To the east and stretching to the northern shore of the Heartland stood the mighty Gatheck Range, the mountains in which The Heart nestles. I’d never seen them before and they were, and still are, truly inspiring, hundreds of giants pointing at the blue sparks. I only wish that Witch could have been there to see them with us. Despite her stupidity in trying to betray me, she really was very attractive. But still, there will be plenty more women here in the Heartland.
I looked to the sky above the mountains to the east, and saw the first signs of the morning light beginning to crack the dark sky. I faced Kellum.
“So where do we go from here?”
“There is a city about two miles down the coast; we’ll head there. We must walk.”
And walk we did. We still walk. The Gatheck Range seems to have hardly moved. As we walk my thoughts turn back to my heritage and the myths surrounding Calcia.
“So how could you become a Lys-Karalis?” I ask, kicking at the sand.
“W-what?” Kellum stops abruptly, staring at me, I continue walking for a few paces before turning to face him. Walking backwards, I smile, and talk.
“Remember, you told me that it was possible for a normal vampire to become a Lys-Karalis.”
“Ah, of course.” Kellum rubs at his eyes, and jogs forward a few paces to come alongside me, meaning I can turn and walk forwards again. He continues. “Well, when a normal vampire challenges a Lys-Karalis and wins, they inherit the powers of the Lys-Karalis.”
“I know that, but I want to know how. And if it can be stopped? And what’s Calcia got to do with it all?”
“Oh, erm,” Kellum pauses, evidently thinking of how best to explain what he knows to me. I’m not even sure I’ll understand it, but I’d like to know regardless. He continues in less than a moment. “I don’t know for sure but from what I’ve gathered from my years around Lys-Karalis I would make an educated guess and say it was something to do with demon transference. You see, a Lys-Karalis is exactly the same as a normal vampire, technically. It just that they have ‘subservient’ demons within them. We normal vampires do not. I would guess they get swapped over somehow, hence transferring demons. As to whether or not it could be stopped, that I don’t know. I’m not sure even what the process of becoming a Lys-Karalis is; I just know that the other Lys-Karalis have to be involved somehow.”
“Would you ever want to become a Lys-Karalis?” I ask, wondering exactly how high with the vampire ranks he’d like to climb.
“Oh hell no, and I couldn’t,” Kellum replied, without a second thought.
Evidently he has no delusion as to his rank in comparison to me. Time for a bit of digging I think.
“I thought you said-” I begin.
“Trust me,” my mentor and subject interrupts, “if I could, I would. You see, you’re thinking I am this body. I am not, I’m a demon using this body. I, the demon, would just get chucked into another body and the subservient demon would get this body, and whoever I was before I died would be in control once again. It’s the body that becomes the Lys-Karalis. Many vampires have made that mistake and paid the price for it when their revived hosts want their revenge.”
“Well I never. It’s so complicated, isn’t it?”
Understatement of the season, that. To be honest with myself most of this is passing me by. I can’t even really remember exactly what he just said. I guess I almost zoned out.
“Oh, there’s more,” Kellum announces.
“Go on.”
“It’s not about becoming a Lys-Karalis or anything like that. It’s this city we’re heading toward, Midiar. I need to ask you something; would you please not kill too many people?”
His question surprises me, given all that we’ve done together. Great, he must have ‘seen’ something. I can’t think of anything that would stop me from killing, so why should I? Nothing can challenge me. I’m a Lys-Karalis. Though, perhaps I’d better find out why he wants me to not kill.
“What? Why not?”
“It is a city for a start, much larger than any village, and their clergy will be in greater numbers than those that pilgrimage to The Dirigir Oak, and they’ll be organised to boot. You’ll need to keep a low profile.”
“Are you saying that they’re going to be a threat to us?” I ask. I’m not sure if that worries or excites me. Provided the cowled man isn’t there, I don’t see how anything could be a threat.
“No, they’ll be a threat to you,” Kellum says.
“What about you?” I ask.
“I’m afraid we must part company,” he says simply.
“What?” I ask, shocked. This is turning out to be a really disappointing conversation. First I don’t understand, then I’m not allowed to kill, and now I’m going to lose the foresight Kellum grants me. This is just fucking fantastic. Can this possibly get any better?
“It is our future. I have seen it. But do not worry; in Midiar you will meet a more ‘forthcoming’ accomplice. You and she will get on very well indeed.”
She? Maybe it will get better after all. I hope she is more forthcoming than dear Witch was. And hopefully she’ll be just as attractive. But what of Kellum; why has he suddenly decided that we must part?
“So where are you going?”
“I am going to find the other Lys-Karalis. I have seen things that they need to be aware of; threats to the vampire race.”
“I am a Lys-Karalis; tell me, I will deal with these threats. It is my job as ruler of the vampires.”
“No offence Muzbeth, but for this we’ll need more than one Lys-Karalis. You will meet the others one day, and you and I shall certainly meet again. But know that we must now part. I do not wish for you to follow me, and from what I have seen, you will not. So I thank you, for it has truly been an honour to serve you.”
“I would say the pleasure was mine, but that’d be a lie,” I say with an honest smile.
