Six
The One who wanted Turel
"We are the hunters, of that much it is true.
But can we ourselves become the hunted?"
- As written in blood upon the walls of the Razielim abode –
The area was desolate. Where once there had been movement, where once there had been an iridescent of activity – now there was none. And Silence gathered together her companions – her lovers – and together they danced a tribute to a fallen civilization.
We crept along empty courtyards, under the shadows of towering stonewalls. We made not a sound – Zephon the one whose very art was but the craft of moving stealthy and subtly, caressed the shadows with his gentle touch.
My other brothers were close, and together we were taking in the pleasure of hunting. Our eyes were ignited with the pulse and race of the excitement that was rioting within us. It was an electrifying feeling ran through our veins – that essence of power once more. Together we hunted the last one.
Gripped within my claws was a valued weapon, one that I favoured highly for that moment – a halberd.
But I paid not a lot of attention to the moments now, for it seemed not only was I thinking upon this situation, but also another.
My mind became divided by living out two moments that were parallel to each other – this one, and another that was hinted with the past. It was another situation, another location, and once more I was with my brothers, and once more we were hunting something. This something disturbed my dreams, as did the location – a ghostly image of a village at the foot of mountains.
And they told me to wait outside the demon's quarters so as to cut off access for anyone who would dare try to disturb this holy moment of purification.
We hunted something that was the last of its kind, garbed in the armour of our rank – our insignias displayed proudly. Together – my 'saintly' brothers and I – we crossed a landscape of snow and ice. It was a landscape that would haunt my mind and stay imprinted upon it forevermore.
The thrill of the excitement remained undivided – we all felt it – the bittersweet taste of fear, the remains of anguish.
A grim smile was mine as we crossed the threshold of one building. Zephon was with me as the others were going to enter via another way, thus blocking all exits and crushing any chances of escape.
My pulse ran riot within my body, a delightful swell of blood rush and exhilaration. Anticipation mixed with a variety of emotions, from excitement to the advancing feeling of all that is predatorily. We were balanced, upon the very edge – as it is a wolf of the wild hunts its prey, and then pounces forwards, going for the throat, bringing down its victim with an embrace that opens out to death.
My gaze fixed itself upon the scenery. The building lay raped of everything it once was – furniture swept aside, some taken. That what remained was either broken or lay uselessly to one side. In the background there was a faint drip of water, it was enough to provoke the silence into madness within one's mind. But we were too preoccupied to take much notice.
I stepped over a disregarded body. Their eyes were wide, their mouth open in some suppressed last word. It was at that moment that I felt myself pause and kneel next to them. My claws went towards their eyes where it was I gently closed them shut.
"Loyal warrior... Knight to your lord..."
Their drape lay close next to them, and I reached out to touch it. It was rough within my claws, an unfamiliar touch in a way, yet the insignia was so familiar. Now this grand cloth was tarnished in the blood of its once wearer – the colour of red highlighted by the drops of crimson. It was an artist's dream, this riot of passion and colour.
Why did I feel nothing? Why throughout this scene of carnage did I have not one emotion left within me? Nothing... empty... I felt like a void with but the words of 'do not question it' running throughout my mind.
I was not to question this?
I never question my lord...
"Come out whelp," Zephon hissed.
I ignored the moment before and stood, re-gripping the halberd within my claws for extra reassurance. I could feel my own canines, my tongue running along their surface for extra reassurance.
"I know that you are here, I can feel your fear," the Zephonim Lord went on to say, taking pleasure in provoking the one we hunted.
Then it happened. In the slowest of motions a brief scuffle broke out. From out of its hiding place it came, darting forwards, its own weapon drawn.
I turned quickly, raising my weapon in a movement of defence, whilst Zephon suffered no grasps of hesitation and instead lunged forwards. The blade of his sword pushed forwards in a direction of expecting to meet flesh and cut through it deeply.
This fight lasted but moments – a gritting of teeth and then a sudden cry of pain. In turning I brought the halberd close to me, flicking back strands of my hair that caught my eyes and watching the creature before us – Zephon smug.
