by J F Cain
Kadu saw the invaders get past the Guardians defending the keep’s entrance and charge into the entrance hall.
“Retreat into the keep!” he ordered the Exorcists.
One of the beings bypassing the battle in the bailey was Kenelm. With big leaps, he passed by the duelers, also knocking over a few vampires as he went by. He jumped over the heads of the Guardians fighting on the entrance steps and swiftly ducked into the keep. He dodged the Exorcists’ arrows that were raining down ceaselessly on the invaders and dashed toward the right corridor. At the stair tower he encountered a group of nine vampires going up the narrow winding steps. They were now advancing slowly and cautiously since they had limited visibility and didn’t know if any of the castle’s defenders were lying in wait at the next turn. When they saw Kenelm, the vampires stepped aside so that he could pass. They knew that the werewolf’s sharp sense of smell would not only pick up the scent of any human presence ahead, but could also lead them to Aranes—even if he had no intention of doing so. So they followed him, glancing warily at the other two werewolves that had caught up to them and were climbing the stairs behind them.
Kenelm reached the first floor and stepped out onto the long corridor that stretched to his left and right. He sniffed the air and, as if he had picked up on something advantageous, he began to run down the right passage, drawing the vampires into a race since they thought that the werewolf wanted to get to Aranes first and snatch her right out of their hands. About halfway down the corridor, Kenelm stopped running and, not letting the vampires—who had dashed past him—out of his sight, he began to back away. Before the undead could notice that he was retreating, one of them stepped onto a stone slab on the floor which silently activated a mechanism. Two facing walls suddenly swung open, revealing a group of seven Guardians on each side. Diana leaped out of the hiding place and stabbed the first vampire she encountered in the ribs, while her fellow warriors charged the rest. When the vampires realized that the werewolf had led them into an ambush, it was too late; they were already busy parrying the Guardians’ swords. Some tried to get away from the fight—they turned and began to run in the opposite direction. But there, the two werewolves that had followed them now stood in wait.
As Kenelm headed toward the stair tower again to find more vampires, he heard the familiar sound of vampire heads being ripped off by werewolf hands behind him.
At another part of the keep, a group of Cursed were running up the winding stairs to the second level. They stopped on the landing, where the long corridor stretched in opposite directions. The vampire in the lead turned to the werewolf next to him.
“Which way?” he asked impatiently.
Dranko, Drust’s second-in-command, lifted his muzzle, sniffed the air and with a growl gestured toward the left corridor. He then leapt to the front and led the group. Just before they reached the end of the corridor, the werewolf stopped in front of a door, stuck his muzzle in the crack and sniffed the air inside the room. One of the vampires standing next to him became annoyed by what he thought was a pointless delay. He grabbed the doorknob, turned it hurriedly and rushed into the room, followed by the other undead. When they saw the room was empty, they turned questioningly toward the werewolves, who had surrounded them. It was then that they realized they had fallen into a trap, but before they could do a thing the werewolves attacked them and killed them instantaneously, making sure not to make any sound that would betray them.
Dranko went to one of the windows that looked out onto the back of the fortress. He opened it and peered down cautiously. Like black shadows slithering on the moonlit rock, the vampires were climbing up the cliff while trying to dodge the Exorcist arrows that were being shot from the open windows of other rooms. Lucard, Garnage, and other vampire elders had each secretly sent their own team of select warriors to attack this difficult spot. But the werewolf elders were well aware of their faithless allies’ methods and had prepared to deal with them.
A vampire who hadn’t seen Dranko scrambled onto the window sill to protect himself from the arrows. Without wasting any time, the werewolf grabbed him by the neck, jerked him into the room and ripped off his head. He then turned to one of his kind.
“Stay here and stop as many as you can from reaching the top floor. But make sure they don’t see you. One of them might try to slip away to rat us out to Lucard,” he said in his strange animal voice.
He left the room with the rest of the members of his pack and began to run toward the stairs, where it was certain he would find more vampires. His orders were to kill as many undead as possible without being noticed. This way not only would he have surprise on his side, but the vampire council would never know that their allies had turned against them. Lucard expected his allies to do that, since he had also thought of doing the same. However, there were fewer vampires than werewolves, so the only choice their leader had had was to order his select warriors to avoid the werewolves as soon as they entered the keep and to proceed cautiously and separately. This was the order his most capable warriors had received. The rest, most of whom were the underlings of the other elders, he would sacrifice so that his own team could reach Aranes’ room.
Outside the energy shield, Abaddon watched the Cursed invasion with fury, without being able to do anything to stop their advance. The fiery essence of his being streamed out of his eyes, making his fierce face seem even more frightening. Seized by a terrible tension born of anxiety, he fought furiously to kill as many Cursed as he could. He son had just been born, but the joy he felt was overshadowed by his fear for the safety of his child and its mother.
Fighting without cease, he monitored the developments in the keep. He saw a big group of Cursed dashing down a first-floor corridor. From the opposite direction, an Exorcist ran toward them with a grenade hidden inside his coat sleeve, and as soon as he got close enough he jumped into their midst and took them with him to the other world.
