THE SWORDS OF TREMOR THE GREAT
Peroneous moved into the room first, slowly following behind was Friandria, Nathanial bringing up the rear. Eleanor swept a hand and the door closed with a slam behind them, causing Friandria to jump, and Nathanial to scowl.
Ignoring him, she turned her attention back to Xavier. “Where was I?” she asked him, as if expecting him to answer. But her dark eyes flashed with remembrance and she continued on as if three Dark Creatures hadn’t entered the large hall with them at all: “The Ancients...a remarkable breed of Creature…. Some say they were the first humans, others sure that they created the humans. Only two of us in this room know differently.”
Dracula shifted his footing and grasped the hilt of his sword, while Michael—still in Lycan form—growled.
Eleanor ignored them, determined not to let her words be dimmed. “They were always in existence, living out their lives with the trees and grass, adoring the Earth and giving her what she needed so they could take what they needed from her with no discord. But, as it happened, another Creature felt the need to create a different breed...I imagine he felt that life was far too boring with only his lot and the Ancients to accompany him. So he created the humans as we know them today. Of course, such a new race was, at first glance, deemed a threat by Tremor—the Ancient Elder—and he forbid any of his kind to speak with, let alone mate, with the humans.
“But of course,” she sighed, casting a knowing look to Dracula, “one of them did. Drifted off into the towns and as it happened, met a man. She fell in love with him. They had a child…the result of which is standing before us now.”
Everyone’s eyes danced to Dracula whose face could not be seen. His head was down, his hair hiding it like a curtain, his free hand balled into a tight fist.
Eleanor continued: “Tremor, naturally, learned of his daughter’s treachery, and confronted her about the child. He cared not for the human man, but only for what the consequences of her actions were. He wished to know what the child resembled. Was it more human?
“His daughter cried and, flustered, answered her father: ‘He was a monster,’ she’d said. ‘Not of their flesh, not of their livelihood, and certainly,’ she’d said, ‘not of their blood.’
“He’d asked her what she meant and she said, ‘He has fangs that are sharp, like the tools the humans used for their day-to-day duties. He has taken to their blood.’
“She’d caught him feeding on a boy after his lessons one afternoon when she went to get him. She pulled him off the boy, but it was far too late, the boy was very dead, but very delicious, I’m sure.” She paused with a smile.
“She didn’t know what to do with her son—who more resembled a...monster, for he’d killed his father, the human that gave him life, and it seemed Dracula had gone, leapt out of the window, unable to face what he’d done. Soon after, she’d killed herself, mad she was with the knowledge that her son was murdering others—draining them of their blood.”
No one said a word. It seemed no one could.
Eleanor went on, far from being finished, “Hearing of this, Tremor had a sword created. A blade that could end the lives of such horrid creations. He’d also wanted his revenge on Dracula for what happened to his daughter. He’d searched for Dracula throughout the land, determined not to rest until he found him, before Dracula could create any more of these Creatures. But Dracula had indeed created more Vampires, as they were later known. I have heard that the Vampire and Tremor finally clashed and battled. The result was what you see before you now: Dracula alive, the sword of Tremor at his waist.”
Friandria clasped a hand over her mouth, Peroneous stared unbelieving at Dracula and the sword, and Nathanial stared at Eleanor. Dracula did not move.
“Tremor was not killed,” she continued, “as surprising as that may seem to you all. He survived, just barely. He’d retreated back to his palace and told the others of what took place. They all were outraged and set out to destroy this Vampire that had the sword of Tremor now in his possession. One woman stayed behind. She had taken to a human man, and although she never married, she was pregnant with his child.
“My mother gave birth to me in Tremor’s palace, without his knowing. She feared I would turn out like the then-infamous Dracula, but I did not. My...urges were suppressed for far longer than Dracula’s. It is something, to this day, we do not know the reasons for...
“At the same time, others were branching out and marrying humans, making children with them and moving away from Tremor’s failing protection and dwindling power. When the others never returned from their hunt for Dracula, Tremor had aged with the grief and guilt: Countless numbers of his men had died at the hands of the great Dracula, and he would soon rise to power. However, Tremor was wrong about one of these things. Many of his men did not die at Dracula’s hands. They all gave up the search. Tired of searching for the Vampire, and they did not care for any sword.
“But it was then that another Creature emerged from the womb of a human woman who married a descendant of the Ancient Ones. Lore was born, not as we all know him today, but as a sweet boy who did not seem any different from any other normal human child. And at what we call a Lycan’s Age, he began to change. He had short bursts of anger, and as he grew, so did this anger, and soon, Lore was an oversized dog, terrorizing towns and cities.
