Seven
Before he Left

"Before he left, one promise I did make to him.
Before he returned, one promise I did break."

- From the torn pages of a long-forgotten book -

"The Melchiahim?"

Zephon's voice echoed around the Pillars' chamber, it upheld his doubt and was corded throughout with vocals that were bitter and dry. I glanced at him in an unreceptive manner, though ready to speak out if he intended to push this matter any further.

Turel was frowning. Our eldest, Raziel, stood inert – his lips pursed slightly, arms folded, and watching Zephon through a detached gaze.

"Zephon." There was a warning behind the voice that spoke his name, but it came from none of the brethren, for it was Lord Kain who silenced the Zephonim Lord. Zephon, not foolish enough to aggravate Lord Kain, said no more.

We stood inline before Lord Kain and Raziel – who was standing beside him.

The Lord of Vampires watched his sons before him, twisting the Soul Reaver within his claws as he did so.

The ruined Pillars lingered in their chamber like fallen monarchs who had long ago been forgotten, and their palaces long ago conquered. Pieces crumbled from their ruined forms every now and then, and a lingering essence quivered throughout the hall.

At the base of the Pillar of Balance, Lord Kain had made his throne – set deep within the soul of Nosgoth – whilst the other Pillars stood silently, looking on in mute disapproval.

A council had been called, and like always it was held here within the heart of the Sanctuary of the Clans. The very walls of this vast hall had been witness to a verity of motions, battle strategies, and judgements that had been passed throughout the centuries of Lord Kain's empire.

Our council had been called to discuss the elements of the failing of humanity, which now dwelled within our lands like flickering lights awaiting the final strike that would end them once and for all. But we debated amongst ourselves, after all, a balance had to be called.

We did not want to wipe humanity out entirely. They were our nourishment, and we needed to feed daily so as to keep our bodies intact and our souls immortal. We intended to simply bring the mortals under our rule – use them for our own desires, and wipe out all those who would dare even consider rising up against Lord Kain.

Of course there were those who tended to openly display their displeasure of our civilisation, those who were intending to revolt against the rule of our sire. Such creatures came up in our discussion and remained to be a dominant element of our talk. And within our conversations and debates they came within the disguise of this 'resistance' – those mortals who carried weapons that wielded flame.

We concluded that in destroying this resistance we would quell all the last aspects of the mortals 'hope', and in doing so they would fall. Quickly.

I had presented my maps to the Council and to Lord Kain, showing them the remaining parts of Nosgoth – those parts that were under our influence, and those few places that were not. From there we plotted our next course.

Eagerly I spoke to Lord Kain as I stood before him, as if my words were but for his ears alone. He had beckoned me closer, and up to his throne I had strode, whilst gently placing the maps within his claws.

Lord Kain had sat on his throne, pouring over the maps I had given to him, his chin resting on one of his hands, the Soul Reaver gripped within the other, and one of the maps – the more up-to-date one – lying within his lap.

"This, my lord, this small piece is the land that holds sway at your Northern boarders. Not yet is it under our control," I said keenly, pointing to a small stretch of land on the map.

"I see," Lord Kain mused for a moment; the look within his eyes was intent. Yet, I had noticed a change within him over the past few years. Not to dishonour my sire, but when our campaign for control over Nosgoth had first begun, when still we were young in our afterlife, his Lordship had seemed a lot more eager to claim land. There had always been a dark eagerness within his eyes, a dark fire fuelled by the aspects of revenge – or so I am told.

But as Lord Kain's empire was to come to its most potent point – the epitome of vampiric rule – so it was Lord Kain's mannerisms and attitudes changed. He no longer seemed as eager in his domination like he had in our fledgling days. Perhaps it was because at that point, when this council had been called, Lord Kain was aware that things were now beginning to change, and things were to be set in an unstoppable motion. He has told me, that these were the things that he had little control over.

"Raziel, what say you on this matter?"

The rest of us remained silenced whilst it was Lord Kain consulted Raziel.

Moments later the next targeted area of land was fortified. It was a simple piece of terrain in the Northern territory where only a small handful of towns remained. It would be an easy region to claim. All in all, they would be fairly simple to deal with, and there was no need for all of us to go marching in that direction.

And so, the idea of who should be sent had come forth.

"My clan is ready. We could leave right now, if that is what you desire my lord."

The Council's attention was diverted to Dumah.

Dumah stood tall and proud, claws clamped tight behind his back, and his gaze as harsh and cold as ice. Truly he was quite the warrior.

