Blood and Choice
Chapter 8
They arrived in Suran some hours after dark, early enough that the shops were still open. Raema was eager to immediately track down their prey, but Jole convinced her that there was no rush. "It will be a long walk to Nerano, and we'll have to wait for dawn before we go in, at any rate," he pointed out, as they made their way into the small town. In no hurry, he took her to the smithy and trader in the town square, where he pointed out a few accoutrements that he said were invaluable to vampire hunters. Raema listened to his advice and bought a pair of small silver knives. The purchase brought back uncomfortable memories of how lost she had felt as a vampire, when her only weapon had been a single glass dagger.
Jole seemed excited to be finally showing her the tricks of his trade, and she remarked upon it as they left the trader's shop and headed toward the town gate.
He grinned at her. "It gets lonely after a while, chasing the undead all over creation," he admitted. "It's nice to finally have some company."
"I can imagine," she agreed, as they left the town. Their road curved north, leading them back into the familiar stony landscape of the Molag Amur region. "Why do you do it, Jole?"
He shrugged. "Someone has to," he pointed out. "Vampires are a danger, a threat to all the normal citizens around them... even Assurjan, though I know you don't want to hear that. Most people are too scared of being turned to actually do anything about it... But I don't have that to fear, at least. It's good money, for something that I know well, and that no one else dares to do."
He was silent for a moment, and Raema eyed him sideways. In the darkness, he was only a shadow at her side, and he moved with a compact sort of grace that echoed the vampires'.
"There's more than that, isn't there?" She asked softly. "Jole, I'm grateful that you've left Juraene clan alone... but I saw your face when Assurjan was bound to that pole on the top of Fort Buckmoth, waiting for sunrise. And when we fought the other clans, at Telasero. This is important. It's more than just a job for you."
Jole was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was low and harsh. "When I was turned," he said, "I didn't know it. I awoke from a nightmare that I had killed my wife and son, and realized that the nightmare was no dream."
Raema stopped, blinking away a terrible image in her head: moonlight on blood-soaked sheets. "You fed," she whispered, horrified. She remembered how her own instincts had taken over when she'd awoken as a vampire. The need for blood had overridden everything else, every awareness, every bit of self-control. She hadn't been able to stop herself- hadn't even wanted to. If things had been different, if she had awoken as a new vampire with that consuming hunger and a helpless, defenseless family sleeping within arms' reach...
"Gods, Jole..."
He turned to look at her, more serious than she had ever seen him, and she had an glimpse behind the mask of teasing humor that he always wore. Beneath that fragile cover was a man she hardly knew, a man who was coping with a burden of guilt in the best way he knew how.
"I hunted down the vampire who had turned me, and killed him. And then I found another, and killed her. I was a mercenary; I was good at it, though what I was really trying to do was get myself killed."
Raema bit her lip, watching as her friend's old pain slowly resurfaced. He gazed out over the rocky land, distantly, as if seeing that painful history in his mind once again. "Eventually, I realized I was strong enough to keep killing them, and I had developed more than just a death wish. I wanted them dead, all of them, so that no more families might be torn apart by the horror of the undead." He huffed out a soft breath. "I almost didn't take the cure, when I was given the opportunity. It seemed hypocritical, somehow. I didn't know the circumstances of any other vampire's origins; what if they had been as horrific as my own?"
He paused, glancing down at his hands. "But in the end," he murmured, "none of them tried to do anything about it. I was the only one, it seemed, who showed any remorse for what I had become, what I had done. So I vowed to keep hunting them, all of them. I took the cure so that the sunlight would give me an advantage, so that the living would not turn me away. And after Hammerfell was cleared of vampires, I left."
"Bloody Oblivion," Raema exclaimed, awed. "You rid the entire nation of vampires? Yourself?"
Jole looked over and gave her a humorless half-smile. "I'm good at what I do," he murmured.
Raema laughed wryly, as they resumed their pace along the path. "And so you've been... just traveling around the Empire, hunting down any vampires you can find?"
