Blood and Choice

Chapter 4

She slept on the little pallet she had set up outside his chamber, her dark hair in disarray, a tiny frown creasing her brow. Assurjan paused, looking down at her sadly. This was the only time he could look at her openly, it seemed, without seeing in her eyes the shadows of what lay ruined between them. Whatever once might have been was gone, and that knowledge ate at him, forced him to wonder if he had chosen wrongly.

She made her wishes clear, he told himself, as he had done innumerable times. You saved her, and lost her, all at once. But he knew, as he had always known, that he would not have chosen anything different. If he had allowed Berne to claim her, all would have been lost- Raema, the clan, himself. He had chosen the better of two bad options, and yet it seemed he had still lost her, sacrificed their fledgling relationship for the good of his clan.

Let her go, whispered an inner voice. She is not happy. You have already lost her; why do you cling to her so desperately? The more her forced servitude grates at her, the more bitter she will become. Let her go, while she can still have a measure of gratitude for it.

It made sense, he had to concede, as she shifted slightly in her sleep, her frown deepening. With the threat of the other clans removed, Juraene was in a much stronger position, now... Surely he could afford to do without her aid.

But the thought of losing her completely sent a chill through him. Back before the battle with Berne clan, his days had been fraught with the fear that she was dead, with the knowledge that he didn't know where she was. He had no wish to endure that once again.

Do vampires love, Assurjan? Her voice asked softly in his memory.

At his feet, she shifted again, letting out a moan. "No..."

Assurjan winced. Though she never spoke of it, he knew she was still plagued by nightmares, like all vampires. But since she was no longer undead, she could not go without sleep in an attempt to avoid them. He well knew what horrific visions she saw in her dreams, and did not envy her. More than once, he had left his chambers to find her sitting upright on her bedroll, dark eyes haunted by the nightmares that had kept her awake.

She suffers, he thought to himself, as she twitched in her sleep, moaning again. And she likely will continue to suffer, as long as she remains here. Let her go.

He took a step forward, with the half-formed intention of kneeling at her side and waking her before the dream grew worse.

"Assurjan..." she breathed, still asleep, and he froze, staring at her. She tossed her head restlessly, hands twisting fistfuls of the blanket, and Assurjan stepped back. She will not welcome my intrusion, he realized. When she was dreaming of him, what use was it to wake her from one nightmare into another?

"I am sorry, Raema," he said softly. She did not respond, and he turned away, walking silently back the way he had come. Anger flared unexpectedly, for he knew what must be done to ease her suffering, and he could not bring himself to do it. He felt the hunger stirring in him, reacting to the fury that was rising, channeling it. Fists clenched, he left his chambers and went in search of Talintus. He could not save Raema from the nightmare that was himself, but neither would he leave her to suffer it alone.

Eyes glowed all around them, hungry eyes, and not all of them belonged to vampires. Some, she knew with a bone-deep certainty, were much worse. Assurjan bent over his worktable, engrossed in some spell, oblivious to the crowd of eyes that was slowly closing in, bringing the darkness closer with them.

"No," Raema whispered, drawing her sword. It was heavy, as if someone had replaced her lightweight silver blade with ebony. "Assurjan..."

He did not look up, only glanced from one book to another, as if he had not heard her. The darkness and the eyes continued to close in, and Raema glanced about wildly, knowing she could not defend Assurjan from all sides, if he would not help to defend himself. "Assurjan, please!"

He still did not respond, as if neither she nor the dangerous shadows around them truly existed. "Curse it," she hissed, struggling to lift the ridiculously heavy sword.

Behind her, a shadow flashed through the little circle of candlelight, and she whirled, catching only a glimpse from the corner of her eye. As she turned, another came from her other side, flickering in and out of visibility like a darting cliff racer. She was ready for the third one and swung wildly at it, the heavy sword slow in her arms. She missed completely, and threw all her strength behind a second swing at the next rushing shadow.

To her surprise, the blade bit into the shadow as if the attacker were truly solid; she had expected them to be less substantial, like ghosts. But her triumph was short-lived as the darkness seemed to seize the sword, twisting it in her grip. Before she could wrest it free, the shadow had turned it and thrust it back at her, while she still clung desperately to the hilt.

The blade slipped past her and sank hilt-deep into Assurjan's chest.

Raema let out a cry, horrified, and let go, covering her mouth with her hands. "No!"

