Old Bloods

 Iron had seen a great many events in his life since Glint offered him a place in his

Pack. The rise of the United States and the running battle Iron and his tribe

fought through what had once been Canada. The sharp rise of technological

advancement followed shortly by the fall of nations in the wars that followed.

The transition from nations to vast city states based around the corporations

that remained standing. Two Crusades in which Glint took the side of his

Oathbound, the Khan, yet sent his Packmates to aid those they opposed. So much

had transpired during that time, Iron found it difficult to remember it all.

Yet in the five hundred or more years that Iron had lived, two things were evident

about the man who had granted him extended life. The first was that Glint was a being

who held a great many secrets. The second, the man who was not a man had transcended

fear and hate.

The latter was something Iron had come to admire about the man who was not a man.

The mental discipline to maintain calm, even when faced with the terrors that

existed in the dark recesses of the world, was something Iron had hoped to

replicate. In his first life, Iron had felt fear and hate many times over. Each

battle brought new worries and concerns. Every loss of life added weight to his

heart. So much of his first life had been filled with one fear or another,

which caused him to hate those who had caused it. 

Such was the way of those trapped by a short lifespan. 

Yet after the first hundred years, once Iron’s bloodline was wiped out or subdued

by those who came to conquer, Iron realized that all that anger and fear only

caused him to suffer. Emotions like that were sparks from the fire that was

humanity. Depending on where they fell, entire fields could be wiped out,

forests and homes were reduced to ash, all from one tiny spark of hatred. Yet

as the years wore on, the destroyed field would regrow, saplings became giants,

and homes were eventually rebuilt. The new would take the place of the old and

one might never know there had ever been a fire at all.

Of all the events and creatures Iron had encountered since then, Glint remained a

steady source of assurance and confidence. He was calm, even when it seemed the

world was burning down around them. Iron’s Pack Leader was a man apart. A being

who transcended time and had seen the history of the world repeat itself over and

over again, at least as far as any of the Pack could tell. It was known that

Glint came from a time beyond written memory. 

Yet today, as their Packmates and the soldiers of the Khan died in the darkness of the catacombs

they now traversed, Iron could see a change in his leader’s eyes.

Where normally Glint was unfazed as he surveying the battles that unfolded around

him, now there was a dark intensity that seemed to fuel his every movement in

the catacombs beneath the Arabian sands.

Their main source of light came from the gear worn by Iron’s team of Packmates and their Sky Seekers allies.

Yet it was not the only light to be found in this ancient place. A strange, sickly green hue

pulsing between the cracks of the walls and paved stones gave the oddly

designed catacombs a sense of life. It wasn’t the life of new growth and

rebirth, but rather the unnatural resuscitation of something that never should

have been gifted life in the first place. The shadows created by this place

seemed to gather about the Pack Leader, making him out to be some fell shade

stalking this place of death. Even the air tasted old, foriegn even, as if this

were a place from a different age entirely.

“They’re coming out of the fucking walls,” a Sky Seeker called over the com system, as distant

gunfire barked out deeper within the catacombs.

“Focus fire where the shadows build,” Glint ordered, voice unyielding as scanned the area ahead of them for danger. “Do not

relent until a body is revealed.”

Iron noticed that Glint no longer told them to shatter the spine or remove the heads. At this point in the conflict anyone who

didn’t know how to kill the enemy was already dead. 

“Let’s keep moving,” Glint said.

“Shouldn’t we go help-” Iron began only to find Glint’s yellow eyed gaze settle on him.

        “There is no time.”

        As if to emphasize his meaning, the green pulsing that lay just behind the stone

tiles and cracks in the walls pulsed brighter, reminding Iron of a heartbeat

picking up. An explosion shook the very foundations of this place from

somewhere else within the catacombs causing sand to fall from the ceiling as

the tremors settled. 

While the Pack Leader carried no weapon, Iron noticed Glint’s hands flexing

as he began to move again, as if he were prepared to lacerate any potential threat with his bare hands. Iron had only seen Glint

on edge twice in his life and on both occasions the situation had been resolved before Glint had been required to act. 

The Pack Leader seldom rushed anything, but the call to the rest of the Packmates had surprised them all. When Glint needed any

of them, he simply willed it and the bond he held with his followers pulled them back to the Den, wherever that might be.

