Dissolution of Arms
By Eerie
Chapter Thirteen: Regret
The green summer hillsides burdened with the plethora of brilliantly colored flowers was not the welcome change of scenery that D thought it would be. Caruwyn had been unusually still and quiet the entire distance up the valley and the dhampire hunter was growing concerned. As the sun descended the tension seemed to rise as if it could be physically felt in the air around them. When the hazy orb finally sank behind the sharp silhouette of the mountain range to the west the youth released a shudder.
"Something's bothering you," D finally said, knowing how ridiculously obvious the statement was. Yet he had to begin somewhere.
"It's nothing," Caruwyn answered in a whisper laden with sadness.
"There's no need to worry about that creature. What you did was necessary and the humans were grateful, even if they didn't show it. Its death was a triviality. Surely you understood that when you fought. Mourning for such a monster is a waste of time."
"It's not for him that I mourn."
"Who then?"
Caruwyn gazed emptily at the passing fields of flowers, their glory succumbing to the muted tones of nightfall, but he did not answer. Just when he believed the memory of what he had done to his father was resting faded in a corner of his mind the whirling vertigo of revulsion and grief retook him. The sensation of his blade piercing flesh once again had ripped open the floodgates of his pain, releasing doubt and loathing into the tidal wave that issued forth. A painful reminder of what he sought to bury convinced him that his deeds could never be ignored and trying to do so was useless. He deserved all came with the heartache.
"Caruwyn?"
The albino sighed, feeling torn between longing to pour his heart out and the desire to sink further into his torment at the sound of his name spoken so on his master's tongue. A long silence followed.
"It's your father, isn't it?"
The young dhampire's eyes widened. The trap was laid and he had ensnared himself before he realized it. Despite his best intentions, his tears awakened and seeped down his fair cheeks as he gave in.
"Yes."
"I've known," D confided. And indeed it was true. The moments the youth would stare blankly at the stars and the groans that came from unspoken dreams were proof enough. That deeply rooted sorrow from crimson eyes was only thinly veiled. D was skilled in reading his opponents and his ability to view what lay beyond the masks they wore was unmatched. It was in these lessons that he had been able to craft such an impenetrable countenance for himself.
"I wondered," the youth said flatly.
"I'll listen if you should wish to talk about it," the older dhampire hunter offered.
The great black steed trotted somberly to the edge of the river and its master allowed it to rest and steep its dry mouth in the water. Dismounting gracefully, the tall dark hunter stood on the bank and looked over the softly rolling waves.
Caruwyn mimicked the movement but stood on the opposite side of the horse's large body as it were a barrier. After a moment of reflection, he spoke.
"Even now, I wonder if I did have a choice."
D turned his head and gazed thoughtfully at his pupil, waiting for him to continue.
The young half-breed caught the glance for a moment before lowering his head, not wanting to look into those ancient eyes.
"He once asked me if I wanted to learn how to sculpt. I refused. I was happy just watching his hands work." A bitter chuckle seized him. "I guess he taught me after all." Caruwyn's head rose again to gaze up at the navy blue sky. "I didn't want to do it. Why would he ask such a thing of me?" His tears came freely under the cold starlight.
Though it would have been to confusing to anyone else, D knew that the youth was no longer talking about his father's art. A twinge of sympathetic pain for his young fledgling wrenched his heart but he didn't know how to react.
"It was not murder," was all the hunter could say.
"It was no different! His blood still marks my hands," Caruwyn cried out suddenly, staring at his pale palms. "Such a thing is unforgivable!"
The Dhampire Prince turned his body to fully face his companion over the horse's bent neck. "That's a cruel thing to say. He would not have you believe it." A comforting attempt, but the youth's sorrow was not tempered.
"I've tried to forget, tried to push the memory of it away. How could I think to do something like that? I had no right to kill that one which you call a monster, for I'm no different." A wracked sob interrupted any further attempt to speak and Caruwyn buried his face in his hands.
Reluctantly, D slid a hand over the steed's flank as he moved to join the other half-breed. His training would mean nothing if the youth remained in an unstable state like this. A long-nailed hand found the trembling albino's shoulder.
Without a hint of warning, Caruwyn turned and thrust himself against his mentor's chest.
D's body grew rigid in shock at the unexpected contact. Discomfort crept through him at the closeness of the youth's body, yearning for a comfort he was not the one to give. But he couldn't turn away the other; doing so would probably drive the young half-breed to the edge. A risk he was not willing to take. He had just barely tapped into the mystery and raw potential of his student and throwing it all away for his stubbornness was not a wise idea. He'd give this much at least, as hard at it was. Slowly his arms circled around Caruwyn in a loose, uncertain embrace.
