CHAPTER 30: COLD TRUTHS
“The first and her brood called the practice Molek. Some of our eldest kindred still use the term, but it's as antiquated as they are. For most, there is no word for rite, simply the risk and reward it offers. To consume another Vampire, to drink them to death is always a gamble, especially if the consumed isn’t pitifully weak. Blood and souls clash, and the loser is devoured messily, bits of their existence clinging to their killer like splattered gore. Those hunks of Aetheric filth are what cause the hallucinations and other side effects; they do dissipate with time, but a strong victim will leave their mark for longer than you’d think” - Count Francois gens Herop in a letter to the Magi Maxis Galen.
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The brig of Fort Castrum was cold and dark, like any proper prison. A single weak glowstone cast sputtering light on the old stones of the military jail. Sitting in one corner of her cell, wrapped in a blanket, Yara stared at the ill-kept glowstone. The cracked amber gave off just enough light to cast long shadows across the room. Pulling the threadbare blanket she’d been provided tighter, Yara wondered at fate. Of all the soldiers who could possibly defend this fortress, how was it that One-Fist and Varga were here? Surely, the Gods were behind this coincidence?
Was this Yara’s punishment for helping Dietrich? Turning the Holy League against Cole and Natalie had been Yara’s idea. She’d been the one to propose the plan and plant the seed of doubt among the soldiers. While Dietrich’s will and action doomed those people, Yara devised much of the scheme. Despite traveling with a Paladin and spending time in a Temple, Yara hadn’t put much faith in the idea of divine retribution. Her entire life proved the Gods were… selective in their judgment. They’d not stopped her father from… from... Forcing away that thought, Yara felt an old, half-forgotten emotion stirring. It took her a moment to realize she was angry, angry at the Gods. If they sought to enforce justice, then they’d failed Yara at every turn except when it came to punishing her.
The clunk and clatter of heavy locks being adjusted pulled Yara from her thoughts. Looking towards the cell door, a slab of time-abused wood, Yara watched it creak open and a familiar figure step inside. Every time Yara saw her mistress, she was struck by how different Natalie was from her despite their similar origins. Beautiful, confident, and quick to smile, Natalie seemed Yara’s antithesis on so many levels, not even counting the separation between vampire and thrall.
As the door shut behind her, Natalie glanced around the cell with a look of concern. Coming over towards Yara, the Vampire held out a familiar heavy blanket. “I thought you might be cold, so I brought the quilt you like.”
Gingerly taking the offered covering, Yara looked at the well-made blanket and held it to her chest. “Thank you.”
Natalie frowned and then did something Yara hadn’t expected: she sat next to her. Sliding down the wall until her butt landed on the cold stone, Natalie let out a long breath. “One-fist wants custody of you; he wants to try you for what happened with Dietrich. I think I’ve convinced him to let you keep traveling with us. He’ll make his ruling in the morning, but I didn’t want you to be stuck here alone till then.”
Yara couldn’t bring herself to look at Natalie; her muscles were taut, and she clutched the blanket to her like a lifeline. Gingerly, Natalie reached out and tugged on one corner of the folded blanket. “Aren’t you going to use this?”
Nodding, Yara unfolded the covering and nestled into its soft fabric. Instantly, the chill of the room seemed to fade into something manageable. Finally forcing herself to look at Natalie, Yara asked. “Do you want me to travel with you?”
Sucking in her lower lip, revealing sharp fangs, Natalie replied. “I didn't originally, but I do now. Us Glockmire girls need to stick together after all.”
A slight smile flavored Natalie’s words, quickly fading as she continued speaking. “Dietrich rescued me and Cole from the castle’s larder back in Glockmire. He was cold and brutal but… honorable in his way. I can see why you became so attached to him; I don’t think most Vampires would give so much thought to a thrall’s fate as he did.”
The words shocked Yara; she looked at Natalie with wide, confused eyes. Meeting Yara’s blue with her red, Natalie said. “But that doesn’t change the fact of what he did and what he intended to do. I don’t know how many people died because he thought it was strategically expedient, but it was a lot. Forcing you to pay for his crimes, even if you were involved with them, is wrong. I won’t let them lock you up here to settle a score Cole already dealt with.”
