Darkness Is Rising

by C. M. Sipes

  Marcella smiled softly at the mention of her maker.

  “Do you miss her?” Vittoria asked.

  “Yes,” Marcella replied immediately. “She was my family, after…”

  Vittoria nodded in understanding. “I know.”

  The walked in silence for a few more moments before Marcella sighed and looked at her heir. “Shall we fly?”

  Vittoria did not bother to respond. She merely leapt into the air, seamlessly transforming into the swarm, before flying through the night sky. Marcella followed behind, eyes scanning the forest below them and noting the positions of the wolves on guard.

  They reached the wolves’ encampment in a few minutes, both women shifting back to their human forms and landing just outside of the area. A great howl went up through the faction, alerting Marius and Aerona to their presence. Marcella looked at Vittoria, offering a nod of encouragement while they awaited their adversaries.

  “Marcella Camelius,” Marius said in greeting with a rough Scottish accent as he approached.

  Marius’ presence had always unnerved Vittoria. He had wild coarse red hair and bright green eyes, with a jagged scar that ran from the hairline of his left side down his cheek to his jaw. He was born in Scotland, only a few years after Marcella was born. He was raised as a Druid and was bitten while at war with the Romans—a blessing to his people. Marius had quickly adjusted to life with his gift, using his newfound strength to protect both his mortal people and his new pack. He showed his kind the strength and cunning he possessed, easily a natural born leader. The Alpha at the time had heard of Marius’ potential, and put him through the series of tests that would determine whether he would be a suitable candidate or not. Marius expertly passed each trial and was declared the progeny to the Alpha, remaining under his watchful eye until the day he fell in battle and Marius went through his final test. He was gifted with the strength of the Alpha and received the mark, the red-rimmed yellow eyes signifying their position, and had ruled since. Marius ruled ruthlessly and harshly, but fairly. Apparently, he was a kind man…up until his family was brutally slaughtered by bloodlusters. Thus, the hatred for the vampire kind was born.

  “Marius,” Marcella replied tersely.

  “Vittoria,” Aerona said in greeting, ignoring the look of disdain that Marius shot her.

  “Aerona. You look well,” Vittoria replied with a soft smile.

  “I believe we are to exchange our terms, not make small talk,” Marius said, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

  “Fair enough, Marius,” Vittoria said with a glint in her eye. “We shall commence battle tomorrow evening, one hour after sundown. Victory will only be achieved through death or surrender of a leader.”

  Marius sneered. “I see you taught her your Roman ruthlessness, Marcella. Cruel, cold, merciless, and delivered like a politician.”

  “No different than you,” Vittoria said easily.

  Marius growled and Aerona gently placed a hand on his chest to stop him. “I accept the terms,” said Aerona.

  “As do I,” Marcella agreed.

  “As do I,” Marius added before taking a step back, his cruel eyes glaring at the vampires in front of him.

  “Very well, see you tomorrow on the battlefield, Marius,” Vittoria said before turning on her heel and leaping into the air. She shifted and took flight, Marcella following behind her, as they flew back to the castle.

  Marcella awoke just before sundown at the sound of Vittoria’s doors slamming open. She sat up in her bed, ears alert and listening as she heard her heir growl, the sounds of her footsteps quickly disappearing as they rushed through the castle. She leapt from her bed, hurrying from her room and following Vittoria’s smell down into the dungeons.

  “Vittoria?” Marcella called as she finished rushing down the stairs, her eyes falling on the cell door that lay crumpled in the middle of the hall.

  She sighed as she walked to the cell, the other humans cowering in fear as she strode by. Their eyes were not focused on her though. They focused, in fear, on the hunched-over body of Vittoria, eagerly feasting on a young man’s neck. Blood stained her face and hands as she greedily drank.

  Marcella listened as the man’s heart began to slow. She stopped behind her heir, gently reaching out and touching Vittoria’s shoulder in preparation to rip her from her meal. The moment the heartbeat stilled, Marcella gripped Vittoria’s shoulder and yanked her away from the man, his lifeless body falling onto the straw-covered stone below. She tossed Vittoria backwards, her body turning as Vittoria hit the wall and slid down to the floor, her head and shoulders slumped.

