Empire of Blood [Box Set]

by Robert S. Wilson

  Ishan had chartered a ship, a crew of human vampires, and a few humans to take him out west to find this strange land he had heard so many rumors about. That was how he arrived at Tulum. When they found the city, he ordered his crew to hide themselves in the nearby jungles and await his next command. At first, the people would have nothing to do with him, but he learned the native language quickly and began to use his gift to heal the sick. He healed many and so the people there thought he was a great medicine man sent from the gods. However, the Mayan society was run by its own medicine men who held great power. Fearful they would lose their power and following to Ishan, they told their people he was really a demon. Of course, this lie could have easily been confirmed in the minds of the Maya by simply catching Ishan in the act of feeding. It wasn't long before he found himself having to leave before the medicine men found him in his place of slumber. In the time he spent there, he only found one piece of worthwhile information anyhow. A raft floated ashore one day containing a very sick man. He was as primitive as the Maya but from some other place. Through vague hand gestures and drawing pictures in sand he claimed to be from land to the northeast. The Maya did not travel the sea and knew little about northern cultures. The man's bronze skin was much like the Maya but his tall stature and the furs he wore were quite different.

  The man had been brought to Ishan to be healed, but he was too deep in delirium from a fever much like the one that had taken the life of Ishan’s father. Ishan had, for several centuries, hated the gift of healing he’d been given in what he then called his "afterlife." He had spent long periods of time brooding over whether his gift might have been able to heal his father had he possessed it before the fever became too strong. As the man was close to death, he seemed to see Ishan for what he truly was and called out the word "Stikini" as he sat up and pointed at Ishan, his head and chest drenched in sweat. It could have just been a hallucination, but it was all Ishan had to go on. So when he left Tulum, he knew he would be sailing northeast. If the man had seen Ishan for what he really was and Stikini was the word for his kind he must have seen others like him somewhere.

  Ishan and his crew set sail one late night headed for whatever land they would find to the northeast. They brought along one of the Maya medicine men and some of his loyal guards to feed from on their journey. After a voyage of many nights floating along the sea only lit by the unimaginable number of stars hanging in the sky, they saw land in the distance ahead. They made the calculations necessary to change their trajectory in order to arrive at the shore the next night instead of the morning. Ishan and his brethren would have been quite vulnerable if they had arrived on land by the light of day.

  As the land came closer and closer, Ishan watched it impatiently. The desire to understand himself and his kind had, by this time, overtaken even his thirst for blood. If there was an answer to find here, he would find it or die trying. As the ship hit land, Ishan commanded the unliving of his crew to join him for a search of the immediate area. While the living worked toward getting the rope ladder down to the ground from the hull of the mighty craft, Ishan and the six other vampires of his crew jumped down and landed in the swamp with catlike motions. They spread out with Ishan taking the middle as they searched the beach. There were sand dunes here and there coming up from the ground. The array of scents in this place was confusing. Ishan could smell the sand and the ocean from behind him, but he could also smell fresh water up ahead. But another scent caught his attention as he made his way up a nearby palm tree to look out ahead. It was the scent of the ancestors. He had only found a handful of them in all of the centuries since one of them had bitten and infected him with the venom, but it had been enough to allow him to recognize the scent. The smell was overwhelming in this place. Stronger than he had ever experienced before.

  Before he was completely down from the tree, it seemed to explode out from between his arms. The next second, he was falling to the ground and had to maneuver himself so he would land on his feet. When he looked up, he saw a human vampire he’d never seen before. The vampire was dressed much like the man who had washed ashore in Tulum, only his eyes were black with blood lust. Ishan put his hands out in front of him in a gesture of peace. Oblivious to this, the vampire jumped from the top of the tree and swung his arms inward in order to use his claws on Ishan. Ishan grabbed his arms and, with a great show of strength, he managed to break the vampire's fall by only holding his arms. The vampire tried to squirm but Ishan held him. Then, he tried speaking in all the languages he knew in an attempt to get through to him. But none of them seemed to spark anything but a high-pitched screeching from the man. The sound reminded him of the ancestors. Finally after a while, Ishan let him go and the vampire turned away and ran.

  Ishan waited a few minutes giving him a head start, hoping to trick him into thinking he wouldn't be followed. Then when the man's footfalls sounded as though they were far enough ahead, Ishan sped after him. The reason the smell of fresh water had been so strong dawned on him right as his foot slammed full on into the marsh, making a loud splash. He then remembered he hadn't heard the other vampire splash at all. He spun around to see a large crowd of human vampires lunging forward to grab hold of him. The next thing he knew, he was fighting them off left and right purely by instinct. But there were too many of them and before long he was worn out and they carried him away. Once again, he tried to speak to them in all of the languages he knew, but the rest of the human vampires only seemed to speak in those strange screeching sounds the ancestors made.