Fear and doubt bubbled up behind Yara’s dam of self-control. Seeing her tight, nervous expression and misunderstanding its source, Natalie smiled. “I don’t want to be your mistress, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try and protect you. I’ve got power, and what's the point of being strong if you don’t use that strength to help those close to me?”
Opening her mouth, trying to force words out, Yara choked on something close to shame. Yara was used to shame; it was an old lash used first by her father, then by herself. But this was different; it wasn’t the familiar feeling of failure and self-loathing. Just as rage kindled anew, another relic emotion stirred within the thrall.
Guilt.
Finally forcing the truth from her mouth, Yara whispered. “It was my idea.”
Natalie frowned in momentary confusion before understanding bloomed behind her eyes. Looking away from those beautiful crimson orbs, Yara made her confession. “Master Dietrich needed a way to slow you and Cole down, a way to keep both of you outside Vindabon’s walls. I suggested using fear. If we could make the League-folk afraid and uncertain, my master might have been able to find you.”
Shutting her eyes, unable to stop the words now that they started, Yara kept speaking. “My master wanted to capture you, so I helped however I could. Dietrich is…was a knight, a warrior; he didn’t understand fear like I do. He might have been able to flush prey from a burrow but not spread the right whispers like I can.”
Blinking in genuine shock, Natalie tried to speak, but Yara did something that surprised them both: she interrupted her mistress. “I know I deserve to be punished, I know I know I KNOW! I hurt people and the Gods delivered me to those willing and able to judge me. But it’s not fair! Where were the Gods when… where were they every time my dad came home drunk and came into my… Why do those people Dietrich hurt get justice, but I never did!”
Something practically alien to Yara happened then, a sensation almost forgotten. It wasn’t the briny tears flowing down her face nor the shuddering breaths accompanying them; what startled Yara from her angry sobs was the feeling of warm arms wrapping around her.
Eyes snapping open, Yara blinked away strands of Natalie’s long black hair as the Vampire hugged her close. False-life flowed through Natalie’s veins and imparted soothing warmth to the distraught thrall. Raw, racking sobs exploded out of Yara, mixing with blubbering apologies and gasping self-recrimination. Ashamed and confused beyond words, Yara tried to simultaneously push Natalie away and pull her closer Undead but not uncaring arms kept the embrace as it was while Yara’s pain poured from her.
After a small eternity, Yara’s sobs became shuddering gasps and eventually soft whimpers. Loosening her embrace just enough to look her thrall in the face, Natalie looked at Yara with something kinder than pity. “What happened to you wasn’t right; I’m so sorry no one was there for you. I… I can’t condemn you for helping Dietrich, even if I should. Neither can I offer you forgiveness or clemency; that’s not mine to give.”
Pulling back slightly and settling so her face was level with Yara, Natalie made her pronouncement. “No one was there for you when you needed someone, not even the Gods, and jag them crooked for that. I don’t want to own you, Yara, but I can be there for you. I can protect and aid you the best I can, and maybe you can help me do some good in the process.”
Natalie’s eyes flicked toward Yara’s exposed neck and the scars marking it, each a badge of service for the thrall. “Right now, you need someone, not a master or a mistress, just someone who cares. Someone who can help guide your path and provide a sense of purpose. I’ll be that person until you are ready to walk your own path and find a purpose. Does that sound like a good plan?”
Shakily, Yara nodded, uncertain why Natalie treated her with such kindness. As much as the bilious whispers in Yara’s heart doubted the Vampire’s words, she didn’t have the energy to question them. “It does.”
Natalie returned to her spot next to Yara, one arm still wrapped around the thrall. Once the last tears dried, Yara felt the empty exhaustion of emotional drain reach her. Natalie got up then. “I’ll be back in less than an hour unless there’s an emergency; I have a few things yet to do tonight.”
Yara jerked her head in something resembling an affirmation before letting weary sleep take her as Natalie knocked on the cell door.
