by Sela Croft
He growled, showing double rows of spiked teeth. The sound was louder than the noise of battle, alerting all that he’d arrived on the scene. The demon puffed its chest, appearing to be the size of my castle fortress. He reached down and lifted a royal in one hand then bit off his head.
The new form was not only frightening but deadly. He flapped his wings, then roared at the royals, who’d stopped mid-step. He reached for two more of the monster soldiers, holding one in each hand. The rest of the Royal Army didn’t linger to see if he’d killed their comrades.
The royals turned and ran. I hadn’t thought they could run that fast, considering their weight. But fear of a demon from the dark side had been enough to make them flea. My men halted their actions and watched the enemy move away with haste.
In a black mass, the royals moved over the hills, only this time in the other direction. The Dark Fighters regrouped behind Silvain, while my men moved back to allow any remaining monsters to retreat. It was a heartwarming sight indeed.
When the Royal Army was far enough away, Silvain turned back into his vampire form. He approached me, and I waited to convey my gratitude.
“I’m in the fortunate position of gaining more power recently,” Silvain said.
“Yes, I was informed of what happened, so I understand your reasons for loathing the king and your renewed zest for wiping out his army.”
“I’m pleased that the witch followed instructions for once,” Silvain said. “I’d hoped that she’d revealed Alban’s sordid past.”
It occurred to me that I hadn’t spoken to the dark leader before.
“When I confronted Alban with his long-held secret, I’d only thought to make him a target,” Silvain said. “It hadn’t occurred to me that I’d gain any insight into this war. But I must tell you that I realized beyond any doubt that Alban is the true evil behind it all.”
“That is one thing we have in common—other than being related, it seems. My hatred for Alban equals yours.”
Silvain looked thoughtful. “But don’t assume that I like you any better than I did. Uniting against a more potent evil is prudent, and it was smart to give you the advantage today. My primary goal is to get rid of the king. If aiding you is required, then so be it.”
“I am of the same mind,” I said. “You are not held to any brotherly obligation. But I am grateful that you arrived when you did. And I will forever remember the royals fleeing in fear from an imaginary demon.”
“Yes, that did the trick,” Silvain said with a smile. “I’m inclined to try it again when the opportunity arises.”
With recent victory to boost my spirits, I couldn’t wait to return to the castle to tell Mirela. I’d left her behind, after informing her of our strategy. Now I could report that the royals had been chased off, running back to their barracks on the mountain. And tell her of Silvain’s support, a new shift of circumstances.
CHAPTER 69 – MIRELA
The royal palace was carved out of black, slimy material. The guards dragged me inside, and the dark, damp interior engulfed me. There were defensive slits in the walls for the soldiers to see out, but no windows. Not even the moonlight shone through to brighten the atmosphere.
Sconces on the walls were the only light, and I wondered if they were lit, as it was difficult to see. Visibility was so poor that I couldn’t track the path to my destination, so would be lost if I tried to get out by retracing the steps.
The walls looked moist from water that must have melted from the ice that covered the mountaintop. There were small puddles along the stone hall, and a leaky roof dripped water on the floor, some drops hitting my head. The interior was not only bleak but cold.
I hadn’t come prepared for such temperatures, since I hadn’t anticipated my arrival there at all. It was likely that I’d freeze to death before the king had finished with me. Other than guards, there wasn’t much sign of life. I shuddered at the sight of my captors, their massive forms towering over me.
The impact of being in the royal palace hit me. As the shock of the incident began to wear off, I realized the position I was in. Vampire or not, I was a woman alone against monsters, who answered to the biggest monster of all. Alban strode ahead of his guards, directing them where to take me.
Not much of it meant anything, since I hadn’t had a tour of the place. It occurred to me that Selene had visited the palace on numerous occasions, making me wonder how she endured it. But then, she’d been a guest—sometimes she’d even been invited—but I was the king’s prisoner.
My heightened perceptions told me much more about the place than I could see. A feeling seeped into my body, so I took note of it. The palace was imbued with fear. But whose fear was it? The guards were stoic but not trembling at Alban’s commands.
The presence I sensed was of another type, and after a few minutes, I recognized it as human. That was reasonable, as surely the king had a sizable staff. A palace that large would require maintenance and daily attention. Although, by the looks of it, not much care had been taken with its upkeep.
What struck me more than my own situation was the condition of the humans who lurked the hallways like ghosts. At first, I thought they were dead, but that was not the case. A few may have wished for death to escape their lot in life, but the people I perceived were very much alive.
What sort of intimidation would cause them to hide? It didn’t bode well for what was in store for me. The humans cowered from their master, and my guess was that they served him out of fear for their lives. They had no admiration or loyalty for their king.
Shivering—with fright as much as cold—I was escorted to an empty room and tossed on the floor. The guards didn’t bother to bind me, since it was obvious that I had no means of escape. The stone beneath me felt like a block of ice, plus it was damp.
Behind me was a stone arch with an iron gate, no doubt the entrance to a prison. The floor was shiny from the endless wetness. And on each side were firepits with a few flames flickering. Standing by a fire would be welcomed, but I felt no warmth from the burning logs.
