Within the
Chronoplast, arcane mechanisms moved with infinite precision, coming into
contact briefly, then parting to continue their revolutions, a scraping sigh
marking their passing. The various gears, hooks, and unnamed instruments
whirled and spun, functioning in purposeful unison. Their progress served to
record and catalogue time. One might almost believe that this fantastic
contraption was aware, or at least alive. Whatever the case, its workings
continued unimpeded as they had for millennia, reaching out with metal fans and
spirals to catch the currents of time. Its design held many secrets.
And Kain
knew them all.
The God of Nosgoth stood
within the monstrous cavern whose walls hid the eternal labors of the
Chronoplast. The power contained therein was subtle, but palpable. Kain could
feel it even now. It crawled over his skin like the machine’s lifeless breath
to settle in his brain, seeking a will strong enough to harness its potential.
Kain was not found lacking.
He issued it
a command, though no words were uttered. The endless whirring and clicking of
the Chronoplast seemed to slow, as if considering the order. Then it swept
smoothly back to life, the pause and altered beat audible only to Kain’s
well-trained ear. He relaxed momentarily, considering his options. So much
still needed to be done in preparation, but he felt that he had accomplished a
good deal already. He was not tired, nor intimidated by the work that lay
ahead. But still, instead of continuing in his orchestration, he paused.
Was it
happening now?
Kain knew
the enormity of his self-appointed task, but the urge to slip away, if only for
a while, stayed with him. Surely he could take a moment to check on the
progress of events. He had always savored some of the less potent functions of
this hall, they being the first he had uncovered. It was still exciting to
watch events take shape.
At length Kain made his decision and stalked out of the chamber, leaving the
Chronoplast to complete the duties he had assigned it.
He moved up the
sloping corridor, passing portals of eerily shifting mists that swirled and
receded as he moved by. He knew them all by heart, and so he recognized
precisely which one he wanted when he came to it. Kain stopped before the
portal, and at his presence the mists surged suddenly, then faded, allowing a
picture to form before his eyes. Kain leaned forward eagerly, intrigued in
spite of himself. He never tired of this. In the portals down the hall to one
side of him resided the past, and on the other side lay the future. But this
one, he knew, was calculated to show this time, the present.
An image
appeared, showing a crouching figure with a gleaming spirit blade surrounded by
black-garbed monsters.
Kain settled
in to watch.
===========================
Raziel hunkered down on the lip of the stone basin, letting the ambiance of the
Spectral Plane restore him gradually . Around him hovered eight vampire wraiths.
Cellidane and two others were moving about among the rest, their glowing gray
eyes distinguishing them from the crimson glares that continued to peer out
from their cohorts’ hoods.
As Raziel
watched, Cellidane approached one of the red-eyed wraiths. It hissed in a
hollow rasp and backed away, its claws raised warningly. But Cellidane did not
pause. From her unseen mouth a stream of softly glowing gray light emerged and
coiled toward the wraith. It lashed out frantically, but the light surged
forward and entered its occluded cowl.
The vampire
wraith flailed about for a moment, then grew still. Its hood came up, revealing
eyes that now gleamed gray. From a mouth that only moments before could only
wail inarticulately, a voice now spoke, “Cellidane?”
Cellidane drifted forward to clasp its hands. “Welcome back, Jetro.”
The two of
them floated off to help the others bring the last of them around, and Raziel
could only silently marvel at what had just occurred. To think that upon being
banished to the Spectral Realm by Turel’s minions, he should be set upon by
vampire wraiths, only to discover after they had fed upon his spirit that they
were the souls of Razielim vampires, his own clan. The infusion of his being
into one of their own had liberated it from the memory-shorn existence of the
wraith, revealing itself to both of them as Cellidane, Raziel’s own first
lieutenant from when he was a vampire clan leader. After the initial shock had
worn off, Cellidane had proceeded to transfer some of her own awakened essence
to the seven other wraiths present. Though eager to help, Raziel had been too
weak to be of service. It was all he could do to just sit and wait for his
strength to be restored. But as he watched more of his long-dead children come
back to themselves, Raziel was filled with an emotion that he had never thought
he would experience again: happiness.
As the
transfers continued, Raziel suddenly became aware that someone was watching
him. Turning he saw one of the newly rejuvenated wraiths regarding him
intently. Upon being discovered it quickly looked away.
Raziel
stared at the wraith for a few moments. Then slowly, shakily, he rose to his
feet. Around him the other wraiths, moving in on their last defensive sibling,
paused to watch. With unsteady steps, Raziel approached the Razielim. It
flinched away from him, but he persisted in reaching out a talon to touch its
hood. At this the wraith slowly, almost guiltily, raised its shrouded features
to meet his glowing white eyes with its gray ones.
