DESCENDANT (Descendants Saga)

by James Somers

  “Yes, I had considered that,” Kron said. “I’ve given Og instructions to eliminate them. Even with the boy’s abilities, the pixies should be more than a match for him.”

  Grayson considered this for a moment. “Perhaps,” he said. “However, a contingency plan never hurts. Take no chances, Kron.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Grayson smiled. “Your reign will be long-lasting if you remain faithful to me, Kron. As for your declaration of war, I am confident that these wise elders will support your efforts to protect the Lycan people to their fullest capacity.”

  At these words, the elders returned their attention again to Kron sitting upon the throne. They were still oblivious to Grayson Stone’s presence in the room. The elders came together, answering the question of war that Kron had not even had the chance to pose.

  “To war against the vampires!” several cried.

  “Death to the enemies of our people!” others responded.

  Kron smiled.

  Joy

  I found any attempt at explaining the feeling produced by the city of Xandrea a fruitless endeavor. It was like a butterfly’s kiss when it lands on the nose of a child, or the patter of rain on my roof after a long day, or the first touch of a woman’s hand. All of these seemed to fall short. All I could finally come up with was joy. It felt like joy.

  Could there be any place so perfect? That thought kept returning to my mind, despite my growing agitation with it. Even when my mood seemed to sour from worrying about Tom, that thought forced its way to the forefront of my mind.

  I had completely lost track of how long we had been here with the elves, walking in their lush gardens, sipping concoctions of fruit juice, listening to music that appeared to generate from thin air. Uriah and Sophia walked with me, both of them seeming just as peaceful as I was. The epic conflict waiting in London seemed long ago—barely more than a distant memory.

  “What is it about this place?” I asked my companions.

  “Happiness,” Uriah said. “Xandrea is a spelled city.”

  “It is legendary for its beauty and tranquility,” Sophia added. “The elves are a powerful people in their own right, though their gifts are more peacefully inclined.”

  I smiled at her, taking her hand in mine. “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve found beauty among the warrior races.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick!”

  We turned. His voice was unmistakable.

  “Tom!” I said. If the city alone could produce such tranquility, then seeing Tom on his feet again was the icing on the cake. He was leaning upon Charlotte, which normally might have produced some coy reaction in me, but Xandrea had already overcome that tendency. Tom was alive, and all was well.

  “Are you really not going to slap him silly for talking like that?” Tom asked Sophia.

  He was laughing and shaking his head at me, but I didn’t care. We approached them, seeing that he was still having some difficulty walking. Even Charlotte was smiling.

  “It’s so good to see you again,” I said.

  “Charlotte has been catching me up on what’s become of you over the past year,” Tom replied. “I guess I steered you in the right direction by sending you to Oliver James.”

  “I could have killed you at the time,” I said.

  “Sometimes you just have to do what you have to do,” he replied.

  “What about you?” I asked. “How did you end up coming through the rift I created?”

  “You created?” he asked. “I beg to differ, Brody, but I’m the one who did that. I remembered our blood bond just before Tiberius would have drained me dry.”

  “So you were the other person I sensed,” I said. “I knew there was more going on than just my efforts. I wasn’t even sure I would be able to accomplish the task. Our combined efforts brought it to pass.”

  Tom nodded. “Makes sense.”

  “More than that, I’m afraid,” Uriah said. “The rift will not close on its own, perhaps not at all. Tiberius and the Breed will have all the opportunity they need to bring every vampire in Greystone to London.”

  I glanced at Charlotte. She had lost her smile, by now. She returned a warning look. “Don’t say it, Brody,” she said. “At least, Tom is alive. The rest we’ll just have to deal with together.”

  I held her gaze for a moment then nodded. In a way, she was right. We had no time for passing around blame, and I was very glad to have Tom back with us. No doubt, he would have perished in Greystone, had we not somehow converged in our efforts to open a portal between the realms of vampires and of man.