The ceiling was high overhead, completing the image of a huge, cavernous space. There was no comfort to be had. I marveled that anyone lived in the place, even the evil king. It would seem he didn’t have a need for coziness, because his palace was as cold and uninviting as I could image.
A few clay pots were strewn about, many broken. And there were wooden buckets with slats missing. It was all quite depressing. I supposed the only advantage was that I was able to view what surrounded me. The faint light from the fires illuminated the horror I’d stepped into and cast shadows, making its haunted appearance complete.
I looked up at Alban. I’d imagined many times what he looked like. But the descriptions I’d heard failed to capture his true essence. Staring into his red eyes sent terror through me. He had stark white hair that haloed his head like electrified cotton.
The king’s pallor was deathly in a very shocking way. He was alive, because he moved and breathed—yet he appeared to have stepped from a grave. His skin was as thin as parchment, stretched over protruding bones. His body was like a rail that might snap in two, yet his harsh expression said otherwise.
My voice seemed to have left me, because as much as I wished to, I was unable to rail against him. Frozen to the spot, I stared, waiting for some clue of what he intended. If he only wished to kill me, he could have ordered the guards to do so upon my arrival.
I guessed that he preferred to prolong my agony, now that he had me in his grasp. I expected him to say something, but instead a rasp of air was expelled from his lungs. It surprised me, then I realized that it was a laugh. Humor played no part in it; the king’s response had been a hiss of satisfaction.
His yellowed fangs distended, making me cringe, as I feared he might bite my vein and drain me of blood. His hands extended toward me, and I was mesmerized by his long, bony fingers. One narrow finger pointed at me, and I squirmed.
“You are mine now,” Alban said.
“And you will wish for death long before it comes for you.”
I gaped at the horrific visage and trembled at the sound of his voice.
The king stepped closer, his dirty robe dragging on the ground. He studied me, making my skin crawl. “I really don’t see it. There’s nothing special about you.”
I wasn’t about to converse with this monster.
“Draven has been so enamored with you,” he said. “It’s just an example of his poor taste. Good-looking vampires abound. He could have picked one that wasn’t so much trouble.”
It made no difference what Alban thought of me. His insults carried no weight.
“The prophecy…” The king spat at me. “We’ll see what value it has now. I’ll never understand why my son ruined his life for that fairy tale. He refused to believe the folly of it.”
Alban walked over the stone, as though relishing some victory. Then he stopped to glower at me, leaning close enough that I smelled his stench. “Without you, we’ll see how well Draven fares. He could have had it all; he was in line for succession.”
Evil flickered behind the king’s eyes. “But he threw it all away…for you. It was a fatal error. And I will make him pay for it.”
Horror consumed me at the thought of Draven discovering where I was. He would do something rash, I was sure of it. And I couldn’t see how he could save me without suffering a similar fate.
“I made a plea to the dark gods and asked them to help me,” Alban said. “I put forth a convincing argument that they should bring you to me. After all, I support death, which they thrive on.”
Images of the dark gods who had appeared before me came to mind. That explained their sudden interest in me. But they hadn’t scooped me up to deliver me here.
I had no confidence that the dark ones wouldn’t decide to appear. If they were on Alban’s side, they might come to watch and enjoy his torture of me. They might even help make sure my last minutes alive produced my greatest suffering.
There was no way to know, as my next hours were uncertain. I prayed it was as Draven had claimed, that the gods didn’t interfere with the pattern of life or force outcomes of their liking. It was enough to face Alban without adding any godly support of his deeds.
“The gods owe me,” Alban said, “but they haven’t seen fit to play their part. I will show them that I don’t need them. They will see that I can handle things on my own and will admire me for my skill in ripping destiny apart—starting with doing away with you.”
I had no doubt that the king meant every word. His arrogance was astounding.
“You are a butterfly in a jar,” the king said. “I will keep you for my entertainment, until you expire. I’ll make sure that you remember your last hours with me, far into eternity. I demand recompense for the upheaval you have caused, for taking my son, and threatening to take my kingdom.”
At last, I could no longer hold my tongue, and was about to protest. But Alban disappeared, then a bat hovered in the air before me. I already knew that he could transform into animals, as that had been how he’d tricked me.
It was my assumption that bats did not attack or suck blood. Despite such vampire tales, they preferred to get their teaspoon-sized meals from other animals. Insects or pollen were more to their liking. Yet this was no ordinary bat.
I scooted back, with nowhere to go. The bat peeled back its lips, showing tiny razor teeth. I wrapped my arms around me and scanned the room for any other defense. Then I felt sharp, needlelike jabs in my neck.
The bat swooped away, then I reached for my neck, coming away with drops of blood on my fingers. I put my hand on my throat as a protection from another attack. But the bat morphed back into the vampire king. A rumble in his belly turned into a deep laugh.
He was flaunting his power, as if I wasn’t afraid enough. The gleam in his eyes spoke of death, and I saw my demise looming. The king was crazed, and I sensed no softer side. Pleading for mercy would fall upon deaf ears. He had no intention of going easy on me.
There was no chance of besting the king with strength alone, even with my vampire skill. A physical attack would secure the fate I most feared, as he would strangle the life out of me. I’d heard that he could suck out the essence of a victim as he sucked them dry of blood.