It gripped its arm – blood escaping – its vain effort in halting the blood flow, crimson beginning to seep through its claws.
The creature was decrepit, dilapidated, exhausted. It was male – so I noticed, as Dumah and Turel appeared, suddenly walking out of the shadows as if it was they were as much a part of the darkness as the shade. Within Turel's grasp was another, a youngling, their body limply cast over Turel's shoulder.
And this male before us stood fierce though wounded. His face was shadowed and grey; there was a look within his eyes that suggested a deep anguish – a haunting, lost expression. I knew that he had mourned his loss for many nights.
I had heard their cries at night, brought longingly on the zephyr as if to torment us. Shrill cries, whimpers, and every now and then a note-less cry would pierce the night air. My clan had been tensed in hearing such a noise.
They were leaderless and inconsolable. This civilisation was now nothing more than mere ghosts – wraiths almost – with but nothing in mind but to mourn their loss. They had lost all interest in 'life', and they had forsaken everything.
Their laments had continued. It continues now, even though this one was the last and no more will ever be found within Nosgoth – not in this time. Their lament has always existed, even when they no longer did.
I hear it now...
Their voices upon the wind...
They call to him...
They call to him, even now...
And in front of us remained this one. He was surrounded by us all – no escape, all exits blocked. A flicker within our eyes in the enclosing darkness that drew in around us almost suffocating any elements it could get its spidery fingers upon.
Finally we had found our prey, and now we began to enclose in upon it. A deathly embrace.
He was a vampire – one of the Razielim... One of the last...
And that is when I awoke.
I felt the claws of another resting lightly upon my shoulder, and my eyes shot open.
A disorientated manner descended upon me. As the restful state passed I struggled to regain my posture, pulling myself up from what was now, after awakening, a rather uncomfortable, slouched position of sitting.
I attempted to readjust my mind to the surroundings I had awoken, but my senses were disorientated and my mind dominated fully by that look of dread and loss that I had seen upon the Razielim's face.
A deathly horror encased my mind and drowned my senses.
"My God, what have we done?"
If it had been nothing more than a dream, then at the time I did not know it, and as I awoke I half-expected to find myself covered in blood.
To this very night I cannot tell you of what it was I saw. Perhaps it was just some metaphorical dream created in the depths of a mind that was approaching change and suffering from tension and stress that only a lordship can bring. Maybe it was but the stray wisp of a broken and fractured timeline that had strayed into my head whilst in rest. Who can say?
But I am no 'seer' and at that time such a vision was to mean nothing to me – only a dawning horror I received, having thought that I had hunted Raziel's clan into extinction with no apparent reason or explanation. This fear was to subside when the Rahabim who had awoken me assured me that the Razielim clan were still intact.
The 'vision' indicated not the fate of Raziel, only that it seemed the brethren had hunted his clan, and I had known that we hunted the last of them. Just like before.
I pushed such aside as a dream created in that of a fragmented mind, heedless that it was to hold some similarity to the future. To say the very least I forgot about it and was not to think upon it again until the aftermath of Raziel's fall.
"My lord? Lord Turel requested you receive these." The Rahabim placed in front of me two scrolled maps. I nodded and dismissed her, taking a hold of the maps and discarding them harshly with the others that were lying at the other end of the table, whilst trying to sooth the dull ache in my back.
I recalled the night before having been spent studying the vast landscape of Nosgoth, looking particularly upon the land that Raziel had asked about. The table was covered in oddments of parchment, rolled up maps, and maps unrolled.
Each map was different from the next, whether because they showed the land in a different era of time, or because simply a different artist had crafted it.
The older the maps were the more tattered they looked, though a majority of old maps had been destroyed in the past wars. Those that remained were poor casualties, normally with tattered edges, burn marks, candle wax and an odd variety of other substances scaring their surfaces – including the finest wine which proved to be a map from a house that had once belonged to those of noble blood.