  “You are lucky I am here,” Marcella whispered as she moved to sit next to Vittoria’s body, ignoring the terrified wails of the prisoners.

  “Indeed I am,” Vittoria slurred as her head rolled back and rested against the wall, blood smearing her face and her red eyes hazy.

  “I assume you dreamt of her,” Marcella said with a sigh.

  “She affects me in a way I have never felt before,” Vittoria said quietly, her speech still slightly slurred as she turned her head to face Marcella. “It is like there is a hold on me when I dream of her. I feel everything she feels. See—everything she sees and taste everything she tastes. I cannot escape her. No matter how much I have tried.”

  “What did you see?” Marcella asked gently.

  Vittoria looked at her maker, a tired smile on her face as she began to recount the memory.

  Lilith arrived at her throne room, easily pushing through the solid doors and entering the chamber before her. Anatu sat on her throne, her tired brown eyes meeting Lilith’s.

  “So, you grace me with your presence after subjecting me to the council for hours?” Anatu asked. No anger oozed from her voice, only exhaustion, to which Lilith smiled softly.

  “I was busy.”

  “No doubt decimating an entire village to satiate your blood thirst.”

  “How did you know?” Lilith asked with a smirk as she approached the throne. She stopped before Anatu though, not taking her seat as the younger vampire expected.

  “What is it?”

  “How was the council this evening?” Lilith asked seriously.

  “Their usual pompous selves. They argue and squabble amongst themselves, like birds.”

  “Do you think they are too powerful?”

  Anatu eyed her maker a moment. “What do you mean by that, Lilith?”

  “Do you believe that they are too strong? Too fast, too cunning, too… me?” Lilith asked seriously.

  Anatu thought for a moment, aware that whatever answer she gave would come with dire consequences.

  “Yes.”

  Lilith’s eyes flashed and a white toothy grin graced her face. “Excellent.”

  “You believe this is excellent? Why?”

  “Zaidu!” Lilith called; listening as the doors opened and a young man entered the room.

  “Yes, my Queen?” Zaidu asked as he dropped to one knee.

  “Call every council member back here. I wish to speak to them,” Lilith ordered, smiling when the young man did as she said.

  “Lilith, what are you planning?” Anatu asked her maker as Lilith sat on her throne.

  Lilith gave no answer. Instead, she sat in silence, examining her nails as she patiently awaited the return of the council. Anatu knew better than to press her though. Lilith operated on her own agenda, speaking only when she decided.

  Slowly, the members of their council began to enter the room, taking their designated seats and watching with bright eyes as they waited for Lilith to speak.

  Once every member was in the room, Lilith nodded to Zaidu to close the door. “Do you know why I have called you all back here?”

  “Perhaps it is because you were too busy gorging yourself on blood to be bothered with attending our meeting?” one member spoke up, drawing a chuckle from the others.

  Anatu tensed in her seat, her mouth opening to silence them for their insolence, but Lilith stopped her with a simp
le wave of her hand.

  Lilith slowly stood from her throne, a cold smile on her face as she carefully walked forward to the council member. She eyed him a moment before reaching out, so quickly that even Anatu missed it, and ripped the throat from his body. Blood squirted out, landing on Lilith’s tanned skin as his body crumbled to dust. The other council members and Anatu tensed as Lilith dropped his throat to the ground, turning into dust as it landed with the rest.

  “I have tolerated this council’s insolence for far too long,” Lilith began, her voice deep and eyes slowly turning a deep blood-red. “I understand that you all feel superior because you were created not long after I created Anatu, and therefore are stronger than your subsequent creations. However, I am here to tell you that is not the case.”

  Lilith turned and faced the room, her blood-red eyes slowly moving over each council member. Anatu scooted to the edge of her seat; anxiously awaiting what Lilith would do next.