“Do I know
you, child?” Raziel asked softly.
The wraith
continued to watch him, trembling. It nodded its head haltingly.
“I am
Ikarus, my lord,” it whispered in a familiar voice.
Raziel
inclined his head in remembrance. This was one of Cellidane’s own children, but
a fairly young one. Raziel had met him several times before as one of
Cellidane’s personal aides. The juvenile vampire had struck him as being
unassuming but extremely devoted to his mistress. In fact, Raziel had sometimes
wondered if the fledgling’s feelings towards the vampire lady ran deeper than
just loyalty. This sort of relationship was not frowned upon by vampires, there
being no reason, whether biological or otherwise, to decry it. When one was
immortal, family connections were no hindrance to personal interactions. But
Cellidane, Raziel knew, had looked elsewhere to find her pleasure, something he
intended to discuss with her shortly. All the same, it came as no surprise to
Raziel that Ikarus should have remained by Cellidane’s side even after
death.
“I am glad
to see you again, Ikarus,” Raziel spoke out loud. “You are welcome to my eyes.”
Ikarus cast
his gaze downward. “I… Thank you, my lord.” He bowed respectfully.
Raziel
nodded in approval. Around him the other wraiths returned their attention to
the last holdout, and soon all eight of the phantoms present had been restored
to an awareness of themselves. So united, they clustered eagerly about their
patriarch, who had resumed his place on the basin beneath the floating Nosgoth
globe.
The Reaver
of Souls looked about him carefully. For the moment he was too overwhelmed to
say anything.
“My liege,”
one of the wraiths spoke then. All, including Raziel, turned to regard it. The
wraith hesitated, then bowed reverently.
“Sejm,” he
began with his name in the traditional vampire introduction. “I am Razielim,
who are…”
The vampire
spirit stopped. Some of his fellows’ robes rustled, and low rumbles of
disquietude came from their cowls, for the rest of this mantra ran “first clan
and claw on the hands of Kain.”
Before the
awkward silence could go any further, Cellidane floated forward.
“You are
Razielim, who form their own fist now,” she told Sejm firmly.
Raziel
nodded to his child, and another wraith rose to make his acquaintance. Soon all
had been named, and Raziel found that of those present, only Cellidane and
Ikarus were known to him. The rest were very young, some not even born in his
time. But they were still his children, his clan, and he was not alone anymore.
It felt so good just to be near them, he almost forgot their wretched
conditions.
Then
Cellidane glided towards him. “Father,” she spoke, and there was compassion
mixed with pain in her voice. “What has been done to you?” She reached out a
claw to touch his face and Raziel realized for the first time that his clan
symbol face-wrap was gone, exposing his ruined features and missing lower
jaw.
“I shall
tell you,” he spoke in a sepulchral whisper. “And then you must reveal the
events behind your own predicament.”
So began a very
bizarre conference. Raziel detailed to his audience what had befallen him since
his execution, how he had risen in the Underworld lair of the mysterious Elder
God, who had informed him of Nosgoth’s peril from the vampire dynasty and
empowered him to seek out and destroy his brothers and father. The Razielim,
most of whom had never even seen their legendary founder, crowded in
expectantly as he narrated of his battles against Dumah, Melchiah, Rahab and
Zephon. Some even cried out in shock when he told of his encounter with Kain
himself, and how he had lost the fight but gained the Soul Reaver. He tried to
keep his tale short, but his appreciative listeners plied him with eager
questions, craving more details about Ariel and the abominable secret behind Kain’s
resurrection of the six vampire brothers. There was, of course, time to spare
here, where time was relative only to each other and not to anyone in the
outside world. But soon Raziel called a halt to their interrogation, although
the Razielim were not the only ones to be disappointed. Finally he informed
them of his perilous journey through the floating Tower, culminating in his
thwarted confrontation with Ellich De and return to the Spectral Realm.
At this last
point in the story, Raziel noted a certain apprehension in Cellidane’s manner.
The others too were silent and some looked to their lieutenant, as if expecting
something from her.
Raziel gazed
upon his flustered child. He had some idea of what was at work here, but he
needed confirmation from Cellidane. She had to reveal to him what no one else
could.
“Cellidane,”
he spoke commandingly, and she looked up. “Tell me now, and hold nothing back.
What transpired to our clan after my execution?”
Her black
robes shivered slightly, as if containing some powerful dread at what she knew
was coming. Close beside her Ikarus stretched out an arm to touch her, but she
raised a claw to forestall him, and he drew back worriedly. Then the Razielim
lieutenant faced her sire squarely and began to speak in a terse, low voice.
“At first…
we were only confused. We all knew something had happened to you, but we had no
idea what. I felt your pain from afar, but that was all. When you did not
reappear, I sought an audience with Kain and the other clan leaders, but was
repulsed. Other avenues of communication fared me no better.”
