Monday, February 27, 2012


Reborn a god, she had said. At the time her words did not even register in my mind, so I did not think to ask what she meant. It didn’t matter. She was there, I was her love, and for me all that mattered was that we were together.

I got to my feet, and as I did I caught sight of something out of the corner of my eye. It looked like a boot. I turned my head to see that it was a boot, on the ground beside me. My boot, on someone’s foot. I frowned in puzzlement as I turned, my gaze following the leg upwards to the body laying on the ground beside me. Then my eyes widened in horror and I felt my insides freeze into ice as I saw the face, and it was mine. My body, my corpse, pale and dead on the ground beside me.

“What is this?” I cried out, gesturing at the body. I looked back at Ordala, trying to comprehend. “What have you done?”

She had an indulgent look on her face, as a mother trying to explain some complex idea to a small child. “You don’t need to be concerned about that any more,” she purred softly, her tone meant to calm me. “That is but a piece of dead flesh now, you are free of it. I have given you a great gift, Lovan. The gift of immortality. You never have to worry about cold, or heat, or illness or old age, or anything that afflicts those of the flesh. You are free, to be with me for all eternity.”

Her tone did nothing to calm me now. As utterly enthralled as I had been the previous night, and even when I had first awoken, the sight of my own corpse was like a bucket of ice water doused over my head. “What have you done to me??” I yelled, both terrified and angry.

Her indulgent look melted away, replaced by a colder look in her eyes. “What’s done is done, Lovan. You’re going to have to get used to your new existence with me.” She moved closer and put her hands on my shoulders. “We are vampires, both of us now. You have powers you could never have dreamed of as a mortal. I will teach you how to use them, and we will travel, and feed, and revel in our immortality. You will love it in time, you’ll see.”

I stared at her, unable or unwilling to believe what I had heard. “You turned me into a vampire?” I croaked out. “You made me into a… a monster!” I pulled away from her grasp, tore my gaze from hers, turned away from her and fled into the woods.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest in fear as I ran. How could I, if I were an undead monster? I ran as fast as I could, at random through the trees, and somehow they were a blur to me. I was running faster than any human could, faster than most animals as well, and though the forest floor was littered with dead leaves there was no sound of my passing.

I don’t know how long or how far I ran before I finally slowed and came to a stop. I didn’t know where I was, somewhere deep in the woods. It was very dark, yet I could see everything around me more clearly than the night of a full moon. The grinding in my stomach had grown worse, and I had the urge to find food… to hunt. I heard my heart pounding again in my ears, but no… it wasn’t my heart at all. I turned my head to look through the trees, and I could hear it like a siren song. A strong heartbeat, then two. The sound got louder and louder to me, and I was drawn to it. I followed the sound for a bit, then I caught a scent on the night breeze. The scent of blood. Not like on the battlefield, where the smell is like a sickening stench mingled with sweat and offal and death. No, this smell was sweet and intoxicating, like the scent of a fine wine, or an expensive perfume.

My nostrils flared at the scent, and I felt dizzy as I followed it. I could hear whispered words before I actually saw them, a young couple sitting together along the shore of a small lake. As soon as I laid eyes on them I was filled with conflicting feelings. Overpowering hunger, and horror as I knew what I was about to do, and knew that I could do nothing to stop it.

Swift and silent, I attacked. I leaped upon the young man and smashed his head against the stone he had been sitting on. The girl screamed and tried to run, but I turned and dove on top of her before she could get more than a step away. With an animalistic snarl I sank fangs I didn’t know I had into her throat and fed as she gurgled and tried to scream.

Her body thrashed and shuddered in my grasp in the throes of agony as her heart pumped all of her life’s blood into my waiting mouth. The taste was utter bliss to me. It was sweet and pure and warm, it made my insides sing, and my head buzz with pleasure. I could feel its warmth spread throughout me, and the more I drank the stronger and more powerful I felt. Eventually her body stopped moving and went limp in my grasp, drained of life. I dropped her corpse to the ground and turned once more to her lover, to drain him of whatever blood he had left in him.

When I finished, I sat on the rock where they had been sitting and breathed deeply of the night air, now filled with the scent of their freshly spilled blood. My hands and face were smeared with it, my body trembled in pleasure and my mind spun as if I were drunk. I just sat there for a long while enjoying the feelings, until they began to fade. Then sanity returned to my mind, and the realization of what I had just done began to sink in. I looked down at the blood staining my hands and howled out in anguish and horror into the night. I was a monster, and would be forever.

I felt her presence a moment before she laid her hand on my shoulder. “Come, Lovan,” Ordala said softly. “It will be dawn soon, and we must sleep. Tomorrow things will be better, you’ll see.”

