Chapter Five
Over and done
A changing of seasons
The sun that ignited out feelings is down
. . .
Three. Days.
Three bloody days.
Raziel couldn't believe they were still travelling.
In the back of his mind, he knew they were going towards the mountains, that three days wasn't a long time at all to cover the distance they'd already covered. Rohan had agreed to give Raziel the reins at night, so that they could keep going even as he slept, and even though the wraith had had to stop to let the horses rest, they'd been making exceptional progress.
That didn't mean Raziel couldn't fume in his own head.
«I assure you, my Lord, that we'll reach Scarborough Fair before the end of the week.»
The human was so bloody annoying.
And Raziel was hungry.
He'd become good at ignoring that gnawing feeling at the mouth of an organ he didn't have anymore. He always went without feeding for as long as he could -not out of any kindness of his heart, but because the idea of nourishing the slimy squid that ruled the Underworld sickened him. He couldn't actually starve the thing, but he could give it a damned hard time, and by Janos Audron's still-beating heart, he would.
Janos Audron, yes. The vampire who somehow seemed to be tied to Nosgoth and Raziel more tightly than Kain ever would be, even as he lay dead in Vorador's candle-lit crypt. The one who'd apparently had a spouse, a woman who hadn't been there when Janos had been killed. Had she left him alone in his guardianship, he wondered, leaving him to die alone and forgotten at the hands of the Sarafan? Had she left after his death? And most importantly, what was her role in unveiling and rewriting Raziel's destiny, if she even had one?
And ignoring that hunger wasn't making it go away, was it? Poor Raziel, disillusioned and naïve, more fledgling now than he'd ever been-
«Are there no settlements between your town and Scarborough Fair?»
Rohan shrugged, the sound of the chariot's wooden wheels trembling behind them. Dark clouds were gathering at the line of the horizon, bringing sickening light and smell of ozone. The wind seemed alive with it and screamed in the branches and leaves of the trees.
«Not on the main road, my Lord, no. It is way too travelled by Moebius' soldiers for people to feel comfortable living near it. The closest is about a day off the road and into the forests.»
Frustrated, Raziel looked up at the darkening sky. He could smell the scent of the storm. It made a strange clenching feeling grow in his hollow chest. Rohan followed his gaze and Raziel saw sudden realization dawn on his face.
«The rain» he breathed. Raziel arched a blue eyebrow at him, wondering just what had popped into the human's head this time, until he remembered that the young man still believed him to be of vampiric nature: Rohan was convinced that the rain would melt his remaining flesh off his bones.
«There is a place where we can find shelter» the human said. «It is... well, I am not really sure what it is. It is a half home, half shop not too far off the road. The woman who owns it is a merchant, she doesn't make any distinction between humans and vampires as long as she gets paid. She will accommodate us for the duration of the storm.»
«Is she one of your Lady's... associates?»
«I do not think so, sir. Ejite is a free woman. She never expressed any particular favour either towards Moebius nor towards Lady Graves. Her spouse is the coin and her children are her goods.»
Raziel, unseen, rolled his eyes at the human's words. But he wasn't about to carelessly throw that opportunity away. A single soul in an otherwise deserted land was a rare occurrence. He had tested this body's limits before -he was never one to be caught unprepared- and he knew how long he could go without sustenance before the fragile flesh dissolved, plunging him into the cold blue-green Spectral Realm and its hallucinogenic distortions. Somehow, Raziel could never quite recall how the Underworld looked, but he knew its sounds by heart: the low raspy growls of the soul-eaters, their harsh breathing, their raucous panting, and the screams. Those screams that seemed to exude from the walls, desperate and half-mad, mirror to what he, too, would one day become if his destiny wasn't somehow altered. The screams were his greatest fear, his only weakness in a world that fed on those like a vampire from a bleeding wound. He wondered if those screams were at fault for the Elder God's madness -if the thought of hearing those desperate cries for eternity had driven him crazy. Had the squid even had another form before he'd become the Elder God? Had he been a vampire, Raziel wondered, or had he been human in nature? Or had he been a member of that other race, the enemies of the Ancients, and the banishment of his race had been the reason he now wanted all the vampires to disappear?