“Then
reports began to come to me, of fledglings born with strange abnormalities. At
first I did not comprehend the meaning, but when I too began to experience the
changes, I came to realize that we were all, every Razielim, undergoing the
same transformation that had inexplicably overtaken you, my lord. We were
gaining our wings. And that was when our doom descended.”
The other
Razielim voiced angry outbursts, but Raziel silenced them with a gesture. They
obeyed instantly, and Cellidane continued.
“All the
clans came against our enclaves in full force. Caught unprepared, we were
routed and driven from the cities. Although still the strongest of all the
clans, the disparity between our forces’ numbers hung heavy against us, and
they had Kain and the Council behind them. But while defeated, we did manage to
learn from some captured enemies that you had been executed most basely, and
that Kain had called for our total annihilation. All because of the wings.”
“No!” Raziel
shook his head sternly. “Because of Kain. He is the force behind our race’s
demise, not we.”
The Razielim
shouted their approval. He could not see it, but from the sound of her voice he
thought Cellidane was smiling. “Yes. Of course you are right, my lord. At
any rate, the loss of you robbed us of our heart, and the brutal downturn of
our role in the world devastated us. There was no succor to be found anywhere.
All the clans, even the Melchahim, were bent upon our destruction. We knew that
no quarter would be given. Some of us tried to disguise ourselves, to blend in
amongst the other vampires and work from within to help us. But in the end, the
wings gave us away. As they grew larger, no amount of covering could conceal
them. After only five years, we all boasted pinions that could, with the aid of
wind currents, propel us through the sky with ease.”
“But by then
it was all but over. Our clan was scattered across the earth. We heard tales of
gruesome bonfires made of our kin, of fledglings staked out in pools of
sunlight. As we roamed the land in search of safety, we sometimes came across
forests of long spears with Razielim impaled upon them, their heads shorn from
their bodies to insure they would never return.” Cellidane’s voice was hoarse
with grief, and the other wraiths bowed their heads in sorrow. Raziel allowed
her a moment to collect herself.
“For forty
years we fought them,” Cellidane finally continued, “but our numbers dwindled,
and we were denied any opportunity to replenish them. We were always starving,
cut off from the human food supplies. We tried raiding them, but it proved too
costly. Eventually we gave up and became reconciled to the constant hunger. By
this time I was the recognized leader of the clan, a shrunken and desperate
shade of its former magnificence. I sent word to the surviving bands to go into
hiding. I did not know if any others even still existed to receive my commands,
but the attempt had to be made. We lurked in deep mountain caves and near the
ocean shorelines where vampires dared not tread. In this way we managed to hold
on for sixty years.”
“And we
could have remained so for much longer,” a Razielim named Thraim spoke out.
Cellidane flinched in response, and Ikarus leaped at the vampire furiously.
Before they could come to blows, the Soul Reaver swept between them, its
dangerous glare falling over their shrouded forms with a perilous warning
matched in Raziel’s eyes. “Enough!” his voice cracked
menacingly, and both of the wraiths moved grudgingly back.
Raziel
turned again to his first lieutenant. “Pray continue, Cellidane,” he urged her
softly.
When she
spoke next, Cellidane’s words were cold and distant, like she was relating a
story someone else had told her once. “We were secluded in the mountains near
the border of Turel’s territory. He and his Turelim were always the most savage
in our persecution. They claimed to be following Kain’s will, but I believe
they truly enjoyed seeing us brought low. They resented you, and us. During the
fight for our capital, I challenged Jehamiah to personal combat, to buy our
people time to escape, but was forced to flee when Turel joined the fray. Yet
for all their ardor, the remnants of our clan remained unnoticed by them in the
caves.”
“But we were
starving, and close to despair. There did not seem to be anything left to do.
Some of the elders who still worshipped Kain were counseling that we should
give ourselves up to him and pray for mercy. But I knew this was folly. Others
had tried this before, and their only reward was to die quickly. The fledglings
were growing more panicked and desperate. Finally I thought there was only one
recourse left to me, one possible ally we could turn to. I…”
“I left the
caverns and flew out to find him.”
Raziel
growled inwardly, and Ikarus too seemed to share his wrath. They both knew to
whom Cellidane had turned.
“Ellich De,”
the Reaver of Souls cursed.
Cellidane
nodded miserably.
Raziel
swore, but it was not aimed at his lieutenant. When still a clan leader, he had
noticed the relationship developing between his first-born daughter and Turel’s
then-third lieutenant. He had noticed, and disapproved. It was not a question
of propriety. He would not have cared if she had sought the company of Turel
himself. Raziel simply did not like the devious Turelim underling. It was
nothing he could put his finger on, the vampire’s personality just bothered
him. This ineffable quality was what Turel had laughed at when Raziel had
broached the subject to him
“Are you now
trying to dictate to me on my own children, Raziel? You are my brother, not my
father,” Turel teased him while on a Hunt together.
