AN: Edited 10/22/15
The Nature Guardian
The infant Nature Guardian writhed in her coarse bundle of furs, toothless mouth open in a plaintive whine, too exhausted to cry. When she reached her highest pitch she still caused Kain's ears a little pain, yet he took some pleasure in it, too, for such a large sound revealed the strength held in her tiny body. Gently, he brushed the covering from her face and found his fingers greeted by a tuft of soft blonde hair. He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, coaxing her to open her eyes. Turquoise eyes.
Soft lavender magic surrounded his claws. As he waved his hand across her face the light entered her eyes: a charm spell. Her tears dried almost instantly, replaced by happy gurgles. This would keep the Nature Guardian quiet and content for a while.
Kain would have liked to collect her sooner. Unfortunately, business at the Sanctuary kept him detained.
When he returned from the Chronoplast, he had less than thirty vampires on his side, most of them Zilahim exiles. Now pilgrims clawed at the Sanctuary doors night and day, swearing fealty in one breath and gorging themselves on his blood stores the next, a constant stream of hungry mouths drawn to the Pillars. By the time he left for Termogent to seek the Nature Guardian, his followers numbered more than two hundred. Few seemed sincere in their devotion. As long as their loyalty held true to him, he did not care why they came.
Besides the pilgrims, repairing and fortifying the Sanctuary quickly became his top priority. Raiders too saw opportunity in the Pillars. These scavenging thieves knew other vampires would gather at their foundations, bringing blood and weapons for them to take. During the first week one small band of Dumahim vagrants managed to sneak in through a broken wall and abscond with a dozen slaves, only half of which Kain recovered.
There had been no human attacks, yet. Most of Erste Stadt's forces appeared to be tied up fighting for the Necropolis. If they conquered that territory, they would likely come for the Sanctuary next. He hoped Raziel would awaken before that time. His assistance would be invaluable. He also needed him to assemble the Circle.
Kain glanced over his shoulder at the remains of the human camp. Earlier in the evening, a large band of nomads had settled here to sleep, amid a circle of ancient ruins upon the vast plain that had once been the Black Forest. Blood and death now shrouded the dark camp. Shakeel and Bulus, two of Kain's finest raiders, tied up the surviving humans and cowed them into submission. Meanwhile, one of the younger Turelim, Mumin, snapped their spears into sections like twigs and tied the pieces up in a bundle to be used for fire. The other, Nadir, searched their crude shelters for useful supplies. They traveled with waterskins and a few bags of tubers and dried meat for nourishment. With most of the humans now dead, they had more than enough supplies to see them back to the Sanctuary.
Their crossbows, of which there were only two, and bolts would be taken back to the Sanctuary and added to the growing armory. Such fine weaponry must have been traded for or stolen from Erste Stadt's vampire hunters. The rest of their weapons were crude, sharpened stones attached to bone or sticks with leather strips, and not worth the burden.
Kain's raiding party was small and efficient, made up of four Turelim and Kain himself. The largest of the group, Shakeel, had been responsible for several successful raids on the Necropolis and surrounding territories, securing slaves and plunder for the Sanctuary before Melchiah's lands fell under human attack. Bulus assisted, leading smaller groups on reigns of terror to divert resources from the primary target. He was barrel chested, even for a Turelim, and his fangs stuck out the front of his mouth like a bulldog.
Nadir and Mumin had no history, young pilgrims of the wastes. This mission was their first trial. Nadir had performed well, to Kain's pleasure, but Mumin seemed restless. Their job would be to shoulder the supplies.
There were four men and two women among the spoils. Like all those descended from slaves they spoke the common language of the empire, albeit in a crude, diminished form. They wore fur cloaks and clothing reinforced with scraps of armor scavenged from the clans. Once they reached the slave pens under the Sanctuary, they would be stripped, shaved of their matted hair, washed and prepared for bleeding.
The Nature Guardian's mother, a wild-haired woman with flaking skin, finally stopped wailing and submitted to her captors, closely comforted by an adolescent female, apparently her daughter. From Nadir, Kain learned she called herself Bren. Her mother's unusual skin condition caused Kain concern. It did not appear contagious, but then none of these humans were completely healthy. Their fingernails were yellowed, their hair coarse and stinking of lice. Some of the males were missing fingers. Bren was the youngest, after her baby sister, and although the wastes may have aged them before their time, none appeared older than forty and most younger than thirty. The Sanctuary was in dire need of new blood. They would have to take the risk. However, he felt reluctant to return the Nature Guardian to her sickly mother's care.
