by Amy Cross
Damn it, these vampires die too easily.
“We've taken the southern wing of the house!” someone calls out, as several of my men rush past in their human forms, followed by two huge, majestic spiders. How could anyone not find our species beautiful, especially when we're giving such a convincing demonstration of our strength? Another spider crawls almost straight over me, its legs brushing against my shoulder as it rushes bravely onward to the deeper reaches of the house.
Turning, I look across the old ballroom and watch the chaos. Walls have been torn down, floors and ceilings ripped apart, and brick-dust fills the air. The great, grand house of Gothos, for so long the heart of vampire civilization and a symbol of their arrogance, has finally fallen in battle. So many other species have dreamed of such a moment – Ventriforms, Forbidders, even cold-blooded vampires locked in a deadly civil war – but they were never able to breach the house itself. Now that run is over, and the vampires are losing their home. As Karakh prepares to rise, so Gothos falls.
It's hard not to smile.
Sensing a presence nearby, I turn just in time to see Skellig stepping through a gap in one of the damaged walls, finally entering the building. I had expected him to hang back much further, since he has stated multiple times that he and his species are not “built” for direct conflict, so his arrival can only mean that he sees the battle is almost over. He picks his way carefully across the broken masonry until he reaches me, and I can't miss the hint of anticipatory delight in his face as he surveys the carnage.
“It's beautiful, isn't it?” I ask, as more desperate, pained cries can be heard from other rooms. “So many vampires dying in quick succession. I swear, I can almost taste death in the air.”
“Almost?” He looks around, as smoke curls over his face and into his hollow eye-sockets. The flashes of white and blue electrical energy beneath his skin are greater than ever, as if his delight knows no bounds. “I can taste death in the air, Emilia. This is a good day to enjoy the suffering of vampires.”
“I haven't found her yet,” I tell him.
“Patience. Do not focus on just one of them. The most important thing is that they must all die.”
“But she's mine,” I continue. “I've told our soldiers not to kill Abby Hart, merely to bring her to me.”
“Because you still seek revenge?”
“She murdered Keller.”
He pauses, and for a moment I can see his body trembling, as if the continued cries of dying soldiers fill his soul with pleasure. “Do as you wish,” he says finally. “On a day such as this, it matters not how the job is done, only that the vampires are destroyed. They have stained the fabric of existence for too long.” He limps past me and then stops again, looking around at the damaged walls. “This was once the most ornate ballroom in the vampire world, perhaps in all of existence. They held great feasts here too, with the light of thousands of candles. Although it pains me to admit as much, I have to say that those feasts were legendary. There was a form of beauty here, Emilia. Even if they became decadent and weak in the end, the vampire race had potential once.”
“You -” Pausing for a moment, I feel a sliver of suspicion in my chest. “You speak as if you've been to Gothos before,” I tell him.
He turns to me, his hollow sockets wider than ever.
“You have been here before,” I continue, shocked. “When? How?”
“Gothos has stood for so long,” he replies, “its span cannot be measured in time alone.”
“But you're not that old, are you?” I ask. When he doesn't reply, I realize that something about this attack seems particularly personal to him. “Skellig, what are -”
“Patience,” he says firmly, interrupting me as a smile grows across his lips. “My people did not just help the spiders because we were paid to do so, but also because our races' aims came together. I have long dreamed of seeing the home of the vampires destroyed.”
I want to ask him more, to find out who and what he really is, but before I can open my mouth there's a loud bang in the distance and the entire house trembles. Moments later, one of our generals runs back through the rubble toward us, stopping when he sees us together.
“We've secured most of the lower floor,” he explains breathlessly. “There are pockets of resistance, but nothing to concern us too much. Most of the vampire forces have retreated to the upper reaches of the house.”
“They've gone up?” I reply, surprised by the news. “Then they really must be desperate.”
“There's the main staircase,” he continues, “but we've already found two other passages. One via the old kitchen, and one -”
“Seal them off,” I tell him firmly. “I want Abby Hart and the others trapped up there, and then we can pick them off without too much trouble.”
“She was spotted a few minutes ago,” he replies. “She's still alive, she's with the vampires who went upstairs.”
“Of course she is,” I mutter darkly. “She might be a weak fool, but she can't help taking control when everyone else falls around her.” I turn to Skellig, but to my surprise I see that he has already begun to make his way further into the house, as if some deeper instinct is drawing him onward.
“What are those things?” the general asks.
I turn and see that he's transfixed by the sight of Skellig.
“I honestly don't know,” I tell him.
“But how do we know we can trust them?” he continues. “I mean, the soldiers have been talking, it wasn't just Kerial who had concerns. Those creatures came into our midst and started taking control of our entire army, but once the war with the vampires is over... Will they just leave?”
“My father would not have allied with a race that could harm us,” I reply, even though deep down I have misgivings that I can't shake. I keep telling myself to trust in Father's choices, but it's as if Skellig and his species set off some long-buried alarms in my soul. “Stop questioning the decisions of your superiors,” I continue, turning back to the general as I realize that I'm in danger of showing weakness, “and make sure the last vampire fighters are sealed in the upstairs section. How many are left?”
