Watching Over You

The silence of the chamber was broken only by the hissing and crackling of the log fire burning in the hearth. Several lit sconces provided the only illumination against the early evening darkness.

The old man slowly crossed the stone floor towards the window overlooking the square. His movements were stiff, his body ravaged by the passage of time. The graceful energy that had once drawn the attention of many a beautiful woman was now hidden by the by the effects of arthritis in his joints.

Looking out on to the square, he watched the villagers as they went about their daily routine. They had been working in the fields today, preparing to gather in the harvest, ready to store it for use over the winter months. Their minds oblivious to the danger that lurked in the dark forest that surrounded the village on three sides.

He had watched over the village for nearly a century, protected them from the evil undead that waited in the forest, kept them so safe that many of them had forgotten the hidden dangers. The stories of vampires had become legends to be told around the fires in the evening. No one currently alive had seen one other than himself. There were those that even questioned whether they needed his protection. Soon they would find out what it was like to be without his protection, without any protection against the undead.

His time here was drawing to an end, he knew that. Normally, a warrior would prepare his successor to continue the fight against the undead, to pass on the power of the ancients so that the new warrior would be prepared, but not this time. The villagers had become almost hostile to him, not believing in the unseen danger, questionning why he was there, why they paid a tribute to him to retain his services. Their attitude had made him question why he should seek a successor, why he should pass on the power of the ancients to watch over a people who believed they no longer needed watching.

A knock sounded at the door, breaking into his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. He watched as his squire entered the chamber, seeing the anxious look on his face and knowing what troubled the young man.

"My lord, I was wondering when you would be initiating your successor. I shall need to prepare the chamber and the new warrior for the ceremony of the transfer of the powers of the ancients." The young squire stood uncertainly in front of the old man. His family had served as squires since before the village had even been founded. They had served countless warriors, prepared new ones to continue the fight against the undead, buried those as their fight came to an end. He had never known a warrior to be so near to the end without having named his successor. "Denali?"

Denali sighed and slowly made his way back to his bed, his hand tightly gripping his staff to keep him on his feet. "There will be no successor. The villagers believe that the danger is no more, Josef."

Josef's eyes widened in alarm. "But Denali, if there is to be no successor, they will return and who will protect them without you?"

"According to them, they need no protection. No one has seen an undead creature for years." Denali sank down onto the soft mattress, a groan escaping from his lips as the bed supported his tired, aching body.

"Only because you have kept them from us. Denali, we need you or a successor to continue the protection. We cannot fight the undead without some help." Josef went to stand by Denali, wringing his hands in anxiety. He had heard the stories of the undead, how they tortured their victims before draining their blood. Some were allowed to die, others became deranged creatures always in need of fresh blood to keep them alive, killing without thought or mercy.

"They no longer believe, Josef. Without that belief I cannot keep them safe. It is time for them to stand alone. Hopefully another warrior will come to their aid but he will not be my successor." Denali closed his eyes, a deep weariness seeping throughout his body. He could feel the pain in his joints slowly fading into the background and he knew that his time for release from this long life was imminent.

Josef looked down at the warrior he had served since he had been a small boy. He saw the colour slowly fading from his skin, the deep grooves of pain slowly easing and he knew that he was dying. He bit his lip as his conscious struggled to deal with the dilemma before him. Whilst he could understand Denali's reasons for not wanting a successor, he could not allow the powers to be lost in the fight against the undead.

The slow, rasping sounds coming from Denali's lips as he slipped into deeper unconsciousness decided it for Josef. He could not allow there to be no successor. Even if a new warrior had not been picked by Denali, there would be one somewhere. All he had to do was the powers and hope that the new recipient was not too far away to prevent the village from being wiped out by the undead.

Placing one hand on Denali's frail chest and the other on the medallion around his neck he began to recite the ancient chant that would release the powers. He saw Denali tense as though he wanted to fight what Josef doing but he was too weak to stop it. The medallion began to glow as the powers were drawn into it during the chanting.

"Forgive me," Josef whispered as he finished the chant. Denali uttered one last wheezing gasp before death finally claimed him. The medallion glowed brightly before a blue flash filled the chamber, blinding Josef temporarilty with its intensity. As the light faded, Josef looked out through the window, blinking as his sight slowly returned. Someone, somewhere would receive those powers and hopefully would come to the village to continue to watch over its occupants and keep them safe.

Hopefully it would not be too late ...