Immortal Prophecy Complete Series

by Sela Croft

  But the fighter in front of me unsheathed his sword, and it glinted in the light. Before I could move, he swept it back to carve off my head. In the next second, his head fell free of his shoulders and his body smacked to the ground.

  Quin stepped forth, having saved me, and not a second too soon. I scrambled to my feet. The effect of the light had dissipated, and I was back in the fight. Enraged by the attack, I killed as many fighters as I could reach. Yet I was aware that my own men were dying in the battle as well.

  Then the melee ended, and silence descended. Whatever fighters were left had vanished into the trees. Bloody bodies were strewn over the dirt. I looked up. “Jon…” I raced across the gully and found my comrade bleeding on the ground.

  One of his soldiers was wrapping his neck to stop the flow. “He nearly didn’t make it,” the soldier said. “The enemy’s sword cut deep. I defended him, but not quite swiftly enough.”

  I motioned to a group of soldiers. “Quickly, get Jon taken care of. Ride with speed back to the castle. He needs medical attention.”

  Jon’s eyes met mine. “I didn’t see the fighter soon enough.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” I said. “You’ll heal. I can see that you came away with your head.” I was relieved that he was talking and would live to fight another battle—but my comrade had nearly lost his life.

  I surveyed the damage, not at all sure that it had been worth it. The Dark Fighters were treacherous, so had proven more difficult to conquer than expected. It was time to regroup. I’d lost too many men to plunge ahead toward more disaster.

  I’d ordered my men to return to the castle fortress. It seemed that Silvain had been one step ahead of us. Next time we’d fare better, but I’d need more soldiers. Upon my return, I went directly to the command center.

  One of my generals had returned from the battlefield and was debriefing. General Clay motioned for me to take a seat. “Simpson has returned from the front with quite a story.” He nodded. “Continue…tell Draven what you told me.”

  In great detail, Simpson told of a battle that had recently occurred. He’d been leading a battalion to fight the Royal Army. At the border of the king’s region, royals had poured from the mountains like a sea of monsters. They moved forward in tight formation, appearing unstoppable.

  Slowly and steadily, the royal troops had marched toward a faction of Guardians, having the advantage of immense force and great numbers. “It appeared they might overcome us,” Simpson said.

  I listened with rapt attention.

  “But I gave the orders, and factions of Guardians closed around the royals. Before the behemoths could react, our soldiers were upon them.”

  I could imagine it in all its detail. It was Calina’s vision that had come to pass.

  “Two or three Guardians at a time attacked each royal,” Simpson said. “It took that many of us to carve them up and behead them.” He took a breath. “My men were bleeding, too, yet fighting at their best.”

  I knew what Simpson was going to say before he said it.

  “The gory battle raged on. There were so many royals that there were nearly too many to kill.” Simpson looked at me. “Yet we fought valiantly, unrelenting, until…”

  I held my breath.

  “The royals began to retreat,” Simpson said. “I couldn’t believe my eyes. Our army had intimidated Alban’s monsters and driven them back.”

  “Then you returned to the castle?” I said.

  “The Royal Army had withdrawn,” Simpson said. “There was no reason to pursue them. We’d expended so much energy that I ordered my troops to return.”

  I imagined the scene: monster vampire bodies littering the ground, their blood seeping into the dirt. The mounds of severed heads indicated heavy losses for the royals.

  “You are to be commended,” I said. “Your victory is noted.”

  “It was quite the sight,” Simpson said. “It was three Guardians to every royal soldier. They are more like tanks than men. Alban’s vampires are gargantuan, so they weigh too much to be easily bested.”

  “Yes, what you say is true.” I turned toward General Clay. “The Royal Army can be conquered. It would appear that the key is having a massive enough army, since it takes so many soldiers to defeat them.”

  “That is a fact,” Clay said. “It is to our credit that the royals turned and ran. Yet…”

  “My thoughts exactly,” I said. “Alban will be incensed. He will retaliate, stronger than ever. Our best defense is going to be in the size of our army. We must outnumber them, at least two to one—three to one, if possible.”

