Saints Of Satan Chapter Twelve

My entire body felt as though I’d suffered an eternity in hell. Bruises massed over my face, angry blotches emanating pain, sending waves of nausea through me.
I was alive, though. It counts for something.
Leaning heavily on a gnarled branch one of the locals had hastily fashioned into a cane, I stood before Walkar in his hall. The king sighed heavily.
“It seems you southerners a more tough then I had come to believe,” he began, a slim smile meeting his lips. “You have a strong force within you, to push yourself to such a limit in the name of survival-”
“Not, survival, oh mighty king. There is a force within me aye, but not mere instinct. The fuel that burns within me is much more powerful and dangerous,” I said, staring him hard in the eye.
He paused, eyes glazing over or a moment as he looked at me, but then continued.
“You passed the test, whatever fuels heart isn’t important, you displayed the courage, willpower and strength we determine our warriors from upon completion of the Hort Kal. We can now speak on level terms.”
Again he paused, seeming to be contemplating a thought. Walkar shook his head, and then stood up from his throne.
“You are clearly determined, to have travelled so far and endured our test, and for that, I commend you. However, what you ask of me is to break ancient lore set down by my forefathers in the sake of protecting the well fare of a clan that undoubtedly would see us off the face of the earth had it the will and the force.”
I felt my heart begin to pound in my chest, his tone of voice speaking the following words that were to come before he had opened his mouth.
“I am dearly sorry, brave warrior, but what you ask is simply not possible. You are welcome to stay whilst you recover, but once you are strong enough to leave I suggest you do, it would appear your lords need you more than-”
“No,” I growled, dropping the cane and forcing myself to stand tall. The king’s eyes seemed to twinkle for a moment, but I must have imagined it, for he put on a look of contempt.
“No?” he asked, his voice resounding throughout the hall.
“I have not come so far, witnessed so much, to see the only place I can call my home forever lost, simply as a single, insignificant king has decided that a law passed millennia ago is to be put in use at a time like this!” as I spoke my voice gained power, and I began to roar each word like a battle cry.
“You will help our cause!” I roared, marching forwards, ignoring the intense pain racking my body to the core, “I not to save your clan form destruction but to prevent an all out holocaust of the world’s population!” I sped forth, tackling him into his throne and grasping him by the scruff of his neck, “What say you!” I growled.
My eyes bore into his own, challenging him to say no.
But through the haze of rage blurring my mind, I felt a pang of puzzlement at the back of my mind. Again, I saw that small twinkle in his eye.
Walkar seized this moment, and grasped me roughly by the throat, plucking me off of him like a mere child. I gasped for air, as he stood tall and brought me inches from his face.
“It’s time!” he called past me, and behind us I heard the doors to the hall opening. After a moment the king released me suddenly, a fell in a heap by his feet. Before I could make a move, the cold touch of his war hammer on my cheek stayed me.
Three vampires in thick black hooded robes came into view, their faces cast in shadow. Walkar nodded to them, and two of them walked past me, both holding something that was just out of view.
The third, reached into his robes, and produced a crystal handled blade, it polished surface casting an assortment of colours within the expertly carved handle.
“A final test, John Woodchuck,” Walkar said, removing the weapon from my face and bending down to help me to my feet.
“There is an ancient prophecy,” he began, hauling me up, “predicted by the ancient ancestors of the members of eternal sorrow, long before even our human mothers were born, or their mothers before them. The members told us that one day, a vampire would come to us from, lands a far, asking our help,” he looked at me, and I gulped, beginning to pray that the prophecy would end without the ‘vampire’ dying in some brutal fashion.
We turned around, and before me stood a stone podium, unaffected by its probable ancient age. The two hooded vampires carefully placing a slim, blood red candle in a perfectly fitting insert of the podium.
“They said that he would lead the vampires of this world into a battle which cannot be won, but must still be fought. It is said, that such a vampire can be determined through the use of this blade, and this candle.” He took me to the podium, and we each looked down at the candle stood within its grasp.
“Aye, it is said that a single drop of his blood cast from the blade, will light the candle, and the vampire will be named.”
Walkar looked hard at me, as if deciding whether or not it could possibly be me. He took the blade from the third robed vampire, carefully gripping the handle and running his finger along the blades polished surface.
“Many have tried,” he murmured, mind still immersed in thought. Suddenly, he plucked my hand form my side, and ran the blade into my finger tip. I didn’t flinch, having expected it and still in pain from the Hort Kal.
Letting me go, he carefully held the blade over the candle, and let a single drop build at the blades tip.
The beady droplet built in size and wavered, threatening to fall. I held my breath, all of a sudden wondering if it could be me.
The drop fell. Time slowed down, and I could almost see it turning in the air as it fell.
It hit the wick, and nothing happened.
The king sighed beside me, and I cast my eyes aside, cursing myself for getting so caught up in the moment. I was about ready to begin thought of what to do now all hope was lost, when one of the vampires gasped.
I turned back, and to my amazement, the droplet began to, boil. Miniscule bubbles formed on its surface, and after a moment it had evaporated into a hazy red steam.
A flame leapt to life on the candle. My eyes widened in disbelief. For a moment time seemed to stand still, and Walkar and I stood still in turn, staring in absolute astonishment at the small flame flickering about the candles wick, the tiny light so innocent to bear the news waited upon for millennia.
“It’s...me?” I whispered, the words bringing no reality to the situation. I didn’t even attempt to run how much this changed things in my head, for my mind had become a numb mass, incapable of processing anything other than the fact the flame before me was burning.
“I don’t believe it,” murmured Walkar, slowly turning his enormous head from the candle to my face, then back again, as though trying to see the link. “So many, so many have tried, millennia have passed...”
As Walkar was lost in thought once more, of a different nature now however, the robed vampires suddenly fell to their knees, holding their hands in a claw over their chests in a sign of obvious respect.
Blinking out of his thoughts, Walkar too, went down to his knees, looking up at me no longer with astonishment but, awe.
I looked about me, the throne room suddenly seeming so insignificant, so small in the run of things, yet it had brought about an tremendously enormous change not only to life as I knew it, but had tipped the scales to breaking point in my quest for vengeance.
“It’s me,” I murmured, then said louder, announcing it to the world about me, “It is me! I am the chosen one!”
All of a sudden the world seemed to clear about me, the veil of despair brought about by the death of Maria, the downfall of the clan, was torn aside by this revelation.
“Hail,” said Walkar, bearing a huge smile on his face. He stood, facing me, and held out his hand. I clasped it, knowing that this had changed everything.
“We have kept faith in that prophecy almost since the dawn of vampire, the honour I take in seeing its fulfilment is beyond measure. You are an important vampire, oh John Woodchuck, your name will be remembered forever,” Walkar winked, and then turned to the door. Whistling loudly, he called the guards in from outside.
“Prepare a hearty feast! The prophecy is fulfilled!” he roared. The two guards looked immediately to me, and in unison fell to their knees, clasping a hand over their chests and murmuring ‘hail’.
I turned back to the candle, the slim flame dancing about the wick it was held to.
“It’s me,” I whispered, following Walkar as he led us out of the throne room.
♦ ♦ ♦

