AN UPSTART INHERITANCE: VIII -- ADOILE
Dawn found Adoile still on top of the watchtower, her body draped limply over the low wall, watching, waiting. She shielded her eyes against the sun, and did not mind that that was not enough. She welcomed the blinding pain, it was the first thing she was aware of feeling in hours.
"Child," a voice behind her said, not unkindly. "Come, you must rest."
"I do not wish to rest," she said, and turned around. She was still blinded, and she felt tears running down her cheek. She could smell the man in front of her, it was a fleshy smell, as of well-drained meat.
"They're not coming back, child," he said gently.
"My name is Adoile," she said.
"I am Rainas," he answered. Her sight returned, slowly. The sickly morning light coloured him yellow, he was tall and gangly and dressed in very common clothes. Most of the Melchahim were, though they wore gold like it was as cheap as tin.
"Did you know him?" she asked, her voice an ethereal whisper that threatened to break. It pained her to say his name. It pained her even to think it.
"I met Lord Raziel once or twice," Rainas said, "but -- no, I did not really know him."
She turned away from him, back to the sun, but it had grown too bright and she recoiled into the shade behind the crenellation, so full of grief and loathing that she could hardly bear to be inside her own body.
"You loved him," Rainas said calmly. She did not answer. "And now he is gone," he continued, "and you cannot imagine ever smiling again. Everything you enjoyed about life has lost its meaning, everything you might do do is pointless and absurd, because he is no longer there."
She turned around to him, enraged. How could a stranger pretend to know her so well, how dare he name her heart!
"We all know the pain of loss, my child -- Adoile," he corrected himself. "All must face it, sooner or later, unless they die first."
She bowed her head in shame. She should have realised he was not talking about her alone. "I would it were so," she said mournfully. "I would I could take his place. I would gladly burn for a thousand years, just to know that he still lived!"
He slowly walked up and stood beside her, looking out over the wasteland that was his home, the softening darkness fled from it like startled birds. In the light of day, it looked dead and dry, as if the lifegiving blood had been drained from the land itself. Adoile found herself staring at his feet. They were dirty, the claws cracked and crumbling. Up the length of one of his calves was a gash, the blackened edges of the wound held together with crooked stitches. It might have shocked her, or disgusted her, if she was still capable of those feelings.
"But it is not so," he said. "And little can be gained by wishing things were different than they were, or wondering why. Those thoughts will lead you nowhere, except to the realisation that what happened, happened, and nothing else. It could not, and cannot be helped. You will come to accept this, in time."
He was talking about himself. These words did not apply to her. The distraction was surprisingly welcome. "Who did you lose?" she asked, looking up at his long, slightly grimy face.
"My son," he said, "my eldest."
She nodded. The eldest son was often the first in favour. She still remembered how Raziel had grieved when they lost Konrad, his deputy, and eldest of the Razelim. But Raziel had been the eldest son of his sire, too, and what kind of monster was Kain that he had --
That he could --
She did not finish these thoughts. She did not want to think about it again, she did not want to think about him. But the monster's image forced itself onto her aching mind, his face, the way he looked at her when she had met him, long ago. She had reached out and touched him, in awe of his power, his alien beauty...
The memory chilled her to the darkest core of her heart.
.
"Someone's coming," Rainas said flatly. She jumped up and looked out at the road. The figure was still far away, a dark shadow in the distance.
"Who is it?" she asked. Rainas did not know yet, or at least, he did not answer. The figure drew closer, walking with haste, it seemed. She shielded her eyes against the sun, and finally thought she could discern the colours the man was wearing. She wiped a pained tear from her eyes and looked again. It was unmistakable. Red.
"One of Kain's men," Rainas commented and she nodded. Of course, Kain, too, wore red, and so did the Sanctuary guards. But what did that mean?
Rainas shouted something to the guards below. Adoile got to her feet but he stopped her from going down.
"This is not your business," he said.
"But I want to know what happened," she protested.
"Kain is still alive," he said, gesturing at the nearing messenger. "That means your kinsmen are dead."
She turned away again, to the road and the lone figure. He was right, of course. She should have realised. Stupid girl, she thought. She should not be surprised, not even disappointed. They never truly stood a chance. New tears squeezed themselves into her eyes. Baldwin, the twins, Axel, Jules... all dead, all gone. And how many more, before this was truly over? What would be the next sickening act in this perverse, senseless drama?
