Chapter 4 – Exile

Azrael kicked the chamber door harshly as it closed behind him. He stopped himself before he could kick it again, 'You don't have time to be angry,' his inner voice told him, 'You have to leave now.' He sighed and looked around his room, scanning for what he needed to take with him out of Razielim. 'Not much,' he thought, almost sadly.

His room was pretty bare for one of his standing. The bed draped in the Razielim colours seemed lonely, with no other furniture surrounding it. He had a closet for his clothes opposite the bed, but aside from that and a wooden table beside it, there was nothing. He hadn't realized how desolate the room looked until now. Until now he had only ever used this room for sleeping and dressing. It served no other purpose.

He opened the wardrobe door and scanned the interior. He found what he was looking for: a large, leather bag into which he packed only a few clothes. He swung the bag over his shoulder and his eyes fell upon the table beside him. Placed neatly on the table was his sword. The sword Raziel had given him, many years ago when it had just been them. He turned it over in his hands. It was a good sword. It was well used (being his favourite) and yet showed no sign of disrepair. He kept it in good condition. It was still as sharp and deadly as the day he'd received it and the black, ebony insignia still gleamed just as brightly. Azrael sheathed the sword at his hip and stepped onto his balcony.

The sun was setting. The sky of clouds were darkening, night was falling. From here Azrael could see the entire Razielim city. It wasn't an extremely big city. One may not even call it a city. It consisted of rows of well made houses for the servants of Raziel. Mostly humans lived there, but the lower vampire slaves also kept well there. The streets were unusually empty considering the time. They should be bustling with life as the residents made their way home for the night. Now, they were all indoors, no doubt anticipating the coming battle with the Turelim.

Azrael imprinted the view on his memory, no doubt memory would soon be the only thing left of this place. He turned to leave his chamber, but upon turning he saw Mioko, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"What do you want?" he growled, "come to say goodbye?" he asked, sarcastically. He hesitated when he saw a bag, similar to his own, although hers looked full to bursting, at her feet. She looked up at him, "I'm coming with you," she said, quietly. Azrael shook his head, "now why would you want to do that?" he asked. She rose to her feet and drew level with him, despite him being more than a few inches taller than her. She looked into his hawk-like, yellow eyes, "Understand this," she said, fiercely, "I am not coming with you to escape the death that awaits if I stay, nor am I coming with you for you. I am coming with you because you are Raziel's first born and he told me to honor your decisions." Azrael frowned,

"You may stay if you wish," he told her, "I do not force you to come with me." She shook her head, "You know nothing of the forgotten lands, I do."

"And what makes you think I know nothing of the forgotten lands?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest. Mioko picked up her bag as she answered, "You don't believe they exist. Whenever Raziel spoke of them, you always turned away." Azrael faltered. It was true. He, like the extreme majority in Nosgoth thought the forgotten lands were a myth. His sire had believed differently and had often recounted the tales. Azrael had never thought to listen to his lord's ramblings. He didn't believe in them, why should he listen? The forgotten lands were a story, conjured by the human slaves to inspire hope in their descendents, nothing more. So why then was he leaving with Mioko to find them?

His thoughts were cut short as a bell rang in the distance. He spun around, looking back out over the territory. "The watchtower," he muttered, "The Turelim are here." He turned back to Mioko, "We must leave now." Mioko nodded and she followed him out of the chamber.

The residents of Raziel's sanctuary were in disarray. Vampires and humans alike were running through the halls. The vampires to the entrance where Maret was assembling them, the humans to save their pitiful lives. Mioko and Azrael followed the stream of vampires to the crowded entrance hall. Azrael caught sight of Maret. He was ordering the warriors to the front gates, preparing their futile resistance. He looked up at his maker and Mioko.

"Are you still here?" he called to them, he thought for a moment, "Azrael, you cannot leave through the main pass," he told them, "unless you plan on sneaking past the Turelim." Azrael turned to Mioko, a thought suddenly dawning on him,

"Where are these forgotten lands?" he asked.

"Across the water," she answered. A look of horror dawned on the first born's face, "Water?!" he shouted, getting caught up in the frantic atmosphere around them, "How do you suppose we cross the water?!"

Despite the madness that had taken the Razielim, Mioko managed to maintain her composure, her voice much calmer than Azrael's had been. "We sail, obviously," she said. Azrael stared at her in shock, he wasn't sure if he'd heard her properly, "Sail?" he asked, in disbelief, "Did you just say, 'sail'?"

Despite Maret's distance from them, his acute, vampiric hearing had let him hear what had been said. "If you're planning on sailing, I suggest you make for Rahabim immediately," he shouted over the frenzied crowd.

Azrael shook his head, harshly. This all felt like a dream. The madness, the chaos, none of it felt real. Mioko grabbed his arm and with a small word of thanks to Maret, she pulled him out of the sanctuary.

The battle had already begun. The streets of Razielim were even more chaotic then the sanctuary had been. In the distance, screams and cries from the battle could be heard over the frantic shouts of the people. Azrael closed his eyes, trying to block out the screams. 'I should be leading them,' he thought sadly, 'I should be there with them.' He knew such thoughts would no doubt torment the remainder of his life with guilt so he did his best to ignore them, 'I'm doing what Raziel wanted,' he tried to convince himself, 'Raziel wouldn't want me to lead them to their death. At least this way, Razielim will remain.'

Azrael looked down on Mioko, she was scanning their surroundings, trying to determine the best path out of the doomed city. 'How can she be so calm at a time like this?' the voice in his head considered her somewhat in awe of her composure. She gave a small tug on his arm, "This way," she said, leading him to a sealed gate, near the sanctuary. It led out of Razielim territory and at the same time shielded them from view from the main pass.

There should have been at least two men here to open the gate, but the skirmish at the front gate had summoned all of Razielim to defend itself. Azrael and Mioko slipped through the gate, unnoticed in the midst of such chaos. Azrael paused for a moment, looking back and saying a silent farewell to the clan he had devoted his life to. Mioko however did not look back. The object of her devotion was no longer at the clan.

TBC