| "Memories of Zephon" by Demon Hunter Anamae |
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| Zephon and his sub-lieutenants rode out as night fell, the moon rising from the east, heading towards one of the two canyon paths. Craning his neck to see one last glimpse of Zarina at the gates, the Cathedral was blocked from his view as the canyon walls closed in. Zephon’s armour shone a dull gold in the moon’s light, his sword drawn and eager for blood. It had been such a long time since there had been a battle with the Sarafan, and Zephon found he was excited to clash with the foe with no assistance from his brothers. His officers knew the plan and what to do if the human forces became too much; Zephon reflected with some anxiety and hope that they would not have to fall back to the Cathedral if the Sarafan overran their positions in the canyon. Already his forces had been deployed; the cannons and catapults ready to take out the Sarafan from a distance could be heard and the scouts already picking off the lagging soldiers from the main force. Riding down the twisting paths of the ravine, his elite bodyguard behind him, Zephon could already make out the sounds of combat. Rounding the next bend, the Clan leader saw that the Sarafan force was already nearing the diverging canyon paths. But because of the narrow path the vampire hunters could not bring their full force to bear. A terrible mistake made by the commander. Their cavalry was already charging the Zephoniem vampires who were racing through the horses, sharpened claws cutting the animals flanks and bringing riders to the ground. Arrows fired though the air from the scouts’ holdings higher up, the poisoned tips embedding themselves in the Sarafan and killing them quickly. The humans returned fire, but in the darkness and without the aid of their torches they could not hit any of the marksmen. The roar of a cannon was heard somewhere to Zephon’s left and a group of human foot soldiers were torn down. Screams and gouts of blood filled the air as both vampire and human charged each other, blades meeting and blows parried. Bodies of the fallen littered the ground, but there were more of the Sarafan than anything else. “Glory for Lord Kain! Glory for Lord Zephon,” the Zephoniem vampires chanted as they rushed at their prey. Zephon urged his steed forwards, knocking down a foot solider that tried to impale him with a pike and crushing him under his horse’s hooves. Blade rising and falling in the moonlight, Zephon dealt lethal blows to the Sarafan; too many to count as he released them of their heads or rode over them. Natarek rode beside his lord, the deadly spear he used as his weapon impaling more than one human, blood running down the sharpened tip as the sub-lieutenant shook off the bodies. Natarek gave a wild grin to his master as he charged off to slay more of the human cattle. A Sarafan officer, dressed in silver armour and mounted on a black stallion, charged Zephon with a piercing battle cry. Their swords met for a moment, but Zephon was the stronger of the two and with a loud snap the Sarafan’s blade broke and he was gutted like a fish. Another officer on foot raced to the Lieutenant; Zephon slashed at the man’s chest, already knowing that the blow was fatal before the man collapsed to the ground. Two more foot soldiers tried their luck against one of Kain’s Chosen; Zephon noted with some amusement that they would not be able to fight with their heads caved in as he dropped the bodies to the ground. A catapult fired from its position above and the heavy rock crashed into the middle of the Sarafan’s cavalry; the once massive but now small square formation wavered for a few moments, and then broke. The foot soldiers had no one to command them and fought aimlessly, shouting among themselves to see who was in command. They were brought quickly to the ground by the fledgling vampires, webs spun about them so the deathblow could be struck. Already some were beginning to feed. The vampires cheered as they found victory within their grasp. A small group of cavalry, led by a blood soaked officer, broke through the vampire line and headed down one of the two pathways of the canyon towards the Cathedral. “My lord,” Natarek yelled to Zephon as he raced past with his spear held high, “I will follow them; worry for the battle here!” Zephon was about to charge after them all the same when his horse bucked and fell to the ground, a spear through the animal’s chest. He was thrown into the air and landed on his back for a few moments, stunned by the impact. Zephon noted with a detached sense of surprise that he had managed to hold onto his own blade. A sword flashed through the air, aimed at Zephon’s head, was the only warning he was given. The vampire lord rolled to his right and kicked upwards at the human as the sword bit into the ground. The Sarafan and would be killer stumbled backwards, one hand holding his stomach while the other held his weapon, a massive and heavy blade. He could not of been older than thirty, but the human held himself with a grace that even Zephon had to step back and notice. Here was a swordsman, one that Zephon could duel against, and one that matched his own skill. “Your head will be a great prize for my commander,” the Sarafan hissed. “It will be placed on a pike for all to see, for all to know that your kind can be destroyed easily enough.” He inched closer, now both hands on the hilt, the blade flecked with blood. “If you can take my head, pitiful human. I will enjoy watching you die on my sword, just as I will enjoy massacring the rest of your kind here tonight.” With a battle cry Zephon leapt forwards, bringing his finely crafted blade down on the human’s. The warrior was slowly pressed backwards, the sureness on his face a few moments before now fading quickly. He lashed out with an awkward punch but Zephon glided back, and then twisted his sword in his hands for a thrust into the Sarafan’s unprotected chest. He was blocked and the Sarafan pushed his advantage for the moment. Zephon parried a blow and slashed at the warrior’s feet, hoping to cut at the unprotected flesh. Striking to the left, Zephon was denied an opening. Sweeping his massive blade about, the Sarafan hoped to cut the Clan lord in half, not realizing how fast vampires truly moved. Dodging clumsily to the side, the warrior lunged forwards as he saw an opening in Zephon’s left side. But that was a ruse, an old one that Zephon used many times before to kill his