Nosferatu

CHAPTER 10

Nosferatu woke to familiar darkness. He was in an Airlia tube, of that there was no doubt. He had spent so much of his life in one, he could sense the dimensions of his prison. However, it wasn’t his tube, of that he was also certain. He reached up and, as he feared, the lid was secured from the outside.

He tried to recall what had happened. China. Tian Dao Lin. Qian-Ling. The large bronze doors locked, the dead Quarters. The gold spider. Then the Airlia with the spears. That was it. His last memory. They had captured him. The feeling of despair was brought up short by the next thought — why hadn’t they simply killed him? And then — was Nekhbet still alive in the deep sleep in her tube?

Nosferatu reached up and felt his neck. A shunt was in place, but he couldn’t remember having been fed. So why am I still alive? And how long have I been in here? This was the first time he could recall being awake. He reached farther up and felt the crown on his head and his panic came back. How long have I been asleep?

He heard movement, someone touching the tube, then the top swung up. Nosferatu could only make out a form leaning over him. Hands removed the crown from his head and the leads to the muscle exercisers around his body. Nosferatu blinked, trying to adjust his eyes. The lighting was very dim, but it still hurt his pupils. He could tell from the form that it appeared to be a human who had opened the tube. The man put a hand on Nosferatu’s shoulder and pulled him to an upright position.

Nosferatu looked around. He was in a room with a half dozen black tubes. A black wall made of some strange material was to his right. He turned back to his left, where the man that had awakened him was opening another tube. The man was short, less than five and a half feet in height. He wore a richly embroidered silk robe with images of fire-breathing dragons sewn into it. In one hand he held a spear, like the ones used to overpower Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin.

Nosferatu was not surprised to see his fellow Undead sit up in the other tube. The man who had freed them turned back to Nosferatu. Though the man was short, his eyes indicated he wasn’t completely human, as they were the red-within-red cat eyes of the Airlia. A One Who Waits.

“I am Ts’ang Chieh, court official to the most noble Emperor ShiHuangdi, Commander of all the World, the Hidden Ruler whose reign goes from rising to setting sun and beyond.” He stepped closer. “ShiHuangdi was Artad’s Shadow. Do you know what a Shadow is?”

“I’ve met Aspasia’s Shadow,” Nosferatu said. “We know.”

“How long have I slept?”

Ts’ang Chieh glanced at the display at the head of the tube. “One thousand, seven hundred and thirty years.”

Nekhbet. It was all Nosferatu could think of as the impact of those numbers sank in. He was consoled by the knowledge that she was in the deep sleep and would not have been aware of the passage of time, just as he had not.

Of course, there was the danger of some natural disaster having overtaken her hiding place in the Mountains of the Moon, but Nosferatu knew he could not dwell on that or he would go insane.

“Who is this Emperor ShiHuangdi?” Tian Dao Lin was out of his tube, getting his legs back under him. “Emperor of what?”

“Who was the Emperor ShiHuangdi is the correct phrasing,” Ts’ang Chieh said.

“He combined all the lands to make the Middle Kingdom known to the outside world as China. We are now in the midst of a vast empire stretching from the Yellow Sea to the far mountains of the west.”

“Why have you woken us?” Nosferatu asked. He realized he had jumped over the more important question of why they had been taken alive.

“You are needed,” Ts’ang Chieh said. “Aspasia’s Shadow is causing trouble in the West. The truce is threatened. The new Emperor, Yongle — acting on my advice and the wishes of the God whose name must not be spoken — is mounting an expedition to maintain the truce. You both will accompany it.”

“For what purpose?” Nosferatu asked. “To kill Aspasia’s Shadow.”

"The emperor must be taking the threat quite seriously,” Nosferatu said, as he and Tian Dao Lin stood next to Ts’ang Chieh on top of the harbor watch tower and peered out over the fleet. A forest of masts crowned the flotilla, which stretched as far as they could see to the mouth of the harbor and beyond. They had traveled from Qian-Ling to Nanking in style, an imperial escort guarding them the entire way.

“Three hundred and seventeen ships,” Ts’ang Chieh said. “Crewed by 27,870 sailors and soldiers. The commander, whose ship you will be on, is named Cing Ho. He knows of your nature and your mission. He will get you as close to Aspasia’s Shadow as he can.”

