CHAPTER 2

Reflections that lament the fall of golden leaves

They landed silently in a grassy clearing nearly 30 miles north of the dead forest. With a heavy soundless flap of his wings, powerful legs made contact with the soft ground. Had she the strength, Crete would have continued on for days, But the imbedded wooden needle in her lung made breathing difficult and it refused to heal before the obstruction was removed. There wouldn't be a fighting chance for her once nightfall descended, if she didn't deal with the nuisance now.

The green meadow grasses served as a stark contrast to the dry dead earth that still clung to the dragon's claws from earlier that morning. His rider's left hand went under the white cowl that draped over her lithe frame, and came out covered in a light smearing of blood.

Damn him…

She cursed the hunter's good aim as she used a stiff scale to slide down Doco's neck, trying to stave off the light-headed feeling that now grew stronger with every moment. This was going to take a while to recover, and it was time that she didn't want to waste on the ground. The sun would soon be at high-noon and it wasn't doing her delicate constitution any favors. She was vulnerable- more so here in the plush expanse of green, than in the dilapidated charcoal drawing of the dead forest.

Revisiting that place had dredged up memories she would have rather left to rust and crumble in the earth, alongside the ruins' weed-infested foundation. Like broken sun-bleached pottery, fragments of happy memories had been kicked up, only to reveal tragic endings that clung to the shattered pieces like soft earth.

She had remembered the Vidraru Southern Hold in all its former glory… Marble white floors inlaid with gold had once dusted the delicate skirts and cloaks of Noble kind. Chandeliers hung like twinkling stars strung along spider webs of spun glass across the entire ceiling. They served as the only light for dimly lit parties and grand balls between heavily fortified walls... The feasts of food and drink that were barely touched hinted at their self-mockery, preferring instead the flesh of the chattel that wandered mindlessly among them: Young girls in barely a stitch of clothing meandered about like the walking dead, only to be "sampled" by guests at their leisure until they dropped dead amidst the debauchery of their less than sympathetic masters.

Yes, she had remembered all too well. To see it in the dilapidated state with fallen walls, broken pillars, and pale statues serving as the hold's only grave markers did little to ease her conscience. For in her memory, she had danced among them… Her lips had been on a girl or two, greedy for their blood almost as much as she had been for her father's approving glances...

Doco lowered his head carefully and searched her haggard appearance with an upturned eye. The wound had been distracting in flight, and the usual strong arm that steered his massive head was preoccupied with applying pressure to the wound at her breast. It was uncertain what truth reflected back from that large emerald green eye into hers. Most would see the instincts of a beast answering the call of the scent of blood on the air- searching for the weakness in her that nature beckoned for him to exploit. She chose instead to see concern in his eyes, and responded with a stern pat on the nose with her usual half smile.

"Asha Fru'yi ten, Doco..."

She inspected the crown of horny protrusions on Doco's head and thumbed the clean cut from D's blade. It must have happened during their spat, when the fortress lent its forgotten grave as their battle arena… The horn had been cut so cleanly, it gleamed in the light like polished glass. She was not above admitting that his skill as a swordsman was going to be formidable, should they cross paths again. Although the distance she had put between them within the last few hours ensured that they wouldn't, there was a flicker of sadness at that resolution though she couldn't understand why.

She also wasn't above admitting her surprise that Faustino, the circus owner had offered up enough cash for a 'Class S' hunter like D. The employ of the hunter D did not come cheap, and the greedy businessman barely allowed enough money to leave his pockets to feed his performers, let alone avenge their deaths in such a grandiose way.

Though he did have his occasional favorites among the dance troupe. Rei'el must have been his current bed-warmer… It was a common jest that he treated the girls as his personal harem. "Flowers in the wind" as the troupe was called, had been referred to backstage with a snicker as "Faustino's on a whim."

