The Tale Of Alexander Part 1

The Tale Of Alexander Part 1

A Chapter by North Dakota

In the year of 1437, a dark shadow looms on the horizon of the village. Is there no mercy among these men...?


Three figures clad in black hooded cloaks rode through the desolate forest on horseback. The great equine beasts on which they rode let out several hard grunts as their masters urged them to increase their speed. To many, this sight was one of terror. These men brought pain and destruction in their wake wherever they roamed. These three were only half of the wicked faction known as The Blessed, a group of cultists who thirsted for blood. Why they do this nobody truly knows. Most say it is to appease their dark God, some say it is to spread fear and weaken the surrounding villages, some even dare to say these men simply loved to cause pain. Perhaps it was all three. Whatever reason they have, the citizens of Moldova fear them all the same.

After a short trek through the worn and beaten woodland path, the three arrived at the doorstep of a Gothic church in the middle of the untenanted forest. Each dismounted and hitched their steeds. The leader of the trio gently pushed open the large, heavy wooden door of the steeple and entered. Waiting for the trio to enter were another three idling about on the pews of the unholy house of worship.

“Ah, the gracious trio has finally arrived!” The largest of the idling three spoke, lifting a bottle of wine, then taking a hearty swig.

“It is good to see you again, Miska.” Another of the lounging trio addressed the leader of the arriving three, who removed his hood upon entrance. In the dim candlelight of the church, the men could vaguely recognize the details of each other’s faces.

“As is you, Horatio.” Miska replied to the thin, wiry man who wore a polite smile. “Perhaps you could halt your alcoholic indulgences for a moment, Andrei?” The largest of the men sighed, then placed the bottle of wine onto the floor beside his boot.

“Fine.” He curtly responded, obviously bitter towards the order. 

Miska took his position in front of the other five behind the podium, grabbing their attention with ease.

“Gentleman, we...are the harbingers of destruction. In the name of the unholy, we send these god-fearing peasants to their true lord, the dark overseer of demolition.” Miska waved his hands in the air, setting a morbid yet theatrical tone to his speech. “Without us, these serfs would not know divine fear. They fear their God because of his wrath, while they should fear our God because of our wrath! It is in his name that we send these hypocritical sinners to his domain! We are The Blessed! While they believe they have earned their God’s blessing through simple prayer and devotion, we know it to be true in our hearts that this is false! Sinners! They laze about! They have forgotten the true way of their own path! So, if they stray from their own devotion, then they shall wander onto ours. As their blood pools and soaks into the soil on which they stand, they will know that they have a home with our master! So, my brothers…!” He tossed the excess of his cloak back to reveal his sheath, and from it, he drew a dark sword stained with blood. “Tonight, we purge! We purge! We purge!” As he chanted in unison with the other five--all of which had drawn their weapons--Miska manically laughed, shuddering with anticipation.

“The rivers will run red tonight...” He whispered underneath his breath as the chorus of chants echoed in the background.

As swift as the wind, but dark as a shadow, The Blessed rode through the night. Quickly making their way towards the nearest town. With the insane, blood-lusting grin of a mad man, Miska lead the six towards the village. Much to Miska’s irritation, the unholy group had to stop at the large, wooden gates of the town.

“Get them open! Hurry! I wish not to wait!” Miska shouted while restlessly swaying. Andrei dropped from his horse, and, with awe-inspiring brawn, lifted two large powder kegs from the pouches of his saddles effortlessly.

“Hm, for a moment there, I expected you to simply bash the gates down with nothing but your bare hands, Andrei.” Alexander spoke with a comical tone, producing a grin from the giant man. While Andrei possessed great strength, none could be that strong. In fact, the only time the group had ever came in contact with somebody who even relatively compared to Andrei’s hardiness was the time he had locked swords with Briceni’s--The next town over--strongest blacksmith. Needless to say, the brute could not match up to the hulk of The Blessed, and was “purged.”

“Any orders from our master, Miska?” Horatio asked as he ran a hand through his platinum blonde hair that grew to his mid-back. After a moment of silence, Andrei had set the powder kegs, then subsequently placed and lit the fuse. As the fire quickly burned closer and closer to its target, Miska looked over his shoulder and uttered these few words:

“Show. Them. Fear.”

As a slow, wicked smirk crossed his face, the large explosion erupted behind him, sending a hot blast of air in all directions.

Through the large, charred hole that was once the gate, the six quickly charged. Several unfortunate villagers happened to have been doing idle tasks such as star gazing, wheeling hay, or feeding horses when the attack was unfortunately launched. After only a few seconds, the first casualty was already claimed. Miska rode by a man who was still dazed and confused from the blast, slicing neatly through his neck; his head slowly slid and rolled off seconds later. Horatio, with his spear, impaled a woman who had been holding hands with her child, forcing her to let go of him for his own safety. With a deft flick of his forearm, he lashed the woman onto the ground several yards away, leaving her to bleed out. The child ran, he ran towards the safety of the nearest house, but on pursuit was the cruel Andrei. The boy stumbled, trying to quickly pick himself up, but finding it too late, as when he turned to see behind him, the giant’s axe was raised high, ready to strike. He closed his eyes, waiting for the slash to come, but it never did. The boy opened his eyes to see Andrei’s axe crossed with another's sword, holding it merely inches from the boy’s face.

