The Lone Wolf Saga:
Book Two
Published by Christopher L Carr
Copyright 2013 Christopher L Carr
Intro
Journeys have an interesting habit. Many times the
intentions of our journeys are not clear, and even when they are, the reward is
often not what we hoped for. Our wonderings and meanderings only further fuel
the disappointment and confusion of our journey. Then as we stumble along a
beacon of light, so to speak, shows us the way. Not everyone follows the sign,
but those who do, more often than not, find themselves coming full circle, back
at the beginning, back at their homecoming…
Chapter 1
Artirius and Balic made their way through the
cavern. It was damp and chilly; a place that seemed calm as death. It was a
fitting reminder of the travels the northern barbarian and southern dwarf had
endured. Having traveled the underground roadways they each arrived at Derril’s
Point, a dwarven mine of note. While there they aided in the fight against the
besieged, killing many to protect the mine. They also saw many of their dwarven
allies die.
Against their will they had snuck out of the mine
away to the north, hoping to find safe passage to Artirius’s homeland, but
instead found the pass blocked by a landslide. Undeterred, the group traveled
through the woods in hopes of finding their way around the mountains. Instead
they found themselves captives to Willam Elred, king of the Northern Wood. The
great wizard Tressnou, who had been traveling with Artirius and Balic, saved
the life of the King at a feast. This turned things around for the group. Artirius
and Balic were granted access to a mountain pass which would lead them to Valtenberg. Tressnou stayed behind in an attempt to quell
another war.
Hoping to be in the city only one night and
continue on their way in the morning, they were yet again followed by trouble. Aided
by the vampire Alexi, Artirius rescued Balic, only to encounter Karloff an old
and powerful vampire. It seemed that the combined efforts of Alexi and Artirius
would not be enough to defeat the elder vampire. As a last resort the barbarian
succumbed to his deep wellspring of rage, and with it defeated Karloff. Artirius
allowed Alexi to finish off his centuries old foe.
As was expected, Artirius’s rage drained him, and
for some time he had to rest. Once he and Balic had recovered enough strength
to travel, Alexi showed them yet another secret passage. This one lead to a cavern which would allow
them to continue north in search of their true goal, Atriel. Atriel had been
calling to Artirius, in his dreams, for some time. Along the way, evidence to why was made
clear. Galmatros, king among demons, had set his eyes on Norta Masa. Fighting
had begun to spread across the land as old conflicts were renewed or enflamed
by Galmatros’s influence. More over the vampires had been stirred to his cause
and had quietly organized in Valtenberg. These though, were only part of his
plans.
His agent, Pyr, offered Artirius safety from all
harm, under the condition he turned back and returned to the Untamed Isles. Pyr
had possessed the body of a dark elf, or drow, that practiced the dark
discipline of Necromancy. Upon Artirius’s refusal, Pyr left his host, to seek a
more powerful vessel with which he could destroy Atriel. Tressnou dealt with the confused drow, left
in Pyr’s wake. The drow was wounded terribly
and was forced to flee.
With all this evidence and the many unresolved
questions, Artirius and his companions resolved to head north. If the demon king feared Artirius, then he
could not turn back. Not now, not when he was so close to answers he had sought
his entire life.
As they reached the mouth of the cavern, it grew
colder, and the waning light of day became visible. The autumn scents were
strong here, as trees and other plants were making their preparations for the
winter to come. Some forest creatures
were scurrying about, oblivious to anything other than their own gatherings and
bickering.
Balic tightened his cloak, “Bah, to be underground
again, where it is always a decent temperature.”
Artirius looked down at the dwarf. Being a barbarian, and not only that but one
of mingled magic blood, Artirius was close to two feet taller than the dwarf.
His dark blond hair waved a bit in the breeze. His blue eyes sparkled. He could
not disagree more with Balic’s opinion.
He had spent many years in hot and often damp places. As they neared his
northern homeland, Artirius realized he had missed it.
The barbarian smirked, “With all that hair on your
face, you are cold?”
