I recently finished the revision for my other novel, Crimson Mist and thought I’d post another little sneak-peak at a scene, taken from Chapter 6. Don’t worry about not knowing what’s going since the scene below could very well have been a short-story unto itself. Thanks for reading! Here’s a blurb for the book:
A new dark age of foreboding has been unleashed. The vampire nobility has risen from the ashes of the fallout from a previous devastating world war instigated by man and erected their own kingdom. Kalek Desmarais, a vampire noble and explorer has faced his mortality, numerous times, but his recent brush with death has left him in wave fof dismay. His recent discovery of a long-previously hidden Necropolis which housed a sword of forbidden power, otherwise known as “Pandemonium” that was once said to belong to an ancient fallen angelic power, Melcier-Adonin. The sword was forged from the dark heavens of chaos only to be rediscovered at a newly fated Armageddon. Against this backdrop is the fight between ruler against ruler, authority against authority. Servants of Melcier-Adonin are paving the way for his final resurrection. Few remain armed and watchful, wandering and steadfast, willing to give the acolytes of darkness, a baptism of blood on their pilgrimage for their redemption.
***
Kalek opened the large, metal door crafted with intricate designs found in the most accursed and perverse of grimoire texts, to the throne room and was instantly engulfed in darkness. The only light he could see was at the faraway altar, cast by the flickering flames of a candelabrum. Inside, the arched roof was composed of the usual megalithic masonry, accompanied with primordial, tenacious designs with nine great pillars in its middle, and each one was black and bent in its own way except one. This pillar stood in the middle of them all it was straight and it seemed had been made into a great throne for someone (as it was currently occupied), the floor, a slick spread of marble that filled the chapel.
Taking another deep breath, Kalek strode down the central aisle, while noticing the shadowy forms sitting in the pews, as if they were in deep reverence to a dark deity overseeing their every concealed sin and wrongdoing. Underneath his long, sleek black hair, cascading down his back and sides of his face, Kalek directed a cold glare in counter of their ghostly whispers and prayers. With every step, a sense of uneasiness grew further, with a tightened throat and a fixated gaze upon the Pindar, perched on his golden throne, overshadowed by an idol shaped like the divine figure of Kali except for the fact she had snake-like, reptilian features that was installed within the pillar, overhead. The headmaster addressed with a resonant voice crooned behind his golden death mask, “Kalek Desmarais,”
Kalek gazed upon the Demasduit’s hands littered with fine jewelry, upon the throne’s armrest while laboring on whether or not he should kiss the black quartz ring in reverence. Bearing the regalia of a pallium adorned with a row of golden octagons around the neck―they shimmered, almost as if it glowed by themselves.
He gestured with his index finger, “Come closer.” Kalek followed his gesture and peered straight into the vacant, black holes that would be snake like eyes within his golden mask that hid his face but not the long, black horns sprouting from his forehead. The Pindar with another slight hand of a gesture, signaled the small vampire congregation to retreat out of the deeper shades of the royal chapel. The sitting head of the Invictus swiftly proclaimed, “Basilisk served us well. He was a regent of this seat for a time, until I returned from . The Sword of Pandemonium you found in the Temple of Azarikäd is just one testament to his legacy.”
“Yes. I was appointed to lead an expedition to that hidden temple. It’s amazing such a place hasn’t been found sooner and its location is unusual. My men hadn’t fed for weeks on end. We were ambushed, just as we began to feed upon a village. It all occurred so quickly like flashes of lightening engulfing everything.”
“Whoever is responsible will be found and met with the same reprisal. The last unfortunate soul that betrayed my confidence was hanged upside down and skinned alive. No matter how much blood lost, their brains would still have all the blood they need to remain conscious—sordid deeds writers would be in jovial madness to purge upon pages and pages with every detail of revulsion.”