  Encouraged by the report of the battle, I strode to the castle to find Calina. My morale had resurged on the heels of the loss against the Dark Fighters. I found new confidence in the news about the royals. I hadn’t shared that I’d known more about the outcome.

  I was anxious to tell Calina that her vision had come to pass. I assumed that the second part had also transpired, that Alban had executed his own soldiers for daring to retreat. That was an advantage for my group.

  Yet I wasn’t deluded. The rage that caused Alban to kill his own men would be unleashed on us. His next attack would be fiercer and deadlier. We’d need to be ready. The king would ruthlessly retaliate.

  I was in for another surprise. Calina was not in the usual places, so I asked the house steward where she was. “In her room.” That was odd for the middle of the day. And where was Mirela? I levitated upstairs, concerned about what I might find.

  When I knocked, Mirela opened the door then gave me a quick hug. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m uncertain how to handle this.”

  Calina was reclined on the bed, and she looked like a ghost of her former self.

  “I was just about to send for the medics,” Mirela said.

  I sat on the bed and took my sister’s hand. “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure.” Mirela stood next to me. “She told me that she had something to attend to, but when she didn’t return, I sought her out.”

  “Was she like this when you arrived?”

  “Worse,” Mirela said. “I thought she was dead.” She took a breath. “I put a cool towel on her forehead to try and revive her. Since her pulse was strong, I thought maybe she just fainted.”

  “That’s doubtful,” I said. “I haven’t known of a vampire fainting. She looks…different.”

  “I tried to talk to her, but she wasn’t responding.” Mirela put her hand on my shoulder. “What should we do? Do you want me to get the doctor?”

  I hadn’t seen my sister in such a state before, so it puzzled me. I was about to agree that she needed the doctor when she stirred. “Calina…”

  My sister stared at me, but she didn’t speak. Her skin was chalky and her lips pale. I looked into her blue eyes but encountered a vacant gaze.

  I squeezed Calina’s hand. “I’m here with you now. Can you talk?”

  At first, Calina didn’t move; she didn’t even blink. I feared that she’d been hypnotized, yet had no idea how that had happened. She appeared catatonic, except that her eyes were open.

  Then I felt her hand move. I squeezed it reassuringly. “Calina, what do you need?”

  Her breathing had been shallow, then she gasped and took in a deep breath. It was like oxygen had been pumped into her lungs, all at once. She took more breaths, then looked at me. “That was…terrifying.”

  My heart soared; she was speaking. “What, Calina? Tell me what happened.”

  “I need water.”

  Mirela rushed to the table and poured a glass of water. I helped Calina sit up against the pillows, then waited while she drank. When she handed the empty glass back, our gazes locked. I had the most horrendous feeling.

  “Alban?”

  Calina nodded. “I thought it would work. I had to try.” She paused. “My vision…it came true, didn’t it?”

  I nodded. “But what does that have to do with your condition?”

  “I sensed that it had
come to pass, so I rushed up here to try something,” Calina said. “It occurred to me that if Alban could force the connection between us, then so could I.”

  “Oh no,” Mirela said.

  “I discovered that, when Alban is in a distressed state, I can force the connection between us. He has done it before,” Calina said. “I wanted to make a show of strength, to demonstrate that I was in control.”

  I was stunned.

  “Alban was enraged. He’d ordered the executions,” Calina said. “Then he perceived my connection. I mocked him, told him he would lose the war. His soldiers had fled from us…wasn’t that evidence enough?”

  “Did Alban respond?” I said, fearing the answer.

  “I… It was awful,” Calina said. “The insult fueled his hatred, and he struck out at me. The energy that came through the connection was so charged that it nearly destroyed me.”

  I could imagine Alban’s state of mind when Calina had taunted him, right after his army had betrayed him.

