“We should rest a bit before storming a magical temple, huh?” said Travis, fearing the answer he was expecting to get.
“Sure, once on the plane, you can sleep all you want”, came James’ cold answer.
Part Three
The Temple of Blood
Chapter 7
The sound of the helicopter’s rotors drowned any attempt at talking, not that there had been anything left unsaid. Although the sunlight was blocked by the tinted glasses, Erica and the other vampires in the team had their faces protected under hoods and always kept them turned downwards. Marcos was sitting next to Erica, holding her hand. All the events of the last year had been going through her mind, the good and the bad moments, all the obstacles along the way, the victories and the defeats. She saved the memory of Marcos for last. She recalled the first time she saw him, their shared adventures and the way he had been trying to help, not patronize her; the discussion they had in the Order’s bunker and the support he had offered. She raised her head, turned to him and saw that he was napping, with his head leaning on the back of his seat. She wondered whether she would ever see him again this calm. She gently withdrew her hand from his, caressed his cheek to make him open his eyes and kissed him softly on the lips for a moment. She saw the surprise in his eyes, but before he had the chance to say a word, she brought her index on his lips. He understood.
She got up from her seat and approached Lahifa, without losing her balance, despite the shaking of the helicopter. The warrior was awake and had seen them, but if she had wanted to say anything, she chose not to. Instead, she removed the blackest stone orb from the backpack she had before her feet and handed it to the young vampire. The second Erica held the orb in her hands, it shone brightly, as if on fire. She wasn’t sure what to do next, so she just looked at it, trying to focus exclusively on the orb. For a few fleeting moments nothing happened, but, as if a storm was fast approaching, everything around her suddenly turned black. The stone in her hands was now glowing ever brighter. Like a beacon in thick fog, the Temple was rising in the distance; she could see it from within the helicopter, despite it being far away, as if the space between them was no more. She was surprised to realize that the Temple was partially submerged in the desert dunes and, as if by divine inspiration, she instantly knew what she had to do. Treating the orb like an intelligent object, she ordered it to raise the Temple to the surface. The darkness around her dissolved. Everyone inside the helicopter was now staring at her, but quickly their attention was diverted to the front of the aircraft, due to some sudden commotion there. No one dared open one of the windows. Lahifa, whose helmet was the only one equipped with a microphone to contact the pilot, asked what was wrong, waited for the reply and then turned to Erica:
“The Temple is rising far in the distance! It is as if it emerges from the sand!” she shouted as loudly as she could, so that the young vampire could hear her.
“What about the sun?” she asked in turn.
Lahifa did not hear her clearly, but it mattered not. All around them, what little light was passing through the tinted windows quickly faded, until it disappeared. Getting another update from the pilot, Lahifa smiled and reached towards the window closest to her and opened it, slowly, as not to alarm the vampires. Outside, the sun had been obscured, as if by a sudden eclipse. The endless sands of Sahara had taken a reddish hue, resembling blood.
“Ask him to land as near as he can”, said Erica to Lahifa, this time almost pressing her mouth on the warrior’s ear so as to be heard.
Around them, everyone was doing a quick last check on their gear.
It wasn’t long before they had reached their destination. Within less than two minutes they felt the helicopter gradually descent, until it landed. They opened the door, crouching to avoid the air blasted down by the rotors spinning above them and moved quickly so that they could all exit the aircraft. They were standing before the largest temple any of them had seen in their lives. Stone stairs led to a gigantic wavy archway. At its far end there was a twin door, also made of stone, covered from end to end in hieroglyphs and engravings. On each part of the door there was a metal ring fixed, so massive that five or six people could grab hold of it simultaneously. Directly in front of the archway there were two bronze statues, depicting priests, dressed in long hooded robes, covering most of their skeletal faces. The priests were standing as if in prayer, but between their bony hands each held a huge sword, its hilt decorated with a skull while the blade was covered in runes.
To the back and the sides of the archway, connected to it via a magnificent colonnade, were two small buildings with conical roofs, which had also been engraved with skulls. From a distance, they resembled massive piles. The central structure of the Temple, extending behind the archway, was a spiral building, with each turn of the helix supporting the next one with its pillars. At the end of the spire only the pillars stood, with no wall behind them and there shone the light of the fire burning eternally inside the brazier.
Their team had assembled a short way before the stairs. Of the three, in total, helicopters, the three vampires had emerged, along with Marcos, Lahifa and the rest of her sisters, accompanying their father who looked particularly jaded by the journey. James and a dozen of his mercenaries brought up the rear. Of the Order knights, only Sir Philip had come. The few men he had left, he had chosen to leave behind, as he held little hope for this particular mission and believed that he would be putting them in danger for no good reason.