  After a while of traveling, they arrived at a large cave. The vampires put him down and seemed to be surprised that he was not struggling to get away. Upon entering the cave, Ishan noticed from the echoes that it was a very complex maze of tunnels and chambers. After a few moments, he felt himself lose control of his body, yet his body continued to move. It followed the others regardless of what he told it to do. The lack of control was nearly enough to cause him panic. But before he could, he remembered the stories of the one who could kill men by willing it and wondered if this strange force making him move now came from that very vampire. The tunnel they followed ended in what Ishan’s best guess was probably the middle of the cave system. It was a large open chamber with stalactites hanging from the ceiling.

  There was a clear center to the chamber where the stalactites and stalagmites had been removed and a sort of altar was on the ground. Ishan found himself walking right toward the altar. The feeling of panic crept back into him. As he came closer to the altar, he noticed another cave in the far wall beyond it. He wasn't completely sure since he couldn't even control his own ability to focus, but he thought he saw movement. His body began to kneel down on the altar. He saw more movement coming from the tunnel. His head dropped as if to bow and he saw a small, pale pair of feet walking toward him from the cave beyond the throne. When the feet were right in front of Ishan, he felt his head begin to raise slowly. His view moved up the bare, smooth ankles. They connected to equally soft legs that slanted slightly outward as they came up to hips covered by a colorful, strangely weaved garment. The hips rounded up to a thin abdomen which slanted up to the chest in a v pattern. The navel was bare and the breasts were covered with a matching multicolored garment which strapped around the delicate milky neck which was draped in long, black wavy hair. Her face was the most beautiful thing Ishan and Simon had ever seen. It was a perfect teardrop shape with upward slanted brows and shimmering irises of burgundy. Her lips were slight as she smiled revealing her fangs. The fangs caught Ishan’s eyes immediately now that he had some control of his body again. They were twice as long as a normal ancestor's fangs. To his surprise, she held out her hand as if for him to kiss it. He leaned forward unsure if he were doing the right thing. She spoke.

  "Don't be afraid. You are not mistaken," she said fluently in Ishan’s native Sanskrit. He softly kissed the hand, indulging in the taste of her skin. He felt himself becoming intoxicated. Simon felt it, too. It was an emotion Simon had never
experienced in his own life. It tore into his heart and swept away his soul. In these strange vampire eyes, he somehow saw his mother how she had always been and he had never seen her to be when she was alive. He saw and felt that here was a presence he could fall in love with and yet he hardly knew anything about it. He wasn't sure which reality it clicked in first, his or Ishan’s, but the realization came almost simultaneously for the both of them. She had some sort of power over Ishan. It was animalistic, yet emotionally complex. But even with the realization met, he could do nothing to stop it. It was as if she were a wine that had inebriated him fully or a force that could not be conquered. Yet still he found himself not wanting to pull away from this sweet power she seemed to emanate.

  "Now come with me," she said in a voice that demanded with lust. Ishan found himself unable to resist and almost nearly floating along after her as she turned and walked beyond the altar toward an opening in the far wall of the cave. A burning passion spilled over from Ishan as he followed this goddess of vampires. Images began to fill up his mind. At first, he didn't understand. But then as they took shape and came together, it all started to make sense. She was talking to him in his mind. Telling him secrets that, before telling him, only she had known. He was to be her lover. She had known he would come. It wasn't just that she knew that someone would come, she knew that Ishan would come. She had done all in her power to speed up the process but still he would have come regardless. Because he was the one strong enough to be her mate. He alone. It had always been this way. This was where they came from. Her mother's blood ran through him and entangled with his human blood. The human vampires were hardly a side affect of the venom. It was a natural process. Only through the human vampires could the ancestors breed. And it took thousands of years for one to become even barely strong enough to survive the mating process. And, she told him in his mind, You, Ishan, are more than strong enough. Ishan found that this pleased him more than anything ever had.

  She took his hand, nearly stopping his heart as she came to the mouth of the cave wall. Though he knew she could tear his arm free from its socket without so much as a slight tug, she very gently led him along into the darkness of the cave.

  * * *

  Flight 307 landed in Boulder City in the early hour of morning just before dawn. Chuck Lotinger unbuckled his safety belt, stood up slowly, and stretched with pleasure. He enjoyed life, but he enjoyed it to its fullness on the days he was able to take it from others. And two men in less than twelve hours, now that was a doozy. Chuck smiled as he pulled out his one suitcase from the overhead compartment. He began to whistle as he walked down the aisle of the plane toward the nervously smiling flight attendants waiting to guide him from the plane. He could smell the fear on them. Most people knew, could not mistake, there was something about him that just wasn't safe. He enjoyed this as well. He savored the terror that grew in the young, petite stewardesses as he leaned in close to them and with a shit-eating grin to stop them all, said, "If I were you, ladies, I would lock your doors tonight. There's a killer on the loose." He soaked in the shock that swept across their faces and his grin grew in sync with the paling of both of them. Then he nodded to them and said, "Good day," and exited the plane.

