A Moonlit Night - The Complete Saga (24 page)

“It was a werewolf,” Lady Amata admitted,
“Still in human form with eyes set on taking the innocence I so
desperately held close. He tore me up and left me for dead. I could
see him slink off into the night while I lay on the ground and bled
out. I was going to die tonight; I could feel it in my bones, tiny
little stabs of pressure that told me no good was going to come
from this. My fate was sealed, and the wheel had
not
been
kind. A servant stumbled across me some time after, sent from the
castle I assumed. I would later learn that he was, in fact, the
reaper of death that I saw coming. My life may have ended that
night, but my vengeance will continue on forever.”

Amata picked herself up from her mobile
throne and slammed her fists down on the table, painful memories
now finding ways inside a once impregnable defense.

“I killed the damn fool a mere month after he
turned me,” she said, “Who the hell was he, to take me from my life
of luxury and lower me down to the menial common people that
plagued our countryside. I’d rather die than be insignificant.”

Even a few guards had quieted down and
huddled closer to hear word of their queen’s rise to power. It was
a vicious chapter in her life that she never wanted to repeat, but
with a rise to power as accelerated as hers yields to nothing but
more bloodshed.

“From that moment onward, I vowed to never to
be insignificant again,” Lady Amata continued, “I clawed and
scrapped my way up the underworld until I no longer resembled the
girl that once commanded honor and respect… now I was nothing more
than the bloodiest killer in the seedy underbelly of society. It
took over two hundred years, but I finally brokered my way into the
council, built on the blood, guts and skeletons that I had massed
in my name.”

“It was the darkest time in my life,” she
said, “And yet, the reward for all my hard work seems meaningless,
a fleeting moment of happiness in an otherwise dreary existence… I
want more, William… and I won’t stop until the whole world knows my
name. They’re going to fear me… they’re going to wish they’d never
realized the truth that I’ll show them… that they haven’t a chance
in hell of stopping us; that their own chance at salvation is stuck
on a pike, rotting somewhere, because they were too blind to see
what was happening in the world around them.”

William grunted with the sound of approval
and pounded a fist to his chest, a sign of his servitude to his
vampire queen. Amata was more than just his mistress; she was
blood, cut from the deepest cloth. She was his maker, in the truest
sense of the word. He’d follow her to the ends of the earth, or die
trying.

“Do you know why, William?” Lady Amata asked,
“…Because nothing’s changed since I turned from the light… I’d
rather die than be insignificant. I’m going to keep the pressure up
and grind my army down to a withered husk… but not before I drag
every damn government down with me. They’ve never seen an army like
ours... and I’ll make sure they never get the chance. I’m not going
to stop until the entire world bends to my knee… and together we’ll
shape the coming order—
our
order.”

Chapter Five

It was only a few hours until the time to
move out was upon them, and Xander’s miscreant army was still
nowhere near ready. They had only unearthed only a small amount of
the weapons and armor needed to stand up to the mighty horde that
Amanda had amassed, but even fully equipped they stood with little
chance of survival.

Emily could see it in the youngling vampires’
eyes, as she marched through the long and sectioned camp on route
to her brother’s tent. They hated her, wanted to see Samuel on his
knees, and wanted to gorge themselves on Steven’s blood, still
believed by some to contain trace elements of the blood demon he
left behind.

The ghouls weren’t much more accommodating,
either, with some old enough to remember the glory days of Xander’s
reign. Their world had utterly collapsed, and it was all her fault.
She brought this war to their doorstep, and now that the fires had
been unleashed, it would be near impossible to contain.

If she truly wished to ease the pain, she
needed only to close herself off to her morality and let the
darkness seep in. It was an awful thought, one not even to be
deliberated out loud. Still, it gnawed at her until she was forced
to come to the very real conclusion that she will one day have to
cross that forbidden line.

“I hope things haven’t been too rough,” Emily
said as she entered the infirmary, “How’s Steven?”

