Chapter 20:

Vorador

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The thundering gallop came to an abrupt stop and the select prisoners huddled together like cattle in the wagonwere thrown violently down into the mud on the side of the road. They had stopped on the easternedge of the Termagant Forest, the rotting twisted mass of a swamp that stretched for miles across Nosgoth's middle. If Kain travelled south to meet their own armies, they wanted toleave theblood suckers a message.

The two knights up front disembarked first, clad in full Sarafan armour; even with the ceremonial red capes flowing out behind them. Their cruel squinting eyes scanned the collection of twenty prisoners forced to kneel before them in the mud as sword point. Some of them were vampires, others merely human traitors in service to the vampiric scourge and as such, were labelled for death just like their masters.

"That one there, it first." One of the knights began, jabbing his blade in the direction of a female vampire . She had been lashed and beaten, possibly even raped before being dragged here. None of them other prisoners could tell. The humans here had long abandoned the idea of vampires as an enemy, and could feel true pity with those of her kind already beside them. She didn't struggle as they dragged her forward and began erecting a stake. Her will to live had dissipated long ago, her yellow eyes staring of into nothing in a glazed expression.

"Don't look." Archimedes, one of the vampire spies for the Cabal whispered to a human merchant kneeling beside him as he averted his own gaze. The balding man cast a glance up, and looked away, forcing his eyes shut. The sickening crunch as the wooden pole passed through her breast and into her heart resonated across the canopy. One of the human females, the former owner of a Cabal safe house cried out before looking away; tears running down her cheeks.

"I wanted an excuse to cut the devils hands off." One of the lower class knights, as they propped the sick display up and prepared for another execution, the two Elite class talking amongst themselves as to which was next. Human or vampire, didn't really matter to them. "This one didn't even struggle." The other looked down at Archimedes. The fledgling had dull grey skin and raven black dirty hair, but with a handsome face. His golden eyes set hard set against the knight, his arms training to destroy the rope bonds that held them down; even with the two men standing behind the row of prisoners armed with cross bows. His clothes were torn and dirty with mud, and whatever jewellery he had had one him, judging by the holes in his pointed ears where two pairs of ear rings had been had been confiscated.

"I think this ones head would look good on a pike."

Someone cried out suddenly and blood began flying through and the air and spinning metal shards hurtled out of the semi darkness, thrown with expert precision they scored direct hits. Sometore out throats and others sinking into hearts and forced them still. Several armoured men went down at once, crashing to the muddy ground and lying still. The two elite knights drew their rune engraved swords and held up the shields on their right arms blocking any more projectiles.

That didn't stop their assailant. With the swiftness of the wind, Vorador came out of the dark undergrowth like a lance; his serrated blade ramming straight through one of them. The tip tore out the back in a spray of blood and metallic shards. As the man fell limp of the sword, Vorador picked his body up with telekinesis and tossed it violently back into the two men armed with cross bows. Knocking the both of them down before either of them had an opportunity to fire a shot.

The second Elite charged and Vorador parried out several swings, the ancients reflexes ultimately far superior to that of the Sarafan. Lashing out with a kick, the vampire stunned the knight long enough to dart behind the man and before he could do anything about it, jamming the blade straight through his throat.

As he went down, the two remaining Sarafan marksmen backed off. They were only armed with cross bows and clad in insufficient leather armour to take on a being like Vorador. Loosing their nerve, they ran, dropping their weapons and darting down the muddy road as fast as their legs would carry them. Unfortunately for them, Vorador could not have them reporting back that he was seen in this area.

He raised a free hand and a steady white glow surrounded his cloven hand. Suddenly, both men he tossed violently up high into the air. Those still on the ground watched as they steady rose higher and higher, until Vorador dropped his arm and they plummeted towards the ground; striking the road with tremendous force. Their bodies broke open on impact and the road itself turned red.

