The Sons of Satrina: A Sons of Satrina Novel

by Kristan Belle

  Obviously, not every single person at the Academy had the mark of the warrior. All of the trainee’s and warriors had the distinguishing mark, but they also had civilians working here. Some were teachers, chefs, technical assistants, etc… With a place as large as this, they needed all the help they could get to keep it running smoothly. Jackson wondered for a moment how they felt, the unmarked ones. Did they feel the odd man out now? If they did, they had his sympathy.

  A knock rattled on the door. Before he could utter a single word, the door flew open. Two of the guys he had hung out with earlier came piling into his room. They fell crashing onto his bed, sending his belongings that had been piled neatly crumpling to the floor in a heap.

  It wasn’t a huge room to start with. With three huge hulks of men crammed in there? It was now positively claustrophobic.

  “What are you doing? Why are you just sitting there, Jax? Come on!” the boy with the sandy blonde hair said, practically bouncing in excitement. Jackson was pretty sure that the kid was called Dylan, but after meeting so many people today, he couldn’t be certain.

  “Um, and where is it that I’m supposed to be going?” he couldn’t remember making any plans. So many things had been said today that it wouldn’t have surprised him if it had slipped his mind.

  “Hey, lights out isn’t for another hour. We’re going to go and grab a bite to eat. Are you coming or what?” the other guy said, with a high wattage grin splitting his face from ear to ear.

  That was something else that Jackson was going to have to get used to – lights out. They were grown ass men and they were being told when to go to sleep, like little kids? It didn’t sit well with him. It made sense after seeing the training schedule, though. They would have to get all the rest they physically could just to keep up. He’d hoped that when he left school that he’d be leaving all the rules and regulations behind. No such luck.

  “No, thanks man. I’m good. I’m going to chill out here for a bit.”

  The other guys looked at each other for a moment and burst out laughing. “Jax, we didn’t mean that we were hungry. We’re thirsty! Didn’t you hear what they said? It’s on demand!” Dylan (he was pretty sure that was his name) looked like he had never tasted blood before in his life. He was like a kid getting ready to go to a candy shop.

  “Honestly, I’m all good. You guys go on ahead. Knock yourselves out.”

  Dylan and the other guy momentarily looked confused. They obviously thought that he was wasting this perfect opportunity. Jackson wasn’t in the mood, or the need, for it. They had all been informed earlier that there were always willing human donors on the premises to whom you could go to for sustenance. Jackson wasn’t about to abuse the hospitality by going when he didn’t need to.

  The humans on site were primarily females who had been born into families that had served the Matris for several generations. They willingly donated their blood to keep the warriors of the race fit and healthy. They were treated like royals here with their own guards, luxurious living quarters and having everything their hearts desired. In return for the blood they donated, they wanted for nothing. Jackson respected their presence here and didn’t want to run down there just for fun.

  For Jackson, feeding fit into two neat little boxes. Either it was something that he had to do out of necessity, or it was a personal thing that you shared with someone special. In his own mind, running around and feeding just for the hell of it didn’t make you any better than the enemy that they fought. The Lamia Mortuorum had no respect for life. They were the scum of the earth that fed at will, taking the innocent and ruining lives.

  Not that the thought that way about the guys at the moment. They were simply excited to explore their new surroundings and, like little kids, they wanted to try everything out at once. Jackson didn’t blame them for their exuberance, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to participate.

  “Whatever, man. It’s cool. Come on, Jase. Let’s roll.”

  Jackson thought that they might have gone all macho on him and given him a hard time about it, but they just ran out of there with half-hearted waves over their shoulders. Clearly, their attention was fully on quenching their thirst.

  He watched them run out of the room and then closed his eyes for a moment, massaging his temples. This headache was going to be a killer if he didn’t get some sleep soon. He didn’t need to feed. He needed to learn a way to block out the noise. And fast.

  Chapter Two.

  Jackson had never had a problem with what he was. Or what he had to do to survive. It was normal for him. He was a vampire. A creature of the night. A monster that the humans made horror films about.

  None of that bothered him in the slightest. Mainly because he knew that it was mostly bullshit. Sure, they didn’t go out in the daylight hours, but it wasn’t because they burned to a crisp pile of ashes or anything like that. It was simply because their eyes were super sensitive to sunlight. In fact, they could go out and spend all day in the blazing sun if they chose to, but it wasn’t worth the pain that they suffered afterwards. Imagine your worst ever migraine, times it by a million or two and then you have a small idea of what the sun can do to a vampires eyes.

  The humans got it wrong when they decided that vampires were immortal. They’re not. Vampires are mortal creatures who could be killed or wounded just like anyone else. They just have the benefit of supernatural speed and strength on their side, which helped them to avoid lethal situations.

  Actually, the human view on the whole blood taking thing was actually quite accurate. The Lamia needed to feed off of the blood of a living creature to keep their own blood pumping around their body. The Lamia Matris were not once upon a time humans who died and came back as the walking undead. Their hearts had been beating since conception and that didn’t change until the final death took them from this world.

