Apostles of Doom

The stay had been an eye-opener into the ways of his father’s people, so to speak. The experience was horrifying but he had, for the first time since puberty, had a good meal. The blood had been served warm in a leather drinking pouch. He had not asked where it had come from, but spent a very large amount of time worrying about it.

Eventually, Vladimir and his crew had arrived with instructions that Rede had been awarded the rank of corporal and assigned to Vladimir’s unit for training. Vladimir was a two-hundred-year old vampire leftenant, specializing in reconnaissance. His team consisted of his senior sarjeant, Anastasia; one Sarjeant Voldroit; and two other corporals, Anabelle, who had been a vampire for about two years, and Carlton, who’d been turned about six months ago.

For the last three months, he’d been learning how to be both a dhampyr and a soldier. He closed his eyes, trying to forget much of that time. Actually, to be fair, other than being forced to learn how to feed from sentient races, it had been relatively normal. It was just the feeding that horrified him.

He and his mother had always killed the chicken and drained the blood into a bowl for him to drink; he had never actually used his fangs to bite anything. He had simply drunk the blood through his teeth, as if they were straws. Dhampyrs, like vampires (but not vampyrs) had hollow fangs that led to capillaries in the roof of his mouth. He simply made a motion in his throat similar to swallowing to activate suction pulses to draw the blood in.

Since dhampyrs were not infectious, unlike vampires and vampyrs, he actually could drink a victim and not have to either kill or turn them in order to avoid creating a ghoul. He had tried to do that as much as possible, but the vampires — Vladimir in particular — had little patience for that. Eventually, when Rede fed, if he didn’t finish the meal, Vladimir would finish it for him.

Last night, though, had been the most terrifying thing of all. He had been sickened at the thought of Vladimir killing and feeding on the woman and child, and even the soldier, who was not much older than himself. Soldiers died in war, so there was that consolation, but the killing and feeding on the very motherly heavyset woman and the little boy was something he could barely manage to watch, let alone participate in.

However, things did not go as planned. He still shook in awe at the woman’s power. They had somehow encountered an actual, physical saint of Tiernon. Sure, everyone knew the legends of the old days when the saints fought alongside the mortals against the Night; but that was all they were: myths and legends. Rede shook his head in remembered terror. The full power of a god, channeled through its saint, was terrible to behold, at least when you were on the opposing side. He had been certain she would wipe him and the others from the face of Nysegard. Surprisingly, she had not. She had, miraculously, re-turned Vladimir, Anastasia and Voldroit, and in the process nearly incinerated Anabelle and Carlton. He shook his head, remembering their tortured screams.

However, in the end, they too had survived. The saint had somehow healed them enough to re-turn them to human form again. That had left him, for which there was no such thing as a re-turn; he was naturally born with his condition. He had survived, but for how long?

It was not like he had any valuable information to give them. He had not really seen that much in the three months in the woods with Vladimir, and the month before he’d been an isolated guest in the vampire lord’s castle. He had nothing to offer the people of the Citadel, and he was sure they would not believe his protestations of innocence. Everyone knew that dhampyrs were part of the Night.

He was doomed.

Mount Doom: Early Third Period

Tom opened the door from his bedroom to the sitting area to find Talarius sitting bolt upright in a chair with his sword leaning against the armrest. He was in his full armor — which made sense since the sitting room was not as cool as the knight’s bedroom. The knight had been staring at Tom’s door, apparently waiting on Tom to wake up.

“Hello,” Tom said hesitantly.

“Demon,” Talarius stated. That was not good, Tom thought. He hadn’t used that mode of address for some time. “We have some questions for you.” He gestured to Ruiden beside him.

“Okay,” Tom said, moving to a chair of his size.

Talarius rotated his own chair to continue to face Tom. “First: what do you know of New Jersey?” the knight asked.

Tom did a double take, flabbergasted by the question. How would Talarius know about New Jersey? He slowly shook his head, trying to clear it. “It’s a state in a country called the United States of America, on a world called Earth,” he finally said cautiously.

“A state within a country?” Talarius asked.