Jole slowed his stride, turning to look at her in the dim moonlight. "Not any vampires. Every vampire." He fixed her with a dark stare that, even half-hidden in the shadows, made a chill run down her spine. "I should tell you, Raema... I am willing to let Juraene clan be, for now, because I count you as a friend. But someday, if Assurjan manages to last that long, his clan will be the only one left. Even after I move on from Vvardenfell, eventually my oath will lead me back here. For him, and his clan."
Raema stopped, senses suddenly on alert. "It almost sounds as if you're threatening me, Jole," she said evenly, when he stopped and turned to look at her. He gave her a lopsided smile.
"Not at all," he said, sounding sincere. "You are my friend, Raema, and it's not a threat. I just want you to be aware. I swore on my wife's name to destroy all vampires. Someday, it will be Juraene clan's time, and I will be back to honor my oath. I don't want you to get hurt when I do."
A cold little sliver of fear lodged itself in Raema's heart. Having seen Jole fight, having seen him kill one Ancient already, and now looking at the utter seriousness in his eyes, she believed him. She waited a long moment, thinking over his words. "And you're telling me this just before we go into danger together, because...?"
He met her gaze without flinching. "You've been a vampire," he said quietly. "I know you understand."
She let out a long breath. He's right. "Well... with any luck, I will be long gone by the time you return."
He fell into step beside her once more, and the tension between them began to dissolve. "I hope so." For your own sake, came the silent addition to his words.
Raema managed to turn the conversation to lighter things, and they made their way northward with the easy banter of old friends. As they walked, she worked at her spell-casting. She had let her practicing lapse a bit in recent days, and it showed in the fitful puffs of smoke that were all she could manage, at first. Despite Jole's teasing, she persevered, and was able to form a few true spells of Fire before she finished.
A bit past dawn, the ash-choked, rocky land of Molag Amur began to give way to the greener landscape of the Grazelands. The foliage began sparsely at first, only a few scraggly trees and scattered patches of grass, growing gradually more dense as they went on. By the time the sun was well over the horizon, they were walking through fields of tall grass, listening to the breeze rustle the trees beside the road. They had to skirt wide around several Ashlander yurts; the tribeless warriors loved nothing more than to cause trouble with travelers on the road.
Midmorning, they stopped to eat, and to rest for a few hours before heading on. The sky began to darken with clouds in late afternoon as they began to move again; full darkness came early that evening under the stormclouds that began to fill the sky. When it began to rain, they ducked into the first cave they could find. "No harm in waiting out the rain," Jole reasoned, as they made themselves comfortable. "At this pace, we'd reach the tomb tonight and still have to wait for dawn. Might as well just wait here instead."
After they had inspected the cave, Raema and Jole settled down near the entrance, in the light of the glowing crystal formations that grew there. They talked and laughed for a while, teasing each other as always, and Raema could almost forget what he had told her earlier. He was so skilled at hiding his pain with that bright smile... but now that she knew it was there, she could catch glimpses of the darkness inside him, when the conversation slowed and he gazed silently into the cave's shadows.
She wasn't sure what to make of his claim, or his warning. She had seen him fight, and if anyone could rid an entire land of vampires, she could well believe it had been Jole. But if he were willing, as he said, to leave Juraene clan alone and take his hunt elsewhere for a while... If, like he says, there are other clans in the Empire, it'll take years for him to hunt them all down. Morbid a thought as it was, she didn't quite believe he would return to Morrowind before his age caught up with him. Vivec willing, I'll be long gone, at least.
On the other hand, his words still triggered the instinctive reaction she had developed as Assurjan's protector. It was hard to balance that frame of mind with her knowledge of Jole as a friend, and it set her nerves on edge. However far in the future, he had revealed himself as a threat to the clan and the Ancient, and she could not ignore that. Later, after they had bid each other good night, she stared across the cave at his sleeping form, and wondered whose side she would choose, if it ever came to that.
In the morning, the rain had ceased, though the sky remained overcast and gray. After they had eaten, they set off northward once more, and Jole remarked that they should arrive before noon.
The road wound through the Grazelands, past the encampment of the Zainab Ashlander tribe, past the strange, stone-and-twisted-growth architecture of Vos and Tel Vos. They saw few people on the road, only the occasional farmer or villager.
