Chapter 6


Raw Instinct




   The first thug charged at Drac. He ducked and thumped the man in the stomache, not wanting to kill the man. Drac was down to the bone terrifyed. He had never been in a fight, simply because he never wanted to hurt anyone. And he certainly didn't want to start here. So he hurt them as little as he could.

   The group of men had surrounded him. All readying their weapons. The first one came, a smaller one, and swung with all his might. Drac wasn't ready, and he knew it, he took the blunt of the punch, and went to hit the kid, half way through the punch, he suddenly ducked. He hadn't even known why. His senses were just screaming at him to move, and so he did, it was almost as though he wasn't the one who had even ducked. As if something deep within him had told him to duck. Something that every creature had in it, but never used. The sword whisled over his head.


   He stood back up, using the momentum of standing up to lunge at the original attacker, and clock him across the jaw, knocking him out. An attacker came up from behind, and put his club up to Drac's throat, trying to choak him out, while two other men hit him in the chest with what ever they could get a hold of, Drac couldn't tell. His vision began to turn black. He didn't want to do this, but he couldn't let Jack... Merrit... whatever his name was, get hurt. He kicked the man behind him in the knee, breaking the knee and shattering every bone attached to the knee. The man cried out as he fell to the ground, huddled in a ball holding his wounded knee. The man would never walk quite the same again. He kicked one of the men whom was beating on him while he was held captive, in the chest, just below the ribs, knocking the wind out of the man. Drac was unable to react fast enough as the other swung at Drac's unguarded stomache, and another clocked him in the side of the face.

   And then the feeling again. It made his blood run cold, and a shiver run up his spine. Something deep within him made him move, something with senses as sharp as a skinning knife. His heart felt cold like death itself was grasping it. He recognized it this time. It was raw instinct. As he regained his balance, he turned to look behind him as he dodged to the left. A sword cut his arm. The very sword that, had he not moved, would have gone rite through his heart.

   Drac turned into a beast. This time, the feeling did not go away. He looked at the man standing before him, and jabbed him in the stomache so hard, when he removed his fist he could feel the blood runing down his arm. The man stood, wide eyed, as he fell to the ground. Drac had downed another two men before the first even hit the ground. His fists covered in blood, all he felt was anger. Anger and raw instinct. Another man ran towards him, raising his sword, and preparing for a powerful blow, leaving his chest wide open. Drac didn't see an advantage to disable the man and leave him nearly unharmed like he would have moments before, instead, he saw a killing blow. He ran toward the man as fast as he could, he went to punch the man in the chest, but instead opened his hand.

   Drac's hand tore straight through the man's chest. He could hear the bone crushing and the muscle tearing, as his hand came out the backside of the bandit, with his heart in Drac's hand. He pulled his hand out, dropped the heart, and went for his next victim. There were only seven bandits left. Seven bandits to kill till his hearts desire. 

   At that moment he snapped. His blood ran cold. The blood was all over him. From head to toe. There was a small pause in the fight, no one dared to move. As if the game of freeze tag was over, they all sprang into action once more. Drac was beaten to the ground, to shocked to do anything. He had done this. He pushed down this horrible feeling, and tried to regain his ground. He still had to save Jack. But he couldn't. He couldn't make himself get up.

   It was like that day in the woods. The shopkeep was beating him sensless and he could do nothing. Only this time another man's life was at stake. He had to do something. He had to get up. 'Stand up! Fight back! Come one! Stand UP body!' He thought to himself. 'Save that man! He'se in danger! STAND UP!"

   He heard a scream. It must have been Jack, Drac thought to himself. But it couldn't have been. Jack didn't sound like that. There was a clashing of swords, and the shouting of commands. The guards! They saved him that day in the woods with the shopkeep, and they have done it again. As people ran away from Drac, to go to the fight with the guards, he was able to regain his ground. He stood up and looked at the battle.

   The guards were polverizing them. Some of the thugs ran, but were taken down immediately. The fighting started to come to an end, as the group of men were rounded up and tied up in rope, a soldier came running up to Drac. The man looked very peculiar to Drac. Almost familiar. "Good god! is that you? The man who saved me in the woods?"

   The soldier met up with him, the same one who saved him from the shopkeep. "In the flesh and blood! The leader of this group of bandits over here came through town. Was asking a few local people if they had seen a travler pass through. One of our guards thought it was a little suspicious that a big gruff man like himself would be roughing up the townsfolk asking where a small bussiness man had gone, so he reported it to us. Didn't take long before we found out that this guy's real name is Merrit Glendlewood. A kid who's parents died when he was 8. Didn't have any other family except for his grandparents. Whenever he was around 19 years old, they died too, before they did they gave him a precious family gem. These thugs caught wind of it, and came after him."

   "You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or atleast that's what I thought at first. I saw you fighting on our way over to help. You've some pretty sharp senses in you. I mean to hear the blade whistling form behind you, that was something else! Look, I really think you should join the army. You've got potential."

   "I can't." Drac replied flatly. "Crewe won't let me. The villagers need me. I mean even this poor guy here. He would be dead had it not been for me. Sure he's pretty roughed up, but those bandits would have gone straight to him and had him dead before you got here. They need me."

   "Ahh... Crew won't let you huh? Let me talk to the old man. He's stubborn, but you've got a passion for it. In fact, I hereby officially lable you one of the men of the Mellinium Army, just out of my confidience that I can convince him."

   Drac would have been thrilled, but he was too deep in thought. What was that? It wasn't something that any normal person had. Everyone has instinct but this was... something more. It was like he felt the blade peirce his heart before the man even raised it. The very fibre that makes up his soul told him to move. It was mind shattering, terrifying. For that instant, he felt like he was completely ferral. A beast, owned by no man.