The Whispers of the Fallen (36 page)

Cahir’s skin became pale as the blood-drinker drank his blood. Cahir muttered words that I couldn’t understand as he stared at the creature drinking his blood. Unexpectedly, the creature tossed Cahir aside with such force that his body slammed up against an old tree that was nearby.

Skin grew over its body; the empty holes on its face were no longer void since its features returned to normal. It was mesmerizing to watch the transformation occur right before my eyes. In a short time, it became apparent that the creature was a male.

His red eyes shimmered like stars; his skin was of an olive pigmentation and his hair was dark. As his body changed, pieces of ragged clothing appeared, covering his waist and legs. He had the appearance of a well-built man.

I cautiously approached him, closely surveying every single detail of his body. He turned to me; his breathing was shallow.

“Wh-why did you come?” he asked with a stammering voice.

“Is…is Cahir dead?” Erebos asked the blood-drinker as he drew near.

The blood-drinker let out a mild laugh. “I might have been sleeping for a long time, but I know how to control my urges.” He looked down at Cahir’s body. “He isn’t dead.” He gave a menacing look and cracked his neck. “You have not yet answered my question. Why have you come?”

I sighed. “We have come to awaken you from your sleep.”

“There must be more to your plan than just to awaken me, I am certain. As far as I remember we were doomed to stay in the Heart of Elysium forever and now, you appear and revive me.” He smiled. “What is it that you want from me?”

“We have come for your allegiance. War is spreading throughout Elysium and we seek assistance from those willing to aid in the awakening of the Dark One,” I responded.

“You seek the Diary of Lucifer?” he asked with a menacing voice.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Is the Council still protecting the Diary?” he inquired.

“No. We had possession of the Diary, but it was stolen,” Erebos added as he walked closer to the blood-drinker.

“Are you aware that there are four more books that Lucifer has written?” I asked him, curiously longing for his answer. Maybe he knew of the other powers the books possessed.

“Well, of these other books I don’t know, but I am pretty sure you don’t have the Book of Letters.” His allegation was followed by a smile.

I was silent.

“I thought so. If you had the Book of Letters, you wouldn’t be here,” he groaned.

“We seek your allegiance to destroy those that oppose Lucifer and his ideals. We need to gather the books and their bearers in order to awake him from his sleep,” I informed him.

“If we pledge allegiance to you, how are we to know that the Creator will not send us back here again?” He stepped forward, his eyes only inches from mine. “How can you guarantee that we will not be imprisoned here in the Heart of Elysium again?”

I knew what I was capable of doing to him and I was aware of the power inside of me, but he stirred up emotions in my heart that were unknown to me. He made me feel vulnerable. “We have an ally inside of Tristar,” I divulged. “We can trust him to watch over your kind. You do not need to worry about returning to this place. Our armies are numerous and strong.”

“Then why is it that you are seeking my kind?” the blood-drinker retorted.

“
Will you join us
?” Erebos asked impatiently. “We are not here to waste any more time.”

“And I have not returned to waste mine,” he proclaimed. “I will join with you. Even a slight chance of vengeance against the Creator is better than none at all.”

“What is your name?” I asked.

“Bartholomew Winmore, king of Madbouseux. That is what the people called me during my reign in my human days,” he answered.

Unexpectedly, he paced around us, looking at the other nearby hills. He strolled down to our right, approaching a very old, dead oak tree. He walked by Cahir’s unconscious body, looked at the body in disgust and continued to head toward the tree. Once he was under the branches, he lowered himself to his knees and caressed the ground.

“I have a question for you,” he shouted. “What will the other blood-drinkers feed on in order to awake from slumber?” His eyes were threatening as they drilled into mine. “You?”

I did not think twice before answering. “Him…” I pointed to Cahir. “Let them feed on him. Cahir has served his purpose already. He has led us to you.” I waited for Erebos’ approval.

“Are you sure you want to sacrifice him this way? He could still be useful,” Erebos contested.

“I am more than certain. We have an army of Lessers waiting for us. Cahir’s life is a small sacrifice compared to the greater honor.” I observed that Cahir’s blood was oozing from his wounded wrist.

Bartholomew’s eyes were fixed on me, as he waited for a confirmation to allow the others to feed on Cahir.

“Do not just sit there. Feed him to the other blood-drinkers,” I ordered as I came near to him.

“His blood won’t be enough to keep us fed for long. There are ten of us in this region. More are scattered throughout the Heart,” he said. “We will need more blood.”

“When we leave the Heart of Elysium, we will come upon a village where you and your kind can feed at will, but right now, this is all that we have to offer,” Erebos added.

“Again, I am afraid, this will not suffice,” he said sharply. “They might have to feed on one that has the ability to heal fast and feels no pain.” Without hesitating, he brought his wrist to his mouth and brutally sunk his teeth into it. He extended his arm; the blackish-colored blood dripped onto ground. Within moments, the ground caved in as the creature rose up from the ashes. Its physical features were very similar to Bartholomew before he had received the quota of blood to restore his body to its original design.

The blood-drinker was naked; dirt covered its entire body. The creature grabbed ahold of Bartholomew’s blood-soaked wrist and drank zealously from it. Bartholomew obligingly let the blood-drinker feed. He hummed a tune as he watched the creature gulp his blood.

“Ah, ah, ah.” He smirked. “Enough. You can feed on more at a later time.”

I could tell this one was a woman. Her golden locks regained their color and her eyes were the color of hazel. Her skin was as pale as the moon, and her cheeks had a slight shade of red to them.

