THE GOLIATHUS CHRONICLES
Chapter 23- The Thorn in Your Side
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It had been a long time since Marcus Valiant had even dared to set foot outside. Having been a practical prisoner in his own castle, he had stayed close to the stone walls and dared not even show his face to anyone but those who resided within. His plan was time-consuming and complicated, but so far, it had gone well. The vampires he set out to distract the heradus with were worthy sacrifices, whether they knew it or not. To hell with them, really...most of "his" clan did nothing but go on about Donovan, who had been a "true" leader, while they considered him a "coward". He huffed, eyes narrowing. They had no idea the real danger they would be in if it wasn't for him. He had spent years trying to protect them and they didn't even have a clue. Someday, he was going to get the respect he deserved...even if he had to force it out of them. As he traveled down the dungeon's hallways he met a lurking, shadowy figure. The hood covering its face unfurled from around its head as if a living entity and terrible pale-white features could be seen, with eyes so blood-red and ugly, that even Marcus had a hard time looking at them.
"Drakkon?"
"Yesss..."
"Did you find him?"
"I did, Marcusss...he wasss deep within the foressst, in an old cabin."
"Where did you move him?"
"Somewhere Goliathusss will never hope to find him. I asssure you that."
"Good..." Flashing a grin, Marcus stepped past the Shadow vampire and headed further down the hallway, passing numerous prison doors as he did so. The shadowy evil followed closely behind, floating silently behind him.
Finally, as they neared the end, Marcus turned left and fumbled with a key to a huge wooden door that looked positively ancient. Creaking open as if reluctant to move, Marcus struggled with the heavy door, heaving it open, and was greeted to a small room packed with crates, some of which went to the ceiling.
"All right, so where is it?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Drakkon.
"There..." he pointed towards the middle, with one long, eerily curved fingernail.
"And it's...a whistle? Seriously?"
The Shadow vampire laughed, which only sent a shudder through Marcus. He didn't like these vampires anymore than anyone else. Donovan may have considered them allies, but he only considered them incredibly hard to be around.
"This whisstle, as you call it, emits a sssound which can disssable the heradusss. It will be quite ussseful, Marcusss. Believe me."
That sounded promising. Crawling on top of a nearby shorter stack, Marcus began the long task of heaving boxes aside to find the right one, cursing under his breath.
Of course, the Shadow vampire did nothing to help him, only watched with an evil gleam in its eyes.
/
Setting down the small brush, Goliathus sighed and gave a good stretch. At last, the weapon was finished. Glancing at the clock, he realized it was nearly five in the morning. It had been quite a challenge to finish, but, ultimately he was satisfied. What gleamed back at him in layers of ebony lacquer and painstakingly intricate designs was a bow and arrow that was a true labor of love. It wasn't for him, after all...but for one little lady who slept soundly higher above him. He grinned, remembering a previous conversation one afternoon while Navi watched him intently and quietly, as she always did, so enamored by his work.
I wish I had that talent, to do what you do. I can only draw pictures.
You will someday, believe me. It just takes patience and practice.
He picked up the recurve bow and looked it over carefully, looking for any flaws he may have missed while the memory continued.
If you did want your very own weapon, what would you choose?
Oh it would be... her eyes widened slightly, as she was quite certain of her next thought... a bow and arrow! Like these... she showed him a few books she had been looking at, showing images of many different kinds of bows used, especially in ancient times. And he had smiled, proud of her taste in older finery. A bow and arrow, something he had never even thought to make before, so obsessed was he with daggers, swords, and the like. But children could be such an inspiration. Such a wonderful, wonderful inspiration.
This bow and arrow, it was purposefully "feminine" in its pose and stature, but strong and tough, like the heart of his daughter. Satisfied it was indeed complete, he only had to test it out now. Reaching for one of the ten arrows he had also finished, complete with iron tips, he aimed it towards a makeshift bullseye, which was really just a blank canvas he had drawn one on.
Pulling back he focused carefully before letting it fly. There was that delightful rush of sharp wind that an arrow created, which was music to his ears. It buried itself squarely where he wanted, right in the center. The bow hardly even creaked, and the arrow had followed a straight, nearly flawless path.
Yes...it would do just nicely.
He gathered up the bow and its arrows, including wrenching free the one in the canvas, and made his way up to the top. He hoped she would be pleased.
