
A burst
of green energy shot into the midst of the gibbering Sluagh pack. One of
their number let out a long eerie wail and took off down the hall, flailing
its now transparent and harmless limbs. The rest milled about restlessly,
voicing wordless murmurings of hunger, until two more flashes of jade fire
streaked into them, sending the scavengers scurrying off in search of less
hostile prey.
Raziel lowered the Soul Reaver and sank back down, grateful for the rest.
Since
his undignified flight from Turel’s hordes, he had been careful. Spending
as much time as he could in the Spectral Realm, he had chosen to hide whenever
possible and conserve his strength. His magical reserves had been depleted,
and he could no longer risk open combat against the powerful Turelim vampires.
Turel’s
trap-door strategy had been vexing at first, but Raziel had soon recognized
that there were ways of getting around it. Even in this floating dungeon,
one could still find places to hide from view, and some of them even had
planar portals to enable him to cross back over to the Tower proper. There,
out of sight, he would simply wait until the doors were opened to allow
Turelim to enter or exit. At that moment, he would translate across the
divide to find the Turelim gone and the doors agape, enabling him to move
on.
It wasn’t
perfect. Once after reforming he had been spotted while heading towards
his hiding place, and was forced to defend himself against a roomful of
vicious undead monsters. In the initial moment of discovery he had panicked
and tried to use the Sunlight Glyph. It was a costly mistake. Not only
was this the most draining spell in his arsenal, but it also required the
use of sunlight absorbed by his body, and there were no windows in the
Tower, especially this far inside the keep. The Glyph lowered his magical
energy greatly and had only a limited effect, failing to kill a few of
his adversaries. The remainder he had fought hand to hand to work out his
aggression at being so foolish, but he did employ the relatively low-cost
Stone Glyph to petrify a few vampires long enough to shatter them. After
that it was only muscle, skill, and determination. In the end Raziel prevailed
and made his way out of the hall without further excitement.
Later
he had recalled that he was close to the great meeting hall of this sub-tower,
the main attraction of each of the four lesser members of the fortress’
layout. It was here that vampires from all the clans had congregated for
companionship and entertainment. On reaching the entryway he had been set
upon by the pack of greedy Sluagh eager to feast on his energy. It was
not much of a contest.
Now Raziel
was enjoying a few moments of peace before the renewal of his private war.
He was crouched on top of a warped pillar topped by a great metal bowl
filled with fire. Blue and cold, the flames flickered but gave no light.
After resting for a few minutes, Raziel half-rose with a sigh. The planar
portal on this pillar had been a lucky find, and now he had to make use
of it. Crouched low, Raziel cast the Shift Glyph, and as the world mixed
and flowed around him, he hunkered down in the now-orange flames atop the
straight column, unharmed, and hoped he had not been seen.
The Turelim who were patrolling the anteroom gave no sign that they
were aware of his presence, and Raziel offered silent thanks.
Two large
metal doors that blocked off the great hall were now familiar to him, and
he settled in to wait for his opening. It could take hours, but he was
patient. Even if it took him the rest of the day, he was resolved to…
A scream burst out from close by, and Raziel almost fell off his perch.
Collecting himself, he peered cautiously over the edge of the bowl.
A mob
of humans was marching into the gallery. Some of them had the shaven heads
and red robes of vampire worshippers, but many others were dressed in rags
and tatters, their skin a uniform pasty white. There were men, women, children,
aged and young, all the different stages of human life exposed here. Numbering
over three hundred in all, they were herded along by twenty Turelim. The
scream had originated from a human female who had broken from the crowd
and flung herself at two vampire sentries below Raziel’s hiding place.
Both beasts eagerly began to shred her apart, and the crimson spray of
her lifeblood soon found its way down their snarling throats.
Raziel
glanced back at the mob. Their vampiric overseers had quickly moved in
to prevent any more escapes, and they all stood intently watching the slaughter.
Still, though some small children were sobbing, the looks on their elders’
faces were wistful, even joyous. They were vampire worshippers all, and
Raziel knew they considered that dead woman to be extremely fortunate.
The Turelim
who had been guarding the hall now surged forward eagerly en masse. The
ones escorting the humans consulted amongst themselves, then chose ten
happily exclaiming humans and led them forward to the other group. One
vampire stepped out as they approached.
“Is this
all you deign to offer us?” he proclaimed angrily, and those behind him
rumbled their assent. “Why so tight-fisted? You have more there than you
need, surely.”
“All these
are reserved for the Atlas Legions. Their well-being is paramount, as you
should know by now,” a spokesman from the shepherd Turelim replied. He
pointed a claw at the two greedily feasting vampires. “Besides, you lot
have already exceeded your bounds. Attend to your duties and we will see
to ours.”
“Pah!”
the other vampire spat. “Those mixed-blood laborers are always receiving
special treatment!”
“If this
concerns you so,” his opponent glowered threateningly, “you may voice your
complaint to Anhat. Now we have real work to do!” He turned and stalked
back to his charges.
