Death shalt thou lie; and nought
Be told of thee or thought...
- Sappho, 'Achtung' [tr. Thomas Hardy]

Images from the Dark Land

I

He fought right up to the end: the cold, the hungering darkness, both impatient to claim him. He would not die like this. Something inside him still burned, weakly, with a fading light. Death held him as he struggled, pinning him easily with one hand onto brush and pyre-wood. An icy grip supported his neck. They each were slick with the other's blood.

'Don't be afraid.' Death smiled through his fangs, tenderly, as the last of Eric's strength gave out. 'I'll be here when you wake.'

II

'They age. Their bodies grow sick and die. They are not like us,' said Godric.

'But what are we?' Eric asked, not taking his eyes from the tiny village on top of the rise, where two-score inhabitants lay sleeping. The stink of their animals mingled with the sweet scent of human blood. He felt the prickle of his teeth as they lengthened in anticipation.

'We're here, and alive,' said Godric, firmly.

There would be no mercy. The village would burn at the end of the night.

III

Fourteen years before he met another like them.

They were in the forest; she came alone to greet them. The hem of the female's blood-coloured gown dragged in the dirt as she prostrated herself before Eric's maker, finery around her pallid neck glinting like flame in the moonlight.

She was, Eric recognised from the rituals of wolves, offering her bare throat. He could not imagine himself doing the same; but then, he had nothing to fear from Godric. Handing the reins of his nervous horse to Eric, Godric extended a hand to touch her chin. 'Prisca,' he said, and Eric thought with a start: He knows her.

Only then did she lift her head. 'Godric. It is an honour to have you with us again. You and your kin are welcome in my domain.'

'We are only passing through,' said Godric, soberly. 'We'll stay a day, three at most.' He gestured at his child, introducing him to her. 'This is Eric.'

Even as a human woman, Prisca would likely have been too well-schooled to show her relief, so she merely inclined her head again and smiled, her lovely face softening. Eric felt her eyes graze up and down his form. 'Please,' she said, looking from one to the other, 'avail yourselves of the comforts and nourishment I can offer at my castle. It is the least I can do for old friends.'

To Eric's surprise, Godric declined the offer, as formally as it had been extended. Prisca soon left, inviting them still to change their minds. Their steeds were calm once she had disappeared.

They covered five miles in silence before Godric suddenly brought them to a stop. 'Listen,' he said, in a voice that was half command, half apology. 'You mustn't trust the others, even though they are our kind. Her human vassals could have destroyed us as we slept, or bound us with silver, so that she could consume our blood.'

'The others,' echoed Eric, thoughtful. 'Is that why I have never met any before now, because they're dangerous?'

'I've been avoiding them -'

'Yes?'

'And if they didn't try to kill you, they might want you to join them,' Godric admitted. Eric was fascinated by the hesitation and wheeled his horse around, leaning over to look his maker in the face. He thought they knew each other as well as any two people could; but this was new.

'Godric,' he said, lightly, 'if you want me to go, say it and I will go.' Godric froze, expressionless, and Eric went on: 'But until then, promises of a soft life and some human servants are not going to make me want to leave you.' An uncontained smile spread across Godric's face. 'You're not obligated -' he said. 'You do have a choice.'

'I don't feel obligated,' Eric insisted. He laughed, and the pressure of some nameless emotion was released from his chest. 'I want to be where you are.'

IV

There is no world, it turns out, so large that one person can wander it forever, and not grow tired of what he sees.

Two people, though. Maybe there is a way.

THE END

23 August 2009