Vampire Knight

By Elizabeth Loraine

Vampire Knight is a Royal Blood Chronicle character novella about Katrina’s father Fredrik during his years as a Templar Knight. Find out secrets he’s never revealed before, meet new characters and see familiar characters in a different light along the way, including Katrina’s mother, Elizabeth and Fredrik’s brother, William.
“I wanted to give the loyal fans of Royal Blood Chronicles a prequel where they could get to know many of the main characters of the series and join them on early adventures. I hope you enjoy Vampire Knight.” Elizabeth Loraine

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elizabeth Loraine
• Release date: Jun 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311954992

Elizabeth Loraine

I grew up in Minnesota, married my husband of now over 30 years and had my two children (Matthew now 30 and Andrea 28). In the early 80's we moved from Minnesota to Florida and I've lived on the beaufiful Central East Coast ever since. I've always been creative, and my career life focused on interior design, painting and garden design. I didn't start writing until I turned 52. I loved the Vampire genre and after years of enjoyment found in the pages of other author's books, I decided that I wanted to know more about the characters than was there between the covers. What had these long lived vampires been doing, what had they seen and done throughout history? My two wonderful children were grown and my fantastic husband has always supported my career choices. So, my mind made up, I would take up the challenge of creating what I wanted to read for myself and offer the books to anyone else who loved this genre. Thus began the Royal Blood Chronicles. I am now working on ten book in the series, have written the first book in another series and Phantom Lives, my paranormal series has two books, Collier and Power. I'm writing book three of that series. Look for new books in 2014 Enjoy

Book preview

VAMPIRE KNIGHT

A Royal Blood Chronicle

By

Elizabeth Loraine

Text copyright © 2016 by Elizabeth Loraine. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recorded, photocopied or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Though some characters are from history, names, places, characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious and are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to persons living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

CHAPTER ONE

Six Knights rode hard across the northern coast of France. The dense, moist night air of the moors muffled their passage as their steeds’ hooves pounded the hard path through the countryside.

Betrayed not only by the very entity that had demanded they fight, but by several of their own and now branded as traitors to their country and their church, they rode for their lives.

Fredrik leaned forward, low over the neck of his stallion Katar, the wind whipping the coarse mane against his face. Katar had always served him well, and Fredrik knew his stallion would run until his heart gave out rather than stop before reaching their destination. His nostrils flared and Fredrik could smell the blood coursing through Katar’s veins.

Four of the Knights, Fredrik, his brother William, and closest friends, Michael and Philepe, had the power to make it on their own, but the human and therefore weaker brother Knights, Hugue and Lawrence would be vulnerable. Fredrik and his fellow Knight would not leave them or put them in danger. Thus their precarious ride in the dead of night.

A pledge had been made, a vow which he would never break. Tonight he would make another pledge. Fredrik Von Dracek would not rest, even if it took a thousand years, he would find those who had betrayed him and exact a horrible revenge.

There, in the harbor. Our ship, Michael shouted.

Robert was true to his word.

Movement parallel to them caught Fredrik’s eye. They fled from the King of France. Philip had pressured his appointee, Pope Clement the V, to brand them as heretics. Thus the Poor Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon, known to all as the Knights Templar had been disbanded. Tonight, the thirteen day of October, Philip was hunting them. Frantic to refill France’s coffers he needed the wealth of the Templars and to get it he was determined to kill them all.

Studying the approaching soldiers Fredrik slowed his mount.

Get everyone on the ship, He shouted drawing his sword. He reined Katar in. The powerful animal reared back and squealed in resistance, shaking his head. Trust me old friend, Fredrik told him as he wheeled his black warrior toward their pursuers. He had an advantage, and he was going to use it.

Wielding the heavy metal sword, he swept it over his head and used his superior strength and speed to strike first one and then another of the on-coming riders. The mighty blows cut through the chain-mail armor of each man, knocking them from their horses mortally wounded.

Crouching, he guided Katar into the path of the next approaching soldier. They ran at each other head to head. At the last minute Fredrik reined Katar to the side. As the two horses passed with just inches to spare, Fredrik sprang from Katar’s back and landed on his assailant. Their momentum drove them to the ground. Fredrik grabbed the Knight’s helmed head in both hands and with a savage twist broke his neck. Focusing on the next riders he hurled the now limp body of the wounded Knight at another of the King’s warriors. The weight of the fully armored body crashed into him and with a squeak and a thrashing of limbs he and his mount slammed into the ground. Fredrik sprang back onto Katar who had moved to his side.

Fredrik detected two of the King’s Knights had stayed out of the fray and now galloped toward his brother and the rest of their party. With his left hand he drew his dagger and aiming for the neck where it joined the shoulder, hurled it. The dagger’s point reached its target and drilled in, severing the rider’s spinal cord. The man first slumped and then slid fluidly from his steed.

Now leaning forward, urging Katar to move faster, Fredrik again raised his sword, and with a vicious stroke, sliced the remaining French attacker’s head from his torso. The angle of the stroke caused it to rise up and tumble through the air. Fredrik leaned out as it flew, snatched it out of the air. Holding the severed head up at arm’s length let out a triumphant war cry before dropping it to the ground.

Sheathing his weapon he galloped across the shore and to the waiting ship.

Katar waded through the shallow water, its waves lapping at his forelegs and easily climbed the lowered ramp onto the ship where the others waited.

You, my brother, are still flamboyant in all your endeavors. You made quick work of them, however, his friend pointed to the slowly receding shore, the brigade following bears longbows. Oiled and ready, arrows will fly any moment.

Fredrik grinned. Then I suggest we make way. Adventure waits across the channel. There are new battles to be fought and a mission which will not be thwarted by earthly Kings.

Hugue, Lawrence, get the horses below, William ordered. He and Fredrik raised and secured the ramp, a task which would normally take many humans.

How about some wind brother?

William nodded. He closed his eyes, in a few seconds began raising his hands. From nowhere a wind built until its swirling strength filled the sails. William then turned his gift to the fiery onslaught loosed at them from the shore. The fired arrows lit up the moonless night.

From the rear of the ship, a wall of water rose high into the air. It captured the arrows within its shimmering depth, protecting the ship and its inhabitants from the avalanche of flaming death. Behind the protective wall, the ship sliced through the blackness untouched and quickly moved into the safety of the open channel.

Lawrence and Hugue joined them on deck. We are making good time.

William laughed. Yes, we are. Lawrence, my friend, you do not look well.

Lawrence, who sported a decidedly green tinge groaned, I hate the sea.

Go rest. There is nothing to be done until we make landfall.

William kept the first watch. The ship and its rigging creaked and groaned with every gust. He rid himself of his chain-mail and wrapped a wool blanket around his shoulders.

Hugue with his gaze to the open seas, approached, handed William a tankard of hot mead and then leaned down, resting his forearms against the rail.

After several minutes of companionable silence, Hugue stood and faced his friend. You saved my life more times than I can count. I need to thank you for that.

Your thanks are unnecessary my friend. What are your plans? Will you be leaving us once we reach Scotland?

No William. I only wished to offer my thanks in case I never have another chance.

"You suffer the burden of your heritage. There is no cowardice