A Matter of Life and Death

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Prompt Two: Write a story about a vampire during the Apocalypse.
Featured in "Fantasy Newsletter (October 17, 2007)" 


         Bellemarr knew that she was awake, but he did not react. He simply kept his eyes closed and waited. He regulated his breathing and heartbeat to a steady rhythm as he fell into the familiar trance. Perhaps tonight she would decide. Miittann quickly sat up in the elaborate bed they shared. Without making a sound, she exited the room. Bellemarr sighed. Perhaps tomorrow she would decide.

         Time was running out. They had a year, maybe more but most likely less, before the Shau'lif would realize that he survived the assassination attempt in the Sea of Tears. His old enemy was already paving a way for an invasion from the bordering nation of Libaias. The Shau'lif would lead his would be hero's to the gates of Castle Miittann and, if he was lucky, the confrontation would force the gods to play their hand and further his own agenda against them. But he had learned long ago not to rely on luck. It was almost like relying on faith. And he had slain countless fools who trusted in such things.

         Bellemarr realized that the time had come. He had to force Miittann to make a decision, and it had to be tonight. He sat up and pulled the curtains, which hung from the iron railing, back and jumped down from the massive four-poster bed. He arched his back to relieve the cramps and strains that had developed. All of these centuries and the woman refused to change her old straw mattress for a feather one. I suppose she doesn't need it. She only sleeps here because I do.

         Bellemarr had a few ideas of where he wanted to go. He feared that she would head for the room where the seal was kept. He would not be able to reach that room alone. He exited the solar, where they slept, walked from behind the dais, and crossed the great hall.

         He had barely crossed the great hall when he felt the unseen presence watching him. Bellemarr sighed and rolled his eyes before saying, "Come out Delen Osmiueie. We both know that your tricks don't work on me."

         "You would not be so bold without your precious amulet to protect you, mortal," a voice said to Bellemarr's right. Bellemarr did not join in the typical banter that passed between the two. Normally, Bellemarr would have indulged his rival's idle threat with a brief monologue about how feeble his powers were, but tonight was not a night for games. Delen coalesced out of thin air when Bellemarr refused to humor him. As usual, the demon attempted to grab the amulet, a flat gold disc with a shield impressed upon it which hung from a diamond chain, as he always did, but his hand could never touch the holy relic. Both men knew it. Both men also knew that the amulet was all but useless in the land of Ba'Al'rishna. Delen must truly be worried if he can't come up with any better threats that that.

         "Why don't you tell me what's on your mind Delen? Is it my new," Bellemarr paused, searching for the right word, "position?"

         Delen laughed, it sounded like a whetstone polishing a rusted blade. "Foolish boy, you share the Queen's bed because you interest her for the time being. You are a lowly mortal, you will die and I will become her consort before your corpse rots the ground."

         "Then why are you bothering..."

         "You have advised the Queen to not fight," Delen interrupted, "Why?"

         "You do not know what's going on. Step aside."

         Delen did not step aside, in fact he took a step closer to the mortal warrior. His cold breath, like the stench of open grave, almost made Bellemarr step back; almost. But to do so would have cost him the honor and respect he worked so hard to obtain. "I know that mortals have crossed the mountains in the east. They dig after these yellow rocks with a lust I have never seen in all of my two hundred and seventeen years of existence. And I know that you are at the center of this. You know it as well, or you would not have advised the Queen to stand down. I want to know why."

         "Why, Delen? It's of no concern to you old friend," Bellemarr replied

         "It is my job to know, boy," Delen shouted, "I am the Constable of Castle Miittann!"

         "Not anymore!" Bellemarr shouted in reply. He then stepped around the stupefied immortal and went in search of Miittann.

         "Mortal...Bellemarr. Wait," he pleaded to Bellemarr's back. When the men faced one another, Delen continued, "This is not about you and me. These stones are my home, Bellemarr. I do not want this castle slighted."

         Bellemarr let out an exasperated sigh, "We both want the same thing, Delen."

         "And you are certain that passivism in the answer?"

         "An immortal you may be Delen. But you don't have an army. Your lands consist of a disorganized cluster of tribes filled with snake eaters and cannibals."

         "I am an army!" Delen shouted. He punched the stone wall of the great hall. A small fissure ran up the wall of stone and mortar, accentuating Delen's argument.

         Bellemarr shook his head as he clasped the taller man's shoulders in genuine concern. "If you lead an army of few dozen undead warriors, then I have no doubts that you will rout your enemies quickly. You will kill a few miners and merchant's guards. You may destroy and outpost or two. But you will also cause the Emperor of Libaias to retaliate. He will see you as a threat and you will face his legions. It will be fifty of you against fifty thousand of them. You will kill hundreds, maybe thousands before they push you back to this castle. And while you give ground, they will learn your weaknesses and how to best exploit them. They will slaughter your priests, and the blood sacrifices will cease. Your powers will dwindle, and they will attack you at their convenience. They will burn you in your sleep. They will tear down this castle brick by brick and pour salt on the grounds."

