by Milo Spires
Rex was caught off-guard at the figure that was hurtling toward him. On first sight, he thought that this must be another attempt on his sick, twisted life. As the messenger came swiftly closer, he drew his blade in challenge. At the last second, however, he recognized who it was, which was fortunate for the messenger as he collapsed onto the dirt beneath him.
‘Master, forgive me!’ the vampire shouted, turning his face away from him as he spoke. ‘There was a message in the tree from Longinus. He needs help. He says the woman was not turned; she has been rescued by another vampire. He has her in his home, but it’s underground near Brighton, sir.’
Rex had been furious at his messenger for scaring him, but now that rage was doubled. Thrusting back his hood, he stared down at the unfortunate messenger, who gasped in horror at the sight. His veins were showing starkly under his thin skin, and the bones of his face protruded so horribly that it was like looking at a living skull. Even his own guards took a step back at the sight.
His glare shot around the room. ‘What?’ he screamed as he saw that they were all looking at him in shock. ‘Am I really that ugly?’
No one dared make reply.
Leaning forwards, dagger firmly grasped in his hand, he then slashed the messenger across the face for his insolence. He waited for just a second so that the fool could fully experience the pain before then he thrust it forwards, stabbing him in the heart with the silver blade.
‘Fool!’ he cried as the loyal messenger died in front of him. ‘No one runs up to me that way!’ he shouted as he slipped his hood back over his head.
Turning to his best warrior, Vius, who was standing next to him, he gave an order to go back in time with a hundred vampires.
‘Turn that fucking girl, and kill Longinus!’ he screamed into Vius’ face. The warrior nodded once and stepped away smartly. Rex watched him go, muttering under his breath, ‘Fool can’t even turn one woman on his own. He’s weak.’ The last word dripped with disgust.
Then he turned to his second-in-command and said, ‘Mietioc, if I don't return after our meeting tonight with the priest in Bewl Waters, send a message back to Vius to forget turning her. He must kill her instead! Swear you will do that!’
‘Yes, Master. Promise, Master,’ he replied.
Mietioc smiled inwardly, hoping that Vius would also fail. Although they were like brothers, he was envious of the one-eyed warrior. Rex always gave the better missions to Vius. Mietioc was sure that if Vius should fall short, he himself could then step in and accomplish what the others could not, thus finally earning Rex’s respect.
Rex scurried off down a tunnel surrounded by warriors, and left the Tower with a further thousand vampires, who accompanied them for the short journey to Bewl Waters Reservoir in Kent. Rex had not been out of his own coven for many years, fearing more attempts that might be made on his miserable life. The last time he had left the evil place was when he had stupidly visited an old friend in France and was nearly killed. Tonight, though, he knew he had absolutely no choice. He needed the Church to lift the spell on the Sacred Sword and he had to blackmail the priest in person to do it.
He growled as he remembered that visit. He had been in Paris as a guest, and had surrounded himself with one hundred heavily-armed vampires. He had stupidly ordered his Elite warriors to wait outside the palace walls for the evening, as it was an old friend that he was visiting. He had entered the Palace alone and unarmed except for the small silver dagger that he always carried with him. The evening had been an interesting one and he had never expected the attack--until it was nearly too late.
They had wined and dined, listened to music, tortured many humans, and he had let his guard down. He would never have thought that Brius, whom he had known for fifteen hundred years or more, would ever have tried to assassinate him.
Halfway through the night, Rex had entered a hallway in the palace with Brius as they strolled the grounds. Suddenly the doors had slammed shut behind them, and Rex could hear the sound of the windows being bolted.
‘What’s the meaning of this?’ he had asked, his words slurred from far too much wine.
His ‘friend’ had smiled coldly. ‘It’s your execution,’ Brius had replied.
Rex had sobered up instantly. He had fought hard against his attacker, but had begun to lose the battle. He had been saved when the doors and windows all around suddenly exploded inward, and his own warriors had come to his rescue.
Vius had ignored Rex’s earlier orders in the evening to stay outside the palace walls, and after watching all night from the bushes, he had saved Rex as soon as he realized his master was in deep trouble. Under normal circumstances, Rex would have killed anyone who had been disobedient and had ignored his orders, without thinking twice. This time though, he had thought that killing Vius was perhaps too harsh.
Settling on a milder punishment Rex had his warriors hold Vius down, and then using his dagger he gouged out his eye. He kept it in his pocket afterwards as a memento of the occasion.
Strangely afterwards, Rex promoted Vius to be head of his Elite guards.
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Ahead of Rex in the night sky, the vampires at the front of his group spotted the reservoir below and messaged back to him.