I nodded numbly. What choice did I have? Where else could I go? I rose and took her hand, and she led me through the woods to a hiding place to wait out the daylight.

Sunday, November 13, 2005

Death and Beyond

I remember well the night my life ended. As the decades since have passed on into a century and more, the memories of my life before that night have begun to fade, but the night itself is burned into my memory like a brand.

I had just come from a battle. Our forces had lost, and I was one of the survivors who had left the field to seek healing, food, and shelter. I wandered through a dark wood until I found a dirt road, and followed it to a small village. It was very late, most people were in their warm beds for the night, but the lights were on in the tavern, and so that is where I went.

It was a very cold night, the snows of winter were not far off, and I had my cloak wrapped tightly around me to ward off the wind as I stepped inside. The warmth from within hit me in the face and made the rest of me shiver. There was a welcome fire burning in the fireplace, and the place smelled of spiced ale and greasy food. I took a table near the fire and shed my cloak, and without asking the barkeep brought me a mug of warm meade. I looked up to thank him, and so weary was I that I failed to notice the look in his eyes, the look of fear and warning. A look that ordinarily would have had me on the alert, suspicious and wary. But this one fateful night I simply took the mug and gratefully began to drink. The barkeep loitered for only a moment more, as if hoping I would take note of his warning look, then hurried off as if fearful to stay any longer at my table. If only I had noticed. I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like had I.

As I finished the last of my warm drink and let out a breath of satisfaction, I heard a sound from another table, and it was only then that I noticed there was another customer in the tavern that cold night. The last mistake I ever made in my life was to turn and let my gaze find the source of the sound.

It found a woman. An incredible woman the likes of which I had never seen before. She had a long flowing mane of ebony hair, full ruby red lips, and the kind of body a man like me had only dreamed about being next to. But it was her eyes that held me, literally, in their grasp. Deep, bright, piercing blue eyes, cold and cunning and at the same time smoldering with desires barely held in check just under the surface. Eyes that stared directly back into mine, and I swear I felt that they looked straight into my very soul.

Although I didn't know it, at that moment I was lost. I didn't notice the barkeep hastily departing into the back room. The rest of the room fell away, the barkeep, the town, everything else was forgotten as all my senses became suddenly aware of nothing more than her. Even had I tried to look away I would not have been able to, but at that moment I had no desire to. It seemed like a long moment that we simply sat there, staring at one another in silence. I know now that she was doing more than staring, that she was indeed looking into my very soul, studying me as a cat studies a bird before it pounces. She said not a word, yet somehow I knew that she wanted me to rise from my table and join her, and I did without a thought.

I sat beside her, very close, my gaze helplessly held by hers as she studied me intently. I could not even move until finally her gaze broke from mine to travel over the rest of my face and form. Then I became aware of a chill, as if the cold from outside had forced its way into the room and gathered around her table, keeping the warmth from the fire at bay. I shivered and my throat was very dry. Her lips parted, and her voice emerged, sounding to me like the song of angels. "What is your name?"

There was one small split second where some deep part of my mind knew that there was danger. Something inside me knew that this was not right, that I was no longer in control of my mind or body, and it screamed at me to run, to fight, to do something to escape. But it was too late, I could do nothing. I felt compelled to answer her question, and my name rolled out. "Lovan."

Her lips parted in a small smile. It was a cold, satisfied smile and at the same time it warmed my heart. The part of my mind that screamed at me was silenced by it. I was suddenly filled with the desire to do anything, everything I could, to keep that smile. I wanted this woman more than I had ever wanted anything in my life, and I was ready to surrender myself to her. "Lovan..." she murmured, and the way she said my name sent a bolt of lightning down my spine. She reached out a hand to me, a soft, slender hand of perfection with nails manicured and painted the same ruby color of her lips, and ran her fingers along my chest. Her touch elicited an involuntary sigh from my lips, which seemed to please her even more. "Come with me," she purred, and rose from her chair with an inhuman grace. I obeyed, rising from my chair, my cloak forgotten on the floor behind me. She took my hand in hers and led me from the tavern. Oddly enough, in spite of the chill that lingered around her, her hand was very warm.

So enthralled was I by that time that I no longer noticed the cold or wind outside, even without my cloak. Nor did I notice the odd fact that her steps upon the dead leaves made no sound at all, while my own steps caused loud crunching. Deeper into the woods we went, the same dark woods that I had traversed on my way to the tavern. We were somewhere not far from the battlefield itself, as I could smell the smoke from the burning buildings. She had chosen this place for other reasons which I would come to know soon enough.

