Book Four

The Darkest Hours

Bloodline

Chapter One
A History of Violence

Another World...Another Time...

I

“This is a gift I give to you. Accept it, and you live. Deny it and you die.” The woman pulled back her hood and revealed her porcelain skin and crystal eyes. Her raven black hair cascaded down her slender neck and spilled over her shoulders; She looked up at the dark haired man with his hands bound behind his back. Her mouth was not moving but he could hear her words as if she was speaking directly into his mind.

A large hulking man stomped over to him and placed the thick noose around his neck. The large gathered crowed roared.

“Kill the bastard!” They screamed with glee.

“Make your choice!” The woman begged him.

The man looked down into her eyes.

"Do I not deserve this?” He asked, “Is this not a just punishment for my actions?”

“You have a destiny greater than your past.” The woman’s voice echoed in his head, “Choose to accept my gift and you will be released!”

A loud hissing sound filled the air as an arrow severed the rope and pierced the executioner’s forehead. He immediately fell backwards with a crash that shook the gallows.

The man kicked a lever to his right and the floor fell open beneath him. He drops to the hard ground beneath the gallows and rolls to his feet.

He found himself face to face with the woman. This time she spoke with her mouth.

“It is fated that you die here. The actions of your followers will not dissuade that. They die for nothing. They will hang for nothing. There is but one way to escape this with your life.”

The man snapped his head forward and head butted the woman. She stumbled back and collapsed to her knees.

“Listen to me, Witch. I alone control my fate. It is not for the likes of you to decide.”

The woman looked up at him. Her nose was swimming with blood. Her eyes closed to squints. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. She smiled.

The man dropped to his knees and fell face first into the dirt.

“Sorry for the delay I was detained by the guards.” An older man stepped over the unconscious form on the ground. He dropped a large piece of wood and held out his arm to help the woman to her feet.

“That is quite all right.” She motions to the body, “Quickly get him up. My magics are weakening and the guards will see us soon. We’ve no time to waste.”

The woman stepped away from the gallows as a body fell through to the ground. It was pierced by many swords. Several soldiers dropped down after it. They ripped their swords free of the body and turned to the woman.

“Halt!” One shouted.

“Get the body out of here, Cecil. Get it to the tower. I will handle these.”

“Yes, my Queen.” Cecil nodded and scooped the body into his arms. He tossed it over his shoulder and, casting one last look at the queen, he ran.

The soldiers rushed forward, swords drawn.

"You shall go no further.” The woman whispered. Her eyes flashed red as she held her hand out before her. A bright flaming ball expanded from around her fingers. The ball burst forward and flames engulfed all but one of the soldiers. They screamed in agony and fell dead to the ground.

The last remaining soldier dropped his sword and fell to his knees.

“Please my liege, do not kill me. Spare me please. My family needs me!”

The queen ran her fingers over his face.

“What is your name boy?”

“Jarvis, Jarvis Duprine.”

“I shall spare you, Jarvis Duprine, but you must deliver a message for me.” She leaned forward, “Tell your king his life will be extinguished at the hand of his blood kin and that the chosen one is mine.” She grabbed the soldier and kissed him deeply. His eyes widened as the blood vessels burst. The whites of his eyes turned crimson. The Queen shoved him away, “On your way now.”

The soldier skittered back along the ground. He climbed to his feet and ran.

The Queen wiped her mouth and turned to follow Cecil.

She glanced up at the sky. A bright red sun shone down between towering wooden buildings. She could still hear the clanging of swords and the roar of the crowd as they watched this small uprising squashed.

Pathetic animals, she thought. She looked once more at the red sun. Blood has been spilled this day and the sun was satisfied. She smiled to herself and walked on.


II

It was a miracle that he made it alive. His breathing was haggard and his eyes were leaking blood like tears. He screamed as he ran down the corridors of the castle. His cries were competing only with the thumping of his boots along the stone floor.

Perhaps destiny let him get this far into the castle screaming with madness. Perhaps all the Kings Guard were protecting the castle walls.

