As dusk fell on Nosgoth's ravaged terrain, the deserted halls of Moebius'
ultimate toy began to resound with the steady, rhythmic beat of cloven feet
on marble. The shadowy murals and undulating sculptures that adorned every
curving wall and twisting column added an air of disquiet to the already
uncertain atmosphere emanating from the small party of vampires. Raziel,
having already seen various disturbing images on this midnight portal
during his previous visit to the chamber, was prepared for the
possibilities; his men were not. He knew, as they did not, that the
visions represented probability; the past, present and future events that
flickered across the portal's surface were reflections of things that could
happen; did happen; might never be. However, Raziel was almost certain
that the major changes to Nosgoth's timeline would ensure discrepancies in
the images depicted, and that through the variance, they could track down
both Kain and the blade.
The group assembled before the pulsating, warping pool of starlight in complete silence, allowing Raziel to take to the fore. For several minutes, the sight before them remained constant: flickering, bending, distorting constellations with no beginning nor end. All at once, the pinpoints of light began to coalesce, forming by degrees into a scene so lifelike it was hard to believe that one could not just step into the breach. Isca was sorely tempted to try anyway as, when the initial image of the emaciated form of his Lord decimating the spirit-bound guardian of the Pillars evanesced, the particles commingled anew to form a vision that struck him to the core.
A youthful, undead Kain stood transfixed at the zenith of a powerful strike, his combative stance caught in lurid freeze-frame glory as the Reaver penetrated the chest of his opponent. His adversary, face twisted in agony, was frozen in her death throes, one pale hand gripping the blade that pierced her chest, while a well-used scimitar tumbled from the limp grip of the other.
Raziel glanced reassuringly at his second-in-command. "Few of these events hold any truth, Isca."
The comment had evidently done little to comfort the smitten vampire, and as Raziel watched the next set of events unfold, he began to share a measure of his companion's trepidation. The image of Kain and Freya was not the only vision that was new to him, and a disturbing number of them seemed to pertain to the Vampire Master's early years. The next image to form was one that Raziel knew to be factual: Kain, still young, led a small army against the Sarafan knights - he had undertaken this mission almost immediately after his defeat of the 'Sarafan Lord' and his banishment of the Hylden. However, the following scene disturbed him, as it showed Kain meeting with the Vampire Cabal - the outcome was not pleasant; neither was the following scene of destruction as Kain cut a swathe of through the remaining bastions of humankind, sealing the fate of his own Vampiric Empire before it had chance to flourish. The mutated forms of his brethren appeared next, and with them, in an unholy visualization that Raziel would have paid dearly to have scratched from his memory, he saw himself; a hideous, malformed demon, a cross-breed of bat and serpent.
"Our plans have changed." He informed his followers numbly without once glancing from the awful scene on the portal. "I have to see for myself that this does not occur."
"You said yourself these events are mere probability," said Isca, pointedly asking for a reiteration of his Lord's assurance. "Raziel," he called at his leader's departing form, the tone of his voice rising to urgency. "You said it was just probability . . ."
The Vampire Messiah was beyond heeding, throwing open the massive double doors to the Chronoplast and striding inside without so much as a backwards glance. A soft, sycophantic voice arrested his progress.
"You are leading your men into danger, Reaver of Souls."
Raziel paused on the upper walkway, an irritated sigh escaping his lips as he recognised the obsequious tones.
"I no longer use that title, Moebius."
Isca's ears flattened against his skull as he recognised the Oracle by whom he and Freya had been duped so recently.
"How many times are you going to try to interfere with my plans, old man?"
"Until my ultimate design comes to fruition." Replied he, stepping into the light on the opposite side of the chamber.
Raziel was losing patience. He had encountered the Time-Streamer on more than one occasion, and each meeting had endeared him less and less to the ancient's company.
"Get out of our way or face the consequences."