The explosion shook the keep. The tremor, together with the hair-raising sound of shaking foundations, reached the room on the top floor. Eiael held the newborn tightly in her arms and turned to look at Aranes.
“They’re inside,” she said with fear in her voice.
Aranes was too tired to answer. The female Exorcist who had helped her during the birth mopped her sweaty face and helped her to sit up. Aranes leaned back against the pillow and reached out toward Eiael. When the theurgist put the baby in her arms, she looked at her son, glowing with love.
“Welcome, my little prince,” she said, deeply moved, and bent to touch her lips to his forehead.
As if in answer, the infant cried out happily and smiled at her.
Is he already communicating with me? Aranes wondered, feeling astonished.
Just like any mother who holds her child in her arms for the first time, she gazed entranced, and also with some curiosity, at his facial features. His eyes, the same as hers, had an otherworldly shimmering gaze, so penetrating that she felt as if he was looking into her soul. And that was the only thing the two of them had in common. The child looked so much like Abaddon that no one would wonder who its father was.
At the thought of her partner, she felt sorrow clamp like a vise around her heart. The baby seemed to sense the change in her and the smile faded from his face. He slipped his hand out of the blanket in which he was wrapped, and with a controlled movement an ordinary newborn infant could never achieve, he touched his mother’s face, as if he were trying to console her. His serious gaze told Aranes that her child could sense her emotions—that is, if something stranger than that wasn’t going on. Dazzled by the miracle inside this unique being, she took his tiny hand in hers and kissed it as if worshiping something sacred.
May you be blessed, my son. May your strength sustain the balance of the worlds, she told her child soundlessly, certain that he would understand.
She wondered what the Source’s plans were for the firstborn of this new generation of Celestials. This newly created entity was Its unprecedented co
nception; essentially a human god the like of whom had never been. He would undoubtedly be at the forefront of all the great changes the Creator of the Worlds had been planning for centuries in earthly time. Aranes had an inkling about what these changes would be, but she couldn’t say anything with certainty. The Cardinal Mind had proven that It could surprise even her.
CHAPTER 28
When the Cursed charged into the keep’s great hall, they met with an unpleasant surprise. The balconies were filled with Exorcists with the strings of their crossbows drawn back, ready to unleash their deadly arrows. At the other end of the hall, a hundred Guardians headed by Paul Thornton were arrayed in front of the door. In their hands they held their flaming swords and their steely gazes smoldered with the unflinching determination of warriors wanting to draw their last breath in battle.
The Exorcists’ arrows rained down on the invaders, killing those in front. As they withdrew a second arrow from their quivers, the Guardians in the front line raised their hands and unleashed ethereal energy on those that followed, reducing them to ashes. However, the inrush of beings continued unchecked and soon the hall was filled with Cursed. Many vampires dashed beneath the balconies. Shielded from the arrows, the climbed up the columns, leaped onto the balconies, and attacked the Exorcists. Kadu leaped off the balcony and onto the back of a vampire, stabbing him with his spear. As the creature fell to his knees moaning with pain, the Exorcist leader withdrew his spear from its nape. With two quick motions to the left and right, he speared the two vampires running by him and then vanished, reappearing in the very next instant at another part of the hall to annihilate more bloodthirsty beings.
The Guardians kept on shooting beams of ethereal essence, putting many approaching Cursed out of action. Paul Thornton vaporized one of the vampires in front while lifting the sword he held in his other hand to drive back another big vampire bearing down on him. The Guardians behind him also entered the fray, united in that fierce moment of death. They fought frenziedly, warding off the vampires’ attacks, but for every enemy that fell another took his place, and it wasn’t long before their superior numbers tipped the balance in their favor. While the werewolves merely tried to dodge the arrows and ethereal fire, the vampires attacked each Guardian in threes, like rabid beasts. And no Guardian was strong enough to cope with a coordinated attack by supernatural adversaries. Even the Exorcists, whose ability to vanish instantly gave them a powerful advantage, didn’t survive the attacks waged on several fronts. Most of them fell while fighting bravely to the very last moment, filling the hall with swirling columns of light energy as their souls abandoned their hosts.
Seeing his order being decimated, Kadu obeyed the Superior’s instruction to save a part of his force so that the persecutors of Demons wouldn’t be completely wiped out.
“Depart!” he commanded from the dais on which he was mowing down dark warriors. He speared yet another vampire and glanced at the door the Guardians were protecting. The battle, which just a short while ago had been raging, was now beginning to wane as the last clashes drew to an end and the remaining Guardians tumbled to the stone floor one by one.
Only the Source can protect her now, he thought and also left the blood-drenched hall.
The very next moment dozens of Cursed trampled over the fallen Guardians’ bodies and surged through the door into the dark gallery behind it. When they saw the number of passages branching out from the gallery and vanishing into the depths of the keep, they paused, unsure which way to head, and then streamed out in every direction. The werewolves stayed behind and watched them run down the corridors and open any door they came across in search of Aranes. Dranko and his team followed those who had taken the right passage to the top floor of the keep. Another larger group of werewolves lay in wait in the same corridor, knowing that some vampires would sooner or later also find the way to Aranes’ room.
