The shaft was far longer than it had appeared from the bottom and many times Vorador had to squeeze his insectoid body through small cracks that his normal form would never have been able to fit through. As he climbed he tested the limits of this multi-legged body, finding it surprisingly quick and agile and capable of far greater jumps then his wolf form.
Another, perhaps stranger, benefit was the use of the silk produced in the large rounded abdomen. It was strong but also pliable, and it seemed this form could produce large amounts of it. When deployed, the silk could make bridges to cross the gaps that the form could not clear on its own and could be used to scale up the sides of vertical surfaces that the spider could not naturally climb. In addition, given to how natural spiders employed their silk, it might prove useful when ambushing and trapping hostile enemies.
Scaling the shaft also took longer as Vorador was still experimenting with the abilities of the form and it took some time to really feel out the best way to move with the body of an invertebrate. The eight legs required precision and concentration so that he did not trip over them when attempting to walk. He was glad no one was around to witness the embarrassing display of his flailing legs as he attempted to walk in a straight line.
Eventually he reached the top of the shaft and as he did, it started to rain. Thick drops of water came pouring down through the gasp in the covering grate. While such insubstantial water as common rain did not scorch him as it would a fledgling, the downpour did make clinging to the walls in this form very difficult. To avoid being washed away like a bug down a drain pipe, Vorador quickly shifted back into his normal form. His feet came down on the edge of a rocky precipice and using this as a lever, he began to push up grasping the grate in both hands. With one tense heave, the metallic covering pushed up with a protested groan of rusty hinges.
Climbing up out of the shaft, Vorador pulled himself up and away from the edge. The top of the shaft opened out into some sort of copse, surrounded by tall hills and towering stones that blocked the view of the horizon. There was long tall grass and reeds all around, surrounded by a grove of aspen trees each with a thick covering of healthy green leaves. Vorador stared at the sight for a moment, taking it in. He had not observed plants this healthy for centuries. Most vegetation in the era of Kain’s dominion had either been dead or dying.
Not only was the flora strong and vital but sitting on a branch of one of the trees and looking directly at him was a large brown owl. Its wide saucer eyes stared him unblinkingly as its head twisted back and forth. In one foot it held a plump, struggling field mouse which it had caught. After it had stared its fill at the Vampire, the owl turned its attention back to its prey and began to tear off bits of flesh from the rodent, not even bothering to kill it first.
Owls and other large birds of prey, with their food supply dwindling to near mothering, had been extinct in Nosgoth for centuries. So seeing one alive boded well.
The sky above was lead grey with rainclouds and growing darker by the minute. This was not just due to the coming of a storm but somewhere the sun was beginning to set. There was a bright flicker in the clouds off in the distance, somewhere over the rise of rocks and boulders that sheltered the corpse. A few moments later there was the boom of thunder.
Very carefully Vorador began reaching out with his senses trying to feel for familiar places and landmarks in order to get his bearings. He found that difficult. Much of Nosgoth had changed over the years that if indeed this was the past, then the tell tale markers he was so used to would not yet be in place.
He was however able to sense in which direction was north. That gave him some sense of orientation but for a proper means of indentifying his present position he would need more. The best way to accomplish this was with a bird’s eye view. Effortlessly he translocated himself to the top of the larger hillock overshadowing the grove. The owl gave a startled hoot, dropped the rest of its kill and flew off quickly in response.
Standing on top of the hill, Vorador turned around to survey the view. He saw instantly that the raised ground was only a hill from one side and on the far end it dropped away, descending into a steep cliff that ran for some distance to the north and south. Beyond that was the wide expanse of Nosgoth’s central plain.
But instead of the dead featureless wasteland he was now used, to, before him was a lush and verdant realm. The waters flowed clear and pure in many rivers and the forests rolled out like a strong carpet of green. Far to the south was a large body of water which Vorador recognised immediately. It was the Lake of Tears, undiminished by time. Much was obscured by the falling sheets of rain but even this one glance was enough to reveal the vitality of the world.
