Rigor Mortis
Chapter 10: The Serioli's Heirloom
When I awoke, the day was nearly over. The sun was glowing like a mad red eye sinking into the horizon and shadows had begun to crawl over the tundra. Already, I felt uneasy. Something felt...wrong. I flung the blankets away from me and crawled out of Moebius' bed. Even though I had slept soundly for a few hours, I felt more haggard than before. On my way out of his cramped room, I stumbled over the little stone cauldron my friend had brought out and spilled water on a pile of papers. I tried my best to sop it up, but they were beyond salvaging. I picked them up, and laid them to dry on his desk and that was when I actually looked at them. It was a diagram of some sort of mechanism, I hazarded, only because it seemed to be made of geometrical planes and what looked like gears and levers. Judging from the endless scribbles of half-solved formula and hypotheses, he had been working on it for some time now. On top of it all were sentence fragments, written hastily in ink over pencil. Some of them made no sense and some of them were frighteningly vague. One I remember the most was the phrase, "The end comes beyond chaos. (exponential variables)3x harmonixers...OZ OZ OZ" The final symbol 'OZ' was strange to me and though I did not know what it meant, I felt uneasy just looking at it. I would have to ask him about it later.
I closed the door behind me and begun to prowl the hallways for signs of my friend. Since night was nearly upon the Citadel, the large crystals set in the walls were beginning to glow with a soft luminescence. I always liked the eerie, but calming feeling the effect gave the wide pathways. Since classes were over for the day, I saw very few people as I wandered. I thought I saw Avelice, standing at a darkened corner, smiling at me from behind her veil of red hair, but when I turned to look, she was gone. Regardless of whether it was real or an illusion, I could not help but smile to myself. Moebius had said that he was wanting to talk to Janos so I guessed that he might still be in the Ancient's chamber. If not, then maybe Janos would know where he went off to, at least. When I approached the corridor leading to his chambers, however, I heard a terrible voice screaming in violent rage and could hardly believe it belonged to my friend.
"Hate me! Seek vengeance! Do something, you suffering little saint! You beast! You monster!" I heard him shriek madly. Suddenly, Vorador ran past me without a glance in my direction and flung open the doors. He let out a terrifying roar and I heard a thick thud come from within the chamber as though something heavy had hit the floor.
"Say the word now Sire, and I will dispose of him!" I heard Vorador cry. The sheer ferocity in his voice made me shake with fear.
"No Vorador..." I heard Janos say weakly. "He is a Guardian and Nosgoth needs him. He...was not wrong to do this...this is really my fault,"
"This is nonsense!" Vorador cried, "While Nosgoth may need a Timestreamer, it will only be harmed by this...this...murderer! If he dies, another will be born to take his place. Hopefully, that one will be better adjusted."
"No!" Janos shouted and I was surprised to hear him raise his voice. "You will not touch him! He is under my protection from here on!"
"Sire..."
"Do not question me, child. Do as I say," Janos commanded.
"Very well...oh, Sire. Your poor wings...let me help you," Vorador cooed.
"No. Take him to Mortanius. He can help heal his wounds," Janos denied.
The door slammed back open and out marched Vorador, with an unconscious and inert Moebius slung unceremoniously over his broad shoulder. Though I couldn't get a clear view, I could tell that my friend had sustained massive wounds. He was absolutely covered in blood. Vorador noticed me for the first time. He glared down at me, with all the fury of hell burning in those green eyes and let out a faint hiss.
"Follow me," he growled. I was too afraid not to oblige. I followed him down familiar hallways to end up back at Moebius' room. Vorador flung open the door and nearly threw him upon his bed. I could now see how badly he was hurt. A large gash had been opened on his throat and was flowing freely. The back of his head, too, was oozing from somewhere, matting his hair and staining the pillow. Vorador sneered one last time and then turned to leave.
"Wait! What am I supposed to do? Shouldn't you get a doctor?" I asked frantically.
"You're a Necromancer. Use your Fleshcrafting," he replied.
