The Premature Gift

By Muriel


Disclaimer: This story is the result of fantasies/ideas coming into my mind whilst watching the SR1-intro. The following chapters aren’t meant to represent the true nature of the games main characters. Therefore I created my own interpretations and a new story-line.

Important note: Because of several violent events this fiction isn’t suitable for too young audiences.


Part two: The battle


          Raziel fought his way through the crowded corridor in which some women and the youngest of the clan were busy with binding torches and making stakes. A few times he had to jump back to the wall in or-der to let pass some slaves or a group of his children – they were carrying weapons or bundles of twigs, bringing everything outside. The feverish bustle causing humans and vampires to work hand in hand seemed to be the saddest occasion of his existence so far. The threatening danger welded together even those which normally turned up their noses against each other, giving them a wide berth. The frictions and common problems were all in the past, the clan had knitted together to an inseparable collective, now. For the last time their leader checked the sit of the sword on his hip, sharpened on both sides when suddenly someone stepped directly before him, blocking his way. He didn’t even know the name of the slave. The boy, nearly still a child, looked up to him with flickering eyes. Fear and re-spect were written equally all over his face. With trembling fingers he hold a scratched and dented shield out towards the tall vampire
           ”O...once that belonged to the forefather of my great-grandfather”, murmured the boy. “With this, you can protect your chest. Or your neck, depending on where one is aiming at.”
           He took the oval metal object from the boy’s trembling, cold and sweaty fingers with a slow and thoughtful movement. For a moment he looked at the ancient seal, a stylized hawk sitting on a branch. “I have not seen this symbol for a long time”, he said quietly and heard how the young slave swallowed noisy, having a lump in his throat. "Your ancestors are from Soordorf?"
           The boy nodded slightly. “I am the last, Sire. Apart from me there exist no more Soordorfans mean-while. My forefather fought against you at that time and he used this shield.”
          "As far as I can remember it did not serve him well”, Raziel began softly.
           "At least it protected his life, however, it did not saved him from enslavement...” The next moment the boy bit his lips scaredly. “Forgive me, Sire, I did not want to...”
           "I know what you have meant. ...What is your name?”
           The adolescent cleared his throat twice and whispered slightly nervy: ”Sorgar, Mylord.”
           "Well, Sorgar. I want you to bring all women, who cannot fight, and their children into the crypt and stay with them.” When he saw the boy’s face falling he couldn’t hold the trace of a faint smile. “That is a very noble task, boy. After all you are the only real man down there. If a foreign vampire should en-ter your hideout you must fight against him. Do you think you are in the position to do this? After all our enemies are very dangerous, some of them are even taller than Kain and all of them are panting for blood.”
           Sorgar turned obviously pale, nevertheless he pulled back his bony shoulders and nodded with deter-mination. “Of course I can do this, Sire”, he answered and tried simultaneously to control the sudden quivering in his voice.
           ”Good. Go and meet Wilbur. Tell him what I want you to do. He will give you a weapon you know how to deal with. He and Etheban shall come to me immediately, you can tell him this as well. Leave now. We are running out of time.”
           The boy turned on his heels and ran away. Raziel looked at the old shield again. The seams had rusted within many decades and probably it would break into several pieces only after the third, heavy cut. But in this case he could still use the sharp fragments as a weapon. With a slight sigh he went on and jumped aside before a further mixed group of mortals and unliving. With concerted strength they were carrying a cast-iron cauldron – filled three quarters with oil – outside. They had pulled big poles through the vaulted handles and put them on their shoulders, while others had wrapped up their hands with thick rags and tried to prop up the heavy, oversized vessel at the sides. The yellowish brown, clear liquid was steaming slightly and sloshing to and fro dangerously. The hot, pungent smell of meat and bread cooked once in there would be noticed by the enemies already on the distance of one mile. If they were lucky the opponents wouldn’t associate the scent with the destination they strived for. And if so...then it would hopefully be too late for them to escape this unpleasant shower.
           "Just pull up the stuff carefully!” he called behind them. ”That is all we need, that the whole thing will pour out over us down here!”
