Finding Eve - Part 1 of 2

Author's Note:

For reviewers:

Please find the following:

-holes in the story line, or plot (do keep in mind, a convoluted concept isn't the same as missing plot)

-concepts that are TOO convoluted (a little is good, a lot is bad), or that don't have enough detail

-repetition

Part 1

Prologue

 

“I had a dream,” She paused to catch a shallow breath. “That you and I…were the only beings…of this earth.” She paused again, and gasped shallowly. “Beautiful.” She was slipping away. “Wouldn’t you like that?” She asked in a heavy, sleepy voice, forcing out the words one at a time. Her mind was starting to lose focus on the barely hour old newborn that was set on her chest.

“Yes, Love.” He fought to keep his voice steady.

“I’m afraid,”

           
“Don’t be afraid, I’m right here.”

“that this dream…can’t come true.”

His heart ached. He would give anything to have her dream come true at this very moment.
There was short pause before he said quickly, “I had a dream too. You and I, our son live in a little house by the sea, wouldn’t you like that?”

“Son?”

“He is two years old, and wants to help you with everything,” he said, rocking her slowly in his arms, gently brushing stray damp hair from her face. “We don’t need anything to survive. We have love.” His voice started to break, still gently rocking her; he cradled her in his arms.

“Cain.” Cain was to be the name of their first born.

“Yes, he has your eyes, your lips, and looks just like you, beautiful.”

She smiled. Then stopped breathing, her heart stopped beating, the warmth of her body started to leave. Her mortal body dies. A soft moan escaped his lips, then gentle sobs. Tender wails and tears flowed freely. He held her for long hours and knew nothing except hoping to preserve her warmth. As if doing so would bring life back to her body. He felt as if a world’s worth of despair were upon him, he could have died of a broken heart.

Angels wept that day. They knew that a wonderful love was now lost. Nothing more precious existed. The bond between the two souls severed and separated, one to life, and one to death. God was in the deepest of sorrow that day, even more so than the man. For it was he who wanted Eve for Adam.

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Part 1

Chapter 1

 
1347 A.D. Europe

 

“But Sire, you must do something, people are dying,” one of the advisors said, wringing his hands with concern.

“And what am I to do?” The King said, he tried his best to remain calm in the midst of all the upheaval. “Would you wish me to suffer the consequences of sending my men at arms to clean this up? They are already spread thin throughout the country, fighting an unnecessary war. Would you wish your king to contract the same disease,” he spat, his frustration building, “that these common folk have?”

“No, Sire, that is not the wish of this Council,” the Head Advisor pleaded, his voice almost screeched with urgency. “But you will no longer have a kingdom if you continue to allow people to DIE”, he said in desperation.

“Do NOT raise your voice to me!” The King thundered, shaking his audience, his calm, dissolved. “Do NOT forget who it is you speak to! I have realized the situation. I will not put people at risk to try and save those already dead,” he spat again. Taking time to choose his words and in a less harsh tone, his calm slowly solidifying, the frustration and fury still evident in his voice, he said “My Medicinal Advisor cannot find a cure.” Raising his hands, palms up he asked, “What am I to do, someone who does not have medicinal knowledge?” He paused, put his hands on the end of the grand ancient table and put his weight into his shoulders. The table groaned under his weight, the table top shifted. Hunched over, his head low between his shoulders, his eyes rested on the floor, he looked like a grounded commoner in handsome robes, not a noble king.

The room full of noble men, some with royal blood lines, sat quietly unknowing of the future, seemingly defeated.

“My Lord, may I speak?” the eldest in the group interrupted the silence gingerly.

“Yes,” The King said somberly.

“Might I suggest an order of separation from the diseased?”

“And how are we to do that?” The King responded gently, not raising his head.

Someone piped, “We could have one of the soldiers talk to someone who is diseased already. To spread the word and tell the commoners that this is for the greater good.”

“And if they refuse, decide to rebel?”

“They no longer have the ability to rebel. This disease is debilitating. If a separation is carried out, the diseased and dying will be dead in a week or so.”

“Is this true?” The King said, he raised his head to face the men around the table, his interest peaked.

“Yes.” A couple of them said, some wanting to believe it and hoping it true, anything was worth a try now.

Hope was crushed as the King came to a realization, “I don’t know if I can spare one solider. If he contracts this disease and brings it back to the castle, what of us?” ‘What of me?’ The King thought.