"I don't even know what that is!" I admitted. He sighed and knelt down by the bed. He motioned for me to watch closely.
"I know I'm going to regret this one day," he said, "Listen. All you have to do is concentrate on the areas that have been damaged. Feel for the dead tissue,"
"Do I need to touch it?" I asked.
"If it helps," he replied. Tentatively I reached down to feel the ghastly gash in his neck. I dipped my fingers into the glistening blood and noticed with revulsion how more would pump out to the rhythm of his weakening pulse. I was surprised to feel a sort of ethereal tug, as though some sort of essence of his was reacting to my touch. Vorador must've noticed the glint in my eye, because he nodded with grim satisfaction.
"Now just will the ends together. Do you feel the dead portions straining for one another?" he instructed. I watched in amazement as the skin began to grow over the wound, like ice over a puddle of water. Before I knew it, the wound had closed and only drying blood remained as any proof that there had ever been an injury. I felt the back of his skull and winced when I felt the warmth of the blood. I concentrated again, and with much greater speed than with his throat, I healed the injury. I turned to face Vorador and ask him what had happened with Janos, but he had left without a sound.
With the water that remained in the small cauldron, I tried to clean away the remaining blood that was on Moebius' face and neck. He remained unconscious through it and I grew worried. I had heard that those who had underwent horrible head injuries sometimes never awakened. I was determined to see him awake and well again, so I resolved to stay in his room with him. As I sat at his desk, I could not help but stare at his now-soggy papers. OZ. What did that mean? I then thought back to how he had conjured up the image of my mother's death and how he seemed to know so much about that which was hidden. I wondered about the time he had defended me against the undead mob in Vassurbunde and how quickly he seemed to move...and how he had come back from the dead...the look on his face...I never wanted to see that expression on a man ever again. I realized I knew so little about him, when he knew so much about me...
I must've drifted off to sleep because when I awakened, it was night. My neck was stiff from sitting and sleeping in such a hunched over position at his desk I stretched and looked over at my friend. He was still sleeping but when I stood up to stretch some more, his eyes opened and he groaned.
"Moebius! What happened? Vorador wouldn't tell me anything and I was so scared..." I said, sounding more frantic than I meant. He sat up in bed, felt the back of his head and winced.
"It's time to go..." he said slowly.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"We can't stay here any longer. It's not safe," he said and stood. He wavered a bit and so he sat back down on the bed.
"What happened in there?" I asked again.
"I overheard Vorador and Janos talking about what they were going to do with us," Moebius explained, "They want to turn us into vampires, Mortanius."
"What? Why?" I demanded. "Are you sure?" Moebius gave me a look that asked me if I was really that simple and pointed to the large scar on his neck.
"You were bitten?" I asked with horror. He nodded gravely.
"Er...how exactly did it heal up so quickly?" he asked me.
"Fleshcrafting!" I announced proudly.
"Very good. I think it'll be useful to us in the future. For now, though, we have to be careful," Moebius said cryptically, "They won't try it again soon, but we don't have much time."
"What are you talking about?" I demanded. He was beginning to scare me.
"The vampires had this planned all along. They would take us in, and when we reached the proper age, they'd turn us. When I was talking to Janos, he decided he was going to go ahead and try it with me. He attacked me, Mortanius," he explained. I could not fathom the genteel Ancient being so vulgar as to just lunge at someone. Shouldn't he...I don't know... at least ask permission first? I shook my head, trying to decide what to believe. Of course my friend was not lying...after all, I had healed his terrible wounds. I just could not believe that was all to the story.
"I managed to fight him off and that's when Vorador stepped in and knocked me out," Moebius continued, "Now, I know they won't try to do it again soon but we have to be ready at all times." He went to stand up again but I tried to get him to sit back down. He pushed me away, swaying on his feet.
"You're not entirely well," I warned.
