CHAPTER 40: GRAVE GOODS
“The Sun hates us. Only through the blood of ancients can we resist its wrath. Glockmire’s treasure must be secured. I care not the form it takes, we must have it.” - Orders from the Archduke to Knight Ladislaus
----------------------------------------
Dawn struck Natalie like a hammer blow. Instantly she felt a wave of exhaustion hit her. Accompanying it was a faint prickling feeling on her exposed skin. A minor but constant itch that reminded Natalie of hot summers and sunburn. Opening her eyes, Natalie winced at the light; it made her eyes ache. Blinking away the pain, she looked down at her hands and focused on the prickly itch. It felt like the lead-up to a Sunburn but didn’t quite hurt like the actual thing. Trying to stifle the exhaustion that now weighed her down, Natalie shrugged and kept walking.
“Could be worse,” she said to no one in particular as she readjusted her dress to cover more skin.
By the time she got back to the Silly Goat, Natalie was about ready to pass out from the sheer weariness of being in the Sun. She dragged herself up to her room and started packing. As she did, the call of her bed became an irresistible siren song. Every minute or so, Natalie would find her focus drawn back to the familiar sheets and blanket. Her mind interpreting the Vampiric Torpor as mundane sleepiness. The temptation to crawl into her bed and enjoy its familiar comfort one final time was almost debilitating in its intensity. The desire and her own exhaustion gnawed on Natalie’s self-control with every second.
As she found herself slowly drifting towards the bed, Natalie forced herself to pause and think. All of Petar’s minions had used the Alukah’s blood to stay awake in the day without issue. She was now the Alukah, or something close to it. Her exhaustion made no sense! The unfairness of that pricked at Natalie. Dredging up her infamous stubbornness. Forcing herself to stand, Natalie thought about this. Something didn’t add up, and she wasn’t about to let it go.
Natalie knew Vampires had a variety of magical powers powered by stolen blood. She, however, didn’t know how to use any of these abilities or if she even had any available. After all, she had barely been a Vampire for a day. Maybe the mysterious potential she’d inherited would take weeks or even months to show its head. With leaden arms and heavier eyelids, Natalie realized she didn’t necessarily have that time. Cole could only do so much to protect her, and Natalie was damned if she became a millstone around his neck. Whether she liked it or not, Natalie was a Vampire now. One with the power of a primordial monster, Natalie Striga was not about to ignore the opportunities that came with this curse.
Thinking about her current…state of existence and the events that led to it dredged up ugly memories of Natalie’s transformation. In the morass of pain and fear those memories summoned, something caught Natalie’s attention. An offhanded comment about her Mother and her family. How Natalie came from a lineage cultivated to have natural talent for Blood Magic. A talent that Natalie was fairly certain she tapped into once before with Cole’s Spark-Stone. She’d used her innate skill before she’d become a Vampire. Could she do it again?
So Natalie pieced together her experiences with magic and made an educated guess. Shutting her eyes, reached inside of herself and found what she’d been looking for. The empty ocean inside of her soul. Which, as she looked, was not entirely empty. At its heart, in the center of the great basalt plain, was a puddle of blood. Cole’s blood. Stolen and stored for later use. Still not entirely certain on what she was doing, Natalie reached for the blood and imagined herself feeling energized.
The effect was instantaneous. Natalie felt like she’d been dunked in ice-water, force-fed a pound of raw sugar, and having an anxiety attack all at once. Letting out an undignified yelp, Natalie stumbled backward and landed on her butt. The overwhelming energy sent her limbs spasming and her mind racing. Thoughts racing at a kilometer a count bombarded Natalie, and she felt like she was about to pass out from sheer overstimulation. But in this mess of overactive body and mind, Natalie could feel her reserve of blood rapidly emptying. The small puddle of ichor inside her was shrinking with every second. Natalie panicked at that sight. She didn’t want to think what would happen if she ran out of blood while alone in the middle of town.
With a bit of mental effort, Natalie stopped the blood’s flow and let the exhaustion hit her again. The whiplash was enough to make Natalie’s head spin. The amount of blood this effort had consumed was shocking…but so were the results. Carefully, Natalie tried again, trying to pour only a few drops of her stolen blood into the effort. The weariness started to fade, and with a few more drops, it was totally gone. Blinking her eyes in surprise, Natalie stood up and flexed her limbs. Testing them and finding she’d found a palatable balance.