“Alexander? What is the meaning of this!?” Andrei shouted in a rage.

“He is just a boy! Leave him, he has not yet stepped into the world of sin.” Alexander spoke with a steel resolve, forcing Andrei to back down. The child who had been spared quickly scurried into the nearest house; the residents locked the door behind him.

“You are soft. Do not stray, or you too may become a sacrifice.” Andrei warned as he pulled his reigns to the side.

“I will take that chance.” Alexander spoke, staying vigil.

The six reconvened in the center of the village, admiring the corpses they had left and the fear they had installed.

“Shall we vacate now? We have done more than enough damage here.” Alexander suggested.

“No...No! Not yet!” Miska, who had a large blood splatter across the left side of his face shouted. “I demand more! This is no longer just a mission, this is our own crusade!” Miska’s short, jet black hair had now been mostly dyed red with crimson blood. His armor, which had once been a reflective, pristine silver was now splashed with the blood of the villagers.

“W-What!? You’re speaking madness!” Alexander, the youngest of the six, retorted.
“Do not question our Lord, Alexander. He may test your resolve if you continue in this manner.” Andrei spat his verbal venom. Miska dismounted his horse.

“This night is still young, and we are still strong! Running off of both the whispered words of our Devil and the blood of his sacrifices!” Miska’s heavy, iron clad footsteps stomped onto the front porch of the closest house.

“No!” Alexander shouted in protest as Miska raised his heavy iron boot to the door, then swiftly kicked it off of its hinges and onto the floor of the home. Inside, cowering in the corner, were two women, more than likely milk maids. In words that were no more than fearful babbling, they begged for their lives, but to the cruel leader, these cries of fear were the chorus of the angels. With this chorus drumming in his ears, he quickly pierced through the center of one of the girl’s skull, covering the other in a shower of blood and gray matter as the life drained from the punctured woman’s eyes. She scurried past the murderer, making it outside only to see the other five waiting for her. She attempted to back away, but tripped on her own front porch, falling onto her back.

“Do not be scared, you will be at peace soon.” Horatio spoke, then, like a serpent, slithered his way over to her. He sat beside the girl who had finally sat upright. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, keeping her sitting with a firm hand. With the other, he retrieved a dagger from his belt. He looked her in the eyes, she wasn’t scared, she was terrified, and he was drinking it in.

“Let me remember this beautiful face, my dear. Lord, allow me to never forget her lovely scream, or her horrified, sparkling eyes. Oh, it’s a shame you have to go…” He spoke in a flamboyant, sing-song voice. From behind them, Miska stepped out of the front door, covered in even more blood than before, which Alexander had hoped wasn't possible.

“Yet you must, she has sinned, and when the righteous have fallen, their only salvation is with our lord. Satan will welcome you with open arms, my dear.” Miska spoke with a deranged yet judgmental look in his eye that only the other five could make sense of, then gestured for Horatio to end it. The long-haired man nodded, then gradually and excruciatingly stabbed his dagger into her belly. She immediately coughed up a spurt of blood, then shrieked into the dark night. She cried to the heavens as the curved steel penetrated her, slowly slitting her organs and intestines. She could not move, she could no longer even scream, she simply looked her killer in the eyes as he drained the life from her.

“How...How is this just? How is this fair, Miska? How could you know that these men and women have sinned?!” Alexander outrageously bursted.
“How?” Miska stepped towards the man, casually walking past the soon-to-be corpse. “You ask me how?” His heavy boots sank slightly in the dirt, leaving a large footprint. Sadly, that was not the only impression he had left in this town. He stomped his way towards him with determination until he was face to face with Alexander, with the leader being slightly taller. “I know this woman is a sinner for her prayers for mercy were not answered. As she cried to the sky for her God to save her, he did nothing. He did not save her. He did not stop us.” He gripped the front of the younger man’s shirt. “He did not strike us down where we stood to save her! If she was worth redemption, then we would not be having this conversation. So, until one of us is turned to salt and scattered on the wind, I still believe there is more evil than good in this town.” He released Alexander, then walked past him, pushing him with his shoulder.
“Do not forget your own blessing, boy.” Miska muttered. Alexander raised his head to look at the remaining four. Andrei disapprovingly shook his head as he walked away, ready to seek out his own target. Horatio smiled his sickening smile, then practically skipped away, all the while maintaining his jovial mood. Juve, the most silent of all, continued his indifferent gaze underneath his hood, then exited. Finally, only Virgil remained, giving a sympathetic shrug to his friend. Virgil rested his sword onto his shoulder as he walked past, then placed a friendly hand on Alexander’s shoulder.
“You may not agree with him, but he is our leader. We must trust in his judgement.” Alexander gave a solemn nod as his friend passed by. “Though I must say, do have a good heart, perhaps...maybe even one worth...saving?” Virgil’s inflection gave Alexander a new breath of optimism, but unfortunately, that breath was quickly sucked away by the task ahead of him.