Quickly the Vampire glanced off towards the south and east and sure enough through the haze, he saw them. Nine, white, pure pins of marble lanced from the ground to pierce so high into the sky that if they had any end it was lost in the heavens. The Pillars of Nosgoth stood high and proud, uncorrupted and strong. They were no longer the stumps that Kain was usurped as the throne for his ridiculous empire but were once more the arcane locks of creation, as they were intended.
-0-
“So the Seer had not lied and that arcane chamber had done as advertised. I had indeed been swept back to a previous era. Nosgoth lay before me, a true Nosgoth, full of its lost exuberance and the Pillars themselves pure in the distance. Now, I understood why Kain had employed that strange time streaming chamber. If I had had access to the ability to return to the youth of the world, I would have been tempted too.”
-0-
Vorador simply stood there for a long time just staring at it all, taking it all in. This was the Nosgoth he remembered and enjoyed, so long ago now, a world overflowing with the life which the coming centuries would bleed out all so slowly. He was not sentimental but the sight of the restored land was enough to make him pause and bask in an alien sense of pride and reverence. Somewhere out there, most likely lurking in the manor house hidden by the Termagant Forest, was his own younger self. If it were wise, or even possible given his understanding of the mechanics of time travel, he would have gone there to inform his younger counterpart to enjoy the vitality of this world while he had the chance.
Quickly though, he pushed his partly melancholy ruminations aside. He had not come back through time to simply admire the view. He had much to do now if he were going to find this supposed ‘Celestial Arrow’, wherever it might lie.
The Seer had not said where precisely to find this artefact, only that he was now in the correct time to do so. Unfortunately Vorador doubted he had the time to systematically search every square inch of the world until he discovered the elusive thing. Just how was he going to go about doing this? Logic suggested that he go to sources of ancient lore to do some research, such as the libraries and universities of Stalhberg. It was a flimsy hope, given how truly ignorant human society had been, especially in this time, but it was all he had to work with.
He held out both arms wide and began to shift in the familiar form of the Raven, a much more comfortable alternative body than the spider. Once he was wearing his feathers he quickly took to the air, much to the continued startled dismay of the circling owl, and began flying out over the cliff. That proved to be a mistake as the storm began to really pick up almost at once, blowing him up really high and into the rolling clouds themselves.
Angry that he had not taken the storm winds into consideration before taking flight, Vorador began to dive. Flying in the midst of storm clouds, with lightning sparking back and forth was never a good idea. He chose to think that he was still disoriented from temporal displacement rather than simply forgetting the very basics.
As he descended out of the clouds he found he had been blown some distance east. Almost directly below him was a curving stretch of water, a marshy link between the lake of tears and the lake of the dead. Built on the only solid stretch of land was a large hamlet, with buildings made from stone and the local pine woods. The slate roofs were slick with the falling rain. Along the banks of the curving nearby river there were huts and fishing nets, strung out to shift through the running waters to catch the salmon that made the effort to swim upstream from the ocean to the safety of the marsh to lay their eggs. In such rain a few figures were down on the banks of the river, or drifting out in small boats to try and bring in a catch while the weather was ideal for fishing.
Vorador recognised the crude settlement almost immediately. It had been some time since its destruction in objective causality but he knew this place to be Vasserbünde, a town built to supply the fortress built atop the cliffs nearby.
On that thought he turned in mid air and looked back towards those cliffs. From this angle he saw it perfectly. The river was primarily fed by a pounding water wall that fell from those cliffs and the origin of the walls was the jawless mouth of a colossal stone skull. The fortress was mostly built into the cliffs but the facade of the skull glared down from its perch to the town and surrounding countryside below.
The skulls eyes were covered by curving sockets of green glass, illuminated from within by a strange eldritch glow. Its dome like crown was ringed by patterns which even at this distance, looked like Ancient Vampire runes. Clearly they had been adapted from those at the Pillars ceremonial base, with no real understanding of their true meaning. Surrounding the skull on the cliff itself were six towering columns, each constructed in the manner of cathedral spire.