Moebius laughed haughtily. "Come now, 'Saviour of Nosgoth', you know as well as I that it is not you who will end my days. Destiny's design cannot be altered, Raziel."
"I no longer believe that, Time-Streamer," replied the Vampire Messiah with utter conviction, striding across to stand before the withered ancient, and affording him a close-up view of the incandescent flames that lurked in the depths of his eyes.
"I believe that destiny's design can not only be altered, it can be erased."
Moebius gave a half-laugh, as though expecting a punchline. It melted from his weathered features as he realised the vampire was in earnest.
"Kain was wrong," Raziel went on, "Free will is not an illusion - except to those without the courage of their own convictions."
Moebius shook his head, uncomprehending and more than a little perturbed by the sheer, passionate belief emanating from the winged being.
"There is no set course for the future," the vampire continued, leaning forward until he was almost nose-to-nose with the quaking Time-Streamer. "Kain himself proved that when he drew the Reaver from my chest - and if the future is not certain," added Raziel with a leer of long-sought-after victory, "Then neither is the past."
The chamber resounded with a high-pitched shriek of denial and fear as Moebius tumbled from the third tier of the Chronoplast to land in a broken heap of mauve and scarlet, a short-bladed sabre transfixing his gullet.
Raziel breathed rapidly, the euphoria of autonomy after a seeming eternity as the pawn of others coursing through his system like an opiate. The heady rush of control filled him at once with elation and dread. Here, in the crux of time itself, he had made a monumental decision - to enter unbidden and unadvised into the manipulation of the time-stream, and flaunt the consequences. Moebius was dead. Not at Kain's hand as history dictated, but at his own. Victory consumed him, and, buoyed by the freedom and clarity of thought he experienced in its wake, he enjoined his company to aid him in the activation of the chamber.
Time itself would bend to his will.
*
The Pillars of Nosgoth lay in ruin, their sanctity forever damned by the egotistical whim of a single man. Tonight, however, they were the site of much activity. A small company of vampires, having shed their sable armour, were industriously shifting the fallen remains of the toppled columns from the circular dais at the base of the stumps. By means of their legendary strength, the clearing of hundreds of tons of rubble was accomplished in a fraction of the time it would have taken as a human endeavour - not that any creature still in possession of a mortal soul would have set foot in that cursed place once dusk had settled.
Kain oversaw the work with a proprietary eye. It appealed to his sense of irony to install his Empire here, at the still-beating heart of his treachery. His sense of satire was being borne out in other areas today: he had gathered to him an elite, if small group of servants, hardy and partial to his cause. Ever a believer in the power of persuasion over bland threats, he had bound them to him by their own desire for power, and as the ultimate mockery, he had named them after the elite of the Sarafan order: The Inquisitors. As the lurid moon caused morbid shades to flow across the newly cleared base of the Pillars, Kain felt that the hour was ripe, and with a single imperious command, the labourers became warriors once again.
As he viewed the undead ranks ranged before him in respectful silence, he was assailed once again by the memory of the young fledge he had encountered in the sewer - rare were the occasions when Kain was caught by surprise; but the vehemence of her reaction to his proposition had been enough to startle even him. The future Emperor of Nosgoth (he liked that title - so much more intimidating than 'King') put such trifling thoughts from his mind as his new army of Inquisitors fell into position behind him. The coming weeks would herald the start of his quest to eradicate the Sarafan order -their crimes against vampirekind would not go unpunished. His newfound contempt for humanity was superseded only by his hatred for those of his own kind who fawned over them, and tonight would see the immortals in question bend to his will - or join the humans in their damnation.
*
"Vorador." The address was a challenge.
"Kain. You return. I take it that you defeated the Sarafan Lord?" queried Vorador, sensing the younger vampire's edgy mood.
Kain afforded his elder a sarcastic glance and continued to pace restlessly about the chamber.
"Why have you returned here?"
Kain paused, eyeing the green-skinned vampire shrewdly. "To ask you to join me in my conquest of humanity."