The hall
guard growled at his retreating form. Then he and his troop moved to surround
their newly delivered food, all of whom had fallen to their knees and were
crying thanks to their saviors.
As the
first shrieks rang through the hall, the human parade meekly followed its
guides to the closed double doors. Two Turelim pulled both portals apart
and beckoned the herd through, but before the first human could take a
step forward, Raziel had already slipped back to a world frozen in time.
Leaping
to the empty floor, he passed beneath the arch and gazed out on a vista
that was dauntingly familiar.
The circular chamber was huge, stretching hundreds of feet in diameter.
A wide staircase, made twisted and uneven by the dimensional flow, descended
from the entrance to the hall floor, and in the center of the room, towering
a hundred feet in the air, was a prodigious statue of Kain.
This lone
monolith, one of a quartet, was the centerpiece of each grand hall. Carved
from volcanic black glass, the colossal monument was braced from within
by many iron bars and carved in painstaking detail. Each tendon, every
strand of hair was meticulously well crafted, a testimony to the ultimate
ruler of the planet. Kain’s image stood with feet planted apart, one had
on his hips while the other grasped the hilt of the gigantic metal Soul
Reaver sword set point downwards. His face bore a look of fierce pride
and majesty, the artisan having crafted well, and Raziel could not help
but feel the same awe he had experienced on first viewing this titanic
dedication to the sire of all Nosgoth’s vampires.
He remained so entranced for a while, and then came back to himself.
Casting his eyes to the right, Raziel recognized an elegant walkway that
ran a short length along the wall to an exit from the gallery. From here
he could see that the door remained as it had been in his time, an ornate
affair of wrought iron bars molded into pleasing shapes. Thanks to Melchiah,
Raziel could phase his body through this perforated barrier on the Spectral
Plane without having to cross over to the physical world. Simple enough.
But he had something else in mind.
That huge
retinue of humans destined for food, and the mention of something called
the Atlas Legions: this hinted at matters of great importance. Was there
something now in this hall that could be turned to his advantage? In truth
he had not given much thought to assault, so concentrated had he become
on managing to reach Turel as soon as possible. But certainly he would
welcome an opening, some unguarded moment to wreak havoc and score a major
victory against his brother’s perfectly oiled machine. It certainly merited
further investigation.
Raziel’s glowing eyes roamed the hall, seeking means of egress to the
real world. He noticed a portal on the floor far below, but quickly discarded
it as impractical. There must be a more advantageous position from which
to spy on the goings-on of this cavern. Looking up he saw, sure enough,
the gentle glow of a planar portal from above the cornice of the doorframe.
Raziel
crouched down and leapt twenty feet straight into the air to catch the
ledge. Pulling himself up, he stepped into the luminous waves of energy
and transported himself to the world of light. He could feel particles
coalescing into flesh and bone around him, drawn by his will to form an
appropriate vessel to house his spirit. When the transformation was complete
he turned and looked out upon his new surroundings.
Kain’s colossus still reigned undeniably, but no longer was the hall
empty. The floor below was packed with hundreds of Turelim.
Raziel
sank down below sight and examined the layout. The first humans were just
passing the threshold beneath him and descending the stairs. The Turelim
far below were not moving about or grouped haphazardly. Instead they were
all facing the statue and arranged along lines that radiated out from it.
These bands of quartz cut through the green and black mosaic tile patterns
that decorated the floor. Each vampire stood above a crystal node in the
band, and the air around them was wavering and distorted, like heat ripples
over a blazing fire. It was telekinetic power, Raziel realized, and from
what he could see they seemed to be focusing their abilities down into
the ground. The crystal bands pulsed with a steady glow. He could feel
the power radiating up from the floor, on a scale he had never previously
imagined. The Reaver of Souls stared down upon these proceedings curiously.
What was its significance?
Then it occurred to him; these must be the Atlas Legions, and they
were the ones charged with the task of making the Tower fly. It was members
of this group whom Raziel had seen being transferred and deposited in the
temple settlements outside. Somehow those crystal ley-lines acted as conduits
of telekinetic power, directing and amplifying the Turelims’ efforts throughout
the fortress and keeping it aloft. The same thing must be happening in
the other three lower towers, Raziel surmised.
Having
deduced all this, he was forced to admit that there was nothing he could
do here. Whatever magic he had left could destroy only a tiny fraction
of the Legions present, and even if he managed to get close enough to use
it, he would be swiftly wiped out by the remaining members. There was just
too much power here, and though his death would not be final, it would
achieve no purpose. Besides, he had to save his strength for when it was
needed.
So resolved, Raziel now turned his attention to exiting this huge power
generator. The human food mob had reached the steps and its members were
happily moving to meet their fates. The upper level on which he resided
was deserted. Raziel rose up and leapt silently from his perch to land
with catlike grace. Stealing a glance at the hall, he checked to see if
he had been noticed. No, all was well. The Turelim were intent upon their
load bearing and the humans had eyes only for their heavenly masters.