When they returned to the Sanctuary he would hand the child over to Sweetblood. She was a Necropolis flesh keeper, responsible for repairing and maintaining the perpetually rotting flesh of her Melchiahim masters, and although she had no experience with children, her attentiveness and desire to please distinguished her from other slaves. Her ample, well-bred breasts would provide the Nature Guardian with all the nourishment she required.
While they obviously had no inkling of the child's importance, the ignorance of these feral humans was no less harmful than intentful negligence in Kain's eyes. The result would have been the same: an early, likely painful death for the Nature Guardian. Even the peasants of Nosgoth's past, who lived under far better conditions than these, lost most of their children during their first months of life. In fact, had allowed the Nature Guardian to remain with her family, she likely would not have received a name until she began to walk, if she survived that long.
However, he did have a name in mind. It was the first he thought of, though he did mull over a few others along the way to Termogent. "Callisto."
A strong name, he thought, but dreadfully beautiful. The music of those letters clashed with the bleak, silent plain. Skeletal trees huddled in small pockets like mourners around their fallen brethren; their once proud bodies bent over the uneven ground, watched over by deadwood tombstones. They had so much work to do.
By the time they were prepared to leave Callisto had fallen fast asleep in his arms. Kain gave her to Bren and instructed Shakeel to keep her mother separate until further notice. He did not want Callisto with her mother until he had more time to observe her condition. They needed to put distance between themselves and the nomads' camp, for the smell of blood would soon attract other predators.
...
Callisto's mother perished during the first night. They did not discover her death until dawn. There were no marks on her, apart from the bruises sustained during her capture. Kain felt relieved to be rid of her. The enigma of her skin disease weighed on him throughout the night, leading him to worry it might spread to the other slaves at the Sanctuary, until he thought of killing her himself. Bren made an adequate if inexperienced wet nurse. He had no more use for her.
They left the mother's body where she lay, hands still bound, and continued south west toward the Sanctuary. Her blood was too stale to drink. Bren said nothing of her mother's death. She seemed conveniently numb.
Tensions rose steadily throughout the day. Turelim had the most sensitive hearing of all the clans. While this gift made up for their poor eyesight, when Callisto howled her worst, the shrill noise nearly crippled them. Kain resorted to brandishing the Soul Reaver to stop Mumin from tearing Bren and her sister apart.
He could not keep the Nature Guardian charmed all day. He knew enough about children to understand that their cries served a purpose. Bren was too inept to anticipate her sister's needs without them.
They marched on through the day and did not stop until the coldest part of the night. Shakeel and Bulus kept watch while Mumin set up a fire and Nadir refilled their bloodskins with a few of the male slaves. The bloodskin was a Melchahim invention: a corked bag sewn from specially enchanted human skin, used to keep human blood fresh long after it should have spoiled, especially useful on long trips such as this, for they could be sure of their portions and thereby lessen the risk of bleeding their humans dry. It was important to keep them alive. A living human could feed far more vampires than a dead one. Once the bloodskins were filled, Nadir distributed rations to the slaves, using the supplies taken during the raid.
Kain stood on the edge of the camp. He watched Bulus lope away from the camp on all fours, starting on the first patrol of the night, then turned his attention west. The Pillars were now near enough to be seen even without starlight. At their current pace they should reach the Sanctuary by tomorrow. If not for the humans, they could be there before sunrise.
Kain resolved to take the next shift from Nadir after Bulus returned from patrol. He needed to escape this insufferable lull.
The Nature Guardian had not stopped complaining since they settled down for the night. Kain did his best to tune out the noise. Even the other humans had moved as far away from the sisters as their bindings allowed, grumbling and spitting venomous words at Bren.
"Quiet, the lot of you!" Shakeel roared, looming between the humans and the fire. The adults cowered. Violent sobs shook Bren's body and Callisto's cries reached a new pitch.
Ordinarily, Kain enjoyed watching Shakeel work. At the start of the raid he had seen him lift one of the lookouts into the air with telekenisis and hurl him into the nomad's fire, simultaneously sowing fear and confusion and snuffing out the light as the tribe scrambled to put him out. It was a beautiful sight. While Shakeel took center stage, drawing the attention of the armed humans, Bulus led the other two around the camp, rounding up the women and killing any who tried to resist. The slaughter lasted less than two minutes. Kain never needed to lift a finger.
Catching a low snarl, Kain spotted Mumin moving toward the humans and stood to intercept him. "Stand down, boy."
