Copyright © 2002 by Syvia (Aka Rebecca K. Friedrick). All Rights Reserved.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the stuff from LoK. Adojan the Hylden, all his past lives, and all of the Ancients except Janos are my brainchildren. If you want the full list- check out the Who's Who section in the back. ^_^
Author's Notes: Hugs and kisses to Ran & Eso for doing the beta dance.
I'd like to point out something that the wonderful Ranmyaku, (in a roundabout way) made me aware of. Remember the artifacts you could collect from the dark forges in BO1- specifically, implode? For the sake of making the game more grounded in a real world, implode is a spell, not an artifact. There was mention of this in chapter 9, but I didn't fully explain what was up. I called it a spell, not a 'card', or 'artifact'. Those who've seen the fmv's of BO1 know that Vorador possesses this ability (or he had some implode artifacts in his pocket), because we see him use it on one of the circle members.
As for the other abilities he and Kain possess, well, some of them are taken from what we see in the games and the new information we've been given about Defiance, and the rest are just me using my artistic license.
We're coming up on a time shift, people. We'll have this chapter, another of Raz, and then the chapter where those two bits of the story merge. After that there will be less of Kain and Vorador and more of the past events that led up to this point, meaning, back to chapters with Zofia, Cili, Lorant and the still living Ancients. For now, enjoy the chapter. ^_^
Syvia- *to Kain* You've been really close-mouthed about this whole thing so far, haven't you?
Kain-*mild surprise* I have indeed.
Syvia- I appreciate that... considering what a braggart you are.
Kain- *murderous expression*... If I were more than a fictional character-
Syvia- But you're not! *laughing manically*
~...........................................................Chapter 11..........................................................~
~......................................................Unspoken Threat.....................................................~
Nosgoth ~ 2012 A. C. ~ The Dying World
Kain found the discourse tiresome. He had been aware of the history of these Ancients and the possible form of their salvation since his reacquisition of the Reaver, yet the Emperor of Nosgoth stood complacently before a millennia-old sculpture, listening to the sprawling history of a forgotten race. The Ancients had seen their demise, imminent in their foolish denial to take lives and had done nothing. What were humans to them, that they would choose to spare the cattle in favor of their own decline? The old ones had been too compassionate, too emotionally weak, despite the awesome mystical power he had seen firsthand of Janos Audron, Kain had not been surprised to see the Ancient fall into the Hylden Gate with no contention.
He was aware of the faint scent of blood about him. The carnage that must have taken place within this chamber was delicious to contemplate, but far from his mind. While he could still hear the words of the spirit, he paid no attention. Should he feel the need to recall the conversation later, Kain would be able to repeat what had been said, word for word, but it had no bearing on his current thoughts.
These Ancients had been imprisoned long ago, Janos' heart was the key to their salvation, for the blood contained within would replace that which had been diluted by the Siphon in their veins. To obtain it, they would need to intercept Raziel, as well as the help of the Soul Reaver himself.
Ghosts, the spirit-wraiths of both humans and vampires, provided mystic energy. It could be transferred, amusingly enough, by an infusion of the blood. He had learned this as a fledgling.
Kain had not encountered a vampiric wraith until late in the course of his reign over Nosgoth. There had been times during an infrequent trip into the clan territories that the ghost of a powerful vampire would appear to him. He had always found the Reaver blade useful in such occurrences. After the blade's loss, the Spirit Wrack, one of the few spells he still possessed from his years as a fledgling, would do to deter them. The spell stunned them, caused them pain enough that they would turn and seek easier prey.
It had not surprised him to see the Chronoplast vision that showed his firstborn, the Soul Reaver, offering up Janos' heart to one of the ancient beings. Or afterwards, when the heart's bounty was exhausted, watching the same sky-skinned one latch on to his child's wrist, draining the blood from his magically constructed body just as a vampire would from a human.
The Wisdom Keeper, as she was called, would need Raziel's blood to power the spell that would cleanse her body, and the bodies of her brethren of the parasitic organism within. Although he foresaw no difficulty in persuading Raziel to aid them, he wondered if it might not be simpler to feed his own blood to the Siphon, as he had the Mass.
Despite the rift grown between them, Kain had convinced Raziel to follow instructions- first through the engine of his blind perusal of vengeance, and second by supplying logic and enough answers to keep him following the correct path. Kain was not concerned with the task of finding Raziel. His son would arrive in the Sarafan Stronghold, obtain Janos' heart, and make his way back into the ruins of the Ancient's Retreat. Kain would be waiting there when he did. With the Chronoplast chamber at his disposal and the use of his teleportation spell, he had time. He could make, time.
Time enough to gain Vorador's trust by obtaining this information. This, 'revelation' of a way to save Nosgoth. He would be trusted more quickly if it seemed to Vorador that they were equally uninformed about these events. He was closer than ever to the edge of the coin... yet the Hylden.
They had come close to conquering Nosgoth in the past; having somehow opened the gate that sent them from this dimension to the world of demons. In their city at the middle of the ocean they had slowly but surely rebuilt their power, waiting for the time to strike. When the vampire menace- the threat of Kain's own rule, had become present enough in the people's minds, the Hylden General had appeared, nestled himself securely into the role of savior by defeating Kain, and nearly destroyed the vampire entirely. Kain had thought the creature to be the end of Janos Audron. Yet...
Kain had left the central chamber of the Hylden City and found Vorador... and Janos.
"I saw the Sarafan Lord throw you into the Hylden Gate," Kain said, narrowing his eyes at the Ancient.
"I, myself, do not fully understand what has happened," Janos responded. "At one moment, I was falling through the mists of dimension. In the next, I was here. Someone must have intervened."
"It matters not-" Vorador cut in angrily. He put a hand out against a fallen piece of stone, used it to climb weakly to his feet. "You shall pay for what you have done, Kain."
The younger vampire bared his fangs in a snarl. Vorador had not forgotten about Umah, and now, despite all that had occurred, the old vampire wanted recompense. Another foolish quest for revenge, but Kain remembered what had happened to the objects of the lupine vampire's rage. "You believe you can best me, Vorador? The blood of my enemies has strengthened me, I have reclaimed the Soul Reaver, and I am standing without aid.
"My elder you may be, but you are in no position to challenge my power."
"Then perhaps you should kill me now and be done with it, impudent whelp," Vorador growled, his lip curling.
"I killed Umah," Kain spat. "I admit it as freely now as I did before. I believed that she was one of the Sarafan Lord's Spies- yet even had I known that she was not, I would have ripped out her throat. She betrayed me by stealing the Nexus Stone- was foolish enough to believe she could destroy the Sarafan Lord herself. She was already dead when I came upon her- I only ended her pain."
"You have no heart, Kain," Vorador growled. "Or you will not, once I tear it from your chest." The older vampire managed to stand on his own and take a few steps forward. Kain raised the Soul Reaver, but did not advance.
"Umah believed that I would destroy the Cabal once I had killed the Sarafan Lord, Vorador. Do not force her prediction to come true."
The elder vampire seemed to ignore the warning. "You still require soldiers for your army, Kain. But to take over leadership of the Cabal, you must destroy the leader of the Cabal." Vorador finally managed to straighten and, though he seemed to be in pain, he lowered himself into a battle stance, glaring at the younger vampire.
"I have no desire to fight you, Vorador," Kain murmured, sinking into a half-crouch. He was being honest. Although he did not relish the idea of Vorador possibly standing against him in combat, or leading others to fight against him, he did not particularly wish to fight the elder vampire. Vorador was cunning, and a lethal adversary, even weakened.
"Nor shall you," Janos' voice was stern, and the Ancient closed his hand over Kain's shoulder. The young vampire flinched and turned his head to look. How had Janos gotten so close to him without his notice? The world shifted before his eyes. Kain's eyes snapped closed as the teleportation spell took hold, and when it ended- he found himself standing in the main hall of Sanctuary, alone.