“Come now,
Turel, be serious,” Raziel had interjected. “Surely you perceive there is
something wrong with him.”
“Oh yes, of
course I do. His fallacy is obvious for all to see. He is in love with your
daughter. Should you toss him into the
Raziel had
glowered darkly, and Turel swiftly dropped further attempts at humor.
“I admit to
some apprehension myself, Raziel, but Ellich is extremely clever and
ferociously loyal. These are not attributes I regard as character flaws. He may
be given to excess, but he has offered me no real reason to rebuke him. And he
seems to care for her. Do not be offended, brother, but perhaps you should
endeavor to change your child’s feelings and not mine.”
Raziel had
paused thoughtfully. “Very well, I shall.”
He had tried,
and failed. Cellidane had stubbornly refused to part ways with Ellich De, and
Raziel had resigned himself to their continued interaction with ill humor.
He now
cursed himself for not slaughtering the grinning bastard on the spot.
Cellidane
had resumed her narrative.
“Turel and
Jehamiah had been blatant in their pursuit of our kind. But in all the times I
questioned survivors, not once did I hear of Ellich being involved in any
attacks.” Her voice now held a powerful undercurrent of shame. “I took this as
a sign, that he cared enough about me to wish us no harm, possibly even enough
to aid us. I flew to the Tower one night and made my way in.”
“When I
found him, it seemed like all my hopes were realized. He held me, told me he
loved me and could never stand to see me slain. He listened as I told him of
our plight, and promised us help. He told me of food stores only a short
distance from the desert, in a canyon. If I went there in two days, he would make
sure it was deserted of Turelim. He had the authority.”
“I was so
relieved, I never doubted. Returning to our dwelling, I told all of our good
fortune. Though some expressed doubt, the opportunity was too good to pass up.
At length I consented to exercise some caution, and took only my aides to
attend the meeting.”
“When we
arrived at the appointed time, the storage facility seemed bereft of its
guards. All eight of us could smell the humans locked in their pens, and the
thought of food maddened us. We descended on a building and tore it open.”
“The
blood-hunger was so strong. I can only assume that was why we did not scent the
trap.”
“The Turelim
descended on us in the darkness with nets and cudgels. We were overwhelmed and
beaten into submission, then chained and taken from that place. I wondered why
we had not been killed outright, but soon it became clear.”
Cellidane
now spoke in a bitterly hateful tone. “From words that I had let slip to
Ellich, Turel had divined our location. He allowed us the time to reach the
rendezvous because he wanted me and any other leaders of the clan captured
alive. Then he raided the caves. We were brought there, forced to bow in
shackles at Turel’s feet, while his warriors returned from the caverns with
what prisoners they cared to bring. These were tortured to death in front of
us, and for hours we listened to them scream. Turel told us that ours was the
last holdout to fall. We cursed him, challenged him and his captains to face us
in open combat like warriors. Jehamiah accepted, but Turel overruled him, and
we were left to watch helplessly as the bodies, hundreds of them, were piled
into a great heap and burned.”
“When all
was done, we were taken back to the Tower, to this very room. Ellich De was
waiting for us.”
“I still had
not believed,” Cellidane snarled. “I thought he had been captured and forced to
tell of our meeting. But he was laughing when they dragged us in, and there
before our eyes Turel conferred on him the rank of second lieutenant.
“I screamed
at him, called him traitor and coward. Ikarus…” she glanced in his direction,
“tried to attack Ellich De, chained as he was, but Turel’s attendants caught
him and impaled him on the spikes. Then they did the same to the rest, until
only I remained. Ellich De beseeched Turel for the honor of killing me, and he
acquiesced. That last insult gave me the strength I needed, and with all my
power I broke my chains and lunged at Turel and the traitor, hoping to tear
their heads off before they could finish me.”
“Jehamiah
caught me before I reached either of them. He picked me up and cast me onto the
spikes. As I died, I heard Ellich De upbraiding Jehamiah for stealing his
glory, and Turel laughing. It faded then, and was gone.”
Cellidane looked up at
Raziel. “I remember nothing else, until you returned to us, my lord.”
For a moment
following the end of her story, there was silence. No one dared speak as they
all looked to their ancestral prime.
Then Raziel
climbed to his feet. During Cellidane’s tale, he had felt his strength
returning, and upon her completion he finally sensed his power was restored
fully. He was strangely calm, something he had not expected. Cellidane’s
recitation of his clan’s final moments had failed to incite the killing wrath
he had first experienced upon viewing their pitiably maimed corpses in the
physical world. If anything, he felt at peace. After all this, one thing was
abundantly clear to him.
