Tao of Vampires
A Novel by Marques Dillard
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Tao of Vampires
A Novel by Marques Dillard
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Creature of the Orb Arvo stood motionless as he watched the ship sails disappear over the horizon. The cheers and jubilation could not rid his melancholy. He could hear the beer and wine jigs. He could smell the roasting flesh of pigs and fowl. He could sense the presence of Athena, her warm fingers slipped between his fingers. They stood there and watched the last glimpse of light acquiesce to the night. “Arvo, it’s time to celebrate.” Arvo remained still. “Your troops and the nymphyres are demanding your audience,” she added. “Celebration is contrary to my mores. In victory, we mourn for the slain of our comrades and of our enemies as though it was a funeral.” “Humor me,” Athena pleaded softly. “We lost a lot of good mortals and vampires today.” Arvo’s stare at the sea ended with a slight turn to Athena. “Yes. We did lose many. We will be hard-pressed to replace them.” Athena patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll worry about that tomorrow. Right now, your presence to the celebration, or funeral in your perception, will boost the morale of the living.” “Celebrate?” Arvo looked down at the Ancient Dead dressed in a golden gown she had “found” in the acropolis rubble. “What are we celebrating? Phoebus Apollo is gone. Conscientia is gone.” “We’re celebrating a new alliance. We’re celebrating the end of tyranny in this tiny corner of the world.” Her fingers tightened. “We’ve had a lot of bloody adventures, you and I. We’ve come a very long way. Look around you. See all these bodies? A lot of blood has been spilled today. Everyone, including you, deserves a respite. Now come, let’s celebrate.” “Mother would be…disappointed with today’s result.” “Perhaps she would. However, I’ve been your mother for the last three centuries. And mother wants you to celebrate.” “I shall watch…with an artifice of mirth. That is the best I can concede on such a woeful day.”
As Athena guided Arvo toward the bonfire, he recalled the tale of a creature born in a cave, in the deepest recesses of an African rain forest, near the base of an active volcano. The first sight, as the infant entered the world of air, was glowing lavender eyes of the creature who bore him and the members of her tribe, the Unknown. His existence was celebrated. There were sounds of voiced melodies; there was the stench of the rotting remains and the slick, sticky texture of his skin covered in the red blood of mortals. This infant was a prophetic creation. It was the first child born from natural insemination, a phenomenon thought impossible for their kind. The key, the origin, of this phenomenon was the derelict creature that coalesced with the one who bore the child. A creature from the far north, beyond the far reaches of Unknown exploration. This creature’s skin was the color of bone, its eyes a brilliant yellow. Trickster. They named him Trickster. Its difference, its ignorance; its mannerisms were amusing to the Unknown. He was their pet and they were sad to see his abrupt departure brought about by nature’s misfortune, the rage of violent water. Its prodigy was all that remained. The Unknown were certain in their belief that this child would create havoc among enemies of the Unknown, that he was designed for chaos, insurance of the perpetual existence of those who worshipped him as their protector. All of this was prophecy. All of this was written on the cave walls that confirmed prophetic words shared through the millennia. Unknowns resembled the mortals they preyed upon for sustenance. Their long, woolly hair was woven into rows that were tied into ponytails, pallid brown skin covered wide cheekbones, their lips were full, and their wide pierced noses adorned with diamonds and gold. Yet, there were inhuman differences. These beings were exceptionally tall; their glowing eyes were purple or lavender, their superior intellect and strength seasoned by millennia upon millennia of existence. There were other Unknowns throughout the continent, but this band was an exception to the others. They refused to evolve. They were complacent and content with their state of existence, their consumption of meat. They were a rare and reckless tribe, who annihilated entire mortal villages rather than facing their fears, by following progression. They fought evolution; they fought the walk into the light of day, where they could gain nourishment direct from the sun. At the beginning, these beings fawned over this infant, this new entity that would assure their reign over the night for thousands of years. The child grew rapidly on the diet of blood and pulverized flesh. The Earth circled the Sun several times before the child’s peculiarities were noticed. His facial features were chiseled yet effeminate with slender cheekbones. His fangs were not as pronounced as The One Who Bore Him. They were small vestiges, useless for tearing flesh and rupturing veins. This child was void of emotion. He refused to sing or take pleasure from tales told or games played. It was disconcerting to the tribe to note the lack of capriciousness, alacrity or behaviors requisite of youth. Another behavior that worried the tribe was the child’s excess of obedience. Never did the child disobey the elders when set upon a task. Regardless how superfluous, unnecessary or ridiculous the action may be, the child would execute the instruction like an automaton. The child was dark within, full of the great mysterious. Neither the One Who Bore Him, nor the wisest of the tribe, could discern the cause of the defect. The child’s abnormal obedience had advantages. When taught, he learned efficiently. Few cycles turned before he was able to share thoughts without speaking. He could make objects float, throw sparks long distances and veil his existence. The child was not afraid of the beams, though The One Who Bore Him said that light was deadly. The little inquisitive being walked to the brink of the opening and let the rays of light touch his hand. No pain. He extended his arm. No pain. Gradually, he stepped into the light. The light did not cause damage besides the momentary pain in his eyes. The rays were warm and felt good upon his pale brown skin. He explored the light of day, the canopy of trees and clear river water. Other creatures moved in