By Emerald Embers
No copyright infringements intended
No major spoilers.
Rated NC-17 for violence - some mild, some extreme -
and some bad language.
Dedicated to Crunchbucket.
Crunchbucket on being the first person to expose me to
Raziel: "I have created a monster!"
Onto the story (at last)...
| One thing I have often heard mortals cry before I kill them is this
question; "Why me?" In the last struggling seconds of life, it is natural
for any creature to become selfish, willing to do anything in order to
survive. The mortals genuinely believe that random killing is impossible
- that there *must* be a reason, there *must* be a motive.
To some extent, this is true. But for me, my motive extends to all humans, not just one or two. No, my motive is not simply hunger - though hunger is often what drives me to start hunting. More commonly though, I start hunting almost without thinking, wandering through a forest seemingly without purpose until I find a mortal to sink my teeth into. Then, and only then, do I feel fulfilled. The clean slicing of fangs into flesh, a muffled cry, and the taste of blood, polluted and yet sweetened somehow by the decay of Nosgoth's non-vampiric inhabitants. I often believe that in the end, unless there is some sort of freak accident, only scavengers will inhabit the land; vampires, vultures, crows and wolves - all those who can feed off the dead. Sorry, I digress. It is a bad habit of mine. As I was saying, it is not hunger that motivates my killing, but something that reaches deeper. Something that rips open my chest every night and pulls out my still beating heart, compressing and crushing, then lets go suddenly, leaving a void inside of me. Melodramatic? I think not. If you could experience for one minute... strike that, one second, the pain I have to live with, then you would plunge a dagger straight into your stomach. You, a mere mortal yourself, could *never* comprehend what it is to be a vampire. You could not begin to imagine what I have been through. And I am not the only one. Melchiah. 'Little brother'. And my favourite blood relative. Melchiah made up for his physical weakness with a strength of mind possessed by few. He had a sense of humour too, something that most of my relatives severely lacked. But what held Melchiah above the similarly endowed and stronger Turel, was his calming aura. Tempers rarely frayed if Melchiah was around. And his loyalty to Kain bordered on the obsessive. Many vampires had enjoyed the war between the humans and ourselves, and I often found myself sharing this view; the thrill of killing a warrior, plucked from the world in the prime of his life; the celebrations after winning a battle; and my already keen hatred of humans spurring me on. It had been a time of revelry and rough justice. Melchiah, however, had never been one of these vampires. His ties to the mortal world were the strongest, but more importantly, the wars caused him a great loss. Melchiah had, like many of us, a favourite fledgling. The bond between him and his Azazel was quite an incredible thing to see; the fatherly pride whenever the child came back from a battle with evidence of a kill, the contented smile whenever Azazel was at his side. And always, the sparkle of lust for un-life in his eyes. And so, Melchiah had been quite content to continue fighting alongside his son, endowed with the knowledge that he had something to protect. Until, that is, the day Azazel did not come back. One day passed. Melchiah did not worry. Two days passed. Melchiah grew concerned, but we soothed his fears. *I* soothed his fears. Five days passed. Melchiah was frantic, as were all the Melchahim, for Azazel was a great warrior. Finally, a week after Azazel had first been reported missing, a Dumahim sent on a reconnaissance mission brought home the corpse of the young fledgling. Taking it upon myself to see how Melchiah was coping, I made my way to the abyss. I knew Melchiah well enough to realise he would be mourning his son there. And still, nothing could have prepared me for the next few hours. Melchiah was leaning against a stone near the edge of the abyss, and
did not hear me approaching over the roar of the waters. Those waters held
such mystery, such beauty, and such unimaginable torture.
Sitting down at his side, I allowed him to rest his head on my shoulder.
I allowed Melchiah another hour at the abyss before I picked up my armour and clan symbol, dusted off the coarse flag material as I dressed again. "The sun is almost rising, brother. And I have orders to make sure you return home alive." A bitter smile graced Melchiah's features, and when he turned around, I saw that the sparkle in his eyes had disappeared. That was the first change no one wanted. As a vampire, I had often been famed for having no heart towards mortals. I could detach myself from humanity with ease, and my devotion to the clans earned me great respect. No one had ever expected me to show weakness, ever. But during the wars with the mortals, I had been sent to burn a large section of a village called Guiko by Lord Kain, and for the first time I felt emotion towards a human. Walking around the village I was satisfied that my men were doing their
jobs until I came across one house where the offspring of one of my fledglings
lay beheaded. I pulled out my sword and looked for the killer, only for
a blade to cut across my cheek from behind on a slant. Turning around,
I could not see anything, then felt a sharp kick in my shins and looked
down to see a small human male wielding a sword several sizes too big for
him.