While they shared common rooms and often brushed past each other in the cramped confines of the caravan train during travels, Crete didn't remember saying a word to the girl that she was now accused of killing… She did remember her face, however: Rei'el met all the standards of the troupe: beautiful, young, and gullible enough to leave home at the thought of easy fame and fortune in the capital. Her black hair would twirl about on stage, framing bright red lips as she smiled at the crowd with each turn. That beautiful, blue-black hair that turned into to her death shroud…

Crete couldn't forget the smell of blood before her eyes caught the crumpled mass at the floor of her quarters. A nervous, slender finger pulled back the curtain of matted hair from the girl's face, only to reveal eyes wide with their last moments of living terror. A silent scream forever etched on her now pale blood-drained lips… Where most people would faint at the horrible site, Crete simply gave a defeated sigh. Everything in this new life would now be slipping away without her being able to follow it. She had drawn too much attention here, and she had been discovered again.

The way the girl had been positioned in her death throws, was an old custom among Vampires: Her twisted back, and upturned neck like a sacrificial offering to a pagan god, was a lavish invitation among their kind. This was a call to finish what had begun centuries ago, and a warning to what would happen if Crete refused. A small part of her felt some kind of pity for the poor child, Though Crete considered death to be only slightly worse than sacrificing one's dignity to the lecherous hands of old Faustino.

Her thoughts began to return to more pressing matters, as Doco nudged his snout against her arm to inspect her again.

"Luce, ecru?"

She asked endearingly, albeit a little tired, as she addressed the behemoth. Flying took a lot of energy, and dragons could easily become dehydrated if not given a constant supply of water. It was most likely why they hunted near rivers and oceans, or hid in the eternally snowy mountains. She led him out of the clearing through a thick of trees to the sound of flowing water. Clear and serene, a waterfall cascaded beautifully from a rocky lip above into a giant pool, before slowly trailing off downstream.

It seemed fairly safe, but it was dangerous to be so close to "wild" water sources; All manner of mutant creatures and monsters took up residence in the darkness of such inviting pools. She took a small vial from under her caplet and poured its contents carefully into the edge of the water. Testing for poisons and essences of water monsters spurned the manufacture of handy little vials. The vials' inky color turned to green before threading out into the clear water, and she stepped back before giving Doco a motion to approach.

He carefully walked up to the edge and sniffed at the surface, looking around several times before dropping his guard to drink. Despite being the size of a bull elephant, he was a careful and timid animal. He was nervous and leery of taking chances, much like his master… She smiled a little as she watched him gather great mouthfuls before tilting his head towards the heavens, letting the cool drink slide down his long throat.

It always reminded her of how much he looked like the little dipping bird toys that were made in the village of Arseth: Their little mechanical gears rocked back and forth creating a simple example of perpetual motion, had mesmerized little Althea for at least an hour. The memory of having to buy her one just to finally go back to the circus caravan had seemed like such a hindrance then. Now the memory was a treasure…

Giving him a stern pat on the side as he drank his fill, her attention shifted to the task at hand. With a smooth motion she undid the buckle at her shoulder and let the caplet fall to her feet. Slim with an absence of obvious feminine features, the hours of practice and hard labor had taken the voluptuous curves of a woman, and given back a finely sculpted, ambiguous body. The only feminine grace she had kept was the long braid of blonde-white hair that had been wrapped around her shoulders like a scarf. She lifted it over her head and let it fall down to mid-thigh. The braid cascaded into curiously dyed black hair at the end, as though the platinum rope of hair had been accidentally dipped in India Ink.

Crete sat down under the shade of a giant tree by the water's edge. Taking hold of the high collared body suit, she unzipped it to bare flesh. The dark red bloom of blood that bloomed into the grey fabric had also coated the pearlescent white skin beneath. She felt the tiny protrusion of wood with her finger tips, and wiped away the blood around it. This was going to sting, there was no getting around that...

Removing a small dagger from her boot, she pointed the tip precisely above the wound and cursed D's name once more before plunging it through the skin. The intensity of sensory nerves firing off in rapid secession to her brain, did little to stop her from digging around the annoying nuisance. Blood spurted from the open wound in protest as her trembling lips refused to cry out from the pain.

As the dagger clattered to the ground, she quickly dug her long fingernails into the wound before it could close up, and pulled out the rough wooden needle with an exalted breath. Roughly hewn, it's carved length was ordinary and simple. However, the ends demonstrated the skill of a steady hand and scalpel-like precision. Her blood smeared across the reflective part of silver that coated each tip.