Shutting her eyes and letting out a defeated sigh, Natalie turned to her room and packed. She needed to get to work. Experimenting with what exactly she could do could come later. For now, she was safe from falling asleep or being consumed by her hunger. While she needed to spend blood to stay awake and focused, it was a small amount. It would be nightfall before she needed to feed. Which was another whole bag of worries she needed to sort out.
----------------------------------------
Cole had walked the empty streets of Glockmire and delivered Wilhelm to Matthias. The Priest had taken the body into his custody and said to return to the Temple when its bells were rung. Cole accepted that and left the Temple. He had other matters to attend to. In the pre-dawn light, Cole gazed up at Castle Glockmire and let out an annoyed sigh. He needed to get his equipment back. He also needed to find Isabelle. That thought sent a twinge of guilt through the Paladin.
Things had advanced with Natalie far far far quicker than he’d imagined. Leaving him in a very confusing and shameful position. In his time alive, Cole had never once thought about something like this. Being in love with two different women, who both loved him, and were both dead. While Isabelle was certainly more dead than Natalie, she wasn’t completely gone. That fact that had helped push the Paladin forward for years was now weighing heavily upon him. He couldn’t abandon what remained of her, but he also couldn’t ignore his feelings for Natalie.
Covering his eyes with a well-calloused hand and letting out a deep sigh. Cole knew all he could do was move forward. So he set out to the Castle to retrieve what he’d lost and maybe get some final answers.
He took the switchback up to the Castles backdoor and pulled on the massive oaken doors. They hadn’t been barred, which was what Cole had expected. Between the Vampire’s arrogance and his own God’s influence greasing the wheels of fortune. Cole had guessed he was in for that much of a lucky break. What did surprise Cole was how easy the doors were to move. They were hulking solid things meant to withstand an actual battering ram. But they swung open like simple wooden shutters. Cole idly wondered at the engineering or magic at work there.
Inside, Cole found the small atrium he’d been to before and its myriad of doors leading deeper into the Castle. No sign of his pack or Isabelle in the chamber. He would need to go deeper, and Cole had no desire to do that unarmed. He’d left his stolen halberd back at the Temple and didn’t think his boot knife would cut it. Glancing around the room, Cole noticed a single suit of armor standing in the corner. Cole wandered over to the armor and lifted up its visor. Alabaster bone stared him back. Before the Eternal Legionnaire could awake, Cole slammed his fist into the open visor. He’d expected to knock the Rattler back and get time to dismantle it. Instead, his fist shattered bone and bent metal. Instantly destroying the Rattler.
Stunned, Cole looked at the fallen Undead for a moment before he filched its Pole Axe. As a “perfect specimen,” as Isabelle had called him, Cole’s physical attributes were at the very peak a normal human could reach. Looking down at the crushed helmet, Cole knew he’d surpassed that already high bar. The only question was how?
Testing the Pole Axe’s balance, Cole knew the answer was obvious but also opaque. When he’d used up his soul in that final attack on the Feeder, his regeneration had been different. He’d healed far faster than normal and with fewer scars. There was also the aggression he’d shown upon awakening, and now this enhanced strength. Something had changed, and it worried Cole. He now had a more practical reason to find Isabelle’s skull. She was perhaps the only person in existence with answers.
Taking the salvaged Pole Axe, Cole nicked his forearm and cast a simple tracking spell. One meant to find his pack and weapon. The connection of his blood pushed through the simple secrecy enchantment and guided Cole to his prize. A glob of blood slithered up into his palm and floated into the air. Stretching out slightly in the direction of his quarry. A crimson compass needle suspended in his hand. For the next ten minutes, he stalked through the deserted halls of Castle Glockmire. Following his morbid compass to his prize.
There was no movement nor any defenses. The Castle Guard had been expended against Cole and Dietrich. The thralls were in hiding, dead or possibly comatose. Thralls to a Vampire who was heavy-handed in their mental control risked all sorts of ugly side effects if their master died. Vampires exactly the type of Monster Cole had cleaved through earlier in his “last stand.”
Eventually, Cole found himself in a storage room of sorts. A small chamber filled with packages, crates, and over-burdened wooden shelves. On one of those shelves lay a familiar set of belongings. Laid out like bones awaiting reassembly were the contents of his pack. Someone had carefully removed everything in his backpack and set them out for later examination. Including his Halberd, his Spark-Stone, and Isabelle’s skull. Breathing a sigh of relief, Cole dismissed his tracking spell and got to work repacking his belongings.