A Razelim interrupted me to ask,
I remained in the boy's house, surveying the burning of Guiko, making
sure that no one tried to pillage this home. One thing I pride myself upon
is being a man of my word. I heard quiet sobbing from the woman of the
household, and curses from the father, as they sat powerless while their
village went up in flames. I could have pitied them - were it not for the
fact that I had witnessed the execution of one of my favoured fledglings
in this very place. Turning away from the door, I walked over to the father
and took his hand, said,
The woman smiled briefly before she began her sniffling again, and I
returned to the door, noticed that a Zephonim who had somehow ended up
mixed in our work had set aflame a section of the roof. I called for the
insolent vampire and wrung his head from his body in one swift movement,
before yelling to one of my fledglings,
The vampire grumbled quietly before dragging away the body, carry the head underneath his arm. The Zephonim must have been very young when I decapitated him, for the trail of blood dried up very quickly. It was rumoured that if someone was to slit Kain's throat, the font would pour for a century. I, however, doubted the rumour. Not out of any disrespect for my master, you must understand. I did not doubt his strength. I simply knew for a fact that the flow of blood slowed down in aged vampires. My blood had already gone dark; Kain's was probably solid. I had not seen him feed in at least a century. One of the easiest ways to tell a vampire's age is to look at his veins; the darker and more prominent the veins, the more years that vampire owns. I was the oldest vampire known to be alive second to Kain, whose age was a mystery to all but himself. He was also the only vampire known to be aware of his past. We all knew we had once been mortal; but only Kain still had memories of that time. He had hinted that my brethren and I had lived unpleasant lives, but he never said what we had done. It seemed important to him that it remained secret, and I had learned very early on not to question my Lord's judgement. We usually gave a vampire about six months before we told them that they were once human. Any earlier and they might go mad. Any later and they *would* go mad, or refuse to believe what we told them. At six months though, they almost invariably accepted the excuse for vampirism; "But you're not one of their species anymore." The relationship between vampires and humans was always a strange one; both sides were prey and predator. Our bodies relied on human blood for sustenance, and mortals had their crusade against our control of Nosgoth. Eventually I returned to the camp, and life returned to a settled pace for a while. Sorry, I forget the time scale difference between mortals and vampires. Life returned to a settled pace for a decade. Either way, ten years had passed since the burning of Guiko, and finally our race was gaining the upper hand in the war. I had received news of one battle in particular that we had lost, and found myself interested in one of the mortal warriors. A distance fighter, adept with throwing knives and various bows. Deciding to steal the warrior for our own side, I sought his whereabouts and discovered him to be a resident of the city Klesan Thaio. Many a vampire had fallen prey to the warriors of this almost mythical walled kingdom, and everyone with common sense knew that there was no hope of gaining entry to the city. Disappointed at first, I discussed my idea with the tactician Tybiaz. He warned me of the dangers involved, but after a while admitted that I might have a chance of catching him if he went to hunt for food - quite likely, considering he was an archer. How did I know what human to look for? Simple. Physical description. It was well known that long hair was a rarity amongst human males, and the warrior I was after wore his not only long, but plaited. Rumours had spread to the effect that he was not entirely human because of the ethereal looks he was said to have; slanted brown eyes, long lashes and dark eyebrows, contrasting with very pale skin. I did not know his name, but was soon to find out. I watched and waited in the forest as the mortal hunters left the walled city, spreading out into the woods. My eyes skimmed over four of the seven archers, all blondes, then another two with short hair, until I saw the last one with long dark hair, plaited. I smiled. Following the young warrior, making very little noise, I waited until he spotted a young stag. As he turned to aim, I took a closer look at what I could see of his face, and got quite surprised. If the bone structure of his face spoke true, then this young man was the very child that had gained my interest several years before. Seth Klasan. Looking at his clothes, I spotted his family's distinctive coat of arms on his shirt. Two stags fighting with their antlers on top of a crossbow and crucifix. If I was successful, that coat of arms would soon be replaced by the simpler but far more elegant mark of the Razelim burnt into his shoulder. I loved the contrast between the dark marking and the fair skin of my offspring, although I knew how painful the creation of the mark was to a fledgling. The skin on my shoulder baring the now rather faded mark of Kain's clan had been tender for three days after I first received it. I have to admit though, that I did not appreciate the mark solely for aesthetic reasons; it was also a declaration of ownership. If a fledgling bore his master's symbol, it was a way for the master to proclaim, 'this is my fledgling, you can't touch him,' to all the other masters. Lying down full length on the tree branch, I watched the mortal below
me as he readied to shoot the deer in the distance. As he brought the bow
and arrow up to his face I became aware of the muscles in his arm, slender,
but as firm as coiled steel. I leapt down behind him, said,
"You sly little bastard," I laughed to myself before running after Seth,
leaping on his back and knocking him to the floor.
"What happened?" whispered the new fledgling as I wrapped my arms around
my knees, taking a few deep breaths. Detachment of the soul is very tiring.
Becoming a vampire is like being born again. The maker is exhausted by the process, and the fledgling feels confused by the sensations that feel so alien, next to what they were in humanity, even the body reads them as new. Right now, with his face resting on my chest, Seth's senses were being bombarded. The cold of the air, the warmth of my skin, the freshness of the forest, the musk of my blood. I wrapped my arms around him while he adjusted, and smiled. This one was bright, handsome, and strong. He was going to be the son I should have had as a mortal. And he was not going to have the cruel memories of his parent's demise hurting him. I could already see that the dull pain in his eyes had disappeared with the loss of his memory. After soothing my new child, I stood up with him and placed my cloak around his shoulders, keeping him warm while he tried to adjust his temperature to suit his surroundings. Finally, once I convinced that he was ready, I placed an arm around his shoulders and guided him with me back to the camp. I received many curious looks from my fledglings as I brought Seth into my tent. In particular, I noticed the fledgling Tliam give my new son an appreciative look before returning to his attempted seduction of a female Turelim with the most bored expression possible. I was positive that Tliam only swung one way - the wrong way - but I did not broach the subject with him. He seemed somewhat peculiar, and I did *not* wish to attract his attention any more than necessary. In fact, I had barely spoken to him since the week I had made him. Seth had been silent all the way along our journey, distracted by the
crawling of the smallest insect, the slightest rustle of the leaves in
the dying trees, and only now did I realise I had not even told him his
name.
Unaware of the unwritten social rules regarding vampiric hierarchy,
Seth reached out and traced the mark with his fingers.