“He could be a foot solider, of no importance. A fool. Tell him that we will give him all necessary precautions. Give him something to wear over his face so he doesn’t…breathe in the disease. Have him wear your armor, as a novelty, and tell him by the grace of God, your armor will protect him. Then we could kill him after he has delivered the message, from afar with bow and arrow.”

“Send one of the maids,” Another roused.

“The common folk will not take her seriously. It has to be a solider, with written decree from The King,” another from the table said.

“I’ll go,” the eldest of the group interrupted, gingerly rising from the table, with simple pain, in the sudden silence. “We cannot spare one solider.” He steadied himself, physically and internally.  “I am but an old man, and will die soon. Many of the commoners know and trust me. They will listen. I will go. For the greater good,” he half mused, looking directly at the person who had said it earlier. The old man knew he was the only one in this room, that was of a full royal blood line and men in handsome clothing, that would volunteer himself to do such a thing. “I shall prepare. I,” his voice lifted, “will not need The King’s armor. Let him wear it for more noble occasions.” He stood up, slightly bowed to the King and walked out of the room. The rest of the men at the table sat, some with mouths agape, some in silent awe, sincere respect and reverence for this old man.

The King walked out as well. He wanted to catch up with the old man. “We cannot spare YOU.” He spoke in a stressed, loud whisper, “I cannot spare you.” He grabbed the older man’s arm.

“Edward, you must let me go. You and I both know I will not live long enough to see the end of this. My last few minutes on this earth, may yet be worth something.”

“I will not allow it. I order you to not leave the castle grounds,” The King pleaded, knowing full well it was futile.

“Punishable by a measure of the dungeon I’m sure,” he said, half amused, half appalled at The King, his old friend, for even considering such a scenario. The old man gently took The King’s hand off his own and let it down by The King’s side. He started walking away slowly, gingerly, not turning back he said strongly and firmly, as if from a father to a son, “I am going to prepare, Edward. If I don’t do this, I don’t know how long these walls will protect you.”

 

Chapter 2

 

The old man walked into the city, slowly. He knew this might very well be the last time he would be passing through this entrance. Funny, how imminent death made details so much more prominent. The old man noticed little nuances he hasn’t seen with his old eyes in years.

The King, after much more pleading, had his Medicinal Advisor give the old man a vial. This vial contained a poison that would kill him within two hours of taking it. In this way, when he was contaminated of the unknown disease he would die peacefully and quickly rather than dying a slow, painful, week long death.

As he passed some of the dead, he had to cover his mouth from the stink of decaying flesh. His slow, painful pace allowed him to intimately note death grimaces. Eerily, no other living soul was on the street.

Among the dead he found that a few had puncture wounds. Some right about the neck, others on their wrists. He found this odd. Rats often fed on small animals. It wasn’t unheard of that rats fed on dead humans, even humans who have fallen asleep for that matter. These puncture wounds were much too small in diameter and far too wide apart for them to be rat bites. It could have been birds, burrowing insects. But so uniformly apart on each individual?

Motivated by his original mission he moved on. He knocked on the City Building door and waited. He knocked again. He called out, “This is John. I have an order from The King.” This time he heard light, deliberate steps towards the door.

“How do I know you are John?” A hoarse whisper.

“Come to the window.”

“How do I know you don’t carry the disease?”

“I guess neither you nor I will know. In either case The King orders separation from the dead. Those who are not diseased must move to the country temporarily. Until we are certain that the streets are clear of this disease, no one should have to live amongst the dead.”

 

Chapter 3

 

He raised the bloodied knife for the third and last time, shoving it into the lifeless body. With every breath a dry heave, he knelt in the soft earth. His eyes slowly meandered over the body.

The monstrosity of what he had done hit him. His mind cleared. Time seemed to stand still. Birds made no sound, as if they knew. As if they were keeping his secret. As if they didn’t want to be the first to tell. He stared at the lifeless body before him. Dark curls fell over his eyes. One tear fell, two tears fell, a sob half muffled. His eyes blurred with more tears, a soft nasally howl of a sob escaped his lips, the results of his actions finally clear. His exhausted body collapsed over his dead brother, uncontrollably racked by painful sobs. He shook his brother, trying to wake him from his morbid sleep, tears streaming down his eyes. Moans of anguish followed by angry screams came from the pit of his stomach.