At the moment, it was Twilight City, but Dens could change as the centuries wore on. 

Normally, when Glint wanted to send them on a mission, he selected a handful of his Packmates to fulfill it. This had been

established back during the Third Crusade. Generally no more than a team of five were called to serve as needed,

yet when Iron arrived the day after he had been called, he found nearly the entire Pack, some fifty four members,

assembled. 

And that didn’t include the Sky Seekers Glint had called upon.

Whatever agreement had been formed between the original Khan and Glint, it must have come with strings attached.

For when the Pack Leader called upon the first Khan’s lineage to honor their pact, a full two hundred Seekers had been

assembled alongside the Packmates. Everyone had been given instructions on the enemy and told how to best combat them.

Concentrated firepower followed by destruction of the brainstem or spinal column, a very similar manner in which Packmates

could be killed. It wasn’t uncommon for beings that had elevated beyond mortality to be killed in similar fashion.

Even supernatural beings had to abide by some of the rules of life and death.

And so it was, without a connection to the brain, the body died.

Only a few decades back, several years before

his most recent life tour began, Iron had been assigned to a team sent out to

remove a nest of Strigoi. Glint had gone over how to stun and dispatch them,

yet this was different. Where normally Glint would sit down and explain the

various details of what lay in store, oftentimes in a quiet gathering with a

warm meal, there was only enough time to prepare and move. There had been no

banter, none of the general good nature that Glint normally gave off, and every

Packmate felt it.

Iron’s current life tour, in which he was assigned a sixty year term of service with Glint, was forty five more years

from its resolution. In that time, Iron had sought to understand more of the man who had given him extended life after

Iron led his tribe in a final battle against the US Cavalry so many centuries ago. It quickly became clear that, while Glint was

bonded with each of his Packmates, giving them a certain sense of each other's emotions and mindset, very little was known.

While Glint would happily discuss human nature and retell portions of history with his Packmates, Iron suspected

there was always much more held back. Iron sniffed the air again, ignoring the foreign odors that came from further below.

Instead he focused on the odd familiarity of this place. 

“Found something,” Resolve, another Packmate, said over the com. “Looks like an antechamber of some kind. Lots of- Gods of

Olympus, what is that thing?”

The pheromones Glint gave off as a warning made Iron stop in place. The Pack was capable of giving non-verbal signals through

scent, and as soon as Iron caught a hint of it, he realized why the smell of this place put him off. 

It smelled similar to Glint, only… older.

“In route,” Glint snapped, picking up the pace to something of a full sprint for an unaugmented human. “Do not engage. Fall

back to the entry hall and don’t let anything out. I will be there shortly with back up.” 

There was no reply.

Iron and the four Packmates who were currently serving life tours with their Pack Leader fell into place. Iron undid the strap

covering the head of his monofilament axe and double checked his magazine. Iron waited for an explanation from Glint only

to realize that none was coming. Iron considered that for a moment. All of this was unfamiliar, which was beyond unusual

for the long lived. It was then that Iron realized fear was slowly creeping through his heart at the prospect of the

unknown.

Glint picked up speed at the sound of gunfire, never once looking at the GPS system they had been equipped with. It allowed

them to navigate the unknown depths of this place, yet Glint began moving through the darkened hallways as if he knew

exactly where to go. Ahead, the shadows seemed to writhe and Iron had just enough time to pull his carbine up when the

darkness rushed toward them. Iron managed to squeeze the trigger as he caught sight of a figure lunging from

the inky darkness. Covered in armor of midnight, interlocking plates that shifted with every movement, the long limbed

creature reached toward Iron with shadowed claws as long as a man’s forearm. The burst fire knocked the hand

aside and the beast twisted its body mid-air, bounding off the nearby wall before appearing on Iron’s flank.

Iron had faced death enough times in his life that the fear of it had lost some sting. Most of this came from the fact that

not many beings knew how to kill his kind. Yet certain and eternal death came from the darkness as Iron locked eyes

with the void filled slits of the creature’s helm. In that frozen moment, Iron knew that this creature was

intimately aware of how to kill him. 

Knowing that he wasn’t fast enough to avoid his end and defiant of the fear that filled his very being, Iron decided to face

death on his feet, even as a second creature appeared. As the second slipped by and the other four

Packmates opened fire, a roar of defiance issued from the throat of Packmate Ukhel but Iron had no time to see how they

fared. Iron’s eyes were focused on the figure about to take his life.

