Kain blinked. He... could not, just at this moment, recall ever being insulted so. Even the Sarafan, when they'd still existed, tended to cleave to the usual worn and unimaginative curses. How novel. "I am not." Kain tilted his head, weighing his options. "And it is best to refrain from speaking his name, or of the things I tell you this night. Time is his dominion and he is a jealous overseer - he may not be well pleased to learn of my presence here."
Kain knelt in the damp grass, his motion a feral grace. "My purpose now is to ensure that you attain your birthright – by whatever means prove necessary. To that end, we shall travel to a place for you to rest and heal, and then you will begin to learn the things which all children of nobility must master. I do not intend to injure you further, unless necessary. And no mortal shall use you as did the tavern patrons, save you will it. Do you understand me?" Perhaps it was enough information - true, even, so far as the words technically went - to keep the child from fleeing again.
Rahab, shivering harder now as he cooled from his flight, bit at his lip as he thought frantically. He'd once seen merchants' children at study, long ago. But he remembered the trimmed feathers and the smell of ink and the marvelous, strange runes etched on rough paper. "I... I could... learn to… look at books?" he asked hesitantly.
Kain scrutinized the waif for several moments. "To 'read', yes. Among a great many other things," he said.
Rahab's shivering was becoming violent. In the inn, he'd often been warm, and frequently ate scraps from the kitchen in the evenings. He'd known what to expect - of the innkeep, the girls, the men. Here, Rahab was cold, imprisoned by an unpredictable and dangerous warlock who spun unlikely tales, and he had only the promise of food to sustain him. Food, and perhaps, just perhaps... the chance to touch a book, to look upon its secrets, to decipher them for himself.
Rahab gave the matter some thought; decided that it was, on balance, an equitable trade of circumstances. "Alright," Rahab said quietly, and nodded.
"In that case," said Kain, a little bemused that the boy thought his agreement or disagreement made any real difference to the vampire lord - though it was, perhaps, a useful fantasy to maintain, to the extent that it kept the mortal calm - "I should be most displeased if you perished of the cold this night. Let us adjourn to someplace more sheltered."
The boy obediently struggled to stand, clasping his enchanted coin close to his breast. A few limping steps by Kain's side, though, and the waif's ankle folded. The vampire lord was forced to turn and catch the wretch before he fell upon his already-injured arm, a further necessity of contact which the ancient vampire little appreciated. Kain snarled to himself quietly in pique even as he carried the boy downhill towards a thicket of traveler's pines, where he might spread furs and blankets, and start a fire – for the second time in the last eighty-six years.
This was going to be a very long trek, indeed.
.
.
The vampire lord chanced patrolling only a short distance that night, far enough to dispatch a young basilisk which denned among the crags nearby – the creatures were stupid enough to sometimes disregard a vampire's presence, and could be dangerous to slave stock even at a distance. Kain could permit no such risk, however slight, to his charge. Seeking the creature out by scent from a half-mile away, ducking into its tight cavern, and spitting the beast upon the tip of an enchanted sword all took mere minutes. Taking his bearings from the top of the nearest ridgeline confirmed Kain's suspicions – they were almost directly North of Vorador's manse, some four hundred miles by land from Coorhagen. Kain's monitoring spell, imbedded in the coin around the boy's neck, kept constant vigil over the boy, and his immediate surroundings, all the while.
Even still, Kain dragged back much of the basilisk's corpse in order to strip the scales from it, rather than delaying to skin the creature on the spot. The bronze-colored bony plates were a component of several spells, and Kain was hardly in a position to waste any chance at equipping himself more thoroughly.
Which brought to mind a question. What resources, exactly, did Kain possess?
The area now secured and the scales sealed away, there was little to do but find out. Selecting a flat expanse of rock some small distance from the fire, Kain spread a fur, hide-side up, and began to inventory the items he had collected. It was no small task – it had been decades, a century perhaps, since Kain had last bothered to fully sort through the objects he carried wrapped tight in dimensional folds.
Object after object he produced and laid aside: a bolt of water-silk, several iron crucibles, map cases, a second pouch of coins minted mostly of silver, several curving pieces of glassware, a stack of old histories which treated on ages far in this time's future, a cask of distilled alcohol, mortar and pestle, six weeks of taxation records for Turel's kingdom, a full case of flay devices, scraps of rope and other detrus, a dozen capes and changes of clothing, quills and ink, perhaps half a hundred bottles of powders and bones which marked a sorcerer's trade, a bestiary of furs, several handfuls of jewels of good enchanting quality, the iron stakes of a great tent, a number of weapons of varying description, wooden kite shields and rattan swords for the instruction of fledglings, three pieces of serioli armor, a small lapis carving of an Ancient, rivets and plates for the repair of gauntlets, tack for a tusked Dumahim warhorse, and much more. Towards the end of it, Kain uncovered two small and long-forgotten crates of bloodvials – one half empty. Kain slid the lid from one of the wooden boxes, trailing fingertips lightly over the ornate wire-wrapped tops of the little philtres within. He plucked one from its velvet depression and uncorked it, sipping whilst he thought.