The old maps that did remain I kept close to me, like some precious treasure. Each one of them told stories of the old times, if one was willing to listen.
Another small pile close by was one of disregarded maps. They were charts that had accidentally fell within the pile I had sorted from the others, though I am not sure how these maps managed to get in with the rest. At that moment in time they proved to be of little use to me, though kept through the need of one night might requiring them, and also due to a personal sentimental feel.
One such map was labelled with the city name of Meridian. I smirked placing the parchment to one side. Meridian had once been Nosgoth's capital, yet the city itself no longer existed – Lord Kain had made sure of that.
This map of Meridian was now useless, the one corner slightly damaged by fire, as if it were that someone had tried to set it alight. Though the map was now a pointless piece to have, I kept it for just the point of it being an artefact, a piece of long forgotten history.
I was swift to return to the map I had fallen into rest upon. It was a more up-to-date map with boarders drawn upon the landscape to indicate where it was Lord Kain's empire started and then finished. The empire was vast. It was our duty – as Lord Kain's children – to keep it in order; ruling small parts of land to our own accord, and splitting newly gathered land between us.
Sitting down, I looked once more at that piece of land that Raziel had pointed out, running my claw gently along the landscape. That piece of land more than anything took my interest immediately. Probably due to the fact that it was close to water, and because so far that part of land remained briefly hidden to us. It was that part of land that was one of the few remaining areas that was currently not under Lord Kain's rule.
Was it possible that within that portion of land mortals hid? It was questionable, yet possible due to it having an advantage available to them of being so close to the water's edge.
The maps received from Turel were two that I had leant him a while back. Perhaps they alone would offer my soul the enlightenment I so desired.
I leant forwards and over the table, knocking my chair back as I reached out to seize one of the rolled up charts. As I did so I caught the edge of my chalice.
The chalice toppled over, clanking noisily upon the wooden surface of the table, whist my crimson beverage continued to seep out like it had just been brought forth from a freshly cut wound.
To my annoyance so the blood ended upon part of the map I had been studying. Red blotches upon the landscape, quite possibly a fitting tribute to a land of such bloodshed. And I would have admired the trail of art that the blood left to behold, had I been in a better mood. But this was no time for such admiration. I was restless and still trying to figure out parts of the lands that lay in question.
As if it could not get any worse – as I licked the remnants of blood from my claws, I realised that much to my distaste it was far from fresh. Having had the chalice filled the night before, and then falling within rest at the table, how could I expect it to be?
Into my chair I allowed myself to drop, with an air of slight restlessness that radiated from me. I felt the restlessness tug deeply at me within, timelessly pulling apart my rationality so that I found it hard to concentrate.
I felt unkempt, my hair tangled in the midst of disarray. I felt like some mangled fledgling in the moment of the awakening. And like some impatient fledgling I glared at the chalice in front of me with bane, willing it – and at the same time – daring it to topple off the table and onto the floor.
The chalice rolled lazily from side to side, in what seemed like an attempt to defy my bidding. My mind was focussed upon it, but it was biding its time in the action I had requested it to do. Then, suddenly, with an abrupt kick of power – and more so the forceful persuasion of mind – it shot off the table and clanged to the floor, making the servant who was just walking into the room, suddenly jump back a couple of paces.
In glancing in the direction of the servant I gathered my demeanour once more, forcing the discipline of calm upon my body and mind. This restlessness would not do, and I berated myself over my sudden lack of impatience.
The female servant entered, glancing at the scene, although not questioning it. She gathered together her garb and knelt to pick up the chalice. As she did so I noticed that upon the side of her face was a deep scar – the scar I had inflicted.
Ah, so this is what had become of her – the young woman I had snatched from Zephon's bloodlust. I confess I did not really take much notice of what happened to my 'staff', for that was left to the one who organised them and my clan holding.
Perchance, this moment was woven together for such an odd occasion. Was it fate that had bid her to be one of my servants, one whom kept my quarters from disarray? It was quite easy to fancy that idea, and whimsically in my mind I tempted fate, wondering what exactly it had in store for her. Her path had having already been partly woven. For now she had survived Zephon's bloodlust, but just what else was in store for her?