opponents. Overstretching himself and unbalanced, the human passed straight by Zephon as the Lieutenant turned. With a victory cry, Zephon brought his sword down and cut the Sarafan clean in half from the waist. Both pieces of the body flopped onto the ground, the blood mixing with the earth. “You were good, but not good enough,” Zephon hissed, looking into the dead eyes. He turned to look at the battlefield in front of him and a smile appeared. The foot soldiers had all been killed, bodies hacked to pieces by the vampires and the cavalry, as Zephon had seen, had broken and raced back the way they had come. The reserve force would easily deal with the few that had broken through. The moon had only begun to make its decent into the west; the battle was over. “Victory! Victory is ours,” one of the vampires called out. The vampire warriors cheered, a thunderous echo in the narrow confines of the canyon walls. Zephon smiled at his children as he walked over to Oscot, who was feeding off one of the hapless foot soldiers. Tossing the body to the side, the sub-lieutenant wiped the blood from his mouth and saluted. “Milord, the Sarafan forces have fled back the way they have come. I have already taken the liberty of sending the scouts and a few of our best warriors to finish them off. May I say congratulations, Lord Zephon? A plan well executed and we did not even have to use the reserve forces nor seek help from the other Clans.” “A good victory, indeed. Make sure that our fallen are returned to the Cathedral and to their families.” “And the humans?” “Leave the bodies as they are, a silent warning to others who would dare cross into my lands. The survivors are to be bound and gagged and thrown into the dungeons. We will feast well once we return back to the palace. I also-“ “Lord Zephon!” Natarek’s voice was filled with pain as he rode out from one of the smaller canyon pathways. He was hunched over on his horse, spear missing, and one hand weakly gripping the reins while the other clutched his left shoulder. Two arrows were embedded deeply into the flesh, black blood seeping out between the armour. Zephon rushed over with Oscot and helped the vampire off, laying him down on the ground. “Lord Zephon, there is trouble.” “Tell me,” Zephon’s claws tightened on Natarek’s shoulders and shook him slightly. “What is it?” “There was another force…they came up by the river and nearly cut off the reserve force. They fell back to the Cathedral…but the Sarafan looked over two thousand strong. I came to…tell you. The gates have been closed and barred; no one can gain entry.” Natarek struggled to rise, but Oscot pulled him back down. “Your wounds are too grave. Stay here Natarek and wait for the vampires that were sent off to kill the remaining Sarafan to return. When they arrive, come to the Cathedral with all haste.” Natarek gave a bitter chuckle. “I already ordered all the vampire troops I met along the way to head back, my lord. I hope that does not bother you too much.” “No, it does not. Oscot, Siglar, with me!” Grabbing one of the Sarafan’s horses, Zephon mounted quickly and looked over his troops. “The Cathedral has fallen under attack from a surprise force of Sarafan! Gather your weapons, we will ride back and defend our home!” The Zephoniem vampires moved with a speed that seemed slow to Zephon. With a growl in his throat, the Clan lord spurred his horse back down the canyon path he had come from, sword unsheathed and reflecting the fading moonlight. His army followed after their lord, ready to give their lives as before to defend their homes. I am coming Zarina, Zephon thought. Just don’t do anything stupid! Just stay alive! We’ll be there soon enough! “Hold the walls! Archers, aim and fire at will! Apothecary, I need an apothecary!” Zarina’s voice filled the air as she knelt down beside a young fledgling, hands pressed over a shoulder wound inflicted by the damned Sarafan’s arrows. Krellin, the youngest of Zephon’s officers, had stayed behind to organize the defense, but it was Zarina who had quickly taken charge. At the moment the sorceress was pulling out the arrows on the fledgling’s body as a young healer rushed to her side, bandages ready. “Milady, you need to get away from this area,” Krellin shouted into Zarina’s ears to be heard over the roar of the cannons. “It’s not safe here!” “Apply pressure here,” the healer commanded to Zarina as the young vampiress wrapped the cloth around the fledgling’s wound. “My lady-“ Zarina turned to face Krellin, her usually pale face flushed, hands covered in black blood. “I heard you the first time. I have to oversee the defenses and help the wounded! Can you walk?” Krellin realized she had directed the question to the fledgling that nodded weakly. With the vampiress helping him, the two made their way down to the courtyard below where the other wounded were being laid out. A particularly loud crash made the massive eastern walls of the Cathedral shake, jarring the archers and sending a few over the edge or making their shots go wild. Zarina and Krellin looked through one of the slits to the ground below and found the reason to the quaking. Two rows of Sarafan foot soldiers, under the cover of their shields, were pounding the Cathedral’s gates with massive battering rams. Just across the moat stood the archers for the humans, raining down their own deadly missiles and beyond them siege towers were being lined up, ready to be filled by the zealous vampire hunters. Zarina could make out the rest of the army, a long line of white stretching in the darkness. She had not expected a third army to come in from along the river; it had been inconceivable. Hoping against hope that the scouts had reached Zephon to tell him of their plight, Zarina turned to look at Krellin. “What should we do?” Krellin’s voice had a strong undercurrent of fear, his red eyes wide. Zarina grabbed his claw as he tried to rise from their hiding position, pulling him back down beside her. “Get the hot oil and tar and we’ll pour it over them at the gates. It should hold them off for a while! Be careful, Krellin. Go.” The officer nodded and scurried down the battlements as the Clan could do. At least, Zarina reflected, the walls had not been breached. We could hold out for a bit longer, at least until the Sarafan bring in the siege towers. Crouching low to the battlements, Zarina moved along the line of archers, grabbing new arrows for them that had come over with the Sarafan, telling the wounded to hold on just a bit longer until the