  When he was through the pathetic excuse for a terminal and outside the building, he found the car assigned to him waiting as patiently for him as a car could ever wait. It was a ‘68 Corvette Roadster just as he’d requested, bright red, and eerily reflecting the lights of the parking lot. Chuck slid into the driver's seat and lowered the visor with his left hand then smoothly caught the set of keys in his right. He replaced the visor to its original default position, put the key in the ignition, and started up the beast with a roar. Then, he flipped a switch and backed out as the convertible top began to raise above him. The next second, he saw the desert stretched out before him in the pale blue light of the early dawn. He peeled out of the parking lot toward it as the convertible top finished sinking down behind his seat, a cloud of dust exploding behind the Roadster. As he sped down the narrow two-lane highway, the wind blew through his hair and the sound of the engine surrounded him with its pure might. He was sure he had the most exhilarating job on the planet. It really was turning out to be the perfect day, he thought. But then, a moment later, all of that changed. His cell phone rang. He raised it to his left ear and answered with excitement.

  "I'm en route now, sir. I'll be there in less than twenty minutes at the-" his face flushed as he was interrupted. The muscles in his neck tightened and he clenched his teeth as the Emperor spoke. This was not turning out to be his lucky day after all. When the conversation was over, he carefully put the phone back in his pocket, using all his self control to keep from throwing it out into the desert, never to be found again. His eyes narrowed as he pushed harder on the gas pedal with his foot, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

  * * *

  A throbbing pain he hadn't felt in over a thousand years stretched from Ishan’s throat and spread through every vein in his body as a weak form of consciousness started to dawn within him. He hadn't felt such agony since the night his heart stopped beating. A large blurry shape was slowly coming into focus hovering over him. It was so close, he couldn't make it out at first. He could make out flesh and something yellow in color. Hair, it had to be hair. The hair was blonde and the pain he was feeling was rooted below the hair. It was all so confusing. He had been giving his people orders, making the way for Hank to leave, and working on getting his science team to recover the backup system. Now, he was floating in some kind of abyss, losing a second life to the one at his throat. But worst of all, he was sure that he knew who was at his throat, but he couldn't bring the name to his mind. This was bad. Even in his weakest states, he always had the sharpest mind and the most detailed memory. Something was very wrong. He started to feel a limpness all throughout his body. After two thousand years, it was all about to come to an end. He only hoped Hank made it out alive. It was the only way. But he hadn't told him why it was so important and this brought a stabbing sense of regret almost more excruciating than the fangs in his neck and the taking of his blood.

  The head with blonde hair popped up revealing a sneering face with fangs dripping blood as it gasped for air. Peter, that was his name. As soon as the face was visible, the name followed suit. Things were coming back to him now. However, strength was not. Peter continued to smirk at Ishan with the same head-splitting grin.

  "Hello, old friend. Nice to see you could awaken so I could see the sad, sad look on your face. I must say it brings me great pleasure," Peter said.

  Ishan inhaled raspily and tried to speak in reply, but nothing came.

  "Oh, don't waste your last breath on me, old friend. With every breath you keep, the more rich blood that's left for me, the more… power," he said, relishing the word, "left for me."

  Ishan tried to move but Peter only laughed as Ishan’s body merely shuddered instead. Then Peter’s expression changed from one of humor to one of anger and he thrust his head back down. Ishan felt the younger vampire's fangs pierce into him, making a fresh wound.

  * * *

  Not an ounce of compassion filled Peter as the memories of Ishan's life played out before him. In fact, he felt only satisfaction as he learned the most intimate details of Ishan's life. He even savored the times of suffering, though he experienced them as if they were his own. He watched, through Ishan's memories, the first time he met the ancient vampire. He felt firsthand the feelings that came with Ishan's first impression of him. What he felt jolted and infuriated him. It had taken a few minutes to recognize the emotion as Ishan had felt it on that day. It had a depth to it that wasn't far from sorrow, and yet simultaneously, inferiority, of which Peter knew all too well. When it hit him, he had nearly physically taken his teeth from Ishan's throat. Ishan had felt pity for him. Rage swelled through him as he realized this. What reason did he have for pitying me, he thought. It should have been the other way around. Ishan, always hearkening to the qu
een's every desire. An existence of pure slavery, it had seemed to Peter. But he also remembered that very day from his own memory and the first impression he had felt of this now-dying vampire. He felt intrigue and even some reverence for the ancient fool. But now, and for a long time now, he could only feel contempt for him. He was a coward, idly standing by while his own people were kept as slaves. The only one he never betrayed was his precious queen.

  * * *

  It was almost laughable to Simon, when he saw himself in Ishan's memory. Even in their last encounter, after he became a vampire, he saw himself for the weak, meandering thing that he was, and had been all of his life. For a short while after experiencing these memories, Simon barely felt or understood anything else as he was overcome with a feeling of worthlessness and self loathing. Had he really led such a despicable life as this? Had he always had such a limited compassion for others? Then, he thought of his mother and the way he blamed her for what had been done to her. Then, as if all of the empathy he should have felt for others throughout his life had been bottled up inside and was now pouring out at once, he felt an explosion of pain, sympathy, and guilt. As he came to terms with this, he realized the memories had stopped, and he was now within his own unconscious mind as if alone in a dark room.