In conjunction with the skull imagery, it gave the fortress a very macabre appearance. Some uninformed and ignorant villager might be pardoned for believing that the personification of death lived here. Vorador however knew the true, Ancient Vampire, meaning behind some of the imagery. The skull protected the mind within and the six spires around the outside were meant to symbolise the virtues of mental prowess recognised by the Ancient Vampires; deduction, speculation, rationality, logic, imagination and judgement. While the fortress may have been made by humans, its architects had been the Ancients without them ever realising it.
-0-
“While I was not was well travelled as Kain, I recognised this land mark easily enough. This was the skull adjourned fortress retreat of the Mentalist Nupraptor, Member of the Circle of Nine and Guardian of the Pillar of the Mind. It had been his corrupting madness that had poisoned the Circle and set the chain of events in motion that would suck Nosgoth dry. Given the healthy state of the world, I had clearly arrived before any of that was due to happen.”
-0-
Vorador poised in mid air, coasting on a brief calm respite in the storm to study the large skull like castle, considering the implications. In time, when Nupraptor’s madness would drive him to seal up his eyes and lips, this retreat would become a place of death, despair and agony. Those who ventured inside never returned. But given that he had arrived before any of that took place, this fortress would be filled with servants and guardsmen, hired to administer and protect the abode of the illustrious Mentalist.
-0-
“While it might have been safer to simply leave, my arrival here was serendipitous. The Seer had provided no further explanation of this so called ‘Celestial Arrow’, but if anyone in Nosgoth were to know of such an artefact it would be a member of the Circle of Nine.”
-0-
The members of the Circle would indeed be privy to information not available to others academic sources, handed down from the older Guardians to the younger. Of course he did not expect he could simply walk up to the stronghold of such a prominent Mage and knock the door. He would have to find some other entrance into that place and employ stealth tactics. He did not imagine that Nupraptor himself would be much of a physical challenge, given that he had been Kain’s first victim in his now ancient effort to cleanse the Circle. If a fledgling with a sword could best Nupraptor, Vorador did not expect he would find him a problem.
He did not however want to directly challenge the Circle or any member of it. If he was brutally honest with himself, he would admit that his decimation of six members of the Guardian Circle had been mostly due to the fact that he had taken them by surprise and Malek had not been there to protect them. He would have no such luxury here. If threatened, any Circle member would summon Malek from his icy Bastion to defend them if they could not use their own powers. Nupraptor was going to have to be approached diplomatically.
The main entrance to this fortress was an artificial cave that opened out at the base of the cliff, providing easy access for supplies from the nearby town. Vorador did not want to entry that way. It was likely to be guarded.
In his raven form, he dropped below the top of the cliff. It shielded him from the worst of the winds and allowed to him circle lazily. It was on his third pass when he saw what he thought might be a way inside. The nasal passage of the giant stone skull as not just some stylized decoration. It was a small hole that seemed to function as a means of ventilation for the interior.
Landing as a raven on the edge of the skull’s eye socket, Vorador blurred back into his regular form and latched onto the stone with the talons on one hand. There was a flash and almost immediately another crackle of thunder broke overhead. The storm was getting closer. Briefly he studied the nose hole, judging its side. As lubricous as it seemed, entering the nose of the skull was indeed the safety way to enter the fortress unobserved.
To that end, he began to shift into the new form of the spider. It was easier to do the second time and seemed somewhat more natural. Once he was fixed in the body of the giant arachnid, he quickly began to scurry across the face of stone skull before the rain could wash him off. The nasal passage was just large enough to fit his multi-legged form through, squeezing and pushing until it found himself inching up through the tight passage beyond. Grimly he pressed on until he same to the end of the compact tunnel. It opened out almost immediately into a large, artificial stone chamber. The purpose of this room was evidentially clear from the aqueducts and pipes that filled it. The water that ran down the falls was directed through large copper tanks which purified some of it and let the rest flow on. It was very practical, ensuring that the fortress would have an unlimited supply of fresh and clean drinking water.
