by Sean Stone
“Once Cain has me he’ll let Isabella go. You can take her back to the manor,” Richie said, his voice was sullen.
“And then what?” said Victor.
“Cain will kill me and you’ll lead the clan. Unless Lydia comes through and somehow manages to save me.”
“I’m not going to let you die,” said Victor. They’d survived in Cedarstone for so long because they worked together. They made a good team and together they would find a way to defeat the Cult.
“There’s nothing you can do,” said Richie.
“I’ll go back to the manor and return with the clan. Do you really think Isabella is going to walk way and let you die?” asked Victor, and Richie gave a feeble laugh.
“No, I suppose not.”
“Exactly, so don’t give up hope just yet.” Victor could have left it there, but he felt he needed to say the next bit as well. He needed Richie to hear it. “I didn’t abandon you before Richie. I was trying to keep you alive. James had given me so many warnings that I was sure the next time I got caught looking for you, they’d execute you.”
“I know, Vic,” Richie said and laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I was angry with you before, but the fact that you’ve stayed by my side this whole time has proven to me that I was wrong to doubt you.”
Victor nodded. “Whatever happens in there, I won’t give up unless they kill me.”
“Me neither.”
They arrived at the castle and just like last time they stopped at the drawbridge. This time, Victor stayed by Richie’s side. There was no trap laid, no plan in action. A simple surrender. And just like last time Ramsay Aramaya appeared in the gateway. His face showed no pleasure at the sight of them.
“You’re back. Any snakes hidden up your sleeves?” Ramsay asked sourly. Victor surmised that Ramsay had not forgiven them for capturing and imprisoning him.
“Not this time,” Richie said quietly, resigned to his fate.
“Then follow me,” Ramsay said and led them inside the castle walls. Once they’d passed through the gate the portcullis crashed down behind them.
In the courtyard stood roughly fifty vampires, each one of them in a uniform consisting of a collarless white shirt with a golden sigil of a crook and a flail crossed over on the chest. They all had their eyes fixed on Victor and Richie as they walked in. Hanging from one of the walls was a large iron cage and inside was Isabella. She was sitting cross-legged staring out through the bars. When she saw who had walked in she stood and moved to the edge of the cage. The cage rocked slightly with her movement but the chains held it in place.
“Isabella!” Victor called. She looked at him but did not reply.
“You, remain,” Ramsay said to Richie when they reached the centre of the courtyard. Then he turned to Victor and said, “You, follow.”
Victor gave Richie a final reassuring look before following Ramsay to the cage. Isabella had a mixture of nervousness and contempt on her face. Victor surmised that some of that contempt was aimed at him for sending her away. The cage was lowered to the ground and then one of the cultists unlocked the door. Before Victor could do anything several of the cultists seized him and flung him into the cage. He turned on them but the door was slammed shut before he reached it. He tried breaking the bars but they were strong, too strong for him to even bend slightly.
“What are you doing?” Richie shouted. He made to move but almost the entire band of vampires stepped forward to stop him and he froze. Against their own clan, Richie was strong and could take out many, but there was no knowing how old the cultists were nor how many Richie could best in a fight.
“Did you think I would let them walk out of here?” Ramsay asked, turning back to Richie.
“I thought you only wanted him?” Victor asked.
“We do. Once he is dead the two of you can go,” Ramsay replied and then walked away. “You will remain there until my father arrives,” Ramsay told Richie. Then Ramsay went to stand by the castle steps and everything was silent. None of the cultists even moved, they remained perfectly still, waiting for their captain.
“You better have a bloody good plan,” Isabella said.
“Issyk, I’m so sorry for sending you away. You have to know it was for your own good,” Victor said, looking at his daughter. It was clear that she hadn’t been hurt, not badly anyway.
“It certainly did me a lot of good didn’t it?” she shot back.
“I didn’t intend-”
“Father, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is surviving this, so what’s your plan?”
“The plan was to go back to the manor once you were safe and return with the clan,” Victor said, knowing his plan was pathetic.
