Immortality is Relative
The Saga of the Vampire-hunting Immortal
By Ron McClung
Part 1
My name is Ian-Flannery McKern, and I am 900 years old. We call ourselves immortals, but a drop of the head will bring our death and what we call the Quickening. We all prepare for the Gathering, where the last of our kind will meet in battle by the sword, and the final one will receive the Prize. There can be only one.
However, I am aware of other immortals not of our kind, that feed off the humans of this planet... Earth. I make it my goal to destroy them, for I am more than just a player in the Gathering,... I am a Vampire Hunter.
When I became aware of these beasts of the night, it was the early 12th century, in Romania. I was being pursued by another of my kind, when I took refuge in a castle in the mountains. I had many wounds, and despite my immortality, I still felt their pain and my fatigue.
This immortal, Lucas Kinard, was a worthy opponent, and I was, at the time, sword-less. I had lost it in our last battle, in Prague when it shattered from a fall. I was very lucky to get out of that one with my head still attached.
The castle was dark and damp, like most, and it seemed to have been abandoned for a while. The decor seemed relatively modern, but dust and cobwebs seemed to cover everything. If I was a greedy man, I would have acquired some of the more valuable and portable ornaments that lay about, but my center of attention was on an ornate sword that hung above the fire place. An inscription on the sword read "Alkranon. the Vampire Slayer". I heard the legends of these creatures called vampires, but did not believe them. But then again, they talk of my kind as if we were also legend. The sword was a large well crafted one, seemingly well kept. I removed it from its stand.
A sudden chill filled the room as I felt the well-balanced weight of the sword in my hands. It had been so long since I held one, it almost seemed alien.That feeling I perceived as stemming from somewhere else,... within the sword, possibly. As I pondered at the craftsmanship of Alkranon, I heard a door creak behind me. Expecting to see Lucas behind me, I turned.
The front door stood open, rain flailing against the stone floor. Lightening flashed, and I could have sworn I saw a four legged figure, like a dog, in the door way, but by the next flash, it was gone. I slowly moved towards the door, brandishing the sword. I felt something as I moved closer. The sense I usually feel when one of my kind is about was causing my spine to shiver; a feeling both foreign and familiar, as if there was a person with a long life line in my presence, but not of my kind. This was very new to me.
A stench seemed to dominate the air suddenly... a stench of death, or possibly undeath. As I closed the door, I finally heard his breathing; his breath smelled like blood.
"I am Ian-Flannery McKern, I demand you identify yourself.". I had been banished from my clan, and disowned. I could not state my clan, for it was no longer mine.
"Your blood smells different, smells old. Yet you look younger than I look; younger than I am for sure. You are not of my kind, I can tell that, but we seem to have something in common." The voice was cold and inhuman. I knew I had stumbled onto this beasts lair.
"I am here to get out of the rain. I seek refuge. If I have imposed in anyway, I will leave." I hoped he did not see the sword.
"And leave with the sword. I think not." I heard him move.
Sharpening my night perception, I swung the sword in the direction I thought he was coming. I felt the sword mystically vibrate. It almost seemed to emit an iridescent light. The vibration seem to cause the hilt mold to fit my grip, as if it wanted to belong to me.
The thing before me hissed like a rabid animal, "Noooo!... No mortal can wield that sword. It's power should have engulfed you by now, leaving your blood filled body for me to feed. You can not be the one..."
The light from the sword finally revealed to me the beast or was he. He seemed man-like, but with dark features like death, and the teeth that extended from his upper jaw over his lips, dripping with the saliva of hunger. The legends were true, as they are of my kind.
The beast did not live long after that. The sword seemed to burn him where he stood, the light searing his flesh beneath the black cloak he wore. At that moment, I felt the tense pull of destiny; the warm voice of fate. This sword was not made for mortals, not made for those who saw time as a river rather than a vast ocean.
My life afterwards was spent trying to find the forger, or some sign of his legacy other than his sword. There was none. But I knew why he made it, and I sought out to fulfill that purpose... the Gathering can wait.
Immortality is Relative:
Part 2: The Mixing
By Ron McClung
My name is Ian-Flannery McKern, and like all of my kind, I am a pawn to the Gathering. However, I am no ordinary pawn, for I play another game. I am the immortal vampire-hunter; he who slays the vermin feeding on the innocence of this tiny world, with the sword Alkranon - "Death Again" in some forgotten language of the immortals before us. This is one of my stories.
