William grunted with the sound of approval and pounded a fist to his chest, a sign of his servitude to his vampire queen. Amata was more than just his mistress; she was blood, cut from the deepest cloth. She was his maker, in the truest sense of the word. He’d follow her to the ends of the earth, or die trying.
“Do you know why, William?” Lady Amata asked, “…Because nothing’s changed since I turned from the light… I’d rather die than be insignificant. I’m going to keep the pressure up and grind my army down to a withered husk… but not before I drag every damn government down with me. They’ve never seen an army like ours... and I’ll make sure they never get the chance. I’m not going to stop until the entire world bends to my knee… and together we’ll shape the coming order— our order.”
Chapter Five
It was only a few hours until the time to move out was upon them, and Xander’s miscreant army was still nowhere near ready. They had only unearthed only a small amount of the weapons and armor needed to stand up to the mighty horde that Amanda had amassed, but even fully equipped they stood with little chance of survival.
Emily could see it in the youngling vampires’ eyes, as she marched through the long and sectioned camp on route to her brother’s tent. They hated her, wanted to see Samuel on his knees, and wanted to gorge themselves on Steven’s blood, still believed by some to contain trace elements of the blood demon he left behind.
The ghouls weren’t much more accommodating, either, with some old enough to remember the glory days of Xander’s reign. Their world had utterly collapsed, and it was all her fault. She brought this war to their doorstep, and now that the fires had been unleashed, it would be near impossible to contain.
If she truly wished to ease the pain, she needed only to close herself off to her morality and let the darkness seep in. It was an awful thought, one not even to be deliberated out loud. Still, it gnawed at her until she was forced to come to the very real conclusion that she will one day have to cross that forbidden line.
“I hope things haven’t been too rough,” Emily said as she entered the infirmary, “How’s Steven?”
“Better than I,” Samuel said with a coarse laugh as he leaned back into his chair, “A couple of vamps have been wandering around outside, but they seem to be keeping their distance— for now. Your brother’s been sleeping like a baby… for what, ten hours now? Say what you want, but I’d love to have his problems right now.”
Emily walked over beside Samuel and ran her fingers through his sweat-covered and damp hair, her attempt to ease his torrential spirits and find comfort in those nearby. He could’ve walked away after that fateful night on the steps of their cottage, but he chose to carry the burden of an entire race on his shoulders and plunge head first into a war he knew nothing about. He was a hero, even though Emily knew she’d never catch him admitting to it. Whether or not he agreed with her judgment, he was an inspiration to both the Johansson’s and helped mold them into the people that presided around him.
“Let’s hope this war’s over soon,” Samuel said, “Because I don’t know how much longer my body will be able to keep going.”
“Do you really think we’ll be able to leave this war behind?” Emily asked, “Everything’s happened so fast, the lines have become blurred, and I can no longer turn to my mother for help.”
“Something’s troubling you,” Samuel said as he noticed the inner turmoil that once again plagued the summoner, “You’re… hiding something, aren’t you? You better come out with it quick… I’d hate to die waiting for you to fuss over whether or not you should just come out with it.”
Emily’s first inclination was to hit him upside the head, but she had enough sense to see the humor in his words and took comfort in the fact that he cared. It’s hard to keep friends when you’re the last living member of your species, under constant threat of paranormal demise, and those that did stay became as close knit as the family she lost long ago. She was lucky for everyone that she still had left in this world, and took solace in the strength they’d given her to complete this momentous of tasks— whatever it was that she had to do.
“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” Emily confessed with a hand outstretched, “I see people fighting for me… dying for me... all because of what I’m supposed to be. I never asked for this, never shook any secret handshake or drank from any sacrificial chalice. I inherited this from my mother… on the night she died. The only person that could ever show me what it means to be a summoner… gone from this world.”
“I never considered how terrible it must’ve been for you both, at such a young age,” Samuel said, taking firm hold of Emily’s shaky hand, “You both have limitless potential, it’s only a shame those talents need be used in such unpleasant ways. My heart goes to you, Emily Johansson, and it wishes for a day when we’ll be able to return home to our loved ones.”
“Oh?” Emily asked with a dumbfounded expression, “…You’re married! Oh my god, I never even thought to ask! Why haven’t you ever told me about this? Who’s the lucky lady?”
“I’m afraid my life doesn’t allow me the luxury of meeting women,” Samuel said with a wide grin, “Save for the few harpies and succubae I’ve stumbled across… but believe me, there’s no kind of lovin’ I want from those women.”
“Bullshit.”
“Oh, all right, fine,” Samuel said, backing down, “The succubae were hot, but I knew it’d be the end of me if I acted on those feelings… I swear!”
“Sure, I believe you.”
“I swear!” Samuel called out in protest; only this time not even he believed it anymore, “Okay… we really need to change the subject—.”