  The same could not be said for the Lamia Mortuorum…

  Jackson felt fine right now. After all, he had only fed yesterday before they had set out for the drive to the Academy. However, give it a few more days and he would start to feel lethargic and sluggish. Then the time to feed would be upon him once again. It wouldn’t do for him to lose his edge now that he was due to start his training.

  The whole blood consumption process was nothing like you see it portrayed in the human movies and TV shows. It wasn’t like they could suck it back from a blood bag that had cleverly been stolen from a local blood bank. It didn’t work like that in the real world. The Lamia needed to feed directly from the vein, of a living human. Animal blood didn’t work for them, either. Or any other supernatural creature. It was only the blood of a human that would do.

  Jackson smirked to himself whenever he thought of how the humans described vampires as the ‘undead’. How very wrong they were. The Lamia were as alive as any of the other creatures on this earth.

  Well, most of them anyway…

  The Lamia Matris were the ones that were born this way. They lived in a civilised manner, for the most part. They were ruled by one leader and were protected by the Sons of Satrina. The Matris community tended to stay together in one place, remaining within the location of one city where the Sons of Satrina could watch over them and keep them safe. Sure, there were always a few that resented being confined to one place and set out on their own, but that was their choice. The Sons could only effectively defend the ones that were around them. If you went out on your own, that was your choice. On your head be it – literally.

  In the past, the vampires were hunted right alongside other supernatural beings. Anything that threatened the human way of life was exterminated. Such as the witch hunts of years gone by. Luckily, this was not something that happened with any regularity. The Lamia tried to keep to themselves to keep suspicions to a minimum.

  The Sons weren’t complacent. The threat had arisen before and it was sure to again. If a situation became a serious threat, there were plans to move the warriors and the rest of the community to a place of safety. They
would run rather than endanger lives. There were many places that were kept secret to ensure the safety of the race. Luckily, they hadn’t had to move for some time now and the community were pleased to have been able to put down roots. Brandestowen was home to them.

  The humans only saw what they wanted to see. They didn’t see the being that lived peaceably beside them. They saw only the monster that they feared. All they saw were fangs and evil intent. However, there is a very human saying – you should never judge a book by its cover.

  The Sons of Satrina fought fiercely to protect their secret and their way of life. If anyone was at risk of revealing their nature, then it was the Lamia Mortuorum and their careless ways. The Sons had enough on their plate dealing with the Mortuorum without the added hassle of humans arming themselves with stakes, machetes and guns. Plus, the Matris had no issues with the humans, therefore they were reluctant to fight back. They were not the enemy.

  In truth, there was only one real enemy to the Lamia Matris. The other supernatural beings in the world were of no concern to them. There was no age old war with the shifters or the were’s. As long as each of the species kept to themselves, then there was no problem.

  There was no issue with the humans. In the grand scheme of things, humans didn’t even register on their radar. To humans, vampires were only a myth or an ideal. They were stories like Dracula, something to be feared, or sparkly pale models to be worshipped. They did not, hand on heart, honestly believe that vampires existed in their world. They believed that something as lethal and scary as vampires actually went bump in the night, then they would have discovered scientific proof of them by now.

  Little did they know.

  But, the only threat to the humans and the Matris were a variation of their own kind. The Lamia Mortuorum.

  The two races had been at war since time began. The Matris think of themselves as a superior race. Which, in all fairness, is quite a true and correct statement in Jackson’s mind. It was not as if they were being snobby about it. They really were a lot more civilised and intellectually stronger than the Mortuorum.

  Jackson could feel his blood start to boil whenever he thought of the Mortuorum. They were the plague. The hatred for the Mortuorum had been bred into him from an early age. They were beings to be despised and feared. They were the monsters that lurked in his bedtime stories.

  Also, the warrior mark that he wore magnified the feeling. Since the time of his training had begun to draw near, the feeling of disgust had intensified.

  The basics of the two races were essentially the same. They both lived way longer than any human. Both needed the blood of humans to survive. They hit their prime and full maturity at around twenty-seven years old and those that were turned by the Mortuorum also reverted to that age appearance, for whatever magical reason that no one could explain. They stayed that way until extreme old age stole their youth from them. Although, the Mortuorum did not usually live long enough to experience the joys of old age once the Sons got hold of them.

  This was more or less where the similarities ended.

  The Lamia Matris were born that way. The Lamia Mortuorum were created. The Matris were civilised. The Mortuorum were savages. The Matris tried to remain under the radar; the Mortuorum relished in wreaking havoc.

  The battle had raged between the races for several millennia.

  That was why Jackson was there at the Academy. He had been marked at birth as a warrior of the race and he was there to fulfil his destiny. He was going to learn how to hunt, how to kill and how to destroy the Mortuorum. He wanted to be part of the generation that finally put an end to all the bloodshed. He wanted to put them down once and for all.