Then Glint seemed to materialize before him, the shadows within the catacombs trailing behind in a faint similarity to the creature

about to kill Iron. Before those terrible claws could claim him, Glint caught the beast by the throat. A wet snap followed by the

grinding of bone issued from the neck of the now deceased creature. Glint let the body fall and whipped his hand

across the floor, spattering the ground with thick, almost black, blood as the gunfire behind them died down. Iron could see how the

armor around its neck had been crushed by Glint’s hand.

Glancing behind, Iron saw that Ukhel was standing over another black armored beast with its helm caved in, the flanged

shock mace his Packmate held was covered in the same ichorous gore. Unfortunately for the others, Glint hadn’t had

enough time to assist. Good natured Providence was missing his head and Valiant was trying to stem the

crimson flow from his neck, though the rest of his body seemed to be in an equally appalling state. Iron watched Valiant

long enough to decide that he would survive, seeing the skin slowly knit itself together while his lifeblood

slowed its escape. Even so, the Packmate would be useless for the rest of the conflict.

“We need to press on,” Glint said, not so much as glancing down at the fallen. “Sedate him and move, no more will come this

way if we reach our target in time.”

This was the nature of the wild, Iron told himself, staring at the headless form of their comrade. Never again would he

hear Providence’s laughter ring throughout the Den. Iron was young compared to many in the Pack, yet he and Providence

had served their last life tour at Glint’s side.

Providence would be missed.

“What are these things” Iron asked, not moving from where he stood.

Pack Leader or no, Iron had lost a friend and he did not take well to orders without reason. He had obeyed long enough. Glint

knew how Iron operated, so it came with a surprise that the Pack Leader chose to use his influence over their bond rather than offer an explanation.

“Follow, now,” Glint said. 

The words mattered little as Iron felt the pull of Glint’s command and took an involuntary step forward.

“Is this so important that you would force me into submission?” Iron said, voice cold.

When Glint finally turned to address him, the intensity of that gaze made Iron realize just how far out of his depth he was.

The desire to submit to the Pack Leader filled his mind, yet such domination only ignited the flame of his will and Iron forced himself to stop moving.

Glint took a deep, practiced breath. “If we survive this encounter, I promise you my friend, I will explain it all. Time,

however, works against us and every single moment we delay increases the probability that none of us will make it from this place alive. Stay, follow, I don’t care, but I cannot waste what precious moments we have left.”

Whatever power Glint held over Iron, he released it and the tension between them faded. Immediately after, Glint began to run

down the hall, the rest of the Pack tight on his heels.

Without waiting to contemplate, Iron chose to follow. Five hundred years of service and this was the first time Glint had

attempted to control him in such a manner. It was both an insult to their pact together, and a terrible realization that, for the

first time in his life, Iron realized that Glint was afraid of something. 

As he followed, Iron’s mind rushed back to the day Glint had chosen him.

The battle was over and the ravens had come to harvest the dead. Chief Iron Jacket, as he had once been known, lay in a pool

of his blood. The mail shirt that had birthed his namesake was riddled with holes from where he had been shot. The flow of the nearby river had calmed him as he endured his final moments. Back then, he had been content in his sacrifice and proud of a son who had held to his word and protected their tribe rather than die in a hopeless war.

Glint walked upon him then, the man’s yellow tinged eyes making him appear as a being of power. They had spoken before.

Glint had come to the village Iron called home, warning of the joint attack by the Tonkawa and U.S. Rangers bound for the next morning. Knowing that without Glint’s information Iron’s people would have been wiped out, he told Glint he had but to name his reward and it would be granted. Yet the only price Glint claimed for this information was a favor granted upon his request. 

Back then, Iron’s belly had been filled with fire and he had agreed. It was only when Iron lay broken and dying the very

next day, once the fighting had stilled and the soldiers had moved on, that Glint called upon his favor: life service in exchange for the information that saved Iron’s son and the rest of his tribe.

Of course, Iron would not serve blindly. He had told Glint as much, even as he lay dying. His service came with strings

attached, for Iron would play no role in the slaughter of innocents just as he would not blindly obey what he was told. 