The pipes suspended from one wall to the other clanked and rattled as the access water from the rain ran through them. The system seemed to be entire automated, not requiring constant supervision, so the chamber was empty of people. However as Vorador squeezed himself into the chamber and shifted back into the chamber, an iron door on the far side of the room opened and a tall man in a robe entered. He was carrying a large box which clanked as he walked.
Vorador acted instantly. He was across the chamber in the space of a moment and Marrow was in his grasp. The man would only have managed to register a blur of movement before the curving blade buried itself in his heart. To silence the echo of his death scream, Vorador clamped a hand over the man’s mouth. Blood gushed forth and the Vampire opened his mouth, summoning the life giving liquid to him. Obediently it leapt from the wound to flow down his throat, restoring energies he had neglected to replenish for some time.
The man died with a muffled moan and fell slack, the box falling from his grasp. Its lid flipped open on impact with the floor and several large metal tools spilled out. It would seem he had merely come into this room to see if he could do something about the noise the pipes were making. Pity it had been at just the wrong time. If he had put off his attempt at plumbing for five more minutes he would have been spared.
Once he was done feeding, Vorador dragged the body off towards the brass tanks. One of them he found was disconnected from the pipes, perhaps a spare, and empty. He unceremoniously dumped the corpse into it. It would be quite some time before the body would be discovered, which gave him time to survey the fortress without fear of an alarm being raised.
Nupraptor had filled his abode with all manner of artwork. He had frescos painted on ceilings, mosaics across the walls and marble statues sculpted by highly skilled artisans standing in galleries to be marvelled at leisure.
While the opulence and displayed wealth might seem impressive to the pedestrian eye, Vorador, who considered himself as have far better taste, viewed the classing artistry and styles as little more than extremely tacky. There was no attempt to correlate the styles into a whole and so it gave the retreat the appearance of a museum of artwork and even on that basis, Vorador found it nauseating on the eyes.
There was one thing he did approve of though, which was the truly and undeniably splendid display of stained glass. There were several rooms where light was refracted from outside to shine through many different shifting patterns to create a beautiful kaleidoscopic effect. The patterns cast all had different meanings, which challenged their viewers on subtle emotional, logical and philosophical levels.
Servants infested the hall of the retreat. As was due a member of the Circle, Nupraptor had a great deal of attendants to carter to his every need. He had cooks in his multi-tiered kitchens to provide the best cuisine in Nosgoth, chambermaids to pay heed to any whim and even butlers who ran the administrative side of the fortresses upkeep.
Chambers were set aside for visiting pilgrims. Nupraptor’s reputation in this time was such that many came to hear his supposed wisdom. In these rooms visitors could be brought food and drink while they waited for their scheduled appointment. Fortunately no pilgrims had recently come and these rooms were presently empty.
Stealing into Nupraptor’s private suite was relatively easy, despite the two armed guards at every entrance. These were hired mercenaries rather than devote bodyguards and so were not really paying attention to their duty. As such it was easy to find a pair which was so bored that their wandering minds were easy to misdirect. Holding their dulled senses in his mind’s grasp, Vorador quite openly walked right up to them. The two guards ignored him completely as he walked between them, pushed the door open and entered the inner rooms.
The inner chambers were far more appropriately decorated. The walls, floor and ceiling were covered in sheets of pristine white marble. There were several chambers all connected in a ring around a central darker stone pillar. Some rooms were lower than others, requiring a curving set of stairs and a terrace in order to connect with each one.
The room Vorador had entered was a study, with large stone crevices housing books and scrolls of many sizes. More of the frescos decorated the walls, depicting scenes from ancient history that Vorador recognised. The most prominent of which was a scene revealing the siege of the old Ancient Vampire Citadel. The humans though were depicted all with golden illuminating halos around their heads and the Vampires were all bat like creatures, stylised to appear as if they were summoned demons from hell. There was no mention in these images of the rapid mutant hounds the human rising had employed.