           Raziel went outside and followed the rushed bustle in the yard and on the battlements with his eyes. Anyone and everyone was running about all over the place, feverishly preparing the fortress for the battle. The humans who served him had never experienced the attack of vampires before. They knew about that terrible fights at the most from handed down stories of the very old times. He hoped that they wouldn’t crack up or panic when the enemies would overrun the building like a savage herd of buf-falo. A lot of centuries ago he fought many times against human settlements himself and knew how clumsy and effective at the same time their brute attacks had always been. Only the sight of the wildly screaming creatures, brandishing their weapons – rushing up like a giant tidal wave in the late dusk – had mostly been enough to reduce the mortals will to fight to a minimum. Now he had to ensure that this combat strategy would lead to the opponents downfall.
           "Mylord?" the well-known, husky voice of his representative startled him out of his thoughts and he turned his head to him, slightly frightened.
           He looked at the two dissimilar men who were standing behind him, waiting for his orders. "Etheban, you search the best archers and crossbow men from the whole clan, no matter to which race they are belonging to and bring them to me. And you, Wilbur, collect the strongest sword fighter. Everybody else who can move or just crawl somehow shall protect all external doors and gates. Use the thickest lances and sharpened wooden stakes for that and be sure that these weapons are as high as a man. Dig the ends deep enough into the ground so that they can hold the pressure even if the enemies will at-tack in several rows behind each others. If we are lucky they will impale themselves two or three at the same time on one stake. ...Is Sorgar in the crypt with the others, now?”
           The old man nodded slightly. “Aye, Sire. I gave him a small crossbow he can draw easily. And further-more a large dagger. Moreover the women are having enough water in store to pour it over a dozen of foreign vampires at once.”
           ”Excellent.” Raziel looked up to the covered sky for a moment. "We have new moon, therefore we all will have some problems to locate the opponents already from the distance. Prepare the men conscien-tious for the fight. Everybody of them will surely be expected by five or more challengers. They should not run off pugnacious when the pack will throw themself against the closed gate and this fi-nally will break. I try to reduce their number by water- and fire-attacks first, in order to give us at least the spark of a chance. But if Kain set all his underlings on us, we will numerically be far inferior up to in the end. The strongest of us will be able to fend off even three enemies at once for a while, but they should not be prepared to take the risk of such manoeuvres. Tell them they shall spare their strength at all costs if possible. And tell them also that they should search the protection of a wall in their back. Otherwise they should fight back to back in the war-zone.” He smiled a bit wryly. "That is hard, I know. In the heat of the moment one want to defeat one’s enemies as fast and effectively as possible. I felt the same in the past. But this time we are in the minority and have to act considerably calm." For a short moment he thought about it. ”That is all for the moment. I do not have to tell you that we are under the pressure of time, so hurry up now. "
           The two men ran away and the clan leader heard how they already rounded up the people he was needing, even before they reached the entrance. The warm night wind suddenly ran through his hair with a mild breeze and blew the silky strands into his face. The air caressed his folded wings in such a tempting way that it elicited an almost pained but soft moaning from him. What would he all have done for just spreading out his wings and let himself carried by the current in the appropriate altitude. Be-cause of the preparations he had nearly forgotten his new gift, but now it became more present than ever before. With clenched teeth he defied the sweet yearning that was maltreating him now and freed his mind of the longing thought. If only the battle would be fought to his favour he would have the eternity to fly. But only then...
           He leaned back his head and strode closer to the broad frontage. In this moment the wind brought a delicate smell, which poured in his senses with an alarming familiarity. Should they already be there? That early? Since his return from the sanctuary only three or four hours could have passed. But Kain was notorious for his ability to conjure troops ready for battle up out of nothing. His breast seemed to be contracting – like under the pressure of an immense weight – when he imagined that already three, four legions were immediately advancing on the building. Suddenly a hint of fear stroke him and at the same time the first doubts began to grow. Even if his clan would be strong enough, it could never be up to such a majority. Did he have done the right thing? Instead of standing up to the Moloch fuming with anger it would have been better to flee with his children.
           His inner self rebelled violently against the thought of escaping. He wasn’t a coward! He was a fighter, he proved that any time in his earlier service for his former master. He wasn’t only the youngest of the chosen brethren, but also the strongest one. He still had enough of the old passion which filled him in the very past. Nevertheless, he shifted his weight restlessly from one leg to the other, as a soft breeze blow the trace of the familiar smell towards him again and he turned slightly the head to listen carefully. But all he noticed was the soft, gentle murmuring of the wind and the knocking and digging noises caused by the men erecting the spear-blockages in the back part of the fortress.
