Dissolution of Arms
By Eerie
Chapter Eight: Strangers
'Father, is this what you wanted of me? Is this really what I'm meant to do? Why is it so cold?' Caruywn found himself trying to speak but no words escaped his lips. The flickering light that donned his sire's expressionless face wavered like a beacon in the empty blackness around him. The wraith's golden illumination melted to silver-gray and floated just out of reach from the youth's outstretched arms. 'Please don't go away again. Tell me what I'm supposed to do!' He implored silently, on the verge of panic at the idea of being left alone in the all-encompassing darkness. The spirit smiled with tremendous sadness before it winked out against his plea. The dread he felt yielded to an immense sensation of power, while blinding indigo light burned inside him.
The sudden jarring movement and sounds of churning gears of metal against metal made Caruwyn jump to his feet, fully awake and gripping the hilt of his sword in readiness for any danger. The ship groaned and shook and the albino fell to his knees, the bone-rattling sensations beneath him doing little to ease him from his dream into the present world. He hunched low and spread his knees apart to keep from toppling over altogether. Just as his mind cleared of the images that recently lingered in his head, he noticed the bright light filtering into the small control room and realized that it was no illusion.
Jerking his head up against the tugs and pulls of the settling vessel, Caruwyn beheld a vision of magnificence even his dreams had never conjured. A sky so pale blue behind the spotting of clouds it hurt his eyes. He squinted in shock but could not bring himself to close them for fear he would miss it. A flock of frightened birds darted past the window in escape from the giant beast that invaded their peace. Bright red eyes wandered in spite of the light when catching sight of them. In the brief moment he had, Caruwyn studied the curves of their glorious wings, their shining feathers and small bodies. Though he had never seen them before, he recognized them. One of the forms wrought by his father's intricate carvings. He mourned their swift departure.
A final jerk wracked his foundations and nearly forced his face hard into the floor. He saved himself with his hands and the ship finally settled on solid ground. With the caution of one suddenly thrust into unfamiliar surroundings, the youth lifted himself to his feet and the scenery of the new world lay framed before him.
Seemingly endless stretches of meadows and hills covered in glittering white harboring bare and thinly foliaged trees greeted his eyes with their brilliance beneath a sunlit sky. He crept closer to the window, mouth agape. Below, at the base of the ship, lay dark chunks of stone, cracked and scattered about as if a great structure had once been there. His eyes scanned them and immediately fell on one that distinctly bore the mocking face of a beast, though weathered by both time and the elements. The half-breed stared at all he could from the window before deciding that it wasn't enough. Taking up the sword and his humble knapsack of wine, he headed for the ship's lift.
It was comforting to feel the cold fresh air that met him when he pushed the glass doors apart and stepped outside. But the mild warmth of the sun on his pale skin was a pleasant surprise. A mix of sensations caught him motionless and he simply felt, thinking the enchantment mingled on the cold breeze would carry his soul away. Densely lashed eyes reopened slowly and Caruwyn turned to the view at his back. Thickening gray clouds swollen with burden moved like a sodden blanket over the endless sky toward him, bringing promises of storms. But the wonder they wrung from him could not compete with the view that lay beyond the edge of the massive cliff upon which he stood. A deep valley covered in stark white stretched far into the distance, its hills and distant mountains ghostlike in the wintry mist that hung in the air. A frozen river cut through the land like a crystal vein. On its surface lounged several large birds that circled a shimmering breach in the ice ceremoniously. Caruwyn' lips curled into a smile as his keen eyes studies their earthy colors that matched the naked skeletons of the trees around them.
He climbed atop a nearby slate-colored boulder and reveled in the dizziness from being so high above such a vast majestic scene. Catching a few rogue strands of hair, the wind danced about his face. Dazzling sensations of color filled him and he half believed he could just jump from that perch and glide over the frozen valley as naturally as he could walk. Surely this was the essence of life.
So caught up on the sensations surrounding him, Caruwyn did not notice the breeze that stirred about his body and swirled dead leaves in swift spirals just beneath his outstretched arms until he felt them scrape lightly against his fingers. Startled, he looked down and saw the strange play just before the leaves were whisked over the cliff's edge. He watched until they disappeared before flopping down on the rock and straining to reach his course sack of wine bottles. He hauled it beside him and twisted open the first bottle his hands could steal. The sweet-sour rush prickled his tongue to life and he savored it while watching the clouds sweep inexorably closer.
