AN UPSTART INHERITANCE: V -- DESTINY
He wandered through the halls and stairways of Melchiah's vampire city. It was cloaked in a murky half-light, as if the sun didn't quite dare to reach down this far between the buildings and walkways. The others were resting, tomorrow night they would march. There was a small matter still to be resolved, and now was the time for it.
He had spotted the shrine earlier, off one of the side streets. There was no door, just an arched opening, and it was small. A banner, a flaming brazier before it, primitive stone benches on the side wall and candles everywhere. It was smaller even than the little round chapel at Darstein, but it would suffice. He knelt on the cold stone floor, and put his sword out in front of him. He adjusted it with his fingertips until it was absolutely straight, and realised he was hesitant to continue. He drew a line over his wrist with a claw, and spilled a drop of blood onto the floor. "By your blood, running through my veins..." He had done this so often in the past, to pray for strength, for success, for wisdom. The motions were still the same, but their meaning seemed to have changed into its opposite. Dispairing, he ran his hands through his long white hair, once his pride, now his pain. He looked up.
Kain's sigil, white on red, visible just above and behind the dancing orange flames of the brazier. For a moment, Kainsken feared he would cry. Such a display of weakness would have been highly inappropriate, and he silently berated himself for it. He cleared his throat, and began his prayer, in a whisper.
"Lord, in these few years of my esistence, you have been an example and an inspiration to me. You have taught me much about discipline, courage and loyalty, principles by which I have tried to live, and by which I intend to die. Even --" he halted, swallowed, and started again. "Even if it means dying by your hand. I never thought that we'd be enemies, Kain, but now I find myself conspiring against you. Forgive me Lord, but I am a son of Raziel, whom you murdered. He granted me life, he gave me a sword and turned me into what I am tonight. I owe him this. So..." Again he paused to blink away the treacherous tears gathering in his eyes. He bit his tongue 'till it bled. No, he would not cry, he would do this properly, as he intended.
The shadows around him grew deeper, and he held his breath. There was someone behind him. Close behind, just on the threshold to the chapel. Whoever was there didn't move away, and he turned to look over his shoulder at who would disturb him.
"A little strange, to turn to your enemy in prayer." Melchiah stood in arched gateway, blocking out the misty sunlight. His face lit up yellow in the light of the candles and the brazier, and it made him look even more malnourished than he really looked.
"Lord Melchiah," Kainsken answered, "I was just..." He felt foolish suddenly, as if he'd been caught doing something wrong. Melchiah didn't seem to consider his behaviour inappropriate, but neither did he leave him to it. He sat down on one of the benches, beside Kainsken, and let out a weary sigh.
"Why did you volunteer, fledge?" he asked in a friendly tone. "You know you're unlikely to survive the explosions, even if you survive Kain."
Kainsken stared ahead, into the fire. "Survival wasn't the foremost thing on my mind when we started this," he said stubbornly.
Melchiah let out a dry laugh. "What are you praying for, then?" he asked.
"Mercy," Kainsken answered, truthfully. "A swift death."
His host grunted approvingly. "That I can understand."
Moments passed. Melchiah did not seem to be about to leave, and Kainsken wondered if he should just continue. He felt a little loth to; this was a very personal prayer. He decided he might as well ask the question that had been plaguing him all night, after all, Melchiah had asked him almost the same question. "And you? Why are you helping us, my Lord? If we fail, surely Kain will know you helped us?"
Melchiah nodded slowly. "I should think so, yes."
"Then why? Why do you betray your Lord?" His hands twisted into fists; he was shocked himself at his impertinence. Melchiah barely seemed to notice. He looked down and his hands, which were folded together in his lap.