           In the front part where he was it became gradually silent. The men had finished their preparations and were waiting now. Raziel licked his dry lips with the tip of the tongue hasty, but without moistur-izing them at once. "Listen to me", he began with muted voice and saw how the people on the battle-ments turned their heads to him. "Let the bunch come directly to the gates then they will offer the best aim to you. But: avoid to panic. That is important though maybe impossible. They will make infernal noises and behave like beasts. But this are just tactics in order to make you panic and act rashly." He stopped and stepped aside when six men flitted past him and started – with possibly little noise – to lift up the flagstones and began digging the holes below. "As soon as they throw themselves at the gate, empty the water-filled vessels at first. Those who are hit will immediately lose all interest in further activities, this I can assure you."
 Soft laughter followed his words and he gave the men the possibility to ease up and calm down before he went on talking. "But do not become high-spirited. Each drop is important and must hit its target at least partly. When they retreat suddenly, do not become euphoric. It might be absolutely possible that they want to overcome the walls by using throwing hooks if we defend ourselves too much. If that hap-pens do not lose too much time by trying to cut off the ropes, set them on fire. In the worst case this may take a while but it will spare your strength and that is all what matters. The mortals among us will hardly see more than a solid black crowd, while my children will be able to locate still some details in the faces, even in this darkness. Therefore make sure that you do not offer them a target. The vam-pire sees – even from here where I stand – still faintly the telling gleaming of your eyes. When the wa-ter is used up, pour the oil and pitch in well-aimed gushes over their heads and set it on fire with burning straw, clothes, torches, or whatever. The main thing is that the whole mob goes up in flames. As soon as the first of them are burning it will be easier to set the others on fire by pouring out the oil. The fire will immediately spread to the new fuel. If the traces on the walls catch fire, too, just let them burn. Rather the whole building burns down than we all are slaughtered while trying to put out the flames. The archers..."
           He turned shortly as two armed groups were leaving the entrance behind him. "The archers and cross-bow men should position themselves at the partly roofed inside walls of the yard. Take cover behind barrels and wagons if possible. Soil the naked parts of your skins - above all face and hands - with dirt in order to unify with the shadows. Behind the marksmen the sword fighter will take position to back you up. If the crowding becomes too big avoid shooting into the fighting mob. Arm yourself with every-thing that is in the condition to shoo the souls out of the enemies, and search for attackers who are standing towards you with their backs in order to impale them from behind. Kain’s hordes will try the same with you, therefore you have to be on the alert. Each vampire from the enemy’s troop MUST be decapitated. Otherwise the soul will regain its corpse immediately and he must be killed again! After that, you can pull the weapon out of the chest or back. If the scuffle gets too intense you must take even closer looks on the fallen. If you are not sure whether it is one of my children or not, you should bring the paralysed body into the fortress. Then you still can cut off his head or bring him back to life." He took a short break. "If the humans want to pray a last time, just do it. I think this could serve us all now."
           "Mylord", whispered a thin voice, which let him lift up his head again. "I think ... they are coming. I hear voices outside."
           "Aye, me too."
           "He is right, somebody is shouting there."
           "Keep calm, that is the only way for us to manage!" the clan leader ordered with insistent voice to reach their minds one last time. "Everybody in position and keep quiet. And put out some torches within the yard. Let them believe we are unsuspecting and easy prey." He turned his head aside. "How long will you still need for the barricade?"
           "We will be ready immediately, Sire. We just have to fasten the bars."
           "Go on. Work fast but carefully. There is no use in the lances going off on their own and tumbling about. They will not overrun the thick gate with the first try, believe me."
           With slow steps he went back into the middle of the yard and turned around, drewing his sword with a slow and deliberated movement. The scratching noise of metal rubbing against metal sounded obtru-sively loud in the breathless, waiting silence. Only the crackling of the small fires could be heard, burning everywhere on the battlements. Here and there someone scraped uneasily with the foot, a muffled slight cough, a muted whispering.
           Also if you do not know, but  I am very proud of you, he thought and let his look wander one last time. Not everybody would have the courage to step up to Kain in such a way as you prove it now.
           Above the soft, rising and fading murmuring of the wind another noise started to rise now perma-nently. A muffled, faint rumbling, which became increasingly louder and stronger. And the unpleasant sound was coming closer. Raziel felt the hair at the nape of his neck beginning to stand on end, ready for defence, and his hands clinged some firmer to sword and shield. If his heart was still beating it surely would pound now hardly and fast up his throat. For that, all his muscles tensed and the soft lips pulled slightly back, exposing his dangerous, white teeth.
