Update: Thank you to Georgette! Updated the text to remove the reference to Lyme disease. If you see any more anachronisms, do let me know. :)
Chapter III: The Deer
Three hours had passed since he had ascended the staircase...
…and Raze had still not returned with the deer.
Seated against the monastery door, Lucian was teaching himself a lesson in patience, tapping his left knee maniacally with a knife-handle and fiddling with a golden pocket-watch in his right hand. Almost four minutes had passed since he had last checked the time, an unyielding part of his brain always counting in silence. It was a strange habit, one he had developed over the centuries, so much so that he could not remember a day when he did not count since the death of…her. A coping mechanism, a friend had once called it.
Three minutes and forty seconds.
Lost in thought, he had almost forgotten the blade in his left hand, the watch-case held his attention so much. It was an exquisite piece of workmanship, the front and back engraved with a fearsome hawk, a long golden chain attaching it to the grey coat folded on the floor. Like the coat, he had already laid aside all his gentlemanly attire in preparation for the deer bleeding. His torso was bare, his lower half covered in a pair of ancient leather breeches scrounged up by Tanis. Allowing the watch to hang from the chain, he watched it turn slowly just shy of the sunlight. Always just shy of the sun, for there was no sense in letting it glint for far-off eyes to see.
Catching it in his palm abruptly, he pressed the clasp, eager as the watch opened with a sharp click, reading the time at a glance. 7:04 am. The minute hand continued to tick, tick, tick, just shy of the hour. He snapped it shut, allowing his thumb to run over the engraving again. He turned it over, almost gentle as he examined the precise imagery of the golden hunt. The original had been silver, but the watch-maker had been willing to refashion it from scratch after realising how taken Lucian was with the device. Twice he had visited the London shop just to observe it through the glass, and both times the watch-maker had been shocked when he would not touch the piece, not even to try it on. Only gold for the wealthy, the watch-maker had naïvely joked from behind the counter, writing up the order with wrinkled hands, young enough to be his great-grandson twelve times over.
He clicked the watch open again.
7:05 am.
Damn.
He should have paid the watch-maker to make it go faster. How long did it take to find a deer? It was the Hungarian countryside, for bloods' sake. Five steps in the forest and you tripped over a fawn.
Dropping the watch on his coat, he abandoned the knife and now leaned back on his palms, staring intently at the forest edge, scanning for movement. Raze had headed north, and more than likely would return from the same heading. The grounds were empty, the silence complete save for birds. The rain had stopped ages ago. Except for the entrance, all the inside doors were closed against the sun. He didn't need to see through walls to know Tanis had already removed his wrist from the bloodseer's teeth by now. No matter…she would get her blood soon enough.
If Raze ever returned.
Unable to resist, he glanced at the open watch again.
7:06 am.
Damn.
He had already prepared as much as could be prepared without the deer, and now there was nothing to do but wait. He hated waiting. There was probably an ancient book to flip through behind him, except he couldn't muster the required patience to focus on a page right now. He had the knives, the rope, the basin, the fire…all he needed was the damn deer. He picked up the knife and began tapping the seconds away, switching the blade from hand to hand.
Another minute passed...
Starting to flip the knife, he spread out on his back, grey eyes focused on the blade, the feel of cold stone pressing against his skin. Originally, he had waited in the dining room with Tanis and the bloodseer, but they proved to be ill company. He had merely pointed out that it had been several years since he had skinned anything and immediately, the vampire had started backing away as if he meant to practice. No sense of humour. As for the woman, all she did was lie there acting like a cadaver. Hardly good company. Tense, he continued to flip the knife...
...and then he smelled it.
Sharp adrenaline. The scent of sweat and shredded tobacco.
Immediately he sat up, catching the blade in the same movement and staring towards the forest.
Finally, he thought.