Shortly past Tel Vos, the road curved toward the northeast; Jole consulted his map, and directed them to the west, striding through the grass. Over a few hills, around a few trees, and then the door to the Nerano tomb appeared, a low arch set into the hillside.
"Be ready," he advised her, as they approached the door. "Calvario might not be the only vampire here. And it is a tomb, after all; there could be ghosts or any number of other friends waiting for us."
Raema nodded and drew her sword, checking that her two new daggers were readily available from their places at her belt. Jole drew a pair of blades himself, throwing knives that glittered with enchantments. Tucking both into one hand, he reached for the door with his other, then paused.
"What is it?" Raema asked, her heart beginning to pound in anticipation.
Jole shook his head, as if unsure. "Something's wrong," he muttered. "Do you feel it?"
Frowning, Raema focused inward, knowing what sort of feeling he meant. Imprinted on her mind's eye, she could sense vampires, but faintly. Their numbers, their strength, and the clan they belonged to, all knowledge she could have gained if she were still undead herself, were out of the reach of her lapsed abilities.
She nodded, meeting Jole's eyes. "More than one," she murmured, and shrugged. "But beyond that..."
"Hmmmpph," Jole said, in a vague agreement. He closed his hand around the door handle. "Stay alert," he advised, and swung the door inward.
They found themselves in a dim little chamber, lit by torches ensconced on the walls. Someone is here, Raema thought, eying the flickering flames. Though I knew that already.
A staircase to their right led down, deeper into the tomb. Jole descended slowly, and Raema followed, watching their shadows stretch and shift against the walls between torches. The tomb held a deathly stillness, hanging heavily around them. The air was cool and dry, and carried a scent of decay. Raema wrinkled her nose as they moved on.
Halfway down the stairs, Jole stopped, holding up a hand. Bonewalker, he mouthed, pointing. From where she stood, she could see the creature's feet, shifting with slow restlessness in the chamber at the bottom of the stairs.
Raising her sword, she moved past Jole and took the last four stairs in a leap, lunging into the room. Her blade caught the monster across its massive chest; it let out a hideous cry, swiping one misshapen arm at her. She let her own momentum carry her out of reach, and the creature snarled again as one of Jole's throwing knives sank into it with a wet thunk. Whirling, Raema swung again, just as the Bonewalker turned. It was fast, faster than she'd expected. Before her blade landed, the creature's arm struck her head, sending her staggering aside. Her shoulder hit the wall, and she moved to raise her sword- and found that she could hardly lift it.
The bloody thing's spelled me, she realized, straining to lift her weapon. Snarling, the Bonewalker advanced, swinging another massive arm towards her face. She dropped the sword and ducked her head, diving off to the side. It was easy enough to roll out of the way, but she nearly fell trying to regain her feet. She turned to face the creature again, just in time to see it howl in pain. It dropped to its knees, then fell forward onto its face with Jole's boot planted in the center of its spine. A long gash sliced through the back of its neck, with Jole's knife still planted in the rotting flesh.
"You alright?" The Redguard asked, bending down to retrieve his weapon.
"Fine... just weak," Raema said ruefully. She leaned back against the wall, eying her sword where it lay on the floor. It seemed far too out of reach. "Let me have one of those potions you brought."
Jole rifled through his pack and tossed her one of the bottles he had purchased in Suran, then set to cleaning the Bonewalker's flesh off his knife. The potion tasted like rotten kwama eggs, and Raema nearly gagged on it, but it restored her to her normal self almost immediately. While she retrieved her sword, Jole crouched over the dead corpse that lay almost beneath the Bonewalker. It was a Breton, showing the pale, withered signs of a man who had died at the hands of a vampire.
"Come on," Jole said quietly, when she was ready. They left the two bodies where they lay, and stepped through the door to the next room.
This chamber was larger, lined with more urns of the Nerano family's deceased. The stench of decay was stronger here, enough to make Raema cough, her eyes watering.
"You take me to such wonderful places, Jole," she muttered, as they searched the room.
He flashed her a grin, teeth gleaming in the dimness. "This is nothing. Once I was chasing a vampire through some guar-herder's land in the dead of night, couldn't see where I was going. Do you know how messy a herd of guars is?"