Vorador said nothing to the prisoners as he sheathed his blade. he simply turned to the vampire he had been too late to save. Her limp body hung suspended in mid air on that spike, fresh blood staining her torn clothes. He shock his head and softly touched her cheek with talon. She was still warm. Gently he pulled her off that terrible thing and carved a grave open with telekinesis. Only once he had seen to that did he release the prisoners.

They were all Cabal men, women and vampiric spies. Some he had sent personally into the Willendorf province, others were keepers of safe houses and even those with whom they did business. There was a spice merchant here who had allowed them to use a couple of his warehouses as meeting places.

"Ah, Archimedes. I'm glad to see you so well." The ancient began to the fledgling, removing his bounds. The young spy hadn't been treated much better than the others and was badly malnourished. It was a surprise he hadn't sunken his fangs into one of his fellow prisoners by now. "I take it your mission was less than successful?"

"Yes and no sire." He replied, rubbing the raw wounds where the rope had cut his wrists. "I was able to retrieve the information you requested, but was captured before I could return to give it to you." While most of the cabal had joined the younger Kain when he started his campaign again, a good few remained in Vorador's service and even more humans were joining now Sarafan activity was at an all time high. Some because they genuinely wanted to fight their oppressors and others Vorador suspected, because they wanted the Dark Gift and as much as he was inclined, he could not satisfy them all. The ancient vampire stood in the library of his mansion staring out across the wasteland of Nosgoth after he returned, his spies and collaborators remaining on the estate grounds for now. The order would never think of looking from any of them here, it was far too obvious a hiding place and they believed the Cabal more cunning than that. This way, their sect could remain in Vorador's already well known residence and at the same time remain hidden from the Sarafan. Not that many of the knights even wanted to penetrate the swamp. It was full of mutants, demons and other strange creatures hungry for blood. Few who ventured into its quicksand ridden depths ever returned.

Archimedes had brought him valuable information from the Sarafan intelligence bureau. According to them, the younger Kain had managed to recruit six vampiric warriors of immense skill. They were created tremendous amounts of damage on the front northern lines and even forcesd the sunlight knights back several miles. Was this part of the new history as the older Kain claimed, or something that was supposed to happen. Vorador would have to ask him when he returned.

Vorador had already done the research the supposed ancient from the future had requested of him and had what he thought was the answer. Still, his knowledge of Hylden settlements and technology was more limited than he would admit and there was a chance he could be wrong. But still, if that canister could be opened…Not once in over five thousand years had even considered the possibility of a cure. Not once…and yet Kain magically managed to get his hands on it. That seemed far too convenient to be taken for face value. Vorador did not trust him, but if there was even the smallest chance that this cure might actually work…

That did not mean however that an alliance with him was to his tastes. This Kain, the vampire who claimed to be from the future really expected him to believe that he had changed? That he wasn't the power hungry madman Vorador had known, that he was trying to make amends and on top of that…was the Scion of Balance? It was far too impossible to believe. Vorador had scoffed at the ancient predictions. None of them had ever come true…until now that is.

His large ears stood to attention all of a sudden, picking some tiny sound up. It was a metal clank made as a boot clad in armour pressed down on some dying flora. Quickly, he teleported away from the mansion to the balcony overlooking the back of his estate, from where he had heard the sound come from. From here, all he could see was his own estate grounds, rotting, becoming browner and browner as the days wore on. The well near his crypt had dried up long again and the mighty stone wall surrounding the gardens had been torn down by the relentless attacks by the swamp. There was no one there. Those he had brought back had retired into the manor itself until they went off to other places they could be of use.

Perhaps he had just been jumping at shadows…but in Nosgoth, shadows could quite often do quite a lot to hurt you so he thought it merited investigation. The sounds of armoured footsteps did not bode well in the third age of the Sarafan.

