Blood Crusade

by Billita Jacobsen

  “Move half of the order into the provinces and half to Alexandria,” she ordered, sitting back with a smile of satisfaction, “Let’s see how well Octavian does when he learns his masters have been destroyed.”

  Antony’s jealousy of Strabo lessened as he noticed that Cleopatra looked at him with the same affection she showed the children. There was no lust in her eyes, only fondness and satisfaction in building an army to rid the world of vampires.

  “I’ll sail straight away,” Strabo said, leaving with a sense of urgency.

  “We move our fleet tomorrow to meet Octavian. Victory will be sweet as honey cake,” she said, her voice carrying the same melodious tone that enticed Antony so long ago.

  They were in bed when the trumpets sounded. After a night of familiar, satisfying love making, Antony found it hard to rise. Running to the bow, they were greeted with the nightmare of hundreds of Roman ships, blocking the harbor, preventing escape or battle in the open sea.

  “We’re too late,” Cleopatra lamented. “He has us trapped.”

  Octavian and Admiral Agrippa sent word that they would accept Cleopatra’s surrender. She sent word back that, to the contrary, she would accept Rome’s defeat. Antony occasionally sent his fleet forward to try and ram Octavian’s ships but the lighter boats easily outmaneuvered the heavier battering vessels.

  Days turned into weeks as Octavian toyed with the royal couple. Supplies dwindled from the blockade and Cleopatra implored Antony to show leadership in a final battle to set their ships to open sea.

  “We’ll lose too many ships,” he informed her, satisfied that he held the power now as commander of the navy. There would be no attack unless he gave the command. Discarding his vow to never drink while doing battle, his nightly drunkenness shattered any of the queen’s remaining confidence in him.

  Dividing his time between the barge and his own ship, he decided to wait out the barricade. He ordered the men to fish during the day to supply them with food, and gave them promises of vast treasures once Octavian was defeated.

  It was in a drunken haze on the royal barge that he dreamt of a visit from Claudius. He snuck past Antony and went to Cleopatra. “Disband the Order of the Pyramids,” he told the queen, “and you will be allowed to live. Turn Antony over to Octavian and end this now.”

  “That will never happen.” Cleopatra replied, holding a silver scepter as a shield.

  It seemed so real that Antony had to drunkenly rise from his bed to gaze at his surroundings. The only view he had was of Cleopatra on her throne, her head in her hands, weeping. He went back to bed, satisfied he had only been dreaming.

  The next morning they received word from Octavian that he had changed his name. He was now to be called Augustus Caesar, supreme leader of the civilized world. He offered them a final invitation to surrender.

  “He dares call himself Caesar,” Cleopatra spat out. “He is no Caesar, he never will be!”

  The sound of trumpets from Antony’s ships stopped her tirade. Looking over the sides of the barge, they saw the soldiers on the deck of the ship next to them pointing out to sea. A small papyrus reed boat had made it past Octavian’s ships which were now in pursuit. The papyrus boat was laden with supplies that glistened in the sun and was about to be overtaken.

  “They’re trying to reach us! Do something!” Cleopatra demanded.

  Antony shouted an order at his ship. “Man the catapults! Head out! Provide cover! Ram them!”

  His ship, commanded by Antony from the barge, launched large stones past the small papyrus boat towards Octavian’s fleet. Archers sent a hail of arrows. They set a straight course to ram the first ship in pursuit, but the vessel abruptly turned around and headed back to join Octavian’s flotilla. The small boat made it to them and pulled up alongside the barge.

  Antony could now see that it was Strabo and another archer. “My queen, I have urgent news!” cried out Strabo, bloodied from battle, bleeding from wounds to his chest. Their boat was laden with thousands of silver-tipped arrows.

  Hauled aboard, Strabo and his fellow archer were treated for their wounds and given beer to quench their thirst. “You left Rome and defied my orders?” Cleopatra asked, incredulous that he had maneuvered through Octavian’s fleet. “What of the vampires? Have they all been destroyed?”

  “There wasn’t a single vampire in Rome, my queen. We came as quickly as we could to warn you but I fear we are too late,” he said, looking at the setting sun. “The Order is on its way to fight them but they won’t reach us in time.”