He could now
kill Turel without a qualm.
The lord of
the Razielim gazed around him at his children. It should never have come to
this, he thought. In the end, the mightiest vampire clan had been destroyed for
the sick amusement of selfish beings. What human had ever been so base and
cruel?
“It is not
just that this be so,” he spoke out loud.
That was
when it happened.
It was in
the eyes of his children, a pearlescent gray power, cold and strong and
unstoppable. Raziel closed his eyes, feeling an awesome change run through him.
He knew why
he felt no rage. The emotion was too small for what he had become. Up until
now, he had killed out of revenge, his fury and recrimination fueling his
actions. He had called this justice, but he had been wrong.
Finally
Raziel came to understand. Surrounded by his children, all unjustly murdered,
he felt the force connecting them, binding them all in an alliance of will and
spirit. Always before, he had looked on his new existence in terms of what he
had been before. No longer. He was not a former clan leader or a vampire, not a
former anything. Neither were they. Here in the smoky lands without sun or life
they had all become truly divine beings, entities of purpose, existing to carry
out great deeds that would change the world and shape the future.
He served no
masters. A higher calling belonged to him. Raziel, the Reaver of Souls, was no
longer a killer, an Angel of Death.
For the sake
of the ones he loved he was, now and forever, an Angel of Justice.
Raziel’s
thoughts came down slowly from this prodigious epiphany. He saw flashes of his
previous life, traveling with Turel and serving Kain. He watched as he
slaughtered his brothers and devoured their souls. All had been necessary to
bring this realization about. He had taken his revenge. Now he would have
justice.
Starting
with his children.
He stepped
down from the rise and strode purposefully forward. The circle of wraiths
parted before him. Raziel moved across the room to stand over the planar
portal. He felt its cool waves of promising energy lapping over him, and raised
his hands to cast the Shift Glyph.
A powerful
claw grabbed his arm.
Turning, he
stared calmly into Cellidane’s hood.
“You are
returning? To kill him?” she inquired pensively.
“Kill them
all,” he corrected her lightly.
“But,” she
protested, “they have already defeated you once before. Not even your magic was
enough to stop them.”
“True,”
Raziel conceded. He glanced meditatively over at the other Razielim, still
clustered uncertainly in the ring of pillars. “I have given the matter thought,
and I believe I have one recourse available to me. Unfortunately, its
effectiveness is relative to my position to the enemy. ‘Tis a pity this portal
could not be closer to the center, but I will make do somehow.”
Cellidane’s
cowl dropped down to stare at the floor, and Raziel reached forward to clasp
her shoulders. “Nothing would give me greater joy than to have you join in this
battle with me, Cellidane. I know it grieves you to be trapped here while
Ellich De languishes in the arms of life unending. Take solace, for I will soon
send his soul winging to accompany you, if only for a moment.”
Cellidane
did not respond. Drawing aside from her, Raziel raised a claw in parting to his
remaining children and stepped once again into the portal.
“Father!”
Raziel
paused.
Cellidane’s
head was up and her eyes were sparkling triumphantly.
“I can help
you.”
She gestured
urgently to the others. “We all can.”
==============================
The flash of power faded, the eldritch echoes died away, and Ellich De brayed
with hysterical laughter.
Staggering
forward, he bent down and picked up Raziel’s face-wrap. Upon straightening up
he noticed the other denizens of the Open Eye still staring dumbfounded at the
spot Raziel had just vacated. That was unwise of them, he snickered gruesomely.
“Unless you
would prefer for me to rip your hearts from your bodies,” Ellich De announced
with a sick grin, “you will kindly direct your attention to Raziel’s imminent
point of return rather than his place of departure.”
Much to his
satisfaction, seven pairs of eyes instantly swung to the pillar behind which
Raziel had first appeared.
Ellich De felt a shiver
of excitement race up his spine. While continuing to work on sensing Raziel’s
forthcoming presence in the room or the corridor beyond, he held up the faded
wrap before his eyes. Judging by the clan markings, this must have originally
been Raziel’s clan cape. How thrilled Turel would be to have this as a trophy.
By now, every vampire in the castle must have felt the sudden lurch of thwarted
inertia as the Tower came to a halt. The others were not so advanced as he to
have attacked Raziel and kept the Tower moving. Soon Turel would investigate,
maybe even in person, and Ellich De would place the cape in his master’s claws
just before he called Turel’s attention to the captured Raziel. He smiled in
anticipation of Turel’s praise. He would be greatly rewarded for his efforts,
no doubt with the position of first lieutenant. Not that the title would lend
him any greater power than he already possessed, but just to see the look on
Jehamiah’s pompous first-generation face: that would be supremely satisfying.
