Chapter 6

"Tristan!" Arthur called as snow began to fall in the mountains. "Ride ahead" he simply stated. Tristan gave the slightest head nod, and did as his Roman Commander ordered. That was always his duty. To ride forth and warn the others of attacks. He had always had a sixth sense…something inside told him when a stranger approached. It was a gift he had even before a vampire had ever sunk its teeth into him.

The Woads this time had expected him. The first arrow whizzed by the ear of his mare, and it took all of Tristan's strength to keep from falling off. He turned the reigns and ducked low, riding as fast as he could back to Arthur to warn his fellow knights. How did I not sense them? He pondered for a second, but the next arrow came and erased such thoughts. It pierced the back of his right side, the pain excruciating. He held on for dear life, but the next arrow caught his horse and down both fell, Tristan barely escaping the horse's body. Hitting the ground hard, he groaned and tried to stand, but found it impossible. Blood began to pour out of his side, and his eyes were suddenly heavy as snow blanketed him. He watched as the figures slowly departed into shadow, and the only thing to be heard was the harshness of the wind.

"Get hot water, Galahad!" Gawain commanded, lifting Tristan off his horse and onto the campsite, laying him down and covering him with blankets. The Scout began to stir, and his eyes soon registered that he was not lying alone in the snow. His body shook from the cold. He looked down and saw that half the arrow was broken off.

"Look at me Tristan" Percival exclaimed. "We need to take out the arrow and clean the wound. You know how this works. Its going to be painful."

Tristan, whose head was pounding and eyes still blurry, nodded. He had seen this procedure done many a time. He only hoped his cries would not be loud.

Lancelot readied the fire, putting the iron rod into it, the end of it blazing orange. Bors gave Tristan something to bite down on as Arthur removed the arrow from his back. Tristan winced and bit hard, the pain worse than when it had been shot into him. Breathing hard, he waited until the inevitable. He could hear Lancelot sigh; it took a lot of strength for a man to burn a friend. He poked the blazing rod into the wound, a sound of flesh sizzling heard by the knights. Tristan writhed with suffering and could not keep still. It took both Dagonet and Bors to hold him steady as Lancelot buried the rod further, making sure the wound was fully burned.

After it was finished, Tristan tried his best not to whimper, and lay back down on his blanket, his head dizzy.

Galahad put a hand on his shoulder, his eyes showing a sign of relief. "We thought you were dead, mate. When we were ambushed by the Woads, we thought for sure they must have killed you. Took a few hours to find you, half buried in the snow and all. Your face was all lifeless and blue. I thought for sure you weren't going to make it here"

Gawain rolled his eyes. "I'm sure that's making him feel loads better, Gally. Why don't you go run along and fetch the man a hot cloth?"

Tristan did his best not to smile as Galahad scampered along. The lad was still young, but his heart was in the right place. He looked around, and every single one of his companions showed signs of worry, though they tried their best to disguise it. They had not been in Briton long, but already there was a bond forming among the Sarmatian knights that went beyond their common ancestry; and even their Roman Commander was beginning to show compassion to them.

Lancelot showed his charming smile and smacked Tristan playfully on the cheek. "Glad to see that over with. I was afraid you were going to knock me out after I stuck a burning hot rod in your body."

Tristan sat up a bit straighter. "Believe me, I'm sure I'll return the favor someday." Lancelot's smirk immediately formed into a stiff frown, and he walked away as Bors laughed.

"In all seriousness, Tristan. Its good to have you back among the living. You know I can't handle these sully pieces of manure without your rotten company."

Tristan awoke to the sound of barking dogs. The girl lying beside him did not stir; indeed, she could not, for life was already taken from her body. Tristan listened as he heard footsteps approaching…many men.

"The monster's up here!" One shouted.

"He took the girl up there last night, I saw him!" Another exclaimed.

Gathering his clothes, he crawled out the window and unto the haystacks. In the past year he and Braciaca traveled northeast, stopping every couple of towns to bed a whore or steal a horse. Every town was the same. By the time the country folk figured out there were 'monsters' among them, Tristan and Braciaca would leave.