It was just as well that this Vorador knew nothing of him or the future events that would involve the two of them. The meeting between the ancient vampire and his maker had been abrupt, with no small amount of shock on Vorador's part- and that had been centuries after Janos' second 'death'. Kain did not know whether it would be joy or fear in the meeting between 'father' and 'son' if Raziel succeeded in restoring Janos, but Vorador would take his 'father' home to the manor. There Janos would live until some few centuries later, when Kain came for Vorador's ring. An unknown length of time after that event, Janos would be captured by the Hylden, then released again by Kain. He would spend the rest of his life, as far as Kain knew, in self-imposed exile- until the fateful day near the end of the Clan Purge when he must have emerged from hiding to play savior to the last of the Razielim.
He did not know how or when Vorador died- but die the first vampire must have, for as Nosgoth decayed, Vorador's children, whose powers had always been more closely tied to the earth than Kain's, had sickened, and eventually lost the power to exist. Dying as if from some strange plague, the other race of vampires in Nosgoth had eventually disappeared, leaving Kain's empire, and the humans who managed to survive under his rule, alone.
It was through his sons, and their clans, that the Hylden had found a way back into this dimension. This new breed of Razielim were allied with an almost forgotten presence in Nosgoth. The Unspoken spoke with them, and through them- or more notably, through their leader. Somehow the only remaining offspring of his firstborn had evolved and allied with something Kain had thought to be destroyed. Although many ways dissimilar in appearance from the Seer he had met all those centuries ago, Kyran, or 'Adojan', as he called himself, was Hylden. The aim of the creature was obvious- the restoration of his race to Nosgoth. Perhaps boats no longer traveled to the Hylden City, but what did that matter when the Razielim were now possessed of wings?
His sons, save Raziel, were gone from the world, destroyed by the survivor. Without their Lords, the clans were scattered; mindless beasts with no purpose save to sate their hunger upon the few humans left in the world. They would put up little resistance against a concentrated army. When the Hylden came, they would massacre the remaining vampires and enslave or destroy what was left of the humans.
These new occurrences burned in Kain's soul. So he had been manipulated once again. It was galling to think that after nearly two thousand years he had still fallen short of the independence he had so coveted as a fledgling. He had not cut his strings, not yet. It was the fact that he knew of the puppeteer that gave him an edge. The wires binding him were strong. He did not think, as Raziel seemed to, that he was strong enough to sever them. What he did know was that although the wires were strong, the puppeteer did not always have full control of them. He did not always serve the chaos that sought to destroy Nosgoth. He believed that. He had to.
If he saw the vampiric Hylden again, he would repeat history deliberately- and rip the wings from the child's back. Adojan would not be allowed the honor of Kain's blood on his delicate talons. Kain would kill him first- before the Unspoken could manifest in the boy's body. This time- Kain also had an ally. If Vorador was hampered by the possibility of seeing his master again, it was worth it to have a buffer between himself and his enemies. They needed Vorador alive. The old vampire, like Raziel- played an integral part in the drama of Nosgoth, and this Vorador had been pulled from too early a point in history to be replaced.
Kain preferred to avoid a confrontation altogether. If Vorador saw that his Sire had been revived in the past- that he could be revived, there was no telling whether the ancient vampire would refuse to aid him. Kain did not know whether, given the choice, Vorador would choose to resurrect his father- or his sister. Better to erase Janos' resurrection before it occurred, to pretend such a possibility did not even exist. But Kain would not count on escaping unhindered. His luck had not been so abundant as of late. The most he could do was hope that his enemies were occupied, and that this rather long-winded spirit would soon near the end of its tale.
Twisting in the air with a sinuous grace that should have been impossible for his ungainly wings, Adojan flew about the Common Arena. Enormous stained-glass windows in each section of the wall cast pale shades of color upon the marble floor. The dim sunlight of Nosgoth only barely pierced the clouds outside, and afterwards, the grand visions depicted in each window. They told a story, as so many icons did. This tale spoke of the Ancients' history. The pictures began with a scene of demons roaming Nosgoth; terrorizing the beings that lived upon it and acting as they wished upon the face of the world. Later, visions of the Ancients themselves, descending from the heavens to combat the demons. The windows progressed to the arrival of the Hylden from their home dimension to Nosgoth, and the war waged between them and the Ancients. Later came the construction of the Pillars and the Hylden's expulsion into the hell dimension ruled by the Ancients' demonic foes.
Adojan took in none of this as he flew through the shards of color slanting through the windows. With his eyes closed, he could almost imagine himself back into a time when these halls flourished with light and laughter. Voices rose in song and conversation as his people went about their idle business.
He could remember when time lingered along the years. There had always been business to be taken care of, but it would occur in its own time, in its own way. During his unlife as Kyran, time had stretched unendingly towards the distant horizon. No foreseeable end and no reason to look forward to what lay beyond this day, and the next. The difference was profound between the races. Humanity waited in hope or fear for each new day, wondering if it would be the last they saw. Vampires wasted their time along the years, arrogantly assured that the world should always stay as they had made it, and they would always be there to make certain that it did. The Ancients... they had lived for the changes. To meet them and take the challenges that came with maintaining the balance of the world in all things.
Yet, for all those changes, Adojan could remember some things that had always remained the same. The old, old dances held in the Common Arena, wings upon air, any who wished to be included could join in- leaping, soaring, leading and following through the wide open space and magicians who flung artificial winds about that were as powerful as the natural article.
No social connections were acknowledged during the dance. There was no animosity, no deep, soulful love, other than that of the act itself. They danced, and all that was, was the dance.
He let the wind buoy him upwards and slid easily into the end of the line, twisting, falling, regaining height. He felt a curl of wind born by another's wings, carrying the musky scent of feathers, and swerved out of the way just in time to brush palms with another anonymous brother or sister. They turned as one and flew off in different directions. Adojan turned a somersault in the air and a voice laughed as his dark tail of hair brushed someone's wing.
A pair of fledglings dipped in the air above him and spun about each other before turning to claim other partners and repeating the motion. Two large circles rotated in the center of the room, the inner circle split, dancers alternating as they flew above or below the outer ring, which moved in as the inner formed again on the outside. Adojan took a place on the outer ring and followed around, inward, then up. The cycle repeated. The two circles meshed into one and rotated to the right... then the left... until half of the circle twisted, bending the lines around until they formed a figure eight, A Moebius Strip. The dancers followed each other, flying smoothly above and below each other in a seemingly random pattern where the lines crossed.
At an unknown signal, the dancer at the cross whirled around once and broke form, flying upwards. Adojan, directly behind this dancer, followed, as did the rest of the Moebius Strip. They flew out of the figure eight, following that structure until all the dancers were free, whereupon they had reformed the circle. When they had, all froze in place for a moment, then allowed themselves to descend.
They lighted on the ground as the music ended, laughing, eyes bright and lips smiling. Adojan turned, a smile of contentment on his face, and saw the dancer who had landed next to him.
Her skin was another variation of the sky blue flesh each of them shared. Golden eyes sparkled in a face that was framed by shining black hair. She smiled at him, lost in the moment.
When Adojan opened his eyes, for an instant, she was still there, dark wings and vivid blue arms- before the image came closer. Not her- her father.
Adojan froze. He had thought he was alone, and berated himself for such a foolish lapse in attention. He had provoked the Unspoken, and believed that It would simply leave him be? Janos must have been sent to chastise him. The vampire hybrid stilled, his face melting back into an expressionless mask.
"It has been a long time since this room was used for such a purpose," Janos gave him a solemn, yet wistful glance.
"Lord Janos," Adojan bowed briefly, eyes never leaving the elder's face. "How pleasant to see you again," he said, voice bland. "What brings you here?"
"I sensed someone and came to look. It has been millennia since any winged beings made use of this place."