Vorador cast an uneasy glance at a cloaked figure who quickly scurried from the corner of the room to the open door, vanishing from sight.
"Times are changing, Kain. The Cabal has new plans . . . you joined forces with us once - ally yourself with us again now."
"Your plans happened to coincide with my own. That is all. The Sarafan Lord doomed himself to die at my hand the moment he stole the Reaver from me. No, it is your loyalties that lie with me, Vorador, after all, without my intervention, you and yours would still be under the tyrannical oppression of the Hylden." He turned from the bat-eared immortal, addressing the remainder of the room's occupants, their attention instantly captivated by the seductive, self-assured power of his words.
"A new era is coming. My era. You can all be part of its glory . . . or die as victims of its rule."
His piercing gaze took in every vampire in the Cabal, one by one. Not one of them met his eye.
"I warn you: If you do not swear allegiance to me here and now, I will deal with you in the same way as I would any traitor."
"As you dealt with Umah?" asked Vorador miserably. "When she obeyed a command from us that conflicted with your plans, you ended her life without remorse or regret."
Kain ground his teeth at the mention of the female vampire's name. "She betrayed me."
Vorador shook his head dismissively, they had already had this argument, and its reiteration would not bring back his trusted lieutenant.
"What you propose, Kain, it is genocide, and I cannot in all conscience advocate it. Your loathing for mankind can bring about no good. There is a need for balance - you of all people should appreciate that."
The world held its breath. Only the steadily crackling of the fire dared the creature's ire. Vorador's comment had speared Kain to his very soul, reminding him of his own refusal to sacrifice himself, and unfortunately for the ancient, tipping the scales. At a word from the white-haired conqueror, a stream of armoured knights poured into the Cabal headquarters, demanding the vampires' surrender.
"There is no balance for Nosgoth, nor will there ever be." vowed Kain, stepping closer to the elder vampire, his eyes yellow slits of wrath. "I will see to that."
He watched as, in accordance with his orders, his Inquisitors began to decimate the Cabal Sanctuary, smashing valuables and setting the walls alight in an orgy of destruction. Then, their vindictive rage sated, the Inquisitors began to herd the thoroughly cowed vampires into a corner.
"We await your word, my Lord," the Head Inquisitor informed him. "Do we kill?"
"No. Leave them to ponder the impropriety of their decision for now." declared Kain generously. He turned once again to Vorador, eyeing him with contempt. "This world is mine to conquer, Vorador. You would have been welcomed as a partisan of my Empire, but now I leave you to rot with your Sarafan pets."
The elder's eyes widened.
"I know of the treaties you have attempted to forge with the human scum. I go to them now to contradict your words. Tell your rats to run, Vorador. Tell them to flee in fear before the terrors of the night.
"Tell them Kain is coming."
*
Author's note
Heh. Sorry. Had to get that last line in somewhere.
*
Review Response:
MikotoTribal:
Congratulations on winning another fan - I knew she'd like your story when she eventually came back to FFNet. : )
As for the terrible trio, erm, no, they haven't turned up yet - but I did get a black postcard with a pair of white fangs painted on it that said "Transylvania by Night." I'm starting to wonder . . . And no, I haven't seen Jenise.
Jenise: I'm over here. *waves fully superglued staff about from the bottom left-hand corner of the Word document in an attempt to attract attention*
Lilith: *switches to Excel* Nope, haven't seen her anywhere. *evil grin*
*
Deionarra:
Where do I want you? Well, if you could stand a bit to the left. Bit more. That's it.
*pulls lever, trapdoor opens, Deionarra vanishes with a 'whoosh'*
Bwahahahahaaaa. That'll teach you write such good stories at your age!
Aw, bugger.
You're not going to write any more while you're down there, are you?
*drums fingers on desk for a while*
*pushes button (the one underneath the Plans for World Domination), trapdoor opens again.*
Sorry. Heh. Just a bit lever-happy at the moment.
