Investigations and Spying

Gadorian peered through the coming sunlight as Izael rode off away from the vampire-worshipper. Convulsing with laughter, he wondered who had so misinformed Lent, who surely thought himself an authority on all-things-vampire. Yes, the sword had its roots with the Serioli chief, and yes, Izael's roots went the same path as the sword. But the weapon could be just as lethal against vampire or human, hylden or demon, depending on how adeptly the user manipulated the powers within it. The sword refused, however, to harm any of those who had helped to forge it...
Gadorian followed Izael, careful to remain hidden. He clutched the rune on his chest, whose effulgence shone so brightly it would blind a man were the glow not hidden by the thick cloak. Soon, the boy would learn the truth about the sword and his own heritage.

Lent was outside the gates of Freeport at last. The city served to bridge the gap between the east and west sides of Nosgoth, which was divided by the Black Forest of Termogent. Once allowing free trade from the richness of Meridian to all areas of Nosgoth, now this city belonged to the Sarafan. All trade was taxed, and then taxed again once arrived the merchant arrived at the destination, and like Meridian itself, Freeport strived to purge vampires from its streets.
Lent joined up with a large caravan making its way through the gates. Surprising enough, the guards were "allowing" people to pass through with little questioning. Riders and carriages passed through with little difficulty, it was as if the borders were open once again. "This might be easier than I thought," Lent said, but he spoke too soon.
Suddenly the opening of the gate turned a dark green and a figure was thrown from it and fell on the ground. "Vampire!" shouted a guard, and in an instant they were upon him. The vampire was a fledgling, female. "She can't be more than 50 years old," Lent thought. "What's happening?" Lent asked a member of the caravan. "Cursed Vampires," a man said, "The Sarafan brought these magic glyph gates which stop only vampires. They've put them throughout Freeport and Meridian to keep the vampire menace away."
Lent watched as the Sarafan made short work of the vampire, she was impaled and left hanging as a trophy. Lent turned his wagon around and left. Clearly he could not enter the city and would have to ride directly to Meridian. This did not please Lent at all, with this carriage he'd have to go around the forest, and even worse he had to back through his tracks. This was dangerous indeed, but obviously he had no choice.
Lent whipped the reigns and the cart sped up. Suddenly he realized a patrol of Sarafan were following him. They had seen him turn around and had a few "unhealthy" questions to ask. He sped the horse up as fast as it would go, and then attached his two axes by the hilt.
Moments later the Sarafan were upon him. A guard quickly tried to board the carriage, but he lost his hand and fell off his horse. Lent then kicked an empty barrel off the carriage and tripped a horse. Its rider flew off and hit a tree while a second horse tripped and its rider fell as well. Two Sarafan were left, and they both approach on either side of the carriage. Lent stood in the middle, deflecting their sword swings with his axe/staff. He jabbed at one guard, catching his neck in between his blades, twisted his axes and broke the guard's neck. The final guard boarded the carriage as it raced down the dirt road. They exchanged swings and blows until Lent cut the guard's coin purse with an upstroke. The guard instinctively tried to grab it and Lent kicked him off the cart and caught the coins. "Finally," Lent said, "I'm able to afford a meal." He sat back down and rode off, not slowing down for a moment.

Novanus watched Izael through the eyes of a mouse at the side of the road. How strange, he thought, that apart from he, the boy was the only descendant of the Serioli left. The eyes of the small rodent moved to the sword Izael carried. Novanus remembered well the forging of the sword. Had it not been he who had forged the blade with the help and blood of his masters? Had it not been he who had lain the first enchantments upon it? And was it not he, who had foreseen the betrayal of his old chief Astical?
Astical had been a young, proud and somewhat rash leader to the tribe. Novanus could still clearly see in his mind Astical's face peering out of his tent, his short stubby beard filled with bits of food and probably crawling with lice. The forging of the Sword had produced a great deal of interest in the tribe, especially from Astical who coveted it to the point that he dared to defy his vampire lords. It was at this point that Novanus foresaw his chief's betrayal and had tried to warn the Ancients of Astical's treachery. It cost him his life. Astical tried to kill Novanus, but the ancients had saved him gifting him with vampirism. Astical's fate was far worse. Novanus shuddered to think of the place where his spirit had been sent. Even he, the victim of Astical's greed and treachery, would not have considered sending the man's soul to Nerayan.

With a start, Novanus came to his senses. For a few moments he had thought he

had felt the presence of a vampire nearly as old as he. But no, the mind that had brushed so briefly past his had gone, leaving no trace. Within a moment he was in the air, watching the form of young Izael below.

Izael rode faster. He was only 5 hours away from Meridian, and he wanted to get there before dawn. He had sat on the saddle for 10 hours now and was in serious need of rest. His rations had run out, and now the only thing left to drink was that so-called "holy water" (even Izael could sense that it was ordinary water). He was glad he had bought it, actually so glad he wouldn't bother to get that poor cheater who had sold this water arrested. However, ever since he had parted ways with that low-life Izael had had a feeling he was being followed. There wasn't much he could do about it, though. He hoped it was just his imagination, and, if it'd turn out it wasn't, he could get to Meridian in time.

Novanus watched Izael with interest from the skies above. "Holy Water," HA, what nonsense. Novanus allowed himself a small chuckle. A new problem faced Novanus now. With approaching Meridian came the problem of gaining entry to the city itself. The accursed Sarafan and their Glyph gates were likely to cause a problem. Novanus would have to find an alternate way into the city other than the one Izael would take.

Izael's relief was unimaginable when he finally stood in front of the mighty walls of Meridian. However, it was well past midnight and the gates were closed. He had to sleep outdoors for this one final night. He quickly found shelter in the shadow of a nearby cliff. He lit up a fire, tied his horse and got ready sleep.