           Then voices drowned the furious trampling. Already now one could hear roaring, bestial yells. On the battlements began the first nervous scraping and moving. "Keep calm", he growled and his voice sunk some nuances so that there was hardly any difference to those outside. "Keep calm. Their roaring can-not hurt you, do not forget that."
           The nearer the yelling and raging stamping of the closer running mob came, the more increased the alarm among the mortals. Some of them already started to gasp timorous and whimpered. And Raziel realized anxiously that his children started to caught the beginning fear, like an epidemic spreading out terrifically fast. Obviously his clan had lived a too long time without any fights. Without thinking he put his sword into its sheath, spread out his bat-like wings and flew to the side of the fortress wall where the arising panic shook his slaves worst and formed the biggest spot of trouble.
           "Just let them rage", he said with calm and soothing voice in his effort to take away a bit of their fear. "Hold each other’s hands, if this gives you comfort and support, keep on breathing calmly and deeply. You will see how fast your fear will disappear about that. My children are with you and they are vampires as well. Of no other kind than those who want to attack us now."
           The flickering and thankful looks of the slaves obviously calmed by his words made him take the hu-mans hands, holding out to him, trembling, and pressed them one after the other with his three-fingered, vampiric grip. "We already managed something impossible. We have become a community and this is something no clan had managed before", he said and looked at the colossal crowd coming closer, which even for his keen eyesight and his ability of nearly animal-like night vision made a hazy contrast to the dark background. What was coming towards him was so immense that for one moment his own courage threatened to leave him. He tried to get rid of the horrible imagination and to repress it into the very back corner of his mind. He hoped that at least his children would keep calm when they were able to determine the rough number of the closing mob.
           "Wait until they attack the gate. If Kain has not changed his strategy he will send all of them towards us from the front. It could not be better, as they cannot attack us from several fronts at the same time. And unlike me he had no archers among his men but relies only on the raw strength and violence of his underlings. Concentrate on the first lines only, no matter how many they are altogether. Did everyone understand?" He already had to strain and to raise his voice against the wild roaring that was already storming up over the last, little hill.
           The mortals nodded, their heads twitched nervously towards the raging wave of uncountable, unliving bodies and back again. Raziel withdrew with a lithe, soft reverse movement of his flapping wings and the trembling voice of a human called after him: "No, Master, please stay with us!"
           He stopped and a short, soft smile appeared for a moment on his tensed face. Did the slaves feel themselves so close to him in the meantime –  in the hardest moment they’d shared together till now – that they saw him now as their father, too? Then he sunk towards the ground and stood up there with his legs apart, drawing his sword once more. The shouting and raging of the closing horde became deafening loud and drowned by far the stamping of countless running feet. Just when Raziel thought the shouting would tear his eardrum, the attackers threw themselves against the barricaded entrance. With widening pupils and wildly glittering eyes he saw how the robust gate bended threatenly inside under the pressure and sprung back slightly. Just in this moment the men who builded up the spear-blockage jumped back. From the corner of his eyes he saw how the first movement on the battlements arose. Pitchers were lifted up and in the next moment poured out over the heads of the enemies.
           His face turned into a grimly, bitter grin. The teeth bared in a grimacing way, the clan leader could imagine well what was now happening outside the wall. The first shrill screams of pain already mingled with the furious unrest. More and more buckets were poured out and each bestial shrieking of the hit enemies were a small victory on its own. The helpers lugged gasping new loads of the deadly liquid and tied it on to the lowered ropes directly at the front wall. At the same time they caught the empty ves-sels which were thrown down from above. Now and then a pitcher got broken but they still had enough buckets, cans and other for pouring the water.
           "They are withdrawing!" somebody shouted and Raziel took some hasty steps forward. "How many had had it?" he wanted to know.
           And a deep voice answered: "Almost three dozen, Mylord."
           He sighed, not nearly as much as it had to be. But at least no load seemed to have missed its target. "You were brave", he shouted up to them to strengthen the arising courage of the men a bit more. "I could not be prouder on you. The first attack is always the worst one. When one have become used to their roaring, it is much easier and the mind keeps clearer and more rational."
           "Nevertheless only so few are carried off", sounded a bright voice. "The ground is totally wet and the bodies...", the speaker swallowed noisily, "are dissolving into a real mush." At these words the clan leader closed his eyes for a short moment. "They will not attack from this side so quickly again, Sire."