Crouched
low, Raziel crept unobtrusively up the side stairwell. Reaching the small
door, he pulled it open a crack and slipped through just as the feeding
began.
=============================
Jehamiah
rose up through the opening and hovered in midair. At sight of him, the
guards who had been tensed for battle now relaxed. He acknowledged their
vigilance with a satisfied nod and strode off to meet Turel as soon as
the metal shield closed beneath him. There were more deaths to report.
Upon approaching
he was surprised to see that his master seemed alert and ready for a change.
Thinking bitterly that this was because he might bring word from Ellich
De, Jehamiah decided to keep his message succinct.
The first
lieutenant stopped before his father’s throne and bowed.
“Others
are dead, but we are ready for him,” he stated simply.
Turel
stared calmly at his firstborn. The tips of his claws tapped together slowly,
making a harsh clicking sound that reminded his servant unpleasantly of
the Zephonims’ clacking limbs.
“Do you
know why I am doing this, Jehamiah?”
The question
was so unexpected that Jehamiah could only stare at his sire.
“The reason
is,” Turel continued without waiting for a response, “because it is my
destiny.”
Jehamiah
nodded wordlessly in agreement, uncertain what had brought this on.
“I am
the only one who can defeat him. And defeat him I must, to preserve our
race and our rule. I have dwelled upon nothing else for over 700 years.
The others lacked the means to prevail, crippled as they were from outside
and within. It saddened me to see them brought so low.”
Turel
leaned forward suddenly, his hands convulsively clutching the arms of his
throne. “But it was justice! They had erred in opposing me, and if you
believe it was his hand that consigned them to death, you are mistaken.
It was mine! Not for his vengeance but for my own have we come to this
point!”
Turel
was panting with fury, and his feverish eyes held the vampire marshal in
their grip. Jehamiah was paralyzed by what he saw in their intensity.
“But I
do not condone the loss of my children, Jehamiah!” Turel rasped harshly,
his claws digging into his seat. “I show my love for you by actions, not
words and vague hints of my own importance. I have taken steps to protect
not only myself but you as well. It is through me that we will all be redeemed!
Do you understand what I am saying?!”
Turel had risen to his full height, and the look on his twitching face
was positively mad. He stared out now at the Turelim guards.
“Do you
all understand? I will save my children! I am not like HIM!!”
Bewildered,
Jehamiah stared up at his leader. Had you asked him why he could not explain
it, but for some reason, he did not think Turel was referring to Raziel
this time.
The first
lieutenant glanced behind him at the other Turelim, and they too were gaping
at Turel with expressions of worry and confusion. He turned back to his
lord, concerned and uncertain what he could do to help, but Turel had resumed
his seat and his face was once again calm and collected. The episode, whatever
it was about, seemed to be over. Jehamiah was relieved but remained wary.
“My lord?”
he queried. “Are you… dissatisfied with our preparations? Perhaps it would
ease your concerns if a guard were placed about the Open Eye.” Ellich De
had always rejected such measures scornfully, implying ineffectiveness
on the part of Jehamiah’s troops. Jehamiah would relish the opportunity
to see the haughty fool countermanded by Turel himself.
But when
his master spoke next the lieutenant was disappointed. “Ellich De is now
forewarned of our enemy. I do not believe he has anything to fear. But
your concern is noted and appreciated, Jehamiah. I am sure your brother
would be honored to hear of it.”
Jehamiah
quickly bowed to hide the look on his face.
“For now,”
Turel resumed thoughtfully, “we will await our foe here. Though the presence
of my children will hearten me come the final battle, in the end only my
hand will be needed to deliver the final blow.”
================================
When the
voices came, Raziel froze in his tracks.
After
leaving the great hall he had chosen a route upwards which he had supposed
would be deserted, leading as it did through craft rooms and a library
of ancient lore. So far he had been correct, his progress on this level
had been unimpeded. The narrow flight of steps he was on should lead to
the rooms reserved for chronicling vampire history. From there it was only
a short distance back to the main shaft and he would be halfway up the
Tower.
So Raziel was naturally upset by this disturbance. He had not been
expecting another battle here. What kind of Turelim would be reading at
a time like this?
Unless,
he thought with a groan, it was no longer a library. He kept forgetting
how much time had passed since he had died.
Padding
cautiously up to the landing, Raziel made his way to a small door. Pressing
his ear against it he could hear shouting again, but it was curiously faint.
It was possible that whoever was making the commotion was in another corridor
leading to the library, and if Raziel was quick he could make it through
the relatively small chamber before anyone else arrived. Of course, the
speakers might be headed this way from the direction that he was intending
to travel, but Raziel was tired of playing it safe. He was going to take
his chances. With that, he jerked the door open and dashed in.
Raziel
skidded to a halt. He had been right. The library was gone.
More importantly,
the floor was missing too.