“And then?”Tian Dao Lin asked.

“You kill Aspasia’s Shadow.” Ts’ang Chieh reached inside his cloak and removed two swords in sheaths engraved with High Runes. He extended them grip first to the two Undead. Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin took the weapons. “But”—Ts’ang Chieh drew the word out—“before you kill him, you must find out where his lair is and enter. You must go there and kill the clone that is waiting to replace him. If you do not do that, after a certain amount of time the clone will automatically be reborn to replace him and your efforts will have been in vain. And I am certain the new Aspasia’s Shadow will extract vengeance on whoever slew the previous one.”

Nosferatu glanced at Tian Dao Lin. “And why should we do these things for you?”

“You are not doing them for me,” Ts’ang Chieh said. “You are doing them for Artad. He let you live so many years ago when you invaded Qian-Ling. He could just as easily have had you killed.”

“Why not have your Ones Who Wait do this task?” Nosferatu asked, remembering the creature that had tried to kill him in Athens.

“The Ones Who Wait suffered a terrible defeat a while ago,” Ts’ang Chieh said. “It will take many years for them to regain their ability to counter Aspasia’s Shadow.”

Nosferatu wondered what kind of defeat and in what form, but Ts’ang Chieh had no more patience with questions or delays. “If you do not agree to perform these tasks, you will be killed right here immediately. Admiral Cing Ho has other orders, and he will, shall we say, execute them if you stray from your mission.”

Cing Ho’s flagship was the largest oceangoing vessel yet built by man. Over four hundred feet long, it had a compass, a stern rudder, and several watertight compartments built into the hull for safety. It displaced over three hundred tons, making it over three times larger than the ships Columbus would sail to the New World at the end of the century.

As Ts’ang Chieh had said, they were well accommodated aboard the massive flagship with a belowdecks cabin that was all their own. The ship was a marvel compared to what Nosferatu had previously traveled on. Besides its huge size, it had nine full masts spaced out along the deck. The four-story-high rudder was controlled by an intricate system of blocks and tackles so that one helmsman could handle the wheel. Next to the helmsman was the navigator who had a compass consisting of a magnet floating in a small bowl of water.

The journey proceeded in leaps and bounds south along the coast of China, with several engagements with Japanese pirates along the way. From Canton they sailed to Indochina, then on to Indonesia, where Cing Ho confronted and defeated a large fleet of Chinese pirates who were headquartered in Palembang. He kept the lead pirate prisoner to bring him back to Nanking for execution.

With each victory, Cing Ho provided Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin with captives to feed on in the privacy of their cabin. The two were confined to their cabin except once weekly, when they were allowed to wander the large afterdeck in the evening. Occasionally they met Cing Ho there. Nosferatu found the Chinese admiral to be quite a fascinating character for a human. He was of Arab-Mongol descent and had been captured by the Emperor’s forces during the northern border wars. Upon his capture Cing Ho was castrated — a common practice with prisoners — and pressed into the army of a prince named Chu Ti. In 1402 Chu Ti rebelled and usurped the throne from his own nephew and became the Emperor Yongle. For his faithful and brilliant service, Cing Ho was made an admiral.

When Artad directed that a fleet be sent to battle Aspasia’s Shadow’s growing influence in the Middle East, Cing Ho was given command of the mission. Nosferatu began to realize there was more to the mission, though, than was readily apparent, as they progressed up the west side of Indochina and then on the coast of India. By defeating various pirate groups, the fleet was opening up a waterborne trade route to the west, one that would be much quicker than the Silk Road. Also, Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin heard whispers of a special cargo on board the flagship, something that had come from the Gods themselves. Any effort to find out exactly what this cargo was drew immediate silence. It appeared that the cargo was held in a locked, waterproof room near the front of the ship, to which only Cing Ho had access.

They rounded the tip of India and entered the Arabian Sea after two years under sail. When they landed at Omuz in the Straits of Oman, Cing Ho led a large force ashore. The ostensible reason was to subjugate the local population, but he took Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin with him, the first time their feet had touched dry land since leaving China. He ordered them to scour the local area at night and see if they could find word of Aspasia’s Shadow.

For weeks Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin went from village to village, even venturing out into the desert, all to no avail. At Nosferatu’s urging they ranged north far into the desolate countryside of what would become Iran until they found an oasis where a group of Bedouins were camped.