*lobs copy of Blood Omen 2 at Deionarra, frisbee-style*
And don't come back until you've finished it!
*
Vladimir's Angel:
Ooh! Thanks very much. *leafs through the Dictionary*
So that's what quantum phase dynamics are! No wonder my Death Ray's not working. . .
Sets aside one leather catsuit for Angel (the only one with a Batman utility belt) : )
The group assembled before the pulsating, warping pool of starlight in complete silence, allowing Raziel to take to the fore. For several minutes, the sight before them remained constant: flickering, bending, distorting constellations with no beginning nor end. All at once, the pinpoints of light began to coalesce, forming by degrees into a scene so lifelike it was hard to believe that one could not just step into the breach. Isca was sorely tempted to try anyway as, when the initial image of the emaciated form of his Lord decimating the spirit-bound guardian of the Pillars evanesced, the particles commingled anew to form a vision that struck him to the core.
A youthful, undead Kain stood transfixed at the zenith of a powerful strike, his combative stance caught in lurid freeze-frame glory as the Reaver penetrated the chest of his opponent. His adversary, face twisted in agony, was frozen in her death throes, one pale hand gripping the blade that pierced her chest, while a well-used scimitar tumbled from the limp grip of the other.
Raziel glanced reassuringly at his second-in-command. "Few of these events hold any truth, Isca."
The comment had evidently done little to comfort the smitten vampire, and as Raziel watched the next set of events unfold, he began to share a measure of his companion's trepidation. The image of Kain and Freya was not the only vision that was new to him, and a disturbing number of them seemed to pertain to the Vampire Master's early years. The next image to form was one that Raziel knew to be factual: Kain, still young, led a small army against the Sarafan knights - he had undertaken this mission almost immediately after his defeat of the 'Sarafan Lord' and his banishment of the Hylden. However, the following scene disturbed him, as it showed Kain meeting with the Vampire Cabal - the outcome was not pleasant; neither was the following scene of destruction as Kain cut a swathe of through the remaining bastions of humankind, sealing the fate of his own Vampiric Empire before it had chance to flourish. The mutated forms of his brethren appeared next, and with them, in an unholy visualization that Raziel would have paid dearly to have scratched from his memory, he saw himself; a hideous, malformed demon, a cross-breed of bat and serpent.
"Our plans have changed." He informed his followers numbly without once glancing from the awful scene on the portal. "I have to see for myself that this does not occur."
"You said yourself these events are mere probability," said Isca, pointedly asking for a reiteration of his Lord's assurance. "Raziel," he called at his leader's departing form, the tone of his voice rising to urgency. "You said it was just probability . . ."
The Vampire Messiah was beyond heeding, throwing open the massive double doors to the Chronoplast and striding inside without so much as a backwards glance. A soft, sycophantic voice arrested his progress.
"You are leading your men into danger, Reaver of Souls."
Raziel paused on the upper walkway, an irritated sigh escaping his lips as he recognised the obsequious tones.
"I no longer use that title, Moebius."
Isca's ears flattened against his skull as he recognised the Oracle by whom he and Freya had been duped so recently.
"How many times are you going to try to interfere with my plans, old man?"
"Until my ultimate design comes to fruition." Replied he, stepping into the light on the opposite side of the chamber.
Raziel was losing patience. He had encountered the Time-Streamer on more than one occasion, and each meeting had endeared him less and less to the ancient's company.
"Get out of our way or face the consequences."
Moebius laughed haughtily. "Come now, 'Saviour of Nosgoth', you know as well as I that it is not you who will end my days. Destiny's design cannot be altered, Raziel."
"I no longer believe that, Time-Streamer," replied the Vampire Messiah with utter conviction, striding across to stand before the withered ancient, and affording him a close-up view of the incandescent flames that lurked in the depths of his eyes.
"I believe that destiny's design can not only be altered, it can be erased."
