A shockwave of force struck first, forcing Vorador backwards several feet and dropping him down to his knees. He clenched his eyes shut for a few moments, keeping himself rigid with one hand to the injury in his neck. Before he could open his eyes to look, he was engulfed in a flowing cloud of a strange white smoke that smelt faintly sulphurous. It obscured his vision totally like a blanket and he waved his free hand several times to try and clear it.
Thick in the air were fragments of the shell, glistening like falling snow as they slowly drifted to the ground. The light it had radiated had dissipated and now the chamber was cast into a strange, unnatural darkness, the candles around the room flickering and struggling to maintain their small flames. He looked around, trying to see what was there. The smoke was slowly dissipating and, realising this was a rare moment of calm, he took the opportunity to remove the arrows lodged in the side of his chest and shoulder. He had lost a lot of blood and his body was finding it difficult to heal his wounds, especially the one in his neck.
The thick smoke faded and through the dissipating haze, he could see the Mandarins. The five mentally forged sorcerers stood there as transfixed and dumbstruck, their expressions all uniform countenances of utter shock. They had not moved a muscle since their treasure had begun to react and change. Undoubtedly they had imagined the orb to be little more than a treasure, a symbol of their mighty, lofty station and right to rule.
Slowly, as if reluctant to even look, he followed their transfixed gaze. The shrine that had stood around their orb and piles of gold and jewels was gone, reduced to shattered timbers. The gold had been scattered, the coins rolling out in all directions across the floor. From the midst of this confined area of devastation, a dark, slender, elongated shape began to rise. It swayed back and forth like a reed caught in a breeze.
The smoke finally cleared and the thing rose up to its full height and peered out at those around it, a pair of beady dark eyes blinking several times. It was quite unlike anything Vorador had ever seen. Its body was long and it resembled a snake, but a snake of colossal size. Its sloped, short snouted head was reptilian too, but not snakelike. A short crest rose from behind its head, giving it an armoured-like appearance. Rather than covered in scales, its skin was leathery and loose fitting as if it were a size too big and creased heavily when its body arched.
It was dripping with a thick translucent jelly that clung wetly to its skin. As it moved itself, sluggishly at first, globs of this disgusting substance dropped away to fall to the ground. They steamed there, hot in even the warm confines of this luxury apartment. Slowly the alien serpent uncoiled itself and stretched. The end of its tail lashed up, revealing it to end in a strange downy quill.
Staring at the thing, Vorador realised with a sudden start he actually had seen the shape of this creature before, and quite recently at that. The depiction he had discovered down in the ruins beneath this very city showing the lifecycle of those bizarre creatures had shown this animal to be at its beginning. Before him now was a living representative of the creatures he had seen in the murals of those hidden places, alive and well.
For a moment, the young beast was perfectly still, almost like a statue. Then with a snap of its head it turned sharply to glare at the five stunned and silent men. Its eyes narrowed at them to almost closed slits and there was a strange and sudden oppressive sensation, like a tangible weight on the mind. Vorador could feel its palpable force but also knew that it was not directed at him.
"We…did not…" The green Mandarin started, breaking the silence as if answering some question only he could hear.
"…take it from the city!" The red Mandarin finished but his tone was strained, his face gone pasty white.
"The wolves…" One of them gasped, it was hard to say which one.
"…gave it to us!" Another put in.
"We did not…" The blue Mandarin repeated, as if he was going to add something else, but no one of his fellows had time to complete his sentence. The creature leaned towards him, arching its wet body up like a true snake ready to strike. That feeling of intense pressure continued, growing stronger and heavier with each passing moment. The gravity of that sensation did not stop. It became more and more powerful.
The Mandarins stood there, transfixed and unable to move with their gaze locked onto that of the strange creature. Vorador watched them, unable to turn away. Blood began to run out of every orifice in their heads, out of their nostrils, mouths, ears, and even from the gaps around their eyes. Their bodies began to tremble, shaking as if gripped in seizure although their feet remained rooted to the spot.
