THE GATHERING: VIII -- STRANGE GAMES
The Silenced Cathedral loomed on the horizon, set aflame by the setting sun. Raziel looked out over the blasted land surrounding it. He travelled to the East on his own; he did not want to do his brother the honour of sending a full delegation, and he needed to talk to him personally. He wondered how much trouble the Sweet Lord of Mercy would be. Zephon could be very awkward, if he wanted to. Raziel marched on; the keep was still distant. Night would have fallen before he arrived.
The gate was closed, two guards stood outside. Their mortal scent carried on the wind, and Raziel shook his head to himself. How any of his brothers could stand the stench of their mortal slaves he never knew.
"Who goes there?" one of the men demanded as he was still approaching the bridge over the moat.
"Raziel," he answered.
"Raziel who?" came the exasperating reply.
"Raziel, son of Kain, now open the gate!" He stood right in front of them, but in the half-dark they still seemed uncertain. One of the men squinted at him, while Raziel tried very hard not to lose his patience.
"Lord Raziel! Er... my apologies," the man stammered, when the truth finally dawned on him. "Open the gate," he yelled up into the night sky. The gate slowly rattled open. "My Lord, please, how can I... You must understand, in these parts..." he stumbled through his apologies, leading Raziel through the hallways until one of his vampire masters approached them.
"Anatol, who is our guest?" he asked sharply. Raziel regarded him, silently. He was wearing leather trousers, dyed blood red, and a sword strapped to his back.
"This is Raziel -- of Kain. He er... He wanted... " the mortal stared at him blankly.
Raziel turned to the vampire. "Take me to your master before I lose my patience, please," he said with a long-suffering expression.
The vampire was taken aback. "Lord Raziel, yes, of course. I apologise, these mortals -- they know nothing of anything."
"Evidently not," Raziel agreed. Visiting Zephon always seemed to wear him out. This time, he felt tired before he had even spoken a single word to him.
His guide asked him to wait in a narrow hallway. It had windows that were barely wider than arrow slits, and little else to distinguish it. The door the man had gone through was not closed entirely, and Raziel could hear his brother's sharp voice quite clearly.
"Raziel? What does he want?"
He decided that was close enough to "come in" and he swung open the door.
"Can't one simply wish to visit his brother?" he asked as he stepped in. The tableau presented to him in the room stopped him dead on the threshold. Zephon was stood next to a naked mortal; the man's arms were outstretched and chained to a horizontal metal bar, his ankles shackled together and to the wall behind him. His chest, shoulders and abdomen were completely covered in little cuts, scabs and scars. On a tray beside him was an astounding collection of small blades, spikes and other torture instruments. Yet, this did not seem to be an interrogation session; the room was windowless but well-lit, with tapestries on the walls and a bed on one end. Raziel feared this was Zephon's private chamber. The young man chained to the wall was handsome and strong; he looked at Raziel with wide but willful eyes.
"No," Zephon said bluntly. "You have never simply wished to simply visit me before, and I'm sure you have a purpose now. What is it?" He ordered the other man to leave with a swift flick of the wrist, and the door closed quietly behind him.
"Zephon, my brother, I am happy to see you too," Raziel said sarcastically.
Zephon grinned the way sharks would grin if they could. "Raziel, forgive me. I'm being a terrible host!" He reached out and grabbed a small metal chalice. He turned to the young mortal and cut a new, deep gash into his chest with a scalpel, drawing the blood out and into the cup. The youth squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip, but made no sound. Raziel noticed to his dismay that he was showing the first signs of arousal. He wondered what his sibling could have done to the poor man to get that sort of response.
Zephon bowed deeply, and offered him the full cup. "Welcome to my keep, dear brother, I hope your stay here will bring you pleasure and satisfaction." His forced smile vanished in an instant and his eyes grew hard. "Now, what do you want?"
Raziel hid his smile behind the cup of blood and took a sip. It was still warm and quite delicious. "I am here to extend an official invitation to you, Zephon, and as many of your entourage as you wish to bring. Clan Rahab and clan Raziel have finally come to a peace treaty. We wish to share and celebrate this joyous occasion with all of our brethren." He bowed briefly, and drained the cup.
"I see," Zephon said, musing. "First you take out his army in an 'accident', then you force him to a peace treaty. Sound strategy, although I still think the sacrifice you made was larger than necessary..."
Raziel ignored him. "On the fifth night of the new month, our clans will gather in the keep of our host Melchiah, to reinforce our agreement and make it known to the world at large."
