Bound By Blood

by C. H. Scarlett

  “Do not play the fool twice, Dĩas.” Daŕēus growled low. “I have not forgotten your crimes against me, traitor. I had many years to think about it while I was trapped in a prison you fashioned out of your own ignorance. I remember you joining with Evil to go against me. You shall answer for your crimes.”

  “You are as delirious as the night you disappeared! She will not accept you!” Dĩas yelled. “She will see your true face and sense your darkness! She will not accept you! She knows of the curse! You have no claim over her, or that!” The Strygĩ warriors helped him up.

  “This is madness!” Chymeŕah rolled her eyes, looking at her sister Kaléé. “Will this never end? I can hear Evil pissing themselves with laughter. Why lift a finger to destroy us when we can simply do it ourselves! Blood against Blood! Forgive us, Goddess, indeed!” She looked back at Dĩas. “He is the Father of the Blood. Without him, none of us would exist. There needs to be a truce of some sort. Think of Samanthŕa! Think of the blood, the blood we are all bound to, not by force, but because of who and what we are!”

  “I am the only one who seems to be thinking of her,” Dĩas sneered, concerning Samanthŕa.

  Daŕēus scowled. He said nothing. He held Samanthŕa’s body in his arms and his eyes glowed a deep red. Then, he smiled mischievously.

  "No--" Dĩas's words were nearly a hush. His hand reached forth and a stark fear washed his face clean.

  But Daŕēus kept grinning. And when the smile faded, he bit into his own wrist. Dĩas’s expression turned to that of horror. He knew what was coming--any fool did-- but he hadn’t the speed or strength to stop it. Not that Daŕēus worried.

  And then the Giant spoke the words, “By my blood, the blood which runs through all of you, I claim her."

  "NO!" Dĩas cried.

  "You shall no longer be entrusted with her safety." Daŕēus ignored his pleas as the skies above rumbled. "By the laws of the old ways, she is Priestess, she is mine.” He marked her forehead with his blood and an unseen glyph began to glow from her skin. Then, just a drop, he smeared his essence on her full welcoming lips. By instinct, even though she lacked consciousness, she consumed what little bit it took to invoke his claim. As lightening rippled over top of them, her eyes flew open, her fangs emerged and her body spazzed into a stiff arch. She hissed towards the stormy skies and a red mist left her throat entwining some sort of mystical dance around each of them. Then, as the wind rushed by to take the powerful fog away, her eyes drifted closed, and she went silent again. In his arms, she lay peacefully, oblivious to what was happening.

  The electrical storm above vomited up its gag of silence as he spoke the words and whatever happened to her stirred the fierce pot of it even more so. Lightning began to crack and splinter while dark crimson clouds began to swirl above. The fires in the pits nearly burned the stars and the air made such a howl.

  And all who stood there suddenly knew whose hand was behind the electrical storm that first breeched the skies this night . . . his . . . the Father of the Blood.

  Thunder roared as if announcing the power which had been sealed to the realms’ mysterious depths. The Priestess had been claimed. An ancient rite that Daŕēus knew most did not understand, but he did and his foe would.

  "Undo this!" Dĩas’s face hardened with hate. Before he could react, another voice made itself known.

  “Let her go, beast!” A blade was drawn and the edge of it pressed the artery in Daŕēus’ neck, tight against his flesh, daring him to move.

  Dǒntáe Theŕéan was protecting his own. Swords drew up around him, against him, but his eyes never once left Daŕēus. The threat of death and its collision suffocated like humidity rising in the air, but he didn’t care. His mind was clearly on Samanthŕa and the Monster who held her.

  “Dǒntáe, put the sword down!” Chymeŕah ordered him. “He has every right to lay claim over her, especially if it is to ensure her safety. He is the Father of the Blood and whether any of you realize it or not, she is his High Priestess.”