After receiving a peculiar mixture of scolding - "You shouldn't put
your life in danger like that," and praise - "This archer will be so useful
in the back flanks, they've been particularly thin," from Tybiaz, I returned
to the tent. After making sure that my fledgling knew I was about to walk
in, saving him embarrassment, I sat down in a chair and propped up my feet
on the nearby table.
An hour or so passed before Seth fell asleep, and I removed my armour
for bed before climbing in alongside my fledgling. I was about to doze
off when Zaliph finally stumbled into the tent, shoved inside by several
of his friends who were obviously drunk.
"Raziel? I didn't know you swung that way?"
When I awoke in the morning, I noticed Zaliph still snoring away, sleeping off the alcohol he had consumed the previous night, and Seth had curled up like a prodded woodlouse on the very edge of the bed. Deciding to get dressed before I awoke either of the others, I climbed out quietly and only put on the basics, deciding to put on my armour later. Once dressed in a white shirt, pair of black pants, and my clan-symbol
cloak, I shook Seth until he awoke, then walked across to Zaliph's bed
and did the same.
Just as I finished dressing in my full armour, another of my sons -
Thamais - stormed in. He had never been famed for disguising his feelings.
Eventually, a voice came from outside the tent.
"A small disagreement over my tactics. As I said. Nothing of importance."
Seth nodded before sighing and slumping down in a chair, burying his face
in his hands.
After checking my appearance in the tent's full-length mirror, I went outside to mix with my men, grew aware of a forthcoming storm from the damp in the air. I never failed to appreciate the furnaces our kind had constructed years ago whenever rain threatened; the sulphuric fumes in the air had rendered the clouds acidic enough to be safe to our kind. Unfortunately, rainfall was not yet acidic enough to pose a threat to the mortals - but at the rate the furnaces worked, that would only be for another decade, at the most. The clouds, always present but not always supplying rain to the earth below, did not seem to be brewing properly yet, but common sense made me go back into the tent for a cloak and lantern just in case. As I emerged, Zaliph almost knocked me over while running inside with
his wife Marianne. On spotting me, he bowed his head.
I made my way to the hospital tent of the camp, heard laughter coming from inside, and entered. I realised very quickly exactly what had happened, and made a mental note to find out the perpetrator of the crime. Somebody had spiked the blood for the invalids with alcohol - and a lot of it. One thing of good came from this at least; the majority of the tent occupants were so intoxicated that it took their mind off the pain they would otherwise be in. I decided to leave the tent and headed towards the weapons supplies to check that everything there was in order. On entering I noticed a distinct quickening of movement amongst the workers, and smiled to myself. It never ceased to amuse me that vampires regarded me with an almost fearful amount of respect. I was not given to shouting or violence, but I admit to being stubborn to the core. If I decide something will happen, then it will happen. There are no 'might's or 'maybe's. Looking through the racks of swords and arrows being made, cleaned, or fixed for my fledglings, I pulled out the odd few that didn't come up to the normal high standards, noticed there were far more mistakes than normal. On inquiring about this, I discovered that the main blacksmith had burned himself rather badly several days before, and the others had rushed their work to make up for his absence. He was fully healed now, and back at work, but I gave him a quick warning not to burn himself again. I dislike having to discipline my men, but I do what is necessary when I have to, unlike Zephon whose men either cower in fear or run riot. After being assured that the mistakes would be corrected in the forge, I left the weapons with the blacksmith and walked out to the tavern. This was not actually part of the camp, but a human building that we had seized on our arrival. Though I did not approve at first, I am weak to the charms of the mistress alcohol. And what a mistress she was, keeping an incredible number of vampires in high spirits, including those not of my clan. I tried to avoid discrimination against all but the Zephonim, who I remained neutral with. Making a mental note not to have too many drinks, I kept an eye on proceedings in the camp through one of the windows, heard rumbling in the skies above. Thunder. As if on cue, the rain began to pour down immediately. There was no light beginning to this storm; it was heavy from the start. I grew thankful that I had brought the cloak and the lantern, gave my fourth beer to the Rahabim next to me before pulling on the cloak, putting the hood up. I used one of the tavern candles to light the lantern, then fixed the windshield tight and walked out, getting back to my own tent. On my way I bumped into Seth, realised he was with a group of other new fledglings, mostly Dumahim I noticed. Dumah must have gone into his slave camp when drunk again, I decided before saying goodnight to my fledgling as he went off with the other newcomers to his tent. I almost pitied him, he looked completely bedraggled from the storm, but a crueller part of me actually found it very amusing. Once inside the tent I found a fledgling taking cover from the rain and surprised him. He offered to leave immediately, but as I hung up my cloak I told him that I was not bothered by his presence if he left once the rain relented. Some fledglings were still nervous around rain, as the acidity had only become properly safe in the past few years. I myself always exercised caution around fire despite my invulnerability to it, so I could not blame the child. The storm seasons for Nosgoth had always been blissfully short, although they were rather frequent. A fortnight was the usual duration, and thus the trials for the new fledglings were held two weeks after the first storm. The fledgling trials, a national event for vampires despite the painful
death given to those who failed, was basically a test for fledglings,
"Aim!" My gaze returned to Seth who took a small breath before holding
up his bow, aiming with one hand, resting his other on the quiver. I noticed
a few of my fledglings nudging each other and whispering amongst themselves
as he readied himself.
It was time for the close-up combat now, but I no longer desired to
watch the proceedings. I knew from experience how fatal to a mortal Seth
would be with his knives. Walking back to the camp, I felt a roughened
hand close on my shoulder.