"You think Kain is a God," his deep, slow voice rumbled. "You think he needs answer to no one. But any lord is a lord only because and for as long as his followers support him. Kain is no exception." He looked up at Kainsken, who could feel the weight of the sadness in those sunken eyes. "I have sent men to their deaths, little one. Often, in the past. Sometimes, a Lord must make a sacrifice for the greater good, but he may never do so wantonly, never without reason." He shook his head and shrugged, a helpless gesture. "Raziel was Kain's most faithful servant, he would have died for his Lord, and gladly, but not like this." His voice trailed off into a whisper. "Raziel was the first and best of us, he..."
He halted abruptly, and shook his head again. An icy finger of shock ran through Kainsken when he wiped his eyes. The clan lord was weeping. He looked away, at his unsheathed sword on the floor. Melchiah had lost his brother, he realised. He felt this loss deeply and personally, and why would he not? "I had no idea you were so close," he said softly.
"We weren't," Melchiah replied. "Not anymore. And now..." He sighed deeply. When he spoke again, the strength had returned to his voice, and he was back to defending his position. "When Kain turned on him, when he ordered us to cast him into the abyss, he betrayed all of us. I'm just returning the favour."
Kainsken shivered. He frowned, as his brain picked up on a snippet of new information. "Kain did not do it himself?" He looked up at his host, who seemed composed once again.
"No, he just gave the order. Turel and Dumah were besides Raziel, they took him up. They threw him in." He lowered his eyes. "To be honest, I'm not certain I would not have done the same," he added in a dark voice.
Kainsken looked away again. The silence grew, broken only by the gentle roar of the fire. He tried to imagine it, Kain giving the order, the brothers faced with a choice: to murder their own brother, or to go against their Lord. He shook his head, unwilling to face such a dilemma. But Turel and Dumah had made their choice, had they not? And what did that mean for them now?
"Even if Kain dies, his sons will turn against you, won't they?" he asked, his voice trembling.
"Yes," Melchiah answered.
Kainsken kept his eyes fixed on the fire, and the symbol beyond it. "And against us, and our clan?"
"Yes," came the calm reply.
Kainsken shook his head, tears once again blurring his vision. "But then we may doom our entire clan, whether we fail or succeed," he cried. "Would Kain be satisfied with our deaths alone?" He looked to Melchiah, but found only quiet resignation in his yellow eyes. "Is vengeance worth that much?" he asked, his voice breaking.
"You seemed to think so. Weren't you willing to die for vengeance?"
"Die, yes," Kainsken said, unable to stop his tears, which now ran freely over his face. "But there is much more at stake that my pitiful life. I though we were just going to die honourably. I never thought we'd actually stand a chance!" He covered his face with his hands, wiping the tears. "Things are different now," he whispered. "If we do not kill Kain, he will be furious at our attempt. If we do, his faithful sons will inherit his wrath. We are endangering our entire bloodline for this." He looked up at his host, whose expression remained unchanged. "Is that the honourable thing to do?"
"Honour is never that simple," Melchiah answered, and for a while, they both stared at the fire. "Your clan cast you out," Melchiah continued, "but did they try to stop you from what you would do?"
Kainsken shook his his head.
"They knew the risk, and they let you go. Honour can be different things to different people, but your clan understands the need for retribution."
Kainsken contemplated this. He had felt very alone on that stage, with only Adoile and Axel by his side. Did that silent crowd support them?
"Long ago," Melchiah started in the tone of a man telling an old and wearisome tale, "I turned to Kain and asked him, 'Why did you make me like this? Look at me in my weakness, why do you allow me to exist like this?' And he told me to be patient, and that all things have their place in destiny's grand plan. I asked him what my destiny was, but he could not tell me. 'You'll know when it arrives,' he said."
Kainsken shifted on the floor, turning to look at Melchiah more easily. The brazier's flame lit up his face and painted it with dancing shadows. He looked almost human in this small chapel, not like a vampire, not like a clan leader at all.