No wonder the damn thing hurt so badly…

She thought, angry at it's intelligent craftsmanship before tossing it away. The wound had already begun to feel better, despite the new hot sting of super human healing that blanketed the nerve endings from skin to lung.

It was one of the burdens of being of noble blood…one could heal quickly, but if surgery were required to dislodge a bullet or a broken blade, anesthetic didn't work on immortal kind. The ability to hyper-regenerate made their metabolic rate too fast for any numbing drugs to take effect. Most Nobles simply learned through the years, to manipulate the sensation, to where it looked as if they didn't feel pain at all. Crete had seen some Nobles have limbs removed, acid poured into their mouths, cleaved in half by a strong blade… and still they would smile and calmly threaten their foe as if they were having tea with them as opposed to being engaged in deadly battle.

A little known truth was that their calm and collected demeanor in the face of agony was just a farce: they felt every ounce of pain inflicted on them just as humans did…Nobles just had more experience at transcending it into another element of their being. In a sense, the old ones learned to embody the very essence of pain.

Crete had a sudden intuition to open her eyes and look over at Doco. He had stopped drinking, and started to wave his head from side to side trying to gain his bearing. The scaly giant looked oddly off balance.

"Doco? Savra huite' ?"

Crete narrowed her eyes and snatched up her dagger before quickly getting up. Doco's breath turned into a labored pant as he turned away from the pool, and slumped over after a few steps. He looked confused as he tried to stand again and fell over on his other side all together and didn't move.

"Doco!"

She had started towards him before a hair's breadth of instinct bent her spine backwards, causing her to narrowly dodge a twirling blade that sliced the air between them and thudded into a tree. Her narrowed eyes searched for a flicker of an exposed enemy in the foliage. It all became clear now: The water source had been poisoned after all. Cackling laughter echoed across green leaves of thick branches overhead. The sound separated and surrounded them just out of view. The dagger in her hand was tipped red with her own blood and now called out for more.

"Show yourself to me, and it may inspire mercy." She threatened to the cackling trees. The response sent chills up her spine.

"Oh, my dear… I inspire many things. Mercy is not one of them."

The gentle voice was recognizable, as though it fell from some misplaced nightmare that had long ago been shelved from childhood. It came from nowhere, and yet everywhere. It slithered from hell to whisper seeds of sin into the hearts of weak souls- Yes, Crete knew the voice of her half sister quite well...

Her words called forth the very darkness to descend the grassy sun-touched landscape. Shadows began to creep across the ground, and blot out the sunlight overhead. Time turned over, succumbing to the powers of it's Noble master, as she turned the beautiful day into an ominous night within moments.

Crete suspected time bewitching incense, or perhaps space warping technology, but couldn't be sure. Noble kind had developed technology ages ago to combat the natural cycles of day and night, to ensure their uninterrupted invincibility. Curving two points of time from opposite ends of the world was an easy way to ensure that you could literally "bring the darkness" wherever you went. A useful trick to Nobles, and highly effective at inspiring fear in humans. Since Crete was neither, there was little indication that it affected her one way or the other. With relaxed shoulders, and a more dignified stance, she addressed the darkness again, this time with a calm resignation.

"It's been a long time, Valea."

Above the glittering pool, a void of pure darkness appeared. It rippled like a desert mirage, distorting the very fabric of space as it created an otherworldly doorway. Voids like this could cause madness in people, if they looked directly into it for too long. The light-absorbing darkness was not like looking into the mouth of Hell- Hell was at least a place with feeling and existence… This was a nothingness, an absence of everything: a living oblivion and on it's edge, dwelled the true creatures of the night.

Through it appeared a pale drop of pearled beauty. Draped in shimmering fabric that clung to every curve like liquid gold, she came forward like an angel of heaven. The graceful manner of her step as she blossomed from the dark void, was second only to the gods that were said to descend the earth once a millennia...