All told, Kain decided, the items he could part with probably amounted to a small fortune. While it had been a very long time since Kain had concerned himself with local economies – value meant little when one could simply take what one wanted – he was fairly certain that this was sufficient to buy a manor house, lands, and the peasants to work it. The items were almost certainly not adequate to purchase a high rank amongst the Sarafan, nor to mention the training and equipment such a position required. For the first time in all of this long, mazed journey, Kain regretted the loss of his treasure chambers at the Sanctuary of the Clans, piled high with precious metals and artifacts from all the world. If he'd thought to bring even a fraction of that wealth with him, Kain might have found an easy answer to his present dilemma.
Of course, Kain had no use for gold, there in the blighted winter of his world.
It did not bear thinking upon - what use was there in mourning over spilled blood? Kain would simply have to find another means of ensuring Rahab's ascendancy. Kain began the task of placing objects back into the dimensional pocket, discarding those things without worth or possible use.
And then, lost in his plans, Kain kept watch as the horizon lightened.
.
.
Daybreak found Rahab restless, feverish.
His heartbeat was no faster or slower, but his body was shockingly hot in the nest of furs and textiles Kain had supplied the boy. He turned and murmured in his sleep. Kain woke him with a growled command, wary of touching the mortal, lest he break the creature still further in his clearly compromised state. The vampire lord had experience, of course, with plagues and poxes amongst the slaves. He even knew that there were types of fevers which could be cured, sometimes easily by Melchiah's estimation, thus saving a valuable slave from being culled on the spot, and other types of fevers relating simply to injury.
But he had never learned – had never dreamed he would need to know – the means of distinguishing one illness from another. Why would he, when every mortal was a disposable one? When Melchiahim had been always close to hand to control any pandemic?
"Up, boy," Kain growled again as the little human blinked blearily up at him. "Rise. We must move quickly, if we are to make good time." At his usual effortless, inhuman lope – a pace that would kill most horses forced to it for long - Kain might reach Coorhagen in six or seven days, even burdened with a small human and travelling without roads. But as he watched the mortal struggle to divest himself from the furs and blankets, a cold knot of fear began to twist in the pit of Kain's belly.
A human might perish in that time, mightn't it?
Uschtenheim was closer, but not by much, and the terrain was rougher. Villages and trading centers abounded, but was Kain to entrust the boy to a common hedge witch or bloodletter? Shifting a human into batform, alongside Kain's own body, typically resulted in a gory disaster. And teleportation… well. Not even Kain could teleport to a place he had not seen, a place at which he had set no arcane anchors. He did know the mountains and lakes around the city quite well. But how would those sites change over the next few thousand years?
Materializing a league above ground would not greatly inconvenience Kain; appearing a league under it, or inside a tree, might prove an uncomfortable delay. It would be fatal for any mortal Kain carried.
Impossible, that with all the magics and materials at Kain's disposal, he could not get one small human to a skilled chirurgeon with suitable speed. Simply impossible. There had to be a way – "Nay, boy. Hold," Kain said, raising up a hand as the child stepped haltingly from his cocoon, still clutching the vampire lord's drape close about his shoulders. Kain eyed the blankets, then the cloak, judging its length and durability. It… might do, at that.
"I shall send unto you a beast of the woods, ensorcelled by my magic," Kain said to the boy, thinking rapidly. Long habit kept him from lying directly – any other vampire could scent deliberate untruth, even upon Kain himself. "It will convey you; I will be close in case of trouble, but unseen. You must knot yourself into the drape you bear, that it might carry you more easily. Do you understand?" The enchanted fabric was strong enough to hold even against the great fangs of Kain's wolf form, provided Kain was careful. The wolf was big enough that it might run freely, even with a burden of Rahab's size dangling in its maw.
And it was very, very fast.
Rahab blinked, seemed confused. His voice croaked when he first tried it, and he licked dry lips. "I… yes. Yes, Sire," he amended quickly, looking about him, eyes falling on the blankets and the embers of the fire, and then on the skinned and beheaded corpse of the basilisk, and the refuse which Kain had cleared from his dimensional pockets, clearly attempting to make sense of the changes the night had wrought.
Kain saw no particular reason to enlighten him. "Then make yourself ready, boy," Kain said, "and I shall dispatch the beast to you shortly." With no further ado, Kain turned on his heel and stalked towards the nearest stand of concealing trees, leaving the fevered boy alone in the clearing, wrapped in imperial crimson, the coin around his neck.
It would be good, Kain thought, to stretch his legs again.
.
.
.
Thanks to the reviewers - you gave me the kick in the pants I needed to get going. Drop me a line if you want to see anything (a specific scene, perhaps?) or have ideas or corrections, or just want to chat. Love you all!