A stirring from the bed caught their attention and they both waited patiently for their friend to awaken from his slumber.
“You guys want to keep it down?” Steven asked with a fresh-faced smile, “Some of us are trying to get some sleep.”
“I’ve been so worried about you,” Emily gushed as she ran to her brother and threw her arms around him, “You’ve given us all a good scare.”
“Yeah,” Steven chuckled, “Somehow, I don’t think many of the others around this camp feel the same way.”
“Give them time,” Emily said as she squeezed tighter onto her brother. “They just don’t know anything about you.”
“Well I’ve killed almost everyone they’ve ever known,” Steven muttered, “If there was ever a case of starting off on the wrong foot, this would surely be it.”
“Tell me about your dreams,” Samuel said, decidedly less enthusiastic than the summoner.
“I saw my parents,” Steven revealed.
The two of them were taken aback for a moment, and Emily found herself tiptoeing away back over towards Samuel. The memories of Amata’s hold over her in the dream world were still fresh in Emily’s mind, and the thought of the vampire queen once again influencing her brother was almost more than she could bear.
Emily reached out one more time for Samuel’s hand, and found the comfort he brought quick to return.
“It wasn’t like that,” Steven replied with a saddened look, “It was the day they left, and father and I had just finished playing a game of catch. We came inside… and the smell… oh, sister, I can still remember the smell of mom’s fresh baked hushpuppies. I must’ve had a half dozen before she caught me dipping into the dinner desserts. She wasn’t upset though… no, not like all the other times I would spoil my appetite silly with pastries before supper. She just knelt down, looked back at me with melancholy eyes— eyes I never fully understood until today. And then she gave me a hug that could’ve lasted a lifetime had you not run into the room.”
A tear beaded down Emily’s face as she listened to her brother explain their last memory of their parents alive. Somehow, listening to the events through the eyes of another gave her newfound insight to their parent’s life, as if their world came a little bit closer together with each new experience she shared through her brother’s eyes
.
“Even then, mom knew, didn’t she?” Steven asked, “She knew that her time was coming to an end. She had lived for thousands of years, alone and without a friend in the world. Then she met father and settled down after an eternity of running… and so set in motions that would one day lead to her downfall. She allowed herself to find love, knowing full well that it would eventually kill her. Even in the face of certain danger, all she wanted to do was love us for one moment longer. Because that’s what she was… love, in all of its many forms.”
“Where are you going with this?” Emily asked with tears now streaming down her face, barely able to listen to anymore of her brother’s dream.
“Nowhere, I guess,” Steven said, shrugging his shoulders, “I guess that I just wanted to experience the dream… one more time. I miss them, Emily, and I fear that we’ve strayed so far from the path they had in mind for us.”
Outside, far removed from the warmth and comfort of the makeshift infirmary tent, Xander stood alone in the shadows. His gaze lingered on hands once again clasped inside the tent. Strong emotions stirred within the depths of his heart, blackened from years of self-inflicted torture and malnutrition. Even if she wouldn’t admit the truth to herself, Xander knew he was losing Emily before he ever truly had her to begin with. They were happy, at peace, and he didn’t want to ruin the moment with the realities of their situation— not right now, at least.
He stormed off into the night, thoughts of the final preparations etched firmly into his mind. It was going to be the hardest order he’d ever have to give, but he saw little in the way of options and necessity meant he would have to call on one of his generals to make the ultimate sacrifice.
“I saw hoping that I’d find you here,” Xander said as he approached the remains of what used to be the castle’s stables.
“I lost some good men trying to evacuate the stables when the blood demon awoke,” Horace said, sitting on a stone with his face covered in soot and ash, “They were some of the best men and women that I’ve ever had the opportunity serve with… and they died for a war that was brought to them by the master of this house.”
“You’re angry, I see that,” Xander replied, “But you must see the importance of our war. All our dead will carry no meaning unless we can finish the work they died to defend.”
“I know that, sire,” said Horace, “Please know that you’ve done more for me than anyone… and the respect I have for you knows no bounds; but I cannot shake the memories of the fallen and the lives that still remain in harm’s way. We can’t all be cold-blooded killers, Lord Franson, no matter how much blood you introduce into our systems.”
“What if I were to give you that chance?” Xander asked, “...The chance to make sure that no one else need be a victim to the horde’s I’ve brought to our land.”
“What would you have me do?” Horace asked, his interests now piqued as he turned to face his undead master.
Xander answered with an extended parchment, produced from his black cloak and burned slightly from the wreckage that hid it until excavation.
Horace grabbed for the parchment and read through its contents at a hurried pace. His eyes lit up when he approached the end, but the luster was quickly lost when he realized the implications of such a ritual.
“I can’t complete what you ask,” Horace said.
