Blood and Choice

Chapter 9

The slaves both knelt before him, the woman shaking fearfully, the man trying very hard not to look up at him. They knew why he had sent for them, of course. Though House Hlaalu had been fulfilling their end of the agreement and providing Juraene clan with new slaves, the cattle had been dwindling as a result of his failed spellcasting attempts. By now, all of them knew that a summons to the Ancient's chamber was a death sentence. Some of them welcomed it, seeing it as an escape, of sorts... but no matter how eager they were to die, they all feared him.

Frowning, Assurjan stared down at the trembling woman. She was almost painfully thin, her ragged clothes hanging loosely on her frame. Scrapes and sores marred her skin. Don't ask me to send any more slaves to their deaths, Raema had begged him. A wave of weary frustration swept over him, and he shut his book with such force that the bottles on his worktable jumped and clinked. The slaves jumped as well, risking startled glances up at him.

He reached out a hand, but the Breton man made no move towards it. He did not need to; the Ancient fed from a distance, eyes narrowing as he drew on the man's strength. He had little to give, and Assurjan took only a trickle, the equivalent of a mouthful of blood. Still, it made the slave groan and shake.

As he absorbed it, gritting his teeth, Assurjan changed his spell, a twist of the magicka that he still could not manage as deftly as he wished. The flow of power redirected, shifting from him towards the other slave in an undulating stream that only he could see. It should have strengthened her, at least a little. But he could see it weakening her, could feel her life oozing away, just as all the others' had. Biting back a curse, he released the spell before it went too far.

Gasping, the woman dropped forward, barely catching herself with her hands on the floor. The man wavered on his knees, struggling to stay upright.

Perhaps... if I... The tantalizing hint of an idea was just beyond his mind- but he couldn't think with them there.

"You are dismissed," Assurjan said. The woman stared up at him stupidly, blinking.

"Go!" He snapped. Her eyes widened, and they both scrambled for the door, closing it hurriedly behind them.

Assurjan stared at the door after they'd gone, not seeing it. He thought of Raema, as a vampire- that image still pained him. But she had fed from him, and it had made her so much stronger.

Is that the answer? I know, now, that draining one mortal cannot heal another. But what of vampires? Vampires could not give their own strength to another, but perhaps instead... He frowned down at his hands, thinking back to the slave that Raema had brought him, the one that he had killed. That one, Assurjan had attempted to heal directly from his own well of strength, and it had worked, though the overflow had killed the man.

With a jolt, he realized what he needed to try. Mortals cannot heal themselves this way. But vampires feed on others to heal ourselves... perhaps that ability makes us more suited to healing each other in the same manner. I am wasting my time with the slaves. It will have to be vampires. He allowed himself a tiny smile. Raema will be pleased, at that.

Raema. He'd had little patience for his work since she and the Redguard had left the day before. He had to admit, he missed her. He had hoped that her absence for a few days would prepare him to let her go. But she had been gone for two days, and he could think of nothing but her, do nothing but worry for her. If I set her free, he thought, it will not get any easier.

What would she do, he wondered, if I let her go? Would she remain on Vvardenfell, make a new life for herself on the island? Would he hear news of her, sometimes?
Would she join forces with the hunter, and come for him, one day?

A knock at the door cut through his reverie. "My lord?" Came Talintus' muffled voice.

Assurjan got to his feet and opened the door himself. The Imperial vampire looked surprised, but said only, "A visitor to see you, my lord. He's in your antechamber." There was a shadow of worry in the vampire's expression, and a sudden sense of foreboding tightened around Assurjan's heart. Without waiting for him to finish, he brushed past Talintus, striding down the hall to the antechamber.

The Redguard was there, nervously drumming the fingers of one hand on the hilt of a knife at his belt. It was a poor weapon, not one that Assurjan remembered him carrying, and it was the only one he bore. His other hand was bandaged and bloody, as was the torn collar of his shirt.

He was alone.

Assurjan stopped in the doorway, staring at the hunter. "Where is she?"

A pained look came over the Redguard's face. "She... she was taken. It was-"

Assurjan was across the room before he realized it, shoving the hunter back against his bookshelves, one forearm across his throat. Books fell, and a bottle on the top shelf crashed to the floor in a spray of water and pottery shards. "Where?"

Instincts warned him to watch the hunter's hands, but the Redguard made no move for his weapon. "In Nerano," he said hoarsely, raising his chin away from Assurjan's forearm. "Volrina Quarra is still alive. She was waiting for us there, took us both by surprise."

"And how is it," Assurjan hissed, "that you are here, and she is not?"

For the first time, the hunter acknowledged the fact that he was being threatened by the vampire. "Let me go, Ancient, and I'll explain it."