He lifted his eyes toward heaven. Dark clouds slowly moved toward him. Suddenly afraid of discovery he looked around, a scared animal. Where was he going to put this body? WHERE? His eyes searched. Bushes, tall grass. NO! His eyes searched more. He unsteadily stood up, his foggy mind finally realizing he wouldn’t be able to see far enough. WHERE! The sun was setting, he had to hurry. His eyes scanned the horizon. Left. Right. THERE! The cave! A soft, sad cry escaped his hollow lungs, it surprised him.

He had to move quickly. There was little time.

 
-----
 
Blood, there was so much blood. On his arms, chest, face and hair. Need to get it off. Water. Underneath the mountain. No one would see him. He ran quietly, still not thinking, still not aware. Somewhere a cat meowed lonesomely. He didn’t hear. His movements methodical, only one goal his limbs needed to achieve.

It was dark now. The water under the mountain would be hard to find. The spring. Find the spring. On a normal day this path would have been easy to follow, but today he stumbled passed boulders and fallen tree trunks that seemed to spring up in his way, as demons would, to torture a soul. Ages passed before he found the spring. Immediately he walked to the trickle of a waterfall and stood beneath it. At first he just stood there, his mind registering that he finally found his destination, but still didn’t grasp a goal. His head hung, not sure of what to do. A long, black snake with a white diamond on it’s head swam between his feet, silently hissing at him, almost as if to laugh at him. He watched the snake swim slowly away, then slither onto shore. Did the snake look back at him. Out of fear? Out of curiosity? To mock him? That was too much for him to fathom.

His heart sunk as he realized his step mother would be looking for him soon. Suddenly aware, his brain snapped to focus. His arms hurriedly moved to rid blood. Cleansing himself, he walked home.

 
-----
 
In the dark hut he sat. The firelight danced and flickered across his face. So focused on clearing his murky thoughts, he didn’t notice his step mom had walked in with vegetables from their garden, in a basket that she had weaved.

“Oh I do wish your father would come home and pick up the mess he left.” Already giving in to her womanly duties she picked up the rough leather sandals and cloak thrown aside earlier by her husband.

“Do you know where he is?”

Still immersed in his thoughts he didn’t move or answer.

“Do you know where he is?” Still nothing. “Cain.” She said more firmly.

Awaken from the depths he answered “Yes mother?”

“Do you know where he is?”

“I don’t know where Abel is,” he said shrinking from his step mother, already frightened she might know.

“Abel…,” she asked a little confused.

“I don’t know mother” He said.

“I want to know…”

“Mother, I don’t know”, he said abruptly. He stood up; bumping the chair he was sitting on, the chair made a scratching sound on the bare, hardened earth floor of their hut. “How am I supposed to know where Abel is? Am I his keeper? I have been in the new field all day.” Cain said firmly, defensively.

“Your father,” She said sternly, realizing he might cut her off again, staring into the excitement in his eyes.

“I don’t know mother,” he said and sat down again. Slumping forward he turned away from her.

‘What is wrong with my son?’ She asked herself. Before she could finish the thought her husband walked in.

“It’s cold already, where is my cloak?” Adam asked.

A’idah pursed her lips and silently pointed to the cloak she had just set down on a nearby chair.

Adam slipped his cloak on and walked to the fireplace.

A’idah handed Adam a wooden cup, full of fresh herbal tea.

“Where is my son Abel?” Adam asked.

Cain internally winced at the phrase ‘my son’. ‘Am I any LESS than your son? What does that make me? An outsider? An animal? Do I not have you, Father?’

“I don’t know,” Cain whispers.

“He should be back by now. The sun has been set.” A’idah said behind them.

“What is he doing so late by himself?” Adam asked.

“I don’t know” Cain whispers again.

“Could he be by the cliff, searching for lost flock gain? I told him they would come back on their own. Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know.”

-----

“Cain wake up! Abel is still not home!” Adam urged, rushing to find his staff, sandals and cloak already on.

Cain was not able to fall asleep, nightmares haunting and goading at him all night. With no reassurances of the nightmares ever leaving, Cain labored to find his sandals, trousers, and cloak.

“Cain hurry!” A’idah rushed him. She shoved his sandals in his face.

