Zeuberg

"My legal name where I currently reside in the city of Liege, Belgium, is Gaspar Valessi. But that is not my real name. The name I was given some 30,000 years ago, when I was born in a Paleolithic settlement in the region that is now called Germany - the name my father gave me shortly after I was voided, bloody and howling, from my mother's womb - is Gon."

So begins the saga of the immortal Gon, a 30,000 year-old vampire. He recounts his mortal life in prehistoric Germany alongside his male companion, Brulde, and his two wives, the Neanderthal Eyya and his Cro-Magnon mate, Nyala. It details the fearsome events that lead to his transformation from man to undying monster.

Chronicles Of An Ancient Vampire

I could tell by the light glinting through the seams of my cloak that several hours had passed. I don't normally awaken during the daylight hours unless I am disturbed.

It wasn't Ilio. The boy was sleeping beside me, still as a child's doll.

We were not in any immediate danger, but I felt a sense of urgency. Something was wrong, but what was it?

I lowered my mental barriers, reaching out with my senses. Almost immediately, a flood of sensory information overwhelmed my thoughts: sounds, smells, even tastes. The denizens of the plains deafened me with their chatter, their calls and yelps and buzzing and croaking. I could hear the wind blowing across the grassy hills. Smell wildflowers and earth, the coppery scent of mortal blood--

Mortal men. Crying out in anger and pain. The whisper of arrows and spears, the clash of clubs and fists. A battle! And not very far away. Well within the range of my preternatural senses.

I prodded the boy. "Ilio, wake up!"

"What is it?" he cried, almost throwing the cloak off in his surprise.

Restraining his arms, I spoke quickly. "The Neirie are being attacked. I must go and aid them, but it is still daytime. Your eyes are not yet trained to withstand the light of the sun."

"You go to make war again?" he said excitedly. "Please, Father, let me fight with you this time!"

"You cannot fight blind, Son," I said. "Now, cover your eyes. I rise to their defense."

I didn't wait for his acquiescence. Ilio cupped his hands over his eyes as I threw aside the cloak. He cried out a little as I rose, but I bent quickly and spread the cloak back over him.

"I will return as soon as I can," I said, patting him on the head, and then I surveyed the land to the south, the direction the war sounds were coming from.

I shielded my eyes with my hand, but sticky black tears began to dribble down my cheeks anyway. The sky was an open roaring furnace, the world around me baked in its glare.

I scrubbed the black tears from my cheeks, blinking like a mole. I could hear them-- the howls of men fighting, the wails of men dying-- but my eyes were having a hard time adjusting to the light.

"Ancestors punish them!" I cursed.

"What is it, Father? Tell me what is happening!" Ilio called from beneath my cloak.

"The damned Oombai have sent warriors to recapture the Neirie!" I hissed. I looked east, then back to the south. "The Neirie have split into two groups. One half their number has turned back to engage their pursuers while the rest flee southeast in hope of escape."

"How many Oombai are there? Can you see well enough to help the Neirie fight?" Ilio asked.

"There are a great many Oombai warriors," I said, "but I will not stand idle while brave men die for their freedom!"

"Then go, Father," the boy said. "But take care! Don't make me an orphan again!"

I smiled grimly, eyeing the two armies who waged war in the distance. A moment longer and my eyes would be adapted to the light. Just a moment longer...

Then woe to the Oombai who thought to oppose me again!

Chapter 127 - Exodus of the Neirie, 23,000 Years Ago part 5