Raema stepped over another corpse, this one also marked with the signs of vampirism. It was no wonder the place smelled so hideous. "No... Do I want to know?"
"I didn't know, either. Until I tripped and fell on my face in it."
Raema shuddered, holding back a laugh. "That's disgusting, Jole!"
He shrugged, flipping his throwing knife to hold it by the blade. "Makes this not seem so bad, doesn't it?" He asked, crouching to search the pockets of a third body.
Raema could only roll her eyes. They moved across the room, stopping at the door on the far side. As before, Jole reached for the door handle, then hesitated. "Perhaps we should wait," he said softly. "This Calvario feels a lot stronger than I expected."
Raema frowned. She could sense it too, and it worried her, but... "He's trapped here. It's better to have vampires trapped by the sunlight..."
"Yes, but not when they're so much stronger than you," Jole said wryly. "You think a vampire will just surrender because we have him cornered?"
She drew in a deep breath. He was right; their prey would only fight harder, if there was nowhere for him to run. But they were already there, and Jole had asked for her help for a reason. "Who else are you going to find to come help us?" She asked pointedly. "Is there anyone else you trust?"
Jole grinned. "You know you're my one and only," he teased. "Ready?"
Resolutely, Raema reached back and eased her sword from its sheath. "Ready."
She heard Jole draw in a sharp breath before he slammed a boot against the door, kicking it open. He burst into the shrine beyond, throwing star raised in his right hand for an immediate throw, and she darted in behind him, sword at the ready.
The blast hit her square in the chest, slamming her back against the wall. Stunned, she slumped to the ground, ears ringing, head spinning. Beside her, she could see Jole struggling on his hands and knees, reaching for the weapons he had dropped.
What..? Raema shook her head, dazed, knowing there was no time to waste recovering. Whatever had been awaiting them was not going to give them the opportunity to recover. She still had her sword; she forced her fingers to close tighter about the hilt and got unsteadily to her feet. Lifting her head, she swallowed back a wave of nausea and turned to face their attacker.
She had never met the vampire who stood before them, hands still flickering with magicka, but she'd heard descriptions. It took her stunned senses a moment to recognize her. No, she thought numbly, shocked. She's dead. Assurjan said she burned in the daylight, outside Telasero. "You're..."
"Not dead," Volrina Quarra finished with a smile, stepping closer. Instinctively, Raema raised her sword, staggering as the room spun around her again. Quarra reached out with a lighting-fast grip and clamped a gloved hand around Raema's wrist. Pain shot through her arm, and she cried out, clinging desperately to her sword as she swung her other fist at the vampire.
The Ancient knocked her arm aside, and struck her own fist against Raema's skull. Behind her eyelids, lights flared, then faded, along with everything else.
Just a little farther... Jole gritted his teeth and lunged for his fallen knife, finally closing his fingers around the hilt. He heard a thump as Raema sank to the ground. Get up, he told himself desperately. She's coming!
A glass boot descended on his hand, just hard enough to grind his knuckles into the ground and pin the dagger in place. Snarling, he fumbled at his belt for a new throwing star with his free hand.
"Oh, stop it," the Ancient said impatiently. Light flared, a spell that sank like iron into his bones. Heavy, too heavy to move, he could hardly breathe under the weight of his own body. His free hand flopped to the floor, useless under the Burden spell she had cast upon him.
"That's better," Volrina purred, crouching beside him without lifting her boot from his hand. She seized a handful of his hair and twisted his head; for a horrible instant he awaited the snap of his own neck, but she stopped when she met his eyes.
"I'm disappointed, hunter," she said, smiling. "This was far too easy. And what will Assurjan say, when he learns you've lost his little pet?"
He fought to draw a breath, heard it hiss through his teeth. "Why..."
She shifted slightly, grinding his fingers into the floor under her boot. Lacking the breath to scream, he could only gasp.
"If you're lucky," she continued in a sibilant whisper, her voice layering over itself with hunger, "he'll only kill you." She chuckled softly, and began searching him methodically, making a neat pile with the weapons she found. Helpless, he glared at her as she found one after another, and the bracers he had had custom-made. Those, she tsked over, shaking her head with an ironic twist on her lips as she tossed them aside. When he was stripped of anything that might have been a weapon, she rose back to her feet.