In the distance, the tiny figure of a man loped from the trees, the coveted deer hanging from his shoulders. The grounds were expansive between the forest edge and monastery compound, and yet within moments, Raze stood before him, grunting as he flipped the dead creature from his tall shoulder and onto the monastery step. He was breathing hard, bent over and leaning against the door frame with a hand on one knee, slowly catching his breath. Probably exhausted. They had not slept since the day before, and killing deer without drawing blood was not an easy task when one was tired. Staring up in complete and utter silence, Lucian managed to hold his tongue for almost three seconds…
"You seem winded, Raze…all that running." Unconsciously, his knife began to tap again, his quiet words cutting sharp through the air. "Are you planning to track the next one through its lifetime as well or should I consider this a fluke of nature?"
Raze's scent spiked in answer, his expression tightening into a dark thundercloud. Without so much as a word, the affronted man turned his back and headed for the forest a second time. As he accelerated to a run, his spine began to lengthen, every stride pumping him further and further from his human form.
Watching in stillness, Lucian remained seated until he saw Raze had reached the far end of the grounds, a full-fledged werewolf disappearing among the foliage, water rustling from the leaves in his wake. It was just as well. The man would hunt better with his anger fuelling him. Unfolding, he half-rose from the stone step and then crouched beside the dead animal, running a hand along the fur and briefly examining its condition, his grey eyes darting along its body. Quick and efficient in all of his work. By the markings, it was a purebred fallow hind, mottled with a brown coat. There was no obvious sign of disease, and the creature's neck had been broken so as not to leave a scent trail. Allowing his nails to grow by a slight margin, he began to comb through the soft fur, his fingers moving swiftly across the still form, searching for any sign of lice or parasites. Both could taint the blood, and tainted blood could kill during an awakening. His search found nothing. The body was warm, a healthy creature save for the broken neck.
Dead within the half hour.
Satisfied, he grasped the deer around its forelegs and hauled it onto his shoulders, the skinning knife still held in his right hand. Turning west, he steadily tramped down an overgrown pathway leading into the underbrush, sharp gravel and twigs pressing into his bare feet, the earth still wet from the rainfall. The fur of the deer nestled against his neck, but even with the small weight, he looked up, sunlight scattering through the tree-tops, forcing him to blink every time his eyes met the sun. The scenery was beyond breathtaking. Along his left side, the solid mountain rose at least three hundred feet through the air, the rocks covered in earth and seedlings growing from a perilous perch. There was a gentle wind smelling of lilac and birch, and already he could feel tiny hairs rising along his forearms, the air carrying a chill which hearkened the approaching cold weather. Every step reminded him of his own existence, a lycan walking alone and alive through nature, only the birds and the rare fox accompanying him in the far-off distance.
Unfortunately, it also reminded him of why Raze had taken so long to find the deer.
Unless trained, no animal would venture closer with the smell of a vampire infesting the grounds. So many reasons for why he should not have snapped at his subordinate. Yet criticism kept his pack on its feet rather than dead…
...as his mentor once said, he must never regret harsh words.
The path came to an abrupt end at a weathered stone archway. Ducking his head for a moment, Lucian stepped beneath the entrance into the remains of an old, uncultivated orchard. Almost two acres of land had once flourished upon these western monastery grounds, the apples and pears long since overrun by birch and alder trees; only the stone well of spring water remained intact. Stepping over roots, he made his way to a heavily shaded birch tree, focusing his attention on a wooden basin lying beneath one of the strongest branches. A length of rope hung directly above the basin, the coarse fibres forming a hangman's noose that wavered in the breeze. He paused, staring at the set-up for a moment. Perhaps the word 'basin' was a bit of a stretch. It was a trough more suited to watering horses than bathing the undead.
Reaching for the rope, he looped the hind legs of the deer into the noose, allowing the creature to hang vertically. The motion caused it to swing for a moment, but he steadied the animal, his right hand already moving forward with the blade, drawing a quick slice across the main artery. In seconds, gravity did its work, blood flowing smoothly from the deer's back-bone into the wooden vessel. It would be several more minutes before the veins were empty.
Laying the knife down momentarily, he wandered over to the old well and turned the windlass, drawing a wooden bucket from the depths and setting it on the stone ledge. Dipping his hand slickly in the water, he tasted it; freezing cold, the flavour of sharp rocks with a hint of musty earth. Still good. Taking a long swallow, some of the water dribbled down his neck and the cold sent a passing shiver down his back, his teeth drawing back into a quiet grin at the sensation. The notion of standing here, doing what was once a common chore from his past. All it needed was old Janus and a bevy of workers groaning over how many deer they would have to bleed for the morrow's feast. Though he was loath to admit it, he had enjoyed the work at the time and even now, there was a singular satisfaction at being alone with a hands-on task. Striding about the countryside with no thought other than the practical activity at hand.
