Author's note.
This is probably still a bit rough in places; I've only been working on it since last November! *laughs* I could definitely take the record for writing slowly! There might still be a few errors and inconsistencies, if so, please point them out to me and I will do my best to correct them.
It's a bit darker than my last story, and I'm not too sure how long it will be. As long as necessary, I guess. As to things that might possibly give offence, let me see… So far, we have: lots of violence, torture, blasphemy, bad language and very bad attitudes (the usual, in other words) and some hints of yaoi as well.
Oh yeah, The Disclaimer, Kain, Raziel, Rahab, the Sarafan etc., belong to Eidos. Anyone you haven't heard of before, Ayden, Talia, etc., almost certainly belongs to me, and this story is written for fun, not profit.
Enjoy please, and tell me what you think.
A Matter of Honour
1 Shame
It was a mild autumn evening in the city of Meridian. An evening destined to be marked by mistakes and misadventure.
The Sarafan soldiers patrolling the old dock-lands on the City outskirts are relaxed and off their guard tonight. Even the older ones amongst them, men who really should know better than to relax anywhere where there is a possibility of meeting vampires, are taking less care than they should. They talk loudly as they make their way along the broad cobbled streets, laughing and joking beneath the moonlit sky, heedless of the noise they are making and keeping only half-an-eye on the shadowy terrain that surrounds them. It has grown too familiar, perhaps. They have been patrolling this area for weeks now, but they have seen only sporadic vampire activity, and the few skirmishes they have engaged in, have all ended in easy victory. Most of the vampires they have met, have beaten a hasty retreat as soon as the Sarafan have drawn their weapons.
As they make their way past the broken shells of the old warehouses, the Sarafan know they have little to fear. If any of Kain's demon-spawn are out there, they will kill them, as simple as that, for the new vampires are proving themselves to be weak and easy prey, despite the trouble they seem to be giving their comrades in other areas of Nosgoth.
Complacency, is their mistake.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Watching them from the heights of a ruined building, the vampire Ayden, smiles.
Like lambs to the slaughter, he thinks delightedly as he watches the Sarafan making their way into an area where they can be easily contained. With the Dumahim lying in wait ahead of them, and his own Rahabim warriors behind him, the outcome is certain. Tonight, nothing can go wrong. Tonight he will be able to return to his Lord and report that the whole patrol has been wiped out at a single stroke, and he is sure he will be well rewarded for his efforts.
In a way, complacency, is his mistake too.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As soon as the Sarafan see the Dumahim storming towards them, they break ranks. The order is given to stand and fight, but most of these soldiers are young and inexperienced. Instinctively, they know their only chance of survival is to run, but unfortunately, there is nowhere left for them to run to. Even as they turn to flee, the Rahabim are sweeping over the tops of the buildings, gliding down to land silently in the road before them and cutting off their only means of escape. They are trapped.
The silence is the eeriest thing of all. As the panicked youths retreat slowly back towards their comrades, the vampires simply stand and watch them. The Sarafan edge closer together, forming themselves into a loose defensive position, and still the vampires hold back, their eyes glowing faintly red as they wait for the order to be given. Counting the red points in the darkness, the soldiers can see they are outnumbered.
"Oh my God!" One of the youths gasps. "There must be at least twenty of them!" His hand tightens around the hilt of his sword until his knuckles are white and aching. With the other hand, he clutches the cross he wears around his neck, holding it so tightly that the points are breaking through the skin of his palm.
The vampires can smell his blood, and even a small amount such as this, is enough to awaken the thirst. Their eyes gleam bright in anticipation, and Ayden silently repeats his order for them to stand fast.
The boy is in such a deep panic, that he doesn't even know he had spoken aloud; he can't feel the cross digging into his hand either, or the blood that is trickling slowly into his palm. All his attention is focused on the darkness in front of him and the horrors that lie in wait. Horrors made far worse by the fact that they are barely discernable from the shadows of the buildings. One of his comrades digs him sharply in the ribs.
"Shut up!" He hisses. "You mustn't let them see you're afraid."
A low, rasping chuckle comes from the blackness in front of them. Every man present feels the hairs on the back of his neck beginning to rise. The soldiers tense, each one looking toward the direction of the sound. Silence reigns once more, broken only by their breathing, harsh and frightened. They wait, each one of them straining to listen, straining to hear anything above the frantic beating of his heart. Until, finally, a voice breaks the silence, a voice with all the qualities of a knife ripping through silk.
