laneys.info Beware of Yankees, drunks, and loose women.

Sceva quickly checked the position of the sun as he finished tying the rope around the coffin.  He still had direct sun, though it was late afternoon, so he knew there was still time.  He climbed out of the grave and tied the other end of the rope to his horse’s saddle, then helped pull the coffin up to ground level and into a patch of sunlight.  Moving quickly, he grabbed his shovel and pried the lid off the coffin.

As the sunlight streamed in and did its work, Sceva stood back and watched.  He had never seen a vampire up close, and he had to admit that he was fascinated.  The creature had the appearance of a young woman, though he knew that she could easily be hundreds of years old, her features frozen in time by the change in her mortality.  He watched as her face grimaced in pain and her hair began to singe.  She struggled to get up, to run from the unrelenting heat of the sun’s rays, but her strength failed her and she collapsed back into her coffin.  She lay very still now, no longer moving or making any noise.

Sceva found that he could not take his eyes off of her.  She was extremely attractive and he found himself drawn to her.  He began to feel sorry for her, wanting to end her pain and soothe her wounds.  However, the moment was broken by the sudden combustion of the vampire’s body.  As the flames rose, he shook himself free of the spell.  Yes, he thought, she was attractive – too attractive.  How many young men had fallen into the trap of her youthful appearance and seductive wiles?  How often did evil make itself appealing, so that the consequences could lie hidden beneath the beautiful veneer?  He shook his head, pondering the hundreds of people that were trapped in service to the Dark One, regretting their decision but having no way out.

As the flames died down, he approached the smoldering coffin.  All that was left of the vampire was some ash heaped in the bottom of the wooden box.  He dumped it over and scattered the ashes – better to be safe than sorry.  He coiled up his rope, put it and the shovel away, then mounted up and began his ride back to Braxton.

As the sun sank, he looked forward to a soft bed and a good meal.  He emerged from the tree line and looked up as the first stars began appearing, thinking about home and how soon he might see Trista and Vicana again, when a low, guttural cry pierced the twilight.  It rose into a howling shriek without ever breaking, then it trailed off leaving an eerie silence behind.  Even the crickets had stopped.  Sceva wheeled his horse to face the forest again and drew his sword.  He didn’t know what had made the sound, but he knew it wasn’t human.  He listened for movement within the trees, watched for something to move, smelled for a scent on the breeze, but found nothing.  He was still sitting there, deciding what to do, when a sudden blur of motion erupted from the trees and knocked him from his horse.  By some miracle, he neither lost his sword nor landed upon it, but instead landed heavily upon his back.  He began to pick himself up, turning, searching for his assailant in the fading light, when he was struck from behind.  The blow sent him again to the ground, but he only remained there a moment before he was lifted into the air by powerful arms.  He turned bodily, suspended in midair, until he came to face a man of about 40 years old.  Looking down on him from above, Sceva’s gaze first fell to his feet and rose to meet his face.  He bore the shoes, clothing, and accessories of a noble, though Sceva soon noticed that they were all in considerable need of repair.  He finally looked into the face of the man, only to find that he was staring into two fiery, red, glowing orbs instead of eyes.  The man’s face, full of rage, regarded him with loathing.

“You!  Do you have any idea what you’ve done?  You little worm!”

Before Sceva could say anything, the man threw him back toward the forest.  The power of the throw was amazing, carrying him almost 60 feet before he landed.  More amazing, the man was back on top of him, lifting him back into the air, as soon as he landed.  This time, the throw took his breath away.  He slammed into a tree, leading with his left arm.  The pain brought stars to his eyes and he thought he would black out as he dropped to the ground.  The whole left side of his body was throbbing, and his left arm wouldn’t move.  His vision started coming back in time to see the red, glowing eyes emerge out of the darkness as his foe walked slowly up to him.

“Six hundred years have I walked this earth.  I’ve seen things you’ve only heard about in tavern songs and bards’ tales.  Then, after centuries of searching, I found the one woman who would be my wife for the ages.”

He stood over Sceva now, looking down on him as he crawled to his knees.  Sceva could see his fangs as he talked, and he realized that this was an ancient and powerful vampire, turned almost from before history itself.

“But her youthful indiscretion brought too much attention,” he continued, “and I couldn’t stop her in time to avoid being seen last night.  Now, she is gone, destroyed by a maggot of a human!”

Sceva reached out and grasped the hilt of his sword where it had fallen.  The vampire smiled.

“Good.  You’ve still some fight left in you.  It would be a shame for you to die too soon.  But I promise you, you will beg me for death before I grant it to you.”

Sceva struggled to his feet, his left arm dangling uselessly and his left leg screaming with pain.  He straightened himself as best he could.

“I serve the Lady Elminoir,” he panted, forcing each word through teeth clenched in pain.  “Though you kill me, my fate is already better than yours.”

The vampire chuckled, then laughed out loud.  “You’re a fool.  I have a much better plan for you than a simple death.  Tell me, fool, what will your beloved lady think of you after you become a vampire?  Will she still take your soul when you die then?”

As the vampire laughed again, relishing the irony of his plan, Sceva felt a warmth descend from his shoulders into his arms and legs.  His strength returned and his limbs forgot their impotence as the warmth spread to fill his entire body with a power he had never known before.  As he watched, his sword began to radiate with a green aura, and he knew the moment as if it happened in slow motion.  He stood up straight, raising his sword with both hands.  The blade’s green light grew bright, casting the vampire’s shadow onto the grass as the creature covered his eyes in surprise against the sudden brightness.  Sceva swung with all his might and watched as his sword sliced through the vampire’s neck.  It left a smoking trail behind it as if it had just emerged from the forge.  Once through the other side, the glow quickly faded, with no evidence of the blessing visible by the time the vampire’s head hit the ground.

Sceva stared at the body in disbelief as it collapsed on top of the severed head, spouting its foul, black ichor.  He looked down at his left hand, clenching and unclenching it.  The pain was gone.

“She wishes you to know that She prefers the current way you live and serve, and would like you to do it a while longer,” his champion said.  “You still have much to accomplish.”