Eyes narrowing, Assurjan glared at him for a long moment, struggling to gain control over the urge to tear out the man's throat. I need to know, he told himself, and managed to step back, letting his hands drop to his sides.

The Redguard rubbed ruefully at his throat. Watching him, Assurjan noted the fang-marks that lined his neck; both sides of his throat were dark with bruises and punctures, up and down the thick veins. He had taken no time to heal himself before coming to Telasero; perhaps that meant there was still time.

"Quarra was waiting for us when we entered the tomb; she knew we were coming. Neither of us expected to get hit with a spell the instant we came through the door. She took me with her, Recalled to Hla Oad. She... she left Raema with Calvario. She told him..." he paused, reluctant.

"What?" Talintus demanded.

Jole did not spare him a glance, watching Assurjan instead. "She told him not to let her escape. And she told me... she wanted you to know that Calvario has your Hand."

"It's a trap, my lord," Talintus said flatly.

"Of course it is," Jole snapped. "But if Quarra is there with Raema, you are the only one who has a chance against her, Ancient."

Assurjan gritted his teeth. Raema... "Fetch my weapons," he said to Talintus. The Imperial nodded and hurried away, back to the bedchamber.

"Let me go with you," the hunter said. "I can help. If you can't get there by sunrise-"

"You have already lost her," Assurjan said tightly. "You will leave the stronghold when I do, hunter, and you will go in the opposite direction."

The Redguard pressed his lips together, unhappy. "At the very least, you might need someone to handle Calvario while you and Quarra-"

"Get out," Assurjan said, his voice deathly calm.

The hunter fell silent, frowning at the Ancient. Talintus returned with an armful of weapons and other items. Assurjan beckoned him closer, and turned to glare at Jole. "Get. Out."

The Redguard scowled fiercely, staring him down for a long moment. "If you don't save her, Ancient, I am coming for you next," he snarled, turning away.

Engrossed in buckling the Ancient's sword in place over his cloak, Talintus waited until the door closed behind the hunter. "This is a trap, my lord. Quarra wants nothing more than to lure you out, alone, away from the safety of the stronghold and the clan. And the Redguard must be in on it."

"I know it," Assurjan snarled, though he was not so sure about the hunter. The man had seemed in earnest, and the bite marks on his skin were real enough. "It is a good trap, and I can do nothing but walk into it as prepared as possible."

"Take some of us with you, at least, my lord. The Redguard was right, you should have backup."

Assurjan shook his head. "I must move quickly. More quickly than anyone in the clan can manage. You are in command until the Hand or I return."

Talintus stepped back, shaking his head sadly. "Be careful, my lord."

The Ancient gave him a curt nod, then left the room, cloak swirling about him.

She commanded him as if he were a beast... and, like an animal, he obeyed, with the taste of her blood still lingering on his tongue. You know what I want. Go, and remember: if you fail me, you fail your followers, Irarak.

Leaden feet drew him closer to the wide, squat shape of the stronghold. It was a clear night, and the moonlight gleamed on the stones, making them look slick and wet. A vision flickered in his eyes, the sight of the stronghold soaked with blood in the moonlight. A moment later, it passed, but he shuddered. Gods forgive me for what I am about to do, he thought, but it was a hollow prayer. He was beyond forgiveness, he knew... The only thing he could do, all he could ever do, was try to save his own people.

He climbed the stairs to the flat expanse of the stronghold's rooftop, encountering no one. Just inside the entrance, he passed two young bloods who let him enter without comment, nodding respectfully. All of Juraene clan knew him by sight as Assurjan's ally, and the thought made his lip twist bitterly as he moved deeper into the fortress.

The door to the Ancient's chambers stood open, and he frowned. Inside, the normally neat library was somewhat in disarray. Books had been knocked from the shelves, and a wet mess of broken pottery was scattered across one of the rugs. Talintus, Assurjan's lieutenant, was overseeing a few of the cattle who were straightening up the room. The Imperial looked up as Irarak entered.

"Good evening," he said gruffly. "The Ancient is not here, Irarak; we've had some... trouble. He'll be back in a night or two."

"Indeed?" Irarak asked, feigning ignorance. "What sort of trouble?"

Talintus' jaw tightened, but he said only, "It's the Ancient's concern. I'll tell him you were looking for him."

"Of course," Irarak said smoothly. "I didn't really need to speak with him; I actually came to get something I left in his chamber on my last visit. If I may...?"

Talintus grunted, nodding toward the Ancient's bedchamber. Hiding a grimace, Irarak turned down the short hall to the other room. If he could just grab it and get out, without any complications...