They walked for hours, Cain in the rear, knowing they would not find his brother’s body. The entrance to the cavern and it’s labyrinth that only Cain and Able had traversed, was blocked by old growth shrubbery that in itself was a labyrinth. The sun was just rising, the trees had long shadows. Cain kept side glancing towards the cave, paranoid that it might not be hidden from every angle. On the little trail ahead of him, his step mother was frantically screaming for her son, desperately needing him. His father, in a state of silent panic, was searching the horizon, not consciously seeing anything, wanting only to see his son alive. His step mother was crying now. Sobbing loudly, “Why are you doing this to your mother? Where are you?”

-----
“Cain, where is Abel?” a deep, silent whisper.

Cain sat up abruptly and looked around fearfully, his hair stood on end. He listened intently, cautiously. Nothing. No one. He lay back down. Closed his eyes. It was nothing. “Cain”, so silent a whisper he thought he was imagining the wind whispering it to him.

“Cain!” He sat up again. This was his dying brother’s voice. How can that be? Able was dead in the cave, his blood soaked into the ground, covered by dirt and branches. Frightened, he left his cloak and bolted back to the hut, suddenly afraid to be alone. He opened the door quickly, throwing himself inside.

His frightened eyes betrayed him. His step mother, though crying all morning, starts to worry about this son.

Her hoarse voice barely audible “What happened? Did you find him?” A sob cuts her off, her deepest fears consuming her, her face distorts as new tears formed a small river on her sun beaten face. Her heart aches for her child, needing only to know he was alive and well.

“No,” was all Cain said. His exhausted body mechanically moved towards his bed, near the fireplace. He lay down and realized, it was dark and cold in here, as if the hut missed Abel. It was cloudy this morning, as if the sky missed Abel. It seemed like everyone missed Abel, Cain the most.

He didn’t want to hurt his father or step mother and leastly his brother Abel. He just wanted to talk, just wanted to tell Abel how he felt, and what he was thinking. He wanted to know why God favored Abel over Cain, even though Cain was eldest, and worked hard in the multiple large fields to yield any produce. Abel just sat around while animals fed and propagated. The last wolf sighting was months ago, the sheep were in no danger. Was it because Abel had a mother, and Cain didn’t? His step mother favored Abel. That was only expected though. She never hurt Cain, but he never felt really loved by her. Why did Adam favor Abel? That hurt him the most, even more so than God favoring Abel. Adam was his father, his only full blood relative. Perhaps God didn’t favor hard work after all, that was the only difference between the two young men.

The knife. Just thinking about it sent shivers down his spine. How did it even come to his hands? He closed his eyes and recollected how this all came to be. Knife in both hands he stabbed Abel’s throat first, cutting into an artery, blood had sprayed everywhere, and Abel, poor Abel had tried screaming at his elder brother, Cain, that had helped him and defended him all these years. Cain had given up the Shepherd duties, because Cain knew Abel was much too small to labor in the fields. It was Cain's choice, as he was the eldest, to give his brother the lighter duties, it was so that he would never exhaust himself. Cain shook his head, tears burned in his eyes. The second stab was to his heart, the third and final blow severed the heart from the lungs. Cain shuddered.

‘Why did you do it? You love him.’ Cain thought, silently to himself, internally tearing himself apart. ‘Your only friend in the world, gone. The only one who truly cared for you. Why? You didn’t hate him.’ Cain sat up staring into the ever moving, undying fire and started to cry.
 

Chapter 4

Cain awoke from his dream, his heart leaden and heavy. He hurt like he always did when he dreamt of Abel and that cursed day. Ages, eras and generations have passed, but he still hurt. Every time the pain was just as fresh and raw as the day he slaughtered his brother. Abel was still the only one he truly cared for. There were others he loved, but none like Abel.

With the dream still fresh in his mind, and the emotions from the dream still so raw, he moved his arm from under the young seductress’ head that laid next to him. He needed to get up and move around even though it was only 6 pm, the sun had hardly set. He could never fall back asleep after such dreams. He needed to clear his head. Cain tried to think about Abel as little as possible. Every time thoughts slipped by its prison, these dreams would surface. It had only been two months since the last bout, more recent than typical.

Even the fondest of memories would bring on a torrent of nightmares, making him relive the murder. Most memories were of tender moments. When Cain was eight and Abel was seven, Abel slipped and slid 20 feet down a steep ditch of the cave they walked through, consequently it became the cave that Cain carried Abel’s body, lovingly on his back, to. He had scrapes and scratches covering his body. Abel didn’t cry, didn’t even whimper, trying to be a big boy like his brother. Cain carried Abel, lovingly on his back, all the way home reassuring him the ‘owies’ won’t hurt so much the next day. He told him there will be no scars because he was so brave, and it will all stop hurting soon.

