On the Isolde heading for
Ailysh looked over the railing of the Isolde and watched as the waves lapped at its sides. The sea with
all its vast beauty made her feel small. That wasn’t a bad feeling for her—it
reminded her of something bigger than herself. Everyone needed that little
reminding every once in a while, even a 512-year-old vampire. The word stuck in
her mouth every time she said it. The memory of her making came back in a
torrent that she could not stop.
In 1376:
She had been plagued by dreams of a dark stranger for a month. She had
also been a 20-year-old bride-to-be preparing for her life with Ian Lochlan,
her beau since childhood. She assumed it was nervousness about her duties to
her new husband and family. Her heart tightened at his memory. IAN!! I miss you always, she said, closing her
eyes and silently praying to him. The whole of both their clans, the Lochlans
and the MacGregors, had gathered for the nuptials. A feast of roast pig, lamb,
fish, and scores of side dishes had been prepared. There had been at least five
different desserts that Ailysh had counted before she’d been shooed away and
secluded. Her mother and sisters had woven her a linen shift of cream and made
her a sideless surcoat of kid leather tanned honey-brown and detailed with gold
thread. Her hair had been plaited into two fishtails. Her father, a talented
engraver and metalsmith, had fashioned her a copper circlet set with a
bloodstone, her family’s signature stone. Her cloak hung heavy around her
shoulders and was clasped with a dragonhead broach.
She had waited with
her sisters and mother in the family lodge. There was heard in the night a cry
the likes of which Ailysh had heard before—the battle cry. The village was
under attack! It sent a shiver of fear down her spine. She heard the commotion
as the men of the village gathered to defend. She had just come outside as Ian
made his way to her side.
“Och, luv, get
yurself inside! We know not who’s out there."” He was pulling his sword
out of its sheath.
“I’ll not leave
ya. I’ll fight beside you,” she had said, rushing into the lodge and returning
with a smaller sword.
“No, you’ll ease
me mind and stay where you’ll be safe. Please, Ailsyh. I’d not be able to live if
anything happens to ye.” He towered over her as he caressed her cheek.
“ So you believe
I’d be able to live on without you?” she asked him, looking deeply into his
eyes. There was something unexplainable in his returned gaze that made her entire
soul quiver.
“You are stronger
than you think, my love. Remember that! Now please, go inside with your mother
and sisters,”” Ian pleaded.
He turned away
and ran down to where the other men had gathered at the village’s center well.
They carried torches, pitchforks, swords, and hammers—pretty much whatever was
at hand.
Then from the
forests Ailysh saw what she could describe only now as hunchbacked demons
descending. They carried with them the smell of death, which permeated the
whole village. She quickly shut the door and ordered her family into the
secret hiding space in the lodge.
The melee was
deafening and Ailysh huddled with her mother and sisters hidden in the secret
trap door-covered hole in the floor of the lodge. She heard the vile creatures
trample inside and go about tearing up the room. What were they here for?? She
was answered as she heard the conversation of two of them.
“ The Master says
she be here. She smell like she here but she not here!” it said.
“She smell like
she here cuz she live here,” the other had responded “She escapes. See tracks.
We follow, get her and Master reward us!”
They yowled in
unison and ran out of the lodge.
Then all went
quiet. The women heard movement all around but were afraid to make a move. They
screamed in unison as the trap door was swiftly opened. There, bruised and
bleeding, was her father. He reached out his hand to her and lifted her out.
Just then four men came in carrying a stretcher laden with a blanket-covered
body. Ailysh’s sister began to cry, for all were married and it could be one of
their husbands. Then Angus, Ailysh’s father, had put his arm around HER
shoulder. She pulled herself away as if boiling water had scalded her.
“ No!!!” She
moved away from the table they had placed the stretcher on. Warily she walked
around the table. Perhaps if she kept her distance it would not
be real. But then she caught a glimpse of a slip of fabric in the body’s left
hand. Pale linen fabric with a rose embroidered in the corner.
“IAN!!!!!” she
screamed as she ran to the table and whipped the cover back. The world got
dizzy as the man she loved lay dead before her. He looked as if he slept, with
his hair all mussed and falling in his eyes. She reached out and tenderly
smoothed the curls away from his forehead. A wide gash that ran from his right
collarbone to just below his left arm told her how he died. The veil of death
replaced his usually rosy complexion. His skin was snow white and his soft
tender lips of rose were purple and blue.
She turned to say
something to her father and promptly fainted.