He was
now standing on a narrow iron gantry hundreds of feet above a great pool
of water, and he was not alone. Several Turelim guards were stationed on
other walkways that branched off from the main arm. One of them looked
towards the door.
The portal
closed with a soft click, but there was no one there.
The vampire
crossed over to the door. Pulling it open, he peered down the staircase.
Nothing.
Perplexed,
the Turelim stood uncertainly for a moment. Then, with a dismissive shrug
of his heavy shoulders, he turned and retraced his steps back to his position
to concentrate once more on the show below.
Hanging
by his claws beneath the gantry floor, Raziel too was interested in this
exhibition.
Of all the things he had expected to find in Turel’s stronghold, water
was the last. Stealing Rahab’s aquatic invulnerability had not completely
erased his uneasiness for the element, having been executed by being tossed
into the Lake of the Dead. All vampires but the Rahabim rightly shared
his concerns. But far below him now, Raziel could see what appeared to
be a group of Turelim fledglings. They were clustered in the center of
a wide circular stone bay created by the intersection of granite walls
that rose up out of the water. The walls crossed the hall at perpendicular
angles, dividing the great lake into neat compartments. A Turelim elder
stood atop one of these divides addressing the novices in a loud bellow.
It was his voice that Raziel had heard before. Safely hidden, the Reaver
listened with interest.
“Enough of your jabberings!” the elder roared. “As your captain it
is my duty to see that you are properly trained for the coming assault.
Since it has now been announced for one day from now, there is no time
to waste.”
One of
the youngsters stood and voiced something that was beyond Raziel’s hearing.
But their leader’s response was nothing if not audible.
“The matter
of the intruder is best left up to your elders and betters! You will concentrate
on preparing yourselves to best serve the Turelim cause when we set forth
to bring the earthbound clans under our sway. Now hark unto me!”
Far above,
Raziel’s claws dug into the iron grate. For a moment he was too stunned
to think. He knew that he had heard aright, but the prospect still left
him aghast. There was more than just his own quest at stake here. Turel
was well on his way to becoming the temporal ruler of Nosgoth!
He should
have realized that his brother would have embarked on such an attempt.
From what Ariel had told him, Turel had somehow received foreknowledge
from Kain that Raziel would return someday. He must have known that Raziel
would eliminate all his youngest siblings first and leave the strongest
for last. With the other clans deprived of the leadership and protection
afforded by his brothers, Turel could then step in and launch an offensive
that would catch the bereaved vampire community off guard. From his brief
meeting with Kain, Raziel had inferred that their Father no longer deigned
to trouble himself with the day-to-day rule of Nosgoth. Obviously Turel
intended to fill the void left behind by their indifferent sire, and he
had relied on Raziel to dispose of his siblings so that Turel would not
have to risk his own skin. Raziel trembled with outrage at the enormity
of his brother’s presumption. Ariel had been right: Turel was a coward.
“Though
it is unlikely fledglings such as yourself will be directed against them,”
the captain continued, “you must still learn effective strategy for combating
the Rahabim. Keep in mind, these are no spindle-limbed web-eaters like
Zephon’s insects you were trampling yesterday.” Derisive laughter came
from the fledglings. “As dwellers in water, these fish cousins of ours
remain our most powerful and elusive opponents. But even a strength can
be a weakness.”
At this the captain gestured to two adult Turelim standing against
the chamber wall. Both of them were wearing rubber gloves, and so begarbed
they withdrew from one of the light globes in the wall what appeared to
be thick copper wires. These they then placed into the murky water before
them. A great crackling and spitting of steam came up from where the metal
came in contact with the lapping surface, and strange flashes of energy
snapped up over the water. A muted howling could now be heard from the
pool, and the Turelim on the catwalk began to laugh maliciously. Suddenly
a form burst out of the water and landed on the bridge near the captain.
It stood there, swaying groggily, and Raziel saw it was a Rahabim vampire.
The purpose
of this place was now clear to him: it was a training hall for the Turelim
warriors. Captives of the four other vampire clans were held here in the
outlying buildings in environments similar to the ones they occupied on
Nosgoth, where Turel’s brood made sport with them to determine the best
means of defeating these lesser clans. Raziel was sickened by their callow
treatment of their fellow vampires but did not dare interfere. He had a
mission of revenge to get back to, and with that he began to crawl quietly
and surreptitiously along the bottom of the railing.
The Turelim
captain was now advancing on his beleaguered quarry, egged on by his eager
young followers’ cries. The Rahabim, trapped and long used to this torture,
was still not about to give up. Its throat swelled and it spat a blue glob
of energy at its opponent. The captain responded with a telekinetic blast
that cancelled the assault, then bore swiftly down on the wounded prey.
The injured
Rahabim tried to lunge forward and bite him, but the captain dodged nimbly
aside and slashed his talons through the vampire’s back. It shuddered and
tried desperately to dive back into the water, but the captain rushed in
and grabbed it by the throat. He lifted the struggling, spitting creature
off the ground, an evil sneer on his face. His students cheered raucously.