The feeling of pressure suddenly intensified, becoming a weight so heavy that even Vorador felt the pain. Through the blood running down their faces, he could see the Mandarins one final time. Once again they all wore the same expression and it told of fear, pain, and utter terror. Then those expressions vanished completely as, one by one, their skulls exploded.
Five detonations of blood, brains, grey membrane, and fragments of bone occurred in rapid succession, a fountain of red gushing up from the ragged, meaty stumps of the severed necks. The bodies all remained standing as the pieces of shattered faces and skulls rained down. Then after a moment they toppled back and collapsed to the ground amidst a lake of freshly spilled blood.
-0-
“What manner of creature was this, that in its mere presence I felt such an overwhelming sense of power and presence? Even fresh from what had now clearly been revealed as an egg, its raw energy and lethal nature had been painfully displayed. For the first time in my life, which itself had stretched eons, I felt truly afraid.”
-0-
The creature looked down at the corpses and while its features did not really allow for a great deal of recognisable expression, there was a sense of smug and sadistic satisfaction about it. Then it seemed to recall its surroundings and slowly turned around to look directly at the Vampire. Vorador tensed, fully expecting the full crushing weight of that mental pressure to be directed at him. He was not without protections for his own mind but currently, injured and losing strength, he was in no fit state to defend himself.
There was a long moment of silence and Vorador did not even hear the sounds of the typhoon outside beyond the walls.
Then the eyes of the beast softened slightly but not in any kind way, rather in the manner of one who decided that a contemplated course of action would not really be worth the time and had other pressing business. The creature turned and began to move away, sliding over the floor. It moved not side to side like a proper snake but up and down in a strange undulating gait. It moved quickly, leaving a trail of its egg slime behind it like an oversized slug.
It made straight for the doors leading out onto the balcony. When it reached them it did not slow or stop but kept on, ramming them with its head. The doors cracked and broke open at once on the impact, a strong bellowing wind rushing in. Vorador shielded his eyes with one hand for just a moment. When he lowered it again, the creature was gone but the slime trail continued on outside.
Against his better judgement he got back up and haltingly, one hand still to his throat, made his way over to the shattered doorway. The typhoon was raging so strongly outside it was impossible to see more than a few feet through the rain.
For some time the Vampire stood there, trying to come to grips with what had just happened, his face grim. Certainly he had encountered more than he had bargained for during this quest and this certainly was the strangest. If what he had just seen was indeed a representative of a species that the Divus had gone out of their way to erase from historical record, then he could not blame them in the least. If it had been up to him he would have been sorely tempted to forget about such an alien and powerful creature.
He corrected that thought as soon it occurred. Simply forgetting such a being would not mean that it did not exist. That was the mistake the Vampires made by declaring the Hylden to be 'unspoken'. The only question now was, now that he had seen such a creature and knew that it was real, just what was he going to do about it? He doubted that he could simply ignore what had happened and what was now loose and go about completing his quest. Reality was never that obliging.
Just what madness had inspired the Seer to send him into this chaos? Abruptly, however, the thought came to him that perhaps he was giving the Seer too much credit. It was entirely possible that she perhaps was ignorant of such an event. He was not sure which was the worse scenario; that she knew and was manipulating him or that she was ignorant and had sent him anyway.
Hearing footsteps behind him, Vorador turned quickly to see the Mentalist Nupraptor come in through the doorway leading to the staircase. The Guardian of the Mind looked around at the carnage inside the chamber with an expression of stunned awe, his eyes wild and bulging. Slowly his head turned to look from the devastated shrine over to the five crumbled, headless bodies off to one side. Then he looked up and over at the Vampire.
“What did you do?” He asked in a stunned voice. “I sensed the unleashing of a mental onslaught of mammoth proportions.” The man raised a hand to one side of his head. "I felt it in my mind from all the way downstairs."
Vorador stared at him almost dumbly, his eyes partly unfocused. With a great effort he brought himself back from his dazed state and recalled himself to why he had come here in the first place. Glancing back over at the shattered corpses that had once been the Mandarins, he saw that the lunar styled shield was still attached to the arm of the yellow Mandarin. It lay there amidst the gore, stained red with blood.