Caught up in
dreams of glory, Ellich De’s thoughts were interrupted by a cry from one of his
subordinates.
“Sir
Ellich!”
Immediately
the Turelim lieutenant focused his attention on the point where Raziel must be
returning. But to his surprise, there was nothing there. Angrily he rounded on
the offending vampire, whereupon he saw that it was pointing at something
behind him.
Pivoting
swiftly, ready for anything, Ellich De was still shocked by what he saw.
On the
pillar behind him, the shrunken corpse of Cellidane was crumbling into dust.
Ellich De
cried out upon seeing his prize abandoning him. Turning about, he witnessed the
seven other corpses on their stakes all following the same fate. Each body was
deteriorating into a sickly gray ash, but much too swiftly to be natural.
Mystified, the entire coven could only stare in bewilderment.
Around them,
a hot wind began to blow.
It whipped
through the room, sounding a high, menacing note. The wind sent ripples through
the vampire ashes, picking them up and spreading them throughout the chamber.
The Turelim sputtered and shook their heads as it clogged their mouths and
stung their eyes. They fired force blasts to no avail through the blinding dust
cloud.
“Stay calm!”
Ellich De shrieked furiously. “This is only a trick! Prepare to strike when he
appears!”
The
flustered Turelim responded with swift assent, resuming their positions before
their pillars.
The gale
screamed even louder. Without warning, the dust in the air began to move
purposefully, coalescing in the center of the room over the Nosgoth globe. A
hurricane of gray powder raged in the middle of the Open Eye. Within it, a
shape began to take form, an upright figure of man-like appearance. Amazed,
Ellich De stared up into the piercing eyes of Raziel.
“Attack!”
the Turelim sorcerer screamed.
His
followers responded instantaneously. As Raziel’s body appeared atop the globe,
they launched their combined assault. From all sides, a deluge of psychic power
thundered into Raziel.
The Reaver
of Souls stiffened.
And suddenly,
inexplicably, he began to spin.
Faster and
faster he whirled about, his arms tucked in at his sides. The demon wind
continued to shriek, and Ellich De was aghast. He could feel his own
telekinetic attack being sucked into Raziel, seemingly offering him no harm. He
broke off his assault and staggered back, staring wildly about him. The other
Turelim were shouting in confusion and continuing to pour their unified
strength forth uselessly.
Ellich De
glared up at the blurred figure, and he bared his fangs with a guttural snarl.
Suddenly springing forward, he launched himself screaming at his nemesis, his
claws outstretched to shred flesh. He bellowed insanely, a colossus of magic
and hate.
In a split
second Raziel snapped to a halt. His arms swept out.
And from out
of his body burst an overpowering wave of telekinetic might as he invoked the
Force Glyph.
Enhanced by
the Turelims’ attacks, the sphere of force blasted out on all sides. It slammed
into the howling vampires, lifting them off their feet and hurling them
backwards. Ellich De rebounded away from Raziel and soared shrieking through
the air straight at the pillar behind him.
And at the
cluster of spikes that adorned it.
An unholy
cry of pain tore the air as Ellich De smashed into the column, impaling himself
on the deadly shafts. An instant later his underlings met a corresponding fate.
Thrown back by Raziel’s spell, they were skewered with slithering scrapes of
metal punching through flesh and bone. Moaning desperately, they lingered
suspended on the very instruments which only moments before had boasted the
Razielims’ corpses.
The
Turelims’ pleas died out, and their bodies fell limp as death stole over them.
Their souls rose out to hover momentarily before vanishing from this plane.
Only Ellich
De remained.
Twitching
and gurgling, he hung on display, his legs kicking aimlessly. The gory spears
protruded from his chest. Raziel vaulted down off the great metal sphere and
moved slowly forward to stare up into the vampire’s crimson eyes. Ellich De’s
jaws gaped, and a bloody froth burst from his mouth to run down his chest.
Raziel watched him struggle impassively. Reaching up, he removed his clan wrap
from the Turelim’s grip.
“There is no
need to linger on my part, Ellich De,” he spoke quietly as he wound the fabric
about his face again. “Another craves your company far more than
I.”
With a final
pitiful whimper, Ellich De hung still.
=======================
The world seemed to twist in on itself, the colors flowing and blending
together to merge into a great white emptiness. The pain went away. Then his
sight came back, but darker. He suddenly realized that he was free to move, and
promptly did so. Looking about at his suddenly monotone surroundings, he saw no
sign of his killer. No further peril. Once again he inhabited the afterlife as
a vampire wraith.
