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Chapter 2
The Path of Blood


He was so hungry. He could feel it in his gut. He needed sometime to eat. A tight knot formed in his belly as he slowly began to move his arms and legs. He was lying on his back and his head hurt. A constant throbbing gave him a headache. The need to eat growing as his conciseness came.
Feed.
He heard himself groan as he turned to his side. Sharp pain ran from his chest down his left arm when he tried to prop himself up. His eyes were still closed, to frightened and hungry to bother to open them.
Feed.
The headache was worse now. The pain in his chest forced him back to the ground now lying on his belly. Arms quickly pulled him onto to his back.
The headache was fighting to control him now. The pain in his head, the pain in his chest, the headache was pushing those from his mind and making him focus.
He needed to feed.
Just as he was about to make that happen hands opened his mouth and an unknown source fulfilled his need. Liquid ran down his throat. Hot liquid that made his body tingle with joy. His insides went from a knot that threatened to tear him apart to fluttering butterflies. He drank for what seemed like an eternity, his body enjoying the feeling. His headache was gone, he no longer felt its throbbing and its demand to feed.
The flow of liquid came to a halt. He didn’t need any more but God he wanted it. He finally opened his eyes. The ceiling was dark and the flicking of candlelights danced across it. The room was eerie silent. No sounds from the outside, no sound of servants, quiet enough to hear the flame on the candle wicks. Quite enough to hear the slight rustle of clothing from behind him. Quiet enough to realize he wasn’t breathing.
Panic struck him and he tried to lift himself into a sitting position. Pain once again filled his chest and left arm followed closely by a pair of hands gripping him firmly on the shoulders and pulling him to the ground. The hot liquid again was pushed upon his lips and forced down his throat. The pain in his chest subsided as he rested. His head was put to rest on what felt like cloth when he finally opened his eyes.
An average lean looking man was knelt beside him; two more standing near the doorway, which he quickly realized was the only way in or out of the room. The room itself was filled with nothing but large clay pots and random assortment of cloths handing from hooks in the wall. The man kneeling by his side gave his body a quick glance.
“Do you need more?” He asked in a somewhat frighten voice. He held up a large bowl and made a tipping motion toward his mouth. His confusion was rising and he shook his head no. The men glanced down at his chest and then back up.
Jaffar looked down at his own body. A decent sided knife wound ran across his left breast. Deep enough to see the bone and clean enough to tell the heart had been slashed open. Once again panic ran through his body as he tried to lift himself up. The man beside him forced him down with strength a man his size shouldn’t possess.
“Calm yourself, brother” The man continued to hold him down on the ground. “Think of it healing – think of your blood rushing to fix your wound. Stay calm and relax, it shall pass shortly.” The man had to be insane. There was no other explanation for short speech. He looked at his wound again and shuddered to think of the damage to his body. How am I still alive?
“Heal the wound and I can explain what has happened.” Jaffar closed his eyes again and relaxed his body. This couldn’t be the afterlife, something was wrong. He tensed his muscles and imaged himself pushing blood to his wound. He pictured himself as being whole like he had always remembered. His thoughts drifted to all the times as a boy he had wished the injury would just disappear, how he had wished the pain would subside quickly so he could continue on with his activities.
A tingling sensation filled his chest and arm as he felt flesh knit with flesh. Relief washed through him as he opened his eyes and watched his chest wound close up and the pain in his arm subside. His relief must have been written on his face for when he looked up at the man next to him he was smirking.
“Good, now get up. I have much to explain and little time in which to do it.” The man rose and offered his hand for support. Jaffar took his hand and followed as the man lead him from the room and down winding halls.
“What was that back there?” He finally asked as the entered another room. The man began placing things together in a pouch and collected a few weapons hanging from racks on the walls. The man turned to Jaffar and handed him the pouch and a single dagger.
“It will be explained shortly.” Pushing Jaffar back out the door he lead him to the conference room from before. Jaffar froze in the doorway as the noble was still seated his chair from their meeting. From behind him a person forced him into the room. Their grip on his arms were powerful and practically lifted him from where he was standing and placed him into the same chair he had been sitting when the noble attacked.
The noble gave him an approving glance. “I see all went well” He nodded to the two men now on either side of him. Jaffar stayed silent as the men turned to him. He was frightened, confused and not sure how this was going to end. Jaffar thought back to all the things had ever done wrong in his life. He liked to play jokes on people, but his pranks had never left permanent damage and had never been done to anyone important. He was good at hiding and he had stolen from venders before but to his knowledge he had never been caught. He remembers almost anything and everything he saw or heard but he had never made a habit of collecting secrets. His panic grew with the silence. Why were these men doing this to him? Some nobleman’s joke?
“I’m glad you survived my embrace. I am Mekath, your sire.” Mekath held himself stiffly in the chair as he studied Jaffar. “I have given you a gift, Jaffar, a gift very few are given. I have given you untold power and a life of glory, count yourself lucky my associate found you before I left.” Confusion was clouding his thoughts. A gift of untold power?
“Why am I here?” He finally asked.
“You’re here because of your natural talent to hide from others. You’re here because my associate owed me a childer of quality. Hopefully you will not disappoint me for I would be disappointed if I had to reclaim the blood.” The man frowned and put his hands into his robes. “You are now a vampire, Jaffar, a vampire from clan Assamite – the lords of the night.” He smiled slightly as he stated this. Jaffar merely gaped at him and continued to listen. He had never been taught to read and he had never been privileged enough to attend the teachings of the learned. He had heard of vampires from stories and myths but they were the dark creatures that fed off the blood of mortals. He had always considered them peasant’s stories.
“Be proud for you have joined the greatest clan of vampires and soon you will learn of our ways. Your powers will come to you in time. I am sure you will take to the powers of hiding well. Your blood will serve you – it will heal you when you are hurt, it will maintain your youth for all eternity and it carry your power and vitae. Come, there is much to teach you and the journey to Alamet is a long one.” He rose from the chair and motioned for the rest to follow him. They left the manse and climbed into a carriage heading towards the unknown location of Alamet, the secret city of Assamites. The location was hidden from every vampire except the select few of the Assamites who had earned the privilege, even he didn’t know where is was even though he physically went there.