  Cleopatra visibly shivered and looked at Antony with shock in her eyes. “Isis help us,” she cried.

  Antony shrugged his shoulders. “What? What does this mean?”

  “Don’t you see? They’ve been here all the time! The vampires! They’re on board Octavian’s ships!” she shouted.

  With sudden clarity, Antony began barking orders. “Get half those silver arrows to my command ship. Sound the trumpets--we attack now while we still have light!”

  He turned to Cleopatra and gently told her, “I must leave for my command ship. As soon as there’s an opening, make your escape back to Alexandria.”

  She turned to the vampire hunters. “Get back on the papyrus boat. When we’re in battle, sneak through the lines and stop the Order of the Pyramids from approaching. Tell them to turn back. I want them scattered throughout the world to strike vampires in secret and operate undercover. It’s the only chance mankind has if we lose this battle.”

  “I won’t leave you now, my queen,” Strabo said, “Florus can follow that order,” he motioned to the other archer who nodded his head in agreement.

  “Very well. Go now. Florus, has the Order of the Pyramids decided on a vow?”

  “We have, my queen,” he said, solemnly, “we decided on an acrostic.”

  Strabo helped lower Florus to the papyrus boat, and both repeated their vow to the Order of the Pyramids. Antony, leaving the barge on the other side, without a goodbye from the queen, thought the words would be the last he heard from the vessel that had given him the best moments of his life.

  Sun God Ra, we vow to fight darkness,

  Light might still be allowed.

  As brothers and sisters, we lay down our lives,

  Yea, so humanity may still survive.

  Vanquish chaos and form order,

  As the pyramids rise,

  May good Queen Cleopatra’s spirit stay alive.

  Pursue and vanquish those,

  Intending to destroy the light,

  Righteousness is ours,

  Eternal, everlasting life that is pure in death,

  Sun God Ra, this is our quest.

  Cleopatra leaned over the side of the royal barge to shout to him, “Antony! Good luck in your quest, my love. Fate will bring you back to me in Alexandria.”

  Her words brought a smile to his lips and he ordered the ships forward to battle in a rough sea he hoped would be to their advantage. “Launch fire from the catapults!” he shouted. “Ready the archers!” His men, geared up for confrontation after so much waiting, eagerly complied.

  Flanking right, Antony’s command ship easily rammed and capsized Octavian’s closest vessel. “Hold the silver arrows for now--wait for my command to fire them,” he said in a firm battle voice. For a moment, as two more of Octavian’s ships were sunk, he pictured victory.

  His catapults were launching faster, his archers shooting straighter, the rams of his ships doing greater damage. Victory was in his hands and Cleopatra would remain queen. He thought of triumph until he heard the racket from the holds of the enemy ships. He noticed then that the sun was setting.

  Like the din of a million bees swarming, escalating in anger to sting their victims, masses left the enemy ships. He saw the flashes of white first, gathering above Octavian’s fleet, rising up over the stormy sea and heading towards his ships. Vampires in white togas, hundreds of them, with one flying in formation in front of the pack, wearing a black toga--Claudius. The
y carried torches that lit up the dark sky.

  Claudius hovered over his ship, torch in hand, laughing gleefully. He threw the torch with full force at the sails. Another vampire swooped in and threw another torch, and another, and another, until the ship was in flames.

  “Sound the retreat!” Antony cried out, but a vampire swooped in and carried off the trumpeter before he could raise the alarm. The heavy black smoke was smothering Antony and everywhere he looked his ships were ablaze, as the vampires flew over the fleet, wreaking havoc.

  “Archers, use the silver arrows,” he said, and a few of the men rallied from their panic, striking some of the bloodsuckers until they too were carried off by the marauding flock. Vampires were soaring everywhere, filling the skies and carrying shrieking men plucked from boats, drinking blood from their ripped open throats. The screams of the dying were so horrible to hear that Antony covered his ears.

  All seemed lost but as he walked through the intense smoke to the bow of his sinking ship, the fires lit up the night and allowed him a view of the royal barge. Strabo was swiftly firing his silver arrows into the sky at the hordes of vampires that appeared as avenging, wingless, angels from hell. His arrows shot straight and true and hit their target, again and again. The vampires were falling like ash from a volcano into the sea.