Balic looked up. His face was still swollen and
bruised from his stay in the catacombs under Valtenberg. Even so a clear and
cheerful smile protruded from beneath his heavy beard, “One may be surprised as
to how little these beards help sometimes.” Balic paused, grinning a bit less,
“I cannot wait for a peaceful night my friend, and a warm bed I do not have to
fear being torn from, or leaving quickly the next day.”
Artirius nodded, “Agreed,” looking around he
motioned to the east, “I believe Alexi wanted us to head that way. From what he
said we should only be a few hours from where we can rest. The sun should hold
that long.”
Balic nodded and let Artirius lead the way. It
would be easy for the barbarian to clear a path, as his size and strength made
him ideal for things of that nature. It did not take long to beat through the
brush and come upon a trodden path. It was not overly wide, but the two were
able to walk side by side. The ground beneath them was well packed. Some
leaves, having already begun to fall, lined much of it in what resembled a long
parade, of reds, yellows, oranges and browns.
Travel from that point on was peaceful and quick.
Time seemed to move by swiftly. The two did not talk much, at least not nearly
as much as they had on the mountain pass. The events of the last few days had
taxed them both, and much was on their minds.
They crossed over a small crick, covered by a
modest wooden bridge. The water looked so tempting that both travelers stopped
for a drink. There was little like cold refreshing water this time of year, and
that coming down from the mountains was the best of all. After a short pause,
Artirius and Balic continued on their way.
A short while later, as dusk set its hand on the
day, the road in the woods crested at the top of a hill. Below them the
wonderfully peaceful sight of the abbey came into view. Safety and sanctuary
for the night. As if on cue the peaceful silence of the setting sun was
interrupted by crashing in the woods from the direction they had come.
A heavily cloaked and hooded figure burst into the
road in front of them. Lifting his head and removing his hood Alexi revealed
his face. It was marked with vicious burns.
Seeming out of breath the vampire looked at them
with concern, “They know, and they are coming.”
The barbarian and dwarf were surprised to see
Alexi. The hansom vampire, marked with his burn, stood before them in what
could only be described as shock and fear. He seemed to pant. As a vampire who
did not tire, his emotions must have driven the action. His eyes danced about
nervously.
Artirius looked to Balic, who returned the
gesture. They were both concerned. The barbarian spoke, “So I take it all is
not well in Valtenberg?”
A cool breeze blew down from the mountains; the
remaining leaves on the trees waving limply in the wind. Alexi looked back toward the cavern, toward
the passage made by his ancestor, toward his home, “They came, even in the
daylight, they came. They sought answers to Karloff’s demise. They were not
satisfied.”
Balic motioned to Alexi’s face, “Can we assume
they gave you those burns, lad?”
Alexi was a little surprised, then as he thought
through events he realized what Balic was talking about, “I must have been
caught in the fire, my face is burned?” Artirius and Balic nodded, “I still
cannot believe they came…” though he was undead and could not feel the pain on
his face, or any physical pain for that matter, he seemed to grimace as he
touched his face.
Artirius moved closer and placed a hand on Alexi’s
shoulder, “We need to know what happened, so we know what to expect. Tell us,
since we left, what have you dealt with?”
Alexi blinked a few times, and seemed to calm
himself. As he regained focus, he recalled the events at his home, “Forgive me,
I have not been caught that off guard for some time. I shouldn’t even be here
now; I should not be more than a pile of ash. Shortly after you left I received
a visit from a mule, a human servant to one of the elder vampires. He inquired
as to the loss of connection, the death, of Karloff. It caused much confusion,
even some pain, in the ranks.”
Alexi paused and motioned to the others to walk
with him, as he headed toward the abby.
The sun was at their backs, and he was heavily cloaked, so there was no
worry of being harmed for the vampire. As they walked, Alexi continued, “The
mule received my report, that I had been over powered by you, and that you
killed Karloff in your escape. Of course my part in the rescue of Balic came
up, to which I was forced to lie about as well. I told them Karloff, in secret,
had asked for me to arrange things. He wanted me to gain your trust, by all
costs, even if it meant some lesser sacrifices, a younger vampire or two would
really not hurt. So your orchestrated escape,” he motioned to Balic, “and my
coming to your aid before that,” he now motioned to Artirius, “was made out to
all be Karloff’s doing.”
