Nightwidow - Prologue

Nightwidow

Prologue

The young mage made his way in the darkness up a rickety boardwalk that floated in the black water of the Great Marsh and was greeted by a chorus of frogs and toads. In one hand, he clutched a bag with something roughly round in it. He cursed the dampness of the region that permeated everything and pulled his cloak tighter about him. As dark shapes slithered in the water, his hand reflexively went to the spider shaped hilt of his sword. After not sensing a threat, he continued across the rotting, mossy planks.
The mage breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the desolate manor of Spirlok, Lord of the Nightflier guild and the most powerful Nosferati in the region. He took comfort in his prodigious power and knew this place would be a death sentence for an ordinary human who walked into a place filled with creatures that can move in the blink of an eye, pick up an ox with one hand, and rip a gaping hole in your neck with their lethal fangs, among other things. Up ahead pale yellow light shown through the windows and reflected on the onyx water of the marsh.
The young mage had been looking for this place for nearly a week. His break came when he was recently approached in the nearby town by a drunken man who invited him to party with some pale women that the swaying man had met earlier. The term ‘pale women’ got the mage’s attention. When the mage pressed for more information, the man thrust a piece of paper in his hands with some hastily written directions on it and left. The mage went to his room retrieved his sack and went where the directions said.
The mage approached the manor and saw no sign of the man he had met earlier. He took the iron circle in his hand and pounded three times. The door creaked open and he was greeted by a pale man dressed in an out-dated butler uniform.
“Another visitor, how wonderful,” the butler said with a sly grin. “Nita would be glad to take care of you; shall I introduce you?”
“I’m here to see Spirlok; he’s expecting me,” the mage lied.
The butler frowned and realized he wasn’t dealing with an ordinary weak willed human and as far as he was concerned any human who requested to see his lord was mad, suicidal, or more powerful than he thought a person should be, and in this case it was the later The raw power that the butler felt from this mage made the butler nervous, a feeling that was foreign and uncomfortable to him. Reluctantly, the pale butler nodded and stepped aside.
The mage entered the manor and surveyed his surroundings. The lavishly decorated interiors were dimly lit with smoky lanterns. Red couches with gold trim were occupied by barely dressed women, who were eagerly watching the goings of one couple.
On that couch, a pretty half-naked brunette caressed the drunk, who was a pudgy man in about his thirties, with his pants splayed wide open. The mage could feel power flare in the room and knew what was about to happen. Suddenly, the brunette’s head reared back showing dark stained fangs and the man’s eyes went wide with terror at this sight. Like a savage animal, she tore into his neck, biting and ripping. The man let out a heart wrenching scream of agony as blood poured down his chest and tried pitifully to fight her off, but her hands were like iron and held him with no effort. The other madly grinning women in the room flocked to the man and he was covered in female bodies as they began to drain him dry.
Images from the man’s mind came screaming into the mage’s mind, the man’s last thoughts were of his wife and his golden-haired child and what a fool he had been. Anger rose in the mage. He had been left alone as a child and wouldn’t allow it to happen to another. The mage made small movement with his hand and the man’s life force became locked in the here and now. For all intents and purposes, the man would be one the cusp of death but could not cross over.
“He thought she was a lady of the night, seems he was right.” The butler laughed, completely unaware of the magic the mage just did.
The mage ignored this and looked at the writhing man. “Keep it up and the church in Brent will come and burn this place to the ground.”
Lucius hissed and put a hand on the door to Spirlok’s chambers, preparing to open it. “You are lucky you are here under Spirlok’s invitation or I would kill you where you stand.”
The mage smiled and made a fist and then thrust his fingers out and Lucius was sent smashing through the door sending splinters in all directions. In the blink of eye, Lucius rolled to a stand in a furor. The female Nosferati scrambled away from the dying man and bared their bloody fangs at the mage. ‘Even magic has its limits’ the mage thought to himself.