Glint had agreed, and Iron’s transformation began.

Now, as the gunfire rang out just ahead, Iron had no more time to think about the past as another of the shadow beasts engaged the Pack.

Iron saw the sparks flash as bullets riddled the armored beast, only to be swallowed by shadow, hiding whatever damage had been done.

Ukhel was slammed against a wall, the sound of cracking bone echoing through the hall. Iron fired at the congealing shadows until his carbine went dry. He could see the black massed building and, judging from his last engagement, realized it was about to pounce once more. Releasing the carbine, Iron drew from the blood gift Glint had bestowed upon him and pulled the axe from his hip. Heart pounding in his ears, Iron’s senses heightened as pure adrenaline coursed through his veins, allowing him to move faster than before. Such a draw would leave him drained for a time, but it was all he could do to match the ferocity of the opposition before him. Iron planted himself before the growing

darkness and swung his monofilament edged weapon at the center of the inky black as it rushed toward him.

The axe impacted something and was ripped from his hands as the shadow rushed past him. Claws tore into his shoulder, but

unlike the heat of flesh and steel, a deep numbing cold took hold. The muscles around the lacerations immediately contracted, but pain, even as great as this, was not the worst he had sustained in his life. Without his axe, Iron immediately reached for his sidearm when he realized his arm wasn’t responding. 

Glancing at his shoulder, Iron saw bright white bone standing out from the mangled gore as the muscles slowly began to knit

themselves together. Knowing it would take some time to heal, Iron reached across with his left hand, drew his sidearm, and leveled the .45 caliber pistol where the mass of shadow had landed. Another black armored creature lay sprawled on the ground, attempting to remove the axe Iron had embedded in its chest. Unlike the other he had seen, this one wore no helmet, and Iron noticed the black fur and canine features of its face. If not for the void-like gaze it fixed upon him, it may have almost appeared noble.

It growled something at him, the words were in a foreign tongue unlike anything he had heard in the world. The language was like

glass, sharp and broken, which made his head throb. Striding toward the creature, Iron fired round after round into its exposed face until the magazine ran dry and the beast’s head was little more than bloody pulp. Its fingers flexed involuntarily and Iron could see shadowy extensions, like claws made of midnight, flicker in and out of existence before going still forever.

The injury to his shoulder was already healing. The flesh and muscle already covered the exposed bone and the tingling ache of

nerves reattaching made it feel as if the entire limb was set aflame. It would end, he told himself, and the pain would fade into memory. Reloading and holstering his pistol as quickly as he could with one hand, Iron tore the axe free with his good arm and began making his way to Ukhel. His Packmate was already rising to his feet, though he staggered a bit as he clutched his ribs.

“Assholes hit hard, hey?” Ukhel grumbled as he patted the back of his head, his palm coming back crimson.

Iron nodded and checked on the rest of their team. Aside from the two of them, the rest were dead and Glint was nowhere to

be seen.

“The Pack Leader abandoned us,” Iron said, watching his companion attempting to put his eviscerated ribs in place as his

body healed. 

“You are still young,” Ukhel said, eyes squinting against the pain as he endured the healing process. “Glint goes to

face a far greater threat.”

When Iron could finally move his fingers, he quickly assessed his gear and reloaded his carbine. It wasn’t pleasant, but

after several hundred years, training took over and movement became easier. 

“Go, brother. I am finished for today,” Ukhel

said. “Glint will need everyone he can when he faces the Corrupt.”

Iron looked at the headless bodies of those he had served beside for centuries. He knew that to linger too long would be to

waste their sacrifice, and yet he found himself trapped in a moment of uncertainty.

What were they dying for?

Doubt warred with duty and Iron’s heart was set ablaze by the death and confusion of this conflict. In all his time with Glint,

he had never witnessed the loss of so many of their Pack. Yet there was nothing to be done until this battle was resolved and answers were given.

And he would get answers, Iron told himself.

Turning away, Iron sprinted down the hall, not bothering to check his GPS as he followed the draw of his bond with Glint. As

with all Packmates, they could sense the direction of Glint no matter how far they were. Still that did not give a particularly accurate guide, so Iron

relied on his heightened sense of smell whenever the tunnels branched in different directions. Glint’s scent guided him through the tight hallways which eventually opened into a massive central room and Iron froze. 

