“Mr. di Mazi, the High Council is ready to see you. This way, please.” The receptionist spoke with a pronounced English accent.
Fabio squeezed Mona’s hand. “Say a prayer,” he whispered before following the receptionist out of the room.
At the end of a short corridor, the receptionist indicated he should enter through a set of double doors. “They are expecting you. Please enter.”
Fabio sucked in a deep breath, pushed open the doors and found himself in a darkened vestibule. Mentally he sighed. Thanks to Vanse’s heritage, he sometimes forgot most vampires on the planet were restricted to the night. Fortunately, his night sight was excellent, and his eyes adjusted to the gloom. Straightening his shoulders, he opened the next set of doors and blinked in surprise at the brightness of the artificial light. He’d entered a large semi-circular room lit by a magnificent oversized chandelier. An abundance of wall lights provided further lighting. In contrast, thick black velvet drapes prevented a single particle of sunlight entering. He was sure the windows would be further reinforced on the inside with more shutters and bullet-proof glass. The council members hadn’t risen to their current positions without knowing how to protect themselves.
The five judges sat in high-backed red leather chairs on a raised dais wearing the carmine silk robes that showed this meeting was official, and its results binding. Positioned in the center was the pale golden-haired Aneira, the council head who looked to be in her early twenties, but was at least 1,000 years old. To her right sat Syphax, another ancient vampire from Numidia, now western Algeria, whose aristocratic features studied Fabio with a little too much interest. Mangajay, a mature Aboriginal wise woman from central Australia sat on the far right. On Aneira’s left sat Carnelia and Rose, two middle-aged sisters from an early European colony, who refused to wear any fashion other than that which had been current at the time of their turning—a deliberate affectation. Rose closed the lid of her laptop, and Carnelia switched off her phone.
Aneira looked at her co-councilors and spoke. "The Council is gathered here today to hear a lawful request on behalf of the vampire family of Orleton. Is that correct, Fabio de Mazi?"
"Yes, Honored Magister," Fabio bowed low before his superiors.
"You understand that every word spoken here must be the truth or there will be consequences?"
Fabio was well aware the consequences she referred to would be his death. "Yes, Your Honor."
"And you accept to be bound, on behalf of your family, by whatever ruling this court makes, and will uphold the verdict made here today?"
"I do."
"Good. Let us begin. Please state the reason for your request."
Fabio related the series of events leading up to the current state of affairs in Orleton. "If I may show the honored judges two photos?"
Aneira nodded, and Fabio took out his phone and handed it to her. "The first photo shows my master with the knife embedded in his chest. A friend of my master who is a local shaman performed the ceremony. The weapon had been ensorcelled, and the shaman had the power to remove it.” Fabio decided the High Council might look less kindly on the matter if he informed them the shaman in question was also a werewolf pack master, consequently he omitted that detail. Besides, it was irrelevant to his plea, “If you swipe to the left, you can see the second photo taken after the ceremony, after the knife has been removed. I swear on my life and that of my maker there was no trickery involved, and those photos have not been enhanced in any way.”
After each member of the High Council had studied the before and after photos, Fabio pocketed his phone. "Sadly, he has not yet regained consciousness, but we expect him to return to full consciousness any day now, which is why I request you make an exception to the one-year rule, revert your previous ruling allowing Serkan to take over our family, and grant us another year before allowing another take-over." Fabio bowed his head and waited.
"Yes," Cornelia spoke, her voice soft and sweet. "We know of your master’s dispute with his maker. Some of us,” she glanced at the other councilors, “have met Angelus over the centuries, but he has always gone his own way. His particular circumstances mean he can claim he doesn't come under our jurisdiction, and he's astute enough to stay clear of us. Vanse was the same for many centuries, but since coming to this continent he's enjoyed the benefits of being under our protection, and always paid his taxes on time. If you step outside, we shall discuss if this case meets the criteria for such a concession.”