“Better than I,” Samuel said with a coarse
laugh as he leaned back into his chair, “A couple of vamps have
been wandering around outside, but they seem to be keeping their
distance— for now. Your brother’s been sleeping like a baby… for
what, ten hours now? Say what you want, but I’d love to have his
problems right now.”

Emily walked over beside Samuel and ran her
fingers through his sweat-covered and damp hair, her attempt to
ease his torrential spirits and find comfort in those nearby. He
could’ve walked away after that fateful night on the steps of their
cottage, but he chose to carry the burden of an entire race on his
shoulders and plunge head first into a war he knew nothing about.
He was a hero, even though Emily knew she’d never catch him
admitting to it. Whether or not he agreed with her judgment, he was
an inspiration to both the Johansson’s and helped mold them into
the people that presided around him.

“Let’s hope this war’s over soon,” Samuel
said, “Because I don’t know how much longer my body will be able to
keep going.”

“Do you really think we’ll be able to leave
this war behind?” Emily asked, “Everything’s happened so fast, the
lines have become blurred, and I can no longer turn to my mother
for help.”

“Something’s troubling you,” Samuel said as
he noticed the inner turmoil that once again plagued the summoner,
“You’re… hiding something, aren’t you? You better come out with it
quick… I’d hate to die waiting for you to fuss over whether or not
you should just come out with it.”

Emily’s first inclination was to hit him
upside the head, but she had enough sense to see the humor in his
words and took comfort in the fact that he cared. It’s hard to keep
friends when you’re the last living member of your species, under
constant threat of paranormal demise, and those that did stay
became as close knit as the family she lost long ago. She was lucky
for everyone that she still had left in this world, and took solace
in the strength they’d given her to complete this momentous of
tasks—
whatever
it was that she had to do.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” Emily
confessed with a hand outstretched, “I see people fighting for me…
dying for me... all because of what I’m
supposed
to be. I
never asked for this, never shook any secret handshake or drank
from any sacrificial chalice. I inherited this from my mother… on
the night she died. The only person that could ever show me what it
means to be a summoner… gone from this world.”

“I never considered how terrible it must’ve
been for you both, at such a young age,” Samuel said, taking firm
hold of Emily’s shaky hand, “You both have limitless potential,
it’s only a shame those talents need be used in such unpleasant
ways. My heart goes to you, Emily Johansson, and it wishes for a
day when we’ll be able to return home to our loved ones.”

“Oh?” Emily asked with a dumbfounded
expression, “…You’re married! Oh my god, I never even
thought
to ask! Why haven’t you ever told me about this?
Who’s the lucky lady?”

“I’m afraid my life doesn’t allow me the
luxury of meeting women,” Samuel said with a wide grin, “Save for
the few harpies and succubae I’ve stumbled across… but believe me,
there’s no kind of lovin’ I want from those women.”

“Bullshit.”

“Oh, all right, fine,” Samuel said, backing
down, “The succubae were hot, but I knew it’d be the end of me if I
acted on those feelings… I swear!”

“
Sure
, I believe you.”

“I swear!” Samuel called out in protest; only
this time not even he believed it anymore, “Okay… we really need to
change the subject—.”

A stirring from the bed caught their
attention and they both waited patiently for their friend to awaken
from his slumber.

“You guys want to keep it down?” Steven asked
with a fresh-faced smile, “Some of us are trying to get some
sleep.”

“I’ve been so worried about you,” Emily
gushed as she ran to her brother and threw her arms around him,
“You’ve given us all a good scare.”

“Yeah,” Steven chuckled, “Somehow, I don’t
think many of the others around this camp feel the same way.”

“Give them time,” Emily said as she squeezed
tighter onto her brother. “They just don’t know anything about
you.”

“Well I’ve killed almost everyone they’ve
ever known,” Steven muttered, “If there was ever a case of starting
off on the wrong foot, this would surely be it.”

“Tell me about your dreams,” Samuel said,
decidedly less enthusiastic than the summoner.

“I saw my parents,” Steven revealed.