After a minute or so of this, Cole slung the familiar weight over his shoulder and picked up his halberd. Giving the room one final glance, Cole noticed two things of note. Next to his equipment was a small silver hair-clip shaped as a bird in flight. Cole pocketed the ornament and walked over to the other interest. A stack of sturdy-looking black fabric. Smiling to himself, Cole took off his shredded cloak and grabbed the fabric. With a few spilled drops of blood, his cloak had absorbed the fabric and repaired itself. Enjoying the comfortable embrace of his newly patched garment, Cole left the storage room.
Someone was waiting for him in the hallway outside. Cole instantly leveled his halberd at the thin waifish looking woman standing before him. Clad in a simple dress and looking positively unwell, the woman had short red hair and weary blue eyes. Cole thought he recognized her from somewhere but knew not where.
The woman looked at Cole for a second before asking in a thin voice. “Are you the Restbringer?”
Cole nodded in confirmation, and the Woman's posture changed slightly. She seemed to relax and tense at the same time. “I am Yara, servant of Sir Dietrich. Where is he?”
It clicked then for Cole. He’d seen her the day he’d first met the Scarlet Knight. Hiding in his shadows when he’d entered the sitting room they’d met in. Now in the dim light of the hallway, Cole could barely make out the small pattern of scars on Yara’s neck and arms. She was Dietrichs blood-slave and a loyal one at that. Having risked exposing herself to ask Cole about his fate.
Cole wanted to lie and tell the woman her master was dead, but his old instinct for honesty won out. “He is in a secret crypt below the Castle. Dietrich has been magically frozen and might never awake even if he were to be thawed out. If there were a time to flee, it would be now.”
Yara stiffened at that and narrowed her eyes at Cole. “He’s my master. He took me in when no one else would. Sir Dietrich gave me a purpose and… and he spared my life when he spent others. I will not abandon him in his hour of need.”
Cole simply sighed in resignation. He knew what Yara felt all too well. Cole reached to his collar and pulled it down to show his own scars to Yara. Recognition shone in the Thrall’s eyes. She understood Cole’s message. Gently, Cole elaborated.
“I know what it's like to be bound to one of them. To be… loved by one of them. I also know what it's like to be consumed and discarded by them. I’ve seen both sides of the coin, Miss Yara, and I’ve met plenty of people who didn’t know which side they stood upon. I don’t know enough about your connection with Dietrich to judge. But I do know now would be the time for you to evaluate where you stand.”
Yara’s eyes flicked away from Cole in a moment of doubt. Which Cole knew was about as much as he could expect from her. Walking down the hallway and passing the Blood-Slave, Cole left her with some carefully chosen words. “You don’t need another to give you purpose, Miss Yara. In fact, no one but yourself can do that. So think about what has happened and consider the possibilities.”
Wise words, but ones also reeking of hypocrisy. Cole had learned many truths in his relatively short life but had not learned to apply many of them. He was still bound to a Vampire, two of them now, in fact. While his purpose in life sprung from divine commission. Those sour truths in mind, Cole left Castle Glockmire. Praying he’d never enter its blighted depths again.
By now, the Sun had risen, and the first hints of life were returning to the town. The clatter of dishes, the crow of roosters, and other markers of early risers. Cole ignored them as he returned to the Silly Goat. He found Natalie in the tavern, sitting at a table and staring at the space where Wilhelm’s body had laid. Worried red eyes flicked up to Cole, softening as she realized who was at the doorway. The new couple smiled tentatively at each other, and Cole moved over towards her.
“Matthias said the Temple Bells will ring when it's time,” said Cole, setting his pack down and sitting next to Natalie.
The drained Vampire chewed on her lip, showing her fangs. “The Temple has a bunch of different ways to ring the bell, each with different meanings. Matthias means to give Dad a proper funeral. The town will be there.”
That prospect seemed to stress Natalie. Looking at her red eyes and fangs, Cole understood why. Matthias had reacted reasonably, all things considered to her current state. Being chased from her own Father’s funeral by her friends and neighbors would be another layer to the sickening amount of Trauma she’d experienced.
Shutting her eyes in resignation, Natalie spoke. “I’ve spent the last little bit trying to disguise my eyes. I saw Lorena do it, and I should be able to as well. But no matter what I try, I can’t do it!”
