The Vampire Gift 4: Darkness Rising

by E. M. Knight

  He had already made his claim on me.

  They pulled me to the largest table in the room. Great vases full of blood stood all around me. Some of the vampires grabbed them and drank. Others still had their jewel-encrusted, golden goblets. Wherever I looked, lips and faces and bodies were covered in blood, but it was not grotesque. It was beautiful.

  I was laid down. So many different hands stroked my body. I shuddered and closed my eyes. I was in ecstasy. I was truly here! I was truly one of them! Why did the others not come? Why did those humans I grew up with never venture below ground? To be amongst the gods, to be lost in a sea of so many magnificent creatures…

  Why, nothing at all could be the equal.

  The drums kept playing in the background, mixing with the chants and cries of song. The whole experience was as if from another world. It was transcendent. It was so much more than I could ever imagine my life to mean.

  If this were the apex for me, so be it. What paltry human existence could compare?

  The crescendo picked up. The drumming got louder. The hands on my body started touching me in places I did not want touched. The stroking, so loving only seconds before, was turning hurtful. Malicious. Claws came out—of course I didn’t know they were claws, I thought them nails—and scratched long gashes on my skin. I cried out, but even as I did, a draft of sickly sweet wine was poured down my throat, so I sputtered and choked and coughed.

  I started fighting against the hands. But my attempts were pathetically futile. My vision swayed, and my eyes watered, and I coughed and coughed and coughed and was certain I was going to drown.

  But then, from the malevolent sea, came a vision unlike any other. The bodies surrounding me parted. The massive vampire came forth. His lips moved, and he said something, but the words were lost to me in the commotion. He looked only at me, and there was such lust, such zeal in his eyes, that it was instantly reflected in my own body.

  Every single cell opened up to him. Every part of my organism screamed at him to take me.

  Like I say, I was naïve. I had no conception that the ritual would result in death. I thought what he saw in me was propelled by an erotic love. And I felt that love mirrored in me so strongly.

  The huge vampire knelt down. Around him, the others chanted. He went to his knees at my waist and bent over me. I saw his head moving down, toward mine, and I thought he was going to kiss me.

  I went still. The struggle ceased to hold meaning. I opened myself to him, ready to give whatever he would take…

  His lips were a quarter of an inch from my neck when a voice boomed, “STOP!”

  Immediately, the festivities cut out. A silence descended on the chamber so fast it was as if all noise had been swallowed by a void.

  For the first time that night, I felt a trickle of fear.

  Footsteps. Footsteps sounding against the marble floor. Footsteps coming from behind me. Footsteps making their approach.

  The big vampire eased off, and I felt the sudden and biting pang of loss.

  “What,” the same voice which had stopped everything asked, “is going on here?”

  “My Lord.” A wave of longing washed over me as I heard my would-be lover speak. “We found this boy—”

  “Is the blood I give you not enough?” the other voice cut through like ice split by a diamond. “Must you steal the ones who are off-limits to you, too?”

  “He was discovered watching,” the hulking one replied. “We did not break the rules.”

  “No, Dagan. In that, I believe you. But this… this is no ordinary boy.” The man speaking stepped even closer, and for the first time, from my position lying flat, I saw his face. “This is my son.”

  I shudder in memory. That was the only time I had ever been acknowledged as kin by the King. What happened next?

  Well, not even my worst nightmare as a human boy could compare.

  I was whisked away and put in a dark, cold room. There were no windows. There was no door. I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out how I’d gotten in. All I knew was that I was there now.

  At first, I sat cuddled in a small ball on the ground. But then the pathetic nature of my state struck me. I had always prided myself on being smaller than the other children, hadn’t I? It was the only advantageous trait I’d possessed, that, a burning curiosity, and a constant search for knowledge… though that had been all-but-beaten out of me by my human guardians.

  So I got up, after it became clear to me that nobody was coming, and set out to explore.

  I walked to the edge of the room. I put my hand out and touched the wall. I shivered. It was cold, rough stone.

  I had to get a sense of the place, so I slowly crept around, holding a hand out to guide me. The room was one big oval. It was shaped like a flattened egg. There were no entrances or breaks in the facade around me that I could tell.

  Well, that was impossible. I mean, I had gotten inside somehow. I set to searching for the secret door, the outline of which should reveal itself to my sensitive fingers if I just concentrated hard enough…

  I must have searched for hours. All for naught. In the end, all that I accomplished was a feeling of great defeat. I slumped back down.

  But then my eyes went to the ceiling. There, high above me, I thought I saw a momentary glimmer of light.

  I surged to my feet and craned my head up. Had I imagined it? Or was it really there?

  I felt a… presence… in the room with me.

  “Hello?” I ventured. “Who’s there?”

  No answer came.

  But the more I concentrated the more convinced I became. There was somebody above me. I was being watched.

  Growing up, I had an uncanny ability to tell when there were people nearby. The few folk I confided it to did not believe me. But eventually word spread how Riyu could never be caught unaware. And so the people started calling it my sixth sense.

  That sense was in full swing now. I was not alone. I was being watched. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

  Yet what did my observer want?

