Nosferatu took a deep breath, ignoring the overwhelming stench from inside the tube. He reached to the inner latch and pressed on it. The lid cracked open and a surge of water poured in, causing him to panic for a second before the inflow suddenly ceased. Then another splash of water, a wave. He almost slammed the lid shut, but the tube wasn’t moving. Of that he was certain. And it was night outside. Through the slight opening he could see stars on the horizon.
Nosferatu swung the lid wide open and sat up.
The tube was on the surf line along a rocky coast. Cliffs towered over a thin sliver of pebble shore. Gingerly, Nosferatu climbed out of the tube, his feet touching solid ground for the first time in over a month. He pulled the tube inland, making sure it was above the surf line. Then he looked about. There was not a single hint of vegetation, just bare, forbidding rock. And no sign of animal life, not even birds overhead.
Nosferatu glanced up at the cliffs. There was a tinge of light — dawn was coming. He summoned up what little energy he had left. First, he cleaned out the interior of the tube with seawater. Then he pulled the tube across the narrow beach and wedged it in a crack in the cliff face. He piled up smaller rocks in front, hiding it from the sight of anyone passing on the ocean. He placed his hands over the control panel, reading what he could make out and remembering as best he could the sequence the God had set on Nekhbet’s. With shaking hands he tapped out a code. The panel flashed and he crawled inside, putting the bands on his legs and arms before setting the crown on his head.
He had just completed this when he felt darkness overwhelm him.
Vampyr cut the soldier’s throat with one smooth slice of the dagger. He grabbed the stunned man, pulling the open wound to his mouth, and drank as much blood as his engorged body would take. The soldier was the third he had taken in as many nights. He did not need the blood. They were Egyptian, serving the Gods, and this was vengeance, though he was sure none but the dead would know who was wreaking it.
Vampyr had demurred when Nosferatu had said they should travel south, into the unknown lands. He knew the Eldest was going to hide and bide his time. Vampyr did not want to hide. He wanted blood and vengeance and he planned to stay close to Egypt.
The men he took were those who wandered out of the fort in the evening into the local village, seeking wine and women. He slid the body of the most recent victim off the edge of the dock, into the dark water of the Nile. He knew there was already a level of unease in the fort from the two missing men and a third’s disappearing would bring some sort of reaction.
Three soldiers from the army of an empire. Poor vengeance indeed, Vampyr thought bitterly to himself as he strode along the wooden dock toward the small boat that held his tube.
Once on deck, he paused and stood still, feeling the cool breeze blow over his skin. It was as if there were a hole in his chest, and all the blood he took could never be enough to fill it. Lilith had always been there, for over a hundred years. They had been together in the womb. Played together along the banks of the Nile as children, not knowing the fate that awaited them.
Shortly after the twins reached adulthood, the high priests had taken them and dragged them into the Roads, entombing them in adjacent tubes. Even in their imprisonment, they had still had each other. When Lilith died on the cross he had felt the connection with her inside his mind give way. It was as if together they had been one complete person and balanced each other — Lilith the light, and he the darkness.
A horn call rang out plaintively from the fort. When Vampyr looked landward, he could see a group of soldiers carrying torches issue forth from the gates of the fort into the village. Too many for him to fight.
He heard the slap of oars in the water and Vampyr looked upriver to see a boat floating with the current, about thirty feet away. A man wearing a black robe stood in the prow, staring at him. Eight men with drawn bows stood along the center of the boat, their weapons aimed at Vampyr. Four other men rowed, bringing the boat closer to his.
Vampyr took a step backward as the prow of the other boat touched his and two of the men reached out to secure the two together. The man in the cloak climbed on board Vampyr’s boat. Vampyr drew his dagger. The stranger drew a sword that glittered in the starlight, but he did not immediately attack, nor did the bowmen fire.
“Who are you?” Vampyr demanded.
“I am a Shadow of those you hate. Aspasia’s Shadow.”
Vampyr tightened the grip on his dagger. “What is a Shadow?”
The man drew back his hood, revealing a thin, pale face and dark eyes. With his free hand he pointed at his head. “I carry the memories of Aspasia, Lord of the Gods.” He laughed. “At least one side of the so-called Gods. I am his Shadow. I have received a message from the Guardian that there has been trouble in the Roads of Rostau and I believe I have just found the source of that trouble. I have been looking for you for a while now.”
Aspasia’s Shadow glanced past Nosferatu at the Giza Plateau. “But.” He let that word hang in the air for a few moments. “You killed Isis and Osiris?”
Vampyr stood taller. “Yes.” He expected the other man to attack, but Aspasia’s Shadow seemed to be thinking.
“Interesting,” Aspasia’s Shadow said. “Two of the six who hide in the Roads dead. They were supposed to be caretakers only, not set themselves up once more as Gods. Perhaps they will have learned their lesson.”
“And what is your task?” Vampyr asked.
“A caretaker also, in my own way. To maintain the truce while the Gods sleep. To win for my side if the opportunity presents itself.” Aspasia’s Shadow shrugged. “I’m a backup, an afterthought. I must say, though, that’s better than what you are.”
Aspasia’s Shadow put the point of his sword into the wood and leaned on the pommel as he considered Vampyr. The bowmen, however, did not relax the tension on their strings and the barbed points of their arrows were aimed directly at Vampyr’s chest.
Vampyr could hear the soldiers searching along the riverbank, growing closer; but Aspasia’s Shadow did not seem concerned.
“You’re just another piece on the board,” Aspasia’s Shadow said. He cocked his head, staring at Vampyr. “You burn with hatred. I can feel it. This should be interesting.” He pointed downriver, toward the Middle Sea. “Go. Take your hatred and leave this place. Nurse it. The time of the Gods will be over here someday.” He leaned over and looked under the thin wooden deck and saw the black tube. “As you know, you can sleep without dreaming or thinking for a long time using that. I would recommend you go far away and go into the deep sleep for a long time. Then awaken and see what has changed in the world.”
“How do I do that?” Vampyr asked.
Aspasia’s Shadow climbed down belowdecks and tapped something into the command panel.
Vampyr watched his movements carefully. “How do I know you aren’t setting that to kill me? Or put me to sleep forever?”
“You don’t,” Aspasia’s Shadow said. “But the Airlia move very slowly. If you want to scavenge about this world for millennia, waiting for things to change, be my guest. Things will change over time, but slowly. The deep sleep, which I use myself, is a way to ‘speed’ the process. And it keeps you from aging during the time you sleep.”
“Why should you care about what I do?” Vampyr demanded, still holding the bloodstained dagger tightly in his hand.
“It is a game,” Aspasia’s Shadow said. “As I said, you’re just another piece on the board, making things interesting. I may have Aspasia’s memories, but I have lived a long time since they were imprinted on me. I do not necessarily have the same motivations or goals anymore.”