/
"Momma, momma! Look!"
Ami yawned, shifting around in her bed. She was only half-awake and trying to ignore the voice that was infiltrating her world of blissful sleep.
"Hmn?" She opened one eye, seeing only her bedroom wall.
"Momma you have to see it! It's beautiful!"
Curious now, Ami turned around again and saw her daughter's eager, happy face staring back at her. Even with sharp little teeth gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the window behind her, she was as cute and innocent as any human child.
At first, she didn't notice the black, slender object she was holding, but Navi made sure she did, holding it closer to her face.
"See see? Look! Daddy made this just for me!"
Ami had seen Navius happy before, but this was hyper, even for her. She sat up in bed and took the weapon, looking it over.
"Looks dangerous...but...wow. This really is beautiful!"
"Isn't it? I can't wait to practice using it! I never did actually use a bow and arrow before..."
"This is what you wanted?"
"Yes! But I didn't know he was actually making one!" She took it back, happily skipping out of the room.
Ami heard her call "I'm going to go outside and practice now!" before her voice faded completely.
Shaking her head but grinning, Ami stretched out with a huge yawn before crawling out of bed and getting some clothes on. Her first task of the day was to make breakfast for everyone... a very big breakfast.
Outside, both of the heradus children were excitedly hovering around their father as he showed them how to use the bow. In front of them was a real bulls-eye target, the kind used in archery. Goliathus hovered down with Navius standing in front, holding her hands properly on the bow and showing her how to use it. With intense concentration, she harbored on every mental word as he instructed her and despite her first few releases being way off, she still hit the board. Smiling, she reached back to pull another arrow from her quiver and try again.
There was no doubt, it seemed Navi was an archer at heart. Solarus, though he watched and listened, found it fun to watch but showed little interest in trying himself.
Goliathus would soon have a "gift" for him as well, but he decided he needed to be a bit older first. It wasn't so much about age really, but mentality. Solarus was still a bit too reckless, a point further proved as he daringly stood in front of Navi's aim a few times before darting off, only chuckling as she chewed him out. After the third time this happened, a sharp look of warning from his father finally caused Solarus to decide he would rather spend some time eating, especially as he heard his mother calling.
Yum! Bye, see ya later!
Yeah go already...pest...I'm still going to practice for a while.
As Goliathus turned to follow his son back inside, he looked back once, obviously pleased. The weapon was holding up extremely well. He couldn't help feel proud about it, as proud as he felt about her as he watched her ignore her hunger for the time being and shoot arrow after arrow, even watching in amusement as she would sometimes shake her head and correct her stance if she caught herself doing it wrong.
After all ten were used, she quickly gathered them up and went for another round.
He would need to make more arrows. Lots of them.
/
After one final curse word spoken loudly, Marcus finally found his treasure. As he ripped open the top of the old crate, he saw what the Shadow vampire had spoken so highly about.
It did, in all respects, look like a whistle. It was small, rounded, and with a tip on the end. The holes were oddly placed in its silvery surface, three of them. Huh. What was so special about it?
"You sssee there? On the end?"
Marcus grabbed the object and examined it. There was an even smaller piece of black something embedded in it...and after careful scrutiny, he realized it could only be one thing. The slight scent of sulfur further convinced him.
"Demon stone."
"Yesss..." Drakkon chuckled, as mice hiding in the walls scurried away quickly at the sound.
"This cursed thing is damned dangerous...you know that. I really hate demon stones."
"But it will be quite effective against the heradusss...Marcusss. Your little... sssecret weapon... if you will."
Turning with an icy glare, the stern look in the master vampire's eyes spoke volumes. "It had better be effective."
Unfortunately, such attempts at intimidation hardly seemed to phase the Shadow vampire. It only continued to stare at him with far more evil eyes until he had no choice but to turn away and quickly creep past, clutching the whistle tightly in his fist.
Demon whistle, or...whatever this thing was actually called.
In all truth, he didn't want to know.
Uttering its name might prove disastrous.
But if it could cause his nemesis great suffering, that's all that really mattered in the long run.
