240 (II)

  Vengeance [I]

  "Hey," Shiv said. "I'm saying we're doing this on the basis of honesty, right? Well, I don't much like the First Blood. A few individual vampires, I don't have a problem with. But the organization? Your Faith? Yeah, not gonna get along."

  A snort escaped Tulveg. "You are trying to charm me, are you? It seems that we are of a mind on a great many things.”

  “What? You don't like the First Blood either? But you're—”

  “Ekkihurst is a genius, but also a mongrel and a butcher," Tulveg declared. "I like the art. I have desires to evolve and to develop certain understandings, but the things he did, the people he hurt, for no reason at all... It's all so pointless, so meaningless."

  There was a hint of outrage in the vampire's voice, but then his tone softened. "Look upon them," the vampire said, and Shiv knew he was talking about the children. "See how I have treated them, have mended them with so casual an effort. Look upon them, at the spills of vile filth and the impurities I have forced out from their bodies. How could the Republic allow this? How could they let these children remain sick? How could they let their young suffer so? I will never understand."

  "Maybe because they couldn't handle it," Shiv said carefully. "The treatments, I mean. They're probably not nearly as sophisticated as you are in terms of Biomancy. There are only so many Legends, and Biomancy is a rarer art than most. And look, don't take this the wrong way, but you're kind of weird for a vampire, aren't you? I didn't expect you to care for children—"

  "Of course, I have to care for the young!" he interrupted. "What right Pathbearer does not? In time, I intend to christen them. Them, and all who are untainted by the fetid ideology of the Ascendants.”

  "Christen them?" Shiv repeated.

  "Yes. To begin a new and proper Bloodline. One that will spare them from the indignities of all disease, of biological decay, of the pain of mortality. The fool Elders of the First Blood cling to their Bloodlines like they are a vaunted gift. It is supposed to be the most plentiful blessing we have. The Great One gave it unto us, it elevated us, and now here we are, holding it back, denying their great will."

  Sage of the Enkindled Heart: This vampire is probably thinking of starting a community, a commonwealth. He wants to share his Lineage Core’s ichor with many people. But then why is there so much loathing inside of him? The words he spat earlier? The way he attacked everyone? That's incongruous with his current philosophy. Either he's lying, or there's something else modulating his behavior.

  Shiv passed the question around in his mind a few times, and then he chanced a guess: "You're here hunting someone, no? A Hero-Biomancer, perhaps? Someone who wronged you during the Abyss War? Someone with a particular gauntlet.”

  Silence. For a few moments, Tulveg said nothing. Then, he let out a breath. "Yes. But not Javelina. I will claim the life of the Lady of the Denied Vices as recompense for all that she unleashed upon us during the war one day, but her deeds are nothing special; they are simply the way of things between Pathbearers."

  Shiv was about to ask something else before Tulveg cut him off. "Who are you, then? You have asked me a great many things. You've reached deep into my history, tested me about the people I know. Yet all I understand is that you are a fellow hidden Legend, and that you are not a member of the Republic, or so I feel."

  But before Shiv could respond, Adam spoke up. "Shiv, I think I know who he's hunting. There's someone at the very top of the tower. The two Morbomancers are there too, but they seem incapacitated. In fact, their bodies seem to be piloted by something. A layer of tumors has infested the base of their skulls."

  Shiv tapped into Adam's memories, and he saw within a pitch-dark room, all corners covered in crawling tumors, consumed and contained within a realm of its own, a lone vampire. One who cast more and more festering cancers out from himself, one that spread his influence from body to body.

  Two Pathbearers were kneeling beside him, one woman, one man. The man was bald and had a trident tattooed over his left eye. The woman's eyes were vacant. Her tongue had been bitten off. Blood poured down her lip, and instead of hair, she had a chain of chitinous tendrils growing out from the back of her head. It rested against the floor, the tips sharp like a scorpion's stinger.

  "Hero-Biomancers Huell and Morgana?" Shiv guessed.

  Adam gave a hum of confirmation.