Absently, Cole reached into his bag and grabbed out a roll of bandages. Taking a length of the thin cloth, Cole gently said to Natalie. “Close your eyes.”
Confused but willing to trust him, Natalie did as he asked. Cole wrapped the bandage around Natalies’s eyes in a makeshift blindfold. Instead of tying the cloth, he used the recovered hair clip to fasten the bandage in place. As his hands moved away, Natalie gasped at the familiar weight. She reached up to touch her returned memento but stopped herself. It was made of silver, something she could no longer touch. A pained noise escaped Natalie at that realization.
Soothingly Cole said. “In Vindabon, there will be metal smiths who can coat the ornament in gold or another metal.”
That got a slight pained chuckle from Natalie. Opening her eyes, she looked at Cole and was surprised at how well she could see through the bandage. The thin cloth obscured her supernatural vision much less than she’d ever have guessed. Placing a gentle hand on her knee, Cole continued.
“Vindabon has some of the best scholars on the continent. We can get answers about the Alukah there and maybe some insights on how to use your abilities.” pausing slightly, Cole then awkwardly asked. “I’ve never gone to the Opera in the city. I should be able to get us tickets. Would you like to go?”
That got an actual laugh from Natalie. For two-fold reasons. The box of coins and jewels hidden in her pack would more than guarantee they could afford tickets. While the timidity the seasoned Undead-hunter had in his voice was so endearing. Cole was asking her on a date in his own obtuse way.
Natalie nodded in ascent and then did something stupid. “Could I see Isabelle’s skull?”
That got Cole’s demeanor to shift, but after a tentative second, he reached into his pack and retrieved the Vampire skull. Nervously he handed it to Natalie. Holding the cold bone, Natalie picked her words.
“I don’t know how this is going to work, the two of us. But I’m I want to try” looking down at the skull, Natalie’s forehead creased in a frown. “I don’t know if it's possible for her to return, but we will cross that bridge if we come to it. For now… you’re mine, and I’m yours.”
Cole understood the message was not just for him but for the spirit of Isabelle hidden in the skull. Slowly, Cole nodded in agreement. Seeing this, Natalie handed the skull back to Cole. As she did, one of its fangs pricked her finger. Yelping in pain, Natalie looked down at her finger, seeing the drop of black blood that had welled up quickly becoming new skin. Muttering more to herself than anyone else, “I don’t know if I will get used to that.”
Frowning slightly at what happened, Cole tucked the skull away. That was another mystery to add to the growing pile. Cole was about to comment on it when the deep sonorous bells of the Temple echoed through Glockmire. Natalie and Cole looked at each other, surprise and trepidation on their faces. They knew Matthias had already done most of the preparations in advance, but this was still quick.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Slowly they got up, picking up their equipment and heading to the door. As they reached it, Natalie paused and pulled her make-shift blindfold down. Looking over her childhood home, Natalie felt a lump form in her throat. Blood-Red eyes flitted over the empty inn. Drinking its sight in one last time. Cold and dim, the Silly Goat was a shadow of what it was supposed to be. For decades the Inn had been in the Striga family, and generations had poured love and commitment into this building. That time was over now. The Silly Goat had died alongside Wilhelm.
In barely more than a whisper, Natalie addressed the building and the life that it represented. “Goodbye.”
Turning away, Natalie promised herself she’d remember the Inn not as it was now but as it had been. A place of light, warmth, laughter, and good company. So for the last time, Natalie left the Silly Goat. Saying goodbye to one empty shell and heading to the Temple to say goodbye to another.
They didn’t talk as they made their way through the waking streets of Glockmire. Clad in black traveling cloaks and haunted by grim purpose, Cole and Natalie made an eerie sight. Townsfolk who were slowly leaving the safety of their own homes shied away from the duo. With their hoods up, they looked like a pair of Psychopomps charting a course of death and loss. Which, all things considered, was not all that off from the truth.
By the time they reached the Temple, the street was filled with a small stream of confused citizens. Each of them looked around and wondered the obvious question, “Who Died?” The Temple Bells had signaled there was to be a funeral, but not for who. The past few days had not been kind to the usually sleepy town. Disappearances and Deaths had rocked Glockmire as the consequences of Petar’s Coup reached every element of the town.
The growing crowd parted for Cole and Natalie. None wanted to get too close to the strange figures in these dark times. One exception came from Barnabas; the weary-looking Old Man had been leaning against the Temple fence and now idled over to the pair. He gave Cole a curt nod and Natalie another hug.