“Nonsense,” Xander said, “I had over a dozen mages at my disposal, but I never trusted any of them as much as I trust you. Sure, they liked to think themselves connected to the divine at a higher level, but it’s only a matter of remembering the correct incantations and state of mind. You can do this, Horace. I know you can.”
“I wish that I could,” Horace replied with earnestness, “Perhaps this act is the only way to atone for the choices I’ve made over the years; but the fact remains that I’m not nearly powerful enough for this kind of spell. Surely, your personal warlock would be—.”
“No,” Xander interrupted, “He’s dead… his body found atop this very parchment. He died with the rest of his circle in the blaze that destroyed everything we both held close. They were in meditation when the building started to quake… never even had a chance to get out in time.”
“I’d be honored to be your champion,” Horace said as he tried to hand the parchment back to his master, “But the truth of the matter is that I just can’t do what you ask.”
“No, my dearest friend,” Xander repeated with a devilish grin, “You must.”
Chapter Six
“Oh, there are people in there, all right,” the werewolf commander said with his nose pressed to the sky, “There might not be anyone walking the parapets or manning the turrets, but they are in that castle… I can smell it.”
Amata and her closest generals commanded the army through the forest, led only by a few select scouts. They were only a few minutes from the castle, and still had only happened across a few random detachments of ghouls. Their army was hungry for battle, and soon threatened to erupt into chaos were she not to unleash them soon enough. They were bloodthirsty and cold-hearted murderers with the strength of ten men apiece, the perfect kind of army for guerilla warfare— the kind that could topple governments.
“None of this makes any sense, mistress,” said William, “We should’ve at least run up against a few squadrons by now. Have their forces really withered to shreds, or do they lead us into a trap?”
“There’s no trap to be had,” Lady Amata said, “If their delusional enough to believe their tricks can withstand an army of this magnitude… they’re going to be rudely awakened to the power that I wield. Those of us that do not make it, well, let’s just say they were never in my grand designs to begin with.”
“You’d throw thousands to their deaths?” William asked, making sure to keep his voice down.
“I’d throw ten thousand, or a million, to their deaths if it meant securing our legacy for generations to come!” Lady Amata bellowed, not having the same care that William just had for the opinions of those she deemed her lesser, “The summoner’s going to die… and the sooner that happens… the sooner my plans can truly begin.”
“O’larg!” Lady Amata shouted, “I have need of you and your men!”
Less than a mile away, at the entrance to the house of Alexander Franson, undead ruler of its domain, not a single lookout had been posted; just like the horde scouts had observed. It was quiet, lifeless, and for the first time since its walls had been erected, at peace with the world around it.
All of the changed in the blink of an eye, when seven trolls sprang forth from the forest with clubs raised high into the air. They moved effortlessly over the rocky terrain and charged the mountainous castle with nary a regard for their own welfare. All that mattered to them was the battle, and with it, the chances to add many new appendages to their already-cluttered armor.
“Let death fall to our enemy… and anyone who dares stand in our way!” Lady Amata shrieked as she let her sword arm drop. Beyond the trolls laid something far more dangerous, and now they too, emerged from the shadowy forests to leave siege upon the unsuspecting.
They passed through the stone arches that protected the inner courtyard. Not a single soldier mounted defense and the horde steamrolled through their walls with no blood upon their swords. The monsters were furious, thoughts of the summoner boiling in their blood, just waiting to exact their wrath upon her.
“I don’t understand, mistress,” William said, “We should’ve met resistance by now. The lights are on… yet nobody’s home.”
“I feel it, too,” Lady Amata replied, “Yet the werewolf wasn’t wrong, either. I can smell the blood… it’s everywhere… swirling around me and forcing its way down my throat. I want to feast, William… a hunger unlike any I’ve ever felt.”
And then, with a sudden revelation about the most interesting sensation that had befallen her, she called forth for her most fearsome commander and ordered that this travesty be brought to a halt.
“O’larg,” L
ady Amata commanded, “I want you to run straight into that stone pillar… full speed.”
“As the vampire queen commands,” O’larg said jarringly. He gathered some speed and charged straight for one of the pillars that held up the stone archway above the entrance.
Much to the dismay of the horde, each calling bets on who’d win between the stone and the giant, the massive troll passed through the pillar with not one scratch upon his skin. The crowd stood in confusion was to what had transpired, but as a student of the forbidden arts, Amata was already two steps ahead.
She brought her fingers to her lips and muttered some incantations in rapid succession, until the moment when the spell broke free and spewed forth from her mouth like an erupting volcano, burst forth from the fiery domain of Hell.
A swirling stream of blood-red energy raised high into the night sky and took off feverishly into the many tiny alleyways that ran throughout the castle. It was more than mere mist; the bloody aura was alive and self-aware. It was hungry, on the hunt, and in dire need of that everlasting nourishment— the blood of the unworthy.
A Moonlit Night - The Complete Saga Page 20