He had never seen the Ancient's bedchamber; luckily, Talintus had no way of knowing that. Assurjan's room was much as he had imagined it would be, however: a few shelves, an unused bed, and the large worktable that was the room's main focus. The table was piled high with papers, books, soul gems, and alchemical items; Irarak avoided it, hoping the object of his visit was not buried among that mess.

The first shelf he searched did not have it, nor did the second. He was beginning to worry when he finally found it on the last shelf, tucked behind a copy of The Art of War Magic. Muttering a quick thanks to whichever god had not yet abandoned him, he turned to go.

"I think you'd better put that back, Berne," Talintus said sternly, making Irarak jump. The other vampire had been standing behind him in the doorway, watching for Vivec knew how long. His hand rested on his sword-hilt, ready. "I know bloody well that that is not anything you've left behind here."

Irarak licked his lips. There was nothing he could say that would not sound like a feeble excuse.

"No," he agreed, only half-thinking about what he was saying. "I suppose it's not." Hardly a witty reply, but he was too distracted with wondering how he would get out of this. The only way he could see was so far out of his normal experience that he almost rejected it outright, before he remembered his newfound strength. Do it, a voice inside his head urged him. Why else have you been drinking her blood all this time?

Talintus' eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer, hand tightening on his sword. "Well?"

Irarak glanced down, as if to draw the item back out from his pocket. Then he raised his eyes, just enough to see the other vampire. "I'm sorry," he murmured. With the full force that he had gained from Quarra's blood, he struck the Imperial, square in the chest, with his fist.

Talintus had not been expecting a strike; he was even less prepared for the strength behind it, and so was Irarak. He knew his own limitations- or he had- and any fighter of Talintus' caliber would have made it his business to know as well. But that fist slammed into the man's cuirass hard enough to dent it, and sent him reeling back. Stunned, the vampire caught his balance and looked up at Irarak, shock and fury lighting twin fires in his eyes. Irarak was already closing the distance between them; as Talintus tried to draw his sword, Irarak struck him again. He could feel bones shattering under his knuckles, and Talintus staggered another step, blood streaming from his nose. One more blow, in an arc that brought fist to temple, and Talintus was dropping to his knees, sword still half-sheathed. Irarak caught him with a hand around his throat, drawing out the last of his strength as he died.

"I'm sorry," Irarak whispered again, lowering the corpse to the ground. Gods, it had been so fast! He had never had that sort of speed before. He eased Talintus to the floor and closed the other vampire's staring eyes. Don't slow down now, he thought, rising to his feet. Quarra was waiting.

He left the chamber, wishing he could lock the door behind him. With luck, there would be no one else who dared enter the Ancient's rooms in his absence. The antechamber was empty, restored to its usual neatness, the slaves gone. Rubbing at Talintus' blood on his knuckles, he left the stronghold as quickly as he dared.

Outside again, he saw no other vampires. Glancing over his shoulder, he ducked into the Propylon Chamber.

His shadow flickered wildly against the walls in the fluctuating light of the propylon links. With the Index for the stronghold of Marandus in his hand, he stepped into the swirling red flares-

-And stepped out again in what was almost the exact same room... save for Volrina Quarra standing there, glass armor glimmering eerily. Several of her House Hlaalu fighters were there, too, waiting with grim faces.

She raised an eyebrow, holding out one hand. Irarak reached out and laid the Index to Telasero in her waiting palm.

"One saw me take it, my lady," he informed her, in a low voice. "I killed him. No one else suspects, but they may find his body."

A smile spread across Volrina Quarra's face as she held the Index up to the light. "No matter," she said, absently. The Index appeared to pass her inspection; she closed her fist around it and nodded sharply to the armored Dunmer at her side. The Hlaalu fighters went to the door, and began ushering in more of their own from outside.

"Well done, Irarak," Quarra praised him, while the Hlaalu crowded onto the platform in the propylon links' light, awaiting the Index. "I regret that time does not permit, now... but I promise you a reward, when the fighting is over."

He knew what sort of reward she meant. More of her blood, the liquid power that he had come to crave from her veins. The thought of it, more of the power that he had used to crush Talintus so easily, both sickened him and stirred his hunger. She saw the glow beginning in his eyes, and her smile widened. "Coming?" she asked, gesturing toward her fighters.

Irarak swallowed, hard. "Not yet, my lady. If it pleases you, I will come with the last group."

She raised an eyebrow, and he wondered if she suspected what he was going to do. If so, she did not seem overly concerned about it. "Don't take too long," she advised him over her shoulder, as she moved to the platform. "I would hate for you to miss all the fun." She handed the Index to the Dunmer woman, and stepped into the link, while the Hlaalu practically stood on each others' toes to clear a space for her.