  Their battle had produced an opening in the blockade and a fortuitous wind blew against the barge’s purple sail, allowing them a swift escape. “At least you will escape, my love,” Antony said, steered his ship towards the opening. He sailed after Cleopatra, his blazing ship marking a trail that he hoped a few of his ships could follow.

  He looked backward on his fleet, now burned to destruction, thousands of men dead and drained of blood. Their bodies floated everywhere on the thrashing waters of the Actium sea. Reeling from the lack of fresh air, he collapsed on the deck of the doomed ship. He was faintly aware of being carried away from the command vessel, over the sea of burning corpses, over the sinking ships, a vampire on each side of him, holding him elevated over the battle.

  They unceremoniously dropped him at the feet of Claudius, Octavian, and Agrippa, on their command ship. “Well, well,” Claudius sneered, “just look at how the mighty have fallen.”

  “You have defeated me,” Antony said, imploring Octavian, “but have mercy on the men of Rome. Give the survivors a chance to surrender and return to their home. They are soldiers loyal to Caesar, they will be loyal to you.”

  “Agrippa and I aren’t monsters,” Octavian answered, rolling his eyes slightly to the side, realizing he said the words without thinking in the presence of a real monster--Claudius. “That order has already been given.”

  Antony managed his best commander’s stance, coughing, the taste of smoke from the battle still in his lungs, prepared for death. Agrippa was his best chance for a soldier’s death, so he weakly lunged at him. Agrippa easily pushed him to the side.

  “No, Antony,” Claudius said, realizing his intent, coming close and breathing down his neck, “I will be the death of you.” He ran his slimy fangs up and down Antony’s neck.

  The fear in Antony’s stomach tightened and he felt like he would vomit. He’d experienced dread in battle before, and faced death, but the secret to his success had been to never show it. This was a trepidation unlike any before, the terror of being eaten alive, but he swallowed and bravely held his head up.

  “Get it over with, bloodsucker,” he said, offering his neck to Claudius.

  “No, Antony, you have one final invitation to join us,” Claudius said. “Be assured that your time is up, you must decide now. Weigh your options and consider the following information.” Turning to Octavian he said, “Go ahead. Tell him.”

  Octavian looked slightly distressed, perhaps dealing with vampires hadn’t been all he’d thought it would be. He’d seen Romans torn apart in battle and had to deal with the vampires for weeks while they slept in the hold and devoured slaves during the night.

  “Caesarion is dead. He was captured at the port of Bernice. Two Caesars is one too many, he had to go,” Octavian stated, with no emotion.

  “No, no, not Caesarion,” Antony cried out in anguish, remembering the years spent with the boy, how he was so like Caesar in looks and actions, and how much he’d come to love him, as he had loved his father. “You’ve murdered Caesar’s true son.” He lunged at Octavian but Agrippa quickly stepped in front of him and punched Antony in the face with all his might.

  “Well, actually, I murdered him,” Claudius said, standing over Antony. “There’s no doubt he was Caesar’s son, his blood tasted the same…well, perhaps slightly sweeter due to his youth.”

  “Get this shit over with,” Antony said, truly defeated, hanging his head, “I will not join with the likes of you.”

  Claudius bent down over Antony, “Oh, but I think you will. You must consider your children, Cleopatra Selene, Alexander Helios, little Ptolemy Philadelphus. Oh, how sweet would be the blood of Cleopatra’s children! I can’t believe I deny myself the taste of them! They are still alive and will be spared only if you join with the likes of us.”

  This was a consideration Antony hadn’t contemplated. The children were everything to him, he would give up his life to save them. The tiny inkling began to form in his mind--isn’t becoming a vampire the same thing?

  Sensing Antony’s acceptance, Claudius bit his own wrist, drawing blood, holding it above Antony’s mouth. “Accept this gift, drink from my blood and join us,” he said, “and your children will live. Oh, but there is a catch, of course--you must kill Cleopatra when you become vampire.”

  Octavian and Agrippa exchanged glances with raised eyebrows. Claudius hadn’t filled them in on this part of the plot. “Are you insane?” Antony weakly asked.

  “Think about it,” Claudius continued, “if you don’t do it, I will, and if I drain her, it will be a most unpleasant experience for the queen, I assure you. And I will kill her children in front of her before she dies.”