On one of the most beautiful days in Rome, early in the 14 century, I was wandering the streets of the fair city, sword on my back. I had spent some time in Italy seeking out my prey, but as I discovered I had stayed too long. When I stay too long I begin to get noticed. Not by local authorities or any officials of the mortals, but by the clan leaders of the vampires, and because Italy seemed to be a breeding ground for these vermin, I stayed long enough to draw attention.
With very little food, I sought out a place to eat. Hunger is one of the many discomforts that my kind must endure, but at a higher risk than mortals, for if we do not feed, we starve eternally. A small cafe' on the street caught my eye, after which I checked my purse and proceeded to sit.
After I ordered some bread, cheese and wine, I pondered at the beauty of the day, but no matter how beautiful something is, there is always the darkness lying somewhere, awaiting the right time to reveal itself. I should have remembered this.
My eyes wandered to a far table where sat a lone figure, a stunning lone woman with black silky hair and green hypnotic eyes. My heart leaped in excitement as my gaze was met with a smile. I knew a little Italian, so I approached her after my order had arrived.
Her voice was just as enchanting as her eyes. Her body was covered in a silky garment appropriate for the time. She invited me to her home for more wine, and a good Scotts gentleman never declines an offer like that. However, something made my inner senses shiver, a cold shutter ran through my spine. However, with my guard down with the prospect of sharing wine with this lady and possibly something more, I followed her ignoring the feelings for the first and last time.
The house was in the bellows of town, far from the square. What I didn't notice is that it was far from any church. I was blind with the effects of wine and the heat of passion that was brewing inside me. This woman was building a fire in me that could engulf the sun. She drew me into her home with a sultry stare. The sudden lack of sun light in the house took a moment to get used to. When the blindness subsided, she was no where in sight. I just about sobered up when I heard her voice in an adjoining room. Stairs were in front of me, presumably leading to a place I hoped to be soon - her bedroom. To the left was the direction of the voice. Like a siren, she beckoned me and liked a doomed sailor, I followed.
She stood in the shadows, near a table where she was pouring more wine. She asked me to sit on some pillows against the wall. When she stepped out of the shadows, I realized she has changed. No longer was she wearing the unflattering rags she wore before, but satiny robes of see-through black silk. My passion could not be held back. As she sat, I assaulted her with that passion. I don't know what fueled it. The wine? Her sent? She responded with stronger, more powerful lust. I was not ready for the force of her want. She licked up and down my face, neck and chest, her breath cooling my burning skin. Her desire grew faster, and more powerful. She was beyond by control when she mounted me.
Finally, I saw her eyes... red aglow with the hunger, a savage hunger that I seek to destroy. However, she did not impale me with her fangs that were already protruding as she hissed. I was not a common victim. She was my assassin.
She miraculously produced a blade of some Middle Eastern-make and held it to above her head. With me still inside her, she swung the blade down towards my neck. I instinctively swung my arms up to block.
The pain was dizzying. It sank about a quarter of an inch into my forearm bone. I screamed as I pushed back against it and threw her off of me. I immediately dove off the pile of pillows, and toward the last place I remembered leaving Alkranon. It was gone.
Arms drenched in blood, I stood to face the hell-whore. So many emotions were swirling through my head as I tried to retrace the last few moments while at the same time watch the bitch for any quick movement.
She must have hidden Alkranon or had help, while I was lost in foolish sexual desire. My alternatives were slim. She then lunged at me. She must have not been aware of the pillows, because she tripped in front me. She recovered quickly, but not quick enough to recover the sword. The blade went tumbling towards the stairs.
We faced each other again, she hissing some heathen curses.
"They told me to take your head to kill you, and not told touch you cursed blood. However, I am at a loss, so I must resort to my instinct.I may not take your Quickening like your kind do, but I will feed on your blood... the sweet taste of an Immortal's blood. I true delicacy amongst my kind."
She flew at me with incredible speed. I had little time to react before her fangs had penetrated my neck. Fear and frustration flowed through my veins, sweetening her feed even more. My worst nightmare was forming into reality. Of course I contemplated the possibility; a mixture of vampire and Immortal blood. What would come of it? I soon was to find out whether I wanted to or not.
She clung to me like a animal chewing at its prey, sucking and slurping obscenely. I regained some leverage and threw her off toward the far corner; towards a familiar iridescent light in the far corner. She had moved Alkranon there, far from my reach, but not far from my throw. She landed on the sword, the blade protruding from between her perfect breasts, her blood absorbing into the blade.
I then collapsed. Her virus was taking a strong effect. Despite the fact that she was dead, I was still feeling the clammy attack of the vampiric venom pulsing through my veins. I felt the strong shadow of unconsciousness approach, but it never reached.
