Chapter 3

Sarmatia. It seemed as if the world stopped when they passed through the checkpoint and made their way over the hill. From there one could see endless fields of green and yellow, and as a light breeze past through them Galahad sniffed the air, remembering everything he loved about his homeland.

Galahad looked at his companion and grinned. "Did you ever think we'd see home again?"

It was different for Tristan. This was the Sarmatia he had merely passed through when he was a boy. His home was farther East, across a great desert and many mountains, where the air became colder and the sun was always hiding behind clouds of gray. The sun had always hurt his eyes; but in his true home the cold air felt like heaven against his body, and the onset of early nights thrilled him.

Still, he gave a slight smirk to his friend, and urged his horse forward. The problem with Sarmatians was that they were a nomadic people, always moving throughout the various seasons.

For two weeks they traveled, going northeast. Galahad was searching for his father, mother, and younger sister. They searched tribe after tribe, with no luck in sight. News spread that the Hun were vastly moving farther and farther west in the Sarmatian lands. Some told them to go back; there was little hope that the Hun would stop until they conquered all of Eastern Europe.

"Perhaps they fled into Gaul." Tristan exclaimed one night, as Galahad lit the fire in silence.

Galahad sniffed and laid down a few pieces of wood. He shook his head. "My father is too stubborn for such things. Sarmatia is his home, he would not leave it."

Tristan did not say aloud that it was very unlikely Galahad's family had lived through the Hun invasions for fifteen years. After talking amongst the nomads, it seemed the Hun killed all that would not leave.

Galahad kept his optimism as they went, and on one particularly cold evening, he found what he was looking for. They walked in on one of the tribes, just as the sun went down. This tribe lived near one of the few forests around. Fires were lit and many had gathered to see the newcomers.

Tristan let Galahad approach the group, as he stayed back near the outskirts. "I am looking for a couple; a couple by the name of Gildred and Eliza."

Tristan watched as the crowd looked at each other, and then to two people standing near the back, who were looking quite confused at the knight.

"What is it you seek with them?" One man called, apparently weary of the knights.

Inside Galahad lit up. "Then they are here?" he excitedly exclaimed, letting a smile appear on his lips.

"I am Gildred" a middle aged man spoke, coming forward with his wife. He was still a man who looked in shape for his age, with only a small beard and curly brown hair. But it was his eyes that gave him away. They were Galahad's eyes. Tristan let a smile escape him, as Galahad sat atop his horse, a look of shock plastered on his face. The woman beside Gildred shook her head and let tears roll down her cheek, to the confusion of her husband.

"Galahad!" She cried, running to the horse. By then a young girl in her teenage years appeared. A ripe beauty in Tristan's opinion. She clung to her father, unsure of her mother's reaction.

Galahad dismounted and embraced the woman that bore him. By now Gildred and his daughter had approached, and it was quite the tearful reunion. Tristan held back, letting his friend enjoy this moment.

"By the gods, look at you, Leah! Your all grown up!" Galahad said to his sister, giving her a tight squeeze. She squeezed back, her look of joy priceless.

After another moment of embraces, Galahad looked over at Tristan, and beckoned him to come over. Nerves weld up inside of Tristan, though he was unsure of the cause of it. It was unusual to see a family so loving toward one another.

"This my fellow Knight…my brother, Tristan."

For a month Tristan stayed with Galahad's family, helping them prepare for the winter ahead. Eliza proved to be quite the cook, and took an immediate liking to the silent Scout. Gildred held him in the highest regards, often asking questions of their quests. Galahad felt at ease with his family, almost as if his years of serving in Britain were a nightmare to be disregarded. He took to helping his father, who was a blacksmith, and together they began forging various tools, weapons and things. The fighter inside him immediately left, and he no longer practiced his weapon maneuvers in the mornings, as the Knights had always done together in the past.

For Tristan, he became anxious to leave. Something new was aching inside of him, and the dreams started becoming more frequent. Galahad's sister Leah had taken a liking to him, and often went with him to do various chores. He liked her well enough, but never gave a hint that he would start something with her, though she tried often.

"Galahad speaks of you as if you are part of the family" she said one day after riding with Tristan.

Tristan did not reply, but instead began making his way into the forest. She followed him, untying her hair and letting it fall down on her back.

"Fancy a bath?" she asked, making her way over to the stream, a grin on her face. She had lovely features to her. Soft brown eyes, cream colored skin and a body that developed quite nicely.

"I took one earlier, thanks." he stated, trying to be polite.