From his journeys many years ago, Nosferatu still remembered some of the desert people’s language. He and Tian Dao Lin entered the encampment just after nightfall, their wrists draped with pearls and their open palms filled with gold.

The first Bedouins they encountered were wary and would not take the offered riches; but they took the two to an ornate tent set in the middle of the camp, next to the water. Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin entered and bowed before the old man who sat in the place of honor, and four of the desert warriors took a position between them and the old man, scimitars drawn.

“We come from the land of the Emperor Yongle, far to the east,” Nosferatu said. “We bring you gifts of peace.”

The old man didn’t reach out to take the gifts, but indicated they should be deposited on the ground in front of the warriors. Nosferatu did as indicated and waited.

“I am Al-Fatar, leader of the Qabila of Fatar. We have heard of strange, great ships to the south. Is this how you came here?”

Nosferatu nodded. “Yes. We have journeyed far.” “Why?”

Nosferatu knew such directness was unusual for Bedouins, who had strict rules of hospitality which he had counted on. He realized it would be best to be as direct. He sat down cross-legged. “We are seeking someone. A powerful lord who is supposed to dwell between here and the land of Egypt. Since you travel much of that land, we thought you might be of assistance in this matter.”

“This lord’s name?”

“Aspasia’s Shadow.”

Al-Fatar shook his head. “I know of no such lord.” “He might go by another name,” Nosferatu said.

“Then how would I be able to tell you if I knew him?”

“He is more than a man,” Nosferatu said. “He has lived the lives of many men. He has walked the Earth since before the beginning of time, when the Gods themselves walked the Earth.”

Al-Fatar stared at Nosferatu. “If he is so powerful, why should I tell you of him?”

Nosferatu stood. “Because I too am powerful. And I too have walked the Earth since the time of the Gods. I was in Egypt before the Great Pyramid was built. And the great fleet you have heard of is under my command.”

Al-Fatar was not impressed. “Words are easy.”

Nosferatu jumped, bounding over the warriors as he drew his dagger. He landed behind the old man and spun about, pressing the dagger against his throat. “Is this blade easy on your skin?”

Tian Dao Lin had also moved, attacking in a flurry faster than the Bedouins could follow. Within seconds all four warriors were unconscious on the floor. More Bedouins poured into the tent, weapons at the ready; but they came to a halt on seeing their leader’s plight.

“Tell me what you know,” Nosferatu said.

Surprisingly, Al-Fatar laughed. “I have never seen a man so eager to go to his death. The person you seek is called Al-Iblis. Some say he is a man, but most call him a demon. He has been sending out a call to the Bedu, wanting us to ride under his flag. Many have chosen to do so. Some say he has spells he casts over men to make them do his bidding. I have stayed here, far away from him, and will not go to his flag, so I care not what you do.”

“Where can I find this Al-Iblis?” Nosferatu demanded.

“In the Sinai,” Al-Fatar said. “It is said he rules from Jabal Mosa, where the prophet Moses received the law from Allah. What those in the West call Mount Sinai.”

Nosferatu had never heard of the place or anyone named Moses, but he knew they could find it with that information. “What is Al-Iblis doing?”

“He is raising an army to fight in the name of Allah. To pursue a Jihad.” “What is a Jihad?” Nosferatu asked, the word not one he had heard before.

“A war of faith.” “Against whom?”

Al-Fatar shrugged. “It is not my concern, but the rumor is he wants to march on Egypt, that he seeks something underneath the Great Pyramid.”

Nosferatu wondered what Aspasia’s Shadow sought in Egypt. The Grail? Had he found the key to the Hall of Records? Or something else? Nosferatu nodded to Tian Dao Lin. He turned and slashed with the sword he had been given by Ts’ang Chieh cutting a hole in the side of the tent. They both dashed out the improvised exit and into the desert. Nosferatu was not surprised when there was no sound of pursuit.

Cing Ho Listened to Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin’s report in the privacy of his cabin aboard the flagship. When they were done he unrolled a map across his large desk, pinning the ends down with small lead weights. The information on it was based on intelligence gathered, not firsthand knowledge, as no Chinese sailor had ever ventured so far from home.

