The monshaads clustered together forming the shape of a dark circle hovering over, what they considered, sacred ground near to the Wall. The soil that fused with the magic emanating from the Wall, was consumed with a power that would feed any who were already gifted with magic. The monshaads did not need to feed on this magic but still considered the ground sacred, this was the final soil they would pass through to gain access to the Lightlands.
Lord Fiendrac marched, with a small part of his army behind him, up the treacherous slopes of the mid-mountains of Madzran, until he came upon the hovering monshaads. He had left Lady Vatara to lead their people to make camp for the Hunting Season, planning to join them shortly. A ghostly humming greeted the vamplins. They looked up at the floating creatures performing their unique dark prayer, in a circle formation. The hooded figures seemed to bow their heads with meaningful bearing. He had no wish to disturb the Emperor’s faithful flock, just a burning desire to destroy their very essence, if only he knew a way.
Agonising screeches filled the air. A chosen few pathetic spirits had been captured for the ceremony and waited with a cold chilling fear, to be devoured. Their souls would be no more. Never would they join the Realm of the Dead. Their painful cries echoed through the dark mid-mountains and were heard by a small group of vamplins camped nearby. They feared for their vamplin Lord, but none stirred. The vamplins hungered for blood like the monshaads hungered for the soul. A vamplin does not fear pain. Like any other living creature, they do fear losing their souls. This would keep them subdued until their vamplin Lord returned.
Fiendrac took his place by the side of Morte-Bielz who stood motionless facing the Wall, watching and waiting with patience.
‘How do you know this creature is on her way?’ Fiendrac dared to ask.
I have many channels of communication Fiendrac. To rule Aarabassa I place my pawns all over the world. First, I will create human vamplins who will, in time, begin a race of vamplins that will inherit the human magic. I shall rid the world of this Wall, and my armies shall pass through. The monshaad shall once again rule all of Aarabassa. This I foresee. This you will bear witness to and hopefully be a part of.
‘Those are powerful words Emperor,’ Lord Fiendrac looked at the fearful monshaad, preparing himself for confrontation. ‘I can meet this Changeling but it is not for you to decide if my people shall share their blood with that of a human. We need time to consider the consequences of such an action.’
I see.
Even through the returned Mindtalk, Lord Fiendrac could feel the displeasure of the Emperor’s reaction to his words.
You do not trust the judgement of your Emperor, Lord Fiendrac? This is grave news indeed. As you know I wish to lead your armies across the human battlefield. You cannot enjoy a whole world by staying only on one half of it.
‘My people have lived on the Darklands since ancient times and probably even further back. This idea of yours is not a matter to be taken lightly. I have to consider the effects of needing human blood. These humans are not stupid. They can kill us just as easily as we can kill them. Besides, we are not murderers, we cannot disregard that we will be killing our food. The dumla beetling does not die when we milk her of her blood, she just produces more, nature has assisted this creature to develop as our means of food.’
And your sister Lord Fiendrac, does she also feel as you do?
‘My sister advises Emperor, she does not lead. It is a decision I will make as the chosen Leader. You must respect our ways Emperor. You may dictate to your own Lords but you cannot impose this upon us. If we are to do this, it must be through our own choice. We are a free people. We wish to continue our culture, as it has always been. I have spoken with my Commanders who will communicate with our kinship as they arrive for the Hunt, from all over the Darklands. This decision will be considered by the Leaders of my people from many different clans. Then ultimately by me. We must have time to unite and discuss these imminent changes. I ask that you be patient Emperor.’
How can your armies battle with the creatures of the Lightlands if you cower in your holes in the Darklands? I do not see this as an option Lord Fiendrac. However, I am not unreasonable. You have until the Changeling appears and then we will meet again.
Lord Fiendrac bowed as the Emperor rose into the air and glided over to the monshaad Lords at the Sacred Circle. Fiendrac was forced to watch on as the unfortunate souls that had been chosen were now undergoing perilous torture. They were hazy beings but their faces said it all, twisted features looked helpless in their shadowy forms. Fiendrac did not want his people to murder for their food as the monshaads do. Why should they have to kill the humans for the monshaads? They could feed upon their blood without slaying them.
He made his way back to the small vamplin camp set up nearby. His people looked relieved to see him return but he had no time for the ‘pats on the back’ that he received. He pushed them aside and headed for his own lodgings. He needed to think this out, there must be a way to rid the world of these monshaads, surely that was the answer.
* * *
The pale-skinned children skipped and laughed as any children do when they see adults celebrate.
A group of hunters, who had been gone many passes of the moons, were now returning with a giant white bear that stood even larger than this tall race. It took many warriors to control him into the right direction whilst he stood on his hind legs and growled fiercely at the giddy vamplin children. Not yet caged but lassoed with good strong rope made by the weavers. Ten leashes controlled the beast towards the makeshift cage, erected in their absence by the women. The vamplins would not kill the bear, indeed they respected this fearsome creature greatly. They sought only its blood. They would be capturing many of these beasts before the hunt was over. The bears would be weakened by their ordeal, but once returned to the wild they would soon rebuild their strength and be ready for another Hunting Season in the future. The animal, no less, fought as if it was a cornered beast battling for its life. Later it would be lulled into a deep sleep and the farmers would slit a pumping artery to drain off the oozing blood, slowly. The deep wound would be tended and cared for so the blood did not continue to flow and become wasted. The wound would be tapped into throughout the season of their capture. Other than this treatment, the bears were well cared for by their captors.
