by R A Browell
First the longbows had inflicted their injuries as the sky filled with a deadly rain of arrows, released with enough force to puncture through the best steel armour plate. Then there was the onslaught of spears and javelins, followed by the adrenaline fuelled war cries and the charge of the cavalry. Horses trampled, as their noblemen riders swung their swords, lopping off limbs and taking slices out of helmeted heads, before they in turn were felled, to be speared or spiked.
The infantry followed the cavalry; shouting and screaming foot soldiers, face-to-face in tortuous hand-to-hand combat, where each could feel the crack of shattered bone under his sword, see the parting of sliced flesh and smell the spurting of fresh blood. The cries and groans of fallen opponents would stay with them for a lifetime and always there followed the final, laboured, heavy gasp for breath, with each man praying that the sound of life ebbing away wasn’t his own, and that by sunset he would, by the grace of God, be able to go back home to his wife, children and farm.
The six sanguins descended, like beautifully plumed vultures, ready to feed at twilight. The air was dark, heavy and blood-filled over the battlefield where bodies of the dead and dying lay beside those who were injured, but who had some real hope of recovery. Scavengers wandered across the field, turning over bodies, cutting rings off fingers, taking purses full of coins that were now of little use to their dead owners.
Hugin flew ahead, leading the way, calling for his brother, Mugin, as more ravens and other carrion-lovers joined the banquet. They circled, waiting for the last movement, the last flinch from a ruined body, before gliding in to peck eyes from sockets and to pull the soft fleshy remains from the wounds of the recently departed.
‘So we feed on the dead? But how?’ asked Vebbia quietly.
Morrigan quickly glanced at Valkira as both turned to stare at Morwick.
‘You mean to say that she’s never been taught how to feed properly?’ Valkira asked. Her superior sounding voice made Vebbia shrink back.
‘It is my responsibility. I will show her,’ Morwick replied with a severity that Vebbia struggled to remember. ‘May I suggest we separate and join the scavengers? We’ll look less obvious that way.’
So much had happened and he seemed so changed, even in the few short years that they’d been apart. Vebbia was struggling to understand this husband of hers, who seemed so sure of himself. He turned his attention back to her.
‘Vebbia, we must join those who look to recover their fallen ones on the field. Most will stop looking at nightfall and resume their search in the morning. It is a good time for us now. Follow me.’
He spoke in a low voice as he took her firmly by the hand and led her out into the falling light, across the corpse-scattered field. A few women were still searching, crying out as they wandered across the battleground, calling out the names of their loved ones, pulling over the mutilated bodies, looking hopefully into each face for any sign of life. They wanted to find their fallen heroes alive; able to be nursed back to their lives as farmers, farriers, fathers, husbands and sons.
‘You will help me, won’t you?’ Vebbia whispered anxiously, trying to ignore the sweet smell of fresh blood that permeated the air around them. ‘And make sure that whoever I feed from has already passed over?’
‘Always,’ he replied. ‘Look. Here.’
He pointed to a pile of bodies. Bloodied arms and legs hung loose and he started pulling them off each other, laying each corpse out, carefully feeling for any residual pulse.
‘But I thought you said that you only fed from the dead?’ Vebbia asked. ‘Why not just take the first one you find and feed. Get it over with quickly?’ she asked, consciously steeling herself and her desire to feed.
‘Because, my love, as unpalatable as it sounds, it really does taste much better if the heart is still beating.’
‘But it must have stopped before we feed. If it’s still beating then they have a chance. We have to help them. They must be dead before we feed.’
‘This one!’ he said, ignoring her and lifting a boy, no more than fifteen years old. He moaned as he was laid on the damp grass.
‘He’s still here, at least for a few moments, but it won’t be long. Watch over him, listen for his heart and when it fails, then you must take what you need.’
