Author's Warning: Cheese graters at the ready, people. No, they're not for offensive purposes, so Deoinarra, you can stop threatening Moebius with yours!
Depending on your disposition, you may need them to get through this chapter - but it had to be done. : P
*
Isca froze, his sword still raised aloft for the killing blow, words failing him. The woman stared defiantly back from where she lay sprawled on the ground, knowing that she was defeated and expecting his stroke.
"What are you waiting for," she taunted, "My permission?"
Isca stood as though petrified, the quintessence of a warrior transfixed by Gorgon eyes at the moment of victory.
"Freya?" he managed, when he had found his voice, which for a change was hardly more than a whisper.
Declining from the obvious response, the woman replied, "Finish it."
Seeing from the faint shaking of her former mate's head that he was unwilling or unable, she added with a hiss:
"I would. Given the chance, I wouldn't hesitate."
As the Inquisitor perceived that the vampire was backing down, lowering his weapon, she seized her chance and scrambled to her feet, scooping up her own blade as she did so.
"What the blazes are you doing here?" demanded the thoroughly confused vampire, who was currently torn between relief that the images at the Chronoplast had proved false, and utter bewilderment over his fledge's apparent new allegiance.
"Escaping the death to which you consigned me, 'lover'." She spat.
When Isca's confused head-shaking convinced her that he was not going to respond, she added, by way of a sarcastic reminder:
"The Hylden." Kain had long ago enlightened her as to the identity of the marauding beasts from the descriptions she had given.
"They Hylden?" Isca was understandably perplexed. "Where do they come into this?"
The woman accorded the vampire a look that spoke powerfully of her scepticism. "Enough of your insincerity – let us end this."
Isca backed off a few feet further, other, more urgent questions nagging at his mind.
"Even if what you say is true, why would you join with Kain?"
The Inquisitor replied with a sneer, "He offered to teach me things I needed to know." She circled the vampire slowly, watching for signs of a lowered guard. "I almost went insane from your abandonment of me, but Kain became my mentor. He saved me from the path of self-destruction I was following."
Isca's eyes narrowed. The kind of time-scales the woman seemed to be implying were beginning to worry him more than a little.
"How long have you been here?"
"Long enough to see the foolishness of banding with such failures as you and yours!"
Isca brushed the insult aside. "Drop this charade and listen to me."
"Why should I give you even a second of my time?" demanded the woman hotly. "You were never so generous with yours – now stop stalling and fight me!"
"It doesn't have to end like this," managed the vampire between half-hearted attempts at parrying her vicious blows. "Come back with me."
"Pity you weren't so concerned about having me around when it counted for something." She retorted.
"Freya, if you had just waited," he began, ducking another head-height slash, "We still plan to arrive back in the future one day after we left."
"That will be one day too late, 'Sire'," she informed him, her voice dripping with venom. "The Hylden will already have overrun the Clanlands."
It was obvious to Isca from the Inquisitor's continued brutal slashes that she intended to finish him if possible, and if not, to force his own hand against her. The man was hard-pressed to find a compromise.
"We will destroy the Hylden brood before it can gain a foothold – the future will be free of them when we return,"
Seeing that she was either not listening or deliberately ignoring him, Isca took drastic action. Enduring a violent slash across the chest in order to manoeuvre himself into closer quarters, he caught the Inquisitor's sword arm and engaged her in an approximation of a bear hug, pinning her arms to her sides.
"Listen to me, you stubborn heifer," began Isca, his patience sorely tried by now, "We had no idea . . ." his voice trailed off as he became increasingly aware of their proximity to one another, the closeness reminding him of his bond with his fledgling, and, holding her infuriated gaze with his, he stated:
"It's not too late for us."
The vicious scowl that had marked the woman's expression began to fade as the sincerity of the male's feelings was borne out in his eyes. She relaxed slightly in his embrace, a look of uncertainty in her eyes.
"Sentimental fool."
The vampire gave a fair approximation of a relieved smile, and allowed his grip to slacken somewhat, still drinking in the welcome and unexpected sight of his mate. Abruptly, he doubled over in agony as the woman brought a knee up sharply to connect with his groin. He sank to his knees with a groan, his darkened vision highlighted with pinpoints of swirling light while his vampire stomach essayed to convince him it needed emptying.
The ground shortly began to shake with the arrival of Kain's Inquisitor squad, their plated feet clearly visible to the agonised vampire where he knelt forehead-down against the cool earth.
"Shall we dispatch him, Inquisitor?"
There was a brief pause and the sliding, metallic 'shink' that told of the sheathing of a weapon.
"No. We will take him back to Kain. It will be for him to decide this one's fate."
The pain was beginning to fade slightly, although the vampire's throat was still constricted as though filled with foreign objects. Isca chanced a glance at the female looming over him, his tortured eyes evincing his incredulity.
"Freya?"
The look of fury that erupted on his former lover's face was the last thing he saw before a plated boot caught him full-force under the chin.
*
The Tower had fallen.