Raziel
had now crossed the length of the combat range undetected. He was almost
at the door leading out. What transpired below was none of his concern.
“And so
it is done!” the captain bellowed triumphantly. The Rahabim was thrashing
weakly and trying to bite him. “Of course you know, we are not supposed
to permanently dispatch our practice toys here.” He gave the Rahabim a
rude shake. “But since after tomorrow there will be no need for their services,
I will give you a final demonstration.”
His claws
tightened around the Rahabim’s neck with bone crunching force. The vampire’s
eyes bulged out in panic.
“If the
rest of them prove as uncooperative as this guppy,” the captain called
out happily, “you might all bear witness to another total clan purge, just
like the one I experienced in my youth. What a rare treat that was!” He
laughed joyfully. The fledglings joined in.
A bolt
of green energy streaked across the hall and struck the captain in the
back. With a surprised cry he flew through the air and impacted against
the wall, then slid down into the water. Immediately it devoured his flesh
with searing hunger, and the captain’s terrible shrieks filled the room
before he sank beyond sight, thrashing in mortal agony. The Rahabim tore
free of his burning grasp and, not questioning its good fortune, furiously
sank its serrated teeth into the captain’s throat.
The fledglings
were shouting in panic and cringing away from the water’s edge, as if expecting
to be dragged in at any moment. The two Turelim adults grasped long-handled
metal hooks and tried determinedly to fish the captain out of the water
to safety. The hooks caught hold, and they swiftly heaved their compatriot
upward to hang dripping in the air for all to see. His head was missing.
The Rahabim
shot out of the water in a high arc, the captain’s blistered head dangling
triumphantly from its jaws. It dove back down and exited into a side drain,
blissfully thanking Almighty Kain for this unexpected miracle.
On the
catwalk, the Turelim charged out of the hall in pursuit of the enemy.
================================
Raziel
ran as fast as he could, scorning concealment in favor of speed. There
was no regret for his rashness. He had enjoyed that!
The slight
lead he had on his pursuers would not last long, but fortunately he was
not far from regaining the center of the Tower. A spiral staircase began
there that curved up the sides of the shaft and led directly to Turel’s
royal hall. The tunnel that housed this stairwell was open on the side
looking out into the Tower’s interior, to give one a view while climbing.
This meant that any doors planted there recently would be no real hindrance
in the Spectral Realm, since Raziel could simply vault over the balustrade
and shimmy past them to regain the stairs. He was counting on Turel’s vanity
to have kept him from walling up the openings and thus depriving his people
of another view of his precious architectural triumph. Barring some unforeseen
disaster it was now a clear shot to the inner sanctum.
Raziel
staunchly refused to think about what he would have to do when he reached
his goal.
Upon arriving
at the final door back to the main shaft he did not bother with opening
it but simply kicked it down.
He stood
now on a vast stone platform that spanned half the width of the Tower’s
central cavity. The long outer edge curved in a smooth crescent arc from
one side of the shaft to the other, allowing a somewhat eclipsed view of
the lower portion of the Tower and the entrance in the base far below.
But Raziel
had no chance to appreciate the scenery. He was more concerned with the
scores of Turelim turning to face him.
Before
they could recover from the shock of his abrupt entrance, he quickly cast
the Sound Glyph and brought those around him to their knees with ruptured
eardrums.
There
was not a second to lose. Raziel turned and dashed off to his left. The
door he had entered by was only a few yards away from the great arched
tunnel that was the platform’s primary means of access. This was located
near the tip of one of the platform’s two points, and the portal to the
stairs was set into the side of that tunnel. There was probably a door
there now, but as soon as he got past it he could escape into the Spectral
Plane and travel the stairs in relative freedom.
Raziel
plowed into the wide tunnel and headed for the stair entrance, firing bursts
from the Soul Reaver behind him to hinder pursuit from any vampires unaffected
by his spell. The entrance was only a few feet off, and to his surprise
it was unblocked. A Turelim stood inside the stairwell, leaning weakly
against the wall. Raziel brought about the Soul Reaver to clear the way
with another blast.
Too late
he saw the vampire raise its hand and flip a switch in the wall. Before
Raziel could react, a heavy stone slab dropped between him and the Turelim,
sealing him off from the stairs.
Raziel
roared in frustration and spun around. The nearest enemy was already starting
to climb to its feet. The stairwell opening actually started some forty
feet beyond the edge of the platform, much too far for him to glide. He
had to think of something fast.
A huge
pulley was set in the wall on the other side of the tunnel. From it extended
a heavy chain up to a raised portcullis above the tunnel entrance. Raziel
lurched desperately towards it. The recovered Turelim were now bounding
at him with furious intent. Just as they were almost upon him, Raziel reached
the gear and slashed the Soul Reaver through the chain. It parted like
wet paper, and the portcullis came thundering down. One Turelim dove towards
him, but the points of the gate slammed home into the ground, impaling
the vampire like a bug on a pin.
