*AUTHOR'S INSERT*
To Ruff_Collie, Ash, MB, Karre, Sarryn, AmuseMe, Dave, and Raven-Marss2000: you all rock! Thanks so much for your reviews. It means a lot to me. :D
To everyone else, please feel free to leave your feedback, whether positive or negative. It's great just knowing that people are reading the story, and even greater if they can give me tips on how to improve it. So speak! Speak, ye masses! And the God of Happy College Students will bring luck and light into your world.
*/AUTHOR'S INSERT*
3- Forbidden Truths
Turel stood by the shattered window of his courtroom and watched light seep into the eastern sky. It was maddening, to wonder if it would be his last dawn. The eighth sunrise, as Kain had said. Should he count the hours, waiting for Raziel to come? Should he spend another day watching his children fall to madness? It was very emotionally draining, he thought with impatience, to wait for death. He would be quite annoyed if he had to do it again tomorrow.
Lenath sat with his back against the wall, staring vacantly ahead with his squinty eyes. No, Turel decided, he had counted the dawns correctly. Lenath had had a sound mind before the crumbling, and even now his thoughts were usually sharp. Turel read it in his son's eyes: this was the last day.
Well, he thought bleakly to himself. That was reassuring.
He had not been mortal for many centuries, yet he could feel the anxious stirring in his heart. The fact that he had died once before was no comfort. This would be different... he would not rise again. Before him, he saw no future, a complete absence of time and being. There was only void.
Turel turned from the window with a grimace. No time for that. He had one last thing to do.
Kain's secondborn walked to the dial set into the back of the throne. The combination had 25 numbers and had to be set precisely. Turel had ensured that his greatest treasure would remain secret.
The wall to the left of the throne groaned as the last number was set, revealing a wide staircase that descended into darkness. Turel dragged his huge body down the stairs, not bothering to manipulate a second dial that would conceal the passage. Lenath would not interfere with this final errand, and the thick doors of the throne room blocked all others.
Down the long, pitch-black passage Turel slithered until he saw traces of light dancing on the walls. He pressed forward into the last chamber, where he found the source: the walls danced with blue flames. There was no fuel they fed on; they simply burst out of the walls without cause.
No cause, that is, except for the vampire that sat cross-legged in the middle of the chamber. Turel was not ashamed to say that he was afraid of her. The thick chain binding her neck to the wall had hardly any use; both of them knew she could snap it off in seconds. Even after her eyes were gouged out, Turel was wary of her. But she had never tried to escape, though she had the power ten times over. And that sat with him least comfortable of all.
She lifted her head as he entered. "You return," she said evenly.
"I do indeed, my dear."
Her hollow eye sockets looked directly at him. It was uncanny. "And you are afraid."
My, aren't we feeling blunt. "Am I. Afraid of what?"
She merely stared at him sightlessly.
"*Ishtar*."
"Of me," Ishtar replied. "Of the disease that even now flays the minds of your children to nothing. And... of someone who was once your brother, and the end he will bring that you cannot see."
"But," Turel said as he slithered closer, "you can."
The look on her face might have been a smile. "Yes."
"Indulge me, my dear."
Ishtar turned her head toward one of the disembodied blue flames that lingered on the walls. In answer, it stretched to meet her, coiling through the air in a lazy spiral.
"He will come," she said, "and you will die."
"That much I can see."
The blue fire-rope encircled her, creating an eerie halo along her long black mane. "That much I will tell you."
"Insolent bitch," Turel snarled. "Answer me."
"Oh?" One end of the coiling blue fire snaked toward him, taking the form of a hissing serpent's head. Ishtar bore a similar expression. "You do extend your welcome, 'my lord'."
Turel's eyes narrowed and she cried out in pain as the bones in her left arm snapped for apparently no reason. The flaming snake drew back, twisting painfully in the air, but only for a moment. Then it simply hovered there, burning, as Ishtar faced him expressionlessly.
"He will come." Her voice, low and quiet, trembled with wrath. "But he will not kill you."
"Kain said no such thing."
"Your beloved Kain did not say he would be your murderer. He will come, and you will die, and neither is related to the other."
Turel growled with frustration. If the bitch persisted, he would snap her in half. "You do not expect me to believe he will spare his *dearest brother.*"
Ishtar laughed coldly. "No. He will not *need* to kill you. You cannot imagine what destiny Fate has chosen for... Raziel. What destiny Kain is planning for him still."