Together we share a chuckle, which dies out far too quickly, and both of us fall into the silence of our thoughts.
A mid-hour later, we are about to enter the coastal city, Kellum’s voice penetrates the gentle crashing of the waves.
“It is time I left you, my good friend,” Kellum says, showing his teeth to me once more.
“Indeed, you have served me well,” I say, resisting the odd urge to engage in a manly embrace. Instead I merely clap him on the shoulder.
The tall odd accented gentleman turns and walks away toward the dull lights of early morning in Midiar. I stand and watch until he disappears between the buildings, gone to hide from the sun.
He never answered my question about Calcia. Damn.
- Holste -
The pews are hard and a cold draft is blowing on the back of my neck, making it stiff and achy. My team and I are in the Lighthouse chapel, up on the eleventh floor. Penk, Sin, and Iniar are lit up with excitement. Lorien and I are not so thrilled.
Every seat is taken; even the isle is filled with bodies crouching shoulder to shoulder, so that more can have a decent view. We are all here to listen to the words of our leader; Grandfather Kestaris. Obviously some would rather be here than those that have to be.
The ancient, wizened old man is stood on the podium at the head of the room, leaning heavily on the lectern in front of him. Surrounding him is his four-strong honour guard, staring impassively out at the faces staring intently back. Kestaris’ dark hair is the only thing that contradicts his age; it is well known that Calcia has blessed him with an unnaturally long life. His hair, by all rights, given his age, should be as white as snow. Grandfather Kestaris has a deeply lined but oddly youthful face, but his body has been crippled by so many years.
There is a slight murmur of hushed voices, but the majority of us are silent, waiting for the words from the Grandfather.
The heat in the room is oppressive; it is the heat given by the sheer weight of bodies in the vast room. An eerie silence falls as Grandfather Kestaris clears his throat. Even the sound of breathing seems to stop.
&
nbsp; “My children, I thank you all for gathering here on this ChurchDay. Calcia smiles down upon you. Today I will relate to you a tale of joy. But it is not my joy. It is the joy of our Lady, Calcia. Her joy comes not from watching our lives and the joy therein. Her greatest joy is that of the repentant sinner; for there will be more joy in Heaven over one sinner who repents, than over ten that need no repentance. And so I ask all of you, here before me, to take this with you when you stride out into the lands of Gatheck. To tell this to every sinner you come across. For even if only one person repents...”
And so on and so forth. I know Calcia must hate me for ignoring our Grandfather, but I cannot stand sermons like this; when I have to give them I prefer to orate upon the older times of Calcia; the stories of brimstone and ash; the good stuff that puts the fear of Calcia into you, not this namby-pamby stuff of forgiveness and repentance. I shuffle in my seat and try to gain an ounce of extra comfort.
I massage my neck; I could be here a while.
- Satch -
Meth stands on the makeshift podium, surrounded by the people from the village. None of them knew Thack, but still they are here to give their thanks and respect to a good man who helped to save their village. I will thank them for that later.
Meth clears his throat, drawing the accumulated attention, and speaks his peace.
“Thank you all for coming to give your respects to our dear brother Thack. Next year will be the first year I spend with only one brother by my side, and so when spring comes again, a year from now, I’ll be holding on to anything I can. I’ll be waiting for the rains to wash away the pain and the bad memories of the coming year.”
I’m surprised at how touching Meth is being. For the most part of their lives my older and younger brothers hated each other. But I guess they still loved each other too. Family is family, after all is said and done. ‘Family’; how are we going to tell father? Can we even afford to do it in person while the vampire is on the loose? I return my attention to my brother.
“An angel got his wings at last, and we all should know that he’s fine and in the embrace of Calcia and those that he has loved and lost. We will be in his embrace one day, when Calcia cares for our souls. When we cease to grieve, does that mean we do not care for him anymore? I think not. In my heart he will be with me forever, and I hope he will live on that way in yours. Thack’s death makes me think about the life I’ve had, of all the things I’ve done and said; of the regrets that will always haunt me. But the winter snow melts even now and the spring showers fill rivers that will flow on for years to come. The winter comes to an end, and the spring will make life easier on everyone as it brings new life with it. Friends, you will only ever have each other, do not forget that; your family is as much the people around you as it is your siblings and parents. Thack will always mean so much to me, even if he didn’t know it. All I ask is that you all give a thought for Thack-Rayva on this day, as he gave his life for yours.”
As my only surviving brother talks to the few that have gathered for my dead brother’s funeral, I whisper to ears that cannot hear, and a soul that will wait.
“There will be no blinding light for us, nor a tunnel lit so brightly that it is all we can see. There will be just you and I, our hands clasped tight. You’ll lead me to wherever we need to go. I’ll never look back. I’ve lost you and that scares me, but we’ll be together again soon. You and I saw so much during the years that we grew. The time for you to rest is now; and it is nothing to fear, Thack. There was nobody beside you when your soul departed for the Summerland, but I will follow you into the darkness. I will find my way to the Summerland, and to you. Soon brother.”