The dripping began to slow behind him.
Soon, the flow had staunched completely and wiping his mouth with his forearm, Lucian left the bucket on the ledge again and turned back to the deer, reaching for his knife on the ground. Gently releasing the animal from the noose, he set it backside-down against the grass, edging his knife under the skin, cautious so as not to damage the meat. As he had told Tanis, it had been many years since he had last skinned a deer, but after centuries of doing it for vampires, he could gut this creature in his sleep. Within moments, the organs were laid aside, the chest cavity turned and drained of what little blood remained. All liquid went into the basin before he tackled the meat, his hands already stained red. Almost as a form of meditation, he began to carve through the deer, slicing cuts of venison from the loins, flank, legs, and rump before moving onto the shoulder and arm roasts. Every portion would feed them over the next day. Slicing and carving, the movement of the knife became an action of precision. Slicing and carving, he concentrated, single-mindedly covered in the scent of blood.
In the midst of his work, he was scarcely and yet clearly aware of Raze's steps approaching him from behind. He was aware of every sound, every nuance as the other lycan dropped the second beast at his feet; the cracking sound of a lycan changing his form and awaiting orders. Still carving, Lucian remained silent, but through the corner of his eye, he took note of the antlers, the broken neck of a young stag, its body strong and mirroring the colour of the doe's skin. With the faintest hint of lycan blood in the air, he knew this second prey had not been so easy to catch.
Slicing the last cut of meat from the body, he finally stood, knife in hand, his gaze travelling along the back of the second creature. The young stag that mirrored the dead doe. Apparently Raze had taken his criticism to heart, for the stag was in prime condition. There was enough blood and meat there to feed them for three days on top of the doe.
A true prize.
His eyes focused the source of the lycan blood scent.
Raze had received the creature's attack from the side, a sharp cut along the lycan's stomach muscle. It was already healing, but thoughtful, Lucian considered the presence of the wound, aware of the silence that suggested Raze was waiting for something. Praise. It was praise the lycan wanted. Another reminder of the lifelong responsibilities which no longer held appeal for him. As alpha, he must praise and rebuke the pack as he saw fit. He must keep them in line. He must lead them in their actions…
…and Raze had done very well over the past few days. Tired to the bone, the man had outshone himself in the hunt, and made sure they would need only the second deer.
"Well done," Lucian murmured, already turning back to the basin. A strong scent of satisfaction drifted from the other lycan's vicinity, but uncaring, Lucian moved on to other things. They would have to get rid of the first deer carcass to make way for the stag.
"Bury the bones," he ordered, kneeling by the stag and searching for any signs of disease. "…and keep it outside the orchard." If anyone chose to replant this acre within the decade, he'd save them the trouble of digging up a deer skeleton. Raze nodded and began gathering the bloody remains. There ought to be a shovel waiting for him by the stone archway.
Determined to finish within the hour, Lucian hung the stag, making the arterial incision and bleeding it into the same basin. Within ten minutes, he had cut the beast down, laying it on the ground, ready for gutting. To his surprise, just as he was starting the first cut, Raze returned from burying the other deer and crouched by the tree, his hand on the shovel as he waited for more orders. Apparently he had chosen to race against time in order to finish everything before Lucian did. He couldn't have buried those bones very deep. Expressionless, the gargantuan man had begun glancing at the sun, probably gauging how much time had passed since Lucian had started gutting. It was a subtle hint that now it was he that waited upon Lucian rather than the other way round. Perhaps the man had been at his back too long. He seemed to think that a few centuries granted one the right to take liberties with an alpha. Though of course, he would never go so far as to verbally accuse Lucian of being slow…
No, Raze was far too subtle for that.