“The Sinai is a large place” was Cing Ho’s summation, tapping the large blank space indicating a landmass between the Persian Gulf and the Red Sea. “You have no idea where exactly this mountain is?”

“No,” Nosferatu said.

Cing Ho seemed troubled. “This land is not very hospitable. I believe it will be difficult to find a landfall where we can get enough provisions for the entire fleet.”

Nosferatu remained silent. Cing Ho’s problems were not his. He and Tian Dao Lin had even considered not returning to the fleet, but the reality was that the Chinese armada was their best possible chance to overcome whatever force Aspasia’s Shadow was gathering. For Nosferatu the goal was to get Aspasia’s Shadow to reveal where Horus and the other three Airlia were in the deep sleep, so he could drain the blood from at least one of them for Nekhbet. For Tian Dao Lin the fleet was his best opportunity to return to his home in China and be in favor with Artad.

“I will land here,” Cing Ho finally decided, tapping a landfall on the Sinai next to the Red Sea. “However, there is something we must first do elsewhere.”

Nosferatu wondered what could be a higher priority than finding and killing Aspasia’s Shadow, but he kept the question to himself.

It took a week to sail around the tip of the Sinai. As they approached the Red Sea, Nosferatu felt a twinge of recognition. It had been many, many years since he had sailed out of the Red Sea on a flimsy reed boat, escaping from Egypt and the Airlia Gods.

Nosferatu received a second unexpected surprise when, instead of turning to the northwest and entering the Red Sea, they cut south across the Gulf of Aden to the shore of Africa and actually turned to the east, paralleling the shore, in the same manner Nosferatu had done so many years previously. For a moment, as he saw the shore of Africa appear, he feared that somehow Cing Ho knew where Nekhbet was hidden and was heading for her; but he realized the ridiculousness of that fear immediately. He had told no one, not even Tian Dao Lin, where he had hidden his love. And why would Cing Ho — or his master, Artad — care? Nosferatu knew that the Chinese admiral was on some other mission, most likely something to do with whatever was locked in the vault near the bow of the ship.

They sailed along the Somalian coast before making landfall in a natural harbor. A small village was on the shore and Cing Ho had all the villagers put to the sword. That evening, under the cover of darkness, Cing Ho went to the forward hold and unlocked the door. A heavy wooden crate was brought out and rowed ashore. Two long poles were slid through hinges on either side. Cing Ho formed a division of two thousand soldiers on the beach, the crate secure in the middle, carried by a dozen men on each pole.

Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin watched from the deck of the flagship as the formation moved inland. Cing Ho had not said a word to them, so by default they were being left with the fleet.

“Where do you think they are going?” Tian Dao Lin asked.

Nosferatu shrugged. “What is more important is what it is that they are carrying. It is more important than Aspasia’s Shadow.”

“Perhaps it has something to do with Aspasia’s Shadow,” Tian Dao Lin suggested.

“How can that be?”

It was Tian Dao Lin’s turn to shrug. “I do not know, but Artad is obviously very wise and his reach is long.”

“There is one way to find out,” Nosferatu said. “You remain here. Keep up the pretense that I remain in our cabin. I will follow.” The Chinese had not watched the two very carefully, primarily because jumping ship in the middle of nowhere wasn’t considered a viable option.

Nosferatu had no problem slipping off the flagship undetected. It was also easy to follow the trail of Cing Ho’s army inland as they cut a broad swath through the jungle. Nosferatu quickly caught up to the army. He followed for two weeks, sleeping during the day while the army marched and catching up every evening.

The terrain quickly grew more rugged and mountainous. Near the end of the second week the army entered the strangest land Nosferatu had ever seen. It was as if a giant had smashed the Earth with a large axe, leaving a massive rift in the surface. A river ran in the bottom of the rift and sharp peaks surrounded it on both sides. Nosferatu followed the army down into the rift.

After two days of difficult maneuvering north, the army came to a halt. That evening Nosferatu watched from a nearby hill as Cing Ho gathered a small group of his most trusted warriors around the mysterious box. They were lined up next to the wall of the rift and Nosferatu blinked in amazement as they turned toward the wall and seemed to disappear from view. He realized there must be an opening, perhaps a cave in the rift wall. He crept down through the Chinese camp to the spot and saw an opening behind a boulder. He could see the glow from the torches of those who had entered ahead and he followed, keeping his distance.