Moebius gave a half-laugh, as though expecting a punchline. It melted from his weathered features as he realised the vampire was in earnest.
"Kain was wrong," Raziel went on, "Free will is not an illusion - except to those without the courage of their own convictions."
Moebius shook his head, uncomprehending and more than a little perturbed by the sheer, passionate belief emanating from the winged being.
"There is no set course for the future," the vampire continued, leaning forward until he was almost nose-to-nose with the quaking Time-Streamer. "Kain himself proved that when he drew the Reaver from my chest - and if the future is not certain," added Raziel with a leer of long-sought-after victory, "Then neither is the past."
The chamber resounded with a high-pitched shriek of denial and fear as Moebius tumbled from the third tier of the Chronoplast to land in a broken heap of mauve and scarlet, a short-bladed sabre transfixing his gullet.
Raziel breathed rapidly, the euphoria of autonomy after a seeming eternity as the pawn of others coursing through his system like an opiate. The heady rush of control filled him at once with elation and dread. Here, in the crux of time itself, he had made a monumental decision - to enter unbidden and unadvised into the manipulation of the time-stream, and flaunt the consequences. Moebius was dead. Not at Kain's hand as history dictated, but at his own. Victory consumed him, and, buoyed by the freedom and clarity of thought he experienced in its wake, he enjoined his company to aid him in the activation of the chamber.
Time itself would bend to his will.
*
The Pillars of Nosgoth lay in ruin, their sanctity forever damned by the egotistical whim of a single man. Tonight, however, they were the site of much activity. A small company of vampires, having shed their sable armour, were industriously shifting the fallen remains of the toppled columns from the circular dais at the base of the stumps. By means of their legendary strength, the clearing of hundreds of tons of rubble was accomplished in a fraction of the time it would have taken as a human endeavour - not that any creature still in possession of a mortal soul would have set foot in that cursed place once dusk had settled.
Kain oversaw the work with a proprietary eye. It appealed to his sense of irony to install his Empire here, at the still-beating heart of his treachery. His sense of satire was being borne out in other areas today: he had gathered to him an elite, if small group of servants, hardy and partial to his cause. Ever a believer in the power of persuasion over bland threats, he had bound them to him by their own desire for power, and as the ultimate mockery, he had named them after the elite of the Sarafan order: The Inquisitors. As the lurid moon caused morbid shades to flow across the newly cleared base of the Pillars, Kain felt that the hour was ripe, and with a single imperious command, the labourers became warriors once again.
As he viewed the undead ranks ranged before him in respectful silence, he was assailed once again by the memory of the young fledge he had encountered in the sewer - rare were the occasions when Kain was caught by surprise; but the vehemence of her reaction to his proposition had been enough to startle even him. The future Emperor of Nosgoth (he liked that title - so much more intimidating than 'King') put such trifling thoughts from his mind as his new army of Inquisitors fell into position behind him. The coming weeks would herald the start of his quest to eradicate the Sarafan order -their crimes against vampirekind would not go unpunished. His newfound contempt for humanity was superseded only by his hatred for those of his own kind who fawned over them, and tonight would see the immortals in question bend to his will - or join the humans in their damnation.
*
"Vorador." The address was a challenge.
"Kain. You return. I take it that you defeated the Sarafan Lord?" queried Vorador, sensing the younger vampire's edgy mood.
Kain afforded his elder a sarcastic glance and continued to pace restlessly about the chamber.
"Why have you returned here?"
Kain paused, eyeing the green-skinned vampire shrewdly. "To ask you to join me in my conquest of humanity."
Vorador cast an uneasy glance at a cloaked figure who quickly scurried from the corner of the room to the open door, vanishing from sight.
"Times are changing, Kain. The Cabal has new plans . . . you joined forces with us once - ally yourself with us again now."