She raised her eyebrows and began taking off her clothes. "Well, I haven't." She walked into the stream, caressing her naked body with water as Tristan watched. He turned around and gave her some privacy.

"You're welcome to look" she called, but he did not turn around. Galahad would kill him if he tried anything with her.

Instead Tristan looked at his surroundings, carefully noting the dead silence of the forest. The days were getting darker earlier and earlier now; a sign that winter was approaching. Something unusual filled inside him, letting his eyes become drowsy. For a split second, he thought he heard a voice, but there was no one close enough to whisper.

"Leah, I think we had better leave" he said, turning around. Right in front of him she stood, placing her wet and delicate fingers on his chest. She was dripping from her bath, but did not put her clothes on. She let her fingers run up his chest and on to his face, and he could feel her breath on him.

"How long has it been since you had a Sarmatian woman, Tristan?" she whispered, and leaned closer. At first he resisted, moving away, but she followed with each step. Finally she pressed her whole body onto him and reached for his hand. She placed his hand on her breast, but he would not look at her. A passion rose within him and he kissed her fiercely, giving in to her desires as he wrapped his arms around her. She moaned slightly and ran her fingers into his hair, her lips eager for more.

Up on the tree above them, a single raven sat. But soon more and more came, perching themselves around the adjacent trees. Their caws began, and Tristan let his lips part with hers. A group of ravens was a bad omen.

"No more" he whispered, still wishing to quench his lust but letting his instinct get the better of him.

"What?" she said, opening her eyes.

"Not now. We must go" he simply stated, walking over and picking up her clothes. He passed them over to her. She still bore a look of perplexion, mixed with slight annoyance.

"Now" he called again, this time more sternly. She began dressing, and they soon headed back to the encampment.

Galahad watched as they approached and raised an eyebrow. "And what may I ask were you two off doing?"

Leah looked at Tristan and cleared her throat. "I was showing Tristan the berry bushes."

The mother smiled, and looked to her husband, who seemed to be deep in thought. Tristan wanted this topic to end. Galahad nodded. "Oh, I see…because he's probably never seen anything as interesting as berries, right Leah?"

Leah blushed but said nothing. After dinner Galahad walked outside with his friend.

"

Galahad, I believe I will leave soon" Tristan began.

Galahad looked at his friend and sighed. "If it is because you do not think I would approve of you and my sister together…you are right, I don't But I won't stop you either. You are my friend, Tristan, and I'd rather her be with someone I can trust."

Tristan raised his eyebrows. "Oh, no. That's actually not where I was going with this. Your sister's lovely, Galahad, but my path lies somewhere else."

Galahad nodded and looked down at the ground. "When will you leave?"

"Tomorrow."

"Well…can't say I want you to go, but I understand that you are bound to nowhere and no one."

Tristan took a bite of his apple and munched on it. "I wouldn't say that…perhaps one day….when I find what I am looking for."

Galahad stretched out his arms. "Well, you have one more night. Lets make the best of it…I'll go get us some drinks."

Tristan awoke in the middle of the night, when all were sound asleep. He was sweating profusely, and inside his head he heard the same whispers from the forest. A new dream had occurred, and in it he was walking by the stream where he had shared a kiss with Leah…only this time she wasn't there. A single raven cawed nearby, and it was then that he had awakened.

He silently got out of his hut and saddled his horse. No one saw him leave, and he made his way in the pitch black toward the forest nearby. Inside the trees the air was much colder, and a strange mist surrounded him. It was hard to see, but he made his way to the stream where he had been earlier that day. There he heard a single raven make its call, though the rest of the forest remained silent. An eery feeling befall the Scout, as he began to smell something rather unusual.

A branch behind him snapped, and he whipped out his sword, ready for the attack. "Show yourself!" he called into the night.

For a moment nothing happened…but then the whispers came. They came from all directions and Tristan twisted his neck to try and follow the source of them. Finally a lone voice stood out.

"Turn around Tristan."

Tristan turned, and the moment he did, he dropped to his knees. There before him, stood his mother, not a day older than when he remembered her. The only difference was that she was a lot paler. She was dressed in a black cloak, and her raven black hair covered her shoulders. She lifted out her hands and touched the cheeks of the Scout, her fingers going over the tattoo that she had marked on him years before.

"My son," she whispered, a single tear escaping her eye.

Tristan found himself in a shock, unable to move as he stared up at the mother he thought dead.

