Vowed

by Morgan Rice

  “You have the key?” he asked.

  Caitlin slowly nodded back.

  Seeming satisfied, he turned and strutted down the long, church aisle.

  Caitlin and Caleb exchanged a look, then followed, unsure where he was leading them. As they went, Caitlin felt her heart fluttering, and could feel that they were on the verge of something huge.

  Their footsteps echoed as they walked down the empty aisle, reverberating off the ceiling, hundreds of feet high. Caitlin had the odd feeling that there were many eyes on her, although as she looked around the church, surveying the upper balconies, she saw no one.

  “People have come to Rosslyn from far and wide, seeking the Grail,” the vampire said as he walked, his back still to them. “What they seek, of course, is hidden far beneath us. In the lower crypts. The reason they never find it,” he said, stopping before the altar, and facing them, “is because there is no entrance. It was walled off. Centuries ago. And no one knows where to look. Or that it even exists.”

  He stared intently at Caitlin.

  “Your key will reveal it.”

  He nodded at the altar. Caitlin looked, and saw a tall, golden staff, intricately carved, placed squarely in the altar. At first glance, it looked like an ornate candle holder. But as she looked closely, she could see that it was not. It was an ancient staff, shining in the light, with biblical images carved into it. She could see a tiny hole in it, just big enough to hold a key.

  The vampire nodded at her again.

  “I hope your key is the right one. We only have one chance at this. If the wrong key is inserted, it will destroy the trail forever. Are you sure it is the right one?” Caitlin swallowed hard, feeling sweat break out on her forehead. At Eilean Donan, they had only given her one key. She assumed it must be the right one.

  Caitlin nodded. She reached up, and slowly inserted the key into the slot. It fit perfectly.

  She breathed a sigh of relief.

  She gently turned to the right, and as she did, she suddenly heard a rumbling behind her. The staff before her suddenly sank into the ground, lower and lower, and then a wall slid open behind them.

  Caitlin was in shock. An ancient passageway had been revealed, clouds of dust coming out of it, leading into the blackness.

  The vampire looked at her and smiled. “Well done,” he said.

  He led the way, taking a torch off the wall, and the three of them walked through the opening and down an ancient, stone stairwell, twisting into the blackness.

  They finally reached the lowest levels, and continued down a corridor, barely lit by the torch.

  Finally, they reached a room.

  In it was a single object: a golden stand, on which sat a huge, ancient Bible. The ancient book must have been two feet wide and long, covered in an ornate casing of silver and gold.

  The three of them crowded over it. As Caitlin stared, she could feel the scroll heating up in her pocket, and she knew, she just knew, that this was the book from which the page was torn.

  Caitlin gently pulled back the heavy pages, surprised at its weight. She turned the pages gingerly, crackling as she went. Each page was thick, and heavy, ancient from years of use, ornately illustrated in all different colors, in drawings all along the edges. The text was in a handwritten scrawl, in ancient Latin. She felt as if she had stepped back into another time.

  Caitlin turned and turned, until she reached the middle of the book, and finally, she found it.

  The torn page. She reached into her pocket, extracted the rolled up scroll, and carefully lined up the other half of the torn page.

  It was a perfect match.

  They all crowded in closer.

  As the pages came together as one, Caitlin could not believe what she saw. Each page showed one half of an ancient shield, sun rays coming off of it, shining. As she lined the pages up together, Caitlin realized it could be none other than a picture of the ancient vampire shield.

  All around the picture were Latin words. As the pages lined up, the sentences were now complete. Words, previously torn in half, now fit together, letters matching each other perfectly.

  She turned and looked to Caleb. His eyes open wide as he read.

  “It’s a message,” he said, as he scanned the page, reading again and again. “An instruction. It’s telling us where to go next. Our final destination. To find the Holy Grail. The final key. And the ancient shield.”

  He stopped and looked at them both, and Caitlin awaited, breathless, her heart pounding.