He did not always kill the women he slept with. Only once or twice a month did the urge for a woman's blood become overwhelming. Mostly it was raiders or outcast townsmen he preyed on. He learned quickly that if he did not think hard on what their lives were like, it was a lot easier to take it from them.

Braciaca did not discriminate his victims. Old, young, pretty or ugly, he did not care. The two moved quickly, never staying in one spot for long. On the nights they did not sleep in inns, they practiced honing their skills in the dark woods. It was getting colder everywhere they went. Snow often fell on them, but it did not matter. Warmth was not something a vampire needed. Tristan could still not master shape shifting; the closest he had ever come to was a half man half horse, to which Braciaca would not leave him alone on.

"I do say Tristan, you make a rather fetching centaur. You've brought an extinguished creature back to life, brother." To this Tristan simply rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration.

"Can't you be serious for one bloody moment! This isn't a game, you know" Tristan snapped, returning to his true form.

Braciaca raised an eyebrow and folded his arms as he leaned against a tree. "Not a game, aye? Why precisely are you learning these skills anyways, Tristan? Perhaps you plan to use them for more than just scaring away frightened villagers?"

Tristan looked down and grit his teeth. He still could not tell his friend the truth.

Braciaca looked hard into his fellow vampire's eyes, and then quickly looked away. "Well. Perhaps it is time to tell you of the prophecy."

The Scout smirked. "I know your prophecy. You think some vampire savior will come and make you all stronger and more powerful so that you can rule the world without hiding from mere humans."

"I find your answer quite amusing…especially the fact that you still refer to our race as separate from you. Is there something you're not sharing?"

"Is my guess true?" Tristan fired back.

Braciaca lifted his chin in defeat. "Partly. You make it sound so vicious. Perhaps I should share with you the facts I know. My maker…the vampire that bit me and made me the so called monster I am today; she told me a day would come when a human was made a vampire who was stronger than any other; a vampire who held the power to make our souls whole, and our bodies not afraid of daylight. We would no longer need the taste of human blood to survive, Tristan. We will no longer crave the deaths of mortals, since you still seem to have a lingering affection for a few human's well beings."

"How is this possible?" Tristan asked. If mother was right and I were the chosen one, then why do I still crave human blood? He asked himself.

"Only the one who can walk in daylight can retrieve the treasure that gives vampires limitless power. It is a treasure no human can withstand touching. It is the item that will rid us of our cravings."

"But don't most vampires like such cravings?"

Braciaca started to laugh. "Perhaps that is true. Over time blood becomes an obsession, as well as the process of draining it. But the euphoria…the power that comes with the blood…that can be given without humans anymore."

Tristan tried taking it all in. "I have heard things as well. I thought this prophecy had something to do with the children of the chosen one?"

Braciaca nodded. "Indeed, it does. If the treasure is retrieved, we can gain limitless power only by keeping a piece of it on us. The children of the Chosen one will inherit the power naturally, and a whole new race of vampire will be made."

"You said a piece of the treasure? Is it like some fabled jewel or something?" Tristan asked, scoffing.

Braciaca shrugged. "I wish I knew more."

Two days later Tristan and Braciaca rode into yet another northern town as snow began to blanket the earth beneath them. Taking off their heavy cloaks, they strode into the town inn and demanded two rooms. As usual, the girls were giddy with delight by the newcomer's arrival, and the men leery.

It wasn't long before the two men were approached by the villagers.

One burly chap offered to buy a pint of ale for each of the men. "Been hearing some mighty strange occurrences goin' on a bit south of here, friends. Word is two lonely type fellas have been killing the locals…folks say they're traveling north…" He gave Tristan a smile as he narrowed his gaze, searching for a reaction. Tristan gave him none.

Braciaca formed his own smile, and grabbed the burly man and his companions stools. "Matter of fact, we have. My companion and I are on a journey you see, to find these so called monsters…and kill em."

This statement made most of the inn hush with silence as onlookers appeared interested in the conversation. If Tristan wasn't so used to containing his emotions, he probably would have smiled at Braciaca's words.