“Really? Richie must have something better?”
“He didn’t even want that plan. He’s come here to die,” Victor explained. He didn’t bother mentioning Lydia’s plan. There was no point when neither he nor Richie believed in it.
“Richie wouldn’t give up,” she said in disbelief.
“We tried everything. He has no options left. If it helps he decided to give up when he learned they had you,” said Victor, thinking his words might provide his daughter with some comfort.
“How would that help?” she snapped.
A horn blasted out from the top of the castle steps. Victor moved to the front of the cage for a better view and saw a tall shape appearing in the castle doorway. Like his children, Cain’s skin was a pale grey colour. His eyes were narrow slits in his face and he had a long and flat nose with snake-like openings for nostrils. On his head was thin black hair, cut short and brushed flat. The entire courtyard remained silent as he began his descent down the wide stone steps. Even Richie made no sound, which was a first for him. Finally, when Cain reached the base of the steps and stepped onto the courtyard’s gravel he spoke.
“Richard Morgan. Returned to us at last,” it was the same grating sound as before. Victor had thought that a dodgy phone line had been responsible for the sound of his voice and was surprised to find that he did actually sound like that in person.
Cain walked agonisingly slowly toward Richie, no doubt trying to build his anticipation. “No snakes. No stakes. No juvenile plots. I am disappointed in your behaviour thus far. I taught you better.”
“Apparently not,” Richie said. His voice was so quiet Victor barely heard it.
“This meekness does not suit you, Richard. Have I really killed your spirit?” Although he was taunting Richie, there was no humour in Cain’s tone, no sign that he was enjoying the altercation at all. For him, it was just a bit of business. “You seem not to be in a talking mood so I’ll get straight to business. You deserted the cult to which you belonged. You betrayed the cult to which you belonged. You betrayed the king to whom you swore to restore. And you destroyed a scared piece of Osiris, our creator and king. The sentence is death. Do you have any means for a defence?”
“Is trial by combat an option?” Richie asked, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“Trial by combat?” Cain repeated slowly as if he’d never heard the phrase before.
“Yes, you know, you pick a champion and if I beat him it proves my innocence and I go free,” Richie clarified.
“I know what it is. I’m merely surprised that you would ask. Everyone standing in this courtyard knows that you are guilty.”
“But the rules state that I must be granted a trial of my choosing, and you would never break the rules, would you?” Richie goaded. His confidence was growing.
Cain wrinkled his nose in disdain. “Very well. A trial by combat you want. A trial by combat you shall receive.”
“Name your champion,” Richie said.
“I need no champion. You’ll fight me.” And just like that Richie’s glimmer of hope died. “Kill me and my men will let you go free. When I kill you your sentence will be complete.” Cain held out his hand, palm up and one of the cultists threw a stake into it. It was long and ebony with a gold engraving of the same crook and flail that
they all wore on their chests. Cain held the stake up for all to see and then dropped it onto the gravel. “Shall we?”
Cain bowed his head to Richie and Richie to him and then the fighting began. Richie struck out first but Cain blocked the attack with ease. Richie swung his fist, again and again, was blocked. The two vampires began moving fast, each striking and blocking with beautiful skill. It was almost like a dance. Finally, Cain managed to land a strike and knocked Richie down to the ground. Before he could strike again Richie rolled back out of the way and shot up to his feet, leaving a wide gap between himself and his opponent.
“Every move you use is one which I taught you. Do you really hope to defeat me with my own skill set?” Cain asked as they began circling.
“I’m just warming up,” Richie said and darted forward. He slid through Cain’s legs and snatched the stake up from the floor. Cain turned in time for Richie to pounce up and kick him squarely in his chest, knocking him to the ground and landing on top of him. Richie had the stake positioned over Cain’s heart, the tip touching his chest, but not penetrating.
“You didn’t teach me that,” Richie said cockily. Victor saw Ramsay go to move forward but then Michael was at his side stopping him.
