IV RAHAB
Raziel strode through the underground hallways that connected his territory to Rahab's. But for him and the three men that followed him, they were empty. Normally, Rahab had them guarded, even though all vampires could use these passageways freely. Now it seemed he could not spare the men. Raziel felt the weight of Darheim's fallen as if he had slain them himself. Unlike his son Kemuel, he accepted the responsibility. Kemuel had protested that he did not know who lit the pile of bodies, that it was not his fault the men were out of control. Raziel had corrected him. He was responsible, and by extension, so was Raziel. Now he was marching south for an official visit, with only three men as a guard, bearing a gift for the enemy -- his brother Rahab. His son Axel bore an artfully crafted glass pitcher, beset with jewels in red and blue. It was a masterpiece from the glassblowers of Vennstein, and filled with Razelim blood. All in all a sumptuous gift, and a suitable token of respect. The soldier Borah bore a gift as well: a set of adorned glass goblets in a case. This gift was intended for someone else, however, and had a much darker purpose.
He reached one of the gates to Rahab's keep. He could see no guards, but torchlight shone from the arches above. Raziel gestured to Borah. Borah raised his voice to a thundering bass as he hailed the unseen guardsmen.
"The Lord Raziel approaches, and wishes to see your master. Open the gate, you vermin, or we will bust it down!"
Raziel raised his eyebrows and slowly turned to look at his soldier.
"My dear man," he said softly, "it's solid oak reinforced with steel. How exactly do you imagine we would 'bust it down'?"
Borah grinned sheepishly, but there was a sound from the gate, and it swung open slowly. "Worked, didn't it?" he mumbled.
They were met by a regal-looking man Raziel did not know, and were led down the corridors into Rahab's main hall. The throne was empty; a group of Rahabim lingered in the darkness under the arches surrounding the hall. They looked at Raziel and his men with suspicion and hatred. Raziel turned to his guide.
"My men would like to see the lady Demera," he said indicating Borah and his companion. The guide waved a servant closer. "And I would speak with your master," Raziel finished, unneccesarily.
"Have you come to gloat over your victory?" a spiteful voice asked from under the arches. Raziel turned to look, but it was impossible to determine who had spoken. They all glared at him, a silent, threatening crowd.
"There was no victor at Darheim," he answered, raising his voice slightly and looking at each of them in turn, "only senseless slaughter. I have come to offer my condolences, not to gloat." He paused a moment before adding, "And not to answer questions from fledglings." He turned back to his guide, who led him and Axel up one the flights of stairs which descended from above the entrace door into the hall on both sides. The architecture of Rahab's keep was more spacious than that of Raziel's, but the floors and walls were bare, and many of the magnificent stained glass windows had cracked or missing panels.
He was led to a small study, the walls lined with bookshelves. Rahab sat at a table in the middle of it. He somehow looked small to Raziel, dressed as he was in an unadorned sleeveless robe, reading alone in a little room. Rahab stood up.
"Raziel, I was not expecting a visit from you, let alone an official visit," he said with a glance at the red shoulder-cape.
"My brother," Raziel said, and nodded respectfully. "We have much to discuss."
"Indeed." Rahab turned to the man that had led them here. "Why don't you two keep each other company," he said with a gesture in Axel's direction. Raziel nodded at Axel, and they both left, closing the door behind them. Rahab took the adorned pitcher from Raziel and held it up, allowing the torchlight to play in the jewel's facets. His face was blank. "A gift to make up for the losses you caused me?" he asked cynically. Raziel bowed his head.
"Rahab, nothing can make up for the grief my clan has brought you. This is merely a token of respect."
"Bah," Rahab sneered. "Brainless, bloodthirsty rabble. I miss them not."
Raziel laughed. "Really? Then what is it that has put you in such a dark mood?"
Rahab sighed, and turned away, putting the pitcher down on the table. "I've been thinking about the old days, Raziel, when our clans fought side by side, rather than ripping each other to pieces." Raziel smiled thinly. "Do you remember when we first had to defend castle Darstein, before it was your stronghold? Kain knew they would come. He gathered us together; I can still hear his words: 'In the morning, they will come for us. And we will be ready.'" Raziel nodded. He remembered this as clearly as if it had been yesterday. Rahab continued, "I can still see us standing there, in that small tower room, mere fledgelings, but we were all so proud then. You were so proud..." His voice trailed off as he half turned to look at Raziel, standing there with his arms crossed, in his ceremonial armour. He turned back to the window as if the sight pained him. Raziel went to stand beside him, and put a hand on his shoulder. He tried to think of a suitably gentle rebuke to guide his brother back to the present. Rahab chuckled and continued recounting his memory. "And afterwards, when we gathered again, grimy and worn out, and Melchiah with that gash in his brow." Raziel couldn't help but smile at the memory. "Blood was continuously running down into his eye, but he said, 'I am not hurt,'"
"--'I am victorious,'" Raziel finished with him. He laughed. "Poor Melchiah. He always suffered more than us."