  “Alban is unhinged,” I said. “What did you hope to achieve?”

  “He was at a weakened point, so I wanted to hit him where it hurt…his ego,” Calina said. “I’m determined to do what I can to ensure our victory.”

  “It was too dangerous,” I said.

  “It was worth it.” Calina’s lips stretched into a tiny smile. “I had the satisfaction of digging the knife in deeper after he’d suffered betrayal from his own. His reaction was worth it. He won’t admit it, but I know that I got to him.”

  I shook my head. “Please, you mustn’t do that again. I cannot lose you in this war.” I looked into my sister’s eyes. “Alban is doomed; I promise you. But you can’t risk yourself like that again.”

  Calina nodded. “But it’s good to know that forcing the connection works two ways.”

  “Take care of her,” I said to Mirela. “She needs a chance to recover. I’ll go deal with military affairs.” I bent down and kissed my sister’s forehead. “I don’t want you thinking that you can pull that trick again…but I would have liked to see Alban when you rubbed his face in defeat.”

  I left my sister with Mirela, but I was worried. It was important to her that the Guardians win, just as it was to me. Yet I feared that she might take too great a risk, since she was personally vulnerable to Alban. I preferred to keep the confrontations within the parameters of battle, where the odds were more in my favor.

  My struggle for victory continued. The last attempt to unravel Silvain’s position had met with failure. He continued to use his guerilla tactics, but I vowed that in the next encounter my troops would be successful.

  On the plus side, the royals’ retreat had been encouraging. Behind the scenes, I’d utilized Blackburn, my traitorous general, to feed false intelligence to the king—on several occasions. It seemed that the tactic had worked. Alban had been misled, so had misestimated the number of troops to send. The attack had resulted in the retreat of his soldiers, but I was aware that wouldn’t happen again.

  Chapter 8 – Silvain

  After leaving the witch and her friend in the cold, I flew home. Upon my return, I gave the guards a nod and handed off my horse to be stabled, then headed for the castle. It was good to see that the gardens had begun to thrive. There were still sparse areas, evidence of my temper.

  It wasn’t difficult to get me riled up, but I’d come by it honestly. My warrior heritage was one that I was proud of. The Dark Fighters had been in existence for longer than Alban had reigned in the kingdom. The coven had originated as a secret order of self-proclaimed warriors against anarchy.

  Then, centuries ago, Lumea had abandoned the state of lawlessness for a monarchy—hardly a better choice. King Alban had been vile from the start and had only gotten worse. My cause was to fight against him and take him down.

  My mother Laela had been the daughter of a well-respected general in the Dark Fighters. Her mother had been a beautiful, talented vampire and her father a strong vampire warrior. Their blood was in my veins, along with that of my natural father.

  I despised acknowledging my relationship to the king. He’d been no father at all and had refused to acknowledge me as his heir. It was just as well, since I wanted no part of his perverted existence. I’d been better off as his bastard son. I’d been raised by the fighters and made my own way in the world.

  I was purebred, so had no human side to weaken me. Alban had railed against the human race, yet he’d impregnated Odeya, the human woman who’d spawned Calina and Draven. It was consistent with his psychosis that he’d demeaned the poor woman, even after her death.

  Yet Alban had married her, a fact that I resented to this day. He’d had the decency to make the mother of his children legitimate, to give her the honor she deserved. But he’d not only left my mother to fend for herself, he’d feared her announcement that she would bear his child.

  The evil king had tried to kill her, and would have succeeded—if she hadn’t gone into hiding. I’d been a newborn when she’d placed me in the care of the fighters. Alban knew me today as the leader of the Dark Fighters, without realizing that I was his son.

  My existence had been kept secret since my birth. And I hadn’t been in touch with my mother for fear that Alban would unleash vengeance upon her. It wasn’t worth that risk. But I took solace in knowing that she was protected—even if I couldn’t visit her.