           He got rid of the slight, arising horror. "Patrol on the whole walk along the battlements. And when the mob is closing from the other side, then..." The cry of a vampire interrupted him. "Damn, they are coming back, Mylord! Directly from the front. The madmen have a kind of rammer with them. A ... chopped down tree."
           Raziel grinded his teeth and thought feverishly. "Stop pouring water over them. There is no use in it when they break down the gate while we are doing this. Make ready the oil, pitch and torches. Cover their bodies in well-aimed gushes and possibly directly into the centre. Let the bastards burn", he growled with scratchy voice. "Singe them their skin and patch them totally up with the sludge."
           With furious roaring the attackers assaulted forward once again. The gate bended even more violent inside under the resounding impact and the young leader saw horrified that the heavy beam teared splinteringly and didn’t rest on top correctly anymore. When the rammer crashed a second time into the robust and large doors the hot gush poured over the vampires from several sides. At the same time the first torches were thrown down. During the fighting din – the wild screaming and the bright flaring up of first flames – the clan leader thought that in former times the humans luckily hadn’t re-sisted in such an organized way. Otherwise he and his brethren would had suffered the same like those outside at the moment. The screaming of the dying unliving made his ears ring painfully. More and more of the oil and pitch was poured down on them, nevertheless the enemies don’t thought of withdrawing. Like Kamikaze fighters they threw themselves forward blindly again and again. The dying were dis-placed at once by new men. They still were enough. What on earth had come over Kain, that he sacri-fied his men so willingly in order to blow out him and his clan?
           He went back several steps when the gate bended more and more under the attacks. The time was not yet ripe. The beam wouldn’t stand much longer and too much of them were still alive. "How many?" he shouted up to the battlements. "How many had had it?"
           "Not quite a fifth, Mylord", one of his children shouted back to him.
           "Damn that are too few! Try to pour the liquid in wide curves to reach the back lines. Throw the burning straw and wood on their heads, certainly you have enough light now because of the flames!" Raziel went up and down nervously. He must have positioned some of his bowmen on the battlements, this became clear to him now. But it was too late to line up their positions again. He only hoped that this fatal error would not cost all their life’s. From all sides slaves and vampires ran together on the front wall and heaved forward the heavy cauldrons. Their leader heard the full, heavy splashing when the boiled contents hit. Burning material was thrown down at the same time frantically. An enormous tongue of flame shot up so that it’s top jutted over the merlon and mostly the unliving on the battle-ments jumped back hastily. A maliciously hissing conflagration raced through the lines of the attackers and drowned the shrill death screams.
           "YEAAAAAHH!!!" a voice shouted down full of triumph, "Damn, that hit home!"
           "The flames are spreading more and more, Sire", one shouted to him. "The mob outside is starting to panic!"
           Before Raziel could start to answer the horde assaulted the gate for the last time. The beam bended like a thin, brittle branch and broke. Burning enemies, lashing out to all sides, rushed and tumbled all over the place when the wide doors opened. In the bright flickering of the living torches staggering forward he saw still enough unscathed unliving which were pouching from behind. They rolled like an unstoppable wave over the breaking down comrades and trod the dying bodies into the ground. They cared less about the fact that some of them caught fire themselves by doing this. Like mads they ran into the sharp-edged spears and long wooden pegs, which were put up semicircular around the en-trance. The bars shook threatenly under the recklessly frontal attack. The whole construction was levered from the ground by the weight of the aggressive crowd. Arrows and bolts were flying like a deadly swarm into the lines of the attackers. Those who were only wounded, went on, no matter how many shafts stuck in their flesh.
           Another salvo was shot into the raging mob but then they’ve already come too close. The clan leader rushed towards them with a wild cry and ploughed with his sword through the bodies. Cut off limbs and heads swirled away. The cool, thin vampire blood splashed from the sharp blade with a broad flood. His own sword fighters pushed forward to help him. In no time the yard was filled with wild yells and the massive colliding of weapons. Raziel and his men got into a dazed frenzy, not unlike to the one of the attackers. This time it was not about the conquest of a territory but about the bare life’s of his whole clan. He had thrown away the shield already after the first hit. He wasn’t used to fight with this cover. Holding the hilt of his weapon with both hands tightly, he hit out at the enemies with a furious rage. Vampire against vampire, he never had dreamt of such a horrible thing! And all this just because of a damned pair of wings.......

          ....... A touch on his shoulder made him startle and he rubbed his tired eyes. Wilbur looked at him with troubled expression. "Sire, they are advancing again", he said quietly.