The enormity of the place stifled belief for he had no idea just how far beneath the earth they were, but it must have been

close to a mile to allow such a large space. In the center of the room was a massive floating cube of interlocked pieces that seemed to shift form with each pulse of the green hued light he had seen throughout this place. Each pulse began with the cube and spread out to the rest of the catacombs, giving Iron the impression of a heart in the center of some gargantuan beast. Hundreds if not thousands of obsidian tombs

lined the grounds behind the cube and each pulse from it seemed to infuse the nearest with the green energy it produced. Many of the closest tombs had been shattered and whatever had been lying dormant within them was nowhere to be found. Standing before the cube was another dark armored figure, yet this one sent the hackles on the back of Iron’s neck to rise for it wore no armor and looked nothing like the man he had come to follow, despite the startling familiarity in both scent and dominance.

To say it resembled a wolf would be an insult to the nobility of the animal. Iron found his eyes drawn to the elongated arms and

lupin jaw of the being that walked down the steps from the cube. Each movement was followed by a dark swirling mist that emanated from its very being, and the scent it gave off was one of pure and unquestionable death. 

Glint stood before it, surrounded by the bodies of the Pack that had reached this place ahead of him. Resolve, the only

Packmate still drawing breath, slowly dragged himself away from the conflict as Glint stood between him and the creature of darkness. 

It stopped some distance from Glint and pointed an obsidian taloned finger at the Pack leader. Then it spoke the same harsh language Iron had heard earlier, only its voice carried a depth that seemed to reverberate in his skull and an almost binary static followed every utterance.

Iron had seen Glint stand before many powerful faction leaders in their time together. His bearing seldom changed as he met

each with a casual regard. It was the confidence of a being who knew where he stood in the world and Yet before this monstrosity, Glint looked to be on the point of imminent violence. 

“I do not speak your twisted tongue, traitor-kin,” Glint said with open defiance in his voice.

The creature before them let out a dangerous growl and dropped the clawed hand to its side. There was a sickening snapping

of bone as its elongated jaw adjusted to become more human. Working its mouth a few times, it spoke once more.

“Primitive,” the creature said, voice resonating with power while becoming far more articulate than Iron would have believed

possible. “This language is unfit for beings such as us.”

Glint did not move a muscle, and Iron tested his shoulder, realizing that, whatever violence might occur, he would be outclassed

in every way. It was a daunting realization, to think himself so far beyond the capabilities of mortal men only to find something that exceeded him in every way. 

“It is the tongue of Creation, untainted and noble in purpose,” Glint shot back.

The creature let out what might have been a chuckle which came out as a coughing bark. “Blind fool. How long have you roamed

this world, Oathbound? How many epochs have passed since our Age was set to ruin?” 

At this point the shadows around Glint began to build and the glow in his eyes became a deep amber. “It doesn’t matter. You

will not live long enough to contemplate it.”

The creature before displayed an unpleasant smile, revealing sharp canines. “So quick to violence, my kin? Like the others,

you have blinded yourself to serving a Will that barely holds sway in this world. You align yourself with parasites. They have no comprehension of the powers seeking dominance in the universe.” The creature waved a hand at the broken bodies littering the ground. “It’s surprising that pests such as these have already found a means to access the Beyond.”

The creature took a deep breath, eyes rolling back as it relished whatever scent it caught. When it spoke, there was a hunger

in its voice, like a man gone too long without a meal. “I can sense it, just beyond the veil of flesh.”

That’s when Glint struck. 

There was no warning, no call of challenge. One moment the two were separated by ten meters and the next they came together in

a blur of terrible violence. The creature seemed to phase in and out of existence, making the strange shadow bounding that Iron had seen in its

underlings look like a petty parlor trick. It simply vanished and reappeared in moments, yet Glint always seemed to know exactly where the creature would appear. The shadows that built around Glint became blades of darkness laced with gold as his body moved at speeds that Iron could not entirely follow.

Iron had raised his carbine, but didn’t dare fire a shot for fear of distracting, or possibly even hitting Glint. Shadows collided eight times in a matter of heartbeats, leaving blackened mist and sparks of gold hanging in the air as the two pulled away.

Glint’s eyes had gone from amber to gold, his arms lengthening in a similar fashion to the creature he fought and the blades

he held were of a similar design as the pulsing green veins that showed in the cube and the tombs around them. 