Through a doorway Vorador could see into a longue type chamber filled with divans, deeply stuffed pillows and metallic tables on which rests crystal goblet half filled with a deep red wine. As he moved closer, Vorador could hear voices echoing.
“I honestly do not know what to do.” A male voice said in a tired tone. “Clearly I need to take some action, but I am at a loss.”
Vorador began to move slowly, keeping himself to the side of the wall. Discreetly he peered around the corner. There were two figures in the room. The nearest, leaning against the table and examining the wine in her hand, was a stunningly beautiful woman even by simple human standards. She was elegantly proportioned and creamy unblemished skin. Her golden blonde was long, left to flow behind her hanging to her waist. Her eyes were an unearthly lavender and almost seemed to glow faintly, although that might have been a trick of the flickering light from the fire breathing on the hearth off to one side. Her pale green dress was taken in expertly at several key locations to show off the extraordinary body she had and yet was somehow still modest.
“No ideas spawn in that wonderful brain of yours?” She asked in mock criticism in her musical voice that despite its youthful strength was tinged with the telltale traces of a mature wisdom.
The second figure was by far the more visually striking. He was a squat man with wide shoulders from which hung concealing blue robes of varying shades, embroidered with darker blue symbols of a pseudo magical nature. His knee length boots were black leather and strapped to his legs.
What really set him apart however was his distinctive and unique body structure. Four bony structures like mutated ribs jutted up out of his back and continually flickered with some eldritch power. The weirdest part of his body was the head. The cranium was enlarged greatly to nearly twice the normal size of an ordinary head. The skin was drawn tight across the skin giving it a stretched appearance. From deep within the head there seemed to emit a pulsing green glow, radiating out like the glow of phosphorescent fungi. Seeing that, Vorador almost did not pay attention to his face with its high cheekbones and short dark neck beard. That enlarged glowing head was more than enough to identify him as Nupraptor the Mentalist, Guardian of the Pillar of the Mind.
“Not many, my love.” He said, turning to look at the woman. His expression was clouded with great concern and he even looked tired, as if he had not slept in days. “Their immunity from my powers is troubling and given the size of their loyal forces, I cannot simply overpower them.”
Vorador glanced back sharply to the woman. By Nupraptor referring to her as ‘my love’ could only make her one person. She was Ariel, the former Balance Guardian before Kain.
The two of them together, Ariel and Nupraptor, would form the epic romantic tragedy that would poison the land and set in motion the chain of events that would rock the universe.
“You’d need an army of your own.” She said, before pausing to sip from her glass. “Why not ally yourself with King Robert of the North? He makes war in their lands.” She then suggested. Nupraptor frowned and shook his head.
“I do not trust his bloodline.” He said, folding his arms across his chest. He turned and looked into the fire. “I would prefer to seek the aid of another Circle member, rather than that of mundane men.”
Ariel regarded him for a long moment, then finished the wine in her glass and strode across the room to him. Her gait was strong and confident but did not lack in feminine grace. It was the stride of a woman fully secure in her position of authority and not afraid to show it.
“But I don’t suppose any you asked were willing to assist?” She asked, coming to his side and tracing one arm over his shoulders. Nupraptor’s frown deepened and a faint look of disgust passed over his face.
“No.” He replied. “I spoke with Azimuth, Anarcrothe and DeJoule and they all fobbed me off with obvious excuses.” He unfolded his arms and wrapped one around her waist, holding her body to his as if seeking comfort.
“DeJoule was clearly too busy with the lecturers at Stalhberg, teaching them about alternating current.” He explained with a sigh. “Anacrothe had his greasy hands in the middle of some experiment involving a blend of sulphur and nitrogen.” He curled one lip in distaste and then managed an ironic smile. “And the less I say about Azimuth’s private indulgences with the council of high priests of the Avernus Cathedral, the better.”
Ariel drew in her breath sharply and her eyes widened, one hand going to her lips in her surprise.