Back at the camp I sensed a disturbance, sniffed the air. A mortal was
nearby, his blood leaving a strong trail of scent that I followed back
to the tent I shared with my second-in-command, Zaliph.
Eager to keep up the morale of the legions, only the necessary people were informed of Zaliph's death, and the funeral was kept private to all except his fledglings and myself. I admit to informing Seth, but I had needed to make sure someone knew of my whereabouts in case of emergency. Kain had also been informed, but he was too busy to attend. The ceremony was rather pleasant next to the last funeral I had been to, but then again, that had been more publicised than this. Privacy can be comforting in mournful circumstances. Looking around the other mourners, I saw Zaliph's widow, Marianne, a Turelim of considerable talent in the manufacture of clothing and armour. She was not particularly beautiful, but she was a strongly muscled woman - especially in her arms - and Zaliph had indeed loved her. They had been a popular couple because they did not have the star-crossed lovers attitude of many married vampires; they treated their love as something to laugh about, and kept the romantic side private. I crossed the room to sit at Marianne's side, took her hand in mine
and lightly squeezed it.
Stepping forward, I laid my own sacrifice - a toy that had belonged to his child as a mortal - on the funeral pyre, then stepped back and pressed my lips together firmly, fighting sorrow. Not crushing pain, but unpleasant sadness nonetheless. Zaliph had been a good fighter, and an even better friend. I was going to miss him. I waited out the entire fire with Zaliph's fledglings out of tradition,
but once the flames had died out I returned to the tent where Seth was
lying asleep on my bed.
Seth woke up before me, but a shocked gasp and jump made me wake up
only a split second later.
A few weeks passed before the legion was called together for the trials
to replace Zaliph.
I watched the fledglings walk into the tent, for the test that had been specifically designed by Tybiaz to determine whether or not the fledglings could make tactical decisions, plans for battle, and arrange transport of various goods. I had read through the test myself, and joked that I would probably fail it myself. At least, I hope it was a joke. After a while, the line left the tent and eleven names were called out. My men had always been selected for strength and obedience rather than their mental talents, apart from Tybiaz obviously. He had been quite a jewel amongst mortals for his intelligence, and now he was a diamond amongst vampires. The vampires who had passed the test were told to prepare for the physical
test and I watched as much of the crowd dispersed.
I felt myself getting rather anxious for the fledglings myself as time
passed, and eventually they returned from the trials, some exhausted, some
exhilarated, and all red-faced. Sinead walked to the front of them, patted
several hard on the back in an attempt to act sympathetic, before taking
a deep breath.
Tybiaz and Sinead read out Seth's statistics and I noticed him blushing as though unused to praise. After the dull traditional speeches from Tybiaz and Sinead, Seth was made to sit still while the mark of second-in-command was burnt next to the clan mark on his shoulder. I winced in sympathy for him, my own shoulder tingling in remembrance of my being marked with Kain's symbol, followed by a lieutenant symbol. It was a very simple system to learn; a half crescent around the clan symbol meant second-in-command, a full crescent meant lieutenant. Fledglings bore only the clan symbol, and Kain did not require any markings as the lord; his signet ring proved his identity, and he had no master in the sense of our vampire hierarchy. For many years Seth proved himself a worthy second-in-command, though he sired no fledglings. He seemed almost unreasonably afraid of detaching his soul from his body, even after he was told of his mortal origins - a fact he took surprisingly well, for someone who seemed to rely on stability in his beliefs. I cared for him as a father should, and he received the treatment well, though he often reminded me not to favour him above my other fledglings - a fact I did not really need reminding of. Ever since I last favoured a fledgling, it had almost destroyed my trust in people, and left me wary. Seth had been a vampire for fifteen years when I first noticed that there had been no lost battles for a long time; a conspicuously long time. Easily six months. Possibly a year or more. On asking Tybiaz, he smiled and took out a map of Nosgoth from the beginning of the vampiric empire, then took a piece of charcoal and marked out everywhere that was vampiric empire. Only then did I grow aware of how many successes we had experienced. We had almost won. After near a century of battling, we had almost won. I admit that I was tempted to be more careless than usual when planning our next battle thanks to this news, but Tybiaz reminded me that there is nothing more dangerous than a desperate man; and the humans were desperate. We were attacking a region far away from our normal camp, and had set up a temporary one in preparation for the battle. The town was larger than Seth's home village, Guiko, had been, so the battle was much easier than some. The town name was Reifeil, and to be honest, the attack was more to keep the men's morale and strength up than for tactical or territorial purposes. We set out early in the night so that we could attack and take the camp back to the main site within the same day. I was at the front of the troops that had been sent in, desiring the chance to feed as well as fight. Normally I only needed a victim once a month, but I had a minor wound from a human slicing into my leg in a previous battle, and the blood loss increased my thirst. Having fed upon my first victim, I was busy using a sword borrowed from the weapon stores to attack the mortals attempting to counter-attack. I disliked the weapon, found it clumsy next to my normal blade, but I didn't have rights to complain as it was my fault the sword had not been brought from my tent in the main camp to the temporary camp. My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a clang of metal hitting the
floor before a human male fell upon my back. I was about to slash him with
my sword when I noticed he was already dead from an arrow through his heart,
realised he would otherwise have impaled me on the long sword he had dropped.
I backed up against the wooden wall of one of the human huts and looked
around, saw Seth fire another arrow into a nearby human before giving me
a wave and pointing out another mortal about to attack me. I continued
to fight as I had before, though this time I did make the point of checking
my back every-so-often, until I realised that the village was more or less
defeated.
