Everliving Kings (the Heroes of Darkness Saga) (2 page)

             
The monk shook his head like a headmaster at Sunday school, “Your promise has nothing whatsoever to do with me, it is your covenant with the almighty God. If you break your word it is you who must answer for your sin.”

             
The Vampire smiled at him again, “You see Tuck, that is your power. You are a very dangerous man indeed, but you will need to be careful who finds out about your power. It has been ages since I have seen someone as powerful as you, a mage priest, in fact it is possible men like you live only once or twice in a millennium.”

             
Now it was the priests turn to smile, “But my Lady Anya, the Bible tells us the world is only four thousand years old.”

             
“Tuck! I am almost four thousand years old, and my father is many times older than that! He told me tales of the age when there were many races of men on this world and humans were by far the youngest. Your bible leaves all of that out so don’t go around using it as a history lesson! Now I give you my word I will not attack anyone else today if you will just let me stretch my legs.”

             
The priest agreed, mumbled a few prayers and made the sign of the cross at her before asking, “Did that work?”

             
The girl felt her legs relax and she sighed in contentment. “Yes, thank you, now if you don’t mind, kindly open the door for me.”

             
The priest felt himself moving towards the door and pulling back the heavy iron bolt, then swinging the door back on its hinge with a squeak.

             
Friar James felt as if he were sleep-walking and not completely in control of his own body as he watched the Vampire, pick up the remains of her meal with one hand and drag it out of the cell. She dropped the body at the monk’s feet before turning back, walking into her cell and closing the door behind herself. “Thank you Friar Tuck.” She said with a smile.

             
The priest shook his head and then slammed the bolt back into place before taking a full step backwards. “How…What did…You be-witched me! I don’t know why I let you out; it must have been you in control of me! But… but…you didn’t try to escape, why?”

             
Anya shrugged in response, “Well I gave you my word I would not attack anyone else today, and if I tried to leave I know I would have had to break that promise, so…I am still here. I just didn’t want that thing in here with me.” She said pointing down at the corpse at the priest’s feet. “Actually you would probably be safer in here with me than out there with that.” She said crossing her arms in front of her chest with another shrug.

             
The monk’s eyes went wide with horror as he turned to look at the lifeless body at his feet. His mind raced in a panic and all he could think to do was to scream for the guards. After his fourth round of shouting, the clank of armored men lumbering down stone steps filled the dungeon.

             
“Get ye back devil!” one fellow shouted as he pointed his drawn broadsword at the girl, who unimpressed, ignored him.

             
“Are you hurt Brother James?” asked another.

             
“No! The body! Quickly lads, we must dispose of it before it becomes a Risen. You must cut off the head and then burn the whole thing, hurry!” he shouted in a panic.

             
The girl watched the whole thing with her arms still neatly folded and a wry smile on her lips. “Well done Brother Tuck.” She said after the armored men had rushed away. “Why I had no idea you were so well versed in the disposal of the Risen. Now just for an observer I will say the men were perhaps a bit slow to react at first, but now they will be ready when it comes to the real thing eh?”

             
The Friar could not hide the look of shock on his face, “Do you mean to say I just defiled that poor fellow’s body for no reason?”

             
Anya laughed at the monk’s moral dilemma, “Oh I would not say it was all for naught, I now know just what you would do to me if given the chance.”

             
“But my Lady you said that man was going to become a Vampire!”

             
Anya shook her head saying, “I said nothing of the kind. Dead bodies rot and smell awful; would you want to be locked up with a rotting corpse?”

             
The priest mumbled and made the sign of the cross. “May the good Lord forgive me for my sin! My Lady please tell me truly if that man would have changed to a Risen or not!”

             
Anya shrugged once more, “Who can say. Perhaps you should ask your almighty God, he is all knowing is he not?”

             
The holy man turned red faced, “My lady this is not funny! I may have just condemned an innocent man to purgatory at the cost of my own soul, so please don’t mock me. I ask; nay I beg of you, please tell me what you may know of this!”

             
Anya took a deep breath and sighed, “Ah well, if it is so important to you then… no, he would not have changed. But since I am the prisoner here I will have you know that none of this is funny to me. Do you have any idea what happened to me the last time my dear father tried to cure me? No? Well he tried to starve the Vampire out of me! Oh this is a different country and a different century, and even a new batch of fools to believe his lies, but the results will be the same. I will be made to suffer until I escape and return the favor! You know nothing of my hell priest. I live it every day as I have for thousands of years!”

             
A look of pain and pity crossed the holy man’s chubby face that made her stop in her tracks and take a deep breath.

             
“Let me just explain to you what this curse really is before you ask me to pray with you again. Each day when I rise I am racked with an almost indescribable pain. Try to picture if you can, being stabbed by thousands of tiny daggers all at once covering every inch of your body. This pain grows worse by the second as if the daggers are being heated in a forge. This will go on and on intensifying until you find the one thing in the world that can ease the maddening pain; blood. Nothing else can cure you or make the hurting stop. The longer I wait to feed the hunger, the more will be needed to slake the thirst. It is like a drug, an instant herbal liquid cure that frees you from pain, sadness and hunger. It gives you a high of ecstasy in every cell of your body that no human experience can come even close to matching. Every sense is heightened, every nerve more alive than when I actually was alive! Smell, taste, and touch all beyond anything you can imagine!

