The Oldest Living Vampire Tells All: Revised and Expanded (The Oldest Living Vampire Saga Book 1)

by Joseph Duncan

  Movement to my right.

  A hiss.

  “Yaaahhhhh!” Uelt bellowed down the line. His spear flew out, fast and deadly.

  We heard it thunk impotently into the earth somewhere in the darkness.

  We spat curses at the invisible demon that stalked our campsite. Some of the men taunted the monster, hoping to enrage it and draw it into the light.

  A blur of movement in the darkness. The creature scurried past like a gust of wind blowing through the grass. I marveled at its speed. For a moment, I imagined I saw a man-like shape slithering on all fours, belly to the ground. No! Not an imagining! Its pale form contorted and it reared up, studying our defenses. Its eyes caught the light of the campfire and reflected it back, bright and red and glimmering. I felt stark terror, like a bolt of lightning arcing between my brain and my guts, at the sight of its dimly glowing eyes. Its reptilian movements were hideously unnatural. Then I arched back, gripping the shaft of my spear one-handed, and sent it flying at the creature with a grunt, my lips peeled back in a grimace of effort.

  The spear shot toward my target, passing from light to darkness. I knew instinctively that my aim was true. My throw would pierce the creature through.

  The demon-thing’s eyes jerked wide. I watched it swat my weapon from the air-- moving so fast its arm was a blur-- and then it locked those burning coal eyes on me. For a moment, time seemed suspended, and I stared into the eyes of that predatory thing. It marked me, and I knew that it had marked me, and it knew that I knew, and then its lips split open in a contemptuous grin. Its ivory colored teeth were sharpened to points.

  It made a man sound then.

  A wicked laugh, low and scornful.

  And then I imagined/saw it whip about, still on all fours, and dash rapidly away. Two more spears whistled after it but they too pierced only earth. The demon-thing was gone. I heard a distant, frustrated yowl from further down the slope, where the pine trees dotted the hillside before thickening into lusher woodland. But that was it. Whatever the foul thing was, it had gone. We were safe.

  7

  We stayed alert until misty daybreak and then set off for Big River Camp, hurried on by our fear for those we had left behind. The demon that had threatened us during the night had retreated in the direction of our village. We worried it might fall back to the village and steal one of our young ones before we could return and sound the alarm. The Fat Hands seemed just as concerned for our people’s safety as we were and volunteered to accompany us. This my father accepted gratefully and he gripped Frag’s bicep and thanked him very earnestly. “You are an honorable people, Frag,” my father said. “I am proud to call you brothers.” We set off before the sun had even peeked over the horizon. As soon as the sky began to lighten and we could see where to place our feet on the ground, we departed.

  It was hard to follow the tracks of the demon. The ridge we were marching down was stony, the soil dry and crumbly. Still, I tried. Several of the men carried burning branches from the fire and held them aloft so that we could see its trail. At times the creature walked on all fours, but there were places where it also stood and walked as a man. Not long after I had picked up its tracks, however, they vanished from the earth again.

  “It is as if the demon sprouted wings and flew away,” Frag said.

  We were all, Fat Hands and Fast Feet alike, stumped by the strange mannerisms of this being.

  “I think,” My father said haltingly, “That it is like us... but different.” His features knuckled as he struggled to put his thoughts into words. “What I mean to say is that it is a man, like us Fast Feet and you Fat Hands,” he said, as Frag and Poi-lot and the other Fat Hands listened closely, “but of a tribe that we have never encountered before.”

  I could see that the Fat Hands were having trouble divining his meaning. He did not speak their tongue as well as I. I tried to help. “It is like the Foul Ones,” I translated. “Different than us, but still a man.”

  They nodded their understanding then. They knew of other men. Like us, they had battled the Foul Ones to the north and they themselves told tales of a little people to the south, whose tallest warrior barely measured up to our waists. Perhaps this “demon” was a member of some other tribe, strange and hostile to our two kinds. Or perhaps it was some type of lemme, an intelligent but non-speaking primate, our tribes had yet to encounter.