Blood began to ooze sluggishly from around the wound, soaking slowly through his shirt in a glistening stain. He did look up at her then, pale eyes unsurprised, only pained and sad. "Raema," he said in a rough voice, while the shadows swirled around them. Raema could only stare in horrified shock as he slumped forward, no longer undead, but truly dead at her hands.

"Raema..."

"Raema!"

She jerked awake, heart pounding frantically. It took her a moment to recognize Talintus' voice.

"Gods," she gasped out. "You... you startled me."

The grizzled old Imperial vampire gave her a hard look, and she wondered how obvious her nightmare had been. "Sorry to wake you," he said gruffly. "The Ancient sent for you. He wishes for you to meet him in the library."
"I'll be right there," Raema managed, pushing herself upright. Talintus gave her a concerned look; she waved him away. "I'm fine," she reassured him. "Go on."

Talintus grunted wordlessly and turned to leave. Raema dropped her head into her hands and drew in a shuddering breath as the memory of the nightmare receded. Gods help me, that was one of the worst ones yet, she thought. The memory of Assurjan's eyes, betrayed and hurt, above her own sword plunged deep into his chest... She swallowed hard, hoping that that image would fade from memory sooner rather than later. She thought back guiltily to Dram Bero's words in Balmora, to Jole's hinted offer. Had they triggered thoughts of betraying Assurjan, spurred that nightmare?

Grimacing, she rubbed at her eyes- and realized she had been crying. No wonder Talintus hadn't believed she was all right. She dried her cheeks impatiently on her sleeve, picked up her sword and went to find Assurjan.

The library collection had not yet been restored to its former glory since they had taken Telasero for their own, but they had made progress. The antechamber to Assurjan's room now held a chair for the Ancient, and a few bookshelves, mostly full- one of her recent assignments had been to help him rebuild his collection after their flight from the old lair. The Sixth House's scarlet candles had been replaced by hanging lanterns, filling the room with a brighter, more natural light.

Raema made her way to a bookshelf, running her fingertips over the leather spines. They were mostly sorcery books, research volumes that Assurjan consulted from time to time, but there were a few fictional stories as well, and they were always soothing, tales of adventure and love, where everything seemed to turn out for the best in the end-

"Raema."

His voice made her jump; she hadn't heard the Ancient enter. Turning, her heart pounding, she saw him standing in the doorway, with one brow raised. "You are... well?" It came out rather stiffly, but at least he'd said her name again, rather than just addressing her as Hand. Raema frowned, wondering if he had witnessed her nightmare, as well.

"Of course, my lord," she said, wondering if he could sense the lie.

Assurjan only nodded once. "Bring a slave."
She blinked. "Already?" Surely he hasn't grown hungry enough so soon? She did not pay close attention to his hunger, though she generally had a good idea of when he would need to feed. She hadn't expected a request for the cattle for another day, at least. He could, and often did, go several days without feeding. Unless he's overtaxed himself with this new spell, she thought, and admitted it was possible. Though always before he had allowed her to be present as he worked, lately he had taken to shutting her out. She had no idea of his current project, or how much it might be draining him.

He fixed her with a wordless stare, eying her with the unnerving stillness that she had never quite grown comfortable with.

"At once, my lord," she said, holding back a sigh, and hurried away.

Most of the stronghold had been restored like the library, in the months that Juraene clan had occupied it; enough so that Raema could almost forget that it was inhabited by the undead. The vast entry hall used for an audience chamber, however, had been left as they'd found it. Assurjan had given no explanation, but Raema guessed it was done to intimidate the rare guests that the clan received. As she entered the enormous room, she was struck, as she always was, by how foreboding it seemed. The few blood-red candles, burning in scattered clusters, were not bright enough to light the entire chamber. A few pockets of dim, red light flickered at different levels, on the stairs and the raised platforms, but none shed enough illumination to reach the ceiling far overhead.

Hunching her shoulders against the vast, dark space above, Raema hurried to the chambers beneath the main entrance, where the cattle were kept. The cave had been dug into the ground long ago, likely in an attempt to expand the fortress, but the project had apparently been stopped when the diggers hit an underground lava flow. Some of the boiling rock still oozed into a pool at the back of the cavern, rendering it uncomfortably hot. She tried to see it as a kindness to the slaves, who often suffered chills after losing too much blood.

The slaves were huddled shapes in the dimness. There was one slim, light-haired elf in the back of the cave, chained to the wall; Raema caught a glimpse of Silweyn's eyes gleaming dully, before the vampire looked away.

