Carpathian 11 - Dark Descent

Chapter One
    Veins of lightning lit the clouds, dancing whips of white-hot energy iluminating the midnight sky. The earth rumbled and roled, unsettled and flinching as the creature clawed its way through the soil to burst into the air, instantly fouling every living thing it touched. Leaves shriveled and blackened. The air vibrated with alarm. The vampire settled to earth, turning its head this way and that, listening, waiting, its cunning mind racing, its rotten heart beating with a mixture of triumph and fear. He was the bait, and he knew the hunter was not far behind, close on his trail, drawn straight into the heart of the trap.
    Traian Trigovise burrowed through the soil, folowing the stench of the undead. It was too easy, the trail too wel marked. No vampire would be so obvious unless he was a rank fledgling, and Traian was certain he was dealing with strength and cunning. He was an ancient Carpathian hunter, a species nearly immortal, blessed and cursed with longevity, with timeless gifts and the need for a lifemate to make him complete. He was first and foremost a predator, capable of becoming the most loathsome and evil of al creatures, the undead. It was his sheer strength of wil and duty to his race that kept him from faling prey to the insidious whispers and cal of power.
    When the tunnel veered upward toward the sky, Traian continued onward, pushing deeper into the dirt, feeling his way, listening to the heartbeat and energy of the earth around him. Al was silent, even the insects, creatures often summoned by the evil ones. He scanned the surface, taking in a large area, and discovered three blank spots, evidence that more than one vampire was close.
    He found a web of roots, thick and gnarled, humming with life, reaching deep into the earth. He whispered softly, respectfuly, touching the longest, deepest artery, feeling its life force. He chanted softly in the ancient language, asking for entrance, felt the response moving through the thick old tree. Leaves shivered as the tree reached toward the moon, embracing the night even as it shrank from the presence of the foul beings. Imparting secrets and conspiring to help, the tree spread its roots to alow Traian into the intricate system protecting and nourishing the wide trunk.
    The hunter was careful not to disturb the soil or the root system as he maneuvered his way carefuly through the labyrinth, pushing through the surface just far enough to scan his surroundings from inside the cage of safety of the overlapping roots above ground. He shape-shifted as he emerged, a shadow hidden amongst the thick branches and leaves.
    For one moment he could see only his prey, the tal, thin figure of Galent. He recognized the vampire as one of the ancients sent out by their prince so many centuries earlier, just as he had been. The undead continualy twisted, sniffing the air suspiciously, his gaze darting along the ground. He clicked his long fingernails together in a peculiar repeated rhythm.
    The wind rushed through the grove of trees, and the leaves rustled and whispered. Traian alowed his gaze to shift, quartering the area, searching with his mind more than his acute vision. The breeze brought the echo of that strange rhythm to him, coming from his left. Then from his right. Two more of the undead waited to fal upon him and rip him to pieces. He shifted again, drifting with the breeze through the cage of roots, rising as molecules into the night, alowing the friendly wind to take him higher into the cover of leaves.
    Dark clouds swirled into a boiling cauldron. Lightning veined the murky, spinning mass. He hovered there with a smal, humorless smile in his mind. Discretion realy was the better part of valor in some circumstances. He would pick his own battleground. Then he heard the clicking of the fingernails again. The sound was growing louder. With each click, droplets of water fel from the cloud. Tiny droplets that never quite reached the ground. The beads colected in midair, formed a large, shimmering pool. He could see his reflection clearly in the pool. Not the scattered molecules, or an ilusion, but the real man amongst the leaves. It was his only warning, and it came just a heartbeat before the attack.
    He caught movement from the corner of his eye and instantly reacted, somersaulting through the sky, shifting into his true form, grateful for the leaves that hampered the nearly invisible silvery net meant to entangle him. Spears spiraled through the air,