Page 95 of Theoden
“The King insisted you have these,” he said, then handed over their reins to us.
I nodded and mounted my horse as Titus mounted his. We were off, galloping in the direction of Capua, and I followed Titus, as he knew the way.
“That was intense, brother,” he said.
“It was,” I agreed.
“Were you really prepared to kill him? I mean, we do not know what will happen to vampires if one of the Royals dies. Nothing may happen, or maybe just the vampires of his lineage would perish, or maybe all. You do not want to unravel that cord, brother.”
“He needed to believe that I would do it, that I did not care,” I said. Whether or not I would have attempted it, even I wasn’t sure.
***
It took us a day and a half to get to Capua, as we had enthralled a coachman to take us during the day time hours while we slept. The land was war torn, bodies littered the streets and open land in certain areas. Titus was by my side as I walked through the field of dying and the dead until I reached the tent set up where the infirm were being taken to the medicus.
We entered and Titus waited by the opening as I walked through the men on makeshift cots. The tent reeked of piss, shit, stale and fresh blood, infection, and other sicknesses. This was the fate of humanity, such a fragile thing. After I searched the tent with no luck, I left that one and entered another. Again, Titus waited at the opening.
Fuck the gods, they can’t take me!A voice penetrated my mind, one so powerful, it stood out above the others. I had been listening to the thoughts of these soldiers, most only wanted the pain to end or to see their families again. But not this one. This one cursed the Normans who tried to take his home away and the gods he believed in that would let them if they took him to the afterlife.
I searched out that voice and found the beast of a man it belonged to. Ye gods, he was huge! Taller than Titus as his feet dangled over the little cot that struggled to support him under his massive weight. I searched for his name: Marco De Luca. Ah, yes. Pure Italian blood and a fighter through and through. He was beautiful even in his fevered stated.
His body had wounds, old and new, and three of them were infected and oozing putrid pus. The medicus was putting a wet cloth on his forehead, but he slapped it away in his delirium.
“Fuck off me, I can still fight!” he roared.
Oh, he was magnificent! My cock grew hard as my mouth watered in anticipation of siring this bold human. He was a warrior: his hair had been shaved on the sides, leaving only a strip down the middle, and his beard and mustache, though wet with vomit, was full, masculine. He was a terrifying presence on the battlefield, I was sure.
He would make a great addition to Ara’s Kingdom. I stepped closer and the medicus looked up at me with sorrowful eyes.
“He is not long for this world. Are you here to give him his last rights, Priest?” he asked.
I smiled and looked down at Marco. He was staring up at me with clouded eyes. “I am no priest, but I did come to deliver him to a higher plane of existence.” I palmed the medicus’ chin, keeping our gazes locked. “Leave us, tend to the others and pay us no mind.”
He nodded and got up to take care of the other unfortunate souls. I knelt down beside Marco’s cot. His body was ravaged by deep gashes and numerous cuts. He truly fought his best and still wanted to fight to his end. Yes, this one was worthy of my blood. My blood that I had not given to another in three hundred years. He would be strong, and my right hand.
“What if I told you, you do not have to die here tonight?” I asked him.
He blinked in his confusion. “What the fuck you speak?”
“I have the power to heal you, to give you strength beyond your wildest imagination. True power, you will never have to worry about trivial things ever again. I will make you a god among men. Do you want this?”
He laughed, and then immediately choked on his own blood. He leaned over, spitting it out on the floor. “To curse the gods who threatened to take my life? Fuck those cunts. If you can give me what you promise… then I accept.”
I loved his fighting spirit. I nodded and lifted him in my arms. With Titus by my side, we left the tent and I put Marco in our carriage. We had to hurry, because Marco was on the brink. I knew how to do theembracing, but had never done it, so perhaps it was a good thing my brother was with me.
“Are you sure he’s the one?” Titus asked as he gave Marco a scrutinizing inspection.
“He is, yes.” I exposed Marco’s neck, then sank my fangs. His blood was poisoned with the infection that was destroying his body, but it was still tasty. I could tell by Marco’s soft, barely audible moans that he was enjoying my bite. I took just enough until I heard his heart slow, then I pulled back. I looked down at him, his eyes were closed, his mouth barely open. I bit my wrist and forced the bleeding wound to Marco’s mouth and waited.
He wasn’t drinking. “What did I do wrong?” I asked Titus in a panic.
“Nothing. Let me help you.” Titus reached over and began massaging Marcos’ throat. “When gladiators were unconscious and the medicus needed to get medicine in them, they would do this. It induces swallowing.”
I was still worried, I didn’t want to lose him. I’d searched for so long and traveled so far. My panic began to grow until I felt the pull of his hunger.
“Ahh!” I yelped, because I was unaware of how painful it was. It felt as though he was pulling my veins from my body through his feeding. It burned and throbbed like nothing I’d ever experienced before, and I grimaced in agony all the while keeping my wrist to his mouth.
“There you go, you’re about to become a Father,” Titus said, then settled back on the seat of the carriage. “Let him drink until he lets go. You can always feed afterward, but he’s your first son. You want him to be one powerful son of a bitch.”