She accepted it gladly and pulled down her hood on reflex. A few surprised gasps echoed from the surrounding crowd. Natalie grimaced, careful to not let her teeth show. It must have looked like she’d been blinded. Few Priests or other Mages had the magical skill to heal such an injury. With none Glockmire remotely capable of such a feat. Internally Natalie wondered how they would react if they knew what truly had happened to her.
Ending the hug with Barnabas, Natalie looked around at all the curious faces. She knew all of them, if not by name, by sight. Realizing they were all looking to her for answers, Natalie made another foolish decision. She told her neighbors the truth or at least part of it.
“This funeral is for my Father.” the crowd barely reacted to that; it had been two days since Wilhelm had been murdered, and the news must have spread. “He was murdered by a Vampire for the crime of trying to protect me” that got some surprised murmurs, but again the people must have heard some whispers about that. Natalie doubted they would know anything about what she would say next.
“The Vampire responsible sought to overthrow Lord Glockmire. In a scheme, I helped Rest-Bringer Cole uncover. Because of this, he attempted to kill both of us. He failed, but his scheme did not. Lord Glockmire is dead and most, if not all of the Court with him.”
Stunned silence filled the Temple grounds. Nothing could have prepared the people around her for that news. Hells, Natalie wasn’t even prepared, and she’d lived through it. “The Usurper was Petar the Steward, who sought to take the Lord's power and rebel against the Duke. He was stopped by the will of Master Time. Who saw fit to send one of his champions to defend this town and its people.”
At that, Natalie gestured towards Cole. The Paladin froze, not expecting any of this and not knowing exactly what the Jag Natalie was doing. If she noticed, Natalie didn’t pay his reaction any mind. “That bastard Petar was behind the Breach three years ago. He caused all that death as an experiment. He was cultivating monsters using our flesh and blood, monsters now destroyed by Cole. Chief among those monsters was Petar himself.”
The confused babble of the crowd started to grow frantic. Natalie gently traced her bandaged eyes and said. “I got revenge for my Father, my Mother, and everyone else Petar took from us. But I paid bitterly for the opportunity. I’ve lost much in the last few days, and I fear losing more. I’m leaving Glockmire with Cole, to protect everyone from any vengeful Vampires and to get aid for my… condition.” another thing that was technically true but still a questionable interpretation of events.
The crowd seemed to still at that. Just as Natalie knew them all in some small way, they knew her. Twirling around to look at all the familiar faces through her bandages, Natalie finished. “So please do me the favor of helping me bury my father and honoring his memory.”
After a few seconds, the returning silence was broken by a deep rumbling voice. “The Strigas have been a backbone of our town for as long as anyone can remember. I can’t say I’m happy to see young Ms. Natalie leave, but I understand her reasoning. The worlds gone and bloody well changed on us far too quickly for my liking. But that doesn’t mean we can’t give ol’Wilhelm a proper send-off and Natalie a true goodbye.”
The voice belonged to Matko, the stalwart miner standing flanked by his family. Including young Filip, who stared up at Cole with wide awe-filled eyes. As Matko’s words echoed through the crowd, murmurs of agreement spread with them. A murmur that grew louder and louder as the people of Glockmire agreed with Matko.
Just then, the Temple doors swung open, and the town's Priests exited. Gellam the High Priest, in service to Mother Earth, was at the center. Flanked by Matthias on his left and Trude on his right. The Priest of Master Time was startled to see Natalie in the center of the crowd. She stood in the late morning Sunset unbothered by what should have been a death sentence. Trude, by contrast, had eyes only for Cole. The Priestess was glaring daggers at the Paladin. Unconsciously Cole gulped nervously. It seemed Loom-Matron Trude had a bone to pick with him.
Clearing his throat to get the crowd's focus, Gellam spoke in a clear voice perfected by years of sermons. “We are gathered on this hallowed ground to honor our friend and neighbor Wilhelm Striga. Today we will deliver his body to the earth, his soul to the beyond, and his memory into our hearts.”
Stepping into the crowd, Gellam continued a speech too often rehearsed. “I need six volunteers. Folk willing to shoulder the fallen’s burden.”
