Dissolution of Arms

By Eerie

Chapter Seven: Leaving Home

Caruwyn's hands trembled violently and his stomach twisted into a tight knot as he sat before the dying flames that now burned like those when none with unholy blood were present did. Tears he thought had been spent once again fell freely down his face from unblinking eyes. His fingers felt sickeningly uncomfortable with dried blood as they clamped around the wineglass that still stood beside the chair. Despite the tremors that wracked him, no drop was spilled when he lifted it to his lips and drained it without pausing for breath. The vessel clattered to the floor and Caruwyn dug the heels of his hands hard into his eyes. From some remote corner of his conscious, he could feel the dry streaks of blood that remained on his cheeks.

The memory of the night played over and over in his head like some surreal nightmare trapped on a broken record. He could still feel the sword throbbing heavily in his hands as it swept threw the air in one deadly stroke. Everything thereafter played out in slow motion before his eyes. He watched his father's body slump down as if through water, heard the sound of his head thud to the floor with a resounding echo that would forever haunt his dreams.

Caruwyn stood over his sire's fallen body, eyes ablaze in horror at what he just done. Dark blood leaked slowly over the floor, as if trying to crawl away from him, and the blue glow that had enveloped the cold room flickered to orange. His fingers dropped the sword to join the body and it struck the hard floor with a metallic clang. Falling down hard on knees that failed to provide him further strength jarred his bones and the dam that held his scorching tears finally broke open. Not a sound could escape him; no words of prayer of any kind inspired him. His guts wrenched as if fighting the black hole that spread inside him; his muscles drew together painfully tight as he stared down. Icy fingers grasped his heart and ran up his spine but he sat unmoving, willing himself to wake up. The air only seemed to grow colder.

Caruwyn hadn't realized that he held his breath until a choke shattered the silence and he nearly gagged on his lack of oxygen. Tiny bursts of white light flitted in his vision. He was crying aloud now, moaning in pain and rocking on his knees. His arms felt as though they moved on their own, his body reacting when his mind could not. But when his hands found his father's head and pressed it to his chest, the pain seemed to ease and his tears slowed. He raised it from his embrace and pressed a brief kiss of farewell to the cold forehead.

The strength to stand seemed to come to him then and he did, but not before he had the beheaded body gathered in his arms. With eyes cast to the floor, Caruwyn left the cursed room and strode forlornly down the long hallway toward the great doors. He had barely noticed when they spread apart on their own as he neared, and cold night air greeted his wet face with a somber kiss.

Caruwyn knelt beside the grave bearing his unknown mother's body, gazing at the flowers as they swayed lightly upon the gentle breeze.

"Your love returns to you, mother," he whispered and laid Meier's head and body upon the earth. "Please guide him safely back to your side."

For hours that passed unheeded, Caruwyn shaped another grave beside that flowered knoll, taking care not to disturb any of their fragile places. Then, when the earth was returned to its place, raised slightly higher above its new companion, Caruwyn carefully unearthed a single, silver chisuna that rested headmost at Charlotte's grave, no doubt the first one planted there by his father's hands on this very night many years ago. With deliberate care, he placed the flower's roots into the head of the freshly wrought grave and recovered them, pressing the earth firmly in place.

"Rest in the peace you've sought for so long," he bade the site of his mourning and stood wearily. After a long look at the stars above, Caruwyn set back inside, away from them that seemed as watching eyes.

The fire crackled loudly and frazzled the youth's nerves. Shaken, he looked up at it and became suddenly afraid. He had never been so completely alone in all his life. Where was he to go now? His gaze flitted about the room. Every corner, every piece of furniture seemed to mold and rot before his eyes. Stifling a gasp, he turned his wild eyes back to the flames, which had now become liquid, seeping red ooze from the hearth toward his feet.

Caruwyn jumped up and backed away from the illusion in fright while the air around him grew dense and stagnant, fragrant like the thick scent of dead chisuna left too long in storage. His senses swirled and he gripped the sides of his head, forcing his mind to make the phantoms disappear. When his eyes reopened, much to his relief, they did. Caruwyn sighed and realized that he could not stay in the place that would set his dreams and nightmares for many years to come. He disdained the realization that he had to leave, one way or the other. This was, after all, the only place he had known since his birth and the attachments he had to it were greatly embedded in his being. But it no longer seemed to be his own, no longer the place that captured his innocent wonder at the intricacies of life.

He had been an adventurous child, always seeking out the answers to the numberless questions that boggled his young mind. Caruwyn laughed softly to himself at the memories. How he felt sorry for his father who was always the target for the barrage that came from his insatiably curious mouth. But the vampire had just smiled.

Of the things Caruwyn loved to do most with his father his single favorite was to sit and talk aimlessly while watching those graceful, long-nailed hands carve stones into wonderful shapes. Though he had found an interest in sculpture, he had never really wanted to try it himself. He was thoroughly content to watch his father create the strange creatures that would later fall into his own hands as "gifts".