“Tremor, hearing of this, overcome with guilt as he was, made one last order to his most faithful servant who stood by him after all the years of abandonment. He was ordered to create a sword, capable of destroying these new beasts should they grow in number.”
Many eyes then fell to the sword against Xavier’s waist, and he immediately removed his hand from the hilt, revolted by it.
“Yes, Xavier,” Eleanor said. “The Ascalon was created as Tremor’s last great plan to destroy the Lycans—a plan, we now know, that was thwarted by a Vampire who heard of the sword and wanted it for himself. Dracula fought off Tremor’s servant and took the sword, keeping it safe under his watch while Lore rampaged throughout towns and cities, creating more of his own kind…. He eventually had a son…a man I believe you have met, Xavier.”
At this, he looked up at her, eyes dark with his realization.
“Thomas Montague.”
“Precisely,” she said. “A rather determined young man, driven by the scent of your blood…. It is an odd thing our blood does to the Lycans, have you ever wondered why this is so?”
His eyes widened, the thought that there was any more of a reason for the Lycans’ hatred of Vampires than it simply being, reaching him in bemusement.
“Tremor had good reason to fear what would happen to the offspring if his kind were to mate with humans,” Eleanor continued. “Vampires, born from the mothers who were descendants of the Ancient Ones, were tainted with the blood that should have never been mixed. It left the Vampires a starved breed, hungering for the blood of humans…the blood they will never be able to have freely in their veins. Lycans, born from the fathers, descendants of the Ancients, were also tainted with their blood. Their anger fueling their transformations. It is only one who has been bitten by a Lycan that will turn underneath the full moon’s glow. The immortality comes from an Enchanter—” at this, everyone’s eyes found Peroneous, “—yes, Dracula sought you out, didn’t he Peroneous Doe? As disgruntled as he was, he forced you to make him immortal, didn’t he? If you did not oblige, I imagine he threatened to kill you.”
Peroneous’s piercing eyes cast down from everyone’s gaze.
Eleanor continued on, smiling. “With this spell placed upon him, Dracula could never be killed. And every Vampire that he bit from then on was given the same spell, transported through blood. And we all know the first victim after Dracula left Peroneous….”
“Victor,” Xavier whispered, shock coursing through him.
“Yes, the great Victor Vonderheide was the first Vampire to have a taste of immortality,” Eleanor said. “The ones before him were not able to share such a...lucky fate.”
Everyone was terribly silent.
Xavier waited for her to continue with her story, and it was only when the howling wind outside and the distance sounds of battle clamored through the room that anyone said anything at all:
“Now that you know, Xavier, will you join me?”
Friandria took a small step forward, as did Nathanial, but Peroneous seemed determined to blend in with the background.
“Join her?! You will join her, Xavier?” Nathanial asked.
“He has not yet decided,” Eleanor said, “although I have given him such a long time to come to a decision—”
“But you cannot,” Friandria whispered. “You are our new King.”
He growled in frustration before he could stop it: Dracula was not saying a word, not defending himself at all, an Elite Creature in Lycan form waiting to rip him apart, Eleanor staring upon he, Xavier, expectantly, her men close behind, and he held the sword of the Ancient Elder, Tremor, at his waist, Dracula with the first one created.
It seemed impossible that this was a dream. But how lovely that would be. To wake up and realize he was merely suffering through some horrid nightmare.
“Xavier,” the voice of Eleanor Black drifted to his ears then, destroying his wishful thoughts.
Dracula said, to the surprise of everyone in the room, “How did you come upon all of this knowledge, Eleanor?”
She turned to him, her small smile fading. “After I...read the contents of the book, I paid a visit to dear Tremor. It was rather hard, searching for a Creature that did not wish to be found, but I had many resources…and once I’d found him, it was not a challenge to get from him what I wanted.”
Dracula snarled, his eyes a murky black. “You sought him out?”
“Yes. That I did.”
“What more did he say?”
Eleanor looked him up and down, as if to see whether or not he could handle the information. Xavier agreed with her action; Dracula seemed quite ready to crumple with the years of lies he’d piled atop his shoulders.
“He seemed content that I could not keep the book in my possession,” Eleanor said.
“And why is that, Eleanor?” Dracula asked.
She glared at him. “He would not tell me…after I’d come all that way to know more. Why indeed! What is it about that book?”