  “It appears that you all have forgotten who I am. So, allow me to refresh your pathetic memories.” Lilith paused, her arms raising and stretching out to the sides in a grandiose gesture. “I am your God. I am your Queen. I rule you. I gave you life and I can just as easily take it away from you. Yes, you may all be stronger than other vampires, since I created you. However, you are nowhere near as strong as Anatu or I. You have tested my patience long enough, and I believe that it is time to elect a new council.”

  Anatu’s eyes widened as Lilith spoke to the room. She knew Lilith’s habits, her movements, and her body language. She could tell by the slight ripple on her maker’s skin that she was more irritated than she appeared. The slight shift in weight told Anatu that Lilith was readying herself for a kill.

  Lilith proved her assessment correct a moment later when she rushed forward and easily ripped the head from the shoulders of another council member. She quickly moved around the room, making quick work of each vampire. Their blood spewed from their wounds before turning into dust, coating the floor and Lilith’s body. Her roars echoed through the chamber while the council members screamed in fear, each attempting to flee as far as possible from the Queen.

  Anatu remained seated on her throne, watching the event unfold. She did not even flinch when splatters of warm liquid hit her body. Her eyes remaining trained on the blur of Lilith’s form as she raced about the space, dust piles appearing shortly after her disappearance.

  Lilith stilled.

  Her form stopped in the middle of the room, body slick with the red liquid as dust piles surrounded her. She slowly turned to look at her heir. Her blood-red eyes met Anatu’s and a slow grin spread across her face as she licked her fangs, cleaning them of the blood that coated them.

  “And just like the gods—I can give life,” Lilith began, “and take it away in an instant.” She snapped her fingers for emphasis, her grin widening.

  Vittoria looked at her maker as she finished her tale. Marcella’s eyes were glaring holes in the ground before them as she mulled over what Vittoria had shared with her.

  “I know of this memory. I remember it as well,” Marcella said after another moment of silence.

  “Does she frighten you?” Vittoria asked quietly.

  “Yes,” Marcella replied before glancing at her heir. “Does she frighten you?”

  “No,” Vittoria said easily before looking down at her hands. “That answer—it frightens me more than she does. I should be frightened of her, yet I am not. If anything her presence almost comforts me. It sets me on edge and is comforting at the same time.”

  Marcella eyed Vittoria curiously, attempting to understand what Vittoria was experiencing, but she was unable to come to the same conclusion.

  “The bloodlust continues to grow worse,” Vittoria whispered, her eyes slowly turning red once more as she looked at Marcella. “It frightens me, and I fear I might go mad each time I awake. My stomach aches as if I haven’t eaten in centuries.”

  “You are almost at the end of Lilith’s reign. Soon, you will be free of her memories altogether,” Marcella attempted to soothe.

  Vittoria sighed, “I hope you are correct.”

  “Mothers are always correct.”

  Vittoria laughed, a genuine smile appearing on her face as she stood and helped Marcella up. “We need to ready ourselves. War begins soon.”

  “Indeed, my child,” Marcella replied as they exited the cell. She ordered one of the guards to fix the door Vittoria had destroyed before they quickly ascended to their rooms.

  They went their separate ways, entering their individual chambers where their attendants greeted them both. Vittoria moved to the center of the room and took a seat. Her handmaidens quickly set to work, brushing her hair out before layering intricate braids through it to keep it from getting in her face during battle. Two Dutch braids ran side by side from the edge of her hairline and toward the back of her head, on both sides. The hair in the middle of her head was brushed back and braided, keeping her face free. She stood once they finished and moved to her armor, where they began retrieving the pieces and dressing her.

  They placed a mail skirt on her first, then the breastplate, the pauldrons, the vambraces, and then gauntlets for her arms. They began strapping in the armor for her thighs, the tassets, the poleyns for her knees, then her greaves—and lastly her boots. Her armor was made of steel, and was well polished.

  The armor, though, was a favorite of hers. There were intricate designs covering each piece that were made of gold. The patterns dipped and swirled, each connecting with the next, even though it was on a separate plate of armor.