The surface of the water shuddered at the caress of her bare feet, almost ashamed that it was touched by something so beautiful. It held her there, on its surface like a weightless feather. The sharp and regal features of her ancestors, were both enchanting and instinctively struck fear into the hearts of mankind. Alluring and terrifying: This was the presence of a true Noble.

Her ruby red lips smiled sweetly. "For far too long, my sister, these arms have grown so weary of searching for you. Let me rest them in your embrace."

Her white limbs stretched out for her sister still poised at the embankment several feet away. Crete recoiled like a wild animal at the gesture. The tone in her sisters' ethereal voice was a mockery of genuine affection that her former self had learned all too well. This was a trap that she dared never play into again...

From the corner of her eye, Crete caught the slightest of movements from Doco as he twitched his tail upwards.

Fight it, Doco- Fight it with all your strength!

Despite the twisting of her insides at the possibility of losing Doco, she commanded with an iron resolve, "Allow the dragon to live. He's of no importance to you."

Valea cocked her head slightly to one side, like a bird of prey. "Oh, but he is of great importance to you, dear sister…"

With a twist of her hand, the golden threads of her dress snaked out like lightening, and tightened themselves around Crete's body. She struggled to break free, but was dragged forward in an instant to stand eye to eye with her deceptively quick sibling above the surface of the pool. The threads guided their catch directly to their mistress's outstretched hand. Long fingernails wrapped her neck in a vice-like grip.

"And that, is a most grievous sin; to allow oneself to be loved by one so filthy as you... Even a mindless beast should have more pride."

Her breath was a cold chill to a fresh spring blossom. After all these years, she could still inflict pain like no other with words as sharp as broken glass. Crete gasped for air, and wriggled to free herself from her golden-thread cocoon. Steely fingers tightened their grip to cease her incessant squirming. Crete was close enough to see the firey gold flecks in Valea's blue eyes. The same eyes that showed malice and pure contempt reflected back into the same gold-flecked blue eyes of desperation and pain that were Crete's.

The scene echoed déjà vu, from years ago when times were more simple between them. When the sparring matches always ended in Crete's embarrassing defeat, but never her death. Her half sisters where stronger, faster, with more years of finely honed skill… They had been all too eager to deal out punishment on what they considered a scourge on their family name. Their youngest sibling never inspired their sympathy, but rather contempt for the shameful thorn of their father's appetites having bore a Dhampire off-spring.

Only their fathers' command would stave off the final blow, much to their disappointment. He had always spared her their full wrath, but now there was no one to help her- No one to call off the terrifying power that was her full blooded Noble sibling, in all her glorious vengeance. The hatred buring from Valea's golden-blue gaze now focused on the delight of watching her strength slowly being choked out from her body... She brought her close to smell the fresh wound at her chest.

"I always did delight in the smell of your blood. It hailed my victory on the horizon. Before father would snatch it away.. But he is no longer here to save you this time. You made sure of that."

Red lips spread into a smile, baring sharp white fangs. Intoxicated by the smell, Valea took her hands off her sister's throat, only to grab a handful of braided hair at the back of her head. With a violent jerk backwards, Crete's throat was exposed. He neck nearly breaking at the sharp angle.

Valea leaned in close enough for Crete to feel the heat of her breath at her neck, and like a secret spoken to a lover, sweetly whispered, "Now you're all mine..."

Crete opened her eyes to search wildly for a way out, only to settle on an alluring point in the darkness at the embankment. As her mind tried to discern if there was a figure standing there, or just her desperate imagination, something thin gleamed in the darkness, passing a mere inch from her strained expression. Nearly faster than even her heightened vision could discern, a rough wooden needle slid silently through the air before imbedding itself into the eye of the Noblewoman. With a shriek, Valea recoiled and threw two pale hands up to her face. With broken concentration, the golden bindings that had been holding her in an iron maiden grasp, loosened and dropped her into the water below. Crete wasted no time in clamoring up to the surface and skittering unceremoniously across the embankment until she was out of the water and well away from her half sister.