Lessa was nearly to the city she had seen shining in the distance through the dark trees of Termogent forest. She had been to the old mansion of Vorador looking for her master's sire, but the place had long since been deserted. She stopped her great black mount, it was a demon horse of magic long forgotten, but the human cattle would only see a great black horse...one to keep well clear of.
As she came nearer to the city, she glimpsed a fire and horses tied by a cliff. As she neared, she made out a form of a human sleeping. She was not hungry but decided she would play with this one to find out the things she would know. Dismounting, she walked towards the fire, and over her shoulder she said, "Seth stay there." The horse nodded as if in agreement and stood as still as a statue in the moonlight. Lessa walked over to the man and sat the other side of the fire to wait until he awoke...

Gadorian landed near the outskirts of Meridian. Clearly, this was to be the stage for the next act of the play he had become caught in. Gadorian could sense his wayward Sarafan was nearby, but he decided to let the priest come to him. He would need Izael's help to get into the city. Who better to sneak in a vampire than a Sarafan? Gadorian focused his energies to contact Izael through the whisper, a skill normally restricted between vampires. The bond between the two, written in blood and heralded through the ages, served as an adequate conduit for Gadorian's telepathy. "Get me into Meridian, and I will tell you everything..."

Izael awoke from his slumber, panting heavily. Had his dream been real? Was that vampire really expecting HIM to smuggle it into Meridian? What would he do know? It was then Izael spotted the woman. She was perfect, the most beautiful thing Izael had ever seen, so beautiful that Izael forgot to grab his sword for a second. Then he came to his senses. Taking his sword, Izael rose to his feet. He could only hope that lady wasn't a vampire. He didn't want to be left defenseless. "W-who are you?" he managed to ask.

Novanus watched the young vampire with interest. Sensing a degree of malice, Novanus forced himself to control his temper. "Ask your questions young one, but do not get any ideas about this young mortal. One wrong step child and your ashes will be blown in the wind. Understood?" The female vampire looked around as she was made aware of another presence. She was very attractive, Novanus had to admit, even without the glamour she was casting on the eyes of Izael. She seemed familiar to him for some reason and the image Vorador's dilapidated mansion flashed through her mind. He had met her before in a time long ago.
"If you really wish to know about the world as it is today come to me and I shall endeavor to give you all the answers you need. But heed my advice; it is not safe for one such as you to walk in the open as you are." Novanus allowed the Vampire to see him sitting in the tree above the now bewildered Izael. With a mischievous laugh he jumped down from the tree to land at its base and lean against the trunk of the tree. His eyes widened in disbelief as he recognized the vampire. "Lessa?" he said in disbelief.

Great, two vampires. Two. Vampires. VAMPIRES. Two against one. Izael was left with no choices but to die honorably. There were two vampires heading for Meridian. They had arrived at the same time he had. He could never warn Meridian in time. He yelled out, "DIE, FOUL CREATURES!"

With a negligent glance, Novanus locked Izael's muscles, leaving him immobile like a statue. "Honestly, Izael, you must learn to show a little restraint in these situations. On this intimate level I would have at least expected you to ask our names before you tried to dismember us both." Izael's eyes flashed from left to right showing the horror he was feeling at being so helpless. "Izael, I shall release you but know this, try to attack us again and you will wind up exactly the way you are now, or worse." Izael stumbled to the floor, his muscles released from their constraint
Novanus turned to Lessa, "So you've awakened, what an interesting time to choose." Novanus laughed gleefully. "Oh this will be interesting." Lessa regarded this vampire with interest, he was somehow known to her, and then...
"Novanus?...You survived, I would have thought you long dead by now, you always liked to take chances, Vorador said it would be the death of you." Lessa laughed at the memory of this one. "Are you trying to get into Meridian, using a Sarafan no less? You always did have a twisted sense of humor, but surely you can get in without him, or has your power dwindled that much?" Lessa walked over to Novanus to look at him more clearly. He was much the same as she remembered him but there was more a sense of power about him now. "No, it's not that. I sense more power in you than the last time we met, so tell me why do you use this one?..."

Izael looked at the two vampires who were locked in conversation. He looked at the gates of Meridian. He might make it. He jumped to his feet and made a run for it, yelling for guards at the same time. This time it was Lessa's turn to stop the mortal. He froze, but too late - the guards had heard his cry. Whistling for her horse, she jumped astride him then turned to Novanus.
"Looks like we'll have to postpone this reunion, I will meet you in the old place, the sewers, they were being built when I was but newly fledged but I know where the oldest part is, meet me there," said Lessa. Then, turning her horse to the gate, she called over her shoulder, "That is, if you can get in." With that, she spurned her horse to full gallop towards the gate and...passed through the ward as if it was never there, disappearing into the dark streets.

Novanus watched smiling and then disappearing from mortal sight in a cloak of shadow. The impetuous Lessa and the terrified Izael had performed quite a show but to be fair it had accomplished nothing. The theatrics of riding straight through the ward gate were all well and good, but Novanus had seen her quite clearly jump over the city walls on her damned demonic horse. She would have known that her psychic projection would have been of no use against Novanus' evolved mental abilities.
The Sewers. Novanus felt so pleased to be returning there. To think that he, the once high priest of the ancients, had been forced to dwell in that place, to think that the descendents of that proud race had fallen so far. No more. He would be dammed before he would return to living in such squalor. Novanus focused on the other side of the ward gate, seized control of the Sarafan guard on the other side of it and deactivated the Ward gate. Then he walked right past the now recuperating Izael and the group of Sarafan protecting him. Novanus allowed Izael to see him flash a smile at him. "You will be alright Izael, don't worry. I shall explain everything, soon." Izael looked at Novanus, scared as he realized he was hearing the words inside his head. The boy would be safe for the time being in their company.