"You are a tiring wench. If your tongue speaks nothing but riddles, I will remove it."
Without warning, all the blue flames in the room converged over Ishtar's head. They rippled in the air and assumed the shape of a fiery snake again, this time eating its own tail. The oroborus slowly revolved above her as she spoke.
"Know only this, Turel: your meaningless life will end with a meaningless death. But you are impatient to meet it. Come, let me bring it to you."
There was a crash like thunder as the blue flames vanished and the passage plunged into darkness. Turel heard Ishtar's cold laugh just before a tsunami of mental energy crashed into his head. His skull shivered with pain and the dark world reeled like a wagon wheel as he felt her relentless assault on his mind.
But the pain passed. Turel bared his fangs in the darkness; the insolence! He would take off her head-
He was interrupted by echoing laughter emanating from above, from his throne room. The clan leader froze, his thoughts refusing to believe what slowly dawned on him: the mental assault had not been meant for him.
The target was Lenath.
"No!" Turel screamed. He raced up the dark stairway, ignoring the pains of his awkward body. He burst into the light of the throne room to see his son, his beloved firstborn son, grinning madly at him like a giddy skeleton.
"Pumpkin pie," Lenath giggled.
"No," his father replied in a desperate whisper.
Lenath grasped one of the decorative staves on the wall and pulled. Turel walked toward him slowly, nearly wild with loss and disbelief.
"Well," Lenath said.
"No..."
"Well." He turned to Turel almost playfully. "Spar with me, Marcus?"
Lenath charged and Turel stepped aside, hoping against all hope that Lenath would snap out of it. But his son turned, and Turel knew he could not be saved. As the mad vampire charged again, Turel saw a glimmer of comfort; the staff was edged on both ends.
Turel did not resist as the staff sank into his flesh. He merely redirected the weapon's other end and watched as it plunged into his son's abdomen. To the clan leader and his massive body, the wound was like a small thorn. To Lenath...
The younger vampire gasped and staggered. His borrowed blood dripped down the staff, mingling with his father's. The staff bled at both ends. Turel watched helplessly as his son weakened and finally died.
At that moment, the rays of the eighth sunrise fell brightly into the throne room like a silent mockery.
To Ruff_Collie, Ash, MB, Karre, Sarryn, AmuseMe, Dave, and Raven-Marss2000: you all rock! Thanks so much for your reviews. It means a lot to me. :D
To everyone else, please feel free to leave your feedback, whether positive or negative. It's great just knowing that people are reading the story, and even greater if they can give me tips on how to improve it. So speak! Speak, ye masses! And the God of Happy College Students will bring luck and light into your world.
*/AUTHOR'S INSERT*
3- Forbidden Truths
Turel stood by the shattered window of his courtroom and watched light seep into the eastern sky. It was maddening, to wonder if it would be his last dawn. The eighth sunrise, as Kain had said. Should he count the hours, waiting for Raziel to come? Should he spend another day watching his children fall to madness? It was very emotionally draining, he thought with impatience, to wait for death. He would be quite annoyed if he had to do it again tomorrow.
Lenath sat with his back against the wall, staring vacantly ahead with his squinty eyes. No, Turel decided, he had counted the dawns correctly. Lenath had had a sound mind before the crumbling, and even now his thoughts were usually sharp. Turel read it in his son's eyes: this was the last day.
Well, he thought bleakly to himself. That was reassuring.
He had not been mortal for many centuries, yet he could feel the anxious stirring in his heart. The fact that he had died once before was no comfort. This would be different... he would not rise again. Before him, he saw no future, a complete absence of time and being. There was only void.
Turel turned from the window with a grimace. No time for that. He had one last thing to do.
Kain's secondborn walked to the dial set into the back of the throne. The combination had 25 numbers and had to be set precisely. Turel had ensured that his greatest treasure would remain secret.
The wall to the left of the throne groaned as the last number was set, revealing a wide staircase that descended into darkness. Turel dragged his huge body down the stairs, not bothering to manipulate a second dial that would conceal the passage. Lenath would not interfere with this final errand, and the thick doors of the throne room blocked all others.
Down the long, pitch-black passage Turel slithered until he saw traces of light dancing on the walls. He pressed forward into the last chamber, where he found the source: the walls danced with blue flames. There was no fuel they fed on; they simply burst out of the walls without cause.