/
The dreams repeated, and they never ceased. Dizzying, rapid images of black and shadow, waves of nausea that would continue on and on like the waves of the sea. The demon chuckled, wallowing deep within the beloved misery it was causing this fragile, all-too-easy mind. Goliathus had been more of a challenge...much more, than this little weakling. It had taken nearly one year of endless torture before his heart had finally turned to stone, but the demon could sense that Dinarius...poor, sweet little Dinarius...would be SO much easier. The nearly five years that would pass before he finally awoke weren't even necessary, unfortunately, there was little the demon could do about the Curse. It would have to wait.
And even though Goliathus still had his scars, etched so deeply into his mind that it knew he'd never be able to heal them fully, he was still far more sane than he wanted him to be. It was too bad, because now the wretched traitor would learn what real suffering was. While the new one went mad with the Hunger, the other would go mad with self-loathing. Or perhaps doubt.
Nonetheless, it would only be temporary. It would have both of them soon. Both of them trapped and useless under its shadowy tendrils.
Then, it would have those little brats who dared to exist.
And even better...it would then have that woman who was trying to ruin everything...who was daring to get in its way.
A huge, leering grin spread over the face of the dragon head. Goliathus would kill her, of course he would. But it would be in such a way that torture could hardly describe it. And then perhaps, her own children would eat her flesh.
It sunk bank deep within the confines of Dinarius' mind, whispering its plans to him over and over again.
Relentless.
Never ceasing.
On and on and on...
/
Darry hovered over the king size bed, eyes briefly sweeping the design of the room. He didn't know why he was here now, with his sister, as she slept below, soundly.
He smiled, it was good to know that her nights were no longer tormented by nightmares. He didn't want to even think that she still had nightmares about him.
Of course, that didn't stop Patricia Jenner from planning something that anyone else would label her crazy for. She had been, for months, set and determined on finding the Creeper and destroying him once and for all. The pain of losing her brother had not only been more than she could bear, but she had decided that no one else could be lost to that monster if she had something to say about it.
Of course, her confusion was all over the place.
How to stop something that could not be killed?
He looked at piles of papers on her ornate desk, stacked high with newspaper clippings of past deaths, headlines of "Demon Bat from Hell Strikes Again"...and words of "lore", "legend", and "supernatural nonsense" adorning the articles. Many people did believe in the Creeper, but others thought he was merely a myth, and the truth was that it was yet another mysterious, psychotic serial killer that had been on the loose, with others being the copy-cat as the years went on.
If only that were true. Despite the fact this serial killer was cured of his habit, Darry wondered if it could last. He would always try his hardest to protect his sister and others like her, but it was taking every ounce out of him. He wondered how much longer he could exist here.
Sighing even though no breath existed, he silently moved down from the ceiling to the foot of her bed.
Patricia woke with a start. The air in her room had gotten profoundly colder, and she could have sworn someone called her name. Looking around she saw nothing at first, and watched a breeze from the window sway her curtains back and forth.
Except, the window wasn't open.
"Trish?"
Jerking her head towards the end of the bed, she saw the ghostly figure staring back at her, and his mouth formed into a warm smile. It was strange, how she reacted at first. All the memories of her past flooding in, reminding her of school days with her brother, playing as children with her brother, having pillow fights with her brother that he always won.
Darry. For a moment, she forgot he was even dead.
"Darry? Go back to bed."
Blinking, he laughed out right. "Uh yeah. Were you out drinking again, sis? I told you to lay off the margaritas long ago, remember?"
Darry, her impossible-to-be-around but oh-so-lovable sibling. Her other half. A part of her that had lived and died within her very soul, so painfully wrenched from her world in one horrifying, scary night.
The fear started to creep in.
Death.
Darry was dead.
This was not a dream. She was awake, and seeing a ghostly figure wavering in and out as if literally hovering in between dimensions, wearing the same yellow "Bannon" shirt that he had been wearing the last time she saw him.
It took another minute. At first, Trish's eyes became sad, so sad it was as if she had been reliving her brother's funeral all over again, like that terrible pain she felt when she realized all they had was an empty casket. As empty as her heart felt when they buried that empty casket.
A tear slipped down her eye.
Darry frowned, he felt in welling up within her like a terrible, raging river.
She opened her mouth, and a horrible, chilling scream reverberated throughout the entire house.
/
End Chapter 23.
Yes I have to be evil and do cliffhangers! And go check out "recurve bow" in Google, they are awesome! Until next chapter, dear readers!