Fabio waited in the darkened vestibule, his heart beating faster than normal, his breath hitching in his throat, as he did his best to listen in on the conversation taking place inside the room. This was the time for any objections to be made. Yet, although the sound of raised voices penetrated the door now and then, he couldn't make out whether the discussion was going in his favor or not. Half an hour later, Rose opened the door and beckoned him forward.
When Fabio was standing once again facing the judges, Aneira spoke. "Fabio de Mazi, are you prepared to hear and accept our decision on the matter in question?"
"Yes, Honored Magister and members of the High Council."
"We have judged Vanse’s chances of recovery have increased from possible to most likely. Taking this change of circumstance into account, this court grants the Orleton vampire family a one-year period of grace before any other vampire may lay claim to your territory. We also revoke the previous ruling making Serkan the new master of Orleton." She looked at the other council members. "Are there any objections?”
Fabio waited, scarcely daring to breathe, as one by one, each council member declared they had no objections.
Aneira continued, "We shall communicate our judgment to Serkan. He must vacate Orleton immediately. Compile a list of the damages to your family members and property, and he will make full reparation. This pronouncement is binding on all parties involved."
"Thank you, Honored Magister and members of the High Council, for your just and righteous resolution in this matter." Fabio's response was the obligatory ritualistic answer to Aneira's final statement and ended the session.
The council rose.
Fabio bowed, and held his position, staring at the rich red carpet till the last judge exited the chamber. Nobody witnessed the grin on his face or the little tap dance he performed on the way to the exit.
Chapter Fifteen: Sutalaloka, 4000 BC
Angelus stood naked in the center of the amphitheater. His golden muscular body gleamed with oil, roasting him like a lamb on the spit, as the sweltering midday sun heated the floor of the arena. He raised his arm, and a thunderous roar of applause rose to the sky. His red-gold hair gleamed in the sunlight as he turned a complete circle, accepting the multitude’s tribute. His bright blue eyes studied the audience gathered to watch his last gladiatorial battle. If he killed whichever opponent Anavar decided he must fight, he could leave the arena for good and ascend to the highest ranks of his demon master’s elite associates. He had served Anavar for longer than he cared to think about to reach this point, and if his rival won, he’d be dead, unable to collect his boon, and his endeavors would have come to nothing.
He bent and picked up his sword. Demons didn’t need weapons to fight, but it made for a more theatrical display, and the contest took longer if sorceries were restricted to those in the more visible range. Subtle sorceries incorporated into a chosen weapon during its making were not prohibited, and those with the eyes to see knew that Angelus held a soul drinker, whose strength grew with each victim’s blood. Rumor had it that the blade possessed the soul of a magician Angelus had enslaved during its forging. With the prize of whoever won entering Anavar’s inner circle, today’s fight had drawn an enthusiastic crowd from the upper, middle and lower worlds.
Angelus’s meeting with the demon king had been fortuitous for him. His quest for a way to lift his curse had meant years of wandering, till he heard of a formidable demon offering benedictions in return for servitude.
“What benediction do you wa
nt?” Anavar had asked when Angelus bowed before him in supplication.
“I ask for two benedictions,” Angelus replied, “and I’m happy to pay whatever price you demand.”
The demon’s burnished copper eyes surveyed him with a rapacious gleam. Although he lacked no amount of souls in bondage to his will, willing servants were scarce. “Two requests mean your servitude will be twice as long.”
Angelus was more than agreeable. “I want to lift a hex and I want to remember my real home.”
Mocking laughter filled the audience hall, and the demon lord laughed long and loud. "A joker! I always wanted a court jester of my own. Oh, I shall keep you around for a long time.” Anavar agreed to grant one of Angelus’s requests. The other, he said with scorn, was beyond his jurisdiction.