Gods, I hate this, Raema thought, standing in the doorway and trying not to meet the slaves' dead eyes. They avoided hers, too, as they hunched themselves into the darkness, trying to escape her notice. They knew why she was there. It can't be helped, she thought hollowly. pointing at one of the few who seemed the most alert. He has to feed. Unhappily, she led the Imperial man back to Assurjan's chambers.

At his muffled response to her knock, she ushered the slave through the door, where he dropped to his knees. The Ancient was at his desk, bent over an unrolled scroll. Without looking up, he raised a hand and beckoned. Reluctantly, Raema nudged the slave, and he went to Assurjan's side. Almost absentmindedly, Assurjan gripped the man's shoulder, a pale violet light glowing around his hand as he fed. The man wavered on his feet, and Raema grimaced sympathetically, hoping that Assurjan would restrain his feeding.

He did, letting the man go after a moment. The Imperial stepped away, shuddering and bent over, hands on his knees. Assurjan scribbled something on the scroll, still without looking up.

Raema moved to pull the man up and take him away, but paused when Assurjan held up a hand. "Wait."

Frowning, Raema watched as Assurjan laid his hand on the slave a second time.

What is he doing? She wondered, watching as the Ancient's hand began to glow again with magicka. The Imperial slave trembled, head bowed; then his body jerked stiffly upright, and his eyes shot open wide in shock. Raema stared, her head roiling with awareness of the power that Assurjan was wielding. It was akin to the sense of his proximity that she had retained after her return to the living... as if the spell he was working, whatever it was, had increased it tenfold. He had cast magic near her before, but this had never happened. She didn't believe she'd ever witnessed him display that much power.

The Imperial's head suddenly snapped back, and the man let out a cry as the light from Assurjan's hand grew blindingly bright. Then the Imperial slumped bonelessly to the ground at Assurjan's feet as the light winked out.

Assurjan stood with head bowed, chest heaving. Vampires did not need to breathe; if the Ancient had reverted to the unnecessary habit of gasping for air, it was a sure sign of how far he had exerted himself. For a long moment, there was no sound in the room but the quiet rasping of his breath. Raema blinked repeatedly, trying to squint away the spots in her vision.

"Gods," she finally managed to say, crossing the room and kneeling beside the fallen slave. She rolled the man over to reveal a face that was startlingly... healthy. Despite having fed the Ancient just moments before, the Imperial looked better than any of the slaves had ever looked- except that he was dead. "What did you do to him, Assurjan?"

He crouched on the other side of the body, frowning slightly as he gazed down at the slave. "I have learned that this spell requires more work," he answered shortly, sounding a bit disgusted.

Raema cursed, and the anger in her voice made him glance up at her. "You killed him for a test?" She demanded, incredulous.

He gazed back at her calmly. "Should I have waited until the heat of battle, when the lives of my clan would be at stake, to discover that it does not work? Or should I have tested it on a member of the clan, instead?"

"Bloody Oblivion," she snapped. She jumped to her feet to put some distance between them before she did something foolish, like attempt to strike him. She would only anger him if she tried that; sometimes she forgot that she no longer had the same speed and strength she'd enjoyed as a vampire. "What are you trying to do?"

Assurjan ran his hands over the man's skin, examining the body. "Now that Berandise is gone, we are vulnerable without a healer in the clan," he reminded her. "If a vampire is injured too severely to feed and heal itself, it will die. Nor do we have any spellcaster with Restoration skill enough to begin to learn healing."

Raema frowned. "Including you," she pointed out. "And I hardly think that Destruction will be a good starting point for..." He looked up at her wordlessly, and her voice trailed off as she remembered that he, like all vampires, had another power. She remembered the pale light that had glowed around the slave, and with a shock, realized exactly what he had attempted to do.

"Gods," she murmured again, glancing down at the Imperial. "You were... you were feeding him?"

He nodded once, rising to his feet. "It is easy for us to over-feed, to take more power than necessary. If I can channel the excess, give it to someone who needs it...As you can see, it will heal, but uncontrolled, it will kill."

Raema shivered at the thought. Reverse vampirism, she mused. Gods help us. She stared down at the fallen slave, and felt a wave of guilt crash over her. She had chosen him for this fate, unwitting or not. Vivec only knew how he had come to be one of Juraene clan's cattle, but no one deserved the end he'd just met.

"I'll... take care of this, if you're finished," she said quietly, and Assurjan nodded before turning back to his desk to write a few notes. Grimly, Raema crouched and hooked her hands under the slave's arms, dragging him toward the door. As Assurjan's second-in-command, she could have directed some of the vampires to do it, but she made herself take the chore. I brought him here, to his death. I'll see that he's taken care of, myself.

