Redux Six

...warmer and warmer, the days were getting unseasonably warmer. The melting snow turned the surrounding land into a big, muddy marsh.. The only place unaffected was the mountains and the Citadel, but Moebius couldn't be certain about that. It had been more than thirty years since his 'grand exit' of the Citadel and he hadn't desired to return since. He didn't think he would be exactly welcomed with open arms. Besides, he had too much to do to go back 'home'.

"No! Please don't!" the youthful looking female vampire begged, trying to crawl away. "I swear it! I won't drink blood any longer! Please, lord!"

Her words were lost on him. He had done this for thirty years and had grown hardened against any such pleas. Not that they had ever caused him to reconsider. He used to take the time out to explain why he did what he did to his foes, if he had the luxury. Now he didn't even bother. The result was the same regardless and he grew tired of 'the speech'. Let God explain, if He would.

With a grunt of effort, he thrust the spear into her and twisted, making sure to miss her heart. With the help of some younger recruits, he mounted the spear into the ground, letting her dangle helplessly in the air. Perhaps in a few days they would take her head. He was more concerned about getting the message across to the vermin rather than any real exterminations. Stepping back to admire his handiwork, he wiped his bloodstained hands on his trousers and sighed. He knew he was being watched and like everything else lately, it tired him.

"Must you do that?" a deep, cryptic voice called out from behind him. "Just kill her if you must. Let it end easily."

Moebius turned around to greet the Mortanius. The Necromancer had not aged well. Constantly shrouded in a dark robe and lingering persistently in the shadows, he had begun to resemble the corpses over which he had mastery.

"What's the reason for the visit, friend?" Moebius asked as pleasantly as he could. Years ago Mortanius had left him, saying that there was always another way to achieve revenge other than genocide. He claimed he was disgusted with Moebius' zeal and methods and of his gruesome organization- the Serafan. Then he called the Timestreamer 'not so subtle' and Moebius had all but thrown him out of their lodgings. He was surprised to see him now, so unceremoniously, after all this time.

"I was concerned for you," Mortanius replied.

"Why?" Moebius asked after barking an order to a clueless initiate.

"Vorador left the Citadel and has built for himself a manor in the Termogent Forest. No one was certain why, but it might be to better eliminate the threat of...your efforts."

"Left the Citadel?" Moebius scoffed, "Left his beloved Sire? I'm surprised. Thank you, Mortanius, but I must ask you where you found your information."

"Janos told me."

The fury was unmistakable in the Timestreamer's eyes. He drew in a deep breath and after too long a time, exhaled.

"You spoke with the cretin?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"He is your nemesis, not mine," Mortanius replied. "Besides, he came to me. I didn't seek him out. Also, you might care to know that no one lives in the Citadel anymore. It is completely abandoned. Janos has taken up residence in his old ancestral aerie."

"Where is that?" the Timestreamer asked over the din of vampiric shrieking.

"Near Uschtenheim. I have seen it and it is quite impressive.. It's unaccessible to any without wings." Mortanius reported gravely.

"What else did he tell you?" Moebius growled.

"That he wishes for you to come home safely."

The silence and tension were nearly tangible as the two Guardians stood, staring each other down. Finally, it was broken by a quiet muttering from the Necromancer, accompanied by a slight hand gesture. Knowing what was to come, Moebius braced himself, drawing his sword. A shrill scream behind him made him jump unexpectedly. He turned and saw the helpless vampire girl, now surrounded by a pair of shadowy wraiths. Effortlessly, they lifted her off of the pike and with a crackle of eldritch energy, snapped her spine and threw her to the ground. As quietly as they came, they disappeared. She stared up at Moebius with glassy, dead eyes that begged no more.

"There was a time when I would have died for you, my first and only friend. The fact that you thought I was going to cast the curse upon you tells me I can stay with you no longer. " Mortanius said quietly, "Farewell, Moebius." Expressionlessly, he turned and vanished into the dense copse of trees.