  Vittoria moved to her vanity as one of the handmaidens brought in the bowl she requested. The girl sat it down on the wooden surface before giving a bow and departing the room with the others. She dipped her hands into the vessel, coating her fingers with the red liquid and raised it to her eyes, smearing it across them and to the sides of her face like war paint. The blood began to slowly roll down her cheeks some, stopping, and then drying in its spot as she examined herself in the mirror. Her eyes slowly changed to red, and she thought how frightened she would have been of Marcella if she had seen her like this when they first met.

  She looked like a demon.

  The red eyes, and blood surrounding them, contrasted with the whiteness of her skin and the blondness of her hair. It stood out against the silver and gold shine of her armor, a perfect contrast of blood and gold.

  “Are you ready?” Marcella asked as she entered the room. Her armor resembled that of Vittoria’s—steel with gold-plated designs running through the surface. Her hair also was braided with two Dutch braids, but only on one side. Blood smeared her eyes, streaking from her brow to just below her cheeks.

  “Indeed,” Vittoria muttered as she moved toward Marcella. They exited the room and made their way to exit the castle. There, two soldiers stood waiting, their arms outstretched as they held their swords for the taking.

  Vittoria grabbed her sword by the hilt, swinging it upward and examining it. It was a spatha, used greatly during the Roman period and replacing the gladius. The sword was shorter than a long sword, but longer than the gladius, providing her with more reach and control. The blade was gorgeous polished steel, with a golden hilt laden with jewels. At the end of the hilt rested a ruby, complementing the blood that smeared her eyes.

  She smirked as she twirled the sword, masterfully sheathing it and strapping it to her waist. Marcella followed her lead, performing the same action with her own sword, before they strolled out of the castle doors.

  “The mortals are already on the field,” Marcella called to Vittoria as they stopped outside the gates. The armored vampires had amassed outside of the castle, waiting for the signal. They had managed to gather close to five thousand men and women to fight for them, bloodlusters included.

  “We will send the signal when it is time to strike! To your positions!” Vittoria yelled to the group as she began to run toward the field where the battle would take place. Marcella was fo
llowing behind her, the slight clank of her armor echoing as they ran.

  They reached the field quickly, coming to a halt at the back of their mortal forces. Vittoria’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the massive force of growling wolves that rested just on the next hill.

  “There are many indeed,” Marcella muttered to Vittoria as she eyed the mass.

  “Do you think we shall succeed?” Vittoria asked seriously.

  “For everyone’s sake, I hope so.” Marcella unsheathed her sword and looked at Vittoria. “Are you ready?”

  Vittoria merely nodded as she unsheathed her own sword.

  She raised it above her head and gave a war cry, commanding the force of mortals to begin their descent on the wolves.

  Their force rushed forward, their swords raised and war cries echoing around them as they sprinted ahead. The devourers were the first to rush to attack, their massive forms kicking up the grass as they surged toward the enemy force.

  They met in a clash; mortal screams of terror ringing out when they realized they were fighting beasts, not men. Many tried to turn and flee, but the devourers were too quick. Their jaws latched onto their bodies, clamping down and ripping them to shreds. Blood began to pool on the field, which stirred the devourers into frenzy.

  Vittoria raised her sword once more and released a roar.

  Soon, forms of vampires descended on the wolves from the nearby woods on all sides. Vittoria could make out Marius’ irritated silhouette as many of the wolves began to shift to their beast forms.

  “Do nothing stupid,” Marcella said seriously before she rushed toward the battle, her sword raised in attack as she approached.

  Vittoria followed her lead, reaching the bloodbath quickly and sinking her sword into a nearby wolf—severing its head from its body. She roared as she continued to attack, gracefully moving across the battle, slashing her sword through the air, and cutting down any wolves in her path. Blood splattered her armor and face as the battle intensified around her. She could see the form of Marius in the distance. His red-rimmed yellow eyes glowing in the night as blood dripped from his maw, his claws sinking into vampires and ripping them to shreds before their bodies turned to dust.