"Your plans happened to coincide with my own. That is all. The Sarafan Lord doomed himself to die at my hand the moment he stole the Reaver from me. No, it is your loyalties that lie with me, Vorador, after all, without my intervention, you and yours would still be under the tyrannical oppression of the Hylden." He turned from the bat-eared immortal, addressing the remainder of the room's occupants, their attention instantly captivated by the seductive, self-assured power of his words.
"A new era is coming. My era. You can all be part of its glory . . . or die as victims of its rule."
His piercing gaze took in every vampire in the Cabal, one by one. Not one of them met his eye.
"I warn you: If you do not swear allegiance to me here and now, I will deal with you in the same way as I would any traitor."
"As you dealt with Umah?" asked Vorador miserably. "When she obeyed a command from us that conflicted with your plans, you ended her life without remorse or regret."
Kain ground his teeth at the mention of the female vampire's name. "She betrayed me."
Vorador shook his head dismissively, they had already had this argument, and its reiteration would not bring back his trusted lieutenant.
"What you propose, Kain, it is genocide, and I cannot in all conscience advocate it. Your loathing for mankind can bring about no good. There is a need for balance - you of all people should appreciate that."
The world held its breath. Only the steadily crackling of the fire dared the creature's ire. Vorador's comment had speared Kain to his very soul, reminding him of his own refusal to sacrifice himself, and unfortunately for the ancient, tipping the scales. At a word from the white-haired conqueror, a stream of armoured knights poured into the Cabal headquarters, demanding the vampires' surrender.
"There is no balance for Nosgoth, nor will there ever be." vowed Kain, stepping closer to the elder vampire, his eyes yellow slits of wrath. "I will see to that."
He watched as, in accordance with his orders, his Inquisitors began to decimate the Cabal Sanctuary, smashing valuables and setting the walls alight in an orgy of destruction. Then, their vindictive rage sated, the Inquisitors began to herd the thoroughly cowed vampires into a corner.
"We await your word, my Lord," the Head Inquisitor informed him. "Do we kill?"
"No. Leave them to ponder the impropriety of their decision for now." declared Kain generously. He turned once again to Vorador, eyeing him with contempt. "This world is mine to conquer, Vorador. You would have been welcomed as a partisan of my Empire, but now I leave you to rot with your Sarafan pets."
The elder's eyes widened.
"I know of the treaties you have attempted to forge with the human scum. I go to them now to contradict your words. Tell your rats to run, Vorador. Tell them to flee in fear before the terrors of the night.
"Tell them Kain is coming."
*
Author's note
Heh. Sorry. Had to get that last line in somewhere.
*
Review Response:
MikotoTribal:
Congratulations on winning another fan - I knew she'd like your story when she eventually came back to FFNet. : )
As for the terrible trio, erm, no, they haven't turned up yet - but I did get a black postcard with a pair of white fangs painted on it that said "Transylvania by Night." I'm starting to wonder . . . And no, I haven't seen Jenise.
Jenise: I'm over here. *waves fully superglued staff about from the bottom left-hand corner of the Word document in an attempt to attract attention*
Lilith: *switches to Excel* Nope, haven't seen her anywhere. *evil grin*
*
Deionarra:
Where do I want you? Well, if you could stand a bit to the left. Bit more. That's it.
*pulls lever, trapdoor opens, Deionarra vanishes with a 'whoosh'*
Bwahahahahaaaa. That'll teach you write such good stories at your age!
Aw, bugger.
You're not going to write any more while you're down there, are you?
*drums fingers on desk for a while*
*pushes button (the one underneath the Plans for World Domination), trapdoor opens again.*
Sorry. Heh. Just a bit lever-happy at the moment.
*lobs copy of Blood Omen 2 at Deionarra, frisbee-style*
And don't come back until you've finished it!
*
Vladimir's Angel:
Ooh! Thanks very much. *leafs through the Dictionary*
So that's what quantum phase dynamics are! No wonder my Death Ray's not working. . .
Sets aside one leather catsuit for Angel (the only one with a Batman utility belt) : )