She bent down next to my chair in an effort to clean up the spillage, some of the blood having dripped onto the floor, one hand grasping at the chalice. I leant forwards in my seat and without warning and without a reason brushed away strands of her hair.
I allowed my claws to play upon her soft skin for a moment, cruelly acknowledging the crimson element that flowed beneath her skin. One of my claws gently ran down the scar that had been left from our former meeting.
I paused and commented, "So this is where fate has brought you," my vision of sight focussing upon her eyes.
Some of my servants, every now and then, I had lost to Dumah. They were normally lost on a sudden whim of his, and to say at the very least I was never best pleased. In response he had said that he had not known that they had belonged to me, though I knew better. In hope of putting a stop to this we decided to devise something that would show clearly that they were serving the Rahabim.
At one point we had even gone as far as tattooing some of the servants. That proved to be more hassle than it was worth. Since then I had made my servants walk around with my insignia clearly visible upon their clothing. That way it was clear that they served under the Rahabim and that the other clans were not to touch them without my say.
Concluding this, in return for Dumah taking a few of my servants so I took some of his, and favoured them highly – thus making them into my own. 'An eye for an eye', as they say.
Existence within the clans was never easy. We disputed amongst ourselves, though Raziel tried to bay peace whenever possible. Nonetheless, even he was known to take sides.
Clan skirmishes were regular. It was best to bring peace amongst fledgling fights, though I admit there were times when we encouraged it.
Fighting amongst our children did have its good points. It was a way for our fledglings to train themselves, to become stronger, to learn survival instincts – especially at fledgling stage when they might need to use such against some vampire hunters. From time to time it proved to be 'light entertainment', especially within the months that we resided within our own walls and ventured out very little.
As the 'taming of the humans' began to take effect so battles with mortal kind grew scarce, and small disputes amongst the clans became more common.
At first she refused to look at me. Then when she did her eyes darted onto me quickly – and they flickered and observed me, attempting to figure out what I intended to do next. In quickness she went to withdraw, moving to stand once more. I followed her motion by rising with her, my claw still running along the mark upon her face.
With suddenness she thrust the chalice into my other set of claws.
She took a step back, only to roll up the sleeves on her garb so as to expose one of her wrists. Then, she held it out to me.
It is but a vampire's instinct to want to suddenly rush forwards at such an offer. The exact equalisation of impulse drove forwards by pure desire. Automatically my throat quelled with the prospect of what could be mine.
She offered it so freely to me – some of her blood in replacement for some of the amount I had spilt. It brought me to the conclusion that she was either not in the right frame of mind, or extremely foolish. More so, what did she want from me?
Mortals rarely offered anything for free. More so they never usually offered their blood so unreservedly.
Occasionally you came across one of those who stray from the grasps of human society, who would willingly offer their blood to you. These were separated into two groups, those who were defying humanity and wished to embrace death, and those who offered it to you at a price.
The price was unquestionable, what was it that a majority of mortals desired – immortality. In exchange for their blood they asked one thing of you, that you would give them the dark gift.
Is this what she wanted?
"There is no need," I stated firmly, pushing her wrist roughly away from me, and placing the chalice back on the table. All of this was done whilst a battle raged within me, bloodlust tugging upon the manacles I had chained it within. She had no idea how much she tormented me. Meanwhile I reached for one of the maps that Turel had returned and began to unroll it, certain that it was probably time I went back to working upon the geography of Nosgoth.
Something fell from the map as I opened it out. A fragment of parchment ripped from a larger piece, drifted before landing in part of the spilt blood. The female servant hesitated for a second, and then stepped forwards to pass it to me.
"Thank you," I muttered, glancing at the handwriting and noticing whom it belonged to straight away.
Scribbled upon some parchment was a brief collection of words reading: 'Why not rest? Seek me brother – Turel'
In my claws I crumpled up the parchment and returned to my map reading. I lingered in hesitation, map unrolled in one hand, hanging limply, and the crumpled piece of parchment in the other. The parchment of course was the way out.