Rahab's smile faded. "How far we have fallen that we face each other as enemies now, Raziel! And for what? Our kin are at each other's throats over a few meagre hamlets." He shook his head. "These times... these children!" he threw his hands up in the air.
Suddenly, he turned to Raziel, a serious expression on his face. "I worry for the future, Raziel. The crops are failing, the humans starving.. The herd keeps on thinning, and yet our numbers continue to grow as if we meant to wipe out the human race all together." Raziel grinned at the thought. "You may laugh Raziel," Rahab continued, "but what will we eat then? Will we prey upon each other, consuming our own children until only one of us is left?"
Raziel frowned disapprovingly. "Don't be so melodramatic. Famines are of all ages; the cattle will pull through. We have seen this time and time again, within a few decades the population will recover. There is nothing to worry about."
"This drought has lasted for three years now, Raziel. This is not a bad year, this is a bad decade. And now, with Darheim destroyed..." He leaned on the windowsill, looking out over his blasted lands. "It is not just the dwindling herd," he continued. "Everything in Nosgoth seems to stagnate and rot. Even us. Our numbers may be rising but I can see our powers failing. The fledglings are getting ever weaker, and do you know how long it has been since Kain last presented us with a new gift?"
"I did not realise there was a set time period between the changes," Raziel lied. He had realised it had been a long time, but did not wish to encourage his brother's worries.
"Never more than fifty years," Rahab said. "And yet, now there is a gap of nearly a century. It won't be long before we will catch up to him." Raziel gave him a sceptical look. They were not even close to catching up. Rahab ignored him. "And then I imagine the decay will set in, like in stagnant waters."
A silence spread between them. Rahab stared into the darkness outside the window, seemingly caught up in his memories again. "It is your latest change, isn't it?" Raziel asked gently.
Rahab nodded, and hung his head in defeat. "You warned me about this, but I could never have understood. I can see everything so clearly now, each century moving into the next, every tiny event that shaped the years to come... I can remember everything as if it was yesterday. I can remember yesterday as if it was happening right now!"
Raziel nodded. He understood. He recieved this gift only a few years ago himself, and he remembered how it had unnerved him. To see all of history clearly, in a single glance, to recognise the patterns of the past and guess at those of the future...
"Only now do I truly see that our world is doomed. Now that I remember more clearly how things were, I can see everything dwindling, diminishing, fading... Our herds are thinning ever more, our council is torn by conflict. I remember the centuries past, and they are filled with nothing but corruption and decay. And as for the future--"
"It will bring us ever more centuries of decay and corruption," Raziel finished. "Yes, Nosgoth is dying, my brother, but it has been doing so for almost a thousand years now, and, if you ask me, it will take a thousand years more before it finally gets around to it." He didn't mean to sound belligerent, he wanted to comfort his brother, but it was hard to find the right words. "We knew this from the very beginning, Rahab," he added softly. "He told us when he first made us his lieutenants. 'Fitting lords for a dying world,' that is what he called us."
Rahab leant his elbows on the window sill. He repeated Kain's old phrase, "Fitting lords for a dying world," in a low and cheerless voice. His head dropped down into his hands. When he looked up, his eyes were tear-stained. "Raziel, how can we endure it?" he called, his voice torn and ragged.
Raziel folded his brother into a gentle embrace. He did not know of any words that could ease Rahab's pain. It troubled him to know he suffered so, for he knew where it could lead. He had lost more than one child to the toothless maw of depression. His sensitive ears picked up angry voices from deep within the keep, though no words reached his ears. It seemed his gift was working its poison. Perhaps the press of current events could bring his brother back to the here and now.