In the room in front of the mage was a long table of more Nosferati and they too stood with fangs bared ready to tear the intruder apart but a voice suddenly stopped them.
“No,” said an ancient looking one with sagging grey skin and soulless eyes who was the only one sitting. The power that emanated from this human was more than he had felt in a long, long time and he was curious as to what this bold mage wanted.
“But Lord Spirlok, this human dares comes to our home and initiates violence against us!” Lucius roared in a fist clenched in rage. Behind the mage, the female Nosferati were gathering to pounce.
“Perhaps you will get your chance Lucius, but first I want to hear him out,” Spirlok said calmly.
Whispers of disbelief reverberated around the room.
“You have one minute and if you don’t impress me within that time, my kin will rip you apart, understand?” Spirlok said.
The mage nodded. He walked up the long curved table and addressed the group in front of him. “I want my wife made into one of you, but on one condition, I don’t want her pulled into your guild. She will be mine to look after.”
The group gave full throated laughs.
“Oh really,” one commented.
Spirlok raised a hand and silenced them. “We are very careful who and how we accept new members. Too many of us and we get too much attention, especially from rogue Nosferati. What do you offer us for such an unusual request?”
The mage pulled out a bag and set it one the table. One of the Nosferati opened and poured it out a king’s ransom in platinum coins on the table.
“Money? You think we need money?” Spirlok said as his voice began to rise with anger. He clenched a nearby metal goblet causing it crumple and spill what looked like blood on the dark stained table.
“Be creative,” the mage answered.
Spirlok stood, clearly incensed and his fangs were bared now.
The mage tossed the bag he carried on the table and a bloody head rolled out on the table. “He didn’t like my offer either.”
The group gawked and stared at the grey skinned head that had died with terror filled eyes.
“Cerik, guild leader of the Darkwings?” a Nosferati behind the table said with shock as the group nervously studied the head, not wanting to believe what they were seeing in front of them.
“Who are you that can take out an ancient?” another behind the table tried to demand but his fear showed through and the vehemence of his statement faded with each word.
The mage smiled. “He and his kindred are your enemy, right?”
Spirlok slowly nodded.
“If my money is no good how about I hunt each and every one of them down and bring you their heads as trophies? Will that get me what I want?”
“They are largest Nosferati guild in Arenia!” Lucius blurted.
“I know,” the mage said without a trace of concern.
“If you do as you claim, we will do as you ask,” Spirlok said with a grin. He hoped that either this mage would be killed in his foolish quest, but if he succeeded that would open up larger territories to rule and larger territories meant a larger guild and more power.
The mage turned around and left the room. He stopped in front of the man and the female Nosferati eyed him suspiciously as they sensed the mage was going to do something with their meal and they were right.
Lucius followed the mage and waved the women away. “Let him go, there are more fodder out there any way.”
The mage hoisted the man over his shoulder and left. Once outside, he put the nearly dead man on the walkway and drew magic from the spider-shaped hilt of the sword and then made a quick hand movement. White light bathed his hand and he touched the man’s gouged out neck. The muscle and blood vessels began to knit back together and finally skin wove over the wound and the puncture wounds on the man’s arms and legs closed. The mage then released the man’s life force.
The man bolted upright as he held his neck. He pulled his hand away but was shocked to see no blood. He then tried to scoot away in fear, not sure what was happening.
“Lucky for you, you have a child or else I would let you die in there,” the mage said coolly.
The man gave a puzzled expression, scrambled to his feet, buttoned his pants and ran down the walkway, occasionally glancing over his shoulder at the strange man who had just saved his life.
Nearly a year later, two egg white spheres appeared in the Nightflier’s hall. Out of one sphere, stepped the mage. The mage made a movement with his hand and the other sphere disappeared, spilling nearly fifty pale fanged heads.
Spirlok nodded and then smiled in approval. “You have met your part of the bargain; we will do as you ask.”