  As we tramped through more familiar territory, we shook off our superstitious dread of the creature. Our terror seemed distant and somewhat embarrassing in the bright light of day. The Fat Hands were already calling the demonic interloper “the lizard-man”—or squalla-tet, in their tongue-- no monster, they had decided, just some bizarre and alien man-thing from a faraway land.

  It took most of the morning to return to Big River Camp. We detoured around the marshes where Fodar had died, opting to cross through the Mound of Ghosts instead. As our camp came into view at the foot of the ridge, tucked into the ruffle of wooded hills next to the river, we were relieved to find that all looked peaceful at home. There was nothing to indicate that our people were disturbed. The women were foraging for roots and mushrooms and vegetables on the hillsides. The children were playing near the Elder Siede. All looked as we had left it. The night’s frightful encounter was very far away.

  My father invited the Fat Hand men to stay the night once more.

  Frag picked at the feathers that were braided into his beard. His eyes glimmered anxiously beneath the furrowed mantle of his brow ridge.

  “I am sorry, but we cannot stay another night,” he said reluctantly. “This squalla-tet may have gone to attack our people instead of yours. We should return home to safeguard our women and young ones. If these other ones steal any more of our kin, we will track them to the place where they sleep and make war on their tribe.”

  “And what of Evv?” my father said, looking toward Herung. The old man was exhausted. He stood staring blankly into the distance with his one good eye, shoulders slumped, face slack. He seemed to have shrunk, as if he had been drained of some vital essence during the night.

  “We will continue to look for him on our way home, but I fear he has suffered the same fate as his brother,” Frag said. “It grieves me greatly to abandon him, but the safety of the women and children must be our priority now.”

  “If these strange ones continue to harry your people, send a messenger to us and we will give you assistance,” my father said. “Our two peoples have long shared this valley in peace. We should stand together and defend it in times of trouble as well.”

  Frag nodded. “You are generous and brave. The offer, of course, is returned.” The two warriors clasped arms in farewell.

  The Fat Hands did not tarry, as it was half a day’s walk from the Mound of Ghosts to the cave of the Gray Stone People, and it was already mid-morning.

  Poi-lot approached and pressed his brow to mine. “Good hunting, brother,” he said. “Take good care of my little sister and all my nieces and nephews.”

  “Good hunting,” I replied, squeezing the big man's shoulders.

  We crossed the shallow part of the river and trudged into camp, carrying our weariness on our shoulders like rucksacks weighted with stones. Still, it was good to be home and even better to see Eyya and Nyala peer out of the wetus as I drew near, their faces untroubled. They smiled in relief at the sight of me, shouted into the tent for Brulde, and then they came running to embrace me. I think most of the People came rushing out to welcome us home, and we were soon at the center of a large and excited crowd.

  I held Eyya and Nyala in my arms, kissing one and then the other, and asked them how the children fared. I had only been gone overnight but I had worried about them all the way home.

  “They are fine,” Nyala said. “Everything is fine.”

  Nyala could tell from my expression that something bad had happened while we were gone, and she frowned up at me. I could see she was bursting to interrogate me but the crowd around us had become too boisterous. Cu
rious bystanders shouted from every direction, and the members of the search party found themselves trying to answer a dozen questions at once. Everyone wanted to know what had happened the last day and a half. Did we find the missing Fat Hand men? Were they alive or dead? Did we kill the speartooth or had the missing Fat Hands run afoul of some other beast? At last, annoyed, my father raised his hands and called for order.

  “Quiet! That's enough!” Gan roared. “We will have council in the Elder Siede at sundown! Let us rest and get some food in our bellies. We will tell you all what happened then!”

  Of course, Nyala would not wait so long to have it out of me. Once the crowd had dispersed and the weary hunters retired to their homes for food and rest, Brulde, Nyala and Eyya cornered me outside the wetus. The children tried to eavesdrop from the opening but their little heads vanished back inside when Nyala brandished a switch at them.

  I did not embellish the story as I did not want the women to worry more than was necessary. I just told them what I had seen, all of it, and did not conjecture on the origins of the strange man who had frightened us during the night, or speculate on what he might do next.