Finding nothing in or around the outer walls, Vorador turned his attention back to his grounds. All he had to do was glance around. Anything anyone could hide behind had long since rotted away. Just to make sure however, he searched the area magically, in case some Sarafan mage had concealed a troop behind a spell of invisibility. They had been known to do that from time to time. Again, he found nothing.

His senses weren't often wrong, almost never. Perhaps, he thought to himself, he had grown paranoid over the centuries. Turning, he went back towards the mansion. He paused in mid stride, there is was again, only this far closer. Instead of turning, the ancient vampire remained perfectly still. Waiting, testing the surrounding area with his own heightened senses, probing for whatever was trying to make a stealth attempt around his own grounds, he observed all that tried to approach.

Whatever it was, it was certainly swift and was using the shadows around it to it's fullest advantage. There…that metallic clank again. Now he could hear the breathing, but wait…that didn't sound human. It was far too quick and ragged. More like that of a…of a wolf.

Something occurred to him and quickly he glanced upwards towards the sky. He sighed outwardly in announce. There was enough of the moon tonight for it to be considered full.

A second later, a dark blurred shape came hurtling over the wall to his left; flying through the air like the wind itself. Vorador simply shot around and grabbed the thing in mid air using his telekinesis.

It was a Werewolf all right….only part way through it's transformation too.

This wolf was recognised at once. The green eyes slowly turning yellow, the red flaming hair, even the armour he had left the mansion in. His feet were still in the armoured boots he wore, but were beginning to slip off as his heals thinned and his skin began sprouting fur.

"So you got bitten?" Vorador asked; sounding amused as the half transformed Ewoden thrashed about in mid air, his human mind no longer in control of his actions. A second later, his travelling companion; the vampire Sally came floating over the wall. Well, not so much floated as tumbled. She'd been hard pushing herself to keep up with the former Sarafan.

"My lord." Sally began, bowing in the presence of her sire, although clearly out of breath from the chase. Vorador glanced her over for any bite marks but encountered none, neither did he see any blood on the fang like teeth Ewoden was now displaying as he howled, desperate to be free from the ancient vampire's telekinetic grip.

"I take it you found the Seroli?" He asked as he walked back towards the mansion with the former Sarafan in tow in the air.

"Yes my sire." Sally replied, following her sire up towards the ruin house. Around her shoulders she was wearing the shredded remains of the cloak she had left with, what was left hanging to her waist but not enough to cover the collection of scrolls she had tucked under one arm, all tied together with a leather strap and sealed with red wax.

"I look forward to seeing what my old comrades have to say." Vorador began with a short grin. "But first let's deal with this." The ancient vampire stated as he pushed the back door to his mansion and with a brief gesture of his hand towed Ewoden though into the dimly lit hallway. Once beyond the moon light, the curse of the wolf began to reverse itself. The fur receded back through the skin and the face twisted back from a snout to its original human nose. The tail that had been beginning to grow out from between the cracks in his armour disappeared and the former Sarafan was left human again. Once that was done, Vorador released his grip and the human dropped the floor with a loud clanking thud.

"We got caught out in the moonlight on the way back sire." Sally explained. "Ewoden got bitten by a werewolf on the road outside Stahlberg."

"That I can see." Vorador replied as Ewoden looked around in a daze, as if walking up from a dream. The ancient vampire had not much sympathy for the former Sarafan on this issue. If he was stupid enough to let himself get bitten then he deserved everything he got. "Well, as long as he's kept indoors on full moon's there should not be many problems." He turned to face Sally completely. "Now, I believe you have something for me?" Without hesitation she handed him the scrolls she carried.

"Ramek called these the Lupine Gospels. It's a record of their seer's visions and prophecies before the last of them died out over a thousand years ago."