Kain's man was welcomed into the gate, and taken deeper into the city. All seemed quiet, but Adoile could hear, even on top of the tower, the anxiety spreading through the streets like a swarm of bees. The Melchahim met in doorways, and whispered questions to each other that none could answer. Finally, the city gate swung open below her once more. Two men came out; Kain's guard and Melchiah.
Lord Melchiah walked proudly, his back straight, his steps unfaltering. But when they were some distance away from the gate, he turned, and looked over his shoulder for a long moment, as if in regret. As if saying goodbye.
"Oh, God," Adoile gasped. He was next. Kain knew he had helped them, and now, he, too, would end in the abyss. "Oh, God," she repeated, and then she realised who she was appealing to. There was no God but Kain. And Kain was a cruel God, who was unlikely to take pity on anyone, and who now seemed to crave the blood of his own sons above all else. She walked backwards from the edge of the tower, shaking her head, trembling.
"No," she heard herself whisper, "no, take this back. I want to go back!" She was halted by Rainas, who looked at her, his face a puzzle of emotions.
"Come," he said, and she followed him down the spiralling stairs. A small crowd was gathered at the gate, all looked up to a stern-looking figure who stood halfway up a flight of stairs so he could be seen by all.
"No one is going anywhere," he said loudly. "Our Master has ordered me to keep you here and I will do so, until we hear word from him or from the Sanctuary. Whatever happens, you will answer to me. Lord Melchiah has left me in charge and I will not tolerate stupidity!"
Anger flared in Adoile's chest. Stupidity? Her clansmen had given their lives for their Lord, that was not stupidity. She wrestled to the front of the crowd.
"Open the gate!" she demanded. The man stared at her angrily. "Your Master does not command me, and neither do you," she shouted, unafraid. "Open the gate!"
Clearly, he could see she was right, for at his gesture, the gate started to creak open. She slipped through, and started to run down the cheerless, sunlit road. She was not sure what she expected to be able to do, but she could not simply sit there and wait any longer. She would know.
.
...
.
She did not catch up to Lord Melchiah and the messenger. They left her far behind, for the sun bothered her greatly and she had to shelter and rest in every dark corner she came across. She hurried past Darstein castle, which had been her home since she'd been raised. It seemed dark and forbidding now, even in the daylight. Its magnificence could no longer make her feel pride; it was not hers to be proud of. She moved on, blindly stumbling over the hills and valleys that led, eventually, to the Sanctuary. The gardens in front of the palace were deserted. She hurried through the main gate to find solace in the shade of the gatehouse. Her throat was parched, her skin was burning and she felt weak with hunger. When her eyes adjusted, after some time, to the darkness, she was surprised to see there was no one in sight. It was daytime, but surely, someone ought to keep watch?
She glanced up the stairs towards Kain's quarters, but she knew he would not be there. She continued her way into the small courtyard. That, too, was deserted. The ponds on either side of the path did not so much as ripple. Was everyone in the throneroom? She hurried to the other side of the courtyard and tried the door. It was not locked. Again, she met no one, even in these broad hallways, and when she listened at the threshold of the throneroom, there was only silence. The doors were slightly ajar, and she pushed them open with a courage born from dispair. What else was she to do?
Kain was not here. Her companions were -- what was left of them. Horror threatened to turn her stomach when she looked around, taking in the gory tableau slowly, for she could not bear seeing everything at once. There was surprisingly little blood, but their dead, broken bodies were scattered around like carelessly discarded laundry. The flashbolts had clearly missed their mark; some had not even been shot and still sat, gleaming golden, on the giant crossbows. One of the broad pillars bearing the clan symbols was blackened and indistinct, and one of the corpses was charred beyond recognition. She walked slowly, carefully, as though she were treading on their bones with every step. They were one short, and she knew that it was Axel who was missing. She knew where they were, now, too. Death was too good for their traitorous leader.
In the centre of the room was Kainsken, or Baldwin, though that mattered little now that he was dead. The corpse was on its back, its limbs spread out in odd angles. He had a deep, black-edged wound in the centre of his chest, and dark traces ran from it, like fracture lines, through his skin. She realised they were his bloodvessels, black and swollen.