“No!” She gasped, staring into her beloveds face. After a moment of silence her eyes widened even more. “All ten of them at once?” She asked. Nupraptor simply let his smile widen in response.  “Oh my...” She ran a hand over her face. “She will not make herself popular with the faithful, prudish citizenry if that ever gets out.”
The Mentalist chuckled lightly.
“Then they ought to train priests who take that ‘chastity’ pledge seriously.” He commented in dry amusement. Then he sighed.  “I got so desperate then I even asked Moebius for assistance.” Ariel stared at him for a moment and then burst out laughing, leaning on his shoulder for support. After a moment of frowning annoyance, Nupraptor smiled too.
“I know; I ought to have known better.” He admitted. After she had taken the time to collect herself, Ariel paused to adopt a thoughtful expression.
“Bane might help.” She said and stepped away from him. “His powers are formidable.” The Mentalist released her and considered, resting one hand on the edge of his chin.
“If I can find him.” He remarked. Ariel smiled in understanding at her lover and raised her hands before her chest. Vorador recognised the motion as the beginning of a spell.
“I wish you well, Nupraptor.” She announced, a tad formally. “I would hate to see this brought up when the Circle meets at the Pillars for winter solstice council.” Nupraptor nodded sharply in firm agreement.
“Yes, no need to give Mortanious any more reason to scold the younger Guardians for any foolishness.” He said, rolling his eyes. Ariel grinned back at him.
“My thought exactly.” She agreed. “Keep me informed, my beloved.” Between her hands emerged a ball of light. It grew and grew until it surrounded her entire being. Then, she disappeared, fading into her translocation spell.
Alone now, Nupraptor turned back to the fire. He took up a bronze poker from the side and began pressing the less burned logs back into the flames. Once this was done and the fire was roaring again he turned and seated himself in a large chair. Raising one hand he gestured imperiously and the crystal decanter and goblet rose from the table. Suspended by the use of his profound telekinetic powers, they floated across the room to him and began pouring him wine by themselves. Once the goblet was filled he took it one hand.
Vorador was about to move, when the Mentalist began to speak.
“When do you want to come out and talk to me directly?” He asked and now he was speaking to his uninvited guest, as if he had always known exactly where he was. “Pilgrims often come, seeking me out for my ‘wisdom’.” His tone was slightly ironic. Then he turned to look back over the armrest, smiling beatifically. “I’m sure I can fit you in.”
The Vampire paused for a long moment, pondering his next move. If he moved quickly, perhaps he could escape before Malek was summoned. But this had been a calculated risk to even come here in the first place. Deciding to chance it, Vorador strode out openly into the room. He did however keep one hand close to the hilt of Marrow at his side. He was confident he was faster than even the Mentalist’s mind and could clear the gap between them instantly should the need arise. He was not fooled by Nupraptor’s welcoming nature for he knew that could drop away in an instant. Any member of the Circle of Nine was not to be underestimated.
“I didn’t see a clerk with whom I could make an appointment.” He remarked, approaching at a slow and steady pace. He did not want a violent confrontation if it could be avoided. Fortunately, unlike both Kain and Raziel, he was quite skilled in diplomacy. He kept his stance relaxed and nonthreatening as he came to a stop, just within the range of the light of the hearth’s fire.
“I’d free my social calendar for so illustrious a visitor.” Nupraptor replied, looking his visitor appraisingly. “So, you are the infamous Vorador, the blood sucking demon of the Black Forest.” He was a little sarcastic.
“Nupraptor.” The Vampire said with a nod in greeting, regarding the complacent Mentalist with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you concerned, having a Vampire of such dark renown so close to you?” He asked flatly. “After what I did to your predecessor?”
Nupraptor dismissed that with a flick of one hand.
“I never knew the man and from all reports, I doubt I would have liked his company.” He reached up and tapped the side of his large cranium with one finger. “If you had intended me personally any harm, I would have perceived that the moment you came within range of my senses.”