Once the first barn had been torched I looked back for Seth to warn him that the burning was beginning, but noticed he was no longer at his position. I ran over to the building he had been on top of and scaled the walls, saw him lying against the chimney with one hand pressed over a wound that was bleeding rapidly. I lifted him onto his feet and, when he stumbled, threw one of his arms across my shoulder, supporting him as we jumped off the building. He grunted aloud when we hit the floor, but fortunately shock was preventing the wound from getting too painful yet. I found the town cemetery and carried Seth inside, propped him up against
one of the slabs of stone. The damp of the grass soaked through my armour
but I ignored the chill, encouraged Seth to move his hand away from the
wound.
Throwing aside the piece of metal I took the piece of cloak from Seth's
mouth and pressed it over the wound to help still the bleeding. Seth was
hyperventilating slightly, but I knew that he would be alright now, turned
my attention to licking off the blood covering my hand. Seth gave me a
rather peculiar look and I asked him,
After gathering the soldiers together and preparing our captives for travel, we quickly made our way back to the camp, remembering that the last time vampires had lingered in an area that they had attacked, the armies of Klesan Thaio had time to mobilise. The vampires had been wiped out in one go, save about three survivors who lived to tell the tale. Once we had returned to the camp, I visited the hospital tent to see
how Seth was healing. I found the bed they had given him temporarily, and
tapped him on the shoulder, making him jump and turn around.
After a few hours of sleep, Seth returned to the camp and helped me make arrangements for transporting the human captives. The movement of tents and workshops was already in order, and the remaining work, with Seth's help, was only a minor irritation. After finishing the work inside our tent I noticed a distinct drop in temperature, took Seth's hand and felt his wrist. His circulation was indeed beginning to worsen, and I looked outside, noticed many vampires fidgeting or pulling on extra layers of clothes in the main sleeping quarters. After giving the matter a little thought, I turned to my fledgling,
said,
Turning back to Seth I smiled and said,
Not desiring to sleep just yet, I continued to pace the camp, asking randomly how people had fared in the day's battles, before I walked over to the casualties section of the camp. My loyal mathematician, Tybiaz, handed me the list of figures, and I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the worst; only to get pleasantly surprised. 3 deaths.
Smiling, I handed back the list and patted Tybiaz lightly on the back. Frail of bone structure, but brilliant of mind. Despite Zephon and Dumah's original predictions, Tybiaz had been positively vital to me in the battles, allowing my plans to be that crucial bit more organized than the others, and reducing my mistakes considerably. Numbers never were my strongpoint. Finally, satisfied that the days work was done, I returned to my designated place of rest and peeled off my heavy armour, leaving only my mythril mail trousers and a now rather tattered shirt on. Making a mental note to replace the shirt - a lieutenant must always set an example to his charge - I pushed Seth gently aside and got underneath the sheets with him. Unfortunately, Seth's hand fell in a rather uncompromising position and it took a fair amount of effort to move his hand further up where it would not be so... discomforting. The next morning I awoke and realised Seth was still asleep, started
stroking the ebony hair that spilt over the floor loosely beneath my hand.
A quick snore escaped him as a result and I suppressed the urge to laugh,
then he turned over and snuggled into my chest, opening his eyes slowly.
After getting up and putting on my full armour and clan drape again, I walked into my tent section and found the papers with details of travel arrangements, double checked a few figures before heading outside. Tybiaz was waiting with the closed-top wagons, Thamais with the open-tops, and both were impatient in their own way to set off for home. I quickly gave both of them the signals to begin loading the wagons, and they in turn gave signals to the fledglings I had assigned to them. Because this battle had been much easier to win than the last, loading was easier. Whenever morale was good, the rate of work seemed to increase enormously, and a victorious battle that had not caused too many deaths was guaranteed to cheer up the men. The journey was a long one, to the point where fledglings grew nervous that we would not get back before dawn. However, using the sky as a sundial, I managed to give my men time for a break, released several of the human slaves for the fledglings to feed upon. The adults could cope without blood for much longer, despite some protests from vampires who wanted feeding. Besides, if they had not fed during the battle, it was their own fault. Regardless of age, everyone was relieved when we finally reached home about nine hours later. Packing away most of the mobile camps inside the main one and setting up the important tents took less than an hour, and then everyone was free to do as they pleased within the camp's boundaries. "Lord, it's good to be home," said Seth as he headed straight for the tavern that we had captured. I laughed quietly to myself as he joined the party that the men had arranged themselves. I briefly considered following him, but decided not to; if there was an emergency, and both of the camp leaders were inebriated, there would be a lot of trouble. I entered my tent and found my favourite weapons, left behind by accident on our latest travels. An Aquitanian dagger, as owned by every lieutenant, and an ornate blade whose origins I no longer remembered. The sword had probably belonged to me as a mortal, for I felt a great attachment to it, but could not for the life of me think what the attachment was. Both were items of beauty - the dagger, though of a simple design, was made of a strong blue steel. The sword had a plain steel blade, with a blue stone embedded in the base, while the hilt was turquoise with a silver guard. I busied myself polishing the blades, but quickly grew bored. Fortunately,
before the irritation of boredom turned into anger, Seth stumbled into
the tent, a huge drunken grin on his face.
The camp was rather noisy the next day from people still celebrating the victory, and those who had celebrated the previous night yelling at the new revellers to shut up while they nursed their hangovers. The noise meant that when silence did finally fall on the camp I distinctly noticed the absence of sound. When I left my tent I quickly discovered why the din had stopped. Kain had arrived in the camp. It was as well known to my fledglings as to myself that Kain *never*
left sanctuary unless something of extreme importance forced him to. Gesturing
for me to follow him, Kain started leaving the camp, and I quickly handed
over command to Seth before joining my master at his side.