So lost in memory that Caruwyn did not even realize he had been wandering through the house until he stood in the doorway of Meier's drawing room. The candles there flickered up brightly in response to his arrival. The table in the center of the room was dusty and scattered pieces of jagged rocks littered its surface. Picks and metal files of various sizes rested neatly on the smaller notched table beside it. Caruwyn edged his way to the cluttered table and ran a finger over the largest of the faintly glittering rocks, the feel of it filling him with compulsion. Settling down upon the stool before the table, his fingers found a pick and hammer and he set to work.

He had often looked upon the mysterious gravestone in the yard, admiring the wonderful elegance captured in the engravings. Caruwyn shaped those same lines into his creation, a marker to match the skill and artistry of his father's. Time once again failed to have any meaning as he carved. The candles burned low when he finally pulled away and gazed at his work. After all these years, he had the talent after all.

The gravestone was a perfect replica of Charlotte's, the eternal chisuna framing his father's name radiating the same passion and suffering as their engraver. But he could only be proud of his achievement in the respect that there would be no doubt that the one belonging to the marker and its companion were but two to a whole to anyone that might look upon them in the future. Though he had never met any of the other vampires Meier claimed to live in this world, he knew there was a kind of bond among them. They respected each other's privacy and thrived in peace. Perhaps they'd felt Meier's sorrow and would come to pay their respects in that future. The thought comforted him.

Caruwyn took another long look around the room from the threshold of the doorway. He imagined boughs of trees growing through the walls, dropping their velvety leaves to the grass-covered floor below. The image brought a faint, sad smile to his lips. With that, he turned and left the room forever, the candles extinguishing in his absence.

Returning to the night, Caruwyn felt strange, as if weight lifted from his step despite the heavy stone he burdened. As he fixed the beautiful gravestone into its eternal place in the earth, he could summon no tears. But a soft voice eased through his silent pain to fill his mind and he closed his eyes to listen to it.

"Take the sword, and with it you shall find your own path. A life awaits you far away. Be cautious in your step, but do not despair, for in the paths of all, there lies one great happiness if they should choose to see it."

The last words faded as they spoke. The sound of the voice was unfamiliar to Caruwyn, but he sensed a certain warmth and safety in it that he could not distrust if he tried. He touched the blue stone hanging about his neck and felt assurance flow into him through is fingers. The gem almost felt alive. The albino stood and bowed, blessing the graves of his parents one last time before returning inside.

He entered his own quarters and sought a change of clothes in the nearly bare closet. His eyes found one of pale blue that he immediately favored at the moment. After changing, he folded his black frockcoat and pants and placed them neatly on the bed. To the unknowing eye, they might have looked as though their owner would return. Caruwyn reflected on this for a moment and left the room, closing the door behind him as he went.

His feet carried him to the cold bedroom where blood still lay everywhere. His hesitance was brief, however, as he leaned down to take up the fallen sword from the floor. The empty little box stained in deep red caught his attention upon the dresser. He strode to it and studied it thoughtfully. The trinket was laid upon the floor to mingle with Meier's blood before Caruwyn walked from the room and toward his future.

The ship looked ominous even against the vast night sky. Towers adorning its edges rose proudly and darkly toward the heavens, growing taller as he neared. The thing was intriguingly majestic and Caruwyn wondered if there was still architecture similar to it in the place from which it came. The thought instilled a sense of hope as the lift rose and took him to the control room within the vessel's heart. Once inside, he set down the knapsack of bottles full of chisuna wine he had thought to prepare for his journey and studied the controls. They were easier to set than he had initially thought and with a pull of a lever the great ship rumbled to life. The foundations of the entire planet seemed to rock and sway with the ship as it lurched slowly but powerfully from the solid ground.

Caruwyn seated himself before a window of the vessel with his sword resting on his knees. The stars shifted downward and he felt his body grow heavy as the heaving force around him eased into the sky and toward the unknown. Strong anticipation filled him, but whether it was from fear or excitement he couldn't tell. Perhaps it was both.

The place of his birth and the only place he had ever known receded further and further into the distance below him as he watched, running his fingers absently over the sword. One finger strayed and the sharp blade nicked his skin. Caruwyn looked down at his wounded finger and sucked at the small bead of blood that appeared. It was then that he really looked at the fine weapon upon his lap. The blade itself was long and slim, curving slightly away from the sharp edge. Its hilt was small but accommodating for his hand. The tarnished silver melded down into the blade; their connecting point flared out as if sharp thorns grew out at that point. It was surely quite old, but remained sharp through its age, its beauty withstanding neglect. Next to the blue stone he wore, it instantly became Caruwyn's most prized possession, despite the tragic resolve it had seen to.

Through the new emotions and feelings that the youth was subject to, the devastating heartache of loss remained deep, perhaps his only reminder of the place he was leaving. Caruwyn stood and approached the window to watch the stars melt slowly into black eternity. The City's moons became tinier and tinier as the ship plunged on until they were finally eaten by blackness. It was gone forever. There was no direction to look now but forward.

To be continued . . .