The Lycan Chronicles Read online

  The Baron stood up from his throne and removed a necklace around his neck and held a medallion in his hand and heated it to red hot. It was the only thing he was allowed to take with him to earth that didn’t burn up in his fall in the red hot comet.

  “Step forward,” ordered the Baron, looking at Ouija. “Kneel at my feet, now!”

  Ouija did as the Baron had commanded.

  “This will allow you to see further and more accurate into the future. It is a trick I learned in another life and kingdom.”

  The Baron took the medallion and pressed it to Ouija’s forehead between his two eyes and it burned into his flesh, creating a third eye for his visions. Ouija gritted his teeth and stayed on his knees. “Hold still,” ordered the Baron, grinning and enjoying the smell of burnt human flesh. “Do not move.”

  The Baron lifted Ouija with just two fingers and bit into his neck, interchanging his blood with Ouija’s blood.

  “Now you have the gift of visions,” explained the Baron, looking at Croglin. “You have my blood running through your veins now.” The Baron pulled the burning hot medallion away and it left a permanent scar of a pentagram burned into his forehead. Smoke rolled off his skin and Ouija grinned, as he could feel his new powers and visions just start to flash through his mind and soul.

  “What you wish of me?” asked Ouija, “My Lord?”

  “I want you to lead my legions and to gain complete control of my kingdom and start the quest immediately.”

  “Yes My Lord,” replied Ouija, as he stood and faced the Baron.

  “When you have completed that,” said the Baron. “I command you to write a book with spells and keep writing until you have the one that will allow me to walk in God’s light without catching fire.”

  “Yes, My Lord,” answered Ouija, as he bowed and nodded his head.

  “You’ll need to follow my instructions on how to create the book and I’ll share what knowledge I have with you.”

  “Yes My Lord, I’m at your service.”

  The Baron plotted out his acts of revenge against mankind.

  “I’ll make the pages of the book from the skin of his slain foolish King and I’ll bind it with his Queens’ twisted intestines. You’ll write in the pages with the blood of his virgin daughter.”

  Ouija fully understood his mission, as he could now see the future and what must be done.

  “Yes My Lord,” said Ouija, knowing he had a mission to complete. “I’ll start the campaign for your rule and I’ll start on the book as soon as it’s ready for me. Anything else you wish of me?”

  “Yes, answered the Baron, handing him a piece of strange wood in the shape of a board. No matter what, this piece of board cannot be destroyed or burned. You will be able to use this to speak to the spirit world and they will also guide you in your journeys.”

  “Yes My Lord,” replied Ouija. “What do you call this magical allseeing board?”

  “In the heavens we called it the ‘Mystifying Oracle,’” replied the Baron, knowing it’s real powers. “But you may call it a ‘Ouija Board.’”

  Ouija took the board and he and Croglin bowed and left the chambers and walked the long hallway to follow the orders of their new King.

  ~500 B.C. A mile inland from the Dead Sea~ Professional record keepers of an ancient religion carefully tuck writings that are now referred to as the Dead Sea Scrolls, into snug niches, in the walls of a deep cave. These sacred writings showed the color of aged parchment and they were hidden away with great care, for when the time to fulfill their purpose was to come. No one knew when that time would be. The last thing to be placed into the depths of this cavern was a book that carried a powerfully dark history. The book held certain secrets within its pages and it was made from the skin of many slain kings, written in virgin blood and bound by the braided intestines of a tortured queen: the Book of Blood. A trusted servant of Baron Valvasor had stolen the book many years ago and he, in fear for his life, passed the book off to one of the scribes. The servant’s doings were eventually found out and he paid dearly for his misdeeds.

  Baron Valvasor was not a man of mercy; in fact, he was not a man at all. The Baron was the original Vampire in existence. He had been eternally banished and had fallen to Earth over five thousand years ago, when he was betrayed by his own kind. He was cast out from the Heavens to live in eternal darkness, forever. Since the theft of the Book of Blood, he and his minions have spent countless nights combing the earth, in search of these special writings that the scribes had hidden so well, knowing that the book possessed important encrypted writings. And for many years… the book remained lost.