During the trip Jaffar learned the basics of vampires. In the beginning God had cursed Caine for his murder, making him the first vampire. When he embraced others they too gained the powers of Caine, but weaker. Thus, the second generation was born. Then when they embraced they brought about the third generation of vampires, weaker then their sires but powerful vampires non-the less.
There had been 13 third generation vampires, he was told. They came from the three second generation vampires and they were the first vampires to form clans. Jaffar was told that the vampires lived in the city of Enoch, the first great city of vampires, the city ruled by Caine. However, according to legend, the third generation vampires rose up and destroyed all of the second generation vampires and survived the flood that soon followed. These 13 vampires were known as the antediluvians and these 13 founded the 13 clans of vampires.
He had been told of his clan, the Assamites. For they were the greatest clan and the true rulers of the vampire world. They descended from the first third generation vampire, Haqim. It was now his duty to judge other vampires and claim the blood of the unworthy. It was now his duty to help clan Assamite rise to the true ruler ship position it so rightly deserved.
For the next 10 years Jaffar trained with his brothers and sisters of clan Assamite. For 10 years he learned the ways of the Assamites, the way of Haqim, their leader and clan founder. They told him he could never follow an unworthy leader, for it was his right to reclaim the blood if he ever found one. He was told never to let the guilty go unpunished. He was told he was a judge of the unliving and that his actions reflected that of his father. He was told to keep his vampire gift hidden from mortals. He was also told of the Beast.
The Beast was the nature of vampires. The Beast was a weakness, the uncontrolled rage or hunger of a vampire. He was never to fall to the Beast, never give in to its wants or desires. He was never to allow it to take over his mind and he his blood would be reclaimed if it ever happened. He was told that the frenzy of the Beast would be his downfall; he was told that he was never to act on emotion for it was the first stirring of the Beast. He was always to have control. Discipline is strength. His will must be unshakable. Again and again he was told these virtues. Cainites from other clans were less then the clan of Haqim. He was to serve Haqim and no other. His brothers and sisters in Alamet never let a night go by without reinforcing his teachings. He was to improve himself for the betterment of the clan. He was to learn the ways of Haqim and use his powers to judge the unworthy and kill them by any means necessary and consume the souls and blood of his fallen enemies to return the blood to Haqim.
He was told he would consume the blood of mortals. The blood that ran through his veins was powerful and potent. He would need to feed to maintain himself. He would need blood to heal his wounds and use the gifts of Caine. He would need blood to survive. It didn’t matter if the mortals died for he was more important.
During his years he was taught the gift of his clan, the powers to hide. He could turn invisible, he could alter his appearance and he could move unseen. He was trained in the ways of war, hand-to-hand combat and easy methods for killing opponents. For 10 years he listened and learned. He took in whatever they told him and followed their commands to the letter. He would be a vampire of Haqim and do his clan proud.

When his training was completed he began his long journey back to Persepolis. His sire had secured him a slot with the current Prince and had left a special item to him. He had handed him a small stone, the size of his palm, and told him to keep it. He called it ‘The Eye of Arrgos’ and said it would help him find vampires as with it he could see auras. He was told to collect boons from vampires and gain himself a power from which he would use to help clan Assamite. Boons, he was told, were almost like a special currency for vampires. A favor for a favor. If you were to perform a favor for a vampire they were in turn required to pay you back. The penalties for not honoring a boon were … His teachers had just told him to never let a boon go unhonored, for it would bring about trouble that he could not handle.
The night air was hot when he reached his new home. A small building in the cities boundaries with an area for him to sleep at day without fear of the sun. He was clothed in dark robes of good quality given a sword and dagger with which he was to use if the need arose. 10 years away had erased his mortal mark on the city. His family was different then when he had left, his associates and friends looking nothing like he had remembered, most were now nothing more then corpses in the ground.
He was told to forget his past life, for it had meant nothing. He was to keep track of his age since the night of his embrace and let go of all his mortal trappings. He was even told to give up his old name and start anew, but he didn’t want to let that slip away from him. He kept the name Jaffar for it was the only name that suited him.