The Dark Messenger (14 page)

Rex was caught off-guard at the figure that
was hurtling toward him. On first sight, he thought that this must
be another attempt on his sick, twisted life. As the messenger came
swiftly closer, he drew his blade in challenge. At the last second,
however, he recognized who it was, which was fortunate for the
messenger as he collapsed onto the dirt beneath him.

‘Master, forgive me!’ the vampire shouted,
turning his face away from him as he spoke. ‘There was a message in
the tree from Longinus. He needs help. He says the woman was not
turned; she has been rescued by another vampire. He has her in his
home, but it’s underground near Brighton, sir.’

Rex had been furious at his messenger for
scaring him, but now that rage was doubled. Thrusting back his
hood, he stared down at the unfortunate messenger, who gasped in
horror at the sight. His veins were showing starkly under his thin
skin, and the bones of his face protruded so horribly that it was
like looking at a living skull. Even his own guards took a step
back at the sight.

His glare shot around the room. ‘What?’ he
screamed as he saw that they were all looking at him in shock. ‘Am
I really that ugly?’

No one dared make reply.

Leaning forwards, dagger firmly grasped in
his hand, he then slashed the messenger across the face for his
insolence. He waited for just a second so that the fool could fully
experience the pain before then he thrust it forwards, stabbing him
in the heart with the silver blade.

‘Fool!’ he cried as the loyal messenger died
in front of him. ‘No one runs up to me that way!’ he shouted as he
slipped his hood back over his head.

Turning to his best warrior, Vius, who was
standing next to him, he gave an order to go back in time with a
hundred vampires.

‘Turn that fucking girl, and kill Longinus!’
he screamed into Vius’ face. The warrior nodded once and stepped
away smartly. Rex watched him go, muttering under his breath, ‘Fool
can’t even turn one woman on his own. He’s weak.’ The last word
dripped with disgust.

Then he turned to his second-in-command and
said, ‘Mietioc, if I don't return after our meeting tonight with
the priest in Bewl Waters, send a message back to Vius to forget
turning her. He must kill her instead! Swear you will do that!’

‘Yes, Master. Promise, Master,’ he
replied.

Mietioc smiled inwardly, hoping that Vius
would also fail. Although they were like brothers, he was envious
of the one-eyed warrior. Rex always gave the better missions to
Vius. Mietioc was sure that if Vius should fall short, he himself
could then step in and accomplish what the others could not, thus
finally earning Rex’s respect.

Rex scurried off down a tunnel surrounded by
warriors, and left the Tower with a further thousand vampires, who
accompanied them for the short journey to Bewl Waters Reservoir in
Kent. Rex had not been out of his own coven for many years, fearing
more attempts that might be made on his miserable life. The last
time he had left the evil place was when he had stupidly visited an
old friend in France and was nearly killed. Tonight, though, he
knew he had absolutely no choice. He needed the Church to lift the
spell on the Sacred Sword and he had to blackmail the priest in
person to do it.

He growled as he remembered that visit. He
had been in Paris as a guest, and had surrounded himself with one
hundred heavily-armed vampires. He had stupidly ordered his Elite
warriors to wait outside the palace walls for the evening, as it
was an old friend that he was visiting. He had entered the Palace
alone and unarmed except for the small silver dagger that he always
carried with him. The evening had been an interesting one and he
had never expected the attack--until it was nearly too late.

They had wined and dined, listened to music,
tortured many humans, and he had let his guard down. He would never
have thought that Brius, whom he had known for fifteen hundred
years or more, would ever have tried to assassinate him.

Halfway through the night, Rex had entered a
hallway in the palace with Brius as they strolled the grounds.
Suddenly the doors had slammed shut behind them, and Rex could hear
the sound of the windows being bolted.

‘What’s the meaning of this?’ he had asked,
his words slurred from far too much wine.

His ‘friend’ had smiled coldly. ‘It’s your
execution,’ Brius had replied.

Rex had sobered up instantly. He had fought
hard against his attacker, but had begun to lose the battle. He had
been saved when the doors and windows all around suddenly exploded
inward, and his own warriors had come to his rescue.

Vius had ignored Rex’s earlier orders in the
evening to stay outside the palace walls, and after watching all
night from the bushes, he had saved Rex as soon as he realized his
master was in deep trouble. Under normal circumstances, Rex would
have killed anyone who had been disobedient and had ignored his
orders, without thinking twice. This time though, he had thought
that killing Vius was perhaps too harsh.

Settling on a milder punishment Rex had his
warriors hold Vius down, and then using his dagger he gouged out
his eye. He kept it in his pocket afterwards as a memento of the
occasion.

Strangely afterwards, Rex promoted Vius to be
head of his Elite guards.

-------------------------

Ahead of Rex in the night sky, the vampires
at the front of his group spotted the reservoir below and messaged
back to him.

‘Sir, we are here, over the lane at the north
end above the bridge. We can see it, sir.’

Looking ahead, Rex could now begin to make
out the silhouette of The Bewl Waters Reservoir himself. A jolt of
eagerness shot through him; the priest and his stupid Church were
finally going to be blackmailed into lifting the spell.

As he looked around, he could see that the
fields everywhere were covered in deep snow, and it surprised him
that they hadn’t found themselves slowed down by any blizzards on
their way there. The air had been very cold and clear tonight, with
little or no wind to impede their progress. It had been easy flying
down to Kent that evening.

Looking in the direction of the reservoir, he
suddenly noticed something strange about the sight in front of him.
There was a dense mist that seemed to be covering the waters and
nothing else. He wondered if it were not in fact steam, as he could
feel immense heat surging from it. It seemed to race off into the
atmosphere, much higher than they could fly themselves. After a
minute or two to get his bearings, he ordered his more dispensable
vampires at the front to make their descent, followed shortly
afterwards by himself and his Elite warriors, who surrounded him as
he landed.