  Once the scribes had everything in place, they quickly left the cave and the rats scurried out of the shadows as they made their way out of the gaping cavern. There was a heavy feeling in the cool, dank air, mixed with a darkness of uncertainty, as they hurried through… so dark, it was as if Satan himself was creeping up from behind, his flames licked at their calloused heels. The men were all on edge and with very good reason to be. They had all heard of the condition the man, who originally stole the Book of Blood, was found in. His body had been found but the heart had been savagely torn from his chest and both of his eyes had been ripped from their sockets. Not a drop of blood was found inside of his tattered corpse.

  The scribes brought up their lanterns as the sun was beginning to hang low in the sky. They found a place near the mouth of the cave where they sat together, forming a circle. They held hands and began a lowly chant, causing the hillside to violently shake and collapse. This sealed the entrance as if it had never been there. This location had to remain a secret and only these four men would ever know of its’ whereabouts. Each man vowed to take this secret to his grave, swearing to never tell a soul. After the scribes finished chanting, the earth became still. They got up, brushed themselves off and quietly moved away in four separate directions. The sun began to sink closer towards the horizon.

  The eldest and most knowledgeable scribe, Ezekiel, traveled swiftly across the barren landscape. He tried to reach his destination before the final rays of the sun would finally disappear. He knew the church was getting closer. He increased his pace and hurried towards his destination. With a sinking feeling and a chill in his soul, he thought he’d heard the sound of wings swooshing above him. He began to pray as he fumbled with the holy necklace that was draped around his neck.

  Ezekiel cast a worried glance into the darkened sky, but he saw nothing as he finally approached the church. Keys in hand, he reached for the door thinking he’d made a safe arrival, when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. Before Ezekiel had a chance to breathe another single half-breath, a fierce-looking, winged creature came down upon him and snatched him up with clawed, jagged feet, lifting him up into the sky. When the landing was made, Ezekiel came down, face-first into a pile of rocks, smashing nearly all of his teeth, crushing them into tiny fragments. With the taste of blood and enamel seeping into the back his throat, Ezekiel felt his body being jolted back up into the air and a trail of smoke could be seen from where the creature had touched the holy ground. The thing dropped his body into a nearby field, from about twenty feet in the air and the jarring landing left Ezekiel’s face completely crushed. He began fading in and out of consciousness.

  The creature landed and took a step back, performing a peculiar transformation. Its’ wings folded in on themselves and the creature’s flesh and bones contorted in a disturbing fashion before finally taking the shape of a human. The naked man stood tall, with a solid build and long, dark hair that flowed gracefully down his back. He wore nothing, but the look of intensity and anger as he stepped to Ezekiel, the length of his hair covering past his genitals.

  The newly transformed man grabbed Ezekiel by the neck and lifted him from the ground, with a violent shake, hands tightly wrapped around his throat. Ezekiel tried desperately to free himself, kicking wildly with his feet, but it was useless like a mouse trying to escape the clutches of a cat’s starvi
ng belly.

  “Where is the book, one of you filthy humans stole from my lord?” the man growled. “Speak, you toad!”

  Ezekiel soiled himself and the urine began flowing down his legs, as he spoke. “I will never tell,” he managed to choke out. “You will have to kill me.”

  Ezekiel’s attacker looked him square in the face and snarled, “Tell me! Tell me now or your life will be ended slowly!”

  Ezekiel trembled in fear, for he knew that he’d sworn an oath to never give up the location of the writings. He knew that if he gave away the secret, the consequences would be devastating to all mankind; it was the only thing keeping the Vampires from ruling the night and the daylight as well. Ezekiel knew that if the Book of Blood was found in that cave and brought to the Baron, he would eventually be able to translate the formula within the pages. If the head Vampire was able to figure out the complex mathematics and chemical solutions, the formula could bring his body to do something creatures of his kind couldn’t do -- walk in the sun. It was the Vampire’s ultimate dream, to be able to walk under the rays of the sun, which would burn them alive, if only given the chance.

