AN UPSTART INHERITANCE: II -- THE CLAN
The courtyard had never been so crowded. Harald realised fully for the first time how his clan had outgrown their home of late. They were stood shoulder to shoulder from the gate up to the steps, and more were clumped together in the raised alcoves surrounding the yard. For the first half of the night, the castle had been eerily peaceful; only he and a handful of others had known. It seemed almost absurd to him that the castle still stood, that his kinsmen still laughed and argued as if nothing had happened, as if the foundations beneath their existence had not just been swept away, as if the world was as it should be. But Raziel was dead, and the world would never be as it should be again, not for them, not for the Razelim.
Then the regiment returned from Rahab's keep in a panic, seeking confirmation of the sickening message they had been sent home with. Soon, the rumour spread, and the entire keep was in uproar. Now they were all collected here, all of the Razelim in castle Darstein, arguing, speculating, panicking. They all looked to him to explain. He was stood on the short platform between the crowd and the high dais from which Raziel would address his people. Behind him, on the first step, were the other captains; Marius, Cermak and Anders, as well as Raziel's steward Rusanna and Axel, his bodyguard. The issue of succession was far from decided, but for now, they had agreed, the most important thing was to keep the clan together. At a time like this, there could be no dissonance. Harald commanded the greatest number of men, he would address them.
His eyes swept the crowd, the doubtful, panicked faces. He knew how they wished him to deny it, deny that the impossible had happened, that after ruling them for a thousand years, Raziel was gone. In the corner of his eye he noticed a small figure climbing up the side of the higher stage. It was Raziel's serving girl, but a few decades old. She had a habit of kneeling just in front of the Master when he addressed the clan, and with a quick glance behind him he knew that that was exactly what she was doing now, kneeling in the middle of the dais as if he was still there. The sight pained him. Her presence there accentuated his absence, and spelled out bright and clear the message Harald was burdened with. He decided to tolerate her; there were more important things at hand now than proper decorum.
He raised his hands and called out over the din, "Clan Raziel!" The noise died down only very slowly.
A shrill voice cried, "Where is Raziel?"
"Be still and I will tell you all," he shouted, and waited, for minutes, until they were quiet. "Today," he began, his voice loud and strong, his pain buried deep in his heart where it could not interfere with his duty, "Lord Raziel called the council together, to show them his latest gift. He had grown wings, as some of you know. Not by the grace of Kain, but by his own will, and Lord Kain did not look kindly on this impertinence." He felt sickened. Not twelve hours ago this took place, and already he was turning it into a myth. So they'll understand, he told himself. Myth is what they know, especially when it comes to Kain. "Kain took away the gift Raziel had granted himself, and punished him for his transgression. He was cast into the Lake of the Dead to burn an eternity in the abyss. May he find oblivion in the end." He paused. His throat felt raw, the story seemed unreal, hopelessly inadequate. But how else to express the unimaginable? His sergeant Sophia was in the first row, her hands folded, her face tear-streaked. Their eyes met briefly. She nodded, needlessly.
"We will honour our Lord as he would expect us to. We will mourn him together, and we will keep his memory forever. With him or without him, we are still clan Raziel. Still we owe fealty to Kain, still we owe loyalty to each other." He spread his arms to include the five stood behind him. "The times ahead will be hard, but we will endure, for his sake. We, your elders ..."
"-- Cowards!"
The quiet humdrum of whispered comments broke into a storm, and Harald's eyes swept the crowd, looking for the one that had spoken. Only when Sophia nodded did he realise the sound had come from behind him. The girl stood, small and alone, on the high stage, her delicate fists clenched at her sides, her pretty face bloodstained and twisted into an angry grimace.
"How can honour your Lord when his murderer remains alive?" she shrieked, pointing a claw at Harald. "How can you be loyal to him if you serve his enemy? There was no transgression, Raziel merely followed his nature to be all he could be, it was Kain's wounded pride that damned him!" Her normally soft and pleasant voice now echoed like a broken and bloodied bird over the crowded yard. Harald hissed at her but nothing could shut her up. "Raziel's soul will not be able to rest until this crime is avenged, and neither will any of us!" Her tone turned pleading and she looked at Harald. "We must take vengeance, we have no choice!" She clenched her fists again and screamed, "And what kind of men are you that you need a girl to point this out to you?" She looked out over the crowd, her eyes gleaming in the darkness. There was neither excuse nor confirmation. The courtyard was silent but for the soft howling of the wind and the occasional pop of a flag being pulled taut.