  “Back away,” Daŕēus growled in a low voice, but Dǒntáe didn’t budge. Daŕēus searched the warrior’s mind, not liking what he saw there. He saw lust for her, starving want. His chest rose as his muscles tightened. Without fear, he whipped around as the edge of the sword scratched his neck. It could do no more than that, for he was so quick in his actions. One powerful hand gripped the edge of the sword. It cut into his hand but it didn’t faze him in the least as his power began to melt the steel. Dǒntáe’s eyes grew wide as the same force that attacked Dĩas struck him as well. Only when Daŕēus thrust Dǒntáe into the ground, Darius made sure he did not get back up. He wasn’t dead, but unconscious. His chest would burn with the mark of Daŕēus for many moons as a reminder to think twice before challenging the Father of the Blood.

  Trynaté ran to her brother’s side, tears falling down her face. She was confused, cold, and weary. She couldn’t understand any of this. Daŕēus could feel her thoughts.

  “He meant no harm! His heart is pure! He feels deeply for her. Surely, you must understand that? Surely you must feel proud that your bloodline would protect the Priestess with their life?” Trynaté wept over his body.

  "This is why he still lives." His tone was still frightfully low as he ignored her.

  You could feel nervous tension and fear in everyone who watched as Daŕēus returned his hand back to Samanthŕa. He never once lost the ability to hold her. His hand, which gripped the sword, was healed as if it had never happened.

  Before all Hades could unleash itself any more than it already had, Kaléé stepped in. “Daŕēus, let her go with Chymeŕah before anyone else gets hurt. Those here who challenge you, Daŕēus, suffer the same delusions that she does. We have all been under a curse . . . which began when we lost you. Your bloodlines . . . they only seek to protect their Priestess, and I promise you that most here would protect her before they would Dĩas.” She added that cold hard fact. Still, there was no reason for anyone to get hurt when their intentions were good and honorable.

  “Let her go with Chymeŕah,” Kaléé repeated and winked at Daŕēus. She showed him that she too could be clever and shifty. She turned back towards Dĩas. “Dĩas, you have no choice but to agree. He has invoked the laws of the old ways and as Father of the Blood, he has a right to see to the safety of our Priestess. She took an oath to serve and protect the source of the Blood and he is that source.”

  “Why should I compromise?” Dĩas cursed. “I sit on the throne. I rule the bloodlines. It is what I say, not what he so crudely wants. This has nothing to do with her safety. She took an oath to me and the Elders. Not to him.”

  Daŕēus growled, taking a step towards him, causing Dĩas to take another step back. Before everyone drew their swords, once more Kaléé tried again.

  “The Priestess serves the blood, not you, and not the Elders. There are more things here to consider than just Samanthŕa, Dĩas. You may sit on the throne, but you are not the throne, if you can understand what I am saying.” She glared at him, hiding the meaning of her words from those who watched and listened. There was a secret there, which could not be spoken of, but one she, Chymeŕah, Dĩas, and Daŕēus knew very well. “He is the Father of the Blood. Throne or not, you have no rule over him. Either allow Chymeŕah to take Samanthŕa or he will take her himself, wherever he chooses.”

  Dĩas did not reply.

  Chymeŕah turned towards Daŕēus. In his mind, she said, “I have proven my loyalty to you all this time. I have never failed you. It is because of my cleverness that you stand here now. Let me take Samanthŕa, please. You have sensed her confusion, her fear. Let us not frighten or damage her mind more than it has been already.”

  Daŕēus looked down at Samanthŕa. Her body melted into his arms so easily. Her face was reflecting such peace. He knew Chymeŕah was right. When he touched the Priestess's mind, he knew all of the things she had felt and feared. He also knew her body contained some sort of poison which Dĩas had been polluting her with. Wh
y, he didn’t understand yet, but he would with time.

  “I will allow her to go to Chymeŕah’s realm,” he said. “But I will personally see that she gets there. As for you, Dĩas, I have not forgotten, nor will I forget. In time, you will answer for your crimes against me. All those who aided you will answer.” He said this as he and the others who accompanied him this night backed away and disappeared into the mists.

  Once he was gone, an uncomfortable silence fell. It did not last, once it was realized that Daŕēus had taken Samanthŕa’s sisters with him as well.

  Dĩas was enraged. He began to yell. “You said nothing of the others! Nothing!” He screamed into the darkness and even though Daŕēus was gone, by power, he could hear him.