"I was not aware of the existence of this structure, much less that you abided here," the hybrid made a small gesture around the room, eye ridges raised in polite interest.
"I visit now and again, but I no longer dwell in this place," Janos murmured, turning his eyes to one of the windows. His pace slowed and stopped. They stood about ten feet apart. Far enough for comfort. Adojan believed the distance would be sufficient for him to evade most of the spells Janos was capable of. Many of the Ancient's more powerful magicks were transmitted by touch. Adojan did not plan to let Janos come close enough to use one. "It has been a long while since we last saw each other... the Pillars, when you delivered Hash'ak'gik's message; was that not the last time?"
Adojan flinched at the sound of the demon's name, but answered calmly. "Yes, I believe that was it."
"Before that- our last meeting occurred after you had fallen from a cliff, if I recall correctly."
"Indeed." In the back of his mind, Adojan was readying a spell. His talons itched to rise up, cradle the pale flames that were his most familiar magical weapon. He allowed them to run minutely over the fabric of his trousers, a small gesture that would seem like a simple nervous habit. Otherwise, he stood very still.
"That name you used, Kyran... it sounded so familiar." Another small flinch at the sound of his human, and eventually vampiric, name. If Janos noticed, he gave no sign of it. "I knew an 'Adojan' once," the Ancient murmured. He clasped his hands behind his back, pacing slowly to the left, his eyes on the marble floor. "He was a healer, this Adojan. A strange talent for one of my race, perhaps, as our bodies inevitably rebuild themselves- but he could heal minds... as well as bodies. Adojan had the talent to stave off his blood thirst, and allow others to do so as well. He was able to banish poison from the mind and the soul... I suppose such is to be expected from the son of a Balance Guardian."
"I suppose it is," Adojan returned. His pulse pounded in his ears. Here he was, in his former home, before a former mentor, hearing his own past from one who had been there to witness it. It sounded to him as if it had been the life of another, and in a way- it had. He was no longer that person; not really. Why was Janos telling him this? Did he know? Had the Unspoken told him, or had the Ancient simply realized for himself? Could Janos have made the connection simply from the use of his former name?
"Many believed he would be a good match for my daughter." The corner of Janos' lips turned up slightly, the smile was half-hearted at best. "Considering that they were both the children of Guardians, similar in maturity, our people thought it would be an advantageous match- if an unlikely one."
"Why unlikely?"
Janos stopped his slow pacing and turned to look directly at him, a true, if small, smile on his face. "For a very long time, the two disliked each other. My Zofia was headstrong- even reckless, and Adojan was cautious to the point of avoiding even the most unlikely of troubles." He tilted his head slightly to the side. The smile remained. "Astonishing what changes can occur in a few thousand years, is it not?"
Oh Gods... "Sir?" Adojan asked politely, forcing a mildly puzzled expression onto his face. He called the spell like a heat rising from the core of his body, collecting in his palm. His skin grew warm. The fire had not appeared, not yet, but he clasped his hands behind his back, hiding any evidence of the spell.
"So you have found your way home at last, Adojan."
His hands shook ever so slightly, and Adojan remembered in that instant that vampires were capable of feeling nausea.
He hadn't been certain until now, but something in this crumbling era of Nosgoth was making him ill. Vorador assessed the tempestuous roiling of his stomach and subtle ache in his limbs and decided that it was enough to be concerned about only if he stayed for a prolonged period of time. His patience was wearing thin, and the compound voice had not made him aware of any truths he had not previously known. When it seemed that the narrative was winding down, he decided that he had heard enough, and whether Kain was well enough informed or not, he wanted new information.
"Shall we forget the hunt and go straight to the kill?" he asked, turning to the other vampire. "What do you gain from this?"
If the white-haired vampire was surprised, and Vorador doubted he was, Kain hid it well. "'This'?" he repeated.
"You appeared within the Keep just after I killed most of those half-wits they called Pillar Guardians, and upon reaching safety," Vorador's tone took on a sardonic note, "offer to reunite me with my Sire's daughter, my 'sister', as you so sweetly phrased it. To trust you, you offer me my own ring, which I will 'give to you' in my future, your past, and you do this, I can only assume, out of the 'kindness of your heart'." He raised an eye ridge. "You do not strike me as the generous sort, Kain. There must be something that benefits you in this venture."
The other vampire smiled, almost to himself, seeming to enjoy how bluntly the questions had been asked, or perhaps he had anticipated the conversation they were having. Either way, Kain sobered quickly and answered in a business-like tone. "Have you heard tell of the Hylden?"
Vorador tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. "What do you know of them?"
"That they battled your sire's race in times long past and were flung into the Demon Dimension for their intrusion into Nosgoth, as well as their crimes against the other races." He paused, adjusting his gauntlets in what looked like a nervous habit. "Now- in this time, I find myself besieged. The Hylden creep into the borders of Nosgoth once again. The Pillars fall without Janos' people to maintain them. The Ancients are the only ones who can keep Nosgoth from being overthrown. I need their help, and to have it, I need yours."
:All true,: Zofia added silently. :Father's presence was the last barrier for the Hylden, and the Demons. Once he died, enemies sought to reopen the Hylden Gate and cross back into Nosgoth. Kain defeated them in his youth, but the damage was already done. Nosgoth has continued to spiral into corruption and decay- you have felt it, even in your own time. The magicks you once controlled, and your children controlled, lose strength. Each new vampire is born weaker than the last.:
Vorador decided to play coy as he listened to Zofia's explanation. He had a fair idea of why Kain had sought his help, but he asked anyway. As the aged vampire professed his concern for the well being of the Ancients and his reluctance to bring them straight to his time, as well as the convenience of Vorador's swamp to keep the winged-ones hidden, Zofia continued.
:In this time, none of your children live. Many had been killed by the Sarafan- the strongest slowly lost the strength of magic and will to survive.: She laughed wildly. :None could hold their blood in the end.:
He felt a pang in his heart. No, vampires were not as eternal as they believed themselves to be. Vorador knew this better than anyone.
:You see Kain- the self-made empire of Nosgoth. He wishes to rule an empire that will last more than one millennia,: the voice giggled, :but he cannot hold his throne. It crumbles to dust in his hands. Dust and ashes, and the Hylden creep about his feet, licking up the ashes, waiting for him to grow distracted, weak, when they may finish him off, while the demons laugh from the shadows. He would have us restore the glory of the world, drive off the enemies that all inhabitants of Nosgoth share, and allow him free control of all the riches of a world so cruelly poisoned.:
:Why does he seek me out?:
Her voice was comically chiding. :We told him to. He seeks your help for all the reasons he said... and perhaps to incite a disagreement between us later, causing us to lose faith in you and look to him for guidance...:
:Why did you wish him to seek me?:
:Because the me that I will be, should you save us... will not know a great deal of Kain. She will make errors in judgment... but with your presence, not as many. Kain plays upon the affection you harbor for those you protect and thinks we will not trust you as you now are.:
:And how true will that last be?:
:Somewhat,: the voice said cheerfully. :There will be those who did not know you well in life, and those who will be surprised at your transformation. The remedy is in the Soul Reaver, for all know the prophecy, and all will trust he of whom it speaks.:
:This Soul Reaver, he is Kain's creature?:
:Was.:
:Wonderful.:
Zofia laughed uproariously. :Oh, Vorador. At present he belongs to a being more treacherous than Kain can even dream of becoming.:
"My Lord," he began apologetically, tilting his head, "the Unspoken began addressing me as Adojan when he accelerated my evolution. The name has little meaning for me otherwise."
Janos ignored that. "Even as a vampire, your face, voice- they were familiar to me. Hearing you speak the old name in Kain's presence allowed the last piece to fall into place." His gaze was tender upon Adojan's face as he raised a hand, perhaps to touch the hybrid's cheek. "My almost-son," he whispered.