"All things have their purpose," Melchiah repeated. "My weakness, passed on to my children, drove me to create a weapon of such destructive power that it could take out a God. You, Raziel's righteous avengers, have come for it. You did not know, and yet, here you are, guided by that same infallable hand that guides us all, even Kain. This is how it has to be." The closing statement was put simply but reverentially, as if it could carry away all doubt. Kainsken shook his head angrily.
"So it is your destiny to help us destroy Kain?" he asked.
"I believe it may well be," Melchiah answered.
"And was it Raziel's destiny to die like that?" he asked, new tears seeping into his voice.
"So it seems." Melchiah sighed. "He was the first. Isn't it fitting he should die by the same hand that shaped him ten centuries ago?"
Kainsken turned to the flame again, biting his tongue.
"I don't know if they still use this phrase," his host droned on, "but in the beginning, Kain told us that we, as dead men, were fitting lords to rule over a dying land. From the beginning, our empire has been doomed. And after a thousand years of slow decay and corruption, I think the final nights may be here at last. We are all fated to die, Kain, my brethren, our children. We were doomed from the beginning."
Kainsken answered with a derisative snort. "So this is the end of the world?" he asked sceptically.
"I would have thought that obvious. Nosgoth is almosty incapable of sustaining life any longer. We depend on the cattle to live, they depend on the fields to feed them. And the fields lie barren and dry." He drew himself up as if about to leave. "Yes, you may doom your kinsmen as well as yourself with this, but your choice is not to live or die, young one. It is to die now, or suffer an eternity of slow rot and dilapidation." And unpleasant smile teased his lips apart. "Honestly, I don't see why you hesitate."
Kainsken looked down at his sword. He felt drained, as if simply talking to Melchiah was seeping energy away from him. "Is all lost then?" he asked desperately.
"All that is lost, is gone forever," Melchiah's deep monotone answered. "All that remains will fade away. Don't let fear detain you now, warrior. Let your righteous anger guide you, while you still have some." He stood up and departed, leaving an unpleasant chill and a faintly earthy smell in his wake.
Kainsken sighed and gathered his thoughts together from the whirlwind of half-distinct emotions Melchiah had left him in. He had come here for a purpose. Destiny be damned, he would do what he had to. For Raziel.
He took up his sword and gathered his hair together. "Thank you, my Lord, for all you have taught me." He cut his hair off at the back and put the smoky strands in front of him. "May death's embrace be kind to you." With the tip of his dagger, he sliced through his earlobe to take out the ring. Raziel's signet ring. He slipped it around his finger and closed his fist on it. A candle sputtered and died as he stood up, resheathing his sword. He picked up his hair and thrust it into the brazier. It burned brightly, and spread thick, white smoke through the small chapel.
"I am Baldwin, son of Raziel. And I swear upon my life that I will kill you."
Author's notes: OK, one rejig later... I've run through the previous chapters again, and changed what I found necessary. A little more attention to the future of Clan Raziel factor, I hope it works better this way (it's in chapter 2, in case you don't want to read the whole thing again, which, in spite of your undying enthusiasm, I can imagine.) So this is why Melchiah does what he does. It's a bit rough, I hope you'll forgive me for putting it up in this state, but I hadn't updated in a while, and I won't redo this one until I've written the next one (It's how I work).
To my Reviewers:
Smoke: No actually, before, they didn't stop to consider they might be damning their entire clan. Now they did. Thanks for helping me realise they needed to.
Schuldig: Naive... I can live with that. Keep in mind though that they don't know that Kain has five dots of plot immunity. Even the strongest vampire is vulnerable, as Raziel put it. Anyway. I suppose you're right. Why the twins are afraid, ah, hm, I see. :takes notes: I might be able to clarify that.
Glad you liked the steam engine. I was afraid at first that it might be horribly out of place, especially since I haven't hinted on anything Blood Omen 2ish so far, but I think I made it work. And I meant it was a bit weird for me to thank you for liking the story so much. I don't think it's weird that you like it. I like it. I'm just glad I'm not the only one!
