“My, my, this seems a bit overmuch,” said Maemori, shaking her head.
The tower of wrought brass and iron rose above her, slicing through the wild growth of the Dell like a twisted blade. There seemed to be no door or other means of ingress to its interior, and its exterior was adorned with wicked spikes, inset with skulls, and hanging bodies. It was the blood though, that had elicited Maemori’s comment. From a great vessel at the tower’s apex, it gushed forth, running in great streams down the tower walls that pulsed in their flows like the beating of a heart.
It had been the blood that had drawn Maemori. She had sensed the potency of its energy even before she started to see it running through the waters of the river they followed. As they had come close, it seemed the forest had almost beckoned them forward, as if the trees were guiding them safely through to their destination.
“Can you feel it my lady? Such power,” said the Lighthouse Keeper, his gaze on the tower’s overflowing vessel.
“How could I not,” she replied, closing her eyes and basking in the sanguine energy that exuded from the place and seemed to banish the discomfort of Hysh’s glare.
“Such power would be useful for us in our venture here, don’t you think?”
Maemori approached the pool of blood that surrounded the tower’s base and knelt beside it. Extending her hand above its deep crimson surface, she felt the power more keenly, like a tangible thing in her palm. She reached forward but stopped, just short of touching the surface. There was something else there, beyond the morbid power, a darkness that writhed and twisted beneath. The foul taint of chaos.
Maemori snatched her hand away. “The power of the blood god lies too heavy on this place.”
“Perhaps, but such a reward is worth the risk, no? Hehehe,” The keeper laughed.
“Not when I’m the one taking it,” snapped back Maemori, convinced he had known how deeply the blood was corrupted, and more sure than ever she should not take the power for herself.
“I would offer myself, but I do not bear the same connection to blood as you. None but a vampire can hope to harness the power here.
Maemori stood and crossed her arms, the discomforting attention of the sun seeming to intensify, stinging her senses and blistering her skin. The dangers were clear, as was the Keeper’s goading, but she was loath to leave such power, especially when there were others who might make use of it. Staring up at the tower, looking for some way she might bring it down, something caught her eye.
Amongst the bodies hung from the edifice, were several vampires, their forms somehow preserved against the ravages of Hysh and time. A slow smile spread across Maemori’s face as a plan began to form in her mind.
Dispatching several of her skeletal soldiers, she had them cross the pool and scale the tower. As they traversed the blood, she saw steam rising from where they made contact with the liquid and cracks beginning to split the bones. The climb was difficult and slow going, requiring all her attention to direct the skeletons. With its spikes and plated metal, there was no end of handholds for the climbers, but the running blood made the surface slippery, and several lost their grip, falling into the pool below. Eventually, though, they made it and cut down one of the vampire corpses.
Carefully lowering their prize down, the skeletons returned with it on their shoulders. Several of them, those that had fallen into the pool, did not make it back. Their bodies cracked apart as they traversed the pool. Enough remained though, and they emerged on the other side to set the body at Maemori’s feet.
“Last rites? I had not thought you so sentimental my lady,” said the Keeper, looking at the body.
“Please,” Maemori said, rolling her eyes.
Standing between the corpse and the pool of blood, she held a palm over each. If a vampire was needed to hold the tower’s power, then a vampire would hold it. Closing her eyes, she focused her attention on the throbbing power to her right, and the vacant hollow to her left. With a flare of necromantic energy, she drew forth the power, a stream of blood rising from the pool towards her right hand. She let out a gasp as the sanguine energy flowed through her body, intoxicating in its strength. It spoke to her, urging her to embrace the power for herself. She gave herself only a brief moment to enjoy it before she opened the palm of her left hand. The swirling energy within her rushed outwards again, out from her left hand, into the body below. She stood there, a conduit, until the vampire’s body could take no more, and she closed her right hand, severing the connection. Staggering slightly at the sudden loss of the energy, she opened her eyes.
“How inventive,” the Keeper laughed.
Maemori ignored him and turned to the corpse beside her. Beckoning forward with her finger, it rose. The vampire was long dead, but the sanguine energy the body now held had given it new vitality. With vacant eyes, the blood thrall stared at Maemori, awaiting her command.
She smiled. The entire Dell would bend to her will.