  “It reads: the Grail awaits in Dunnottar.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  Blake could not comprehend the sight unfolding before him. It was one thing to see a vampire army approaching. That was shock enough. But it was quite another to see McCleod’s men—the human warriors they had grown to love and to trust—betraying them, attacking them. There was no doubt about it: Blake could see from the scowls on their faces, from the way they were charging, that it was an ambush.

  Blake stood on the roof of the castle, with Aiden’s men, other vampires he knew and loved—

  Taylor and Tyler and Caine and Barbara, and scores of others—along with the dozens of other vampires in for the wedding, and knew that there cause was hopeless. They were terribly outnumbered, and the enemy had the advantage of surprise, speed, and superior weaponry. Blake looked around, and wished he saw Polly or Sam somewhere, wished that Caitlin and Caleb were back. But none of them were. They were left on their own, to fend for themselves. The few of them left on the castle rooftop against the thousands of warriors closing in on them by land and by air.

  Blake was not a pessimist, but he knew a hopeless situation when he saw one.

  Still, he prepared to make his stand. He would certainly go down fighting.

  But first, he had other priorities. He looked down and saw Scarlet standing there, beside him, and knew that his first order of business was to protect her, to get her out of here. He had to get her far away from the bloodshed that would ensue. Certainly, she would be a casualty otherwise. He also wanted to get her to Caitlin, to have her give her the message that they needed help. That just might save them all. But regardless, more than anything, he owed it to Caitlin to save her only daughter.

  Blake jumped into action. He reached down, scooped up Scarlet in one arm and Ruth in the other, and lifted them into the air. He flew away from the oncoming army, over the tops of the human warriors, into the thick mist, then down low into the treetops, where he knew he could lose any pursuers. He flew with all he had, wanting to get Scarlet safely on her way and then get back to help the others.

  “Where are you taking me?” Scarlet yelled, struggling, as they flew.

  “To safety,” Blake yelled back.

  “But I don’t want to go!” Scarlet argued. “I want to go back to the castle! And help you guys defend it!”

  Blake was taken aback by this child’s fearlessness. In some ways, she reminded him of Caitlin.

  But still, he could not give in. Despite her warrior spirit, she would certainly die in any ensuing battle.

  Blake soon reached his destination: an ocean beach, on the far eastern side of Skye, down beneath the cliffs. He dove down a cliff he recognized, and aimed right for the rowboat he had stored there, in a cave. He landed right before it, and wasted no time placing Scarlet and Ruth inside the boat.

  It was a long, seaworthy, wooden rowboat, with a small sail, and looked like a miniature Viking raiding ship. Blake had used it many times, taking it far out to sea on long voyages. He had liked to sail by himself, late at night, when the ocean was completely empty, letting the waves lap at the boat, and looking up at the moon. He liked to get as far away from others as he could, and let his thoughts wander alone.

  Now he could put the boat to good use with Scarlet and Ruth. He could send them off, towards Caitlin.

  He leaned over, held Scarlet’s shoulders, and looked her in the eye, firmly, mustering all the intensity he could to try to convince this strong-wil
led girl.

  “You are a brave little girl,” Blake said. “You are fearless. I know that. And there’s no other little girl in the world that I would ask to do this. But I know you’re special. I know that you can handle it. Am I right?”

  Blake had sensed her pride, her fearlessness, and he wanted to appeal to it.

  He was happy to see it work. She lifted her head up tall, proudly, and nodded her head solemnly.

  “Good,” he said. “I’m sending you on a voyage, to your mother and father. You have a special power, a special bond with them. The sea will take you right to them. If you focus. Use your power.

  Close your eyes as you sail, and let the universe guide you to exactly where you need to go. You are a powerful child. You can make it happen. Can you do that for me?” Scarlet nodded back, but seemed unsure.

  “But what if it takes me to the wrong place?” she asked. “What if I don’t end up near my Mommy?”

  “You will. You could end up in no other place. The vampire connection is too strong. Only focus on her. And don’t let go.”

  Blake was about to turn and go, when suddenly, he remembered something. He reached into his pocket and extracted something he’d been meaning to give to Caitlin for centuries. He took Scarlet’s little hand, opened it, and placed it in her palm.