Lady Vatara watched as the twelfth bear was brought into camp. The beginning of the Hunt was going well, she knew her brother would sorely miss this part, the capturing of the bears. To her it was a long arduous trip. She felt it pointless dragging most of the vamplin population up the freezing mid-mountains every time the dumla blood ran dry. If only her brother could see the advantages of mingling human blood with that of vamplins. If the humans’ hearts were so weak then they deserved to die. Their blood would live on in a stronger race, that of the vamplins.
It is indeed a shame that your brother does not share your thoughts, a voice spoke in her head.
She quickly turned to see the Emperor’s form appearing in the entrance of a cave.
‘That is very rude Emperor, to read ones private thoughts. If I wished to share my feelings, I would have announced it to the world.’
She walked over to the sickly yellowy-green shape and they both entered the darkness of the small damp cave that was used to shelter stores.
A weakness of mine, forgive me. We should talk of this matter, however.
‘You seek my council Emperor? My brother waits for your orders, why do you not speak with him?’
Come, you know why I seek out your opinions. Your brother does not have the foresight that you have. He was born blind. He does not see progress and merely seeks to keep the old ways intact. You have more ambition for your people.
‘Emperor, I care not for humans because they are so feeble. Yes, I am ambitious in that it would be a good thing for my people to be able to live in all of Aarabassa, rather than be condemned to the darkness forever. My brother, well he just needs a little persuasion t
owards this offer of yours.’
If he will not be persuaded? Are you not to enjoy the fruits of the world? Will you agree to his ruling and stay at home while I gain the riches of Aarabassa? Or will you take your people to share in what should rightly be theirs for the taking? They deserve to progress. Do you not agree?
‘Indeed I do Emperor. Are you asking me to rebel against my brother and Leader?’
Are you willing to stay in your hole and starve?
‘It seems we have a predicament, Emperor. It seems I must take steps against my brother’s wishes.’
It would benefit the survival of your ever growing race, would it not?
‘You desire an army to murder those that stand in your path. You will use my warriors but even you cannot be sure just how strong they will be in the Lightlands.’
Aah, you know me well. Of course I want a vamplin army. They are strong and can only grow stronger with the rich blood of humans. Together we can rule all of Aarabassa. Does this not appeal to you?
Lady Vatara did not reply. Whilst she secretly agreed with the Emperor, she did not want him to think that she could be easily misled. She turned around, her yellow eyes glowing fiery with determination. He had gone. She felt relieved, at last her true leadership qualities could be tested. With the aid of the Emperor, she could be the new vamplin Leader.
The Emperor’s brief absence had not been noticed by Lord Fiendrac. He was deep in conference with other vamplin Leaders, as they were arriving from all over the vast area of the Darklands. These dominant vamplins had been called upon to meet with the great Lord Fiendrac and advise him on the possible options for their people.
‘Do we want to go to war with the humans? Do we want to become a race of murderers? I ask you for your wisdom. Of course I want to progress into a stronger race but not at the price of killing others.’
Lord Fiendrac finished his speech. His reputation as a fair and just leader had been his saviour in the past. Many were excited by this news of entering the Lightlands. Many were greedy and desired the power that this coming war could give to them. Lord Fiendrac sensed this, not in all the rulers, but he sensed it in the younger vamplin Lords.
The meeting dispersed as the leaders needed to consider this great Lord’s words. Later they would resume and others would speak and be heard.
Fiendrac stayed seated on the rock that he had taken to deliver his powerful persuasion. Lord Zatorrow, one of the elders, approached him with advisory words.
‘I have lived too long, Fiendrac. For many moon passes I have read the stars and I see changes afoot. You must stay ahead and lead your people in whatever direction they choose.’
Zattorow was one of the few bold enough to approach Fiendrac, in his time of deliberation.
‘Zattarow, my friend, it has been many moonpasses since last we met. You still believe in the stars guiding your future? I would think at your age you would have given up that game.’
‘The stars have guided me for many a suncircle, my Lord. You understand the old ways. So why can you not believe what is written in the skies?’
‘I only wish for my people to remain on the parts of the world that they were meant to live on. I only wish for them to be safe in their lairs and not to be fretting whether an attack is imminent because they have made themselves too many enemies.’
‘Ah yes, who indeed are our enemies?’ Zattarow had every confidence in Fiendrac but merely wished to open his Lord’s train of thought.
‘The Emperor maintains that he conquers for our progression, while you hold us back. You, on the other hand, maintain that you also protect us by not allowing us this progression. So who is the real enemy Lord?’
‘If we follow the Emperor then the world will be our enemy.’
