Vampire - Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

At 6AM, Mark sat on the edge of his bed waiting for Asha to come for him. There came a soft knock; Mark was up and opening the door an instant later. Asha smiled warmly at him. “How was your first night?”
“Strange but good.” He replied. “So what’s the plan for today?”
She seemed to hesitate and Mark recognized from earlier that some bad news was likely forthcoming. “We need to talk about Cathanous.” She said, staring deep into his eyes.
Mark shrugged in reply having no idea what she was talking about.
“Straight to the point. Cathanous is a Dimension that we use for training and my friend, we have decided it would be best if we send you there.”
“Okay.” Mark said, shaking his head and grinning in disbelief. He walked back into his room and Asha followed, closing the door behind her.
“You have to understand that we are in the middle of a war and if you are to be a use to us then you need to be trained in sword play.” She said and then her expression softened. “I didn’t mean to sound so cold. We could really use an extra sword right now, that’s all.”
“I understand but why this dimension, why can’t I be trained here?”
“Cathanous is almost perfect for our needs as time runs much faster there than here. A single hour in this dimension equals around twelve weeks. So you can imagine the progress you will make in that time.”
Mark walked to stand directly in front of her, “What’s the catch?”
Asha sighed and said. “It inhabited and the creatures aren’t to friendly to visitors.”
“Almost perfect indeed.” Mark said and then sat down on the side of his bed.
“You won’t be alone. Sarn will be accompanying you.” She said, sitting down beside him.
“Sarn?” Mark jumped up and turned to face her, “Mr. Talkative. Well that’s just great. How about the two of us instead.”
Asha laughed, a joyful carefree sound then said. “I can see your point but he is best at such matters. You are in good hands with him. Trust me.”
Mark stood silently for many moments. How on earth did he end up in such a mess? She wanted him to train to fight and yet he had never stood up to anyone. At school he was the fat kid that seemed to easy a target. At work his boss pushed him around and even some of his friends used him for a cheap night out. His wife was the last in a long line of people that wanted nothing more than kick sand in his face. “Do I have a choice?” He asked, already suspecting the answer.
“I’m really sorry.” She said, then paused a moment before adding. “We should be going as Sarn is waiting for us.” She explained and turned to leave.
“What. We are leaving now?”
“No time like the present. Don’t worry, it is highly unlikely you will encounter anything and even if you do, Sarn is expert swordsmen. You will be just fine.” She patted him on the shoulder and then walked out the door.
She led him down into the basement and they walked up to a large steel door, which was similar in design of that on a submarine. It had a small window and a wheel, which she turned a few times then pulled on the heavy door. Inside the room was a pentagram in a circle, which was inlaid into the floor. She nodded to Sarn, who then led Mark to stand inside the circle.
"Why is this room so reinforced?" Mark asked, looking at the plain solid steel interior. "In case on your return you bring something back with you." She said in all seriousness.
“Mark before you go, I must ask you for your wedding ring.”
“No way.” He said flatly.
“You know our ways,” Asha said, “Your old life is no more so the ring must go.”
“I have never taken it off.” He protested, and then realizing that she wasn’t going to back down, he wetted his finger and twisted and turned it off then handed it over.
"Take care of yourself Mark, look after him Sarn and see you guys in an hour." She beamed and winked. She removed a strange looking blade from her belt and then stood before them. In a low tone she began to speak in a language Mark couldn't comprehend.
"Brace yourself Chump," Sarn whispered, learning over, "This is going to feel mighty weird." Asha cut across her hand and as her blood touched the pentagram, it started glowing red. A slight breeze washed over them, growing steadily in strength. Her chanting rose and so did the wind.
"Should we hold hands?" Mark shouted over the noise, "In case we get separated?"
"Not on the first date sweet heart," Sarn shouted back, then roared in laughter.