These things didn’t matter. What mattered was Jarvis making it to the audience room and delivering his message to the King. He feared if he failed that the queen would default her word and strike him dead. Perhaps that accounted for the searing heat he was feeling throughout his body.

Jarvis ran around a corner and saw the large ornate doors to the king’s audience chamber.

God’s be praised! Jarvis thought to himself. One of the guards at the doors was his own cousin. The god’s fortune shined on him today.

“Richard! My dear cousin!”

The Knight looked alarmingly at Jarvis. His partner immediately raised his lance to strike Jarvis down.

“Wait!” Richard said, “I know this man.”

“I must see the king, Richard. It is imperative.”

“Jarvis you are covered in blood. Your eyes…”
Jarvis’s arm shot out and grabbed Richard by the throat. He squeezed until his fingers tore into the flesh.

“Richard!” The other knight rushed forward.

Jarvis pulled Richard’s sword swiftly and held it in front of him. The knight could not stop himself in time and reached for the blade as it slid easily into his neck. His body twitched and fell to the ground.

Jarvis looked into his cousins fading eyes and ripped his hand away.

Richard collapsed in a sea of blood.

“What have I done?” Jarvis dropped the hunk of flesh he had torn away, “Richard!” Jarvis’ head snapped up and he stepped over the body of his cousin. He pushed open the doors of the audience room and rushed inside.

The chamber appeared empty. Large torches burned brightly bathing the room in soft orange light. The edges of the room were shrouded in darkness just thick enough to hinder any eyes to see.

But Jarvis was special now. He was seeing with eyes that were not his own. He could see the huddled shapes of the knights pressed against the walls.

The truth then, was that he was expected.

Jarvis walked to the lush red carpet the stretched across the room. He stepped on it and turned to face the front of the chamber.

There he sat.

King Rolliston of Genae. He was a young king by most standards, just barely crossing into his sixty-eighth harvest. He had the wisdom, however, of an ageless man. He sat in his thrown, his crown resting on a small table to his right. His hand was resting gingerly upon its golden peaks.

“You’re possessed, Jarvis. There is no other explanation for your treason.”

Jarvis wiped the streams of blood from his face. He could not tell if he was crying or not. He had lost all sense of his self.

“Do not be afraid child. You have a darkness in you now. It is not your fault. You have been betrayed.”

“The message…” Jarvis choked. Something was swelling in his throat.

“The message is not important now. Speak of your children. I shall ensure they are well cared for.”

Jarvis fell to his knees. Blood began leaking from his nose and ears. He looked up at the king.

“She says…you will be killed by your blood kin!”

“Nonsense. I have no heirs, Jarvis. You’re not long for this world my son. Let go and move to your peace.”

“SHE HAS THE CHOSEN ONE!” Jarvis screamed. Jets of gore burst from his mouth as his voice echoed in the chamber.

The king stood. His robes shimmered in the torchlight.

Jarvis cast a final look at the king before his body burst open and unleashed a torrent of blood slicked overgrown spiders.

The knights rushed forward and began slicing and stomping the beasts.

The king simply watched. His eyes hooded and dim.

“All is lost.” He said softly and sank back onto his throne, “All is lost.”



III

Their voices swam around his head. Loud and soft. Close and far. Their words muffled.
“...eady. it’s…ere.”

His eyes snapped open when she struck him.

“Wake up!” The queen shouted.

The man opened his eyes. He found himself strapped to wooden planks. His arms and legs spread out in an X. He was in a large cavernous room. It seemed to glow with soft blue light. It was the water in the center of the cavern. It was luminous.

“You are in a very holy place.”

“What do you want with me?” The man asked.

The woman held up a dark red crystal. It pulsed with light.
“I want to set you free.”

The man glanced at his restraints.

“Tell me your name.” The queen walked up several stone steps and stood beneath the man.

The man smirked, his blue eyes twinkled, “A name is a powerful thing.”

The queen held up the stone again.

“It’s time we introduce ourselves.”

The stone flashed and the man began to scream. It felt as if his entire body was stripping in half. In fact, that is exactly what was happening.

