His Dark Knights - Chapter 1

Arthur hid in the shadows of moonlight to watch Lady Guinevere pass with her chambermaids, his yearning greater than it ever was around other humans. This woman was different, with the sway of her dress as she stepped delicately across the earth, almost floating, and the way her eyes took in the world with an excited innocence. The sight of her caused his long, sharp teeth to protrude in spite of himself. More than anything, he wanted to taste her blood. 

But no, there was one thing he wanted more—to see that she was never harmed. For him to be the one that brought her said harm, to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck and drain her blood, tasting its sweet iron as it replenished him… there could be no worse fate for either of them.

That’s why, aside from public appearances with her by his side, he kept his distance. 

And he ordered his knights do the same. All worse than him, letting their cravings for human flesh get the better of them. 

Not with her, because he was their king and had ordered it so. It probably helped that she was Merlin’s niece, and if anyone harmed her, the wizard would certainly retire his robes for his old paladin armor and holy sword. 

Stakes through the heart were nothing compared to the spells of a paladin. 

“We’re behind schedule,” Lancelot, his most trusted Knight, hissed down from where he perched on a nearby rooftop. “If we’re discovered—”

“Merlin’s wrath. I don’t need you to lecture me on such matters.”

Lancelot swooped down, landing gracefully beside Arthur, his king. But the knight’s eyes spoke nothing of loyalty, at times like this, and Arthur didn’t fail to notice. 

“My scars remind me of our duty,” Lancelot said. “Perhaps you’d do well to have some of your own.” 

“Threatening your king?” Arthur scoffed, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “You forget your place.”

“Not threatening, sire,” Lancelot said with a bow of his head. “Simply urging us to move. Now.”

Arthur breathed deep, letting the moment drift away and take his anger with it. Lancelot wasn’t to blame for the agitation at their lot in life—vampires by night, forced like puppets to do the will of Merlin, the great magician to the public, the corrupt and conniving paladin to those who really knew him. 

His spell held them to it—a fact that they meant to end this night. 

“Yes, let’s not be late,” Arthur said, keenly aware of the fact that Merlin’s watchful eyes were everywhere. Curse him and his magic. Any moment now the old wizard would notice the larger than normal number of vampire knights outside of his keep. 

Arthur spun, red cape flowing behind him in the cool spring breeze, and led Lancelot back to the others where they crouched in the shadows. 

“What news, sire?” Rodain asked. She stood at the front of her squad, twenty in all. A small number in the grand scheme of things, but her vampire knights were legendary for their ferocity and prowess. Of course, the fact that they were vampires was kept secret, as it was with all vampires. The lands couldn’t know that their king and his knights were creatures of the night, kept in check and allowed to walk the light of day only because of Merlin’s magic. 

“She’s out of harm’s way,” Arthur said. “We move now.”

Another vampire scoffed. Geldring, the largest of his generals, and the most outspoken when it came to, well, everything. 

“You have a problem with my leadership?” Arthur asked. 

“My inability to understand how the starting time of the battle for our freedom should be determined by a mortal woman has nothing to do with whether or not I have issues with your leadership,” Geldring said, his voice snapping like branches in the wind. After a moment’s silence, he added, “Means no, sire. I serve at your will.”

Arthur would have to watch this one. Considering the insubordination Lancelot had just shown him, and the look in Rodain’s and several other of his top generals’ eyes, he’d better make this happen quickly. 

“My knights of the roundtable,” he said, addressing the generals and the rest as he added, “My guardians of the night, our time is at hand. For too long we’ve been cast aside as if we were no better than the cursed monsters that share similar characteristics but who are pure evil. We fight Morgana and her shifters, losing our lives, but for what? Because this magician, this corrupt paladin, tells us it’s that or be cast out from his spell and never again see the light of day. 

“I say to you that I’d rather have the freedom of life by night than slavery at all times of day and night. So tonight we fight, and we destroy the man who holds us all in his grasp. Attack!” 

The vampires ran past him, surging forward like bats out of hell. Some moved on hands and feet like the beasts those lower vampires often were, others ran in their charge, while the few more powerful ones flew forward in bursts of darkness. The flapping of bat wings and growling of blood-thirsty vampires filled the night. 