He crossed over quickly and without ceremony pulled the relic free from the limp, lifeless arm of the cadaver. Finally he held the supposed key to the Lost City in his hands. The end of his quest was almost in sight.
“Your mistake is erased.” He told the Mentalist without looking around, his eyes still on the shield he held out in front of himself and gestured with a free hand down towards the corpses lying all about him. “How it was done is immaterial to that end." He did not believe his own words even before he spoke them.
Nupraptor's attention, however, had been drawn back to the shattered remnants of the shrine, its treasures of gold and jewels flung wide. The pillow which had sheltered the container which had looked so much like a giant pearl looked torn apart, the force of the detonation having been at its apex there. Some larger pieces of the shell still remained, dull and ragged splinters still vaguely making the outline of a spherical shape.
His eyes widened and his face turned even paler. Perhaps with his vaunted powers of perception he perceived something from the aftermath.
“What was inside this vessel?” He asked in a slow voice. Vorador paused then, the image of that serpentine creature fixed in his mind’s eye and alongside it was the diagram he had seen in the ruins beneath the city, of its progressive lifecycle. Overshadowing all of that was the image of what the diagram said would be the eventual end result of that lifecycle.
“I don’t know.” He replied. It was not exactly a lie, at least not in his own mind. All the rationality and scepticism he had honed to a razor’s edge over the centuries rebelled at the mere notion of taking that image seriously. At least not without corroborating evidence. Even the presence of that newly born creature was not enough for that.
Nupraptor's gaze remained fixed on the remains of the empty shell for some time, the faint glow from within his cranium gradually subsiding. 
“Perhaps you are right." The Guardian of the Pillar of the Mind said then, swallowing hard. "It is indeed not my issue.” He did not sound all that convinced of his words but he came forward decisively up to the five corpses. “It is not my place to be overseer of all of Nosgoth. Let each contend with their own.” He added. Vorador's face creased into a frown of contempt at that.
“Humanity’s major flaw." The Vampire almost growled. “Self-centred and short-sighted.” Although he was abruptly aware that he himself had been guilty of exactly the same thing. Throughout his quest he had tried often to ignore the events going on around him in favour of pursuing the end result of his goal. Having been made a hypocrite by his own mouth he frowned even deeper, his face taking on a full-blown scowl. Almost angrily he attached the recovered artefact to his right arm. It was easier to carry it that way.
“Perhaps.” Nupraptor muttered. He looked lost in thought. Then he gestured with one hand and the five corpses before him began to lift off of the ground, levitated by the use of his telekinesis. “Take the advice of such a short-sighted Human, Vorador.” He said without looking at him. “Whatever happened here, forget about it. Take your relic and just leave.”
Vorador knew there was some wisdom in that advice. Essentially it boiled down to 'leave well enough alone'. There were certainly circumstances where that would be the best course of action. Repeatedly, however, he had tried to do just that on this journey and it had failed miserably. He was certain that if he tried to ignore this event it would simply come back to haunt him.
“You Humans can afford to be short-sighted." He said, then turned to give the Mentalist an almost regretful look. "I cannot."
The bland expression on Nupraptor's face showed that he had not expected any other reply. He drew his fingers together into a fist and the devastated bodies floated closer to him.
“Then goodbye, son of Audron.” He said and turned away, walking off with the corpses gently floating after him. “For what it is worth, you have my thanks.” Then he and the bodies disappeared in the luminous midst of a translocation.
Vorador was left standing there, shield recovered, staring out at the typhoon raging outside with a calm and grim certainty that he had just borne witness to some pivotal event, or at the worst the beginning of it.
King William marched in through the spread open doors of the Mandarins’ palace, a platoon of swordsmen directly behind him with axe men on either side. On either side of the young king were his Generals. Each man had dents and cuts in their armour as, once they had broken down the main gate, the defenders had made one final sortie to try and drive the invading army away. The fighting had been intense and William and his Generals had been in the thick of it.