His body was stretching and contorting violently. His head titled to the side as a large bubble of skin grew out of his neck. The shapes of a nose and eyes begin to appear in the bubble.

The man screams echoed through the cave.

And then it was done.

The new body fell to the cold dirt with a flop. He was covered in sweat and blood but nothing else.

“Goddess it’s true.” Cecil whispered.

“Yes, yes it is.” The woman stepped forward and knelt besides the man. She wiped blood from his face, “Tell me your name.”

The man’s eyes opened. They gleamed red even in the dim light of the cavern.

“Valantine.” He whispered.

The tied man raised his head and looked at the scene below him.

“Damn you,” he said softly, “damn you for freeing him.”


IV

“Wake up.”

The man opened his eyes and saw Cecil standing before him. He was wiping his face with a cool rag.

“Why do you clean me?” He croaked.

“We haven’t time to discuss. I am here to save you.”

Cecil swiftly pulled out a dagger from beneath his robe. He sliced away the restraints and caught the man as he fell.

“Can you walk?”

The man tried to stand. His legs were weak but he could manage.

“That…man…he took my name…he was part of me.”

“That is not your name any longer, nor is that demon a part of you. We must get you far from here. If the Queen finds us we shall be killed.”

“He’s always been part of me.” He whispered, “He always will…” With that, he collapsed.

* * * * *

The sun fell behind the towers of the castle. Shadows grew long and thick and evening began to take hold of the land. The small village at the foot of the hill beneath the castle was strangely silent considering the days events. Everyone appeared to be locked away in their homes. A deep fear seemed to settle on the village.

It may have had something to do with the loan figure that walked along the road towards the large iron gates of the castle.

He was dressed in the dark fancy garb of a noble, but his eyes gave him the look of a fiend. He had no weapons, no items in his hands. His dark hair was pulled back in a pony tail but several strands of hair had fallen loose as he walked.

You have power…

The Queen’s words echoed in his head. Power. She had shown him just how powerful he was. She had told him it was just the beginning

We will rule together…Just as prophesized by the seers…

He had bed her. Drunk on his new feelings and sensations. She screamed in ecstasy as he took her. She screamed in pain when he tore her throat out.

He would rule yes. But not by the side of a treacherous queen. He would rule alone and he would rule everything.

He reached the iron doors of the castle and was greeted by two soldiers holding very long and very sharp pikes.

“Return to the village. None may enter the cas…”

Valantine did not allow him to finish. He waved his hands and the pikes flew out of the soldiers hands. The pikes plunged into the soldiers chests with a burst of blood.

Valantine smiled and stepped towards the gate.

He held his hand over the center of the door. It began to rise slowly.

“Power…” He whispered and ducked beneath the gate.


* * * * *

Cecil stood at the foot of the bed and watched the young man sleeping. His sighed deeply and glanced out the window. The sky had turned rapidly to a dark crimson as the sun dipped behind the hills. They were far from the castle now, but he feared not far enough.

The door to his small shack burst open and a disheveled young girl stepped inside.

Cecil’s hand darted to his dagger.

“It’s me!” She called, “I have news.”

The girl pushed the door shut. Cecil relaxed.

“Daughter, you should take care about bursting into doors.”

“I’m sorry father, but the news…”

Cecil waved at her and sat down in a rickety wooden chair.

“Out with it then.”

“The Queen is dead. Her body was left hanging on the gallows in the square.”

Cecil stood up.

“Are you certain?”

“Quite. He roped her around the chest and left her hanging holding her head in her hands.”

“You are too young to see such things. This world is falling away into evil.”

“I am nearly fourteen Father. I have seen much.”

“Regardless.” Cecil sat back in his chair. He reached into his robes and removed a pipe, “This is most curious.”

“What of the prophecy? Did it foretell the death of the Queen?”

“No. It surely did not.”

“What does this mean then?”

Cecil looked at the man sleeping in the bed.

“I fear the worst, Rebecca.” Cecil set his pipe unlit on a nearby table, “We need to leave at once. Hurry home and collect our things. Take the horse and ride only at night.”

Rebecca nodded and rushed to hug her father.

