CHAPTER 8
Nosferatu walked among the stone people, a shadow in the darkness. The statues that lined the dirt road on either side glared down on him, their faces forever set in anger. They were a warning, a silent message sent to those in the area to stay away from the mountain to which the road led.
Nosferatu could see the peak looming directly ahead, the destination that Aspasia’s Shadow had told him to seek so many years and miles ago. Nosferatu had gone north out of India and skirted the foothills of the Himalayas, following them around to the west, as the few locals he talked to late at night recommended. He’d crossed hills and vast deserts, sometimes going for long periods without feeding until finally the massive mountains were to his right and he was moving east once more. He came upon a well-worn trading route, one that would not be called the Silk Road for hundreds of years, but was already in use by intrepid souls willing to attempt the dangerous journey.
He fed upon stragglers and upon those who wandered too far from nightly encampments. His primary impression of China was one of vastness. Seemingly endless deserts rimmed by mountains. He heard there was an ocean to the east, but very far away.
The Silk Road ended at the city of Xian, which those he had talked to around the fire in encampments had told him to seek. A local warlord ruled in Xian and there appeared to be no centralized government, indicating to Nosferatu that the word “China” was merely a geographical, rather than political, term. He’d spent several weeks in Xian, listening at night to words spoken in darkened taverns, learning the language and feeding to rebuild his strength after his long, arduous journey.
Few spoke of Qian-Ling and then only in whispers. There were supposed to be evil demons around the mountain protecting it, and if one did get past the demons, the story was that those who went in never came out. It was not very much different than what was spoken of the Giza Plateau. When the moon was darkest he departed Xian for Qian-Ling.
Nosferatu paused between the statues and looked up. Three thousand feet high, the mountain was much larger than the great pyramid he had seen in Egypt. It was perfectly shaped, its rounded shoulders graced with terraces filled with plants and trees leading to a rounded top.
Nosferatu sensed movement in the darkness. He made himself as still as the statues. There was someone out there, stalking him. He’d been hunted before, by humans when he had stayed too long in one place and fed too often. They never stood a chance of capturing him in the dark and he always made sure to hide well during the day. But this was different. His pursuer wasn’t a clumsy group armed with swords and carrying torches.
Nosferatu moved quickly to one side of the road and hid next to one of the statues. He turned his head slowly, peering about, while also listening closely. He heard a slight rustle of cloth to his right front. There. Also in the darker place at the base of a statue was a figure. Staring back at him. Nosferatu realized with a start that the other could see him just as well in the dark. He knew then that he had found another like him, another Undead.
Then he realized there was more than one. He turned his head to the left and saw another figure. Slowly turning in a circle, Nosferatu saw that he was surrounded by half a dozen silent figures, all of whom held weapons, short swords carried at the ready.
How had they encircled him so easily? He should have heard them well before they got close. Turning swiftly, Nosferatu bounded up into the air, alighting atop a statue and looking down at the encircling group. He leapt from the top of the statue to the next, landing hard and grabbing hold to keep from falling off.
He was surprised to see that the circle had moved and was gathered around the base of this statue, keeping a careful distance, but all eyes upon him.
Nosferatu held up both hands, empty palms out to show he was not armed. The circle didn’t respond, simply staying in place, staring. The tableau remained frozen, as if they were statues also, for over ten minutes, then two of those who had trapped him moved apart and another, taller figure, walked between them and up to the statue on which Nosferatu was perched, halting about five meters away. Nosferatu still had his empty hands held up and this new figure mimicked him, doing the same. He appeared to be a man, of above average height for the people of the area, with long dark hair, wearing loose-fitting black pants and shirt of the shiny material Nosferatu had seen others in this land wear, a fabric the locals called silk.
Nosferatu jumped down onto the road and the man held his place. Now that he was closer, Nosferatu could see him clearly in the moonlight.
It was the eyes that told him he was indeed looking at one of his own kind. They were dark and deep and he could sense as much as see a tint of redness in them. Nosferatu felt no fear. Indeed after so many years, he felt a desire to speak with someone who shared his fate.
“Where are you from?” the man asked. He spoke in the ancient tongue of the Airlia.
“I am Nosferatu, made in the First Age of Egypt, the spawn of Osiris the Airlia God and a High Consort of the Gods.”
The man nodded. “I am Tian Dao Lin. I was made here”—he pointed at Qian-Ling— “by Artad himself in consort with a sacrificial girl.”
“How long have you been here?” Nosferatu asked.
“For over three hundred years I have walked the night here.” Nosferatu glanced about. “And the others?”
“They are from me.”
Nosferatu was surprised. “From you? How?”
Tian Dao Lin smiled. “From me and local women.”
Mating with a human. It had never occurred to Nosferatu. The hunger for blood had always ruled. And then there was Nekhbet.
“They are less than we,” Tin Dao Lin said. “Only one quarter of the God blood. The eldest is almost ninety years old and close to death. Several others, older, have already died of old age.”
“Do they also have the hunger?”
Tian Dao Lin stepped closer. “I do not let them feed on blood. They crave and eat human food. I do not want them partaking of the hunger.” He gestured. “Come.”
Nosferatu followed Tian Dao Lin, the entourage of Quarters falling in behind.
They headed directly away from Qian-Ling into the countryside, arriving at what appeared to be an abandoned village, the buildings badly in need of repair. “These people ran away long ago,” Tian Dao Lin said as he led Nosferatu into the largest hut in the center of the village. The Quarters, who Nosferatu saw included only males, separated and disappeared into the surrounding huts.
“No females?”
Tian Dao Lin frowned. “I do not let female Quarters live.” “Why?”
“Because then they could mate with male Quarters and increase their power.” That made brutal sense to Nosferatu. Tian Dao Lin settled down cross-legged on a cushion and indicated for Nosferatu to do the same across from him.
“You have traveled far,” Tian Dao Lin said. “It must have been a dangerous and difficult journey.”
“It was.”
“One does not undertake such an arduous endeavor without a very good reason.”
“He who made you…” Nosferatu paused. “Yes?”
“The Airlia — where are they now?”
“They sleep below ground, in the mountain-tomb.” “Can you get to them?”
“No. I have tried and, with tales of great riches, I have tempted others to try. I even sent a small band of Quarters into the mountain. All have failed and most have died in the attempt.”