AN UPSTART INHERITANCE, XIII -- KAIN
He rematerialised on top of the gatehouse, away from the smell of blood and death. A fresh, cool wind blew in from the west, lifting the red banners to fly proudly, pointlessly. The Soul Reaver was burning brightly in his right hand, and he gave it a knowing sneer before putting it up on his back. He looked down at the remains of clan Raziel, broken and scattered across their own courtyard. A deep sigh rumbled in his chest. The entire affair seemed intensely distasteful now and he turned away from the sight as he would turn away from a drained corpse. He faced the wind and let it blow his hair back. The western sky was black as ink, and he thought of Melchiah cradling his wounds in the crags and tunnels of of his blasted land. It was just as well, it gave him a reason not to be here tonight. Melchiah's loyalty to him only just bested his love of Raziel, if it ever did.
"For Kain!" He turned slowly, his eyes widened with silent outrage. "For Kain!" It rang out again, from all around Darstein castle. It was the Dumahim, who had surrounded the place against any who might escape. They had barely been needed, but still they decried their victory loudly and proud. Kain's sharp eyes picked out Dumah himself, some ways outside the gate, his polearm raised in salute. "For Kain!" It was chilling. Once, eons ago it seemed, the cry had filled him with pride, but now? He snarled, disgusted. Dumah considered this a victory?
A bloodcurdling scream rang up from the courtyard beneath him and he turned around again glancing down. It was Zephon, now devouring his own brood, it seemed. Kain shook his head. Zephon's insanity would only deepen from here, he knew. As Rahab would grow more melancholy and seclude himself more and more, as Melchiah's flesh would finally revolt against its master and turn slowly into a lumbering hulk of barely living meat.
Melchiah, an abomination, Rahab the recluse, and Turel, nothing more than a beast towards the end. He shook his head sadly. They were lost without Raziel. He had been the strong centre of the council, the core that held them all together. Without him, they were doomed to decay and corruption. No, he ought not try to fool himself. That fate would have befallen them with or without his eldest. The slow rot that had infected the land would finally claim its masters as well...
How tempting now to leave this place. To step through that portal and proceed to the time that really mattered: the moment his son would return.
If he did return. For could he be certain that he had not been lied to? Or had perhaps misread the signs? It chilled his heart to think of the many ways that he could fail. Such an enormous risk. The tiniest of chances, and for that minute spark of possibility he had sacrificed his eldest and dearest; Raziel...
The wind picked up, and chased a low layer of clouds past overhead. It revealed another layer, glowing with light from the unseen moon, illuminating the land in a cold and diffuse light. The land of Nosgoth, twisted and mauled by the hand of an artificial fate. Kain clenched his fist. Yes, the chance was slim, but it was a chance, a tiny glimmer of hope in the centuries of barrenness and mounting despair.
He glanced down one more time. Turel seemed to be trying to reason with the blood-crazed Zephon; he was holding him up by the throat and shaking him lightly. Kain chuckled. They would all serve their purpose, in the end. For now, they were of no interest to him. He folded one hand over the other and loosed himself into a cloud of bats. The dimmed moonlight reflected off their leathery wings as they moved away, until they were no more than a glimmer of movement in the darkness of the night.
He rematerialised on top of the gatehouse, away from the smell of blood and death. A fresh, cool wind blew in from the west, lifting the red banners to fly proudly, pointlessly. The Soul Reaver was burning brightly in his right hand, and he gave it a knowing sneer before putting it up on his back. He looked down at the remains of clan Raziel, broken and scattered across their own courtyard. A deep sigh rumbled in his chest. The entire affair seemed intensely distasteful now and he turned away from the sight as he would turn away from a drained corpse. He faced the wind and let it blow his hair back. The western sky was black as ink, and he thought of Melchiah cradling his wounds in the crags and tunnels of of his blasted land. It was just as well, it gave him a reason not to be here tonight. Melchiah's loyalty to him only just bested his love of Raziel, if it ever did.
"For Kain!" He turned slowly, his eyes widened with silent outrage. "For Kain!" It rang out again, from all around Darstein castle. It was the Dumahim, who had surrounded the place against any who might escape. They had barely been needed, but still they decried their victory loudly and proud. Kain's sharp eyes picked out Dumah himself, some ways outside the gate, his polearm raised in salute. "For Kain!" It was chilling. Once, eons ago it seemed, the cry had filled him with pride, but now? He snarled, disgusted. Dumah considered this a victory?
A bloodcurdling scream rang up from the courtyard beneath him and he turned around again glancing down. It was Zephon, now devouring his own brood, it seemed. Kain shook his head. Zephon's insanity would only deepen from here, he knew. As Rahab would grow more melancholy and seclude himself more and more, as Melchiah's flesh would finally revolt against its master and turn slowly into a lumbering hulk of barely living meat.
Melchiah, an abomination, Rahab the recluse, and Turel, nothing more than a beast towards the end. He shook his head sadly. They were lost without Raziel. He had been the strong centre of the council, the core that held them all together. Without him, they were doomed to decay and corruption. No, he ought not try to fool himself. That fate would have befallen them with or without his eldest. The slow rot that had infected the land would finally claim its masters as well...
How tempting now to leave this place. To step through that portal and proceed to the time that really mattered: the moment his son would return.
If he did return. For could he be certain that he had not been lied to? Or had perhaps misread the signs? It chilled his heart to think of the many ways that he could fail. Such an enormous risk. The tiniest of chances, and for that minute spark of possibility he had sacrificed his eldest and dearest; Raziel...
The wind picked up, and chased a low layer of clouds past overhead. It revealed another layer, glowing with light from the unseen moon, illuminating the land in a cold and diffuse light. The land of Nosgoth, twisted and mauled by the hand of an artificial fate. Kain clenched his fist. Yes, the chance was slim, but it was a chance, a tiny glimmer of hope in the centuries of barrenness and mounting despair.
He glanced down one more time. Turel seemed to be trying to reason with the blood-crazed Zephon; he was holding him up by the throat and shaking him lightly. Kain chuckled. They would all serve their purpose, in the end. For now, they were of no interest to him. He folded one hand over the other and loosed himself into a cloud of bats. The dimmed moonlight reflected off their leathery wings as they moved away, until they were no more than a glimmer of movement in the darkness of the night.