Feel free to erect whatever you like in my name. Heheh.
He wandered through the halls and stairways of Melchiah's vampire city. It was cloaked in a murky half-light, as if the sun didn't quite dare to reach down this far between the buildings and walkways. The others were resting, tomorrow night they would march. There was a small matter still to be resolved, and now was the time for it.
He had spotted the shrine earlier, off one of the side streets. There was no door, just an arched opening, and it was small. A banner, a flaming brazier before it, primitive stone benches on the side wall and candles everywhere. It was smaller even than the little round chapel at Darstein, but it would suffice. He knelt on the cold stone floor, and put his sword out in front of him. He adjusted it with his fingertips until it was absolutely straight, and realised he was hesitant to continue. He drew a line over his wrist with a claw, and spilled a drop of blood onto the floor. "By your blood, running through my veins..." He had done this so often in the past, to pray for strength, for success, for wisdom. The motions were still the same, but their meaning seemed to have changed into its opposite. Dispairing, he ran his hands through his long white hair, once his pride, now his pain. He looked up.
Kain's sigil, white on red, visible just above and behind the dancing orange flames of the brazier. For a moment, Kainsken feared he would cry. Such a display of weakness would have been highly inappropriate, and he silently berated himself for it. He cleared his throat, and began his prayer, in a whisper.
"Lord, in these few years of my esistence, you have been an example and an inspiration to me. You have taught me much about discipline, courage and loyalty, principles by which I have tried to live, and by which I intend to die. Even --" he halted, swallowed, and started again. "Even if it means dying by your hand. I never thought that we'd be enemies, Kain, but now I find myself conspiring against you. Forgive me Lord, but I am a son of Raziel, whom you murdered. He granted me life, he gave me a sword and turned me into what I am tonight. I owe him this. So..." Again he paused to blink away the treacherous tears gathering in his eyes. He bit his tongue 'till it bled. No, he would not cry, he would do this properly, as he intended.
The shadows around him grew deeper, and he held his breath. There was someone behind him. Close behind, just on the threshold to the chapel. Whoever was there didn't move away, and he turned to look over his shoulder at who would disturb him.
"A little strange, to turn to your enemy in prayer." Melchiah stood in arched gateway, blocking out the misty sunlight. His face lit up yellow in the light of the candles and the brazier, and it made him look even more malnourished than he really looked.
"Lord Melchiah," Kainsken answered, "I was just..." He felt foolish suddenly, as if he'd been caught doing something wrong. Melchiah didn't seem to consider his behaviour inappropriate, but neither did he leave him to it. He sat down on one of the benches, beside Kainsken, and let out a weary sigh.
"Why did you volunteer, fledge?" he asked in a friendly tone. "You know you're unlikely to survive the explosions, even if you survive Kain."
Kainsken stared ahead, into the fire. "Survival wasn't the foremost thing on my mind when we started this," he said stubbornly.
Melchiah let out a dry laugh. "What are you praying for, then?" he asked.
"Mercy," Kainsken answered, truthfully. "A swift death."
His host grunted approvingly. "That I can understand."
Moments passed. Melchiah did not seem to be about to leave, and Kainsken wondered if he should just continue. He felt a little loth to; this was a very personal prayer. He decided he might as well ask the question that had been plaguing him all night, after all, Melchiah had asked him almost the same question. "And you? Why are you helping us, my Lord? If we fail, surely Kain will know you helped us?"
Melchiah nodded slowly. "I should think so, yes."
"Then why? Why do you betray your Lord?" His hands twisted into fists; he was shocked himself at his impertinence. Melchiah barely seemed to notice. He looked down and his hands, which were folded together in his lap.