She knelt down at his side, and swept his soft white hair out of his face. His eyes were wide open, his face frozen in an expression of eternal shock. She winced. She reached out to close his eyes, but the dry and brittle orbs crumbled beneath her fingers, and she jerked her hand back. A small, keening noise escaped her throat.
Desperately, she whispered his name. He stared at her from black, empty sockets and a dry sob shook her tender frame. His fist was still clenched, she noticed, and soon she saw why. The ring. Raziel's signet ring, given to him years ago as a token of the Master's favour, was still on his finger. She reached out to take it. His skin felt dry and brittle, like autumn leaves, and his finger broke off when she tried to bend it back. There was no blood, just dry, black flesh. She pocketed the ring and turned away, tears running down her face. She had seen death before, but never had she encountered something as bloodless and pathetically fragile as this. As this thing that used to be Kainsken.
She wandered around aimlessly, thinking, she ought to burn the bodies. It was their tradition, and it allowed the souls free passage to the world beyond. She found the white-haired twin on the edge of the marble dais, cut clean in two from his left shoulder to his right hip. He showed the same swollen veins in his skin, and looked equally brittle. She realised, finally, what it was that had left them so empty and frail. There was no need to burn these bodies. Their souls were already gone.
The other twin was not far away, badly burned, as if his flashbolt had gone off prematurely. His flesh was blackened and burned away, but part of his face still remained. She realised with a jolt that his eyes were still burning brightly. He was still there.
"Hengest?" she asked. "Horsa?" She could never remember which was which. And he could not tell her now, could not hear her. He was probably not even aware that she was there. He was beyond help. The lower half of his body was little more than charcoalled bone. Yet he remained, his soul stubbornly holding on as long as there was still a body to hold on to. She knew what she had to do.
She grabbed the sword of the other twin, and with al the strength she could muster, stabbed it between his ribs. Breaking open the ribcage was not as easy as she'd expected, and she struggled to turn the sword, or use it as a lever, little grunts escaping her lips that sounded increasingly mad and desperate. Finally, she had wrenched a hole large enough to put her hand through. Her fingers closed around the heart, and she ripped it free. Slowly, the light in the twin's eyes faded, then died.
She held the heart in both hands and closed her eyes, trying to calm her frenzied thoughts. A giggle was crawling around in her stomach, fighting to get free. She was exhausted, and hungry, and she knew that she could easily lose herself in hysterics, if she would alow it. She struggled to maintain control; she had no idea what she would do if she let a bloodfever take her now, and she did not want to know. Just then, the door opened.
Kain!
But it wasn't Kain. It was one of his servants, a tall and brawny man who did not immediately spot her as she was in the shadow of one of the broad pillars. He mumbled to himself.
"God damned mess." He tapped his foot against one of the bodies, which caused the skin to flake off, leaving a dark wound with fraying edges. He looked around. Soon enough his eyes found Adoile, who had not moved. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, more surprised than angered.
"Paying my last respects," Adoile said, too weary to be afraid. He would kill her now, or capture her, and present her as a trophy to his Lord. Either way, she didn't care anymore. She could try to run, but what was the point? Where was she going?
But he did not kill her. Perhaps he, too, had seen enough of death. "Get out," he hissed, and she left, the massive, empty hallways echoing behind her with the shuffle of her footsteps.
Author's Notes!
I'm not sure about this. This story feels like a drab and ill-fitting dress prettied by gold wire, which doesn't conceal it's basic lack of quality. Hmmm... Tell me if you agree with this analysis. Or tell me anything else, really.
Questions: (Please thank you for answering very much bows)
Who do you feel for most in this chapter? Adoile? Kainsken? The twins? Rainas? Too many characters!
Does it make sense that she goes a little mad?
Does it make sense that they burn the bodies of their dead, or did that jar with what you know of Nosgoth's vampires? My boyfriend thinks it jars, I'm not sure.
Reviewer Responses:
Varyssa: I was counting everyone. Remember, the entire clan has to go. Still taking bets on that cookie contest...
Smoke: It is a bit short, yeah, originally this way tacked to the previous chapter as one big one. Felt it was better to separate them. Baldwin was never very good with a sword. And he's up against Kain. I mean, you know... Have you seen him in Defiance?
I was afraid the 'Raziel' at the end might seem pathetic. Glad to see you both like it. I think I like it too.