  My stomach grumbled. I was ravenously hungry. Everything since venturing underground blurred together in my mind. I could tell that I’d been in the room for a matter of hours, but I had no inclination how long ago I had left the humans of my village.

  For all my confusion, it could have been days.

  A sudden, wicked tiredness washed over me. It came entirely unannounced. One second I was on my feet, the next I felt as if I’d been hit over the head by a sledge hammer.

  Little did I know that somebody was using the mind gift on me.

  My knees gave way. I crumbled down. I lay my head on the cold, unforgiving rock, closed my eyes, and slept.

  When I opened them again I was in a brightly lit throne room.

  I gasped and jerked upright. There were braziers all around me. They gave off an orange light that fused with the gleaming, gold ornaments around me.

  There were statues made entirely of gold. There were pieces of coin on the floor, glittering and sparkling in the light. There were jewels, all types of jewels, so many jewels that an armful picked at random would set a man for life.

  And there, far in front of me, standing before an elaborately sculpted throne, were three of the creatures who made the underground their home.

  I recognized two of them immediately. One was the tall vampire who made me feel my first true pangs of desire. The one next to him was the one who’d proclaimed me to be his son. I didn’t know then what that meant, and I assumed the designation to be code for something else. Never in a billion years did I think myself so distinguished as to be fathered by one of these paragons of life.

  And the third—well, he was curious, too, slightly taller than the one in the middle, yet not as tall as the one called Dagan. The third had a reedy look about him, but also one of great patience, of great knowledge. Whereas Dagan scowled at me with undisguised disgust, and the one in the middle—the one Dagan called “my Lord”—looked at me as if I we
re of scarcely more worth than a squashed bug, the third member of their company simply looked at me the way a scholar might at a newly-unearthed artifact, with calm and steady and almost academic interest. But there was no emotion.

  Absolutely none.

  The middle vampire stepped forth. “The witch warned me this would come to pass,” he mumbled. Then, in a loud, strong voice, he addressed me. “Do you know where you are?”

  And when his perfect eyes fell on me… and I was truly put under scrutiny of his gaze… I felt, for the first time, enormous power gravitate out from him.

  It made me cower back. Not in fear, not exactly, but maybe in… respect?

  No. Who was I kidding? I would have soiled my pants had he come any closer.

  But I was a master of self-delusion. I had to be, from the moment I first began to understand my perverse taste in the same sex. Such a secret would have gotten me swiftly killed, had it come out, in those times.

  I took too long to answer. A spasm of rage crossed the vampire’s face, and he flew at me. He closed the distance with unimaginable speed. In fact, it left me reeling from shock. One moment he was nearly a hundred yards away, the next he was on top of me.

  It was as if he hadn’t bothered with the space in between.

  His hand jutted out and wrapped around my neck. I struggled to breathe. I could feel my windpipe being crushed.

  “I asked you a question, boy,” he hissed. “Are you deaf? Do you not understand?”

  Desperately, I shook my head.

  He grunted and flung me down. I hit the floor hard. Pain exploded all over my body.

  “You are in The Crypts,” he informed me. He spread his hands. “And I am the King of all vampires.”

  I blinked, confused, but in a way… understanding.

  “Vampires?” I breathed.

  “That is what we are. You’ve heard the legends? You’ve heard the myths?” The King shook his head. “Whatever. It matters not. The question is how one such as you infiltrated our ranks… and why, this one—” he flung a finger toward Dagan, “–nearly fed on my own blood!”

  Such rage I heard in the King’s voice that it made me cower back. But the huge vampire—Dagan—reacted not at all.

  “My… advisor...” the King gestured to the other vampire, though he did not look at him, “...tells me you have The Spark. Is this true? Are you one of those wretched beings?”

  His lips curled up in a sneer.

  I understood not at all what was happening. Only that I was in imminent danger. The malice pulsed off the lead vampire in waves.

  “Again, you do not speak.” The King turned back to me. “Well, we will instill discipline in you with time. You have a talent, it is true. It is the only reason you still live. A warped, twisted, unnatural talent… but one that we would be remiss to waste.” He grunts. “Dagan. Take him. See that you make a man of him yet.”

  The enormous vampire bowed and started to approach. A dangerous glimmer showed in his eyes, and I felt very real tendrils of fear take hold of me.

  Down on my ass, I scooched back, trying to become as small as possible.

  But when Dagan was halfway to me, that third, unnamed vampire raised a hand.

  I thought I saw a shimmer in the air. And then, a voice boomed in my head.

  “Stand, and prove your worth. Stand, or be forever forsaken by the King.”

  The words were not said as a command, but rather, as a suggestion. And there was great wisdom in them. I could feel it, sure as I could feel my heart pumping in my chest.

  Summoning a courage I did not know I had, I pushed myself up. The King’s head instantly snapped to me. “What’s this?” he whispered.

  Shaking with fear and yet propelled by the words I’d heard, I put one foot firmly on the ground. Both my hands went on the bent knee. With a quick breath, I pushed against my leg and rose to full height.

  The King turned his entire body to me. “Defiance?” he murmured, in question.