"We know you are afraid, Sarafan," says the voice. "Every one of you is afraid. This place stinks with your fear."
A muttered curse from somewhere in the ranks of the Sarafan, and a swift flutter of fingers as two of the soldiers cross themselves, and then, the waiting is over. Ayden gives the order and the vampires advance.
It is a short battle and a brutal one.
The Dumahim are armed with axes and heavy swords, while the Rahabim are armed with lighter weapons but their effect is no less devastating, for what they lack in weight, they more than make up for in speed. Vampires from both clans leap into the fray with enthusiasm, their orders being to maim and mutilate the bodies of their foes as much as possible, for Lord Kain has taught them this is the way to demoralize their enemy and to keep fear paramount in the mind of every Sarafan soldier.
For weeks, these vampires have been ordered to hold back, even to retreat in the face of the enemy. Now, there are no such restrictions. Now, they are allowed to indulge their instincts to their fullest and most violent extent, and they do.
At one point in the battle, Ayden looks up to find that he and Berrin, one of Lord Dumah's warriors, both have hold of the same Sarafan soldier, disarmed and wounded but still very much alive.
"Mine, I think," says Ayden, digging his claws deeper into the unfortunate soldier's body. The soldier cries out piteously and a satisfyingly warm stream of blood gushes over Ayden's fingers. Berrin shakes his head and starts to dig his claws in deeper too. For a moment, they look at each other, neither of them prepared to yield, and then, a fiendish grin spreads across both their faces as the same idea suddenly occurs to them; simultaneously, both of the vampires begin to pull.
The Sarafan put up some resistance at first, but they are outnumbered and outclassed and the terrible lure of the thirst gives their enemies a viciousness that is almost impossible to imagine. As the Sarafan begin to die, and the survivors see the terrible manner in which most of their comrades have met their end, the humans begin to lose hope, and without hope, they are lost.
It is merely a matter of minutes later that Ayden and Berrin find themselves in possession of the field, both of them deeply satisfied with their night's work. They have suffered no losses, and besides a few surface wounds, most of which will heal in no time, their warriors are unharmed. No one has been killed and no one will need to be carried back to their encampment. The raid has been a complete success.
Slowly, Ayden drains the last of the Sarafan he has killed. The adrenaline-charged blood of the soldier is intoxicating; his eyes flame scarlet, as he revels in the ecstasy of the feast. When he is finished, he drops the corpse at his feet, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, and looks over to Berrin, who is standing with the rest of the Dumahim warriors. As soon as he catches his eye, Ayden extends a bloodied hand towards him. Immediately, Berrin comes over to take it, clasping it in a firm gesture of friendship between hands that are equally gory. They slap each other across the back, looking with pleasure at the carnage that surrounds them, and then they both break into broad grins.
"Perfect!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An hour later, Ayden and his party of Rahabim warriors return to their encampment, a cluster of large, sturdy tents made from deer-hide, hidden deep in the southernmost reaches of the Termagant forest.
Ayden lifts the flap of his sire's tent and walks in. The interior is luxurious, as befits the accommodation of a Clan Lord, though it is but sparsely furnished and everything is designed to be quickly and easily packed away, for the purpose of these tents is simply to provide a base from which to oversee operations, not to provide the vampires with permanent shelter. Ayden walks over the deep carpet that covers the ground and drops to one knee by the desk where his sire is sitting, idly turning over a few maps of the city and the surrounding area. Then he stands up and waits for his lord to acknowledge him.
Rahab stops dead as Ayden rises, a single leaf of paper still held between his fingers. The pale blue eyes are raised to Ayden's face, but otherwise he does not move.
"Where have you been?" Rahab asks softly.
All the euphoria of the raid drains away in an instant and Ayden's mouth goes suddenly dry. Despite the mildness of his tone, there is no mistaking the anger in his lord's voice. He opens his mouth to reply, but no sound comes out. Ayden swallows and makes a second attempt.
"I have been out on patrol Sire, as you ordered."
"And where, were you out on patrol Ayden?" Rahab does not raise his voice but this question is loaded with quiet menace.
Ayden leans forward and hesitantly places his finger on the map in front of Rahab. "And where should you have been?" Ayden moves his finger several inches to the left. Rahab looks at him. "Are you going to offer me an explanation for this?"
"We ran into a Sarafan patrol Sire."
"Here." Says Rahab, pointing to the exact location of their battle with the Sarafan. "And what were your orders concerning this area?"