The burly man appeared flustered. "How's about you gonna do it? I only see the one sword your friend has…"

Braciaca flashed his white teeth at the crowd. "With monsters you must use more than simple manmade weapons, gentlemen. Now, if you'll excuse us, we must rest before pursuing the demons."

"You mean you must rest during the day? Isn't that what the monster's themselves do?" a young voice in the crowd proclaimed. The face could not be found, but Tristan's heart beat faster as recognition hit home.

"Tis a bit peculiar that two men show up looking for two demons, when their own trail patterns the same as the monsters themselves" The voice was coming closer. Tristan kept his back turned, his hood staying over his head as Braciaca looked at the crowd.

"And what would you know of monsters, dear boy?"

"I only know one, and one well. I have searched for you many months, Tristan."

As his name was called, Tristan closed his eyes in pain. Slowly turning around, he took off his hood and stared into the eyes of his old companion. Galahad still had his boyish facial features, except for his eyes. His eyes were of a maddening sort, thirsty for blood and revenge.

Braciaca looked at Tristan in confusion, but could sense the displeasure in the young man's voice.

Tristan looked straight at his old friend, memories flooding back into his head, both good and painful. Briton, the Knights of the Round…Sarmatia…Leah.

"Have you forgotten what horrible deeds you have done to my family?" Galahad said hoarsely as he made his way forward amongst the large crowd.

Tristan could only look at him sorrowfully. "I never meant to harm anyone, Gally."

"DON'T call me that name!" He shouted, unsheathing his sword. The crowd quickly drew out of the way, though still making it impossible for anyone to escape. "You don't have the right to speak to me, much less call me a name that is meant for friends."

Tristan raised his hands in defeat. "What I did was inexcusable. But rest be assured it was an accident."

Braciaca whispered tactlessly, "I take it he was the knight whose sister you killed?"

Tristan did not respond. All he could do was look into Galahad's eyes and relive every ounce of pain he had wrought on that family's life.

"Go home, Galahad. Do not waste your life seeking revenge…even if you do kill me, it shall bring you no comfort."

"I'll decide that!" he shouted, running forth wildly. Tristan quickly blocked the blow and sent Galahad flying into the nearest table, cracking it open as he fell. As the crowd drew nearer with blood thirsty gazes, Tristan and Braciaca vanished into thin air, reappearing outside the inn.

"Hurry, before he comes after us" Braciaca stated, running towards the forest.

"I have to face him" Tristan said, not moving as the door to the inn opened.

Rolling his eyes, the elder vampire grabbed hold of his friend. "I'm sure you will quite soon. But I'd rather do it without fifty villagers Armed with wooden stakes standing about with dawn approaching. If this knight is of the famous Round Table, he will track us.

Obeying his friend, Tristan slinked back into the dark forest at the top of the hill away from the village. Dawn was quickly approaching, and it was soon evident there was no caves around to hide in.

Braciaca started to slow down. "The light will soon reach us, Tristan. We have to go back to the village and find a place to hide…the stables perhaps."
"There must be a cave around here somewhere" Tristan exclaimed.

"Even if there was, these villagers are not far away, they would find us, and while our strength outnumbers them, their stakes would win."

"I can fight them off!" Tristan yelled, pacing in circles.

"Not in the sun you can!"

"YES, I can Braciaca. I can."

Braciaca furrowed his brow, his breathing deep. "How is this possible?"

Tristan could not look at his friend. "I can walk in daylight…I can take a wooden stake to my heart and have it bounce off. I can do all these things…because I am the Chosen one."

At first Braciaca was silent. Scratching his neck, he finally said, "This is the worst time to be playing pranks on me, Tristan. We need to figure out-"

"It's true" Tristan stated in a voice barely audible. "Even as a human I was not fully…my mother….she…she's your Queen. She told me of her plan. I am that missing link. She plans to use me to make you all more powerful."

It seemed like hours went bye as Braciaca searched Tristan's face for truth. "Can it be?" he whispered. "Can you be the One to spare us from this misery?"

