Guardian Dragons (15 page)

Hissing gasses swirl through the
corridors as the evil vaporous creatures crawl around the tunnels.
No need of sweet fresh air, no need of hard ground to walk upon.
This cold ground is treacherous wet ice. No need of light: the
tunnels are pitched in blackness.

The Emperor patiently waits for the visit of his neighbour,
the vamplin Lord Fiendrac, whom he had summoned. Vamplins could not
enter the deathly tunnels of the monshaad tower. Instead, he would
meet them in the huge great hall that traditionally served as
a
reception hall, once
brightly lit with constant burning candles. In days gone by, when
the Magic Wall did not stand, these brightly lit ice towers lured
in travelers who would innocently look on in bewilderment at the
spectacle of the bright giant ice-tower. Once coaxed in by their
curiosity, they would hypnotically wander into the never ending and
constantly winding wet passageways where they would be captured by
the lingering dark shadows and devoured of every living thread.
When the Magic Wall appeared, the passers-by no longer passed by.
No longer do creatures or humans venture to the dark ice peaks of
Nilfe.

The Emperor made his way through
the ice corridors towards the great hall; he could hear the vamplin
Lord’s arrival. Noisily, they steered their huge white flying
bascas onto a large patch of flat soft snow. Their sheer size
nearly always guarantees a clumsy land and the smooth snow was soon
pushed up to create havoc upon the landscape. The red eyes of the
basca focused on the ground as they stretched out their long bony
brown legs in anticipation of the impact. Vast white wings slowly
bent backwards as these creatures ineptly concluded their flight.
Wide-open mouths reveal elongated yellowed fangs, used for piercing
skin to ready their kill for the suckling of that sweet desirable
pumping blood. Calling to each other with deafening shrills they
reveal black forked tongues. Raising huge bony bodies, they attempt
to walk on emaciated curved legs hindered with extended bone claws
at the ends of their three long boned toes. Claws used for
clutching at hardened ice, they grapple at the fluffy soft snow for
balance. Slowly folding back their wings to settle while waiting
for their Masters’ return, their round bulging eyes scan the skies
for any signs of danger.

Vamplin commanders landed, scattered in chaotic disorder,
leaving their creatures to rest while they followed their Lord, who
by now had dismounted. Lord Fiendrac was particularly fond of his
basca, having raised it from an egg hatchling. Large ferocious
vamplin hounds jumped from the backs of their rides and stood
guarding the flock of basca. Working as a close team, hounds and
bascas would guard each other. The vamplin Lord never risked the
danger of coming alone to visit the monshaad Emperor. This
hazardous journey could have a
perilous end. Although the entire group of monshaads totaled only
forty, should they attempt any underhand behaviour towards the
vamplin ruler, there was little the vamplins could do other than
seek a hasty retreat.

Chapter 22
Vamplins

T
he thick white skin
of the vamplin does not suffer the extreme cold of the icy peaks.
Standing tall and slender, their handsome features are human-like.
Living in constant darkness their cat-like eyes are a golden
yellow, with precision eyesight in the darkness. Their individual
strength could easily equal five human men, making them fine
warriors, both male and female. Traditionally their long white hair
is never to be cut; it is carefully braided into many plaits
entwined with plain braids for the male and colourful braids for
the females. Not a gentle race but nor a cruel one, they live in
harmony with their land. Having no magic skills, they accept with
caution the leadership of the monshaad Emperor, but not all support
his ambition to pass to the Light Lands.

Monshaad Lords floated above them,
whispering with an eerie silence. One vamplin commander, impatient
with their gloating, roared loudly at the dark skies. Baring his
teeth, he hissed at the annoying shadows to go away. Lord Fiendrac
patiently smiled at the young commander, he understood how
unnerving the monshaads can be. He followed a mir ice giant that
had come to accompany him to its Master, who now waited in the
great hall. Arriving at the ice tower the mir placed his long icy
fingers gently into a thin crevice, pulling on a giant block of ice
he opened up an entranceway in to the ice tower. Such entrances had
not been needed for a long time so had been filled in with blocks
of ice to keep the great hall in darkness. Standing in the open
doorway Lord Fiendrac allowed his eyes to adjust to the deep
darkness in front of him. He took a step backwards to reassure
himself that he was not alone. Confidently glancing at his
commanders who had positioned themselves behind him, he noticed
that the silvery fingers of Dayloon cast a sinister grey of
lightness to their features, they stared at him with an unsure
nerviness. A land always blanketed in a grey darkness was a comfort
to the creatures who could not bare bright light, yet the stark
blackness of this hall was disturbingly chilling.