Vorador smiled wryly. Nupraptor, despite his augmented intelligence, seemed to share Raziel’s naivety.
“I might take it suddenly into my head to perform another cleansing of the Circle.” He suggested in dry amusement. “Does that not worry you?”
Nupraptor folded his arms, resting his elbows on the armrests of his chair and appeared all non concern.
“Why would you do such a thing, now?” He asked with some puzzlement. “The era of the Sarafan is long over and the Circle has ceased to support Moebius’ engrained vendetta against your kind.” He rolled his eyes heavenward. “If the man wants to continue his crusade he will have to do without the consent of the rest of us.”
Vorador’s expression turned flat for he knew the history of events that was to come.
“That will be short lived.” He remarked. Nupraptor eyed him sidelong.
“You’re bitter.” He accused.
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“Over the death of Janos Audron?” The Mentalist asked shrewdly and pulled himself up out of his chair, gesturing back towards the table. The decanter and goblet quickly floated back to their usual places.
“It was not just Janos.” Vorador admitted after a moment of silence and he could not keep the angry resentment out of his voice. “The Sarafan, with the full backing of the Circle, had killed many friends and loved ones.” He took a deep breath. “Janos had simply been the last straw.” Then he flicked his eyes back to Nupraptor. “If you can read my mind, you know why I’m here.” He said in an almost accusatorial voice.
Nupraptor spread his hands and shrugged.
“Surprisingly, I actually can’t.” He admitted with no small reluctance. “Your mental barriers are too acute. I can sense only vague generalities from you, rather than the complex thoughts of others.” He looked Vorador in the eye. “But you seek something from me; that is perfectly clear.” Vorador nodded once. The pleasantries and banter were over and now it was time to get down to business.
“I require information, about an artefact lost eons ago.” He said. “The Celestial Arrow.” Nupraptor’s eyebrow raised and his back straightened in apparent startled dismay. The bony spines growing out behind him crackled with an additional flow of energy.
“The Arrow?” He repeated and sounded genuinely surprised. Vorador knew then that he had come to the right place.
“Then you know of it?” He asked, trying to hide his eagerness.
“Of course.” The Mentalist replied, frowning and looking thoughtful. “All members of the Circle know of that fairy tale.” He ran his fingers through his short beard and stared off into space, lost in memories. “The knowledge was passed down by the original Guardians, one of those little arcane secrets we’re supposed to jealously guard.”
“Well, what exactly is the Arrow?” Vorador queried, prompting him when the Guardian of the Mind was quiet for a long moment. Nupraptor blinked and looked back at him and this time his eyes were wary.
“Like I said, it’s a jealously guarded secret.” He said somewhat defensively.
“Is it likely to impact you or the Circle in any way?” Vorador asked flatly in return.
“No.” He admitted.
“Then why conceal?”
Nupraptor pause and then shrugged again.
“Tradition I suppose.” He confessed but then smiled wickedly. “But then again I’ve never been one for tradition.” Despite himself, Vorador found himself actually liking Nupraptor. Unlike Raziel, the Mentalist tempered his naive outlook with a wicked and often depraved sense of humour. The Guardian took a moment go gather his thoughts before beginning.
“The story goes that the Arrow is an instrument of tremendous destructive potential.” He said. “It is said to be a blasphemous weapon and reputed to so acutely deadly that it has the potential to harm even God Himself.” He rolled his eyes at the piety innate in the legend and then gave Vorador a more appraising look. “And a Vampire comes looking for it?” He asked as if to himself. “Seems appropriate.”
Vorador absorbed his words and mulled them over.
“A weapon to wield against the Gods?” He puzzled out load. If the Seer and Raziel were correct in their words that the true enemy that caused all the ills of Nosgoth was the being Moebius had called ‘God’ then such a weapon would be of immense value. While this notion appealed, Vorador was not stupid. “Too convenient and simple.” He added in an angry mutter. It was not going to be as easy as simple finding a deus-ex-machina to turn against the entities that claimed to be deities. Besides, if that was all she required the Arrow for then the Seer would have simply said so, not covered her words with cryptic meaning. He felt as if were being obtuse and missing something obvious that would explain her motives but whatever it was escaped him.