They were opposites of the same coin, a reflection of light and darkness and Iron felt himself to be a fly on the wall in a room of primordial powers.

Shadow, like blood, poured from several lacerations to the creature, yet Glint was not without injuries of his own. Half his scalp had been ripped away and he bleed from claw marks along his ribs. Although Iron had seen the supernatural healing power of Glint, which was infinitely faster than any of the Pack, it seemed that the power manifested by the creature prevented it, just as Glint’s blades did the same to it.

“You have forgotten much, Oathtaker,” the creatures goaded. “You have lived too long in the realm of flesh. Can you

remember the Fall? Do you even know what we once were?”

Glint said nothing, but Iron could feel the emotion boiling within Glint, as their bond allowed. He could sense insurmountable rage within Glint, but most terrifying of all, Iron felt his Pack Leader’s frustration. The creature wasn’t goading him, Iron realized, he was simply pointing out a fact. Whatever Glint’s history or purpose in this world had been, the long life he had endured had taken a toll. There was no certain victory today. Life and death hung on the tip of a needle as powers beyond the mortal realm prepared to clash for supremacy.

Glint raised his blades once more and the creature dipped its head in acknowledgement.

“Very well,” it said, jaw snapping back to what it had been before. “Igz thoth con ild, Bandakin,” it roared, the sound bursting Iron’s eardrums and dropping him to his knees. 

Once more they flowed together, their clash silent as Iron tried to find his center of balance and failed. Gold and shadow rained down around him as the two beings out of time darted about the green hued room. The pain in Iron’s ear amplified as the healing process took over, but he managed to get to his knees as faint echoes of the battle began to return. Pulling up his carbine in some frail attempt to aid Glint, he found where they his heart dropped.

The shadow creatures loomed over Glint. One arm had been removed and its dark blood misted out in a constant flow onto the stone below. Glint was backed against the cube, half his face had been torn away and one hand clutched his side where white bone showed an unhealthy portion of his ribcage and though he still stood, one of his legs was twisted around.

At any moment, Glint was going to die.

Iron raised his carbine and fired. The rounds punched through the creature in rapid succession. A fragile attempt to aid the man who had saved Iron’s bloodline so long ago, but unlike the gold veined blades of Glint, the injuries sealed up instantly. He was nothing compared to this creature, and he knew it, yet he continued firing until his carbine ran dry.

The creature flicked a wrist in Iron’s direction, and an obsidian claw buried itself in his chest with a cold so intense that every muscle in his body began to contract with spasms.

It was a tiny, fractional delay before Glint’s demise… but that was all he needed.

Glint pressed off the cube and drove his blades deep into the creature’s neck before ripping them out, effectively severing its head in an instant.

Iron’s body continued to spasm, the pain growing with each passing moment. The world around him grew dark as he faded in and out of consciousness. His heart beat faster than it ever had a right to and Iron knew death was moments away. Then,

in an instant, the pain vanished and his vision returned.

Glint stood over him, the obsidian talon that had been buried in Iron’s chest held in his hand. Blood still oozed from the many wounds to Glint’s body, none of which showed signs of healing, but he was alive and the creature was little more than

another headless corpse on the ground.

Glint nodded at him, tossed the talon aside, and slowly made his way toward the cube in the center of the room. Iron made to rise, only to find his strength had left him. Whatever power was manifested by the creature Glint had faced, it prevented them from healing with the gift of Glint’s blood.

Iron could only watch as Glint approached the cube. A gold veined blade appeared in his hand as he steadied himself against the structure. Then he thrust the weapon into the center of the cube. The green pulsing suddenly became erratic and a chorus of screams filled the catacombs as those still entombed in their obsidian prisons suffered a fate unknown to Iron. The pulsing increased, becoming more and more erratic until it flared once more and the room went silent.

In the darkness, Iron could hear approaching footsteps and felt a sense of relief

emanate from Glint.

“You wish for answers, my friend, and I will give them to you as best I can.” Glint said in the darkness. “But know that my knowledge is limited, and what you will learn will change your view of the world you think you know. Do you still wish to learn?”

Iron nodded, and although they were in complete and utter darkness, he knew Glint could see.

“Very well. Let us get back to the Den and I will tell you what I can.”