Adojan started at the other's proximity. How had he allowed Janos to come so close to him? The vampire hybrid's face was openly frightened as he backed away and raised his hand. His right palm was curled down near his hip, lit with flame, the other up at an arms length towards Janos, in an attempt to ward the elder away. "Keep your distance, milord," he breathed, voice shaking.
Janos remained where he was, holding out his arms as if to show he was not a threat. "The spells around this building recognize their former inhabitants, Adojan, it is the only reason you were allowed to enter. As unlike yourself as you now look, just as those spells did- I recognize the one standing before me."
"You may, as we have met a few times before. I certainly know of you, after all." Adojan responded, regaining control of himself. "But I fail to understand what your little story has to do with me."
"Do you no longer trust your own kind, Adojan?" He sounded so melancholy that it pained the hybrid to listen to him. Janos might have been sincere for all that Adojan knew, but that did not mean he could be trusted.
He pretended to misunderstand the question. "I have angered my master, and it is very likely that the Unspoken has cut my ties to the other Hylden." Janos' jaw tightened at the name of his people's nemesis, but he did not speak. "They would kill me at the slightest provocation."
"This incarnation is nothing," the Ancient said, waving away Adojan's answer. "Your current physical form is nothing when compared with the tie your soul continues to have with our people."
He laughed cynically. "The only tie my soul has to anything is this wretched body. A connection that is faulty at best, what with Death snatching at it every moment that I remain on Nosgoth. You flatter me to equate my existence with one such as yourself, milord, but if I may be so bold- do I look like one of your kind?"
Janos smirked. Adojan's soul drew back in fear at the triumph contained in such a tiny smile. "Ah yes, even as a child you were talented at evading questions you did not wish to answer. No," he continued in the most piercing tones of irony Adojan had ever heard, "you are not one of my people. You simply found your way to the chambers of the first Balance Guardian; Sebestyen. On a whim you adorned the garb of a past life and, it is only for your amusement that you wear the pendant of one of my people, who once bore your name.
"But even were each of those statements true, your dance, as strange and breaking from tradition as it was, came so very close to the movements of the original that no creature on Nosgoth, save one with prior knowledge of such rituals, could have done so well. You knew too much to have created it from your mind. Deny if you wish- but you are that child of the past, and we both know it."
Adojan chuckled, shook his head ruefully. The vampiric Hylden sighed, his wings drooping along with his shoulders. Adojan allowed the spell to fade, the fire lowering as if it had been drawn back into his hand until it disappeared.
"It would be so much easier if you were to simply admit who you are right now."
"What I am? What is the purpose of this, Janos?" he asked. Adojan could not see the Ancient's smile, a tiny reaction to the unmasked pain in the hybrid's voice. "Some twisted little game the demon concocted to punish me? My heritage has been an unending source of amusement for it, and the source of an endless number of snide comments." Janos was about to speak, but Adojan looked up at him. "I, am a freak," he spat the last word. Then he smiled cordially, "...and you?" The elder only looked at him, waiting. "I am the mutation of a vampire. Once upon a time I was the soul of an Ancient housed in the body of a human being. I retain memories from all of those lives, and the disgust I should feel as a former human at being one of Kain's brood is made obsolete by my disgust as a former Ancient at what I now am; an insult to three races. The Unspoken laughs at all of us- all I have been, all that is. He promises domination to the Hylden and laughs in their faces as they fail to achieve it. He laughs at vampires; the race that has both thwarted and advanced his cause of destruction for so long. He laughs at your race- my old race... his oldest enemies, through us. Both of us, and his control of us.
"I know he controls you, Janos. Even as he controls me. I admit it. I know who I was- but I am not that Adojan who resided here millennia ago- just as you are not the Janos who waited centuries for my vampiric sire to take up his burden of the Reaver."
The azure-skinned being cast a shrewd look at him. "No... you are not the same. The Adojan I knew was more gentle than you are, self-sacrificing." Janos bared his teeth at the young vampire. "He did not whine as you do."
Adojan bristled at the insult, wings flaring. "The Janos Audron I knew was of a kinder disposition than the being I see before me. He did not have such an exulted view of his place in the universe. You shame your children with what you have become."
"What do you know of them?" Janos chuckled. "Zofia went mad not long after I returned from the dead, and Vorador welcomed the new me into his home with open arms. At present Zofia is still mad and Vorador is dead. Neither is in any position to feel anything towards me."
"Mad..."
"You hadn't realized? Her body was preserved among the corpses of your brothers and sisters, her sanity lost to time."
Emerald eyes burned with Adojan's fury, "If she's alive-"
Janos looked oddly rueful as he spoke. "Why did I not free her? You believe such a thing would be kindness? Her spirit has disconnected from her body- her consciousness replaced by an echo of your brethren. Zofia could not safely return to her body without the forcible removal of the other minds. Zofia has existed in such close union with them that the ensuing solitude would drive her even deeper into madness."
Adojan swallowed the growing horror in his chest. "Why not end her suffering?"
Janos smirked cruelly. "Kill her, do you mean?" The hybrid visibly flinched. "Commit the merciful act, as she did for you? Zofia yet has a part to play in this little drama. She is not selfish enough to ask for death, simply in the interest of avoiding pain."
"A fine sentiment," Adojan returned, "when she is in no state to tell you differently. Were you to see her and hear her ask for death- would you give it?" Janos stilled, and Adojan knew he had finally struck a nerve.
"She has her task... and so have you."
"What task would that be?" Suspicion drowned out anger and Adojan tensed as Janos moved forward once again.
"You will find yourself, before very long, in a position to help save or damn the world. You will have time for only one shot, Adojan. Use it well... aim for her heart." The golden eyes slid closed for a moment, then caught him again, burning in their intensity. Janos seemed to struggle with himself before speaking again. "Remember that. Aim for the heart."
Before the hybrid could respond, he realized that Janos had once again lulled him into a state of false tranquility. Less than an arm's length away, the Ancient was close- far too close. They both froze for a moment. Adojan lurched backward, not fast enough. Janos caught his arm just below the shoulder, wrapped his taloned fingers around it hard enough to almost break the skin. The other hand clutched the back of Adojan's head, just beneath his left horn.
"Now go- greet Kain and your former brother." Power erupted from Janos' palms, flowing over Adojan like water over a pebble. The wave crashed over his mind and he tumbled through space as the teleportation spell flung him halfway across the continent.
Vorador opened his mouth to answer Kain's last comment, when Zofia gasped. The lupine vampire sensed it a moment later. A familiar presence, not familiar because of who it was, but rather what. :Vorador... beware.: Zofia's voice was a trembling whisper in his mind. :He comes... and unspoken horror travels within him... he is not as you once knew him.: She seemed to subside abruptly, the fear being replaced by anticipation. :Be wary...: then her whispery mental voice cackled, ending in a whimpering little sigh.
"What is it?" Kain asked, looking towards the staircase, where Vorador had directed his eyes.
"Someone comes," he replied. A brief, unacknowledged fear crossed over the pale-haired vampire's eyes before it disappeared and Kain grimly drew the Reaver.
"Vorador," a voice emerged from the darkness beyond the threshold, "well, brother, look at you. Is it not astonishing, the changes that occur over a millennia?"
The ancient vampire had a moment to wonder why the voice sounded so familiar, then Zofia breathed a name into his mind, her voice so filled with longing that his own heart clenched.
"Adojan?" he asked, more of her than of the figure in the doorway. Vorador pondered the aura signature that flickered in and out of his awareness from beyond that threshold, but for no more than a second. He flinched as a sphere of flame, two small, blue-violet spheres of pure force, and a fork of lightning flew from Kain's hands to the owner of the voice. They exploded in bright flashes and clouds of oddly colored smoke. Then there was silence.