  Despite living in the here and now, many of the Matris were very old school. The introduction of more modern fighting techniques and technological advancements were not widely accepted at first. Nevertheless, the Sons stood their ground and marched determinedly into the future. The Mortuorum had always been larger in numbers, but the Matris were more organised and powerful. They knew they had to keep up with the times.

  But, it wasn’t only fighting skills that the older generation were wary of. Technological advances of any kind scared the shit out of them. Hey, a lot of them had been around since way before the birth of electricity and still viewed such items as television as the work of the devil. Jackson found it highly amusing.

  Bartholomew was the leader of the Lamia Matris. He had a whole army of staff that worked day and night to keep things up to date for him and the race. He had been the leader of the Matris for two centuries and fought to keep up with the changes that the humans deemed necessary. That was why Bartholomew had Kelton at the helm of the Sons of Satrina. He relied on Kelton to steer the warriors in the right direction. After all, it was the warriors who were out there on the front line. They witnessed first-hand the changes to the world. In them, he trusted implicitly.

  At the Academy, Master Warrior Kelton’s word was law. His fighting record was legendary. Jackson worshipped him the way that most humans adored their singers and actors. To meet him today had been a total honour that he would never forget. The man had been fighting the Mortuorum for countless decades and was one of the most successful warriors in Matris history.

  Jackson was over the moon to have been placed in Kelton’s class for combat training. Not that any of the other warriors would have a disappointment, but Kelton was the icing on the cake. Now, the only thing he had to worry about was living up to expectations.

  As for Denver saying that he could take Kelton on in a fight, well that was a boatload of crap. The man was built like a brick shit house and could fight his way out of any given situation. So, with a runt of a trainee like Denver, he wouldn’t have even broken a sweat. Not that Denver was in the least puny, but compared to Kelton, anyone would look inferior.

  Without bothering to change out of his clothes, Jackson rolled on to his side and turned the pillow over, enjoying the feel of the cool side next to his cheek.

  All of a sudden, the weight of the day had finally caught up with him. Exhaustion hit him like a freight train. All he wanted to do was to curl up and sleep for as long as possible.

  Tomorrow was going to be the first day of real combat training for the new recruits. It was going to be a big deal for him and he wanted to be at his best. Visions of throwing stars and swords flashed through his mind as sleep came to take him away to a time when he was the leader of the Matris and the Mortuorum were no more…

  Kelton sank onto the bed next to Kayleigh and felt the tension drain from his body and mind.

  These first few days introducing the new recruits to the Academy were always hard on everyone, but Kelton always took it on as a personal responsibility. He wanted to take an interest in each and every one of the newbie’s, getting that all important first impression of them. So far, the new bunch seemed pretty competent and eager to learn. Sure, there were always a couple of bad apples in the bunch that needed to be weeded out and kicked into shape, but so far, so good. Likewise, he had noticed a couple of very promising young warriors with the right attitudes that could take them far.

  “Kelton, you’re mumbling.” Kayleigh said as she pushed herself up on one elbow to look at him.

  “I was just thinking. I didn’t realise I was talking out loud.” he replied with a grin.

  “Yeah, well. Don’t think too much. You need to get some rest. You push yourself too hard.” she admonished.

  “I’m still wired, I guess.”

  Kayleigh studied him for a moment. He had been born for this life. She recognised that fact to the very bottom of her soul. It wasn’t just down to the warriors mark. Some people were built for this kind of life and Kelton was certainly one of them.

  The two of them had been together for quite a while now. They had experienced this trainee intake madness a few times before. Though the work still took him away from her and the time that they spent together as a couple, she knew that at least he was safe within the walls of
the Academy.

  Being with a warrior was not something that had ever entered her head. It would not have been a life that she would have ever chosen for herself. But, her love for him had her bound and tied to him. There was no way that she ever would or could ask him to leave this life. That wouldn’t have been fair to him. To ask him to choose between the woman he loved and the life that he couldn’t live without? That would have been cruel. It would be like asking him to hack off one of his limbs. But, the constant fear that Kayleigh lived with when he was out on the streets, facing off with the enemy, was often more than she could bear.

  If anything ever happened to Kelton, she didn’t know how she’d survive. She wouldn’t be able to continue without him. His feelings for her were equally as strong. You could tell in the fiercely protective way he surrounded her.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked her, gently pushing a lock of hair from her face.

  “Nothing much.” she smiled. There was no way that she was ever going to share her fears with him. Deep down, she knew that he was already aware of it, but that was different to saying the words. He had enough on his plate without adding her insecurities.

  It was a unique situation for them to be living as a couple within the confines of the Academy. Most of the warriors who had partners lived off site, but Kelton and Kayleigh didn’t have that luxury. He was needed here and there was no getting away from it. They had special permission and instruction from their leader, Bartholomew, and the Academy was their home. Sure, it wasn’t ideal, but it was the best that she could ask for. Things could have been a lot worse.