She turned to face me, and took me into her arms. I likewise curled my arms around her and desire for her overwhelmed me. Our lips met and ignited a fire between us. Slowly we sank to the ground and atop the cold dead leaves of the forest floor we made love. I was enraptured, it was a happiness I had never known, and I thought that I had found love at long last. It was all an illusion. When we had finished, we lay entwined on the ground, and she kissed my neck. My heart was still pounding, my breath quickened, and then there was something else. At the time I had no idea what it was. It was a feeling of intense pleasure, so strong it made my entire body shudder uncontrollably. It ran through me in waves, and caused me to groan aloud. Then everything began to dull, and I became very sleepy. She was still warm in my arms, and still doing something to my neck, and I was content and quite willing to drift off to sleep.

Sleep. It was a sleep of sorts, all right. When I awakened sometime later it was still dark but I was alone. My eyes opened and immediately I knew that something was not right. For although it was dark, I could see the trees overhead in crystal clarity, as though there were a bright full moon to light them for me, but there wasn't. Although I was naked still, and there was a light frost covering the ground, I was not cold. I was, however, hungry, and could feel my stomach grinding. As I sat up I saw her, the woman who had brought me to that place in the woods, standing nearby. She was still achingly beautiful to my sight, her raven locks swirling behind her in the wind. She reached down towards me with one hand. "Rise, my love," she purred at me, causing a smile to form on my face. I took her hand and got to my feet. "You never did tell me your name," I said.

"I am Ordala," she purred. It seemed everything she said was purred, as though every word from her lips was designed to seduce and tempt and elicit obedience. "Tonight is a very special night, Lovan," she went on. "Tonight you are reborn a god."

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

In the Beginning....

Where to begin? I suppose the best place, in order for you to get the entire picture, is simply at the beginning of my existance. You need to know who I am, in order for my lessons to have any meaning to you.

I am Lovan. My last name, though I seldom used it for almost two centuries, is Dimitri. I was born on a world we call Aerth. Now, before you groan at how similar that name is to another world, let me assure you that there is in fact a reason for the similarity. They were once one in the same. But, that is another story for another time. This story is about me, after all.

I was born in a small border town on the edge of civilization whose name is lost to me now. It is difficult for me to remember my own beginnings, as it was so long ago. In any case, I do not remember my parents. What became of them I never found out, but then I didn't really care, either. I was raised by a man who claimed to be my uncle. Whether he actually was I still do not know to this day. He was a mercenary by trade. Often he was away for weeks or months at a time, and I saw little of him in my youth. When he was away I was cared for by the various women in town - the barmaids, shopkeepers' wives and daughters, whoever was available. I never grew close to any of them.

My uncle finally became a part of my life when I became old enough to carry weapons. At first that's what I did, carry his for him, and clean them. Eventually the time came for him to teach me to use them, and then I finally had something to spark my interest. I found that I had a natural talent with the blade, and with my uncle's teachings I honed those skills until finally I was able to go into actual battle with him, and begin earning my own way in the world.

Battle is not an easy way of life. When one first enters this world, the carnage and destruction can be almost overwhelming. One's first foul inhale of the stench of a battlefield is something never forgotten. The sight of rivers and lakes of blood, of bodies mangled and decapitated, of limbs without owners, of the flies and maggots feasting on them, often weeds out those not suited for such a life. Somehow, those things did not weed me out. Perhaps it only portended the things to come.

My uncle and I earned a living together in this life for two years. Then he died. The life of a mercenary is seldom long, and my uncle had lived longer than most. I did not actually see him die, but I saw his body on the battlefield after it was over. I was alone.

I surprised myself. I was never really lonely. I traveled a lot, from town to town, battlefield to battelfield, fighting for whoever wished to pay me. Every town had women willing to warm my bed for me for a night if I wished. I was detached from the rest of humanity around me, I had no ties to anyone or anything. It was to be my downfall, what made me the perfect prey.

Monday, May 23, 2005


The quill moved along the paper, leaving a trail of ink in its wake. The soft scratch as it moved was the only sound in the otherwise silent room. The hand holding it was steady and strong, its skin smooth and unmarred, untouched by age. The arm was well-toned, muscular without being muscle-bound. The shoulder was hidden under a wave of silky raven hair that caressed a neck and hid an ear. A stray lock of the raven mane slipped silently free to swing before a piercing grey eye, an eye whose depths held a wisdom and an age that belied the youthful appearance of the rest of the body.

The quill paused as Lovan raised his free hand to wipe the errant strand of hair back into place. He turned his head, listening to the silence. The baby was still asleep. A small smile quirked the corner of his lips.

He turned back to his work, the quill dipping into the ink bottle before continuing its journey along the paper. Before him took shape a journey of a different kind, his own personal journey.