Alexi stopped a few hundred feet from the abbey.
To their right, nestled by the crick they had crossed a short time ago, was a
small cemetery. For a few seconds he simply stared at a tombstone near the edge
of the water. Not taking his eyes off the stone, he continued, “The mule seemed
satisfied enough and left. A short while passed, I had expected more mules from
the various houses to come and talk with me. So when a knock came to my door, I
suspected nothing unusual. I was wrong.
“It was his master, the one who turned Karloff. He
was most displeased. To come out in broad daylight, even cloaked, is not
something one his age would do. The older vampires are, the harder the sun is
on their bodies. Nevertheless, Lorick came. He brought with him his two eldest.
They had been his sons while he lived.”
Alexi blinked and looked about the cemetery, it
seemed well kept. A cool wind came down from the mountains, billowing their
clothing and hair. It was mixed with the scents of the forest, crisp and clean.
Alexi smirked. He could not smell these things or feel the breeze, but only see
the waving of the trees, and hear the rustling sounds of the leaves. He
continued, “No matter what I showed him or told him, he would not waver. He did
not believe me, not in the least. As his patience reached its limit, he begun
to pry harder and harder, searching for holes in my story. Finally, when he had reached his limit, he
threatened me. Knowing that I was in real danger I carefully maneuvered to a
hidden container of holy water. We had been in the study area, near the kitchen
examining the battle site.
“They noticed as I reached for it, and though they
were fast, I was able to throw the water in their faces. It is one of the only
things we can actually feel, and it hurts quite badly. As strong as they were I
knew it would not last long, so I threw every candle in the room to the floor,
and tossed tapestries on them as fast as I could. I made sure to even cover the
area around the door, and I sealed it with the latch from the other side. As I
ran through the halls, I knocked over everything that could burn with any
candle I might find. I made it all the way to the cellar, to the passage, when
I heard them coming. As I grabbed a torch, to light the wooden ceiling beams,
they rounded the corner leading to the cells. They were all covered in pocks and
burns from the holy water. When they saw me, one of them heaved something
burning at me.
“I was struck squarely, and dazed. They were only
feet away when I managed to slip into the passageway. With all my strength I
struck the wall, and I ran. Behind me I heard it collapse as they cursed and
screamed. I stopped and turned, torch still in my hand, in time to see one of
their fists plow through the mass. I did not hesitate. I struck the walls again
and again, over and over, backing slowly away. I put a more than a dozen feet
of debris in the way, but I have no idea how long that will hold them. In my
escape, I must have been burnt.” Alexi touched his face
Artirius looked at Balic, the two seeming to talk
without words, and understanding each other’s thoughts well. Artirius was the
one to break the silence, “We need to find a safe place for the night then. Will
the abbey do?”
Alexi turned to face them, “I cannot stay at the
abbey, but it would be ideal for you. I suspect they may look there, but they
could not enter. There is a building around the back of the abbey I can enter,
as it was never sanctified.”
Artirius and Balic looked at Alexi inquisitively.
He saw their confusion, “I was here when this place was built, many years ago,”
he turned, as did the others to face it. “You see,” he motioned to a large
circular wall, made all in white stone. The front had a large wooden door,
while the opposite end seemed to end at the main door to the abbey. He
continued, “That walled area is a small courtyard, which is meant as a greeting
area, and a small garden is located there. Now this section,” he now motioned
to the main body of the abbey. It was also constructed of the white stone, with
three large stain glass windows on the side they could see, though they were
described by Alexi, to be on the other side as well. The roof was made of a
dark stone, and a short bell tower could be seen at the far end, opposite of
the main door. Again Alexi explained the building, “Here is where worship would
be done. There is a library underneath in the basement, as well as a small
catacomb and the kitchen. The main floor has a few living quarters for the
priests that live here.