"To…Well…To stay out." Says Ayden. But we saw them entering that place three nights ago and we kept track of them every night since. They took the same route every time, and tonight, we followed them in. We couldn't take them out here, where they passed us first," he explains, "There was nowhere to set up an ambush. But here," indicating the map, "it was a different story. It was just too good an opportunity to miss, Sire! They were asking for it, they were so careless! We knew at once we'd be able to take them down. And we did, we absolutely slaughtered them!"
"So I heard." says Rahab. He leans back in his chair and looks down for a moment. "You don't know what you've done, do you?" He asks, when he looks up. "You have no idea how dearly you have cost me this night. No," he corrects himself, "not just me. How dearly you have cost all of us."
"Sire?"
Rahab is on his feet and out from behind the table faster than Ayden can register. Ayden is just in the process of taking a step backwards when his sire's fingers close tightly around his throat.
"Did you think we didn't know about that patrol?" Rahab hisses furiously, his claws tearing into Ayden's skin as he pulls him closer. A cold trickle of blood starts to make its way down Ayden's neck, seeping slowly into the shirt under his mail. "What do you think we have been doing here for the past few months?" Rahab asks him. "Playing hide and seek with these vermin, day after day. Deliberately letting them believe they have the upper hand.
The Sarafan have appointed a new lord, the same arrogant bastard from Stahlberg who lost me nearly a quarter of my clan six months ago. He is due to arrive in Meridian tomorrow, and the day after he arrived, this new Sarafan Lord was expected to go out on patrol around the city. It is a tradition among them, a gesture to demonstrate their superiority and raise moral among the troops and the commoners, but of course, he would only be allowed to patrol in a safe area." He slaps the map with his free hand, giving Ayden a little shake as he speaks. "A safe area such as the one Dumah and I have spent the past three months establishing here!"
Horrified, Ayden begins to realize the enormity of his mistake. "Do you think the Sarafan will regard this as a safe area now?" Rahab asks, his claws leaving Ayden's throat as suddenly as they had grasped it. Ayden puts a hand up to his lacerated skin and shakes his head slowly; he dare not even speak. "No! Says Rahab. "Neither do I!" He strides towards the entrance of the tent. "Just tell me," he asks, before he leaves, "whose idea this was? Yours, or that damned fool of Dumah's?"
"It was mine Sire. I take full responsibility."
Rahab shakes his head in disgust. "And to think I trusted you!" He says bitterly and then he walks out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rahab stands at the entrance to the tent, his eyes aflame, twin points of scarlet, blazing into the misty darkness. Never before, has he come quite so close to killing one of his own. Slowly, he manages to bring his rage under some semblance of control. He looks down; his fists are clenched tight in frustration. He had so very much wanted to see this particular Sarafan Lord dead. Deliberately, he stretches out his fingers and takes a slow, deep breath.
It's a mess, he realizes, and there is no possible way of rescuing the operation. Not after this. Months of planning, all brought to ruin in less than an hour by a couple of over-zealous fledglings! Rahab purses his lips together grimly, as he thinks of what he will have to tell his brother Zephon. The Zephonim have been gathering information on the Sarafan patrol routes for months now, something that has been done at great risk and not without losses to the Zephonim clan. The entire plan had been Zephon's idea in the first place. When he hears that all his efforts have come to naught through their incompetence, he is going to be livid.
And after Zephon, Rahab will have to face Kain. Dumah and he had hoped to bring the Sarafan Lord's head to their Sire. Kain has already collected three, one by his own hand and two from Raziel. It would have been sweet to have brought him the fourth before Turel had given him anything, but now, they'll have nothing to offer their sire, except for this mess, of course.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Inside the tent, Ayden stands and waits, but his lord does not return. He hears Rahab giving the order for the clan to start moving out and he steps out of the tent looking around anxiously and wondering what he should do now. It is as if he is not even there. News of his disgrace has spread throughout the clan and none of his brethren so much as speaks to him. The camp is packed up around him, and then the Rahabim begin to make their way back to the Cathedral that Rahab has recently chosen to be his headquarters. Ayden follows them, still firmly ostracised by everyone, even by those who had accompanied him on this evenings raid. Despondently, he makes his way to the basement rooms. He lies awake for a time, alone in the crypt where he usually rests, thinking with some trepidation, of what might lie store for him the next evening and wondering what punishment Rahab will decree for his disobedience.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It is worse than he could ever have imagined.
