Author's Note. I know everyone in Europe is probably playing Defiance at the moment, but since my copy is stuck in the post somewhere, *sniff, sniff,* I thought I'd update this and carry on writing, to take my mind off it! Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review. Review responses are at the end.

5 Siblings, fledglings, Sires

While Lucius is being lectured by his father, Ayden is standing alone in a small, underground room in the heart of the Rahabim Cathedral.

His clan has but recently completed the process of securing the cathedral complex, and only a privileged few have been granted the luxury of private space. At present, there are few human slaves to attend their needs, though more arrive every day, mainly males, drafted in to work on the building; repairing and altering its structure, to make it more suited to accommodate their masters. Most of these people have sold themselves willingly to the Rahabim in return for guarantees of safety for their villages, a yearly tithe of slaves to be sent to the cathedral, being the usual agreement between the village elders and Lord Rahab. There is much for the slaves to do and not enough of them to do it; they are worked hard and tend to live short lives in the most primitive conditions. Injuries are high among the builders, and at present, sickness is rife in their miserable little camp, undoubtedly brought on by the recent bout of mild, damp weather.

No slaves can be spared as personal attendants, and in consequence, few of the Rahabim who have been given quarters of their own, have moved into them fully. Ayden is no exception. The room he occupies is practically bare, containing only a table, a wall-mounted mirror, a bed, which has not been made up, and a small trunk, containing his personal possessions.

He has just finished washing himself, an activity he takes no pleasure in and only does on very rare occasions, despite the Rahabim resistance to the caustic effects of water. He dries his pale skin carefully, rubbing it with a linen towel, until it gleams like ivory. Then, he stands in front of the mirror and carefully combs out his hair, watching the comb as it chases the last drops of water onto the floor. Tonight, he has been instructed to wear his finest clothes. He pulls on a pair of soft leather trousers and a new pair of boots, their black leather, buffed to a soft, satin sheen. His armour has been returned and it is lying on the bed, meticulously cleaned and polished in readiness for him. He dons it and then inspects his appearance in the mirror.

Despite the state of near perfection it reflects, he does not seem to be content; he gazes critically at the image in front of him. He has no sword and more importantly, no cloak, nothing to say which clan he belongs to, or if indeed, he belongs to any. He grimaces wryly at his reflection.

You're no one. He tells it. For all your fine clothes.

There is a soft tap at the door. Almost immediately, it opens and Lord Rahab enters the room; he is also impeccably dressed and clearly in good humour. Tonight they have been summoned to the Sanctuary of the Clans. Rahab's sire, Kain, wishes to be told in person, what had passed on the evening that Ayden entered Meridian's keep. The message from Kain had been characteristically brief, but the tone had been warm and that has done much to lift Rahab's mood.

It is some considerable time since Rahab has felt anything like approval from his lord. The crushing blow delivered by Agrippa earlier that year, had left the Rahabim severely weakened and demoralized. When he had gone to Kain for counsel, Kain simply offered the following:

"One finds strength, through resolving one's own difficulties, Rahab. Strong leadership can not develop from reliance on others."

Although he knew there was truth in these words, that had not made them any easier to accept. The last few months have seen the Rahabim beset by problems, forced to work alongside the other clans through sheer lack of numbers and losing yet more of their own in each major campaign, until now, they number just over fifty able-bodied warriors. Secretly, Rahab had begun to doubt he would ever be able to turn the fortunes of his clan around, and throughout all this time, Kain has remained aloof. Rahab knows how significant the summons to the Sanctuary is. It means that he is at least, beginning to regain his sire's respect, and that Kain, once more, deems him worthy of attention.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rahab smiles at Ayden, as he walks into the room. He holds out a neatly folded parcel of cloth to his firstborn; it is a new cloak of deep sea-green, with the Rahabim symbol woven in white at its edge. Silently, Ayden takes it from his hands, bowing in thanks. When he has fastened it in place, Rahab proffers a second item to him, a sword.