healers could come and holding the vampires that would soon die, comforting them in their last moments. She could see Krellin directing a group of servants and vampires holding the vast pots of bubbling oil over to the gates; with a strength born of determination, the large pots were tipped over, the hot liquid splashing over the Sarafan. Horrible screams filled the air, along with the smell of charred flesh; things that Zarina hoped to never hear again. The Zephoniem vampires cheered as they saw the hunters flee back across the bridge; spears were thrown into the backs of the humans and arrows hissed through the night sky to find their targets. The siege towers were now being pulled towards the Cathedral, foot soldiers running alongside the constructions of war with their cursed battle cries ringing through the air. In the higher levels of the Clan’s holdings, the cannons roared out again and managed to bring down two of the towers. On the west side of the Cathedral, it was not going as well. Most of the Zephoniem archers had been killed by the magic of the Sarafan’s magi, the high walls indented with the rocks being catapulted at it. Pieces of vampire bodies lay strewn about the walkways and more than once Zarina had to push through a pile of the corpses. Her eyes were running from the smoke in the air, her nose was assailed by the smells wafting up over the battlegrounds, and her clothing and hair was matted with dried blood. With her appearance, Zarina was nearly killed by a group of adult vampires taking recess behind the ramparts who mistook her as a devil. “Who’s in charge here?” “No one, sorceress. A bolt of lightning killed our sergeant and then they sent over a rain of fire upon us! We’re all that remains of the original defense here,” a burly vampire said, scars crossing his pale face. “Do you still have any arrows or spears left,” Zarina peered behind the destroyed rampart at the four iron catapults and the two straight lines of Sarafan wizards looking back at them. “Only forty arrows lefts and about twenty spears.” “That will be good enough, sir. Would you be able to cover me as I prepare a spell?” The vampires nodded, arming themselves with the last of their weapons. Zarina closed her eyes and brought her hands together as if praying. Blue light began to seep through her fingers and sparks of energy danced along the backs of her hands. Opening them, a tiny orb floated just above Zarina’s palms. She nodded to the burly vampire. “Fire,” he yelled, rising from his hiding spot and throwing his spear towards the sorcerers. The other vampires moved in perfect unison, arrows creating a small and deadly cloud of black as they managed to hit the mages or crews manning the catapults. Zarina took the small ball of eldritch energy and tossed it into the center of the catapults; an almighty explosion followed with dirt being thrown into the air. As the smoke cleared, there was nothing left of the iron machines save a few twisted piece of metal and nothing of the sorcerers. “That was excellent,” a vampire slapped Zarina on her back. He realized the gravity of his mistake, but Zarina motioned him away. She was tired, spent from condensing so much magic at once. But the west side would now hold; already she could see reinforcements coming from the courtyard and the higher towers. They would be able to hold the Cathedral until Zephon returned, Zarina was sure of it. “Lord Zephon and his army approaches,” Krellin yelled, pointing towards the canyons. Zarina gazed toward the ravines and saw a swift moving line racing across the wide fields. In a moment of unlady-like behavior, Zarina gave a loud whop of joy that startled a fledgling next to her. They could win yet. * * * “Ride! Kill them all; none are to be spared,” Zephon shouted over the din of battle. His army had come upon the backs of the Sarafan so quickly that the humans could only stare in surprise as their well ordered lines collapsed about them. Snarling faces, pale and drenched in blood, leered at them through a haze of smoke. The siege towers had been set aflame by a small group led by Siglar, and Oscot had managed to grab the cavalry in a pincher move; the Sarafan cries and pleas for mercy went unheard as they were torn down. Zephon’s own blade was slick with blood and more covered his armour and face. Wherever the thickest fighting lay, he was there. More than enough heads rolled on the ground because of him. Zephon carved a blood path towards the Cathedral with his bodyguard, hacking at anyone that stood in their way. There was only one problem that plagued him. Where was the Sarafan commander? Giving a very brief glance towards his palace, Zephon saw that it remained unbreached if damaged somewhat. Turning his horse around and making the animal rear into the air, a Sarafan knight fell beneath the animal’s hooves. Zephon left the human to be killed by his bodyguards as he kicked the horse to move faster, climbing up a hill awash in blood. The humans looked ready to break; if their leader was killed them they would all fold easily enough. For a brief moment there was a lull in the battle and the Clan leader’s piercing gaze finally fell on the commander. Clad in golden armour, those damned runes of protection ablaze, the commander rode alone with his bodyguard unit either destroyed or left behind. The commander turned his head to look at the position of his own troops and found Zephon staring back at him. Even with the distance separating them, the hate between the two commanders was palpable. Raising his sword, Zephon charged down the hill at the Sarafan leader. Both of their blades clashed with such strength that a resounding crack could be heard. A fracture appeared in Zephon’s blade, but he could also see another in the Sarafan’s. They both disengaged at the same moment and brought their horses about for another pass. Zephon came in with a low sweep aimed for the Sarafan’s throat but was blocked once again by the damned human. Another crack appeared in the vampire’s blade. “Have the decency to die,” the commander hissed as the two came face to face. Zephon pressed forward with his blade; the resistance of the vampire hunter was beginning to crumble. Another fracture appeared in Zephon’s blade, but an even larger one made itself noticeable in the Sarafan’s. “You cannot hope to win. I am your death, and this battlefield will be your grave.” Both disengaged and came around for one more pass. Even before the sword had found its mark, Zephon knew that the arrogant human was dead. Both blades struck once more, the two warriors wrestled, but Zephon’s blade went true to its mark while the Sarafan’s shattered. The vampire lord’s cutting blade pierced through the armour and entered into the human’s heart, killing him instantly. Zephon would of laughed out loud as the Sarafan leader’s body fell to the ground, but an agonizing pain caused him to scream out. The Lieutenant looked down and saw the broken edge of the Sarafan’s blade embedded in his chest. Black blood oozed out from his armour and Zephon felt himself feeling dizzy and light headed. Pain coursed through him as he touched the broken blade. Zephon felt the world tilting beneath him, his grip on the reins becoming unsteady. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was the gates to the Cathedral being opened and Zarina, along with Krellin and Natarek, running towards him. Zephon opened his eyes slowly; the slight action pained him incredibly so. The first thing he saw was the ceiling of his chambers, muted light streaming onto the stone floor from the windows above. He was in his bed, the covers pulled up to his chest and the pillows propping his head up slightly for the Clan lord to see what was happening before him, which was nothing at the moment. The Lieutenant looked down at his chest where the sword’s tip had cruelly pierced his flesh and found bandages wrapped expertly about him. Dried blood stained the white linen, but there was no bleeding save for a slight pain. But Zephon could bear it easily enough; he had had wounds that had been the same as this one and still survived. A comforting silence filled the room. Zephon heard a slight sound from his right and turned his head to look at the disruptor, a reprimand ready to fly. Instead a smile crossed his black lips. Zarina was curled up in a chair at the bed’s edge with a blanket wrapped around her body, head against the backrest, eyes closed and snoring ever so slightly. The sorceress looked exhausted and Zephon was content just to let her sleep and watch her for the moment. Had she been looking after him all this time? How long had it been since the battle? The Clan lord must of made some noise, for Zarina’s eyes snapped open and she literally threw herself from the chair, standing over the bed and looking at Zephon. “Oh, you are finally awake. How do you feel, my lord?” “Well, I suppose. Not too much pain from the wound inflicted upon me in battle.” Zephon looked up into Zarina’s concerned eyes, a hesitant smile on her face. Was she truly that glad that he had not been killed? “Have you been taking care of me all this time?” “I could not leave it up to the servants, my lord. And your officers are very busy, trying to rebuilt the fortifications that have been damaged and tallying up the body count.” “So what happened after I collapsed, Zarina?” Zephon pulled himself upright, making a face from the pain shooting through his chest and brushing aside the hand Zarina offered. “I had ordered the gates opened when I saw you charging through the Sarafan ranks. The force inside the Cathedral was howling for blood and received it. The vampire hunters could not stand against your army and the reserve force; they were crushed and quite literally. No one was left standing; I gave that order.” She brushed aside a lock of hair and gave a small smile; pride filled Zarina as she remembered how the Zephoniem vampires had trusted her judgment and how she had led them through to the end. “We rushed you back to your chambers and managed to take the blade out of you. For a while, the blood you were losing made me…us all fear for your life. I had to cast a cure spell on you, then stitch up the wound and bandage it. The regenerative powers of your kind are remarkable, Zephon, and I am sure that tomorrow the stitches can come out and you will be up and walking again soon.” “How long have I been here, lying in this bed?” “Only three days. You were tossing and turning for quite a while; Natarek ordered that I sleep since I hadn’t in a day and a half. But then I believe he hasn’t slept much either. The final body count is one hundred and fifteen of your children, Zephon.” The Lieutenant closed his eyes and flexed his talons. “That is to be expected, but we destroyed the Sarafan forces easily enough. I thought that it would have been much worse.” “Are you hungry?” Zephon quirked an eyebrow and gave a half-smile. “Starved. I haven’t fed in three days.” “Would my blood suffice?” Zarina’s face was composed and serious, she actually meant what she said as she held out the palm of her hand. “I do not think that would be such a good idea. It would be better to get a slave, one of the ones that Rahab breeds.” Zephon had been tempted with Zarina’s offer, but once a vampire began draining the blood from their victim it became impossible for them to stop. “Then I will have one sent up. Siglar and Natarek also wish to speak to you, if you are feeling strong enough, that is.” “Yes, I believe I am.” “Then rest until they come, my lord.” Zarina pressed her lips to Zephon’s forehead; checking him for a fever, she said. * * * Zephon drifted in and out of consciousness. He remembered speaking to his officers briefly, then falling back into sleep, only to wake up again to feed on the hapless human cowering before him. Then sleep overtook him again, until someone rudely poked Zephon in the chest where he wound was. Sitting up faster than he should of, Zephon looked at his brothers standing around his bed. “You finally woke up, dear brother,” Rahab said solemnly. A look of such genuineness clouded his features. “For a moment I thought that you were truly dead.” “How are you feeling?” Raziel sat down on the mattress and gave a wide grin. “Good enough until someone poked my wound,” Zephon sneered back. Raziel nodded and pointed to Turel, obviously the culprit. “Well sorry, but I had to make sure that you really weren’t dead,” the second eldest winked at his younger sibling. “You’re consort wasn’t about to let us in until she was sure you were strong enough to talk to us. You are so lucky, Zephon.” “The battle, what was it like.” Dumah leaned forwards, his face practically inches from Zephon and arms crossed over his chest. “Tell us all about it, every single detail since we were denied the chance to fight alongside you.” Melchiah cleared his throat and looked at the proud warrior. “I do not think that Zephon is up to speaking about his latest military campaign, Dumah. He just woke up.” “Exactly,” Zephon