With her arms she made him rise to face her, and he found he could not embrace her as Galahad had done with his parents. Though her eyes spoke of heartache and joy, there was something cold lurking behind.

Finally he spoke, though his voice was scratchy. "Where have you been?" he asked, trying very hard to remain expressionless.

A look of pity crossed her face as she tilted her head. "I'm so sorry I left you, my son. It needed to be done."

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Why?"

She bit her lower lip and sighed heavily, as if she had been waiting for this moment for years. "Because it is the way it needed to be. You had to be on your own before you went to Britain."

Her words were strange to Tristan and he was not sure her meaning behind them. She picked up the sword he had dropped and smiled. "Your father would have been proud of your accomplishments."

He began pacing back and forth, putting his hands over his neck in frustration. "What is it you want from me? Why appear to me now, mother? Why not years ago?"

She kept her tone strict. "Everything has gone according to plan. I was to appear to you only at the right moment, Tristan. Do you remember when I said your dreams will stop when you are ready?"

His expression changed, and he furrowed his brow trying to remember that day. "You said when I was ready I would meet my destiny."

She began circling him. "Tell me Tristan, do you know why you prefer the dark? Do you know why every time you take a life instead of feeling sorry you relish it? Do you feel as if your path leads down a strange road?"

It was unnerving that she knew these things….but in its own way a relief that someone else shared his true feelings that he had kept hidden for so long.

"How is it that you know this?"

She smirked. "You are of my blood, Tristan. You possess the same thoughts and feelings I do. I feel your pain."

He rubbed his face, making sure this was not another dream. "What do you want from me, mother?"

"I want you to meet your destiny, my son. But first you must trust me."

He almost laughed. "That is a little hard to do considering you have popped out of nowhere and told me all this."

"There is much to explain, and I will answer any questins you have…but first I must have your trust, Tristan. You must let me in."

He grunted and put his hand on his hips, looking away. She slowly walked over to him, and with her fingers she turned his cheek to face him. She let her eyes bear down into his soul, almost the same way Bree had. He began to feel weak from her touch, and he gulped in his fears.

"trust me" her voice wavered.

He let a wave of emotions overtake him, and he let her embrace him in a way he had never felt before. She clung her arms around him.

"Do you trust me?" she whispered.

"Yes" he whispered back, unsure of why he said that. His eyes began to blur, and he shook his head.

Still caught in the embrace, Tristan's mother's eyes began to change. No longer were they a milky brown, but instead they swirled into a bright yellow, though tristan could not see. He let her continue to hug him, though inside he wanted to let go and leave.

She opened her mouth, but not to speak. In an instant her fangs dug into the skin of his neck, his whole body feeling the effects of it. He cried out, and tried to push her off him, but found her strength overwhelming. "What are you doing!" he cried, pain erupting within him.

A voice now spoke in his mind, engulfing his thoughts. "It will be over soon. You must trust me…" the voice said. He tried to speak again, but found he couldn't. His body was becoming weaker and weaker as she gulped in his blood. His vision blurred, and he knew death was near. An array of images came through his mind: Of his mother happily lifting him up as a little boy, of his friends long gone playing tricks on each other and laughing, of his drunken escapades with loose women. Every happy thought he had ever had seeped through him, calming him. She made sure he only thought of happy times as she drank.

Finally, she let go, and he fell to the ground, almost unconscious. She held out her wrist to him. "Drink, my son. It is the only way you will survive."

Against his instincts, he did as she told him, and found that his teeth were enlarging and much sharper. He bore into her wrist as she winced, and he tasted a drop of her blood. The blood. It was like an ecstasy in his mouth, something so enticing he needed more and more. He felt his body becoming alive again, and it yearned for the taste of it. It begged him for more, and he gave in, sucking it out of her.

She pushed him away, not able to risk him having anymore. He hit the ground hard, the yearning still writhing within him. He felt empty the instant the blood was gone, and instead of becoming unconscious he began to feel a horrible sensation rise within him. His insides wanted to explode and he jerked around on the ground, yelling out profanities as he was being tortured.

It was a pain so great he had never experienced it before. Not even when he was being slashed and cut in battle. This pain went past the bodily pain and wriggled itself into his soul. He gasped for breath, lifting his head as his eyes blinked ferociously.

And then it stopped. The suffering, the torture. He wheezed heavily, unsure of what was happening. His eyes felt strange. He could see everything in the dark clearly. He let his finger touch one of his teeth, and found they had gone back to normal. He lay on the ground, continuing to gap for air.