The small tunnel soon opened into a sloping cavern over five hundred meters wide, the ceiling over a hundred meters high. Nosferatu knew from his time in the Roads of Rostau and Qian-Ling that this was not a natural formation but the work of the Airlia Gods. For as far as he could see the cavern descended into the Earth at the same angle. Cing Ho’s party was a glowing spot about eight hundred meters ahead.

Nosferatu followed. The cavern grew even wider until he couldn’t see either side. While the Black Sphinx and Qian-Ling had been magnificent in their own ways, this cavern made Nosferatu wonder at the true power of the Airlia. He felt as if he were descending to the very center of the Earth as he continued to follow Cing Ho’s party down the steady slope.

He realized that the temperature, which had been cooler than the outside when he first entered the cavern, was beginning to rise. Then, far ahead, he could make out a faint thin red glowing line. As he got closer he could see that a crevice split the cavern floor. The far side of the crevice was over half a mile away. Nosferatu swung to the right as Cing Ho’s party reached the crevice and came to a halt.

Sliding to the edge of the crevice, Nosferatu peered down. The walls were vertical and there was no bottom that he could see, just a bright red glow pulsating upward. He could feel the wave of heat coming from the bowels of the planet. It was a mesmerizing vision and, with great difficulty, he drew his attention back to Cing Ho as he heard the faint echo of the Chinese admiral giving orders to his men.

Nosferatu saw that there was a console, similar to the one he had seen in Qian-Ling, near the edge. Cing Ho was standing behind it, his hands moving over the surface, his face reflected in a glow. Nosferatu moved back and above the site. He could see that the surface of the console was like that on his own tube — covered with hexagonals with High Rune writing.

Cing Ho tapped several of the hexes as two of his men used bars to break open the crate. As the wood fell away it revealed a large, dull red, multifaceted sphere. Other soldiers gathered round the sphere and, at Cing Ho’s command, carefully edged it toward the edge of the chasm.

Cing Ho hit another hex and a black metal pole came out of the side of the chasm. Then another. And another. The three poles stopped when they were extended about fifteen meters out. Three intrepid soldiers climbed down and balanced themselves on the poles as the other slid the red sphere over the edge. As soon as they had the sphere balanced precariously on the poles, the soldiers quickly moved out of the way.

Cing Ho continued to work the console and cables snaked out of the poles, wrapping around the sphere. Then the poles began to extend once more. As they did so they spread apart. The sphere suddenly dropped, only to come to a halt five meters below, suspended from the cables. The poles continued to extend until they had bridged the chasm and the sphere was directly in the center.

Cing Ho ordered his men back. Then he hit one last hexagonal.

Nosferatu dived to the floor as the sphere gave off a fierce red glow, bathing the immediate area with light. Cing Ho and the soldiers were so focused on the sphere that they didn’t spot him. A shelf slid out of the console, and upon it rested a small black sphere that Cing Ho removed and placed in a leather satchel at his side. Nosferatu got to his feet and ran back up the cavern into the darkness.

Looking over his shoulder he could see that Cing Ho and his men were also heading back.

Nosferatu sprinted on, keeping ahead of the group. Heading upslope, the cavern seemed even larger. He had no idea how long they had been underground, but his internal sense of time told him that it would be daylight. He moved to the right, out of the direct path to the exit, and allowed Cing Ho and his men to pass.

He sat down on the smooth stone to wait. Cing Ho and his group passed out of sight. Nosferatu had no idea what he had just witnessed, but he was sure there was great power revolving around the mysterious red sphere.

Several hours later, Nosferatu heard the sound of metal on stone echoing down the cavern. He panicked, worried that Cing Ho was sealing the cavern from the outside. He dashed upslope until he could see several torches near the entrance, but quickly came to a halt when he realized they weren’t blocking the entrance. They had erected a black stone, three meters high by one in width. Several men were polishing the surface smooth while another was chiseling something on it as soon as they finished a spot.

This went on for several hours, then the group departed, leaving Nosferatu in darkness once more. He went up to the stone. He could just make out the Chinese writing. He’d learned the language while on board ship and he read the words: Cing Ho reached this place as directed. He did his duty as ordered.