It is an extraordinarily fine weapon. The pommel is set with a sphere of milky aquamarine, held caged between four plain, silver bars. As he takes it from Rahab, the stone catches the light and a star suddenly blazes from within its clouded depths. Carefully, Ayden removes the blade from its scabbard. It whispers to him, as it is unsheathed, and when it is revealed, he cannot help but catch his breath. It is flawless, a cold and deadly beauty worked in steel. A thin line of runes is its only decoration, along with the Rahabim symbol, inlaid in deep green enamel, and enclosed within a pale turquoise circle, set at the very top, just below the guard. The balance is perfect; even to hold it, is a pleasure.

"It's beautiful." Ayden says, eventually. "I don't think I have ever seen such fine workmanship."

Rahab smiles.

"Well put it on." He says. "And hurry up. We are going to be late."

Ayden does as he is bid, but as he fastens the sword-belt around his waist, he is put in mind of another weapon, a plainer sword, taken from a Sarafan knight, many years before. It was a utilitarian piece, almost ugly in fact, designed for hard wear and made with no concessions to please the eye. It had never quite fitted his hand, but nonetheless, it had served him well, and he had felt the need for no other, until the night his sire had broken it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just over two hours later, they are entering the Sanctuary of the Clans. An intricate mosaic is being laid in the main courtyard and they have to pick their way carefully through the piles of tiny marble tiles left out in readiness for work to begin in the morning. Rahab's brother, Zephon, is leaning against the wall, just in front of the main entrance. He breaks into a slow, sly smile as they approach.

"The others have all gone in," he says. "But I thought I'd wait out here for a while."

Rahab bows to him, but he doesn't say anything in reply; relations between them are still not entirely friendly. Zephon takes his arm, leaving Ayden to walk behind.

"Well," he purrs in Rahab's ear, as they walk through the immense gilded doors and into the building. "I must say, brother, I'm almost impressed."

Rahab arches an eyebrow.

"Almost?" He asks.

Zephon nods, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. He knows what Rahab would like to hear, indeed, what he deserves to hear, but he is not going to give him the satisfaction. Zephon's refusal to lend any aid to the Rahabim earlier, has meant that Zephon now, has no share in the glory, and that has piqued him somewhat. Besides, there is no advantage to be gained from merely being nice.

"Does that mean I can count on your support, the next time?" Rahab says pointedly. "Because this is far from over, Zephon."

Zephon gives a nonchalant shrug before he makes his reply. A calculated gesture, undoubtedly intended to infuriate his normally placid sibling.

"I'll think about it," he says.

Unexpectedly, Rahab grabs his shoulder and Zephon finds himself slammed hard against the wall.

"Well think fast, little brother," Rahab hisses, his forearm pressing uncomfortably into Zephon's throat. "Because already, I am almost out of patience with you."

Zephon knocks his hand away and stands up, brushing himself down in annoyance; he hadn't anticipated such a strong reaction.

"I do what I like and no one dictates to me." He says, sullenly, straightening his cloak with an aggrieved little tug. "Especially not you!"

Rahab glares at him.

"Don't make me pull rank Zephon. Just because I don't make a habit of it, doesn't mean to say I can't."

Furiously, Zephon bares his fangs. He crouches down, ready to spring an attack. In the same instant, Rahab has turned to face him, his eyes alight with anticipation.

Suddenly, a hand is placed on his shoulder. Rahab whirls around to find Raziel, Kain's firstborn, standing behind him. The sight of his two siblings, apparently about to engage in a brawl like a pair of common fledglings is clearly something he finds most amusing. He looks at Rahab and then at Zephon, both of them still poised to fight. Slowly, they straighten up. Raziel puts an arm around Rahab's shoulders.

"May I suggest we continue this inside?" He says, giving his brother one of his most charming smiles. He puts his other arm around Zephon and steers them towards the room that holds the pillars and Kain's throne. "Are you going to tell me what that was that about?" He asks.

Rahab looks away; he has no wish to discuss his grievance. In retrospect, the quarrel seems rather foolish, especially since he had not needed Zephon's aid in the first place. Raziel turns his attention to Zephon.

"It was nothing," Zephon mutters.

Raziel chuckles. "Oh, really!" he says, shaking his head. " If you are going to lie, at least try to make it convincing,"

Zephon glowers. Raziel is annoying him almost as much as Rahab at this point, but he knows better than challenge him; that is one argument he would not walk away from. Raziel continues walking along with them, his arms still about their shoulders and his face set in an easy smile. He knows how irritated Zephon is becoming, and he is enjoying it immensely, but he had a more serious purpose in stopping their quarrel.

