Chapter 41: Stand your ground. (1/2)

Normally upon waking I immediately exit my sealed sarcophagus. There has been a lot to do recently, and time is precious when one is slumbering for as long as I do. Now, my hand reaches for the lever and hesitates.

I need a moment for myself, to think.

Last night was full of lessons. The first one is that my romantic life will require me to stop myself from eating my partner if he is a mortal. I can see that this would be problematic. The easy solution would be to court or let myself be courted by a vampire, and that is not going to happen any time soon.

A problem for another time.

The second important lesson was how easy it was to dispose of two mages and a guard. I butchered them in an instant. They did not stand a chance. Even a prepared group with a defensive circle did little more than delay me for a few seconds. I need to reevaluate the impact I can have when battle is joined in the future. I must remain cautious, of course, but I can see myself slaughtering my way through an entire squad if I catch them unprepared.

I should be flattered by the progress I made, yet I cannot rid myself of the oppressive weight of my own failure. Even the overall success of the operation pales in comparison to the loss of the one I had sworn to protect. I am left bitter and deeply unsettled.

I exit my protective shell and join Dalton on the driver’s seat.

“Good evening Dalton, how are you doing?”

“I will be good for another few hours. Asni will have to drink at some point. It would be best if we stopped in a few miles.”

“Very well..”

I keep silent as we trudge forward. Dalton once again shows his ability to read the mood and stays quiet. Letting me work through my problems. With no distractions, I submit myself to a pointless game of what ifs.

What if I had decided to just finish Fillmore off?

What if I had dragged her out the moment I heard footsteps?

What if I had hidden completely and made them believe I had left by another way?

I churn and mix scenarios in my head again and again until I am interrupted in my self-destructive musings.

“What happened Mistress? Talk.”

“How do you know that I am upset?”

“You lean forward and occasionally scrunch your nose when you rehash something.”

“Bah!”

I will have to work on my composure when I enter vampire society. Being read like a book sounds like a terrible liability to have if Lancaster clan’s byzantine politics are any indication.

“Well?”

I dramatically sigh to convey my annoyance.

“I failed a promise.”

I recount the night and focus on the supplicant’s death. Dalton takes the time to reflect before asking me a question I had not considered.

“Does failing hurt your pride and esteem or does it bite deeper? Your kind follows strange rules. Perhaps breaking them hurts you as diseases and age hurt us.”

Is he correct? Breaking an oath is, for me, unthinkable, but perhaps vampires can be forced into situations when they see no other choices but to do it. What if two promises conflict one another? Then this would strike at our very essence.

We are supernatural creatures and Loth has already demonstrated the importance of will and purpose. I dare not imagine what would happen to a vampire oath breaker.

Then what about me? I did not let her die on purpose. Then why? If this is about intent and belief, then what do I believe killed her?

Greed.

This is it, is it not? I was not committed. I tried to both complete my task in an optimal way and to protect her somewhat. Indecision and greed were my sin. I focused so much on planning and long-term benefit that I forgot this simple truth. I am not a Master yet, to have plans within plans. If I give my word, I must pursue it with all my might, probably.

“Yes Dalton, it hurt me. If I had only tried to save her and killed Fillmore on the spot, this would not have happened.”

“Perhaps, or perhaps we would have the entire Georgian militia trailing us even now, looking for a red-hair woman with bruises on her face. Do you realize the ramifications of violently slaying a Governor, Mistress? Do you think me able to manage the situation during the day, alone and without plan as the nation’s most wanted outlaw?”

Now that he put it like that…

“I was born North of here in an isolated hamlet.”

I completely stop. I turn to Dalton and look at him with wide eyes. In our eight years together, he has never, ever mentioned his family even once. I know what food he likes, what music he prefers, even how he ties his shoes. I still have no idea about his origin and I did not pry. This revelation is simply unprecedented.

“Lots of religious folks moved to the New World because of persecutions and I got to give it to these European lads, many of them were correct. Some beliefs should have remained in the dark ages. Let me give you an example. You have a community. Each wise and holy man has several wives, and plenty of children. When women are of age, when they have their first blood, they are married off to other wise and holy men. When the men are of age, they are invited to travel the world, witness its debauchery, and accomplish some nigh impossible tasks. Do you see where I am going with this?”

“And if the young men return too early or do not conform, then something happens to them?”

“Nothing has to happen to them. The village elders shun them, and the entire community follows suit. There is little need for violence when you have absolute control, and they did. We were told that the outside world was unholy and monstrous, we were told that the wise men guided us for our own good and since some of them were our parents, we believed them.