The two of them were taken aback for a
moment, and Emily found herself tiptoeing away back over towards
Samuel. The memories of Amata’s hold over her in the dream world
were still fresh in Emily’s mind, and the thought of the vampire
queen once again influencing her brother was almost more than she
could bear.

Emily reached out one more time for Samuel’s
hand, and found the comfort he brought quick to return.

“It wasn’t like that,” Steven replied with a
saddened look, “It was the day they left, and father and I had just
finished playing a game of catch. We came inside… and the smell…
oh, sister, I can still remember the smell of mom’s fresh baked
hushpuppies. I must’ve had a half dozen before she caught me
dipping into the dinner desserts. She wasn’t upset though… no, not
like all the other times I would spoil my appetite silly with
pastries before supper. She just knelt down, looked back at me with
melancholy eyes— eyes I never fully understood until today. And
then she gave me a hug that could’ve lasted a lifetime had you not
run into the room.”

A tear beaded down Emily’s face as she
listened to her brother explain their last memory of their parents
alive. Somehow, listening to the events through the eyes of another
gave her newfound insight to their parent’s life, as if their world
came a little bit closer together with each new experience she
shared through her brother’s eyes.

“Even then, mom knew, didn’t she?” Steven
asked, “She knew that her time was coming to an end. She had lived
for thousands of years, alone and without a friend in the world.
Then she met father and settled down after an eternity of running…
and so set in motions that would one day lead to her downfall. She
allowed herself to find love, knowing full well that it would
eventually kill her. Even in the face of certain danger, all she
wanted to do was love us for one moment longer. Because that’s what
she was… love, in all of its many forms.”

“Where are you going with this?” Emily asked
with tears now streaming down her face, barely able to listen to
anymore of her brother’s dream.

“Nowhere, I guess,” Steven said, shrugging
his shoulders, “I guess that I just wanted to experience the dream…
one more time. I miss them, Emily, and I fear that we’ve strayed so
far from the path they had in mind for us.”

Outside, far removed from the warmth and
comfort of the makeshift infirmary tent, Xander stood alone in the
shadows. His gaze lingered on hands once again clasped inside the
tent. Strong emotions stirred within the depths of his heart,
blackened from years of self-inflicted torture and malnutrition.
Even if she wouldn’t admit the truth to herself, Xander knew he was
losing Emily before he ever truly had her to begin with. They were
happy, at peace, and he didn’t want to ruin the moment with the
realities of their situation— not right now, at least.

He stormed off into the night, thoughts of
the final preparations etched firmly into his mind. It was going to
be the hardest order he’d ever have to give, but he saw little in
the way of options and necessity meant he would have to call on one
of his generals to make the ultimate sacrifice.

“I saw hoping that I’d find you here,” Xander
said as he approached the remains of what used to be the castle’s
stables.

“I lost some good men trying to evacuate the
stables when the blood demon awoke,” Horace said, sitting on a
stone with his face covered in soot and ash, “They were some of the
best men and women that I’ve ever had the opportunity serve with…
and they died for a war that was brought to them by the master of
this house.”

“You’re angry, I see that,” Xander replied,
“But you must see the importance of our war. All our dead will
carry no meaning unless we can finish the work they died to
defend.”

“I know that, sire,” said Horace, “Please
know that you’ve done more for me than anyone… and the respect I
have for you knows no bounds; but I cannot shake the memories of
the fallen and the lives that still remain in harm’s way. We can’t
all be cold-blooded killers, Lord Franson, no matter how much blood
you introduce into our systems.”

“What if I were to give you that chance?”
Xander asked, “...The chance to make sure that no one else need be
a victim to the horde’s I’ve brought to our land.”

“What would you have me do?” Horace asked,
his interests now piqued as he turned to face his undead
master.

Xander answered with an extended parchment,
produced from his black cloak and burned slightly from the wreckage
that hid it until excavation.

Horace grabbed for the parchment and read
through its contents at a hurried pace. His eyes lit up when he
approached the end, but the luster was quickly lost when he
realized the implications of such a ritual.