Crete looked over to see that a portion of the darkness had taken human form. He was wearing the hunter's clothes, and even bore the same resemblance… But this living darkness couldn't possibly have been the same person she had met in the dead forest. This… had to have been someone else. His countenance reverberated a power that sucked the breath from her lungs. It was hard to breath when laying eyes upon him. The darkness melded around him, not because he commanded it to; the darkness simply felt like it was the most respectful thing to do for him. He had his sword drawn, and the shimmering arc of a long blade protruded in front of him. D glanced at Crete.

"Get back."

His words were like cold steel. Crete furrowed her brow as she remembered how to breath again.

"You get back! She's definitely going to kill you now… you had better run while you've got the chance, Hunter."

They both looked at the slumped over figure, still lingering there above the water's surface. Fingers that had seemed so lithe and inviting before, now looked boney and malnourished as they gripped the end of the wooden needle in her eye and ripped it out with a bloody stream of liquid. A screech rang out, as she pressed her other hand to the side of her face and glared at the direction of D through red stained fingers.

"You! How dare you defile my beautiful face in such a way! Death will not come swiftly enough for you!"

Her siren-like voice had degraded into a hollow rasp, haggard with hatred for the one who would have the gall to dishevel her beauty. He hadn't just hit a soft spot, he had hit her ego with pinpoint accuracy. Crete had seen Valea tear a room of seamstresses to pieces after she found a spot of dirt on her new gown, she shuddered to think about what was going to happen to this poor fool for a crime far worse.

Her golden threads moved like liquid lightening towards D. They melded their shape into sharpened spears that gleamed in the darkness, poised to skewer him simultaneously. Gold was met with a silver flash in the air before the threads fell limply at his feet. The tips of them shrank back like tiny slugs that liquefied back into their parent tendrils before they receded in defeat to their mistress.

Valea looked confused and angry that her attack had been so quickly dispatched. She hissed at the hunter's calm stance.

"Are you the one that killed the girl from the circus?"

D asked calmly. A smile spread across her face like a maddened chesshire cat. The true nature of Valea had been revealed.

"You mean my gift? She was so delicious... But I was generous. I left a little behind for you, Crete."

Her head turned slightly. unblinking eyes- one blue, the other a bloody hollow wound, fixated onto Crete, still on the ground. The chesshire cat was hungry, and Crete looked like a baby bird fallen from the nest.

"Did you like her, sister? Did she taste sweet like a first love? Was she not the shining sun of life itself?"

"Get away from me…"

Crete warned hesitantly, as she stumbled back onto her feet. Valea glided gently across the water towards her like a ghost. Her nervous and hesitant hand rolled along the side of a hilt behind her. The twin blades at her back ached to be touched and Crete secretly pleaded with whatever gods that may have been listening, to offer her another choice than to use them. She had lost her dagger in the water, and now searched for some other means- any other means than these- to defend herself.

"You've run long enough, Crete. It's time to pay for your sins, now… Both of you."

It was unclear who exactly Valea had been referring to when she said 'Both'… Crete and Doco? Or Crete and D? certainly, D had disfigured her for a while, and Valea, like most vain Nobles, considered that quite unforgivable… But Doco had a longer history of standing in the way of his mistress and warding off lesser ranks of the Vidraru family's familiars. On better days, he had been rather successful at it. Sadly, his trust in his mistress may have been the undoing of him now. After all, it was she who had allowed him to drink from the water that had been laced with a highly toxic venom.

The world seemed to sink in around her. As Valea flashed towards her with arms outstretched and a red mouth jutted open with white fangs like some pale banshee, and Doco in the throws of an agonizing death just a few feet away, and the beautiful steely figure of D- wait, D!

In the blink on an eye, he stood between Valea and Crete. A silver arc flashed out and bisected the floating Noblewoman, reducing her into two halves of a screaming whole. One bloodied with a missing eye, the other with a look of surprised horror, both portions began to fall apart from each other.

The surprised half seemed to utter a single word before she disappeared into a shimmering mirage.

"How…?"

The darkness instantly began to lift. With a flash of his blade, D had reduced the spell into nothing but dust and skittering shadows. He turned to Crete as the viel of night lifted, and the sun began to peek through the canopy of trees overhead. Birds resumed their songs, the wind blew away the last remnants of the nightmare, and the horrifying aura that resonated from D seemed to disappear and leave behind the simple clothed young man from earlier.

