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    Day of Reckoning: Vampire Origins #5
    Day of Reckoning: Vampire Origins #5
    Day of Reckoning: Vampire Origins #5
    Ebook69 pages50 minutes

    Day of Reckoning: Vampire Origins #5

    By AJ Cooper

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    About this ebook

    “Seeing the great darkness within the elven prince’s heart, the High God cursed his descendants with a thirst for blood...”

    More than four hundred years after the vampire's curse first took hold among the Dark Prince’s children, the druen nation faces certain doom. The non-cursed elven tribes, angered by recent atrocities, form an unprecedented union to annihilate the druen race.

    The king of the vampires musters his too-few soldiers to stave off certain obliteration, but the Dark Elves and High Elves, acting in unison, have made up their minds: to invade the Dark Land and bring about the DAY OF RECKONING.

    The final Vampire Origins novella.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRealms of Varda
    Release dateDec 15, 2013
    ISBN9781310645549
    Day of Reckoning: Vampire Origins #5
    Author

    AJ Cooper

    Cursed at birth with a wild imagination, AJ Cooper spent his youth dreaming of worlds more exciting than Earth. He is a native Midwesterner and loves writing fantasy, especially epic fantasy set in his own created worlds.He is a graduate of the Odyssey Writing Workshop and the author of numerous fantasy novels and novellas. His short stories have appeared in Morpheus Tales, Fear and Trembling, Residential Aliens and Mindflights, among others.

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      Book preview

      Day of Reckoning - AJ Cooper

      Day of Reckoning

      Copyright © 2013 Andrew James Cooper

      Published by Realms of Varda at Smashwordswww.vardabooks.com

      All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any print or electronic form without permission.

      All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

      Day of Reckoning

      VAMPIRE ORIGINS #5

      AJ Cooper

      Druthas, Chief Advisor

      As a rule, vampire lords do not die in serene nobility and peace; but King Homar, son of Homar, of the House of Allenon, proved a rare exception. His dying words—Let my son rule—he spoke with almost shocking calm.

      Druthas—chief advisor to the king and his Blood Court; frequent witness to the murders, tortures and decadence of the Black Castle—at times wondered whether the dying sovereign had found religion in his twilight years. Such a thing would be the ultimate scandal in the Dark Land, where the mere mention of the gods spelled ostracism or worse; and if King Homar, son of Homar—the Prince of Dread who leveled Dundari and enriched Nardur at the expense of the lesser nations—had found solace in idle promises of Heaven, and worshipped the Many Faces of Light, then he had acted with exceptional wisdom not to mention it to anyone in the Blood Court, or even (perhaps especially) his wife.

      Masomé, that harridan, exemplified all the bad qualities of the druen race. She spent a quarter of the tax-revenue on fine spidersilk gowns, lace undergarments and golden jewelry. Indeed, she had purchased so many outfits she had one for every day of the year. Homar son of Homar, now a nearly-blind old man of three hundred years, had no awareness of her scheming and her lavish and luxuriant behavior. She lived only for the exaltation of the druen lords and ladies, savoring their amazed gasps at her extravagant attire; and the pleasures of blood, and of the bed. Indeed she had borne King Homar, son of Homar, a rightful heir—the crown prince, Samon—as well as two princesses soon-ready for marriage, but in truth, with the company she kept, who knew if their father was truly King Homar?

      Masomé, ever the actress, shed tears as the Drazzandori gave his final breaths. She wore one of the fine spidersilk gowns—dyed a deep scarlet and inset along the golden hems with sapphires—which she had purchased from the southlanders.

      If we sold her wardrobe, Druthas thought to himself, we could pay all the nation’s expenses for a decade.

      Her teary eyes met Druthas’ and he wondered if she could read his thoughts, if she could detect his hatred for her. The thought sent gooseflesh tearing across his skin. He had seen what she did to the castle slaves and common servants who looked at her without due deference. One servant-boy who broke a crystal cup, she had lathed in butter and tossed to her menagerie of snow bears.

      A woman in the black attire of an antipriest stood at the foot of the royal bed. Her presence and her title was a mere formality; the antipriests no longer laid sacrifices before the Black Altar. Though the druen did not revere the gods, few thought it acceptable to give the Dark One any equivalent reverence.

      Masomé walked over to the side of her husband’s bed, laid an ivory hand on his wrist. He is dead. She could produce tears at will, but her speech held no trace of sadness. My dear husband, Homar, the greatest lord the druen have ever seen. He will be dearly missed.

      Not by you, Druthas would guess.

      With the passing of the king, the crown shall pass to his son, Masomé said. But he is not of age. And in the interim I will rule.

      The antipriest’s lips pursed into a line; her eyes met Masomé’s, shallow with fear even as she quite obviously tried to hide all weakness. You speak truth, my dear Masomé. The crown shall pass to you.

      Masomé’s face hardened. There are some things left to be done. There are wrongs that need righting. Her dagger-hard eyes bored into Druthas’, seething with fury.

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