Vorador blinked the afterimage of lightning out of his sight, and seemingly at the most inopportune time, Kain's light spell faded and died. When a soft blue shimmer of energy emerged from the doorway, he almost thought it was an aftereffect of one of the spells, before the figure beneath it stepped forward. He looked, and saw a strange looking vampire hidden underneath a bell-shaped magic structure. The glow faded, but the air around the being still retained a sort of 'stretched' look to it, as if he were looking at the figure from behind a curved pane of glass.
"Masterful attempt, Kain," the being sneered. It threw up its own sphere of light and spread its arms, looking as if it were giving the old vampire a free shot at his chest. "Care to try another?" The last word was punctuated by a current of electricity surging from the vampire lord's hands as he did just that. The glassy shield and blue glow sprang up once again, deflecting the bolts to one of the tattered corpses within the wall.
The spell form faded again, but with the light, Vorador could now see a faint outline remain in the air where the scenery was distorted by the shield.
Adojan was examining the tips of his talons. "A useful little spell, don't you think? I quite enjoy it." He looked up at Kain from narrowed eyes. "A pity you lost the trick of such magic as the world advanced in decay."
So that was the familiar aura he had sensed. Vorador recognized the shield as the repel skill. Some of his children were able to erect barriers of force between them and their enemies. It worked for magic as well as sword, and although it was difficult to cast spells while concentrating on maintaining the shield, physical assault was still a useful weapon. It was also one of the simplest spells to master and control. Vorador no longer bothered with it, as strong as he was, but in this era... vampires had lost the ability to use it? If they had, why did Adojan have one about him? Then Vorador noticed the medallion hanging about the vampire's neck. The Adojan from long ago had never been seen without it, and it seemed his reincarnation continued to wear it.
He did not doubt what his senses claimed. He had lost his father, learned the whereabouts of his sister, seen the end of his world and come face to face with a negative image of one of his old acquaintances, by and large, Adojan was the least difficult of these things to accept.
"How can a Hylden know anything of the Ancients' magic?" Kain asked scornfully.
Adojan smiled. "Oh, very good. Turn Vorador against me by giving only half-truths about my existence." He walked towards the carving. Calmly Vorador moved away, keeping distance between them. Kain also moved towards the side of the room. The vampiric Hylden stepped up to the unbroken sculpture, which had receded into dormancy. He put his hand out, stroked along the shield in a gesture of longing. He mimed touching the stone face. "What are you here, my love? Have you even the use of a body anymore?" But the carving was silent, as were the voices.
"Touching," Kain drawled. "But if you plan on killing me, Hylden, I would call for an end to the pleasantries."
"A testy deity," the other made a chiding noise. "One of the most dangerous things in the world. How unfortunate you are not one, Kain."
"I'm close enough to divinity that the line blurs. You'll learn that as you watch your lifeblood flow out of your body, and into mine."
"Promises promises," he whispered. Adojan turned to Vorador, "And you? Have you nothing to say to your almost-kin, brother?"
"Forgive me for not quite recognizing you, Adojan," he replied courteously. "You appear somewhat different than you once did."
"Multiple rebirths and accelerated periods of evolution will do that to a man... as you know," Adojan inclined his head briefly to the elder vampire.
"So you've met," Kain murmured in an oddly pleasant tone, as if they'd all been Nosgothian nobility meeting at a banquet, instead of three vampires standing in a tomb beneath the fading earth.
"Yes," Adojan murmured. "Vorador knew me as a child." Then he once again ignored Kain and turned all his attention to the lupine vampire. "The darker powers of Nosgoth have a refined sense of humor, you see. One that makes a human Pillar of Balance into a vampire," he held Vorador's gaze and jerked his chin at Kain, "the wisest being in the world into a madwoman," he ran his thin talons over the stone carving, "and an Ancient," he looked at his white hand, still resting on the stone, "into a Hylden."
Adojan tensed and simultaneously all of them realized the hybrid had forgotten to renew his shield. Kain acted a split second before Adojan, and cast lighting bolts full into the young one's face. The Hybrid's glowing eyes burned. The words he spoke to recast he spell were lost in the crack of lightning.
The shield reappeared- a second after the spell hit his chest and flung him into the wall below the carving, dislodging a few small fragments of stone from the broken niche beside it. The Hylden gasped in a parody of breathing and gave a croaking, wheezing laugh. "Oh, well done, Adojan," he berated himself, "astonishing powers of concentration." He staggered to his feet within the shield. The pale skin of his chest, red and raw, charred black in the center, began to mend.
"What is this?" Kain demanded imperiously. "The last time we met, you became your master's mouthpiece and vowed my death, now you wish to talk?"
"People in this world are rarely what they seem, and I am no exception," he said, brushing off his dark trousers. "At first glance, I may seem to be a vampiric form of Hylden, one created by a son of Kain and evolved into this form, for the express purpose of killing you," he threw a pointed look at Kain before turning to Vorador. "Look a little deeper, and I am actually an Ancient, reborn as human, and implemented in a plan to increase the pressure upon a certain vampire lord; to cause him to make a vital, possibly fatal, mistake."
"What are you now?" Vorador muttered.
Adojan looked at him. "A rebel, who barely has a knife to his name, fighting a warrior who stands with the power of a legion at his call."
Janos stood in the gloom of the Common Arena alone. All had their parts to play regarding the fate of Nosgoth. Yet... Adojan's words came echoing back, tormenting him. Ashamed of what he had become. The Ancient wondered if Vorador, at any point in history, would have understood. His son had not understood the centuries of seemingly meaningless sacrifice, the pain and torment which was all for a greater cause, and one, the results of which, Janos knew he would never see.
Dark lips skimmed back in a snarl, baring his fangs. Janos clenched his fists. Ashamed of him? Vorador had done no more in his life than hide away in his manor and watch as his children died on the Sarafan's blades and from their cruel magic. He could have done something; attempted to fight back, to make the Sarafan cease their crusade... he had not.
He needed to hide and wait. Who else would have killed Malek in Kain's defense? Janos laughed silently at the more forgiving side of himself. Vorador had killed Malek out of his own lust for vengeance and eagerness to finish what he had started so long ago. But what of the Cabal? Was that not evidence of sacrifice? Had Vorador not felt the pains of his fledglings for centuries as they risked themselves to destroy the Hylden? It was not quite the same.
The decline of their people, the sacrifice of their children to the Blood Fountains, the foreseen destruction of the human Circle of Nine; all parts of the puzzle. Even further back, the creation of the Pillars to imprison the Hylden, the construction of the Chronoplast and its smaller components, the Reaver fonts, all in the service of correcting a mistake. The original mistake...
But the Pillars- the Pillars were the key. Or rather, the lock-, for the Reaver is the key, Janos smirked. It was a dangerous game they had begun with the construction of the pillars; deliberately creating weaknesses in the powers of the world. A weakness through which the demons could slip into Nosgoth, and control, at least in part, aspects of the Pillars themselves. Like a demonic cancer, the demons spread to the furthest corners of their world, ravaging what ever lay in their path.
The Pillars were a source of great power, but just as great a liability, yet the choice to create them had set a plan in motion which had the greatest chance of success, and so it was that proposal that he and his brethren had put into operation so many centuries ago. The action that continued even now that all hope seemed lost. Were the Pillars to fall completely, the demons would eventually crush Nosgoth in their talons, still, Janos continued.
It had taken several turns of the wheel to come even this far. Janos knew of three drastic changes in the time stream; one had occurred at Kain's assassination of William the Just, another during a deceptively simple meeting between Kain and Raziel not long after Kain's human birth. The third had taken place shortly after Janos' own death, after Raziel had nearly been drained by the Reaver blade... his own soul. There would be others, if their carefully planned countermeasure was to succeed.
Jergo had foreseen all of this. Janos wondered how it could have been possible. How long had the original Pillar of Time sat, searching through the streams of time for the possibilities which, out of the millions upon millions, would bring their people back into their rightful place as the overseers of Nosgoth? How many undesirable ends, how many deaths and births and rebirths had he seen with those tortured eyes? Had Jergo seen this? Had he seen what the Reaver Guardian would become? It was likely.
