Lent's Uneasiness

Hours passed, and although Lent trained as hard as ever, he could not find the closure that he needed. After a nice bath, Lent made his way down the dark halls of the temple and stopped. "Must you always hide in the shadows before approaching someone, Gadorian?" "How did you know it was me?" Gadorian asked. "I can always tell when a vampire is near, I get a distinct feeling for each vampire that I can't explain. And I never forget a vampire." "I want to talk to you about Izael," Gadorian said. "Don't waste your breath," Lent responded, "Whatever you all are planning with him is your business, and not mine. My business is tending to Kain, providing meals for you all, and protecting you when daylight comes. That is the job of a vampire worshiper; the Loki tradition kept for..." Lent stopped. He hated to talk about his heritage, just another reminder that it was ending. "It doesn't matter."
"I have seen many worshippers in my years, and none as crafty as you," said Gadorian. Lent replied, "You didn't come here to give me thanks. So I ask you, what do you want of me?" "Izael is...not quite what you think he is." Lent continued training, not flinching a bit at Gadorian's words. Gadorian continued, "I know more about the sword than anyone else alive ever could. You must believe me on that. The story I am about to tell you is contained in no book or tome of history; the very nature of these events demanded they remain entirely secret. The sword bearer, Izael, is not of the line of the Serioli chief, though what you know of the chief's greed and betrayal is accurate. Furious that he had been passed over for the privilege of wielding the sword" ...Gadorian was nearly choked up as he recovered the painful memory he had sought for so many years to repress... "he killed its intended wielder, one of the first brood of humans given the gift by the ancients, and stole the sword. The tomes then tell that the chief slaughtered the champion's human son, still no more than a child, and that the sword passed down his line through the hands of vampire-hunters."
Lent still acted as if he heard nothing, though Gadorian sensed he was very upset by his words. "The chief did kill a child, an infant. He thought it to be the rightful heir and thus his enemy. But the child was an imposter...The vampiric guardian of the sword, confused and seeking a way to protect its integrity, sought out an innocent babe to replace that of the true blade's heir. The chief slaughtered this innocent and believed his mission done.
"The vampire took the child he had saved and raised him till he was a youth, teaching him to fight and use fierce magic, all the while instructing him of his true destiny, for the boy was far wiser than his years suggested. He then, under the guise of a human, brought the boy back and entreated the chief to adopt him. The vampire had since succeeded in assassinating all of the chief's other children, and thus he was eager for a worthy heir.
"The sword thus passed through the human hands the ancients had intended for it, and its vampiric guardian watched over them, guiding them and telling them of the truth, though urging them to keep it a secret, for fear that their tribesmen would rebel at he who was the descendent of the one that their glorious chief of legend had slain. Few of the ancients remained alive by this time, and most of those that did shut themselves away in the citadel. Still, hope remained to reconcile the alliance that was so cruelly destroyed when the chief's sword pierced the champion's heart. The wisest decided to wait until the time was right before revealing the truth. So the story continued for centuries, while the ancients waited for a time to rebuild the failing trust between the humans and vampires, what with the human pillar guardians who were forced the gift against their will, ignorant of its necessity. And thus it continued until the pillars of time and death, Moebius and Mortanius, refu—"
"Enough!" Lent shouted, nearly rupturing his throat with the violence of his call. "Enough..." Gadorian walked back out towards the balcony and watched the stars over Meridian. He felt a slight tingling on his cheek. The drop fell from his eye, though it was not of blood, as vampire tears are, but salt and water...

Lent stopped training, and took notice of Gadorian's tears. He then remembered that Gadorian had also grabbed a bottle of wine earlier. He had heard rumors of a vampire who had human traits. Some believed they were vampils, a vampire born of a human woman. But Lent knew that all vampires were sterile. "You switched the infants, didn't you?" Lent asked. "I can see it in your eyes. You're the vampiric guardian of the Serioli blade." Lent then understood why Gadorian carried human traits - he was the very embodiment of the alliance between the two races. Gadorian looked down painfully, and Lent knew he had crossed too far mentioning the child. "I'm sorry" Lent said. Gadorian shook his head, forgiving Lent's insolence. Few things in this world are held precious, and innocence is one of them. It is a sin among vampires to kill a child, and this was a pain that Gadorian had carried an eternity. "I'd like to help you," Lent said, "But my place is with Kain. I will serve him until I die. I hope you understand."