When she had disposed of the body, she returned to Assurjan's room. He was once again seated at his desk, writing on the scroll in his graceful, flowing hand; notes on the failed attempt at his new spell, no doubt. She clasped her hands behind her and waited, looking about the room.

The Ancient's chamber was large, rather too large for the few bits of furniture scattered about. His desk was to one side, half-hidden behind the four pillars that stood in the center of the room; a few more shelves lined the walls, holding books and other personal items. Against one wall was the bed that, Raema noted with a pang, had likely not been used since it was placed there. She could almost imagine she saw a layer of dust on its blankets. It had been intended for her to use, she knew. For the two of us.

At length, he paused his work to look up at her. "Crassius Curio has sent word from Vivec; the House wants to know how far our reach extends into Telvanni territory. Go and speak with him, answer any questions he might have."

"I will leave immediately," Raema murmured, and as he turned back to his work, she added, "My lord...?"

Assurjan looked up, his quill pen stilling once more against the parchment.

"There has to be another way to gain a healer for the clan," she said. "Surely someone here has studied alchemy, can make potions, or... there has to be something better."

He was silent for a moment before replying. "Something better than destroying our cattle in pursuit of a spell that will, in all likelihood, never work the way I wish it."

Raema blinked. He can read me too well. "Well- yes."

"Do you think I did not consider it?" he said quietly. When she didn't answer, he added, "This spell is based on our own natural abilities. If I can perfect it, it can be taught to every member of the clan-"

"And if it doesn't work? If you kill all the clan's cattle and still can't make your bloody spell work, what then?" It came out angrily, but he didn't seem perturbed; he only quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Raema, if you have any other ideas, I would welcome them. But if you wish to discuss spellmaking instead of ethics, I suggest you attend to your own studies first," he said mildly. Clearly dismissing her, he turned his attention back to his papers.

Stubborn, self-righteous n'wah! Raema thought, and let a few more choice insults run through her mind before making herself turn away. Gods, he was infuriating sometimes. She turned to the door, then back again, hesitating.

"Assurjan..."

Reaching to dip his pen in the inkwell, he paused and met her eyes silently, waiting.

"Please don't ask me to send any more slaves to their deaths," she asked, in a near-whisper.

They watched each other for a long moment. Something softened in his expression, revealing a hint of their old familiarity- was it apology, perhaps? He nodded, holding her gaze for a moment longer before turning back to his notes.

Biting her lip, Raema left the room to gather her weapons, wondering if things would ever return to the way they had been before. She had seen a brief glimmer of it in his eyes, a faint reflection of emotions long gone, but she held little hope that they would return. If only I hadn't driven him quite so far away, she thought regretfully. But what's done is done, and I can only hope to fix it in time. Maybe.

There was no use dwelling on it now, not when she had a job to do. Outside Assurjan's bedchamber, she buckled her sword into its place across her back, then pushed thoughts of the Ancient to the back of her mind. Tucking her throwing knife into the side of one boot, she headed toward the stronghold's exit.

He heard the door shut behind her, and the quill pen snapped in half, smearing his fingers with ink. Assurjan dropped the ruined instrument, staring at his stained skin. He should have known better than to send her to fetch the slave, or to let her watch. She had come to accept that his feedings were necessary, she had brought him cattle before... But he had always taken care to limit himself, to allow her to bring back a living slave afterward, not a dead one. Her dark eyes were shadowed by enough horrors already; he didn't want to add any more to them than he already had. But he had been so certain the spell would work...

Frowning at the piles of his notes that littered the desk, he wondered if Raema was right. The spell should work, he knew... it was like an arithmetic sum with a crucial step missing. If he could only find it, the spell would be an immeasurable asset for the clan. To restore a person to health was no easy feat, but what was feeding by touch if not that very thing? It should be so simple to reverse it, to turn the spell's power around...

But if she was right, and he never found the answer... If it was impossible, and he continued to waste time, and power, and the clan's resources while searching for a spell that did not exist, could not be cast...

If I drive her farther away, he added, unhappily. However strained as their relationship had become, he knew it could grow still worse if he was not careful. And perhaps she was right.

Right or not, he had been shut in his rooms too long working on it. He should go see the rest of the clan, see that all was well. Leaving his spellwork for another time, pushing worries for Raema to the back of his mind, he strode from his chamber.