"If it weren't for you . . . I don't know . . ." the youth stammered.
"Don't," the hunter said.
The indigo stones adorning their necks glowed softly, casting their pale faces in warm blue light.
"Master . . ." Caruwyn whispered and trailed off, reveling in the sanctuary of the strong arms that held him for he knew they wouldn't remain much longer. His desperation, his pain, his loss and uncertainty were too much to bear. With a fluid movement unhindered by hesitation, Caruwyn's arms reached for D's neck and he pulled himself to meet his mentor's lips.
What shock that might have put the hunter off was suddenly magnified to paralyzing. He stood in complete surprise, unable to pull away or speak as the youth's mouth pressed insistently over his own. The arms holding him captive tightened. He could not react no matter how much his mind screamed at him to do so. 'Push him away; tell him that he is misguided, that his feelings are placed in the wrong one.' Yes, he should, he had to. But nothing would make his muscles regain any feeling as the kiss lingered. Then Caruwyn finally did what he could not.
The youth pulled away slowly, suddenly realizing what he had done. His arms fell and he staggered away, not wanting to see D's reaction.
"Forgive me. I'm not in my right mind," the albino lied. His master's impenetrable coldness would not grant him the pride and strength to admit what he really felt, what he had been feeling for a long time. The stones' light dissipated to darkness.
"Caruwyn. . ." D said quietly. "You mustn't do that ever again." The hunter stood still, the words lashing wounds in his own chest. He cared for his student more than he wanted to admit, but why would this command strike in his heart such bitterness against himself?
The youth was dumbfounded. His heart wrenched in pure agony at the sound of those words from the one he cared about most right after his father. The moisture in his mouth dried up and his tongue grew thick; blood pounded deafeningly in his ears.
"We'll rest here for a while," the vampire hunter said simply, hoping the subject would disappear. The tension was eating him alive.
The youth sat in agitation against the rough trunk of an old tree, watching the moon's steady journey over the sky. Spite had replaced the sorrow and pain of D's rejection, and though that kind of reaction in him would normally be disturbing, he could not find it within himself to care. The memories of the evening's pains crumbled and he was left with unwavering anger.
The hunter had stalked off on one of his lonely walks some time ago and the youth was left alone to think. 'How could he be so cold? Did he ever even once give a damn about me?' Caruwyn thought disdainfully. 'Everything. I did everything he asked of me and why? To realize that I'm not fit to be a hunter. That I'm not fit to share anything more than these lessons that have just gone to waste? What the hell have I been doing all this for? How could I let myself fall uselessly in love with him?'
From the midst of his anger came a fleeting lance of regret and sadness for what he was about to do. Yet his fury ate it away quickly and he stood, checking the security of his blade and his swordbelt. His teacher was nowhere to be seen as he set out, away from the fresh scent of the river mist and the soft sounds of the grazing horse. He knew couldn't bear to be around the vampire hunter after this night. His own blundering had seen to that.
As Caruwyn retreated from the clearing the memory of Manx's offer echoed in his mind.
The vampire hunter walked slowly through the trees, his mind reeling. He hadn't wanted to say such a thing to his distraught pupil, but it simply had to be done. What he couldn't understand was the pain that came from it, regret. He could still feel the phantom essence of the young man's lips tingling on his and though he fought to ignore it, he realized that he was failing.
What would he do now? He had to go back soon, but could he pretend that it had never happened was the question. It would have to be so. Perhaps if he talked to Caruwyn and tried to make the youth understand that the devotion for him was out of place there would be resolve. But how he could do so without convincing himself first was another problem. Was it possible that he had desired Caruwyn's affection beneath all the logic and self-hatred that he lived by? It had been so long.
'No,' D mused, 'that's not the answer. I can't ever have such things. It's unfitting.' The dhampire wandered aimlessly, despising the confusion in his head. It wasn't like him to be tormented over such minor things, things that should be dealt with quickly and firmly. As much as he tried to find the will to rule with an iron fist, he knew that finding the right solution was not going to be easy.