“If you interfere you’ll be put to death too,” Michael whispered and Ramsay held still.
“I deserted because I wanted my freedom and I knew that you were never going to give it to me,” Richie said. Richie wiggled the stake, emphasising his position. “You underestimated me.”
With a speed that Victor had never witnessed in all the years he’d lived, Cain knocked the stake from Richie’s grasp and sent it across the courtyard. He then flung Richie across the gravel in the opposite direction. Richie, who was sprawled out on the gravel with a look of pure astonishment on his face, searched about for the stake. The fight was no longer about skill, it was desperation. Cain was already on his feet again. Victor’s heart was thrumming in his chest and he could see Isabella’s knuckles white as milk as she gripped the bars of the cage. Richie’s eyes found what he was looking for and he scrambled towards the stake. Cain grabbed his ankle and dragged him back. He lifted him by the ankle and tossed him into the nearby wall. Whilst Richie recovered Cain went for the stake. By the time Richie was standing Cain was there, pinning him up against the wall, the stone cracked. Richie struggled but there was no way he was going to overcome Cain’s strength. The night sky above darkened with thick and heavy clouds and lightning forked through the darkness. Victor mused on how apt the weather was considering what was about to happen.
“No,” Isabella muttered. Victor looked at her and saw tears in her eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her cry. Seeing her in that state brought tears of his own to the surface. He closed his eyes and for the first time in over three hundred years he prayed. But when he opened his eyes the situation remained the same.
“It would seem that you overestimated yourself, Richard,” Cain said. He raised the stake up high above his head. “For the crimes against this cult and the crimes against our king, I, Cain Aramaya, captain of the Cult of Osiris, sentence you to die.” Cain brought this hand down but when he reached Richie’s chest the stake was gone. Cain looked at his hand in confusion, as did Richie. Thunder rolled in the sky above and the first drops of rain began to fall. One of the cultists gasped and pointed across the courtyard. Everybody followed his finger and there holding the stake stood Nickolas Blackwood.
“What are you doing, you fool?” Cain demanded as he threw Richie aside and rounded on Nickolas.
“Sorry old chap, there’s been a change of plans. I need him alive,” Nickolas said. Victor must have slipped into an alternate reality because there was no way that Nickolas would ever say that.
“Well, that isn’t going to happen.”
“I wasn’t asking,” Nickolas replied and threw the stake directly at Cain’s forehead. Cain batted it aside as though it was a troublesome fly and then raised one eyebrow.
“You’ll have to do better than that to kill me,” he said.
“If I was trying to kill you I would have aimed for the heart. I don’t want you dead. Yet.” Nickolas thrust his palm out and a bolt of lightening flew forward taking Cain Aramaya in its path. The old vampire lit up with blue light and screamed. Then in spite of the pain, he ran at Nickolas. He grabbed him around the waist and hurled him into the wall stopping Nickolas’ lightning attack. As the two of them fought Victor looked across the courtyard at Richie who was watching with dumb wonder. Ramsay stormed over to Richie but before he got there Lydia was in front of him and Michael behind. They subdued their brother and dragged him away into the castle. The rest of the cultists started towards their master who was still fighting with Nickolas. If Victor had thought that Richie and Cain's fighting was a dance, then what he was seeing now was a masterpiece. Both were attacking, blocking and countering like professional martial artists. Nickolas’ magic granted him speed that was able to match Cain’s. Several cracks rang out around the courtyard and more of the disciples appeared to aid their master. The cultists who had been advancing froze. They looked at one another, trying to decide whether they should continue their advance. One of the disciples pointed at one of the cultists and within seconds, he was reduced to pile of ashes on the floor. The rest of them retreated into the castle at once. The same disciple pointed at the cage holding Victor and Isabella and it came crashing down to the floor, the door swinging open on impact. Isabella had braced herself for the shock, but Victor had not and was now on his knees as a horrid pain vibrated through him. Once the pain had subsided he followed his daughter out of the cage just in time to see Nickolas twist Cain’s head round so that his neck snapped loudly. The ancient vampire fell raggedly onto the floor, temporarily dead.