Dawn found Adoile still on top of the watchtower, her body draped limply over the low wall, watching, waiting. She shielded her eyes against the sun, and did not mind that that was not enough. She welcomed the blinding pain, it was the first thing she was aware of feeling in hours.
"Child," a voice behind her said, not unkindly. "Come, you must rest."
"I do not wish to rest," she said, and turned around. She was still blinded, and she felt tears running down her cheek. She could smell the man in front of her, it was a fleshy smell, as of well-drained meat.
"They're not coming back, child," he said gently.
"My name is Adoile," she said.
"I am Rainas," he answered. Her sight returned, slowly. The sickly morning light coloured him yellow, he was tall and gangly and dressed in very common clothes. Most of the Melchahim were, though they wore gold like it was as cheap as tin.
"Did you know him?" she asked, her voice an ethereal whisper that threatened to break. It pained her to say his name. It pained her even to think it.
"I met Lord Raziel once or twice," Rainas said, "but -- no, I did not really know him."
She turned away from him, back to the sun, but it had grown too bright and she recoiled into the shade behind the crenellation, so full of grief and loathing that she could hardly bear to be inside her own body.
"You loved him," Rainas said calmly. She did not answer. "And now he is gone," he continued, "and you cannot imagine ever smiling again. Everything you enjoyed about life has lost its meaning, everything you might do do is pointless and absurd, because he is no longer there."
She turned around to him, enraged. How could a stranger pretend to know her so well, how dare he name her heart!
"We all know the pain of loss, my child -- Adoile," he corrected himself. "All must face it, sooner or later, unless they die first."
She bowed her head in shame. She should have realised he was not talking about her alone. "I would it were so," she said mournfully. "I would I could take his place. I would gladly burn for a thousand years, just to know that he still lived!"
He slowly walked up and stood beside her, looking out over the wasteland that was his home, the softening darkness fled from it like startled birds. In the light of day, it looked dead and dry, as if the lifegiving blood had been drained from the land itself. Adoile found herself staring at his feet. They were dirty, the claws cracked and crumbling. Up the length of one of his calves was a gash, the blackened edges of the wound held together with crooked stitches. It might have shocked her, or disgusted her, if she was still capable of those feelings.
"But it is not so," he said. "And little can be gained by wishing things were different than they were, or wondering why. Those thoughts will lead you nowhere, except to the realisation that what happened, happened, and nothing else. It could not, and cannot be helped. You will come to accept this, in time."
He was talking about himself. These words did not apply to her. The distraction was surprisingly welcome. "Who did you lose?" she asked, looking up at his long, slightly grimy face.
"My son," he said, "my eldest."
She nodded. The eldest son was often the first in favour. She still remembered how Raziel had grieved when they lost Konrad, his deputy, and eldest of the Razelim. But Raziel had been the eldest son of his sire, too, and what kind of monster was Kain that he had --
That he could --
She did not finish these thoughts. She did not want to think about it again, she did not want to think about him. But the monster's image forced itself onto her aching mind, his face, the way he looked at her when she had met him, long ago. She had reached out and touched him, in awe of his power, his alien beauty...
The memory chilled her to the darkest core of her heart.
.
"Someone's coming," Rainas said flatly. She jumped up and looked out at the road. The figure was still far away, a dark shadow in the distance.
"Who is it?" she asked. Rainas did not know yet, or at least, he did not answer. The figure drew closer, walking with haste, it seemed. She shielded her eyes against the sun, and finally thought she could discern the colours the man was wearing. She wiped a pained tear from her eyes and looked again. It was unmistakable. Red.
"One of Kain's men," Rainas commented and she nodded. Of course, Kain, too, wore red, and so did the Sanctuary guards. But what did that mean?
Rainas shouted something to the guards below. Adoile got to her feet but he stopped her from going down.
"This is not your business," he said.
"But I want to know what happened," she protested.
"Kain is still alive," he said, gesturing at the nearing messenger. "That means your kinsmen are dead."
She turned away again, to the road and the lone figure. He was right, of course. She should have realised. Stupid girl, she thought. She should not be surprised, not even disappointed. They never truly stood a chance. New tears squeezed themselves into her eyes. Baldwin, the twins, Axel, Jules... all dead, all gone. And how many more, before this was truly over? What would be the next sickening act in this perverse, senseless drama?