“Was that a joke?” Mark shouted back but it was lost on the wind. The room appeared to distort and blur, Asha chanting and Sarn's Laughter faded quickly till there was only silence and darkness. He tried to call for Asha but heard nothing, not even his own voice. His hands went to his mouth and he tried again to talk. Nothing. In all directions there was only darkness. His fear of being alone closed in on him. He wanted to run and hide but then remembered Asha and what she and said.
Trust me
He closed his eyes, in his mind, he saw her beautiful kind face and heard her soothing voice. Trust me she said. He knew it had to pass, so he stood in the darkness and waited.
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It seemed like he had been standing for hours, when he felt a breeze brush his face. He wondered if he had imagined it but then he felt it again, stronger this time and growing in intensity. The darkness started to grow fainter, like the twilight before dawn. Out of nowhere there was a blinding flash of light that left him blinded and dazed. He rubbed his the spots from his eyes then managed to open them slightly. A wooden wall came into focus. Next to Him Sarn stood. “Did I mention you should close your eyes when about to leave the dimension shift? Never mind, you live and learn right?” Sarn said with a big grin. Mark blinked away the last of the spots while Sarn moved to stand before a door with a Sun symbol carved into it.
“This is my room, I don’t want to find you in there.” Sarn said seriously, he moved to stand by a door with a Moon symbol. “This will be your room and over there is the exit.” He walked over and opened it and stepped outside. Mark followed him and then gasped at what he saw. The ground was nothing more than flat cracked and dusty barren landscape as far as the horizon in all directions. He turned on the spot, there were no trees, water, rocks, nothing at all. The place reminded him of a desert and he wondered if perhaps this was another dimension after all as Earth had places that resembled this.
Then he looked up.
High in the pale whitish blue sky, shown not one but two bright yellow suns.
“Two Sun’s” He said in amazement.
“I know, that’s why this dimension is almost perfect for us.”
“Except for the locals right?” Mark asked and Sarn nodded in reply.
“Umm, Silly question but where is the bathroom?”
“Bathroom?” Sarn said incredulously, “Do you need to go or something?” His frustration was clear in his voice. “Look, sorry to break it too you but your dead. I know this is hard on you so lets just call it a night and go to our rooms. I shall be knocking on your door at sunrise tomorrow to begin your training. Make sure your up.” Sarn then stormed into the cabin leaving Mark standing alone in what seemed like the middle of hell.
Mark felt the green grass between his toes as he and Asha he ran barefoot through the field. The sun hung high in the brilliant blue sky and birds sang cheerful melodies in the trees. The ground gave way suddenly and he was falling, forever falling till he landed painfully face first. With a groan he opened his eyes and saw two large booted feet. He managed to turn his head slightly and looked up and the frowning visage of Sarn standing over him.
“Every morning, the first thing you’ll see is my boots till you learn to be up and ready.” Sarn growled, then stomped outside.
Mark turned his bed the right way up and then got dressed quickly. He already he had come to the conclusion that Sarn had lost the plot a long time ago and didn’t want to do anything to further upset the powerful though obviously psychotic vampire. Sarn was waiting for him out side. He motioned for Mark to sit next to him and watch the rising suns, one rising from the West while the other climbed in the East.
“You have been one of us for long enough to get used to the idea. Now we have plenty of time to talk, do you have any questions?” Sarn asked.
Mark thought for a moment and then replied “Not really. I guess as I think of something I will ask. Is that ok with you?”
“Sure.” Sarn said. They both turned to watch the sunrise again. The minutes passed in silence. Mark realized that Sarn wasn’t really the conversational type. More likely to let his fists do the talking than anything else. Still he was starting to feel uncomfortable and thought hard for some way to get him talking again.
“Sarn.” Mark said, “Do you know who it was that made me into this thing I now am?”
Sarn sighed heavily and turned to face Mark directly. “We have a good idea who it was that attacked you although his reasons are beyond us at this stage.”
“Who was it?” Mark asked.