"Forgive my asking," he says, conversationally, "but is it really appropriate to be fighting amongst ourselves? Especially if it's over 'nothing'. I thought we had a Sarafan Lord to kill. Surely, your petty quarrel shouldn't take precedence over that? I can only imagine what the Master would have said, had he been the one to see you."

Neither Rahab nor Zephon replies to this remark, but they know he is right. Kain would have been most displeased by their coming to blows within the Sanctuary, and they would have received a lot more at his hands, than a gentle scolding. "Anyway," Raziel adds lightly, "even if I am mistaken, and there was sufficient cause, squabbling in the corridors, is so undignified. Don't you think?"

When they reach the doors to the throne room, Raziel turns to Zephon.

"Go in, please," he says. "I have something to say to Rahab."

Zephon bows to them both and enters the room and Ayden withdraws a little, positioning himself discreetly out of earshot. As soon as the doors have shut, Raziel turns to his younger brother, a look of gentle reproach on his face. "I confess," he says, "Zephon's actions did not come as too much of a surprise to me, but I am disappointed in you. You have achieved so much recently, against all the odds and yet, you risk it all. And for what? The pleasure of landing a blow on Zephon that he will have forgotten by morning." He shakes his head reprovingly. "Anger can be a useful tool, Rahab, but it needs a clear head and a steady hand to guide it. If you allow it to master you, it will lead you to ruin and your clan along with you."

Rahab looks down at the ground, tapping a claw impatiently against his thigh, as Raziel delivers this admonishment. When Raziel stops speaking, he looks up, there is not a trace of contrition in his face. Perhaps his behaviour was inappropriate, but still, he resents the interruption. If he had succeeded in striking Zephon even once, then at least, the lecture would have been earned. As it is, he has actually done nothing wrong. He is also annoyed by the implication that Zephon is to be treated more leniently, since Raziel expects less of him. He glowers at his brother.

"Are you finished?" He asks.

Raziel sighs. "Yes, I'm done," he says. As Rahab turns away to open the door, he puts his hand on his shoulder. "Just consider, please," he says gently. "Would you rather hear this from Kain, or from me?"

Rahab frowns. "You, I suppose. If I have to hear it at all, that is! You know how it is between me and Zephon," he continues. "He only has to look at me sometimes, and I want to tear his throat out."

Raziel smiles. "Don't we all?" He asks, softly. "But you'd be ill-advised to act on that impulse, especially now; all of us are needed in these troubled times. I wanted to speak with you on another matter, too," he adds, "but there's no time, now. I'm planning something and I may need assistance. Would you be interested in aiding me?"

Rahab smiles back at him. "Of course." He says. "You know, you only have to ask."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kain is already seated on the throne when Raziel ushers them in and Turel, Dumah, Zephon and Melchiah are standing in their accustomed places facing him. Raziel kneels briefly before Kain and then Rahab comes forward to present Ayden.

Nosgoth's would-be emperor listens attentively as Ayden tells the story of his foray into the Sarafan keep. The Cabal still has spies within the keep; most of them servants, and information has already trickled through to Kain, about the Sarafan's reaction to the loss of their prisoner. Kain knows how sorely the pride of the Sarafan Lord has been dented and he also knows of the mistaken conclusions Agrippa has come to regarding the raid. Even now, the Sarafan are looking for traitors within their own ranks and interrogating suspects. It will be extremely demoralizing for them if this process continues for any length of time, and Kain is determined to aid it in any way he can; it will save him a lot of effort, if his enemies eliminate themselves.

The information about the glyph-batteries comes as a surprise to everyone, as does the fact that the ward-gates are still capable of being activated.

Kain leans forward, watching Ayden keenly as he questions him about his findings.

"How many ward-gates were activated while you were there?" He asks.

"My Lord, it is hard to say." Ayden replies. The gate that protected the doors to the carrion-pit, was the only one I saw active, but that was the only one I had to pass in order to get out."

Kain leans back, considering.

"So," he says, "am I right in assuming you saw no sign of the glyph energy being used until the alarm was raised?"