  “Where is the book?” the thing spit as he pinned Ezekiel to the ground. “I will not ask again!”

  Looking to the sky, Ezekiel began to pray with a trembling voice. This threw his assailant into a fiery rage, knowing that he was not to receive the information that he’d requested. With a sickening crunch, the thing’s wings suddenly sprouted from his back as he screamed with the sound of many years of tortured misery. Ezekiel prayed frantically as the man began to transform. His broad chest split open and revealed a torso resembling that of a charred demon that had been dragged through the deepest pits of hell. Becoming silent, Ezekiel looked up and realized that he was face-to-face with the final vision his eyes would ever gaze upon.

  The creature bent over and placed his sharp nails over Ezekiel’s stomach, sending him into another frantic wave of prayers. But, his prayers soon melted into a bloodcurdling scream, as the creature slowly dug his nails into the flesh of Ezekiel’s belly. His screams became shrill as the thing began to rip and tug the scribe’s innards out of his convulsing frame. He watched in horror as his insides were stretched out before him. With one swipe of the creature’s sharp claws, Ezekiel’s face was ripped from his skull, leaving the exposed bone to glisten in the rising moonlight. The creature could not take the smell of blood any longer and he snapped his jaw shut on Ezekiel’s neck sucking the remaining life out of him. The creature then spread his wings, licking the dripping blood from his fangs, before taking flight into the night sky, failing again to find the Book of Blood.

  Baron Valvasor would not be pleased but the Baron had time on his side.

  The search would continue for centuries, as the Vampires would keep looking. Even if the book were found, it would take a more advanced, modern mind, to make the necessary translations that were inside. So the Baron continued to search; constantly on the move, from one corner of the earth to the other, always one step ahead of the Vampire Hunters and other enemies he made as the years went by. And the piles of bodies continued to grow as the covenant of the undead grew. The Baron’s thirst for human blood could never be quenched.

  1812, Alnwick Castle, home to the ruling class of Vampires, was well hidden, located high in the mountains of Northern England. It face the ocean on one side, with very steep cliffs etched in, where the waves have smashed against the rocks for centuries. If you looked closely, there were hundreds of thousands of bones that have found their final resting place along those jagged rocks. They were tossed to the sea, since the bodies they once lived in no longer contained the sweet drops of blood that they once possessed and were of no further use.

  Living at Alnwick, Baron Valvasor was the creator of the English Vampire covenant and he has been ruling there for over four thousand years. He lived like royalty and had been sucking the blood, from travelers coming and going between England and Scotland for many centuries. Entire groups of travelers would just disappear in the mist never to be heard from again. There had been talk and some say, that the sound of flapping wings were heard before the alleged attacks. The stories of the winged snatcher go back centuries, but there was still no explanation as to where the people went or what was attacking them. Anyone sent to investigate never returned, including King Arthur’s Knights of the Round Table, sparking the legend of the flying dragons.

  When travelers were low in numbers and victims were scarce, the Baron would infect rats with the black plague and set them loose on the lower towns so he and his covenant could come down from the castle to feed upon the influx of the sick. During this time, he would also take the opportunities to recruit select skilled doctors and nurses caring for the ill as new members of his family of Vampires. Others he chose to keep in the castle as his personal slaves or servants, while the unlucky ones were stored away deep in his dark dungeon for feeding… although some of the slaves considered those to be the lucky ones.

  When the war began between the thirteen colonies in 1812, the Baron decided that it was time for him to begin his own colony in America. Since there would be complete chaos there he figured that it would be the perfect time and place to expand his bloodline. With the scores of death and destruction of a war, no one would even notice the extra dead humans that the Vampires would be consuming.

