The Shahcian Crystal (WIP)

The Shahcian Crystal [Title Under Revision]


Who am I speaking these words to? Why do I feel the need to do so, especially now? I do not know the answer to either of these questions, but perhaps answers will be sought in time. And perhaps not. But what I do know is that I suddenly feel I must tell of these particular events, a time in which Humanity was nearly snuffed out. Doom seemed inevitable, yet a few brave souls somehow managed to save the world.

I was young back then, but not as foolish as most who appeared my age. My muddled heritage made me appear very much younger than I actually was. Looking no more than twenty mortal years, I was centuries old. Some would chalk up my maturity to the fact that I was an ancient woman living in the body of one so young, and while that may have indeed been the case, it was only a small portion of it.

I had lived my entire life as an outcast, a half-breed of the worst kind, hated by each of my family lines. A half-elf. Humans and men always saw themselves above all other races, hunting and demeaning them, bending them to their inhuman whims, and I'm certain it will forever be that way. The same pride can be said for the elves, those most majestic of creatures who saw me as a tarnish upon their good name, though they were by no means nearly as cruel as Men. Outcast by elves, and hunted by men: oh what a wonderful life I have led.

I had recently been captured by a small contingent of bounty hunters - there was a price on my head for my various thieving - and had been sent to work in a shady pub on the outskirts of a town known as Hilar. They kept me tight in chains and forced me to work as a waitress of sorts, up until I broke a wealthy patron's nose for his indecent proposals. Now I was kept on stage, forced to sing melodic tunes of a language that has long since perished. Not the Elven language, of course, for they still thrived in their secret forest homes, and I had never been permitted to learn my native tongue.

I was not dismayed at having to sing night after night, however, for I saw it as my chance at freedom. Another part of me - the vampiric part, as I have previously not mentioned - gave me a power of the voice, a hypnotic power of suggestion. Any night I was expecting to urge someone to let me free. But as it turned out, that was not at all necessary.

Like anyone else who was even remotely alive at the time, I had heard of the Shahcian Crystal. Anybody who hadn't must have been living under a rock in the Miyran Bog. The crystal was the source of power for our world, for all of the magic that exists and has existed since the creation of all things. Forever, it has been lost, no more than a myth, a legend. But we all knew it existed, just as we believed a kind of God existed. Never had we seen it, but we believed so blindly with our undying faith that it was there.

And all at once, the news spread like wildfire that it had been found, by a group of power-hungry men, no less. The ringleader of these was a very powerful man already, a dark mage by the name of Lord Viscar. He had earned his rightful reputation as a cruel man, one who must have been a vampire in his own right in a former life.

He found pleasure in the torture of his subjects, especially beautiful women, usually the wives and daughters of the wealthy. He had a fascination with blood that rivaled my own. It was said that he consumed it, bathed in it, and claimed that he absorbed the individual power and magic of the victim who had "sacrificed" his or herself to him. He even went so far as to take a single drop from each of these victims and used magic to wield it together into a powerful amulet, his own form of the Shahcian Crystal.

Now, the true crystal was made in much the same way, but without the destruction of many people to form it. As each race was created, their blood joined together to form a ruby-like jewel. Since each person and living being holds within him magic, and the crystal is made of their life's blood, the crystal was the anchor of all of the magic and each life in the world. If the crystal were ever to be destroyed, likewise would our realm of life and everybody, everything within it. Magic was the basis of our existence.

However, that is enough background information.

As I said previously, my escape from the Pub was assisted by all of this. A small group of men, regulars who seemed constantly to sit on the low wooden stools, drowning in a halo of thick smoke, were discussing the matter. As I listened with one very intent pointed ear, they began to argue in their drunken stupor. Each longed for the crystal more than the next. And soon these lifelong friends were literally at each other’s throats, a fury that was soon released upon the other patrons of the bar, and the owner himself. Obviously, this distraction served perfectly to conceal my escape. With a sharp tug on the chain that bolted my wrists and throat to the stage floor, the steel snapped and I ran.

Only one man noticed my escape, a bounty hunter who had stopped in town to pick up the promised money for a thief not so very different from myself. The thought of killing him flitted through my mind, but I knew that if I did so, I would have that many more people trying to find me. He was well respected by the law-abiding - and money-lusting - citizens of the continent, though people of my social standing despised him beyond all else. To us, he was the equivalent of Death, complete with his own version of the nasty scythe in his broadsword - Bounties were easier to collect when they weren't struggling and trying to escape every step of the way.