“Now, connected to the rear of the abbey, is
another walled garden. All of those portions of this place were sanctified during
this buildings construction. The blessings protecting it from evil and the
unholy are great. They could not even throw anything through the windows, in an
attempt to get in or harm those inside. A century after this abbey was built a
friar had another living quarter added to the rear garden. They did not
properly bless it, and the fact that they began to brew beer did not help
secure any divine protection. I have kept in touch with a few here and have
stayed in that portion of the abbey from time to time over the past two hundred
years. If needed, they would mask my presence with various blessings and spells
to prevent evil from prying.”
“Hmm,” Balic huffed, “To think, that many
loopholes in the working of a deity. Some things are blessed, some things are
not. Sometimes the undead are allowed and sometimes they are not. It is all too
much for me sometimes. Nevertheless, I heard mention of beer, so I know where I
will be heading,” and off he strolled to the rear of the structure.
Alexi looked to Artirius with a questioning glance
to which Artirius responded, “For the short while I have known him,” and he
raised his hands and shrugged his shoulders. Even with the threat of the world
being torn asunder, Balic always had time for a bit of cheer and merrymaking.
Chapter 2
The portly abbot and dwarf laughed hard as they
patted each other on the back, beer sloshing over the edge of each of their
mugs. In the corner a few friars sang and played songs on pipes, make shift
drums and stringed instruments. The scene was a lively one to behold.
There had been a bit of confusion and chaos when
Balic burst in the back doors yelling greetings to all those present. Alexi
knew most of the holy men, and he quickly apologized and introduced the new
comers. It did not take Balic long to acquire a drink, and many new friends. They
kept the details surrounding their arrival subdued, though it was obvious an air
of unease wafted about the large dining hall.
Some of the men were talking quietly, occasionally
glancing in the direction of Artirius and Balic. Alexi had ventured further
into the living quarters, looking for a friend, he had told them. So for the
mean time, they sat, drank a little, and were merry.
It was roughly half an hour before the vampire
returned, followed by an elderly man. The room went quiet as he entered, it was
clear he held a position of respect. Alexi motioned for Artirius and Balic to
follow them. So the pair rose, and made their way to the hallway. The older man
was bald and slightly stooped over. His face and skin were wrinkled and
weathered from many years of life. His long slender hands were wrapped around a
worn walking staff, which he used with every step. The rest of his frame was
obscured by his white dress robe. It was not ornate, just a simple white robe with
a hood on the back and a plain white sash around the waist. He did not wear the
hood. His eyes were a soft bluish color. They looked tired and sad, even though
his face held a smile.
They neared what seemed to be the entrance to the
rear courtyard of the abbey. They
stopped a few feet from it, and entered the last chamber on the right. The elderly man waited for them all to enter,
and then closed the door behind them. It
was a sparsely decorated place, which seemed fitting for the man they were
with. There were a few shelves lining the left wall, full of scrolls and
tomes. In front of them was a small
fireplace with a pair of chairs on
either side of the fireplace and a bench in front of it. On the right wall, in the corner, was tucked
a small bed with a stand next to it. At
the foot of the bed, was a chest, beaten and worn from years of use. In the far corner was an armoire, not ornate
in anyway, but fitting the décor it was heavily used the stain uneven and
splotchy in places. Along the last wall, nearest the outside hall, were two
small book cases and a desk. All worn
and tired, like the elderly man. There
was only one thing that stood out. On the desk, near the quill and ink well,
was a chest the size of a man’s fist. It
looked to be made of solid gold, and had small innately carved legs, and an
elaborate design along the edges. On the top was a diamond filed to a fine tip
at the top.
The group sat around the fire, filling up the
seats. They were quiet a few moments watching the logs burn, splitting and
cracking, slowly disintegrating into nothingness. Even for all the destruction that it
represented, it was peaceful, for though it burned and destroyed it was not
evil, but fair. It gave them warmth and
comfort.
The old man slowly turned to Alexi, “Johan,” came
the deep voice slowly, “you have not introduced me to our guests.”