"I will stand or I will fall," he growled. "We need to buy some time. We should try to pass this off as base human fear of immortality. We are willing to become vampires, now that we've had proper time to think about it...but just not yet. Better that the entire Circle is gathered before any big changes are made...yes, that sounds reasonable. Of course, I have some heartfelt apologizing to do to Janos...he'll understand. It's Vorador I'm worried about..."
"So you want us to lie?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.
"Of course," he replied with a snap, "Unless you'd rather join the ranks of the blood addicts,"
"But why do they want to turn us in the first place?" I asked.
"So we'll see things their way and govern Nosgoth their way!" he explained exasperatedly, "When the haze of the bloodcurse and the fog of many years clouds our minds, of course we'll forget what it is to be human! The Circle will make decisions that benefit the vampires; let the humans be damned! It happened once before and it'll happen again!"
"But the Circle only governs the Pillars...we don't have any political power," I said, reeling from this insane conversation.
"The Pillars are directly tied to Nosgoth itself," Moebius stated, "Those who have the Pillars have Nosgoth. It's really quite simple,"
"Who's to say that the vampires are unfit to lead Nosgoth?" I asked, "Nothing horrible has happened so far." A mad light flared in his eyes when I finished my statement and I involuntarily took a step away from him. It felt as if he could see through into my very soul and did not like what he saw.
"Who's to say? Who's to say? God, that's who!" he hissed. "Come with me, and I'll tell you everything," I followed him out of his room, and down twisting hallways and down endless staircases. I was not very familiar with this part of the Citadel, but I knew we were close to the place where Vorador, Janos and I discovered the first room of the massacre that happened so many months ago.
On our way to whatever destination he had in mind for us, he began to impart to me a most gruesome story.
"There was a tribe of people long ago known as the Serioli. Though they were merely humans, they possessed great skill with magic, blacksmithing, architecture, and the arts. They lived high up in the mountains, even further up than this, in a valley that always seemed like it was in early spring. The little rivers always had ice flowing along in them, the air was crisp and the cherry trees were always in bloom. The Serioli liked to keep to themselves, preferring to practice their arts and further perfecting their professions, but they would sometimes come down from their lofty homes to aid their brothers the Vampires in whatever castle or temple they were making. They also were called upon to aid in the crafting of magical artifacts. Everything the Serioli touched was perfection. You can see this in the elemental shrines and the many aeries, even this Citadel. But always, they would return to their mountain home. The Vampires would come along sometimes and would be received with great honor, but they would always be asked to return home after a time.
Soon, the vampires grew tired of this secretiveness, and demanded to be allowed to live amongst the Serioli. As always, they were received with all due respect and for a time it was good, for the Serioli remembered that which other human tribes had forgotten and they knew that the Vampire could not help his nature. Soon, however, there was dissent due to one single event. A Vampire had tried to feed off of an unwilling young girl but it was not the girl who came out bloody and bruised. It was the art of 'Si'ra Fanin'; roughly translated it means 'thwarting big brother'. It was a very old tradition comprised of certain magic and fighting techniques that allowed a human to successfully fend off a vampire. The Vampires grew furious that humans were able to do such things, though they did not prosecute the girl who had defended herself. Instead, they went back to their home and after adequate time had passed, they sent a force large enough to crush the Serioli, Si'ra Fanin or no!
A mighty general was placed in charge of leading the attack, General Barthas, and under the banner of the Red Bear, he attacked the valley of the Serioli. In a decisive battle, Barthas slew the only capable military leader that the Serioli could produce. All was thought to be lost. However, the Serioli began to beat back the oncoming aggressors and decimated their forces using guerilla tactics and sheer dumb luck. It seemed as though the Serioli were guessing Barthas' every move. The odds were impossible but it was true; the Serioli were winning the fight. In the final battle, Barthas was dealt a mortal blow; but before he died, he sent out a special telepathic call, known to the Vampires as a Whisper. He called out to his sire, the grand Aloysius, first-born of Vorador, first born of Janos, who was the head of the Audron Empire. He begged for his sire to come and avenge him; to kill the one with the strange crest on his brow, the one who had dealt the finishing blow to him and his army...namely, me,"
My eyes widened and I could not speak. I had heard of the Battle of the Red Bear but I knew there were some discrepancies in his story. It had taken place more than fifteen years ago. If Moebius had indeed been the one who defeated Barthas, then he would have been only seven years old! Not only that, but the Audrons claimed that they had not sent Barthas, that it was an independent order given to him by Aloysius. I decided to say nothing and let him continue, incredulous though I was.