There was no diplomatic side to Dumah; he was purely just the combatant. He asked the questions and he expected the answers, and god help those who never answered him. The Dumahim Lord was challenging, fierce like fire, wild spirited, at times – strongly opinionated and exceptionally headstrong. But he was always good in the midst of a battle – his strategies and overall fighting skills were things to be admired.

At Dumah's proposal so it was Lord Kain's eyes had flickered with interest.

"Your clan suffered some loss in the last battle, are they fully recovered," the Turelim Lord asked.

Turel's voice was as potent as ever; calm radiating from the depths of his vocals. He was posing the question forward in knowing that Dumah would do anything, say anything, with the prospect of battle.

I noticed that Raziel was also looking in Dumah's direction, his lips still pursed in a moment of thought.

"My lord, if I may?"

Lord Kain sat back and slouched deep within his throne. "By all means, continue, Raziel."

Raziel nodded. "Dumah, your clan may indeed be ready, however," Raziel's eyes glimmered with this statement – a small flicker of arrogance within our eldest, whilst the rest of us were held in trepidation with the word 'however'.

"Within a task such as this – I do not think it is necessary to send the Dumahim."

Dumah frowned at this, his eyes darkening slightly. He did not speak out or challenge our eldest, but we all knew he was thinking about doing so.

"The Dumahim are a clan of extreme force," Raziel said. "Such force is not necessary in a task such as this." Raziel looked towards Lord Kain. "That is but my opinion, sire."

Silence, though I was slowly nodding my approval in Raziel's direction. He was indeed judicious to state such, and I am sure that Lord Kain agreed fully with him.

There is no point sending a full legion out – marching at full tilt, weapons blazing – if there is no need for such. We spoke of two towns, three at the most, and small ones at that. It would not take long to convert the land to the vampiric populace, and Dumah would just cause more quarrel then what was necessary. His clan were not needed.

"What about the Rahabim?"

The Council's attention was now most regrettably upon me, oh and how I longed to creep away from their analytical gazes. But that loan suggestion had not been spoken by me, for suggesting the Rahabim had been the last thing on my mind and certainly not the first word I would have spoken after Raziel's counsel. No, such a suggestion had come from Turel.

Turel, Turel who always reminded me of a wild spirit who had been long ago restrained, tamed – one who had once been brutal and deadly. And though the essence of being brutal and deadly was still there, he had a way of hiding such element – unless, of course, he was provoked. He was a true old soul who had learnt from his days as a youngling, and such lessons had taught him well. Though it did not make him any less fierce than any other vampire.

I imagined Turel to have a soul with a sharp edge to it, one who was holding himself back from being overly passionate. The Turelim Lord resided within a manner that was highly sagacious, a true predator, one whom had the essence of what felt like a storm brewing out at sea. He would always watch before going in for the final strike, contemplative, calm in appearance, and yet there was another side to him. Another side – one that, without warning, he would suddenly unleash upon his unsuspecting victim.

As much as I respected Turel, I was swift to reject his idea. No, I could not go; this task was not for me. Besides, at that moment I was finding myself stretched between moments of concentration, and I was becoming more restless as each night passed.

From the night I had conversed with Turel, so the restlessness had grew, though I had not told him or any of the others about this. Some nights I would pace the floor of my quarters, walking up and down like a wraith that could never be put to rest. The female servant would watch me through a curious gaze, though she did not question my strange manners, for it was either in her nature not to, or she feared and loathed me – I suspected both.

The night before the council, the maps had lay forgotten on the table, and I had stood by one of the windows – looking out at the courtyard below. My mind was far from being focussed upon the matter at hand, and I had yet to identify the best areas of our next advancement.

Inside me was something deep, something grinding my senses, preventing me from focussing.

As I looked out the window I became aware that someone was watching me, their eyes gentle upon my back, and I sensed that they stood in the doorway.

I turned my head to acknowledge them – the female servant. I had heard her enter moments earlier, but now she had stopped her work and was watching me.

For a short moment I continued to glance at her over my shoulder – our gazes locked, and then my gaze was averted back to the window.

Time passed, yet when I could no longer stand her watching me I asked, "Is there a hindrance?"

There had been a pause and then, "No, my lord."

I heard her pick something up, and for a while everything resumed in its ways – she continued her work, and then, and then she was speaking once again.

"My lord, are – are you alright?" Her words were slightly tensed, and a couple of them came out stuttered, like she was afraid to ask such.

I never answered her question, how could I? She would never understand. Mortals cannot possibly comprehend what it is that ignites an immortal's soul. And she would not understand of how it was my insides felt torn, how restlessness would come and go, how for moments I just could not stay focussed.