Kain lead me over several hills quietly, not saying anything, until
we reached a large cave and he paused.
I never really found out how much Kain knew about the battle with Klesan Thaio. Or even if he did know anything. But something in his manner spoke of knowledge that anyone below his status could not grasp, or live with. Some days I was actually glad to be a lieutenant, rather than the Lord. When I returned to sanctuary, Kain gave me the order to mobilise my legion, and upon reaching my camp I called together the generals and gave them the news. The message spread like wildfire, and I found Tybiaz, began planning our attack as carefully as we could. The next week passed with the pace of a snail, as people prepared their
weapons, vampiric families said their goodbyes to each other, and plans
were checked and triple checked between generals and their superiors. I
felt myself caught up in the atmosphere at times, and no matter how hard
I attempted to detach myself from emotion, depression threatened constantly.
At last the day came for the battle, and the legions were silent except
for the occasional sobbing female, or whispered comforts between couples.
Inside the tent, I prepared my armour, spent most of my time checking
that my weapons were in good shape. I had never forgotten the advice given
to me as a fledgling - a sharp blade could mean the difference between
victory and defeat. Every so often I turned to look at Seth who was beginning
to unnerve me, silent and staring. He kept looking as if he wished to speak,
but stopped each time before anything could be said. Standing up eventually
I turned to walk out, and he finally cried aloud,
Seth began to sob into my chest, folding his arms around my waist so
tightly that had I been human I would have been crushed.
Leading my men to the battlefield, I was somewhat relieved by whispers and quiet laughter amongst them, the noise of armour clicking and clanging driving out the demon fear from all of them. The noise increased somewhat when they saw the Petrified Forest, a legend to them as it had been to me. I myself knew much of the folklore about devils, daemons and spirits residing in the frozen wood. Walking past the forest I noted that my men quietened, perhaps out of a secret respect for whatever really lay within the forest. Only when the troops stopped at their destination and silence properly surrounded us, did my nerves have a chance to take hold of my heart. This was 'the final battle', as Kain had put it. This was the strike that meant either failure or victory. Failure, and we would become no more than scavengers, reduced to guerrilla warfare - if any - our wives and fledglings forced to rely on human charity to survive when they attacked the camps. The ever true saying, passed from generation to generation during the terrifying years of the Serafan - those who die are the lucky ones - the only way to describe what would happen. Victory, and the vampiric empire could reduce humanity once and for all to prey, rather than a threat. I frowned slightly when a messenger tapped me on the shoulder, interrupting
my thoughts, but knew that I would not be warned unless it was important.
I walked up to the hill, pointed out where the troops were to be deployed, and stood at the very front, the generals just behind me. I noted that there were very few human archers, then remembered a mortal had been manipulated by the Zephonim with the promise of wealth to infiltrate Klesan Thaio and destroy their stock of arrows. I disapproved of such underhand tactics, but had to admit that archers would have been a deadly threat to our attack. Eyes burning in their sockets from the sting of smoke - the concentration
was higher here than in most places due to changes in air pressure - I
raised my sword, listening for my men's own weapons being unsheathed, and
waited. God, how long those minutes lasted, watching the humans approach,
while keeping my most basic fears under control. If I could not stand strong,
how could I expect my men to? Finally the mortals reached halfway up the
hill, and I pointed my sword at them, bellowing,
Running, overtaken by athletes such as Thamais and his children, I lunged for my first victim. Too busy concentrating on survival to savour the kill, I withdrew my sword from the corpse and whirled around, raising the blade high and slicing clean through the nearest human's neck. "Weakling," I growled and spat upon the dead body, wiping my hand across my forehead and lifting my sword just in time to catch a blow from a mortal weapon. Narrowing my eyes at the human I smiled, taking out a dagger and slicing open his abdomen. My opponent coughed up blood once, looked down in time to see his intestines spilling out, and collapsed. Too easy. Stamping my foot down on the mortal's skull I watched my men swarm ahead of me, slicing through humans like hot knives through butter. I looked at the hand that had wielded the dagger and licked off the spilt blood, before walking over to a petrified tree and climbing it, gaining sight of the battlefield. Our men had worked fast and efficiently, as normal. The Zephonim, gifted with speed, had rushed ahead to tackle the problem of humans attempting to retreat. Weaker Melchahim worked at the back, dragging human bodies off to be stored. I knew that even as I watched, the Rahabim were travelling through the forest rivers to help surround the city, making certain that escape across the waters was impossible. The rest of the legions would be battling their way through the other corners of the forest. Ahead of us lay the greatest moment of vampiric history. The fall of the last human city, save the pitiful but impenetrable citadel by the abyss. The fall of Klesan Thaio. I doubt the existence of a single vampire who did not find himself awed by the sheer significance of his actions on this day. Surrounding the moat around the castle, our archers busied themselves tackling the humans who fired upon the weakest of us, sent ahead to pile soil and dirt into the water. Another period of waiting passed until we could scale the walls, trying not to be disheartened as the mortals shot several of us down. We began to scale the walls in a mass, thanks to the Zephonim's ability to climb without help, and the ladders that had been built before the battle. Eventually it was my turn to climb a ladder, and I rushed up as quickly as I could, smashing my fist into the face of a human preparing to push the ladder down. It had already happened with two ladders, it was not going to happen to mine. "Keep the ladders safe and steady!" I warned my men before leaping down
into the courtyard below. I had always been able to survive falling from
great heights, and as I landed on my feet, I became aware of a mortal rushing
at me wielding a torch, and I laughed as the blow glanced off my skin.