spoke, for once in his life agreeing with his weakling brother. “In a few days I will tell you the whole tale, but until then I do not think I am up to speaking about it.” “Does the wound hurt much,” Raziel pointed to the bandages and the small stain of dark blood that smeared the pure white. “Only when someone touches it. As I am told, I was quite lucky that the sword’s blade broke when it did or else I would have had the metal coming out of my back. But I can say that the Sarafan commander if off worse than I am.” Dumah laughed and clapped Zephon on the back, propelling him forwards and causing more pain to blaze. “Do that again, brother, and you will have a wound similar to mine.” Turel tisked and leaned against one of the bed’s posts. “Lady Zarina, she is quite the human. She held the Cathedral walls and retaliated with her own magic. From what I have heard, it was quite the explosion. How I would of given anything to see that.” “Turel, for once in your life will you stop talking about Zarina. You’re making Zephon very jealous,” Raziel pointed at the vampire, whose eyes had a deadly look in them as he stared at Turel. “I am just simply stating the obvious. Can you not even take a compliment?” Before an argument could start, Rahab, always the peacemaker, changed the subject. “How long until you can move about again?” “I am confined here until my consort takes out the stitches and thinks that I am well enough, which I believe I already am. But it would do no good to argue with her.” “She has you on a short leash, dear brother.” “Shut up, Melchiah before I sew your mouth up and burn your eyes out. Where is father; why is he not here?” An uncomfortable silence filled the air. Zephon looked at each of his brothers in turn, waiting for an answer. Raziel, always the one with the answers, spoke. “He has been busy; the Clans have not seen him for some time. But then Kain always leaves for a while, only to reappear when needed. We have no need to worry for the Master’s safety. And I think we have worn you out from all this conversation, Zephon.” It was true Zephon did feel slightly wasted from all the questions and answers. “I think it is best that we all take our leave.” The five brothers walked out of the room, Raziel the last to leave. He simply patted Zephon’s shoulder, gave a hearty smile and a wink, and then was gone as if he had never been there to begin with. * * * “Congratulations, the wound has healed and you can move about now like it never happened. Not even a scar.” Zarina pulled the last of the thread from Zephon’s chest and stood, packing away the medical supplies. The vampire swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood only to collapse on the bed again. “And I am as weak as a babe. Just give me a few moments for the feeling to come back into them, and then I will walk about.” “Well, I hope so, my lord.” Zarina gave a smile at Zephon. “Because tonight your children have decided to hold a party. You are, of course, expected to attend even if I have to order Natarek to bring you down to the hall.” “Damn you, wench.” A sarcastic tone filled Zephon’s voice. “There’s no way out of that, I guess.” “None at all. Your vampires have been waiting for you to get well and now that you have, that is one good reason to celebrate. Another reason for such good cheer is because they were able to drive back the Sarafan and just show the rest of the Clans that they are still battle ready and do not need the help of others.” She sat down beside Zephon. “Unless you want me to call the celebration off.” Zephon rose once again to his feet, took a few steps forwards and grabbed onto the wall for support. “Why would I have you do such a thing? The party will go forward, I will attend it with you by my side.” Zephon turned to stare at the sorceress as he crossed the room, a triumphant statement on his face. “I am able enough, and there hasn’t been a party here for some time. Will my brothers be attending?” “No, but should I send our invitations now?” “Not at all.” Zephon crossed his chamber, touched upon the far wall, then came back to the bed and sat down beside his consort, taking her hands in his. “It is a victory for the Zephoniem and no one else. Besides, I want to see how you dance. My children truly do love you now, even if you are not a vampire.” “And I have accepted this Cathedral as my home now, and you as my lord. It is as simple as that.” “Then let us get ready for the party.” To say that the Zephoniem vampires are a dull and boring Clan is an understatement. When a celebration is called for, they are the only Clan that will outdo all the others no matter what. The large hall of the Cathedral was worked over in festive decorations; flowers and ribbons of bright colours wreathed the pillars and higher levels; candles burned brightly in their gilded stands; in an alcove a group of musicians were playing a lively tune for the dancers. Long tables arranged in a semi-circle were filled with platters of food, thralls moving back and forth with wine or ale in tall pitches for the vampires already feasting. At the main table Zephon and Zarina sat, along with his officers who were exchanging crude but humorous jokes. Zarina was dressed in a simple blue gown that exposed her pale shoulders, a circlet of gold holding back her long hair, cheeks red from laughing at the jokes Siglar and Oscot was telling her about. Zephon was dressed in his best as well, wearing his usual black leather pants with a white tunic of silk. He drank deeply from his goblet of warm blood and looked at the dancers whirling in front of him. All he needed to do was work up the courage to ask Zarina to dance. Imagine that he, Zephon, the most outspoken of all the Lieutenants besides Dumah, couldn’t even work up enough courage to ask such a simple thing. Natarek must have understood what was going through his creator’s mind, as he always did and leaned across from his chair and tapped Zephon on the shoulder. “Would you mind if I asked your consort to a dance?” “No, not at all, Natarek.” “Do not worry, my lord, I will bring her back in one piece.” Finishing off his ale, Natarek stood and walked over to Zarina, offering his claw. She took it and the vampire lead her out onto the dance floor, just as reel began to play. Zarina’s face literally lit up as Natarek spun her around quickly, and then raised her into the air to catch her gracefully as she landed back on her feet. A space was cleared for the two dancers as they moved along, the vampires