The memories of those days after had faded, melded into a haze of
pain and grief that to this day, 512 years later, still cut through her heart
like a knife. What held fast in her mind was the night of her making a week
later. She had made the decision to end her life and drown herself. She felt that
surely her heart was dead anyway. There was nothing left for her and she wanted
to be with Ian, even if it meant joining him in death. Dressed in her bridal
outfit she made her way to the river along the outer edge of the forest just
after supper. No one would suspect anything until she had not returned by
nightfall. No matter, by then it would be too late. They would be burying her next
to Ian a day later.
She brought
rope to bind her legs to rocks. She had hidden some the day before when she had
gone to fetch water for her household. Tying the rocks up and then attaching
them to her ankles had posed some difficulty but she managed it.
She hobbled her
way to the water and got in to her waist, then floated the rest of the way in.
Immediately the weight of the rocks started to pull her down. Praying that it
would be quick she let the rocks drop. She was sucked down and she sputtered as
water filled her mouth. She began to choke and her lungs struggled for breath.
Her brain’s defenses kicked in and she began to try to pull herself up toward
the surface. Then Ian’s face appeared in her mind’s eye. She ceased her
struggling. “I’m coming Ian,” she said as her world went black.
The Next Day:
Ailysh awoke to morning sunlight streaming into her eyes. She
groggily rubbed the sleep from them and smiled. IAN!! She must be in
Summerland. When she tried to get up her head began to swim and the room to
sway. “What?! I feel so sick . . . but I’m supposed to
have. . . .” she began to say.
““. . .
Killed yourself in the river,” finished a wizened old man carrying a tray of
food.
Ailysh nearly
jumped clear out of her skin at his entrance into the room. She moved herself
as far away from him as she could. She watched as he set the tray onto a small
table by the window. Then when he was done he turned to her. His eyes betrayed
nothing of what he was or what he was doing here. He motioned for her to sit
and eat.
“ Where am I?
What am I doing here? Why am I not dead?” she began.
He motioned for
her to sit once again. Something had told Ailysh that she had better do so or
answers might not be forthcoming. She looked up expectantly and waited for the
man to speak.
“ The Master will
explain all when he arrives. You will eat and rest.” He then left her.
Ailysh sat there
fuming. Her topsy-turvy stomach would not allow her to contemplate eating
anything. She rose from the table and positioned herself by the window. When she
looked over the edge she saw that she was in the turret of a castle in land she
did not recognize. The whole of the castle was surrounded by desert. She turned
away and stopped, eyes wide, slowly turned around and looked out the window
again. THERE IS A DESERT OUTSIDE! her mind screamed. Seeing that the door to
her room was open she ran out of it. Down a long corridor she ran until she
came to another door, six feet in height and made of heavy wood and steel. The
door was riveted with round discs of ebony marble. There was an inscription in
Latin on each disc. She knew how to read Latin but could only decipher their
Latin nature and not what they said. She turned the handle and tried to pull
the door open. A sharp pain at the back of her head was followed by blackness.
When she awoke it
was night and she was again in her bed in her room. The room was bathed in soft
light from various-sized candles lit around the room. She raised herself up on
her shoulders and was surprised to find that she was wearing a filmy gauze
dress. She found a mirror and inspected her ensemble. It resembled the
descriptions she had heard of Roman dress from the warriors in the village.
They would come home from their battles and regale the village with the decadence
of
The dress was
made of a deep cream fabric gathered at the shoulders and clasped there with
two gold brooches. The edges were embroidered in interwoven gold and russet
threads. Underneath the gown was another belted just under her breasts. She
also realized her hair was done in Roman fashion. Ringlets framed her face all
around. A gold-toned ribbon was positioned at the edge of her forehead. Added
to this was a band of leather that bound her copper gold locks in a bun. From
her ears hung the most exquisite earrings she had ever seen. Her feet were
encompassed in the softest leather sandals she had ever worn. She swung around at
the sound of someone clearing his throat.
“ Excuse me, I
couldn’t help being mesmerized. You’re more beautiful than I’d thought. You are
a vision."” The man rose from the shadows and made his way to her. He was
beautiful. Roman-styled golden hair atop a body that must have been chiseled
from the finest alabaster. His brilliant green eyes sparkled and she found
herself feeling hazy. He was dressed in similar Roman fashion, draped in a gown
of aged bronze. He wore sandals with straps that wound around up to his knees.
He wore a circlet of gold ivy leaves. He made his way to her and caressed her
right cheek. She moved away from him when she felt the coldness of his skin. It
was like ice!
“ You shy away from
me? Why?” he asked, appearing genuinely upset.
“ I want to know
what I’m doing here. I . . . I . . . I’m not supposed to be
here,"” she finished, looking down at the floor.
“I know. You
almost ruined my arrangement with your father,"” he stated. “I never
thought that that silly mortal boy would have such a hold on your heart, or
your love, either. You’re lucky I sent Henry, the old boy from this morning, to
watch you.”
