Blood Immortal

The Vampire’s Spire

Before the prince took a step forward, he heard a few high elves shouting behind him. He wasn’t sure what was going on but wanted to make sure everything was all right. Returning to his army, he finally heard the commotion.

“Free the prisoners!” cried out one of the druids, pointing at one of the crystal buildings embellished with malachite.

Aarian heard him and obeyed, running toward the structure. Only one group of five dark elves got in his way. He effortlessly dodged and parried their attacks, riposting and slaying them with ease. Upon reaching the penitentiary’s doors, he cut its lock with his sword and kicked open the doors. Entering the building, Aarian ignored its many spires and instead turned his attention to a staircase before him that led to an underground prison. Without hesitation, he went down the steps.

“Invader!” shouted one of the wardens.

Blocking with his glazed shield, Aarian pushed him back and pirouetted, decapitating the dark elf. He then pulled a lever at a corner, unlocking several cells. Many high elves were freed, praising Aarian who appeared, at least to most of them, like a divine being encased in humynoid armor that resembled a gryphon.

“Xen bless you with light,” said one of the high elves, gazing at Aarian’s golden armor in awe.

“Daela’han be upon you, savior,” said another.

Aarian only smiled when he heard Xen’s name, walking forward to find more prisoners and free them. At the end of the chamber he saw another stairway that brought him farther down. This section was even bigger with dozens upon dozens of cells in which stood many Quel’de’nai and, strangely, one dark elf. Before he could discern who they were or find the switch to release them, a warden came out from a corner and thrust his scimitar at him.

“Surrender and I’ll spare your life, humyn,” said the elf.

Deflecting the warden’s attack with his sword, Aarian responded, “It is you who should surrender and flee before I execute you.”

“Humph,” uttered the warden, resisting and striking again.

Aarian evaded the attack by withdrawing for a moment and then flipped over the dark elf, swiping his sword in midair and vertically splitting his enemy’s face in half. As soon as Aarian landed, he unsheathed his sword and shield and pushed down a lever controlling the cells’ gates. Lifting his beak-shaped visor, Aarian turned to gaze upon the Quel’de’nai prisoners and dark elf who’d been imprisoned. When he did so, his eyes involuntarily widened.

“Spirits,” gasped Parla’vasa. “Aarian, is that you?”

“It can’t be,” said Xel’vakora, approaching his savior. “Are you truly Prince Aarian of Vlydyn?”

“Vlydyn doesn’t exist anymore,” said Aarian bitterly. “But yes, I am he.”

The elven princess rushed over to him, tears in her eyes, and embraced him. She cried hysterically, shuddering in his arms.

“We thought you had died when the demon attacked,” she said, stammering between her sobs.

“Demon?” he said, not wanting to tell them that he and the fiend were one and the same.

“By the Nine,” stammered Parla’vasa between her sobs, “it was awful. I mean, the hydra was terrible enough. Then, out of nowhere, a horrible demon rose from the depths of the ocean. I don’t know why, but the demon ignored us. Instead it fought the hydra. We simply watched them fight in despair until Xel’vakora managed to steer us away. But by the time things settled down, we realized you were missing.” She kept crying as she went on, “Oh, thank the eternal Spirits. I thought you were dead.”

“I thought the same of you and Xel’vakora,” said Aarian, holding her tight. “I’m relieved that you’ve been safe all this time.”

“Being imprisoned isn’t exactly safe,” scowled Xel’vakora. “How did you survive?”

“The tide carried me to Niratredam,” said Aarian. “There I found refuge with the emperor of Warenyth. Together with his legion we have come here to retake Lar’a’dos.”

“Huh?” said Xel’vakora, slack-jawed. “That’s not possible.”

“I don’t lie.”

“Aarian,” began Parla’vasa, sobbing less, “I’m so proud of you.” She pulled back and stared at his armor. “You look like a king.”

“I am merely a ghostly avenger,” said Aarian, his voice with a hint of indifference. “My people are gone...all of them. Even my kingdom has been taken away, controlled by the demons of the accursed Spirits.”

“What do you mean, accursed?” asked Parla’vasa, confused.

Forgetting she had a different belief, Aarian shook his head. “Never mind,” he said. “The point is that Saldovin’s scheme is at an end. And this time there’s nowhere he can hide.”

Parla’vasa started, “Actually—”

“Where is he?” interjected Aarian, walking away to leave.

“Keldoran is probably sitting in the sacred throne chamber with his defiled rogues,” said Parla’vasa, sulking. “In case you don’t know, it’s located on the top floor of the palace here in Chevirith.”