The desert around them stretched as far as the eye could see and the odd stillness in the air, under the solar eclipse, made it look unreal. All of them had prepared as best as they could. Marcos, who was not familiar with the use of armor and sword, had been dressed and equipped like James’ mercenaries: a bulletproof vest, boasting an extra layer of metal armor to protect against slashes and sharp objects, composite pads on the shoulders, the knees and the elbows, along with leather bands around the arms and the wrists. All of them carried a Desert Eagle, a handgun which packed some punch, capable of firing the silver bullets provided by the knights, although the clip could only hold seven at a time. On top of the handgun, they were armed with Benelli rifles and enough ammunition for both weapons. Unlike his mercenaries, James was carrying equipment similar to that of Sir Philip: a full body metal armor, along with a shield and sword. None of the two men carried any modern weapon, other than a combat knife. Lucas had also chosen to wear his armor, although the giant carried no shield. His sword resembled those held by the statues, apart from the decoration; the length of the blade was half the height of an average person; its handle was proportionally long to balance the massive weight of the blade. Travis, a rookie like Marcos, had put on a chainmail, and had threaded a silver knuckleguard in each hand, over his gloved hands, so as to avoid being hurt by the metal. Lahifa and her sisters had removed their robes, but not their headgear. They were wearing padded leather armor, covering most of their bodies. The shoulder of their sword arm was naked, so as not to hinder their agility when fighting; on the opposite side they wore a metal guard. The six sisters also carried a secondary weapon of their choice, some had opted for a silver buckler, others for a shorter sword, almost dagger-like in size. If someone would look closely enough, behind their burkas, they would notice that they had painted their faces. Although it was hard to see, the warriors had painted the mark of their tribe, a hieroglyph of honor, symbolizing that they were warriors who would not return alive from the battlefield. Their father, the Great Ayatollah, was wearing a simple black robe and carried a long wooden staff, which he was using for support as he was walking.
Erica’s preparations aimed at offering her protection without restricting her agility, as far as possible. She could now remember the battle in which Naram-Sin and the other leaders had faced the Creature, and how important it had been for them to move quickly while fighting. Regardless, she had been armed to the teeth. A couple of long silver bracers covered the lower part of her arms, worn over cloth
sleeves, so that Erica would not be affected by the silver. She had tied two scabbards on her legs, high on her thighs, each holding a silver dagger. She was wearing a plain pair of boots and she had snugged a pistol clip in each. Over her boots, she was wearing two fine, silver shin guards. She had braided her hair and on her torso she was wearing a closely-fitting silver cuirass, which they had made rather hastily at the bunker; it did not offer entirely satisfying protection to her entire body, but it did shield her heart and back and was the best that could be put together in the short time they had to prepare. In a plain scabbard, held by leather straps on her back, she carried the sword of Saint Peter, while on her waist she wore a belt with twin holsters, each holding a Desert Eagle.
All of them were speechless at first, beholding the Temple of Blood before them. All, with the exception of the vampires, were sweating profusely despite the absence of the sun. Whether that was the result of their stress or the intense heat, no one could say with certainty.
“Remember our objectives”, Erica said in a loud voice, taking on the role of the leader. “Right at the center of this Temple, there is an orb, just like this one”, she added, raising the black orb she had been holding, which had allowed the Temple to rise to the surface and had revealed the entrance. “Whoever controls the orb, controls the Temple. Whoever controls the Temple, controls the Dead ones. If we fail to capture the orb, we must demolish the structure”, she said and pointed to a suitcase they had brought with them. “It contains enough C-4 to bring down five temples like this one. This will be a last measure; we do not know what will happen to the Dead ones, should the temple be destroyed or even if we will manage to destroy the brazier that is keeping them alive. In fact, we cannot be certain that regular explosives are even capable of destroying this magical structure!”
She nodded to Marcos and Travis, asking them to approach.
“I’m counting on you two for the explosives, all right?” she said to the two men, who nodded and together they took over the suitcase containing the charges.
Then Erica, holding the orb in her hand, drew the sword of Saint Peter and, pointing it forward, gestured to the others to follow her. With their hearts beating faster and faster, they approached the stairs.
Erica set foot on the first step leading to the Temple and two hundred Dead ones emerged from the sands around the stone structure.
The six sisters immediately closed ranks around their father. Flames sprang from their scimitars and their bodies began pulsing. Like lightning, the six of them lunged, stabbed their blades straight at the chest of a Dead one each, and in a flash they were back to their father. The Dead struck by the weapons were consumed by flames and dropped to the ground. Lucas grabbed by the neck the first Dead one to approach and, as if the creature was weightless, tossed his opponent against the others. Yielding his sword with both hands, he scythed another one, splitting the creature in two. The mercenaries, along with Marcos, raised their rifles and began shooting indiscriminately at the undead who were charging them. Each silver pellet landing on them would send them to the ground, screaming in pain. The two knights rushed to the side of Erica, who already was facing three Dead ones simultaneously.
They were far too many.
Like a swarm of locusts they were rushing against them. The Dead ones who had been felled by their wounds, even the ones who had been swallowed by flames, had healed fully and were rejoining the fray.
One of the mercenaries lost it and broke, trying to flee towards the helicopters, shooting blindly to open a path. An undead, who had been felled and had just healed, grabbed him by the leg as he was standing up and launched him with incredible strength against the helicopters the mercenary had been trying to reach. The hapless man slammed against one of them, shattering many of his ribs. He did not get the chance to recover, or react. Two of the undead seized him by his limps and dismembered him, as if he were a ragdoll, drowning his screams.