  He also heard Chymeŕah laugh and then to, disappeared. Kaléé, however, stayed to enjoy the show and her thoughts shouted loudly as to why. How could she resist? She had been waiting for a millennium, it seemed, for this particular prophecy to unfold, for the night in which the Father of the Blood would rise again and set things right.

  She had been dying to see Dĩas’ reaction when after all his efforts failed, for he could not prevent what was set in motion by the Goddess herself.

  "Bless the Goddess."

  Daŕēus could hear her chant over and over. And before he closed his eyes to these visions, he saw the Vlachŕa smile as she watched Dĩas throw a temper tantrum of rage. This, of course, made Daŕēus smile.

  ~Chapter 8~

  The Brothers

  ***

  Mysterious are they, not of time,

  Moving through shadow and the turbulence of dream.

  Seven are they, who shift against rhyme,

  Waiting for prophecy to set them free.

  ~

  "And these are the signs . . ."

  ~

  Seven stars shining bright,

  These are the beacons of our night.

  These are the luminance of such eyes . . .

  Dream with purpose now for you are mine.

  Almost time now. It's almost time.

  ***

  A new night had come; three still but very full moons hung high amidst a glistening sheet of illusory stars. Their blinking glow overlooked the mysterious Realm of Chymeŕah. Her region was nestled deep within an exterior of crystal divinity. The soils were rich, black, and the rocks bursting from it bore clear stones of many transparent colors. Some believed these crystals were the same as those the NORSŔAH tended, but they were not. They reached surreal heights of a hundred feet or more, channeling energy that merged with her extraordinary powers. They were crystals of dream, crystals of power, of the very essence of Chymeŕah. They were whatever she needed them to be and right now, they created a realm that reflected the whims of her daughters.

  Her castle was built onto a mountain of that crystal, bordering an amethyst ocean. Its shimmering façade of smooth fair marble towered underneath a profound rosy atmosphere. It was warm here and the season never changed, for Chymeŕah loathed the cold. The crystals and various rocks helped repel the changing of seasons while their energy created a firmament of comfortable temperatures.

  Some assumed Chymeŕah favored the dark and all that of darkness. Many accused her of being made of chaos, repulsed by all things of order and rule. Perhaps they imagined her here, within her mysterious realm, lounging with things of fright and of horror. But that simply was not true. Chymeŕah was as unpredictable with her tastes as she was in behavior.

  Inside her home, inside one of the chambers, glossy marble floors reflected the many things around them as if they were clear, tranquil waters. Dark, ancient wood created mirrors and plush lounging chairs that filled a very large and fairy tale - like space. A bed big enough to sleep a dozen was plush with unfathomably cloud-like cushions. Here, the seven sisters were gathered about in transparent evening robes, sparkling with Fãeŕé dust and the detailed Sephŕel embroidery woven upon various fluttering colors. They appeared pampered and adorn like goddesses giggling about in their sheer, soft chemises. All things were dream-like in the realm of Chymeŕah, when it came to the daughters of Chymeŕah. It was rare that they all be gathered here at once. So the queen of this realm would make sure all the treasures of TEŔAH would be laid at their feet.

  Samanthŕa had no interest in treasures so she let the minds of her sisters' shape and mold their surroundings into what they wanted. The Priestess had been awake for some time, learning what little her sisters could remember, which was hardly anything but hazy memories, about why she was at her mother’s. She didn’t know what she expected, exactly, when she found herself here. She thought that maybe it was some hopeful illusion to convince her that she was anywhere other than Dĩas’ dungeons. Or maybe she thought that the Giant she faintly remembered Kaléé naming Daŕēus, had kidnapped her and she was in truth a prisoner in some frightful lair.

  The sisters’ exaggerated chatter came to an abrupt silence when they heard horses approach the castle. Each of them flew up from where they sat or lounged and skidded over the smooth, slick floor to the balcony pillars, peeking out.

  Sliding to the colonnade and its smooth railings, “It’s them,” Morrgãyne announced as seven very dark shadowy warriors rode up towards the long flight of stairs leading into the castle. The stairs themselves were almost as many as the steps of a pyramid.