Trembling
with exhilaration, Raziel backed up a few paces. The monsters were swarming
around the portcullis, trying to heave it up and firing pulse blasts that
failed to penetrate the thick iron bars. Safe for the moment, he turned
and loped dejectedly down the hall. This too led eventually to the upper
reaches, but it was more convoluted than the lost stairwell. There were
many rooms and halls he would have to pass through between here and his
destination, offering numerous chances for ambush and confrontation against
him. And his magical reserves were close to drained. Raziel cursed disconsolately.
He was not looking forward to another protracted spate of battles and hiding.
He turned
a corner and was just debating whether or not to go to spirit form for
a while when he suddenly stopped. Turning he glanced about in puzzlement.
Though this stretch of decorated hallway was identical to the next, there
was something strangely familiar about it, something important.
Raziel
tried to remember. A secret, wasn’t it? But what…?
He had
been here before… and not alone…
Then it
came to him. Of course!
This was
the entrance to the royal dining hall, the one Turel had concluded their
firs tour of the Tower on!
The use
of this room was restricted to the imperial family of Kain, its location
was kept a secret. One path opened out here, and the other…
The other
led directly to Turel’s throne room!
Raziel
could scarcely believe his good fortune. He had only used this vault two
times in his life, which from his point of view was only about fifty years
ago. After his death, the clan leaders’ already tenuously acrimonious existence
with one another had deteriorated into fearful suspicion and isolation,
lest they hazard the same fate as their eldest brother. Contact must have
broken down completely. That meant these secret passages had probably not
been used for centuries, and quite possibly were long forgotten by anyone.
This was his best chance to catch Turel unawares. That is, he thought suddenly,
if the passage was still there.
Fearful
of what may or may not happen, Raziel edged over to a particular alcove
set between two piers. Reaching up he traced one claw along the lines of
a stylized relief just as he had seen Turel do before. He then pressed
three seemingly unrelated designs.
With only
a faint rumble of stone against stone, a portion of the wall slid down
into the ground. An empty span of corridor stretched out before him. Quickly
Raziel stepped inside and pressed a panel in the wall. The opening rose
up behind him, and for the first time in hours, Raziel relaxed completely.
He was safe.
This feeling
lasted only a few moments. While thankful for this opportunity, Raziel
was still suspicious. There was no light to be seen, and although he recalled
the path was a fairly straightforward affair, he did not want to be caught
unawares. The way might be booby-trapped somehow. With this in mind, Raziel
deemed it wise to advance forward through the Spectral Realm.
Having
performed the translation, Raziel found that, as expected, he could see
his way clearly now. Spectral beings did not require light, and the corridor
curved up ahead, seemingly unchanged and harmless. Satisfied, Raziel continued
on his way.
The trek
lasted nearly an hour. Murals along the walls depicting vampire history
relieved the monotony. Raziel was surprised to see himself still evident
in some pictures. He had assumed they would have been erased after his
fall from grace.
Something
else was beginning to trouble him. Though he had been traveling for some
time, he had encountered no Sluagh, not even one. Abandoned and walled
off though this area might be in the physical world, Raziel was curious
at not finding any of the soul scavengers. The extravagant vampire banquets
he and his brothers had held here must surely have left a rich and tempting
depository of human souls that, in this time-shorn world, would have provided
a feast for the carrion crows of the underworld.
Raziel
proceeded with caution. On this twilight plane, he knew, there were predators
far more perilous than Sluagh.
But no
threat materialized, and eventually Raziel arrived at the Council’s secluded
pleasure chamber.
It was
a circular room, about fifty feet across. The concave dome of the ceiling
was connected to the floor by eight pillars that formed a ring in the middle
of the area. Through the ring Raziel could see what appeared to be an oddly
warped piece of statuary, but he paid it no heed. The metal gate that led
to Turel’s hall of rule was closed, as expected. Casting his eyes about,
Raziel located a planar portal behind a pillar on the side of the room
opposite the door.
He crossed around to the dimensional conduit. There was something nagging
at him. Though faint, Raziel thought he could detect some kind of mystic
energy in the air. It seemed to be coming from the twisted piece of art
in the middle of the room. As he passed outside the ring he saw that along
the inner surface of each pillar there was now a cluster of long spikes
extending from about ten feet off the ground. This was a new and incongruous
decoration for a vampire dining hall, where impalement on these instruments
would mean death for their kind, at least temporarily.
Still,
there did not seem to be any immediate danger. So Turel had developed some
odd preferences in interior design. If the same held true for his throne
room, Raziel might not have to look too hard to find a means of killing
his brother. It had occurred to him that he would require some method beyond
what he presently possessed to slay a vampire as powerful as Turel. The
others had posed problems in that regard as well, and still he had overcome
them all somehow.