Janos wondered whether he should be enraged or grateful at not having been warned. Such a long time in planning, and should they fail, the Hylden would be waiting on the other side to claim what was left of the dying world his people had thrown them out of so long ago. The Hylden had set a trap, but the Ancients had known about it. Janos' lip curled in a cruel sneer. So their enemy had thought to gain the advantage. The only one they'd ever had was the element of surprise, before the Ancients had realized how beauty could hide such ugliness. The war had lasted two centuries. Not very long for beings who lived to see mountain ranges rise and fall before the end of childhood.
A sudden pain flared in Janos' palm and burned across the Reaver Guardian's cloven hand. He looked down and watched as his skin closed, dark blood drying upon his palm. He had clenched his hand so tightly that his own talons had cut him. The corner of Janos' mind that had defended Vorador sorrowed, wondering when he had become so hard-hearted. Unconsciously his right hand drifted to the long, jagged scar on the left side of his chest, and the pulse that lay still and silent in his body.
Vorador. His son would not have understood. Janos remembered his child's effort to save all the vampires he could during Moebius' crusade, ending in his own death. However, the vampire had known his sire was but moments away, ready to bring back him at the first opportunity. Vorador had neither feared nor cared for death at the time, only the stupidity of the humans watching and the indignity of being slain like some common animal, his head cut off by some fool at a lever instead of a warrior who had bested him in combat.
Vorador knelt before the guillotine, his head ringed by the bloodstained wood. Janos could see that he sneered at the humans who cheered his approaching death. Kain, the fledgling, stood in confusion and horror before the platform, unable to understand how this mindless, unwashed mass of humans had managed to capture the Father of all Vampires. Vorador suddenly caught Kain's eye and smiled ironically.
Janos could hear the whisper as clearly as if Vorador were speaking aloud, never mind that the message might have been meant to be private. :You understand now, do you not, Kain?: he Whispered. :They are worth nothing.:
"Cattle!" he shouted at them, laughing. "Even now you understand nothing of a vampire's resilience!" Moebius signaled to the executioner. The hooded man pulled a lever, releasing the blade-
Not even at the true end had Vorador worn an expression of shame- confusion, disbelief, but not shame. The senses that made Janos aware of his vampiric son told him that Vorador was young in this body. Kain would have enlisted the help of the Vorador who had recently been responsible for the death of the human Circle, the most accessible of the time and also the vampire who had not yet come in contact with Kain as a fledgling. This Vorador had not seen him revived as yet, had not seen his Sire changed, how expendable everyone had become to him.
Janos shook his head angrily. Vorador was spared a slow death caused by the decline of the land, and the conflicts that would have arisen had his children and those of Kain come to blows. At some point in history, despite Vorador's apathetic views, he and Kain would have been forced into a conflict that Vorador could not be allowed to win. With Vorador in Nosgoth, too many events could have changed. Janos had known what he had to do.
"I have no desire to fight you, Vorador," Kain murmured, sinking into a half-crouch.
"Nor shall you," Janos' voice was stern, and the Ancient raised his hand towards Kain. He sent the young vampire to Sanctuary, the halls of the vampire community within Meridian would be the safest place, even more so now that the Sarafan Lord was gone and none of the vampires knew what had befallen Umah. They had no reason to suspect Kain's treachery. Nor will they, Janos thought to himself, watching as his son's meager display of strength gave out, leaving Vorador slumped and trembling on the ground.
"Whelp..." the lupine vampire rasped. "The ivory-skinned little bastard trots about as if he were lord and master of all Nosgoth."
"One day," Janos murmured, moving to Vorador's side, "he will be."
The younger of them snorted. "Gods help us all when that day comes." Janos gave his son an arm up, allowing Vorador to pull himself to his feet, using his sire as a crutch.
"His Rule is necessary for the Gods' final purpose."
Vorador raised an eye ridge at that, "As you say, Sire."
Janos smiled a bit, "Ah, Vorador." He sighed softly. "If things were as I say, none of our children would have to die." Then the soft, rippling power in his hand swept through his skin and into the greenish flesh at the back of Vorador's neck.
It raced into Vorador's body, severing the ties between soul and body and casting the former adrift. The first vampire gasped at the intrusion, collapsed into his sire's arms. The expression on his face was one of shock as his soul, the core of his being and the source of his power, simply drifted from his body. There was no pain, no sound, just a very brief struggle as Vorador attempted to psychically hold on to it, but he was too weak. The moss-colored talons clenched and unclenched, the eyes darkened, and he was gone.
Janos laid the body on the pale stones, closed the sightless eyes. He looked up to the bright, yellow-orange sphere now hovering above him. "I am sorry," he whispered. The Ancient could not have said whether he apologized for the death he had just caused, or for the one at the beginning, which had started Vorador's entire melancholy unlife. Then, just as he had over twenty-five centuries ago, Janos clasped the soul with his own, before sending it on its way to the Infinite Calm. Afterwards, he stood, walked away... and without looking back, cast the ritual fires upon the body, burning what was left of his first child in sapphire flame.
Always it had been Janos who turned his eyes away and cast the purifying flame upon Vorador's slowly graying body. Perhaps if enough events can be changed to suit, Janos mused, I will be the one to move on, leaving my mortal flesh to the fire. Then the Ancient sighed, closed his eyes, and disappeared in the glow of cerulean energy.
:He comes!: Vorador was hard put not to wince when Zofia shrieked in his ear, and continued to speak in the same high, terrified voice. :He comes. He comes now.:
:Who?: She would not answer him. :Who comes!?: he shouted at her.
They all sensed it. Kain had gone still and cold, staring at the doorway and moving closer towards the wall, trying to gain a position that would allow him to keep Adojan in his peripheral vision.
Adojan was a marble statue, all movement ceased that of his wings, which.... Vorador blinked and stared at him, eyes narrowed. Were they quivering?
The ancient vampire wondered what they felt that he had not, when he realized the sense of sickness in his body had grown more acute. Something was moving closer, and whatever it was, he dreaded the thought of having it anywhere near him.
"You have been too long among elder vampires, Adojan," a voice emerged from the doorway. "You are enamored of the sound of your own voice." Everyone froze.
A little voice gibbered in the back of Vorador's mind. The thin, high-pitched litany sounded like some form of denial. It was Zofia.
He imagined if she had been standing in the room, the Ancient would have had her hands clasped over her ears as she shook her head wildly. The tumble of words slowed and he could make out two that continued to repeat. :Not father not father not father....: The voice changed in tone from fearful to angered and back again, many times. Despite her urgency and the conviction with which she spoke, Vorador's eyes strained to take in the owner of the voice, shrouded in shadows beyond the threshold. There was cruelty underlying the words which the lupine vampire had never known the owner of that voice to be capable of.
The last Ancient stepped into Adojan's spell-light and Vorador felt his heart accelerate, surprised, seized by an unusually childlike sensation for the third time in a matter of days.
It had come so suddenly; the absence of Janos' presence within his soul. So sudden, in fact, that the jewel-encrusted goblet at his lips fell to the table, splashing blood onto it and the carpet underneath. A searing pain, as if he'd been stabbed, burned into his body. A fledgling ran to his side, begging to be told what was wrong. Part of his soul began to fade as he crouched on the dining hall floor, wracked with pain, and emptiness took its place. As his body remained in the implacable grip of pain, which pulsed like a new wound, he heard himself tell the fledgling to bring his sword and a human from the pantry.
Rage consumed him. He knew what had happened as surely as if he'd been there to witness the act. The Sarafan had somehow found a way into Janos' retreat and murdered him. He knelt on the floor, allowing the burning heat of the spiritual wound fuel his rage. They would see their beloved Circle die for this- this... insult was not strong enough a word. Their murder of the last Ancient was... horrendous, a blasphemy the likes of which had not been seen for over a thousand years.