I had talents, but I wasn’t assured they would be enough. Alban had monster soldiers at his disposal, plus guards within the palace who could crush me. As I stared into the eyes of the raving king, I reached to the far recesses of my mind for a solution.
If I had a prayer of surviving, I would have to dig deep for a way to overcome my powerful opponent. Brute force wasn’t an option, which left me with only one alternative. I’d have to use my wits. If I had any chance, I’d need to outsmart the king.
Yet, staring up at him, I hadn’t a clue how to do that. The king waved a hand, and servants appeared as if from nowhere. His scepter was placed in his palm, and he lifted it. “Take her to the cell.” Two guards rushed forth to grab my arms.
I slipped, which angered the king. He roared at the guard who’d allowed that to happen, then pointed the jeweled scepter at him. A blast shoved the huge guard into the wall, and he slumped to the floor. Another one took his place, then moved me swiftly toward the iron gates.
If I’d thought my accommodations were bleak so far, they were luxury compared to the prison. Rows of cells lined the walls, and the area stank like the dead. I strove for some hope to cling to but, looking around, found little encouragement.
CHAPTER 70 – MIRELA
The guards dragged me down the aisle, and haggard faces stared from behind the bars. The stones under my feet were uneven and the walls were crumbling. At the end of the rows of cells the castle wall had severed. The structure had split, and the ice had encroached into the space.
It made the area with the cells below freezing, a torture of its own. Those locked away were of a wide variety, from vampire to human. I suspected the humans hadn’t been there long, since it wasn’t likely they could survive the conditions.
At the last cell, there was a narrow passage, and the guards shoved me through. It appeared that I wouldn’t be allowed to mingle with the others. I was taken to a private room that was hardly warmer than the hall had been.
The guards released me but stood next to the door. Alban entered, gloating over his achievement. “Get on the table.” He referred to a wide wooden platform that did not look accommodating, so I hesitated.
The monster guards lifted me up and chained me to the table. With my wrists and ankles secured, I was less confident that I could contrive a way to escape. It seemed my last days would be inside this bleak room.
Alban looked at me then growled. I stared back, wondering if there was any sensitivity to him or if he was a creature devoid of any heart. He lifted a whip that hung on the wall and dangled it over me. “Now I will have the pleasure I’ve sought.” The tip of the instrument was right over my head. “I’ve craved this torture since the day that Draven turned away from me.” Alban’s red eyes seethed as if with the fires of hell.
Surprisingly, I found my voice. “It won’t help you win the war. I can promise that Draven will come, and he will be so enraged that you’ll regret taking me from him.”
Alban’s fangs distended, as if he was about to drink my blood instead of proceeding with other torture. “No, you are wrong. My son is weak; when he hears of your torture and death, it will break him.”
I glared at the awful king. “You don’t know your son like I do.”
Sucking in a breath, the king lifted the whip. With a precise movement, he snapped it through the air. The tip lit up like a sun and grazed my arm. Pain shot through me, as though an electric current had connected. My vampire nature was sensitive to excessive light. The tip of the king’s weapon concentrated damaging light wherever he struck.
Again and again, Alban drew back the whip and struck my skin. Shards of pain riddled through my arms, legs, and chest. But he didn’t stop. Anxious to test my limits
, he whipped the hurtful tip all over my body. The pain escalated, and I cried out each time.
My eyes closed, and I clenched my jaw. The agony was nearly unbearable. I might expire soon if the king didn’t stop. It appeared that he knew that, because he ceased. I opened my eyes to see the light whip dangling over me.
Alban’s body shook with an evil laugh. “I do enjoy this. After all the suffering that my son has caused me, I am finally able to pay him back.”
He didn’t mention my pain. It seemed that I was only a vehicle to get to Draven and give the king satisfaction. It struck me that he got pleasure from hurting others. The one advantage was that he might let me live longer—although in a horrible circumstance—so he could indulge in more torture.
I needed to muster all the strength that I could to tolerate his rough treatment. It was a way to buy time, and that was what I needed.
After a break, Alban resumed his ministrations. He seemed to be aware of how much I could take. He kept a rhythm that pushed me near the limit of my pain tolerance. Yet he gave me a momentary reprieve at certain intervals, so that he didn’t kill me.
“You aren’t impressive at all,” Alban said. “Look at you…stretched out on a plank of wood. I own you and could do anything I want with you.”
“You only think so,” I whispered. “I belong to no one. And whatever you do, I’ll hold my love for Draven in my heart.”
The king grabbed a knife from a nearby table, and I shuddered at what he had in mind. “I’d heard that you were part sorceress. But I haven’t seen any evidence.”
He slit my skin at the collarbone, then dipped his fingers in the blood and licked it off. “You don’t taste any different. But maybe I haven’t had enough.” Alban held the knife point under my chin. “I could make a deeper cut and have a real drink.”
Instead, he cut down my arm. Then he carved down my leg and into my belly. His eyes gleamed with evil that I hadn’t previously witnessed. As he proceeded to cut me, watching blood drip onto the table, a horrific realization gripped me.