How Turel had known I was fatigued I did not know, though I am certain it was to do with all our bindings in blood.
Being from the same brood, our minds are closely linked – a spiritual umbilical cord that binds us together. Through this bind it has been known for each of us to know when the other is approaching 'change', or when one is experiencing it. Telepathy, or whatever it remains to be, we are all linked, chained together by our own fates.
Eventually I succumbed to Turel's invitation of seeking him out, wherever he was. The map I placed down on the dry part of the table and allowed it to roll itself back up.
Conceivably my brother was right, maybe that was what I needed – to rest, and maybe be in his company for a while. Perhaps I could gather together some counsel from my elder.
"I do not wish to be disturbed for a while," I concluded, glancing over my shoulder at the female servant.
"If that is what you wish my lord."
I blinked in hearing her voice for the first time. Taken slightly aback from suddenly hearing her voice, I nodded. But she paid little heed to me, focussing upon clearing up the blood and dabbing dry the map I had clumsily ruined in a moment of uncivilised manner.
She had accepted servitude a lot better than some, which I admit surprised me greatly. Some became so horrified of what lives they were to lead under vampiric rule that they simply endedtheirs. Though that happened more in Zephon's clan than that of my own.
I watched the servant for a brief moment and then withdrew. With no more words spoken I exited.
)-(
"I knew that she was not meant to be here – that here she did not belong,
but to me she said, 'I have always been here my demon prince,
and it is for you I have come.'"
- As written upon a scroll within Turel's former abode -
It was a relief to break away suddenly like that, to just, for a moment, find peace in doing absolutely nothing. I had not realised of how caught up I had become in studying those maps, and concluded that maybe I would be able to focus on them a lot more after having a break.
The night was fresh, and I looked deeply upon it as I exited my quarters, descended down stone steps and into the courtyard below.
An artful scene greeted me – one of peace, my whole clan awoken to the night, the usual duties being carried on around me, my guards keeping watch – unmoving, and deadly silent.
Three fledglings sat upon one wall. They gazed down intently upon me, their gazes glazed with contentment. No doubtfully they had just fed.
I did not ask anything of them, nor did I expect them to rise and salute me with the words of 'my lord', though the guards on duty did. Instead those of my children who I passed simply bowed their heads, their lips parted in a smile of appreciation and understanding.
Every now and then a whisper from a passing child would grace my mind, flitting in and out of my thoughts.
'It is so good to see you my Lord Rahab, I hope this night finds you well?'
This was the side to the vampiric clans that mortals never saw. They regarded us as little more than bloodthirsty monsters, too caught up in our decadence than to notice the world around us. But they are wrong.
They did not see the glory of our civilisations, of the bonding between the clans, and how we watched over each other. All the mortals ever saw were the vampiric armies of Lord Kain's empire and the fear that came with such.
But they missed the clan side; they refused to see beyond the element of just 'matching sentries', on the other hand perhaps we gave them little choice. They did not understand that my children were simply that – my children, and that I was their sire. I pity those who never came to feel or understand the deep bond between master and fledgling.
It was through seeing my clan content that I felt content myself. Turel had been right in those briefly written words of his – a break from study is exactly what I needed.
Being out here and looking upon my own brought comfort and a sudden soothing element to me. All of them fulfilled the symphony of the night, and these were the times I loved so much – the gentler and calmer life and times within the clan.
The courtyard remained peaceful within the night air. I regarded the night once more – looking towards the sky – and then moved on, exiting through the gate close by and nodding at the two guards that stood there.
Moving onwards, though I did not rush, I considered going to sit close to an area of water. It was close to water that I could completely forget everything and just listen to the element. Yet I wondered where Turel was, and whether he was waiting somewhere for me – though he probably would have stated where he was in his note, if he were.