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The guard let Natalie out of the cell without issue and guided her out of the fort’s bowls. As they walked, Natalie asked. “Why do they call it the brig? Isn’t that supposed to be just on ships?”
Glancing at her, the soldier, a short but burly man with an archer’s arms, replied. “Cause for most ofa prisoners, the brig sways back-n-forth like a ship ina storm. Most discipline issues we have are related to drink, see? A night on the cold stone and the room spinning isa nough to sober up most dumb greens or bitter greys.”
Understanding most of what was said, Natalie exited another reinforced door and into the fort proper. The air still stunk of death, fresh, old, rotting, and burning. It saddened Natalie how used to those smells she was now. Thanking the soldier, she went to find Cole and ask his permission for what she had planned.
The meeting with Yara went… well, it went better and worse than Natalie expected. She honestly couldn’t tell how much blame Yara deserved for the horrors Dietrich unleashed. There was an argument to be made that a thrall was about as responsible for their actions as any tool was. Natalie also had to wonder how accurate Yara was being; she wasn’t stable, and repressed guilt could do interesting things to memory.
But ignoring all that, what really caught Natalie’s craw was the horrible abuse Yara suffered. To know a neighbor, someone she served drinks to, someone she knew by first name would hurt their child like that… That no one noticed, no one stopped it until a fucking Vampire did? No one helped Yara, not even the Pantheon in all their power. Simmering anger filled Natalie’s dead heart, and she decided the next time the Angler paid her a visit, she’d have some choice words for the God.
Forcing the wrath down, looking forward to the next time some monster would allow her to express it, Natalie found Cole and Kit standing by the fort’s outer walls. The Magi-musician was bent over, examining the old stone, a sphere of magical light hovering near his head. Cole watched whatever Kit was doing, his posture tense and uncertain. With a sigh, Natalie wished the future monster she awaited would wait a little longer.
Cole turned then, his eyes glowing silver, his hard expression mellowing upon seeing Natalie. “How is Yara doing?”
Shrugging, Natalie looked at Kit and thought about his insights into the thrall. “I think I made a breakthrough with her. She has guilt for helping Dietrich, and… well, Kit was right about something bad in her past. We’ll talk about it later, but for now, I don’t want to leave her alone for long.”
Kit looked up from whatever he was doing, a wild look in his eyes. “You were right! These wards are ancient, but they still work! Something must have activated them recently if-”
Blinking at Natalie, Kit said. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were back. Tell me, can your abilities sense anything odd about the walls? Did you have any difficulty entering-”
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Cole cut the Magi off with a hand gesture. “Later,” refocusing on Natalie, he asked, “Is there something else?”
Glancing at Kit and feeling a little bad for her secrecy, Natalie tried to communicate her request to Cole. “I’m going to spend the night in the brig with Yara to ensure she’s okay. It will be private in there, and I wanted to take the box with the puzzle lock with me.”
Frowning, Cole met Natalie’s eyes and, after a moment, nodded. “Be careful, and help however you can.”
The box in question contained Isabelle’s skull, and Natalie knew being separated from that hunk of haunted bone distressed Cole. That he was willing to let her take it from under his watch while they stood among semi-hostile soldiers spoke volumes of his trust for Natalie. Coming close, Natalie offered him a gentle kiss and said. “Thank you, we’ll talk in the morning. Try and get some sleep, will you, my knight?”
A soft smile escaped Cole, and he nodded his assent. Ignoring Kit’s look of almost-hungry curiosity, Natalie retrieved the box from the wagon, said her goodnights to the rest of the group, and returned to the prison. She found the same guard sitting at the entrance of the brig, checking his arrows one by one. The man was clearly a trained archer and probably a skilled woodsman, an odd choice for a jailer. As she was led toward Yara’s cell, Natalie realized whoever usually tended the brig probably died in the battle. Natalie entered the cell with that bitter thought to accompany her, finding Yara curled up with her blanket.
Eyes snapping open, Yara looked at Natalie, a sudden tension filling the thrall. It was honestly impressive how quickly she transitioned from bone-deep exhaustion to nervous focus. While she’d never mention it to either party, the way Yara reacted reminded Natalie of Cole. Sitting down opposite the thrall, Natalie set the box containing Isabelle next to her.