They made landfall at Jidda, a small port along the Arabian coast. Nosferatu had easily beaten Cing Ho and his men back to the fleet and told Tian Dao Lin about what he had witnessed. They discussed it at length but had to accept that they had no idea what the purpose of putting the ruby sphere in the cavern could be. They also discovered that Cing Ho had had every man who’d gone into the cavern with him executed during the march back, their bodies buried in the barren countryside.

Leaving a guard force of five thousand sailors, Cing Ho led the rest of the contingent, roughly twenty-three thousand men, ashore. He took the entire town of Jidda hostage and located Jabal Mosa by the expedient methods of torture and execution.

Finding the mountain’s location was easy, but getting there would be another matter. According to the information they received, the mountain was located inland, across inhospitable desert. Cing Ho approached it as if they were simply continuing their long voyage on land. Numerous water casks were unloaded from the ships, along with other provisions, and the army set forth with several captives who claimed to know the location of the mountain at the head of the column. They marched at night, resting during the heat of the day.

Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin rose each evening and ranged out from the long, dusty column, searching the countryside. On the fourth evening, the two crested a small hill and looked to the south and east. They could see two mountains in the distance. Looking back the way they had come, they could see a plume of dust indicating the progress of Admiral Ho’s column, the lead about a half mile behind them.

Nosferatu knew without having to consult any of the captives that the mountain to the left was Jabal Mosa even though the other was taller. It was a jagged peak, with a gray cloud swirling around the top, a most strange phenomenon as the sky was otherwise clear, the stars sparkling overhead.

They waited until Cing Ho rode up to their position. The Chinese admiral stared at the two peaks for several moments in silence, then he spoke. “The locals — the desert people — they worship the mountain. They say a demon lives there.”

“That would fit,” Nosferatu said. “Aspasia’s Shadow enjoys sowing fear.”

“I will encircle the mountain this evening. Tomorrow evening we will assault it. You will follow the assault to finish off Aspasia’s Shadow once we have him cornered.”

Nosferatu said nothing as Cing Ho went off to deploy his large army. When he was out of earshot, Tian Dao Lin expressed what Nosferatu was thinking. “It has been too easy.”

Nosferatu continued to stare at the cloud-crowned peak. “Thus far it has. I think that will change tomorrow evening.”

As dawn broke, Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin sat on the hill, their bodies draped in robes, turbans wrapped around their faces, protecting their eyes. Through the layers of cloth both could see the dust raised by the Chinese army as it moved forward toward Jabal Mosa. Bugles relayed commands, keeping the advance coordinated. By early afternoon the mountain was surrounded by a cordon of troops.

“There is something strange about the mountain,” Tian Dao Lin said. “One can understand why the local people believe it is haunted.”

The unnatural cloud that swirled around the peak had not dissipated all day and yet remained. There wasn’t any sign of life on the slopes of the mountain even though Cing Ho made no attempt to hide his preparations for attack.

As darkness fell, the thousands of torches that the Chinese soldiers had carried with them were lit, encircling Jabal Mosa with a ring of fire. Nosferatu sniffed the air. “Something is not right.”

Tian Dao Lin was looking about, left and right. “We’re not alone. Humans. Close. Behind us.”

Nosferatu saw nothing, but he could smell the sweat of men. He stood when a half dozen figures appeared, bows with drawn arrows in their hands. Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin drew their own weapons, prepared to give battle.

“Hold.” The language was that of the Airlia, followed immediately by something in Arabic to the warriors. The speaker strode forward.

“You must have come close to Artad,” Aspasia’s Shadow said, coming to a halt in front of the two Undead. He looked past them at the circle of fire and laughed. “But you did not slay him it appears. You have been gone a very long time.” He looked at Tian Dao Lin. “Another half-breed. By Artad?”

Tian Dao Lin nodded. “Artad is my father.”

“It is rather amazing that the Airlia have been viewed as Gods for so long considering how they seem to want to consort with inferior species.” He gestured back the way he had come. “Come with me.”

“Where?” Nosferatu held fast.

“Come with me or die here and now.”

Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin bowed to the inevitable and irresistible and followed Aspasia’s Shadow as he made his way down the hill. More Bedouin warriors appeared in the dark, completely surrounding them. Peering about, Nosferatu realized there was a massive army of Bedouins surrounding the Chinese. How so many had managed to move up unnoticed he didn’t know, but if anyone could do it here, he knew it would be the desert people.

