Opening chapters of a vampire novel in progress. Legecy of Sin

Chapter 1

The lights…it was the one thing that never ceased to amaze him. From his window of his office atop the Sears Tower he looked down upon the city of Chicago. The cars zipped along the Eisenhower Expressway, looking like tiny fireflies making their way through the night. From one corner to another, everything was lit up and that was a sight that, no matter how many times Alexi saw it, would always intrigue him. Perhaps it was the fact that he had not seen a sunrise for nearly eight centuries. The human race had come so far in that time, hell they had come so far in the past 50 years, and he had witnessed it all…being a vampire had its privileges. However he would give it all up for one sunrise, all the knowledge, all the events of history he knew for facts first hand that the history books had wrongly accounted. Shaking his head he went back to his desk.

Sitting back he tilted his head and stared at the desk’s fine oak finish. All the finery he had. This office, in the largest office building in the world, was not inexpensive. His suit of fine silk, Armani, it cost more than most everyday humans made in a month. Immortality allowed for such riches to be amassed. At this point he had so much money, there was no need to even keep a balance, although he had always had a human accountant take care of things. He had everything except a pulse. A low growl surged in his throat, and with the gold letter opener that sat upon desk he violently slashed at his left wrist. He watched as the skin spilt open and the bright crimson blood started to flow. A few drops hit the desk, and just as quickly as he cut himself the wound sealed seamlessly as if the cut never happened. The drops of blood that hit the desk started to smoke and evaporated like water on a hot pan. Staring at his wrist he murmured to himself, This is how you remind me of what I really am.

He knew that his only option out of this reality was a vampire’s death, which at his age there was only really one tried and true method, the sunlight. The younger Ones could be dispatched with a stake in the heart and fire, but after eight hundred years of hunting and drinking blood, Alexi would not die by those methods. Perhaps decapitation and dismemberment together with burning his remains would kill him, but he was not ready to find out.  As much as he loathed his existence, a vampire’s greatest instinct is survival.

Shaking his head he tried to remove all the thoughts of regret and the past. Perhaps the fact that soon it would all come to a head was making him reminisce. He wondered if all those humans in their cars on the street below realized how close they are to almost total annihilation, slavery for the rest. It would be decided most likely in the next week, and all that stood between this tragedy and its master was Alexi. Alexi Zhamnov, descendant of the Ukraine, brother to the One who sought to enslave this world. Thinking of his brother Sergei and what was soon to come, Alexi could not help but once again delve into the past.  Swiveling his soft leather chair, he pushed a button and his computer came to life. He would scribe this, his story and his brother’s. Soon enough the mortal world and immortal may very well go through a drastic change, so someone had to recount what led up to it.

His fingers raced across the keyboard, fervent little tap-a-tap sounds filling the office. A story his size would take a mortal months to recount, but with his preternatural powers, he would finish this on this night.

Chapter 2

I could begin with our childhood, the fun years where we played in the fields, when we first forged metal with our father, when our world was innocent. However those years, as happy as they were, were no different than any other child’s life in any age. I opt instead to begin when our world drastically changed, when the set of events took place to where all I knew in life completely did a one hundred and eighty degree spin.

The year was 1237, the year of my twenty-first birthday as well as that of my twin Sergei. Our family was not rich we were not nobility, but we made our living off the small parcel of land we tended in the countryside of the Ukraine. There were five in my little family, my brother and I, our mother and father, and our darling little sister Anastasia. By trade my father was a blacksmith, and Sergei and I were learning that trade. We were old enough now to start thinking of creating our own families, to take on a wife and raise children. Although not luxurious and not always comfortable, we were content with our lot in life.

Separated from most of the world in our little niche in the Ukraine, news traveled slow, however we heard rumors about barbarian hordes from the east that threatened our borders. It was then my father’s craft turned from pots and pans and mending plows, to forging swords for the village. Simple farmers we were, stupid we were not. The village prepared for war.  I had never raised a weapon upon my fellow man; I hoped I was prepared for the task. My father had told me that when confronted with death, the human spirit can do amazing things galvanize itself from the horrors it will commit in the name of survival.

The moment finally came in fall after the harvest. The air had a bite to it, but the first snow was yet to settle. Sergei and I were cleaning the forgery; my father was off to the market to get some more supplies. Mother and Anastasia were in the house, preparing supper. Sergei and I joked as we cleaned, the harvest was a good one, and our family had made enough money from farming and the smithing for us to live comfortably. We dreamed that maybe our father would allow us to go to the University in Moscow. As much as we loved our family and our lives, we had always dreamed of more. However this was just that, a joke, for we knew our father would never allow it. We had a trade and an obligation to our family and village. We turned our heads as we heard hoof beats approaching. Not a slow trot, but a fierce gallop. We ran from the forgery out to the road and saw our father riding furiously he sword drawn.

As he came closer we noticed his left arm was limp, blood running from his bicep. They helped him from his horse as he approached. Sergei was pale, his face a mask of fear. I was the first to speak.

“Father, what has happened? Who did this?”

“Our fears my sons have come to fruition. The Golden Horde has arrived! The market place in is ruins, the barters slain.”

The Golden Horde…the barbarian invaders from the east. Mongols, when they came they conquered. The vanquished were not treated kindly. The men were slaughtered, and the woman raped and made slaves. 