"Rahab, this..." He paused a moment, trying to find the right word. "-- vision -- is a gift, like any other gift we have recieved. Enjoy these memories for what pleasure they can bring you, but do not allow yourself to be consumed by them! This age has its own challenges." In the depth of the keep below them, there was a loud bang, as if a door slammed open. "And its own rewards," he added. Rahab sighed. "Besides, your clan needs your guiding hand, now more than ever. They suffer too, and they suffer more for your absence."
Rahab shook his head. "They get by fine without me. I don't care about their little games of intrigue anymore."
"No, Rahab," Raziel said sternly, "they are not getting by. Your house is torn by treason. Your men are challenging a traitress as we speak, and where are you when an example needs to be made? Who will represent the authority of the Rahabim if not you?"
"A traitress?" Rahab asked with a puzzled expression on his face. "How do you know that?"
"Because, my brother, it was me she betrayed you to. Now go and get involved, your clan needs you!" He opened the door, and Rahab followed his advice, though he still looked heavy-hearted.
They entered the balcony overlooking the throne-room, and Raziel was pleased to note that his guess had been correct. The girl-vampire Demera was chained, and kneeling on the floor in front of the dais. Amadis, Rahab's first advisor, was standing in front of the throne, questioning her.
"What is going on here?" Rahab demanded, after Raziel elbowed him into action. All present looked up; Raziel's eyes met Demera's. She looked helpless, afraid, but there was a hopeful smile on her lips. He waved at her. Rahab made his way down the steps and towards the dais. The crowd parted respectfully for him.
Raziel watched from the balcony as Rahab heard the evidence against Demera from Amadis. Behind his right shoulder he felt the comforting presence of Axel: silent, supportive and watchful. Below him, in the crowd, he eventually detected his two soldiers, watching the trial from the sidelines. Demera tried to deny the allegations, but her lies were fragile and easy to pierce. Soon enough, she broke down, and, sobbing, declared that yes, she had warned the Razelim. She felt there had been enough bloodshed.
She was now held responsible for the debacle at Darheim, and Rahab sentenced her to a trial by fire, which essentially meant she was to be burned to death. In the old days, some fortunate vampires had survived this trial, but the execution method had long since been perfected. She accepted her fate with dignity, Raziel noted with approval: she simply bowed her head in silence. As she was led away though, she glanced up at the balcony. Raziel stared back, his eyes cold and unmovable. Rahab sent his people back to their posts, and Raziel followed him back into the study.
"A mild punishment," he commented as he closed the door behind them.
Rahab shot him an angry glance. "Death is not a mild punishment, brother."
"Your army was exterminated because of her! Surely that deserves a more serious punishment than a mere trial by fire?" Raziel said, genuinely surprised.
"She did not intend for that to happen." Rahab repeated her defense. "She will be punished, what more would you have me do?"
"She betrayed you, Rahab. I thought the traditional punishment for treason was to be cast into the abyss."
"And you betrayed her. Shall we cast you into the abyss as well?" Rahab asked angrily.
Raziel laughed at the suggestion. "Don't be ridiculous. I've done nothing untoward."
"You brought her a gift in thanks, and made no effort to hide it. You obviously meant for suspicion to fall on her."
"Of course I did," Raziel said, his own anger rising. "I thought you would be grateful for it. We can't let treason go unpunished!" There was something in Rahab's eyes that stung him more than anger could have. Disgust.
"It was cold-hearted and cruel. That woman loved you, Raziel!"
"All love me," Raziel said slowly, clenching his teeth. "That does not free them from their obligations. I did this for you, Rahab! The loyalty of our clans is what our rule is based on. Without it, the empire will collapse. We cannot tolerate traitors, surely you can see that?"
"You didn't have any moral trepidations about using the information she gave you," Rahab said sharply.
"Then what was I to do?" Raziel shouted, "Stand idly by while you slaughtered my clan and raided my keep? Yes, I used the information she gave me! We were all but defenseless, I had no choice!"
Rahab looked away, a pained expression on his face. Once again, he appeared small to Raziel, tired and worn out like an old man.
"Please, let us not be enemies, Raziel," he whispered.
Raziel sighed, allowing his anger to fade away. "I am not your enemy, Rahab," he answered. "Tagas was, but he is no more. Since you have no army left, I think our war is over."
"My clan will not forget their defeat so easily," Rahab said slowly, his eyes fixed on the door. "They will continue to consider you their enemy."
"There's nothing wrong with that," Raziel said, an arrogant little smile spreading on his face. "They fear me a lot more than I fear them."
And with that, he left his brother to his thoughts.