The First Commander strolled over
to stand sturdily by his Lord. A fine warrior who would risk his
life for his Lord, that was his destiny, to protect the Leader of
the vamplins at all cost. The First Commander took a step in front
of his Lord and slowly entered the doorway, alone. Should there be
any foulness in this meeting, he hoped to flush it out before it
touched his Lord. Winds howled through drafty crevices. Obnoxious
green gasses swirled in clouds. He caught a glimpse of a monshaad
Lord floating above him. The gasses began to rise to the ceiling of
the hall, in a dark distant corner he could just make out a long
shape. Almost human looking, the shape floated a little above the
ground, as if clothed in a long hooded robe. An arm rose and
gestured him closer. He remained solid, unmoving and unstirred by
any fear. Still not risking his Lord to enter the hall, he raised
his shoulder and put up his hand to sign that all must stay back.
Approaching the robe shaped shadow, his lips curled back baring his
two sharp side fangs, a growl gurgled deep in his throat. This
commander knew no fear, a trained combatant, having battled many an
evil sea serpent attack; he would kill any that proved a threat to
his people.

There is no danger to your Lord
, a voice whispered in his head.

‘You are the danger, Emperor,’ the
commander snapped at the shadow. ‘How do we know we can trust
you?’

‘You do not!’ The voice loudly
echoed around the walls of the great hall.

The monshaads screeched piercingly
at the intruding vamplin who dared to stir their Emperor’s wrath.
Who was this minion of a vamplin to question their Emperor? They
would deal with him.

Putrid stinking gasses suffocated
the First Commander, but to no effect. Voices screamed deafeningly
in his head. This was of no consequence to him. His willpower was
infinite. These monshaads were no match for his strong
will.

‘What you put in my mind is but a silent voice,’ he mocked
them, unafraid. ‘You will have to do better than that, you
quivering gasbags.’ Turning angrily he marched back to his Lord,
convinced this was some trick to entice his Lord into danger. As he
put one foot in front of the other, his legs became as heavy as
lead weights. A dull ache spread throughout his body, as if his
every limb had
turned to
stone. He cried out a loud agonising war cry readying himself for
battle, but it only echoed in his mind. His voice was silent. His
body would not move. Slowly he was elevated from the ground. His
Lord ran into the hall yelling at the Emperor to put a stop to this
treacherous behaviour, watching horrified at the spectacle of his
First Commander spinning so fast that he became a blur. Blood
droplets flew out of the revolving haze, creating a bright red
shower spray.

‘You do not come to greet us as
allies,’ Lord Fiendrac shouted at the monshaads, not wanting to
offend the Emperor directly. ‘Instead you try to frighten us like
children. Enough of this or I will leave my commander to his
destiny and end this mockery by leaving our business
unfinished.’

The spinning abruptly ceased and
the commander fell with a loud thud to the floor. Other vamplin
commanders ran to his aid. He laid unconscious, droplets of blood
dripping from his eyes as if tears trickled down his horrified
features.

‘He will live,’ the Emperor spoke
at last, his low croaking voice seeming to fill the dank
hall.

‘You look for battles where they
do not exist,’ Lord Fiendrac said, cautiously approaching him. ‘I
enter only at your calling. I trust all is well Emperor
Morte-Bielz. We are, after all, on the same side when it comes to
the world of Aarabassa. I come to hear you out.’

‘Lord Fiendrac, I would but agree
on the side that you choose.’ The Emperor drifted towards the
vamplin Lord.

‘To what is the urgency of your
summons?’ Lord Fiendrac questioned.

After a short pause, a deep rasping
voice hissed through the essence of the dense atmosphere. ‘It
concerns me that your race is outgrowing its traditional food
supply,’ the Emperor replied. ‘I am told that the Dumla Beetlings
are not producing enough young to feed your ever swelling
population. Your females must be enticing beauties to be producing
such numbers, eh Lord Fiendrac?’