Cain’s pain will never release its grasp. His memories were his scars. He learned many things in the years since Abel’s death. He learned how to place thoughts into other’s minds, use and place emotions at precise times, hypnosis. He even learned how to bend gravity and time. Unattainable was forgetting his brother’s murder and forgiving himself.

After God called Cain to find Abel, he tried suicide. His first attempt, of many, was to feel Abel’s pain. He slit his own throat and stabbed his heart once before he could take no more and collapsed in front of his brother’s body, life blood slowly draining away. Hours, days passed before he awoke from his deep slumber.

His first curse was immortality, his hell; he quickly learned that he would live while those he cared for died. He was forced to exist alone, again. Those who he turned into vampires died of age slowly or were killed.

The second curse was to wake to feel unbearable and uncontrollable hunger. He had to hurt or kill to feed, a continuance of murder, as slight as it was. The second curse, was it a symptom of the first? After centuries it still remained a mystery to him. Though his body was weak, his movements were solid. He ate everything he could find, but was still unsatisfied. This insatiable hunger controlled him for days. It made him an animal, made him lose control of his mind, logic and reason. Primal instinct took over. He tore open the throat of a passing rabbit, sucking blood from its veins, goring himself. Horrified by what he did he tried to cleanse himself another time. The blood washed off. The hunger kept coming back.
 

Chapter 5 - Revelations

He went by many names; Menes, Huang-di, Leonidas, Alexander, Judas. His ruthless warrior status caused another name to be generated, to different people in their different tongues. The meaning was always the same. Devil.

How did he come by so many names and not be differentiated from the people he ruled? He had the hearts of men. When there was a powerful leader who took care of things, what does hair or skin color or height difference matter? History is flawed. Literate historians, he found, wrote what they wanted, often lies. He was too light skin to be an Egyptian Pharaoh, too dark skinned to be two Grecian Kings, too tall to be a Chinese Emperor. Judas. He blended well with Judas. Cain. That timeless name created who he was, and what he had become. That was his name when he was twice cursed.

Still restless, he walked out to the balcony of his mountain side cabin to clear his head and get some fresh air. He looked down towards the city. Even though he was high above the houses, he was able to clearly see the path that this century's disease carved out. Many of the dead were left on the streets, humans were too afraid of collecting them for this disease was contracted easily. The path of the killings was no where to be seen, secretly intertwined with the path of disease. No one knew of this unless they possessed this knowledge. On his balcony that night, he had been within earshot when one of the killings took place. He heard a muffled scream, then a scream that stopped abruptly. At first he wasn’t sure if it was a scream of passion, but curiosity got the best of him.

There was a small house about a mile east of his mountain side cabin. A lit candle was set by the window, probably the sign of a lonely housewife, signifying she was ready for her lover. He had perfected his eyesight through the centuries, but on a clear night like tonight mortals might be able to see the light in this darkness.

Moments after the scream, Cain walked up to a candle less window. He had floated, at lightning speed from his high set cabin. Sure enough there was a woman in bed. Something was out of place, there was a faint hint of blood in the air, as if only a few drops had been misplaced. There was a soft shuffling to his left. Alerted he crouched and slowly moved away from the small light provided by the candle on the other wall. Then there was a shuffling to his right. There were at least two of them.

The creature to his right was moving slowly closer. He pretended not to hear and turned slightly away from it, hoping to catch it off guard. Anticipating the pounce Cain slowly, quietly unleashed blackened daggers, made for night attacks. He felt the creature take flight towards him, she made no noise, but the air around him moved ever so gently. He caught the female humanoid creature mid air by the arm as they tumbled to the ground. Straddling her, he jabbed the dagger into her throat. The female kept clawing at him. She wasn’t dying. Realizing this was no ordinary human; he rammed the other dagger into her heart, and twisted it. She stopped wriggling. He lifted up off of her, stood up, and swung around just before the other creature could jump on him, and caught him by the neck, again feeling him move through the air.

“What do you want?” he asked menacingly.