  “I should have gone with you,” Brulde said miserably.

  “What could you have done?” I asked. “You’re no better with a spear than I. No, I am glad you stayed behind. I did not have to worry about our wives or children, knowing you were here to protect them.” I did worry, all the way home, but Brulde was feeling guilty enough.

  Eyya looked toward the woods in the direction of the river-- fretting for her people, I’m sure. “And Frag said two full hands have gone missing?” she said.

  I nodded.

  She chewed her bottom lip for a moment, then said that she ought to go check on the children. She scurried inside the wetus.

  I could see that Nyala meant to interrogate me further. She had that look in her eyes, that itch-you-cannot-reach look, which made me only a little less anxious than her I’ve-got-a-bone-to-pick-with-you look. But I was resigned to her cross-examination. I had been married to her long enough to know that there would be no food or rest until her curiosity was satisfied.

  My brother, Epp’ha, appeared to save the day.

  “Gon!” he shouted, winding his way through the maze of huts that surrounded us. Epp’ha looked much like me, with long curling auburn hair, though his hair and beard were streaked with white, like a fox, and he was fatter. “Father wants to see you at the Siede!” he said.

  Nyala glared at him like she wanted to scratch out his eyes, but she did not protest. “I’ll return as soon as I can,” I promised her, and she nodded unhappily.

  I followed Epp’ha, hoping that Yedda had cooked enough food for all of us.

  She had.

  “Gon!” my father hailed, reclining beside the fire eating. “Sit, eat. Let us speak before the others come. Yedda, bring my son some food.” There were half a dozen men gathered in his apartment, the elders of our small community, their hair as white as spider silk, their bodies withered from age like sun-dried fruit. Anxiety had carved deep grooves into their faces.

  Father did not extend the invitation to Epp’ha, but my brother sat beside us anyway, groaning with the effort. He was getting quite fat. When I had settled down, Yedda handed me a plate of food, a turtle shell on which roasted fish flavored with garlic mustard seed, sloes, nuts and a piece of flat bread were generously heaped. It smelled delicious. Before I could tuck in, however, father gestured to the others and said, “The elders want to know what you thought of the lizard-man, Gon…”

  My debriefing by the village elders went on for several hours. Had I dreaded Nyala’s interrogation? I wished now I had stayed at home! By the time I returned to the wetus, it was close to sunset, not enough time to satisfy Nyala’s curiosity. I felt as if my entire body was weighted down with heavy stones. “You’ll just have to hear it with the rest of the tribe,” I said tiredly to her when I ducked into our hut.

  I thought Nyala would be annoyed, but she could see that I was exhausted. “Are women allowed to attend the council tonight?” she asked. They weren’t on some rare occasions, but this was not one of them.

  “They are,” I nodded, “but not the children. The elders believe the details of the expedition are too disturbing for the young ones.”

  That was fine with Eyya, who volunteered to stay home with our brood.

  Nyala’s interest was inflamed.

  At sundown, Brulde, Nyala and I walked to the Siede. The sky in the west looked as if a bear had mauled it, the clouds sprawled across the heavens in bloody tatters. It was standing room only in the cave, but a place for us was made by the communal fire pit. All but the children and the adults who were minding them had gathered to hear the tale.

  All of the men who had taken part in the search party were there, and we took turns recounting the events of the past day and a half, each man contributing his part of our adventure to the telling. Everyone listened with appropriate shock and awe and pelted us with questions when the tale was told. Most wondered aloud where the tribe of these Lizard Men might lie and if we should search them out and wage war on them. Sadly, that seems to be the most common human reaction to something that frightens us: find it and kill it.

  I couldn’t have agreed more.