It was that feared item which he drew free then, as he caught up with me in the entrance area to the tavern. Usually I would be able to outrun a mere human man if I pushed my own limit, but due to the lack of food - and prey - my speed was slowed to that of a mortal woman who had about as much experience in the art of combat as most men had with sewing and cleaning. Feeling the hand upon my arm, I started and spun about fiercely, catching his gaze. His deep gray eyes seemed nearly as soulless as my own violet ones were fabled to be in old superstitious legend, but there was a flame of triumph beneath. Truly, he saw me as nothing more than that which I appeared to be - a lonesome thief of a woman who had been caught and sentenced. Upon my escape, the price for my capture was again up for grabs. As he looked me over, shaking his head in a minute movement, he believed he had already earned a thousand pieces of gold.

Oh, the stupidity, the naïveté, of mortal men.

"Well, you shall make me a rich man if you continue on the way you are..."

Whether it was the fact that my strength hadn't dulled as much as I had thought, or the adrenaline that pumped ferociously through my veins, I don't know. But even as he pulled a length of rope from its place at his left hip to bind my wrists, I lashed out with my own left hand, sending a sharp blow to his right temple. He stood glaringly at me for a moment, seemingly confused, surprised or both, and obviously stunned. I, for one, was afraid that I had done nothing but make him ever more angry. But after a moment which passed as slowly as the hours in Purgatory, he slumped to the side, losing grip on his broadsword, and collapsed into a heap against the wooden wall by the door.

I didn't even think to pick up the weapon as it clattered before me.

I ran.

Soon I was outside, in the cool night, marveling that I could see each breath as a puff of smoke before me; I had been in this part of the land only a short while before being captured, and then the nights were warm. My already cool skin was growing colder, but the frigid night air felt good after near a month of entrapment inside.

Being what I was, I had always held a power within that was not betrayed by my outward appearance. I looked all of twenty at the very most, with long black hair and sharp, piercing violet eyes. I was slender, with the body of a noblewoman who knew appearances were everything. My complexion was an intense pallor of ghostly white, and nearly translucent - the major veins at such places as my wrists and inner elbow were prominent and easy to find, though not so much so that people cringed away from the sight and marked me a Vampire from that fact alone. Many men, rather, had indeed been charmed by my outward appearance, and many a nobleman had tried to have me as their mistress. Forcibly. My pale flesh and slender build gave the false impression that I was but a fragile flower of a woman. Those men suffered slow, purposeful deaths.

And yes, usually concealed beneath full lips, I had the elongated canines that proved my vampiric history.

But now I felt weak, and very much exposed - a feeling that had nothing to do with the dangerously slitted white "dress" I was wearing. And I use the word dress very loosely. Being trapped in the pub, chained to the floor every night, kept in a wolf's cage in the cellar during the day, I had not been permitted to feed. I suppose that was a smart thing on the behalf of my captors, for the lack of blood - not to mention real food - kept me weak. But being out in the open again, I could think of nothing else but my next dripping throat and warm meal. My stomach had begun to cramp horrendously during the day, and I knew I had little over a week before my inner demon took over and attacked the first man I saw at the pub, surely resulting in my own execution.

Looking around with a well-trained gaze, I happened to spot a man up ahead, a traveling merchant packing up his wagon to leave for the next village or town he happened upon. He would not be missed. Running silently, I was all at once upon him, clamping a strong hand over his mouth before he had a chance to realize what was happening. Lowering my mouth to his throat, I tore into his flesh ravenously, spilling much of his precious fluid. He struggled against me, but his own life's blood lent his strength to me and I was able to keep him subdued long enough to drink my fill. A light pang of guilt gnawed at me as he slumped to the dirt road, lifeless, as I finished with him. Over the years, my bloodlust had waxed and waned, and now I was closer to the latter in my love of killing. Indeed, I longed for nothing more than to finally live among people, to be accepted. But I was hungry, and when I am starved as I was then, I cared little for the life of one man.

