Beyond all the legends that were growing up about the boy-king, Nosferatu also knew something none of the Greeks and Macedonians who followed him did: He was a Guide, programmed by Aspasia’s Shadow using the Guardian computer inside of Mount Sinai.
It took only the letter from Aspasia’s Shadow with the proper code word that had been imprinted in Alexander for Nosferatu to gain access to Alexander’s court. However, to work his way into the inner circle of advisers took two years. There were many who did not trust him, a man whom they only saw at night, but Alexander the King was not only programmed to accept him, but learned to appreciate Nosferatu’s counsel. Nosferatu knew patience, a trait he found many mortals did not appreciate. Most important, though, were his forays, when he would disappear for weeks at a time, ranging ahead of the army, hiding during the day, and scouting at night, moving like a ghost and seeing what others couldn’t. He would return to the king’s tent and brief the king and his staff on the terrain and enemy ahead with an accuracy that astounded all.
Nosferatu knew he could travel more quickly on his own, but he stayed with Alexander because he saw great possibilities and because he knew Aspasia’s Shadow was right. The king had his sights set high, much higher than any around him realized, except for Nosferatu, to whom he would confide his dreams of conquest late at night. That those dreams had been implanted, Alexander had no clue, nor did Nosferatu see any reason to enlighten him.
The Persian king, Darius, had retreated to Babylon while Alexander continued to the east and south. Nosferatu cautioned the king that he was leaving his left flank open, but Alexander was more concerned with liberating all the towns along the coast of the Mediterranean and bringing them into the Greek fold. Nosferatu realized that even though Aspasia’s Shadow had imprinted a strong desire into Alexander, the young man still retained a large degree of freedom in his decision making. More of the game, Nosferatu mused.
Thus it was that in September of 333, Darius made a bold move from Babylon, marched hard to the west into the rear of the Greek army, and cut Alexander’s supply line along the coast. The first notice of this disaster they had was when those hospital cases they’d left behind appeared, wandering up the supply road, their hands amputated, the wounds sealed with pitch, babbling of the mighty Persian army they’d been given a tour of after having their appendages removed.
This was when Nosferatu saw the unique nature of the man, which he had sensed from their first meeting as Aspasia’s Shadow obviously had also, expand to take control over an army. Cut off, exhausted from hard marching, drenched by torrential rains, and greatly outnumbered by the Persians to their rear, somehow Alexander managed to infuse his fighters with a sense of optimism.
Alexander personally led the charge against the Persian lines, heading straight for Darius’s golden chariot. The Greeks and Macedonians broke through and Darius fled, so frightened that he left his mother, wife, and children behind to be taken hostage.
While his generals urged him to pursue Darius and finish off the Persians once and for all, Nosferatu had different advice, given the new state of affairs. Thus, Alexander marched south, capturing Tyre after a siege, then into Gaza to take advantage of the sudden power vacuum in Egypt. In short order, Alexander controlled the entire Mediterranean seacoast from Greece around to Egypt.
The night of the army’s triumphant entry into Egypt, Nosferatu went to the Giza Plateau in the darkness. Alexander and his army remained at the mouth of the Nile, where he was to found the city named after him.
There was panic in nearby Cairo over the defeat of the Persians and the lack of any Pharaoh to fill the void. Nosferatu cared nothing for that. He went to the bank of the Nile, to the same hut he had visited so many years before. How better to learn what was new than to ask those whose job it was to watch?
When he kicked the door open, Nosferatu was not surprised to see a wizened old man sitting on a straw mat, whittling away at a stick. The man looked up at the sudden intrusion, but didn’t stop whittling.
“You are a Watcher, a Wedjat?” Nosferatu demanded.
“I am of the order,” the man affirmed. “I am a Watcher. And I am not involved in your war.”
“Your name?”
“Does it matter?”
“No. But your name anyway.” “Kajik.”
“Do you know who I am?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “You appear to be a One Who Waits. As I said, I only watch. You have no reason to do me harm.”
Nosferatu laughed. “I am not one of them. My name is Nosferatu.”
Kajik nodded, still without any sign of panic or fear. “I have heard of you. From my father. The Undead one who killed a God. Who came here and took his love away many years ago.”
“You do not seem surprised to see me.”
“Much has happened in my life,” Kajik said. “It would take a lot to surprise me. I have seen the rule of two Pharaohs and three Persian kings. I have had six of my seven sons forced into armies — the army of whoever was ruling at the time— and die in battles against foes whom they had no reason to fight. I have seen my wife die of grief.”
“And the seventh son?” Nosferatu asked. “The next Watcher of Giza?”
“Hidden away. I have taught him what he needs to know and when I am gone he will take over. But for now, I am the Watcher of Giza. I do not fear you nor do I fear death, for I have done my duty.”
“I have not come here to kill you, old man.”
Kajik shrugged. “So you say. Do you know some of my order now hunt your kind?” “What do you mean?”
“There are those in my order who see your kind as an abomination that should not be allowed to walk the Earth. So they hunt you.”
“I thought you were just supposed to watch?”
“That is our mandate, but some have grown weary of just watching. They search things out.”
Nosferatu laughed. “It would be most unfortunate for any of these Watcher-Hunters to find me. For them, not me.”
“Perhaps that is what Vampyr thought until Tyrn, what you call a Watcher-Hunter, found him in Greece.”
Nosferatu leaned forward. “What of Vampyr? What happened?”
“He fought among the Spartans for many years. Rumors of a very strange man among the Greeks began to grow and were passed on by members of my orders to our headquarters. Then Tyrn began the long search. He caught up to Vampyr in Greece while the Spartans were conducting a campaign against another city and convinced the Spartans to turn on him.”
“Vampyr’s dead?” Nosferatu could not believe such a thing after so many years. He remembered Aspasia’s Shadow speaking of Vampyr fighting to the south.
“The Spartans would not allow Tyrn to kill him. But they cut off his hands and set him off into the wilderness with no clothing or supplies. That was years ago. I think he would have died by now.”
Not Vampyr, Nosferatu thought. “His hatred is too strong for him to die.” Kajik shrugged once more. “I tell you only what I know. There is much in the world I do not know.”
“Vampyr killed the four remaining Airlia Gods here?” Kajik nodded while continuing to whittle.
“Tell me something, Watcher.”
Kajik stopped whittling and waited.
“You know what happened to Vampyr. Your order exists around the world.” “My order has people in many places,” Kajik confirmed.
“What of the other Airlia Gods?” Nosferatu asked. “Where are they?”
Kajik carefully put the stick on the floor, then looked up at Nosferatu. “Why do you want to know?”