Finally, her anger appeared to be spent. Her shoulders slumped and she hid her face in her hands. Harald turned around to address the silent crowd when he felt a hand on his arm. It was Marius, who looked up at him with a look that said, allow me.
"Adoile," Marius said, "all of you, listen to me. I know your anger, and I know your pain. Unbearable as it is, there can be no compensation for Raziel's death." He turned to Adoile. "There can be no vengeance. Believe me, this pains me as much as any of you, but Kain is still our Lord and Master, our Father. How can we turn against the one who breathes life into us all? No one will deny that it is a terrible thing not to avenge our Lord. But how much worse will the burden of our guilt be, if we attacked the father of all our kind? What can we achieve..."
Axel had started to walk up the steps in his slow, deliberate manner. To put the girl in her place, Marius wondered. He continued, "If we take our 'vengeance' out on Him, what can we achieve but the downfall of our own race? Axel?"
Axel stood squarely behind the girl, his face impassive, his hands on her shoulders. Adoile stared wide-eyed at Harald, reminding him more than anything of a wet and frightened cat. Harald ground his teeth together.
"Axel, we all know loyalty is more important to you than life," he said, anger creeping into his voice, "but how is destroying yourself going to help him, or any of us?" He heard a whispered curse besides him, and turned to look.
Marius was staring fixedly at a point in the crowd, shaking his head slowly. Gareth, his deputy, obeyed the command and held Cas firmly by the arm. No, Cas, Marius whispered as a minor struggle ensued. No man of his would join this madness. But something white was already working its way through the crowd. "Kainsken!" he hissed as the young vampire hopped onto the stage. He took his place in the centre, next to Axel, fearlessly meeting his captain's eye. "Get back," Marius commanded, quietly. Kainsken shook his head.
"Axel this is madness!" Cermak called from behind him. "Do you really think you and these two girls stand a chance against the Lord of Nosgoth? You will destroy us all!"
"It doesn't matter if we stand a chance," Kainsken answered. "I will put my blade against the Soul Reaver on my own if I have to! We were sworn to follow him, to fight for him, to die for him. And I for one am ready to! His enemy is our enemy." His mouth twisted into an accusing snarl as he added, "-- is your enemy!"
Axel took his right hand from Adoile's shoulder and put it on Kainsken's. And that's how it is. Harald looked at the crowd, trying to gauge their reactions. There were certainly others, he knew that. But not many; self-destruction was not a natural impulse for vampires, even in this dire a situation. He glanced at his peers. Marius was still engaged in a staring match with his fledgling soldiers, Cermak stared straight ahead and Rusanna returned his look with a little nod. Anders looked up at Axel. No, not at Axel. Past Axel, at the mansized carving of the clan symbol on the back wall. There would not be many.
"Is there anyone else who wishes to destroy himself?" Harald thundered. "Is there anyone else who wishes to turn traitor against our Lord and Father? Anyone who wishes to join these madmen?" If they wanted to, they'd go anyway, he couldn't stop them. If he forced them to decide now, at least he knew he could count on the ones that remained. He waited, and hoped.
At first it seemed it would just be these three. But Cas, Marius' man, had wrestled himself free from his superior, and walked, head held high, up to the steps. Marius looked away as he passed. More followed, young and old, their faces defiant, downcast or simply determined. Anders saw Hengest and Horsa weave their way through the crowd, following each other blindly, as always. A proud little smile passed over his lips. He would have gone, he told himself, but if he went his men would follow, and they could not afford to lose so many. The clan was more important even than vengeance. He patted Hengest on the shoulder as they passed, and they both gave him the same, sad smile. He'd miss them.
Cermak growled as a third man from his company passed them on his way to Axel's side. Loyal, yes. Loyal idiots. How could people who understood so little be allowed to do so much? But he knew better than to challenge Harald now. He was content to thank the stars that this was all. Some ten men, most of them young ones. They didn't have a chance.
