The Lost Annals

Dim amber light from his torch reflected off the damp cobblestones as he walked through the old passageway. Sir George stepped carefully, the slick stones and the just steep enough incline of the passage could spell an unfortunate end to his exploration if he lost his footing. Behind him, a hand running against the wall, Yorri carefully followed his steps.

Neither spoke as they focused completely on keeping their footing, Sir George occasionally glancing up to see if his torch light reached the end of the declining passage. Each time he did his heart leaped up his throat and fell reshoundly back down when only more of the passage appeared in the light.

The silence broke when Yorri coughed unexpectedly, causing the both of them to stop their movements. Sir George glanced over his shoulder at his apprentice, the startled look of his slowly shifted to reassurance that they both still stood and were not tumbling down wet stone into the darkness of the passage.

They nodded to one another and slowly continued down the passage.

A few minutes after the cough that nearly scared them both into a hard tumble, Sir George glanced up from his feet to look down the passage. Mercifully at the edge of the torch’s light, he saw the first leveling out of the stone floor. His leaping heart jumped again into his throat and reflexively drew his apprentice’s attention to it.

“Yorri,” he said, and nodded to the point down the passage.

“Oh, thank the Divines,” Yorri said in a sigh.

Though as the apprentice's attention remained on the destination of their careful steps he took his next one. Not looking, he placed the heel of his foot on the high point of one of the slick cobblestones. As he shifted his weight to the precariously placed foot it slipped out forward and took him off his feet.

Before Sir George could attempt to react, the body of his apprentice tumbled into the back of his legs, and knocked them out from under him. They both started to awkwardly roll intertwined down the passage, about fifteen feet, to the landing of the passageway. The torch landed a couple of feet to the side of them.

A loud groan escaped from the knight as he started to collect his thoughts, and Yorri frantically started to attempt to untangle himself from his master.

“I’m sorry Sir George, I’m sorry,” he said, as he picked himself up off the stones. “A thousand times over, I wasn’t paying attention to my feet.”

Yorri started to help the knight up from the ground but Sir George raised a firm hand.

“Steady Yorri,” he said, voice firm and low, “we appear to be uninjured and not in any immediate danger. Take a breath and collect yourself.”

The apprentice did as instructed and took a deep breath, as he did Sir George slowly pulled himself up off the cold damp floor. Once standing he moved to the torch and retrieved it from off the cobblestones. He raised it up, letting the light of it spread over the new leveled off landing.

As he looked around the light showed a room that opened up slightly from the narrow passageway. The walls stood bare, and no other openings or doors were relieved by the light. The knight stood a moment thinking. Yorri a few moments later made the same realization that Sir George had.

“Where now? I can’t say I’m looking forward to trekking back up the way we came just yet,” Yorri said.

Sir George scanned over the walls again before responding to his apprentice.

“What did the old map say? In the darkness, give of yourself?”

Yorri shook his head, “no, the translation was: In darkness, make an offering of yourself.”

The knight looked at him with a grin, “still better at the books than the blade. We’ve got more work to do it seems.”

“Well, the books might save us more than a blade right now, Sir.”

Sir George chuckled before his attention turned back toward the room. He walked toward the wall opposite the passageway’s opening. As he neared the torch light reflected off the stones near the base of the wall in a new way. A few stones away from the wall, on the floor, a small divot had been carved. The knight knelt down and looked more carefully at it.

He saw a slight discolouration to the carved out dip in the stone. Runes outlined the top of it, old runes that he didn’t recognize. His hand lowered to it, and he pressed into the discolored stone. The pigment didn’t rub off with the pressure. Still curious, he brought his finger to his nose and waited for any scents that might have transferred to his gloved hand.

Nothing, though still unsatisfied, he ventured a taste. He brought his glove to his lips and let his tongue contact the leather of his glove. Apart from the lingered taste of the oil he used to treat his gloves, and the expected flavor of goat hide, just barely he perceived a metallic taste.

“Iron, blood,” Sir George said, spitting the taste from his lips.

“What?” Yorri replied.

“An offering of blood, that must be what it means.”

“Blood Magic, the archives didn’t say anything about Blood Magic.”