But maybe,
he though faintly as he prepared to cast the Shift Glyph, it would not
come to that. Despite everything he had seen and experienced, a part of
him still did not want to have to commit another fratricide, especially
against a brother he had loved so deeply. Yes, Turel had destroyed him,
but only at the insistence of Kain. No matter how his sibling had changed,
if Raziel could only reach him, talk to him, he could explain that there
was no reason to try and kill one another. Maybe then they could actually
join forces against the father who had so cruelly abandoned them both.
It was not impossible, he supposed.
As Raziel
drifted back to the Material Plane, he thought he heard a faint warbling
cry.
It prevented
him from simply walking around the pillar to cross the hall. Instead, crouched
behind the column, he risked a quick glance around its frame. As it turned
out, this was a wise move.
A group
of Turelim was standing in the center of the room.
Back pressed
against the pillar, Raziel waited for his nerves to settle down. Curse
it! He should have known this was too easy!
There
were far too many to fight single-handed, and Raziel was unwilling to squander
any more Glyph energy. For all he knew he might need every bit of it for
the coming conflict, but he hoped he was wrong. If he were to successfully
make it out of this chamber, he would have to rely on his wits.
His eyes
drifted over the curved wall only a few feet in front of him. It was decorated
with light carvings that swirled and danced up along the ceiling. It might
just be possible…
Moving
as quietly as he could, Raziel stepped over to the wall. He gently pressed
his bony talons against it, digging into the crevices.
Yes, this
could work. With that, he began to scale the wall.
Keeping
the pillar between his body and the Turelim, he moved assuredly along the
curve of the stone. The arachnid abilities he had inherited from Zephon’s
soul now served him well, enabling him to cling and adhere to surfaces
he rightly had no place on.
Raziel
reached the point where the pillar met the ceiling. No choice now, he would
have to move into the open. He only hoped that he was high enough to be
out of the Turelims’ field of vision. Slowly, inch by inch, he crept out
from behind the column and waited tensely, ready for combat.
No sound
came from below. Glancing down, he saw that the vampires were absorbed
in deliberation of the object in the center of the room. Breathing his
thanks, Raziel crept laboriously along the curved roof of the hall.
As he went, though concentrating mainly on evading detection, Raziel
gradually became aware of something. The mystic sensation he had received
in the Spectral Realm was back, and much stronger now. Something in this
room was causing it, and it was crazily familiar. He had felt something
like this before, and recently. By now Raziel had maneuvered to the center
of the ceiling. From there, he felt he was sufficiently concealed to spy
on what was going on below. He craned his neck around to see.
From this
vantage he could now see the room clearly. There were eight Turelim vampires
arranged in a circle, each standing before a corresponding pillar. Their
eyes were tightly shut, and streams of telekinetic power were flowing from
their hands towards a great metal sphere that hung in the center of the
room. Below this globe was a shifting pool of sand in a stone basin. Under
the influence of their power the sphere was slowly rotating in the air.
Another object, like a tiny stone effigy, was gliding above the surface
of the globe, seeming to be moving slowly toward one of dozens of small
glowing crystals embedded in the orb. Raziel noticed that in this strange
enclave, one of their number, leaner and hungrier-looking than the rest,
was emitting blue sparks of energy from his body, the unmistakable mark
of an ultra-powerful life vampire. Raziel was reminded uncomfortably of
Dumah.
There
was something about that one’s scent that stirred a memory in Raziel, as
if he had encountered it before. Was it…?!!
No, not
Turel. But dangerous all the same.
Still
no closer to understanding this scene, Raziel’s eye was attracted to something
odd about the pillars. The spikes he had seen in the Spectral Realm were
still there, but no longer were they unoccupied. There were bodies hanging
on them, skeletal remains of some victims long dead and gone. But there
was an irregularity to these corpses. One spike stuck out from their bony
chests, but two others branched off to the sides and seemed to be supporting
appendages of some kind. The corpses’ arms were hanging at their sides.
Were these freaks of some kind, with additional tiny arms growing out of
their…
Backs…
It hit
him with the force of death itself, a sweeping wave of furious realization.
Not arms!
No, not arms!!
Wings!!
Wings!!!
THESE
WERE HIS CHILDREN!!!
His beautiful
kin, brutally murdered and hung in this room like trophies of war, their
undeveloped pinions that had doomed them set on prominent display!
As had
happened once before with Dumah, Raziel lost control. With murder in his
heart, he let go of the ceiling and dropped down onto the revolving globe,
bringing up his talons to cast a spell that would burn these filthy murderers
to ash.
A force
slammed into him from all sides. It squeezed him like a walnut, a strength
like iron bars crushing his limbs and making his head feel like it was
going to rupture inwards. Raziel’s glowing eyes bulged out with thwarted
fury and pain, he made wretched gurglings as his bones threatened to snap.
Although
the pounding cacophony in his ears did not subside, he distinctly heard
someone laughing at him.