  “I agree,” I said finally. “Right or wrong, we have a situation to deal with, and I’m in favor of trying to do so together.”

  Uriah and Sophia appeared less agreeable to those terms, but after a moment they also consented to setting aside any bitter feelings for the sake of fixing the problems we were now facing. I began to worry about how we might do that, when Xandrea’s magical influence calmed my mind again.

  “I think I would be annoyed by that sensation, if I could just keep it in mind long enough,” I said.

  Tom laughed. “The power of elves to make you feel all gushy inside,” he quipped. “I always did think it was a bit of a wasted effort. The whole world can come crashing down around you while you listen to the birds singing and admire the clouds passing.”

  “We value peace and tranquility, rather than death and destruction,” Donatus said, appearing behind Tom.

  Tom sighed without turning to his father. I got the feeling that this was an old argument between them. Though Donatus clearly loved his son, their relationship seemed to be strained.

  “The power we employ in Xandrea is meant to focus one’s thoughts upon the beauty around you, upon peace,” Donatus explained.

  “Robbing people of their faculties,” Tom said, interrupting.

  “We do not force people to come to our city,” Donatus said.

  “But you cannot hide here with a war well on its way,” Tom shot back.

  “A war that you helped to start,” Donatus said, accusing him. “A war where you have been on the wrong side.”

  “No longer,” Tom replied.

  “Tom is right,” I interjected. “With the vampires invading London, the Descendant clans will choose sides before the coming conflict. The werewolves are already involved.”

  I did not mention Lycean’s death, not with Sophia standing there next to me. The wound of his assassination was fresh, and I wished to spare her any pain that I could. Still, we had to have some idea of the help we could count on. This mess wasn’t going away quickly.

  She glanced at me before addressing Tom’s father herself. “My father was killed, Lord Donatus,” she said.

  He bowed to her. “I am very sorry, Princess,” he said. “If we can be of any help to you—”

  “Yes, actually, you can,” she said, interrupting what was sure to be a feigned offer. “I am currently in exile. My father’s Master at Arms, Kron, has seized control of my kingdom. He may even be the very person who killed our king. With this conflict only just beginning, I need military aid.”

  Donatus sighed as he began to cautiously explain his position. “Princess, I am very sorry for your situation. However, my people wish to remain distant from the war.”

  “The war is coming to you, whether you wish to remain distant or not,” Tom said. “Will you not give aid to those in need?”

  Donatus shot his son a hard glance.

  “When the vampires and their allies decide to go on the offensive, there will be no safe place to hide,” I said. “Not even this city will be excluded.”

  Donatus did not reply, leaving an uncomfortable silence hanging among our group. Only the sounds of nature intruded. Finally, Sophia spoke up again.

  “Lord Donatus, I trust you have not forgotten the pact between you and my father—between our two peoples,” she said.

  I noticed Donatus wince. He had not realized that Sophia would be aware
of whatever pact she was now referring to.

  Donatus straightened. “I have not forgotten what your father did for my people. I have not forgotten the life I owe him,” he said.

  Even Tom seemed intrigued. Evidently, even he didn’t know this story.

  “When you call for our people to fight, we will be ready to do so,” he said.

  Sophia softened then, walking toward the Lord of the Elves. “Thank you, Donatus,” she said. “I make you this promise: that I will not ask unless it becomes absolutely necessary.”

  He smiled thoughtfully, looking down at her. “Thank you, Princess.” Then to us all, “Allow me to outfit you with the finest weapons we have. You will find our craftsmen are exceptionally skilled.”

  Donatus turned to lead us from the garden.

  Tom grinned at me. “He’s right about that,” he said. “The elves are master inventors and blacksmiths.”

  Response

  Captain Lance Jackman of the King’s Royal Rifle Corp stood with the men of his regiment. A line of dark green, almost black, uniforms stretched across the lawn of Westminster. Men waited anxiously with Brunswick rifles set toward the oncoming horde.