“Then we will do what we must father.”

“Alexi, gather the swords and bring them to the village square. I will call our neighbors. Sergei, gather you mother and sister and bring them to the cellar. We have little time; they were not far behind me. Move boys!”

Sergei stared blankly for a moment; I grabbed him by the arm and took him away. Once we were back at the forge I shook him and looked into his eyes.

“Sergei now is not the time for this. Forget your fears, we must move.”

“The Horde brother! The Horde! They are not just regular barbarians! We will not survive!”

“Standing in fear will surely bring about our demise Sergei! If we stand and fight we at least have a chance. Do as father said, bring mother and Anastasia to the cellar.”

He stumbled backwards for a moment, then turned and ran for the house. I quickly loaded the small wagon with the swords and dragged it out to the square. When I arrived, father was there with most of the town’s men. Silently I help him pass out the swords to them. No sooner had the last one left my hand, we heard the hoof beats like thunder. I looked around for my brother, and did not see him anywhere. Perhaps it was better he hid in the cellar with mother, if we all survived; it would not be well for him with the villagers…and father.

We stood fast, our swords upraised, awaiting their arrival. They swept in like a storm. Dust clouds burst from the horse’s hooves. The sound of clanging steel erupted in my skull. To this day, I can still see it clearly, playing out like an image from the modern day televisions. I watched men die, men I grew up with, friends and neighbors. My own sword was red with blood from some of the barbarians. One beast of a man leaped from his horse on to me. The stench of him was too much to bear. With a yell I kicked him off and faced him with my stained sword. I parried his attack; it nearly knocked me from my feet, as my hand rung with the vibrations of the blow. His next swing grazed my leg, and I fell in agony. Blood gushed from the wound. Time slowed to a crawl, I lay on the ground and waited for his to sword impale my chest. I saw him above me, this beast of a man, his body clothed his furs. His narrow eyes looked down upon me, a cruel grin upon his face. The grin soon became a grimace. His eyes grew wide and looked down. I followed his eyes to his own chest where a sword tip protruded. His wide eyes glazed over and went blank, as he slid off and fell to the side, his body slumping dead to the ground. Where he once stood was my father, his hand outstretched to me.

I could barely hear him over the din of the battle. I knew my body was in shock, and his words sounded like mumbling to me. I saw him pointing to the house, his words became a little clearer. He was telling me to flee to the cellar. I could not leave him… I dare not. I grabbed my sword and took a step forward, my leg gave out and I fell to my knee, my father holding me under my arm. I knew I could not remain in the battle. I would get myself killed and hinder my father. I gave him a hug and kissed his cheek, and stumbled off. I ran half limping to the cellar, the pain shooting up my leg. I fell quite a few times. I called for my brother. The cellar door popped up and Sergei came out to me, tears in his face. Then I heard the scream. We both looked up and saw the vision of terror. Through al the bodies we could see him clearly, our father with a sword protruding from his abdomen. The cruel barbarian pulled out the sword and my father fell to his knees clutching his belly, blood coming from between his fingers. He looked our way then, I could see the look in his eyes, the sadness and the pain.

I think I screamed at that point, lying on the ground with Sergei above me. My heart exploded with the pain and my eyes flooding with tears. I did not hear my scream, which was because Sergei’s was louder. It seemed every ounce of energy he had was poured into the mournful wail, which caused me more pain than my father’s death. I was even more shocked when Sergei picked up my sword and ran headlong into the battle. This was devastating. I could not allow him in there alone. Tearing a piece of my shirt I wrapped it around my leg and hobbled towards him. I looked for Sergei, but could see nothing except a blur of a man enraged, sword-flaying slicing everything in sight. Barbarians fell, some missing limbs, others mortally wounded. That man was Sergei. My father’s words came back to me then, ‘When confronted with death, the human spirit can do amazing things galvanize itself from the horrors it will commit in the name of survival.’

Grabbing a discarded sword I made my way toward him. We stood back to back, our swords dancing. The tide was turning somewhat, and through a clearing I saw my father lying on the ground. I stumbled towards him and knelt down holding his head. The tears came once again. He looked up his eyes glassy.

“Alexi…my son…the village is lost my brave boy. You must…you must take our family away…leave now…take them to Provia…the city is well defended and they will have more…more of a chance…”

He grimaced and clutched his belly harder. I wept more shaking my head. “I can not leave you father!”

“My time has come Alexi…all that matters now is our family’s safety…grieve not for me and do…do what must be done…NOW GO!”

Weeping I nodded. His eyes glazed and then stared blank. He was gone. Closing his eyes I looked for Sergei. There he was fighting still, his arms covered in blood. Grabbing him, he spun in a fury, his sword almost striking me. I dragged him away.

“Sergei! Father is gone. His last request was for us to flee with mother and Ana to Provia. We must leave now, while they do not notice.”

“No!!! I will slay them all Alexi! I will not leave!”

“The village is lost Sergei! We will die a pointless death, and then leave mother and Ana undefended. The time for retreat has come. It was father’s wish.”

I could see the tears in his eyes, and hugged him. Together we ran to the house and got two horses. Getting mother and Ana, we galloped away from the burning village heading west to Provia.