Ayden nods. "That is correct, my Lord. The pipes and conduits are still in place, all over the building, but they seemed to be dead. Nothing was active anywhere in the keep when I first entered it. Not even in the dungeons."

"And yet," Kain muses, "you tell me batteries had been recently moved, and if they've been moved, it seems reasonable to assume they are being used. For what, I wonder?" He turns to his fifth born. "Zephon, you are to make it your business to find out."

Zephon nods.

Kain stands up. "Thank you." He says to Ayden. "Your account has given us much to consider. If all the Rahabim are as you, your clan will surely become a formidable force."

Ayden bows respectfully.

"You are dismissed." Says Kain.

Ayden slowly steps back six paces before turning towards the doors, which now stand open, he is not sure how. He walks out of the room, his steps unhurried, taking care to conceal his relief that the interview is over. He always finds it rather disconcerting being in Kain's presence, as do most clan members; he always has an air of knowing everything, well before he is told, and of knowing a good deal more besides. The doors swing slowly shut, as soon as he is in the corridor and Ayden makes his way to the newly finished Great Hall, to await his lord.

The hall is not empty, though because of the room's great size, the group of vampires assembled there, seems smaller than it really is. There are representatives from all the clans present, including a small group of Dumahim. Berrin is among their number but he does not notice Ayden, like most of those gathered here, he is intent on watching a pair of Turelim females, who are engaged in a rather vigorous wrestling match, in the far corner. Ayden stands quietly in the shadows, for he had no desire to speak with any of those present, even those of his own clan. He watches the proceedings unseen, mulling over the events of the last two evenings.

A little while later, the Clan Lords enter the room. As soon as he sees his sire, Ayden walks over to join him. Now, he comes to Berrin's notice.

Berrin stares, he is both surprised and, he has to admit, a little disappointed, to see that Ayden bears no visible signs of having felt his Lord's displeasure after their raid on the Sarafan. Upon his own return, Berrin had walked straight into Dumah's fists and he is now firmly of the opinion that there are rocks softer than his Lord's hands.

He strokes his chin, his eyes narrowing as he remembers the agonizing pain of the first blow. It had shattered his jaw and loosened every tooth in his head, those it hadn't broken, that is. He still bears a chipped fang as a reminder, a mark he will carry for the rest of his life. It gives his grin a lopsided and rather roguish quality, which, now that he is recovered, he has to admit, is not entirely displeasing.

His recovery had been slow, too. For a nearly a week, he had been unable to feed, reduced to daintily sipping from a goblet, like some simpering, human courtier. He had been horribly embarrassed by that, and hidden away as much as possible, but the caves presently inhabited by the Dumahim, hold few hiding places, and it was only a matter of hours before everyone knew what had happened. He had fought quite a few battles that week, with those who had been foolish enough to pass comment.

His disgrace had not lasted for long, however, Lord Dumah being of hasty temperament, but seldom inclined to bear a grudge. Dumah had sought him out after a couple of nights, and he had laughed so heartily at the sight of his fledgling, that for a few minutes, he had been unable to speak. Berrin had started to laugh as well, for Dumah's mirth was infectious and that had been agonizing too, his discomfort only adding to the merriment. When they had recovered, Dumah had clapped Berrin across the shoulders, his arm striking his back with all the force of a falling tree.

"Come," Dumah said. "I'm planning a new campaign and your skills are needed, if you're fit for duty, that is." Berrin was hardly feeling fit, but he had been at Dumah's side in an instant.

"Just one thing," Dumah said lightly, as they made their way to his quarters. He had stopped in a quiet place, and Berrin turned to face him, wondering what jest his lord was about to make now. As soon as their eyes met, the smile had died on his lips. Dumah was no longer laughing. He had leaned towards his fledgling, his gaze so intense, that Berrin had wanted to look away, but he did not dare. "You have had a lucky escape." Dumah said quietly. "But do not make the mistake of thinking your disobedience forgotten. You now have to prove to me that you deserve this chance," Berrin nodded his head. "And should I find you wanting, or if you ever disobey me again, then I will kill you." Dumah paused for a moment. "Do we understand one another?" He asked, and Berrin had nodded again. "Good." Said Dumah, and with that, he had turned away, leading them into the cave that was presently serving as his quarters.