I can hear your breathing like a howling wind through a canyon and I can taste your sweat from here. I can pick out and count the individual hear
tbeats of every man, woman, child and beast in this castle, and I see shades of heat like dancing rainbows that shimmer around every living thing. All of this joy, all of this overwhelming beauty, only to be snatched away each day and replaced by unbearable agony. Then when I sleep, if you can call it that, there is no rest. Each night I re-live my death in heightened detail with no way to escape it. Each night I am reminded of the pain of my uncle’s attack, tearing at my throat like a thousand bee stings at once, only to awake in pain and hunger once more. This is what I suffer each day, each moment. This is what I have dealt with tearing at my mind and body, this struggle with madness Brother Tuck. Given such an existence over millions of days, would you not also question the effectiveness of praying for help?”

             
Brother James stared at the girl with no words or prayers of comfort for so shocking a tale. His mind raced to comprehend the tragedy and suffering this once innocent young girl had endured over a time period he could not even begin to fathom.

             
“My lady,” he said at last, passed tear filled eyes. “I shall meditate and pray for you that the almighty Lord will send you a cure for this affliction.”

             
As he turned away to make peace with his thoughts, Anya grabbed the cuff of his robe.

             
“Tuck.” She said with no hint of a mocking tone in her voice. “Thank you.” And she smiled her fang filled smile at him. No sarcasm or snide remark intended just an honest genuine smile. “Just one more thing before you go, could you tell me at least where I am?”

             
The monk returned her smile in kind saying “The Kings road castle in Nottinghamshire my lady.”

             
Anya nodded in thanks and watched the priest disappear up the stone steps in search of God.

             
“Nottinghamshire.” She thought to herself, “How quaint.”

2

Nottinghamshire England

1191 A.D.

Severa
l hours after the Vampire named Anya had drunk her fill on a pallbearer, she heard the rumble of wooden wagon wheels roll into the keep’s courtyard.

The lone occupant of the carriage made his way
passed the armor clanking salute of the castle guards and into the main entrance of the keep’s great hall. The fine cut of his embroidered garments and the quality of his high leather boots, gave away his station to any that may see him.

“Welcome home
milord.” A shriveled woman in a plain dress trilled with a bow as he entered the hall.

“Thank you Jingrid my blossom! It is good to be home!
” he said as he kissed the old woman’s hand with a flourish. “I need you to get the kitchen staff to working, I am simply famished.”

The woman gave him a slight curtsy and said, “I know
you’re Grace, that is why I have kept them cooking all day. Go and sit yourself at the table and I will have your meal brought to you at once milord Sheriff.”

The nobleman’s face lit up with a smile,
                        “That my dear is why you are my favorite person in the world, you never disappoint me. Speaking of disappointing where is Sir Guy? I have a little task for him.”

The house matron pointed back towards the main entrance doors as a young blonde haired n
obleman rushed into the great hall.

“Ah! My
Lord High Sheriff!” he said with a hasty bow. “We thought you would be returning on the morrow!”

The Sheriff looked to the house matron with a smile as he watched her roll her eyes in disgust. “Yes, well I left
early; most of the King Regent’s court will stay just where they dropped for at least another full day or so.”

Not quite understanding the joke Sir Guy asked, “So the King Regent is well then?”

The Sheriff shook his head in astonishment, “Drunk Gisbon, Prince John and his many friends are drunk. So if inebriated is your idea of well then yes, the Regent is quite well. I however prefer to remember where I went to sleep and with whom. If Prince John keeps spending the crown on whores and golden chamber pots then the country will be bankrupt in five years, less than that if he keeps drinking and feasting the way he has been, all the while crying poverty that his brother the King has spent all of his money on the crusade. Guy I have never before seen so much food in all of my life. There was enough there to feed thirty villages for the winter with a feast day every Friday and twice again on Sunday.” He said as he threw up his hands in disgust.

“Ah well enough of Londontowne
, I trust all has been well enough here? Yes? Good because I need you to go around and collect the new taxes.”

“Taxes my
Lord?” Sir Guy repeated with a frown. “What taxes?”

The Sheriff continued his end of the convers
ation over his shoulder as he made his way to the dining table. “Prince John intends to raise the taxes to pay for the raising of a new army to aid his brother the King in defense of Jerusalem. Saladin has been laying siege to the city for months now and unless help arrives soon the Moors will once again take the holy city.”

Sir Guy frowned in confusion once more, “But I thought that was why the King went on the crusade in the first place, because the Muslims had taken J
erusalem?”

The Sheriff raised his eyebrows in surprise, “Correct you are Sir Guy,
and the King did free it from the Moors grasp, but now the whole thing may be lost. So the King needs men, the Prince needs money, and you are the lucky man who gets to go collect it for them.”

Gisbon looked down at his feet, “Ah
, yes, well…ah…”

“Well what? Spit it out man!” the Sheriff d
emanded.

“We have guests
you’re Grace.” Sir Guy said in an unconvincing tone.

“Guests? What guests Guy?”

“Well….there is Sir Robert of Huntington, a fat Friar, six or seven guardsmen…depending, and a prisoner.” He answered as he checked them off with his fingers.