Something kept me awake, aware of the pain, and the agony. My immortality would not allow this invasion, but it did not go without a struggle. It felt as if hundreds of daggers were inserted into me and pulled out from the other side, over and over again. It took a full day to finally cleanse my veins, and in that time, I stayed and watched in blurred vision, the vampire assassin seductress decay away.
Beauty is not always what it seems and immortality is relative... my two laws of life.
Immortality Is Relative
Part 3: "The Sea of Blood"
My name is Ian-Flannery McKern and I am an Immortal Vampire Hunter. As a play-thing to the Gathering and a hunter of the dark beasts of the night, I had lived my life on a two-edged blade. On the one side there is the others of my mysterious race that want my head; on the other, there is the Vampire clans that want my blood, and then my head. These two factions keep my life constantly moving; always looking for new places to hide and fulfill my destiny; to rid the world of the evil vermin of the dark.
At sea, I felt closer to myself and free from the ever-pulling will of the Gathering. I served on a frigate during the mid-seventeenth century, ferrying colonials and supplies to the New World. Jerome DeLarouge was my captain, and a fellow Immortal. He and I spent the better half of the 16th century learning swordsmanship from every master we could find. Our quest was fruitful, and not without its encounters, but that is a separate set of tales.
Our ship was sure and solid, built in the best harbor the Brits had to offer. Her name was the Lady Louise, after one of Jerome's lost loves. That was his weakness; he fell in love too easily. The sea was unnaturally choppy this one hazy day; it worried both Jerome and I. The crew was uneasy all day, as were the fresh load of passengers; a hold full of high paying dilettantes wanting to see the New World of the British Colonies. They were ignorant to the darkness that loomed over us.
Jerome gave the orders to prepare for a storm, and the crew responded promptly, as did I. I went below to warn the passengers and secure any loose cargo. I ran into Camille Arling, a beautiful young miss who seemed to have an eye for me, although Jerome had made many attempts to make it into her bed. She looked scared and alone, although she did not travel alone; her mother was somewhere on board.
"What is wrong, Ian? Is there trouble?" she sweetly inquired. I must admit that I was attracted to her, despite my sworn oath to avoid getting involved with a woman.
"The captain thinks so. Don't worry, it shouldn't be too bad if you get back to your quarters and secure everything." I said. She gave me the most pitiful look from those dark brown eyes.
"Ian, can I stay with you. I'd feel safer." I should have expected that.
"I'm sorry. I'll be trying to keep the ship together. You'd be a lot safer in your quarters with your mother. No need to worry her."
She pouted as she gave in and agreed. I soon was deep in the cargo bay, securing our guests' belongings.
I was working my way back up to the deck, when I heard the look-out shout, "Sail, hooo. Off the starboard bow..."
I immediately quickened my pace. I felt uncomfortable about another sail. Pirates were not uncommon in these seas. I stopped by my quarters to retrieve my sword, the majestic Alkranon, the Undead Slayer. It vibrated in my hand comfortably, as if it missed me grip.
The captain was atop the bridge, scanning the seas with the telescope. He stopped scanning just off the starboard bow. "They fly a black flag" Certainly a bad sign, I said to myself. "It's the... "he strained to read the name of the ship,"... Drack'ul Marinus... the Sea Dragon."
I stopped at the railing to peer in the already dark cloudy midday. The sails were barely visible. It was a large ship, probably 2 crew for every 1 of ours. I then looked at Jerome, who looked concerned for his crew. He gave the order to prepare for attack, and unsecure the cannons. They would almost be upon us by the time we had the cannons ready.
Our worries were confirmed as the first barrage of cannons from our apparent adversary splashed just feet from our hull, and smashed through a sail. It swiftly approached our bow, with obvious intentions of boarding. I peered around our deck, surveying the crews progress. A crew member next to me seemed suddenly curious.
"Ian, Your sword?"
I looked down at my side, where my sword hung. Since I acquired the sword, I found out it has a longer range than my natural sense, and I learned to trust it. At this time, it was glowing with a bright iridescent light. Never had it glowed so bright at such a great distance. I felt the burning sensation of destiny's fierce grip on my soul. Adrenaline surged through my Immortal veins. My interest was peaked at the thought of encountering a sea-faring species of vampire for the first time. I have run into many types of vampires, from the subterranean to the polar type. Each had something different about them, which accounted for the many discrepancies the legends had. However, my thoughts swayed to the uneasy brightness of my sword. Why so bright? It had to mean something, but my mind was not in the right frame of thought to think about it. I was prepared for battle; battle against my worst enemy.
I looked up at Jerome, who knew of my sword's strange magical power, and my quest. He gave me a reassuring look that let me know that he would be fighting by my side every step of the way.
