Maxim Darko: The Greatest Gift of Evil. A Vampire Chronicle

THE BRANCH OF ZAQQUM

Acquiring The Branch of Zaqqum had cost the Dark Sorceress dearly. In many ways, she still did not recognize how the power of the branch had changed the fundamental make up of her dark soul.

Well over one hundred years ago, when the Dark Sorceress was still young, she was known as Lutica. At birth, she had been cursed with flaming red curly hair, and pale skin. In addition to her strange hair, a large crooked nose dominated her thin homely face. But her most disturbing feature was her piercing green eyes. Most people found it impossible to look her into her mesmerizing eyes for more than a few seconds. Out of superstitious fear, whenever the villagers of Golo had crossed paths with Lutica, they made a sign with their fingers, to drive away the evil spirits that followed her.

After a particularly poor harvest one fall, Golo's leader needed a scapegoat to blame for the village's bad luck. He chose Lutica. Instead of the normal fall feast celebrating the harvest, the leader called for the villagers to gather in a nearby field. At the gathering, he passionately preached against Lutica, blaming her presence in the village for the poor harvest. God was punishing the village for sheltering Lutica. The villagers quickly embraced a mob mentality, and their anger against Lutica grew.

In the days following the gathering, Lutica's mother found it impossible to protect her from the wrath of the villagers. She heard from friends that as an offering to God, the village leader planned on burning Lutica at the stake. In tears, Lutica's mother led her to the safety of a cave deep in the mountains. At the mouth of the cave, Lutica's mother embraced her one last time. She painfully sobbed. "Be brave my beautiful Daughter." Lutica sobbed with her mother. After some time, her mother pulled back, and held Lutica's face in her hands. She kissed Lutica on the forehead. "Be brave my Daughter. Do not let them win." Before rushing back to the village, Lutica's mother gave her a bag filled with a few necessities. Out of fear, she never sought out Lutica. She knew the villagers were watching her and would discover Lutica's hiding place if she ever chose to venture to the cave.

Lutica was a survivor. In a short time, she had befriended the women of the forest, who had also been driven from their villages for superstitious reasons. The women taught Lutica how to gather food in the forest. Mushrooms, herbs, nuts, and roots...and they taught her the old magic.

Life in the forest was good to Lutica, every day her budding powers grew. At this point in her life, she had not found it necessary to embrace the dark arts­­–The Dark God–as some of the other women of the forest had already done.

Ten-years after fleeing from the village, Lutica was deep in the forest gathering secret herbs. The forest was growing dark as dusk neared. Darkness did not bother Lutica, she knew the forest, and its wild inhabitants well. Her gathering of herbs, had taken her near an ancient trading route. As she wandered, deep baritone voices interrupted her intense search. Lutica looked in the direction of the sound and detected the faint light of a fire through the trees. Silently, she moved towards the light, until she could make out a campsite. The language spoken around the fire was foreign to her and fell strangely upon her ears. As she moved closer to the campsite, she could see men leaning against bundles of goods, sitting in a circle around a large fire. Their horses were tethered to some nearby trees. A few of the horses sensed Lutica's arrival and began to nervously snort.

Lutica reached into a bag tied at her waist and removed a handful of herbs. She held her lips before her open palm. Blood seeped from between the cracks in her palm. The dry herbs quickly soaked up the blood. In a ghostly voice, she whispered. "Be still my friends," and then blew the blood infused herbs towards the horses. Before the herbs hit the ground, they morphed into a blue, glowing mist. The blue mist wound silently through the trees until it reached the horses' nostrils. After inhaling the mist, the horses fell silent. The Young Sorceress gently smiled. Her soft spell had successfully calmed the horses, to prevent them from giving away her presence.