‘Sir, we are here, over the lane at the north end above the bridge. We can see it, sir.’
Looking ahead, Rex could now begin to make out the silhouette of The Bewl Waters Reservoir himself. A jolt of eagerness shot through him; the priest and his stupid Church were finally going to be blackmailed into lifting the spell.
As he looked around, he could see that the fields everywhere were covered in deep snow, and it surprised him that they hadn’t found themselves slowed down by any blizzards on their way there. The air had been very cold and clear tonight, with little or no wind to impede their progress. It had been easy flying down to Kent that evening.
Looking in the direction of the reservoir, he suddenly noticed something strange about the sight in front of him. There was a dense mist that seemed to be covering the waters and nothing else. He wondered if it were not in fact steam, as he could feel immense heat surging from it. It seemed to race off into the atmosphere, much higher than they could fly themselves. After a minute or two to get his bearings, he ordered his more dispensable vampires at the front to make their descent, followed shortly afterwards by himself and his Elite warriors, who surrounded him as he landed.
As their feet touched the ground, the warriors drew out their heavy swords and took formation, holding their shields out to their sides in a Roman style, forming an impenetrable wall all around them. He stepped forwards, and as he did so the wall of warriors opened slightly before slowly expanding to cover his sides as he walked down to within feet of the water’s edge.
As he did though, he could sense the presence of their enemy. Something about the waters was far from right.
He suddenly recalled a message that he had received earlier, and the memory immediately gave him the answer he was looking for:
‘Travel the waters alone,’ it had read. ‘If any attempt is made to fly into the mist, those doing so will burst into flames. Likewise, be warned about the water; it is blessed and holy. Vampires dare not touch it.’
Looking around beneath the mist, he could see that the waters were completely calm. There was not even a ripple. What was really strange was that they weren’t completely iced over, whereas the ground all around them was frozen solid.
December in this area was almost uninhabitable for humans. Winters could get to forty degrees below zero due to the extremely bad weather. The reservoir was normally frozen, but tonight the waters had no ice on it anywhere.
Rex felt quite uneasy as he thought about the reservoir. He knew the mist phenomenon was far from right, and travelling on a raft felt like a trap somehow. He had no choice but to chance it though; he desperately needed the Sword’s powers unleashed. At any rate he doubted that, even if it was a trap, the Church could do much to him. His
knowledge of dark spells was extremely vast, and his powers immense. If they dared to enrage him, they would be making a grave mistake.
His mind then reflected back again to the message: ‘Travel the waters alone.’
Travel where alone? he thought. What point is it to have an army with you if you leave them behind in the face of possible danger? He had made that mistake before in Paris; surely he wasn’t about to do it again.
Or will I have to? Is it the price I will have to pay to get that spell lifted?
Suddenly he felt his warriors tensing. Their formation tightened as an empty raft appeared out in the reservoir, floating towards them. As it did, the mist began to lower itself down to within an inch of the water’s surface.
The raft was about three meters in length and made from approximately ten small branches, bound tightly together by what appeared to be vines. At the far end of it was an old paraffin lantern that was suspended precariously on a small thin branch, sticking up vertically about a meter.
Rex stepped out onto the raft and shuffled himself carefully to its center. As he did so, it began to slowly move back out into the middle of the reservoir in the same direction it had just came from.
Turning back, he shouted to his warriors, ‘Remember, if I don't come back, kill Jenny! Get her before the priest does, and deliver the humans to Scotland!’
‘With pleasure, Master,’ came their reply, as they bowed their heads to him.
A few minutes into the journey, the raft finally began to slow down, giving Rex a chance to steady himself. He was well aware that the waters beneath would be extremely painful even if the slightest drop touched his skin. The innocent vampires I had tortured with it had proved that, he thought, smiling to himself as he remembered their faces in agony after he had thrown it over them.
Looking back he could see nothing; the mist was far too thick for him to see through. He was unaware that, to his warriors ashore, it had thinned out and that they could clearly see him looking back at them.
