As Far As You Know
Teasers
Blood of the Ages
At last, their lives had come to an end. The Boyar unsealed the coffins that his people had built for themselves, and taking each by the top of their head, kissed them and gently pushed them inside. “Bring forth all the vessels that are left over,” he said.
The remaining villagers brought out all of the livestock, all of their children, and what remained of their grain, which they had been eating since our arrival to save the animals for us. Looking around, they gazed on the snow, the mountains above them and the forest below. This was all that these people had ever known, and all that they ever would.
“There must be some way we can go with you Boyar,” they said. “Who will serve you, who will be your subjects from this time on?” They sent many of their men, one after another, to make the walk up the hill to the Boyar’s house and beg us for their families to be spared. But each were sent back down to wait with the rest.
Then Achadremenos appeared to us and said, “You must leave this place now. Your collective vision will guide you. The door to the top of my world is open.”
So we directed the people to sit in tight circles around each of the coffins, and to take turns feeding the one inside. They entrusted themselves to their Boyar and his wisdom to guide them. Families sacrificed themselves so that one member could continue on, in an altered, undead form. For long hours, they wept as they submitted themselves to a cold, draining death in the snow.
We all sensed our master’s pleasure. “This sacrifice is greater than your first, but it is not great enough to free you from me.” We looked around for the source of the inhuman voice, but only heard a low rumbling noise from the ground.
"No, it is not great enough," said Irving, whose face had lost all semblance of humanity. His swollen skin was deeply red from all the vitae he had consumed this night.
So the Nosferatu fledglings kept feeding themselves with the lives of their brethren until finally, only the undead were left. The low rumbling noise had grown to a noticeable tremor in the earth.
From the forest, a dark shadow seemed to grow across the land. The Voivode’s army had returned, stinging with defeat at the claws of the Warlocks and their demonic servants. The Voivode and his remaining generals brought their host to a halt at the foot of the village and dismounted.
Leaving their followers, the Voivode and his direct servants walked through the devastated settlement toward us. Near the top of the hill they found the fresh graves and the exposed coffins of Irving’s childer.
“You are no longer welcome in the lands of the Voivodate, leper.” There was the hint of uncertainty in the Tzimisce’s voice. “ Take your fellow thieves and depart from here forever.” Often I have wondered if he already knew what was to happen.
Irving smiled. Stepping forward, he said “These lands are no longer yours, Protasius. This is the beginning of a new age. You and yours have no home anymore.”
The hillside erupted all around the Voivode as a hundred coffin lids flew open and their occupants, gorged on the blood of their families, fell on his group.
The Voivode Protasius smashed and tore his way free from the ambush. His generals were not so fortunate. As Protasius ran back toward his troops, a roar rose up from them, and they began so surge forward.
The generals collapsed under the Nosferatus’ assault, drained to the brink of final death. I rushed forward with the tapestry as Irving commanded his fledglings back to their coffins. As I had been instructed, I unfolded the cloth and held it out facing the generals. Immediately, an enormous taloned hand of black flesh reached forth from the tapestry and grappled the fallen Tzimisce. One by one, they shrieked their last as their essences were absorbed.
As the army approached, a grotesque form began to grow out of the tapestry. This thing only vaguely resembled a man, and its flesh rippled and flowed as if held together only by sheer will. It turned its warped head back toward us, and I retreated in disgust and shock as I recognized the features of that awful face.
The terrible figure turned toward the howling horde that charged forward, and stretched out its hands. The howls became cries of terror as the ground rose into the sky and the stars shone in the gulf below us.
As the Voivode’s army floundered and sought some way to either fight or escape, the dark figure strode over them, under them, through and among them, slaying and devouring all. As the first disjointed glimmers of an approaching dawn shone from many directions at once, the slaughter continued. At last, I groped about until I could feel the ground somewhere near me and bury myself in its protection.
As I sought to empty my mind and let the cold sleep overtake me, I heard his voice echoing somewhere in the farthest reaches of my consciousness. “No, this is not the end. Great suffering draws me forth for a time, but my soul remains trapped with you. We must go on, and the way becomes harder and harder. Someday, you will rule a new Byzantium in my name.”
I know not how many nights passed before I awoke.
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