Inside there was this strange sensation of where I wanted to break down every barrier and just become wild. Think of that! I, Rahab, contemplative and quiet son of Lord Kain had an overwhelming desire to give himself to the wildness of his nature. Disregard any garb and to rise and meet the night, embrace the darkness and just become untamed, tempestuous – so like my beloved element!

Bitterness rose within me for no apparent reason, though my rationality fought with this duelled side, calming my demeanour, my claws clamped together tightly.

"It matters not."

"Surely it does." The words left her lips before she had a chance to retract them, and as I abruptly turned to completely face her. I noticed and took delight in how her eyes flickered with trepidation.

"And why does it," I snapped. "Why does it seem to matter to one such as yourself? Does it matter because you – little mortal – says it does?" My eyes tapered, I tilted my head to one side. "You are strange for one of mortal blood. Never before have I seen one such as yourself adapt to servitude with an acceptance that lingers in duty."

Initially I thought that maybe my words had confused her, for she hesitated with a loitered hush, though afterwards it became clear that her pause had merely been consideration.

"You prevented what could have been my death." She removed her gaze from me, and her head dropped downwards. "I am bound to you in service, if not to serve you with my gratitude."

I was now the one to pause, my mouth half open, as it was I was to speak something in retort. But I allowed it to pass, and instead muttered, "Is that the only reason why?" But no reply was made.

The next night I rose with a greeting of realisation that I had yet to mark out the land that remained not to be ours. This would not do, the Council expected me to present those maps to them, they expected me to speak of the land, of lore, and give them my thoughts and opinions.

I walked briskly into the main room, reaching for the maps that were still on the table. As I gazed at them I came to realise that the correct one had already been selected and the regions of land not in our territory had also been marked.

A slight sigh of relief escaped me; one less thing to focus upon. Strange though, for I had no recollection of doing such an act, and as I leant against a chair for a moment to re-gather my stance as a sudden swift movement of fatigue tugged upon me, I concluded that I must have marked it before retiring to rest the night before. Yet still no memory of such surfaced.

"Madness..." was the word I whispered to myself, and slowly the fatigue passed. I collected my maps and left, heading towards the Sanctuary of the Clans.

"Rahab, your thoughts on this?"

My thoughts? This task was not meant for me. I had nothing to prove here, though I would go if Lord Kain asked it of me. If he did not, then, I would gladly allow another to take the honour, and I knew just whom that other was.

In a calm demeanour I replied, "Why not the Melchiahim?"

My question sparked sudden silence, and then glances. The Vampire Lords looked to one another, and then looked at me to question. I myself looked to Melchiah, my face betraying none of my feelings, hidden behind the mask I wore often, one that was pale and unbreakable, calm, reflective, and always, always watching.

Zephon's claws twitched suddenly. It was a sign of impulsive agitation and annoyance. Such elements were forged at my sudden proposal that had condemned hush to fall within the Sanctuary of the Clans. It was then that Zephon had spoken out – his voice dry and hinted with a hue of sarcasm.

"The Melchiahim?"

His lips sneered into a smile, his eyes bewitched. "Forgive me for asking, but, what have the Melchiahim got that the Zephonim have not – or the Dumahim in such a matter?"

I did not reply, and neither did the others. Instead they awaited my retort.

I admit that, in a way, I was baiting Zephon. Surely he would not be foolish enough to argue in front of Lord Kain? Such would be a tragic folly.

Turel stepped forwards and turned towards Zephon. "Zephon, is there a problem with sending the Melchiahim? And, if there is, care to tell us about it?"

"A problem?" The Zephonim Lord chuckled and he shook his head. "No, not unless you want this task to fail."

I bit back my own comments and awaited his remarks. Allow the spider to dance and spin his own web, for in the end he will only ensnare himself.

"And their problem," Turel went on to enquire.

"They are..." But the words never left Zephon's lips, though we all knew what he was about to say – 'The Melchiahim, they are weak.' But even Zephon knew better than to speak of such in front of Lord Kain, and it was very wise that he did.

To insult any of us was to insult our sire.

Of course it was true, Melchiah was weak compared to the rest of us, but 'twas best not to speak of such so loudly. If Zephon intended to torment Melchiah about his weaknesses, he was usually intelligent enough not to do so in front of Lord Kain.

From the corner of my eye I could see Melchiah, and I could see that he was torn greatly between replying or staying mute. I turned my head towards him, my eyes flickering gently to bay him still, and so he did.

"Enough. You are my lieutenants, not some ill-mannered mortals. I expect better from you than this." Lord Kain's cold voice echoed through the hall emotionlessly. He was standing now, looking at Zephon and then Melchiah.

