Unhallowed Shadows

by Stefanos Kottas

  Despite her way of life, her powers were impossibly strong. She could channel the power of God and perform “small miracles”, as the priest called them. The members of the Order were taught how to invoke the power of God in order to combat the creatures of the night, but it was by no means certain that the Almighty would respond. However, it seemed that the Lord took no issue with the way of life Sir Angelus’ daughter was leading.

  “Erica”.

  He spoke softly so as not to startle her from her prayers; the moment she heard his voice, she jumped up and run into his arms.

  “Daddy! You’re back, finally! Are you all right? How did it go? There are rumors that you’ve found it!”

  He held her close, he had missed her terribly.

  “I’m all right, I’ve missed you, my little princess… And, yes, I found it. Now, we stand a chance”.

  Erica looked like she hadn’t heard a single thing from those last words, as if they did not matter. The young always felt like they were invincible, and it was a source of deep worry for Sir Angelus the fact that his daughter did not realize the grave danger she was facing. He held her by the shoulders; his height and massive hands made her look almost tiny.

  “Erica! I was told that you had been informed of your duties and that you had agreed! But you’re not ready! You haven’t even completed your training!”

  With a proud jerk of her head and a quick twitch of her body, she escaped his grip.

  “I have no further need of training and, besides, there’s no time. I’m fully aware of the situation and the fact that the other shelters have fallen. With the sword of Saint Peter at our disposal, we stand a chance of eliminating one of the Ancients… Besides, I’m perfectly capable of keeping us all safe from his aura”.

  She spread her arms and, as if it was the easiest thing in the world, two flames formed, one on each palm; a massive protective sphere formed, made of pure energy, engulfing herself and her father, without hurting them. Most priests, in order to cast such a protective sphere, needed hours of prayer, yet she had summoned the sphere in a mere second. She closed her palms and the flames were extinguished, along with the energy sphere, while she looked entirely unfazed.

  “I am ready, father. Even if we fail, we must do it. We cannot abandon so many innocent people to die, no matter how badly you’d want to see me survive”.

  She spoke those last words calmly and the pride of her youth had disappeared. The young woman held wisdom within her and understood after all much more than Sir Angelus would have guessed. Tears welled in his eyes, but the knight was not sure whether he was about to weep with pride for his daughter or sorrow; for he was surely marching alongside her towards certain death.

  The Order wasted no time in pointless preparations. A few knights, along with a priest, stayed behind to organize the evacuation of the shelter and to make sure that the civilians would be safe. All other battle brothers and priests boarded a private jet, which took them to the border of the United States; from there they continued on trucks, taking the road that would lead them to Sitka, the former capital of the independent State of Alaska, a place which now lay mostly deserted. The Ancient was supposed to be hiding in an old mansion in the region. They knew that the chances to survive and return to the brothers they had left behind were less than slim and, despite their determination, most were glum, worry and stress showing on their faces. They had loaded their equipment on the trucks and, as the journey continued, they reviewed their battle tactics. Sir Angelus was sitting beside his daughter, repeating to her for the umpteenth time all that he knew about the Ancients:

  “The Ancients are ten, in total, and have existed for thousands of years. We know little about them, how they came to be and why, but we do know that they are the ones who spawned the vampires. If you manage to kill one of them, all the vampires around the Ancient are instantly destroyed. Now, this does not happen to make our job easier, but merely because the Ancient’s aura is extinguished. The aura itself is explained by the very nature of the vampires. Vampirism is caused by a microorganism which exists in the bodies of the vampires and is responsible for the powers they possess, their unholy stamina and longevity. This microorganism is capable, if it manages to get straight into the veins of a normal person, to rapidly transform that person into a vampire. Fortunately for us, we are immune; our bodies are living bastions of the power of God. In the same way that a common flu cannot affect us, we are able to resist this unholy disease. The only fiends capable of turning us into vampires are the Ancients. They are surrounded by an extended field of these microorganisms, which grant them their vampiric powers; any human who comes into contact with this vile sphere is turned, almost immediately. In ancient times, when they lacked the science to comprehend this phenomenon, they had named it “aura”. To us, this changes nothing, other than the fact that we must protect ourselves against it. This is where you come in. All of us shall form a battle line around you, while you must maintain a protection sphere that envelops us, one and all. Thus the disease will be kept at bay, while the vampires entering this sphere shall be hammered by the power of God. When we manage to kill the Ancient, all the microorganisms around him will die, instantly destroying any vampires still standing at that time. Then, we shall finally be victorious”.