The presence of it didn’t shock the knight, as it confirmed more they found the right place. Sir George held out his hand holding the torch toward Yorri, signaling him to take it from him. The apprentice moved to him and did as instructed. He held the torch as Sir George removed his glove from his left hand.

“Sir!”

“Quiet Yorri, unless you’d like to make your way back up the passage now.”

Yorri remained mute.

The knight removed his dagger from its sheath on his belt. It reflected the torch light brilliantly. He brought the edge of it to the palm of his left hand. Slowly he moved the razor over his skin, he felt the gentle tug, and blood started to fill his palm and run down the length of the blade. The sound of drops hitting the stones deftly hit both their ears. Though the knight did not complete the motion.

“In the darkness,” he whispered.

“What Sir?”

“Snuff out the torch Yorri.”

The apprentice furrowed his brow and paused for a moment, as the understanding of the order came to him a reflexive nod and exhale escaped him. He let the torch fall to the stones before he knelt down, took off his cloak, and used it to smother the flame.

In a moment the light left the room and both of them knelt in total darkness.

“I hope you’re right, otherwise we lost our light and my cloak got soiled for nothing.”

The knight didn’t say anything and he completed his motion, letting the blade kiss the length of his palm. His blood ran readily from his hand and he heard more of it dripping down to the stone below. After a few seconds he heard blood dripping into blood as it pooled.

A long moment passed as this sound continued. Anxiety crept into the back of Sir George’s mind as he listened to more of his blood drip to the ground. He squeezed his fist shut, applied pressure as best he could to his palm, and hoped to slow the bleeding.

The sound of the dripping slowed, and Sir George’s eyes darted around in the darkness looking for any sign or movement that would prove his theory correct. Something caught his attention. He looked down, he saw the small pool of his collected blood faintly in the darkness. How, he wondered. Another moment later the answer came. The runes he first noticed in the divot started to faintly glow a pale and sickly red. It reflected off the blood and started to grow brighter.

Once all of the carved runes glowed with the light he saw the blood start to drain, to where he couldn’t tell. There were no obvious openings. Before he could try to understand it more, all the blood vanished from the stone and nothing but the glowing runes remained.

The sound of stone scraping against stone then filled the room. In front of Sir George a section of the wall started to slide back behind the rest of it. He stood up and stared into the opening that appeared in the wall. Yorri moved closer to him, his focus likewise on the opened wall.

“Good call Sir,” Yorri said.

“Next time you can do it,” the knight said.

Sir George started to step forward but before he could lift his foot light flooded in from the opening in the wall. Torches lit on their own from within, many, and it took both of them time to have their eyes adjust to the bright light washing over them.

As he got used to the light that now poured past him his goal came into view.

“The Lost Annals of the Grand Sire Hugo Rimebore,” Sir George said with a calm reverence.

In the now lit room tall bookcases stood in even intervals. Thick layers of dust rested on each and dimmed the shine of the leather bound books that filled the shelves. The stacks stretched deep into the room, and on the far wall past many shelves a door stood in the wall directly ahead of the knight.

Yorri moved closer to his master and produced a clean strip of cloth from his small pack. He took Sir George’s injured hand which caused the knight to start at the touch. Though he quickly relaxed and gave his apprentice access to his hand, unclenching his fist. Yorri quickly wrapped the cut and tied the makeshift bandage tight.

“Thank you,” the knight said before turning back to the revealed library.

“Of course Sir,” Yorri said before he too looked toward the rows of old tomes.

First Sir George, then Yorri stepped into the library, slowly they moved between the stacks of books. The sound of their footfalls on the dry stones muted in the rows of shelves. As they glanced down each row they saw the occasional chair, small table, or ladder. Though the knight’s focus often returned to the door that constantly neared as they walked further into the library.

“Just think of all the lost knowledge of the world before the Stag’s Quake. So many theories could be proven or disproven with these texts. New discoveries too,” Yorri said as his eyes constantly moved about the books and tomes.

Sir George nodded slightly, “temper yourself Yorri, knowledge is a powerful thing, and just like a blade in malicious hands it can do great evil.”

The words hardly impacted Yorri’s mood as he continued to walk with the knight. As they neared the door Sir George carefully studied it. Heavy iron banding held the carved wood planks that made up the body of the door together and stout hinges held it to the wall. A heavy bolt kept the door securely shut, and runes similar to the ones carved in the floor of the previous room showed faded in the wood of the door.