all aspects. There were the climbers and jumpers in the trees, the ones with wings who floated through the air and the sleek, scaled life that moved through water. The child marveled at the wonder of life, the movement, the color of flora and fauna. He observed the phenomenon of organized energy, the cool breeze across his skin, the pleasant scent of bright colored flowers, all of which gave him a sense of peace from the chaos in his mind. He explored and observed until the bright yellow Orb descended behind the mountains. The One Who Bore Him and her faithful band remained in their death-like sleep until the bright yellow Orb was far below the mountains, and conceded its existence to the molten orange glow of the smoking volcano. When the Unknown awoke, their glowing eyes would illuminate the cave interior. When all were ready, they left their sanctuary to find sustenance. These Unknowns hunted with stealth and direct purpose. Though the mortals were sensitive to their presence they did not possess the visual faculties to discern the deception. Veiled and invisible, these beings stole into villages, into the huts and vanquished their prey with the soothing touch of death. These Unknowns were life thieves, stealing life, holding it within them and growing stronger with each kill. The corpses were carried back to the cave where they were dismembered and disemboweled. There was celebration on a good night of hunting. There was song and dance. The tribe would pay tribute to their leader, the most ancient of those with bright purple eyes, the one that bore the child. The liver and heart were delicacies that were not to be eaten voraciously. Such was to be savored for its rich taste and distinctive flavor. Yet such organs paled in comparison to the brain, that soft gray tissue. The leader was given the best of all severed heads. The skull was split open and she would consume the contents with great satisfaction. The leader would save the best remains for the child, who was eager to feed on the meat, enjoying every bite and swallow. The child continued to journey further from the sanctuary as the days accumulated. The order of his days carried on with a regularity until, one bright day, the child sensed mortals in a state that was unfamiliar to him. They were alive. Their scent set him upon their trail and as he closed distance, his ears could discern their movements and voices. The child sighted the creatures. Four mortals were playing a game with rocks and sticks. He observed the ordered sequence and noticed an emotional result at the end of each sequence. Sometimes there were smiles, other times the look of dissatisfaction, and contrary moments laughter and merriment. The child watched with great interest, for many days, before making his presence known. When the mortals saw him, they were startled. Yet the child made no motions of violence and his gentle, effeminate demeanor instilled a sense of safety. The mortals spoke to him and though the child could not understand the voices, their thoughts were easily deciphered. They invited him to play the game with them. There were three young males and an adolescent female harboring life within her form. The unborn creature was small, no larger than the size of the child’s thumb, yet he could sense its heartbeat. The child would return to play the game with the mortals that befriended him. Though the appearance of the child’s eyes was disturbing, they did not comprehend what he was. The adolescent female was weaning her child as the Unknown creature continued to play with the mortals. By that time, the child could speak their language and understand their voices without reading the thoughts in their minds. His intellect made him a frequent victor in the games played, though chance was a factor. The mortals enjoyed the company of the child and the challenge he brought to the games they played. Their emotional attachment to the child became strong. Food dwindled as the child grew. Hunting was now an expedition. Half the night was wasted on the journey for food. As the paucity of food increased, displeasure regarding the child increased. Unsatisfied appetites caused minds to change and conclude the stoic child was not their savior; the child was a harbinger, an omen of desperate times ahead. The child’s indifferent behavior made him an easy target for blame. Arguments proliferated into fights among tribal members. Many started to defy the leader’s authority, though she guided them through millennia of existence. It was a warm and humid day in the rain forest as the child played with his mortal friends for the last time. After all, of them admitted defeat, the child’s statement was stiff and divorced of emotion. “My tribe is hungry.” The mortals stared at the boy with quizzical expressions, until he took vicious hold of one of the males and crushed his throat. The child completed the killing by bending the male’s head into an awkward position. A loud snap indicated terminal damage. The others ran as the child stared at the quivering creature on the ground. He stared with interest. He never saw such bizarre movements from a creature with no heartbeat. The child flickered his tongue to find the other mortals. He sniffed the air and made chase for the prey. His pace was far beyond the capabilities of his quarry and he captured a second male and threw him against a boulder. The mortal’s body quivered, as the first, but the child sensed no interest. The third boy brandished a knife, warning the child to keep his distance. The male gestured for the female to take flight with her child. She disappeared into the dense foliage. The child walked to the last male who stabbed him in his side. The child felt pain and it was an annoyance. The male was startled by the child’s failure to die and stabbed him again. The child felt pain, observed his wounds and touched them. Pain was fascinating to the child. He wiped his fingers across the wet wounds, stared at the bright purple blood and licked it. He did not like the taste. When the child looked at the wounds again, they were already healed. The male tried to stab the child again, but the child’s fascination with pain faded. He dodged the male’s strikes until he used his blurring quickness to take the knife from his friend’s hand. The child was inquisitive about the knife’s use as a weapon. His tribe killed by touch and only used such an instrument to divide portions of food. The child