But he was digressing. His thoughts were scattered.
How long could he still go before he had to feed?
When was the last time he'd eaten?
Vorador's mansion, that was when, and that had been six days ago. He was pushing his limits, soon his blue flesh would begin to fall off his bones. That left him with two options, and Raziel already knew which he was going to take, because he needed the damn priest.
The woman it was, then.
«How long before we reach this woman's place?»
Rohan lifted his head, momentarily taking his eyes off the road. He studied the position of the pale sun, worrying his bottom lip with yellowed teeth, then looked at Raziel once more. «At the pace we're going, I'd say still half a day. If we push the horses, three hours. We should be able to get there before the storm gets us, it still appears to be far away.»
The wraith didn't need to consider Rohan's human's naivety regarding Raziel's nature was, unsurprisingly, incredibly useful. He wasn't going to waste it by letting him know that rain wouldn't do Raziel any harm.
«Very well. Get moving then, human.»
Rohan nodded at him and whipped the air with the reins, the sound making the horses trot faster with a neigh. The powerful hooves beat the ground with a dry confused noise, lifting a cloud of whitish dust behind them. They didn't break into a run, as that would have made them tire out way too soon, but the pace had nonetheless considerably quickened.
«If I may, my Lord... are you of Lady Nerissa's own kind?»
The wraith levelled him with a glare. He'd already been asked this question and he'd thought he'd made it clear it was his own business. Rohan's enthusiasm withered a little, but it didn't die out, and Raziel took a deep breath.
Why he was bearing with this human was beyond him.
«What do you mean, priest?»
Rohan perked up again at that. For a moment, Raziel thought he looked like an excited, tiny dog pup. Pity that the wraith absolutely loathed dogs.
«Well... your... wings, my Lord. I have never seen a vampire with wings apart from the Lady. Are you an Ancient like her?»
Raziel couldn't help it.
He laughed.
It was a sick sound, unnatural and disturbing, deep and mocking. Him, an Ancient? What would this kid think, were he to know Raziel had killed the last one of them -and probably the one vampire in Nosgoth who wouldn't try to kill you on sight? Janos had been too pure for Nosgoth's broken land, and look at what that had earned him. Kindness got you killed and kind people were usually brainless cretins who got what they deserved, Raziel had always known that, but Janos... he hadn't deserved that. And now he was dead.
«No, boy, I'm not an Ancient» he said once the broken laughter had died down. «These tattered remains and the cowl are all I've got left of my old life. My sire... the one who created me... ripped them from my back mere hours after I got them, beneath the gaze of my brethren.»
Rohan winced, a grimace working its way on his face. He glanced once more at the blue rags of Raziel's wings.
«What are you then, if not an Ancient?»
What was he?
A monster. A vampire. A soul-eater. The Elder God's angel of death. Kain's rebel pawn.
«A broken creature with no future other than eternal imprisonement. A small insect fighting fruitlessly against his fate» Raziel said slowly. «A fate your Lady might be able to rewrite.»
Rohan looked at him for another long moment, before finally taking his eyes off his tattered figure and focusing on the road once more. He was silent for a long time, enough that Raziel believed the well of his questions had finally dried up. And it had, in a way, only not in the way Raziel expected.
«There was something my mother used to say» the priest said very softly after that long pause. «We know that there is no free will. After all, what difference do our little decisions make when there is always a more powerful person pulling the strings? And we can't cut them, we can't escape them, they'll be there forever until we die. But fate... fate does not exist, my Lord. Fate does not exist once we embrace our condition... once we lucidly accept it.»
«Sounds like a contorted concept.»
«Well, to be honest, when she first said these things, mother had long since lost her mind. I do think there is a teaching somewhere in her words, though.»
«Even if there was, I do not see what difference it would make. Lucid acceptance or blind ignorance... what difference is there, if the result is the same?»
Rohan looked at him again. «All the difference in the world, my Lord» he said gravelly.