The hunter's dark eyes glared up at the mocking moon through the dense branches canopying his path when a sudden slicing pain shot through his head. D fell to his knees and clutched his skull, groaning in effort to ward away the sudden explosion of agony. His breath became labored and his fangs eased out in defense of unseen dangers. From the deafening ringing that consumed his ears he heard the parasite's muffled voice though he was powerless to speak. Fuzzy blackness pricked the corner of his vision and he slammed his eyes shut. D fought to push it away, but it was futile. The same sensation that came over him years ago, that of his last nightmare, was returning to haunt him. The vampire hunter's efforts receded to stillness and he slumped heavily to the forest floor.
All around him was darkness. It was freezing cold in that strange windless place and his body shivered uncontrollably. Squinting into the darkness revealed nothing as the hunter stood his ground, trying to gain focus of where he was. The sound of skittering vermin teased his fear and he felt the sharp-clawed creatures pass swiftly over his feet, their needle-like paws piercing his thick leather boots. He tried to kick them away, but the more bodies he felt connect with his lashes, the more they seemed to grow in number. D tried to move but the pestilent creatures became too thick to even wade through as they seethed about his legs. He stood still, allowing the tiny claws to rip into his skin. Fear blossomed in his mind as he waited for the unknown. Perhaps nothing would happen. As the bristling things climbed higher and denser up his legs a voice rumbled out.
"Abscedo!"
The vermin scurried away in a panic, leaving D staggering and bewildered with the pain of a thousand tiny incisions.
Soft blue began to glow in the distance, beckoning him. The hunter moved slowly, drawn to the light though he didn't know why. It loomed before him and grew oddly brighter, yet he still could not make out any of his surroundings. The light was strange, it illuminated, yet it was dark. The misplaced familiarity of it taunted his mind wickedly.
Finally a figure became discernable in the eerie darkness of the light. A man sat on a giant throne crafted from discolored bones and posted with skulls. The thing was hideous, stretching toward a nonexistent ceiling in that dark place. Its peak was broken from the corner and great cracks marked the ancient quality of the morbid structure. D stopped before it, staring in awe before the voice of the throne's occupant spoke. The voice matched that which commanded the vicious creatures away.
"I would welcome you more properly, Hunter, for it's been a long time. However, you really should never have come here."
The voice was strange, unearthly and horribly seductive. D was helpless to look away though his fear was great. The blue glow flashed and faded to dim as the man on the throne slowly lifted his lowered head.
D's eyes were fixed to the scene before him that played out torturously slow. The man's young face lifted to full sight yet his eyes remained closed.
"Your contradictions make us sick. Such a mystery as to why no one has seen to this sooner. Yet it pains me even still to have to be the one to do this, dhampire . . . But perhaps, you will be granted a choice. Perhaps your treachery can be redeemed. What say you? Will you take my hand?" The mysterious man's voice grew thicker and slower with each word as if it issued from a dying record. His eyes cracked and pale lids lifted to look upon the hunter as his long arm reached for D.
D was horrified. The eyes that reprimanded him were achingly blue; a dark light spilled from them to match the tone of the gem about the man's neck. A cruel, amused smile pulled the man's lips to reveal a set of sharp fangs and laughter echoed through the dead air before the crushing pain claimed the hunter's entire body.
The dhampire was jolted back into the quiet forest. The moon had lingered in the same position when he had last looked upon it. But it felt as though he had just spent a mortal lifetime in that hell.
"I don't like this, D. Something bad's about to happen I know it," the parasite said worriedly.
D rubbed his temples, trying to fully regain his senses. That man's face . . . it looked so familiar yet it seemed to him that it was one he had never seen before. But those eyes . . . those hideous blue eyes matched the set that claimed his mother's normally dark orbs in his last vivid nightmare so long ago. The tree spirit's warning came back to him. "Be prepared for his coming . . ." it had said. The auburn-haired man's proclamation . . . Caruwyn's unusual powers . . . it all had to fit together somehow.
Something unseen seemed to click in D's mind as he stood, ignoring the parasite's questions. He walked steadily back toward where he had left the youth, pushing aside the dull pain that lingered in his head. The images swirled in his memory, screaming at him to put the pieces in place. The more he thought about it, the more he felt the stab of dread wedge deeper. And then he found a shred of sense. How could he be such a fool?
It wasn't long before he was running.
Other than the contently grazing horse, the clearing was empty. D looked around as he strode toward the beast but Caruwyn was gone. The hunter jumped into the steed's saddle, surprising the poor beast, and kicked his heels hard into its sides. With a shrill cry it reared and bolted, carrying its master in a direction unknown as the winds swept D's mantle high into the air.
The night was ripe for regret as D drove his mount on blindly, praying for the sake of all things sacred that he would find Caruwyn before someone else did.
To be continued . . .