Arthur turned, pulled down his king’s helmet, and joined the charge. Only, instead of running, he walked, confidently, with the air of a returning champion here to claim his rightful place. 

Each step clanged out in the night, as did that of his three most powerful generals, who walked at his side—Lancelot, Geldring, and Rodain. It wasn’t that he trusted them above the rest, it was that if he were to be attacked with them at his side, there wasn’t a force he knew of that could stop them. 

Although, he had never attempted to take down Merlin. 

Screams filled the night. Arthur thought they were coming from the soldiers he saw being thrown from the battlements as vampire knights overtook them. 

Then the screams turned higher in pitch, too high for any human voice, and he saw the light piercing a whole section of his army. Rays of sunlight were streaming from the fortress windows, knocking back any vampire that attempted to enter. 

“Send in the sewer rats,” Arthur commanded Geldring, who nodded, and then veered off to give the signal. 

“He knew we were coming,” Lancelot said. 

“There’s rarely anything he doesn’t know,” Arthur replied. 

“And yet you lead us to the slaughter?” Rodain spat. “Those are our soldiers dying up there.”

A rage swirled in Arthur and he wanted to throttle Rodain for her insubordination, but he knew she was right. Instead, he would use that anger against Merlin. 

He charged, certain his knights would follow close behind. While he’d sent the mass of the army for the main assault, some above, some below, he would make a different approach and end the source of their problems by his own hand.

Their path took them through the secret entrance Guinevere often used to leave the castle. She didn’t think anyone else knew about it, but his obsession with her meant he noticed things such as how she exited the castle. He had to ensure her safety, and he couldn’t very well do that with her disappearing on him. 

As he’d hoped, she had taken her guards with her, so the way was clear. The darkness didn’t bother them, as their vampire eyes could see better in the dark than in the light. Yet, when they’d come out into Guinevere’s chambers, Rodain somehow managed to knock over the mirror, so that it shattered with a crash that echoed through the castle. 

“Clearly the meaning of a sneak attack is lost on you,” Lancelot said, spittle flying at her. 

“Yelling won’t help your case,” a voice said, and all of them froze as mist filled the room. A flash of light caused them all to pull back, and when their vision cleared, Merlin stood in the center of the room, his gnarled wooden staff raised in one hand, still glowing with its sky-blue light, his paladin sword held at the ready in his other. “Well, here I am. Get it over with, if you dare.”

Arthur motioned to Lancelot and Rodain to attack as they had discussed, but Rodain simply smiled and took a step back. Lancelot moved in for the attack with Arthur, but a blast from Merlin’s staff and a slash of his sword sent Lancelot back, clutching at his burnt face, and gave Arthur a steaming cut across his sword arm. 

“Attack, damn you!” Arthur shouted to Rodain. 

She drew her sword, but stepped up to Merlin’s side. 

“Rodain isn’t as foolish as you’d think her to be,” Merlin said. He stood tall, his white cloak flapping around his white armor even though the castle walls protected them from any wind. Shouts of the ongoing battle beyond these walls sounded, growing closer. 

“Traitor,” Lancelot said, teeth bared. His face slowly began to heal. 

“We don’t need her,” Arthur said, holding out a hand to his knight. “Merlin, we’ve come to inform you that our slavery has come to an end. Cast down your staff and leave this kingdom, or we’ll destroy you.”

“Is that so?” Merlin asked. “You forget, King Arthur, I created this kingdom, with you at its head. Without me, you’d be nothing but a lowly vampire, sulking in the dark corners of Morgana’s empire. Because of my help, you’ve had all the niceties a king could desire. You walk under the sun, by my magic. Would you give this all up, in the name of freedom?” 

“We won’t be your slaves,” Arthur said, his voice shaking in anger. “No more wars at your command. No more lives taken simply so you can grow this kingdom that you pretend I rule. I don’t know how you persuaded Rodain, but our vampires are defeating your forces as we speak. Surrender!” 

“Not all of them,” Rodain said. “In fact, my vampires will have likely taken care of a large portion of your army, by now.”

Arthur felt his fangs biting into his lip in frustration. This was all falling apart. He saw now that there was no other way about it—Merlin had to die. 