rhythmically clapping, faster and faster to the beat until the dance finally ended. True to his word, Natarek did bring back Zarina, if slightly flushed. Sitting back in her chair, the sorceress literally gulped down her wine and looked at Zephon. “After I rest for a bit, will you then dance with me, my lord? I am sure you are just as fine, if not better, than Natarek.” She pointed to the vampire who was now being assailed by a few vampiresses all claiming a dance with him. “Of course. How are you enjoying the party?” A fledgling was showing the young vampires a few magic tricks he had picked up; taking an apple into his talons and flipping it over his head, a dove appeared and flew off into the higher reaches of the Cathedral. The children squealed in delight and demanded him to show them again. There were a few acrobats and jugglers as well walking about the hall, showing off their skills; friends talked and laughed while young lovers looked into each others eyes, off in their own secret world. “I am enjoying these festivities. Back at the Citadel, you would never see anything like this.” A new tune began to play from the bards’ instruments and Zephon stood. “My lady,” he offered his own talon and Zarina placed her hand in it. The two walked down to the wide floor, flower petals scattered about the tiles. The rhythm began, starting off slowly but quickly rising in pitch. “Are you sure you can handle a fast dance, Zarina?” “Only if you think you can keep up, Zephon. Don’t worry, I will try to not upstage you.” “Is that a threat of some sort, my lady?” “If you consider is something like that.” The two began to spin about quickly on the floor, a grin on Zephon’s pale features and Zarina smiling back at him. The music once again to pick up and the other vampires faces, as well as the decorations in the hall, became nothing more than blurs. Only Zephon and Zarina existed in their own world, with the melody playing in the distance. Bringing his hand to the small of Zarina’s back, Zephon brought his consort closer to him as he tipped her backwards as the music ended. Her face was glowing with excitement, bosom heaving from the exertion, but she looked so beautiful to Zephon at that moment. Something passed between the two at that moment and the two both felt it, something that transcended all the barriers between a human and a vampire. Before Zephon could do anything, Krellin had tapped his shoulder. “May I have the next dance with lady Zarina, my lord?” The young vampire smiled hesitantly at the sorceress. “Yes, but just be careful,” Zephon passed Zarina over to his youngest officer and headed back towards his seat. Zarina touched Zephon’s claw before he could get very far and leaned over his shoulder to whisper in his ear. “You dance quite well, my lord Zephon.” A smile graced his ebony lips for a moment. “As do you.” Then the music picked up once again and Zarina was whirled away. * * * Zarina gave a shrill laugh at the joke Zephon had just told her, leaning heavily on his arm as they made their way back to their bedrooms. She had drunk just a bit too much as the night had worn on, but then so had the Lieutenant and he had no right to judge. The merrymaking had finished as the moon was setting but in some parts of the Cathedral the revelry was still going on. Zephon suspected that it would for the next three days and even a bit longer. Opening the door to his darkened rooms, Zephon helped Zarina over to his bed. She dropped down unceremoniously, her head hitting the pillows as Zephon followed. “Oh, I think I drank just a bit too much. The effects of vampire wine are quite deadly,” she giggled, her cheeks splotched with red. “Same here. I haven’t had a party like that in quite some time. I should have them far more often.” Both started laughing for no apparent reason until they both fell silent. And once again their eyes met and that same feeling passed between them as it had in the hall. Zephon passed a claw through Zarina’s long hair and stroked it, an uncertain statement clouding his face. “Do you wish to stay here tonight?” “I do not think that I would be able to walk back to my own chambers, Zephon. If you don’t mind that is, then I will stay here for the night.” Zarina traced a finger over his high cheekbones. Leaning across the bed, the sorceress closed her eyes and kissed the Clan lord tenderly on the lips, arms wrapped around his neck, her body pressed up against his. Zephon was caught off guard for a moment; he never expected Zarina to be so bold and do this to him. But he relented easily enough, resting his talons on her bare shoulders and kissed her back. The Lieutenant gave a silent groan when his consort pulled away, resting her head on his chest. “Was that the effects of the wine, my dear, or did you truly mean that kiss?” He looked into her eyes, expecting Zarina to start laughing again when he was being totally serious. “No, I am sober. It was just that before, after we finished dancing, that I wanted to kiss you but Krellin wanted to dance. But here now, alone with you, we are allowed the privacy that we could not have before. You did not want me to kiss you?” Zephon brushed her cheek with the back of his talon. “I enjoyed it, as I am positive I will every time you kiss me. Have you cast some sort of enchantment upon me, sorceress?” Zarina shook her head. “ Well I believe you have. You will not see this soft side of me very often Zarina, so I suggest that you enjoy it while you can.” “And you jest.” Zarina was slowly unlacing Zephon’s tunic, coyly looking into his eyes. “Truthfully, when I first came here I thought that I would be dead within the hour, my blood pooled on the floor. There have been some things that I have not wished to see here, but you Zephon have well taken care of me when I am sure no one else would of and that is a fact, my lord. I love you with all my heart and soul.” “You love me?” Zephon hadn’t expected anything like that to pass his consort’s lips. He felt compassion and tenderness for her, secretly harboring a small spark of love for her as well, but he had never felt loved. Kain had been painful and strict with his sons’ upbringing and affection for them had never been part of the equation. But now Zephon was being offered love from this young maiden and found it to be pure heaven, where he could equally return it and not have to feel rejected. “I have never been loved before, at least not in what you describe but…I love you as well, Zarina. Imagine, a human and a vampire like us