The creature was silent for a moment, eyes wild, head cocked to the side, as if his feral vampire brain was straining to find an answer. “Blood”, it whispered a low, nocturnal, hoarse, drawn out, animal like voice. Cain broke its neck. With the spinal cord severed from the brain there was no way this vampire would live again.

‘So there are others like me here. No, not like me. They kill for sport. I feed out of necessity. These were young, recently turned vampires, that lacked control over their hunger. What were they doing out here, stalking and killing an innocent? Surely this woman knew nothing of vampires. She could be of no threat to them.’

‘Neither of these vampires are my creations. How is this possible?’ A thought was crawling at the edge of his mind. These vampires did not carry his blood therefore they could not be his creations. Creating a vampire was complex. The mortal’s blood type had to be exact, as did the timing of both the moon and the mortal's death. Too early and you have something feral and uncontrollable, too late and there is no resurrecting the dead mortal. To compound the complexity, he was the only one he knew of who could create vampires. It dawned on him. There was another creator. He wasn’t the original. How have they hidden from him all these years? Perhaps God cursed another who killed their kin. He wasn’t completely alone after all. That revelation came to him like thundering clouds. A different creator was using or letting feral vampires out to kill innocents.

Cain knew what he had to do. He had to get to the city, warn someone.
 
------

The old man found a low tree branch by the river right outside the city gates, to rest his aching and aged body. He thought this would be a good place to die. He contemplated whether or not he should consume the poison in the vile. After all no one would know but him. He didn’t feel the ailments of the plague, yet.

If he did consume the contents of the vile, Christians would consider it suicide wouldn’t they? All suicides go to hell. Knowingly walking into an arrow could debatably be suicide as well. On the other hand Christians praised martyrdom, probably so they wouldn’t have to sacrifice themselves. They also murdered their opposition even though one of their commandments read “Thou shall not murder”. From God himself, and yet they kill. What did they know? Christian morals had been so ingrained in him; he didn’t want to find out if suicides go to hell, not today, not tomorrow.

‘Ah, such is life’. The old man thought. ‘There is the other alternative. Just wait for my ‘natural’ death.’ Three years ago he started getting sick, weeks at a time. He started coughing up blood. After he finally got over these sicknesses he never regained his full strength. Mystery spots on his skin were believed to be a rare disease. A specialist told him they didn’t know a cause, there was no cure, and he had less than 5 years left. In the last few months he weakened more. He felt in his bones his death was near. ‘Ah,’ he sighed ‘what does it matter in the end anyways? Everyone dies, no one escapes death. None of those poor people lying on those streets did and neither will I.’

Peculiar though, how some had puncture wounds. What animal could do that? It wasn’t rats, he knew. A civil servant to the very end, he wanted to find out what it could be, to prevent it from happening again. He looked towards the city, ‘Onwards death.’ Bravely and courageously he walked toward the city.

He didn’t have to go too far. Not three steps into the city he found two corpses with puncture wounds. On one of them the wounds were about the neck. On the other there were wounds on its wrist. No longer fearing death and without fabric over his skin he touched the wounds. They looked deep. Certainly a wound that could kill. Where was the blood that would come gushing out from the wounds? Very peculiar indeed. Was it possible there was a murderer in town? He wasn’t afraid for his own sake, but for The King’s welfare. After all someone had to rule, this king was as fair as any. What kind of murderer would only choose wrists and necks? What kind of weapon would he have to use? Would he kill so many? Was there more than one murderer?

Why, would they do such at thing? This was the most pressing question. All these deaths would be covered up by the plague. They certainly would have no recognition and accounting for these deaths. Maybe that was the objective. He looked closer at the two victims. One was Annabell, barely 15. The other Jonathan in his late 40s. He also remembered seeing Joseph, a farmer who didn’t live in town and an old friend from many cities away. These people had nothing in common. Even if they did, what could Annabell have done to warrant such a death? No, it wasn’t random murders either, someone did this intentionally. The King had to be warned.
             
------
 
Not ten feet outside the city gate, just after dusk, three vampires were feeding at the neck and wrists of a still writhing human. Cain knew this was an opportunity to get more information. He knew he had to injure at least two of them before he could get information and kill the third. Under the cover of hedges that lined the walk and entrance up to the city gate, he stealthily ran up behind them.