“I shall see you dawn after tomorrow.” She said.

She rushed out the door.

“Are you sure that is a good idea?”

Cecil started slightly. He looked at the man in the bed.

“She’ll be fine. She’s quite resourceful. Besides that, no one knows she is related to me.”

“That’s quite a deception.”

“A necessary one, I’m afraid.”

The man slid out of the bed. He wore a lose shirt and tattered bed pants. He walked over to the window and looked out at the sky.

“There’s a bloodline in the sky. Someone has been slain tonight.”

“More than a single person I’d wager. Including your father.”

“I have no father.”

“Come now child, we’re quite past deceptions now.”

The man sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall beneath the window. His dark hair fell around his face.

“Shall we start with our names? I am Cecil Darke.”

“Valantine.”

“Oh no. Not anymore.”

“That monster will not have my name!”

“It was never your name. It was always his, boy. The sooner you see that, the sooner you can accept it. Your name is Altine isn’t it. Say it.”

“He is not my father.”

“Damian, Son of Rolliston Altine King of Genae!” Cecil roared.

Damian lowered his head.

“Your actions were not your own, Damian. That is the nature of the prophecy. You were always there but you were not in control.”

“I could have stopped him.”

“No. He was powerful.” Cecil lit his pipe and took a deep puff, “More so now that he is free.”

Damian looked up at Cecil, “Tell me of this prophecy.”

Cecil rocked back in his chair. He looked like a grandfather preparing to tell a story to a wide eyed child.

“You are young yet so this may be difficult to grasp. Twenty-Seven if I am not mistaken?” Cecil smirked when Damian looked at him wide-eyed. “You are very important Damian. The Queen knew this. She saw it in your eyes when Valantine made his first attack against the kingdom. Three years ago in the village of Terin. She was there when you, Valantine rather, rode in with his marauders. They killed everyone in the village and burnt it to the ground. Had the Queen been less gifted in the arcane her head would have ended up on a pike with the rest of the townsfolk. Instead she vanished herself and watched Valantine work. She locked eyes with him she told me. She said she saw you inside his eyes.”

He took another puff on his pipe.

“I watched it all happen. Terin, Voyar, South Demas. I could not stop him.” Damian leaned back against the wall. His hands rested on his knees.

“The prophecy tells of a boy with two souls. A dark and a light. Two souls in the core of one man. A man born of adultery, born of Royalty and poverty. You were that man, are that man no longer since she tore him out of you. She planned to use him to reclaim her kingdom from Rolliston. She felt his time had come and gone and his inaction against the Pradians to the north would lead to our downfall. She went to the Seers and they confirmed her suspicions.”

“She had me captured.”

“She gave the soldiers the information on where to find you. Just prior to that her plans had been discovered and she was banished from the kingdom. The love the king had for her spared her life. She was to be exiled. Her only wish was to see you hung. You know the rest of that part of the story.”

“What happens now?”

“Now the Queen is dead, Rolliston not far behind. We have entered a dark age now Damian. We must flee to the Elders and gain council. Your fate will be decided there. Your destiny laid out for you.”

“I am a monster. My only destiny should be the pits of hell.”

“You were a monster. That part of you has been removed. The Queen was not lying when she said your destiny is greater than your past.”

Damian moved to speak when a loud thundering noise filled the air.

Cecil dropped his pipe and rushed to the window.

“No…” He said.

“What is it?”

Damian stood next to Cecil and looked out the window. He saw a large shadow emerging over the hills to the north.

“The Pradians.” Cecil whispered, “We must leave at once.”

There was a loud thud from the roof.

“How…”

“Some of them can fly.” Cecil moved away from the window. He walked to the bed, crouched and grabbed the bottom of the bed. He swiftly flipped it over on its side.

A small hidden door was carved into the floor. Cecil rushed to the wall and pushed a hidden button. The floor dropped away.

“In there are weapons. Grab what you can. Make haste. They will be upon us in moments.”

Damian hesitated a moment before dropping into the door.