“Why does it matter? You won’t know him.” Sarn said, his brow knotting in anger. Mark felt Sarns withering gaze but wouldn’t look away.
He eventually spoke “It’s important to me.”
Sarn shook his head and climbed to his feet. “Fine. Darksun is his name. The same bastard that turned you killed two of our own. The traitor was part of our group, our family but he is nothing more than a murderer.” Sarn huffed a few more times while pacing around like a caged animal till he stormed back inside the cabin slamming the door and his own room’s door a few moments later.
Mark sat there, amazed at what had just transpired. From now on he would be careful not to speak of Darksun again though Sarn seemed the type to get ruffled easy. Perhaps it would be best if he didn’t talk at all. The twin suns continued their slow rise as the morning wore into the afternoon. The slight hunger pains he had felt earlier also diminished as the suns energy did its work.
Around mid-afternoon, Sarn came back outside and apologized to Mark. “It’s to late to train today.” He added, trying hard to sound cheerful, “So I might as well give you some history. If your interested that --”
“Does it involve Darksun?” Mark interrupted, and then grimaced at his own stupidity. Sarn stared hard at him, his eyes narrowed dangerously and his upper lip twitched. “Never mind. Please umm, carry on.” Mark said, smiling and trying to ease the tension.
Sarn decided to let it go. “There is more to being a vampire than feeding and fighting. As vampires, we have a history that spans almost 2000 years. Now, where to begin.” He paused for a moment, then clicked his fingers and said, “The beginning of course. Vampirism, in a nutshell, is a nomad curse gone wrong. Very wrong. In the year 120 AD, a madman going by the name of Edward Green killed a dozen wandering nomads. Why he did this, no one knows. He was a brutal man that cut them to pieces. Somehow it is believed, one of them placed a curse upon him.”
“To become a vampire?” Mark asked.
“No.” Sarn snapped, “Just listen. Later that very year, Edward and his wife had a child. A boy they named Lexuth. As the years passed, the father savagely beat both the boy and his wife. One evening, Lexuth, who was fast approaching manhood, defended his mother and it cost him his life. The old curse brought the boy back from the dead and gave him an unholy hunger for blood. Nothing on that farm survived the night. Every living thing, animals included were drained completely dry. The curse was fulfilled and Lexuth should have perished as he was unable eat any food and not to mention his body was constantly destroying itself. Somehow the blood not only sustained him but also strengthened him to inhuman levels.”
Mark sighed heavily and shook his head in amazement. “How do you know all this?”
“That’s easy to answer.” Sarn said, smiling broadly. “Lexuth sees himself as a God and he believes it so obsessively that he even wrote an unholy bible of sorts detailing his rebirth and concurrent rise to power. Most of what I tell you is from that book. Also the writing on Asha’s chest and the chanting you heard to send us here is called ‘Old Lexuian” which is the language the book was originally written in.”
“I see.”
“Lexuth survived for centuries this way, moving from town to town and leaving a trail of death behind him. Vampirism was truly born almost four hundred later when one of his victims rose from the dead, just as Lexuth had done all those years before. Can you guess his name?”
Mark shrugged and then said “Lord Skavlin?”
“Nope but your are on the right track.” Sarn Said, climbing back to his feet. “ It was a vampire called Verdrade. You see the clans were named after the founding vampire. Teramort was the first of our kind. Watch this.”
Sarn stood a few feet away and faced Mark head on. He held out his hands to the sides and mumbled something. Immediately the air around his hands and body blurred. The rippling effect, similar to a stone dropping into a still water, passed quickly and Sarn stood tall and proud wearing a head to toe black suit and brandishing two heavy looking swords.
“The writing across my chest is my true name. You too shall find a name and will be able to do what I just did.”
Mark tried to smile but failed, as he was never good at concealing his emotions so he lowed his head instead. Sarn kneeled down before him.
“Being a Teramort isn’t to bad you know.” He said, his voice unusually quiet and calm. “Some of the clans are no more than beasts. At least you have kept who you really are inside.”
