been in a life or death situation? Like a real one, not just a normal mission." Nicholas was silent as he mounted his chocolate brown steed. He smiled to himself as he thought. "Aye. I have." Leo's mouth opened wide in awe. There was a little twinkle in his eyes. "You have? When?" Nicholas chuckled as he spurred his horse on. "It was in Idovia. I was hired by Ysmay to deal with sandcrawlers – a daemon of sorts. I was stationed with two..." Nicholas stopped as he remembered the men, "two of the bravest men I've ever known. They were guards. We fought all night long against the monsters..." Nicholas continued to tell Leo his own stories as they rode back to the Slayers' Stronghold. Leo was in awe the whole time and couldn't wait for the day he could tell his own Slayer's tales.