“Here!” Cecil lowered a candle to Damian. He took it and the room brightened. There were several swords and bows lined along the walls. Damian kicked open a nearby trunk. The inside was full of dark clothes. He set the candle down and grabbed a shirt. It seemed it would fit perfectly. He dug through the trunk and found a pair of pants. He dressed quickly. He even found a pair of boots in the trunk. He put these on and stood. His eyes fell upon a pair of gleaming gold swords. They were long and slender with a slight curve to the blade.

“Destiny.” He whispered.

A loud crash came from above him.

“Damian!” Cecil shouted.

Damian grabbed the swords and darted up the stairs, pausing only to blow out the candle.

He saw a large figure looming in the window. It was a man with a pale face. He grinned when he saw Damian emerge from the door. His mouth held sharp fangs.

“The king is dead.” The thing spoke directly to Damian, “Long live the king!” He tossed something through the window. It was a young girl.

“No…oh no…” Cecil fell to his knees, “Rebecca!”

Damian rushed forward. He sliced upwards with one of his swords and ripped a ragged hole in the Pradian’s chest. The thing darted away.

Cecil had crawled across the floor and was holding Rebecca in his arms. Blood was gushing from her throat.

“What are these things?” He glanced down at Cecil who was sobbing and rocking Rebecca, “Cecil!”

Cecil ignored Damian and buried his face in Rebecca’s hair.

“Why did you strike me my Liege?”

The Pradian was back at the window.

Damian watched in awe as the slice in its chest began to close.

“Why did you strike me, Valantine?”

“I am not Valantine.” Damian growled.

“They…they can’t enter.” Cecil mumbled, “They can’t come…”

Rebecca opened her eyes and her hands shot to Cecil’s neck.

“Rebec…” Cecil choked as her grip tightened.

Damian spun around. He dropped his swords and grabbed Rebecca. He yanked her away from Cecil.

She hissed and snapped her jaws at him. She was like a wild animal.

“Kill her!” Cecil sobbed, he could barely speak, “Please just kill her. She is one of them now. She is in misery.”

“She’s your daughter!”

"Not anymore…” Cecil looked at Damian, his red tear-filled eyes pleading, “Release her.”

Damian pulled Rebecca against him. Her back pressed firmly against him. She struggled violently. He gripped her shoulders with one arm and her neck with the other. He held her tightly.

“Are you sure?” Damian asked.

Cecil hid his face in his hands and nodded.

Damian jerked his arm and snapped her neck. He lowered her to the floor and gently laid her down. He walked to the overturned bed and pulled a blanket free. He laid this over Rebecca’s still body.

“My people have overrun the city by now. They will have slaughtered and fed on everyone.” The Pradian tilted his head and his eyes became slits, “Ah…there are two of you.”

“Demons. They’re demons. Vampires.” Cecil said.

He stood up slowly. He did not look at the blanket on the floor.

“They need to be burned or staked through the heart.”

Damian stepped forward and grabbed a lantern. There was a small amount of oil in the bottom. He threw it against the Pradian’s face. It shattered and engulfed him in flames. The vampire squealed and ran away from the window. He was a torch running through the darkness.

“They aren’t terribly bright.” Cecil said. He crouched next to Rebecca and pulled back the blanket.

“I made a deal with those things?”

Cecil rubbed his hand over her cheek.

“I will see you in another life my sweet Rebecca.” He covered her again and looked up at Damian, “Not you. Him.”

He stood.

"We leave now. This house must be burned. She will wake again soon.”

Cecil walked past Damian and grabbed the two remaining lanterns. He tossed one against the wall and broke the other on the ground next to Rebecca. The flames quickly found their fuel and the blanket flared up. The wall quickly caught and the flames spread.

“Make haste Damian.” Cecil turned and walked out of the house.


V

The throne room was a river of blood. The floor was littered with the corpses of the kings guard. They had fought valiantly, yet their valor was fruitless in the end. They were dispatched, and rather quickly.
Valantine sat on the throne of King Rolliston. He had one leg hung over the arm of the chair and was twirling the kings crown on his finger.

The throne room doors opened and a group of men entered. They walked to the foot of the throne and bowed.