Realizing that the situation on the battlefield was becoming desperate, Erica shouted, as loudly as she could.
“To the archway! Now!”
Following her own order, she turned to her powers and teleported through the shadows, materializing behind two of the Dead ones blocking the way to the archway. She beheaded them with her blade in quick succession. She felt a hand reaching out to grab her from behind and, spinning around, she slashed at it, severing it. The Dead one to whom the arm belonged screeched in pain and tried to grab her with the other, looking to bite her. Erica turned her blade downwards and slit the fiend open, from groin to jaw.
Their team was slowly making its way towards the archway.
One of the undead lunged at Marcos and grabbed him, before he had the time to react. Travis intervened at once, slamming his silver knuckles straight on the head of the unholy creature. The silver weapon left a gaping hole on the creature’s skull.
“If you die, it’ll be by my hand”, he announced with fierce pleasure.
The flow of the battle had excited him. He was walking behind the mercenaries and any creature that managed to evade the pellets of their shotguns he slammed it with his knuckles, thus buying the humans time to react.
A bullet flew right by the hacker’s ear, sticking one of the creatures that had been trying to get unseen to Travis. The vampire turned around and saw Marcos smiling broadly.
“Same here!” he told him and then grabbed the suitcase containing the explosives, grunting under its weight, and followed the others, so as not be left behind.
Travis couldn’t stifle a laugh as he was continuing to hammer any Dead that managed to reach him.
The Arab warriors were the most tired at that point. Lahifa, using her powers, moved with lightning speed and took out, even temporarily, a couple of undead ones. She immediately returned to her father and, ignoring the danger, she let her flaming sword drop to the ground, where the fire was immediately extinguished and, grabbing hold of both his hands, kneeled before him.
“Father, we cannot hold out any longer! The Holy Flame you have been channeling through us is exhausting us!” she told him.
The old man looked at her, his eyes were showing white, almost blind, but a flash stirred in them, a flash that was reflected on the eyes of his daughter. Lahifa stood up at once, grabbed her sword off the ground and turned to the rest of her sisters, who had closed ranks to fill the gap she had left when she dropped her weapon.
“Father says it is time”, she announced, her voice almost cracking.
She took a deep breath, she would not allow herself to show weakness at the end, and focused on her weapon, which once more burst into flames.
As one, they separated from the rest of the team and, the six sisters along their father, walked to the vast desert, away from the Temple. Sensing that they had become vulnerable, many of the Dead ones run after them, looking to take advantage of this unexpected opportunity.
“Hey, where are you going?” shouted Marcos, the first to realize that they were moving away.
The warriors did not reply.
Erica tried to go to them and help them out, but Lucas grabbed her by the arm.
“They are saving us”, the giant said simply. “Accept it”, he added and let her go.
For a moment the young vampire paused, weighing inside her what she should do. With a heavy heart, she turned her back to Lahifa, her sisters and father, and rejoined the battle against the Dead ones.
Ninety nine names their God had given them, as recorded by their priests and historians. Ninety nine and yet another, the hundredth. Yet this last name was not given to them all, but only to those who had been able to speak directly with Him and ever since had been left mute. A long forgotten local tradition claims that one day a human will speak this name to avert the Apocalypse. A pointless hope, I can assure you, for the Apocalypse will come. I have seen it!
Extract from Chronicles of a Madman
Flames were leaping out of nowhere before him, or at least that was all he could see. He could sense his da
ughters around him battling with a fierceness unbecoming their angelic faces. Unbidden, his mind turned to decades past, in times before he had attained the status of Great Ayatollah; while he was still a Sand Warrior. He recalled the yellow demons that had fell upon a village, slaughtering everyone. He recalled becoming separated from his battle brothers. It was as if something had drawn him to the orphanage in that village, the only one for miles around, which housed orphan children from all the surrounding villages. A group of demons had entered the building, massacring the little children. He could still recall the flames consuming the village, the way he had stormed the orphanage, indifferent to the consequences. One by one the demons fell before his scimitar. He could not get there in time to save all the children, he lost several, but after a while he was able to escort out of the burning building those who had survived the massacre. After the battle, with the help of the other warriors they gathered the orphans and counted them. There were thirty six little girls. The surviving villagers were unable to care for them. He knelt and looked at the oldest of them, a girl barely five years old. “What’s your name?” he asked. “Lahifa”, the girl answered. They took the girls with them and he began teaching them how to fight. All the warriors treated the orphans as if they were their own children, but the little girls instantly became attached to him, the man who had saved them and soon they had begun calling him father.
The six young women standing around him now, fighting with such determination, were the only ones who had survived those long, hard years; the demons never let up. He tried to look at them one last time, but those flames around him would not subside. His mind was now clouded, he had even forgotten his own name. The visions and the knowledge bestowed on him by his God were now far too heavy a burden.
He had told them, before they had set out; he had told them everything, what would happen. Always through Lahifa. Only she could hear his voice, even though it had been years since he had last spoken. He would look her in the eye and immediately she would understand what he was thinking and was able to pass on his words to those around her, regardless of who they were or what language they spoke. She heard her revealing his words to her sisters and all of them agreed, without a moment’s hesitation.