“But regardless, where might I find it?” Vorador asked, deciding that he would let the Seer work out her own method of utilising what he found for her, so long as she did as promised. Nupraptor gave him an exasperated sort of look.
“You think if we knew that the Circle would permit such a terror to remain poised, like the blade of a hanging guillotine?” He asked. Vorador flinched slightly. He had never been found of the mere word ‘guillotine’ for obvious reasons. It brought up unpleasant memories. Nupraptor did not seem to notice and carried on. “The Arrow was said to be hidden away in the bowls of an ancient complex, a concealed labyrinth older then either the Pillars...” He paused significantly giving Vorador a strange look. “... or the Vampires.”
Vorador wondered silently to himself, just how much of the ancient history and the origin of the Pillars did Nupraptor actually know? Moebius and Mortanious, who had physically been there, would know of course. But what knowledge did the younger guardians possess about the places they occupied? The Mentalist continued.
“It is an abandoned ruin, rather unimaginatively but aptly, referred to as the ‘Lost City’.”  He said with some humour.
-0-
“It had been some time since I had heard of that old story. Eons ago there had been a legend about a city filled with unearthly treasures, piles of gold and heaps of jewels. The story had been told in taverns often enough for a few decades, inspiring many a treasure hunter to go out in search of the City and its fabled riches. Interest in the legend had swiftly died when no trace of it had ever been found.”
-0-
Vorador scowled in indignation. The Lost City was little more than a piece of country bumpkin folklore, a bed time story for children. A supposed abandoned capital of a collapsed empire, containing riches the likes of which men had never seen. Tales had once abounded with descriptions of mountains of gold just waiting for some brave adventurer to come and claim it. Vorador had not heeded such stories as he had never heard such a ludicrous tale of nonsense before. It had seemed to him little more than wishful thinking combined with lurid and misspent imaginations.
If these revelations were correct then the fabled city was indeed more than a fairy tale and far more significant than a simple horde of hidden treasure. What sort of builders could construct a weapon capable of harming Gods, or even beings claiming to be Gods?
“And I suppose no one knows where it is?” He asked. Nupraptor laughed and gave him an amused look.
“That is what the word ‘lost’ means, does it not?” He quipped and Vorador narrowed his eyes at him dangerously for the jibe. The Mentalist ignored the irritation and continued on. “All I can tell you is that the Original Guardians thought that the city was located somewhere far to the east, beyond the mountains and the realm of Willendorf.” He gestured vaguely in that direction.
Vorador blinked and then ran one hand over his face, suppressing a groan of frustration and annoyance.
“That land is formed of vast plains, jagged mountains ranges and a near endless swamp. That does not narrow it down very much.” He tried to not to sound like he was complaining as that was infantile in his opinion.
“Well then, the one who sent you to find this Arrow ought to have given you more information to work with.” Nupraptor remarked. While he might not be able to read the Vampire’s mind he might be able to sense his frustration with the Seer’s concealment and cryptic meanings.
“Undoubtedly.” He agreed in a flat tone. Nupraptor took two steps away from him.
“The east is currently in great turmoil.” He advised the Vampire and raised his hands to chest level, cupping his hands around one another. “Perhaps, during the chaos, some clue to the Lost City will be unearthed?” A pale orb of light appeared between his fingers and it began to swiftly expand, enveloping his body. As the Mentalist disappeared into the midst of his translocation spell, his voice echoed back. “But if I were you, I would not dawdle.”
A few moments later, after Nupraptor had vanished, a section of the wall on the far side of the chamber shifted. It pushed back and then swung side, revealing a concealed path to an outside terrace. The rain was still pouring down outside and a flash of lightning dancing along the horizon. That was clear enough. The interview was over and he was being politely asked to leave.
Beyond lay the continuation of his journey, the wide unmapped lands of the east.