A neck, vibrating with tension appeared almost magically in the field of his vision. The small incision made upon pale flesh ignited his need to hunt. Vorador reached out almost hesitantly and grasped the bound man by his shoulders. The ancient vampire drew forward as if in a trance, baring his fangs to the intoxicating liquid. His ears twitched as he noticed the human was speaking under his breath, a sort of prayer. He stilled and the words became clear to his superhuman hearing.
"...our safety and salvation.... Holy circle, protectors of Nosgoth, watch over my life, cradle my soul when it leaves my body, for you are our balance, and the life of all the world; our safety and salvation.... Holy circle, protectors of Nosgoth-"
It was not until the words cut off that Vorador realized his claws were digging into the human's flesh. The man was making a slight gasping noise; opening and closing his mouth slightly like a landed fish. Vorador moved a hand to the man's chin, clasping it tightly, he turned the human's head to meet his gaze.
"Finish it," he commanded in a low growl. The human cringed, whimpering in pain. His voice went even lower. "Finish. It."
The human shuddered, his eyes sliding shut. "... watch over my life, cradle my soul when it has left my body- for you are our balance, and the life of all the world-" with a savage twist, Vorador ripped the man's head from his shoulders. He let the body fall, called the blood through the air to his open mouth. He stood, looking down at the body, and to the fearfully waiting vampire in the corner he said, "My sword?"
He held out a blood-spattered hand and the sheathed Bone Sword slapped into it. He closed his fingers about the crosspiece and strode purposefully out of the room.
His chest still burned from the spiritual wound. It had not dissipated with the arrival of this being who sounded so like his maker. Despite this, his soul was ready to reach out; to search for comfort from the other. Janos looked at him as he emerged from the shadows, and the feeling grew.
"My child," Janos voice lost the cruel edge and he looked upon his vampiric son with gentle longing, regret of the pain he could see had been caused by his death. "For me, it has been a very long time since our last meeting."
"And it will be a long time for Vorador yet," Kain said wryly, "as you are not Janos Audron."
The lupine vampire did not respond to Kain, but took his words into account. "How is this possible?" Vorador's crossed arms concealed how closely his hand had strayed to the hilt of the Bone Sword.
"What you felt at my death was a deep pain, a sense of loss- but such will pass, Vorador," Janos said kindly. "I will rise and live again once my heart is restored."
Vorador realized as he spoke next, that his emotions had shut down under the confused jumble of surprise and shock that had assaulted him thus far and he was now acting without the burden of feeling what was occurring around him. Briefly, he thanked the Gods for the reprieve. "You will rise undead, as we do," he corrected.
Janos looked slightly wounded. "Would you rather I had remained dead?"
"I would have thought you'd prefer it, 'sire'," Vorador said gently. "For longing of your family and the desire to be reunited with them."
He sighed. "Not when I yet have work to do. Work that should not be interrupted." He turned to the silver-haired vampire. "Kain, you naughty dog- enlisting Vorador's help to cripple us here, in the future." Janos' voice had gained a slightly guttural tone, and the golden eyes... Vorador was not certain, but had they darkened to orange? "You cannot strike out at me in any way for which I have not prepared. I will have this world, and not you, nor any that would aid you will deny me. Although-" Vorador's talons slid down Bone Sword's hilt, ready to draw it as Janos turned back to him, "you were quite clever in your choice of allies," he said to Kain. "But it was unkind of you to involve him- to cause him all this confusion and pain, which can be so easily forgotten."
His hands shimmered softly, as if they were covered in a sheen of moonlight. "Just a moment of discomfort and all of this will disappear. You see, Kain was right to choose you- one powerful enough to be of use at a time in history when virtually none knew of him, and someone he could easily, considering the alternatives, convince to aid him. Someone who might help him towards even more powerful allies, and most cunningly- someone I will require to take part in later plans. I cannot kill you... but a small change to your memory, and his death... those are well within the sphere of my control."
Zofia's voice was mumbling in his head, urging him to wait, wait for Janos to cast the spell, wait... :Now!:
Vorador dove for the floor, rolling and unsheathing the Bone Sword as he did so. The spell Janos had thrown impacted like a fluid upon the stone on which Vorador had been standing.
Adojan leapt upon Janos' back, pinning the Ancient's wings and ridding him of his sight as he twisted the now red eyes off to the side. But only for a moment. As Vorador stood, torn with indecision whether or not he should save the strange creature who might or might not be of aid to him, if Kain had been in a mood not to strike the young one down where he stood.... A small but powerful explosion flung the Hylden from Janos' back and into the wall behind them.
:Go, Vorador! Go now!: Zofia begged.
Vorador turned finally, moved towards the doorway, calling to Kain, who had frozen at one side of the room, the Reaver tight in his grasp, his face frozen in anger, fixed upon Janos Audron. The Ancient reached down and swiftly plunged his talons into white flesh. Adojan grunted in pain and clutched uselessly at Janos' wrist. He smirked and took hold of Adojan's left horn, tilting the young vampire's head to the side, the elder's eyes burned red as he exposed the fragile white neck.
"I find your willfulness most comical; the belief that you can test my will. You thought I could not roam this world except in the vehicle of your body?" the demon whispered from inside Janos. "I have had my talons in this one for millennia. He is almost easier to control than you. You believed I could not hurt you." He shook his head in cruel humor and pulled. Adojan screamed as his vitality was drained by those talons, running up Janos' hand like a backwards waterfall. "You are going to learn just how difficult life can be for an enemy of mine."
Vorador was over the fountain in two jumps and strode quickly to the door... only to have the tip of his sword collide with a barrier of solid air laid over the entrance. His eyes widened as he put a hand against it, pushed with physical and mental force, and got nothing for his pains. He swore softly.
"We are trapped," Kain said grimly, also running a hand over the blocked entrance. Even as he said it, Vorador reached for his teleportation spell, but could not activate it. The earth surrounding them was saturated with dark energy, trapping them within a solid wall of power that was incompatible with Vorador's magic, and although similar to Kain's, it was made to keep them from escaping. This was why, Vorador realized, Kain had caused them to land halfway up the staircase. The energy could not be bypassed.
"Very well..." he murmured, turning. "Then we fight." Vorador spread his free hand flat, palm up, and what looked like drops of blood collected within his palm, seeping upwards from the skin and coalescing in the air above his hand to make a sphere. The construction was transmitted by touch, as many were, but with his blood as a medium, Vorador could gain added distance for his abilities. As Janos dropped the hybrid to the floor, Vorador curled his fingers about the ball, never actually touching it, and cast it at the creature that was and was not, his sire. Janos turned and waved his hand to the side, the spell shot off in that direction, hitting one of the corpses. The vines collapsed inward, crumbling into dust and revealing the skeleton beneath.
"Implode?" Janos murmured, looking a trifle impressed. Gold eyes flared in anticipation of a battle. "At least you are honest enough to admit that you strike to kill." Then he seemed to dismiss Vorador from his thoughts and turned to Kain. "I believe that sword is mine," he smirked.
"I will be happy to return it to you," Kain answered oh-so-pleasantly. "Would you prefer through the heart... or across the throat?"
The tight-lipped smile Janos used to respond was lost as the Ancient raised a hand and pulled telekinetically on the Reaver. Kain held on, sliding a few feet across the floor, his grip tight on the sword's hilt. The telekinesis drew him on, neither Kain nor Janos' spell letting go, neither seeming fatigued, but Janos' face tightened in annoyance as Kain was dragged at an excruciatingly slow pace across the floor.