  Scarlet looked down, eyes open in wonder.

  It was a small piece of sea glass. A piece of the sea glass he had given her centuries ago, in Pollepel.

  “Please give it to her,” he said “and tell her I will always love her.” And with that, Blake suddenly leaned down, grabbed the hull and give it a huge heave into the ocean. Within moments, the small sail caught, and the current took the boat out, already far from shore.

  Blake saw Scarlet stand in the boat and look back at him, fear momentarily crossing her eyes.

  Blake raised a fist into the air, holding it up high over his head. It was a gesture of confidence, to tell her that she could make it.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Scarlet raised her fist in the air, and returned the gesture.

  Blake turned, took three strides, and leapt into the air.

  Now he had a war to wage.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  Blake raced back to the castle, flying faster than he ever had, eager to get back and help his people. Now that Scarlet was safe, Blake turned all his attention towards helping the others.

  As he reached the castle, he looked down and saw complete mayhem: it was an all-out war, as hundreds of vampires battled each other below. His people were terribly outnumbered, attacked from all sides, and Blake was crestfallen to see that, with the battle barely begun, several of his people were already dead, their bodies thrown over the edge of the castle.

  Simultaneously, Blake could see there was another battle going on below, on the castle grounds, before the entrance. This battlefront was being led by Kyle and by McCleod. Together, they were relentlessly killing all those who tried to flee. It was an ambush, and there was nowhere to go.

  It was all happening so fast, at vampire speed, in the blink of an eye. As Blake flew for just a few seconds, debating where best to land, he already saw so many things happening at once: on the rooftop, he flinched as he saw Rynd step up and murder Taylor, stabbing her in the back, and through the heart, as she faced off with other vampires. He heard her scream, and watched her life force depart from her.

  At the same time, down below, Kyle stepped up and surprised her twin brother, Tyler, putting his sword through his heart, and killing him on the spot. Blake was breathless. The two twins, who he had known and loved for centuries, now dead in a matter of moments, killed at the hands of Rynd and Kyle.

  In the same instant, McCleod charged on his horse, up behind Barbara, swung his axe, and chopped off her head in a single blow. Aiden’s men were being wiped out faster than Blake could even take in.

  There were a few signs of hope. One of them was Samuel, Caleb’s brother. Blake watched in admiration as Samuel fearlessly fought off hordes of Kyle’s men, down below. He seemed to be as good a fighter as his brother, and few vampires were able to get close to him.

  As Blake watched, Samuel faced off with McCleod. They each drew long swords, and a crowd gathered around to watch. Their swords clanged, left and right, as they faced off, swung and parried.

  Neither gave an inch, both seasoned veterans, and for a moment, it seemed as if it might end in a stalemate.

  But then, suddenly, Samuel spun around, holding out his sword, and in an unexpected move, he surprised the King, and in one quick motion, he chopped off his head with his silver sword.

  For a moment, the body remained in place; then, it slumped and collapsed to the ground, and his head went rolling. The crowd of McCleod’s men let out a horrified gasp, too surprised to react.

  As Blake watched, he saw Sera suddenly appear, out of the shadows, waiting for her moment.

  She stepped up behind Samuel with a silver dagger, and raised it high. Blake could see that she was about to plunge it into his neck.

  Blake sprang into action. He dove down, aiming right for the dagger, using every ounce of his will to get there as fast as he could. He sped through the air, hand out, and reached it at the very last second. As the tip of the knife was a millimeter from Samuel’s neck, Blake managed to grab Sera’s wrist, and tackle her to the ground.

  On the ground, wrestling with Sera, in the thick of all the fighting, Blake felt himself get kneed hard in the solo plexus. Sera had managed to lift her knee, and knock the wind out of him.

  Blake rolled on his side, and before he could catch his breath, he found himself kicked in the face by several other vampires, falling on him like ants.