Raziel strode through the underground hallways that connected his territory to Rahab's. But for him and the three men that followed him, they were empty. Normally, Rahab had them guarded, even though all vampires could use these passageways freely. Now it seemed he could not spare the men. Raziel felt the weight of Darheim's fallen as if he had slain them himself. Unlike his son Kemuel, he accepted the responsibility. Kemuel had protested that he did not know who lit the pile of bodies, that it was not his fault the men were out of control. Raziel had corrected him. He was responsible, and by extension, so was Raziel. Now he was marching south for an official visit, with only three men as a guard, bearing a gift for the enemy -- his brother Rahab. His son Axel bore an artfully crafted glass pitcher, beset with jewels in red and blue. It was a masterpiece from the glassblowers of Vennstein, and filled with Razelim blood. All in all a sumptuous gift, and a suitable token of respect. The soldier Borah bore a gift as well: a set of adorned glass goblets in a case. This gift was intended for someone else, however, and had a much darker purpose.
He reached one of the gates to Rahab's keep. He could see no guards, but torchlight shone from the arches above. Raziel gestured to Borah. Borah raised his voice to a thundering bass as he hailed the unseen guardsmen.
"The Lord Raziel approaches, and wishes to see your master. Open the gate, you vermin, or we will bust it down!"
Raziel raised his eyebrows and slowly turned to look at his soldier.
"My dear man," he said softly, "it's solid oak reinforced with steel. How exactly do you imagine we would 'bust it down'?"
Borah grinned sheepishly, but there was a sound from the gate, and it swung open slowly. "Worked, didn't it?" he mumbled.
They were met by a regal-looking man Raziel did not know, and were led down the corridors into Rahab's main hall. The throne was empty; a group of Rahabim lingered in the darkness under the arches surrounding the hall. They looked at Raziel and his men with suspicion and hatred. Raziel turned to his guide.
"My men would like to see the lady Demera," he said indicating Borah and his companion. The guide waved a servant closer. "And I would speak with your master," Raziel finished, unneccesarily.
"Have you come to gloat over your victory?" a spiteful voice asked from under the arches. Raziel turned to look, but it was impossible to determine who had spoken. They all glared at him, a silent, threatening crowd.
"There was no victor at Darheim," he answered, raising his voice slightly and looking at each of them in turn, "only senseless slaughter. I have come to offer my condolences, not to gloat." He paused a moment before adding, "And not to answer questions from fledglings." He turned back to his guide, who led him and Axel up one the flights of stairs which descended from above the entrace door into the hall on both sides. The architecture of Rahab's keep was more spacious than that of Raziel's, but the floors and walls were bare, and many of the magnificent stained glass windows had cracked or missing panels.
He was led to a small study, the walls lined with bookshelves. Rahab sat at a table in the middle of it. He somehow looked small to Raziel, dressed as he was in an unadorned sleeveless robe, reading alone in a little room. Rahab stood up.
"Raziel, I was not expecting a visit from you, let alone an official visit," he said with a glance at the red shoulder-cape.
"My brother," Raziel said, and nodded respectfully. "We have much to discuss."
"Indeed." Rahab turned to the man that had led them here. "Why don't you two keep each other company," he said with a gesture in Axel's direction. Raziel nodded at Axel, and they both left, closing the door behind them. Rahab took the adorned pitcher from Raziel and held it up, allowing the torchlight to play in the jewel's facets. His face was blank. "A gift to make up for the losses you caused me?" he asked cynically. Raziel bowed his head.
"Rahab, nothing can make up for the grief my clan has brought you. This is merely a token of respect."
"Bah," Rahab sneered. "Brainless, bloodthirsty rabble. I miss them not."
Raziel laughed. "Really? Then what is it that has put you in such a dark mood?"
Rahab sighed, and turned away, putting the pitcher down on the table. "I've been thinking about the old days, Raziel, when our clans fought side by side, rather than ripping each other to pieces." Raziel smiled thinly. "Do you remember when we first had to defend castle Darstein, before it was your stronghold? Kain knew they would come. He gathered us together; I can still hear his words: 'In the morning, they will come for us. And we will be ready.'" Raziel nodded. He remembered this as clearly as if it had been yesterday. Rahab continued, "I can still see us standing there, in that small tower room, mere fledgelings, but we were all so proud then. You were so proud..." His voice trailed off as he half turned to look at Raziel, standing there with his arms crossed, in his ceremonial armour. He turned back to the window as if the sight pained him. Raziel went to stand beside him, and put a hand on his shoulder. He tried to think of a suitably gentle rebuke to guide his brother back to the present. Rahab chuckled and continued recounting his memory. "And afterwards, when we gathered again, grimy and worn out, and Melchiah with that gash in his brow." Raziel couldn't help but smile at the memory. "Blood was continuously running down into his eye, but he said, 'I am not hurt,'"
"--'I am victorious,'" Raziel finished with him. He laughed. "Poor Melchiah. He always suffered more than us."