  The identity of the enemy had not been found yet. However, all sorts of rumors were flying about, from civilian rebels wishing to overthrow Queen Victoria’s government to Prussian invaders to Napoleon’s ghost. One crazed citizen had even reported that vampires had leveled a popular eatery in downtown London and were the source of all the unrest taking place. Naturally, this account had been dismissed out of hand.

  Nevertheless, this was no time to take chances. Almost one year earlier, riots had caused chaos in London. Even the Royal Palace had been attacked. Repairs to the Clock Tower were still underway.

  Parliament had immediately responded with an order to increase the palace guard ten-fold. Her Majesty, even now, resided within these walls. It had fallen to him to defend her honor and her life.

  Tiberius’s lips curled to reveal his gleaming canines. They were set in his jaw at such an angle as to not come into conflict with his other teeth—those that appeared more human. While werewolves happened to change from a purely human form into an animal form, vampires remained only partly human in appearance.

  The teeth and the eyes were dead giveaways to anyone not fooled by the glamour they often employed. These characteristics could not be changed. For this reason, most vampires did not smile very often. Neither was it wise to attempt to passionately kiss a vampire, as serious damage to one’s lips would occur. These canines had one purpose and one purpose only: to draw blood. And this they did exceptionally well.

  “Where is Alexander?” Tiberius asked one of his subordinates.

  “My lord, General Alexander, has not reported back from Greystone yet,” the vampire said. “Should we wait to attack?”

  Tiberius smiled. No attempt at concealing his true nature was necessary now. For the first time in the history of his people, they were walking among mortals, killing whomever they pleased without any regard for retribution or consequence. They no longer cared if they were recognized, or branded as monsters to be fought against.

  In fact, Tiberius reveled in the fighting. After a lifetime of feeling inferior to mortals, he felt exhilaration each time he took their lives and claimed more of their world for his prize. The time for vampires to rise and conquer had finally come.

  “We will not delay,” he said. “The Royal Palace of their mortal queen will serve me well, as we inaugurate my earthly kingdom. Overwhelm their soldiers and feast upon them with wild abandon. Let them know that the Breed will hide no longer.”

  Brunswick rifles fired in unison from the line of soldiers stretching across the palace lawn. Tiberius and his Breed warriors surged toward the mortals, their preternatural sight and speed allowing them to actually see and avoid the bullets forcing their way through the air. The world around Tiberius seemed to slow while he and his vampires remained the same. To the soldiers, in their dark green uniforms, their enemies had become blurs of motion zigzagging toward them. Not a single one had been shot.

  In seconds, the Breed had overrun the British soldiers. Tiberius squeezed the neck of their commanding officer, summoning a sickening crack. He cast the body aside like an old sack and then moved on. The other vampires were taking their fill, as Tiberius had given them leave to do. Rather than calming their bloodlust, the battle only stirred them to a frenzy. The more mortals they killed the more they would desire—a cycle that only total victory over their enemies could break.

  They moved quickly into the palace itself, rending more soldiers who had been stationed along the way and within its walls. Tiberius hardly stopped until he found the woman he was searching for. His Breed fanned out by the hundreds, throughout Westminster, securing the entire palace and its associated grounds.

  When the Lord of the Vampires entered the anteroom, where his prey had been sequestered by soldiers, he heard the quiet gasp that escaped her trembling lips. This was not the first time Victoria had laid eyes on him. In fact, years earlier, Tiberius had courted the mortal queen as a matter of fancy. He had tasted of her royal blood, and she had bequeathed it willingly, even lustfully.

  He recognized her by scent more than by her appearance. She had once been quite beautiful, but time had done its work, and she was now aged. Her skin was now thin and wrinkled, and she was confined to a wheelchair.

  Still, he noticed the twinkle of recognition in her eye, as she beheld him. As one of the Breed, time moved far more slowly upon his features. He only appeared to have aged a few years in comparison to the ravages she had endured.