Kain's man was welcomed into the gate, and taken deeper into the city. All seemed quiet, but Adoile could hear, even on top of the tower, the anxiety spreading through the streets like a swarm of bees. The Melchahim met in doorways, and whispered questions to each other that none could answer. Finally, the city gate swung open below her once more. Two men came out; Kain's guard and Melchiah.
Lord Melchiah walked proudly, his back straight, his steps unfaltering. But when they were some distance away from the gate, he turned, and looked over his shoulder for a long moment, as if in regret. As if saying goodbye.
"Oh, God," Adoile gasped. He was next. Kain knew he had helped them, and now, he, too, would end in the abyss. "Oh, God," she repeated, and then she realised who she was appealing to. There was no God but Kain. And Kain was a cruel God, who was unlikely to take pity on anyone, and who now seemed to crave the blood of his own sons above all else. She walked backwards from the edge of the tower, shaking her head, trembling.
"No," she heard herself whisper, "no, take this back. I want to go back!" She was halted by Rainas, who looked at her, his face a puzzle of emotions.
"Come," he said, and she followed him down the spiralling stairs. A small crowd was gathered at the gate, all looked up to a stern-looking figure who stood halfway up a flight of stairs so he could be seen by all.
"No one is going anywhere," he said loudly. "Our Master has ordered me to keep you here and I will do so, until we hear word from him or from the Sanctuary. Whatever happens, you will answer to me. Lord Melchiah has left me in charge and I will not tolerate stupidity!"
Anger flared in Adoile's chest. Stupidity? Her clansmen had given their lives for their Lord, that was not stupidity. She wrestled to the front of the crowd.
"Open the gate!" she demanded. The man stared at her angrily. "Your Master does not command me, and neither do you," she shouted, unafraid. "Open the gate!"
Clearly, he could see she was right, for at his gesture, the gate started to creak open. She slipped through, and started to run down the cheerless, sunlit road. She was not sure what she expected to be able to do, but she could not simply sit there and wait any longer. She would know.
.
.
She did not catch up to Lord Melchiah and the messenger. They left her far behind, for the sun bothered her greatly and she had to shelter and rest in every dark corner she came across. She hurried past Darstein castle, which had been her home since she'd been raised. It seemed dark and forbidding now, even in the daylight. Its magnificence could no longer make her feel pride; it was not hers to be proud of. She moved on, blindly stumbling over the hills and valleys that led, eventually, to the Sanctuary. The gardens in front of the palace were deserted. She hurried through the main gate to find solace in the shade of the gatehouse. Her throat was parched, her skin was burning and she felt weak with hunger. When her eyes adjusted, after some time, to the darkness, she was surprised to see there was no one in sight. It was daytime, but surely, someone ought to keep watch?
She glanced up the stairs towards Kain's quarters, but she knew he would not be there. She continued her way into the small courtyard. That, too, was deserted. The ponds on either side of the path did not so much as ripple. Was everyone in the throneroom? She hurried to the other side of the courtyard and tried the door. It was not locked. Again, she met no one, even in these broad hallways, and when she listened at the threshold of the throneroom, there was only silence. The doors were slightly ajar, and she pushed them open with a courage born from dispair. What else was she to do?
Kain was not here. Her companions were -- what was left of them. Horror threatened to turn her stomach when she looked around, taking in the gory tableau slowly, for she could not bear seeing everything at once. There was surprisingly little blood, but their dead, broken bodies were scattered around like carelessly discarded laundry. The flashbolts had clearly missed their mark; some had not even been shot and still sat, gleaming golden, on the giant crossbows. One of the broad pillars bearing the clan symbols was blackened and indistinct, and one of the corpses was charred beyond recognition. She walked slowly, carefully, as though she were treading on their bones with every step. They were one short, and she knew that it was Axel who was missing. She knew where they were, now, too. Death was too good for their traitorous leader.
In the centre of the room was Kainsken, or Baldwin, though that mattered little now that he was dead. The corpse was on its back, its limbs spread out in odd angles. He had a deep, black-edged wound in the centre of his chest, and dark traces ran from it, like fracture lines, through his skin. She realised they were his bloodvessels, black and swollen.
