Mortality: The Story of Mortanius

Chapter Eighteen

Mortanius spent the weeks approaching his own thirtieth birthday wondering if the vampires were going to abduct him in the middle of the night. He made every effort to appear nonchalant and unsuspecting, and simply went about his normal business as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Moebius kept a very close eye on the situation, and made it clear that they could alert the members of the Cult in a very short period of time and strike at the precise moment. In a way, Mortanius felt like he was bait for a trap.

In the end, his birthday came and went without fanfare. Mortanius still traveled extensively, but he made sure not to make it seem as if he was traveling to intentionally avoid the vampires. He informed them of his plans in advance and returned to the Home of the Guardians afterward. All the while, the Sarafan Cult continued to spread and attract new followers, with Moebius skillfully organizing things in the background.

It came time for Mortanius’s yearly pilgrimage to his family’s home to visit their graves, so he packed a horse and rode north, just like he did every year at that time. He felt a profound sense of meaning as he walked once again on the land where he had grown up. One way or the other, this would be the final time he would visit his family while the vampires still had control of the Pillars. He felt certain that a year from now, the Pillars would be in human hands, or he would be dead. Maybe the vampires would bury him here if the latter was the case.

His father had always hated and feared the vampires, perhaps even more so after they took Mortanius away to turn him into a Guardian. His mother feared them but rarely talked about them, and his sister had been too young to really understand. But Mortanius felt that his parents would approve of his course of action. If the rebellion was successful, it would change the course of history, and Mortanius would probably have his name written down and remembered by future generations. That was something to think about.

He started his trek back to the Home of the Guardians later that day, and by the time it was dark outside, he was still a few hours from his destination. When he reached a hillside where he could look out over several miles, he stiffly dismounted his horse to stretch his legs. Sometimes he liked to camped out overnight, but he felt the need to keep traveling until he made it home. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his cloak and walked to the edge of the road, looking out at the dark landscape beyond.

Here and there, he spotted lights in the distance. Campfires or torches, their tiny bit of flame visible even from miles away. Most of the land northwest of the Pillars was wilderness, but there were settlers scattered around, their hovels and meager farms only noticeable from the fires they lit at night to keep the dangers of the night at bay.

Mortanius wondered what it would be like if the human race continued to grow and thrive until they populated the entire landscape. Would they have vast cities with millions of residents, stretching from horizon to horizon? It seemed impossible, but in a thousand years, or five thousand?

He wondered how so many people could be born, when the souls of the dead inhabited new bodies in the constant cycle of life and death. Mortanius had seen for himself how the souls moved on. If the human population grew and grew, did this mean that new souls were created? Or was there a finite number of souls, and humans had simply not reached that number yet? In time, Mortanius felt that he could solve these mysteries, but there were more important matters to worry about.

He heard a faint noise and realized it was the sound of another horse coming down the road toward him. Frowning, he went to his horse and drew the sword hanging from the saddle. He doubted that it was a bandit or thief, but it was always possible.

A rider appeared around the bend and slowed down when he saw Mortanius standing there.

“Guardian? Mortanius?” the man asked.

“Yes, it’s me.”

The man dismounted and Mortanius recognized him as a member of the Sarafan Cult. He looked anxious as he approached and gave a respectful bow. “Moebius sent me to find you. He said you’d be on this road somewhere. I have a message.”

“What is it?”

“Tomorrow night. That’s when the vampires are going to … going to turn you into one of them. It’s going to happen tomorrow night.”

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