No cause, that is, except for the vampire that sat cross-legged in the middle of the chamber. Turel was not ashamed to say that he was afraid of her. The thick chain binding her neck to the wall had hardly any use; both of them knew she could snap it off in seconds. Even after her eyes were gouged out, Turel was wary of her. But she had never tried to escape, though she had the power ten times over. And that sat with him least comfortable of all.
She lifted her head as he entered. "You return," she said evenly.
"I do indeed, my dear."
Her hollow eye sockets looked directly at him. It was uncanny. "And you are afraid."
My, aren't we feeling blunt. "Am I. Afraid of what?"
She merely stared at him sightlessly.
"*Ishtar*."
"Of me," Ishtar replied. "Of the disease that even now flays the minds of your children to nothing. And... of someone who was once your brother, and the end he will bring that you cannot see."
"But," Turel said as he slithered closer, "you can."
The look on her face might have been a smile. "Yes."
"Indulge me, my dear."
Ishtar turned her head toward one of the disembodied blue flames that lingered on the walls. In answer, it stretched to meet her, coiling through the air in a lazy spiral.
"He will come," she said, "and you will die."
"That much I can see."
The blue fire-rope encircled her, creating an eerie halo along her long black mane. "That much I will tell you."
"Insolent bitch," Turel snarled. "Answer me."
"Oh?" One end of the coiling blue fire snaked toward him, taking the form of a hissing serpent's head. Ishtar bore a similar expression. "You do extend your welcome, 'my lord'."
Turel's eyes narrowed and she cried out in pain as the bones in her left arm snapped for apparently no reason. The flaming snake drew back, twisting painfully in the air, but only for a moment. Then it simply hovered there, burning, as Ishtar faced him expressionlessly.
"He will come." Her voice, low and quiet, trembled with wrath. "But he will not kill you."
"Kain said no such thing."
"Your beloved Kain did not say he would be your murderer. He will come, and you will die, and neither is related to the other."
Turel growled with frustration. If the bitch persisted, he would snap her in half. "You do not expect me to believe he will spare his *dearest brother.*"
Ishtar laughed coldly. "No. He will not *need* to kill you. You cannot imagine what destiny Fate has chosen for... Raziel. What destiny Kain is planning for him still."
"You are a tiring wench. If your tongue speaks nothing but riddles, I will remove it."
Without warning, all the blue flames in the room converged over Ishtar's head. They rippled in the air and assumed the shape of a fiery snake again, this time eating its own tail. The oroborus slowly revolved above her as she spoke.
"Know only this, Turel: your meaningless life will end with a meaningless death. But you are impatient to meet it. Come, let me bring it to you."
There was a crash like thunder as the blue flames vanished and the passage plunged into darkness. Turel heard Ishtar's cold laugh just before a tsunami of mental energy crashed into his head. His skull shivered with pain and the dark world reeled like a wagon wheel as he felt her relentless assault on his mind.
But the pain passed. Turel bared his fangs in the darkness; the insolence! He would take off her head-
He was interrupted by echoing laughter emanating from above, from his throne room. The clan leader froze, his thoughts refusing to believe what slowly dawned on him: the mental assault had not been meant for him.
The target was Lenath.
"No!" Turel screamed. He raced up the dark stairway, ignoring the pains of his awkward body. He burst into the light of the throne room to see his son, his beloved firstborn son, grinning madly at him like a giddy skeleton.
"Pumpkin pie," Lenath giggled.
"No," his father replied in a desperate whisper.
Lenath grasped one of the decorative staves on the wall and pulled. Turel walked toward him slowly, nearly wild with loss and disbelief.
"Well," Lenath said.
"No..."
"Well." He turned to Turel almost playfully. "Spar with me, Marcus?"
Lenath charged and Turel stepped aside, hoping against all hope that Lenath would snap out of it. But his son turned, and Turel knew he could not be saved. As the mad vampire charged again, Turel saw a glimmer of comfort; the staff was edged on both ends.
Turel did not resist as the staff sank into his flesh. He merely redirected the weapon's other end and watched as it plunged into his son's abdomen. To the clan leader and his massive body, the wound was like a small thorn. To Lenath...
The younger vampire gasped and staggered. His borrowed blood dripped down the staff, mingling with his father's. The staff bled at both ends. Turel watched helplessly as his son weakened and finally died.
At that moment, the rays of the eighth sunrise fell brightly into the throne room like a silent mockery.