Servitude consisted of pleasing his new master in any way he chose. Angelus discovered the skills he’d gained under Udyama Muni could easily be used against others, especially as developing his higher self was now irrelevant. He learned much about the demon hierarchy, and visited, albeit often briefly, numerous hellish planets. His tasks had, for the most part, involved finding and assassinating any demon Anavar deemed to be a rival—of which there was an inordinately large number. Fulfilling his liege lord’s wishes also included fighting in the arena and defeating other lower echelon demons seeking boons.
Today, if he lived, he would learn how to regain his full powers and remove Usha’s curse. The last was an inconvenience he could live with, but his advancement, and most likely his life, depended on increasing his power.
Angelus completed his acknowledgment of the spectators, found Anavar's private box, and bowed low.
At a nod from their ruler, the crowd became silent. A gate opened, and the onlookers’ eyes were drawn to a gap on the far side of the stadium. They erupted, this time howling with anticipation as Angelus’s adversary strode out of the gate.
Laharkus was a third level demon, twice as tall and wide as Angelus, with greater abilities and experience. Yet despite being strong and devious, he lacked the speed of many of his adversaries and had taken far longer than Angelus to arrive at this point. His enemy carried a mace studded with metal spikes. Those opponents whose heads connected with the vicious spines didn’t live long enough to see their brains stain the amphitheater sand.
Anavar nodded at both contestants and the gathering fell silent.
Laharkus bared his teeth in a snarl, his canines long and sharp enough to rip out his enemies' throats if he got close enough. Without warning the giant demon attacked, swinging his mace around his head on its leather thong. The weapon whistled and sang as he ran towards Angelus.
Angelus kept his eye on the whirling object as he stepped back, and with a silver-quick twist sideways, the mace whistled through the space where he had stood a second ago. The horde yelled and cheered, leaping to their feet.
In one early fight, Angelus’s opponent had bowed each time they cheered. The masses loved it, but they cheered, even more when Angelus stepped up behind him and took his head off with a savage slash. Angelus had learned early that spectators were most pleased by the kill, not theatrics. They wanted blood, not bows.
Laharkus continued to swing his mace, keeping Angelus at a distance.
Angelus began circling around him.
The spectators went quiet. Angelus was a favorite, and they knew he would deliver excellent entertainment.
Laharkus turned, watching Angelus, but Angelus kept dancing sideways, forcing his opponent to keep moving too.
The onlookers anticipated all too well what Angelus had in mind—the faster Angelus moved, the more strain Laharkus felt. If he stopped swinging his weapon, Angelus could dart in and strike, but the effort of turning and simultaneously swinging the heavy mace meant that sooner or later, he would lose his balance.
Laharkus screamed, and all at once, there were two of him. The figures, one real and one an illusion, moved apart.
Angelus slid backward. Getting stuck between the two of them would be lethal. As would any attempt to complain that Laharkus was cheating.
If Anavar hadn't stopped Laharkus the second he pulled this trick, then he had no intention of stopping it.
Angelus kept moving backward and sideways away from the barricades, with the swoosh of the swinging mace a deadly accompaniment. He made a quick dash for the fighter he thought was the real Laharkus, waiting till the spinning weapon was at its farthest away from him, before plunging his sword into his opponent’s heart—only to find the second mace rushing towards his face. He flung himself sideways, twisting and deflecting the blow. But he wasn’t quick enough, and the spikes raked open his left arm.
The crowd roared, "First blood! First blood!"
Angelus ignored the flow of blood where the mace had scored until a burning sensation spread outward from the wound. Poison. He possessed the skill to halt the poison spreading, but not in the middle of a fight. The venom was spreading, and hot wires of pain shot up and down his left side. He snarled, and his blade quivered in response as he feinted toward one, two figures,before dancing back out of reach. "You're a coward and a cheat," he hissed at his opponent.
Laharkus shrieked a blood-curdling yell, and both forms rushed towards him, their faces twisted in hate, the high-pitched whine of two maces coming closer.
Angelus flung himself face down to the ground, the sand scoring into his wound, raised his sword and plunged it into the groin of the demon who had given the war cry.
The second form disappeared, as the real Laharkus staggered, dropping his mace.