Silence. The vampire breathed in the cool night air, allowing it to fill his lungs. A perfectly clear black sky drew out before him, a full moon bearing down its full shine upon the world below.
“Perfect,” he whispered, casting his eyes down upon the valley below.
A mountainous forest coiled with mist smothered the horizon, its dark interior emanating fear and distress, its renowned being a signal of fear amidst every vampire that walked the Earth.
A whir of wind and a flurry of footsteps reached the vampires ears in an instant, and he continued to gaze into the forests depths as the vampire knelt beside him.
“My lord, Francis,” he said, bowing his head to avoid eye contact. “We are ready, is tonight...acceptable?”
Francis turned slowly, a slim smile playing on his lips. Darting his hand out, he grasped the vampire by the throat, leaning in close and forcing the vampire to look him in the eye. After a brief pause, he growled, “Do you fear the forest, Daniel?”
The vampire grinded his teeth in pain, debating his answer.
“Speak!” snapped Francis, squeezing tighter still.
“Yes!” croaked Daniel, upon saying so being released from his grasp.
“Of course you do,” said Francis, as Daniel spluttered on the ground, coughing fitfully. “Bring them forth,” commanded Francis, turning back to the forest.
Seconds later a fleet of forty vampires stood ready behind him, an assortment of weapons sheathed at their sides.
Sure footed and silent, Francis sped down the hill he was perched atop, bounding towards the forest of damnation with only evil intent.

Trees flew by in a whir of decaying bark and moss strewn branches. Francis took the fore, swiping aside underlying shrubbery with ease from his slim blade. The sound of the vampires raging through the forest stirred its silent interior, though Francis cared not. The guardians would not bother them, not that night, not with what they were about bring to the world.
The clearing came into view, and a moment later Francis stood at its centre, surrounded by his minions. Many had to stay within the depths of the vegetation, as the clearing could only hold around fifteen of them.
At its centre, a lone circle of unearthed soil two metres spanned sat untouched for what looked like a thousand lifetimes. Francis knelt beside this, and after a moment’s pause, began drawing out numerous symbols with his finger tip, chanting demonic words as he did so.
When finished, he stood up straight, staring directly into the night sky. Keeping his gaze locked upwards, he motioned for a vampire to come forth.
Daniel shuffled forth from the crowd, and as soon as he was within range of his grasp, Francis took him again by the throat, holding him above the circle with ease.
“We have only as the moon passes the clearing to speak with the masters’ ambassador, and I expect I need not ask for anything but utter silence as we do” Francis warned, then flinched and stopped abruptly as the moons edge crept into sight above.
In a flash Francis drew his knife and slit Daniels throat, allowing the blood to flow from the severed veins into the soil below.
No emotion crossing his face, Francis dropped his minion into the circle, where his corpse lay still.
For a long minute nothing happened, but the ground finally began to stir. The soil about the corpse began to bubble, spitting burning hot mud about the clearing, the vampires biting hard on their tongues so as not to call out in pain.
The corpse began to seizure, its limbs flailing about in the circle of mud, throwing even more of the hot mud about.
All of a sudden, the temperature dropped to freezing, and the corpse stood tall dead in the centre of the clearing and circle. The being sent a chill down the spines of every vampire there. All except one. Francis stepped forward but millimetres from the circles edge.
“Welcome, Master,”