Finding Turel was of no importance really as I was not in desperate need of his council, but should he have been in the right mood, than I would have savoured his company. As a consequence I turned suddenly when I realised that I was being followed.
Yet behind me there was no one.
I hesitated and paused – holding tight to my breath in case I should need to suddenly defend myself. My hand lingered above the hilt of my sword, my claws twitching with anticipation and waiting.
"I knew that you would venture out, eventually," came a voice from the shadows.
"Hello, Turel," I said and relaxed my stance.
I turned back the way I been previously heading and there he stood, stepping out of the darkness and shrugging off the shadows, the nightly breeze caressing strands of his dark hair.
Turel smiled and seemed to be in a completely different mood then he had been out on our crusade. Perhaps it was because he was not under so much pressure, as not only did he have to organise his own clan but also put in order his younger brothers.
The Turelim had returned two nights after we had. They had found no leads or any sign of those who wielded flame. But this did not seem to halter Turel in his thoughts. Just because we had not caught them this time did not mean they could hide from us forever, and Turel was certain that sooner or later we would catch them. Preferably sooner rather than later.
"Though I did wonder exactly when you would come out of brooding. Raziel said that there is no chance of speaking with you when you are studying something."
"Oh?" I chuckled, feeling at ease. "Raziel says the same about you."
"Is that so? Then we are more alike – you and I – than I imagined." He smiled kindly and gestured with his claws for me to continue my walk, this time with him accompanying me.
We continued walking for a while, talking briefly and taking in the night, our senses absorbing the atmosphere around us. We passed other vampires, walked down stone steps, and walked passed towering stone fortress walls, and towers that grew tall into the night sky.
We walked a pathway laced with fragmented, slanted moonlight, pouring from stained-glass windows. Once more, this was a side to the vampiric world unknown to mortals - nightly beauty. We 'lived' and 'breathed' – and I use those terms only in a manner of speaking – a world that remained mysterious and yet very frightening to them, one they could not, would not, ever accept.
"What is the problem?" I asked when talk dwindled between us.
My brother raised his eyebrows and regarded me as we continued to walk.
"Why speak of a problem?" His gaze averted back towards the pathway we walked. "Does there have to be a problem for one to see or speak with his kin?"
"No I suppose not. But I did wonder – "
"Rahab, Raziel said that you had been spending a lot of time with your maps, and I decided that it was time you rested from such." Turel chuckled – a profound, throaty laugh.
His laugh caught me off guard. It was deep and sounded unfamiliar, not quite right, for Turel was normally deadly serious – serious to a fierce point.
I paused and was silent before questioning him.
"You decided?"
"Indeed." He smirked devilishly, a rare smirk that he allowed to grace his serious face every now and then. "For the welfare of my younger brother."
I sighed. "And for that I am thankful."
The scenery began to alter around us as we continued our walk. I looked to the sky, but the tension that had formed within my shoulders jolted me for a moment and I adverted my gaze elsewhere. Looking up was painful, I deduced, rubbing my neck with my claws and trying to soothe the ache. Alas, that is what you get when you fall into rest in an awkward position.
"Melchiah said he had not seen you since we had returned from the East. That was a few weeks ago. It is a long time to be shut up in your chambers for."
Again I sighed, though I did not argue. I was too tired to argue. Besides, it was truth, I had spent a lot of time pouring over those maps, and the night before had not been the first that I had fell into rest whilst doing such.
The times I had left my quarters had been little, and the times I had spent out of them had indeed been brief. No wonder it had felt like quite a while since I had set eyes on my brethren.
"I have been researching and studying the remaining areas." I justified my reason through the fact that remained truth: all the time alone in my chambers had been for the good of the vampiric race. Whether it had done me any good was another matter entirely. Still, that was but a small sacrifice.
"Some towns – that is all. Humanity is slowly falling."
"But some places still remain," I argued. "'Sanctuaries' –"
"Yes. Indeed, they do. But in time they will be ours." Turel clenched his claws together tightly in a moment of vigour. "Fret not, Rahab."