together. What a strange pairing.” “I find nothing strange about that, Zephon.” Zarina had finished unlacing his silk tunic and was running a hand over his chest, feeling the hand muscle underneath the flesh. Zephon leaned down to kiss her again, taking the circlet off her head and dropping to the floor as something began to consume him. His kiss became impassioned, Zarina answering in kind. His hands began to caress her entire body, pulling at the fabric of her dress as her nails raked across his back. Zephon wanted her like he had never wanted anything before in his life; Zarina pulled him closer to her as they fell back into the bed. Two shadows melted together as one, the crescent moon dropping into the west as the sun cast its first rays against the lovers. * * * A whole year passed, a whole year of absolute bliss for Zephon. Never before had he felt so free, so full of energy when he was around Zarina, his beautiful consort, his twin soul. There were times when he reflected what his life would have been like without her, if he had killed her right from the beginning, but he dismissed such dark thoughts quickly. For once he was happy that he had not acted in haste as he usually did; Zarina would of never have been with him. But they were together and that is what mattered most to him. Zephon appreciated her sense of humour, the way she handled the Clan and its problems and was still the only girl that Zephon knew to have the courage to kick Turel, quite literally, out of the Silent Cathedral when he was acting a bit too ‘playful’ with her. He loved holding her in his arms and whispering kind words when no one else was present; more often than not Zephon would spend the whole day with Zarina and let the rest of the world fade from his eyes. It always did when he looked into the sorceress’ eyes. But as always, that bliss was about to be broken. The Sarafan had once again risen up like the vile things that they were, and now their killing machine looked like it would not be stopped as easily as it had in the year before. Already Dumah’s Clan, even if they were valiant warriors, had lost an alarming amount of vampires and Rahab’s Clan was following in a similar fashion. The raids against human villages and towns had increased so the vampires could recruit new fledglings but then the Sarafan always managed to find the untrained vampires and do away with them before they could be a problem to the warrior monks. It was a vicious circle and one that looked like no one was going to be able to break out of easy. Unless something drastic was done, and quickly, then this war would continue for the Dark Gods knew how long. “I say we make it a do-or-die mission!” Dumah pounded the table in front of him, causing his other brothers sitting down to jump slightly. “We hit the Sarafan where it will hurt them the most and the war will end.” “You forget, dear brother, that this ‘mission’ as you call it, might fail and then there will be even less vampires. We must all sit back and look at this from a logical point of view and not run screaming into battle waving swords in the air and you are prone to do.” Turel pressed his talons together and gave a sharp look to the third son of Kain, daring him to find fault in his judgment. Dumah settled back into his seat, a sullen look on his face. “We can always continue with our raids; send the fledglings far away for them to be trained. Rahab, you can speed up their training, can’t you?” Melchiah’s voice was hesitant but filled with determination; his view held some merit to it. The Lord of the Rahabim Clan shook his head slowly. “Even if we do send all the fledglings away the Sarafan will still be able to find them, kill them and…it is too risky. Better than anything else that they stay close to their respective territories in case we are surprised. It may sound harsh but I rather sacrifice three fledglings as oppose to one adult vampire, who has more knowledge than they would. And we might even have to increase the raids and go out further to find prime breeding stock, even stealing little children in the night.” “That has never bothered any of us before,” Zephon sneered at Rahab. “Or perhaps your Clan should just vanish for a while; lick its wounds and build up your forces. You already control most of the great lakes and rivers of Nosgoth with your Clan’s talent, Rahab, and the Sarafan cannot swim underwater. Let us be grateful that the humans do not have a monopoly over that.” Raziel, who had been watching all of his brethren at the head of the black marble table and looking through reports from the spies, spoke. “Your Clan still gives valuable information as always Zephon, but I believe come the next battle against the Sarafan, your Clan will march to war with Turel’s and mine.” He held up a hand before Zephon could speak. “Yes, you have battled the Sarafan on your our territory but your Clan has been able to recoup from its losses and even come out stronger. Already there have been new reports from Clan Melchiahim that the Holy Order has begun to move towards the eastern mountains, into Dumah’s territories, with a massive force capable of taking out all of Ash Village.” “That is what I have been trying to say! They are moving out all of their warriors, leaving only a skeleton force back at their HQ because they don’t think we are going to attack them there,” Dumah stood up and began to pace the room. “My plan is this; we take the best warriors from every Clan and send them into the Sarafan Fortress, killing off the military leaders which will no doubt be there. At the same time, all the Clans unite together at Ash Village and we will pulverize the Sarafan. Break them once and for all, then Nosgoth will be our forever.” Dumah stabbed a claw down on the map rolled out over the table to emphasis his point. “Your idea does hold great value,” Zephon said, rising from his own seat and looking at the map, the black arrows indicating the human forces and the red, green, purple, blue, gray and yellow the Clans and their strategic positions. “A daring move, but it can be pulled off given the proper planning.” “But the question remains: Who will be part of the strike force infiltrating the Sarafan HQ and who will be staying with the main force at Ash Village?” Turel glanced around the room. “Not to mention that we will leave our other Territories undefended so how can you be so sure, Dumah, that the humans will not have another force lying in wait and ready to spring? We all say what happened with