As soon as the sun goes down, he is awoken and taken from the casket where he has slept. The entire clan has assembled to see him brought before their Lord. He is led up the aisle and then pushed roughly down to his knees before Rahab, who is standing on the raised platform that once held the altar. Every vampire present averts their eyes from him, for every one of them knows the favoured son is favoured no longer, and no one wishes to be associated with his disgrace. After his crimes have been read out, Rahab steps forward. He strips Ayden of his cloak, his weapons and his armour, everything in fact that ties him to his clan.
"This vampire is no longer Rahabim." Rahab announces, breaking his sword as he speaks. "He has brought shame and dishonour to our clan. From this day forward, he is no son of mine! The name of Ayden shall be erased from the roll. Take him to the cells!" He orders.
Numb with shock, Ayden is led down to the dungeons, walking between two fledglings who won't even look at him, fledglings who would have been proud to call him brother the night before. He is put into a large square cell; his wrists are manacled and he is chained to the wall with a long stout chain, and then, they leave him alone.
For a long time, he does nothing. He just stands in the darkness wondering why it is that he is still alive, and wondering also if it might be better that he were not. As night begins to turn to day, he notices that the cell appears to be getting lighter. In horror, Ayden turns around, examining the walls for tell-tale patches of brightness, but the cell does not appear to have any windows. The waning darkness is a complete mystery. Then, he looks up; a small, circular patch of light is clearly visible above his head. The cell has a skylight!
From the moment the first ray of watery sunlight seeps above the horizon, sleep becomes impossible, or at least sleep, as Ayden has known it until now. At dawn, the walls of the cell are still deep in shadow. Terrified, Ayden huddles into a corner, his fear fighting with his body's insistence that it needs sleep, but sleep he must.
The Sun is not strong this day. Thick rain clouds and mist obscure almost all of its brightness, but as it tracks its course across the sky, it's weak light pushes the shadows around the room and Ayden is forced to move with them.
Repeatedly, he is goaded awake, his skin blistering, as the light grows in intensity, and his eyes in agony from the brightness, despite his efforts to shield them with his arms. The chain allows him to reach all but one corner of the cell, and that is enough to give him some protection, but even so, by the time the Sun goes down, he has been badly burnt and because he has not fed, these wounds heal extremely slowly.
When the chill, damp air of night finally pervades his cell, he stretches out full length across the flags, staring up unseeingly, at the stars. The cold stones soothe his hurts, but his burns are only just healed by morning, and then, the torture begins all over again.
As the days slip by, and Ayden soon learns to measure time by days rather than nights, he falls into a routine. He curls up to sleep in a corner where he will be safe from the early morning sun, dozing fitfully until he is aroused by the stinging sensation of his flesh being burned by the light. Then, he crawls deeper into the shadows, where he falls unconscious again, until the pain reawakens him and he is forced to move once more, this miserable process being repeated over and over again, until finally, the sun goes down.
He has not fed since his ill-fated raid upon the Sarafan, and each night his wounds take a little longer to heal. At the end of three weeks, his body is covered in burns and sores. Even worse, he is tormented almost constantly by the thirst. In desperation, he turns upon himself, tearing his own flesh with his fangs in a futile attempt to satisfy his need for blood, but all he manages to do is to add to his wounds, and if anything, the thirst is more intense than ever. By the end of the fourth week, he is almost completely blind. If he had the courage, he thinks, he would walk into the light and end it, but he can't, the instinct to survive is too strong within him.
He wonders how long it would take for him to die from starvation. He is Rahab's first-born, thirty years old, just like his sire, and he is considered strong for his age. It could take months, he realizes. But, it is unlikely to be the hunger that kills him. When the weather breaks and the Sun is no longer obscured by clouds, even the farthest corners of the cell will not be shaded deep enough to save him. The Rahabim have always been particularly vulnerable to sunlight and Ayden knows, even in winter, an hour of full noonday sunlight would be more than enough to kill him.
Either way, He is doomed. Whether it is by slow starvation or by a searing burst of light, Ayden knows he is going to die here, locked in this cell, forgotten and alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When the key turns in the lock, later that evening, Ayden doesn't even look up. He knows it is night time but he cannot see who it is that enters the cell. His eyes are so damaged now, that the only purpose they serve is to add to his misery. Even in the dark, the pain from them stabs at him constantly. There is a sharp hiss of breath as whoever it is, catches sight of him and then the manacles are unlocked.