experimented on the male by stabbing him twice. The boy fell and red fluid spouted from his chest as he coughed blood. The child watched and waited for the wounds to heal, but death ended the process. The adolescent female was not far from the village when the child clipped her heels and sent her to the ground. The little life fell away from her and cried aloud. The child stabbed the young woman until the screams stopped and the sound she made was gurgling. He watched her to see if she would heal, but she died before the process was complete. The baby continued to cry. The child picked up the little life by its ankles. He wondered if he resembled such a creature when he was younger. The noise from the baby annoyed the child, so he walked to a tree and hit the baby’s head on the trunk until the little creature was mute. The child was hungry. He ate most of the baby and left its remains for a predatory cat nearby. The cat was not afraid of him. It knew what he was. The child tied the corpses with vines and dragged them back to the sanctuary. The tribal members received the child with proud full elation, until one of the members noticed the female and her obvious state of child rearing. The One Who Bore Him queried the child. “Was this female this female caring for a baby?” “Yes. I was hungry. I ate the baby.” The child could sense the surge of dissonance in the silent cave. “Did you know that destroying a female who is nurturing a child is forbidden?” The child shook his head. The cave erupted into discussion and argument. Tribe members refused to eat the food the child provided; others keeled over and regurgitated what they consumed. The second to the leader walked to the boy. “You should know it was incorrect to kill this female and her baby. Such beliefs are natural. They are given through our bond of blood.” “I did not sense such beliefs. We needed food so I killed my playmates.” The cave, once again, became a din of discussion, until the leader demanded silence. “You befriended these mortals?” “Yes. They allowed me to play games with them for many cycles. The games were interesting. The mortals were benevolent and amusing.” “Is there remorse or dissonance for destroying your friends?” “No.” The clamor that followed the child’s response annoyed him. It disturbed him to see the food he brought discarded, but he was tired and went to sleep. As a myriad of moons passed, the numbers of those who were faithful to the leader stepped to the other side. It was not long before the tribe abandoned their leader and plotted on how to destroy the harbinger, the omen, the child. The child inquired why the band was gone. She replied they did not approve of his existence. They believed that he was more dangerous than the yellow sphere in the sky. They feared that when he was grown, he would cause harm. The One Who Bore Him was worried. The others would return to kill her child. The One Who Bore Him created implements that could impale or sever. She found a secret place that was only big enough for the child and told him to remain there throughout the nights to come. The days were calm but the nights were filled with the sound of mortal wounds given to those who fell within the range of the leader’s weapon. The child dreaded the worst but the leader returned to the cave night after night, at the break of dawn. The child was allowed to explore in the day, while The One Who Bore Him slept. He would sit on a boulder by the river watching the water creatures swim, watching winged creatures soar above. He enjoyed the rain as it fell. He would open his mouth and let the droplets cool his tongue. Yet he missed playing games with his mortal friends and pondered the search for others to play with. Many moons, many increments of time, cycled before the nights were silent. The One Who Bore Him vanquished her enemies, yet her heart was full of sorrow. She slaughtered her brothers, sisters, and friends for the sake of one stonehearted child, replete with darkness within him. She had foreseen the future in a dream. The end for all but the child was inevitable. The child was a mandatory evil, created to cause change. She placed a talisman around his neck and informed him of what was to come. “Sense the Infinite around us. There is no creature, god, or goddess superior to the giving sphere. To believe otherwise is a mockery, a defamation of our own existence. This Orb nurtures us, provides for us and we must never forget that fact. No creature of the Orb has the right to take more than is necessary or follow a path that is contrary to its own existence. Above all motions you make on this Orb, you must risk your being to protect it from the Poisoned Minds of Darkness, the two-leg creatures that may abuse the object that defines them; for their own ends. Do you understand? The Orb must not be abused.” “Yes,” the boy answered. “I will defend the Orb.” “Good. You will need the essence of my primordial existence to obtain your motions. Place your hand on my forehead as I sleep and allow my essence to mingle with your essence.” The child followed her instruction with his customary obedience. He waited for her to fall into a catatonic sleep. He placed his hand upon her forehead. Bright purple bolts streamed into his body, burning him with no damage. After moments of painful rapture, he lay quivering until he could not think. He decided to sleep. The next morning the child returned to his favorite boulder and watched the splendor of life. The bright yellow Orb was beyond zenith when he heard the sound of footfalls. Moments later, he sighted the intruder. Her physique was humanoid yet her skin lacked pigment. When eyes met eyes, he knew that she was not of the kind he ate. He sensed a familiarity. She spoke and though he did not understand the sounds, he was able to decipher her thoughts. “Hello, my name is Athena. I am a member of the Clan of Olympus. Have you seen a man whose skin and hair is like mine?” The child shook his head. “His name is Hermes. He was last sighted in Northern Africa.” Athena squinted. “Wait, what is your name?” The child answered by sharing his thoughts. “I am an Unknown. Names are forbidden.” “Would you allow me to read the inscriptions on your amulet? The object upon your chest.” The child, obedient as ever to women, complied. Athena read the inscription and stared with wonder at the child. “Arvo son of Hermes.” |
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