"In a few minutes you'll know, but we have to find shelter for you." Tristan scanned the outlying area. "The rocks, over there. Its barely more than 5 feet deep, but it'll have to do for now. I'll fend off the villagers."

As if on queue, distant voices were soon heard. "Go, now!" Tristan called, and Braciaca nodded.

A few moments later they approached, about twenty in all, with Galahad in the forefront. Some bore pitchforks while others had simple wooden stakes.

"We know what you are, Tristan. It is time to pay for the crimes committed against my countryfolk. You will pay for your sins."

"One day, I hope as much. But not today, Galahad. Today I must live." Tristan called. Soon his teeth began to change, with the fangs gnawing their way out as his eyes turned a nasty shade of yellow, matching the sun that soon made its way up in the sky.

"I know of your kind, Tristan. With the sun comes your demise."

"I beg you, Galahad, leave and start a new life. No good will come of this."

For a moment, a ray of fear shone of the Sarmatian knight's face as he realized the sun was now shining brightly down on the vampire. But anger once more replaced that fear.

"I care not how powerful a demon you are! You are no longer my friend! You killed the Tristan I knew the moment you took over his body! And now I will fulfill my destiny, monster."

Ten of them rushed forward, leaving Tristan little time to act. All the training Braciaca had put him through took over, and Tristan sped like lightning around the men, honestly trying not to kill them if he could. His nails were like claws and he lashed out, chopping off some of their stakes. With his fangs wide open he hissed at them, scaring a few away while the others came on strong. He appeared and reappeared behind one, throwing him against a tree as another jumped him. This one he couldn't help but snap his neck. Everytime Galahad approached Tristan simply knocked him away with his strength. One of the villagers managed to get his knife into Tristan's back, but the pain was small and Tristan quickly dealt with the attacker. Five more rushed at him, and Tristan could barely see anything happening infront of him.

After killing all five, Tristan looked behind him. "Perhaps this will get you to fight me" Galahad called, as he and three others came to the rock Braciaca was hiding under. The three of them began to push out the boulder; Tristan raced forward, only to have two attackers come from behind and pierce him. A small delay, but as Tristan looked back, he watched as Braciaca could do nothing but spring forth from his hiding spot as the boulder was lifted and bite into one of his attackers, killing him instantly. As Braciaca turned to unleash his instincts on Galahad, the demon of the sun shone down.

"No!" Tristan yelled.

Braciaca screamed in hideous pain and hid his face as his skin began to peel before the flames came. He slashed wildly at Galahad, slamming him to the ground as soon the flames engulfed his body. Seconds later as Tristan reached him, all that remained was the ashes of his body.

Not believing it to be true, Tristan reached down to feel the ashes for himself. Shaking, he looked to his right as saw Galahad standing, his sword at the ready, a single tear falling down his cheek.

"You took the life of my sister, I murdered your friend. I have made my revenge" he stated, throwing his sword to the ground. "Do what you will to me, demon. My life is no longer worth living."

His heart pounded rapidly. "I will not kill you, Galahad. I am not what you think."

Galahad sighed deeply, his own heart racing as he breathed heavily. "If you will not save me from a life of misery, then you are certainly no friend of mine." Tristan saw him unsheathe his dagger, and before his friend could kill himself, Tristan thrust himself on top of him.

"No knight shall have honor by taking his own life" Tristan said, repeating the words of a code long remembered, in a land at the end of the world. Looking into his friends eyes one last time, Tristan once more let the fangs take control, and powerfully pierced Galahad's neck, the penetration deep as he began to suck the blood out of the body. Galahad had no time to move, he gasped one last time, his eyes open wide as life left his body. As Tristan felt his energy come full force, he let go of the skin, his teeth returning to normal. Sitting up, he stared into the cold dead eyes of his companion. With his hands shaking fiercely, he quickly shut the lids and mouth, as a wave of emptiness spread across the Scout's soul.

A strong winde approached, sending the nearby ashes of Braciaca away. And all that was left was Tristan.