  Chymeŕah’s realm was swimming in her magic and protection spells. One could enter by magic but no further than the portal which had brought them here. From there one had to journey forward by horse, wagon, or carriage. It kept unexpected visitors from just appearing when she least expected it. It prevented an enemy’s dagger taking her by surprise. Having visitors make such a journey, and then physically walking so many stairs, gave Chymeŕah a thrill that pampered her ego, as well as serving a purpose. If one wanted to visit her then she wished them to have to work for the honor of it.

  “Hush,” Sameŕald told her sister abruptly. “Look!” her voice shrilled. She almost rebelled against her own order to Morrgãyne. “That’s him, Samanthŕa, the one on the end. That is the one I told you of. Isn’t he the most delicious thing you've ever seen?” She jerked Samanthŕa by her arm, nearly bruising her. “Look, do you see him?”

  Samanthŕa shook her head and tore away as Sameŕald pointed out the one who had mystified her. The other sisters did the same, each exclaiming over their heart’s captor until their voices simply faded. Samanthŕa ignored them. She had no interest in the others. She was only concerned with the one called Daŕēus.

  Unlike her silly Vii sisters, it was not because she was falling over herself like some lustful mortal wench on the verge of dark forbidden passion. It was because this man frightened her. She had fallen under his power and experienced firsthand how much control that power could have over her. She had seen his rage in the tavern and at the Beal-Tene celebration. She knew how lethal he was when angered. Her senses had also tasted of his essence and it had invoked the first signs of her Awakening.

  That was bad enough, she fumed.

  Her list of reasons went on, as well. Why, he had invaded her dreams. There was no doubt about that. Before, when they were just dreams, she thought they were like any Vii’s, merely flashes of the one who was destined to Awaken her.

  Now Samanthŕa knew it was something more than that. Since he was Father of the Blood, it was implausible that he should be her Awakener. It was very possible though, that he had been using her through her dreams. Was he using her title to free himself from the prison he claimed he’d been placed in?

  Samanthŕa was uneasy around things she didn’t know or understand. She also wasn’t comfortable being around someone who had such surreal power and strength. She naturally resisted those who had too much control, especially when that control was a threat to her. Daŕēus, as far as she could tell, was nothing more than a threat.

  Silently, but lacking the same excitement and enthusiasm, she watched the warriors reach the edge of the balcony, underneath from where the sisters were s
pying from. They were at least ten stories up, but she swore she could feel their presence rise the distance and touch her. Her fists gripped the smaller pillars while her face hid safely behind them, peeking through. Her frazzled nerves were shredded by her own inquisitiveness.

  She started to move away when their horses began to pass under the arch. That's when Daŕēus’s face looked up to catch a glimpse of hers. Once again, it seemed like time froze as his eyes began to glow underneath the dark of his hood. A gentle breeze began to blow against her flushed cheeks, carrying with it a whisper.

  “Beloved.”

  Her head snapped away from the pillar.

  The horses and warriors passed. Samanthŕa jerked herself away and fell flat against the beige marble floor between the balcony and her chamber. Her limbs started to tremble. Her face looked as though she’d seen a ghost. Her mind spun. He had used her to free himself. She knew it! That name confirmed it. It was the name the voice used in the dreams. But how? How did she undo something Dĩas supposedly did? How did she unravel his power?

  She became even more edgy, wondering what in all of Hadãe she had unleashed this time. Her father was right. She was behind the storm and everything which had been triggered by it! She pulled herself up and began to curse just as Chymeŕah entered the room. Her sisters had been giggling at her seeming clumsiness; Chymeŕah calmly raised a hand and dismissed them.

  “Leave us, my little darlings of darkness.” She said it so smoothly, as if calling forth some incantation that they drifted out of the room without protest. “Hurry along. Go on and greet our guests, will you?”

  Samanthŕa's insides twisted with disgust at how they simply hurried away . . . that easily . . . to complete strangers.

  Regardless of what they did and whether or not the Priestess approved, Chymeŕah took Samanthŕa’s hand and led her back into the room, shutting the balcony doors gently.

  Silence befell but at least the calm of her mother's realm remained.