  Before the two was a massive, vaulted door, warded with so many magical seals that it was nauseating for Shiv to even look at. It seemed to have the same effect on Tulveg as well. Shiv beheld the vampire in his true form now. He wore a silken vest that exposed most of his upper chest. His body was pristine of complexion, his raven hair long and curled, his skin like marble kissed by moonlight. However, he didn't possess that ethereal beauty that Angelo did. In fact, the vampire was positively low on charm, while the expression on his face was one of barely restrained agitation, of frustration and bubbling rage. He wanted something beyond that doorway. Someone.

  "Well then, are you going to be still-tongued when I have been so open, so daring?" Tulveg asked Shiv, his words almost a taunt.

  "Keep him still for a moment longer," Helix said. "If you give me a few more moments, I think I can synthesize something to apply to his spores. Something that will spread from patient to patient and that might compromise his very mana at the source."

  "You can do that?" Shiv asked, surprised.

  "Of course I can. After all, making plagues means going beyond simply accepting the limitations placed upon biology. It is a sublime art..."

  "Okay, got it," Shiv said, cutting the orc off.

  Helix almost sputtered, but Shiv turned his attention back on the vampire. "I represent the interests of Blackedge and Weave," Shiv said, starting vaguely.

  "Blackedge and Weave, the Composer? Are you an Umbral? No, no... Umbrals possess very few Legends. I would know it if you were one of them. I knew the Composer's finest agents. I even slew one of them." Rather than prideful, the vampire sounded positively mournful. "I slew her…" He shook himself free from his stupor as he recalled the second part of Shiv's statement. "Blackedge. You are one of Roland Arrow's? Are you an agent of the Starhawk? Would my fortune be so grand?”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  "Why does he sound so pleased?" Adam said to Shiv, taken aback.

  Shiv was just as surprised. "Not sure, but I think I want to find out.

  To Tulveg, he said, “Yeah, I guess you can say that. The Inquisition made a move on the town. They decided to ally with Vicar Sullain to try and destroy the town, to take Starhawk's perch.”

  "Vermin," the vampire spat. "Did they succeed? Is Roland well? If he is not, I wish to know. I will add his name to the debts I must repay."

  "He knows my father," Adam breathed. The Gate Lord struggled with himself, but then his next thought followed quickly. "Shiv, I want to speak with him."

  "What?" Shiv replied. "You sure this is a good idea?"

  "It's better than exposing yourself and tempting his greed, but it's something at least."

  "Alright," Shiv said. "But if this goes wrong..."

  "If this goes wrong, I will simply apply my fix to the problem," Helix said. "Might apply it anyway."

  "You're not applying shit unless I tell you to," Shiv snapped. "Keep your Biomancy controlled unless we don't have a better choice."

  Tentatively, Shiv connected the vampire to Adam. "There's someone else you might want to talk to then, if you know about Roland."

  "Oh? And who might that be?" Tulveg replied, his paranoia rising. Shiv could feel the tension resonating from within the speck.

  "Hey, Marcus! Marcus, go check the other side of the room!" Maxime suddenly said next to Shiv, pointing at the other children.

  Shiv snapped away from his Psychomanctic conversation and looked at her. "Yes, of course," he said. He played the role and walked. The speck followed him, and the conversation continued.

  "I am Young Lord Adam Arrow," Adam declared, now linked to Tulveg as well. "You claim to know my father and the Starhawk?”

  “Adam Arrow!” the vampire said with more than a hint of surprise. “The boy. I remember you! I held you… I carried you into the Deep Marrow of the Abyss. You are here too? Where? I cannot sense you."

  "I… Closer than you might think, with my Awareness skill," Adam replied after a pause, startled by the vampire's words.

  "Ah, I see. Seer of Horizons, is it?" Once more, Adam was shocked. "It is not a hard guess. Your father almost got that, but he went down another path, one that allows him to focus on a singular entity across vast distances. I was there when he achieved that Skill Evolution. And I was also there when he gained his other power. He needed a guide in the depths, and I, an exile, tortured and sentenced to death by the Elders of my twisted Faith... I was only spared that most unkind fate because of direct intervention by his hand. He could have abandoned me. It would have been the wise thing to do. He did not. He pitied me. And he saw me spared.”

  Adam and Shiv were both listening with rapt attention now.