“The city is ours.” The Pradian General straightened and glanced up at Valantine, “One of my kin was nearly burned to death by someone he vows was you.”

“Indeed?” Valantine says, “I was under the impression he had been killed.”

“Who?”

Valantine looked down at the old vampire. He was shrouded in crimson robes. Valantine admired the vampire. He was looking at Valantine with hate in his eyes.

“My brother that’s all.” Valantine waved off the vampire, “Dismissed.”

The Pradians hesitated before turning and leaving the throne room.

Valantine tossed the crown away. It landed on the dismembered body of the king.

“Brother…brother…brother. This is quite the surprise.” Valantine leaned his head against the back of the throne and closed his eyes.

* * * * *

Damian and Cecil rode through the night. Behind them the orange glow from the burning city faded. They rode in silence. Cecil was grieving for his daughter and Damian was thinking about Valantine and what lie ahead.

Cecil slowed his horse and held up his hand.

“It appears we needn’t go as far as I thought.” He said. He gestured toward a small cottage resting on the hill side. A thin ribbon of smoke curled from the chimney.

“Whose house is this?”

“It isn’t a house at all.” Cecil clicked his tongue and steered the horse towards the cottage. He reached the front of the house quickly and slid off his horse. He patted the animal and walked up the steps to the front door.

Damian followed him apprehensively. After the events of the past few days he didn’t know what to expect anymore. He watched as Cecil put his hand against the door. He vanished instantly. Damian stopped on the stairs. His heart was pounding in his chest.

“Go forth and claim your destiny.”

Damian closed his eyes and fought to ignore the voice speaking in his head.

The voice of his father.

“Your redemption is at hand. Claim it. Accept it.”

“Stop this.” Damian whispered, “It’s too much.”

“You are born of royal blood. A descendent of kings. You know what you will be.”

“No.”

“Say it.”

Damian lowered his head and reached his hand out.

“Born of Kings Damian Altine, Son of Rolliston. You will be a he…”

Damian touched the door and the world around him burst into bright searing light and he heard no more.

He opened his eyes and found himself in a large circular room. The air was cool and a gentle mist rolled across the floor. The walls around him were made of large stone blocks, each had unusual symbols carved into them. Damian glanced around and saw Cecil standing off to the side. Behind him was a small group of cloaked figures. Damian couldn’t make out any of their faces, but he could tell they were looking at him. He could hear soft whispering noises from them.

“Cecil?”

Cecil held up a hand and shook his head.

One of the figures stepped forward and pointed at Damian.

“You are chosen.” It said. Its voice did not sound male or female.

Damian looked back at Cecil as the floor beneath him opened and he fell into darkness.

Cecil closed his eyes.

“Do you think he can handle all he must face alone?

The figure shifted its gaze to Cecil.

“He will have help as he needs it.” The figure put its hand on Cecil’s shoulder, “From you. And the other.” The figure turned and looked as a little girl stepped into the room. She appeared to be about eight years old. Her face was smeared with ash and her eyes were red rimmed.

“I am to train her?” Cecil asked.

“Yes. The Elder’s have decided you are to be their guide.”

“But I am not…”

“You will be. All has been destined. You will train her. And she will be sent on her course. When you meet again she will not remember you. She will age rapidly here and when she is called to meet Damian she will only be a few years younger. Fate has been kind to us this day.”

“What happened to her?”

“Fire. Her family is dead. She is alone now.”

“A tragedy.”

“We know not the cause. We have suspicions.”

Cecil looked at the figure.

It nodded and gestured towards the girl.

“He will come for them. This is for sure. They must be ready.”

“The prophecies?”

“As of now, the prophecies are no longer relevant. Everything has changed. Now there is only them and you.”

Cecil nodded his head and walked to the little girl. He held out his hand and she took it with a sniffle.

Cecil noticed she was wearing a necklace with a deep blue crystal pendant. It seemed to glow softly in the dim room.

“Are you ready child?”

“My name is Adia.” She said.

Cecil smiled and led her out of the room.

To Be Continued...