"I understand your pain, Gadorian. I remember what you suffered." Novanus walked out of the shadows and walked towards the weeping vampire and placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder. Novanus turned to Lent, "I was the seer and high priest to the Serioli. The link between the tribe and the Ancients whom we worshiped. I was also the first victim of the chief Astical. Astical had been a young, proud and somewhat rash leader to the tribe and when I learned his designs on the blade he killed me. That was when the Ancients passed on their gift to me. However they prevented me from interfering with Astical's actions. I couldn't stop his actions, couldn't protect my tribe from what was to happen. They told me my time was to come and so I was forced to watch events unfold.
"You know that Izael is the protector of the blade but you do not know the true purpose of the blade. It is the key to maintaining a barrier between this world and a plane of existence where only one entity resides. The Nerayan is a plane of existence of great suffering, the creatures who exist there were formerly human, but at the time of their deaths passed away possessing the most negative of minds. Such minds are those reborn into this underworld. And as grains of sand become the desert, so did the minds of this realm merge, forming the Wraithen, a collective mental entity. Should that entity break through into this dimension, it would leave nothing with any form of intelligence living or dead. Izael is eminently important at this time. I realize you have your charge in Kain but what we are doing here is very important and should we fail, it won't matter how well you looked after my old friend in there. We will be dead."
Novanus left Gadorian and Lent and wandered through to his old private sanctum. He approached the small altar and knelt down. He needed time to recuperate and focus on the events of the past few days. It had all happened so quickly. Novanus hoped that a brief period of meditation would help him focus on what would have to be done. He had so much to attend to.
Gadorian would help train Izael but he could only take things so far. That was no disrespect to Gadorian. Although his unique history gave him a certain affinity to both the blade and Izael, his knowledge was incomplete. Novanus had help forge the blade, he knew its true secrets. Gadorian's charge was to protect the bearer of the blade. The Sword was only part of the key which held the barrier between that accursed realm and his own. There were other factors to consider, one other artifact would need to be recovered. That journey alone would be arduous but there were rituals which would need to be performed, ones that he alone would have to attend to.
The degradation of the pillars was the only aspect that could attribute to what was happening. With the unbalanced pillars everything in the world was in a state of flux. The magic that Novanus would have to perform would partly involve drawing from the same universal essence from which the Pillars drew their immeasurable power. The thought of performing the ritual without the aid of his Ancient masters was daunting at best. Healing the Pillars was another option which would reseal the fabric of the barrier between worlds. Unfortunately the only one who had any hope of healing the Pillars now lay in the improvised crypt in the scriptorium. Novanus' mind turned to another problem.

Lent would still probably be a problem. Izael's presence was obviously a cause of annoyance to the vampire worshipper. He did not understand the complexity of the situation that he was involved in. Kain had been his primary charge for so long that the vampire servant had lost sight of the importance of anything else. He would need his perspective readjusted.
Lessa had nearly lost her life to Kain's insatiable blood lust. It had taken a severe telekinetic blow from Novanus to make the vampire release Lessa but in the brief moments of lucidity that he could make out from Kain, he had sensed the Kain that he had known centuries before. How well he remembered his old companion and the way they had spent their time traveling Nosgoth without any care. They had done whatever they wanted feeding till they were glutted and enjoying themselves. In every city they tempted the Sarafan, leading them on a merry dance only to turn around and hunt the hunters. Kain had been the only one in centuries who had the same passion for the gift of Vampirism as he. And now that same vampire lay almost completely helpless under the very same roof as he.