“When my little sister turned thirteen, she was set to be married with the leader of our community, a man by the name of Holden. Holden was seventy if he was a day and something about this bothered me greatly. My sister was scared of him. I made the mistake to voice my doubts to my father. I was immediately ostracized, publicly humiliated. I was asked to repent. I was told that I was the victim of evil souls. My friends avoided me, all because I voiced some concerns.

“I did not even oppose the marriage. In my mind, this man was a saint. This ordeal opened my eyes to a series of petty abuse that was so unchristian that I confronted my father about it at dinner, as he was hurling insults at me.

“We came to blows. I was surprised but eventually, I won. I knew I had to leave and I offered my sister to come with me. She refused.

“That is the thing that bothers me to this day. She refused because she was scared of the outside. Because they had fed her with lies and manipulated her from birth, she could not envision anything else. It was preferable to have this ancient man touch her than having to face the road, uncertainty, starvation perhaps.

“She refused because she adored them and they could do no wrong, and they could do no wrong because if they had, her entire world would collapse.

“And that is why since this moment, I follow no one blindly. Nobody is free from mistakes, Mistress, not even you. Maybe not even God.”

Until that point, Dalton eyes have been fixed forward as he reminisced those painful memories. Now, he turns to me with a fanatic light in his eyes. I never took him for a believer in anything and I was wrong. My Vassal has a set of values that is so deeply embedded in his personality that I could never tell he had thought them through.

“You can be wrong Mistress, and contrary to the others, you have an eternity to learn from your mistakes and make progress. Neither of us can say which would have been the better path. Only experience will tell you and you will get it, if you live. So stop blaming yourself, you did what you thought was best and failed. You cannot succeed every time, what matters is that you follow your values as best you can and never stop improving.”

I never thought I could be so impressed by him. Dalton is usually so reserved, I sometimes tend to forget that his mind is no longer that of the shy boy I took from the Valiants.

“Those are words to live by, my Dalton. Thank you.”

“We are here for each other Mistress. As you know.”

“Indeed. Have you ever thought about returning?”

“Yes, and no I will not. I would find her comfortable in her existence and her place in the world, surrounded by a gaggle of children. And yes, I know there are other girls, but even if we go and break the walls of this prison they would only curse us for it, and rebuild them higher. It takes a lot to question one’s value Mistress. Most people here tend to forget that the pursuit of happiness does not equate the pursuit of freedom. Liberty is a burden that not everyone is willing to carry.”

“Oh I know. In fact, I am counting on it.”

“Shopping for cattle, Mistress?”

“Eventually. We will depart the nest at some point. Carve a kingdom, maybe?”

“I want dibs on the ministry of justice.”

“One thing at a time.”

After a few more jabs at each other, we continue in silence. Dalton’s lesson makes me feel better. I made a mistake, yes, and that is normal. Vampire are hunters, not protectors. There will be a learning curve.

I wake up to the ring of a bell. I hastily dress and leave my bedroom to see what the emergency is this time. As soon as I reach the main floor. I know that something is different. All shutters are drawn and the protective wards along the walls are on standby, humming quietly and filling the air with the promise of retribution. I count no less than twenty-five heartbeats upstairs and stop in my tracks. Loth voice reaches me from the smoking room.

“Ari? Please join us.”

Still a bit wary, I climb up the stairs and spot men in a strange uniform equipped with long muskets. They salute smartly as I pass. There is a hint of fear in them, hinting that they know what I am. As I approach the door, I feel a familiar aura that surprises me to my core.

“Isaac?!”

“Hello Ariane. Excellent, you are here, yes, excellent. Please, do come in, there is much to discuss.”

I enter the room and take the gathering in front of me. Loth is lounging in his favorite chair in full battle regalia, minus his steel armor. Facing him, Isaac sits upright with a mortal standing by his side. The man has a close-cropped beard and the bearing of a veteran. His mature face is frozen in a mask of disapproval and his eyes dart around the room, evaluating and gauging.

Dalton is next to my seat. He is armed to the teeth and shows a few bruises but appears otherwise unharmed.

“Splendid, now that you are here, I can explain the situation in earnest. I will be using English for the benefit of Loth, Mr. Dalton, as well as Mr. Venet here, who is the head of my security detail. Be aware that I am here as the official representative of the Rosenthal consortium as it relates to the matter of the Leucadia. Now, your competent Vassal noticed two suspicious men circling the property and attempted to apprehend them. They turned out to be Brotherhood members and he put them down despite their physical prowess.”

I turn to Dalton and realize now where the bruises come from.

“They can’t outrun bullets Mistress, not like you.”

His smile has a vicious quality to it that I mirror with pleasure. Those imbeciles tried to take down my precious Vassal. A quick death was too good for the likes of them.

“Yes, well, their bodies are downstairs and we managed to dissect them.”

“Wait, you were awake during the day?”