Freed the agony of her weight on his hand, Jole could only watch, still weighted to the floor as if his bones were made of ebony, while Volrina Quarra walked back to Raema's crumpled form. "No," he whispered, as the vampire began to repeat the process of stripping away weapons. She gestured curtly to a figure that stood back in the shadows. For the first time, Jole saw Calvario; the Berne vampire came forward at Quarra's summons, a gleaming light in his pale eyes.
"Very nice spellwork, my lady," he commented, flicking a glance in Jole's direction. "I would have had a difficult time with it, myself."
"You are welcome," Quarra said dryly, tucking Raema's new daggers behind her belt. Assurjan's Hand stirred weakly, her head lolling to the side. "She's coming around. She's all yours, Calvario, but keep her in check; she is not to escape."
The other vampire's eyes brightened a little as he looked down at Raema. A cruel smile pulled at his lips. "You need not worry on that account, my lady."
Curses welled up in Jole's mind, but he lacked the breath to voice them. Instead, he concentrated on drawing one pained breath after another. The Quarra Ancient returned to him, gathering up the pile of his weapons and shoving them into a sack.
"Now then," she murmured, fastening the sack to her belt. She bent over him, and seized a handful of his hair once again. Pain sparked behind his eyes as she hauled him upright, until he was slumped against her glass-armored leg, held up by her fist in his hair. Across the tomb, Calvario stood watching them. The hunger in his eyes had become a blazing fire. At his feet, Raema stirred again, moaning softly.
No! Jole thought again, desperately, while Calvario uttered some thanks to the Ancient. You can't just leave her here!
"Come along," Quarra said to him sweetly, as if he had a choice. Violet light glowed around them, quickly growing so bright that it obscured Raema and the vampire, and the tomb. There was the sickening twist in his stomach that always came with magical conveyance. When the light faded, the tomb was gone. In its place were rough-hewn plank walls, and darkness save for the lines of sunlight that filtered through the cracks in one wall.
Quarra dropped him unceremoniously; he flopped to the ground, landing hard enough on the back of his skull to see stars burst behind his eyes. She strode away, dragging the sack of weapons along. Jole took advantage of the moment to absorb details of their new location. He was unable to move his head, but from what he could see, they were in a tiny shack, one in disrepair. He could hear water outside, the slow lapping of waves against wood. There was an odor of fish mingled with the distinctive scent of the Bitter Coast. Hla Oad, then, or perhaps Gnaar Mok.
Quarra came back to him, boots thumping on the wooden floor. "Well, now," she said with satisfaction, crouching beside him. "Here I am, with Jole Devan, the hunter of vampires, helpless as a baby... and me with nowhere to go for hours." She slid a fingertip slowly down his cheek, along his throat. "Whatever shall I do to occupy my time?" She mused, the hungry light in her eyes growing brighter.
Jole glared up at her, hoping she did not see the fear behind his own eyes. He had been in fairly dire situations many times, but the feeling of helplessness was always worse than anything else. The spell seemed to be wearing off, excruciatingly slowly, and he focused on that, hoping he would be able to move before she realized it had lapsed.
Quarra hooked her fingers into the collar of his shirt and jerked down sharply, tearing it open halfway down his chest. "Don't worry, hunter... I need you alive, for a while longer. I would hate for Assurjan to go forever wondering what happened to his Hand. You will walk out of this little hovel on your own two feet, and tell him yourself." She planted her palm, cool and smooth, against his chest, and it glowed with magicka. Jole could almost feel the Burden spell binding him tighter, strengthening itself to cripple him further. "But not until well after dark," she added with a smile. "I will be long gone before you can even think of coming after me. And until then..." Her hand slid back up to grasp his jaw in an iron grip, fingers bruising against his skin. The Ancient's eyes blazed, an echo of the fierce hunger he had seen in Calvario's.
It had been a long time since any vampire had fed from him. Helpless, Jole twitched and shuddered at the pain of it, struggling to send his thoughts anywhere else... but all he could think of was Raema, left unconscious and unarmed in Calvario's lair. Vivec help me, Quarra, you have signed your own death writ for this...