His mother wiped the blood from her lips and smiled. "You will be weak until you feed, Tristan. It is normal. When you are strong again I will explain what has happened.

He tried to speak, but found it very hard. He was exhausted, and the yearning for blood remained within him, eating at him. His mother stopped her stare, and looked behind her. Instantly she vanished, just as someone else came into view.

"Tristan!" Leah called, running over to him. "Whats wrong? By the gods, there's blood everywhere!" She held up his head and searched for the source of his blood.

"Where are you wounded?"

He shook his head.

"Galahad was afraid you had left without saying goodbye. But you wouldn't do that to me Tristan, would you? He'll be here soon…I told him you might come here." She wrapped her arms around him.

He stared at her, first in shock and then with pure lust. Though he was still weak, he grabbed her hand and kissed her fervently on the lips. She missed him back just as passionately, placing her body on top of his. She hurriedly began unbuttoning her dress, and Tristan grabbed it, tearing it instantly. "I've been wanting this, Tristan" she whispered, closing her eyes. She began kissing him once more, unbuttoning his tunic as well. He touched her back, her hair, her breasts, but nothing was satisfying him. The lust was becoming greater.

He began kissing her cheek, her back, and slowly he made his way over to her neck. It was soft and pure, and something inside of him burst. He bit at her skin, but only slightly. She giggled and let him continue. But his mind willed his teeth to change, and so did his eyes. They became a menacing yellow, as his teeth grew longer and sharper. This time he bit hard into her skin, and she screamed, trying to push him off. The taste of blood. He closed his eyes as the lust for it overwhelmed him, and once more bore down into her neck. He drank and drank, and as he drank he felt his body becoming stronger, stronger than he had ever felt. It was a feeling better than any sex he had ever had…it met his every need and he relished it. She continued to fight him, but soon her punches became softer, and softer….until her hand hit the ground and her body became limp. But Tristan did not realize this. All he could think about was the power and the euphoria he was tasting.

Her body was still on top of his when Galahad approached. "Leah?" he whispered, seeing her atop of him. But she did not rise. "Tristan?"

Tristan could hear his friend, but only in the distance. He continued to drink her blood, and Galahad stepped closer. Upon seeing what he was doing, his eyes widened in horror and he lifted her body off of him, bringing her over a few feet away.

"Leah?" he cried, stroking her hair as he rocked her. Her eyes were closed, and already her skin was pale and cold to the touch. Her mouth was open, and he touched her cheek as tears slid down his face. "No" he whispered, burying his face into hers.

Tristan lay a few feet away, off in his own world. A power he had never felt before rose within in, and he wiped the blood stains off of his teeth with his tongue, sighing in pleasure.

A second later Galahadwas on top of him, punching his face with his fist, screaming "What have you done!"

Tristan awoke from his delusional rapture and saw his friend staring at him with tears in his eyes. "Galahad…what…"

He turned, and saw the body of Leah only a few feet away. In his mind he pictured his teeth crunching into her flesh, draining her of life. "No" he said, shaking his head. "I did not do this."

Galahad sat up, his face pale and shaking. He took out the knife from his left ankle. "I'll kill you!" he shouted, thrusting towards Tristan. Tristan, now fully strengthened and aware of what was happening, blocked the thrust and backed up, shaking his head violently. "it's not what you think..I didn't mean…"

Galahad's eyes were narrowed in fury. "You killed her…..you…my trusted friend….you raped and murdered my little sister!" he screamed, his voice cracking. He thrusted again, but this time tristan kicked it out of the way and wrapped his fingers around Galahad's throat, lifting him off of the ground. Never before had he possessed such strength, but right now he wasn't thinking of the fact that he could lift his friend up with only his left arm.

"Going to kill me too, brother? Please…it would be a blessing…" Galahad struggled to say, and Tristan's fingers tightened.

Scared of what he was capable of, Tristan let go, and Galahad fell to the ground, coughing profusely. He did not know how to react. His hands were shaking with fear, and the only thing going through his mind was the fact that he had just killed a girl, and he had enjoyed it. He began to run, into the woods and away from his comrade.

"You can't hide, Tristan! I'll find you!" Galahad called after him.

Tristan ran deeper and deeper into the forest, unsure of where he was going. This had to be some sort of nightmare…suddenly his sense alerted him that he was not alone and he turned, facing his mother once more.

"You have done well, my son. But now you must rest." Something hit him, and his eyes blurred, and he let darkness claim him.