He watched in horror as his comrades, even Virgil, kicked in the doors of the villager’s homes, and slaughtered them. Some unfortunate souls didn’t even have doors, only a frame, this was not an attack, it was a slaughter. Alexander gulped, then placed his foot against the center of the flimsy wooden door of the house he approached. As he was prepared to kick it down, he found that it wasn’t even locked, it simply pushed open, leaving him to awkwardly stumble in. Inside, cowering in her mother’s breast with protective arms wrapped around her, sat a small girl.

“Please...we have done nothing wrong...please! God help us.” The mother both prayed to her Lord and pleaded with her attacker at the same time. As Alexander approached, the woman shifted her body to a position where she was kneeling with her child balled up protectively underneath her. “Please! Not her! Take me, but not her!” Both parent and child were bawling; quite a pitiful sight. Alexander’s hand shook, rendering him barely able to hold his sword. With a grunt, he tossed it aside.

“Just go! Now! Before they see you!” He angrily ordered. The lady turned and faced him.

“What cruel joke is this?” She questioned, still hunched over her daughter.

“I do not jest at the moment! Go! Go damn you!” The fire in his eyes proved to her that his actions were just and his words were true.

“Thank...thank you. Thank you so much!” She said as she wiped the tears from her eyes, then quickly scooped her child. “I will not forget this mercy. I will not forget you.” She thanked him, then fled from the town as fast as her legs could carry her, all the while, Alexander prayed his fellow cultists were too busy with their sadistic game to notice the fleeing woman.

After a couple hours, a large pyre sat in the center of town. In this pyre sat every corpse they had “purged.” Every man, woman, and child. They had all been stricken down...for what? For God? For sinning? For pleasure? It made Alexander sick to look at it, especially the face of one specific body. Hanging out of the pile between two large men, was the face of the child he had protected on the ride into town. His intervention had not stopped the boy’s death, only slowed it. Alexander grit his teeth and concealed a tear as he watched these poor souls burn. Was it all true? He had been raised by these men, they were his family, but, could this be what they truly wanted? The slaughter of men and women for their sin? Alexander questioned everything he had been raised to believe, and it scared him. How could something that had made so much sense seem so...senseless? Suddenly, from behind him, the sounds of kicking and screaming dragged him from his thoughts.

“Huh?” He turned to see Miska dragging a young woman by the hair towards him. He had to suppress his disgust as he noticed that Miska was now not only covered in blood, but it was actually dripping from him and leaving a trail behind him.

“Alexander, I do have to say, I envy you.” Miska warmly stated with a happy inflection.

“Why is that?” He asked, looking directly at the hostage.

“You seem to be able to keep tidy no matter how many you kill! It’s quite odd how efficient you are sometimes.” He spoke with a friendly outreach, but underneath the surface of his words were a deep rage. As his leader spoke, the others seemed to group around him. “Now, it’s only fair that we all get dirty, my friend. It’s not an easy job, and the best part is sharing in the muck of things. So, as a present, I’ve brought you a fresh one!” Miska tossed the lady to his feet. Alexander noticed that she had already been cut several times. “I’ve already checked, she’s quite a bleeder. So, have at it!” He sat back with his arms crossed and an expectant smile while the others circled them. The young woman looked him in the eyes from the ground. She attempted to stand, but Miska swiftly stomped the back of her leg, breaking it with a sickening crunch. “Wouldn’t want her running now, would we?” He jested. She whimpered in pain, like a wounded animal. She curled up, waiting for her fate. Alexander reluctantly drew his sword, then gulped. His whole body was shaking uncontrollably, there was no way out of this one. As the others cheered him on, he raised it above his head. The look in her eyes told him that he was no better than a monster…

“I’m sorry…” He whispered underneath his breath, then pierced the blade through her back to her heart, killing her quickly and splattering blood onto his waist and torso.

As the echo of her scream died down, only one thought remained with Alexander.

'She was right.'

© 2016 North Dakota

Author's Note

North Dakota
A little late on this one, sorry about that, I recently got my wisdom teeth ripped out, and that sort of impeded progress. Anyway, if you have any questions, feel free to ask because this may have been a bit confusing. As always, thank you for reading and feel free to comment!

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These men brought (leave) pain and destruction in their wake wherever they roamed.

Men bring destruction and leave behind a wake of misery.

Posted 2 Years Ago

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Added on March 28, 2016
Last Updated on July 8, 2016


North Dakota
North Dakota


I'm an amateur author who enjoys writing more than anything. I hope to improve my writing style and etiquette through the criticism of others. So, any review or criticism would be greatly appreciated,.. more..