Raziel’s
mad eyes settled on the life vampire, who was shaking with mirth and displaying
its yellow fangs in a sick grin. It bowed mockingly, and although nearly
doubled over from laughing, its hands continued to emit the telekinetic
attack that was acting in conjunction with the other vampires to crush
Raziel’s body.
“Ellich
De, second lieutenant to Turel of the Turelim, bids courteous greeting
to his master’s most exalted and beloved sibling,” he gushed dramatically,
and Raziel suddenly recognized this degenerate.
Outraged
at being brought low by this second-generation upstart, Raziel shook with
rage but was prevented from responding by the telekinetic death-grip that
held him prisoner. The force pressing around him felt like it was going
to burst him at any moment, but the insanity that had possessed him before
was still leaping and churning within, screaming out for death, any death.
Like a furiously burning star collapsing under its own weight he hung there,
a locus of conflicting forces.
“Are you
pleased to see me?” Ellich De inquired innocently. “Of course you are,
and rest assured that the feeling is mutual. Do you know that we were aware
of your presence in our tunnels as soon as you set foot in them? But I
was so thrilled at the prospect of seeing you again that I simply had to
let you join us. How very unrealistic of you to assume that our lord had
overlooked the existence of these passages.”
Raziel
groaned bloodily in response, the hatred building up in him until he thought
he must explode.
“Ah, yes,
speaking of Turel,” Ellich De exclaimed ecstatically, “we must inform him
that he must present himself here for an impromptu family reunion. You
do know that he has been eagerly expecting your arrival.”
Ellich
De’s joyfully leering face seemed to loom before Raziel, but in his eyes
there was no humor, only coldly calculating viciousness. “Won’t it be so
cheerfully nostalgic, all of us here, the long-lost rebel and his honored
brother…” His voice took on a sneeringly insinuating tone. “And their children?”
The pressure
around Raziel seemed to double, and the fury sundering his body blazed
with thwarted intensity. From his throat burst an unholy scream. His glowing
eyes flared with a blinding light, the facewrap ripped away from his features,
and Raziel’s body exploded in an eruption of mystic energy.
The facewrap
floated down and settled to the floor.
=============================
In the
Spectral Plane, Raziel slumped weakly against the distorted globe. He had
not felt this level of exhaustion since first arriving in the pit. It would
be some time before he was back to full energy, but thankfully, time was
something he had aplenty. He would abide here until his strength was restored,
and then he would return to the real world and manage, somehow, to have
his revenge!
An unearthly
moaning sounded nearby, and Raziel started up. It was the same noise that
had accompanied him into the real world, the one that had put him on his
guard. But now it was different.
Now there
was more than one.
Looking
up, Raziel saw, floating down from around the ceiling, the most dangerous
entities on the Non-corporeal Plane: vampire wraiths.
Raziel
staggered to his feet as more than half a dozen of the black-robed monsters
descended to surround him, their eager calls sending a tremor of fear through
him. He had fought these creatures before, but never in such numbers, and
in his present condition he could not afford to risk such a challenge.
This explained the lack of Sluagh on the way here. He had to escape. If
they overwhelmed him, he would be banished back to the Elder’s Lair, and
he would have to break into Turel’s Tower all over again.
Before
he could formulate a plan, the first one dove at him.
Raziel
reeled back and swung the Soul Reaver. Both attacks went wide of their
targets, but as Raziel righted himself unsteadily, another wraith saw its
chance and raked its talons along his back. Raziel cried out and swung
around instantly, driving the Soul Reaver through the wraith before it
could begin siphoning off his energy. It stumbled back out of reach, briefly
opening a hole in the wall of death, and Raziel leapt desperately forward
at this chance of escape.
A wraith slammed into him, bearing Raziel to the ground. The Reaver
was already exhausted, and the force of the blow proved too much for him.
The wraiths clustered about him, their hungry wails taking on an eager
hymn. The one that had felled him swiped its claws across his back, but
Raziel hardly felt it. He knew he had failed now, and that whatever advantage
he had against Turel would soon be lost. As the energy flowed from his
spirit form into the wraith’s greedy mouth, Raziel was at least glad that
he had so little energy left it would not feed these devils much. The world
began to fade around him, his thoughts and regrets mixing and flowing in
his mind.
A strange
cry broke above him suddenly, and the draining transfer stopped.
Blearily,
Raziel raised his head to see what had saved him.
The wraith
that had attacked him had risen off his body. The others swarmed in, but
that one lunged forward, striking at them angrily, and they swiftly dispersed,
crying out in rage and confusion. Raziel shared in their bewilderment.
What was happening?
The lone
wraith now lowered itself beside him, and Raziel could do nothing but stare
into its shadowy hood. His vision must be fading, because he could swear
that the wraith’s eyes were gray, not red.
Its murky features came closer, and it was now making odd sounds, different
from the empty moans of before. There almost seemed to be sense to them:
a noise, repeated over and over again. Raziel strained to hear it. The
wraith bent in to his ear.
Gradually
it became clear.
“Father!”
To be continued…