A tear pricks at my eye and depression flows over me, hitting me in an instant. I will never see my little brother again. Never get to see him smile, hear him and Meth argue, or tell him that I love him. My brother is gone, and a part of me left with him.
I look down into the pit, in which his broken body now lays covered in a white sheet. There is no coffin available for the brave man that I couldn’t save. It is an unfitting burial for someone who should not be dead at all. I will follow him into the dark. And I will not follow Calcia anymore.
- Muzbeth -
68 days until the birth of a god
The 3rd day of Spring-Rise, 1538
I’ve been here for two days now, still waiting to meet whoever it is I’m supposed to meet. ‘Forthcoming’, Kellum had said she would be.
It is incredibly boring here in Midiar, I’m keeping my presence in the city low key so that I don’t get driven out. Not that I think they could, but I’ve got to keep people here if I am to meet my new accomplice. Hopefully that day will come soon.
- Satch -
61 days until the birth of a god
The 10th day of Spring-Rise, 1538
“What the fuck was that all about Meth? ‘An angel got his wings’? You know he’s a Pagan!” I shout. Meth looks at me, his eyes weary. Behind his dark pupils I can see the fire of righteousness rising.
“WHAT!” I scream, as the pent up anger finally breaks out in a torrent of conflicting emotions.
“Satch! He was a Pagan. He’s dead!” Meth hisses back at me, severely.
“I know, Meth, I know. But why did you have to say those things? I am loathe to believe most of it,” I spit back, my heart driving my words.
“Thack and I may have argued a lot, we may have even hated each other from time to time, but I never stopped loving him. He is my brother too. Just because we believed in different things didn’t stop us being brothers!” Meth shouts back.
I hate to admit it, but he has a point. The fire and rage in my belly dies down as I see the distress showing upon his face.
“I’m sorry. I just assumed that you were still getting at him,” I confess.
“It doesn’t matter; all we can do now is stick together. We’ve got to help each other get through this, and when we find that fucking vampire, Calcia help it, even the deepest pit of Abadon will not match what we will put him through.”
This argument was long in coming. Seven days passed before I even spoke to Meth properly. Now we continue walking in silence. We’re heading north.
Even though we only worked together briefly as a trio, I feel like Thack’s always been here.
“I miss him you know. It’s only been ten nights and already I miss him terribly. Meth, will it get easier?” I ask, afraid of the answer.
“I’m afraid not. Not yet anyway. It was different with mum, we couldn’t do anything then. This time we can, and I don’t think it will get any easier until we can avenge him. Calcia will make us her avenging angels.”
Oh no, she won’t. She abandoned me. I have no idea how I’m going to tell him that, but I can’t cast with him anymore, not until he finds out. I’ll tell him I’ve reverted to Paganism again soon. Thack, make me tell him soon.
“Thack’s killer will get what is coming to him,” I say, looking ahead to the horizon. “We’ll find him soon Meth, and then he’ll regret ever rising from the grave.”
The Tenth Chapter
- Muzbeth -
32 days until the birth of a god
The 1st day of Spring-Fall, 1538
As long as I’ve been here I’ve been living in Hell. I can smell all of the little people in this disgusting city. Oh how I wish I could just burst out into the street and massacre them all.
I’ve hardly eaten, only one vagrant every two nights; people that nobody will miss. I’ve been cooped up in a small room too, as I’m only able to pay with what I find on the bodies I feed from. That is why I’m in a tiny room which stinks of piss and stale ale. In normal circumstances I would just kill and take, as is the way of the vampire, but this fucking stupid sense of duty I feel for Kellum is keeping me from doing just that. What the hell am I thinking? I am a Lys-Karalis, I cannot be stopped. I will not be stopped by anyone, let alone the words of a frightened vampire.
I get up and prowl the room, pacing back and forth, trying
to decide whether I should fulfil my desires or not. What if they can defeat me? Kellum wouldn’t have warned me if they couldn’t, would he?
Fuck it. I snatch up my coat and slip it on, doing up the first few buttons as I head to the door. I pull it open and stride out into the corridor, allowing it to slam shut behind me. I head to the end of the corridor and take the wide steps down to the bar level two at a time; a new vigour in my step. My senses fill with the promise of death and destruction, filling my mind with joy. The barman catches my eye and nods at me, a human gesture. I spit at him in return, the saliva hitting the table next to the poorly kept bar, he shouts some faint curse which I ignore as I walk to the door. My attention need not be pricked by the likes of him. He will die later, when I return. I kick the front door open hard enough to make the wood splinter and the hinges buckle; the door half falls off. The barkeep shouts more rowdily at this and the rest of the mostly empty bar quietens.
I step out into the cobbled street as the setting sun begins its final descent behind a large domed building. I look about; all eyes are staring at me and my grand appearance. I let out a bestial roar, my voice cracking under the pressure and returning to its disturbing sound.
I had healed myself so as to pass for human, but I need not keep up pretences anymore. Further up the street I hear the sound of breaking glass and turn my head quickly enough to see a figure plummet from a second floor window, land feet first and then topple sideways. Heads poke out of the window temporarily and retract instants later. I am intrigued, but there is now a sizeable group of people between myself and the person who had fallen.
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