Gesturing to the well-made covering wrapped around Yara, Natalie asked “Are you warm enough?”
Yara nodded, licking chapped lips before asking. “Why are you being so… so kind to me?”
Natalie tried to find an answer for both herself and Yara. She felt responsible for the thrall, but that wasn’t all of it. For months, a mixture of pride and guilt motivated Natalie to help Yara. This started to truly change when she heard Kit’s story and thought about the insights he offered. Now, after testifying in Yara’s defense and then hearing her tale, Natalie realized she couldn’t fix this situation as a vampire; she needed to approach this as a person, not a predator. Rooting around in Yara’s mind or weening her off the Sting wasn’t enough; the broken woman needed someone to give a damn about her.
Finally finding the words, Natalie looked at Yara. “Because it’s the right thing to do, and I’m capable of doing it.”
The two women locked eyes for maybe six seconds before Yara simply nodded in understanding. Pulling her blankets closer, the thrall said. “Thank you.”
Smiling, careful not to show her fangs, Natalie shrugged. “Get some sleep; I think tomorrow will be difficult.”
In less than ten minutes, Yara’s breathing changed, and Natalie was free to work. Opening up the enchanted lock on Isabelle’s box, Natalie lifted the skull from its plush cushion. Carefully, Natalie let a polished fang bite her thumb, a few drops of black blood welling up and into the hungry skull. Feeding Isabelle this way wasn’t strictly necessary, but Natalie found it ensured the link was stable and kept the older Vampire from getting too ornery.
Pulling her thumb away, ignoring the familiar pain, Natalie set the skull back in its box and focused on her internal world. She’d strengthened the link with Isabelle and called the former Countess; now, all that was left to do was wait among the lilies.
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Entering into her mindscape, Natalie gazed across the endless field representing her mind. Things had changed, the most obvious being the overcast sky. Instead of the clear blue of before, Natalie’s mindscape was blanketed by roiling storm clouds, teetering on the edge of a deluge. Staring up at the clashing thunderheads, Natalie was deeply unsettled. The last time her mindscape changed was when she’d become the Alukah; this new shift was completely unexpected.
Looking out across the lilies, Natalie tried to spot any other alterations and quickly found one. A sapling grew perhaps twenty meters away from Natalie. Slowly, uncertainly, Natalie approached the young tree, trying to decipher its meaning. The sapling was maybe Natalie’s height, its scruffy branches laden with strange bleached needles. Reaching out, Natalie touched one of the branches and quickly pulled her hand away from the needle’s bite. Seeing the marks on her hand where the needles pierced her skin, Natalie suddenly understood what the pine needles were. The tree grew vampire fangs in place of leaves, hundreds and hundreds of vampire fangs.
Disturbed and very concerned at what this represented, Natalie looked past the branches and towards the tree’s thin trunk. The bark was pale, with red undertones visible in the cracks between the flaking scales. Around the trunk’s middle were two large deformities; bulging out of the tree, a pair of wood knots barely covered in split bark. As if reacting to Natalie’s attention, one of the lumps started to move, the thin bark enclosing it falling away. Morbidly reminded of a chicken hatching, Natalie awaited whatever new horror her mindscape was preparing.
After a few seconds of struggling, the deformity's casing fell away enough to reveal its nature. Natalie stared at the face of Baron Sicar, sticking out of the sap-drenched wood like some emerging parasite. Mouth open in a silent scream, eyes wild, the trapped Vampire writhed against his prison, unable to speak, let alone escape. As the Baron, or whatever the thing with his face was, noticed Natalie, its struggles grew more intense. On the tree’s opposite side, the other deformity started twitching, and its bark covering fell away to reveal the Dame. Both vampires consumed by Natalie, now trapped in a tree of teeth.
Slowly backing away, careful not to snag herself on the fanged branches, Natalie mouthed a few curses. Not long ago, this would have been enough to make her panic, and perhaps it still should, but experience armored Natalie against the uncanny.