         Delen Osmiueie lowered his eyes and gritted his teeth in frustration. Bellemarr continued, "Trust me. Let them spread their expedition forces thin. When the time is right, let the people take back the land. The king will not send his entire garrison after a few natives."

         Delen smiled wickedly, "And what of the Knights of Ma-R? Five of them crossed the mountains last night. While we give ground, they will advance unimpeded."

         "Listen Delen. There are things at work here that are hard to explain."

         "I have seen a great many things in my time, mortal," Delen murmured, "try me."

         Bellemarr took a deep breath. "This altercation with the knights will take place in spite of whatever you do to try and stop it."

         "This is your doing?"

         "No, Anurra's."

         Delen laughed again. Bellemarr shivered when the sound reached his ears, "The Elamite god? Sending pagans to fight you? I think not."

         "Nevertheless, I have seen this happen before. Anurra would rather kill me than see me turned to serve Ba'Al'rishna."

         "And now you think our god has great plans for you?"

         Bellemarr shook his head at his old friend. How could an immortal be so dimwitted? "Why do you think Queen Miittann has allowed me to live this long?" Delen had his mouth open, ready to retort, but the words would not come. "I need to find her, Delen. Help me."

         "She's in the church. Follow me."

         Bellemarr paused before complying. "You have a church?"

*          *          *

         They walked down the gallery, side by side. Bellemarr could not help but admire the walls of the long, narrow hallway. He ran his hand along the smooth, herringbone design of the masonry. Pilasters where placed at exact intervals within the walls. In between each column, palls depicting a different still-life were draped along the wall, each one more beautiful than the last. At the end of the hallway, two niches, placed opposite one another held a bust of Queen Miittann. It was as if these demons were trying to surround themselves with life.

         They past the little used refectory and descended a flight of stairs. Bellemarr was now entering a part of the castle he had never seen before. At the end of the stairs was a door which led to the donjon of the castle. The journey through the castle keep was brief, and when they exited the keep they stood under a cloister, which surrounded a rectangular garth. A large cathedral stood in the center. The east and west sides jutted out from the house of worship like misshapen wings. There was a small square building in front of the church.

         "These walls were built to protect the sanctuary within. I have only been within the church once, when she made me." Delen seemed lost in another time. Bellemarr proceeded to the small building. "Don't enter through the forebuilding, mortal. Even if you destroyed the yett, there are traps within that would rend your flesh from your bones," Delen chuckled, "Enter through the chancel, on the left side." Bellemarr took the walkway which led to the eastern wing of the church. "A final word of caution, young friend," Delen began. "She will not be pleased to you. She has taken great pains to see that you were not made aware of our," he paused, groping for the right words to describe his feelings, "heritage. You and I may know that her deception was a futile one, but when you tell her that you knew what she was all along..." Delen shrugged his shoulders in silence.

         Bellemarr nodded in thanks and continued towards the cathedral. He had already thought of the coming confrontation with Miittann, which was why he borrowed Delen's serrated knife and concealed it within his dark garments.

         Upon entering the apse, Bellemarr could see why the vampyre's chose to decorate their castle and keep with beautiful crockets, effigies, and cinquefoil. Within the presbytery, to his left, stood a small altar which looked like a gaping maw devouring whatever was laid upon it. Dried blood stained the ebony table. Bellemarr quickly suppressed the images that tried to enter his mind.

         Bellemarr left the east wing of the church and entered the nave, where his eyes were assaulted with horrible images from every direction. The crossing along the ceiling resembled a long black dirk. The guard of the image stretched to each side of the church, marking the east and west rooms. The blade tip extended to the door leading to the forebuilding. Below the hilt was the raised quire where a dais, flanked by twelve lesser thrones stood. Behind the thrones was a corbel. Upon it, a marble effigy of Miittann and her twelve advisors were placed. Along the walls, carvings were chiseled into the brick and stone depicting scenes of war and death. There were priests, holding their sacrifice over familiar looking altars, a dirk poised above their head ready to send offerings to their gods. There were vampyre's, major demons of Arn, feasting over a fresh kill. And in the center of the foul monastery, the recessed floor contained a pool of blood. In the pool's center stood the Queen of Miittanni.

         Bellemarr could not help but admire her beauty. Even with her face covered with blood he could picture her full lips, brown eyes, and auburn hair. Through her stained garments he could clearly make out the curve of her body. Then their eyes met. Her eyes widened in alarm and just as quickly narrowed into slits. Bellemarr knew that she was deciding whether or not to kill him right then and there.