  Erica nodded, once again. Almost subconsciously, she checked her gear. She was wearing black woven clothes, which were specifically designed to offer her agility, since she lacked the muscles of the men clad in armor. Around her neck a silver protective pendant was hanging, and each of her wrists was encircled by a silver bracelet, thus protecting the most common places where the vampires directed their bites. Small silver coins were placed all over her clothes, offering her a little added protection, should she end up fighting a vampire in close combat. On either side of her belt there were two short swords, more akin to daggers. Their blades were also forged from silver.

  She was surrounded mostly by knights, but even the priests around them were similarly dressed. They wore specially designed silver suits of armor. Their shoulders, arms and hands were covered by the armor. Their palms were free so as to better grip their swords and shields. They wore trousers and, tied on their thighs, were pieces of silver to protect them against attacks; placed on layers of leather, so as not to clang. Moreover, they wore boots with rubber soles, to avoid detections. Each knight also boasted a tightly fitting, specially forged silver cuirass, which covered them from neck to waist. The cuirass was decorated with a massive cross and inscribed all over it were the words “eternal faith”, in various languages. Most knights and priests carried swords, hanging from their belts. Some of them also carried small shields; others were armed with two-handed swords, while a few were equipped altogether differently: they carried handguns, loaded with silver bullets. Most vampires were able to move fast enough to dodge gunshots, but that required conscious effort on their part: in pitched battles where the combatants were numerous, it was hard even for them to track each and every opponent; thus allowing the Order’s marksmen to inflict several casualties in the fiends’ ranks. The priests were there to call upon the Lord’s power, against the unhallowed creatures they were fighting.

  All were fervently preparing in the trucks and the hours passed surprisingly quickly. At the crack of dawn, they reached their target. An impressive mansion stood before them, with a gigantic gate separating the road from the yard. The gardens around the mansion were thick with trees able to sustain the harsh climate of the region.

  Initially, the knights had thought about sneaking into the lair of the Ancient, but upon their arrival they realized that such an attempt would be pointless. The mansion stood at the middle of a glade in a forested area, and thus anyone attempting to approach the building could be easily detected. The entire structure was surrounded by cameras, which recorded everything around the clock, while in the vicinity there was nothing that could provide them with cover. The one advantage the Order had was that the vampires were unable to sally forth in t
he daylight. However, that didn’t mean that the unholy creatures couldn’t fight unimpeded within the sprawling mansion, where they were safe from the sun. The knights shivered, realizing that this isolated location that the Ancient had chosen for his lair was not such a poor idea, after all.

  Deciding that a frontal assault was their only option, they pressed ahead and rammed the gate with their trucks, tearing it down with their bumpers. Quickly, they covered the open space to the main building. The knights charged, with the priests supporting them with prayers. Simultaneously, as if they were one, the men of God raised their hands towards the heavens and immediately lighting struck, in response to their summons. The magical attack was directed against the building, which shook by the strength of their faith. Glasses shattered and parts of the walls fell. Fire and blinding light flooded the outer parts of the mansion. If any vampires had made the mistake of staying near the windows, they would have been turned to asses instantly.

  The knights reached the entrance of the mansion, while the marksmen formed ranks behind them, with Erica and the priests bringing up the rear. Erica extended her arms and a sphere of pure energy formed, enveloping everyone.