One of his Generals had fallen to a barrage of crossbow bolts before their shields could be raised but William himself had leapt into the fray, the sword he had pulled from the stone in his hand. With such a mystical and divine weapon he had cleaved the enemy like wheat before the scythe. It was an inspiration for all who beheld him, their king at the forefront standing in defence of his men and comrades-in-arms. It put new heart into the men and they rallied around him, committing to a massive charge. With the strength of will and numbers they pushed the defenders back, right through the city gates and into the streets of Zwergstadar itself. The outcome after that was never in doubt.
Victorious, covered with bruises, cuts, and with one arm in a sling, the young monarch surveyed the antechamber of the palace now being taken over floor by floor by his men.
“I want the city totally secured.” He said, half turning to one of his Generals who had a bandage across one side of his face where he had taken an axe blade. The wound was not serious but had required extensive stitches. “Root through every building and house. I don’t want any insurgents taking up residence in some hidden corner to ambush the men.”
The General bowed awkwardly for he had also taken a blow to his armour and the chest plate had caved in on one side, making it difficult to move in it. The man was going to have to have the blacksmiths cut him out soon.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” He said. “But I don’t think that will be necessary. The enemy forces seem to have surrendered to a man.”
It had been very strange indeed. The invaders had pressed the now desperate defenders right up to the city’s inner wall around the palace and the fighting had been most intense there, no side giving quarter or expecting it. Then suddenly, all of the defenders seemed to totally lose interest. It was as if they had been fighting in their sleep and just woke up, finding themselves without explanation in the middle of a war. Taking one look at the army attempting to breech the walls on which they themselves stood, they immediately pulled out a white flag and parlayed for surrender.
“While that would indeed be an ideal circumstance, I am not foolish enough not to be at least precautious.” William replied sardonically with a half smile. Then he turned to another General, who had been lucky to only receive a shallow gash across one arm. “Have whatever healers there are in the city tend to the wounded, both our own and the surrendered enemy.” He said and tried to sound as magnanimous as possible, affecting a regal expression. “The stores below the palace are to be opened and the food shared out.” With his good arm he gestured broadly out. "The war is over. Let the people know that 'William the Just' is a liberator, not a conquering despot."
"Yes, Your Majesty." The General replied with another awkward bow.
So he commanded and so was it done. The invaders, with their hold on the city now secure, began to go from door to door demanding to speak with the citizens inside. The people of Zwergstadar were frightened and sceptical but brightened noticeably when brought supplies which had been taken from them, such as food and medicines which would be needed before the still raging typhoon passed over them. Even the defenders, who less than an hour ago had been fighting the invading army with intense zeal, took off their armour and began to ration out the supplies. Soon the entire city was raising its voice in jubilation and praise for William the Just.
William himself, after a healer had examined his arm for the bad blow it had and removed the sling, pronouncing the injury minor, strode confidently and alone into the hall before the stairs that lead up to the Mandarins’ apartments. Despite being light enough to be wielded with one hand, William had taken to wearing the blessed sword over his shoulder in the northern style.
He viewed the statue of the five would-be tyrants holding aloft their treasured pearl, then turned his attention to the stairs themselves. He had not had anyone venture up yet but decided there was no pressing need to do so when he observed that there were three freshly slaughtered bodies lying at the foot of those stairs. From first glance he saw that they were more of the palace elite guard. Most of that guard had surrendered although a few had been unaccounted for. The corpses before him had had their necks ripped open and the paleness of their skin showed that they had been bled white. The floor around them was still red.
"Couldn't you have cleaned up once you were done with them?" He asked of the seemingly empty chamber about him. He half turned and surveyed the room. “Tell me, what do you think?” The young monarch made an imperious gesture with one hand, holding it aloft theatrically. “Emperor William the First of eastern Nosgoth; has a nice ring to it, I fancy.”
There was a brief pause and then Vorador, his lips still stained faintly red with blood, emerged from the shadows. It had taken a lot of feeding to fully heal the wound inflicted to his neck and even more to restore at least some of his reinforcing energies. He had been badly shaken by the experience and would not allow this apparent weak spot to be injured like that again. Right now, though, he regarded William with a flat expression of profound irritation.