"You think Kain is a God," his deep, slow voice rumbled. "You think he needs answer to no one. But any lord is a lord only because and for as long as his followers support him. Kain is no exception." He looked up at Kainsken, who could feel the weight of the sadness in those sunken eyes. "I have sent men to their deaths, little one. Often, in the past. Sometimes, a Lord must make a sacrifice for the greater good, but he may never do so wantonly, never without reason." He shook his head and shrugged, a helpless gesture. "Raziel was Kain's most faithful servant, he would have died for his Lord, and gladly, but not like this." His voice trailed off into a whisper. "Raziel was the first and best of us, he..."
He halted abruptly, and shook his head again. An icy finger of shock ran through Kainsken when he wiped his eyes. The clan lord was weeping. He looked away, at his unsheathed sword on the floor. Melchiah had lost his brother, he realised. He felt this loss deeply and personally, and why would he not? "I had no idea you were so close," he said softly.
"We weren't," Melchiah replied. "Not anymore. And now..." He sighed deeply. When he spoke again, the strength had returned to his voice, and he was back to defending his position. "When Kain turned on him, when he ordered us to cast him into the abyss, he betrayed all of us. I'm just returning the favour."
Kainsken shivered. He frowned, as his brain picked up on a snippet of new information. "Kain did not do it himself?" He looked up at his host, who seemed composed once again.
"No, he just gave the order. Turel and Dumah were besides Raziel, they took him up. They threw him in." He lowered his eyes. "To be honest, I'm not certain I would not have done the same," he added in a dark voice.
Kainsken looked away again. The silence grew, broken only by the gentle roar of the fire. He tried to imagine it, Kain giving the order, the brothers faced with a choice: to murder their own brother, or to go against their Lord. He shook his head, unwilling to face such a dilemma. But Turel and Dumah had made their choice, had they not? And what did that mean for them now?
"Even if Kain dies, his sons will turn against you, won't they?" he asked, his voice trembling.
"Yes," Melchiah answered.
Kainsken kept his eyes fixed on the fire, and the symbol beyond it. "And against us, and our clan?"
"Yes," came the calm reply.
Kainsken shook his head, tears once again blurring his vision. "But then we may doom our entire clan, whether we fail or succeed," he cried. "Would Kain be satisfied with our deaths alone?" He looked to Melchiah, but found only quiet resignation in his yellow eyes. "Is vengeance worth that much?" he asked, his voice breaking.
"You seemed to think so. Weren't you willing to die for vengeance?"
"Die, yes," Kainsken said, unable to stop his tears, which now ran freely over his face. "But there is much more at stake that my pitiful life. I though we were just going to die honourably. I never thought we'd actually stand a chance!" He covered his face with his hands, wiping the tears. "Things are different now," he whispered. "If we do not kill Kain, he will be furious at our attempt. If we do, his faithful sons will inherit his wrath. We are endangering our entire bloodline for this." He looked up at his host, whose expression remained unchanged. "Is that the honourable thing to do?"
"Honour is never that simple," Melchiah answered, and for a while, they both stared at the fire. "Your clan cast you out," Melchiah continued, "but did they try to stop you from what you would do?"
Kainsken shook his his head.
"They knew the risk, and they let you go. Honour can be different things to different people, but your clan understands the need for retribution."
Kainsken contemplated this. He had felt very alone on that stage, with only Adoile and Axel by his side. Did that silent crowd support them?
"Long ago," Melchiah started in the tone of a man telling an old and wearisome tale, "I turned to Kain and asked him, 'Why did you make me like this? Look at me in my weakness, why do you allow me to exist like this?' And he told me to be patient, and that all things have their place in destiny's grand plan. I asked him what my destiny was, but he could not tell me. 'You'll know when it arrives,' he said."
Kainsken shifted on the floor, turning to look at Melchiah more easily. The brazier's flame lit up his face and painted it with dancing shadows. He looked almost human in this small chapel, not like a vampire, not like a clan leader at all.
"All things have their purpose," Melchiah repeated. "My weakness, passed on to my children, drove me to create a weapon of such destructive power that it could take out a God. You, Raziel's righteous avengers, have come for it. You did not know, and yet, here you are, guided by that same infallable hand that guides us all, even Kain. This is how it has to be." The closing statement was put simply but reverentially, as if it could carry away all doubt. Kainsken shook his head angrily.