“They’re getting closer,” Lyla said, trying to mask the excitement in her voice. She turned her back on her allies and began to pace up and down the plateau impatiently. I’ve been waiting for so long! After this, no one will be able to tell me what to do, especially Lucifer, she thought and smiled happily.
Lucard exchanged a meaningful look with some vampires. Four of them, one of whom was Vincent, followed her and, whispering the words of an ancient language, took position at four different spots, forming an imaginary square.
Absorbed as she was with her grand plans, Lyla didn’t notice them. However, her hearing picked up the strange whispers hovering in the air. She lifted her head and looked around her.
“What are you doing, you idiots? The ritual has to be done inside the castle,” she said disparagingly.
The werewolf elders heard her and turned to see what was happening. In lieu of an answer, the four undead raised their voices.
“Lamade, napha em talon ear se oten rate apal em aten se agemen vamer. Marak, ela anor nerka taem,” they chanted as one with commanding voices, invoking the powerful forces of the invisible world.
Hearing the incantation, Galen realized the vampires were performing a ritual to obliterate a Demon.
“What are you doing?” he snapped, heading their way to stop it.
Lucard immediately stepped in front of him and put a hand on his chest to stop him from advancing.
“Don’t interfere, Galen,” he commanded.
Seeing the vampire touch their comrade, Lyon, Othmar, and Valens immediately transformed into werewolves, reared on their hind legs and growled menacingly. Galen lifted his hand in a restraining gesture.
“Do you know what that will lead to?” he asked Lucard curtly, with a jerk of his head toward the ritual.
The vampire removed his hand from the werewolf’s chest.
“When she takes the Angel’s soul, she will wipe us out. Or don’t you know that?” he snarled.
Galen knew much more than Lucard thought, like what the outcome of an attack against Lyla would be. Nevertheless, what would follow would make the werewolves’ plans easier to carry out. So he decided to give in. Besides, they had demonstrated their opposition to this underhanded move on the part of their allies and that would save them from being considered accomplices.
“You’re making a big mistake,” he said warningly. He shifted his angry gaze from Lucard to Lyla and waited to see what would follow.
The Demon had now realized what was happening and was enraged. She tried to attack one of the chanting vampires but discovered she was unable to move. Terror-stricken, she looked down at her feet, which were stuck to the ground. As soon as she realized her supernatural powers had left her, she was overcome with powerless frenzy. A savage grimace distorted her face, which began to take demonic form. She lifted her head and pinned the vampire elders with a deadly look.
“You sly monsters! Are you trying to annihilate me? I’m one of Eregkal’s most powerful Demons. You just signed your contract to oblivion,” she shrieked with a dose of fear in her voice. Moment by moment, her anguish regarding her existence grew bigger and bigger, as did the unbearable pain she was feeling. Each word in the magical incantations was a knife ripping into her body. Lyla was ready to collapse and only pride held her upright. Soon, however, her legs began to disintegrate and fell to the ground like grains of sand. No longer able to stand, she dropped to her knees and leaned forward on her hands to support herself. “You will regret this!” she growled with a cavernous voice, as if she had already transitioned into non-existence.
Suddenly, Abaddon appeared on one knee at her side. In the blink of an eye, he embraced her, enveloped her with his wings and the two of them disappeared.
Lucard was left staring at the spot where Lyla had been a moment ago, his expression one of confusion and displeasure.
“How did that happen?” he hissed through his teeth as if speaking to himself.
“What did you expect?” Galen rebuked him. “Abriel is one of the Source’s first creations and the most powerful sorcerer on all the planes. Did you really think t
hat he wouldn’t be able to break your ritual?”
Lucard realized that the enraged stares of all the vampires were fixed on him, demanding explanations. He had to shift the blame for his failure on someone else at all costs. Demonstrating the quick thinking and decisiveness that had made him the leader of his race, he chose the second vampire in line after Garnage that coveted his position and, with lightning speed, stood before him.
“You have endangered our race!” he screamed, and before Harrell could react, Lucard swiped his claws across his neck and cut off his head. With his claws dripping blackish blood, he stood for a moment over the body, pretending to be trying to regain his composure, and then went to the edge of the plateau and looked out at the fortress. “We stick to our plan. Once we have the Angel, no one can harm us,” he said with fake confidence.
The elders of his race regarded him coldly, unable to hide their animosity. The show he had put on had fooled nobody. They all inwardly accused him of the dire position he had put them in. They agreed with him on just one thing: that the only thing that could save them was if they captured Aranes.
The vampires dashed through the maze of corridors, searching for a way to the next floor. When they reached a fork, they stopped and looked in both directions indecisively. The werewolves behind them drew closer and stopped. Morcad, Lyon’s second-in-command, glanced over his shoulder. The corridor behind them was empty. The werewolf growled a command to his comrades and, without wasting any time, they killed the vampires and hid them in the room nearby, because when the undead weren’t killed with ethereal fire, their bodies merely became desiccated. Morcad then sniffed the air and surged into the corridor, followed by his pack, in search of their next prey.