As their feet touched the ground, the
warriors drew out their heavy swords and took formation, holding
their shields out to their sides in a Roman style, forming an
impenetrable wall all around them. He stepped forwards, and as he
did so the wall of warriors opened slightly before slowly expanding
to cover his sides as he walked down to within feet of the water’s
edge.

As he did though, he could sense the presence
of their enemy. Something about the waters was far from right.

He suddenly recalled a message that he had
received earlier, and the memory immediately gave him the answer he
was looking for:

‘Travel the waters alone,’ it had read. ‘If
any attempt is made to fly into the mist, those doing so will burst
into flames. Likewise, be warned about the water; it is blessed and
holy. Vampires dare not touch it.’

Looking around beneath the mist, he could see
that the waters were completely calm. There was not even a ripple.
What was really strange was that they weren’t completely iced over,
whereas the ground all around them was frozen solid.

December in this area was almost
uninhabitable for humans. Winters could get to forty degrees below
zero due to the extremely bad weather. The reservoir was normally
frozen, but tonight the waters had no ice on it anywhere.

Rex felt quite uneasy as he thought about the
reservoir. He knew the mist phenomenon was far from right, and
travelling on a raft felt like a trap somehow. He had no choice but
to chance it though; he desperately needed the Sword’s powers
unleashed. At any rate he doubted that, even if it was a trap, the
Church could do much to him. His knowledge of dark spells was
extremely vast, and his powers immense. If they dared to enrage
him, they would be making a grave mistake.

His mind then reflected back again to the
message: ‘Travel the waters alone.’

Travel where alone?
he thought.
What point
is it to have an army with you if you leave them behind in the face
of possible danger?
He had made that
mistake before in Paris; surely he wasn’t about to do it
again.

Or will I have to? Is it the price I will
have to pay to get that spell lifted?

Suddenly he felt his warriors tensing. Their
formation tightened as an empty raft appeared out in the reservoir,
floating towards them. As it did, the mist began to lower itself
down to within an inch of the water’s surface.

The raft was about three meters in length and
made from approximately ten small branches, bound tightly together
by what appeared to be vines. At the far end of it was an old
paraffin lantern that was suspended precariously on a small thin
branch, sticking up vertically about a meter.

Rex stepped out onto the raft and shuffled
himself carefully to its center. As he did so, it began to slowly
move back out into the middle of the reservoir in the same
direction it had just came from.

Turning back, he shouted to his warriors,
‘Remember, if I don't come back, kill Jenny! Get her before the
priest does, and deliver the humans to Scotland!’

‘With pleasure, Master,’ came their reply, as
they bowed their heads to him.

A few minutes into the
journey, the raft finally began to slow down, giving Rex a chance
to steady himself. He was well aware that the waters beneath would
be extremely painful even if the slightest drop touched his
skin.
The innocent vampires I had tortured
with it had proved that,
he thought,
smiling to himself as he remembered their faces in agony after he
had thrown it over them.

Looking back he could see nothing; the mist
was far too thick for him to see through. He was unaware that, to
his warriors ashore, it had thinned out and that they could clearly
see him looking back at them.

As he turned back around, he could see,
thirty feet away and closing, another raft that was almost
identical to the one that he was standing on. In the center of it
stood a priest. He was wearing a mitre, with a shiny gold band upon
it that ran completely around his head. The priest was dressed in a
fine white linen tunic with a short-sleeved royal blue, slightly
baggy apron over the top. It had tiny gold bells and pomegranates
of blue, purple and scarlet dangling along the bottom. On top of
this he wore an ephod, made of heavy cloth material and in the
colours of heavenly glory - blue, purple and scarlet. Tied around
his waist was a girdle that was looped in its center, allowing the
ends to drop three quarters in length to his knees. The Breastplate
of Judgement, with its twelve precious stones, was centered across
his chest. They were the ancient gems of the priesthood: Sardius,
Topaz, Carbuncle, Emerald, Sapphire, Diamond, Ligure, Agate,
Amethyst, Beryl, Onyx, and finally Jasper. He was holding a large
gold cross out in front of himself and dangling a gold incense
burner to his side on a meter-length of three gold chains. Rex
could smell it even at this distance, the so-called ‘Incense of
Fragrance.’ which he found to be quite disgusting. The priest’s
feet were bare, with white flowers underneath them that covered the
entire raft.

Suddenly Rex’s raft came to an abrupt stop
only a few feet away from the priest’s, and without warning the
waters underneath splashed up violently against the sides. Rex
leapt into the air to avoid it touching him, but as he landed he
was sickened as the raft rocked even worse, and his feet got
soaked. He screamed in agony, knowing there would be no relief. He
had no choice now but to simply resist the searing pain. Looking
down, he could hardly believe his eyes: his feet were badly burnt
and the skin had shrunk, sucking in deep to the bones. He snarled
at the sight.

The priest didn’t turn once to look at him.
Instead he remained looking out into the mist itself, as if deep in
prayer.

Just as Rex was about to lose his patience,
the priest asked, ‘What can I do for you?’--still without turning
his head.

‘We need the spell lifted from the Silver
Sword,’ Rex said, in as normal a voice as he could possibly
manage.

‘Why?’ came the immediate reply.

‘Because we want to end the
werewolves forever,’ he said, knowing that he wasn’t telling the
whole truth. The priest didn’t need to know that he wanted to
release werewolves across the planet to kill millions of humans
first, then afterwards to use the sword to rid the planet of
them
.