"Melchiah?" Zephon asked as if Raziel had mentioned the lower bowels of hell. "I am not going there. Melchiah and I have an unresolved conflict. As you well know," he added, pointing his scalpel at Raziel.
"Oh, not that," said Raziel. "When will you finally decide to let that lie, Zephon? It's over five decades ago and she was only human!"
Zephon had turned around to his tray of torture-instruments. "It is barely two decades ago, and I was training her for a very specific purpose," he hissed.
"You were using her as a spy, Zephon," Raziel exclaimed. Zephon turned round as if he was bitten. "Melchiah did nothing that I wouldn't have done," Raziel added. Zephon's lips split into a snarl, and he tried to stare his brother down. Raziel, however, was unperturbed and calmly held his gaze. "Melchiah wants a reconciliation with you most of all," he said finally. "He is reaching out his hand to you. This is your chance to be bigger than your petty squabbles. Allow him to pay you compensation for your loss and then forgive him!"
Zephon grunted. "I'll think on it," he said and turned back to his prisoner. Slowly, almost lovingly, he began to cut shallow lines and figures into the man's chest. The mortal grimaced and teared up, but was still perfectly quiet.
"Frankly, Zephon, I should think the others would be rather disappointed to find you would not show," Raziel started. Zephon made no sign, but Raziel knew he had his attention. "All the others will attend, and since we've not seen each other for a long time I imagine we'll have much to discuss." He waited as Zephon traced a loose spiral in the man's side. Zephon shrugged almost inperceptably. Raziel left the metaphorical carrot for what it was, and turned to the stick. "I fear they might not understand -- that you chose not to come over that old grudge you hold against Melchiah. I think they all remember how slight the injury was, and on a night of peaceful reunions, it might seem... unfair. Inappropriate. Unacceptable, perhaps." He paused. Zephon listened, he'd stopped torturing for the moment. "I don't know how I could defend you, Zephon." Raziel continued. "You have not shown yourself to be very brotherly, of late. If someone were to suggest a move against you, I'm not certain I could advise against it."
Zephon snapped 'round. "Enough!" he screamed. "That tongue of yours is poison, Raziel."
"It speaks only the truth, Zephon," Raziel answered calmly.
Zephon snarled. "Very well," he said finally, "tell Melchiah I will accept his outreached hand, as you call it. But between you and me, it better not be empty!"
"Of course not," Raziel nodded.
Zephon turned back to his work. "Will Kain be attending?" he asked as if the answer was only of passing interest to him.
"I certainly mean to invite him," Raziel said, suddenly treading on dangerous grounds again.. "I can't imagine why he would decline."
Zephon's face cracked into a sly smile. "Can't you?" he asked. "The power of your imagination is failing you then, brother."
"What do you mean?"
Zephon pretended to study the tip of his scalpel. "Something troubles our Master, I can tell you that much. He worries and frets. He has been seen wandering the ruins of Willendorf, the hinterlands, and even the wastelands of the north, or so I hear. If I didn't know any better, I would say the old man is losing his mind."
"If the 'old man' heard you he'd rip out your tongue!" Raziel said angrily. Zephon merely smiled. Without taking his eyes off Raziel, he dipped his hand into one of the pottery bowls that was on the tray, and took out a handful of fine white grains. Salt. With a wide grin, the sprinkled it over the young mortal's chest and rubbed it into his wounds. The man hissed between his teeth and then, finally, cried out in pain. Zephon stopped immediately.
"Och, and you were doing so well," he said mockingly. "Now we shall have to start all the way from the beginning!"
The youth sobbed and shook his head. "No, please..."
Zephon made a short, abrupt sound and lay one claw on the young man's lips. "Shhh."
The young man choked back his sobs. Tears ran down his face. Zephon turned to Raziel with a devious smile on his lips.
"Maybe, if you find him, you could tell him what I said," he suggested.
Raziel shook his head, disgusted. "Such strange games you play, Zephon." There was a silence. Zephon's smile was failing, but his eyes were defiant. Raziel continued, eager to end this meeting. "Very well. I will convey your message to Melchiah, and I will look forward to seeing you on the fifth," Raziel said. Zephon bowed. "Good night, Zephon." He turned to leave.
"Good night, Raziel," Zephon sang in reply. As Raziel closed the door behind him, he could not suppress a shudder.
One night, he thought, you'll be caught in your own nets, and then who will hear you scream?