"So it is your destiny to help us destroy Kain?" he asked.
"I believe it may well be," Melchiah answered.
"And was it Raziel's destiny to die like that?" he asked, new tears seeping into his voice.
"So it seems." Melchiah sighed. "He was the first. Isn't it fitting he should die by the same hand that shaped him ten centuries ago?"
Kainsken turned to the flame again, biting his tongue.
"I don't know if they still use this phrase," his host droned on, "but in the beginning, Kain told us that we, as dead men, were fitting lords to rule over a dying land. From the beginning, our empire has been doomed. And after a thousand years of slow decay and corruption, I think the final nights may be here at last. We are all fated to die, Kain, my brethren, our children. We were doomed from the beginning."
Kainsken answered with a derisative snort. "So this is the end of the world?" he asked sceptically.
"I would have thought that obvious. Nosgoth is almosty incapable of sustaining life any longer. We depend on the cattle to live, they depend on the fields to feed them. And the fields lie barren and dry." He drew himself up as if about to leave. "Yes, you may doom your kinsmen as well as yourself with this, but your choice is not to live or die, young one. It is to die now, or suffer an eternity of slow rot and dilapidation." And unpleasant smile teased his lips apart. "Honestly, I don't see why you hesitate."
Kainsken looked down at his sword. He felt drained, as if simply talking to Melchiah was seeping energy away from him. "Is all lost then?" he asked desperately.
"All that is lost, is gone forever," Melchiah's deep monotone answered. "All that remains will fade away. Don't let fear detain you now, warrior. Let your righteous anger guide you, while you still have some." He stood up and departed, leaving an unpleasant chill and a faintly earthy smell in his wake.
Kainsken sighed and gathered his thoughts together from the whirlwind of half-distinct emotions Melchiah had left him in. He had come here for a purpose. Destiny be damned, he would do what he had to. For Raziel.
He took up his sword and gathered his hair together. "Thank you, my Lord, for all you have taught me." He cut his hair off at the back and put the smoky strands in front of him. "May death's embrace be kind to you." With the tip of his dagger, he sliced through his earlobe to take out the ring. Raziel's signet ring. He slipped it around his finger and closed his fist on it. A candle sputtered and died as he stood up, resheathing his sword. He picked up his hair and thrust it into the brazier. It burned brightly, and spread thick, white smoke through the small chapel.
"I am Baldwin, son of Raziel. And I swear upon my life that I will kill you."
Author's notes: OK, one rejig later... I've run through the previous chapters again, and changed what I found necessary. A little more attention to the future of Clan Raziel factor, I hope it works better this way (it's in chapter 2, in case you don't want to read the whole thing again, which, in spite of your undying enthusiasm, I can imagine.) So this is why Melchiah does what he does. It's a bit rough, I hope you'll forgive me for putting it up in this state, but I hadn't updated in a while, and I won't redo this one until I've written the next one (It's how I work).
To my Reviewers:
Smoke: No actually, before, they didn't stop to consider they might be damning their entire clan. Now they did. Thanks for helping me realise they needed to.
Schuldig: Naive... I can live with that. Keep in mind though that they don't know that Kain has five dots of plot immunity. Even the strongest vampire is vulnerable, as Raziel put it. Anyway. I suppose you're right. Why the twins are afraid, ah, hm, I see. :takes notes: I might be able to clarify that.
Glad you liked the steam engine. I was afraid at first that it might be horribly out of place, especially since I haven't hinted on anything Blood Omen 2ish so far, but I think I made it work. And I meant it was a bit weird for me to thank you for liking the story so much. I don't think it's weird that you like it. I like it. I'm just glad I'm not the only one!
Feel free to erect whatever you like in my name. Heheh.