  But Blake also noticed that Sera had dropped her dagger, and in one motion, he managed to roll over, snatch it, roll one more time, and then take a knee and throw it, hoping his aim was perfect.

  It was. Sera had not expected it, and the dagger lodged perfectly in her throat. Seconds later, she collapsed, eyes wide open in shock. Blake watched her fall, finally, dead.

  But Sera and McCleod were but minor victories. Blake was still terribly outnumbered, as was Samuel, and with every passing second, dozens more vampires pounced on them. Blake found himself getting kicked and punched left and right.

  As he stumbled back, trying to fight off ten men at once, trying to catch his breath, the other vampires suddenly parted ways for Rynd, who now faced off with him. Blake squared off, while at the same time, he noticed that Samuel, several feet away, was squaring off with Kyle.

  Blake went blow for blow with Rynd, using long swords and shields; but he was no match, he knew, for Rynd’s evil power. Rynd was too well-rested, too fast, too strong, too treacherous. And Blake could see, out of the corner of his eye, that Samuel was not doing much better. Kyle had him, too, on the ropes.

  Blake felt himself losing with each passing blow, and knew that it would only be a matter of minutes until he, and Samuel, were both dead. He only prayed that his final moments could be his most valiant ones on earth.

  Suddenly, Blake sensed a disturbance in the crowd. There was a murmur, then agitation, and then he noticed scores of the enemy start to run, to scurry away.

  Blake could not understand what was happening. Until finally, he saw what it was.

  Approaching the battlefield was Caitlin’s brother. Sam. Blake could not believe it. He had never seen anyone look so embittered, so vicious. He didn’t even recognize him. Sam looked like a man possessed, like he had been to the depths of hell and back. He fought with a power and courage and ferocity that Blake had never before witnessed. He sliced through vampire after vampires as if slicing through butter, leaving a trail of dead bodies in his wake. He was cutting his way through the crowd, and heading right for Rynd. And he had a deadly vengeance in his eyes.

  Not a moment too soon for Blake. Rynd brought down a vicious blow, right for Blake’s head, and Blake held up his own sword with two hands, blocking it. He held the sword at bay, just inches f
rom his face. But Rynd’s sword was inching lower, and Blake knew that he had but seconds left to live.

  But that was all he needed. Sam cut his way through the crowd and reached Rynd just in time, kicking him so hard that Rynd went flying like a ragdoll across the field.

  Blake, grateful, wanted to thank Sam. But he saw that he couldn’t: Sam’s face was like that of a wild animal, not even recognizable, and Blake felt scared just looking at it. In fact, Blake wanted to run, and knew he should get out of Sam’s path. But he was frozen in fear, and he had to see what happened next.

  Blake looked over and saw that Rynd, upon looking up at Sam, was terrified, too. He never thought he would see a creature like Rynd be scared of anything—but the look on Sam’s face had done it to him. Blake wondered what could have happened to Sam to make him like this.

  And then he remembered: Polly. Sam was on a path of vengeance.

  Sam took three huge steps, and raised his sword high, right for Rynd.

  Rynd held up his own sword to block it, but Sam brought down his sword with such power that it cut Rynd’s sword clean in half.

  Rynd, shocked, looked up at his own sword in wonder.

  Sam then leaned back and kicked Rynd’s wrist, sending the hilt of his sword flying, and in the same motion, kicked Rynd hard in the chest, sending him flying back and crashing into the stone wall of the castle.

  Without missing a beat, Sam stepped up, grabbed Rynd by the hair, and smashed his head into the stone wall repeatedly, again and again and again. Rynd was helpless in Sam’s grip.

  In moments, Rynd was near dead. But Sam was not finished. He hoisted Rynd up high over his shoulders, and then in two leaps, he jumped to the top of the castle parapets. Blake was shocked. It must have been at least a hundred feet, yet Sam did it effortlessly. Then Sam jumped, holding Rynd, off the roof, and aimed right for the huge lance implanted at the entranceway. He impaled Rynd’s body through it, right through his heart. Rynd’s body slid all the way through the lance, down to the base, killing him instantly.