  Brulde and Nyala sat beside me. I could see both of them stealing quick glances at my face as the night wore on. I knew I was brooding, which was uncharacteristic of me, so I tried to push my worry aside lest I infect them with it to an unnecessary degree. Even so, I was anxious for this gathering to end. I did not like Eyya minding the children alone. I knew that they were safe. Our tent was near the center of the camp. Still, I could not completely dispel my unease. I was not the only one who had taken note of the strange man’s inhuman speed. It had whiskered through the darkness like a whirlwind, slapped my spear from the air as casually as a man might swat a mosquito. How easy it would be for a creature like that to slip past our defenses and snatch a child from its bed! The parallels between the reptilian man-thing and the snake god of my nightmare did not escape me either. In fact, they nagged like a thorn embedded in my mind. I could not help but pick at it as the evening wore on.

  It was decided that we would double the number of guards posted at the perimeter of the camp in case the lizard-man should come to harass us. We would not go out and search for the village of these “lizard-men” unless some of our own people went missing. “No need,” my father said, “to poke the hornets nest.” If any of our people went missing, however, we would hunt down these Others and make war on their kind. If they threatened us in any way, he said, we would kill the strangers or drive them from our lands. This was satisfying to most everyone who had gathered in the Siede that evening. A few hotheads called for a preemptive attack on the Lizard Men, but the elders overruled them. When the meeting was finally adjourned, the people returned to their huts with lighter hearts.

  I sent Brulde and Nyala home and walked the perimeter with my father. The armed guards and flickering torches eased my own disquiet, but only to a degree.

  “We will be safe tonight,” my father said, nodding to himself, but I could see that he shared some of my foreboding. His features were taut as he inspected the night’s watch, his eyes sharp and critical.

  “You think the lizard-man will come to harry us,” I said. It was not really a question.

  He shrugged. “We are not far from the cave of the Gray Stone People.”

  “And it has seen us now. It knows that we are near.”

  He clapped me on the shoulder. “Rest tonight, son, but be on your guard. I do not think we've seen the last of the lizard-man, but I do not believe he will come for us tonight. Or they. Whatever the case may be. But they will come someday. I am certain of it.”

  “I will keep your grandchildren safe,” I promised him.

  “I know you will,” he said. He grinned up at me but I could see that exhaustion rode heavily upon him. His eyes were sunken, his complexion ashy. He trudg
ed along beside me as we returned to the Siede, head down, his great mane of gray hair snarled and brittle. “You are still young and strong. Not like me.”

  I laughed. “You will never grow old, father!”

  It was a lie and we both knew it. For a brief moment, a glint of joviality shined through the weariness that hooded his eyes. “I used to whip you for telling fibs, Gon!” he said. “But it is all right. It is just the way of the world. Babies grow into young men, and young men grow into old men. I’ve become an old man. Too old to wage war on our enemies. That is your job now. But not tonight. Tonight we will have rest and good lovemaking. Now go home to your wives and children, son, and I'll go home to my old bitch. I still have to listen to her gripe about all the shit she had to do while I was gone. She won’t let me sleep until she’s had her say.”

  We embraced, and then he swept through the hangings that kept the night air out of the cave. A puff of hot air roiled out as he vanished inside. The Elder Siede was always stifling. Old bones ache, I thought.

  I stood for a moment to watch the clouds drift past the moon. I liked the way their edges gleamed in the silvery light. My father yelled, “I ain't putting oil on your feet, old woman! You should rub oil on my feet tonight!” I chuckled and headed home.

  The moment I pushed through the flap of our wetus, my family enveloped me in their love, relieved that I had finally returned. I played with the young ones until they grew tired and cranky and then Eyya and Brulde put them to bed. After the young ones were put down to sleep, Brulde groomed my hair while Nyala and Eyya ceremonially bathed and oiled my feet. I relaxed, naked, into their gentle care, putting aside my concerns for the night.

  Brulde pleaded for more details as he trimmed some of the length from my thick and curling whiskers, but I wished to speak no further of our encounter with the strange and frightful Others. I didn't want to upset our wives, I told him. Or myself, for that matter, I thought. I promised I would tell him more when we left to hunt on the morrow and he was satisfied. Nyala fed me roasted venison seasoned with dream weed to ease my troubled spirit. Eyya kneaded the knotted muscles of my thighs and calves.