There had been a time when fire could burn me, but I had been second only
to Kain in developing the ability to survive flames. The mortal seemed
taken back and I tapped my clan symbol lightly, laughing,
Stalking behind the tower carefully I managed to sneak up on the mortal guarding the tower door, slitting his throat quickly. His death was quick and painless, as he had not done anything to spite me. I ran up inside the tower, eventually reaching the top. At first I was suspicious, accessing the room had seemed too easy, but the scent of the air told me that no humans were within a close distance. Grabbing hold of the lever for the drawbridge, I pulled it back allowing my men to gain entry at ground level; and got soaked promptly by water jets from the ceiling. I screeched aloud in agony and ran down the staircase, almost tripping several times due to the speed of my descent, warning my men not to go upstairs as I ripped off my chest armour and damp shirt. One of my fledglings had the decency to offer me their cloak as I shivered, part in shock, part in pain, part from the cold. I tried to ignore the burning of the water as I unsheathed my sword again, fully aware that the sooner the battle was over, the sooner the pain would end; either by treatment at the camp, or by my death. At the time, I honestly did not care which method was going to stop the hurt. The battle went on long into the night, so late in fact that retreating for the safety of the fledglings was considered. However, all our worries were soon dispelled by the victory call of a Razelim. Recognising the gruff tones, and the direction from where the voice came, I turned to see Thamais holding the severed head of the human leader by the hair. All the other vampires soon joined him in their victory cries, and only moments after seeing their dead leader, the mortals surrendered. Returning home victorious was incredible, and many vampires flocked around Thamais. I wish I could describe more of the journey, but my burns caused me to black out less than fifty meters from the fallen city. My fledglings, attentive as ever, carried me the rest of the way to the camp, where I regained consciousness in the hospital tent. "Awake at last?" I opened my eyes, realised I was face down on a pillow.
I turned my head to the side and attempted to roll off my stomach onto
my back, cried out in pain. However, I had recognised the voice, and I
could see much of him even despite my lying on a slant.
A day passed and I was fit enough to move back to my tent. Another few hours and I was fit enough to walk around freely. When I emerged from my tent one of my first realisations was that Thamais was definitely taking advantage of his new-found heroic status. The three giggling females draped around him as he made his way to his tent proved it. On spotting me he lowered his head a little, then stood straight. I gave him a smile and a nod to show him that I was not bothered by his actions, then started chuckling as he continued into the tent, making a mental note not to interrupt him anytime soon. Eventually I successfully made my way to the dormant volcano near to the frozen wastelands, found the cave that humans had cut through to the underground springs millennia ago. Unfortunately for the mortals, as if in anticipation of the forthcoming vampiric empire, the volcano erupted once more before returning to dormancy, the eruption 'poisoning' the streams by turning them to acid. Fortunately for us, vampires suffer an interesting reversal of nature; water burns like acid, and acid soothes like water. Why, I do not know. And I have no time for listening to the mindless theories given by alchemists. The acid was incredibly hot and would have killed a mortal, but I genuinely
did not mind the heat; indeed I was glad for it. The frozen wastelands
had proved themselves to be aptly named, by chilling me to the bone. Now
it was time for my bones to defrost. It felt so incredibly good after all
the aches, pains, wounds I had suffered over the last few days to actually
get a chance to relax. I briefly dipped below the surface of the acid to
soak my hair, and to get out any dried blood that remained in it. As I
felt a cool breeze rush over me I realised that someone else must have
entered the catacombs of sulphuric pools. Quickly I climbed out of the
water and grabbed my dagger from my clothes, but it was only Melchiah.
I only remained in the water for a brief while longer before getting
out properly and dressing. Melchiah seemed preoccupied with my lower body,
and after a while said,
When Melchiah emerged, I fussed over him as usual. People rarely complimented my brother, so I took the job of giving him at least a limited confidence in his appearance. He always took the compliments from me quite well because, if public opinion was to be believed, I was rather good-looking myself. It was often a source of much amusement to everyone that my fledgling Thamais was such a success with women, because even though he had a decent amount of riches and a decent position in the hierarchy, he was *not* a good-looking person. It was not jealousy that led to the curiosity - certainly not in the case of the married Turel, Dumah, and Rahab. Rahab probably could not cope with attention from women anyway - his wife was rumoured to be a bit of a battleaxe, which was an amusing thought considering how quiet my brother was. I apologise, I have been digressing again. Anyway, when Melchiah and
I had both bathed and dressed, we returned to our camps to lead our men
to sanctuary for a public address by Kain. Everyone was edgy, but we were
nervous in a peculiarly happy sort of way, because we knew that we had
been victorious over Klesan Thaio, and we knew that the message was going
to be important; public addresses were never frivolous matters. Kain stepped
forward at last onto the balcony and I found myself holding my breath slightly
as I awaited the message, even though my Lord's smile had already given
it to me.
Eventually a pyre had been set up in the centre of the otherwise frozen wastelands, and the musicians started playing one of my favourite tunes. Knowing my fledgling's feelings for me, I allowed him to dance with me for the first song, and I felt a slight lump in my throat as he rested his head on my chest in the middle of our dance. I held Seth a little tighter myself - not out of love, but simply because I needed the warmth of his embrace around me. I had not truly been comforted physically as far back as I could remember, unless Seth's light kiss to my shoulder after I had been wounded could be counted. I did push him away lightly though when I felt him nuzzle my chest lightly, making it clear that I did not feel for him in a sexual way. He did have the common sense not to touch my back yet, and I could feel the warm glow of the repairing burns even as I tried not to concentrate on them. When the song ended, leading onto the next tune, I stopped and looked
Seth in the eyes.