He moved away into the darkness, leaving her alone with her food. Vebbia bent down and gazed at the boy. He wasn’t much younger than she was; still a child. She looked around, found a fallen standard and ripping the cloth, made a rough pillow for the fallen boy-soldier and then gently lifted his head.
‘Water…’ he whispered with a rasping voice as he opened his eyes.
She unhooked the skin bottle from his belt and offered a little water to his lips, deliberately avoiding looking at the huge gash in his abdomen as she tried to not think of his blood seeping away into the earth, and then made soothing sounds to try and ease his journey. He smiled, looking up at her with his mud-smeared face, his last breath long and low as she stroked his forehead and then closed his lifeless eyes and kissed him goodnight.
It wasn’t until she’d nursed four more soldiers, comforting them in their final minutes, watching over them, stroking their brows, talking gently and telling them that she wouldn’t leave them and that she’d be there as they made their final journey to the other side, that she heard a different cry. She stood and walked a few paces through the darkness, stepping over the fallen bodies and debris and then she stopped. The cry she’d heard had no immediate direction; in fact, it almost seemed to be in her head.
She closed her eyes and saw a man; a brave and experienced warrior. He was alive, staring up at her as he sat, exhausted after the day’s efforts with his back resting against a smooth rock. She looked down at his wounds. He was injured, but it was a clean flesh-wound to the leg and seemed uncomplicated. Vebbia kept her eyes closed and watched as two hands, hands that she recognised, pulled the spear swiftly out of the soldier’s leg and handed him a wad of cloth. The warrior grimaced, pressed the makeshift pad against the wound to stop the fresh flow of blood, and then looked directly up at Vebbia with a look of sheer terror. Vebbia started and reeled back in horror. Not from the look of terror on the soldier’s face but from what she saw reflected in his battle-weary eyes. Staring back at her was the mirror image of her husband, his eyes filled with desire, his jaw distorted by the extension of his sanguin feeding teeth, his lips pulled back ready to feed. She wanted the image to disappear but was compelled to watch. Through Morwick’s eyes she saw the injured soldier as he struggled to flee from the predator who was now bearing down and about to feed from him. She watched in horror as her husband took a torturer’s delight in the trembling terror of his victim as he moved in for the kill, and the final pleasure as Morwick closed his eyes and sank his teeth deep into the neck of the man and began to feed.
Vebbia opened her eyes. The vision was gone. She was betrayed.
Why, when there was so much food had her husband killed in cold blood? It wasn’t need, it couldn’t be need; not here. This was something different. She recalled the cruelty and malice etched deep into her husband’s face; the pure, unadulterated desire that she had seen reflected in that poor soldier’s eyes. This was a man whom she had known since childhood; her friend and companion, someone with whom she had grown into adulthood, grown to love and someone who now, she hardly recognised.
And then she stopped.
Her breathlessness was stilled in a flash of realisation. She was filled with understanding and as she fell to her knees, she felt the bile rise into her throat and she started to retch. She remembered the taste of his blood, freely given and freely accepted and what he had said to her.
‘Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh, kin of my kin.’ But it wasn’t.
To have taken the blood of Morwick, her husband was one thing, but to have suckled from his twin brother, Mortragon, was a complete betrayal. And now the two of them were bound by the blood that she had taken from his body - his vampire blood that
now ran through her veins. She thought back to the vision of the healthy warrior and the abject terror scored into his face and wept. Mortragon had tricked her. She had to get away from this place of death, destruction and falsehood before he got back and found her.
Unclean and violated, she lifted herself from the ground, took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. She looked around. Everything was still and dark. She had no idea where she was but she had already decided. She set off running, pounding the soft ground as fast as her strength would allow her, travelling with the speed of night, and then some more, fleeing from the realm of Mortragon’s darkness, towards a future alone, and as yet unknown.
Pergamont Castle
Farisia - Present day
‘So you’re not worried about carrying a sanguin, a real life human vampire?’ Lily Carfax asked as she leaned into Aegle’s mane, catching a glimpse of the epona’s bright blue eyes.