The Dunmer woman shot Irarak a quick, measuring glance, then stepped up next to Quarra. Immediately the entire group winked out as quickly as if they had never been there. The other Hlaalu began to mutter to themselves. Moments later, the Dunmer woman appeared again, alone, and directed others to step up.

Get moving, Irarak thought to himself, and pushed past the crowd of Hlaalu toward the exit. He knew what he had to do next, knew why...but he wanted to do it even less than anything else he'd had to do recently.

The night flew past him, a blur of darkness and darker shadows. Volrina Quarra has my Hand. The thought repeated in his mind, over and over, no matter how hard he tried to silence it.

If he kept this pace, he would reach Nerano tomb before dawn. Assurjan regretted not taking the time to feed before he left; if he had, he would have more strength to deal with Quarra. But if he had waited to feed first, time would have been lost... time that he did not care to waste when he could be en route to his Hand instead.

The words repeated in his mind, over and over, but the alternative was images of Raema in his enemies' hands, and that was far worse. Volrina Quarra has my Hand, he thought, furiously, over and over, and tried not to dwell on the images that it suggested.

He was near the edge of Molag Amur when he sensed the approaching vampire. Irarak, he thought, recognizing the Berne vampire's presence. There was something odd, though, something out of place. No matter, he thought. His ally was likely returning from a hunt, and there was no time to stop and converse. He made no effort to divert his course toward the other vampire, and put the approaching presence out of his mind.

Minutes later, though, he could no longer ignore it; Irarak was coming closer, as if hoping to intercept him. Assurjan continued on his course, and as the volcanic rock gave way to Grazeland grass, he saw the vampire standing in the moonlight, waiting for him.

"I cannot stop, Irarak," the Ancient told him as he came closer.

To his surprise, the other vampire reached out and caught his arm as he made to pass him. "My lord-"

Something in his voice, something broken and worried, made Assurjan stop reluctantly. "What is it? Be quick, Irarak. My Hand is in danger."

Irarak let him go. "I know, my lord. And it is a trap, but perhaps not the one you think it is."

Assurjan's undead heart lurched at the words, and he went still, waiting.

The other vampire took a deep, unnecessary breath. "Raema is only bait to lure you away from the clan, my lord. Volrina Quarra is leading a force to assault Telasero; they may have begun already. By dawn, there will be nothing left."

The darkness reeled around him. My clan. My people...

"How do you know this, Irarak?" His voice came out low and deadly serious, but the other vampire did not flinch... only regarded him sadly.

"I am sorry, my lord. She... she has my vampires. I acted only to save them. You might still be able to save your clan, Assurjan. Or Raema... but I do not think you can save both."

Fury was a sudden, white-hot flare in his chest, filling him until he could feel it seething under his skin. For a moment, he was so consumed by the effort of not burning Irarak to ashes that he could not speak.

"And you have had a change of heart?" he snarled, when he could. "Now, when it is too late?"

Irarak pressed his lips together. "You have been a friend, Assurjan, and you do not deserve my betrayal. At the very least, I felt you deserved a choice in your people's fate- a choice I was not given."

Assurjan stared at his old friend, jaw clenched so tightly that it ached. Irarak was the one person he had known since life, since before being turned... the one person outside the clan he had felt he could trust. No longer.

"I know you will not forgive me, Assurjan," Irarak said, as if to fill the silence. "But I hope you can understand that I only did what I had to... it is no less than what you would have done in my place."

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Assurjan knew he was right... but it was buried far, far beneath the dire reality. When he spoke, his voice was cold and hard, echoing faintly with a hunger that was fueled by fury. "If I ever lay eyes on you again, Berne, I will destroy you."

Irarak's eyelids flickered. "I deserve it," he said quietly. "But you may not find it as easy as you expect, Ancient." Light flared briefly, a Recall spell with more power than Assurjan had ever seen in him, and then Irarak was gone.

Left alone on the edge of the Grazelands, Assurjan stood for a long time, still as stone, while his mind raced. Telasero called to him. His people were in danger, and they looked to him for protection. They were his blood, descended from himself or from vampires he had turned, and their loyalty had always been based on the understanding that he would keep them safe- whether from rival clans, vampire hunters, or any other threat.

But Raema...

She had never asked to become his Hand. How much of a choice had he offered her? To serve him, as his Hand or his cattle... that was no choice at all. And now she was a captive of Calvario, and he had no illusions as to what the vampire would do to her- if he had not killed her already. If he returned to Telasero, if he were able to save his people, would he be able to live with the knowledge that Raema had perished without his aid?

Gods help me, he thought, with more sincerity in the half-prayer than he had ever felt. I am damned to Oblivion, no matter what I decide. Clenching his fists, he raised his head, and made his choice.