“Is that so?” responded Aarian, clenching his fists. “Soon he’ll be sitting in hell.”

“Prince Aarian,” began Xel’vakora worriedly, “there is something important you need to know about my brother.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” replied Aarian, trotting up the stairs.

Xel’vakora grimaced while following him and said, “My brother sacrificed my sister, as well as his immortality to unleash the demons upon us. Yet he wanted to gain back the immortal gift that he so willingly gave up.” He breathed heavily, frustrated that Aarian was in such a rush to leave, and went on as he stepped outside, “Desperate to regain his immortality, he summoned vampires whom he exchanged black magic spells with in order to become one of them.”

“What?” exclaimed the prince, taken aback.

“Aarian, I can’t bear the thought of losing you again,” said Parla’vasa. “You are the only humyn left in this world. No matter how much you may have changed or improved as a warrior, you cannot fight a vampire.”

That instant, Earamathras landed beside them. “Did I hear the word vampire?” he asked, snarling.

Xel’vakora and the elven princess fell backwards, frightened by the dragon.

“Relax,” said Aarian, extending his hand to Parla’vasa. “Earamathras is on our side; he is the emperor of Niratredam.”

He promptly introduced Xel’vakora and the princess of Lar’a’dos to Earamathras, as well as his fellow guardians. Aarian wasn’t sure who was more startled to speak with such beasts, the princess or Xel’vakora. Either way, Aarian had no doubt the dark elf was relieved that the swarm had decided to trust him and spare his life.

Gazing at the legion, Xel’vakora said, “I can’t even begin to fathom how you were able to gain allegiances with these savages. If I were you I’d let them take care of my brother.”

Aarian violently seized Xel’vakora. “Now you listen to me. I will only say this one time: Saldovin is mine.” He pushed the dark elf back and turned to the legion as he bellowed at the top of his lungs, “Do you hear me, swarm? Saldovin Keldoran is mine!”

“Calm yourself, Dralekar,” said Earamathras. “If it is true that he has become a vampire then it means he is immortal again.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should care,” boomed the emperor, the city shaking. “Remember, you’re vulnerable against others who are immortal. More so, he is a master of the dark arts. And if he is by chance possessed by a demon, then you may very well risk losing your soul.”

“Xen protects my soul,” said Aarian.

“Soul?” said Parla’vasa, raising an eyebrow. “What blasphemy is occurring? Aarian, you are a noble prince and a courageous man, but only the most pure are blessed by the Nine with the gift of a soul.”

“I don’t have time to debate with you,” said Aarian dismissively. He turned to the legion, his eyebrows furrowed, and added, “Keldoran is mine and mine alone. If anyone dares get in the way of the Dralekar, it will be the last day they breathe.”

Aarian stormed off, Earamathras and his legion of savages staring at him in disarray. He looked ahead, gazing up at the crystal palace where Lord Keldoran resided. With most of the Mor’vyi’dou defeated, all that remained here was dealing with those lurking inside. Aarian, filled with a rage he hadn’t felt since the Challenge of Titans, approached the building alone, ready to cause mayhem.

Upon reaching the sealed entrance, Aarian kicked the crystal doors, shattering them. He then entered the palace with a look of death on his face. Inside was dimly lit. Aarian could barely see anything. Yet he didn’t care. Hatred burning within him, he strode forward, sword and shield raised. When he reached a chamber that resembled a ballroom, six dark elves appeared before him. They were clad in obsidian armor, their blood-red eyes gaping into his. Aarian didn’t stop walking, ignoring their presence.

At first they stood quiet, twisted grins on their faces. They then showed their weapons to him. Each of them wielded razor-sharp scythes, ready to tear the prince in half. Aarian, however, approached without a hint of fear. And when they attacked him, attempting to slice him apart, he rapidly blocked, dodged, and parried every assault, counterattacking between their brutal strikes with ease.

After riposting, he pirouetted away from the group of dark elves and stood stock-still, a demented grin of his own forming on his lips as the Mor’vyi’dou dropped to the floor, pools of blood forming beneath their corpses.

“Pathetic,” said Aarian, walking onward.

He entered a narrow corridor where torn paintings of the Quel’de’nai rulers hung along the walls. The farther he walked, the darker it became inside. His only light came from glittery malachite embedded in the walls for decoration. Reaching a spiral staircase, he scaled it while slashing a few more enemies.

