It was with heavy heart the Melchia, youngest of Kains children, travelled back to his clan territory of Steinchenchroc

It was with heavy heart the Melchia, youngest of Kains children, travelled back to his clan territory of Steinchenchroc. The moon shone of his bald head, the habits of an age died reluctantly and travelling at night had once been a two fold necessity; as a fledgling he had always been terrified of the suns burning touch and secondly it had once hidden decaying rotten flesh. Not so anymore. The sun had never in centuries given him anything worse than sunburn and Rahabs gift of water tolerance had toughened his flesh against all forms of rot and canker. But still he got edgy in direct sunlight, a mode of behaviour he would never loose. It was like with tailors. All womanly clothes have the buttons on the opposite side to the ones on manly clothes so that servants could help them dress. Such pointless servitude had been all but abolished soon after Lord Kain became undisputed ruler of the known world but still after all these centuries women's clothes were best buttoned left-handed.

'Are we nearly there yet?' Asked Lerrissa. Lerrissa was the youngest member of Melchia's clan. It was quite rare now that a human was awarded the Dark Gift. Vorador had insisted that Kain put a limit on the world's vampire population so as not to 'deplete the food source' as the Dark Father had delicately put it. Melchia had interpreted that as 'Lets not give the humans reason to hate us so utterly as before. Let us learn from our mistakes'. It had been a law announced within the same weak as the one that decreed that any vampire that killed a human was to be decapitated, dismembered and burnt, preferably in that order. He had brought her along to the Abby because she needed to get out more and meet new people.

'Just over this next hill.' Answered Melchia. It would be nice, Melchia thought, if they could ride on horseback like the humans did. It would make travelling around much quicker and easier than having to scurry from one place to another like you're always late for an appointment. Which, given the fact that he was not as fleet of foot as his brothers was too often the case. But it was a rare horse indeed that would allow a vampire, a carnivorous predator, on its back.

'Um, sire, the sun is coming up.' She said pointing at the horizon, through the gap in the trees. The underside of the clouds were edged in finest gilt and they were reflecting the gentle pre-dawn light upon the world as gentle and beautiful as a lovers kiss.

'So?' asked Melchia his brow furrowing ever so slightly in puzzlement. Then it struck the old lord as he took in the worried anxiety on his fledglings face. She will burn when the sun comes up.

Thankfully Melchia spotted an abandoned hut left by a charcoal burners where they could wait out the sun.

It was nearly midday now. The sun was at its highest and one of the vampires was in the willow woven hut and the other was sitting in its shade listening to the chatter of birds and trying to get some sleep.

'Sire?'

'Yes Lerrissa.'

'Why did we visit the Abby?' And there was the question. Melchia and all the brothers had sworn not to tell anyone the state brother Rahab was in for fear that dissident factions might try to act upon this and usurp power, or worse yet declare themselves independent. So far Lerrissa had shown no interest in the nature of the visit and instead was just happy to venture out a little in the world.

'Just to visit the Rahabium, exchange news, visit relatives that sort of thing.' Answered Melchia with forced casualness. 'How did you spend your time?'

'Reading. They have a really big library.' Said Lerrissa.

Melchia sighed. She would have made a better Rahabium than a Melchium. No real social life, few real friends, nose always in a book and an annoying tendency to leave doors open. Definitely similarities with cloistered brother Rahab and his strange brood.

'You liked the library?' Asked Melchia trying as hard as he dared to direct the conversation as far away from anything dangerous as possible.

'Oh yes, it had an entire gallery dedicated to works on necromancy.' She was obviously impressed. Melchia knew full well that it was the biggest library outside of Meridian University and in some specialized areas, usually magic and theology, far surpassed it. Not that he was really interested in such things. Books did not help get the harvest in any quicker when it starts to rain nor did they bring good weather. The only books that Melchia owned were the ones Rahab occasionally bought him as a gift, the record books and children's books that he read to very small children when the men and woman of Steinchenchroc were all busy bringing in the harvest and they needed the very small children out of the way for a few days.