The sky had dulled considerably with its sagging occupants as Caruwyn drained the last few drops of wine into his mouth. Feeling pleasantly warm and renewed, the fear for his unknown trek subsiding, Caruwyn left the ruins and started in the direction that felt most comfortable after bidding the grand view and his ship a fond farewell. The desolate landscape before him seemed to be carved from fragile dreams as he walked, as ready as he could ever be for whatever lay in store for him.
The glorious sights and sounds relieved him of any concept of time as he wandered, like a child taking his first steps in the large world so filled with mystery and intrigue. He was dismayed when the few scraggly creatures whose paths he crossed scampered away before he could approach them. He longed to know what their fur would feel like on his fingers.
As the effects of the wine began to wear off, Caruwyn increasingly noticed the cold that had not been ignoring his inappropriately dressed body. The first of his shivers wriggled from his spine and he was again weary. Like an omen from unseen guardians, several snaking streams of smoke appeared beyond the high hill, his next obstacle, and Caruwyn breathed with relief. The fear of the unknown was quickly replaced by excitement to see the humans, but cold and fatigue did not subside. The steel of the sword's hilt burned his skin as if trying to merge into his hand and his step hurried a pace.
The black-clad hunter spurred his grunting beast harder over the steep snow-covered hills, cursing the dense fluff that slowed his progress.
"Ok, tell me again why we're heading in THIS direction? There's nothing out here but more snow," the disgruntled parasite moaned and fought back its shivers without much success.
"I told you. I sensed a disturbance. I may be wrong but I want to know one way or the other," D said evenly and the parasite wondered if he even felt the stinging cold.
"My bet's on the other. What in the world do you think you'll find in the bloody ruins in the dead of winter?" the companion continued, though D had already stopped paying heed. "We should be finding a job somewhere and replenishing our funds instead of riding out into a frozen wasteland. You know, a nice room at an inn sounds pretty good right now." The thing sighed heavily. "But no, you have to go chasing after whims against your better judgment."
The parasite was far from surprised when its host kept his eyes steadily on the path and his mouth unmoving. It shivered again and withdrew in hopes of finding some semblance of shelter from the icy air.
Plumes of billowing white clouded the air behind the steed as it thundered down the hillside. By the time the ruins of the castle appeared, the sun had slipped behind the dark clouds in resignation. Fresh flakes of snow danced thinly in the air. But something other than the expected broken rocks and fallen towers bid greetings to his steady discomfort. Against the ominous sky thick with clouds was the vessel once borne to the City of Night. The dhampire's eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of it and apprehension claimed the last of his doubt.
The mechanical beast reared in before it, dancing around the jagged stones that lay dangerously concealed beneath the camouflage of old snow. D slid from the beast and squinted up at the solid towers that reached toward the sky like sharp claws. There was no damage to be seen and no sign of life around it. He concentrated to the parasite.
"And what have you to say about this?" he said and lifted his hand so the roused creature could see for itself. There was a long silence. An apathetic snort sounded in the quiet and D knew it was forced.
"Must have been a glitch in its program. Maybe it returned here after reaching that city, if it ever got there at all," it said.
But even as D looked upon the forlorn structure jutting out against the bleak sky, he knew that it did not return unboarded. His eyes fell to the ground, searching. There. Leading southbound from the ship was a single set of footprints. His dread grew heavier.
"Tell me what you make of these," the half-breed said and pressed his palm flat to an indentation.
"Fairly recent, I'd say," the parasite concluded and said no more, lost in its own theories.
"I don't like this," D said and remounted. With his eyes fixed on the departing tracks, the dhampire rode as swiftly as possible, hoping that the snow would not spoil his lead. But all the while, old fears were unearthing themselves as he rode once more from the castle ruins.
The sun lingered low on the horizon though the colors he had expected to come of it never appeared. The sky was alive with falling snow and the moon was hidden; yet the reflection of the city street lamps in the air was more than enough to fill the dirty roads with light. Caruwyn walked gratefully into the town despite the odd stares he was already accumulating from the heavily bundled passersby.
He gazed up at the simple architecture of the quaint houses and shops, their roofs burdened with snow. A woman sweeping the powder away from her steps halted her task to openly gape at him as if he were a specter. Indeed, he probably did appear as one because of his colorless skin and pale garments. He nodded briefly to her and shuffled on. He didn't know exactly where he was going but the gnawing hunger in his stomach told him to find a place to regain his strength. He rounded a corner and nearly collided with a panicked young boy who was gasping for breath in his race.