  Antony had never encountered such true evil in his life, it was almost too much to bear. His answer to Claudius was simply to turn his head upward and open his mouth. “Good. Good. You’ve made the right decision, now drink. Drink,” Claudius cooed, holding Antony’s neck while the vampire’s foul blood began to course through his body.

  The vile fluid began to taste sweet and Antony grabbed the vampire’s wrist, hungrily and greedily wanting more. “You see,” Claudius announced, looking up at the astonished Agrippa and Octavian, “he will make the most splendid vampire. I told you so.”

  Two nights later, they arrived at the Pharos Lighthouse in Alexandria. It had taken some time to round up the survivors and spare those who pledged a vow of silence about the vampires. Most of the men complied with the order, those who refused became vampire nourishment.

  Antony proved true to the wishes of Claudius, draining many slaves and even a few of his own soldiers who refused to take the vow of secrecy, in only two nights of being a vampire. He was most splendid in his blood lust. Octavian now looked at Antony with fear in his eyes, wanting to end this campaign and return to Rome. It was arranged that Octavia would take and raise the children and Antony would rule a far-away province.

  “Isn’t she cleaver to make her last stand here?” Antony said in appreciation as they gazed on the wonder of the lighthouse. Moored next to the magnificent structure was the royal barge, purple sails flapping in the wind, nestled in its final destination.

  The edifice loomed four hundred feet above the Mediterranean sea, its gleaming white marble towers welcoming all the ships that approached the harbor, the tallest structure in all the lands and the first lighthouse ever built to guide vessels to land.

  The top of the structure held a giant statute of Poseidon, golden trident in hand. Underneath that was the beacon where fires continuously burned, their glow magnified by huge lenses and a colossal mirror. The secret of how it was built and how it worked was closely guarded but it was said if the lens were directed at s
hips in the sea, it could magnify the sun’s rays, and those ships would be set ablaze.

  “She aims to burn the fleet with the Pharos mirror and lens,” Antony announced.

  “Isn’t it fortunate we are here at night then, when she cannot do so?” asked Claudius.

  Agrippa reported back to Octavian that their battering rams were unsuccessful in opening the massive metal doors of the structure. “There’s a solid granite wall too close to the building to gain momentum.”

  “I told you she was clever,” Antony said, pleased that he would not have to confront her this night.

  “Not clever enough,” Claudius replied. “Come, Antony. Octavian and Agrippa can meet us by the door, we shall let them in.”

  Craning his head backward, looking up at the massive tower, Antony didn’t understand how they could open the door. “We want to get to the top,” Claudius instructed, “just imagine the destination, as you do when you are walking, and we will be there.” He grabbed Antony’s elbow and they began to ascend upwards, accompanied by a clan of six vampires.

  They rose over a square master court, past the observation platform of the second level, an octagon, where a gallery of statues of the gods and fifty guest rooms were available for visitors. Much more than a simple lighthouse, this was a palace constructed vertically, with the top a guarding tower containing a complex invention that could incinerate invaders.

  Antony was enjoying his feat of levitation, rising higher and higher, past gleaming white marble walls, towards the top cylindrical level. Rising towards the balcony, he noticed an inscription carved underneath a bit of crumbling marble in the facade, “Sostratus, the son of Dexiphanes, dedicates this lighthouse to the Savior Gods who protect all souls who sail the seas.”

  “Claudius, I must ask that you not tell Cleopatra about the death of Caesarion. Those must not be the last words she hears,” Antony said, looking upward as they neared the balcony.

  “Very well,” Claudius said simply as they floated past the pillars into the sanctum. Cleopatra sat on her golden throne, wearing the crown of Arsinoe, her cat Isis on her lap, the children on the floor around her. The treasures of Egypt were strewn around the round room in silver and gold chests crammed with emeralds and precious metals. Pure gold statues of Horus, Isis, Thoth and Osiris were placed next to a hammered gold bed that was inlaid with jewels where Iras and Charmion were attending to a badly injured Strabo. They were wrapping the injuries with cloth and he looked like a half-finished mummy. Seeing the danger, Strabo struggled to reach the archer’s quiver by the bed, but fell back spent and exhausted.