I set myself, ready for boarders as the ship pulled along side. As light from our lanterns shed a hazy orange hue over the dark ship's deck, I, as did many others, realized there was no one at the wheel, nor any one at the rails ready to swing over on ropes. I heightened my instincts as I prepared for the worse.
I've encountered many shape-shifting breed of vampires, and it came apparent to me that this was one of them. I large pack of strange sea wolves leaped from the ship's deck from behind the rail, hidden in the shadows. In mid-flight, they changed instantaneously to their humanoid shapes, and landed in the middle of our deck. There weren't as many as I expected, but they were vampires, and that made it so much worse.
"Aim for their hearts, laddies... for their hearts.", screamed Jerome. He had learned much from our near-century long travels.
Many of the men fell quickly, for this breed was very fast and agile. I slew several, as I fought my way through the crowd. I could see Jerome fight towards me in the crowd of hissing fangs, and screaming men. These simple mortals were not prepared for this visit from Hell.
As I fought, I spied something moving swiftly through the crowd. I caught a glance of a figure of a man, briskly strolling through the crowd across the deck, as if there was no battle at all. He disappeared below deck.
I immediately worked my way towards the door leading below. I signalled to Jerome, and he immediately understood. He worked his way to an alternate route below, to catch the figure from behind.
I finally made it to the door after slicing the head off a hissing female vampire. The hallways below were initially dark, and damp as always. The figure was smart to attack during this brewing storm, or was it more than just a coincidence? This breed had extraordinary power. This shall be a challenge, I thought to myself.
My sense sprang with excitement, as did my sword. The light from my sword easily lit my way. The maker of this sword was a master at his craft; what better power to give a vampire hunting-sword than producing light.
The figure was near. I felt that he sensed me as well, as if he was expecting me. I worked my way down to the crew quarters, near my cabin.
I heard a scream from a female voice. Camille...
This was developing into a very difficult situation. Why was Camille here in crew quarters? Of course, she wanted to be with me; she was probably in my quarters now. I slowly pushed the door open. I did not try to hide my sword.
"Ian-Flannery McKern, I presume. When I heard you were on this ship... I just had to stop by, and meet the great slayer of my kind. By the way, aren't you supposed to be slaying your own, not mine."
The voice was as cold as the deepest fathoms of the sea. The stench in my room was of rotten flesh that had been at sea too long. However, I did not recognize the voice. When the glow passed over the figure, who quivered from it brightness, I saw a face of a well dressed Turkish man, in European clothing. He held Camille by the neck with one hand, and in another was a cutlass.
"Let me introduce myself, sir. I am Alexis Rutyer Blackard, and I am here for you... to meet you."
Behind me, I heard Jerome breathing.
"Ahhh, yes, the great captain. Another of your kind, Ian. Welcome. Please come in and chat."
"You filthy bastard. Your head will be food for the sharks once I get through with you. I'll hang your body..."
"Now, now...Captain DeLarouge, control yourself. You wouldn't want anything to happen to your precious Camille, would you?"
The smug bastard had us at bay, with no other choice but to sit and listen.
"What do you want, Blackard?" I was tired of guessing.
"I want to see your Quickening; how it works. You two should be working towards that little Gathering you people like to talk about. So I'm here to make it happen. I am here to witness two Immortals duel... the two of you, my friends, will fight to the death... fight until a drop of a head."
His words seem to echo in my soul, their cold grip grabbing my self control and twisting it to serve Blackard's will. He wanted to see two Immortals fight, and he was going to get it, despite any attempts at breaking his control.
The fight was long and tiresome. The more tired the two of us got, the stronger was Blackard's control. I pulled a few strikes as did Jerome, but this made us even more exhausted. It was inevitable. One of us was going to die, and I knew it was not going to be me. Jerome seemed to know this, as my final swing landed me the Quickening I never dreamed I'd get, or even want.
I blacked out afterwards. Jerome's Quickening was a strong one. Jerome was an old Immortal, and that made it an even more shattering tragedy. I awoke with the last of the Quickening I never wanted flashing through my nerves, his knowledge and emotions flowing through me. I found myself alone, on the deck, which was littered with bodies. The ship was empty, many bodies unaccounted for. One body I searched for more than the rest was Camille's. There was no sign of the poor girl. The bastard had taken her. This was salt in an already painful wound. I swore then to find him and slay him in punishment for the innocence he had violated. Alexis Rutyer Blackard will die on the blade of Alkranon.
One comforting sensation did flow through me as I prepared a life boat with supplies and set the Lady Louise afire. It was Jerome's final emotion; his final thought, as my blade sliced through his neck. Forgiveness...