“My father? What
has he to do with this?” she asked, a chill of fear creeping into being.
“Ahhhh, she grows
curious. Hmmm, Didn’t you find it peculiar that the “fighting” ended and only
Ian was the casualty? Where were his brothers? Your father?” the stranger
asked.
“Fighting!” she
replied angrily, “You shall not say Ian’s name again. Not with such derision
upon your lips. He was my one and only love. If you live a thousand years you
shall never grasp the love we had between us.”
“ Ah, but I have
lived a thousand years and I think I have an inkling as to the depth of your
love. I’ve waited a thousand years for you,"” he replied. “You don’t see,
or better yet, want to see the truth. It creeps into your mind and settles
there. You don’t want to know that your father, realizing his entire village
was going to be destroyed, decided to sacrifice you for the good of the
village.”
Complete shock
and revulsion enfolded Ailysh. She made her way to one of the chairs at the
table. She shakily grasped a goblet of wine and downed it in one gulp.
“No. No! He loves
me. Sacrifice? How?” she blurted.
“ It was before
your Ian met his end. I sent a rider in with a white flag. Revealed to your
father that I had come for you. I would spare no one if there was resistance.
He was told the price of salvation and he paid it. He told me of your Ian and
that you’d never go save for your love of Ian. So I made sure my obstacle was
eliminated.”
Ailysh flew from
the chair and ran at the stranger. She beat at his chest over and over until
she felt the strength ebbing away from her. He scooped her up in his arms and
laid her in her bed. She felt him lie beside her.
“No. No.
No!"” she began. Her mind suddenly felt hazy. Something was happening to
her. Not this, please not this, she said over and over in her head.
Then slowly her
body began turning against her. She began to feel heat all over, starting at
the top of her head. It traveled like a slow wave over the curves of her
breasts and down her stomach, to her sex, down her thighs to the tips of her
toes. Even though her mind reeled with resistance it began to yield to the
sensations overtaking her body. A soft, almost inaudible moan escaped her
mouth.
“Who are you?”
she murmured, her voice heavy and thick.
“Laccarus, dear
one, Laccarus."” He kissed her neck then. She could feel his lips like
satin on her skin.
He unclasped the
brooches at her shoulders and let his mouth travel down them with his tongue.
He let his hands take their time caressing each of her breasts. Slow circles,
soft pressure, and Ailysh began to soften under his expert hands.
“Do you want this?
Me?” he asked.
“No
. . . I . . . I don’t. . . ."” she
stammered. She could not think. Then he placed his mouth on her left breast and
her mind stopped working.
“Yes
. . . oh yes,” she sighed. She ran her hands through his hair. It was
soft like silk.
He made love to
her then with precision and skill. And when Ailysh screamed in pain he held her
tightly, murmuring words of comfort, for he knew she was a virgin, had wanted
this since the day he had his vision of her in that ancient Roman temple
during the rite that made him a vampire. When he knew the initial pain had
passed he was not as soft or tender, and Ailysh budded like a rose to every
touch. She matched him in intensity and passion.
“Ah, my goddess,
you chose her well.”
He moved his
mouth to her neck and when he was ready reared his head and exposed razor-sharp
fangs. He bit into Ailysh’s neck and for a split second there was no pain.
After that second, pain the likes of which she hoped never to feel again
engulfed her. It was as if her blood were on fire. It permeated every part of
her. As intense as her pleasure had been only moments earlier it was matched
and beat by this pain. Laccarus was draining her lifeblood from her!!!! She
began to fight, punching at his chest and shoulders.
“Ahh
. . . stop . . . stop,” she pleaded. “NOOOOO!"” She
screamed, still punching at him. Then he forcibly put her mouth to his neck.
::..DRINK..:: he willed her. She tried
to fight but he repeated the command again and she found she could do nothing
but obey. She attached herself to his neck, bit down, and began to drink. He
pulled himself away from her when he believed she was finished and soon after
Ailysh began to convulse.
“That is your
body dying. It will hurt badly. After, you will be weak and need to feed,” he
stated as he wiped her blood from the corner of his mouth with his tongue. She
writhed on the floor and what he said came to pass. She had never felt such pain.
When it was done and she lay exhausted on the floor she looked at her killer.
“You monster. I
didn’t want this,"” she said, looking away from him in disgust.
“Yes, you did,”
he stated flatly. “You were willing to die in that river. You’d already
accepted my offer.”
“You think to
quibble with me? You know damn well I never wanted THIS!” she said, indicating
all the blood that now marred her gown. She raised her hand and found blood
there. She then looked to Laccarus and saw he was recovering from a deep wound
in his neck. When she put her fingers to her lips she came away with blood on
her fingertips. At the sight she began to scream.
To be continued in the next issue.