However, it was almost too quickly that I was finished with him, but I began picking through his wagon and supplies for clothing. Finding a deep red lady's tunic and long black skirt, I quickly stripped down and changed. The pair were not exactly my first choice of clothing - they would be exceedingly difficult to fight or run in - but I figured not much would happen that night, and grabbed his coin pouch before venturing off to find an inn on the opposite side of town. Dawn was fast approaching, and while I did know the sun bothered me, I didn't know what would happen if I were to openly stand within its rays. And I was not willing to linger long enough to find out.

Fixing my untamed locks of raven black so that they hid the ears that betrayed who I was, I stepped inside the inn, flashing a small smile to the elderly man in the main room. I could easily have killed him and taken a room up the wooden stairs of my own accord, but as I previously said, my bloodlust was then in a more recessive period. And besides, he had a kind smile. Pulling a few coins from the leather pouch I had stolen moments before, I smiled at him, nodding lightly as I slid the coins onto his wooden countertop, and made my way upstairs.

It was a very cheap inn, not only in costs but in appearances as well. Yet after spending my long days in a steel cage, the small room was a heaven on earth. There was a single bed pushed against one wooden wall, the mattress crudely stuffed with straw and thrown atop the wooden frame. Pieces of this straw were strewn about the room, seemingly kindling just waiting to be set alight. A single window resided in the western wall, something that worried me for a few moments. I had been hoping none would be present. However, I have always been resourceful, had to be in fact, and pulled free the long black skirt that hung loosely around to drape my slender legs. The tunic I had taken was long enough to be worn to bed in private, but not enough to be a modest lady and wander about town.

Luckily, it was the former purpose that needed to be fulfilled just then. Draping the skirt over the window, the pale moonlight that had filtered into the room was blotted out, and for the first time I can remember I allowed myself to relax, perched on the edge of the straw mattress. There was but a modest blanket for me to huddle beneath against the cold, and that I did before allowing my body to succumb to the pleasures of such luxury and melt into the bed.

Now, vampires are somewhat susceptible to the cold. We dislike it, and for the weaker among us, it slows us incredibly. Yet, due to my long life, majority of which was spent outdoors, I had become accustomed to it in a sense. But even that fact did not prevent me from seeking the warmth that the thin wool blanket had to offer. Any warmth now was a welcome blessing upon my icy body.

Before I could even begin to plot out my course of action for the next night, I was in a deep sleep. Any who happened upon me would mistake me for the dead, with my heartbeat so light that only a fellow vampire, or perhaps a well-trained shamaness or mage, would be able to detect it. Contrary to popular belief, incidentally, my heart does beat. However, it is somewhat sporadic and very much slower than that of any mortal. Due to this, my blood pressure is also very light, almost undetectable. So it was the second of my lucks that night that nobody happened upon my room.

***

The next evening, I woke with a start to the feeling of the sun in my eyes. I was very aware of the legend that surrounded my being, and half expected to burst into smoke and flame at any moment, setting alight the straw and wood about me in the process. Jerking my head back, however, I noticed that only a faint glow of light emanated around the perimeter of the cotton and tweed skirt and I was not lying in its open rays. Letting out a light sigh of relief, I sat up, leaning my back against the sturdy wood behind me, and waited for the sun to finish setting to the safety of another world.

When the rays were dim enough that I knew would be of no harm to me, I got to my feet and strode across the small, rectangular room to retrieve the skirt and replace it upon my lower body. It was only then that I sat on the floor, legs crossed beneath the billowing fabric, and allowed myself to think. What was it I was to do then? Move on, obviously, away from the town. But to where and what purpose?

Again, contradictory to popular belief, vampires do in a sense have a life. Not all of us feed, murder, have various seductive encounters, sleep the day away in coffins, just to do it all again the next evening. Personally, I lived much the same way any half-elf outcast would. I do steal - for it is the only form of food and income that I can have, and I do need to eat 'real' food as well – as well as hide from the general populous and bounty hunters. Not to mention vampire hunters...

But what would I do now? Word of my escape had gotten out; I could even then hear a few villagers discussing it in the market streets below my window. But soon, my main objective was clear. With the Shahcian Crystal in the hands of Lord Viscar, I knew humanity in its entirety would be doomed. However, I also believed I had time to stop it from happening. A vampire who dreams of saving the very people who shunned and demeaned her. Kind of poetic, don't you think? And no, I was not in it for the glory, nor did I have sordid dreams of controlling the world and having my revenge with everyone. Not all vampires are evil, you know.