He took out two companion short swords. Holding them downwards he rose up, and rushed towards the trio of vampires. Before the facing vampire could react, he jammed both swords into the skulls of the two vampires. The third vampire swiftly tackled him and knocked both of them to the ground. This vampire was strong, he should have been more careful in choosing which ones to injure. He clawed and bit at Cain a couple times. Cain punched, elbowed and kneed the vampire before he could stun it enough to wrestle it underneath him. After struggling for a couple moments Cain saw that one of the other vampires was slowly getting up. He knew he had to act now. Cain swooped down and bit the vampire hard on the neck. The vampire was stunned and its neck weakened Cain twisted and separated its head from its body.

Cain got up off of the now dead vampire. The vampire that was rushing him, made contact and nearly knocked him over. Cain stumbled backwards but stayed on his feet, the vampire that rushed him careened to the ground. Cain swiftly tackled him, and held him to the ground. He grabbed the short sword still stuck in the vampires head and yanked on it hard enough to dislodge it. The vampire howled. The short sword re-entered the vampire’s body from chin to the top of his skull. She laid still, dead.

He walked over to the last, still writhing vampire, obviously the weakest of the three. Sitting on the vampire, pinning down its arms, he forced it to look directly at him. With his hands firmly holding onto the head he asked calmly and coldly, “Why are you here?”

The vampire’s response was a vicious snarl.

“Why are you HERE?” Cain asked again, forcibly shaking it's head. Cain's eyes flashed a yellow green, to match that of the vampire under him. “Tell me and I will kill you quickly.” A vicious scream was the response. He tore out the short sword from its skull. Another scream. He took one of its hands and cut off a finger. “Hurts like hell, doesn’t it?” He cut off another finger, then another followed by louder and more horrible screams.

“The mistress needs us!”

“Why?”

“To kill humans,” the vampire’s voice already weakening.

“Why?” After waiting a few moments with no response he cut off another finger, followed by a howl of pain.

“To destroy human kind.”

“When!” A few moments passed. Another finger was cut off.

“In two nights!” Cain decided he found out everything he needed to know. He took the short sword and rammed it into the vampire’s chest. One final screech was heard. With a hard twist to the vampire’s neck, it lay dead.

A weak guttural moan of pain came from the vampires’ victim. Cain looked over at the old man and felt pity. The blood was still flowing from his neck. That brought on the memory of his brother. He got off the dead vampire and walked over to him.

“Old man,” Cain said, “my name is Sir James Audley. You have come by this at no fault of your own. You will live,” Cain knew this, because of the smell of this man’s blood, luckily the moon was also in place. With those words Cain gave the old man some of his blood.

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“Sire … Sir John Chandos is outside the gate. He has brought with him a man, I don’t recognize him.” the foot solider said, obviosly nervous.

“John is here? Take me to him.” King Edward walked briskly as he followed the guard through the courtyard and out the front gate. John stood with his companion, midway on the long bridge, over the deep moat, away from the castle. King Edward and the guard stopped at the opened bridge gate.

“King Edward, I present Sir John Chandos.” The guard said.

“And I present Sir James Audley. He is not from around these parts and has a most interesting talent. He also saved me from an attack of the oddest kind. Sire you WILL have interest in this matter.”

“John, how is it that you are still alive? We sent you out two days ago. You look …healthy. How is this so, my old friend?”

“That is of little importance right now. We have pressing matters you must hear. The castle will be under attack shortly.”

“Under attack? How is it you came by this information?”

“Sire we must speak in closed quarters. Other ears may be listening.” Sir James Audley finally spoke, his voice calm, and it held authority. The King could have sworn he saw a flash of yellow in Sir James Audley's eyes, but it was so quick, that it could have just been a reflection from the firelight from a torch. It slightly frightened him, but he was also curious to this new man, as his eyes also demanded authority. He felt immediatly confident that Sir James Audley was his superior, though his clothing may not have indicated it so.

“But the plague, you do not carry it?”

“I assure you my friend, neither of us do or ever will,” Sir John Chandos said.

“I take your word my oldest friend. Come, you must be hungry.”
 
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The sun had just set, there would be no rest for The King and his men. The news of the impending attack was spread quickly, all of his men were at arms, and ready to brace themselves against the attack, head on. The archers were on the castle wall, bridges, every window and balcony, away from the gate, as to continue an onslaught of arrows, safely away from direct contact. Most of the other men stood nervously close to the castle, some were sharpening their spears, swords and axes, even if it wasn't necessary, it was to distract thoughts of the oncoming nightmare. There was a small group of men that stood closer to the gate, there was little anxiety amongst these men, for they were the most experienced. They knew of battle, and the consequences of not overcoming the enemy, there were still thoughts that edged at their minds with worry of not living through this night.