“I need to feed,” she cried in a weak voice as she turned away from Bartholomew’s wrist. “Why would you allow me to feed upon your blood? You know to drink a blood-drinker’s blood is against the law,” she said as she turned to face Erebos and me.

“Who are you?” she asked. “Are you the ones that have awakened us?”

“Yes, we are. This is Nephele and I am Erebos,” Erebos replied. “We are your allies.”

“They are with us,” Bartholomew assured her.

“Why did I have to drink from you?” she asked Bartholomew.

“Nylora, desperate times call for desperate measures. We need to leave the Heart of Elysium and they have come to lead us out.”

“We have been buried in the Heart of Elysium for hundreds of years. What is it that we are going back to? What does the world have left to offer us?” She gently placed her right hand on his face. Her skin had not yet fully restored to humanlike flesh; patches of gray wounds were scattered throughout her body.

“Lucifer is about to awake. The Diary has been found, but the Book of Letters is still missing. Do you not remember our days of glory, when I had the Book of Letters?” He smiled. “I’d say we have a lot to go back to.”

“I hope their kind is trustworthy, Nephele,” Erebos whispered. “If they become a hindrance to the tasks the Dark One requires of us, I will not hesitate to send them back to this place.”

“And I would gladly help you,” I added.

“Are we ready to carry on?” I asked Bartholomew and Nylora. “I believe you have been in this place long enough.”

“Wait…wait…impatient
Nephilins,” Bartholomew chanted haltingly. “We must awaken the others.”

Bartholomew and Nylora were unhurried as they examined the dark landscape, checking every hill and tree, searching for the location of the other blood-drinkers.

“I hear one in here, my lord,” Nylora stated as she pressed her head against a small hill behind us.

“Ah! I can see that this one is starving,” Bartholomew noted as he once again sank his teeth into his wrist; blood oozed out of the wound, dripping onto the ground.

The hill shook violently, exploding into dust. The blood-drinker forcefully snatched Bartholomew’s wrist, gulping down his blood. Seven times the same act was repeated until all the awakened blood-drinkers in this area had been revived.

Erebos and I watched closely, observing the blood-drinkers as they awakened. Bartholomew healed quickly, showing no signs of weakness as the blood-drinkers fed off of him. Once all the blood-drinkers were fully restored, they would ask Bartholomew the same question:
Why did you feed us your blood?

The joy of being alive again was explicitly painted on their faces as they rejoiced at the sight of each other’s company. They greeted each other with exuberant hugs and handshakes.

XX

“My people—hear me!” Bartholomew shouted at the top of his lungs. The blood-drinkers attentively looked at him as he walked in our direction. “These are the ones that have come to our aid. They have revealed unto us that the Diary has been found.”
The other blood-drinkers let out loud chants.
“These people said they are to make war against Tristar and the Creator. I say we join them in battle and take back the Book of Letters so we can once again live in full glory!”

They yelled frantically in agreement to his speech.

“Let us head back to where the Lessers are,” Erebos suggested in a loud voice. “We cannot leave without them.”

Nylora hastily approached us.

“Others? What others?” she asked.

“The Lessers—they await us not far from here,” I responded. “They have also sided with us.”

Bartholomew’s face was stamped with anger. The veins on his neck popped, his hands fiercely clasping each other as he took heavy breaths. “By Lessers you mean the snakes that dwell here?” he asked.

“Yes,” Erebos affirmed coldly.

“You do not really think that we are to stand next to those weaklings again, do you?” Nylora said with a disgusted look on her face.

“I do not see a reason why our union would not work,” I said in aggravation.

“The reason why some people became snakes and others became blood-drinkers was simply because one kind was smarter, stronger and more skillful than the other. They are foolish and weak.” Bartholomew’s voice deepened. “What can we expect from creatures that eat dust and slither on their stomachs?” Bartholomew barked angrily. The other blood-drinkers laughed hysterically.

“They are no longer brainless creatures,” Erebos retorted. “I have given them a mind of their own through the Dark Exchange. A part of me lives inside of them now. You just drank from one of them.” Erebos pointed at Cahir’s immobile body.

“They will only be useful when we need to feed, nothing more,” Bartholomew contested. “Still, we refuse to fight alongside them, whether you like it or not.”

“I guess we have an issue to solve now, don’t we?” I implied. “Who will get what they want…”

Nylora raised her right eyebrow. “There are ten of us and two of you. I don’t see a battle happening,” Nylora retorted with a sneer.

Flames enveloped the blood-drinkers as Erebos moved his hands swiftly. “I think you are forgetting that I am a Fallen Star, commissioned by Lucifer to fulfill his desires,” he shouted as the flames danced around the blood-drinkers.

“You are of lesser authority, Fallen Star. If Lucifer trusted you completely, he would have told you about us—about the Heart of Elysium. Instead, he told other Fallen Stars and kept you in the dark,” Bartholomew shouted from behind the fire as the flames lost their intensity. “Do not forget that we also had a covenant with Lucifer, which gave us great powers, and once we get ahold of the Book of Letters, we will be sure to rid Elysium of your kind.”

I was speechless when I saw Bartholomew had stopped the flames. “To tell you the truth, our allegiance lies with no one other than ourselves. We want the Book of Letters and we will find it. We’ve had the book before; we know what the book looks like. We don’t need your help.” The blood-drinkers synchronically walked toward us as Bartholomew spoke.