Harald regarded them coldly; he recognised some faces, but not many. His youngest son numbered among them, he realised, and the sight of him shook his resolve. He knew very well what he ought to do, but he also knew that he could not. These were traitors to Lord Kain, and to the clan: their petty vengence might endanger all of them. He ought to give the order to kill them all, but he knew very well that that order would not be followed. His order would not be enough to turn brother against brother, and although there were not many that would follow Axel's in his march into hell, there was a large group that supported his cause. Of course there was. Even Harald was not deaf to the call of retribution; it stirred the strings of his heart, but he knew it could not be answered. Not by him. But these could carry it out, for all of them. There was no need to split the clan down the middle.
He ascended the steps up to the dais, and circled around Axel, who stood stoically staring out over the crowd. Harald put his claws on the two points where Axel's red cape was fastened to his armour, and tore it loose with a single gesture. He draped the fabric over his arm. "Clan Raziel remains faithful to Lord Kain," he declared. "You are traitors, and will no longer be counted among us." He held out his arm, and it was filled slowly with red capes and tunics, as the men stripped off their clan markings.
"We're keeping our swords," a low voice said behind him. Jules. A son of Lucas, and over five hundred years old. Harald didn't argue the point; he turned back to the crowd.
"Be gone," he called out. "Leave here and do not return. Henceforth, you will be looked on as our enemy."
A slight drizzle of rain started up as the crowd pressed itself even closer together to form a corridor out to the gate. Axel walked without haste, his ragtag little band in his wake. "Goodbye, Arvin," Harald said softly as his son passed him on the steps.
"Goodbye father," Arvin answered. As they descended the steps out of the keep, the rain began to fall steadily. Axel continued, slightly faster, as the dust on the road turned into a grey sludge. Adoile walked close behind, bent over and hugging her arms to her chest. Kainsken walked with his head held high, the rain would sting anyway. Behind them, he heard the gate grind closed, and he looked back on what was no longer his home. It somehow seemed darker now, Raziel's name sign on the gate was like a bleak omen. The two colossi, Raziel on one side of the gate, Kain on the other, looked down on them impassively as they left, side by side, still, in stone. He turned away and hurried to the fore.
"Axel? Where are we going?"
Axel waved a hand. West. As good as any other place. Kainsken's hair was getting wet, but he didn't mind the pain so much. It drowned out the pain on the inside, for all that was lost, for all that would never be again, for what they had to do. The road turned into a mud pool under their feet, and they trudged on blindly, without hope or consolation, cast out..
The courtyard had never been so crowded. Harald realised fully for the first time how his clan had outgrown their home of late. They were stood shoulder to shoulder from the gate up to the steps, and more were clumped together in the raised alcoves surrounding the yard. For the first half of the night, the castle had been eerily peaceful; only he and a handful of others had known. It seemed almost absurd to him that the castle still stood, that his kinsmen still laughed and argued as if nothing had happened, as if the foundations beneath their existence had not just been swept away, as if the world was as it should be. But Raziel was dead, and the world would never be as it should be again, not for them, not for the Razelim.
Then the regiment returned from Rahab's keep in a panic, seeking confirmation of the sickening message they had been sent home with. Soon, the rumour spread, and the entire keep was in uproar. Now they were all collected here, all of the Razelim in castle Darstein, arguing, speculating, panicking. They all looked to him to explain. He was stood on the short platform between the crowd and the high dais from which Raziel would address his people. Behind him, on the first step, were the other captains; Marius, Cermak and Anders, as well as Raziel's steward Rusanna and Axel, his bodyguard. The issue of succession was far from decided, but for now, they had agreed, the most important thing was to keep the clan together. At a time like this, there could be no dissonance. Harald commanded the greatest number of men, he would address them.
His eyes swept the crowd, the doubtful, panicked faces. He knew how they wished him to deny it, deny that the impossible had happened, that after ruling them for a thousand years, Raziel was gone. In the corner of his eye he noticed a small figure climbing up the side of the higher stage. It was Raziel's serving girl, but a few decades old. She had a habit of kneeling just in front of the Master when he addressed the clan, and with a quick glance behind him he knew that that was exactly what she was doing now, kneeling in the middle of the dais as if he was still there. The sight pained him. Her presence there accentuated his absence, and spelled out bright and clear the message Harald was burdened with. He decided to tolerate her; there were more important things at hand now than proper decorum.
He raised his hands and called out over the din, "Clan Raziel!" The noise died down only very slowly.
A shrill voice cried, "Where is Raziel?"
