A Moonlit Night - The Complete Saga (25 page)

“I can’t complete what you ask,” Horace
said.

“Nonsense,” Xander said, “I had over a dozen
mages at my disposal, but I never trusted any of them as much as I
trust you. Sure, they liked to think themselves connected to the
divine at a higher level, but it’s only a matter of remembering the
correct incantations and state of mind. You
can
do this,
Horace. I know you can.”

“I wish that I could,” Horace replied with
earnestness, “Perhaps this act is the only way to atone for the
choices I’ve made over the years; but the fact remains that I’m not
nearly powerful enough for this kind of spell. Surely, your
personal warlock would be—.”

“No,” Xander interrupted, “He’s dead… his
body found atop this very parchment. He died with the rest of his
circle in the blaze that destroyed everything we both held close.
They were in meditation when the building started to quake… never
even had a chance to get out in time.”

“I’d be honored to be your champion,” Horace
said as he tried to hand the parchment back to his master, “But the
truth of the matter is that I just
can’t
do what you
ask.”

“No, my dearest friend,” Xander repeated with
a devilish grin, “You
must
.”

Chapter Six

“Oh, there are people in there, all right,”
the werewolf commander said with his nose pressed to the sky,
“There might not be anyone walking the parapets or manning the
turrets, but they are in that castle… I can
smell
it.”

Amata and her closest generals commanded the
army through the forest, led only by a few select scouts. They were
only a few minutes from the castle, and still had only happened
across a few random detachments of ghouls. Their army was hungry
for battle, and soon threatened to erupt into chaos were she not to
unleash them soon enough. They were bloodthirsty and cold-hearted
murderers with the strength of ten men apiece, the perfect kind of
army for guerilla warfare— the kind that could topple
governments.

“None of this makes any sense, mistress,”
said William, “We should’ve at least run up against a few squadrons
by now. Have their forces really withered to shreds, or do they
lead us into a trap?”

“There’s no trap to be had,” Lady Amata said,
“If their delusional enough to believe their tricks can withstand
an army of this magnitude… they’re going to be rudely awakened to
the power that I wield. Those of us that do not make it, well,
let’s just say they were never in my grand designs to begin
with.”

“You’d throw thousands to their deaths?”
William asked, making sure to keep his voice down.

“I’d throw ten thousand, or a million, to
their deaths if it meant securing our legacy for generations to
come!” Lady Amata bellowed, not having the same care that William
just had for the opinions of those she deemed her lesser, “The
summoner’s going to die… and the sooner that happens… the sooner my
plans can
truly
begin.”

“O’larg!” Lady Amata shouted, “I have need of
you and your men!”

Less than a mile away, at the entrance to the
house of Alexander Franson, undead ruler of its domain, not a
single lookout had been posted; just like the horde scouts had
observed. It was quiet, lifeless, and for the first time since its
walls had been erected, at peace with the world around it.

All of the changed in the blink of an eye,
when seven trolls sprang forth from the forest with clubs raised
high into the air. They moved effortlessly over the rocky terrain
and charged the mountainous castle with nary a regard for their own
welfare. All that mattered to them was the battle, and with it, the
chances to add many new appendages to their already-cluttered
armor.

“Let death fall to our enemy… and anyone who
dares stand in our way!” Lady Amata shrieked as she let her sword
arm drop. Beyond the trolls laid something far more dangerous, and
now they too, emerged from the shadowy forests to leave siege upon
the unsuspecting.

They passed through the stone arches that
protected the inner courtyard. Not a single soldier mounted defense
and the horde steamrolled through their walls with no blood upon
their swords. The monsters were furious, thoughts of the summoner
boiling in their blood, just waiting to exact their wrath upon
her.

“I don’t understand, mistress,” William said,
“We should’ve met resistance by now. The lights are on… yet
nobody’s home.”

