The Vampire's Heart

by Breaker, Cochin

  He’s got them thinly spread, but I know that up against this vampire, it is not any use to fight up close, so variation and distance would be the key. The town’s best archer was placed immediately; stationed on a roof with a good view of the town. It is his job to make the first strike against the vampire. I’m sure he’ll be scared, but I have faith in these men. They know what they must do and the reasons they must do it. They also know the cost of failure.

  I walk over to Meth who is talking at one of the men; I wait for him to finish before I address him. The man walks off with an old short bow in his hand. Are we sending these people to their deaths? Would it be better if we’d lured the vampires away from the populous?

  “Meth?”

  “Little brother?”

  “Do you really think we can win this?” I ask.

  Meth makes a signal gesture to a man who is approaching, and the tubby man, probably only into his early twenties, turns and waddles off. His journey wasted.

  “Thack, seriously, if you’d become a Calcian like mother wanted you to be, you would understand the kind faith Satch and I have in ourselves. It’s not too late either, it would mean you’d be Circle, but it is your calling. We three brothers are meant to be fighting in the name of Calcia together. Look at our situation, it is meant to be. Calcia has made it so,” Meth says, completely failing to reassure me.

  “Brother, surely you would have noticed, but those years we didn’t talk was because I chose to keep my own beliefs, not to take up yours and mothers. That is not going to change. I am what I am. And I suspect that the only reason you’re helping me now is because Satch is.” My irritation that this is once again his chosen topic of conversation rises, as it invariably does. He never seems to get it though his thick skull that I will not become a Calcian. I do not want to be one. Though I guess it is testament to his character that he believes so vehemently.

  “Thack, your heathenism is not all that severe, you could still become a Calcian. You have the talent for magic. You would be a powerful Hunter, one of the best. It is not too late to save yourself. Do you wish to go to Hell when you die? To be with the demons?”

  “When I die I will go to the Summerland, not to Hell; that place is reserved for Calcians.”

  “Never has a good Calcian gone to Hell!” Meth says, a little too loud. A few of the villagers turn to watch us. I’ll bet if he gets much louder Satch will soon be along to sort us out.

  “And what of the stories concerning the Lighthouse?” I ask, fully expecting some poppycock answer.

  “Rumours spread by non-believers such as yourself.”

  “Don’t be stupid Meth. You’ve got magic, you can feel it. Just search for the pain and terror emanating from that place,” I say. Meth’s frown becomes a full-on scowl.

  “I’ve had enough of this; you can talk to your brother from now on. I will not have you slander the true faith. Not in my presence. Calcia will see to it when I cannot. May She have mercy on your tarnished soul.”

  “You are naive brother; it is a pity you got to Satch. He would have been happier if you’d have left him alone. He was happier before.”

  “True, he does not have the heart of a great Hunter, but I suspect that of all who weren’t born to the faith. The Descendants of Calcia are the rightful heirs to Gatheck,” Meth says, pride all to evident in his voice. He reminds me of a preacher from the Calcian Wars. He was a tyrant, according to the records.

  “You sound like Preacher Vyne. Is that what you want?”

  Meth ignores that last statement and just walks away, not even catching my eye.

  The battle will come soon.

  - Holste -

  We are waiting.

  My team made it back to the catacombs just before sunrise this morning, and thankfully, our captive witch remained unconscious, through further spell work, until we’d arrived.

  Our journey was much longer on the way back. We had to travel on foot, taking turns to carry the dead-weight witch, thanks to oddly clear skies. There was some light-hearted discussion as to the nature of the strong southerly wind that had upped the risk of being seen. Sincli and Penk thought that it was just natural wind, whereas Lorien and I could tell it was a magical thing. But when all is said and done, it was not viable to fly in the clear blue skies above Gatheck.

  Currently we’re all in one of the observation rooms. This is one of the larger ones, which is about twenty foot along each wall, and has one wall completely made of spelled glass looking onto a second room, which has the same width but is only about half as deep.

