by R. A. Miller
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Northwest,” Lothar said, “To the Temple of Alec.”
“What’s at the Temple of Alec?” she asked.
“It is important that you conserve your strength for the long journey ahead,” he said, “Once we make it to the temple you may want to feed and get a good day’s rest before we make the long, hard journey to Alun Doom.”
“What do you mean for us to eat there?” she asked, “I don’t drink from innocents.”
“It’s not that kind of place.” He said, “You won’t be drinking innocents there, but you won’t go hungry either.”
“Can you tell me what is happening?”
Parts of it,” Lothar said, “I was not prepared for the undead.”
“But you know why Father Jessop wanted us to meet.” She said.
“Yes.” His voice grew softer, “I knew the good Father for several years. He found me in Hillside Glenn on one of his medicine runs. He knew what I was right away. No one else did.”
“He never told me about you.” Cora said. “Why?”
“I asked him not to.”
“Until now I thought I was the only vampyre left. Why keep that from me?”
“I had heard whispers of vampyres returning. I was looking for information. If we had been able to meet, it could have put you in danger.”
“His letter told me to follow you to Alun Doom. He was planning to tell me this himself before he died. Why? What’s in Alun Doom?” She heard the emotion in her own voice. Even now she mourned for Father Jessop.
“The amulet you carry must be taken there.” Lothar said. “You must place it on the altar of Draconis.”
“What happens when I do that?”
“A good soul, a pure soul, will awaken the Gods and restore magic back to Altlock.”
“And a bad soul?” she asked.
“A bad soul, like the vampyre that attacked you, would corrupt the Gods and taint the magic. The world would be plunged into darkness.”
****
The Temple of Alec was stunning. Even in the dark of night Cora could see the four large spires that surrounded the main church. All four of the spires stood almost one hundred feet in the air and fifty feet across. At the base, the main building sat atop a set of stone steps thirty feet above the ground.
The building itself was made of beautiful marble stone, trimmed by black stone on the edge of the roof; the same stone she could make out running up one side of the spires. A few hundred feet from the temple Cora saw a faint pink haze between each spire and surrounding the entire complex.
“Is that magic?” Cora asked.
“Yes.” Lothar said.
“But magic doesn’t exist anymore.” She said.
“You have much to learn young one.”
“You just told me that the amulet would restore magic. How is there magic here? She asked.
“That is for Father Cristobel to say.” He said, “He is waiting for us inside.”
“How do we get through the barrier?” Cora asked.
“I have the key.”
Lothar patted his chest at the words. As the two approached the barrier, Lothar reached down his shirt and brought out a large golden medallion on a gold chain. Holding it up as far as he could, Lothar recited one line to make the barrier open.
“Alec be praised.”
Upon saying the words, a section of the barrier ten feet high and five feet wide opened in front of them and the horse trotted into the compound. Once the two vampyres were inside, the opening closed behind them.
The two vampyres dismounted and Lothar instructed one of the many followers of Alec that made this temple home to take the animal. Cora could see that, even though this was little more than a single large building and some land surrounded by the four spires and a magical barrier, several hundred people called this home.
There were boys in their teens tending to animals and several in the garden tending to crops. One could make the mistake from outside that the temple grounds were small but modest, not unlike the church back in Fayth. When in fact, the grounds were easily bigger than the town she and Lothar had just escaped.
Three women passed in front of her, one carrying a basket of berries while the others chatted with each other. As they passed, Cora caught a familiar smell on the wind. She recognized it but had trouble placing it. She followed them with her eyes as they passed, a sense of danger creeped into her thoughts.
“Everything alright, young one?” Lothar asked.
“I didn’t know this temple was so populated,” she said, “Father Jessop used to talk about fixing this place up but he himself hadn’t been here in some time. At least that’s what he told me. Where did all this come from?”
“Only Father Cristobel can answer that,” Lothar said, “He runs this temple now. Everyone you see is here because of him.”
“Why all the secrecy?” Cora asked, “Why the barrier?”
“To protect from the real monsters of this world.” He said.
“Why do you refer to us as monsters?” she asked.
“I never said I meant us.”
Cora followed Lothar into the main hall of the temple, careful not to touch anything as she walked. She marveled at the delicate carvings in the support columns, the beautifully polished tile that they were walking on, and that familiar smell once again invading her senses. They were walking too fast for her to get a good look but it appeared the carvings were of figures locked in battle. One in particular was of a man eating another man.
“Didn't Father Jessop tell you what the Temple of Alec was?” Lothar asked.
She thought on this for a moment before answering, “It’s an abandoned temple for worshipers of Saint Alec, the first vampyre hunter. It was abandoned shortly after the vampyres were wiped out and the dragons vanished.
“Yes, young one,” Lothar said. He continued in a lower voice now so as not to be heard by the followers around them.
“Alec was a vampyre hunter, someone who hunts down and kills vampyres like us. It is said that when the vampyres began to get out of control and spread throughout the kingdoms, the gods endowed Father Alec with magical weapons and quick reflexes in order to combat the vampyre threat.”
