Raziel began forward past Sally and he approached the stone throne, his eyes wide and fixed on the strange sight before him.
.
“Vorador was a statue, almost literally. He sat upon his alter like throne, encased in a strange substance that coated him completely and left him fixed forever in one place. The expression rooted on his face was one of weary sadness, a deep pain to be quenched by the bliss of eternal slumber.”
.
The blue wraith stood before him, looking up at the ancient vampire and seeing the substance that coated him. It was tough and shiny, like varnished wood but completely seamless. It coated him completely, even his clothes were outlined by it. Reaching forward Raziel laid a hand on Vorador’s shoulder and found him cold and hard to the touch like ice.
“My lord lost something very important to him.” Sally said from behind, her voice echoing in the chamber.  “He did his best to ensure that we were well provided for but much of his old fire had been quenched by the death of the one he considered his daughter.”
Raziel looked back fixing her with a stare.
“Umah?” He asked. Sally looked him in the eyes and then nodded.
“Umah.” She repeated and her head hung a little. “She was the last true family left to him and no one could fill that void.” There was a long pause, filled with regret and loss. “Not that we didn’t try.”
Raziel knew how powerful the bound between sire and fledgling was and reasoned how much pain the anguish of their master would cause the Cabal when they could not help him.
It seems strange to see Vorador in this state, so devoid of the cold fire that had suffused him before. Could this frozen body really be the same being who had single handled brought down the mass majority of the Circle of nine and then bested their champion in one on one combat? Could this reduced shell of a man be all that was left of the leader of the Cabal resistance which had withstood two centuries of Sarafan oppression?
The idea was almost laughable.
“If he did not wish to face the world why did he not just kill himself?” Raziel asked, gently scraping at the cocoon with one talon. He did not so much as leave a mark on it.
Sally pursed her lips at this, not taking offense but only seeming to be puzzled.
“He said that he wasn’t as weak as the peers of his sire.” Her tone gave the impression that she did not understand what her sire had meant by that. Raziel however did and chuckled to himself at the joke.
That fit with Vorador’s personality alright, a defiant resentment of the option the ancient vampires had chosen after they had been cursed, committing suicide en-mass because they had believed themselves separated from their god. Vorador, perhaps the most dismissive atheist Raziel had ever known, would have seen this as utterly repugnant and so instead he had chosen to go to sleep to let his troubles and pains fade in dreams.
“What is this substance?” He tabbed Vorador’s nose and sound was like striking marble. Sally came up beside him and looked her sire in the face, studying him for a long moment.
“It is similar to the cocoon that is spun during the state of change.” She said. “Only hardened to a diamond’s strength. It protects his body while he sleeps.”
Raziel looked it over again and sure enough she was right. Now that it had been called to its attention this cocoon was indeed very much like protective shell that the body of a vampire spins around itself when it undergoes the advanced evolution that was known as the state of change.
Raziel had never seen one this tight fitting or hard before. Vorador must have gone into a very deep sleep, a torpor that suspended his mind and body so that he could survive inside the shell.
But that would last forever. Eventually he would have to emerge in order to feed and replenish his strength, even if that took centuries.
“Surely there is a means to awaken him.” He said looking back at Sally. The Chameleon was looking up at the stone pillar above the throne, following the pipes with her eyes. “He could not have intended to sleep forever.”
She shook her head in response.
“He said as much.” Gesturing she indicated the pillars and then up and around to the many pipes that ran in and around it.
“He would not give me specifics but he said that the throne upon which he sits could restore him.” Then she paused and frowned. “But he said only to do so when there was something worth doing for him.”
Raziel took a few steps back, looking over the pipes himself and judging their extent for himself.
“I have something I think worthy enough to get this undivided attention.”
The seat itself was ornate and engraved with detail across its arms and back, melding into the stone behind it perfectly to allow the same twisting pattern to carry on.
.
“The construction of this stone seat and even the room around it seemed familiar somehow. Somewhere I had seen its like before.”
.
. Even the pipes seems set in to add to the design, weaving around each other like a twisted rope.
At regular intervals around the base of the pillar were valves set into the stone and beside them parts of the pipes had windows to see inside. The pies ran up the pillar from the floor to weave across the ceiling and then disappear in holes leading up. Outside he could hear the roll of thunder from the storm along with the constant patter of heavy rainfall.
Several of the pipes were also rattling slightly in response and Raziel realised they must lead outside for the heavy rain to send vibrations down them.
It did not take him long to place the style and recognise it. While the throne was constructed of composite material salvaged from the ruins below, the architecture was very similar to that used in the ruins of the ancient vampires. Vorador had obviously tried to mimic it at least as much as he was able.
As such this seems to indicate to Raziel that it was a puzzle, a riddle to solve like the shrines and how they had been set up to test the user’s intelligence and ingenuity. This was similar, designed so that only someone of sufficient intellect would be allowed to revive him.
The only question now was how to solve this puzzle? Obviously the pipes were significant somehow.