Vorador, backing unobtrusively towards the wall, was not foolish enough to think either of the combatants had forgotten him, but he wondered, some moments, whether the possibility might exist. Would either of them need his help? Were they possibly expecting it? Despite the instinctive desire to help Janos, he would not be going to his sire's aid. Kain, even should his pride to allow him to ask for help, couldn't truly count on Vorador. He had not yet seen a good reason to let either of these vampires live. His sire was the undead and no longer who he had been. However it had happened, Janos was changed, and Vorador could not trust him. Kain had led him to valuable information, but for what purpose, the ancient vampire could not begin to imagine. However... were Janos to win, Vorador's memory of this place would be stripped from him, and any hope of aiding the fledglings lost.
Having chosen a side, for the time being, the lupine vampire readied a spell. Kain slid closer to Janos and the Ancient bared his teeth. Janos raised his free hand and a fork of lightning had barely left his palm when the putrescence spell Vorador had thrown impacted and extinguished the other. Both spells disappeared, but their collision also broke Janos' concentration. Freed from the spell, Kain crossed the distance between them in four leaping strides, bringing the Reaver above his head in a two-handed grip. He swung viciously downward.
Janos threw his arm upwards and caught the blade in his cloven hand. A cushion of energy separated his skin from the Reaver's wicked edges, and the blade was caught again. Kain kept a hold of the blade with his right hand and with the other, grabbed Janos' vest. When the Ancient attempted to telepathically knock him away, he was rocked by the blow, but otherwise did not move. Janos began another spell and Kain loosed the old one's vest in favor of grabbing his wrist. The Nosgothic Emperor released the pressure he'd been holding on the unfinished sword thrust. The tip of the blade sawed backwards in Janos' hand and Kain plunged his fist and the Reaver's hilt into the elder's stomach.
The Ancient grunted, then growled low in his throat. He looked up at Kain with eyes gone blood red and smiled. He flexed his elbow, straightening the trapped, spell-heavy hand, rolled his talons over the back of Kain's wrist, breaking the vampire's grip. Kain used that moment to back swiftly out of Janos' range, tearing the Reaver's hilt ornaments out of the other's stomach.
Blood stained the somber-colored garment, the flesh beneath it closed slowly as he and Kain began to circle once again. Vorador was torn between spells. As the various forces in his mind attested, Janos was a threat, but- despite the changes in him... it was his sire. Perhaps Janos could not be allowed to win this battle, but Vorador did not want to be the one to kill him. He still did not trust Kain... but the two seemed to be well matched. If Kain were to kill Janos, it would not be without sacrifice on his part. The silver-haired vampire would be weakened, vulnerable... Vorador could finish him with little trouble, then dash up the stairs, teleport back to the Chronoplast and leave this gods-forsaken land behind.
:No!: Zofia cried sharply in his head. She sounded adamant, but oddly regretful. :If Kain dies, so does Nosgoth.:
Vorador did not ask her to explain. There was no time and the truth of the statement made his ears ring. :What, then, do you suggest I do?: Her attention shifted to Adojan. Without having to consider, he strode over to the fallen being and knelt at the hybrid's side.
"Vorador," he breathed, "you- you have to get out-" Vorador inwardly applauded his wisdom in speaking. For a being such as Janos, the whisper could be more easily overheard, private conversation or not. The vampire wondered briefly how it was that Zofia could speak with him alone and unheard by the others.
"Drink," he told the younger vampire. "You must divert his attention, so that Kain may make his move." He put his unclad arm before Adojan, offering his wrist to the hybrid's mouth.
"Kill him?" Adojan clarified, ignoring the sluggish pulse beneath his nose. "For all the strength of the 'elder vampires', so many of you are squeamish about killing those in your way...." The Hylden bit and drank of him, defiantly holding the lupine vampire's gaze.
Vorador allowed emotion to show in his eyes. The burning hollowness he had felt at Janos' death, the painful sense of loss he refused to contemplate at the thought of losing his sire a second time, and a soul-searing rage at Adojan's pomposity. "Upon the love my sister continues to bear you, and the momentary use I have for you, I will ignore those words," he hissed. "I defy you to speak them again once you find yourself in the same circumstances." He decided Adojan had taken enough blood to stand and took his wrist away from the young vampire, ignoring the shock in his pale face.
Janos threw a blade of force as big as his arm at Kain, who had ignited a trail of blue-green fire upon the Reaver. The silver-haired vampire brought the blade up, the magic upon it shattered the force projectile in two, and the Reaver ceased to glow. From his crouched position, Vorador launched himself at Janos, faster than mortal eyes could see he attacked simultaneously with sword and magic. Janos backed up, evading the spell but taking a deep slash to his right forearm. The Ancient must have sensed Kain closing in behind him, for he cast a shield over his wings and turned, slamming his pinions into the undead emperor before thrusting into the air. Kain struck out with a handful of lightning and Vorador leapt up the fountain, slashing and clawing. They collided in midair. Vorador's weight drove Janos down, but the shield held firm, taking the impact.
The Ancient grabbed for Vorador as he rolled away. The knife-like talons caught and sheared through cloth, but retained only a tiny scrap of vermilion. Kain moved in again, but Janos made a violent movement with both hands, flinging him over the fountain and into a corner of the room by the door. "Vorador," he said, climbing in a surprisingly graceful movement to his feet, "I am only attempting to do what is best for you."
Vorador's blade never wavered. "As you say, Sire."
Janos' face contorted in sudden fury. "Do not attempt to placate me as you would a witless fledgling. You have no conception of the trials I have undergone in the struggle to keep this world alive." His body blurred and Vorador found himself pressed up against the wall. A wave of nausea rolled over him at Janos' proximity and his knees buckled. "Now forget what you have learned here and cease to lecture me on things you cannot comprehend." Janos' hand shimmered, but before it could make contact with Vorador's skin, Adojan surged up beside them. He cast a force projectile at the Ancient's chest. It was only strong enough to make Janos stumble back a few paces... into the Reaver blade.
Kain froze in place, kneeling on the stained floor, arms extended in a two-handed thrust, pinning Janos like an insect on a needle. Vorador stumbled, his chest contracting in a smaller, yet more painful, echo of the torment of Janos' first death. He barely heard Kain murmur an apology, but he felt it when the old vampire brutally twisted the sword.
Vorador dropped to his knees, expecting to see blood on the hand that had flown automatically to his chest. He put his other hand on the floor, realizing as he used it to brace himself, that he must have dropped his sword. Vorador managed to look up, at Janos face. The Ancient had somehow turned his head to look at Kain over his drooping wings. He coughed, blood staining his lips, and smiled.
"You shall be..." he breathed. Janos turned back, his painful cough almost a laugh, and slid forward, off the blade.
Vorador reached for him, but Adojan held him back. Even now, he realized, Janos could not be trusted. The vampiric Hylden moved instead, holding Janos off of the blood-spattered floor, cradling him with one arm around the azure shoulders and the other encircling his waist as his wings flared backwards to keep out of the way.
"Sire?" he murmured, still clutching at his chest. Janos' eyes slid open wearily, and the Ancient smiled as they focused upon him.
Vorador crept a bit closer as he laughed softly, and spoke. "I wished for this... but not in this way...." The air had grown warm at his back, and Janos' slightly unfocused gaze lingered on the empty space over his shoulder. Vorador felt the brush of a ghostly arm over his cheek and he realized that both Janos' children had drawn close, offering comfort at their father's last moments.
Adojan straightened a bit as it touched him, unable to identify the odd summer wind that played over his arms. A tear rolled down Janos' cheek, and he pulled one limp hand to it, pressing his palm to the spectral warmth left by his daughter. The Ancient opened a hand to his vampiric son, and despite the warning in his heart, Vorador took it.
"Be strong..." he whispered. "Do not be afraid to take up the Reaver, Vorador. A time will come when only you can save us from History...."
They missed Kain's ominous look as Janos slumped in Adojan's arms. The Reaver Guardian closed his eyes. The hand Vorador clasped in his own went slack as his sire exhaled, his misused heart beating one last time.
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