"Ramek?" Vorador repeated. He knew that name. When he had been human, a student receiving tutorage from both vampire and Hylden one of his 'classmates' had been a young man called Ramek. Could it really be the same person? Vorador held felt sure any Seroli from the ancient times was long since dead…after all, immortally wasn't part of their curse. "Go…feed. I summoned a fresh batch of blood this morning." He told her. "And there's fresh breed in the kitchens for you. Or perhaps you'd like to go back into the swamp and hunt live game?" The ancient added with a short grin gesturing to Ewoden, who was looking rather flushed after nearly transforming completely into a werewolf. The former Sarafan cast him a soft glare.

That form he had assumed had nearly been the whole thing. Had he stayed in exposure to the moonlight any longer than that then he would have transformed completely. Sally bowed respectfully and quickly tugged Ewoden by the arm away through a doorway.

Vorador was aware they had shared a link through the Whisper. They had tried to keep it secret, something the two of them could enjoy privatly, but Vorador's senses were too highly attuned for something like to escape his notice. The very notion of a human and a Sarafan could be lovers still shook him to the core, yet the two of them were living proof it was possible.

Quickly the Ancient retired to his study, brushed all the other papers off the deck and placed the scrolls on the empty space. On the red wax seal was the impression of a wolf's head. This was from the Seroli for certain. Breaking it open, Vorador unfolded the scrolls and laid them flat. They were written in the ancient tongue, but since it had been Vorador's original language he found it was not too difficult to translate.

Skimming through it, the ancient looked over records of the first Seroli seers and their predictions. Most of it was the regular ramblings one might expect from those practicing foresight. But eventually he came to a brief paragraph that interested him. According to the scrawled date, this had been written two years before the start of the great war.

"One wielding blood and soul shall rise and be one and not of time." He repeated, reading the passage word for word. That certainly sounded right so he carried on. "Eight companions shall he have and they shall be one and not of time. Overcome deception of time and guise of death shall he, Scion of world's hope. Lies and treachery shall he slice through with blade of first born soul.

Warrior of neither demon nor angel, but liberator of all shall be he." Vorador paused and put to talons to his chin, sighing deep in his throat. Well he had a cryptic message, but not a lot he could do with it. Seer's had an annoying habit of putting their prophecies into annoying and vague phrases. Assuming Kain was the Scion of Balance and the saviour this passage spoke of, then he would have eight travelling companions to go with him making a total of nine.

Nine…Vorador blinked in realization. Nine of them? One for each pillar? But what did 'shall be one and not of time' meant? He carried on reading. "Mistake of time, once written shall be erased and the boy who would be tyrant shall be murdered and then find salvation by the same hand." That bit made even less sense than the first.

Until he knew more about this, then he resolved that he would not tell Kain about this. Not yet. Not until Vorador himself could see what practical use it could be of.

There was a faint twinge in the air and Vorador felt someone materialize out of a translocation spell. Kain had returned.

Rising, Vorador disappeared in the midst of his own magic and then reappeared at the place he felt the first spell end. He found himself in his greenhouse of all places, although the plants he had once tended had long since rotted away. To the ancient's surprise, Kain was no where to be seen. Suddenly, something lashes out from below and grabbed his ankle. A second later, Vorador's blade was in his hand and he was preparing to slash down at whatever held him. Then he saw that holding onto his boot was a cloven hand with a leather gauntlet attached to it.

"Vorador…" a weak voice began. Glancing down the arm to its owner, the ancient saw Kain lying on the ground, blood as black as the night sky bubbling on his lips. His free hand was barley holding onto the Reaver's hilt.

"What creature did you try to drink from?" Vorador asked, helping Kain up to a sitting position using telekinesis. Now he was off his front, the ancient could see the extent of the damage. Kain had been poisoned, very badly and it was spreading through his body. His skin was pale and almost turning purple which was an unnatural colour, even for most vampires.

-Janos- Vorador sent the summons through the Whisper to his sire who was somewhere within the manor grounds. There was a brief moment of silence and the winged vampire replied.

-Yes Vorador, I am here.-

-Kain has been poisoned sire.- Vorador told him quickly. –I need your help-