'When you are old enough and can stand in the sun I will see what I can do about getting Rahab to let you study there.'

'Thank you, sire. Sire?'

'Yes, Lerrissa .' Answered Melchia, stifling a yawn.

'Whose clan symbol is the Ankh?'

'No ones. It's bad look to take that mark as heraldry. Why do you ask?

'I saw a human with it branded on his shoulder.'

For the rest of that day Melchia got no sleep. Sunny though it was a chill had come over Melchias very soul. All the elder vampires knew all to well what that mark meant.

The map of bloodlines took up quite a large wall in what the townsmen still referred to as The Old Sarafan Keep, much to Voradors annoyance. It quite accurately showed the lineage, affiliation and relative age of every known vampire in the world. Currently he was trying to add another one to the cloud of names congregated under the name Melchia. It was not easy. The map was mostly made up of Voradors descendants, first generation under Vorador, second under them, third under them and so on for six or seven generations like some sort of pyramid. It was not like the Dark Gift diluted from one generation to the next. This left two spaces on the wall, one in the top left occupied for oddities like Magnus and Deliyla and such other vampires and their little broods that were not acutely his descendants but had been spawned by a patriarch who was spawned by a child of Janos Audron and none of them were alive to claim leadership of them. And then there was the dysfunctional family of Lord Kain in the top right; six fledglings and a small cloud of second generation fledglings under those, each one turned personally by their patron.

The Dark Father reached out with name and pin carefully grasped in his left claw, right claw holding on to the top of the ladder tightly enough to leave finger prints. The ladder gave a slight tremor.

'Blast it Ivor! Hold the ladder still I said! Still! Meaning the absence of movement!' shouted Vorador to the servant nearly thirty foot beneath his clawed feet.

'Sorry my lord, I'm doing my best.' Shouted back Ivor from the bottom of the ladder. He was nearly fifty and had been a faithful servant of the vampiric patriarch for thirty-five of those. He had been promised the Dark Gift should any of Voradors children meet an unfortunate end, provided he was not the reason for this of coarse.

He stretched out his arm again, pin and name card carefully held in hand, the pin made contact with the wall and the pressure from his thumb was cautiously increased until the name Lerrissa was placed resolutely amongst the Melchium.

Suddenly and without warning ladder and vampire came tumbling to the carpeted floor. Reflexes honed to perfection by two sarafan crusades and innumerable wannabe vampire slayers caused him to bounce back to his feet the very instant he came in contact with the ground. Ivor was on his knees collapsing sideways, arterial blood gushing from his ravaged throat, his assailant still standing behind him with his dripping knife held expertly in right hand. With two bounding strides the last child of Janos stood before the intruder; six foot ten inches of big eared, solid muscled, green skinned, sado-hedonistic brutality held in check only by the fragile ideals of duty, good will and responsibility.

It seemed that time had all but stood still. The trespassers blade caught the light of the rooms only oil lamp that Ivor had placed on the bottom of the ladder, now forlornly and unceremoniously rolling across the carpet, casting disturbing shadows across the inhuman features of the old vampire.

There was a law against murder but this was a rule far, far older and more fundamental to vampire kind 'do not go where uninvited'. Not only had this person broken that oldest of rules but also they had slashed the throat of one of his best friends. His right claw was brought around in a blindingly fast movement that left the assailant flat on the ground with a shattered neck and broken skull.

Wasting no time the old sire teleported to the nearest heart beat he could sense, a brief glimpse of someone's living quarters, grabbed the startled human and teleported back to his wounded servant in the blink of an eye.

'Bandage that.' Instructed Vorador to the shocked human, ripping of the sleeves off his well-tailored shirt. In less time than it took the sleeves to fall to the ground he was gone again. Another instant later a rather surprised doctor appeared.

'Physician, heal this man!'

The healer quickly knelt besides the injured man, a troubled expression crossed his face and he stood up again. 'I cannot, my lord. He is dead. I'm sorry.'