Retreating what she hoped was a safe distance from the fang tree, Natalie finally let her eyes leave the ghastly sight. Isabelle should be here by now, and the fact she’d not arrived was another concern. There was much the two vampires needed to discuss; Natalie’s desire to learn more about vampire cannibalism and its side effects was suddenly a much bigger priority. The mania accompanying the act was one thing; this tree of faces and fangs was another.
Something touched Natalie’s cheek then, quickly reaching to the spot, she found blood, red unlike her own. Before she could wonder at the blood’s origin, the heavy clouds overhead finally burst, and a red rain poured down from the roiling heavens. Wiping away the first droplet and trying to shield her face from the downpour, Natalie felt utterly baffled. The rain smelled and felt like blood, but some inhuman sense gifted by her nature told Natalie it offered no sustenance. Still, the iron and copper stink roused Natalie’s thirst.
The world shifted then; one moment, Natalie was standing trying to understand the rain; next, she was staring up at the red-tinged clouds, feeling nothing but pain. Natalie's closest frame of reference to the agony was her ill-fated flight from Vindabon’s walls. Trying and failing to suck in a pointless breath, Natalie clutched at her chest, feeling at the damage. Her ribs were splinters, her lungs deflated, and Natalie was reasonably certain a piece of her sternum was tickling her spine.
Blinking away crimson droplets, Natalie forced her body to repair itself. This was her mindscape; she was the master of this domain, and illusionary damage wouldn’t stop her. Feeling a lung inflate, Natalie forced herself to look around for whatever attacked her. She didn’t need to look for long; a pale blur shot forward faster than even Natalie’s inhuman mind could process and grabbed the young Vampire by the throat. Scratching at the adamant grip crushing her throat, Natalie made a gurgling noise as she was hoisted into the air by a monster.
Holding Natalie in a single hand was the most beautiful and hideous woman she’d ever seen. Statuesque and regal, the monster’s skin was like polished marble, complete with black veins weaving through its flesh. Beneath the creature’s ivory skin were patterns of pure obsidian, mapping every blood vessel within its flesh. Brown filth encrusted the monster’s hands, caked beneath the fingernails clutching Natalie and staining the white linen dress it wore. Gaudy, tarnished, and scratched jewelry covered the creature, dripping from its hands, neck, and ears. Its hair was short, almost reaching the monster’s shoulders, and a diadem of gold sat upon the dark locks.
Struggling uselessly, Natalie did everything she could not to meet the monster’s eyes; she only caught flickers of them as she forced herself to look elsewhere. Slowly, the creature pulled Natalie closer, its odor of bloody death and sweet rot forcing itself into her nose. Thankful the grip on her throat prevented any accidental inhaling of the reeking scent, Natalie felt a rising tide of panic wash over her. The creature had gravity, a presence that pulled on existence and spoke of incredible power. Worst still, beneath that gravity was an unspeakable darkness threatening to leak forth from the monster. That darkness, that oily blackness was horribly horribly familiar to Natalie.
Finally realizing resistance was useless, Natalie met the abomination’s eyes. Pure red, like oceans of fresh blood, they bored into Natalie like a treppaner’s drill. Opening its mouth, revealing long, cruel fangs, the monster spoke. Every accented word was a soothing melody and wretched wail to Natalie’s ears. “You are not my child. Who are you?”
The grip on Natalie’s throat lessened just enough, and she rasped. “My name is Natalie.”
Then, as it ever did for her, Natalie’s fear turned to anger. “And who the jag are you?”
Natalie saw a blur of motion from the monster’s free hand and felt a new form of pain. With the ease of swatting a fly, the creature slashed its fingers at Natalie’s waist and cut her in half. Natalie actually heard her legs and lower body hit the ground before she started screaming. Unable to keep the horrible wail from escaping, Natalie tried to understand what was happening. Her mind had been invaded by something horribly powerful, and she couldn’t do anything to stop it.
The creature’s grip tightened enough to end Natalie’s screams as it spoke. “Do not dare to address me like that, vermin. I am Queen Eresh of Akzad, and you will tell me what has become of my son!”