  Beyond him, the third vampire smiled.

  “Dagan. Wait,” the King said. “I’ve changed my mind.”

  “My Lord?” Dagan asked.

  “Bring the boy to the Red Keep. See that he is properly fed and that he grows. He is too young yet to be turned.”

  A trickle of excitement made its way down my spine. It seemed totally inappropriate.

  “The witch promised he would come,” the King continued. “I did not believe her. Perhaps I shouldn’t have had her killed. She could have taught him… but then again, what type of man would I be to encourage such things in a boy?”

  He trailed off. A silence fell upon the room. He turned away from me, turned toward a pillar, and examined the fine carvings on the golden rings covering it.

  “Sometimes such is fate,” he said, half to himself. “So be it! I’ll give the boy four years. Four orbits of the earth around the star we can never see. If he proves himself both willing and worthy… he will be given The Gift. But Dagan—” he looked to his man, “–should I find out that Riyu’s blood has been spilled, by any of our coven, the blame will fall on you. And the consequences… will be awful.”

  “I hear you and understand,” Dagan swore.

  “Say it three times.”

  “Three times, I vow.”

  That seemed to satisfy the King. “And so, little Riyu,” he said, “this will be the last we see each other for sixteen seasons. I hope that when you re-emerge, you will be worthy to be deemed a man.”

  I did not know what he meant at the time, but I would discover, over the remainder of my life, that it was an impossible task.

  ***

  Over the next four years, I learned just what sort of hell the Red Keep really was.

  It was a cavern consisting of stacks upon stacks of tiny, filthy cages. In each of them was a human child. Some of them were scarcely old enough to speak, while others looked almost my age.

  I knew not where they came from. I only knew that the vampires of The Crypts kept a constant stock.

  I was hurled into one of the bigger cages by Dagan and left alone. The cries of the other children haunted me. The Red Keep was lit by foul-burning torches that gave off a hideous light. The fumes from them collected in a thick, black cloud in the air. The smog dirtied all our faces.

  It took me approximately two hours to muster the courage to pick my lock. But I could not abide the constant screaming, the awful wailing, for very long.

  When I slipped out, the first thing I did was examine the other children. Some had strange red marks on their necks. Others were clearly starving, bawling and naked in their pitiful state. A few cowered back when I approached. In time, the majority of them fell still.

  I did not understand this place, but I was horrified. I could discern no difference in worth between the children who were fed versus the ones who were not. As I made my way round the cages, I found myself wondering if this would be my fate, too.

  But then something alerted me to the presence of one other. The presence of a woman unbound and walking free along the same pathway I was on.

  Quickly, I ducked out of sight and watched her approach.

  She was human, that much was plain. She wore ordinary brown robes, made of stained wool. Her face was unremarkable in every way other than perhaps its sheer plainness. She possessed no great beauty, but neither was she ugly.

  She merely was, like an indiscriminate branch drooping from a tree, lost amongst all the others.

  I watched as she approached the cages, seemingly at random, and took out small bits of bread from her belt pouch. She stuck the food between the bars. The children ate their meager provisions, such as they were. The woman passed me, and as she did, I thought—for a flicker of a second—that I could sense a weak but latent energy in her.

  I would later learn that the energy was what others deemed The Spark.

  She stopped at the cage that had previously been mine. She examined the open lock. Soundlessly, she put a full loaf of bread inside.
/>   My mouth watered. I was ravenous. I waited for the woman to complete her circle, and, when she had disappeared around the bend, I ran to my cage and snatched up my food.

  I bit into it without thinking. It was moist, chewy, fresh. I swallowed the first piece almost whole, and then took another massive bite.

  There was a thick sort of liquid, almost like cream inside. It was heavily sweetened, sweet enough to make me gag. But I didn’t care, I was starving.

  It was only after I swallowed that I detected the faint hint of metal on my tongue.

  I looked down at the bread. The inside was all red. My hands, my fingers, were stained red.

  A horrible understanding crashed into me. The crust was filled with blood! Sweetened blood, flavored blood, blood that was made into some awful sugary concoction, but blood nonetheless!

  I started to retch, and within minutes, had all the contents of my stomach spewed over the floor.

  At that point a weakness took me. The angry flames, the putrid stench, the effort of having thrown up so much—all of it overwhelmed me. My knees gave out once more. I fell to the ground. I fell face-first in my mess, and there I fainted.

  ***

  When I came to another day had passed.

  I was back in my steel cage. I knew now who had brought me. The lock was not secured.

  I pushed the door open, and crept outside.

  This time, none of the children were crying. The acrid smoke still filled the air, but without the constant screams, the Red Keep seemed… more hospitable.

  A sound from my left made me whip that way.

  The woman was standing there. She had a cowl over her head. “You are the King’s son,” she said. “Did you know that?”

  I shook my head, then I nodded, then I shook it again.

  “You seem confused.”

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “My name matters not,” she answered. “It is what I can do that does.”

  She closed her eyes and brought her hands out in front of her. Her fingers moved, as if tapping invisible instrument keys. A moment later, a faint blue ball formed in the air between her palms.