  The soldiers cared nothing for this momentary exchange of remembrances. Twenty men, dressed in the same uniform as their dead comrades out on the grounds, took aim with their rifles. One man of higher rank ordered Tiberius to halt immediately. When the vampire lord took his next casual step forward, the order was given to fire upon him.

  Victoria gasped again. Perhaps, she feared for the life of her lover of so long ago—memory stirring long dead passion for the mysterious man she could only secretly love. Perhaps, she feared for the gallant men stationed here to guard her life, knowing the power of the one they now sought to kill—knowing they would all die before her eyes.

  Tiberius became less than shadow, ducking and weaving between a volley of lead projectiles. Irregardless of his view of them, each lead slug had the force to kill, if only they could catch him to deliver their intent. He leaped sideways, flanking the soldiers, before cutting into their line.

  Weaving through them, he pounded some with fists like iron. Others he lifted from the ground, hurling them out nearby windows. Still others, he ran through with his own ornate, silver sword. A moment after the order to shoot him dead had been issued, only Tiberius remained alive in the room with Queen Victoria.

  Tears ran down her face, as she gazed at him.

  “Do you weep for them, my love?” he said, grinning. “Do you wish me dead in their places?”

  She sobbed, raising her frail hands to the wrinkles upon her face. “No,” she said. “But do not look at me, Tiberius. I have grown old, while you remain young.”

  Tiberius knelt before her, placing his hand upon her face. He smiled, as her tears rolled across his fingertips.

  “I have missed you these many years,” she said.

  “And I you,” he replied. “But I have come to take from man what rightfully belongs to me. A kingdom in this world will be mine.”

  “I would gladly give mine, if I could only join you,” she said wistfully.

  He stood up again, still caressing her cheek, as several of his Breed warriors came into the room behind him.

  “Have you not heard the legends?” he asked her. “Those that tell of the gift of immortality my bite can bestow?”

  She squeezed tears from her eyes, smiling up at him now. “I have heard such things,” she admitted. “But I only dared to hope that it might be true.”

  He turned, casually walk
ing among his warriors as they surveyed the damage their lord had wrought upon the soldiers and the old queen sitting hopeful in her chair.

  “Oh, Tiberius, can you give me immortality?” she pleaded, wringing her hands.

  He turned and grinned at her. “No, that really is only legend,” he said. “But I can rid you of your misery.”

  He turned and strode out of the room. Victoria beheld with horror the hungry gazes of Tiberius’s vampires. As the vampire lord walked into the adjoining throne room—his new throne room—he delighted in Victoria’s final screams.

  Forge

  With an ample meal out of the way and our spirits much refreshed by the pleasant company of the elves, Donatus led us into one of the largest buildings in Xandrea. The Great Hall, as the elves called it, was no less beautiful than the rest of the city. However, it did stand alone in another way.

  I noticed my own change of mood almost immediately upon stepping within the large dome-shaped structure. In fact, the change was so sudden that I felt a bit nauseated by the experience. My faculties had returned to normal along with all of my previous concerns for the fate of my friends and the world at large.

  “Do not be alarmed, my friends,” Donatus said as we came within the Great Hall. “The magic that focuses one’s thoughts upon pleasant thinking is not employed here.”

  I shook my head a little in an attempt to clear the odd sensation. “Why would you do that?”

  “It’s hard to deal with the crisis of ruling a kingdom when you can’t consider those problems,” Tom said. “This is also where the Forge is located. Difficult to craft weapons of war with a clouded mind.”

  Donatus did not dispute his son’s commentary, but he didn’t look pleased by it either. “This way,” he said. “I would equip you with items that may enhance your strengths in the days ahead.”

  I followed Donatus with Sophia at my side and Uriah behind. Tom and Charlotte brought up the rear of our company. We came to the middle of the dome to find a spiral stair descending below the tiled floor.