Did I fret like he suggested I did? Quite possibly, though the fretting was justifiable. I wanted to serve Lord Kain through the best of my abilities – there was always a great need in me to do that. Then there was my own clan – I wanted their futures to be assured without them having to worry about a sudden uprising of mortals.
"We all admire you for your loyalty to Lord Kain," Turel added in a moment of spontaneity.
I did not reply, but instead slowly allowed myself to drop to the ground in a fit of sudden tiredness. That is not to say that his words meant nothing to me, because, in truth, they did. They meant a very great deal. To have the admiration of the elder brethren was something, truly.
The scenery around us rose in rocky sharp cliff side, and we were upon the very edge. I sat there, hanging my feet over the edge and lazily looking downwards. The drop was steep, and the bottom seemed limitless.
"About your weakness to light – "
I nearly fell from my place of sitting with Turel's sudden proclamation of my weakness. Perhaps this was where he told me he no longer thought I was capable of leading the Rahabim. Maybe he was here to tell me that Lord Kain agreed. Is this why he had suggested I take a walk with him? But I had asked him if there was a problem and he had spoke of none.
"Turel – it was but a moment of weakness," I said, my voice highlighted with a sudden serious urgency and an edge of a protective element. "It will not happen again, of that I assure you."
"And can you be so sure?" He gave me a sharp scrutinising gaze as if awaiting my reply. "Well? Can you, Rahab?"
I felt nervous, as if it was he was questioning my very lordship. If I had been standing this is where I would have started pacing the floor. Turel must have sensed my nervousness as he rested a set of claws on my shoulder as if for reassurance.
"Be at peace Rahab, I have come not to judge you. Instead I wished simply to speak to you of such, what it was you felt at the time."
And so I told him. I told him of how it was it had felt like my very pupils had been on fire, how it was how my eyes had wept in the midst of battle and continued throughout rest. How I had awoken to find my eyes sealed shut with a bloody, dry, scab-like coating – as if it were my eyes had endured some major wound and where attempting to heal themselves.
And so I told him. I told him of how it was it had felt like my very pupils had been on fire, how they had wept and then how I had woken to find my eyes sealed shut with bloody scabs – as if it were my eyes had tried in vain to heal themselves.
"Interesting," he said, resting a set of claws upon his face so that they curved around the base of his chin. "If it happens again, you will not hesitate to seek me out, will you?"
I stared defiantly out to the crevice below my feet and did not return his gaze.
"This should not be looked upon lightly, Rahab, for the safety of your clan."
I nodded, still not returning his gaze but knowing that he was quite right.
"For the safety of yourself," he added mixed with a complex gaze of seriousness.
"It might be a condition that eventually affects us all. Of course, none of us can be in sunlight for too long, but never before have I seen this..." Turel's thoughts submerged him in silence. For moments he became the philosophiser locked in his deep chamber – that of his mind.
Turel leant against the side of the cliff face, his arms folded across his broad chest as looked back at the way we had come. His lips were pursed in deep thought, his brow furred, whilst the moonlight caught the sharp features of his inhuman face.
"Maybe it is the change..." he mused.
A frown descended upon my face at that point. Carefully I turned to look up at him. "What be the change?"
"Your sudden exhaustion," he replied, hinting at my sudden sitting down, whilst his gaze was still fixed upon where it had been moments before.
No notice did I take, but instead brushed the idea of change aside. It could not be that, could it?
"Dumah has just had a short period of change. Perhaps now it is your turn?"
I ignored him and continued to look out at the drop below.
"It would explain your sudden withdrawal."
"I was looking upon the maps."
Turel sighed and retorted dryly, and with a tiny hint of sarcasm, "Oh indeed, perhaps it is not that than." Yet the sarcasm seemed very far from him.
"You cannot hide from the inevitable, my little sibling, no matter how much you wish too. What will come will come, and what will happen will happen – you alone should know this."