‘Indeed. Then you have chosen wisely.’ Zattarow sighed a long breath, laying his hand upon Fiendrac’s shoulder. ‘You have my support Fiendrac, but there will not be many that feel the same. You must prepare yourself for more than just the Battle for the Lightlands. You must prepare yourself for the inevitable changes for your own people. We must all prepare ourselves for this.’
‘You think I cannot stop this then?’ Lord Fiendrac could not accept that his people would go against his command.
‘I believe that we are on the edge of a new beginning and only those prepared for this will survive and be a part of it.’
‘Zattarow. Where have you heard such nonsense? How dare you come to me and tell me this is so?’ Fiendrac’s patience was wearing thin at this vamplin’s preposterous predictions.
‘I read it,’ he replied calmly.
‘Where? Where have your read that our people will undergo such radical changes?’
‘In the stars, Lord. The stars told me of this.’
‘Leave me you fool. You think because of your age you are wise. Well, I say you are foolish. I do not believe this has to happen. I can put a stop to this madness and then my people will be safe, if they do not follow an unwise and greedy Emperor.’
‘It will be a female who will lead them my Lord, not you.’
‘What! There is no such female that can take my place. What are you planning?’
‘I do not plan this, I tell you only of the predictions I have foreseen.’
‘Leave me Zatttarow. Leave. I need to think on your words.’
‘Yes, Fiendrac. I will leave you to consider the future of your people. Vamplins can also be corrupted by what is around them. It is a heavy burden that you carry. I do not believe that even you can save our people.’
Zattarow slowly hobbled away from the vamplin leader. He had known that his own life was not to last much longer but he did care for the future of his people. He had seen Lord Fiendrac’s downfall. He knew that his Lord would not remain the leader for much longer and he knew that something was about to happen that would change the ways of vamplins, for better or worse.
4 Grave News
A Changeling is born unto the world of Aarabassa, only when the truthful bloodlines combine;
That of Pure High Mage lineage with that of Pure Ancient Mage lineage.
Thus creating a being with the ability to Change shape
This is a strand of darker magic that can capture the soul of a Changeling,
Yet this soul is Pure.
High Mage bloodlines have mingled and merged over many, many years. It is now difficult to know if any beings remain pure from this ancient lineage anymore. Yet, nature has sought a resolve. For evolution to progress, this lineage must be strengthened until it is Pure and unbroken, once again.
Heimarl, a true product from the rich blood of the Ruling Mage lineage. Minnah, untainted from the wholesome blood of the Ancient Mage lineage. These impure mortals were coupled through the deeds of true love, and united as soul mates. Together, creating but one offspring, Heather the Changeling, the Purest of Souls.
A Changeling can transform to any creature that lives, but the dangers are fervent. If the Changeling chooses to live as another being for a long passage of time, then, unless their magic is potent, they risk becoming the creature they are portraying. Turning back to human form becomes a heavier burden as the darker side of the Changeling magic takes a hold upon the soul. These souls can forget who they really are.
* * *
The next moonwake Heather woke up entirely refreshed. Sleeping on a bed that was not constantly in motion and slopping with river water at the bottom of a damp boat, played its part in her revitalised self. Even her skin felt silky and unspoiled after a long bathing session. She found herself longing for her personal maid Gloria to brush the tangles out of her hair, as she used to do. Now she had to brush and braid her own hair the best that she could manage. Even choosing her own wardrobe was nowhere near as pleasurable as she thought it would be, not that she had many clothes to choose from on this trip. Pulling out of her bag a reasonably fresh pale yellow, sleeveless tunic that fit snugly to her slender shape, she thought no more of luxuries. Tying a soft silk golden braid belt about her wa
ist, she then searched for her soft leather sandals. Finally locating them under a pile of dirty clothing that had been ceremoniously dumped in a corner of her cave chamber. That was before she had finally collapsed into a long deep sleep on the previous moonsleep.
Lifting the woven woolen flap that served as her doorway, she entered the dimly lit tunnel and was immediately met by one of Captain Yanomi’s guards.
‘Oh hello,’ Heather greeted the guard with a note of surprise. ‘I hadn’t realised I had a guard posted at my door.’
‘Captain’s orders ma'am. Shall I take you to the meeting?’
‘Meeting? Oh a meeting. Yes. That would be useful. I don’t know my way around these infernal tunnels.’
The guard efficiently led the way through the endless right and left turns, no stairs, plenty of pathways uphill and downhill, and ample tunnels with curves that seemed to go around in large circles. Mazes of small and tight, or huge and spacey corridors were dug in to the mountain stone, to create the dragons’ lair. Finally, the guard halted on a smooth stone ledge-way. Heather placed herself at his side and looked down from a balcony into a huge cavern of glittering crystal walls of pinks and blues, tainted with minerals, twinkling to create an astonishing radiance of illumination. She observed a crowd of four dragons, including the Queen, and the good Captain Yanomi.
‘Good moonwake to you all,’ Heather called from her high standpoint, gradually strolling down the adjoining causeway to meet with the others.
Are you refreshed Heather and ready to deal with pressing problems?
Blood Bride (Aarabassa World) Page 2