My reason for nominating Melchiah to go was simple. He alone deserved this task – Melchiah, our youngest, and I was certain that this was the point that he could prove himself to everyone. It was his chance to wipe that smirk off Zephon's face, to show that his clan may not have been as strong as the others, but they were still noble.

I alone understand that strength is not everything, though Dumah would be swift to argue. Strength in its entire demeanour, is but a mere pinprick compared to everything else that makes a great vampire.

Melchiah's clan were suited to this task. They would be able to ambush the towns before the mortals even realised what was upon them. It was ideal, a swift attack, a swift expand of more land, and even Melchiah would gain from this.

My eyes fell upon Lord Kain, for he alone had the final say in the matter – only he could decided, lest he left it to Raziel.

There was a distant look upon our sire's face. I was not sure whether he was considering this matter or thinking upon another. In truth at that moment he did not seem truly focussed, it was like he seemed one million leagues away.

These past couple of nights in seeing him, Lord Kain had had his moments, though a majority of the time they had been swift. In a matter of moments he was soon to compose himself, and any moment of where he looked remote, was forgotten.

"Very well, the Melchiahim will go." The sentence was simple, so simple in fact that none of us spoke for a moment. And then Lord Kain's eyes fell coldly on Zephon.

"If, that is alright with the rest of you." It was not a question, but a statement, and we all knew better than to argue.

With no more words our lord was soon to disappear, leaving us to stand-alone in the Pillars' chamber, silence remaining.

For a while we all lingered, as did our silence, for just because we did not see Lord Kain, it did not necessarily mean that he was not there.

The silence remained even upon leaving, for there was nothing else to dispute. Lord Kain's words were always final, they always have been, and even Dumah and Zephon knew this.

The remaining lords began to leave the hall. I watched them go, filing out in a single line. Zephon left first, and then Dumah, Turel and Raziel – looking back over his shoulder at me – until it was only Melchiah and I who remained.

When the others had completely gone my stance sagged in exhaustion – it having caught up with me – as emptiness filled the hall. I allowed my muscles to relax and undid the binding in my hair, permitting it to fall loose, whilst running my claws through the black strands quickly.

"It could have been you." Melchiah's voice upheld uncertainty, as if he were reluctant to take this task because he was unsure of why I had recommended his clan – more so because his other siblings did not seem to bestow their complete faith upon his succession.

I brought two claws to my forehead and attempted to massage my temples as to try and calm the vertigo that had arisen.

"Is that what you would have wanted, Melchiah?"

I approached a Pillar and regarded it, resting my claws on its surface. Then I walked to another. Again came the restlessness.

With each step I took, Melchiah followed me somewhere behind, gesturing with his claws in a desperate mannerism with every word that he spoke. I could not help but take notice of the desperation that he vocals held.

It saddened me that some of the brethren had little faith in our youngest, and it saddened me even more so to see that this reflected upon Melchiah's whole disposition, that even he was doubting himself. Melchiah lacked confidence, but I hoped to restore it.

"This task would be better off in your claws."

"Nay, little brother, and I know that is not what you wish either."

"But, Rahab, you do not see –"

My pacing halted, my claw rested gently against the surface of a Pillar. "Do you question Lord Kain's decision?" I shot the question back at Melchiah and turned suddenly to face him, because I knew it would silence him. Lord Kain had chosen him to go, would he dare challenge that?

His gaze dropped submissively. He bowed his head and turned away from my gaze. "Rahab, I..."

To see Melchiah like this wounded me greatly. I could feel what he could as if I were apart of him. I approached him gradually and rested my claws upon his shoulders as if to give him apart of my strength.

"Speak not, gentle brother, words do nothing for this moment." I gave him a reassuring grip and I drew close to his ear and spoke, "This task is now yours. Seize this opportunity with both claws, hold swift to it."

Melchiah did not say anything, and I began to draw away – though my claws still rested upon his shoulders.

"Go, go now Melchiah and ready your clan. I have put my faith in you, as has Lord Kain."

For a while we remained, until it was a small cry of pain escaped Melchiah.

My claws upon his shoulders had suddenly drawn blood from the shoulder that was not protected by his armour, as I dug my talons in sharp. Not intentionally by all means, but suddenly the vertigo had become overpowering, and unconsciously I had dug my claws in deep, hoping to gain control of this feeling or at least make it subside.

I pulled myself from him quickly and pitifully withdrew, wavering in my steps, whilst my claws were painted in his dark blood.

I held myself in a bent over stance, as if to resemble the posture of an old hag. Inside, I certainly felt like one. My head I lifted and looked over at Melchiah, fearful suddenly that I had hurt my brother whose skin was so very delicate and subtle.

