Chapter 400 - The War of the Vampires part 23

Up and up the mountain they called Heaven Spear.

Some of us climbed the sheer rock face like insects. The rest, the newly blooded, who were not accustomed to traveling in such a manner, raced along the narrow path that stitched back and forth up the slope of the mountain.

The peak of Fen'Dagher was riddled with holes, like a vast termite mound. Some of the ducts had been excavated to facilitate the passage of air. Though vampires do not respire as living creatures do, we must take air in order to speak, and we are very sensitive to smells. Stale air is as unpleasant to us as it is to mortal creatures. Other openings were used as viewing ports or exits. There were even a few for waste disposal.

As we ascended the dormant volcano, the blood gods of Uroboros escaped from those passages, flying down the mountain as we went up, and taking care to stay well away from our group. There were not as many as I would have expected, only a handful, but we did not pursue the cowardly devils. Time enough to deal with them later, if they continued to cause trouble. I was after their king, the father of our race, and would not be diverted.

I paused at the main entrance of the God King's hive, an opening that was about five meters high by ten meters wide, and waited for everyone to gather behind me. I could hear, from deep within the mountain, the sounds of panicked retreat, blood gods shouting: "They're here! They've come! This way! No-- this way!"

Vehnfear snarled at the voices, hackles bristling, and I put a restraining hand upon his back. I could feel the muscles beneath his fur trembling.

"Hold a little longer, old man," I said. "We all go together."

When our group had reassembled, I proceeded cautiously inside. I even ducked as I went through, though the ceiling of the passage was several meters above my head. Just to be careful.

"Be mindful of traps," I called back to the others.

And then: inspiration!

To Aioa, I said, "Can you use your mind gift to seek out any traps the God King might have set in our path?"

Aioa looked doubtful, for she had never tried to use her powers in such a manner before. Her eyes narrowed, and I imagined an invisible beam, like a searchlight, spearing into mountain ahead of us. After a moment or two, she smiled as if to say, "Aha!"

"Yes, I can sense them!" she said.

"And Khronos?" I asked. "Can you search for traps while you lead us to the God King?"

"Yes," she said again.

"Then point the way," I replied, pleased with my own ingenuity.

It really was a great advantage having the twins with us. Aioa directed us forward, steering us clear of the traps the God King had placed in our path while Irema's cloak of invisibility allowed us to move apace. Twice, the remaining Uroborans tried to ambush us, but thanks to Irema's power, we caught both groups by surprise and were able to defeat them with very few casualties.

We took up their fallen weapons and pressed on, moving deeper and deeper into the labyrinth.

The abode of the blood gods was a confusing web of dark and claustrophobic passages. Strung on this network of tunnels, like beads on a dreamcatcher, was a series of vast open chambers, some as large as the greatest of your modern cathedrals, as well as a seemingly endless number of smaller private dwellings, shadowy alcoves and dank cubbyholes. But half our group had lived in the Fen for hundreds, if not thousands, of years, so there was little danger of becoming lost in the maze-like warren. Even I found many of the passages and public spaces familiar, though I had only visited three times in the past, but that was how little it had changed over the years. The blood gods of Uroboros had become a stagnant, sterile race. The only difference I could see was that the subterranean city was all but deserted now, its denizens either fled or dead on the battlegrounds below. The few blood drinkers we did encounter either ran when they saw us or were quickly destroyed.

The smell was the worst, a choking miasma of mortal blood and rotting flesh, excrement and human misery. I imagined I could feel it clinging to my skin. When I drew breath to speak, I felt violated by it, as if I were being raped by the stench of the place.

So much death! It made my head spin.

There were mortals everywhere, freshly killed and sprawled where they had fallen, their bodies savaged, eyes empty and staring blankly into oblivion. Most had been bled white. Pets of the immortals, I suppose, killed by their masters before they fled the city.

"We're headed for the throne room," Zenzele murmured. She glanced sidelong at me, eyes very bright in the gloom. Though she appeared to be calm, I could sense the tension radiating from her, the impending violence, only barely held in check.

"Yes," Aioa said just ahead of us, "he's very close now. He is waiting for us."

Our shadows jerked and twitched in the torchlight. I knew this last long passage. The high arched ceiling, walls ribbed like the throat of some strange beast, and at the end of it: the throne room of the God King.

Our father.

I had walked this corridor twice before. Once, at Zenzele's side, when she brought me here to be consecrated by her master, a wild blood drinker from the north, ignorant and willful. Then again, when I came to surrender myself to Khronos, hoping to trade my life for the life of my firstborn son. Both times, my journey had ended in disaster, in betrayal and blood and pain and death. I had been supplicant and then sacrifice and now I returned—one last time, I prayed—as conqueror.

Please, ancestors, let this be the end of it!

Darkness ahead, and the humming of a vast open space: the God King's throne room. I could sense him there in the shadows. Sitting quietly. Waiting. Even from a distance, I could feel the terrible power of his presence, a palpable tremor in the air. I had expected one last great battle, the God King's final stand, but he was alone.

I stepped forth to meet my maker.

"Khronos," I said.