Alexi nodded, “As I am sure you know, this man is
Artirius, a barbarian heading back to his homeland in the north. The dwarf is Balic, his companion and friend.”
He motioned toward the old man, “This is Benolovito, the High Priest of the abbey.”
The old man smiled and nodded, “Forgive an old man
his formalities, but some things should always be done, even if I know who I
speak to. Yes, Johan told me who you were. I am sure he still goes by that
name, oh, Alexi I believe. I call him Johan, his true name. In either event, he
has told me about most of your plight.”
Artirius looked into the deep pools of the man’s
eyes. They showed much sorrow and experience,
and also much compassion.
The priest eyed the bodies of Artirius and Balic,
“May I?” he gestured toward them both.
They gave each other a sideways glance, and nodded in
acknowledgement. Benolovito moved toward
them. He held his hands first over Artirius’s body. Slowly he moved them, as if
he searched for something. With a smile and a nod, his hands began to glow
slightly. His touch was warm and soothing. In only a few moments he lifted his
hands from Artirius. “Better?” he questioned.
To Artirius’s amazement, there was no tightness or
pain from the injuries he had suffered at the hand of Karloff. It was as if
they had simply been wiped away.
Benolovito then turned his attention to Balic’s wounds. He had hid his discomfort well, fore as soon
as the priest concluded, a great sigh of relief came from the dwarf.
Benolovito smiled, “I am rather skilled at this
sort of mending. Healing one at a distance is much harder and takes far more
energy, but it can be done as well. You both feel normal?”
The two nodded, still surprised at the skill of
the priest.
“It is good to know I am still able to help those
in need.”
Artirius tilted his head in the direction of the
priest, “We thank you, priest, but it seems you know of us where we know
nothing of you.”
The elderly man smiled, “This is true, so perhaps
we should remedy that…” for the next few hours they talked and talked. They
became more accustomed to one another and learned tales of old. Benolovito and Alexi had met long ago, in the
priest’s early twenties. Alexi had already been aiding in the slaying of undead
things, vampires and the like. Alexi revealed his true identity, and his
purpose. From that point on Benolovito
listened to his tutelage, read from scripts, tomes, and scrolls Alexi knew
of. He even acquired the fine box
sitting on his desk, The Cache of Souls, as it was known. It had been nearing a century. Benelovito’s
service to his god above had given him a much longer life than many men could
ever dream to live, let alone be able to move. Without the aid of Alexi, many
teachings would have been forgotten. His aid had revived the spirit of the holy
men in the area.
“As for the vampires in Valtenberg, we knew of
them already. As they begun to funnel
in, many practitioners of the holy arts fled through this abbey, to the north.
Families in the town of Finbrook, took them in. Some that tried to stay and
deal with the encroaching evil…I have not heard from,” Benolovito looked from
face to face in the room. “We have done what we can to keep them in that town,
though it has been trying, and rather unsuccessful.”
As the elder priest finished the sentence, a knock
came at his door.
“Enter,” came is reply.
A troubled priest entered the room, he was a small
skinny thing, bald and plain. His robes did not help him seem bulkier, but
frailer. He stammered, “The three, they
are coming.”
Benolovito bobbed his head, and motioned for the
man to leave. As the door closed he stood and moved to look at parchments on
his desk. While he did he spoke, “We have certain wards we maintain that alert
us to undead in the area. They went off when Alexi first crossed them, now we
know that Lorick and his sons approach.”
He sighed then lifted his head, “Please, wait here. I will return shortly after
I see they are shooed away. It is best they do not know you are here.”
The priest moved quickly to the door, closing and
latching it from outside. The action
surprised Alexi. He moved to open the door, but was even further caught off
guard. The priest had sealed him in. At first he was confused. Then in sudden
realization, he turned to the desk. The cache was gone.
Wide eyed he looked at Artirius and yelled, “Stop
him! Whatever it takes, don’t let him do it!”
Artirius attempted to question Alexi, but was cut
short, “Hurry I don’t have time to explain, just go!”
With a nod, Artirius moved quickly to the door.