Lily and her sanguin friends, Hari Pradesh, Charlie Dodds and James Crowley had passed through one of the many cup and ring marking gateways and had arrived in Farisia with Silky, Lily’s fairy godmother, who just happened to be a nymph. Through Silky, Lily had been summoned by the ruling body of Farisia, the Laudis, to appear before them and all the teenagers knew, was that the summons was something to do with an Earthcry that Lily had seen and heard back in the human world, which apparently threatened the existence of the whole planet. Silky had arranged for them to get a ride on the epona; horse-like creatures that moved with the speed of the wind and which could, much to Lily’s surprise, speak!
The wind was roaring in Lily’s ears as they galloped across vast fertile plains. It was how Lily had imagined the American Prairies, although there was no sign of Auntie Em or Uncle Henry, only flat fields that seemed to go on forever with no habitation in sight. Even with the epona’s extraordinary speed, Lily wondered if they would arrive at civilisation before dark. Aegle spoke with an archaic politeness.
‘No, that does not concern me, daughter of Vebbia. Silchoferous is honourable and we trust her. If she says that you are our friend who can be trusted, then we hold with that. There are some who are not prepared to trust the word of a nymph, but we epona are not of this mind. We have too often been associated with the dark forces purely because of our colour. That Silchoferous chooses to befriend us when other nymphs, particularly the dryads, look with suspicion towards us, is not forgotten, nor is the kindness of your ancestor, Mistress Vebbia of Carfax to the epona.’ He paused. ‘Silchoferous is honest and brave and is not afraid to make her own decisions. We respect her for that. Appearances can be deceptive. Like you, Lily Carfax, our trust is based on instinct, not on mere outward appearance or unfounded myth. So no, I have no fear. My instinct tells me that you and your friends are no threat, although it is strange to hear of four of your kind travelling together in this world. There are others who may have concerns.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Lily, leaning forward. She rode as though she and Aegle were one, adjusting her own movements to those made by the epona, aligning herself naturally to the pace of the magnificent animal. ‘What do you mean it’s strange to see four of us together?’ she asked again.
Aegle was using all six nostrils, his lungs expanding to open his chest cavity like a balloon, as the oxygen passed into his lungs.
‘Three or four of your kind together is a hunting pack. If others know what you are, they too will wonder about your purpose and why you travel together. There are those who will naturally assume that you are a hunting expedition,’ Aegle replied.
‘But that’s not true,’ replied Lily and then she reddened when she thought back to the Cranmere Beast, a large cat that she had brought down on her first proper hunting expedition. ‘We didn’t come together to hunt, we came together because we are friends,’ she explained, but something was nagging at the back of her mind. Was it really friendship that had brought them together or had the friendships been engineered by Rakshasa, Hari’s grandmother? Why had an ancient Indian vampire decided to settle at Pemberton, not far from Carfax Hall and enrol Hari at Hallington High where Lily’s family had attended for centuries? Did the matriarchal vampire know something that Lily didn’t or had she merely been searching the world to find sanctuary for herself and her family and just struck lucky? She was certain Rakshasa’s details hadn’t been included in her mother’s little black book, given to her by Silky once she started her transition into a sanguin, but that didn’t mean Rakshasa wasn’t to be trusted. It just meant that her mother had never tracked the ancient Indian sanguin down. Lily’s thoughts were cut short.
‘Friends?’ asked Aegle, his blue eyes quickly glancing up at her through his thick lashes as he remained focused on the route ahead.
‘We’re at school together,’ explained Lily. ‘We were friends before I even knew what I was.’ Lily paused thoughtfully. ‘I suppose it’s possible that they had an inkling that I might be like them when I joined the school, I’m not sure. I guess they just wanted to look out for me. Wouldn’t you do the same for someone who was like you?’
Aegle said nothing. He just nodded and listened as he ran like the wind to keep up with his brothers.