“You felt it then? The rushing power from its pages? The truth spoken in a hail of red light? The book sucked you in, and you had to fight your way out, didn’t you, Eleanor?”
Her lips clenched together, forming a thin line, and her eyes sparked with indignation. “You made a deal with him?”
Dracula smiled at her. “It was no more a deal then it was a cry for help. When I returned to him, out of spite, curiosity consumed me. I had to see the Creature I had once tried to kill, if only to destroy him. But it did not end that way. He was brittle, as you have said…when I saw him, he’d only just entered his stage of guilt and turmoil. I saw the desperation in his eyes and my pity for the man—my grandfather—grew within me. I had no choice but to help him, for I am forever bound to the one whose blood allows me to stand here as I am.
“With the last of his Ancient, even godly, power, he created a book. But it was a book upon which one could learn the infinite knowledge that surrounds us. A book that was written with the blood that courses through me. My blood helped create The Immortal’s Guide. And any Creature who would dare read it and walk away alive would ultimately suffer the curse of my blood. You, dear Eleanor, and your men, the Vampires and Lycans who have battled for ages, you have taken what he has shown you and you have used it in the absolutely worst way. It is a book of knowledge for me. No other was meant to read it. No other was meant to know it existed.
“I was the one, blessed by Tremor, to carry out his last request. To ensure that nothing like my birth ever happened to another Creature again. No one should have to withstand the years of adolescence I did. No one.”
Eleanor’s eyes were wide.
Not a soul dared breathe.
“What you have done, Eleanor Black, is destroy the thread that rests between Vampires and Lycans,” Dracula said after a time. “Giving Creatures such power…it was never Tremor’s intention. We were never supposed to be, but through the Goblet of Existence, we can continue our lives and we can exist, side by side, as Tremor now feels we were meant to. He holds no ill will towards me, and I’m sure for Lore it is the same, but you must realize, Eleanor, what you have done. You have placed, Xavier in a terrible predicament. I made him King because I could then search for the Goblet without the eyes of all Creatures wondering where I had been.”
“But you killed Armand Dragon,” Xavier said.
Dracula turned to him. “I did not kill him, not through way of my blade. The Immortal’s Guide, when opened, can be a paradise or a whirlwind of terror and confusion depending on how strong the mind is, how prepared one’s soul is to tame the power within.
“With this Goblet, it is Tremor’s wish that I end the discord and suffering that has plagued our World since my birth. The Ancients are no more, as far as we are concerned, and being his only living relative, Tremor placed his trust in me, that I would see to it his ultimate wish is fulfilled.
“But,” he eyed Eleanor, “through your foolishness and greed you have created this,” he pointed a cold finger to Michael, who still stood before him in Lycan form, “something that was never supposed to be.
“Have you ever wondered why Vampires and Lycans of old cannot stand the very presence of you and your Creatures? It is not because you are powerful, it is because you are a curse. A walking curse that plagues whatever you touch. And I will not allow Xavier to become a part of this. I need him. I will find the Goblet of Existence and end your lives before you can destroy any more Creatures.”
Eleanor and Dracula stared at each other coldly.
And then Eleanor stepped away, as if scared of his next move, whether it was a slap or a mere snarl of the fangs.
Dracula removed his sword from its sheath and everyone’s eye caught the red gem in the middle of the guard. He let the point of the blade touch the floor, running a finger along the edge of it, his blood spilling down the groove in the metal. Nathanial and Friandria turned away from the smell of his blood, but Xavier found it familiar, though he did not remember ever smelling it before—
Michael, in his Lycan form, took several steps away, snarling: he sank to all fours at the sight and smell of it.
Dracula smiled at the Creatures’ reactions to his blood, and as soon as it reached the tip of the sword, forming a small puddle against the floor, he lifted it, and before anyone knew what happened, sliced through Michael, who fell in two, his body floating into ash.
His ash mixed with the falling snow, and everyone watched as the wind whirled through the room, carrying the Lycan’s ash through the open window.
Many of Eleanor’s men stepped away, and Eleanor, not at all pleased, remained where she stood, although her gaze was held on the sword.
“You will know the name of this sword before it slices through you, Eleanor Black,” Dracula said.
Eleanor remained quite still, and Xavier was reminded of the time she looked this way before, just before she had burst into a beast.
Dracula ran his finger along the blade once more, and he lifted it, pointing it at Eleanor’s face. “Meet your maker, Eleanor Black. The brother of the blade made to destroy Lycans: Ares.”