I thought upon his words. He was right, I knew this. But I could not help but take his words and analyse them deeper then perhaps he intended me to do. He said that I could not hide from the inevitable, and I wondered, is that what it seemed I was doing, did Turel think this? Did Turel think I feared the future? Did he believe I feared what this weakness to light would inevitably become? If he did then he was right.
I admit it, like I have one thousand times before. Though admitting such will do little to change the circumstances. Surely everyone fears weakness whether they are a warrior or not, whether they are mortal or immortal. Perhaps immortals fear weakness and the vulnerabilities it brings more then mortals. After all it is immortals that feel that they will go on forever. Finding a weakness suggests otherwise. Whereas immortals strive for the perfect essence throughout eternity, mortals will accept that they have flaws.
I watched Turel. He had gone quite, and I understood that slowly I was loosing his attention, as now it seemed focussed on something entirely different. Soon enough he stooped talking altogether
"Turel?" His sudden silence became dominant. I titled my head to one side in inquisitiveness as I got back up and stood whilst looking at him.
"What do you look upon? You have been looking in that direction for a while now."
Turel did not reply straight away, and when he did, calmly he said, "someone watches us, they have been doing so for a while now – since we walked this way and you sat down."
For a moment his words stunned me that I could not help but stand there – my eyebrows raised in slight surprise. I had not detected anyone following or watching us, though that might have been because my mind was on other things.
"Whom do you speak of?"
With his index claw so he indicated the small silhouette in the darkness.
The darkness obscured them, and the distance between us made it not so clear to whom they were. I glanced at my brother and then back in the direction of the silhouette. Nevertheless, as it was I turned my attention back to them, I was soon to discover that they had suddenly gone.
'Obscurity in its purest form,' was the thought that passed through my mind, and I remember the chill that followed it. Why was it that such a silhouette cast such forebode within my mind and my soul? I withdrew my glance from the area to which we had looked upon as if I feared I would be snatched away from this world. A ridiculous thought? Perhaps, but who am I to argue?
"A fledgling," I concluding with uncertainty. "Probably looking for me, though I did state I wanted not to be disturbed for a while. I suppose it has been some while now though."
Turel snorted with gentle laughter. "You give me little credit. What makes you think they were looking for you? They might have been looking for me."
We felt the drops of rain upon the wind and together decided that now was the time for us to return to our abodes.
As I reached my quarters I stood in the doorway, sheltered, and watched as the rain began to fall. It was gentle at first and then became heavier as a storm graced the skies.
Finally I closed the doors and turned to head back towards my quarters. The respite had served its purpose, and yet, deep inside me I still felt this drop of unrest.
Within my rooms I noticed that the table was now clean – the blood having been cleaned up. The maps, though they were still there on the table, had been tidied and two piles made.
I leant on my chair and leaned over the table, glaring at the maps for a brief moment. I looked upon them and yet I did not think of them. I thought more about my time with Turel, and what he had spoken of.
My interest with the maps I switched off. I ignored them, and stood straight once more, backing away from the table and then heading for my chambers. I withdrew, knowing that it was best if I now rested.
Behind me I bolted the doors to my chamber.
Before I settled within rest for the day I considered and wondered – who had been that one who had watched Turel and I?
It was a relief to shrug offmy garb, and then to stretch my hands over my head as rest finally caught up with me.
Rubbing my eyes with the backs of my claws I debated within my mind that perhaps it had been a fledgling. In spite of that I had received no message that someone had been looking for me upon my return. Maybe they had been looking for Turel after all.
"Yes," I concluded to myself that that had indeed been the case.
Besides, if it had been a fledgling I am more than certain that they would have approached me and not just move swiftly onwards like they had never been there in the first place. It was almost as if they were not meant to be there, as if they were never meant to be seen. As if, if seeing them would change everything.
The blankets on my bed were soft under my touch.
Whoever they were, it cannot have been that important if they had just left like that.
Darkness was a welcoming retreat once more. Rest would bring me peace – I discovered, and I lay back onto my bed and pulled the blankets over me.
My eyes were soon to close, and the last thoughts that penetrated my mind were of that figure, and then – nothing more.