Moebius stood silently amidst the carnage he had wrought, feeling for the first time in years the pang of deep loss. Numbly, he turned back to the cadet who had been trying to get his attention for a few minutes.

"Sir, we found a whole nest of the blaggards in a little hovel to the east," he said breathlessly, hopping from one foot to the other.

"So kill them..." Moebius said irritably.

"Well, sir, we would have already, but they've got hostages," the cadet supplied.

"How many?"

"Not certain, sir. About seven or eight. All children, it appears."

Sighing with the certainty that this was going to end up an absolute mess, he gave his orders.

"Get me the scepter and lead the way."

The hovel stood deep in the shadows of the ancient forest, a decrepit and pathetic thing. Surrounding it was a group of furious but hapless hunters. As he strode imperiously to the one looking the least asinine, he couldn't help but feel inadequate. Here was the Serafan, a force of angry, brave but altogether untrained and foolish peasants who were poorly armed and ready to jump at anything that rustled in the bushes, whether it be vampire or fearsome bunny.

"What's the situation?"

"Uhhhhhhh..." the soldier said for much too long for Moebius' nerves. "Well, the three vampires are in that house and they got the children. They ain't coming out neither..."

"Where are the children's parents?" asked Moebius.

"Over there. I think that's them." the soldier said, gulped and pointed to a pair of mutilated bodies laying haphazardly in the brush.

"Oh for God's sake...!"

Thoroughly agitated, Moebius pushed aside the dumbly staring soldiers who were guarding the doorway. Holding forth the strange scepter, he entered with his sword drawn. All the soldiers saw was the glow of the violet orb permeating the darkness and then the door shut behind him. There was a moment's uneasy silence and then the most horrible and agonized screams ripped through the quiet forest. A final sharp cry rang out and then, slowly, the door opened again. Out staggered Moebius, covered in blood. He had dropped his sword and leaned heavily against the now dim staff. Blood was flowing freely from his limp arm. Following him were seven boys, all wide eyed and quaking, save one. He wasn't even the biggest or toughest looking of the bunch, but Moebius could tell he was the leader anyway. He sighed and dropped the staff, clutching at the wound. A few years ago, three vampires would have never posed a challenge, let alone bodily harm. He was getting old...

"Your parents are dead, I'm afraid," Moebius said bluntly. He slumped down against the wall of the hut and tried to ignore the sniffling and sobbing of the children. He was both pleased and alarmed to see the same unafraid boy not crying with the rest of them.

"They weren't our parents. We're not brothers, either," the dark haired boy said, more to the other children rather than Moebius.

"I see. So what's to become of you now?" Moebius asked, allowing one of the cadets tend to his injury.

"They were friends of our families. They were going to take us to Avernus, to put us in a monastery, while our fathers went to find medicine for the sickness that's been spreading."

"I see. Do you want to become monks still?" he questioned the boy.

"No."

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes!" they all answered eagerly. Moebius ordered one of the idle hunters to retrieve rations for the boys and something potent for himself. God help those fools if there wasn't any more ale...

After he saw that everyone was settled in with their paltry meals, he resumed talking to the boys and told them of the Serafan and its purpose. This seemed to amaze them and cease their tears. Soon they had asked a thousand questions before Moebius could get a word in edgewise.

"You realize your fathers probably aren't coming back," Moebius said carefully, "We swept through Avernus recently. It...wasn't good."

"We were going to run away anyway. They were going to sell us to some weird gypsies, I think," the stoic boy stated frankly and without bitterness.

"That's no good," Moebius laughed, "What is your name, brave little man?"

"Raziel."

At this, a strange feeling came over Moebius. This happened only rarely but he was experienced enough to know that when it came, you obeyed it and held on as long as the ride lasted. He began to laugh wildly, a bit more loudly than he intended.

"Raziel, eh? 'Secret of God'..." he said, catching his breath. "By my soul, how wonderful!" At this, he burst again into laughter and didn't know why. He didn't mind so much though. Fate was in progress...