Blood for the Blood Gods: A Skepnoblade Fanfic (ON HIATUS)

Chapter Five

As Dave rallied his troops, he realized something: how was he going to get there? There were at least 500 soldiers here. He held up his hand, gesturing he would be right back. Sprinting to the stables, he called over the man in charge, a man with hair the color of grapefruits.

"I need your finest horses! We're going to war." He explained quickly, eyeing one with chestnut-colored hair and white spots. "And I'll take that one."

The man gathered up all of the horses, and his men mounted the steeds.

He raised his sword. "Charge!"

They galloped out, nearing a river that meant on the other side was Adamantem. Even here, the pig could hear the screams and cries of the Adamas. This just fueled him more. "Go! We're almost there!"

They crossed the river, though his horse struggled to gallop in the water.

Dave huffed. "I should name you Brick, for your awesome ability to swim."

His horse huffed, and he smiled. "Brick it is."

They finally crossed a river, and they made it about ten steps before a volley of arrows rained down on them, darkness streaming from the tips. Dave cursed. So it was true. The Finisver are here.

None of the arrows hit him, but a boy next to him wearing leather armor and a hood that obscured his face fell, clutching his neck where an arrow protruded. He vaguely heard someone yell out "George!" as the boy fell, but he turned to his warriors.

"Now! Go!"

He charged, leaping off of Brick and running towards a wall of men who's skin was as dark as the night sky. He slashed at two who surrounded him, plunging his blade into their chests.

He swung his sword wildly, and before he knew it, dozens of bodies strewn across the ground. His chest heaved, and he wiped the sweat off his brow.

50 down, hundreds to go, he thought as he sprinted forwards into the kingdom, barely flinching as he stepped over the bodies of the fallen.

He found a tipped over cart. It was made of Daerkwod, a tree commonly found in Finisvers. He examined it, and found a boy no older than thirteen huddled with a woman he assumed to be his mother. They both showed signs of being a Finisver, with the boy's pale skin having a tiny of grey and the mother a color of storm clouds. Dave was about to end them both, but he paused, staring at the boy whose face was buried in his mother's body. He was too young to be here. What was he doing here?

He lowered his sword and held out his hand. "Come on. Get out of here."

The mother looked up fearfully, her eyes a brilliant shade of blue. She clutched her son, saying, "Who are you? Why do you want to help us?"

Dave stretched out his hand farther, grabbing the woman and her son and heaving them up. "Prince David of the Porcuses. Don't worry. You'll be safe."

The woman sighed, and turned her son to him. "Vincent, it's alright. He's gonna save us."

The boy, Vincent, turned towards him. He had raven-black hair and chocolate brown eyes, with a pinched mouth and fear in his eyes. "Are you really a prince?"

"Yes. I'm-"

A whistling sound above their heads, and Dave grabbed the boy, pushing him to the ground just as the world exploded.

His ears rang painfully, and Vincent grabbed Dave's cloak, his small heart beating in sync with the pig's. After he was sure the explosion had passed, he pulled the boy to his feet, glancing around the area for his mother.

The woman lay still on the ground, blood trickling from her head. He gulped, turning the boy away and clutching his hand. He raced away, Vincent struggling to keep up.

"Where are we going?" He asked curiously. "Is Mom following us?"

Dave bit his lip, urging the boy to run faster. "She's coming. She's coming..."

They met his horse at the river, saddling Vincent onto him.

"Go to the castle," he panted, patting Brick's flank. "Go!"

Brick galloped off, Vincent bouncing as they crossed the river. Dave sighed.

"Dave!" He heard a voice call out in pain. He whipped around, running towards the sound.

The king was curled up on the ground, holding a bleeding hand to his heart. The pig boy peeled it away to reveal the chest swathed in darkness. Tears pricked his eyes. No matter how harsh his father may be at times, he was still family.

"David," he said weakly, placing a shuddering hand onto his son's shoulder. "I'm sorry-"

His eyes glazed over as the poison took over his bloodstream, and his chest took one last heave before it stilled.

Swallowing hard, he picked up his father's body and yelled out, "Retreat!"

That night, they held the funeral for the king, setting his casket ablaze and sailing it across the sea.

Sitting in his room, he stared at the mirror with his new crown on.

"All hail," he said in a crackly voice. "King David."