"Oh! 'Scuse me mister," the boy stammered and gasped when he saw Caruwyn's red eyes gazing down at him in wonder. The child's eyes enlarged thrice their normal size and he sped off again, if not more hurriedly than before. Caruwyn watched him fly over the snow and around the corner.
Shrugging, he hefted his knapsack to a more comfortable position over his shoulder and continued his search. Up ahead he spotted an establishment with warm welcoming lights of gold illuminating its doorway. He felt drawn to that place. As he stepped lightly over the crunching ice beneath his feet a scream rang out. It startled him but piqued his curiosity. He drew closer to the inn and stopped before the ally next to it where a group of frenzied people had gathered. Standing on his toes to see over their heads, not daring to get too near, he sought the source of the outburst. In the center of the murmuring bodies was a woman cradling an unconscious girl of about eight whose dress was torn and one ponytail on the side of her head fell limp on her neck.
"What kind of sorcery is this?" the woman cried out and hugged the child close.
A man pushed past the intrigued albino and worked his way through the crowd to meet her. He wore an air of authority over the others, whom Caruwyn correctly assumed were nothing more than common villagers.
"Ok, Maam. Tell me what happened here," he said and stooped to rest a hand on her trembling shoulder. She looked wildly into his eyes.
"I'd like to know the same! I sent my daughter out to buy some things and she never came back. I went to look for her and I found her right here lying in the snow. She's not dead but she won't even answer me! What's wrong with her?" the distraught woman cried and pushed the heap of a child into the man's arms.
"I assure you we'll do everything we can," he said and didn't look too happy at the night's turn of events.
Caruwyn studied the scene for a little while longer before the nagging cold of his muscles reclaimed his attention and he turned back toward the inn. He did not notice when a few of the spectators on the edge of the crowd eyed him uneasily.
The place was not quite ill lit but remained bright enough to give the appearance of cheerfulness. Caruwyn looked about and felt the momentary scrutiny of the diners' attention laid on his face before resuming their engagements. The innkeeper noticed his arrival and dropped his damp bar rag to greet the new customer. The smile on the stout man's face was reassuring.
"Welcome, friend! Traveled far this eve?" he asked and extended his hand out. Caruwyn looked at it with confusion but extended his own and found it firmly latched onto by the cheerful innkeeper.
"Yes I have," Caruwyn answered.
The man gave him a quizzical look. "Where ya from, if ya don't mind my askin'? It's just that yer accent is a bit odd, even fer the sorts comin' to this place."
Caruwyn searched frantically for a reply. He didn't want to appear even stranger than he already was and stalling wasn't going to get him anywhere. "Just a small village north of here. Though I travel to all sorts of places."
The man nodded with interest and scratched at his unshaven face before his eyes wandered to the sword in Caruwyn's hand.
"Fine weapon ya got there. Looks like it needs a bit of polishin' though."
Caruwyn nearly forgot that he held the deadly object in plain sight. "Oh, yes. Thanks. But I'll not be using it anytime soon."
The innkeeper's weary glance melted as quickly as it appeared. "Well, ya come to the right place anyhow! I'll fix ya up for the night," he said and clapped a hand to Caruwyn's shoulder, leading him to an empty table.
The albino sat down and the man hurried off. When he returned he carried with him a large mug that seemed to shake the table when it landed.
"Best wine in all o Southbridge! I'll wager ya've not tasted wine this good in yer travels abroad neither," he proclaimed proudly and waited to hear his verdict true.
Caruwyn cautiously took a sip and smiled his approval at the man.
"See? Wha'd I tell ya? Nobody beats Smipole's wine!" The stout innkeeper laughed heartily. "Now what is it ya'd like to have tonight, good sir?"
"Whatever you'd recommend. Your tastes are obviously quite good," Caruwyn answered.
That pleased the man further. He smacked the table and laughed again before announcing his hasty return with the best dish in the house.
Caruwyn was grateful for the man's kindness in that strange place. He saw the other customers watching him from the corner of his eye but quickly looking away when he turned his gaze upon them. He worked at his wine, refusing to let it bother him. But the dark set of eyes that latched onto his back would have unnerved him at once if he had seen them.
The man kept his promise. "That's venison and my wife's own recipe for potatoes. Ain't a man alive who can refuse em!" he said and set the hot plate on the table. "Now if ya need anything else just wave me on over."
"Thank you, Smipole," Caruwyn answered.