  Her father was leading the attack, holding in his hands the naked blade of Saint Peter. He raised his leg, kicked the door in and everyone charged the mansion.

  He brought his sword down, in a powerful sweep, severing the right arm of the vampire before him. The severed limb immediately turned to dust that scattered. The enemy of Sir Angelus screamed in pain, but continued with his attack; he turned quickly and grabbed with his left hand the sword he had been holding in his right, catching the weapon in mid-air. The fiend attempted to strike the knight, but Sir Angelus was ready and parried the blow, bringing his blade vertically. Before he had the time to counterattack, a priest behind him completed his chant, and the vampire was engulfed by flames. Immediately, Sir Angelus focused on his next target. The vampires around them were moving with impossible speed and, despite the armor worn by the members of the Order, even with their bare hands the fiends were able to cause massive damage. The only thing that was keeping the knights alive was the blessing of the Lord, allowing them to react quickly, with almost superhuman speed.

  Sir Angelus had lost any sense of time. Along with his battle brothers, they had cleared tens of rooms, slaying countless vampires. They would not pause, even for a moment, descending ever more deeply into the labyrinthine basement of the mansion. Every now and then, the knight would allow himself to steal a look at his daughter, to check how she was holding up. Erica’s face was bathed in sweat, yet she was entirely focused on her duty, not even once seeing her father turn towards her.

  Having crossed dozens of corridors, they finally located the main passage. A massive, twin-leaf door was blocking their way, but Sir Angelus, without pausing, broke it and everyone charged in. They saw a room large enough to hold dozens of vampires and, at the back, seated on a golden throne, the Ancient one. The knight hadn’t seen him before, but it was quite obvious to realize who he was; he could feel upon his skin the evil emanating from the fiend and for the most fleeting of moments he felt gripped by his monstrous beauty. The Ancient was muscular, naked from the waist up. His body was covered in tattoos of otherworldly designs, while his hair was short. His eyes were pitch-black, like two bottomless wells. His face simultaneously resembled that of a savage and a nobleman of the 18th century; the fiend combined a primitive and wild beauty with the charm of a refined man. Despite his vampiric taint, he looked like an angel. Sir Angelus felt like his spirit was put in shackles: he couldn’t even think clearly, regardless of the fact that he was not attracted to men. For a fleeting moment, the reason that had brought him there seemed ridiculous, insane; yet his mind was quickly able to overcome the charms of the Ancient one and, with a roar, the knight charged the vampires who stood between them.

  Sir Angelus cast a quick glance around the room. The place was strewn with the bodies of dead knights and the ashes of destroyed vampires. He had lost over half his men, but he had not allowed himself to become distracted from the only thing that mattered: the Ancient one, who was still sitting on the throne; he had not participated in the battle, he was simply sitting there, watching his underlings being slaughtered by the Order. The remaining knights and priests closed ranks behind Sir Angelus, who was holding the sword of Saint Peter. They were approaching the Ancient one in measured, cautious steps; their intentions were clear. The vampire merely smiled, as if the threat facing him was insignificant.

  “What is this? Am I not allowed to atone? To ask for forgiveness?”

  His voice boomed in the room, primitive and forceful. The knights felt their skin crawl, as if the sound of that voice carried with it the coldest of winds. The creature before them was truly ancient and so powerful that, for a moment, they doubted whether they would be able to slay it.

  “There is nothing you can say that…” Sir Angelus made to reply, but the vampire immediately cut him off.

  “Drakatala”.

  The surprise and wonder were plain to see on the faces of almost all the knights, since none of them had understood what the creature had said, save for Sir Angelus and the patriarch, who approached and stood by the side of Sir Angelus.

  “It’s an ancient Aramaic dialect; it translates either as ‘promise’ or ‘covenant’. I can’t remember which”, said his Holiness, trying to think of a reason why the Ancient one would have said it.