“What happened to him?” Cora asked.
“He was killed in battle.”
“By a vampyre?” She asked.
“Yes. One hundred years ago he traveled to the kingdom of Elvintika to help defend the elven people from being slaughtered. He never made it home.”
“I thought the elves were wiped out. Father Jessop said there hasn't been an elf in almost a hundred years.”
As she said this realization took hold. She knew why no one had seen an elf in a hundred years. The vampyre had wiped them out. Lothar put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Now you know why you have had to remain hidden all these years.”
“But why then does this Father Cristobel tolerate us?” she asked.
“That, young one,” Lothar said, “You can ask him.”
CHAPTER 9
Tatiana looked up from the woman she was with and listened. The rumbling began again and, though far away, felt as if it was getting stronger. If the timetable had been moved up and Dremora left her out, it would be just one more reason for her and Bodon to take over. The Queen was getting greedy and impatient.
Dremora thought she was the most accomplished of all the vampyre with the elven magic. But Tatiana was the one who translated the book, Tatiana was the one who perfected necromancy, and Tatiana was the one who figured out how to summon the red dragon. Another rumble. She could smell the magic at work. Someone was summoning the dragon without her.
Tatiana wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stood. The pair of thighs that had just been wrapped around her neck remained open, and inviting.
She grabbed her dark robes and dressed. She knew she must hurry if she were going to get to the dragon before Dremora did. The Queen may know the
ritual, but only Tatiana knew where the dragon would rise.
She threw a few coins on the bed and opened the door.
“Don't go anywhere,” she said to the naked woman on the bed, “I'll be back for the rest of my meal.”
The woman lying on the bed snatched up the coins and rolled over to her side, giving the exiting vampyre a full view of her breasts. Tatiana smiled at the human before walking out the door. Not everything about humans was bad.
The vampyre walked down the empty street. An unfortunate blacksmith interrupted her train of thought as he walked out of his shop and right into the vampyre.
“Excuse me ma'am,” the man said. He looked her up and down, dirty thoughts showing in his expression, “Anything I can do for you?”
“Yes,” she said, “You can feed me.”
Tatiana grabbed the man and pulled him into the alley nearby. She held him against the wall with one hand and tilted his head with the other. She bit into his neck with a satisfying crunch and drank hungrily. The blood was warm and calming to her as it flowed down her throat. She drank the man until there was nothing left and let the dry carcass fall to the ground. It didn't matter now if someone found him. All of Altlock was about to find out about her kind.
With her enhanced speed, it took her less than an hour to reach the spot where the dragon had risen. There was an enormous hole in the ground, but the dragon was now gone. The bones and sand that covered the ground made it difficult to see any tracks. She walked towards the river, looking for any sign of the beast. It would need to feed, and drink. The river was a ready source of water and it would lead the beast to food. Just before the river she found two sets of small tracks in the sand, some overlapped by the dragon. They terminated at the water.
“Damn. She's out…and already feeding.”
Tatiana knew she had to follow the tracks and retrieve the dragon before anyone else found it. She was going to use the dragon to destroy the humans. Then she would turn it on her queen. Soon all of Altlock would bend to her and her dragon.
Soon.
The vampyre found the crimson dragon sitting near the river and drinking. The blood staining its lower jaw told her that it had eaten. Now was her chance to approach the beast and bend it to her will.
The dragon paid her no attention as she approached. She was sure she could outrun it should the beast decide to turn and attack, but she would rather not take that chance. Once she was in position behind the dragon, about twenty feet away, the vampyre stretched out her arms and began the spell.
“Brostaigid, thuas sa speir. Brostaigid, thuas sa speir. Abaidi, Brostaigid, abaidi. Brostaigid abaidi!”
As she spoke the last word, Tatiana dropped to her knees. She struggled to stay upright, her strength waning from the spell. Her head pounded and her vision blurred. Unlike summoning the dead, this spell required most of her life force. But if it was successful, she knew it would be worth it.
The dragon stood and turned to face her. Fiery eyes stared at Tatiana, a rage visibly building behind them. Tatiana remained in defiance to this and waited. She saw the light in the dragon’s eyes begin to fade and change to a glowing orange.
She made herself stand, still weak from the spell. She approached the dragon, hand extended, and the dragon bowed its head to allow the vampyre to touch its snout. With help from her new pet, Tatiana climbed onto the dragon's head and took up a spot on the dragon's neck. The great crimson dragon, Brostaigid, God and protector of the elves, was now in her control.
“Now, my pet,” she said, “Let us show the king of Raven's Hold what you can do.”
Brostaigid jumped into the air and with a beat of it's mighty wings, took off.
CHAPTER 10
Father Cristobel entered the main hall, two much larger men flanking him to either side. Cora recognized them as two of the followers she saw outside when they arrived. No doubt his personal guard. Both men followed the Father closely and kept both hands visible and clenched in fists. There would be no getting to the Father even if she had wanted to.