“I feel it, too,” Lady Amata replied, “Yet
the werewolf wasn’t wrong, either. I can smell the blood… it’s
everywhere… swirling around me and forcing its way down my throat.
I want to
feast
, William… a hunger unlike any I’ve ever
felt.”

And then, with a sudden revelation about the
most interesting sensation that had befallen her, she called forth
for her most fearsome commander and ordered that this travesty be
brought to a halt.

“O’larg,” Lady Amata commanded, “I want you
to run straight into that stone pillar… full speed.”

“As the vampire queen commands,” O’larg said
jarringly. He gathered some speed and charged straight for one of
the pillars that held up the stone archway above the entrance.

Much to the dismay of the horde, each calling
bets on who’d win between the stone and the giant, the massive
troll passed through the pillar with not one scratch upon his skin.
The crowd stood in confusion was to what had transpired, but as a
student of the forbidden arts, Amata was already two steps
ahead.

She brought her fingers to her lips and
muttered some incantations in rapid succession, until the moment
when the spell broke free and spewed forth from her mouth like an
erupting volcano, burst forth from the fiery domain of Hell.

A swirling stream of blood-red energy raised
high into the night sky and took off feverishly into the many tiny
alleyways that ran throughout the castle. It was more than mere
mist; the bloody aura was alive and self-aware. It was hungry, on
the hunt, and in dire need of that everlasting nourishment— the
blood of the unworthy.

The horde stood in silence, afraid to disturb
their queen’s concentration. For the first time since their
gathering, many of them felt truly afraid. Not for the coming
battle, but for the vampire queen that commanded them, surely
touched by the Devil’s hand and guided towards otherworldly
pursuits.

Not all of them wanted to rule the world,
with interests that went towards survival instead of bloodshed. The
summoner was a threat, none of them questioned that, but now they
stood witness to the true powers behind Lady Amata’s sudden rise to
prominence.

Still, they would stay and fight for their
vampire queen. What other choice did those already within her grasp
have? They would fight, or be dragged down into the afterlife that
had surrounded them all.

A few minutes later, the entire castle began
to unravel, each stone coming down in an eerily similar fashion to
what had happened not a few days before. To the many creatures and
monsters within the courtyard, and those still clogged into the
massive pile at the gates, the entire castle was beginning to
crumble.

For the vampire queen, it meant that the
castle already
had
crumbled. Well played, she thought to
herself, refusing to admit this to even her most trusted generals,
but she was surprised by the deception. She had underestimated the
traitor, Xander, if even just
slightly
. He could have this
victory, for she would soon have hers.

As the castle’s mirage vanished, and the
horde slowly regained composure, the smell that had once been so
intoxicating had now turned sour and forced itself down their
throats. They were standing on a graveyard of their enemies, days
removed from the living and rotting amongst the remains of the
devastated courtyard.

Many threw up on the spot; others wish they
had of, and some even contemplated throwing themselves off the edge
of the cliff—
anything
to get away from that awful smell
that was choking off the entire area.

“We’ve been made fools of!” a voice in the
crowd growled.

“I’ll piss of the summoner’s bones!” another
shouted.

“I want silence!” Lady Amata fired back, her
eyes burning with hellfire. “You sheep have little faith in the
power that I wield. Fear not, my faithful flock... there’s always a
contingency plan.”

The crowd once again settled down, but not
because of their queen’s command, but by the sight of a mysterious
individual floating high into the sky, covered in the red mist that
had spewed from Amata’s lips only a few minutes earlier.

“The dark prince speaks from within her!”

“All hail the vampire queen!”

The shadowy man within the blood-red aura
dropped to the ground with a thud in front of the bloodthirsty
crowd. They could all hear the sound of his bones snapping as the
man collided to the ground. Blood splattered, which only drove them
further into a frenzy from which not even the vampire queen might
be able to hold off.

The man slowly lifted his head in defiance,
and crawled towards Amata. His legs were useless, but he didn’t
have the luxury of waiting around for death’s embrace. If his time
was coming to an end, then he would face it head on— like a true
man, regardless of the blood that coursed through his veins.