“Yes Ariane, masters wake up increasingly earlier as they grow, though our vulnerability to sunlight remains and we are extremely weakened while it is out. Please focus, time is of the essence. Moving on, we found out that they have runes inscribed in invisible tattoos upon them. Those are mostly shoddy work and allows them to perform incredible feats at the cost of their life expectancy. They can momentarily increase their speed, strength or endurance. Never more than one at a time. Loth and I estimate the average lifespan after inscription to be around two and a half years, though that will certainly not be relevant to us. There is no known way to deprive them of this power.”

It is still fortunate that we found those two. The members of cells we had encountered while clearing secondary rings had not been marked. I suspect that only their trusted muscle will have access to runes and that can only mean one thing.

“They are onto us.”

“Yes. We are expecting them either tonight or tomorrow. Loth of Skoragg decided to make a stand and, though we do not approve, we will offer assistance this once.”

Ah, I thought that the tension was due to the imminent arrival of our enemies, but it seems it is a question of ego between Loth and probably Venet. If the head of security thinks he can convince the old Dvergur to give ground, he is sorely mistaken. The only person on the planet who can convince Loth of Skoragg to retreat is Loth of Skoragg. I presume that my dear host felt no obligation to explain the extent of his formidable defenses to the newcomers. They have no idea, and neither does our foe.

“In the meanwhile, I shall explain the reason for my coming and the importance of the mission that is ours and by extension, yours. What we are looking for, is this.”

Isaac removes a drawing from his briefcase and places it on the table in front of me with reverence. The paper is yellow with age and depicts an ornate black box with silver engravings. The lower right corner has been painted a deep black with a frantic hand, wild strokes of the brush contrasting with the realistic depiction of the object.

“Your painter had a stroke?” asks Loth with little humor.

“No… This is deliberate…” I add without thinking. I lightly caress the black surface. Frantic lines, a sudden urge to render something that cannot be rendered, I know this effect all too well.

“He tried to draw it but did not have the tools.”

Isaac looks at me with naked curiosity.

“Yes, very insightful Ariane. This is an illustration of the box containing the Gate of Beriah. It was drawn by Mr. Matthys, an artist under our employ during the late sixteenth century. We believe that the Gate bled through its containment and affected him. Matthys was an extremely rigorous man. When questioned, he insisted that his depiction was made faithfully. For the very same reason, we have no idea what the item looks like in reality. Scholars who got their hand on it have described it in confusing terms. Al-Din describes it as, and I quote, an aperture into the unfathomable path up and in. “

A key that breaks. Nashoba’s prophecy is now confirmed.

“Let me guess, they all turn mad?” asks Loth.

“Curiously, no. All those who study it have been witnessed to be functional adults, or at least as functional as this sort can be. Their notes, however, grow increasingly cryptic and yet it appears that they understand them. Regardless of the Gate’s true nature, it is an artefact of great power that is said to unlock man’s true potential. The thing is that it requires energy to function, life energy to be precise.”

“Like the runes?”, I ask, “Is this a coincidence?”

“It is not. Ownership and study of the artefact allowed the Brotherhood of the New Light, or Ascendency as they are called in Europe, to develop this extremely crude method. Let me finish, please. The artefact has been partially charged during only two events. The first one was the black plague and the second, the seven years war. The reason why we did not notice immediately is the staggering amount of deaths occurring at the time, as well as the general hysteria. Simply put, we are still uncertain of how it kills, only that it does and turns its victims into mindless creatures craving the vitality that was robbed from them.”

“Wait, what?”

“If the Gate is acquired and triggered, all humans in its vicinity but its bearer will be robbed of both life and sanity. They will turn into short-lived but murderous lunatics. At the same time, the survivor will acquire the strength to defy a Lord, if they manage to repeat the process enough times.”

“By the Watcher.”

“Indeed. The item was stolen from a secret vault by means unknown and later purchased by Ascendency. Before we could act, it was shipped to the New World.”

“And the ship was lost...”

“Precisely. And now, it has been found. Lady, and gentlemen, my task is to secure the artefact and return it to Rosenthal custody, I would appreciate your support in this matter.”

Not that we have much choice anymore.

Loth and I meet eyes and I start:

“I have questions.”

“Go ahead lass, I will ask mine later.”

“Thank you. What is the consortium’s stake in all this?”

“The secured vault was ours. We have a responsibility to stop them.”

Isaac gives me a pointed look, as if daring me to question his integrity. I shift my posture by the barest amount in a display of annoyance, a gesture that mortals will not pick up. Isaac returns an expression of contrition for a mere tenth of a second before his face turns back into a mask of professionalism. I let the matter go.

“Have you located the wreck of the Leucadia ?”