Zephon last year.” Zephon gave Turel a dangerous look and growled deep in his throat; Raziel placed a restraining claw on his shoulder. Raziel looked at the second eldest, a wise statement on his face. “Because they will not, Turel. Over the past year the Sarafan have become even more fanatical in their crusade to wipe our kind from this land and we all know that fanatics do not think straight. They want this war over just as quickly as we want it to be and they will commit everything to this mission, just as Dumah has pointed out in one of his brighter moments.” Dumah sneered at the favored son, but did not say a thing. “So who will be going into the lion’s den, and who will be defending against the wolves sent out against us,” Rahab looked at everyone in turn. “I volunteer to lead the strike force against the Sarafan headquarters; my Clan and I can enter in by the sewers and gain access to the higher level within a few minutes.” Raziel nodded. “And I will stay at Ash Village to lead my forces against the Sarafan. But to the strike force I can recommend my two lieutenants, Kilik and Daurgon.” “As will I,” Melchiah spoke up quickly, for once ignoring the dangerous look that Dumah gave to the weakest brother. “My lieutenants Fecour and Mecant are among the best in lightning raids but I will stay and help with the defense of Dumah’s fortress.” “I do not need you to help me,” Dumah snarled. “You might as well go with the strike force! I cannot waste a single one of my officers as they will be needed for the Sarafan.” Turel gave a chuckle. “Well, then it looks like I will have to commit all my best mages to go with me to the center of operations for the Sarafan! Nothing like magic to give the extra punch and I would relish being part of such an elite team. So Zephon, that leaves just you. Either you and your best officers can come with Rahab and I to the Sarafan fortress or you can stay with Raziel, Dumah and Melchiah as they try to hog all the glory on the battlefield.” A silence fell on the room as Zephon looked at the map, then into the yellow eyes of each of his brothers. He had already decided which role he and his children would play; even after a year of meeting the Sarafan he was eager to fight them once again but on his own terms and strengths. Zephon looked at Turel and Rahab. “While it is always good that someone can go in through the sewers and take the lower levels, and while someone can pound down the main gates with sheer force of magic, you will need someone to descend from above and scale the walls in places where it might be impassable for others. I will commit myself to the strike force.” Turel gave a laugh and jumped out of his seat, grabbing Dumah’s claws and whirling around the room with him. “We’re going to war! We’re going to war! Finally we will have no more boredom, no more long hours of absolutely nothing to do!” Dumah shoved Turel away from him, sending the vampire mage into the wall. “We must also tell this to Lord Kain,” Raziel interjected. “If there is anything that we have overlooked, then he will be able to find it for us.” “This plan is fool-proof,” Dumah smirked. “Nothing can go wrong.” “Casualties might still be high for us but the rewards will be great,” Melchiah spoke cryptically. “And either way, one vampire fledgling is worth two of their foot soldiers. Is that not what you said once, Zephon?” The Lieutenants looked at his youngest brother. “I am surprised that you remembered that, Melchiah, but do not expect that you have gotten into my good favors.” “Let us go and see father right now,” Raziel said as he turned to leave the room. The five Lieutenants followed after him with light hearts, but Zephon was the only one who was troubled. What would Zarina say about this plan? * * * Zarina sat quietly as Zephon finished telling her the whole plan, swirling the blood in his goblet before he drank it down, unease written easily across his face. Bowing her head for a few moments, the young sorceress contemplated everything she had been told, and finally speaking. “You cannot go alone, Zephon. Where you go I will follow, as you have promised me since the last battle. And I know the layout of the Sarafan headquarters better than some of your spies would, if memory was to serve me correctly and no changes were done.” “Be reasonable Zarina, you cannot go. You are not even-“ “I am going, my lord, whether you want me to or not. What happens if you are wounded once again, or human magic is needed where vampire magic is not? My love, I am your consort and I am to stand beside you throughout everything that might happen. I will be a part of this strike force and I promise not to slow you down at all.” She gave Zephon one of her measured looks and placed her hands over his own. “You might be injured as well, Zarina. I cannot have that happen to you, my lady. The Clan might need you here or up in Ash Village, which would be a safer choice because of all the vampire warriors being assembled.” Zephon hoped that she would see the reason behind his words but Zarina would not be budged from her position. That was the one thing Zephon admired about her above everything else: her determination. “Zephon, I am coming with you on this strike force. I have every right just to defend my home as you do and I refuse to be kept locked up here.” “Damn you wench, you always have a way with words,” Zephon picked Zarina up and kissed her full on the lips. “But I do want you to come with me, to ensure that you will not cause any trouble that will make me worry for you.” Zarina brushed a hand through the vampire lord’s hair. “And I am coming to make sure that you do nothing reckless. In a whole year of peacefulness, a side of me cannot wait to go back into the fray with you by my side as it should be.” “This strike force will commence in under a week. There is much to be done in such little time. Come, we must prepare.” The lord and lady of the Silent Cathedral moved down the halls to organize the troops for hopefully the final battle against the Sarafan. * * * In a secluded chamber untouched by time, Kain stood, eyes locked on a screen in front of him that showed all that passed in Nosgoth. His arms were folded across his muscular chest and a blank statement on his face. “And now it has truly begun. The first pebble has been released and soon the whole mountain will tumble.” His remark was prophetic, but no one save himself would have been able to decipher it. Once again the bells of war could be heard, tolling silently. |