Beneath the crushing weight of the furious onslaught of Kain's undead, the stalwart defender of the pass that opened onto the Sarafan's most valued holding had been breached. Its ancient stone defences lay sprawled around its ravaged base, the pale, bloody trophies that had once adorned the spiked gates now replaced with heads torn from the slain of the Sarafan and their Cabal allies. Though it had galled the former Vampire Lord to fall back before the callow armies of his sire, the retreat had been necessary. Raziel watched with growing disquiet as Kain's unholy wretches tore the Tower apart, stone by stone, casting some of the more manageable remnants onto the plain before the Stronghold itself. When retreat became inevitable, Raziel, much to Lord Roland's disappointment, had refused to accept the sanctuary of the hallowed walls - the great building held far too many memories - and so he had contented himself with a tent in Vorador's camp, situated a short distance to the east. The losses had been higher than expected, and to have been driven back to the very threshold of their territory by so few - the Dark Lord was beginning to wonder about the course of the future after all.
*
Elsewhere, a steadily recovering Kain was feeling both the pleasures of victory and the burdens of power.
When word had been brought to him that the Tower had fallen – contrary to his low expectations after the fiasco in the Termagant Swamp – he had been elated, or as close as the would-be Conqueror ever came to such an emotion. However, it seemed that every victory carried an inevitable drawback: now that the glory of the night's deeds had faded, he was faced with the tedious task of distributing punishment. The list of recipients of Kain's wrath grew longer with each passing day, and this evening was no exception, having seen a steady parade of unfortunates troop past on their way to their doom. For the most part, these were prisoners-of-war, captured alive and destined to serve as examples to the allied forces, but the luckless also included those of his own company whom the trials of combat had proclaimed traitors or weaklings. At a word from the vampiric Emperor, each was consigned to a particular fate according to his misdeed - or age, in the case of vampires. The younger undead were chained to sandstone columns outside his keep to await the burning touch of the sun, the last dark seconds of their lives punctuated by their own terrified screams. The elder vampires who had earned his displeasure were brutally dismembered with blunt instruments, their pain-wracked torsos cast into the wasteland that was slowly spreading like a fungus outside the walls of the stronghold. These unfortunates were doomed to shuffle along the arid, cracked ground in limbless horror for all eternity.
Kain wondered idly why so many insisted on opposing him.
In a moment of respite between sentencings, he chanced a glance at his Inquisitor, who had been reinstated to her usual position to the left of his throne - his dissatisfaction at her underachievement in the Swamp had faded now, as had the marks of his anger. As always, she attended her Lord in full armour, her slightly dented helmet tucked under one arm, her expression one of carefully-schooled detachment. Kain sighed heavily as the door to the Hall opened again: he was beginning to tire of this unvarying work, his handing out of torture for each individual taxing his patience: he was increasingly reminded that had a busty meal awaiting him in his chamber, and he was beginning to feel his inventiveness was wasted here. His attention was shortly attracted by the entrance into the chamber of a powerfully-built immortal, whose garb and armaments were of unfamiliar design. The creature was looking a little the worse for wear, as were the unusual number of guards who accompanied him.
His appraisal of the stranger was interrupted as his Inquisitor leant across to speak a few words of explanation in his ear. A supercilious smile graced Kain's cruel lips as he nodded understanding, his eyes never leaving those of the obstinately glaring vampire.
Kain rose with less difficulty than he had of late, striding down the broad steps before his throne and circling the prisoner with scrutinous interest. Having made a full tour of the seething captive, he came to a halt before him, affording him the full intensity of his scornful gaze.
"My Inquisitor tells me you were her maker."
Isca stared him down emotionlessly.
"Did it trouble you to abandon her to the Hylden?" Kain inquired, his tone almost nonchalant.
"That was never my intention." The vampire informed him.
"But it was your hand that wrought the deed: you are therefore responsible for her current situation."
Isca sighed impatiently. "I never had you pegged for a time-waster, Kain – get on with it."
Although impressed by the younger vampire's fearlessness, Kain nevertheless continued to taunt him.
"Take a good look at your fledge, boy. When I found her she was eking an existence ambushing stray brigands in the sewers - that was the best she could expect as your get. Now that she has allied herself with me – you see what she has achieved?"
Isca fumed inwardly, determined that the Vampire Master would not see his goading was having an effect.
"I see that she has achieved the status of puppet and pawn – the best anyone could hope for under your command, you manipulative bastard."
Kain's silence was worse than his derision. There were few who had seen the Master Vampire in a state of fully roused wrath, and it was obvious to the unconsciously retreating denizens of the room that Kain had not taken kindly to the insult. He afforded the younger immortal a look that spoke eloquently of the fate he had planned for him. His momentary glower was replaced by a smile of unparalleled cruelty as he returned to his throne, glancing once at his Inquisitor before resuming his seat.
"Death by torture." decreed the Master Vampire impassively.
Author's Notes:
Mmm – smell that Edam?
I think the next few chapters will be up fairly quickly – I've got a lot of the upcoming events already written.
Review Response
Deionarra:
Naughty girl! Reading the end before the beginning. Tchoh! How am I s'posed to surprise you if you do that?
Vladimir's Angel:
Kain has better hair? Bu – bu – but pre-fallen Raz has that lovely liccle ponytail thingie (which I admit might constitute a mullet if he were ever to let it down). I concede.
Kain figures will retail at around $400, but they will constitute part of the standard away-team kit for our impending invasion of Nosgoth. : )