‘Adjusting to all this is pretty hard,’ Lily continued. ‘We sanguins know nothing until we start transition. No one wants to warn you before it happens, just in case it doesn’t and it’s a frightening experience, especially if you have to face it by yourself. I was only alone for a few days before Silky let me know the secret about what I really was. The others were looking out for me. It’s a long story, but they kind of rescued me. Why do you say that our kind only ever come together to hunt?’ she asked, bending down low so that her face touched Aegle’s mane as the wind flew past her face.
‘To be truthful,’ he admitted, ‘I have never met your kind before today, but the stories tell of solitary predators who come together to hunt. The only exception we know of is your ancestor. She showed kindness and great courage. Farisians are weary of your kind because of your allegiance with the humans.’
‘Allegiance? But there is no allegiance.’
‘Vampires have not been admitted to Farisia for longer than most here can remember. You and your friends are the first in a long time.’
‘But how did we get through the gateway if we’re not supposed to be allowed into your world?’
‘The gatekeepers defend the gateways for both Farisia and Kelpasia but for whatever reason, on this occasion they have decided to let you and your friends through. The sentient rocks, with their ancient memories, have given permission that you and your friends should be allowed to continue on your journey. Their decision should not be questioned.’ Aegle paused. ‘Nearly there,’ he said. ‘Just over those mountains and you’ll see Pergamont for the first time.’
Lily thought about what Aegle had said as she nestled into the glossy silken mane and peered between two attentive ears towards the mountain range ahead. Now she understood why Silky hadn’t argued with the boys. Once Lily had followed her godmother through the stone markings, any argument about the other three was superfluous. Silky had left the final decision to the gatekeepers, and if the ancient stones had allowed her friends through, then who was Silky to argue. That was why Silky had seemed so surprised to see them when they had followed her through the gateway. She didn’t think the gatekeepers would allow them through.
Lily glanced back at the others. Silky was deep in conversation with her epona, her head bent down close to that of her travelling companion who occasionally tossed his mane and gave a high-pitched snort as if she’d said something amusing. Hari was fully exploiting his epona’s speed. He was leaning forward like a jockey with a wide smile on his face, clearly enjoying the ride, but the other two were a different case altogether. Charlie and James both looked pale, their faces contorted in concentration as they struggled to keep their balance. Their arms were clenched tight around each epona’s neck, their knuckles white as they held onto handfuls of thick mane and their long legs were wrapped like
pythons around each creature’s belly. Lily smiled to herself and then finally relaxed as she closed her eyes and allowed her whole self to be completely at one with the breath-taking speed and graceful agility of her beautiful black epona.
*
Lily didn’t know what to expect from Pergamont. None of them did. Perhaps she’d envisaged some sprawling metropolis or a collection of forest huts but what Lily eventually saw as they emerged from the mountains was an open valley, eroded by the elements over millions of years so that the valley floor was wide and flat, with steep cliffs rising up dramatically at each side. Along the bottom was a long, clear blue lake and in the middle of the lake, a huge rocky island, and sitting on it a compact walled city, which dominated the valley and the vast fertile plains beyond.
Connecting the island to the shore of the lake was a wide, cobbled causeway and at the island end Lily could just make out a gateway set into high stone walls which seemed to almost touch the silvery surface of the water. Lily quickly scanned the walls, taking in every detail of their defences. Tall turrets surrounded the city, each topped with a brightly coloured flag that waved proudly in the gentle breeze, whilst thin slivers of light escaped from the tiny slit windows that were dotted all around the walls, and as Lily raised her eyes above the great stone blocks, she could see a plethora of tiny houses, stacked one on top of the other, winding up the rock island and jumbled like children’s building blocks. Higher still, stood an immense sprawling castle that dominated the skyline as a thousand tiny lights began to twinkle in the twilight, making the whole place look like a spectacular, stone-built Christmas tree. Silky turned to the others as the epona slowed.