“You are a tiresome little man.” He remarked bluntly. William chuckled at the insult. Then his eyes flicked down to the shield strapped to the Vampire's arm.
“I see that you have the Shield of the Lance Lord.” He said and looked hopefully up at him. “The Mandarins?”
“Dead.” Vorador replied.
“Excellent. Capital!" The young king clapped his hands together, the gauntlets making a metallic clanking sound. "Then my conquest of the East is truly complete.” His eyes were alight with almost ecstatic glee. “This day will become legend. I will be remembered for centuries to come.” The expression on the Vampire's face at this was faintly amused.
“Indeed.” He said. “But perhaps not in the way you might think.” Vorador wondered just how this glory-seeking popinjay would react if he knew that his death would be used by Moebius as propaganda to launch a second crusade against the Vampire race, more deadly than that of the Sarafan Knights themselves. William waved a hand dismissively.
“Future generations may say what they will.” He said, still sounding irrepressibly boyish. “I have come as close to immortality this day as any ordinary Human is likely to come.” It was then that the amusement faded from Vorador's face. He folded his arms over his chest and regarded the Human before him. What he had suspected before was a certainty now.
“Is that why you had your father and brothers brutally murdered?” He asked, finally voicing the suspicion and confronting the young king with it. William looked up at him sharply. The Vampire gestured with a toss of his head out the door through which he had entered. “Those plebeian mouth breathers out there may have fallen for your act, but I did not.” He raised a talon and pointed at the Human accusingly. “Over and over you have displayed your talent at misdirection and subterfuge as well as your admittedly impressive intelligence. Not to mention your apparent lust for glory.”
William stood there as if frozen, all glee and good-natured humour gone from his face. He was like a statue, as grim as the Vampire facing him.
“I do not know how, but you made some arrangement with Remus and his arctic Werewolves.” Vorador went on, never taking his eyes from the young king's face. “He butchers your father and thus creates a vacancy on the throne. Your brothers are also removed, leaving you the only surviving male and now the assumptive heir to that throne. All these assassinations in the midst of a war, where anyone can be killed at any time, where such deaths would not even be considered advantageous to you…” He paused then, to see if William would say anything to these charges. But the king remained stony faced and impassive, the kind of face that shows nothing, the kind of face which would be immensely useful when playing cards. After a moment the Vampire carried on.
“Your act of despair and grief over your slain kin, your angry deceleration that the Werewolves that slaughtered the king and his true heirs were servants of your enemy all served to misdirect the anger of your men and galvanise them to your cause.” He said and then leaned in closer, looking the Human monarch directly in the eye. “But the Werewolves that were allied with the Mandarins were black, not white.”
At this, William blinked and his face became animated once more. He frowned as if something he had overlooked had just been pointed out to him.
“Oh dear… That is true.” He admitted, reaching up to rub the back of his head. “That was quite a horrible blunder on my part, wasn’t it?” The young king considered for a moment, his expression far-off. Then he just shrugged. “However, most of the men are illiterate and can barley count to twenty. I don’t think any of them will make the connection.” He folded his own arms in something of a mocking imitation of the Vampire's own stance, a grin spreading across his face.
“Well, congratulations, Vampire; you caught me.” He said then without the slightest hint of a guilty conscience. “I am indeed a murderer; guilty of fratricide and regicide both.” If anything he looked pleased with himself. “Does it make you feel better to have played detective?” His tone was highly sarcastic.
Vorador just managed to stop himself from snarling, but the angry disgust was clear in his expression. With a will he turned sharply away from the young king.
“No.” He said flatly and with heavy contempt. “And I am done helping you.” He made as if to walk away, moving towards one of the doorways.
“Such a pity, we do indeed make quite a team." William said after him. "Just look at what we have accomplished, together.” At that, Vorador paused. Slowly, he turned around so he gave the young monarch a sidelong look filled with distaste.
“Because of your manipulation, I may have assisted in unleashing upon Nosgoth a force more terrible and dangerous than anything that has come before or after.” He said. “In the face of that, your little conquests, your schemes for power, mean less than nothing.”