"Before Aloysius arrived, the Audron family sent a negotiator to try and prevent any further bloodshed. Her name was Jadwiga and though she was young compared to her brothers, she showed much skill in handling delicate matters such as this. She refused to see the elders of the Serioli, wanting instead to see the one about whom Barthas had Whispered. Needless to say, I had attained an odd status amongst the elders as some sort of seer and it was left to me to work with her during the negotiations. Together, after many long nights here in the Citadel, we came up with the Great Covenant which was the shining document that would lead human and Vampire to a glorious new future. It allowed for the acquiring of blood for the Vampires to live, and prevented the loss of human life. In turn, we could not use the magical artifacts we had crafted that would render vampires helpless, the thing that had allowed us to win the battle, along with many other just laws. And for a time, it was good...but it fell apart, as all things do. Jadwiga had initiated a secret blood trade, right here in the Citadel, made up of all of humanity's leftovers...the poor, the stupid, the diseased and the criminals. She explained it to me when I finally discovered it, as though she was being merciful to these people. As though a fledgling who couldn't control himself deserved to live among humans! When I refused to accept this, she gave me an ultimatum. Join her or die. She would even turn me into a vampire, for she didn't want to ever be without me...she said it so sweetly as she held the sword to my throat..."
Here his storytelling grew erractic as I heard deep anger echo in his voice.
"I ran. I ran to the sealed chamber that for ages, had been closed and condemned for reasons to old for humans to remember. I entered, I hid...and in that chamber, God came to me and told me that I was not wrong and what Jadwiga had done was evil in His sight. He was the Wheel of Fate, the Hub of Nosgoth, and he maintained the flow of souls in order to preserve Nosgoth. He would purify the souls of the dead and send them to be reborn in a circle of life and death, ever churning...but the souls of the vampires were making it all stagnant, since they were immortal and anchored to their bodies. It was my duty to end this stagnation...and so He delivered me to destroy them all, fifteen years later. I don't know how it happened...it only felt like an instant, but there I was and fifteen years had passed...all the Serioli were gone and the Vampires had lost all pretext of alliance...but I wasn't alone. God had given me His blessing and a relic of my people, a remnant of Si'ra Fanin, and I went in the Citadel and I killed them all with a clear heart...mostly,"
We had arrived to a small antechamber that was empty of nearly all furniture and completely of people. Dust choked the area and only moth eaten tapestries served to decorate the cold, drafty room. I shivered. I still was mulling over the story Moebius had told me. It all seemed so incredible, but it made sense in a way. After all, I had seen the refugees of the blood trade myself...but the lapse of fifteen years seemed too strange...but I had seen and done stranger things myself. I watched, stunned and confused as he pulled down a tapestry and pressed against the stone wall behind it. To my amazement, his hand seemed to pass right through and when he pulled it out again, he was clutching a sort of scepter. It was comprised of a red-scaled snake that was coiled loosely around a simple staff. In the snake's grotesquely wide open mouth was a large violet orb that seemed to glow and shimmer with a sinister light. He brandished it with a mad, zealous smile and patted me on the shoulder.
"This will be the instrument of our triumph against the vampire plague. This will allow us to cleanse the Wheel of Fate and deliver Nosgoth into the hands of those who are able to appreciate God's providence," he whispered, staring into the crystal orb.
"But what you're planning is going to result in the deaths of thousands!" I cried, jerking away from his touch.
"Well," he sighed, "All great movements require a few martyrs."
Funfact: The Serioli are actually mentioned briefly in the LoK series. Start up a new game of Blood Omen and listen to Kain give the description of his Iron Sword. You'll see.