         "So," he began. He knew he had to talk quickly, before her need for secrecy outweighed her feelings for him. "This is how it's done? The priest's perform their sacrifices on the altars and somehow the blood is funneled into the castle." Bellemarr took a cautionary step forward. "With fresh blood, your strength is constantly replenished. In return you aid them in summoning lesser demons to do their bidding, answering their prayers so to speak." Bellemarr nodded and took another cautious step towards the pool. "But it doesn't end there does it?" He stood at the pool's edge. "Ba'Al'rishna gets to claim the souls of the ones sacrificed and of those who worship you as a goddess." Bellemarr removed his slippers and waded into the pool of blood, "It sounds, to me, like Ba'Al'rishna got the better bargain." He brought his wet fingertips to his lips and tasted the blood. He quickly spat out the red liquid in disgust, "What puzzles me is how he turned you in the first place." Miittann's eyes widened at that, Bellemarr had uncovered something she did not suspect. "There is a legend among my people. During the fall of Ma-R, Anurra bestowed two relics to two female disciples for safe keeping. One was Elam, the other Miittann. Elam journeyed south, across the sea and founded Elami. She carried an amulet," Bellemarr clasped the Praesidium around his neck, "and a bracelet," he lifted his left wrist out of the pool and showed her the Gnaritas. Will you," he swallowed the large lump in his throat, "tell me your story?"

         "I was given a diamond brooch and ring," Miittann replied instantly in that familiar angelic voice that she possessed. She spoke rapidly, as if she needed to finish her story before she realized what she was saying. "The brooch gives the possessor power over life and death, the ring grants immortality." Bellemarr nodded, he had surmised as much.

         "You lost the ring during your travels?" he asked. The vampyre queen nodded. "You began to die," he guessed.

         "I was old," she shouted in defense, "hideous!" Her shouts echoed through the cathedral.

         Bellemarr shook his head slightly. He had seen this many times in his short life, the fall from grace. "You were afraid of facing Anurra in failure. Your fear is what led you to," he glanced around the demonic lair for emphasis, "this."

         "He offered me my immortality," she shouted again, "my chance to make things right and I took it!"

         "He made you a killer, a harbinger of death."

         Miittann's anger came suddenly and without warning. Bellemarr was not surprised by it, however. He needed her angry. "Yes I kill," she shouted. "I take life so that I may live. I serve..."

         "I love you," Bellemarr whispered. Miittann blinked in confusion. "Even after all that you have done and endured, I still love you. And do you know why?" When she shook her head he continued. "You and I both know why you let me live when I washed up on your shores. Ba'Al'rishna ordered you to turn me into a vampyre." Bellemarr took a deep breath, gathering his courage he needed to continue. The next few moments could very well be his last. "You never relented to his demand. In fact you tried to hide your condition from me." He unsheathed Delen's wicked blade and studied it as he spoke, "No matter what happens in these next few moments, I want you to know that I have loved you since you revived me on the river banks all those months ago."

         "What do you want, Bellemarr?"

         "I want you to decide," he pressed the jagged edge to his neck and cut himself, the fresh blood slowly trickled down his neck. Miittann's pupils dilated as she fought against the urge. "You god offers you immortality, but there is a price. I can give you freedom, but the price will be death, eventually."

         Miittann instantly closed the space between them. She craned Bellemarr's neck, straining it up to the point of snapping it. Bellemarr hung limply in her arms. Her lips parted, "You do not defend yourself," she noted.

         "No," Bellemarr responded in a strained voice. "You saved my life. My life is yours if you wish to take it." Bellemarr felt something wet on his cheeks. He glanced at Miittann's face and saw tears of blood run down her face.

         "I can not do this," she said breathlessly. "By the gods I can not. I love you too much to give you to Ba'Al'rishna." She released the warrior a pushed him away. Both of them took time to catch their breath. "How do you plan to, as you say, free me?"

         "The seal..." Bellemarr replied.

         Miittann shook her head before he finished, "I am the guardian. I am sworn to defend it."

         "Not anymore," Bellemarr responded calmly. "You made your choice to let me live. Do you think the dark god will allow you to continue to serve him? He is already plotting your downfall as we speak."

         "My love," she paused when the words escaped her lips, as if saying them was odd, "your hatred of the gods is well known, but you must know that there are far worse things than Ba'Al'rishna and Anurra."

         "According to whom?" Bellemarr replied with continued calm. A long silence ensued. Miittann was thinking of an argument but Bellemarr had already argued with himself about the seals. "Five seals," Bellemarr said, "one in the realm of Anurra, one here in Miittann, one in a neutral location, and two hidden from the eyes of both gods. The question is what do those seals hold? The gods force us to believe in some impending doom. But I think it holds our path to true freedom."

         "Bellemarr, you speak of an apocalyptic end to all creation. The legends say..."

         "Whose legends?" Bellemarr interrupted, cold infallible logic once again brought a long silence between them. Bellemarr turned around and withdrew from the red pool.

         "Where..."

         "I am going to wash this blood off me and go to bed. Finish your meal. I will be waiting for you."