  “Still, it pleases me to hear that you are alive and well,” Tulveg continued. “Your blood is an honorable one. You should be proud of your forebears. Is your father still with us? I owe him many things. A drink and a few tales, for one.”

  "I believe so," Adam replied apprehensively. "He needs our aid. If you have history with my father, or if you are speaking truth regarding your debt, then we need you. We need your help, for the forces arrayed against us are great and many. The Ascendants..."

  "I know about the Ascendants," Tulveg replied with a scoff. "I know about their demented state. And I know that Veronica Chandler is the only thing keeping this whole masquerade together. Before I am finished with this miserable, festering heart of her empire, I will deliver a visitation upon her as well. There is an old grudge I must settle there. But first, something far more important. Young Lord Arrow, I beg of you, if you are half as honorable as your father is, then either turn away, or help me. Help me get through the wards at the top of this place. Help me breach the sanctum that hides my most hated foe. Help me secure the life of Samuel Hawgrave."

  And as soon as the vampire spoke that name, Shiv's Non-Sequitur Skill tremored inside of him, and a vision consumed his perception.

  Non-Sequitur: Things weren't supposed to be like this.

  She was supposed to meet him at their agreed-upon location. She was supposed to find him in the dark.

  She'd promised. He'd promised.

  Now her body was cold, and her eyes were open but vacant. Those eyes that hid so much, those eyes that held so much warmth… Vacant.

  Blood yet continued to seep through his fingers, pouring from the wound in her chest and mingling with his tears as they landed upon her body. The metal dagger that had dealt the fatal blow lay discarded in the grass beside her since he'd pulled it from her chest, its owner nowhere to be found.

  She'd already passed when he found her. Bled out, alone, in the dark.

  Her fellow Sisters were strewn across the ground around her, cut down by an unknown assailant. But they weren't drained empty. This wasn't the doing of vampires. No Necromantic damage, so it couldn't have been a Nightstalker. But then, who?

  Who?

  He wept tears of blood, sobbing as he cried her name out into the dark, uncaring if anyone heard him, uncaring if anyone came to claim his life, uncaring if anyone saw his weakness, his shame. "Mettabon! Mettabon! Do not go where I cannot follow. Mettabon, please!"

  His insides were boiling with pure agony. He hadn't known that he could feel such pain, that he could even survive it. What he had known was that it was a mistake, baring his heart for an Umbral, an enemy of his people. But the heart wanted what it wanted, and he was no stronger than his own feelings. No matter how much he deluded himself, no matter how much he used his own Psychomancy on himself, he could not cut away his weakness.

  And now, he cradled her close to his chest, and he regretted. He regretted ever caring for her. He regretted never telling her how much he cared. He regretted, and he lamented, and he mourned for everything that could have been and everything that would never be.

  "Who's going to tell your children what became of you, Mettabon? Who? I cannot. I cannot. You can't… You can't be dead, you can't be. Please. Please. Please…"

  He knew not how long he knelt there, clutching her body.

  Tulveg became a hollow ruin. Part of his being left his soul, then, and he drifted further and further away. He stared down at his own pathetic form as he held the pale-skinned Umbral, clinging onto the corpse, yet not biting into it, not feeding on it. He was a vampire, but he'd never been more human, more soft, more supple than in that moment. He'd never been more prey.

  But grief was kindred to another emotion, and its name was rage. Rage so scalding, so overwhelming, that it compelled Tulveg to finally pull away from her, to place her back upon the soft grass, just like he'd found her. He rose from the body of his halfway lover, of his hidden ally, and grief compelled him to take hold of the abandoned blade. He burned its scent into his memory, and then, slowly, shivering as he did, slid the weapon back into the wound in her chest. No matter how deep the action scarred him, he couldn't risk Weave’s Diviners learning of his presence.

  As he stumbled away, drawing in the tears he'd spilled with a thought, he looked back at her a final time, and then down at his hands. He was still rank with her death, rank with his sin. And that scent awoke something inside Tulveg.

  The beast he'd buried so long ago dug its fangs deep into his soul, and it supped from his hatred. There, he swore upon himself, upon the Great One, and upon every other God that might exist across Integration, that he would tear into the vile vermin for taking his future from him, for taking what was his, what could have been his.

  Non-Sequitur 116 > 120