Barnabas stepped forward first, followed by Matko and then four more friends and acquaintances of Wilhelm. Gellam gave Barnabas a questioning look, clearly worried the old man was not up to being a pallbearer. A truly vicious glare from the merchant shut down any possible dissent. He was going to help bury Wilhelm, even if it was the last thing he did. The six pallbearers went into the temple to collect the casket. Leaving Gellam to call for the next group of volunteers. “Who will help guide Wilhelm’s path?”
Natalie stepped forward now, followed by eleven others. Each was passed a candle by an acolyte. The twelve took positions, forming a chain from the temple door to the graveyard. Natalie taking the last place, standing at the cleared patch of ground reserved for her father. This would be the second time she’d helped guide a parent to the grave. The task hadn’t gotten any easier.
A faint pop caught Natalie’s attention as the candle in her hands ignited. It's flame a flickering ghostly blue. Supposedly these candles burned incredibly bright in the Aether. Calling out to a dead soul and helping them move on. Absently Natalie decided she would need to ask Cole if that was true later.
Looking up from the candle, Natalie saw the pallbearers approaching. Following the trail she and her fellow light-bearers had made. As the coffin passed, each candle snuffed out, leaving a faint whirl of smoke in the coffin’s wake. Stoney-faced Barnabas had one of the front positions on the coffin, his face remote and unnaturally calm. Natalie could guess he was forcing himself to not cry. She wasn’t the only one to participate in both her parent's funerals. Slowly but surely, the coffin reached Natalie. The six pallbearers gently sent the dark wood onto the ground. As the wood settled onto the graveyard's cold soil, Natalie’s candle went out.
Matthias approached the coffin and kneeled before it. Gellam took position opposite of him, and the two Priests set their hands on the wood. They started to chant, each with a different song that somehow blended together in a strange harmony. Natalie felt pressure against her being, the stolen blood inside of her rippling under the waves of power emanating from the priests. Slowly the ground started to shift, the soil becoming almost liquid under some magical influence. The coffin sunk into the ground like a piece of driftwood pulled under by some unseen current.
The earth accepted the coffin, parting for its passage. Leaving an open grave in its wake. Held open only by the two priests' magic. Barnabas stepped up to the grave and pulled two things from his pocket. A tarnished silver coin and a shot glass. He dropped both into the grave, where they made a clink and clatter.
Next, it was Natalie’s turn. Stepping forward, Natalie pulled the three times from her pack she’d prepared. First were the two small wooden statues her Mother had carved for her parents' ten-year anniversary. They fell into the grave with a solid clunk. The third was a worn old blanket, something Natalie had tucked away years ago. A memento from her childhood, a blanket her Dad had wrapped her in on one cold night when she’d been scared. It symbolized the safety she felt from her father, and it seemed appropriate to bury the blanket with him.
Trying desperately not to cry, Natalie turned away from the grave and wandered a few steps away. Behind her, a slow procession of people made small offerings. Coins for unpaid bar tabs. Silverware accidentally taken home. Little things that people had brought that symbolized their connections to Wilhelm. Natalie watched a few people dash home to get offerings. These were the ones who hadn’t guessed who the funeral was for. Out of the corner of her eyes, Natalie watched Cole approach the grave. Curious about his contribution, Natalie saw him drop a handful of coins into the grave.
Turning away from his offering, Cole slowly approached Natalie. Unsure if he should give her space or not. When she took his offered hand and limply leaned against him, Cole got his answer. In a tired monotone, Natalie asked, “What were the coins for?”
Cole shrugged slightly “Payment for room and board.”
Natalie actually snorted in laughter, which quickly turned into barely controlled sobs. Today Natalie fought her tears not out of misplaced pride but fear of exposure. The fact she could not truly cry as a Vampire made the threat of breaking down sobbing dangerous. Cole put a comforting around Natalie and hugged her. Letting her nestle her face into his chest. Gently he whispered to her, “You can cry now. No one can see.”
That broke the dam. Natalie burst into heavy wracking sobs. It had all been so much. Too damn much. All the loss, all the madness, all the pain. Natalie felt the weight of it all crushing her like grain under a millstone. Her very being ground down by a series of traumas that showed no signs of ending. Natalie cried in the strange dry sobs of a Vampire for the rest of the offerings. Only recovering herself some when the mourners started to sing.
A low dirge in garbled Saint-Speech. Carried on the lips of the hundreds of people who’d come to the funeral. Matthias was leading the song, and his eyes caught Natalies. He nodded towards the grave. Something that would clearly give away her ruse, but Natalie didn’t really care now.