That exchange was certainly sobering, and Berrin had been worried for quite some time afterwards, but after a few successes on the battlefield, Dumah had made no further reference to the incident, and relations between them now are practically the same as they were before.

Although Berrin knows he has escaped extremely lightly, the sight of Ayden, standing in his accustomed place at Rahab's side, completely uninjured and now being lauded as a hero, still strikes him as being slightly unfair.

After a few minutes, Raziel leaves the hall, beckoning Rahab to follow him; evidently, there is something further for them to discuss, before they depart. Lord Dumah is still enjoying the spectacle provided by the Turelim and it is obvious he is in no hurry to leave, so Berrin decides to take the opportunity to seek Ayden out, but he cannot see him anywhere. He is not standing with the other Rahabim and when he asks, Berrin is told Ayden left the hall some time ago, but no one seems to know where he went. Eventually, Berrin tracks him down. He is standing alone, outside the entrance to the Sanctuary, his arms folded in front of him, while he looks pensively down at the half-finished mosaic.

"Well," Berrin says, taking in the cut of his clothes and the new sword that hangs by his side. "I don't need to ask how your fortunes have fared, since last we met."

Ayden turns to face him, his expression slightly perplexed.

"When I got back from that raid on the Sarafan, Lord Dumah almost ruined my good-looks, permanently." Berrin explains. "I've never taken such a beating! I honestly didn't think fists could hurt that much!" He grins broadly, exposing the chipped fang. "When he was finished with me, it took three attempts just to straighten my nose out!" He laughs. "Not to mention all the other bones that had to be set. Don't take this question the wrong way," He adds, giving Ayden a searching look. "But you were actually punished, weren't you?"

Ayden looks at him for a moment. Then he nods.

"Oh, yes." He says. "I was. You need have no fear on that score."

Berrin waits for him to elaborate, the silence growing somewhat strained between them as it becomes evident that Ayden has said all he intends to.

"Well, you have to agree, it was worth it." Berrin continues jovially, after a minute. "Despite all the pain. It was worth it, just to slip the leash for a few hours. Don't you think?"

Ayden stares at him coldly.

"What I think," he says, "is that Lord Dumah, obviously, didn't hit you hard enough!" He bows to Berrin, his face set with disapproval. "If you'll excuse me." He says, and without waiting for a reply, he walks back into the Sanctuary. Berrin gapes after him; they have been acquainted for years, but this rigid, humourless creature is nothing like the Ayden he had known previously. Whatever punishment was meted out, appears to have changed him completely. Berrin shivers. He is suddenly grateful he is Dumahim.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ayden does not have much longer to wait for Rahab. As soon as he appears, the Rahabim leave. As they make their way back to the cathedral, Rahab outlines the plans he has been making with Raziel. Raziel intends to take control of the Great Highway to the northwest of Meridian. If he succeeds, the Sarafan will be unable to move any significant number of soldiers out of the city and into his territories. At present, the stretch of road nearest to Meridian is protected by a hill fort, positioned ten miles outside the city walls, in a hamlet so small, it does not even have a name. If the Sarafan can be persuaded to abandon this outpost, Raziel will gain a significant advantage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They arrive at the cathedral about three hours before the sun is due to rise. Ayden follows Rahab to his quarters. They are located close to his own room, in the very heart of the building, where no natural light ever penetrates. Ayden closes the heavy door behind them, and then takes a taper and lights the lamps, just as he has always done, carrying the tiny flame from one lamp to the next until the room is bathed in soft, golden light. Unlike most of the rooms in the cathedral, these chambers are almost finished. The wooden floor is made of tiny diamond shaped tiles, arranged to form an elaborate starburst in the centre of each room, almost black at the centre and fading through gold to the palest cream at the edges. The craftsmen who created it must have scoured the whole of Nosgoth to find such a variety of timbers. The furniture is sparse but ornate, the heavy couches and chairs all covered in the same sea-green brocade, their gilded scrolls carefully polished to reflect the lamplight. One wall of the room is entirely lined with books and the wall opposite has a large fireplace, though this has clearly never been used, above it, hangs an enormous gilt mirror. At present, the door to the bedchamber stands ajar, revealing a huge circular bed, with sheets of blood red silk, draped over with yet more of the green brocade.