Snarling, Arthur drew his sword and moved at Merlin in a flash. But before either had a chance to strike, a yelp froze Arthur in his tracks. Instead of attacking him, Rodain had moved to the far door, where she pulled Guinevere into the room and stood with her blade to the woman’s neck. 

“Stop!” Arthur demanded, hand out to ensure Lancelot didn’t move. He turned to Guinevere. “You… you were gone. I saw you leave.”

“Simply an illusion,” Merlin said.

“I was bathing,” Guinevere said, her voice quivering with fright. “Then I heard the fighting and ran back as fast as I could. I’m… sorry.”

“How pitiful,” Merlin said. “But every man has a weakness. Even undead men, it would seem.” 

“You wouldn’t kill your own niece,” Arthur said, weighing his options. 

“No? Maybe not… but Rodain’s been given orders to take her life should mine be forfeit.” 

“Kill them all,” Lancelot said to Arthur. “Finish what we came for.” 

But Arthur couldn’t do it—he couldn’t take the risk. A world without Guinevere was no world at all. 

“We’ll not stay here, though,” Arthur said, sword still at the ready. “You live, but without us as your puppets.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Merlin said with a wry smile. “In fact, after tonight I’d say you’ll require extra spells to keep you in line.”

Arthur closed his eyes tight, trying to figure out his next move. Every direction pointed in defeat. He was about to surrender, when Lancelot charged Rodain. 

Merlin struck, but Arthur couldn’t let his closest friend die. He leaped into the blade’s path. His sword barely deflected the blow, but he was close enough to see the fury in Merlin’s eyes. The old man’s mouth moved, and with it came a horrible burning. 

“Avoid his gaze!” Lancelot shouted. 

Arthur broke free, stumbling back, but smoke was rising from his skin. A thudding of feet signaled people approaching, and soon half a dozen vampires burst into the room. For a moment, Arthur’s heart filled with hope, until he saw they were Rodain’s followers. He was their king, but her betrayal meant he could be sure her followers had been persuaded to turn on him as she had. 

They attacked, and Arthur and Lancelot found themselves pushed back through the tunnel. It was narrow, so only one or two of his former followers were able to attack at a time, but they were the elite, and held their own. 

A burst of flame rose up and over the vampires, exploding close to Arthur’s head. 

“We won’t survive in here,” he shouted to Lancelot. “Not with them and Merlin against just the two of us.”

“I’ll fall at your side, if need be,” Lancelot said, cutting down the first of their attackers only to be pushed back by two more. 

“Not today,” Arthur said. “Today, we retreat.” 

They each pushed back their attackers and ran, but when they exited the castle the sight froze them in their tracks. Dead vampires lay scattered across the field, others fleeing, and even as they watched, the sun appeared in the night sky temporarily, casting its rays down and causing the fleeing vampires to burst into flame. 

“The spell has broken,” Lancelot said. “Merlin’s protection has been lifted.” 

And then the sunlight hit them, too. It was blinding and suffocating. Their skin boiled and all sense of self was absorbed by pain and suffering. 

Then there was simply Nothingness. 

Chanting started, low at first and growing louder, until it was right in front of Arthur and his eyes shot open to reveal Merlin standing above him, as he lay on his back still outside the castle. Merlin waved a hand over Arthur, and a last word in the chant brought a cooling wave of healing over him. 

A giant breath told him he was still alive, if you could call a vampire alive. 

Someone was coughing nearby, and Arthur turned to see Lancelot, still smoldering, but also beginning the healing process. Charred flesh fell like a snake skin, leaving behind a younger, healthier version of his friend. 

Rodain stood behind Merlin, her and nine of her remaining elite vampires. 

“The rest are dead,” Merlin said. “The last of you shall continue to serve. Twelve in all.”

“Why not just kill me?” Arthur asked, his voice still hoarse. “Be done with it.”

“You’re too valuable for that. Besides, the land needs her king. But should you try anything like this ever again, it will be the end of the Vampires.” 

Rodain gave Merlin a concerned look, but he didn’t seem to notice and was already walking back toward the castle gates. He used his staff like a walking stick, old and worn after his use of magic. The perfect time to strike, really, if Arthur wasn’t himself practically crippled and his whole army decimated. 

He struggled to sit, and saw Guinevere looking down at them from one of the battlements. Seeing he was alive, she retreated from sight.