"Somebody help me here!" A voice orders and another vampire enters the cell.
"Rohan?" He asks, turning towards the one who had spoken, but there is no reply. His arms are put across their shoulders and Ayden is half-carried, half-dragged out of the cell.
The vampires take him to a room and he is laid upon a bed of some sort. There is a strange, almost chemical, taint to the air, he notices. Someone helps him to a sitting position and he is fed blood from a cup. He drinks gratefully, the torment of the thirst at last receding, though the small amount they give him is not enough to subdue it completely. When the cup is taken from his lips, his head is laid back onto the pillows. Ayden lies quiet while something cool is placed across his eyes and then bandaged lightly into place. Then, he is turned onto his side and the sores and burns that cover his skin are salved and dressed, a painful process in itself, though the hands that touch him are gentle and do not seek to augment his pain. No one speaks to him and Ayden doesn't attempt to speak to them, he is not even sure if there is anything left, that he wants to say.
When they have finished tending him, he lies back. He hurts all over and he is weary to the bone, too weary to ask why he has been taken from his cell. Too weary even, to wonder much about it, himself. He simply lies there passively, waiting for sleep to take him, so his body can begin the slow process of healing itself.
The next evening, he is fed again and then the bandages are removed from his eyes.
"Can you see me?" A voice asks. "Can you see anything? Anything at all?"
Ayden slowly opens his eyes; they still hurt, and for a moment, the pain is all he is aware of, but he can discern a patch of brightness somewhere ahead of him, though he can't make out what it is.
"I can see something there," he says, pointing to the light. "But that's all. Everything is blurred."
The bandages are replaced and Ayden is fed once more.
"That's good," says the voice.
It is Rohan he is sure of it, though he does not seek confirmation again. Rohan was always skilled in the healer's arts.
"Very good," the voice continues. You should recover, given time." Ayden can hear steps receding away. Suddenly, they stop and then they return, the vampire is standing by his bed again. "I suppose I should warn you." The voice says. "Lord Rahab wishes to see you tomorrow evening."
Rahab wants to see him? Ayden's heart leaps in his breast. Some of his eagerness must have shown in his face, because a hand is laid lightly upon his shoulder.
"I don't know what he wants to see you for," the voice continues gently. "But I wouldn't go getting my hopes up; if you take my meaning."
But he can't help it. His sire wishes to see him. How could he not have hope?
They feed him several more times that evening and as day breaks, Ayden falls into a deep sleep that is almost painless.
When he awakens, the bandages are again removed from his eyes and this time, they are not replaced. The vampire tending him leaves the room and someone else enters. Although his sight is still extremely blurred, Ayden knows it is Rahab who now stands beside his bed. He would know his sire anywhere.
"They tell me you have every chance of making a full recovery." Rahab says coldly. "Understand, I have ordered you released for only one reason; I have need of you."
Ayden turns his face towards Rahab.
"Sire?"
A sudden flare of pain as Rahab's claws rake across his face. Rahab grips his shoulder and leans in close, his blue eyes glinting furiously.
"Don't you ever presume to call me that!" He hisses. "You have no claim on me! You are a tool, nothing more and I have brought you out so I may use you. You are expendable. My children are not!"
Ayden lies back against the pillows and closes his eyes. Those words have cut him far deeper than Rahab's claws ever could.
"So, what is it you want?" He asks.
"The repercussions of your escapade continue to plague us." Rahab tells him. "The new Sarafan Lord is of a somewhat different quality than those that have gone before. He has succeeded in rallying the humans, and they have had several victories against us in recent weeks. Because of you, I have lost yet more of my clan, and I have lost Zafar."
Ayden's head reels as he takes in this information. Zafar is Rahab's second born, scarcely six months his junior. They had been raised together. "He has been captured." Rahab continues. "And even now, the Sarafan are torturing him in their accursed stronghold.
Ayden swallows. "Is there to be a rescue, attempt?"
Rahab gives a short bitter laugh.
"We are down to forty-nine able-bodied warriors and a handful of half-trained fledglings. What chance do you think we would have? No, no rescue. This requires something more subtle than storming the walls of the keep. As soon as the healer declares you fit, I will give you your orders. If you think you'll be capable of following them this time!"
Rahab strides from the room without waiting to hear his answer, and Ayden is left alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It is three more nights before Ayden is declared fit for duty. His sight has recovered and the wounds on his body have also completely healed. At a casual glance, it would appear that nothing untoward has happened to him at all.
