The Dark Edge Chronicles - Clan War

Chapter 6: Repercussions

Thankfully the attack planes failed to track the surviving Ventru nestari as they worked their way through the hills surrounding Magnar's estate back to where they had hidden their two transport trucks. Considering what they just went through, most commanders would've thought it a victory of sorts. But the grim Ventru leading his survivors away from battle wasn't like most commanders.

Everything about this mission tasted like ash in his mouth. Yes, they had 'rescued' Magnar and confirmed he wasn't with the enemy. And yes, they had discovered the Hand was in league with a mysterious group of humans who were equipped with cutting edge military and nano-tech, which suggested that likely these humans were also a part of the effort to wipe Ventru off the vampiric world map.

But Magnar hadn't remained rescued. In fact, his old mentor and commander was now dead, victim of a nanite-fueled blood bomb, for the lack of a better term. As was his family, brutally raped and abused while he and his personal nestari attempted to defend the estate, before being murdered, their bodies paraded before him as they were attaching the collar that would eventually end his life. And the main reason they had come here, to question Magnar about the conspiracy that had launched the pogrom, was still unrealized.

At least, not until they decoded the data vault they found in Magnar's remains after he exploded. The Irish vampire had died before he himself could disclose the guilty parties.

In all, it was enough to knot his insides as he slowly eased his way through the undergrowth and into view of their transports, weapon ready. As Qos Viran and tasked with taking on the Night Council's most brutal enemies, he had seen plenty of death in his ranks. But nothing like having almost his entire team slaughtered before they could achieve their mission.

A tug on his belt reminded him the still weak Anna van Tallert was in his shadow, using her grip on his utility belt to help her stay on her feet during the frantic withdrawal through the hills. Up came a clenched fist to bring their short column to a halt. Then two fingers in a tight circle to request two volunteers to do a quick recon of the trucks to make sure there wasn't an ambush waiting for them.

A second or two later Truk and one of the nestari he had hand-selected, slid by, their weapons up and their eyes intent, Lady van Tallert's captain giving him a nod as he did. Then the two were through the screening trees and onto the pullout, weapons scanning left and right as they gave their transports a good once over to make sure they were still secure under their camouflage tarps.

For his part, Lash kept a tight eye on both vampires, in case either suddenly disappeared or dropped even as Anna sagged against his back, exhausted from their hard march through the hills.

"We're not safe here," she whispered hoarsely.

"Agreed," he tersely replied. "Which is why we need to withdraw back to Galway."

"No," Anna said, grabbing his arm in a desperate grip. "I mean here!"

Frowning, Lash looked over his shoulder at her, meaning to ask her what she was on about. Just in time to see several members of his shrunken column get pulled into the bushes by hidden hands.

"What ...?" he began to hiss, expression hardening. Then something hit him in the side like a runaway express train and everything went black.

For a long moment Lash swam in an anger-charred blackness, an anger that grew with every breath that didn't bring him out of it. So when it finally started to abate and his vision began to clear, he was already reaching for his weapons to begin firing back. Only to discover that his hands were bound tightly behind his back. Then he was grunting as strong hands pulled him sharply into a seated position.