Rahab's smile faded. "How far we have fallen that we face each other as enemies now, Raziel! And for what? Our kin are at each other's throats over a few meagre hamlets." He shook his head. "These times... these children!" he threw his hands up in the air.
Suddenly, he turned to Raziel, a serious expression on his face. "I worry for the future, Raziel. The crops are failing, the humans starving.. The herd keeps on thinning, and yet our numbers continue to grow as if we meant to wipe out the human race all together." Raziel grinned at the thought. "You may laugh Raziel," Rahab continued, "but what will we eat then? Will we prey upon each other, consuming our own children until only one of us is left?"
Raziel frowned disapprovingly. "Don't be so melodramatic. Famines are of all ages; the cattle will pull through. We have seen this time and time again, within a few decades the population will recover. There is nothing to worry about."
"This drought has lasted for three years now, Raziel. This is not a bad year, this is a bad decade. And now, with Darheim destroyed..." He leaned on the windowsill, looking out over his blasted lands. "It is not just the dwindling herd," he continued. "Everything in Nosgoth seems to stagnate and rot. Even us. Our numbers may be rising but I can see our powers failing. The fledglings are getting ever weaker, and do you know how long it has been since Kain last presented us with a new gift?"
"I did not realise there was a set time period between the changes," Raziel lied. He had realised it had been a long time, but did not wish to encourage his brother's worries.
"Never more than fifty years," Rahab said. "And yet, now there is a gap of nearly a century. It won't be long before we will catch up to him." Raziel gave him a sceptical look. They were not even close to catching up. Rahab ignored him. "And then I imagine the decay will set in, like in stagnant waters."
A silence spread between them. Rahab stared into the darkness outside the window, seemingly caught up in his memories again. "It is your latest change, isn't it?" Raziel asked gently.
Rahab nodded, and hung his head in defeat. "You warned me about this, but I could never have understood. I can see everything so clearly now, each century moving into the next, every tiny event that shaped the years to come... I can remember everything as if it was yesterday. I can remember yesterday as if it was happening right now!"
Raziel nodded. He understood. He recieved this gift only a few years ago himself, and he remembered how it had unnerved him. To see all of history clearly, in a single glance, to recognise the patterns of the past and guess at those of the future...
"Only now do I truly see that our world is doomed. Now that I remember more clearly how things were, I can see everything dwindling, diminishing, fading... Our herds are thinning ever more, our council is torn by conflict. I remember the centuries past, and they are filled with nothing but corruption and decay. And as for the future--"
"It will bring us ever more centuries of decay and corruption," Raziel finished. "Yes, Nosgoth is dying, my brother, but it has been doing so for almost a thousand years now, and, if you ask me, it will take a thousand years more before it finally gets around to it." He didn't mean to sound belligerent, he wanted to comfort his brother, but it was hard to find the right words. "We knew this from the very beginning, Rahab," he added softly. "He told us when he first made us his lieutenants. 'Fitting lords for a dying world,' that is what he called us."
Rahab leant his elbows on the window sill. He repeated Kain's old phrase, "Fitting lords for a dying world," in a low and cheerless voice. His head dropped down into his hands. When he looked up, his eyes were tear-stained. "Raziel, how can we endure it?" he called, his voice torn and ragged.
Raziel folded his brother into a gentle embrace. He did not know of any words that could ease Rahab's pain. It troubled him to know he suffered so, for he knew where it could lead. He had lost more than one child to the toothless maw of depression. His sensitive ears picked up angry voices from deep within the keep, though no words reached his ears. It seemed his gift was working its poison. Perhaps the press of current events could bring his brother back to the here and now.