Mark nodded and smiled as tears welled in his eyes. “You know its funny, some guys would do away with their Grandmothers to be in the position I am now in but all I want is my old life back.” He said, his voice cracking slightly. He swallowed hard and added, “I know I can’t go back in time so for the first time in my pathetic life I am going to make a go of it.”
Sarn smiled and extended a hand, which Mark grasped firmly and was pulled to his feet. They stared hard at each other a moment before Mark gritted his teeth and nodded confidently.
“Let’s do this.” He growled.
Sarn opened the door quietly and was pleased to see Mark sitting on the bed waiting for him. He signaled for Mark to follow him and left the room. Outside in the new morning, Sarn and a collection of finely crafted swords had been carefully laid out on a blue blanket.
“Pick one that feel’s right for you.” Sarn said and then walked back inside the building. A moment later he stuck his head back outside, “Take your time, we have all day.”
Mark knelt down on the blanket and examined each of the weapons in turn. He couldn’t really tell one sword from another or which was better. In the end he choose a sword he did know, a samurai that appeared to have an onyx handle with intricate designs and patterns carved into it. In one quick move, he removed the blade from the scabbard and held it up towards the sunlight. The sword sparkled as he turned the blade.
“I’ve made my choice.” Mark announced.
Sarn reappeared at the door, “Good choice,” he congratulated. Mark smiled weakly and sheaved the sword. He looked up at the sun rising in the West, then over to the one rising in the East and shook his head.
“It takes a while to get used to this place.” Sarn said, sympathizing with Mark’s sadness, “You will though and when we return back to our own dimension, you will be all the better for it.”
Mark didn’t reply, instead focusing on what appeared to be changing about his body. That morning he had woken up feeling different. His hair seemed shorter and not as curly or greasy; his ample waist also seemed diminished which was confirmed when he had to move up a hole in his belt.
“You ready to learn some basics about sword play?” Sarn asked, drawing Mark away from his analyst.
Mark noticed that Sarn was now casually holding a sword and his clothes had changed to the black suit with Vampiric writing. He removed his own weapon and approached cautiously. “Don’t fret about any cuts and bruises as they will quickly heal.” Sarn said, winking, “Now show me what you can do.”
Mark hesitated and clutched the sword close to his chest.
“You never going to learn anything standing there like a lemon. Come on and hit me you wimp.”
Mark swallowed hard and edged forward painfully slowly. Just barely within striking distance, he swung the sword half-heartedly. Sarn had no trouble deflecting the attack and even managed to hook it, sending it flying from Marks grasp. He never slowed and stepped in close to Mark with anger distorting his normally handsome features. Mark’s expression was of pure terror as Sarns blade lashed out, cutting a deep line across his forehead. He back peddled frantically a few steps, putting some distance between the crazy vampire and himself. He lifted a shaking hard to the cut and then gazed upon his blood that coated it.
Sarn retrieved the fallen sword and then handed it hilt first back to Mark. “I’m sorry but it was necessary. If you check the wound again it will have already stopped bleeding and a few minutes from now will be completely healed. Let me give you a word of warning. Do not let fear control your actions, you must control your actions through confidence”
Mark still felt betrayed and his eyes showed it clearly.
“This isn’t a game. You must fight with passion, control and all your heart. Anything less is your funeral.” Sarn said, “Now, we go again.” He flexed his muscles and waved him on. Mark glared at him and roared in anger. He charged, swinging his sword wildly with one strike using all his strength. Sarn easily sidestepped the clumsy attack, which left Mark off balance and stumbling forward. Sarn helped him on his away. A dozen feet away Mark pushed himself to his knees and spat a mouthful of dust while Sarn again collected his sword.