The predator
had not followed him. Souls were nearby, beings he had once known but who were
now nothing more than helpless prey. He would consume them, and then he would
fly swiftly, find a way out to reach the prince who lived on this world and the
other. Had to warn the prince. About the predator. The prince would protect him
from it. Then the prince would move about in the world of light, hunt the
predator. Rend him and imprison him. Afterwards the prince would remove the
barrier that blocked the wraith from returning to the world of light, and he
would be reborn.
An eerie moan sounded
close by, and the wraith froze.
He looked
about, and squealed in terror as eight other wraiths swept up around him.
He lurched away in panic,
but the wraiths paid him no heed. Instead they streaked about, chasing the
bobbing balls of life. He understood. Their territory. Good then. They eat and
he leaves. Had to get to the way out. The lone wraith turned towards the door,
when a strange sound came from behind it.
“Hello, my
love.”
The wraith
turned about, and Cellidane ripped her claws through its face.
It staggered
back, gurgling in agony, and Cellidane moved in for the kill. She viciously
plunged her talons into the cloaked form, and the creature reeled away in
terror. Its strength was gone, its body was transparent and weak. No, no, not
this one, this one is not prey, leave it be! Helpless and confused, the wraith
staggered haltingly away from the attacker, wailing in despondent fear.
Cellidane
watched him go. He was no longer a threat. She did not raise a hand to stop
him.
Instead she
opened her mouth.
Almost out
of the room, the wraith was jerked back. It felt its substance stretch and change,
and it squealed again. Thrashing in mortal dread, the wraith was sucked towards
its attacker’s hood. It was now a stream of energy, and as it descended
mournfully into the lightless reaches of the cowl, the wraith heard the odd
sounds again.
“Have a
taste of true death, Ellich De!”
===========================
Alone now in the chambers of the Open Eye, Raziel glanced casually about the
room. His new body seemed stronger and more supple than his previous forms.
Cellidane had been correct. Though unable to return to their own bodies, the
Razielim had been able to cut their earthly ties to the immortal flesh, then
had used their spirit powers to craft their remains into a form that Raziel
could inhabit. In this way he had been able to appear back in the real world
wherever he wished, and thus had chosen a position from which he could best
employ the Force Glyph. As he had suspected, the telekinetic spell had rendered
him impervious to the Turelims’ assault during the casting, and its unleashed
power, while inflicting no direct harm, was perfectly suited to casting all of
the vampires onto the very stakes they had used on his children.
Raziel
examined the room’s new ornaments, taking an icy satisfaction from this
outcome. Then he headed without further preamble towards the gate to Turel’s
throne hall. He would now do whatever it took to destroy the Turelim prince and
his crazed dream of world domination.
<Father,
wait!>
He halted.
<No time, Cellidane. I must confront Turel before he can muster his forces
against me here. This could be my only chance.>
<You do
not understand, Father. We can still be of assistance to you,> she insisted.
Raziel
chuckled. <If all goes well, I will not be visiting you again during this
conflict, so I do not see how that is possible.>
<But you
will,> Cellidane spoke confidently, <if you remove your vanquished
opponents from their perches.>
Now Raziel
laughed out loud. <I am sorry, Cellidane, but you are clearly unaware what
having a vampire’s soul consumed entails for its body in this…>
His thought
trailed away. Swinging about, Raziel stared around him in astonishment.
<Why…>
he finally managed, <why have they not begun to dissolve?>
It was true.
Hanging on every pillar, the Turelims’ bodies remained as solid and unchanged
as ever. This contradicted all his previous ample experience on the matter.
<Cellidane, have you not yet devoured their souls?>
<Trust
me, Father,> she responded. <Take them down.>
Perplexed,
Raziel stepped over to one of the columns. The Turelim’s feet dangled directly
above him. Reaching up, he grasped it by the ankles and pulled outward.
The spikes in the pillars protruded at an upward angle, and Raziel was only
able to move the corpse about halfway along their length. After a few moments
he abandoned that approach and, taking a firm hold, simply pulled down hard.
The body
jerked down a bit. The spikes tore up through it before striking bone. The
metal, already weakened from the force of the heavy body slamming into it,
snapped clean off, and the Turelim tumbled to the ground in a heap.
Standing over it, Raziel
reached down and began to remove the spikes from its body. The first two he
threw off to the side. But as he gingerly removed the last, he stepped back
hastily and brandished the weapon in readiness, still uncertain as to what
might happen next.
The
vampire’s corpse lay before him unmoving.
Suddenly a
claw twitched, and the beast sprang to its feet.
Raziel
reeled back apace, then dove forward with the spike.
The
Turelim’s head turned towards him, and its eyes opened to reveal slits that
glowed gray.
The sight
caused Raziel to stumble. His feet slid out from under him, and he landed on
his rear with a jarring thump.