She knelt down at his side, and swept his soft white hair out of his face. His eyes were wide open, his face frozen in an expression of eternal shock. She winced. She reached out to close his eyes, but the dry and brittle orbs crumbled beneath her fingers, and she jerked her hand back. A small, keening noise escaped her throat.
Desperately, she whispered his name. He stared at her from black, empty sockets and a dry sob shook her tender frame. His fist was still clenched, she noticed, and soon she saw why. The ring. Raziel's signet ring, given to him years ago as a token of the Master's favour, was still on his finger. She reached out to take it. His skin felt dry and brittle, like autumn leaves, and his finger broke off when she tried to bend it back. There was no blood, just dry, black flesh. She pocketed the ring and turned away, tears running down her face. She had seen death before, but never had she encountered something as bloodless and pathetically fragile as this. As this thing that used to be Kainsken.
She wandered around aimlessly, thinking, she ought to burn the bodies. It was their tradition, and it allowed the souls free passage to the world beyond. She found the white-haired twin on the edge of the marble dais, cut clean in two from his left shoulder to his right hip. He showed the same swollen veins in his skin, and looked equally brittle. She realised, finally, what it was that had left them so empty and frail. There was no need to burn these bodies. Their souls were already gone.
The other twin was not far away, badly burned, as if his flashbolt had gone off prematurely. His flesh was blackened and burned away, but part of his face still remained. She realised with a jolt that his eyes were still burning brightly. He was still there.
"Hengest?" she asked. "Horsa?" She could never remember which was which. And he could not tell her now, could not hear her. He was probably not even aware that she was there. He was beyond help. The lower half of his body was little more than charcoalled bone. Yet he remained, his soul stubbornly holding on as long as there was still a body to hold on to. She knew what she had to do.
She grabbed the sword of the other twin, and with al the strength she could muster, stabbed it between his ribs. Breaking open the ribcage was not as easy as she'd expected, and she struggled to turn the sword, or use it as a lever, little grunts escaping her lips that sounded increasingly mad and desperate. Finally, she had wrenched a hole large enough to put her hand through. Her fingers closed around the heart, and she ripped it free. Slowly, the light in the twin's eyes faded, then died.
She held the heart in both hands and closed her eyes, trying to calm her frenzied thoughts. A giggle was crawling around in her stomach, fighting to get free. She was exhausted, and hungry, and she knew that she could easily lose herself in hysterics, if she would alow it. She struggled to maintain control; she had no idea what she would do if she let a bloodfever take her now, and she did not want to know. Just then, the door opened.
Kain!
But it wasn't Kain. It was one of his servants, a tall and brawny man who did not immediately spot her as she was in the shadow of one of the broad pillars. He mumbled to himself.
"God damned mess." He tapped his foot against one of the bodies, which caused the skin to flake off, leaving a dark wound with fraying edges. He looked around. Soon enough his eyes found Adoile, who had not moved. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, more surprised than angered.
"Paying my last respects," Adoile said, too weary to be afraid. He would kill her now, or capture her, and present her as a trophy to his Lord. Either way, she didn't care anymore. She could try to run, but what was the point? Where was she going?
But he did not kill her. Perhaps he, too, had seen enough of death. "Get out," he hissed, and she left, the massive, empty hallways echoing behind her with the shuffle of her footsteps.
Author's Notes!
I'm not sure about this. This story feels like a drab and ill-fitting dress prettied by gold wire, which doesn't conceal it's basic lack of quality. Hmmm... Tell me if you agree with this analysis. Or tell me anything else, really.
Questions: (Please thank you for answering very much bows)
Who do you feel for most in this chapter? Adoile? Kainsken? The twins? Rainas? Too many characters!
Does it make sense that she goes a little mad?
Does it make sense that they burn the bodies of their dead, or did that jar with what you know of Nosgoth's vampires? My boyfriend thinks it jars, I'm not sure.
Reviewer Responses:
Varyssa: I was counting everyone. Remember, the entire clan has to go. Still taking bets on that cookie contest...
Smoke: It is a bit short, yeah, originally this way tacked to the previous chapter as one big one. Felt it was better to separate them. Baldwin was never very good with a sword. And he's up against Kain. I mean, you know... Have you seen him in Defiance?
I was afraid the 'Raziel' at the end might seem pathetic. Glad to see you both like it. I think I like it too.