“Control. You must never lose your control, and never give in to rage. Anything else and it’s your funeral.” Sarn scolded
He extended a hand and helped Mark to his feet. Mark collected his sword and approached much more cautiously, focusing on the best course of attack. He darted forward suddenly, hoping to catch Sarn off guard and stabbed straight out. Sarn deflected the attack and nodded with approval. Mark felt more confident as he swung the blade in a heavy overhead chop. The expected parry never occurred as Sarn sidestepped the attack, which in turn left him terribly off balance. A kick boot in the rear left Mark face planting the dirt the second time in as many minutes.
“Discipline! You must remember that. Never become over confident as a advantage can quickly turn against you.” Mark sat up and brushed small clouds of dust off his clothes.
The feeling of hopelessness sagged his shoulders; he looked over at his sword lying a dozen feet away and sighed, as it seemed to far away to reach. What am I thinking? He thought. I have to snap out of this.
With renewed confidence in his stride, he picked up his sword and was determined to pick his strikes carefully from that moment on.
Sarn smiled, pleased with Marks show of grit. Mark sidestepped to Sarn’s left leading with his sword, which was deflected. He changed the angle and slashed the other way forcing his opponent into a twist to block. Mark pressed on with the attack for many minutes before Sarn jumped backwards and halted Mark’s approach.
“Glad to see your listening. Are you ready for something a little different?” Sarn said extending both arms in front of him. He bowed and began turning and twisting his body in slow and precise movements. For the next ten minutes, Mark watched every step and sword thrust. Sarn finished with another bow and then walked back to Mark.
“That is one of many mastery techniques you shall learn. I am going to go through it again and I want you to copy everything I do.”
It took over thirty minutes for Mark to complete the routine but Sarn insisted with practice he would complete it in ten minutes. No longer, no shorter.
For the next few days, Mark practiced from sunrise till sunset and on the morning of the 4th day he finished it at exactly the right time. The days continued to roll past and Mark moved through more and more complex and lengthy mastery techniques. Long after the sun had set when evening, he stopped halfway through the 4th of the seven exercises Sarn was teaching him. He ran a hand over his chin and neck as he had every morning and marveled at the changes he was feeling. Even without the luxury of being able to see his reflection, he could tell his face was more angler. Most of his fat had begun to change into muscle and with that came a confidence he had never known before. He flexed his arms then positioned himself on the correct posture to being the 4th routine again. The horizon was just starting to brighten when Mark finally fell onto his bed exhausted. No longer was he lying on his bed but suddenly back in London except it appeared different. The faint sound of voices could be heard in the distance and they grew steadily closer. Mark backed into some shadows and stared intently through the thick fog as two people appearing more like apparitions came into view. The clothes they were wearing seemed old fashioned and even their accents seemed out of place though obviously English. They spoke quietly to each other in hushed whispers as they made their way across the road, looking about nervously. Something fell onto the ground right before Mark causing him jump backwards in shock. What ever it was, it didn’t appear to notice him as it charged after the screaming people. Mark peaked around the corner as the creature caught up with them and tore them to pieces. Before he could even react to the horrific attack the creature and people were gone and replaced instead by a large park. Through the smoke and ash Mark saw men and vampires locked in vicious battles while in the distance, huge fires burned throughout the city. He heard his name called and turned to see a lone figure walking towards him, his red eyes seemed to glow like the fire of London’s skyline. The vampire burst into a run, waving two swords that weren’t there a moment before. The twin blades arced towards him, he screamed and then there was only darkness. He opened his eyes a moment later and everything was quiet. He still stood in the park though the men, vampires and the thing that had attacked him were gone. He looked down and saw his own bloodied body lying face up on the grass.
So am I finally dead then? He thought. Normally such a thought would have sent him into a historical panic and after everything that he had been through, it seemed more of a relief.
“You have been dead for a while now but that doesn’t seemed to have bothered you.”
Mark spun to see the creature that had attacked him standing no more than a few feet away.
“Mark Squires is no more. Phoenix you are now.” It said then snapped its fingers leaving Mark alone in his now pleasant dreams.
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