“Should we open it?” Yorri asked as he looked from the door to the knight.

Sir George thought for a long moment, his eyes locked on the bolt.

“Why just a locking bolt, and from this side?”

Yorri stood just behind the knight, so Sir George didn’t see how the question caused a few beads of sweat to appear on his apprentice’s brow.

“What are you suggesting, Sir?”

“That this door is bolted shut for a reason, there’s something in there, though,” he paused, “there’s no lock. So whoever shut this door from this side at the very least wasn’t worried about it being opened by whoever found this place.”

“That’s a good thing? You lock up dangerous things, or valuable things.”

“Unless you don’t care about the value of the thing or the safety of who finds it.”

Yorri felt the sweat start to slowly roll down his back at the knight’s observation.

“Maybe we should just leave it, find a way to get the books out, and leave the door alone,” Yorri said and hoped for nothing else exciting to happen on this venture.

“Then what happens when the next pair find themselves here with no books and only a shut door? They open it. We might as well investigate, we did come here looking for knowledge afterall.”

Sir George looked over his shoulder at the nervous apprentice, Yorri to his credit met the knight’s gaze with an unamused look of his own. Though Yorri trusted the knight, they nodded to each other agreeing to see the task out. The apprentice moved closer to the door and placed a hand on the bolt. Sir George drew his sword from its scabbard and stepped to the side of the door to face the opening.

“Ready,” the knight said, and Yorri raised the bolt from its shut position, pulled it back, and then heaved on the heavy wooden door. It swung stiffly on its hinges. No light emerged from the door, though a heavy scent of stale incense escaped past the both of them.

His hands tightened on the hilt of his sword as the door fully opened, a stinging pain grew in his injured palm. Sir George looked past the door, letting the light of the library move in and reveal what lay beyond.

Small stone tables of various heights and sizes lined the walls of the small room. The largest feature stood directly across from the door. Sir George took a step into the threshold to get a better look. Scattered on each of the small tables stood various bowls and stands of long burned sticks of incense and some that never got the chance to touch fire. Across from the door the large feature of the room remained in enough darkness to obscure its true shape.

The knight nodded to one of the torches on the wall of the library and Yorri retrieved it. The apprentice moved back to stand just behind the knight’s shoulder and held the torch up and into the room. Light flooded in, it showed the many incense censors more clearly. It also revealed dark spots on the stone floor, seemingly random and more concentrated in the center of the room. Sir George recognized the coloration of the stains as the same color of the small offering stone outside the library.

His focus turned back toward the now clear shape. A carved stone slab that stood upright against the wall. A figure set in the relief of the stone, a man shown with his eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest, a dagger in one hand and a lily in the other. The intricate carving showed the man dressed in a fine coat and trousers. Sir George stared intently at the stone figure, trying to decipher who it was. He motioned Yorri to lower the torch slightly, and the apprentice did as instructed.

The light showed more of the details of the lower part of the relief. Immediately the knight’s eyes focused on the now clear belt buckle, the Laying Tower.

“Grand Sire Hugo Rimebore’s coffin,” the knight said as he felt the color leave his face.

“What,” Yorri said, still trying to process his master’s observation.

“The first vampire, and bane of the gods,” Sir George said with a dry voice.

They stood in silence for a moment, then Sir George heard the soft dull drop of blood hitting stone. He looked down at his hand, his wound soaked through the bandage and his blood started to drip down the hilt of his sword and off the pommel.

The knight looked back up at stone carving, a dull red light started to show in the carved closed eyelids of the figure.

“Run,” the knight said, with a half breath and unconsciously.

“Sir?” Yorri said as he saw the red light starting to grow brighter.

“Run Yorri,” Sir George shouted, as he turned from the door and took his apprentice’s shoulder, turning him around as well and pushing him back the way they came.

The sound of stone scraping stone came from behind them, followed by the loud crash of something heavy falling to the ground. They could barely hear it over their heavy footfalls against the stone floor and heavy breaths. As they crossed the door back to the dark landing they looked up the passageway. 

As they stared up the trecious path that brought them here they heard from behind them a deep and consuming voice.

“In darkness, make an offering of yourself.”

The torch Yorri held flicked, and went out, leaving them both again in darkness.