  “It’s both. At the time, there was little difference between the concept of a promise and a covenant”, clarified the vampire and, before they had the time to decide whether to ignore him or ask him to clarify, the creature added: “Immortality, provided that we turn a blind eye when the time comes… We were fools, for the time has come… and it is a terrible time. Defend yourselves, knights, show me what you are truly made off!” he roared and he leaped from his throne with lightning speed.

  Never before had the knights seen a vampire move so fast. The Ancient one bypassed Sir Angelus and immediately struck down the patriarch with a terrible blow to his chest, entirely unfazed by the silver cuirass the priest was wearing. The lifeless body of the elder priest flew back, like a broken puppet. The knights quickly recovered from the sudden attack and charged the fiend. Sir Angelus tried to bring down his sword against the vampire’s legs, but he proved too slow and the creature managed to avoid the blow with ease. A young knight attempted to behead the Ancient one, but his attack was hasty and clumsy. The Ancient one grabbed the blade with his hands, managed to disarm the knight and pierced him with his own weapon. Before the others had time to attack, the creature had disappeared, turned into a shadow. He materialized behind them, where the door stood. Two priests were standing there. Once more unfazed by the kind or armor they were wearing, he grabbed them by their necks and squeezed so hard that the metal buckled, strangling them. His hands were smoking, as if on fire, for he had touched silver and a brief twitch of pain crossed his face. Once again the knights charged him, but the creature turned into a shadow again and attacked at their weakest point. He chose one of the marksmen and materialized before him, completely within the protective sphere created by Erica. The vampire seemed to simply not care about the holy energy that was smiting him; his body healed any damage almost instantly. He grabbed the weapon from the hands of the startled marksman and shot him with it.

  The battle soon turned into a slaughter. The Ancient used the weapon he had grabbed to shoot a couple of the knights, then seemed to grow tired of it and threw it down. Two priests completed their incantations and tried to engulf him in flames. Indeed, fire swallowed the vampire, but the creature quickly turned into a shadow; negating the holy attacks of his opponents. He materialized at another part of the room and turned his arm towards the priests who had attacked him. A wave of energy blasted from his palm and struck them with terrible force. The two humans stood absolutely no chance; the unholy magic pulverized their bones, killing them on the spot.

  Sir Angelu
s was watching his men being slaughtered, but was helpless to prevent it. The Ancient one was able to move with unparalleled speed and his strength far exceeded those of the other creatures the knight had faced in the past; to make matters even worse, the fiend wielded terrible magic. The battle was lost.

  “Form ranks around Erica!” he shouted and the knights immediately obeyed.

  The battle brothers formed a circle around his daughter, with their backs turned to her. The men on the inner part of the circle were standing, with their swords in defensive positions, closer to their bodies and ready to strike against anyone who approached. The knights at the outer perimeter took a knee, with their bodies touching those of their comrades behind them, while raising their swords. Within a few moments, they had formed a spiky sphere of steel, leaving no room between them for anyone to pass, even the Ancient one. Immediately, Erica shrank the protective sphere to include only the survivors, while strengthening its intensity, so as to better defend against the attacks of the vampire. Not a moment too soon, for their enemy grabbed another gun and shot against them. The bullets hit the protective dome and were immediately destroyed, leaving them unscathed. With a sigh, the vampire threw down the weapon and returned to his throne.

  “What a disappointment you are, all of you. You come here, thinking you carry God on your shoulders. You live like saints; act like martyrs; judge like gods and you have the nerve to call me a monster. I hope that you understand now why your God has abandoned you, leaving you bunched up there; hopeless and defeated.”.

  The surviving members of the Order were just standing there, unable to act or even comprehend the truth behind the vampire’s words. Even Sir Angelus was unwilling to accept what he was hearing and tried to counterattack. After all, the battle was over. The moment they broke ranks or when Erica became exhausted, the Ancient one would kill them without a second thought.