           Raziel rose from the ground, folded his wings and nodded slightly. The yelling and shouting of the closing enemy could be heard clearly. That must have brought last night’s fights into his exhausted sleep. The old man served him a small pitcher from which he drunk with long, hungry drinks and drained it to the dregs. Then he returned the empty vessel to him.
           "Could you see how many they are?" he wanted to know.
           "Not nearly as many as in the night, but they are clearly superior to us. I do not like to say this, Sire, but for each of our men who are still alive now there are ten, fifteen enemies."
           The vampire closed his eyes for a moment preventing the slave to catch sight of the horror in his look. "We cannot manage that", he breathed in a flat voice. "There are just too many." He turned his face to the broken window and looked outside into the devastated yard. The broad gate was closed again and sealed with a reddish gleaming, magical barrier which covered the whole breadth of the front like a pulsating, enormous wall. "Fire magic?"
 "Aye, Sire. Sirina had woven a mighty spell. Whoever touches this barricade will burn immediately. But I doubt that our enemies will rush in here as blindly and rabidly as they did in the night."
           "We have decimated Kain’s hordes severely. But if he now let the Turelim loose on us, it will become really bad. During the course of centuries Turel’s sons have become more and more taller and stronger, and my exhausted children will hardly be able to resist now. That will not be a fight but a barbarous …. massacre, degrading for a vampire." He snorted sullenly and looked grim. "I just should go outside and give myself up to them alone. So at least some of you could leave the area through the escape tunnel. You can hide yourself in the mountains until..."
           "That is out of the question", contradicted the old man softly but impressively. "Why making this foolish sacrifice, Sire? Do you really believe that Kain will leave us in peace only because he got you? He wants everybody of us, even your mortals."
           Light, fast steps made both men turning around and looking down the corridor. A small, delicately woman was running towards them. Her long, dark robe and the steely grey hair was fluttering behind her like a flag. The troubled, slender face of the shamaness showed the exhaustion, but the energetic blazing of her bright eyes had lost nothing of its fighting strength and determination though.
           "Unfortunately I am too old, Sire, otherwise I would have invoked an infernal downpour over these bastards outside. Nevertheless I am still ready with enough tricks for granting the mob some unpleas-ant surprises. With your permission, Sire, I asked Etheban for bringing away all the slaves and the children of your clan, who have survived. They are now waiting for you in the ravine behind the escape tunnel." She stopped for a moment as she saw that the vampire’s yellow eyes narrowed slightly and dis-approvingly. "I saw no other possibility to save your tribe. You were too exhausted and I did not want to disturb your sleep. Furthermore, Etheban, as your representative, agreed to the proposal. And you should set off now. I can hold back the enemies long enough for you to escape. On the other side of the mountains there is an unexplored territory. There ends Kain’s sphere of influence. Many years ago I was there once. The area is marshy for the most part and not very suitable for your water-sensitive kind, but it will be the only possibility for you and your clan, if you do not want to be wiped out from the face of Nosgoth. Especially since nobody knows what might be behind. Maybe you are lucky and will find a new home there."
           Raziel gritted his teeth. With bright, metallic clashing throwing hooks sled down from the battle-ments and were thrown up again. But more and more of them found hold at the large stones the merlon was made of. The bastards were at the point of really boarding the fortress. What should he do? He disliked just leaving the battlefield and to escape like a coward. Never before he had withdrawn from an enemy. Inside of him it was a gnawing and seething. Then he shook his head slowly. "No, I will not withdraw."
           With a dark, determined expression he pushed his way past the two slaves and ran outside, his sword drawn. After some steps his wings already spreaded and he raised into the air with powerful beats. The shamaness ran after him horrified. "This impetuous, stubborn fool!" she cried shocked and turned pale. "Is he out of his mind?"
           Wilbur pulled her back again slowly. "Calm down, I think I know what his intention is."
           "He wants to sacrifice himself, that is his intention", gasped Sirina and shook her head uncompre-hendingly and amazed at the same time. "He can never assert himself against so many enemies, that is madness."
           "HOOOOO!!!" Raziel yelled over their heads and looked down on his enemies. "Come on you cowards! Come here!" As a result the opponents left the ropes and jumped back on the ground again.
           While the shamaness tried to enter the battlements as fast as possible, the winged vampire circled over the recent combat group. He kept a firm grip on his sword hilt, with iron hand. It was time for him to use his wings for the fight now....
 

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**Previewed by Lord Yaksha