No one here seemed too happy to see her. There was tension in the hall and it agitated Cora. She felt cornered, and that was not good for her, or them. Father Cristobel walked directly over to Lothar and opened his arms in greeting. Lothar hugged Father Cristobel who then moved to Cora. She noted that when Father Cristobel moved to embrace her both of his guards moved with him and kept their eyes fixed on her.
“Do not worry about them, my child,” the Father said, “They are only doing their job. Lothar has told me all about you, and your quest. Come,” he motioned to his left, “Let us retire to the study where we may have some privacy in these matters.”
Cora, Lothar, and Father Cristobel entered the study as the two bodyguards took up posts on either side of the door, barring anyone else from entering. As soon as the doors to the study were closed the Father relaxed and took a seat behind a great wooden desk. Lothar pulled a bench from one of the walls and dragged it over to the desk for Cora and himself to sit on.
When Father Cristobel spoke it was eerily similar to Father Jessop. Cora guessed it was the way all priests spoke. A calm and soothing tone meant to invoke serenity in the guests. The familiar smell accosted her senses again. Something old, something she had smelled before. Something she had smelled the night Father Jessop had died.
“You are younger than I pictured,” Father Cristobel said, “The way Father Jessop spoke of you I thought you older.”
“In truth,” Cora said, “I am almost a hundred and nineteen. I was only eighteen years old when I was ripped from my home and turned.”
“My poor child,” Father Cristobel said, “It must have been a traumatic experience, losing your humanity that way.”
“I don’t remember being turned.” She said. “It was a long time ago.”
“Well you’re among friends now, child.”
“How did word get to you so fast,” Cora asked, “He was only murdered two days ago.”
“I am sorry about Father Jessop.” Cristobel added, “He was a dear friend of mine and he will be missed.”
“He never mentioned you.”
“Young one,” Lothar said, “Don’t be rude to our savior.”
Lothar looked from Cora to the Father, a surprised look on his face. Cora’s gut tightened.
“I apologize, my child,” Father Cristobel said, “I only meant that I was sorry for your loss and having to leave your home to come here.”
“Tell me, Father,” Cora said, almost growling at the holy man, “How is it possible that you know all the circumstances surrounding my arrival, even when I would arrive, yet there is no way a messenger could have made it here this fast and avoided the walking dead in Hillside Glenn?”
Cora realized the answer before she was given one.
“Unless of course,” Lothar said, “The messenger was me.”
Father Cristobel let out a heavy sigh and stood up from his chair as the two personal guards entered the room, closing the door behind them. The two large guards, which Cora now knew to be vampyres, took up positions behind Cora and Lothar and looked ready for a fight. Father Cristobel walked over to Lothar, put a hand on his shoulder, and smiled.
“I am sorry for the deception young Cora,” Cristobel said, “But it was the only way I could be sure to get you here. You were to have been killed at Hillside Glenn, not here. The fact that you got away forced my hand.”
“Lothar saved my life.” Cora said.
“And for that, I am sorry…” Cristobel nodded to his bodyguards. In the same moment a large hand punched out of Lothar’s chest. Blood forced its way out of Lothar’s mouth and his eyes rolled back in his head. Her eyes widened and her heart raced. She was trapped.
“The army of the dead you faced at Hillside Glenn was not my idea,” Cristobel continued, “But proved effective enough. Unfortunately Lothar decided to help you instead of kill you. He thought you had worth. Truth is, young Cora, you are worthless. Only the amulet matters.”
“For a temple that worships a vampyre hunter, it sure is full of vampyre.” Cora said. The sarcasm dripped off every word.
“I like to think of it as an investment,” Cristobel said. Her Majesty Queen Dremora thought it humorous.”
“Queen?” Cora asked.
“Of course,” Cristobel said, “The queen of the vampyres. She wants the amulet that you now posses. Naturally it was a perfectly ironic setup. As soon as I hand over that amulet I get to run this temple as I see fit.”
“You and Lothar were working together?” Cora said.
“Of course,” Cristobel said, “We serve Dremora, as do all vampyre. We have infected every corner of this world. We have learned how to harness magic without dragons. WE are the dominant species now. All will bow to us.”
“You won’t be able to hide very long,” Cora said, “I won’t let this happen.”
“Look around,” Cristobel said to Cora. He used a sweeping motion of his arm to indicate the compound, “Half the men and women inside these walls are vampyres. Humans are only food for us now. What work needs doing we have elven slaves to take care of it. This temple became a joke a long time ago. The truth of what happened to Alec could not be allowed to come to light.”
“What about Alec?” Cora asked.
“Everyone knows that Alec traveled to Elvintika to kill the vampyre queen. What no one knows is that Alec was a vampyre.”
Cora took a step back as if physically struck, unable to believe that the greatest killer of vampyres the world had ever known, was one of them.
“This vampyre queen, Dremora, turned the greatest vampyre hunter in existence into a vampyre?”
“Turned? No. He always was a vampyre,” Cristobel said, “When Alec himself came to me and told me of this sacred mission to find you, I was honored.”