“Arrows! At my command!” The King yelled to his men, all archers stood ready and faced him. “Light the first volley, and shoot anything that moves!”, all archers lit their arrow tips with fire. The fire eerily glowed blue green. In a slightly softer voice, “In the head men, in the head.”

He turned towards the braver of the men, he said, “Knights of the Garter, you gained this great privilege to enter the circle of the most Noble Order. You have been presented this honor to show the glory of men. It is time for the greatness of humanity to persevere. Do not fail man this day. Do not fail me this day. You will be in the front lines. What ever does not suffer arrows, will suffer under you spears, axes and swords. The castle is our strong hold. You will not let them pass.”

He moved in front of all his men and spoke louder so all could hear. “We know the enemy’s strength is inhuman. We will test that strength tonight as we also know their weakness. Your arrow shafts have poison, and the tips will be lit with fire. We must weaken them so that spears and swords can kill them. My friends, and neighbors, brothers and sisters, tonight we fight a battle of epic proportions. We must win. We must not let humanity fall today. ARE YOU READY?” The small army answered confidently. War chants came from all possible crevices of the castle, from every ledge, window, balcony and bridge. “LET THEM COME!” The King fell into line with the Knights of the Garter. As if on cue, the first vampire jumped over the stone wall, he was followed by many.

The battle lasted from sun down to sun up. Vampires were constantly trying to put out torches and fires so humans would not be able to see. Their efforts were futile. All around the castle there were pockets of flammable liquid. When a fire lit arrow hit one of those pockets it set the liquid ablaze for hours.

Hoards upon hoards of vampires continued to attack the castle. The small army of men, women and children were barely able to keep them at bay. The fast acting poison on the arrows weakened the vampires just enough so Knights were able to kill them, which ever fashion deemed necessary. The most effective way to kill the weakened vampires was to slice through their necks, to sever the spinal cord from the brain. The heart was difficult to find in the chaos. Occasionally there was a human scream in the chorus of snarls and screeching of vampires.

In the midst of the battle Cain saw the vampire leader. The heartless mistress lay in a cushioned daybed. From afar he could tell she was beautiful, and knew why she could control such an army. Her long raven hair fell around her heavy royal purple gown.

In the aftermath The Knights suffered few losses, but vampire bodies lay strewn about. Even now they knew another battle must still be fought, a battle where the vampire numbers had to be decreased substantially. The Knights of the Garter, as weary as they were, knew they must seek out the vampire lair during daylight when the vampires were at their weakest.

The men did not know where to look. Unknown to others, Sir James Audley had special talents. He could smell the lingering scent of vampires that would stick on trees, grass, and if the air didn’t move, in the air as well. It wouldn’t be hard right after a battle with the wounded leaving blood scented trails. He asked The King to let him lead the search team. He sniffed out the lair before midday.

Far from the cave and still in the coverage of trees the small troupe grouped together. Silently, “There is much danger in that cave. Be alert, be ready. We have not seen the complete strength of this brood. Their leader is stronger and faster than what we have already faced. No matter what happens, stick together. You will be harder targets. For all of man.” Sir James Audley led the 18 men into the tunnels.

They killed a few unfocused guards going into the cave. Tunnels forked a couple of times, but Sir James Audley seemed to always know where he was going. An hour into the cave they came upon a cavity the size of a grand cathedral.

The Knights’ actions were already planned. They would kill as many as they could in the first sweep. The knights each stood over a single vampire, only two of the Knights held out two swords, each over a different vampire. All knights faced Sir James Audley. When his sword came down across the neck of the vampire he was slaying the other knights did the same. Blood curdling screams broke as best they could and awoke the other vampires. The vampire leader awoke from the far end of the cavity, behind one of the wall hangings that covered a hole in the wall where she rested. With inhuman speed she spread her arms out and cut off the heads of two knights with her elongated razor sharp fingernails. It seemed she too had learned how to bend time. She made her exit, killing only two more knights on her way out. All the knights were busy with other vampires so they could not catch her. In the end, only eight knights were left standing.

“The leader. She is not here. We must find her.” They left the cave room and poured into the tunnels. Hours they searched, they could not find her.
 
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Read Part 2
 
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