Ejite did indeed welcome them in her little shop, and though she was a rather peculiar creature, Raziel's curiosity about humans had long since burnt out. He accepted her strange physique with a slight nod, a bit shocked that she let him in without questioning his own torn up appearance. He left the mindless chatter to Rohan, more interested in looking around the admittedly weird shop: particular objects and tomes were scattered around in some sort of careless tidiness, covering every available surface and even the floor. Plants and pots dangled from the low wooden ceiling, almost completely obscuring the light streaming in from the already small windows. Bottles and vials littered the shelves and a transparent glass sphere occupied the centre of the table.
A fortune teller, then. Raziel didn't hold his scoff back.
The woman looked at him disdainfully with her lone eye. The other was covered by a dark red eyepatch, which did nothing to hide the terrible burn that had consumed half her face. She followed his blank gaze to the sphere, then chuckled.
«Ejite has no idea how to use that» she said with a deformed grin. «It's a smokescreen for those who like that sort of thing. Ejite sees not the future.»
Raziel had as little respect for fortune tellers as he did for liars and tricksters. Had he had his jaw, his contempt would probably have shown. As it was, he simply arched an eyebrow and Ejite smiled at him, nasty and ugly.
«Ejite has rooms if you have the coin» she said then, turning back towards Rohan. The young man nodded and began rummaging in he leather bag he carried with him at all times, from which he produced a small pouch.
«How much?» he asked, and Ejite grinned.
«Seventeen kronor».
Raziel's eyebrows shot upwards. Rohan expressed what he was thinking without him needing to speak.
«That's a theft! Seventeen kronor for two rooms?!»
«Seventeen kronor for one room» Ejite sing-songed. «Two is twenty-five. This is an isolated place, and Ejite has to eat somehow.»
Rohan looked at Raziel again, a silent question in his eyes, and the wraith sighed. «Just take one room, boy. I'll probably not sleep anyway.»
Rohan grumbled under his breath, but handed Ejite the coins without protest. She took one and bit it, satisfied when it didn't bend, and took the rest with a smile on her deformed mouth. «Ejite will show you the room if you follow her».
They did.
Hours later, it was the middle of the night and the storm was raging outside of the little shop.
Raziel wasn't sleeping.
He'd gotten used to it after a while. As a vampire, he'd needed the rest now and again, with some sort of regularity. After he'd been confined to this limbo of an existence, slumber tended to evade him. Mostly because, when he closed his eyes, all he could see were the cold hues of the Spectral Realm and the large watching eyes of the monster that ruled there. He had no particular wish to see those, and thus sleep came with difficulty.
Rohan was sleeping peacefully on the floor, curled on the covers and pillows Raziel hadn't needed. The wraith moved in silence, quiet and slow like a snake in a field, clamping down on the urge to pierce the boy's chest with his talons and extract his screaming soul. He slipped out of their room and into the shadows, looking for the woman who'd welcomed them. The place was dark and smelled a little moldy despite being kept in excellent conditions, considering it was isolated in the wild. The floorboards creaked when Raziel stepped on them, but in the fierce howling of the wind and the battering of the rain on the roof and walls, the small mousy sound was lost. Ejite certainly didn't hear it, even if she, too, was awake. She only saw him when he quietly walked down the stairs, approaching the fluffy carpet she was sitting on as she cut flowers and leaves from one of the largest plants in the shop. She wasn't wearing her eyepatch. A large charred hole was left where her other eye had once been.
«Ejite is armed» she chirped happily. «You cannot sleep?» she asked then, completely unbothered, adding leaves to the growing pile at her side. Raziel watched with some sort of fascination as she cut, the rythmic, precise snipping motions like a soft background lullaby. He never answered her question, but Ejite didn't seem to care.
«These leaves are used to make a special brand of tea» she began, smiling that ugly smile of hers. «Ejite first lets them dry in the sun and once they're completely desiccated, she grounds them into powder. Mixed with tea leaves and other ingredients, they make for a powerful hallucinogen.»
She gathered all of the leaves and flowers, standing up to walk to the small wooden table in the far corner of the room. She grabbed a rag and proceeded to carefully wrap them in dirty white fabric.
«The plants that produce this kind of flowers are rare in this region of Nosgoth» Ejite said. «Mademoiselle Noir in Scarborough Fair is fond of them. You will want to give these to her once you arrive, you might end up in her good graces.»
«They might also be poisonous.»