"Be still and I will tell you all," he shouted, and waited, for minutes, until they were quiet. "Today," he began, his voice loud and strong, his pain buried deep in his heart where it could not interfere with his duty, "Lord Raziel called the council together, to show them his latest gift. He had grown wings, as some of you know. Not by the grace of Kain, but by his own will, and Lord Kain did not look kindly on this impertinence." He felt sickened. Not twelve hours ago this took place, and already he was turning it into a myth. So they'll understand, he told himself. Myth is what they know, especially when it comes to Kain. "Kain took away the gift Raziel had granted himself, and punished him for his transgression. He was cast into the Lake of the Dead to burn an eternity in the abyss. May he find oblivion in the end." He paused. His throat felt raw, the story seemed unreal, hopelessly inadequate. But how else to express the unimaginable? His sergeant Sophia was in the first row, her hands folded, her face tear-streaked. Their eyes met briefly. She nodded, needlessly.
"We will honour our Lord as he would expect us to. We will mourn him together, and we will keep his memory forever. With him or without him, we are still clan Raziel. Still we owe fealty to Kain, still we owe loyalty to each other." He spread his arms to include the five stood behind him. "The times ahead will be hard, but we will endure, for his sake. We, your elders ..."
"-- Cowards!"
The quiet humdrum of whispered comments broke into a storm, and Harald's eyes swept the crowd, looking for the one that had spoken. Only when Sophia nodded did he realise the sound had come from behind him. The girl stood, small and alone, on the high stage, her delicate fists clenched at her sides, her pretty face bloodstained and twisted into an angry grimace.
"How can honour your Lord when his murderer remains alive?" she shrieked, pointing a claw at Harald. "How can you be loyal to him if you serve his enemy? There was no transgression, Raziel merely followed his nature to be all he could be, it was Kain's wounded pride that damned him!" Her normally soft and pleasant voice now echoed like a broken and bloodied bird over the crowded yard. Harald hissed at her but nothing could shut her up. "Raziel's soul will not be able to rest until this crime is avenged, and neither will any of us!" Her tone turned pleading and she looked at Harald. "We must take vengeance, we have no choice!" She clenched her fists again and screamed, "And what kind of men are you that you need a girl to point this out to you?" She looked out over the crowd, her eyes gleaming in the darkness. There was neither excuse nor confirmation. The courtyard was silent but for the soft howling of the wind and the occasional pop of a flag being pulled taut.
Finally, her anger appeared to be spent. Her shoulders slumped and she hid her face in her hands. Harald turned around to address the silent crowd when he felt a hand on his arm. It was Marius, who looked up at him with a look that said, allow me.
"Adoile," Marius said, "all of you, listen to me. I know your anger, and I know your pain. Unbearable as it is, there can be no compensation for Raziel's death." He turned to Adoile. "There can be no vengeance. Believe me, this pains me as much as any of you, but Kain is still our Lord and Master, our Father. How can we turn against the one who breathes life into us all? No one will deny that it is a terrible thing not to avenge our Lord. But how much worse will the burden of our guilt be, if we attacked the father of all our kind? What can we achieve..."
Axel had started to walk up the steps in his slow, deliberate manner. To put the girl in her place, Marius wondered. He continued, "If we take our 'vengeance' out on Him, what can we achieve but the downfall of our own race? Axel?"
Axel stood squarely behind the girl, his face impassive, his hands on her shoulders. Adoile stared wide-eyed at Harald, reminding him more than anything of a wet and frightened cat. Harald ground his teeth together.
"Axel, we all know loyalty is more important to you than life," he said, anger creeping into his voice, "but how is destroying yourself going to help him, or any of us?" He heard a whispered curse besides him, and turned to look.
Marius was staring fixedly at a point in the crowd, shaking his head slowly. Gareth, his deputy, obeyed the command and held Cas firmly by the arm. No, Cas, Marius whispered as a minor struggle ensued. No man of his would join this madness. But something white was already working its way through the crowd. "Kainsken!" he hissed as the young vampire hopped onto the stage. He took his place in the centre, next to Axel, fearlessly meeting his captain's eye. "Get back," Marius commanded, quietly. Kainsken shook his head.
"Axel this is madness!" Cermak called from behind him. "Do you really think you and these two girls stand a chance against the Lord of Nosgoth? You will destroy us all!"