  We’re watching the newly awakened and very weakened witch coming to terms with the loss of a lot of power.

  I can’t imagine what it must feel like to wake up and find out that you’re no longer free. It must be horrible. But then, he is working against the natural order of things; knowingly going against Calcia, and attempting to disrupt her influence. He deserves all of what he’ll get. And by being captured he will be furthering Calcia in a way he can never understand.

  A door opens behind us and in steps the man in charge. None of us turn to look at him. He likes it that way. He is the man with the new vision for the defence of Gatheck. He is the commander of our new order. He is known to us only as ‘Legion’.

  He first found his way to the Lighthouse a few seasons ago, dressed in ornate dark armour, which gleamed in the mid-day sun, I’m told. The story goes that he opened the gates using his magic and forced his way down into the catacombs where he met with the Grandfather Kestaris.

  Apparently, when he made his progress around the winding corridors within the Lighthouse, he did not hurt us, he incapacitated us, but did not hurt or kill us. There was a lot of activity, and when the priests went to check on the Grandfather, they found the armoured man in his company. It quietened down then.

  I was on the upper floors at the time of Legion’s arrival, but word gets around. A few men had come to search the higher levels, but neither had bothered to explain what was going on.

  A few hours later Grandfather Kestaris called the thirty-five of us in and told us that we would be forming a new order, and that Legion would be our commander.

  “My gentlemen, well done. You have captured yet another perfect specimen,” the deep powerful voice from behind us says.

  Somehow none of us have ever seen his face, and I can now see the reflections of the rest of my team trying to get a look at him through the reflection in the window. I can’t blame them; I’m doing the same. I can see the five of us perfectly clearly, though translucent, but I can only make out a dark shade by the door that must be Legion. He continues.

  “So tell me young Father Holste, how did the Void casting go? I am led to believe that you changed it somewhat. Is this true?”

  “Yes, Legion, I focussed the Void to only affect a certain type of magic. It meant that my men were completely armed when they apprehended the witch.”

  “Well done, young Father Holste. But do you see your folly?” Legion asks.

  “I am sorry Legion, I do not understand; the mission was a complete success, we were seen by no one.”

  Fear starts to edge into my voice; a slight quiver that I hope only I can hear. I do not want to irritate him; I’ve seen what he can inflict on a witch with a single order to one of his subordinates.

  “Father Holste, you are meddling with magic you do not understand. To attack a specific kind of magic instead of the entire spectrum can be useful, I agree, but when your own magic is still evolving, you cannot tell when one magic becomes another, albeit still endorsed by the Great Calcia,” Legion explains. I swallow hard as a terrifying thought comes to mind.

  “Are you saying that we are going to become witches?”

  “No, but when you target specific magical matrixes you cannot be sure of locking the spell to that one you require. It may bleed to others, and in that situation, Calcia forbid it ever happen, your men would be left defenceless, unbeknownst to them.”

  I know he is right. I s
ee my mistake now. We are learning new magics and I have no idea what they effect that will have on the ‘matrixes’. We can do some of the things that witches can do, but does that mean that we are witches ourselves, even though we still have faith in Calcia?

  “Legion, I am sorry, now I understand that my actions were foolish. I will await my punishment.”

  “Do not fear young Father Holste, I do not wish to punish you. Nor do I wish to scold you. I am proud that you are willing to advance Calcian magic on your own, without the aid of research. It is just that the spell you created could be a hindrance if used again. But do not forget it. One day that spell may be your only chance of survival, no matter how risky,” Legions says, his voice resounding with power. “Now, Head Researcher Iniar, what have you gathered from the new subject thus far?”

  Iniar started a little when Legion said his name, and he almost turned to face our commander, before he caught himself and schooled his bodily reflexes.