Thoughts of the very same imagery streamed through Kalek’s thoughts of his brush with death. Demasduit went on with tacit conviction, as if preaching from the pulpit to his shadowy brethren, “When I was awoken from my slumber, while inert and weak, a small revelation hit me. The first thing an infant does when born is breathe and eventually—cries. It does so because the soul is conscious of what it has been born into and is in a state of disbelief. The soul forces the body to weep because it is the first time it has arrived to this vale of tears. Humans deserve to be ruled like cattle―most of them are not worth anything—irrevocably hollow dead with nothing to add. They are the children of wrath—for the wretched deserve the worst of castigation. Armageddon has already taken place,”
Dark words soon changed to a different beat, “To give birth to such a thing that gives life and hope is quite a feat to be achieved, especially amongst those who regularly consume blood for sustenance. Rather than snatching it away in the same manner as a cancer takes the steady sculpting hand of a creator god, brooding and more merciless than the shaking claw of a madcap totalitarian monarch. The Chancellors consider me the ‘Revenant’ or who can change this winged form at will to appear like the mortals but I prefer this face because it is the most honest one, unlike others. In the end, we are a baneful breed.”
Kalek couldn’t help but find the irony in his statement, wondering where the Pindar would take the conversation next. Raising himself, the masked vampire rose from his throne, giving off an authoritative air as his black aura and garments trailed behind him. Spreading his fan-like membranous, gargoyle wingspan, a collection of wires filled with blood, attached and grafted into the backside of his healing body, followed his every movement.
The Pindar went on, “Only those with a heart of bravado may continue for they alone will muster the gumption to wrestle with the remaining shadows that seek to break the spirit and render progress obsolete. I’ve sired progeny myself but they have unfortunately passed on. What I require is someone strong, cunning, and unwilling to bow to unscrupulous demands—an emissary of reason. This is why I have chosen you, Kalek. You understand what it is to lose something dear and be humbled by it.”
“You desire me to take your place as Pindar?” Kalek asked, with a sense of pride dripping from every word, while watching him walk slowly around him, along the marble podium of the twisted chapel.
“No,” His booming, fearsome voice fumed with stern declaration yet somehow belabored by heavy breathing. “What I seek is your service within the tribunal council, to be my representative as the Magister and Hand of the Invictus Head and Potentate.”
Kalek was taken slightly aback, struggling to not fumble with words, “Your representative? Your first mission was to find an heir or a new progeny, is it not?”
Demasduit hovered in closer to Kalek, and answered mysteriously, “I do not desire a vice to simply erase all of my labor and start anew as they have done repeatedly with the past. What I need is an extra voice of reason amongst the onerous Chancellors―a vital voice which commiserates my own.”
Kalek reasoned with common cogent, “With all due respect and discretion, we’ve only just met. How can you place such trust within a stranger’s grasp?”
“In my experience, veritable power courses through the blood of a true vampire rather than simply learned skill or trade. I can see your Maker’s legacy flow through you.”
Kalek was at a loss of words, thinking of things to further add. With a flash of thought, he answered, trying to word his response carefully, “If that is your will, it shall be mine.”
The Pindar placed his gold-covered talons over Kalek’s wavy, ebony hair spilling over his shoulder-pads that laid upon the sleek raven caprice of his midnight armor in a neighborly fashion and smiled underneath that unsightly, golden mask, glowing like a lantern as Kalek peered further into the faint, yet flushing eyes beneath and retorted after a few lingering moments of mulling over in his mind, “My devotion lies to my remnant, and yet I would be more than honored to partake of this alliance and vigilance.”
Extending his hand in mutual agreement, Demasduit continued, “Excellent. Frightened, squawking nobles need not tread our golden paths. You will still operate independently, but also as a bona fide regent on this memetic crossing. There is something else I must ask of your assistance. There is a human city—Sector 11—ruled by the Ascendancy. We have forged relations with their Outer-Heads of the Ascendancy—Cardinal Baius Yseldi and their superior—Gundotra. I have kept roads open with their chorus. In one month’s time, I want you to sail to their providence and forge a new alliance with their lot.”
Kalek grimaced and replied, “They are xenophobic religious fanatics enamored with their own self-righteousness. They seek our demise.”
“Yes, they do. I habor no illusions as to their true alligences but they we must keep our eyes and ears set on them.”
“What of my progeny?”
“Ah, your obligations yes—just like your maker—Basilisk. He too had a heightened sense of honor and duty, even when they became an underscore for martyrdom. She can stay here in this Citadel if you’d wish. Think it over, I do not expect an immediate answer, but I do trust you will make the right decision.” Kalek reached out and shook his cold hand and confirmed their allegiance. With that, brazen fires were forged between them as the Pindar’s articulate black wingspan spread farther, surrounding the two with every coerced whispered prayer and belief complex that traversed to the newly resurrected.
***