Aspasia’s Shadow seemed to disappear behind a boulder and when they followed, they discovered a door, similar to the guarded entrances to the Roads of Rostau, that opened on the back side of the boulder. They entered along with a guard of a dozen Bedouin warriors. As soon as they were all inside, the door slid shut.

The corridor was dimly lit by recessed lighting of a form Nosferatu had never seen before. They descended, then reached a long, straight tunnel of smoothly cut stone. They went along the tunnel for quite a while and Nosferatu realized they were passing underneath the encircling Chinese troops. Soon the tunnel began to ascend and they entered a large hallway with wood doors along both sides.

Aspasia’s Shadow halted in front of one of the doors. “Now you will see my power.” He opened the door and walked down a short corridor. A second door, this one of black metal, slid open at his approach. “Stand here,” Aspasia’s Shadow ordered, indicating the entryway.

Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin went to the indicated location and looked into the strange room. Aspasia’s Shadow went to the center of a hemispheric chamber. He pulled a sword out of a sheath on his side and slid it into a dark red crystal directly in front of him. A golden field emanated from the pommel of the sword, covering Aspasia’s Shadow and reaching the walls. Nosferatu felt it pass over his skin with a crackle, the same feeling he’d had sometimes at sea during a storm when lightning played along the masts of the ship.

The walls came alive with a view of the terrain surrounding Jabal Mosa. It was as if they were standing on the top and able to look in all directions. The ring of approaching Chinese troops was readily apparent, with every fifth man carrying a torch.

What Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin couldn’t see was the fifty-foot black metal pole that extended up out of the top of the mountain. Mounted on the very end was a golden sphere, which was hidden inside the black swirling cloud covering the peak.

Aspasia’s shadow directed his gaze toward a section of the incoming Chinese line. His hand was on the pommel of the sword. He squeezed the grip.

A bolt of lightning arced from the golden sphere to the spot Aspasia’s Shadow was looking at. It hit with a tremendous explosion and sent a surge of electricity through the ground. Those within fifty meters of the impact point were killed outright by the explosion. Anyone outside of that range but within two hundred meters was electrocuted by the power coursing up from the ground.

Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin watched in amazement as Aspasia’s Shadow shot bolts along the front of the Chinese line, killing hundreds, then thousands. The attack came to a halt, then the troops began to turn and run, unable to face an assault from what appeared to be the Gods themselves.

Aspasia’s Shadow laughed as he continued firing. “Who is the commander of this force?” he demanded.

“An admiral named Cing Ho,” Nosferatu said.

“Do you see him?” As he asked, Aspasia’s Shadow twisted the sword’s handle and they saw a close-up view of a section of the panicked troops, then the view rotated slowly, circling the mountain, pausing when Aspasia’s Shadow realized he had found the command group. A bright red banner fluttered, embroidered with a dragon. In front of it stood Cing Ho, shouting commands, sending couriers off to the troops, trying to keep them from fleeing. As Aspasia’s Shadow zoomed in on the commander, they could see he was holding up a small black sphere in one hand as if presenting it to someone.

“That is not good,” Aspasia’s Shadow murmured.

“That is he,” Nosferatu confirmed. “But beware,” he added.

Aspasia’s Shadow let go of the pommel and turned to Nosferatu. “Beware what?” “Beware what Cing Ho has in his hands.”

“I recognize it,” Aspasia’s Shadow said. “It is a command module.” Aspasia’s Shadow looked at them. “What does it have command of?”

Nosferatu smiled for the first time. “Why should we tell you? You plan on killing us, don’t you?”

Aspasia’s Shadow looked back at the image of Cing Ho. The admiral’s forehead was covered in sweat and his hands were shaking. He held the black sphere with both hands and was staring up at the peak of the mountain from which the lightning had come.

Aspasia’s Shadow cursed. “I cannot fire at him — the power surge might activate the sphere. And whatever it controls. Tell me and I will give you what you want. The blood of an Airlia. And I will let you leave here alive. I give you my word on it.”