The lock did little to hold him back, as his shoulder crashed into the door,
splintering wood in an explosion of debris. A shocked friar was so surprised he
could do nothing, but stand and stare.
Artirius simply looked down at him flatly. The
friar understood the meaning and pointed toward the abbey, “He went that way,”
he stammered.
Artirius trotted off, Balic close behind. The double doors leading to the rear
courtyard were not locked. Benolovito most likely assumed they would stay in
the room. The rear courtyard was roughly
fifty feel long and sixty feet wide, matching the width of the abbey. It was
lit by torches leaving bouncing shadows to play about the area before
them. Bushes and other plants, all in
neat lined rows with benches and paths made of stone were before them, but there
was no high priest. In a few bounds
Artirius was at a single door on the left portion of the abbey’s rear
wall. Balic scuffled up “Bah, can you go
any faster? I am having trouble going this slow,” he smiled.
Artirius could not help but smirk. He turned to
the heavy wooden door, inlayed with metal plating, and turned the brass knob.
The found themselves in a small room situated next to the pulpit. It was quiet.
The room they were in seemed to store tomes and various scrolls, and other
religious relics used to worship. The
same white washed stone that was used to make the building made up the walls and
even the shelves. A red carpet covered the floor leading to the assembly area;
where they saw Benolovito standing before his congregation.
Artirius and Balic slowly padded out of the room
and toward the pulpit. As they exited the storage room, and the pews opened to
their left, they noticed no one sat there. Benolovito was alone. It was only
the three of them.
The high priest looked over some script for a
moment, scribbling a few notes down on a page nearby. He read over his page,
one last time, and slowly closed the ragged tome he had before him. With the
same smile he greeted them with, he now looked upon his guests, “He asked you
to stop me, I expect?” a questioning eyebrow was raised.
Artirius nodded; Balic gave an assertive grunt.
Benolovito moved around the pulpit and down a few
small steps to the center of the pews. The red carpet before him was an ominous
path, foreboding in nature. Artirius and Balic followed.
It was a slow walk to the front of the abbey.
Benolovito stopped to take an occasional glance at a stained glass window, or
to arrange something out of place in the pews.
When they arrived at the door to the front
courtyard, Balic gently grabbed the priest’s arm, “What is this about then?
What do you plan to do?”
Benolovito looked up toward the ceiling, as if
seeking guidance. He reached into the folds of his robes and removed The Cache
of Souls. He stared at it in his hand. A small tear trickled down his cheek and
his smile seemed to grow, as if he had resolved his decision. He returned the
box to the folds of his robe.
“I could make the deed sound sweeter or braver,
but I will not waste the words on it,” he turned to face and looked into each
of their eyes, “I plan to use The Cache of Souls to kill the three, though when
I do, it will kill me.”
Artirius and Balic looked at one another then back
to the old man. Artirius questioned him, “Surely there must be another way?”
Benolovito shook his head, “I fear not. Combined
they could most likely kill even you Artirius, and they are too cunning,
crafty, and cruel to fight us openly. They would pick us off one by one
whenever we left the protection of this place.”
Balic pleaded, “Could we not leave, find a way out
of this? Is there no escape for us?”
Benolovito again shook his head, “There are no
secret passages in the cellar, or magic to take us away. We have no stable with
horses, or any other means of travel, and again, if we leave the protection of
this place, they will wait and stalk us like prey, one by one.”
He looked at the doors, “What’s more, they need to
learn to fear us, and know we will do whatever it takes to end them. They must
not think that the holy order is helpless. Though it is not what it once was,
it will still be a plague to their kind. What I do now, must be done.”
In a comforting tone the priest looked again at
his guests, “Do not mourn for me. I have lived well over a century, fueled by
my faith and devotion. I am tired, and what better way for an old man to die,
than to help save the world?” he let the last statement hang in the air
questioningly.
Artirius nodded. Balic shook his head in frustration,
but could not help but acknowledge what had been said.
Benolovito patted them both on their shoulders,
“It will be all right, I promise. Now if you care to, you can join me in the
courtyard, off to the side where you cannot be seen.”