"Rahab, this..." He paused a moment, trying to find the right word. "-- vision -- is a gift, like any other gift we have recieved. Enjoy these memories for what pleasure they can bring you, but do not allow yourself to be consumed by them! This age has its own challenges." In the depth of the keep below them, there was a loud bang, as if a door slammed open. "And its own rewards," he added. Rahab sighed. "Besides, your clan needs your guiding hand, now more than ever. They suffer too, and they suffer more for your absence."
Rahab shook his head. "They get by fine without me. I don't care about their little games of intrigue anymore."
"No, Rahab," Raziel said sternly, "they are not getting by. Your house is torn by treason. Your men are challenging a traitress as we speak, and where are you when an example needs to be made? Who will represent the authority of the Rahabim if not you?"
"A traitress?" Rahab asked with a puzzled expression on his face. "How do you know that?"
"Because, my brother, it was me she betrayed you to. Now go and get involved, your clan needs you!" He opened the door, and Rahab followed his advice, though he still looked heavy-hearted.
They entered the balcony overlooking the throne-room, and Raziel was pleased to note that his guess had been correct. The girl-vampire Demera was chained, and kneeling on the floor in front of the dais. Amadis, Rahab's first advisor, was standing in front of the throne, questioning her.
"What is going on here?" Rahab demanded, after Raziel elbowed him into action. All present looked up; Raziel's eyes met Demera's. She looked helpless, afraid, but there was a hopeful smile on her lips. He waved at her. Rahab made his way down the steps and towards the dais. The crowd parted respectfully for him.
Raziel watched from the balcony as Rahab heard the evidence against Demera from Amadis. Behind his right shoulder he felt the comforting presence of Axel: silent, supportive and watchful. Below him, in the crowd, he eventually detected his two soldiers, watching the trial from the sidelines. Demera tried to deny the allegations, but her lies were fragile and easy to pierce. Soon enough, she broke down, and, sobbing, declared that yes, she had warned the Razelim. She felt there had been enough bloodshed.
She was now held responsible for the debacle at Darheim, and Rahab sentenced her to a trial by fire, which essentially meant she was to be burned to death. In the old days, some fortunate vampires had survived this trial, but the execution method had long since been perfected. She accepted her fate with dignity, Raziel noted with approval: she simply bowed her head in silence. As she was led away though, she glanced up at the balcony. Raziel stared back, his eyes cold and unmovable. Rahab sent his people back to their posts, and Raziel followed him back into the study.
"A mild punishment," he commented as he closed the door behind them.
Rahab shot him an angry glance. "Death is not a mild punishment, brother."
"Your army was exterminated because of her! Surely that deserves a more serious punishment than a mere trial by fire?" Raziel said, genuinely surprised.
"She did not intend for that to happen." Rahab repeated her defense. "She will be punished, what more would you have me do?"
"She betrayed you, Rahab. I thought the traditional punishment for treason was to be cast into the abyss."
"And you betrayed her. Shall we cast you into the abyss as well?" Rahab asked angrily.
Raziel laughed at the suggestion. "Don't be ridiculous. I've done nothing untoward."
"You brought her a gift in thanks, and made no effort to hide it. You obviously meant for suspicion to fall on her."
"Of course I did," Raziel said, his own anger rising. "I thought you would be grateful for it. We can't let treason go unpunished!" There was something in Rahab's eyes that stung him more than anger could have. Disgust.
"It was cold-hearted and cruel. That woman loved you, Raziel!"
"All love me," Raziel said slowly, clenching his teeth. "That does not free them from their obligations. I did this for you, Rahab! The loyalty of our clans is what our rule is based on. Without it, the empire will collapse. We cannot tolerate traitors, surely you can see that?"
"You didn't have any moral trepidations about using the information she gave you," Rahab said sharply.
"Then what was I to do?" Raziel shouted, "Stand idly by while you slaughtered my clan and raided my keep? Yes, I used the information she gave me! We were all but defenseless, I had no choice!"
Rahab looked away, a pained expression on his face. Once again, he appeared small to Raziel, tired and worn out like an old man.
"Please, let us not be enemies, Raziel," he whispered.
Raziel sighed, allowing his anger to fade away. "I am not your enemy, Rahab," he answered. "Tagas was, but he is no more. Since you have no army left, I think our war is over."
"My clan will not forget their defeat so easily," Rahab said slowly, his eyes fixed on the door. "They will continue to consider you their enemy."
"There's nothing wrong with that," Raziel said, an arrogant little smile spreading on his face. "They fear me a lot more than I fear them."
And with that, he left his brother to his thoughts.