Stepping next to the grave, Natalie joined the song. Looking down at the small mountain of offerings that completely covered her father’s casket. A tangible marker of the respect the community had for him. As the song reached its climax, the two priests by the grave relaxed their magic. Letting the soil flow back into place and cover the casket. As they did, Natalie felt another deep thrum of power. A yanking sensation at her core, like something distant, had been snapped.
Cole stepped next to Natalie and whispered. “This might sting a little, but I want you to see what I do.”
He set a hand on the back of her neck, and she felt a sharp chill enter her body. Letting out a surprised gasp, Natalie blinked her covered eyes against the pain. As she refocused, she noticed something strange. Silver mist seeped up out of the grave, a steady stream like smoke from a hidden fire. The mist drifted up and up, fading away as it did. For a split second, Natalie swore she saw an outline in the fog. The shape of a man's hand outstretched to her. On instinct, Natalie reached out and let her hand touch where she thought the outline had been.
For the first time since her death, Natalie felt truly warm. A bone-deep warmth that brought forth memories of her Father’s soup, the Silly Goat’s fireplace, and the blanket now buried. The feeling passed, and it left Natalie breathless. Stopping the useless instinct in its place out of sheer surprise.
Cole let go of Natalie’s neck, and the mist instantly disappeared. Gently, Cole said. “It's rare to see that. A soul strong-willed enough to persist for a few seconds untethered and uncorrupted. I don’t know what he gave you, but I’m glad he could.”
Uncertain of herself, Natalie asked. “That… that was him?”
Cole nodded and explained. “It's tricky but not impossible for most people to catch glimpses of a soul being released. I see more than a glimpse without really trying, and I wondered if I could share that. I’ve never tried forming a bridge like that, but I assume it worked?”
Not fully processing Cole’s words, Natalie asked again. “That was really him?”
Cole looked up to where the last bits of silver fog had faded away and answered. “Yes, that was your father’s soul.”
Awe and phantom warmth filled Natalie's still heart. “Thank you, Cole-”
Shouts and a scuffle interrupted her. The duo and everyone else at the ending funeral turned around to see a man pushing his way through the crowd. Sallow-skinned and lanky the man wore the crisp black uniform of the Daymen, now disheveled and stained. Wild-Eyed and manic, the Daymen pushed toward Natalie, shouting, “Mistress! Mistress! I found you!”
Frigid dread hit Natalie far, far harder than the little icy chill Cole’s miracle had provoked. With the court dead, the Daymen were now without leadership. Something their bent minds had been twisted to never accept. Cole had expected the Daymen and other thralls to flee, become comatose or otherwise carry on in denial of their master's death. He’d never expected this possibility.
Sandu, the gruff ferrier, stepped in the Daymen's way and snarled. “This is a bloody funeral, Gorrick! Have some shame, I don’t know what you’ve been drinking but go sleep it off!”
Gorrick didn’t seem to hear Sandu or ignored him. “Mistress, you must come with me! You are the only one left! The only Noble to carry both Lord’s blood!”
That got a stir from the crowd, who almost as one stepped away from Natalie and Gorrick in equal measure. In Glockmire, everyone knew what Noble meant. Another funeral goer, named Bogdan, shouted. “You were walking about without a cane or anything, Natalie. I saw you looking into the grave, you aren’t blind, are you!”
Five years ago, Natalie had shot Bogdan’s attempts to court her rather brutally. It seemed the little rat had found a time to get revenge in a truly spectacular way. All eyes on her, Natalie looked around. Her disguise failed even more with every second. Seeing no other option, Natalie reached up to her blindfold. Cole put a hand out to stop her. But she shooed it away gently.
Taking a deep breath, the first since seeing her father’s spirit. Natalie pulled the bandages away and showed the funeral her new eyes. A few startled gasps and even some panicked shouts broke out. Like a single living creature, the crowd pulled back from Natalie. Leaving only Cole, Barnabas, and the closing in Dayman near her. Free from Sandu’s grip, Gorrick ran towards Natalie. In a single smooth motion, Cole stepped forward and punched Gorrick clean in the face. The strike cut through the air with a resounding crack. The lunatic Dayman fell backward, knocked out by the horse-kick of a punch Cole delivered.
Blood spurted from Gorrick's broken nose, and with it came a colossal pang of hunger for Natalie. She looked away from the blood and only saw fear in the eyes of people she’d known her entire life. Flinching away from the sight, Natalie stepped behind Cole, trying to hide from the people around her.