He circled the pillar twice, looking the complex machinery over and letting his eyes trace the routes the pipes wound as they crisscrossed through the floor and ceiling. Most of them seemed to, eventually; go up while only a few went down through the floor. From what he had seen of the outside of the castle this tower stood directly before a cliff face. These pipes must empty down into drainage trenched used to keep the fort free of flood water.
Water…
Raziel walked back to the front of the pillar and looked over Vorador’s throne again and sure enough, three pipes ended into a stone shelf just above. The underside of this shelf was very fine metallic grill directly above Vorador’s head.
“What are you doing?” Sally asked as the blue wraith turned to one of the valves set into the pillar and began to turn it. The pipes let out a low hum in response as the air pressure inside changed and the water from outside began to run down one of the pipes seen through the glass window on the one to the left.
Raziel quickly went to another valve and turned it. Again the contraption let out a sound and the pipes all around the room began to rattle loudly.
“The cocoon we wrap around ourselves during evolution is essentially an extension of our skin for a brief period of time.” Raziel explained, going from valve to valve in a sequence that he had surmised from how the pipes were arranged. First the one on the left, then the right and finally the one in the centre.
“Meaning that it is built from us. It shares all vampiric strengths and weaknesses.”
The last valve to be turned locked into place with a satisfying metallic ring and Raziel knew he had gotten it right. He stood back, watching as water from outside poured down the pips, moving in the direction that he had made for it.
“It may be as hard as a diamond, but it still burns at the touch of water.”
The water crossed back and forth and around the pillar, being filtered each time it looped the circle until finally it came up to the central pipes and was fed down into the grills. There was a loud puff as a thick cloud of water vapour descended, seeping over Vorador’s throne and the vampire himself.
Sally breathed in sharply in alarm and took a step forward to try and protect her sire from what she must instinctively have thought was a scorching.
Raziel blocked her path with one arm and together they watched as slowly but surely the vapour ate through the cocoon. The surface of the barrier boiled and smoked, hissing as the water burned it away. First Vorador’s hands became visible, green underneath and slowly the cocoon receded back up his arms. Patches on of his face began to revert back to their usual colour and soon the cocoon was turning to liquid, running off him and onto the floor.
Once it was in full retreat away from the body of the ancient vampire Raziel quickly to the final valve and turned it back shutting off the flow of water.
The water vapour hung in the air a moment long and then dissipated. Before them in the flesh sat Vorador, the first human to be handed the dark gift by Janos Audron and the sire of the cabal. He had not significantly changed his attire since the last time Raziel had seen him, still wearing a red waist coat and white shirt underneath. All of his clothes were patched and stained and where once he had seemed proud
“My sire!” Sally burst out as slowly, Vorador’s eyes began to open. The ancient vampire opened his mouth and let out a low groan. He leaned forward on one arm rest, straining muscles that were stiff from discus. He coughed several times, clearing dust out from inside his lungs.
“Awake?” He asked and his voice so hoarse it was barely audible. He ran a hand over his face rubbing at his eyes. “How long have I slept?”
Sally straightened into a formal stance as if she were a soldier speaking to her commanding officer.
“Seven hundred years, my lord.” She said. Vorador only nodded once as if he’d been expecting that number.
“And the castle?” He inquired.
“Safe as you asked me to keep it.”
Raziel could see that after being roused Vorador was disoriented, taking time to clear his head. He was pale under the short green fur that lined his face and he would need to feed before too long.
“Why have you disturbed my sleep, Sally?” He asked then, looking at her from between his talons. “You know I do not wish to deal with this world anymore.”
The chameleon cleared her throat and then stepped aside, gesturing towards their guest.
“My lord… you have a visitor.” She said and Vorador’s gaze fell on Raziel. There was a long moment of silence between them with eyes locked on one another. Sally, sensing the tension, glanced between them apprehensively.
“Kain lead me to believe you were dead.” Vorador said, breaking and silence. With a grunt he hoisted himself to his feet. Despite his recent suspended state of animation he stood tall and sure of himself.
“You remember me then?” Raziel asked with a touch of ironic amusement in his tone as the ancient vampire descended from the throne.
“I remember you well enough.” He replied. “And more besides. I know who you are now.”
His voice was flinty, cold and lacking even the smallest hint of civility. Raziel narrowed his eyes, quickly re-evaluating his strategy for this conversation.
“Kain told me your name and when I learned of whom I had to thank for my escort to these islands, it all finally made sense.” Vorador raised a talon and pointed at him, his face devoid of any emotion. “You are Raziel, fallen from grace within Kain’s ridiculous empire yet still his first born son.”
Raziel flinched and tried to speak.
“I have come…”
Vorador cut him off with a sharp cutting gesture.
“I care not why you have.” He said and suddenly Raziel tensed, leaning back. The atmosphere had gone hostile “I will listen to nothing of what you have to say. I have heard you and Kain out before and always it has been a mistake.”
He stood before Raziel, unused muscles rejuvenating in indignation. Both of them poised on the brink of battle, keeping perfectly still waiting for the other to make a move first.
Vorador looked at him sternly and concluded;
“And it cost me the life of my daughter.”