  “Not much, I am afraid; he is still dramatically weakened by the Void spell. I believe he is too weak to cast efficiently in a combat situation. We are currently monitoring him for any magical or physical repercussions of our capture of him.”

  “Very well, then I shall take my leave of you gentlemen. Calcia watches over you in all that you do.”

  I nod silently, barely even breathing; the only sound that pierces the silence is that of the door opening behind us. I watch the reflected, shady, and unfocussed figure move through the door and close it behind him. Still the silence prevails. But something nags at the back of my mind. Something is not right. I can’t put my finger on it.

  I turn to face the men at either side of me. Almost as one we let out a breath of relief. Legion always has this effect. He makes people uneasy, worried, and scared even. His power is phenomenal. I would not like to be on the end of an offensive spell from him.

  “I’m going to my quarters for a while. Inform me if anything happens with him,” I say, gesturing to the man behind the glass. The witch is completely unaware that we are watching him.

  I take a step towards the door and freeze, my footfall echoing loud in the large room. My unplaced finger falls hard on realisation.

  No footsteps.

  - Muzbeth -

  I enjoy hunting. It further hones my instincts and abilities, and I also fall further into the depths of evil and bliss. The night has lifted and the blue sparks are hidden by the light blue sky of the first day of spring. I’m running alone toward my latest hunting ground, a small hill-top village.

  During the day Witch comes with me, to exact her revenge on the people that betrayed her, and during the night Kellum and I ravage settlements, whenever we can find them.

  We’d eventually left Sacrem, heading north towards Gatheck, in a small boat during the night, island hopping in the darkness. Each day we would stop on an island and each night we would forge on. Kellum says that there should be just two more nights before we reach Gatheck proper.

  It has been too long since we last found unprepared civilisation to torment. As of late the towns and villages have usually been evacuated to some extent.

  During our travel overland I had noticed a small hamlet on the horizon. I grow bored so easily at the moment that I made a mental note of it. I’m heading there now to have some fun.

  Technically I’m here with Witch, but I’ve left her trailing behind me. I’m going to devour everyone there, so that when Witch finally turns up we can’t be interrupted; I’ve wanted to ‘have’ her since we first met. I’m bored of travelling and now I’m bored of playing her games; if she doesn’t want to give me her body, then I will just have to take it from her, dead or alive. It matters little to me.

  During our travels I’ve not been able to eat properly as the villages have become scarce and the inhabitants of those villages had fled their homes. As such I look like a three-week-old corpse that’s been left out in the sun, which is pleasant enough for me, not so much for Witch or the humans I encounter.

  As I get nearer to the village I realise that it is in fact perched atop a cliff, not a hill. I reach inside myself to connect with the Demon and cast my magic. As it takes effect I feel the musculature on my back shift; the bones change shape and my insides move to make room for the massive muscles forming down my sides. My skin ripples and stretches, sliding over new bones. I wonder if it hurts when living creatures, capable of feeling pain, BodyShift. That’s the name given to the spell by... the Calcians? I’m not sure who actually.

  There is a tearing sound as my dirty shirt rips from the strain of my expanding torso. I pull it off with a yank and let it flutter off into the sky, playing on the strong winds.

  I do the same; tensing my new muscles harshly, I drag down the two fourteen feet long wings, which sprout from my shoulder blades, and rocket into the air, straight up. A few more beats and I’m about seventy feet up. It is truly amazing to be able to fly. To see a portion of Gatheck laid out below me, so small and seemingly useless. It makes me feel alive and powerful for some reason; I feel like a god up here.

  I glance down at the entire island which is displayed beneath me; I can see the empty tavern Kellum is staying in, see the tiny speck that is Witch trying to find me on the ground, and the cliffs on which the little village nestles, perched above a massive drop down to the hard rock, which would smash to pieces any that fell upon them. I beat my wings a few times and manoeuvre myself until I am facing the village. A mighty beat of my wings propels me at speed toward the cluster of buildings.