Cole looked back to see the devastation on Natalie's face. It made Cole’s heartache. So he decided to do what came naturally to him; he told the truth. “Natalie is not a danger!” he said, his words echoing across the graveyard. “She was infected, fighting off a Vampire attempting to consume her. But the process did not go as planned. Complications brought on by Petar’s Coup, and some magical abnormalities stunted the Transformation. She is cursed but not Damned. The person you see standing next to me has red eyes and fangs, but she’s still Natalie Striga!”
Bogdan, ever the petty idiot, objected. “What proof do you have! How do we know she hasn’t bewitched you!”
Before Cole could respond, Barnabas did. “She’s standing in the fucking sunlight, you sheep-fondling moron! When’s the last time you saw a Vampire do that?”
Cole exchanged a grateful look with Barnabas before elaborating. “The weaknesses put upon Vampires are put there by the Gods as punishment. Chief among them, they burn in the Sun. A Vampire offered mercy by the Gods needs not fear the sun.”
That got some curious murmurs from the crowd. They had all read the Book of Miracle or had parts of it read to them. What Cole said lined up with conventional wisdom. So pressing the advantage, he said. “This is also why Natalie is forced to leave with me. She is willingly abandoning her home to protect you all.” Cole gestured at the Daymen. “This poor wretch and his like would have her become a monster like the Nobles. She could accept their offer, ruling over Glockmire as the sole remaining Vampire. But she won’t because despite what's been done to her, she’s a good person.”
Reaching towards his neck, Cole pulled his battered medallion free and held it up. Brilliant silver light shone from it, light powered by his soul and its connection to Master time. “I know this and swear by it as a Paladin of Master Time.”
Nobody moved as Cole’s declaration. The shock of Natalie’s nature being revealed hadn’t settled, so having another surprise of this magnitude just couldn’t sink in yet. At least for most of the people attending the funeral. For some, it explained much. Nestled between his siblings, little Filip looked up at Cole with pure-hero worship.
Slowly, Natalie stepped out from behind Cole, her head low in nervous fear. Softly she said. “I’m sorry for lying. I…I didn’t want to scare anyone.”
Matko then stepped forward, breaking the ring that surrounded Natalie, Cole, and Barnabas. He bowed slightly to Cole, unsure of the exact decorum for dealing with a Divine Champion. Internally Cole winced at that. He utterly hated the pomp and circumstance some people associated with his title.
Turning to Natalie, the gruff miner spoke seriously, “What I said to you at the Silly Goat still stands. You will always have a place in Glockmire Natalie. I don’t know what place that might be now with your…current state. But know our gates are still open to you.”
With a burst of superhuman speed, Natalie rushed forward and hugged Matko. Surprising both of them in equal parts. Natalie didn’t know what let her move that quickly, and she winced at the surprised grunt that came from Matko.
Gingerly releasing Matko, she stepped back towards Cole and said. “Thank you. That means more than I can possibly put into words.”
Matko just massaged his chest in surprise. Then shrugged and smiled. “You and Paladin Cole got justice for us. That means more than I can put into words.”
Gently this time, Natalie went over and gave Barnabas one last hug. “Look after Stockings for me,” she whispered to him and then broke the embrace.
Barnabas idled over to Cole and said gruffly. “I know you two are together now. So normally, I’d threaten to come back and haunt you if you hurt her. But…I guess to you, that's not as much of a threat to you. Still, look after her and prove my worries wrong.”
The two men shook hands awkwardly for a moment before Natalie took Cole’s free hand and started moving out of the graveyard. The crowd didn’t truly part like she expected. As they passed through, a forest of hands reached out to pat her or Cole’s back or shoulders. A wordless thank you. Despite all that had happened and everything revealed. Everyone in that crowd had lost someone to Petar’s machinations and would have lost more without Cole and Natalie's intervention. As they passed through the last of the crowd, the truth of that hit Natalie, and she held her head up a little higher.
Together the unlikely pair of Paladin of Death and newborn Vampire Queen left Glockmire. The sound of a few final hymns coming from the resumed funeral echoed through the clear Fall air. As they reached the Gate, Natalie looked at Cole and said. “To Vindabon?”
Cole smiled, squeezed her hand, and replied, “Together.”
Natalie returned the smile, looked out at the road, and said. “Together”