Above him
the Turelim coughed bloodily, then swore.
“Damn!” Sejm
growled. “Did you have to rip him off?!” He glanced down meaningfully at the
bloody tears in his chest.
Raziel only
stared.
Seeming to
remember himself, the newly reborn Sejm dropped to one knee. “I apologize,
lord. I intend no slight to the manner in which you liberated me. The pain is
refreshing, even as it passes.” As he spoke, the wounds quickly closed with
unnatural alacrity.
“Sejm?”
Raziel whispered.
“Aye, my
lord.” The Turelim form drew itself up proudly. “Shall we now attend to the
rest of our comrades?”
Raziel nodded dumbly, and
clambered to his feet. Then he and Sejm went about removing the other bodies
from their posts, only this time Raziel tried to be more gentle. Sejm’s new
height and reach made him better suited to the task, and as each Turelim came
down, it arose infused with the soul of a Razielim wraith.
The bizarre
process continued, until Raziel finally found himself standing before Ellich
De.
His claws
twitched. He was loath to touch this carcass, but having some idea of the
result, he grasped its ankles and coaxed it carefully off the spikes.
The vampire
instantly came back to life and landed on its feet. Its eyes were closed.
“Are you
well, Cellidane?” Raziel inquired.
The gray
eyes snapped open and centered on his face. An exultant sigh escaped the lips.
“Perfectly
so, Father,” Cellidane responded, “Simply taking a moment to enjoy the irony.”
The other
Razielim laughed appreciatively. Raziel gave his daughter a marveling stare.
“How can this be?” he asked with plain curiosity.
“We all,
each of us, devoured only one apiece of the souls you sent to us,” Cellidane
informed him. “If a vampire wraith devours another vampire’s soul, then no
matter the condition of their original body, their spirit can now inhabit their
victim’s form should it ever be removed from the cause of its demise.”
“I could
never do this,” Raziel said.
“Of course
not, Father,” Cellidane chided him lightly. “You are no longer a vampire in any
way, and you have no need of others’ bodies when you can make your own.”
Raziel shook
his head admiringly. “Amazing.”
The other
Razielim ceased examining their new bodies and gathered about their leaders.
“Ikarus!”
Thraim called out happily. “I am so pleased to be back, I suppose I can forgive
you for being so ugly.”
Ikarus’
snout split in a grin. “Be relieved you have no means with which to view
yourself, then.”
“We are
alive again!” another vampire shouted joyfully, and they all let loose cries of
unsurpassed glee. Standing in the midst of his children’s revelry, Raziel’s
wrecked features twisted into their closest approximation of a smile.
“Silence
now, all of you,” Cellidane admonished them, and their fervor was quickly
restrained, although they continued to prod and inspect their new forms
curiously. “You are no longer alone, Father.” Cellidane dropped to one knee,
and the others followed suit. “We now boast the powers and awareness of these
bodies’ previous hosts. With our strength at your command, we shall breach the
defenses erected about the Turelim overlord and join you in sending his soul
down to the pit wherein he exiled us!”
The vampire
cohort roared in agreement, and as one they surged to their feet.
“Lead us
now, Father! Our vengeance is at hand!” With that Cellidane turned towards the
gate leading from the room.
“Wait!”
Raziel shouted.
His host
froze around him. Cellidane looked back with a questioning air.
The Reaver
of Souls stepped through the press of hulking bodies until he reached the great
metal globe that floated in the center of the room. There he paused and stared
thoughtfully up at the mystic device. The small object still hovered over the
surface, but no longer did it move.
“Cellidane,”
Raziel spoke over his shoulder without taking his eyes from the globe. “You say
that you have inherited the Turelims’ thoughts and abilities. Can I assume you
thus know the purpose of this instrument and its function?”
“Yes,
Father,” Cellidane replied. “The stone marker represents the Tower and is used
to guide it across the land. The crystal nodes are the Turelim strongholds
where the Atlas Legions disembark and board the castle. If you look closer you
will see a map of the world inscribed into the surface of the globe.”
“Indeed,”
Raziel peered up at the surface. “So we are now here,” he indicated the spot
below the Tower icon. His claw traced a line out along the surface. “You
control its movement. Does this mean you can set the Tower back down?”
“No. Our
levitation is provided for constantly by the Atlas Legions themselves. But the
telekinetic barrier that guards the Tower’s main entrance is under our
control.” She indicated the basin of sand below the sphere.
“I see,” Raziel
whispered. He continued to stare at the globe for a few moments. Then, as if
having come to a conclusion, he turned about to face his expectant clan.
“I regret,
my children, that you will not accompany me in the battle against our enemy. But
your place is here, for it is up to you to engineer the downfall of my mad
brother.”
To be continued...