Ejite grinned at him. «They might, Ejite agrees.»
She handed him the bundle of cloth. Raziel took it.
«Why are you up, monster?»
She used the term without malice, simply because she lacked a better word. Raziel didn't begrudge her, sensing the utter lack of ill intent.
When had he begun to view humans as more than sentient cattle?
He'd come here to kill her.
«I do not require as much sleep as others» he said slowly. «It seemed stupid to lay in bed and stare at the ceiling.»
Ejite hummed in agreement, studying him with her single eye. Raziel's gaze was inevitably attracted to the knotted scar on the other half of her face and the woman smiled, a bit sad.
«Fire» she said, running her fingers down her ruined cheek. «Don't ever cross Mademoiselle Noir, blue monster. See what happens to those who do.»
Raziel burned with the desire to ask her what she'd done to deserve such a harsh punishment. He tilted his head to the side in silent question, but though Ejite understood what he was asking, she refused to give an answer.
«The man who's leading me to Scarborough Fair knows little about its leader. Tell me more about her.»
«Hmm. Ejite should charge for this service, but she finds she wishes to talk. You do look like an interesting enough mind. See, it is rather monotonous around here and Ejite craves tales from the outside. Deal?»
«We have a deal» Raziel said, waiting for her to turn around. Ejite didn't. Human, but not stupid.
It didn't matter. Enough chit-chat.
She was expecting something, but not that fast and not that strong. She stabbed him in the head with that fucking silver dagger, but Raziel was quick -her head was in his grasp before she could utter a word. He twisted it sharply to the side, hearing it snap even as the wind outside howled. Ejite sagged in his arms as the light went out in that silly little head of hers, mouth falling open in a silent deathly scream.
It was from her mouth that Raziel sucked her soul. It kicked and screeched and tasted acrid with surprise and shock and as Raziel absorbed it, it left him with a lingering sense of bitterness.
He pulled the dagger from his head as he looked around the shop, finally finding thepotted plant under which she'd stashed her money. He counted seventeen golden coins, put the rest back under the colourful plant, and went back to the lifeless corpse on the floor. The bundle of cloth in which she'd wrapped the leaves and flowers had fallen on the floor, spilling its contents everywhere. Raziel pondered throwing everything into the fire, then, on a whim, collected them and stuck them into his ribcage for the moment.
He brought the cadaver back upstairs and laid it on the late shop-keeper's bed, arranging it so that she looked as if she were sleeping, then went back to the room he shared with Rohan.
This time, darkness came and swept him under.
The following morning, he woke before dawn and before Rohan. He shook the priest awake and together they made their way out of the shop and back to their small wagon.
Well-rested and nicely fed, the horses looked eager to get moving once more, and Rohan gladly took the reins. He still hadn't said a word, eyeing Raziel warily, as if sensing that something was amiss.
It wasn't until many hours later that he spoke.
«What happened to Ejite?» he whispered.
In lieu of an answer, Raziel pulled out the seventeen coins and placed them in the priest's trembling hand.
The rest of the journey was made in silence, until, at last, they made one last turn and saw how the mountains split in a dark valley.
As a Sarafan first, and a son of Kain later, Raziel had seen a great many things, even if he didn't remember all of them in detail. He'd seen his Clan rise from dirt to unbelievable heights, had fought countless battles for his Lord and Sire, had looked the Reaper in the face and had danced with him in the world of the undead.
But he'd never seen anything like this.
Nothing like this desolate land whose only feature was that dark, ominous labyrinth, battered by the winds as thunder roared in the distance. And at the centre of that neverending maze, pulsing like Janos' heart had pulsed in his last moments of life, lay the nest of the fire Raziel had been looking for. Throbbing like an open wound, Scarborough Fair awaited, its core burning with a hatred born from smouldering coals and grown into heaving, infernal flames.
. . .
Authoress' note:
WHEW! Finally done, and it was a PAIN. It's horrible, I know, but what can you do? I did my best.
I do not own in any shape or form the characters featured in this story -this also applies to the story's image cover and to the quotes at the beginning of each chapter. I only own my OCs and the story's plot.
Comments please!
Have a nice day/night and love Legacy of Kain!