Nosferatu wasn’t certain how much Aspasia’s Shadow’s word was worth, but he knew there was no choice. He had a feeling no one wanted Cing Ho to activate the black sphere. It was obvious that even the admiral was afraid of what he held. “Before we came here, Cing Ho led an expedition into Africa. Far inland, where a deep valley cuts into the Earth. He went into a cavern, cut out of stone, much like this place. Obviously by the Airlia. At the very bottom, over a flaming chasm, he emplaced a glowing red sphere. It now hangs over that chasm. I believe he can drop the red sphere with the device he holds in his hands.”

Aspasia’s Shadow cursed once more. “Artad! Always a move ahead.” Aspasia’s Shadow shifted the view on the walls to the 360-degree display. Cing Ho had regained control of his forces, but the soldiers were refusing to advance. He still held the command module in his hands. Aspasia’s Shadow looked at Tian Dao Lin. “Do you speak his language?”

“Yes.”

Aspasia’s Shadow reached into a pocket and pulled out a six-inch-long black rod with a green button on one end. He tossed it to Tian Dao Lin. “When you push the green button, your voice will sound as if it comes out of the mountain itself. This Cing Ho will hear you. You will say what I tell you to. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Speaking in Chinese, Tian Dao Lin translated Aspasia’s Shadow’s words into the device and they echoed off the top of the mountain:

“This is the voice of Al-Iblis, ruler of Sinai, descendant of the Gods. The truce has been restored. Return whence you came and never return and I will disband my forces. And I will not seek the weapon beneath Giza if you do not activate what you have emplaced.”

Nosferatu watched the screen. Cing Ho was staring up at the mountain, listening. His troops were cowering, first from the lightning assault and now from the God-like voice speaking their language.

Cing Ho lowered the command sphere and bowed every so slightly in the direction of the mountain, then began issuing orders. The Chinese army started to withdraw.

Aspasia shadow led them along a corridor inside the Jabal Mosa complex. He did not seem particularly upset by what had just occurred. “Stroke. Counterstroke. So it has been for millennia. So it will continue until both sides awaken and finish this damn war.”

“What weapon is buried under Giza along the Roads?” Nosferatu asked.

Aspasia’s Shadow laughed. “It is none of your concern, half-breed.” He opened a door and they walked into a chamber filled with a half dozen black Airlia tubes. He went to the closest one and laid a pale hand on the top. “Horus’s body is within. As I told you, he is dead, but I have kept the corpse in stasis.” He went over to the side of the room and opened a black box, retrieving a syringe and two glass flasks.

Nosferatu felt the pang of hunger, even though he had fed just two nights earlier. Aspasia’s Shadow swung up the lid of the tube, revealing an Airlia body inside. Nosferatu recognized Horus and was suddenly flooded with memories — of being a child playing in the sand under the bright sun; of being trapped and bled for centuries; of his fellow half-breeds being killed; of Nekhbet imprisoned on the top of the Black Sphinx.

Aspasia’s Shadow slid the syringe into Horus’s neck. Dark red blood, almost black, slowly flowed along the tube into the first flask. “Unlike human blood,” Aspasia’s Shadow said, “because of what it contains, Airlia blood remains viable even if the body is dead. You can take this with you.” He finished filling the first small flask, then did the second. He glanced at Tian Dao Lin. “I suppose you desire some too?”

Tian Dao Lin nodded. “Get another flask.”

Tian Dao Lin did as ordered and Aspasia’s Shadow filled it. Then he removed the syringe and he returned it to the case. Aspasia’s Shadow shut the lid and put the flasks in a wooden case, which he handed to one of the silent Bedouins.

He led them out of the room, along the tunnels to the surface. Once they exited the interior of the mountain, Aspasia’s Shadow took the case from the Bedouin and gave it to Nosferatu. “Take these and go. Do not ever return here.”

Eleven hundred years. Vampyr had originally considered setting the tube for an even thousand, but decided to throw in the extra hundred years just in case. It had been long enough. His hands were back, all the way to the tips of his fingers, the skin smooth and flawless. He held them in front of his face, marveling at the feeling, at being able to grasp things. It was amazing how something he had taken for granted for so long had become so important.

It was time to venture out into the world once more, to inflict pain and suffering on those who had done the same to him so many times in the past.

First, though, he would try once more to rule an empire. He had learned a bitter lesson about power from his time with the Spartans.

Crete was too isolated. The first thing he would do, after feeding, was buy transport off the island to find a fertile land for his terror.