“But if -”
“If you question me again,” I snarl, “you'll meet the same fate as Kerial!”
He stares at me with fear in his eyes, and I can tell that I've made my point.
“How many are left?” I ask again.
“No more than ten or so.”
“And one of those is Abby Hart,” I continue, smiling as I look up toward the ceiling. “She must know. She must feel in her heart that death is coming, and that I'm the one who will deliver it. She must be scared.”
“There's something else, M'am,” he adds. “We've located the council of Gothos. Their elders are trapped in the consul room, there's no way for them to escape.”
“How many of them?” I ask.
“Three old men.”
I pause for a moment, before a smile slowly grows across my face. “Take me to the consul room,” I tell him finally. “I want to finish them off myself.”
Absalom
The house shudders as another wall collapses, and this time there's smoke too, as if the spiders are starting to set fire to parts of the building. Gothos is lost, that much is clear, but I refuse to give up all hope.
Ducking down as part of the corridor's ceiling collapses, I feel a sharp pain in my torso. I can't count the number of small injuries I've suffered over the course of the fight, but at least I've managed to kill one spider and severely injure another. Not bad for a few minutes' work, but not enough either.
If this comes down to a pure fight, we're doomed.
I lean back against the wall, trying to regain some strength ready for the next stage of the fight. I heard Abby leading our troops upstairs, but I haven't managed to follow yet. Instead I'm in the south wing, in a dark, unlit part of the house beyond the old consul room, in a section that the spiders passed through and have now largely abandoned. I need a moment to t
hink in the midst of all this carnage, to come up with a plan, but as I look down at the sword in my hand I can't help but wonder if this third war might be the last I fight.
“What would you do?” I whisper, trying to imagine how Cerulesis would react.
Stumbling forward, I check both ways before hurrying along the corridor and finally reaching the door to the old strategy room. There's not much here, of course; after Cerulesis died all those years ago, the room was largely abandoned, partly because it was considered unnecessary but also because of a kind of superstition that arose. Vampires are not given to ghost stories, but there were those who felt this room was cursed or haunted by the spirit of the woman who lost her mind in here. Stepping over to the old stone table, I look down at the faded maps and realize that some of her scribbles have been left here.
“What would you do?” I whisper again. “How would you win this battle?”
I wait, hoping against hope that her ghost might come to me now, but all I hear is the sound of distant screams. If I hadn't given the Creolian petal to Abby, I'd be opening the box right now so that I could speak to Cerulesis one final time. If anyone could find a path through this madness, it would be her. She led us through so many battles that we should have lost, but I never learned to think like her or to understand how her mind worked. Even now, staring at the scribbles she left on the main table, I have no idea what to do next.
Suddenly I hear a noise nearby, and I turn to see a shadow in the doorway. Raising my sword, I'm fully prepared for a spider to attack, or for a wounded vampire to appear, but when a hooded figure steps into view I realize that it's neither of those; instead, it's a creature with dark, hollow eye-sockets.
“What the hell are you?” I whisper.
The creature turns, as if it can see despite the loss of its eyes, and slowly a smile forms on its lips. At the same time, a crackle of white energy sparks beneath its skin, and it's clear that some vast power is contained in its body.
Making my way around the table with my sword raised, I stop when I get close to the door. Whatever this thing is, it seems supremely confident in the heart of the chaos, as if it sees no threat to itself. At the same time, I can't shake the sense of pure evil that seems to be emanating from its body, something I've never experienced before, not even in the depths of three wars. Whatever this thing is, I've never encountered anything like it.
“Are you not going to strike at me, vampire?” the creature asks, tilting its head slightly. Its voice sounds tense, as if it's struggling to hold back. “Have you lost the will to fight?”
I take a step closer, determined to strike this thing down but still worried by its calm demeanor. In all the wars I have fought, never before have I encountered a creature such as this.
“You're with them,” I mutter finally. “What are you, some kind of mercenary?”
“Nothing so lowly,” he replies. “You are Absalom, are you not? I have heard the dying thoughts of many vampires tonight, and several of them believed until their final moments that you and Ms. Hart would find a way to save them. How does it feel to know that so many of your species maintained their faith in you, right up until the moment when spider venom burned the souls from their hearts? How does it feel to have been given a chance to save your species, and to have failed so miserably?”
“What are you?” I ask again, my mind racing as I try to think of something, anything, from the eight worlds that even comes close to resembling such a creature.
“My name is Skellig,” he continues. “As for the name of my species, well... We have been given names by others, but none have ever guessed our true nature.”
I adjust the grip on my sword, poised to attack but holding back while I try to work out what I'm facing. From his frail appearance, this creature looks as if he'd drop easily with just once swing of my blade, but I have no doubt that there's more to him, and that his supreme confidence stems from some deep, hidden strength that he would reveal as soon as I attacked. As if to prove that point, he takes a step closer and I realize I can hear the energy rippling through his flesh. It's almost as if the power of a thousand white-hot suns has been forced into his body and is now struggling to break out.
“The spiders are different this time,” I say cautiously. “I fought in the old war against them, and I noticed straight away that this time their tactics are new. It's almost as if something else is guiding them.”