The barbarian and dwarf nodded and pushed open the
abbey door. The front courtyard mirrored the rear, and would have been a lovely
place to sit, relax, and meditate. The heavy main doors were sealed before
them. Solemn steps lead them there. A gentle motion of Benolovito and the pair
moved away from clear view, though they were still able to see some of the
front entrance.
“They are here,” the priest said, as much to
Artirius and Balic, as to himself. With that he pulled open the doors.
Before the courtyard doors, torch light flickered
on the vampires. They were all clad in dark colors, blacks and maroons, with
shined boots gleaming in the torch light. Their pale faces were a dramatic
contrast to their apparel. Each had deep red eyes nearing on black. One son had
messed up black hair, the other orangish red to his shoulders. Lorick was
blonde slicked back with heavy cream and wax.
There was a pause as the two parties stared each
other down. Benolovito held his ground, holding his staff. The others were flat and expressionless.
The priest shook his head apologetically, “I
should invite guests in, please. How rude of me,” he gestured for them to
enter.
His voice was cool and flat, though with
undertones of icy death. Lorick responded, “Cute, coy gestures do not amuse me
priest. You know who I am, and I am sure you know what I seek. Three of them.
Now where would they be?”
“Hmm I am not sure,” Benolovito responded with a
slight smile. Leaning forward on his staff, I suppose you have no intention to
leave peacefully either?”
Lorick eyed the building before him, “It is rather
disgustingly holy. I am not sure I can stand it, but we both know I cannot
touch this place, even with all my great strength. So, you know I will have no
choice but to kill anyone who steps out of there. Of that you most certainly
have my word.”
Benolovito stood taller, straighter, “What if I do
not allow you?”
A smirk came across the vampires’ faces. Lorick
seemed to smirk even wider as he said, “By all the silly gods you may pray to,
what makes you think you can stop me?” His eyes narrowed and his grin became
more like the face of a rabid animal as his fangs were now revealed.
The high priest dropped his staff before himself,
and folded his arms into his robes. As he did, he grimaced slightly. Then he stepped
forward over the threshold of the courtyard.
Standing eye to eye with the vampire, Benolovito
did not move, not even a shake. “Bold,” Lorick snapped his teeth, curling his
lips into a snarl, “As much as I appreciate that quality, it appears you will
be the first to die.” With a quick snap of his neck, Lorick sunk his teeth into
the priest.
Lorick gasped, and fell back to the ground. Blood
covered his mouth. Before anyone could react, Benolovito revealed the cache. He
had impaled his hand with the diamond tip. As he held it before them it flung
open, a flood of golden white light blindingly erupted. Artirius and Balic were
forced to cover their eyes. They could make out agonizing screams and heard
what sounded like fire bursting into life in front of them. The smells of
burning flesh and bone prevailed the air as waves of energy swirled about them.
Then with a sudden finality it ceased as the lid to the cache snapped shut.
It took a moment for Artirius and Balic to take in
their surroundings. The shock of the experience was overwhelming. As they
surveyed the area, all of which seemed unchanged, they heard a violent yell
from the living quarter in the back, and heard the door wretched from its
hinges. Mere second later Alexi was standing in the epicenter of explosion.
Where the vampires had stood, there was nothing, not even ash. They had simply been removed from existence,
no trace at all to be found. Where
Benolovito had been, there were only his robes and The Cache of Souls. It was no
longer shiny, gold, or ornate, but now looked like a blackened wood. The only
thing that remained the same was the diamond tip.
Alexi huffed hard, and howled with rage. He struck
the ground hard with his fist and removed a fist sized stone. With all his
vampire might, all his raw rage and emotions of pain and sorrow, he turned and
threw the stone at a tree some fifty yards away. The rock blew through the
tree, coming to a stop only after it punctured the bark on the opposite side. A
dark fist size hole, three feet deep now scarred the tree.
Alexi turned back to the robes. He fell to the
knees pounding the ground and wept, for Benolovito was no more.