  I swoop in low over the houses, letting the wind carry me there. I drop into the middle of the houses, a central area that has remained clear of buildings. A road divides the village in two, with houses seemingly scattered randomly about it. There are no people on the trodden dirt road, which leads only from the first house to the last. I dispel my magic, feeling my body return to its natural shape as my wings fail to exist any longer; their magic seeping into the space around me.

  Something thuds into my shoulder, I look down; an arrow sticks out of my dry flesh. I cast around with my eyes and pick out the lone figure on a rooftop, a bow in hand, and a second arrow nocked and ready to loose. He fires again but misses my head by less than an inch. I don’t flinch. It is not because I am making an effort to stay still, but because I am not scared at all. I know such a crude weapon as an arrow cannot kill me. Something thuds into my back, tearing through my lungs and out of between my ribs; breaking my chest cavity wide open.

  - Meth -

  The vampire came in low over the rooftops, and thankfully failed to see Pryor hiding atop the agronomists building. It landed in the centre of the houses with an air confidence. Its pale wings shimmered and faded to nothing as the flesh of its bared torso contorted and reverted.

  I looked up to see Pryor’s pale face looking back and I gave him the nod, signalling him to commence. I looked to my left at Satch, indicating that we should raise our shields. Together we hefted the six-foot length of sharpened stake and walked out on to the single street.

  I felt the stakes weight lighten and, as planned, let it go. It remained in the air, defying gravity; Thack is playing was part, thankfully. I stood next to Satch and touched his hand. His power flooded into me. Immediately I felt our magic, gifted to us by Calcia, entwine and become stronger for it. We cast together, forcing the stake toward the vampire’s back at tremendous speed.

  It struck home.

  - Muzbeth -

  I look down at my ruined chest. A branch has forced its way through my once vital organs. I drop to my knees and howl, though no sound comes out; my lungs are ruined.

  I feel for the branch at my back, it’s about six inches thick, and it protrudes from my chest a good ten inches at the front. Something hits the ground to my left. I look and see an arrow lodged in the dirt. More arrows begin to fall; they thud into the ground all around me, every now and then one lances into my body. I ignore them all.

  Gripping at the protruding branch which leers out
of my chest, I push it out of my back, reaching around to remove the last half foot of it when I can reach no further to push it through me from the front. Another arrow bites into my cheek. I only notice because now I cannot close my jaw.

  I stand up, finally free of the weaponized-branch. The hole in my chest heals over after just a few instants and a little magic. I look around to see that there are many archers, and walking toward me are three men. I recognise one of them, but the other two I do not. The one I have seen before is tall and young, and looking a lot worse for wear since I last met him. His black hair is singed and his face is pale from weariness, though he still wears his dark leathers. Of the trio, the biggest is probably in his middle twenties. He’s also the tallest; his height and stature improved by a broad chest surrounded by muscle ridden limbs. The other man is probably still in his teens and is small and scrawny looking. He has dark brown short hair and a small moustache covering his top lip. The leather dressed man’s new friends are dressed in the Calcian garb; they’re probably hired Hunters. How foolish.

  “You are mistaken if you think you can kill me.”

  “You underestimate the power of Calcia.”

  It was the small man that spoke, and in his eyes was a glint of malice. Malice and Calcia, how those two go hand in hand. And it is said that we vampires are brutal. The Church is more a murderer than I.

  “Oh, Calcia does not scare me, gentlemen, for I am a god amongst vampires.”

  A smile would have reached my lips if they were not pulled back by rigor. I liked feeling like a god. But I am. I’m a Lys-Karalis. Deity and Ruler.

  “Name, vampire, now.”

  “I am Muzbeth, high lord to Mankind and supreme ruler of Gatheck. I would ask your names too, but it would be a waste of your breath. You don’t have much left,” I pause, mainly for effect, “I can assure you.” I finish sinisterly in my malicious voice.