In spite of his earlier warning, Mumin stood his ground, teeth bared. His ears were pressed so hard against his neck they seemed fused to his skin. Kain simply brushed him aside. He would address this insubordination later.
Bren offered no protest as Kain took the Nature Guardian from her. Once in his arms Callisto's cries softened, to his surprise. Perhaps she had learned he had the power to make her tears go away. He spoke to her gently, coaxing her to open her eyes enough for him to perform the spell. When he tried to hand her back to Bren the young woman crossed her arms tight to her chest, her tear streaked face burning with contempt, and he thought better of it. He stood, holding Callisto.
"Shakeel, Nadir - please remind Mumin of his place."
That was all the encouragement Shakeel needed. He fell upon Mumin like a rock, knocking him head first into the ground and pinning him. Nadir appeared awkwardly at his side, but his superior had already done most of the work, so Nadir improvised, puffing up and snarling menacingly. There was blood splattered around Mumin's mouth when Kain stood over him.
"You will be taking the next two patrols. Consider this your final warning." Kain turned to the other two. "Make sure he understands."
Kain carried Callisto away as the beating commenced. He stood impassively on the other side of the fire, where she would be warm, and watched Nadir hold Mumin down while Shakeel pounded his ribs. Ordinarily he would keep his mirth behind a mask, yet he burned with quiet anger.
That feral look in Bren's eyes when he tried to return Callisto made it clear; she would rather smother her little sister to death than face the tribe's ire. Now that they understood why they had been captured, they hated her. Their callous betrayal aroused his ire even when he fully expected it and he looked forward to their introduction to the bloodpen with renewed mirth.
Their hatred was momentarily silenced in the spectacle of Mumin's beating. Shakeel and Nadir left him panting blood, curled in a trembling heap on the ground. His wounds would heal before Bulus returned, yet their memory would remain, a lesson that sizzled in his nerves. Kain eyed his prone form with satisfaction.
Callisto remained unaffected by the violence, sheltered by the lavender lights in her eyes. Her tiny hand reached for the red sash across Kain's chest. He looked down and saw her staring directly into his eyes, her wet tongue stuck between her gums, making a bubbly, purring sound. He puzzled. The calming effects of this spell normally put her to sleep in minutes. Their gaze held. Suddenly, Kain felt a warm tickle in his chest.
"Silly thing." He brushed her hand away with the back of his claw. As he did so, she reached out and gripped his finger with all her tiny might. When he tried to pull away she held onto him greedily and gurgled. He imagined a sword in those hands, one day. Nosgoth needed more than healers. It needed survivors, fighters, passion and bravado. Seeing the life in this little one tugged at the corners of his mouth.
He never expected to make it this far. Only after the quake of the Pillars' re-birth, after he had carried Raziel to his quarters, quelled the resulting panic, and assigned teams to assess the damage and stabilize the Sanctuary, only then, when the thrill of triumph wore away, did he grasp the scope of his unpreparedness. Oh, how sublime to be surprised.
Kain reminisced on the rivers of blood he spilled to tear this land away from its unworthy human rulers. When he laid the foundations of his palace around the shattered Pillars, he believed he was writing the first chapter of the most magnificent period in recorded history, the genesis of his empire. Gazing upon Callisto revealed the empire's 'golden age' for a bronze era. A more glorious era waited on the horizon, in the shadows of those nine white towers, and in his very arms. She would be his angel of the damned, the dark mother of their new world.
Lowering himself beside the fire, Kain allowed Callisto to gum on his gloved claw. The Turelim paid them no mind. Their eyesight was too poor to see his smile.
Callisto was fast asleep when Bulus returned from patrol. He laid down on his stomach like a dog, joining Kain next to the fire, and turned his head to sniff at the infant in his arms. He was an obedient but simple-minded creature. Kain cautioned him, "She's sleeping."
Bulus relaxed slightly. He kept his voice down. "What of the other one?"
"Tomorrow, we shall see," Kain replied quietly. Bulus did not seem to understand the limitations of his abilities. While he could sense the locations other Pillar Guardians, he knew little of their condition.
Bulus folded his arms and rested his head on them, eyes half-closed. "I hope he's less willful. I like both of them better when they're asleep."
Kain glanced in the direction of the Sanctuary and at the handle of the Soul Reaver on his back. While there was something to be said for this refreshing silence, he started to miss Raziel's backtalk almost the moment he gave himself to the Reaver - not that he would ever admit it to anyone. For all his insolence, at least he could count on him to be honest.