As he turned back around, he could see, thirty feet away and closing, another raft that was almost identical to the one that he was standing on. In the center of it stood a priest. He was wearing a mitre, with a shiny gold band upon it that ran completely around his head. The priest was dressed in a fine white linen tunic with a short-sleeved royal blue, slightly baggy apron over the top. It had tiny gold bells and pomegranates of blue, purple and scarlet dangling along the bottom. On top of this he wore an ephod, made of heavy cloth material and in the colours of heavenly glory - blue, purple and scarlet. Tied around his waist was a girdle that was looped in its center, allowing the ends to drop three quarters in length to his knees. The Breastplate of Judgement, with its twelve precious stones, was centered across his chest. They were the ancient gems of the priesthood: Sardius, Topaz, Carbuncle, Emerald, Sapphire, Diamond, Ligure, Agate, Amethyst, Beryl, Onyx, and finally Jasper. He was holding a large gold cross out in front of himself and dangling a gold incense burner to his side on a meter-length of three gold chains. Rex could smell it even at this distance, the so-called ‘Incense of Fragrance.’ which he found to be quite disgusting. The priest’s feet were bare, with white flowers underneath them that covered the entire raft.
Suddenly Rex’s raft came to an abrupt stop only a few feet away from the priest’s, and without warning the waters underneath splashed up violently against the sides. Rex leapt into the air to avoid it touching him, but as he landed he was sickened as the raft rocked even worse, and his feet got soaked. He screamed in agony, knowing there would be no relief. He had no choice now but to simply resist the searing pain. Looking down, he could hardly believe his eyes: his feet were badly burnt and the skin had shrunk, sucking in deep to the bones. He snarled at the sight.
The priest didn’t turn once to look at him. Instead he remained looking out into the mist itself, as if deep in prayer.
Just as Rex was about to lose his patience, the priest asked, ‘What can I do for you?’--still without turning his head.
‘We need the spell lifted from the Silver Sword,’ Rex said, in as normal a voice as he could possibly manage.
‘Why?’ came the immediate reply.
‘Because we want to end the werewolves forever,’ he said, knowing that he wasn’t telling the whole truth. The priest didn’t need to know that he wanted to release werewolves across the planet to kill millions of humans first, then afterwards to use the sword to rid the planet of them.
‘The sword is locked, though. We locked it with a spell so you could not use it,’ the priest replied.
‘We want you to unlock it for us though,’ Rex said.
‘And why would we do that for you?’ the priest asked, curiosity coming into his voice.
Rex was furious. What do I have to do, beg? No! That is not how I get what I want. I’ve already told him a very good reason why they should lift the spell. What more does this fool want from me? he thought.
His temper overtook any attempts at diplomacy. ‘Because if you don't,’ he screamed, ‘Everyone will know about your daughter Jenny—the one you dumped on the steps of an orphanage when she was only a day old, many years ago! We have travelled back in time and turned her into a vampire!’
The priest’s face showed no emotion, which stirred a vague unease in Rex’s black heart.
He showed his last card. ‘If you refuse, then two weeks from now it will be too late to turn her back, and the vampirism inside will be permanent! She will then stay a vampire forever!’ he shouted.
He then spat at the man, a gob of dark black phlegm, which landed in the back of the priest’s raft.
The priest then turned, his face contorted with anger and rage. For the first time, Rex was beginning to feel unsure about this man in front of him.
‘What will your precious church think about that?’ he added with a sneer.
‘I see,’ the priest said slowly, drawing out the words. ‘Allow me to think for a moment.’ He tapped his chin with a finger. ‘Would I be correct in thinking that you, Rex, have stooped so low this time that you think that you could dare blackmail the church? You lie too, because your plan is really to kill millions of humans by releasing werewolves all across the world, then to use the sword to kill the beasts so that they don’t kill your pathetic species afterwards.’
Rex’s jaw dropped. He knew! How could he know?
He was further astonished when the priest then suddenly shape-shifted himself back into his true form.
The vampire almost fell off the raft when he recognized him.
‘Installis!’
‘I knew you would be stupid enough to fall for this plan,’ Installis said. He laughed—a sick, twisted sound, before adding, ‘You brutally tortured my love Adina and then left her to die outside her home in Jerusalem all those years ago! You took her away from me, and now I have an eternity alone. I promised her revenge and now I have it.
‘So you’ll kill me now, is that it?’ Rex asked defiantly. ‘You do realise that the moment you step foot on this raft, I will have your throat.’
Installis chuckled humorlessly and said, ‘You will pay, but not with death. I have a far worse punishment.’
Rex knew he didn’t want to hear what would come next.
‘You will stay trapped on that raft forever.’
Turning, Rex screamed into the mist for his warriors to come and save him.
‘This isn’t the priest! It’s a trick! Attack!’
He listened for a few seconds, hoping to hear the sound of their clanging swords and the beating of their wings sweeping them through the mist as they raced over to save him. But there was nothing, and as the seconds passed still nothing. It was quiet all around him and no one came to save him.
Laughing at Installis’ foolishness at thinking he could keep him here, Rex rubbed his hands together before raising them above his head. He began to chant the most demonic chant he knew,