With his visor raised, the expression he wore caused them to stagger before shrieking when gutted. Though his eyes had returned to their natural blue, they were now glowing. The anger within him stirred his soul, ready to destroy this spire from inside out. When he reached the tenth floor, the stairs ended. He then walked through a wider corridor where at least a dozen dark elves stood waiting for him.

Aarian roared, hurling his shield at one of them. He’d thrown it so hard that it went right through her flesh. The dark elf croaked as she gazed at the vertical slit in her stomach, crumbling to the floor. At that moment, Aarian charged forth with both his hands holding the talon-hilted sword. Vehemently swiping at the group, he hacked off their limbs. Within seconds the path turned into a blood-soaked canvas. Blood dripped down Aarian’s armor, as well as along the frayed drapes and cracked walls.

Picking up his shield, he stormed ahead into a chamber with chandeliers and tables upon which stood dimly-lit candelabra, goblets of blood, and plates consisting of fresh meat. Whether the fingers and hands came from Quel’de’nai, dwarves, or another race, Aarian did not know. He lifted and kicked the tables to the side. Spilling everything, however, stirred the creatures in the room. Just then, screeching monsters flew down from the darkened ceiling, spreading their gaunt wings and swiping their jagged fingernails at Aarian who hastily dodged them. When he stood up, they were gone. Yet from the corner of his eye he’d noticed that they were, without a doubt, vampires.

“Here is my neck,” said Aarian, removing his breastplate. “It can’t get easier than this.”

After removing his golden armor and talisman, his eyes gleamed brighter. That instant, his blonde hair stretched down to his spine. The fiber hairs along his forearms, chest, and legs grew as well, covering every inch of his body. Then his nose and mouth jutted, morphing into a hideous snout. His teeth also became longer, growing fangs.

“Feasts upon me, immortals!” growled Aarian, hunched.

When the vampires saw that he transformed into a werewolf, they hissed and descended again to feast on him. Yet this time Aarian was as quick as them. With his right hand he grabbed a vampire’s face and crushed it. Galloping across the room, he leapt in the air and clawed one of them in midflight. Afterwards, he pounced on a female vampire and tore open her throat with his fangs. Standing on his hind legs, he ferociously fought against the remaining seventeen vampires, biting and clawing them multiple times until they lay lifeless and blood-deprived on the floor.

Aarian put his amulet on and transformed back into his humyn form. After equipping his armor, he passed the room and advanced to another flight of steps. He scaled them until getting to the top floor, which touched the clouds. Stomping forward, his armor clanking, he approached a pair of lustrous crystal doors and shattered them with a kick. As the prince suspected, he finally reached the chamber of rulers. In the room stood many thrones, one of which sat Lord Keldoran. Beneath him lay ten Quel’de’nai rulers. They were long dead, conceded Aarian, lifting his sword and shield to his chest.

“Why not two chances to surrender,” scowled Aarian. “Isn’t that what you said before?”

“Oh, it’s you,” said Saldovin. “I heard rumors that some Dralekar was raiding my city and had me quite worried. As it turns out, there is a freak humyn running rampant with savages that have made him think he is the Dralekar.” Saldovin cackled manically and added, “You’ve made quite a mess, Prince Aarian.”

“I could say the same about you,” retorted Aarian, hurling his shield at the dark elf who instantly leapt in the air and spread his wings, flying to a corner. “There’s nowhere else to run, Keldoran.”

“I don’t need to run!” yelled Saldovin, hissing.

He murmured an incantation, raising the rulers from the dead. Aarian, enraged, sheathed his sword and brought his palms together. His eyes glowed, but this time they weren’t blue. Now they were red again. Conjuring a sphere of flame, he blasted one of the rulers with it. The impact was so powerful that the undead elf was incinerated.

Saldovin grew slightly pale when he witnessed what Aarian had done. Then he squinted, a twisted smirk forming on his face. He joined the fight, attempting to bite the prince and drain all his blood. Aarian tried rolling aside but Saldovin was too quick, sinking his fangs into the prince’s neck. The dark elf expected to hear a shriek from Aarian who, instead, wore the same maniacal smirk as he.

Not one second later, Aarian’s body burst into flames. A shockwave of hellfire erupted from him, creating an inferno in the chamber that melted the other undead rulers into ashes. Saldovin, meanwhile, blew against a wall. Upon landing, he hissed and stared at Aarian who transformed into a demon remarkably similar to Izabaldo—horns, wings, crimson-tinged skin, replete with muscles, and standing fourteen-feet tall.

Aarian’s horns were an inch away from the crystal ceiling. Smoke rising from his fiery nostrils, he snorted and bashed the confining top of the spire multiple times with his enflamed fists, causing the roof to collapse. The moons’ light shone on the demon, allowing Saldovin to see its features.