"She was just a projection. Do you know the real noble's whereabouts?"

He asked her matter-of-factly. Crete stared at the point above the water where her sister had just been. Her eyes were fixed and glassed over in a tangle of thought.

"Just a projection…" She muttered to herself, Ignoring his question. Doco gave a low groan past them. It snapped her from the slight daze, as she immediately dashed over to the behemoth's head that now grated across the graveled embankment in agony. She knealt down and gently touched the leathery hide near his eye. In a language D didn't understand, she cooed to him quietly before getting up.

"This poison is no projection, though. I tested the water before I let him drink… it was clear of poisonous substances, I swear it. I would never have let him touch a drop if it had-"

Crete was about to lose her composure now. D could sense it easily enough from the shaky tone.

"Someone may have contaminated it from up-stream just after you had tested it." D responded as he walked to the pool's edge, and dipped a protesting left hand into the lapping water.

"What are you-?" She began to ask as a strange sight unfolded before her. A bizarre sucking noise was heard as his left hand seemed to absorb vast mouthfuls of water. With gurgled murmur from the center of his palm, D clenched his fist with a shaking intensity, and carefully brought it over to the creature.

"Open his mouth."

"Tell me what you're doing first."

"The water was definitely poisoned. I've analized the molecular structure and reconfigured it for a neutralizing agent."

"With…your hand." Crete was obviously skeptical.

"It isn't a cure, but it will stop the spread of the poison in his blood stream. The choice is yours."

Crete sneered at his lackadaisical attitude in the face of her inner turmoil.

"As if I have one!"

Angry at her helplessness and lack of options, she quickly pried open the dragon's mouth as D held his hand over the creature's gaping maw. A glistening sparkle of water threaded down into his throat from a point in the palm of his hand that couldn't be seen. Doco didn't seem to respond, as his breathing continued as small shallow huffs. His green eye opened, but would glass over and close again without focusing, not even on his mistress who spoke to him in several different tongues to get him to rise. She looked at D with wild eyes.

"You said it would help him."

"I said it would stop the poison, not undo what has already been done-"

"Then you've condemned him to an even more torturous death!"

Crete gritted her teeth to stave off the fury welling up within. She could feel that Doco was stressed and disillusioned by the poison, and because of it her own thoughts where scattered and unfocused. D's emotionless responses did little to help the situation. How could he understand the bond between a dragon and rider? The melding of two hearts, and two minds, but in separate bodies? Doco may have been the one dying, but both where in pain. This was a hundred times worse than any silver-tipped needle through the chest…

Something gleaming in the sunlight caught the corner of her eye. The double edged blade that had been thrown at her at the beginning of the scuffle, hadn't been from the noblewoman. It had come from the laughing trees above the waterfall. She eyed it carefully before plucking it from the tree trunk. She turned it over in her hand as she spoke,

"My father had a servant; An alchemist by the name of Malthesic. I'd know his cheap weaponry, and his cowardly cackle anywhere. He was still human last I remember, so he can travel by day, unlike the rest… If I where him, I'd be running right about now."

She tossed her chin up to the rocky waterfall's edge above them. D immediately started off towards it.

"Hey, wait! Why are you going to find him? This isn't your problem, or your responsibility. I'm the one-…I caused all of this. Don't get involved any more than you already are."

D stopped and turned his head slightly, his sword-strung back still facing her.

"I wounded that Noble. Is she the type to hold a grudge?" He asked without any hint of fear.

"Until the ends of the earth, I'm afraid." She responded with a sympathetic sigh.

D smiled slightly, then. An amused reflection behind half closed eyes.

"Then I suppose I'm already too involved to turn back now. Stay here with him. He clearly means a lot to you. If I don't return, you should be with him until the end."

Crete stood speechless. Without another glance back, D bounded in one swift jump, clearing the 30 foot hike up and over the waterfall's crest. In a flash, he was gone and all that was left where the simple, yet heavy words that still clung to the air between them.

Perhaps he understood, after all...