The Silenced Cathedral loomed on the horizon, set aflame by the setting sun. Raziel looked out over the blasted land surrounding it. He travelled to the East on his own; he did not want to do his brother the honour of sending a full delegation, and he needed to talk to him personally. He wondered how much trouble the Sweet Lord of Mercy would be. Zephon could be very awkward, if he wanted to. Raziel marched on; the keep was still distant. Night would have fallen before he arrived.
The gate was closed, two guards stood outside. Their mortal scent carried on the wind, and Raziel shook his head to himself. How any of his brothers could stand the stench of their mortal slaves he never knew.
"Who goes there?" one of the men demanded as he was still approaching the bridge over the moat.
"Raziel," he answered.
"Raziel who?" came the exasperating reply.
"Raziel, son of Kain, now open the gate!" He stood right in front of them, but in the half-dark they still seemed uncertain. One of the men squinted at him, while Raziel tried very hard not to lose his patience.
"Lord Raziel! Er... my apologies," the man stammered, when the truth finally dawned on him. "Open the gate," he yelled up into the night sky. The gate slowly rattled open. "My Lord, please, how can I... You must understand, in these parts..." he stumbled through his apologies, leading Raziel through the hallways until one of his vampire masters approached them.
"Anatol, who is our guest?" he asked sharply. Raziel regarded him, silently. He was wearing leather trousers, dyed blood red, and a sword strapped to his back.
"This is Raziel -- of Kain. He er... He wanted... " the mortal stared at him blankly.
Raziel turned to the vampire. "Take me to your master before I lose my patience, please," he said with a long-suffering expression.
The vampire was taken aback. "Lord Raziel, yes, of course. I apologise, these mortals -- they know nothing of anything."
"Evidently not," Raziel agreed. Visiting Zephon always seemed to wear him out. This time, he felt tired before he had even spoken a single word to him.
His guide asked him to wait in a narrow hallway. It had windows that were barely wider than arrow slits, and little else to distinguish it. The door the man had gone through was not closed entirely, and Raziel could hear his brother's sharp voice quite clearly.
"Raziel? What does he want?"
He decided that was close enough to "come in" and he swung open the door.
"Can't one simply wish to visit his brother?" he asked as he stepped in. The tableau presented to him in the room stopped him dead on the threshold. Zephon was stood next to a naked mortal; the man's arms were outstretched and chained to a horizontal metal bar, his ankles shackled together and to the wall behind him. His chest, shoulders and abdomen were completely covered in little cuts, scabs and scars. On a tray beside him was an astounding collection of small blades, spikes and other torture instruments. Yet, this did not seem to be an interrogation session; the room was windowless but well-lit, with tapestries on the walls and a bed on one end. Raziel feared this was Zephon's private chamber. The young man chained to the wall was handsome and strong; he looked at Raziel with wide but willful eyes.
"No," Zephon said bluntly. "You have never simply wished to simply visit me before, and I'm sure you have a purpose now. What is it?" He ordered the other man to leave with a swift flick of the wrist, and the door closed quietly behind him.
"Zephon, my brother, I am happy to see you too," Raziel said sarcastically.
Zephon grinned the way sharks would grin if they could. "Raziel, forgive me. I'm being a terrible host!" He reached out and grabbed a small metal chalice. He turned to the young mortal and cut a new, deep gash into his chest with a scalpel, drawing the blood out and into the cup. The youth squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip, but made no sound. Raziel noticed to his dismay that he was showing the first signs of arousal. He wondered what his sibling could have done to the poor man to get that sort of response.
Zephon bowed deeply, and offered him the full cup. "Welcome to my keep, dear brother, I hope your stay here will bring you pleasure and satisfaction." His forced smile vanished in an instant and his eyes grew hard. "Now, what do you want?"
Raziel hid his smile behind the cup of blood and took a sip. It was still warm and quite delicious. "I am here to extend an official invitation to you, Zephon, and as many of your entourage as you wish to bring. Clan Rahab and clan Raziel have finally come to a peace treaty. We wish to share and celebrate this joyous occasion with all of our brethren." He bowed briefly, and drained the cup.
"I see," Zephon said, musing. "First you take out his army in an 'accident', then you force him to a peace treaty. Sound strategy, although I still think the sacrifice you made was larger than necessary..."
Raziel ignored him. "On the fifth night of the new month, our clans will gather in the keep of our host Melchiah, to reinforce our agreement and make it known to the world at large."