"Just call me Jack. Everyone else round here does," he said and gave a wide smile before tending to his other customers.
The food was quite good, which was anything but odd considering the one taste he had known all of his life. And it was even more intoxicating than the chisuna. Caruwyn felt nauseous as he ate but the taste of the rare meat was too addictive to stop. The venison was gone and the potatoes were hardly touched when the man returned.
Jack eyed his plate. "No good?" he asked, nearly beside himself.
"Oh no. Everything was perfect. It's just been a long time since I last ate," Caruwyn relpied.
Jack's face shifted to one of surprise. "Usually that's when they eat the most. But to each his own." He tilted the heavy pitcher he had brought and refilled the albino's cup. "Ya wanna book a room now, stranger?"
"A room?" Caruwyn repeated.
"Fee's not bad at all. Better deal than all the other inns ya've seen I'd wager."
"Fee? What's that?" Caruwyn asked having never heard the word before.
The stout man leaned closer and his cheerful voice became low and even. Almost dangerous. "You tellin' me you got no money?"
The sudden change over the innkeeper's personality made Caruwyn uneasy. "I . . . I just . . ." He feared the worst. His first encounter with the humans had already gone awry. He began to edge his hand toward his sword.
"No need for such an attitude, Smipole. I'm taking care of it."
Caruwyn and the innkeeper both sifted their surprised gazes to the tall dark man standing beside the table, holding out several gold and bronze coins in his long-fingered hand. His hair was long and black, bound back high on his head with its ends cascading over his left shoulder. The hooded cloak he wore was dark and tattered as if it had seen countless years of wear.
And his face . . . Caruwyn nearly stopped breathing when he saw it. The man's skin was pale but far more colored than his own tone of stark white. His features were chiseled to remarkable perfection as if a master sculptor had wrought him. He looked nothing like the other humans he had thus encountered. He was far more beautiful.
The innkeeper snorted with disapproval and swiped the coins from the young man's hand. "Always poppin' up like a damned ghost, Manx. I don't like it."
"Of course not. And that's why I'm here," the mysterious man said and smiled when Smipole shot him a look of bitter disgust and shuffled away muttering. The stranger's attention turned to the half-breed. His shining eyes matched the deep black of his hair.
Caruwyn was at a loss for words but the man permitted himself a seat across the table. He sat smiling and studying Caruwyn with growing interest.
"Usually people say thank you or something along the lines of," he said and Caruwyn quickly looked down at his hands in embarrassment.
"Yes. Thank you. But why did you do that?" the albino asked.
The dark stranger shrugged and shifted to rest an arm high up on his chair's back. "Maybe it's because I knew you had no money the minute you walked in here. Maybe I felt some sympathy for you." His onyx eyes shifted to the glittering blue of Caruwyn's pendant but did not linger long enough to seem suspicious like those of a conspiring thief. "As you've heard from our stout friend, I'm Manx. And you?"
"Caruwyn," the half-breed replied and looked again into those strange dark eyes. Something about them pulled him in, the way a whirlpool inevitably sucks down an injured fish.
"Caruwyn," the dark man repeated and continued to study his companion unashamedly. "And what brings you to this unseemly dive of a town?"
"Nowhere better to go," the dhampire answered and began to feel tense under Manx's hot gaze.
"I see. A drifter? Or maybe an exile?"
"Perhaps both. Though I really was in no mood to discuss my past tonight," Caruwyn said and stood, suddenly eager to get away from the gorgeous eyes that boldly devoured him. "Thank you again for what you've done. But I've no way to repay you."
Manx's eyes fell once again to the blue stone at the albino's neck. Caruwyn noticed and touched it defensively. "I cannot part with this. It's as dear to my as my very soul."
A half smirk appeared on Manx's lean face as he bent forward. "And aren't those the sweetest things of all?"
Caruwyn had no idea what he meant and remained silent, reaching to withdraw his sword that rested propped beside the table.
Manx's eye caught it and he leaned back. "I really don't care for any payment just now. Perhaps, if you are a skilled swordsman, I could find means to employ you when you've tired of wandering," he said and smiled charmingly.
"I know nothing of swords, but I seek to learn." Caruwyn said and shifted his knapsack over his shoulder again.
"You're leaving to go out in that bitter cold when I've paid your way into a room with a blazing fire?" Manx said more amused than disbelieving.
"I'm not yet used to the warmth here. I came from a very cold place. I'd feel more comfortable in the forest, at least for a little while until I can adjust."