"You know Raze, if you're that keen to see a fast gutting, I could demonstrate on that bleeding wound of yours," Lucian muttered, slicing a bit quicker through the skin. He was starting to feel tense. He couldn't stand the feeling of anyone waiting on him. Besides, he was gutting the stag as fast as humanly possible. Faster, being a lycan. Raze looking at the sun was merely…
…incitement.
From his position, Raze only stared back at him in passive amusement, the barest hint of a smile demonstrating why he among few could take the full brunt of Lucian's oftentimes prickly nature. As if to underline this fact, without saying a word, Raze again glanced at the sun, except this time, he raised a hand to shade his eyes.
Oh that was rich.
Now feeling extremely snappish, Lucian swallowed his tongue and concentrated on finishing the second deer. The quicker he finished here, the quicker they could start the Awakening. He sliced, gutted, and removed the organs, placing them aside. Turning the stag over, he proceeded to pour the remaining blood into the basin, bringing the surface level to just over half-full. Yet at this point he hesitated for a split-second…the stag still required carving. His hands were already covered in blood, and there was a sharp knife in his grip. Ten minutes was all he needed to get through the carcass…
…yet the object of their hunt had been blood, not meat.
So regardless of how easy it would be to finish the stag off, he had to stick with the plan and do things in order of importance. Raze could finish the carving.
Having made up his mind, he dropped the knife and stalked over to the well, his forearms stained red and his skin smelling of deer carcass. Two buckets were enough to cleanse him of the blood, but the smell would remain for at least another day. Shaking the water from himself, he returned to the birch tree and took a firm grip on one end of the basin. Leaving the shovel, Raze immediately grabbed the other end and waited for his signal.
Tipping was not an option…
…and if it did occur, Tanis would just have to come to terms with his imminent death. There wasn't enough patience in the world to bleed another stock of deer.
Nodding at Raze, Lucian slowly lifted the basin, keeping the blood level and starting to edge backwards. It should only take them a few minutes to get back to the monastery, but these few minutes would be crucial. Craning his neck, he kept both eyes on the path behind him, stepping over roots and rocks, keeping watch on the uneven path. At the rate of a creeping walk, they made their way along the mountain face, stepping as evenly as possible, the blood already starting to slosh against the sides of the basin.
"For bloods' sake, slow down," he muttered, finicky as they finally came in sight of the monastery. Almost there. In moments, they reached the front door, slowly stepping over the threshold, the interior dimly lit by sunlight, the floor remaining cold beneath his bare feet. It was a pity the stones were not more even, but there was little he could change about that. Earlier in the day, he had already shoved most of the books and tables against the walls, doing his best to make room for their path to the back hallway. Still craning his neck, he navigated his way back towards the angels, starting to feel an itch on his back. He could just make out the faint sound of someone scrambling. Tanis. The man had probably sprinted across the dining room, desperate to return his arm to the blood-seer's teeth now that Lucian had returned.
Only twelve more steps to reach the dining-hall...
...and how tiresome it was doing things in harmony.
The lycans passed beneath the angels and immediately Lucian's eyes trailed up, his mind instinctively imagining their gaze upon him. He was starting to get used to their forms. A strange thought what a pair of angels would think over a basin of blood passing beneath their stone forms.
Five more steps.
He slowly steered the basin to the right, halting at the dining-hall entrance and nodding at Raze to carefully lower the basin as he did. The moment it rested upon the ground, he curved his arm behind his back and found the handle, pushing the door open. A wave of heat hit his torso. Bending over, Lucian resumed his grip on the basin, and Raze took the other end. Watching each others' movements, the two lycans stood and slowly edged backwards, entering the shadowy room chosen for the Awakening.
So it would begin.
A/N: Thank you to ThranduilsDaughter, amanda, Yvette, Sheen, TheDevilInside, Heather, Lady Tourniquet, and Jen Rock for the latest reviews (and alerts/favourites)! Also to Ladybird1 for the story alert!
Anyway, I'm very glad everyone enjoyed the second chapter! Apologies for taking so long to resume writing Prelude, and I hope that you're all still reading. To make up for it, I wrote two chapters (alright, I will tell the truth. They were originally one chapter, but I split it in half once it reached ten pages.) I'll be double-checking the story over the next few days for errors.
Please read and review! (Every review keeps me writing.)