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  Chapter Two

  Baron Valvasor summoned Croglin Grange into his inner chambers. Grange was the Baron’s second-in-command and has been for over three thousand years. The Baron sat in his throne, waiting in his opulent chambers that were dimly lit by fixed torches. Her ankle was linked to the foot of his chair, she was a chained up slave girl! He kept a tight hold on her, even though she was very weak and her blood levels low. Half-naked slaves waited on him, hand and foot, fanned him and brought him fresh blood to drink from a crystal goblet. They were in constant fear for their lives, as the Baron was known to snatch live servants for feeding, whenever he felt the urge to do so.

  The Baron thought back to a time when Croglin and he had traveled to Jerusalem to see the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. They’d heard about Jesus through their oracle and they were told that he was not of this earth. They went to visit him as he hung on the cross, because they, too, wanted to know if he was actually the son of any God. The Baron and Croglin approached the foot of the wooden cross after the sun had been set for many hours and Jesus was hung still alive and breathing, but tipped over to the edge of death. His lungs were about to collapse, his blood was running low and he was also dying of thirst. The mobs had beaten him, severely and his body was covered with massive gashes and wounds from the harsh beatings and whippings. His side was dripping blood, from a stab wound from the Spear of Destiny that a Roman soldier had jabbed him with.

  “So, you’re the Son of God?” the Baron smirked. “You don’t look so powerful. I thought you would be… bigger.”

  “I have died for all of man’s sins and I will die for you, too,” Jesus Christ answered him with a weakened voice. “Well, Jesus, I think it was all for nothing,” Croglin said, looking up to him. “All men are sinners and always will be.”

  “It was not for nothing,” Christ argued, coughing up a mouthful of blood. “And, I will live on forever in Heaven with my Father, God in…”

  “I am your God!” the Baron cut him off, screaming up to the limp body of the one called Christ. “I will make you immortal, since your father is nowhere to be found. I was hoping to see divine intervention from the heavens, but I don’t see anything of the likes.” Jesus said nothing, as his two visitors laughed and mocked him. “I’m going to give you a faith, Jesus,” the Baron sneered. “A real faith. I was praying to see your Father, but I can see that he’s turned his back again and only shows up for his miserable humans.”

  The Baron and Croglin climbed up the cross and they opened their mouths, sinking their fangs into each of Christ’s wrists tha
t were still nailed to the cross. They sucked furiously and licked at the flowing blood, as Jesus screamed in agony with what little he had left inside. Climbing down, the Baron yanked at the spike that was driven through his feet and he sucked away at the fresh river of blood, streaming from the wounds in Christ’s feet.

  Croglin finished feeding and he began to pull the spikes out of Jesus’ wrists, letting him fall to the sand below. The thieves hanging next to Christ watched in horror, but they were too weak to even make a sound.

  “You will now live forever,” the Baron said, kneeling down beside him. “And, you’re one of my children… in order to survive, you must feed on the sinful blood of all mankind,” he explained to Jesus. “You are no longer the son of God… now you are a son of the night.”

  “What is happening to me?” moaned Christ, as he writhed in agony. “What did you do to me?”

  “I have saved you,” replied the Baron, looming above him. “The only way you can be destroyed is by having your head severed or your heart ripped from your chest,” he went of further. “And, you may never again step into the sunlight, because your Father’s lifegiving light is no longer a part of you.”

  The Baron smiled at his work.

  “You belong with us now and you must hide in darkness, for all times… an outcast of the night.”

  “I did not ask for this,” Jesus cried out. He looked up to Heaven and yelled into the blackened sky, "My Father, my Father, why hast Thou forsaken me to this earth?”

  But no answer came from above and Jesus slowly turned his eyes back to the ground. He knew what the Vampire had said was not a lie... he knew he was one of them now.

  “Your father doesn’t listen anymore,” the Baron crudely spit. “But, I must confess one thing… your blood. Your blood tastes different from any other human I have ever had the pleasure to consume.”