These feelings and overpowering emotions – this almost illness – made me foolish, made me hurt others if my mind but strayed a moment. And suddenly I understood what was happening to me.

I fell silent, not because I had no more to say, but because of the vertigo that had arose. And such vertigo made me silent that no more could I speak.

"Melchiah, forgive," I said, finally.

He cut my words short, forgetting the wound I had inflicted, as his skin already attempted to heal itself. He was never a good healer – he never has been. Thus, in the end he eventually ended up snatching the skins of others.

"Rahab, what is wrong?" He came close and attempted to support me, but I would not allow him to be near me, apprehensive that I would harm him once again.

"Nothing, brother," I lied, giving him a small, false smile. "Now, go."

I pushed him away from me with force, knowing that if he did not leave me now, than he would never go.

Melchiah hesitated in the entrance for a moment, sceptical of whether to abandon me or not. Inside I was begging him to leave. I knew what was going to happen, and perhaps it was the pride inside of me that begged him to never see me in that state.

"Go." This time, it was an order, one that – as I wilted slightly in my stance – was made strong by a growl at the back of my throat.

Eventually he admitted defeat.

"I will go. Will you come and see me before the Melchiahim leave?"

In exhaustion I nodded. "Yes Melchiah, and I will pass thee thy armour and sword."

He smiled at me in hearing that statement, though behind the smile I could sense how reluctant he was to leave – knowing and sensing that something was wrong, that something was happening to me.

"Melchiah, go."

And this time he did.

)-(

I do not know how I managed to return to my own realm, and stagger up the stone steps to my quarters, though I have brief memories. I remember the concerned glances off my children, those on guard, duty or merely resting and embracing the night.

Oh and how I would have done anything to have them close, to embrace them and feel their heartbeats merging with my own. But the first moments of this progression was dangerous for them, and I wished not to harm them, not my children, never...

So I uncharacteristically warned my children off, and any who came close to help me up the stairs I snarled at, my eyes darkened, 'No, my children, stay away!'

Inside of me was this thirst that battled onwards and threatened to consume me. My clan, for now, kept their distance at my own wishes.

The doors to my quarters were thrown open as I staggered through. The corridors to my quarters seemed endless, and in my delusional mind they appeared to stretch on forever. The atmosphere appeared to be cool, though my skin sweated, and I felt like I was dazed as I swayed through each and every room, driven forwards in hope of locating my chambers.

One recollection remains clear. It is a memory of me collapsing suddenly to the floor but a small distance away from my rooms.

And I lay there, chest upon the floor – rising and falling harshly. Cold floor beneath me, a set of claws outstretched in a way of desperation, where I hoped as if by some merciful chance, I could bring my chambers to me.

Ah, this everlasting weakness.

For a moment I lay still, sprawled out and between the grasps of awakening and rest. My mind did not fully respond to me, I discovered. In this small unconscious moment of my essence considering itself, I thought that I had passed out upon the floor of the main room.

There was calm for a few moments. Even so, when it was my body convulsed, my eyes reopened and I realised that I was still conscious, and with an understanding that I had to try and get back up. At least in the safety of my chambers and upon my bed I would receive proper rest. For it would only be there that I could allow this unnatural course of nature to play out.

Slowly, I managed to get to my knees – pulling myself to my feet with the help of anything I could get my claws upon. Whilst this little strength remained in me, I made haste to my rooms; stumbling as I went and then collapsing upon my bed, and dropping down into the blankets face first.

My claws clenched deep into the fabric of the covers, whilst I breathed through gritted teeth. If only I could make this feeling go away.

This feeling separated itself into many sentiments, combined together of vertigo and the beginning threads of nausea, and pains that convulsed throughout my body, tearing at my muscles. I sweated like all so suddenly I had an illness, though malady could never embellish my body. And rooted deep was a struggle that was fought in bouts of rationality and bloodlust.

I turned over and lay upon my back, staring at the ceiling. My hands shook as I attempted to undo the buckles upon my armour. My claws made the task a whole lot tedious then normal. I pulled what I could off and sat up, again gritting my teeth as faintness conquered the room, making it sway backwards and forth.

A brief instant later I had collapsed back onto the bed, armour half on and half off. The remains of my garb – trousers and boots, were left on, though straps remained half unfastened, half pulled, half twisted, untied. This, I could no longer fight...

I pitched myself onto my side, drawing my legs up close to my chest, knowing that this was but the beginning, and closed my eyes.

I did not see Melchiah leave with his clan, I was not reserved the chance. By that time I was already progressing. Exhaustion had claimed me, and metamorphosis tore at my soul.