From what I'd heard the previous night, as well as from the experience I'd had with various big game hunters - so to speak - I knew that the Dark Mage himself would not be among the group sent to retrieve the crystal. He enjoyed torture and such, that much is true, but he didn't like to 'get his hands dirty', if that makes any sense. What I mean is, what he did for his own maniacal pleasure was one thing, but journeying beyond his vast manor, across the landscape of the world was quite another. I had also determined that because of the importance of their burden, they would take the most direct route to their leader, who I knew from past experience resided somewhere in the northern mountains.

A journey which would still take quite some time, seeing as the crystal had been found at the bottom of a sea in the southwestern territory only the day before. If I worked quickly enough, I figured I would be able to head them off somewhere in the Western forest in a few days. About this time, I got to my feet and began pacing the room, not minding the coolness of the wood beneath my bare feet this time.

I was hesitant to follow that course of action, however, for various reasons. First was the matter of the forest itself. Again from experience, I knew that there were far worse things than vampires residing there, things and people whom I was not eager to meet with again. Secondly, and possibly much more importantly, was the small army of Lord Viscar's men. It was common knowledge that they were very well trained. On the best of days - nights, I should say - I would be wary of squaring off against them. But this particular treasure they would be protecting with all of their being, for the wrath of their leader would be worse than any death I could promise. As well as their strength was their sheer numbers, for an army of villagers, providing that there were enough of them, could take down even the very best warrior. And for a journey such as this, the majority of His followers would be out on duty.

I realized then that I could not do this alone.

Sighing again, this time in resignation, I fell back onto the bed and stared blankly up at the wooden ceiling for many minutes, still lost within the maze of my own mind. Of course, to anybody reading this legacy of mine, it would be painfully obvious just to head straight for the Manor itself and steal the crystal out from under the very noses of those who desire it so, as it would be very lightly protected and therefore the wiser choice. However, wisdom often begets stupidity. While it may seem quite an invitation, I had already dispelled it from my mind; I do not, above all else, want to square off against Lord Viscar, especially not alone.

Which leads me again to my previous problem.

I was going to need help. And that problem was not quite as easy to solve as many might think. I had had friends throughout the ages, of course - yes, even one such as I can encounter 'kindred souls'. There are always a select few who can see past my differences and dissimilarities, and even fewer who are just like me in one sense or the other (however, on a side note I must add that I have not yet met another half-elf vampire). But this was not one of those times. At that particular time of my life I was completely and utterly alone, quite literally with nothing but the clothes on my back and a stolen pouch of meager copper coins. Not only did I not have friends, acquaintances or confidants, I had serious trust issues.

It was then, as if on cue, that a loud bang emanated from the room adjacent to my own. Heavy footsteps sounded and the door, which had been thrust open hard enough to cause the noise that had pulled me out of thought, was slammed shut. Somebody had entered, and it made me wary. Perhaps it was a patron of the pub, someone angry that I had escaped without notice.

Or perhaps not.

I had to take my chances. One life was far less important when compared to the possibility of the entire destruction of our world.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I padded softly to the door with bare feet, mentally noting that I should look into obtaining some footwear and decent clothing before going off gallivanting and looking for Viscar's men. Over the years, I had perfected the skill of being silent in my movements, and now I was careful to do so. If the person in the next room was indeed a man looking for me, it would be all the better if he didn't know I was there until it was too late.

For now, all I had planned was simple observation.

Unfortunately, fate has a way of taking my plans and ripping them to shreds.

Slipping out into the hallway, my footsteps fell silent against the cooled wood as I carefully stepped around areas that I knew would creak. Simply gazing down at the floor, I could in sense which spots I should not step on, certain areas of wood that sagged. Glancing behind to be sure that nobody was near, I turned toward the door and laid my hand upon it, intending to simply open it. A show of pleasantries was not exactly the top priority on my mind at that moment.

Apparently the person on the opposite side of the door thought so too.

Before the palm of my hand even touched the splintering wood of the plain door, the other reaching for the brass knob, the door itself was swung open. The door open inward, away from me, but still I jumped back instinctively, surprised. I am a vampire, a creature of legend, and he or she should not have been able to hear me.


[[Work-In-Progress]]