"It doesn't matter if we stand a chance," Kainsken answered. "I will put my blade against the Soul Reaver on my own if I have to! We were sworn to follow him, to fight for him, to die for him. And I for one am ready to! His enemy is our enemy." His mouth twisted into an accusing snarl as he added, "-- is your enemy!"
Axel took his right hand from Adoile's shoulder and put it on Kainsken's. And that's how it is. Harald looked at the crowd, trying to gauge their reactions. There were certainly others, he knew that. But not many; self-destruction was not a natural impulse for vampires, even in this dire a situation. He glanced at his peers. Marius was still engaged in a staring match with his fledgling soldiers, Cermak stared straight ahead and Rusanna returned his look with a little nod. Anders looked up at Axel. No, not at Axel. Past Axel, at the mansized carving of the clan symbol on the back wall. There would not be many.
"Is there anyone else who wishes to destroy himself?" Harald thundered. "Is there anyone else who wishes to turn traitor against our Lord and Father? Anyone who wishes to join these madmen?" If they wanted to, they'd go anyway, he couldn't stop them. If he forced them to decide now, at least he knew he could count on the ones that remained. He waited, and hoped.
At first it seemed it would just be these three. But Cas, Marius' man, had wrestled himself free from his superior, and walked, head held high, up to the steps. Marius looked away as he passed. More followed, young and old, their faces defiant, downcast or simply determined. Anders saw Hengest and Horsa weave their way through the crowd, following each other blindly, as always. A proud little smile passed over his lips. He would have gone, he told himself, but if he went his men would follow, and they could not afford to lose so many. The clan was more important even than vengeance. He patted Hengest on the shoulder as they passed, and they both gave him the same, sad smile. He'd miss them.
Cermak growled as a third man from his company passed them on his way to Axel's side. Loyal, yes. Loyal idiots. How could people who understood so little be allowed to do so much? But he knew better than to challenge Harald now. He was content to thank the stars that this was all. Some ten men, most of them young ones. They didn't have a chance.
Harald regarded them coldly; he recognised some faces, but not many. His youngest son numbered among them, he realised, and the sight of him shook his resolve. He knew very well what he ought to do, but he also knew that he could not. These were traitors to Lord Kain, and to the clan: their petty vengence might endanger all of them. He ought to give the order to kill them all, but he knew very well that that order would not be followed. His order would not be enough to turn brother against brother, and although there were not many that would follow Axel's in his march into hell, there was a large group that supported his cause. Of course there was. Even Harald was not deaf to the call of retribution; it stirred the strings of his heart, but he knew it could not be answered. Not by him. But these could carry it out, for all of them. There was no need to split the clan down the middle.
He ascended the steps up to the dais, and circled around Axel, who stood stoically staring out over the crowd. Harald put his claws on the two points where Axel's red cape was fastened to his armour, and tore it loose with a single gesture. He draped the fabric over his arm. "Clan Raziel remains faithful to Lord Kain," he declared. "You are traitors, and will no longer be counted among us." He held out his arm, and it was filled slowly with red capes and tunics, as the men stripped off their clan markings.
"We're keeping our swords," a low voice said behind him. Jules. A son of Lucas, and over five hundred years old. Harald didn't argue the point; he turned back to the crowd.
"Be gone," he called out. "Leave here and do not return. Henceforth, you will be looked on as our enemy."
A slight drizzle of rain started up as the crowd pressed itself even closer together to form a corridor out to the gate. Axel walked without haste, his ragtag little band in his wake. "Goodbye, Arvin," Harald said softly as his son passed him on the steps.
"Goodbye father," Arvin answered. As they descended the steps out of the keep, the rain began to fall steadily. Axel continued, slightly faster, as the dust on the road turned into a grey sludge. Adoile walked close behind, bent over and hugging her arms to her chest. Kainsken walked with his head held high, the rain would sting anyway. Behind them, he heard the gate grind closed, and he looked back on what was no longer his home. It somehow seemed darker now, Raziel's name sign on the gate was like a bleak omen. The two colossi, Raziel on one side of the gate, Kain on the other, looked down on them impassively as they left, side by side, still, in stone. He turned away and hurried to the fore.
"Axel? Where are we going?"
Axel waved a hand. West. As good as any other place. Kainsken's hair was getting wet, but he didn't mind the pain so much. It drowned out the pain on the inside, for all that was lost, for all that would never be again, for what they had to do. The road turned into a mud pool under their feet, and they trudged on blindly, without hope or consolation, cast out..