Manx stood and regarded Caruwyn carefully. "When you're ready, find me again. I'll teach you all you could desire to know."
Even to Caruwyn's innocent ears, there seemed to be more subtext in that message than what was clear. But he bowed to the dark man in genuine gratitude. "We'll meet again. I'll not ignore my obligation to you for this."
"I would like nothing more," Manx said smoothly and smiled again before returning to his own table.
The night was not much colder than when he arrived but he did regret giving up the prospects of a fire. But being around the strange Manx and the disgruntled Smipole did not sound too wise tonight. He wandered through the sleeping town and reached the opposite gate, pausing to weigh the sight of the looming trees against the warm town lights. He wouldn't wander too far, he decided, and stepped into the new forest.
After much aimless wandering, he found a level clearing surrounded by pine trees and sat in the snow, staring at his sword as he held it out before him. He suddenly wished he knew how to use one for more than just slicing off heads. The thought troubled him and renewed anger and grief flooded his senses. But from beneath these emotions came a subtle tingling, like raw power buried beneath the clutter. His eyes widened as he let go of the blade and it did not fall to the ground.
D reined in his horse to a slow walk as he entered the north gates of Southbridge. The snow eventually ate up the trail he followed, but being as this was the closest civilization, it seemed obvious that the being in question would come here. He tromped through the narrow lanes and halted before the first lively tavern he found. The best place to get gossip was from a drunkard's mouth.
He walked inside casually, nodding politely to the barkeeper but not removing his hat. Instantly, a drunken man with a bright red nose latched onto him and gaped at his sword.
"Whoa buddy. You here for trouble?" he slurred.
"Only if necessary," D replied.
"You're one of them vampire hunters, ain't ya? I always recognize your kind. You shown up in good time. Rumor has it there's a vampire or some kinda demon loose round here. Took a young girl today," he continued in an all-knowing air.
"Is that so," D said in a voice that showed no interest, though he listened more intently.
Another man had overheard the conversation and added in from his chair, "Damn right. Heard a strange pale guy came into town just as it happened too. They say he could vanish into the snow."
"What? That's not what they said," the drunk that hung onto D exclaimed and staggered over to argue with the other man. "They juss said he had no color."
D turned and left the tavern, slightly annoyed. So there was someone after all. And a vampire as well. D began to think about Meier Link and his mortal wife. Surely she could not survive very long away from the sun without being turned, if she lived at all. Perhaps he had returned to seek vengeance for her death upon those who would not leave them in peace, which could be any human he crossed. They did say he was very pale. Surely it had to be Meier. The ship's reappearance was evidence enough.
D growled in anger and jumped up into his horse's saddle and spurred it toward the south gate of town. He cursed himself for letting them go. He should have known that something like this would happen. Charlotte's death probably made the vampire mad with a desire for revenge.
A fresh set of footprints identical to those leading away from the ruins of Chaythe led into the deep forest. D slowed a quiet gallop, wanting to keep the element of surprise in case the vampire was still near. Just ahead in the distance he saw a figure resting in the snow. It was difficult to see in the night but the reflected light from snow to clouds made shapes at least distinguishable. D leapt silently from his horse and drew his sword before lightly approaching the figure before him. From the light he had, it was obvious that the being was indeed very pale with white hair. Though it was much longer than he remembered Meier's as being.
As he stepped into the edge of the clearing behind the figure, the sight before him stopped him dead for a moment as his mind tried to comprehend. The man had a sword raised into the air before him, twisting it in circles to catch the scarce light about them. Only no hands touched the blade.
But he remembered the words of the townsfolk about the child victim. Both in anger and the pulsing urgency of his sworn oath to destroy those that took the lives of others, he surged forward. With lightening-quick speed, he gained advantage above the still figure with his sword pressed firmly against its throat. The sword that hovered before the white man fell dully into the snow.
"Tell me who you are," D commanded dangerously.
The even voice that replied was not Meier's. And the reply echoed nothing like one the proud vampire would say.
"Perhaps I'd rather you slice my throat."
D kept the hold of his sword against the man's neck perfectly steady and swung himself down and around to look into the face belonging to the sorrow-laden voice. He would certainly not kill without good reason and perhaps this was not the one he sought after all. But all the reason he had left him when he looked into the face whose features were a distinct combination between those of Meier and Charlotte. Their son. Another dhampire. For a moment, D's heart stopped beating.
To be continued . . .