Akzad, Natalie knew that name. Glynn read it aloud from a silver-coated tome. It was a city in another Epoch, one that died long ago. No, not died; it was murdered by its ruler, by its queen. In those moments of crystal-clear understanding, Natalie discovered there was an emotion beyond fear, beyond terror, beyond words. Nothing had invaded her mind; no, instead, something woke up. An ancient nightmare twice died but still dreaming within its usurper’s usurper. Roused from slumber by undead ichor, now holding Natalie within its blood-soaked grasp.
The monster called itself Queen Eresh of Akzad, but Natalie and history knew her by another name: Rabisu, the first Vampire.
Clawing at the hands at her throat, Natalie tried to think of something, anything, to save herself from this new nightmare. She remembered seeing Archduke Dracon in Isabelle’s memories, and that leviathan of bloody terror couldn’t compare to the creature brutalizing her. Queen Eresh was blood, she was death, she was everything a Vampire could be, and more. Unable to even free her throat enough to speak, Natalie felt tears well up in her eyes. Was this how she finally died? Snuffed out by some ancient primogen, her body left an empty husk or, worse yet, possessed by a darkness capable of swallowing nations?
Two things changed in the time a mortal’s heart would beat. First was the warmth on Natalie’s tongue, the hot metallic taste of living blood. The second was the bloody rain stopped and something new came in its place. Pure white snowflakes drifted down from the heavens, dancing in unfelt gales, landing atop red lilies and the pair of vampires.
A voice that was not a voice spoke then, sounding of cracking ice, dying stars, and Cole’s quiet whispers.
“No, you will not touch her; she is not yours to ruin, parasite!”
The Rabisu’s hand shattered into a million frozen pieces, and Natalie fell to the ground, landing on legs she thought had been cut from her. Backing away from the furious monster staring at the skies, Natalie tried to get her bearings. Her body was healed, and the Stigma at her neck glowed with white fire. Whatever power the Rabisu held over Natalie’s mindscape was faltering.
Pointing at the skies with a regenerated hand, the Rabisu proclaimed. “Your mark weakens! You will not protect this child for long! Every night, I grow stronger, and soon she will be mine!”
Turning its horrible red eyes onto Natalie, the first Vampire proclaimed. “I do not know how you usurped my son, but you will pay! With every drop you drink, with every day you sleep, I come closer to freedom!”
Then, like a snowdrift caught in a hurricane, the Rabisu dissolved, flakes of ash swirling out and mixing with the steady snowfall. Staring at the spot where the monster once stood, Natalie fell to her knees, the taste of blood growing stronger.
Time spoke again. “She will not have you; ignore her lies, Natalie Striga.”
The snowfall turned into a blizzard, and Natalie let the numbing cold free her from this nightmare.
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Natalie awoke to bitter chill and seductive warmth. Eyes slowly opening, fighting the layer of frost coating her skin, Natalie tried to understand where she was. Ice covered everything around her, frost filled the air, and something warm was draped over Natalie. Opening her mouth, feeling frozen muscles crack as she did, Natalie realized she’d been biting something. A limp wrist fell from Natalie’s mouth, joining the similarly unresponsive lump clinging to her. Blinking away frost, Natalie stared down at Yara’s still body.
A surge of panic shot through Natalie, and she tried to grab onto her thrall, only realizing then she’d been frozen to the wall. Pulling herself free, Natalie took Yara into her arms, frantically licked the horrible bites on the thrall’s wrist shut, and calling her name.
“Yara! Yara! Please, please, Yara!”
Just then, the door to the cell exploded open, sending a spray of ice across the room. A panicked-looking Cole entered the room, followed by Captain One-fist, Mina, and a few soldiers. Running towards Natalie, somehow unbothered by the ice-slick floor, Cole stopped as something crunched underfoot. Both Paladin and Vampire looked for the sound’s source; the box containing Isabelle’s skull was smashed open. Dashed against the opposite wall from Natalie, the box lay splintered, the now cracked skull staring out at the brig cell, glistening with frost.
Trying to feel for a pulse, Natalie attempted to stand, Yara still in her arms. Mind awash with raw panic, Natalie cried. “Help her! Help them both, please!”