“I do believe your name’s Horace,” Lady Amata
said with a confused look, “We’ve met once before, at Simeon’s
palace in Costa Rica… before
your
master stabbed
his
in the back.”

“Spew your venom,” Horace said, still
scraping and crawling towards his inevitable doom, “Your serpent
tongue will find no home within my head … I’ll listen to none of
it.”

“Oh, you most certainly
will
,” Lady
Amata answered, “My, my… no matter how much some things chance,
even more things will stay just the same. You’re so young… so
insolent and shortsighted… you make me wonder how our children ever
survived in this dying world.”

Horace collapsed, unable to keep his battered
body from moving any further. He was only a few paces from the
vampire queen, but even his quest for justice had its limits and he
found himself no longer able to keep the fight from fleeing his
body. So he did the only remaining thing he could think of, and
spat a combined mixture of blood and saliva on the vampire queen’s
feet.

“I never took you for a practitioner of the
forbidden arts,” said Lady Amata as she brushed off the ghoul’s
insult with nothing more than a passing thought, “A little rough
around the edges, maybe, but you could’ve been… much, much
more.”

“You never asked.”

“No, no, I guess I didn’t,” Lady Amata
replied, “However, perhaps you’re the one who should’ve asked. I
could’ve shown you much, ghoul… now you’ve gone and thrown it all
away.”

“Screw you.”

“Screw
me
?” Lady Amata asked, “No,
you’re the one that’s going to get screwed.”

“You’re threatening to kill me? Please do. I
couldn’t imagine a better way of going out than to die knowing that
I’ve spared the lives of those I travel with.”

“Is that what you care about?” Lady Amata
asked, “Don’t allow me to interrupt your pitiful little speech.
Please,
do
go on.”

“You’re right… that’s not all it’s about. No,
it’s the satisfaction that I’ll get to die knowing that you’re
eternally
fucked
, sister— ‘cause you’ll never find out where
the goddamn temple is now.”

“Foolish whelp,” Lady Amata fired back,
“You’ve no victory here. Get up!”

“Go to Hell.”

The horde cried out for his head, but they
were quickly quieted by their queen’s hand, raised high into the
sky and calling for their silence. When they finally quieted down,
she knelt down to the wounded ghoul, and looked him right in the
eyes.

“I said,
get up
,” Lady Amata commanded
as she stirred him to her will through charmed words.

The unwilling participant had little choice
in the matter and Horace was once again put into motion— now
nothing more than a puppet of his new mistress. He screamed out in
agony as his many cuts dug even deeper and bones snapped from
unsupported foundation.

First it was his left leg, with shin bone
protruding from the skin, and then the right leg, no longer pouring
blood from the deep cuts along his thigh; but as soon as his body
allowed, he was standing upright and awaiting his charmer’s next
command.

“You’ll burn for this.”

“I’ve been burned several times,” Lady Amata
said, “Never seems to stick, though. Now,
tell me
where the
Temple of Prometheus is.”

“I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

Horace laughed, muted and awkwardly at first,
but after several moment’s he was able to break free of the vampire
queen’s hold, if even just a small fraction of his own control. His
strength of will soon broke through and he bellowed a deep and
coarse laughter that held its own against the entire horde
surrounding him.

“I already told you, ghoul,” Lady Amata said
as she toyed playfully at Horace’s chest, “You’ve no victory
here.”

Horace screamed out to the gods above as
Amata drove her fist into his chest, her hands wrapped around his
beating heart.

“And you’re no use to me dead, either,” Lady
Amata said with a sadistic smile as she continued to hold onto the
ghoul’s very essence, “I’m not just reading you… I’m reading those
that share
your
blood… and those that allow you to share in
theirs
.”

“What’s your point?”

“That I already know more than you could ever
hope to comprehend,” Lady Amata said, her hands just itching to
squeeze, “You’ve failed your master, Horace, just like you failed
to save your closest friends.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Go to
Hell”