“Izabaldo?” he gasped.

“You are gravely mistaken, Keldoran,” said Aarian monstrously. “Izabaldo now bows to my will.”

“Impossible!”

“I am pleased to say that it is possible,” said Aarian, cackling. “Your hatred has allowed the Dralekar to manifest, and now it is time for you to join Izabaldo...in hell.”

Saldovin shouted at the top of his lungs as he cast a blood-leech spell on the demon. Even though blood was being drawn, it turned into flames when approaching the dark elf. He shrieked in pain as the fire spewed on him. Saldovin withdrew over to the tip of his shattered throne room. Grimacing, he jumped off the ledge and flew high into the dark sky.

That instant, Aarian spread his wings and pursued him. Saldovin glimpsed at the demon following him from the corner of his eye and shouted out numerous curses, all of which Aarian was immune to. The blood and spirit of an immortal was within him—Izabaldo—and with that he could never be harmed by such petty curses from a being with no soul.

“You would have been better off being possessed, Keldoran!” bellowed Aarian, catching up to him.

At this point, Saldovin was so angry that he turned around and flew straight toward the demon, determined to mind-control him by using his powers of necromancy and demonology. When he glided closer to Aarian, he yelled out a diabolical incantation that caused the clouds to darken. A flash of lightning occurred, accompanied by booming thunder. His pale skin and eyes gleamed with the blood of vampires as he raised his hands, ready to control the demon and force him to do his bidding.

Just then, Aarian stretched out his demonic claws and struck him multiple times. He was so fast that Saldovin still had a heinous smile on his face as his body tore into a thousand pieces, blood gushing down like a waterfall in the dead of night. Aarian glided back to Chevirith without even bothering to look back, landing in the throne room.

Once again, Aarian morphed back to his humyn form. Only then did he turn and gaze at where he’d struck Saldovin. It was a calm sky, the dark clouds dissipating. He could clearly see the four moons, as well as countless stars flickering. Staring at the midnight view, he breathed with serenity.

“Master Dargain,” he began, “I don’t know if you have gained a soul. I don’t know if you can hear or see me. But what I do know is that tonight you have been avenged.”

He abandoned the ruptured chamber and descended the vampire’s spire, rejoining the legion of savages. An eruption of cheers ignited when he stepped outside. Orcs, trolls, ogres, werewolves, gargoyles, fauns, high elves, and the dragon emperor celebrated the defeat of the Mor’vyi’dou together. Aarian, however, simply walked away from them.

“Aarian!” called out Parla’vasa. When she saw him stop and turn to her, she rushed over to him. “Where are you going?”

“The war hasn’t ended yet,” said Aarian.

“But this is a major victory,” she said, thrilled.

“This was nothing,” he said indifferently, starting to walk away again. “The demons are the true threat. I simply wanted Saldovin to be torn apart before I eradicate the demons from this world.”

“Wait,” she said, gripping his hand. “Earamathras explained everything to me, Dralekar,” she added, trying to get his attention, which she did. “Please listen to me. I know you have a lot of anger within you. And I know you’ve been through a lot. But if you let such rage consume you, then you’ll be no different than the demons.” She now held him tight. “You’re not alone. We have all suffered. That is why we must work together. Please don’t go off on your own. This incredible legion is here only because of you.”

“They are here because they believe I am their Dralekar,” he said.

“Do you believe that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I...I don’t know,” he said. “I hate fate. Were my people destined to be slaughtered, only to become extinct? Was it my destiny to become possessed by a horrible demon? If destiny is in control, then I feel we have no real power over what happens.”

“You don’t have to believe in destiny,” she replied perceptively. “Dralekar or not, as the Prince of Vlydyn, you managed to convince the emperor of Niratredam and his legion to follow you here. And you alone defeated Keldoran. You only need to believe in yourself. If you believe we can purge the demons, then that’s all that matters.”

“The princess of Lar’a’dos speaks wisely,” intervened Earamathras, swooping down. “I know—I have a terrible habit of being too inquisitive for my own good. That said, do not let the intangible concept of destiny hold you back, Dralekar.”

Aarian sighed and nodded, trying to release his anger. Though he held back his tears, he hugged Parla’vasa and embraced her words. The demons had to be purged. And if fate existed—if it was written in the stars above for the demons to succeed, then fate was his enemy. With his strength and the might of his legion, standing united, he vowed to vanquish destiny and eradicate the demons from Yunedar forever.

Part III: Immortals