‘Aah, it is a conundrum I agree,’
the deep clear voice of the vamplin Lord replied. ‘One I am
aspiring to resolve.’

‘Yesss,’ the Emperor interrupted
abruptly. ‘This is the matter I wish to discuss.’

‘I cannot put a stop to the
breeding habits of the vamplins but yet I cannot tolerate this
dilemma.’ Lord Fiendrac became defensive of his position. ‘In some
parts of my lands, I am told that my people are drinking the blood
of their own hounds. If the strong must devour the weak then so be
it, during this time of our starvation’

‘I do not condone this deed of
cannibalism,’ the Emperor approved.

‘We do not see it as cannibalism
Emperor. The vamplin hounds are not vamplin people and I must look
to the future of my race and improve our lot’

‘Good,’ the Emperor sneered.
‘Good.

‘Why should you care if we feed or
not?’ Lord Fiendrac wondered. ‘I am a strong ruler and the ultimate
survival of my race is paramount in my priorities.’

‘I have another proposition Lord
Fiendrac, with regards to the survival of your race.’ The Emperor
now stood directly in front of the vamplin Lord, wavering in his
green hazy shape as if he were not really there, but just a
projection of an image. His eyes could not be seen, a shadowed hood
appeared to cover where he might have a face.

‘I am honoured to accept advice
from one so powerful, Emperor.’ The vamplin Lord did not want to
sound too keen in allowing the monshaads to assist them with their
present problem. He was however curious to what innovative idea the
Emperor held. ‘Yet it seems since the Magic Wall isolated your own
race to dwell only in the dark corners, there is little we or you
can do in expanding upon the world of Aarabassa where food might be
plentiful.’

‘I have seen the image of a new
human Changeling.’ The Emperor did not expect this mere vamplin to
understand his intricate plots and plans. ‘Her bloodline, if fused
with the vamplins, will allow the vamplins to exist on the Light
Side.’

‘How could this be? Anyway how
could we bring about such an event?’ Lord Fiendrac was puzzled and
intrigued at such an ambitious idea.

‘In your present status you cannot
enter the Light Lands,’ the Emperor began. ‘The hot sun will burn
your fair skin to black crumpled cinders. But, there is a way to
ensure that your race is no longer vulnerable to the sun’s hot
bright rays. Better still, you will desire to drink the blood of my
arch enemy, the humans, this would surely be an advantage. What say
you Lord?’

‘I say that if this were possible
then we would have already done this thing. Even the Emperor cannot
pass through the Wall, so how could a vamplin be expected to bite
the pumping veins of the Changeling?’ Laughing at such nonsense the
vamplin Lord felt sure the Emperor had gone mad.

‘Fiendrac,’ the Emperor quietly
cut him off sharply. ‘You forget your place. You have not yet
achieved leadership of half the world, as have I. Now you will
listen and you will learn, you foolish creature.’ Anger was not a
disposition the Emperor ever allowed of himself but as his plans
were coming ever close to fruition, he could not permit this minion
to be obstinate. If needs be, he would destroy this leader and
chose another to marshal his armies.

‘I mean no disrespect to the
Emperor of the Dark Lands,’ Lord Fiendrac did not wish to risk
another incident. ‘We vamplins are not murderous creatures. We
don’t even kill to feed.For centuries we have fed from the blood of
the Dumla Beetle and occasionally, when desperate we will eat the
Nomslugs for nourishment. Soon we go hunting for the blood of the
giant white bear. This will feed strength into our bloodline. How
could we seek to even capture the Changeling let alone pass through
the Magic Wall?’

‘We have much to discuss Lord Fiendrac,’ the Emperor began
to explain. ‘Retribution shall be your reward. You cannot presently
feed upon the sweet human syrup but if I entice the Changeling to
our wondrous lands, then you shall partake of her blood and it
shall mingle with yours, through your own ceremony of the feasting.
You shall see immediate changes to your advantage. Those who gain
of this enchanted human blood will then be capable of digesting all
human blood instead of weakened fluids of the simple Dumla Beetle.
They will hold elements of her magic lineage, though I cannot
predict how strong this will be. They will gain a tolerance
of
the sun’s heat so they can
enter the Light Lands as warriors and feed upon its
people.