“Did you like what they did to the children?” he asks with a grin. “That was my idea, I must confess. A touch melodramatic, perhaps, but I'm sure it had the desired effect. I instructed the drone spiders to work slowly, so as to cause the maximum level of pain to their young victims.” His grin grows, revealing rows of dark, sharp teeth. “They sealed the children's souls with their webs before they hurt them, so that their screams would never be able to get out.”
“The spiders of old were brutal,” I reply, “but even they would have resisted such cruelty.”
“And they would have lost the war,” he points out, “by repeating the same tired mistakes. Now, however, they are on the verge of victory.”
“Thanks to you,” I mutter darkly. “Whatever you are.”
“Come now,” he replies, broadening his grin, “you strike me as a cultured vampire, Absalom. You must have read the Book of Gothos, both testaments, a thousand times over.”
“And not once did I come across a description that matches you.”
“Really? Are you sure about that?”
“I've even read parts of the Book of Karakh,” I continue. “I studied at the Dynasty schools of Ebucalezzah, I was one of the few pupils permitted to read the Karakh fragments that he and the other elders had obtained. There is no creature in there that -”
Suddenly I stop as I feel a sense of cold, hard fear punching through my chest.
“Go on,” he continues. “What is it, Absalom? Are you starting to remember a few key passages?”
Shaking my head, I adjust my grip on the hilt of my sword.
“Think back,” he explains, “to the parts of the Book of Gothos that dealt with myth and fear. Think back to the parts that made only a passing reference to something so vast and so great, you could only contemplate its existence if you assured yourself that it never truly existed.” He takes a step toward me, and then another, his whole body creaking in the process. “Like children, you dealt with the bogeyman by pretending that he's not real. Vampires, spiders, werewolves... Constantly squabbling amongst yourselves, but also united by willful ignorance of that which you could not hope to understand.” He lowers his head slightly, allowing me to see the darkness in his empty eye-sockets. “That which came before you.”
“Nothing came before us,” I stammer. “Before the vampires and the spiders, and the werewolves, there was no life.”
He smiles. “Are you sure about that?”
Before I can react, a blast of burning white energy explodes from his eye-sockets, crashing into my body and sending me slamming into the stone wall with such force that I feel every bone shatter. Slumping down, I try to reach for my sword, but all I can feel now is my body furiously trying to repair the damage before I'm struck again.
“Did you really think you were the first?” Skellig asks, making his way around the stone table as he comes closer. “While the vampires and spiders were indulging in their petty wars, and while the werewolves ran and hid, did none of you ever stop to consider the older myths? The truth is right there in the Book of Gothos, and in the Book of Karakh too... There are mentions of an older species, one that rose and ruled the eight worlds long before the rest of you existed, one that fell through no fault of its own, one that became forgotten and left no traces. Just a footnote in your history books.”
Opening my mouth, I struggle to get any words out, but my body is starting to knit my shattered bones together.
“There was...” I gasp, before snatching a deep breath. I need to buy myself some time here until I'm strong enough to attack him. “There was a
passage in the Book of Gothos,” I stammer. “Right at the beginning, it spoke of a myth... Some scholars claimed that vampires and spiders were not the first true empires, that there was something else before us, something dark and lost, a race of...”
“Go on,” he replies, towering above me, grinning with that eyeless smile.
“A race of demons,” I whisper, staring up at him.
“In the Book of Gothos,” he continues, “our very existence was afforded just one line. The idea of us was dismissed.”
“Our scholars...” Feeling a hint of strength in my chest, I realize I need just a few more seconds to finish healing. “Our scholars told us you never existed,” I stammer. “They told us that before our species rose, the eight worlds were a wasteland.”
“They were not a wasteland,” he replies. “A mighty empire ruled them once, millions of years ago. Before vampires, before spiders, before werewolves and humans, before all of recorded history... There was us.”
“What happened to you?”
“We fell, but some of us persisted. We were forced to hide ourselves, to wait and watch as other species rose and scrabbled about in the dirt and mud. Our goal was always to return one day, to reveal ourselves and crush the rest of you, but our fall had been so complete, we needed time to recover. Still, it amused us to watch you fight amongst yourselves, blind to the real danger that was preparing to emerge.”
“So you allied yourselves with the spiders?” Finally able to move my hands again, I realize that by some miracle I'm still holding my sword. Just a couple more seconds... “Why would the spiders work with a race of ancient demons? What could they possibly gain from -” Pausing, I realize the truth. “They don't know, do they? You're using them.”
“All empires must fade and die,” he replies. “All except one. The demons will now return and take their rightful place, and the rest of you...” He leans closer. “The rest of you will collapse back into dust.”
Lunging at him, I swing my sword toward his face but he's able to push me back and blast another flash of energy from his eye-sockets. This time I'm pinned to the wall as the energy crashes into my chest, and I'm powerless to get free as I feel my body being eaten away. Just as I think I'm about to slip into unconsciousness, however, Skellig uses the energy to throw me across the room, slamming me into the wall and then letting me drop down once again to the floor. As the blast subsides, I immediately try to get to my feet, even though my bones are shattered once again and my vision is filled with bursts of light.