Rahab appears slightly distracted; he walks straight into his study, without saying a word to his fledgling. Ayden can hear him, as he walks around the desk, rustling the papers, which are invariably strewn across its surface.

When every lamp has been lit, Ayden walks over to the door. He takes off his cloak along with the sword Rahab had given him earlier. He folds the cloak neatly and places the sword on top of it. Then he stands, holding them before him and waits patiently for Rahab to reappear. At last, Rahab re-enters the room.

"Am I dismissed?" Ayden asks.

Rahab smiles. "Not yet." He says.

Ayden holds the cloak and sword out to him.

"What would My Lord have me do with these?"

Rahab stares. He is genuinely shocked by the question.

"You're to keep them, of course. Ayden, that sword was forged for you."

Ayden bows low.

"Thank you." He says. "I am humbled by My Lord's generosity. Truly. I would not have deemed myself worthy of such a gift."

Rahab looks at him in astonishment. This is unexpected. The evening is not ending at all, as he had thought. He decides to ignore this last remark.

"Tell me," he says, recovering his composure a little. "Why would you be in such a hurry to leave, anyway? It's not as if you have any duties to attend. Stay a while." He walks over to Ayden, and gives him an encouraging smile. "I've sent down for a couple of slaves." He says, knowing this will be an enticing prospect. "A pair of young females. That should be enough to keep us fed and… ah…  entertained, should it not?" He waits for a reply, and when none is forthcoming, he inclines his head questioningly to his firstborn.

"Ayden?"

Ayden bows his head.

"I will do whatever My Lord commands, of course." He says.

Rahab lays a hand on his shoulder, hiding his disappointment at the coldness of this response.

"I never had to command your company before," he says softly. "I don't do it now."

Ayden turns away, his lips brushing lightly across his sire's fingers as he does so, so lightly in fact, that when he reflects upon it later, Rahab is not quite sure if the contact was accidental or not.

"Thank you My Lord, but I doubt I would be pleasant company. If it's all the same to you, I would rather be alone."

Review Responses

First of all, am slightly hungover this morning/afternoon, so, forgive me if not all of this makes sense. Secondly. Thank you all for reviewing, I really appreciate it.

Silmuen: *Waves madly to you* You read it? You like it? Praise indeed, coming from the author of 'Firstborn'! Thank you.

Nocturnally Damned: Yeah, Agrippa and Lucius are a truly delightful pair, aren't they? Why Agrippa's wife wants to spend any time at all with him, I can't imagine. I'd have bought the extra blankets and kept quiet! You can be sure I'm going to give Lucius plenty of chances to show off all his good qualities in the next couple of chapters, too.  ^_^

Syvia: Another Lucius fan? So glad you like him. I hadn't thought of him as normal, but yes, you're right, he is, unfortunately. I think we've all met people like that!

Vladimir's Angel: Thank you so much for your comments. I love it when people tell me the lines they like best, it helps me to see which bits of the story are working.

Tom T.Thompson: Glad you enjoyed chpt 3.

Dark Sephiroth: Hmmm. Don't like Talia eh? 'Silly' eh? Is this because she's a girl and she hasn't killed anything, yet? ^_^ Or do we have a more serious problem? Be a little more specific with your criticism, if you can, please ;) Glad you liked chpt 4, anyway. And if you think we are spending too much time with the Sarafan, you'll just have to be patient I'm afraid. After all, it would be very rude to start killing people before they have been properly introduced!

Thug-4-less: Thank you so much for your comments. As to Ayden's powers, we are dealing with a fairly young vampire here, he's only 30yrs. old, so I've taken the approach that he will be faster, more agile and stronger than a human, but nothing like some of the more highly evolved vamps you meet in the games. Of course, he has just acquired another Dark Gift, but I'm not saying what that is at the moment ;) As to feeding, it's pretty much fangs-on, I think!

Aquasword: Yeah, Zafar's free….* has another small, guilty moment about ill-treating her vampires*  Didn't do him much good did it? But we couldn't just leave him there. Sarafan will get come-uppance at some point, rest assured.