When he awakens on the fourth evening, the healer tells him to dress and then to make his way straight to the conference room. Lord Rahab and four of his brothers are already there. He notices his brother Inah, Rahab's third son, has taken the place that was once reserved for him, the seat at Rahab's right hand. As soon as Ayden walks into the room, Inah turns to his sire, his eyes blazing.
"What is that doing here, Sire?"
Rahab indicates that Ayden should stand over by the wall. No place has been left for him to sit at the table.
"The spy will play a pivotal role." Rahab explains to Inah. "The Sarafan Lord has sent me a list of his demands. If Zafar is to be released, I will need to enter into negotiations with him and I cannot afford to do that blind; I need reliable information, and at some stage in the future, I shall also be in need of a go-between."
'The spy.' Ayden looks ahead impassively as he ponders the implications of these words. So, that is how his sire regards him now, as something so low, that it does not even merit a name. And the others? He looks around, but at this moment, not one of them will meet his eyes. Finally, Inah looks up, shooting Ayden a particularly baleful stare from beneath brows still drawn together in anger. He settles back in his chair, making the timbers creak in protest as he leans heavily against the backrest.
'If it was down to me,' he whispers, 'you wouldn't even be alive!'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Ayden receives his orders, he begins to understand why Rahab is unwilling to risk any of the others in this role, and also, why it is that he is in need of a spy.
Since the incident in the Docklands, Rahab and Zephon have barely been on speaking terms and Zephon has flatly refused to give his brother any aid at all.
Rahab had approached him, of course; he had to, for no one else has as much information on the Sarafan defences as his brother Zephon. But Zephon had been too annoyed by his request even to be amused.
"Your insistence on total secrecy…" Rahab had begun.
"Was made with good reason! My people do as they are told, without asking questions or needing explanations! Don't try and make excuses, brother. You got yourself into this hole." Zephon had hissed. "Now you can dig yourself out of it!"
Rahab had tried reasoning with him.
"All I am asking you for is information."
But Zephon had only become more incensed.
"All!" He had cried. "All? How dare you speak as if this is some trivial favour you ask of me? If you could even began to appreciate how hard information is to come by, you would not speak of it so lightly."
"Zephon, please," Rahab had said, his tone placatory, "I do appreciate and value your expertise, believe me."
Zephon sniffed haughtily.
"And the last time I gave you something, you simply wasted it." He said. "No, brother. I shall not repeat my mistake. If you do find yourself in need of information, may I suggest that this time, you go out there and get it for yourself!"
After this humiliating dismissal, Rahab had known he must rely on his own resources.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The first priority is to find out where Zafar is being held and what condition he is in." Rahab tells them. "That is where you come in." He says, turning to Ayden. "You have the gift of being able to take a mist-form, and with the mild, wet weather we are experiencing at the moment, Meridian is almost permanently fog-bound. I want you to penetrate the Sarafan defences and bring this information back to me. Can you do that?"
Ayden looks at his sire. "Whatever you may think of me, now," he says, "Zafar is still my brother. I will do all in my power to see that he is released."
"You are to leave at once." Rahab tells him with a dismissive nod.
"Unarmed?" Ayden asks, incredulously.
"No, of course not. I want you back alive. Take what you need from the armoury. Anything that doesn't bear my clan insignia that is."
Fortunately, the armoury contains enough plundered Sarafan weapons to give Ayden plenty of choice. He takes a rapier and a dagger, and slips another short knife into his boot. Then he sets about finding Sarafan armour that will actually fit him, not such an easy task, since he is tall, but also lean in build and leanness is not a common trait among the Sarafan. When he is finished, he looks like some strange vampire-Sarafan hybrid. He certainly does not look like a Rahabim warrior. Dressed like this, he realizes, he is going to be in just as much danger from the vampires of the other clans as he is from the Sarafan. None of them are going to know what he is, and in times like these, they are unlikely to waste time asking him questions.
He walks down to the main doors of the cathedral and they are swung silently open to let him past. There is no one to wish him well and no one to say farewell. As the doors swing shut behind him, Ayden can't help thinking how different things had been, just a few short weeks ago. He sighs deeply, but he knows there is no point in dwelling on what he has lost. Thinking about it, will not bring it back, and neither will it make it easier to bear. Pushing these uncomfortable thoughts aside, Ayden turns his face away from the Rahabim stronghold and makes his way towards the darkened city.