I left Seth alone for a while, made my way through to the table that
had been reserved for lieutenants alone, sat at Melchiah's side.
After my eleventh or twelfth mug, I began to grow seriously drowsy,
and I opened my eyes properly, realised that Zephon had already passed
out on the table. In the distance I made out Dumah picking a fight. Rahab
had only attended the party very briefly, paranoid about getting home before
dawn despite the fact it was very early in the night when he left. Melchiah
had long since returned home, and Turel was nowhere to be seen. Probably
left for his home as well. Standing up, stumbling, and regaining my balance
with the help of the table, I made my way through the rapidly thinning
crowd, careful not to step on any passed out vampires. Finally I found
a group of my fledglings.
"If I was sober enough I'd rip off your fucking head and spit down your
fucking neck!" My fledgling was atop one of the Zephonim and throttling
him as best as he could with limited grip.
Once inside the tent there was the problem of what I was going to do with him. All the other Razelim were sleeping, or passed out, or back at the party, or a mixture. Eventually I decided I was going to have to put him to bed myself and I peeled off the clothing he was wearing, dragged back the covers on his bed, and pushed him onto it. He still did not want to sleep, so after pulling the covers up over him, I knelt on top of him, pinning him there while I waited for him to pass out. I shall not even *begin* to tell you some of the things he said to me. Eventually he fell unconscious and I got up off him, turned to get undressed...
and became aware of one of my fledglings at the door, looking completely
and utterly shocked.
"Raziel?" I became aware of someone shaking me awake and smacked them
across what I presumed to be their face, growled,
When I finally awoke, I found some clothes to dress in and cursed myself for sleeping in my best suit. Looking in the room mirror, I cursed aloud again as I fixed my hair, incapable of doing anything about the dark circles under my eyes. Walking outside I grew aware that I was only one of several hundred who had all got intoxicated the previous night. I soon came across Tybiaz, looking particularly flustered, and tapped
him lightly on the shoulder.
Searching for someone to hunt with, I walked into Thamais' tent and
became aware only too late of the giggling coming from beneath his sheets.
I coughed politely, heard muffled cursing, before Thamais rolled off the
top of his female companion and sat up in the bed. I corrected myself.
Two female companions.
On returning to the tent, I became aware that Seth was not wearing anything,
caught in the middle of getting dressed, and completely unaware of my presence.
I easily found a mortal near the cavern under the mountain who had got lost during the battle several days ago, put an end to his misery. Hunger and cold make a painful combination, but what really made him desperate was dehydration. If he had not found a river soon, his lifespan would have been reduced from a possible fortnight without food, to twenty-four or less hours. The hunt was pleasing. Its outcome was not. I returned to the camp after about an hour, saw that Seth had left to hunt. I felt rather irritated that he had not come with me to feed, but no matter, even I sometimes avoided certain people for whatever reason. Of course, this thought led me to wonder what I might have done to anger or upset him. Another few minutes and I started pacing the room, the tedium of peace already beginning to irritate me. It was strange, not having any battles to plan, my duties limited considerably. No more regular weapons checks, for a start. And there was the question of how Tybiaz was going to be of any use now that his skills as a tactician were no longer required. A lot of changes and adaptations would have to be made. When three hours had passed, I gave up waiting and went off to search for Seth despite the warnings of some of my men, following the trail of his scent. He had gone beyond sanctuary, and I began to get nervous. The abyss was dangerously near to where his scent began to get strong, and when I finally found his body, I wished I had not. "God... GOD!" I could not think of anything coherent to say as I flung
my torch aside and rushed over to the rocks, taking hold of the boulder
crushing my fledgling under its weight, heaving it off finally with a great
effort.
I felt emptiness suddenly and looked aside, tilted back his head.
I carried Seth's body quietly to Zephon's cathedral, and I believe that
even my brother's children, not known for tact or grace, fell silent as
I passed. All I heard from them was the sound of scuttling as they went
on about their business, informing their master of my arrival, or friends
further inside of what had happened. Finding my way alone to a chapel,
I laid his broken body down on the stone altar and kissed his unaging face
goodnight, before finding myself a seat on one of the old stone pews, watching
quietly over his body.
Minutes passed. Then hours. Finally my hands began to shake, making their way to covering my face, and I sobbed. I had never known true pain until that hour. Never. I had never coughed up blood before out of sheer agony. I had never stayed in one position for more than twenty-four waking hours. I did that day, and many of the following, varying between utter despair, and utter apathy. It is the latter that I settled on finally, and I am glad, for sorrow is one thing that I find impossible to admire. I remained in the chapel for over a week, and when I finally allowed my fledglings to take away Seth's body to prepare it for burning, I cloaked my presence, making certain that no-one could predict my movements as I made my way to Melchiah's lair. My brother did not hear me coming in his sleep, but he was alone, and
that was good enough for me.
I soon found that the aforesaid action was uncomfortable on my spine,
being taller than my brother, and chose instead to lie down fully as a
sign of equality in spirit with someone lower in status.
I talked, and Melchiah listened, for many an hour, until the tears came
again and my brother wrapped his arms around me.
Melchiah held me for a while longer, but I pulled out of his embrace
eventually, sat with one leg crooked.
And I smiled back. The End Please please please please please please plea
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