Richie stepped through the disciples to face his rescuer and for the second time that night he had no words.
“You’re welcome,” Nickolas said. “You two,” he said to two of his disciples “Get him to the ritual ground before he wakes up. Put him in position and prepare for my arrival” The two disciples took hold of Cain and with a loud crack they disappeared.
“You,” Nickolas pointed at two more; a woman and James Tenson. Victor thought he’d died months ago and was amazed to see him not only walking about but apparently also a disciple. “Get in there and collect the Osiris pieces from Lydia. Take them to the ritual ground and put them together.
“Richie,” he turned to Richie and smiled. “Apparently you have some more use in you, so you can’t die just yet. You can thank Lydia for convincing me that you had value. And you can thank me by giving me the payment she promised.”
Back at the manor, they found out what payment had been promised. Richie had refused to let Nickolas teleport him and so he, Victor and Isabella had run home and found Nickolas already waiting. Thankfully he was alone.
“All I require is the final piece of Osiris,” Nickolas said.
“He destroyed that,” Isabella said. Victor put the pieces together; that was the thing Richie could have used to barter for his life. Although, now that Victor had experienced Cain in person he doubted that Cain would have made any deal with Richie.
“Did he now?” Nickolas asked mockingly.
“You said you did,” Isabella said looking at Richie questioningly.
“I lied,” Richie admitted shrugging. “I pretended to, but I stole it instead. I thought it might come in handy one day.” Apparently, attempting to trade it for your life was not covered in your definition of handy, Victor thought.
“And that day has come,” Nickolas said beaming.
“Why didn’t you use it to bargain with Cain?” Victor demanded. “You could have ended this weeks ago.”
“Because I didn’t want him to bring Osiris back to life. If Cain turned out as bad as he did I don’t want to imagine what his maker was like,” Richie said heatedly.
“Well, I can assure you that Osiris will be dead long before this night is over,” Nickolas
said.
“And you aren’t just going to come back here and kill me when you’re finished?” Richie asked.
“No. I told you before, Richie, we’re even. Now, give me the Osiris piece or I will kill you.”
“Follow me,” Richie said reluctantly. He led them to the throne room and for the first time, Victor understood why Richie had carved cobras into his throne. It was to ward off the Aramaya family. All those years Victor had put it down to no more than eccentricity. “There,” Richie pointed at the throne.
Nickolas flicked his wrist and the stone throne exploded before them. Victor shielded himself from cascading fragments of concrete. Victor was secretly chuffed that the garish throne was no more, he’d always hated it. When the dust settled he saw a small ornate gold and blue striped chest standing in the rubble where the throne had once been. Nickolas approached slowly. He fell to one knee before the chest and carefully lifted the lid. Victor didn’t see what was inside but Nickolas seemed pleased. He stood up, with the chest in his hands.
“What now?” Richie said.
“Now, I have almost everything I need. All but one final ingredient. I’m going to start my ritual and if I was you I’d stay well away from Thorndale tonight. It’s likely to get… messy,” Nickolas said and then with a loud burst of thunder, he disappeared
“That was fucking close,” Richie shouted and then laughed.
Isabella laughed with him but Victor wasn’t in quite as jovial a mood.
“What do we do now?” he asked.
“Nothing. We’re done. Cain’s dealt with. Nickolas doesn’t want to kill us. Let’s just sit back and enjoy not having to worry,” Richie said. Victor nodded. It had been a while since they could just sit back and relax with nothing to get pent up about. Victor was certainly going to make the most of it, even if it only lasted for one night. And depending on what Nickolas was going to do in Thorndale, it might just last only one night. But for now, it was time for a night off.
*
Victor did not have much faith in Lydia’s plan. Mainly because he didn’t know what it was. They hadn’t seen Lydia since she’d left the house this morning. Richie didn’t hold much hope either, and so the two of them once again made their way to the castle, this time alone.