"Melchiah?" Zephon asked as if Raziel had mentioned the lower bowels of hell. "I am not going there. Melchiah and I have an unresolved conflict. As you well know," he added, pointing his scalpel at Raziel.
"Oh, not that," said Raziel. "When will you finally decide to let that lie, Zephon? It's over five decades ago and she was only human!"
Zephon had turned around to his tray of torture-instruments. "It is barely two decades ago, and I was training her for a very specific purpose," he hissed.
"You were using her as a spy, Zephon," Raziel exclaimed. Zephon turned round as if he was bitten. "Melchiah did nothing that I wouldn't have done," Raziel added. Zephon's lips split into a snarl, and he tried to stare his brother down. Raziel, however, was unperturbed and calmly held his gaze. "Melchiah wants a reconciliation with you most of all," he said finally. "He is reaching out his hand to you. This is your chance to be bigger than your petty squabbles. Allow him to pay you compensation for your loss and then forgive him!"
Zephon grunted. "I'll think on it," he said and turned back to his prisoner. Slowly, almost lovingly, he began to cut shallow lines and figures into the man's chest. The mortal grimaced and teared up, but was still perfectly quiet.
"Frankly, Zephon, I should think the others would be rather disappointed to find you would not show," Raziel started. Zephon made no sign, but Raziel knew he had his attention. "All the others will attend, and since we've not seen each other for a long time I imagine we'll have much to discuss." He waited as Zephon traced a loose spiral in the man's side. Zephon shrugged almost inperceptably. Raziel left the metaphorical carrot for what it was, and turned to the stick. "I fear they might not understand -- that you chose not to come over that old grudge you hold against Melchiah. I think they all remember how slight the injury was, and on a night of peaceful reunions, it might seem... unfair. Inappropriate. Unacceptable, perhaps." He paused. Zephon listened, he'd stopped torturing for the moment. "I don't know how I could defend you, Zephon." Raziel continued. "You have not shown yourself to be very brotherly, of late. If someone were to suggest a move against you, I'm not certain I could advise against it."
Zephon snapped 'round. "Enough!" he screamed. "That tongue of yours is poison, Raziel."
"It speaks only the truth, Zephon," Raziel answered calmly.
Zephon snarled. "Very well," he said finally, "tell Melchiah I will accept his outreached hand, as you call it. But between you and me, it better not be empty!"
"Of course not," Raziel nodded.
Zephon turned back to his work. "Will Kain be attending?" he asked as if the answer was only of passing interest to him.
"I certainly mean to invite him," Raziel said, suddenly treading on dangerous grounds again.. "I can't imagine why he would decline."
Zephon's face cracked into a sly smile. "Can't you?" he asked. "The power of your imagination is failing you then, brother."
"What do you mean?"
Zephon pretended to study the tip of his scalpel. "Something troubles our Master, I can tell you that much. He worries and frets. He has been seen wandering the ruins of Willendorf, the hinterlands, and even the wastelands of the north, or so I hear. If I didn't know any better, I would say the old man is losing his mind."
"If the 'old man' heard you he'd rip out your tongue!" Raziel said angrily. Zephon merely smiled. Without taking his eyes off Raziel, he dipped his hand into one of the pottery bowls that was on the tray, and took out a handful of fine white grains. Salt. With a wide grin, the sprinkled it over the young mortal's chest and rubbed it into his wounds. The man hissed between his teeth and then, finally, cried out in pain. Zephon stopped immediately.
"Och, and you were doing so well," he said mockingly. "Now we shall have to start all the way from the beginning!"
The youth sobbed and shook his head. "No, please..."
Zephon made a short, abrupt sound and lay one claw on the young man's lips. "Shhh."
The young man choked back his sobs. Tears ran down his face. Zephon turned to Raziel with a devious smile on his lips.
"Maybe, if you find him, you could tell him what I said," he suggested.
Raziel shook his head, disgusted. "Such strange games you play, Zephon." There was a silence. Zephon's smile was failing, but his eyes were defiant. Raziel continued, eager to end this meeting. "Very well. I will convey your message to Melchiah, and I will look forward to seeing you on the fifth," Raziel said. Zephon bowed. "Good night, Zephon." He turned to leave.
"Good night, Raziel," Zephon sang in reply. As Raziel closed the door behind him, he could not suppress a shudder.
One night, he thought, you'll be caught in your own nets, and then who will hear you scream?