Angelus was on his feet, withdrawing his weapon and plunging it again, this time into Laharkus's side, a strike that left his opponent alive, and able to recognize the rapid approach of his final breath.
The blade quivered, and the sigils within glowed bright—it was thirsty and impatient to drink.
"Kill! Kill! Kill!" the multitude yelled and screamed as Laharkus scrabbled backward, his hand frantically groping for the handle of his mace.
Angelus looked to Anavar, saw the wide grin on his face, his nodding head, and lifted his sword high, plunging it into Laharkus's heart. The blade glowed incandescent for a second before Angelus withdrew it with a quick jerk of his hand. He bowed his head, honoring his opponent, and dropped to one knee. As he extinguished the toxin burning through his system, he swore to himself he would learn Laharkus's trick. When he looked up, Anavar was smiling.
Angelus walked by his monarch 's side in the opulent gardens of Rakaloka. The sky bore a reddish hue, and the sun was a swollen dark purple orb. The ruby grass was soft underfoot, and the trees, bushes and plants in shades of cherry, crimson and scarlet filled the warm air with fragrant perfume.
"You have served me well, Angelus."
Anavar's rank in the demon hierarchy was such that he ruled an entire planet. But while executing his master's order, Angelus had discovered that Anavar obeyed even greater demons, and while he had his own realm, higher ranking demons controlled greater wealth, more power, and bigger worlds. Everyone it seemed was subservient to someone else.
"Tell me, Angelus, are you yet desirous of enjoyment in the human world?"
"You know my mind better than I do, my lord."
“But you have fallen too far to return to whence you came. You know that, don’t you?”
Angelus flinched as his lord flexed his copper colored wings, the feathers skimming his own faded scars, and igniting the memory of their cruel amputation.
Nothing Anavar did was without a purpose, and usually involved the suffering of others. “Such a shame yours were taken from you. Without the magicks they confer, you cannot rise much further than you already have.”
A slave girl approached carrying a tray with two beakers; she kept her eyes cast down.
“Nevertheless, your affliction has enabled you to develop many other skills, has it not?”
“Yes. I’d not anticipated enjoying the art of seduction, but delaying gratification often enhances the ulti
mate victory.”
Anavar chuckled. “Not a skill I’ve ever needed, but good to bear in mind. Here, try this.” He picked up a tumbler, and the girl offered the other to Angelus. Anavar drank his in one long gulp.
Angelus drank, and his tongue relished the rare sweet taste of the amrit nectar. His lord was indeed honoring him.
“I must now fulfill my part of our agreement. I cannot lift your curse myself, but I shall tell you how to, and it’s good you want to return to the earthly plane for that is where you will find the resolution. You must seek out a woman who possesses the capacity to heal. Not just any hedge witch or healer, but one whose heart is given over to helping others. Someone who is an adept, and pure in heart—the same qualities as she who cursed you. Once you find this woman, and she willingly surrenders to you, at the consummation of her submission the curse will be lifted and you shall regain your full powers.”
Angelus bowed to hide his bitter disappointment. He’d assumed Anavar himself would remove the bane.
“Think about the many other priceless lessons you learned while serving me, Angelus, which you can now put to good use. I am much pleased with your service as you have fulfilled every command with zeal and ingenuity. Therefore, besides discharging my obligations, I’m bestowing the gift of the western lands on you. If you accept, they are yours, and you will be the ultimate lord and can mold the land and its inhabitants how you wish. Does that please you?”
Angelus’s mind filled with images of the palace he would build, the riches and slaves he’d acquire, and the authority he would have, for the western lands encompassed a vast tract. He didn’t care that Anavar was making sure his servant stayed within reach, for although their bargain was complete, he understood by now the one small detail the king had left out of the contract—death was the only way you left the service of a demon master.
“Yes, my lord. Very much so. I am grateful for your generosity.”
The Kala Trilogy: An Urban Fantasy Box Set Page 55