  Alban had created a false past and kept his discreditable acts hidden. He’d made certain that his destructive activities remained secret, so the truth was known by only a few ancients. I assumed that he intended to wreak the scourge of death upon the kingdom to assure that his reputation was maintained.

  My hatred for Alban ran deep, and I would not allow him to succeed. The loss of my mother was only a part of it—although an important part. Beyond that, I continued to uphold the mission statement of the Dark Fighters to put down tyranny in all its forms.

  When I entered and proceeded down the hall, Iris greeted me. She had been my steward for a long while, which left me free to attend to more important matters. “Iris,” I said. “I trust that all went well in my absence.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “I have the place running smoothly.”

  “Carry on, then.” I had other things on my mind besides domestic matters.

  For one thing, Selene had refused my offer. I levitated up the stairs to the tower. It was a clear day, so I could see into the rainforest that surrounded my estate. The location had been a good choice. The thick forest was populated by plants and animals with supernatural attributes.

  The dense forest and the forbidding creatures provided a barrier to my enemies. Even then, I kept a force field around my property. I leaned against the parapet and looked out. I’d taken the chance that Selene would side with me if I presented my case properly.

  Apparently, the witch gave more credence to the prophecy than I’d expected. She felt the need to support Mirela, which, logically, meant that she sided with the Guardians. Hearing that she wouldn’t ally with me had been an annoying turn of events.

  But I would seize victory, with or without the aid of her sorcery. My powers were substantial, plus I’d honed unique abilities that gave me an advantage. It wasn’t the magic that Draven claimed, with light pouring out of his palms, or the witchcraft that Alban used, with the concussive blasts of his scepter.

  I had a talent that superseded the others. Through the centuries I’d refined my intelligence and gained cleverness that gave me an advantage. I was able to figure things out. While the rest leaned on the insubstantial stuff of prophecies and visions, I based my strategies on firmer foundations.

  I understood my enemies, so had been adept at predicting their next moves. My guerilla warfare had been effective, so the Guardians had played into my hand. I could outmaneuver and outsmart any foe, which was how I intended to win the war.

  I wouldn’t reject an offer of assistance, as that would be foolhardy. If Selene had agreed to pledge her support, I’d have taken any
advantage I could. I’d even pondered what Nemuri had said to me before I left. She’d claimed to see the future, yet had only shared part of it.

  That was the irksome thing about seers and fortune-tellers. The charlatans told only a portion of the tale, leaving the rest to be guessed. Yet I respected Nemuri, and she had previously been useful. I wasn’t certain what she’d referred to, but assumed that it would become clear.

  I looked out at the star-filled sky and watched a few white clouds drift by. Under the glow of the moonlight, the rainforest looked dark and ominous. It had a special beauty, and I found comfort within its boundaries.

  My mind began to conjure up future events. I lacked the ability to forecast the future, as though it had already transpired. And nor did I have visions that revealed outcomes. But I was adept as figuring out what was going to happen.

  In my thoughts, I saw how events would unravel based on logic. Alban had been pushed beyond his tolerance for injury and insult. His pride was such that he could not allow change. His world-view was as he saw it, whether it bore any resemblance to reality or not.

  That dissociation would push the king to act in ways that would be his undoing. In the face of the ever-changing landscape of war, he was unable to adapt. So he would continue to command his troops in the same way he ruled his kingdom: relying on outdated traditions.

  Draven would lead the Guardians to attack. Despite his avowed support of progressive ways, he wasn’t that different from his father. Thwarted in battle, he would become enraged. The evil that simmered in his veins would take over, as he could not accept failure.

  The two evil leaders would attack with full force. In my mind’s eye, I watched the scenes play out, like watching a play on a stage. The actors were the king and his son, both harboring anger and rage ready to explode. I could see it, just as though it was happening.

  Alban would order his grotesque monsters to mow down the Guardians, his son included, with no thought for the consequences. Meanwhile, Draven would amass huge numbers of soldiers with the same in mind. He would overrun Alban’s forces to seize the victory.