Twisted Strands of Fate
Eolh stared at the destruction around her, shocked and appalled. Blood soaked the hem of her snow-white dress as she waded through the puddles that lay between the decimated corpses. A slender hand flew to her mouth as she whimpered, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. She knelt down on a slightly clear spot, dampening her dress further. Reaching out, she gently touched the side of her teacher’s face, one of the few pieces left intact. She gave up the fight, letting tears streak down her face, leaving clean trails amongst the dirt that covered it. A high-pitched yip startled her to her feet and she fled blindly into the woods, sobbing in despair as she ran from the scene of carnage.
“Knight, hold thy tongue, or I’ll hold it for thee!” the mage apprentice growled, spurring her chestnut horse onward. Her long blond hair trailed out behind her, catching in the wind. She muttered to herself, wishing her father had not insisted on her having an escort. Had he no confidence in her abilities? Why wouldn’t he trust her on her own? This was supposed to be her test! It was not a trip meant to have the company of others; she was supposed to prove herself to the gods.
The knight urged his stallion beside her mare, his face covered entirely by his helm. “Lady Mage Faelyn-”
“I’m no ‘Lady’ Knight Ferran, I’m too low born, and I’m no mage till I pass this test,” she interrupted. “And, if I remember correctly, I asked you to be silent. I’ve heard enough of your babbling and complaining to last a month, let alone a week.” She turned her mount towards the path through the woods.
“La-Faelyn! The woods are unsafe!” the knight cried, “We should stay on the main road.”
She sighed, “Nowhere is safe with your constant chatter. If you insist on following through with this ‘escort’ job, then I’d advise you to follow my orders. Now kindly shut your mouth!”
The knight followed in sullen silence.
“Much better.”
The pair rode on in silence, and it was only because of that they heard the sobbing. Faelyn brought her mount to a halt and gestured for the knight to do the same. She dismounted hastily, ignoring the man’s warning look and tiptoed softly towards the sound, the knight immediately behind.
A girl in a red-trimed white dress slammed into her, knocking her to the ground and her breath out. The knight drew his sword, ready to combat any threat to his charge. The girl stood slowly, shaking with sobs. Faelyn rose to her feet and noticed that the hem of the dress was not naturally red; the colour was slowly spreading upwards. It was soaked and dripping along the bottom. She recognized the outfit, knowing it to be the uniform of a cleric in training.
“Holy Powers,” the mage muttered, “what happened?”
The girl glanced towards her, eyes moving about nervously, “I-I don’t know.”
Ferran built up a fire in a nearby clearing and the trio sat around it, Faelyn with her arm wrapped comfortingly around the girl. Eolh, as she’d introduced herself, was telling her story. She wasn’t sure exactly what had happened for she had been hiding in the earthen cellar as her teacher had ordered. She’d heard it though, and seen the blood seeping through the soil. She saw the massacred and mutilated remains. The mage’s heart went out to the girl, but she was unsure of how to comfort her. “Don’t worry,” she said reassuringly, “We’ll get you somewhere safe, and to the bottom of this.”
Ferran looked up in surprise, “But Lady Mage, the test! You can’t just give it up!”
Faelyn glared at him, “This is more important than any test.”
Kazarian shuddered, shivered with hunger. It filled his every thought, his every deed. He was starving, desperate for sustenance. But where? He was stranded in the middle of nowhere by the still-rising sun. He could see the rays shining down through the entrance to his hidey-hole. He was lucky to have found the place, since they’d begun to destroy his sanctuaries. Hunger kept him awake though, and he could find no rest.
He slid further back from the opening as the sun shifted in its trek across the sky, throwing the shadows in the opposite direction. Nightfall is coming, he thought thankfully. Oh, how he longed to sate his thirst, preferably permanently, but he knew that could only occur through death, and he was not ready for that.
Areven ran, dodging the flying projectiles as best she could. She cursed her stupidity. She paused a moment, glancing back, and was struck in the center of the forehead. She stumbled through the trees into a grassy clearing and fell further than she had expected.
She lay in the center of a patch of rapidly fading sunlight, sore in more places than she had thought possible. She groaned, rubbing her aching head and rolling onto her side. A hiss from the corner startled her and she backed into the wall behind her. “Who-who is there?” she called out.
“You have intruded into my lair,” came the smooth yet strained voice from the shadows, “give me good reason why I should not take thy life now.”
“For-forgive me, please,” she began, “I meant no trespass. I thank you for the convenient placement of your home, for it has surely saved me from a fate far worse than you could imagine.”
He laughed, “I assure you, there is no fate worse than the one I suffer.”
Areven kept her nerve best she could, despite the unraveling sound of the laughter. “If there is anything I can do to repay you-”
“There is.”
The elf froze in mid-sentence. “W-what would that be?” she asked nervously.
“I’m hungry,” was the only reply.
She pulled off her travel pack and rummaged around in it, “I’m sure there is something in here that you could eat.”
“Oh, there is,” the creature replied, for she was sure now that it was not human or elven. The words chilled her to the bones, sending shivers of warning along her spine.
“Wh-what would that be?” she said, mouth dry, as she tried to back further away. She glanced up, but could see no quick way back to the surface. The sun sank further in the sky, vanquishing the light that protected her.
The creature sighed, “Very well, I will be frank with you, now that you have realized that this . . . place of refuge is harder to leave than it was to enter. I am a vampire, I need blood. I am hungry. I assure you, it will not kill you, and you did offer . . .”
The elf battled with herself, self preservation on one hand and the fact that his place of refuge as he called it had saved her from a worse fate at the hands of her foes. She felt she could trust him; he had not killed her yet, even when she lay defenseless and dazed. “Take what you need,” she said, her voice stronger than she felt, “I did offer to repay you, and it this is how, so be it.” She reached a hand tentatively into the deeper darkness, closing her eyes and tensing against the inevitable tearing of flesh.
Kazarian raised an eyebrow in surprise. This was not the reaction he had expected. He had expected her to try to run, which would force him to take her by force. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards him. She cried out as she lost her footing, landing on top of him, but did not struggle. She had set herself on a course and planned to follow though with it; his respect for her doubled.
His fangs extended as he bit gently into the veins that pumped the precious lifeblood through her neck. She cried out again, biting her lip against the sharp pain. It passed quickly though, and something began that the vampire had never experienced before. Images, sounds, smells; they filled his mind, traveling with the liquid giver-of-eternity. Her memories filled him, sung within him. He had no idea that she was experiencing the same; she learnt as much of him as he did of her in those few moments of exchange.
He drew back, shaking his head to rid it of the visions. She slumped against him, dozing, drained.
“Still no sign of the elf?”
“Nossir.”
“Has this hole been searched?”
“Hole sir? There’s no hole, ground’s as flat as my mother’s bread.”
“Dimwitted fool. It must be spelled. Fetch me a torch.”
/> Areven stirred in his arms at the sound, alarm written on her features. “All will be well,” Kazarian murmured in her ear, “I will protect you once again.” He felt the tension leave her at his promise as she relaxed against him. “Fear not.”
The vampire closed his eyes, breathing slowly and deeply, and the air within the hole seemed thicker. Areven shivered involuntarily and clung to him for warmth, oddly enough. An overwhelming sense of fear had chilled her to the very marrow of her bones, but being near him seemed to push it away.
“Here ya go sir!”
“’Bout time you lout!” Torchlight began to shine down into the hole, but the air around the occupants seemed to absorb it, and darkness reigned eternal. Fear filled the man standing on the surface, fear he could not understand or find the cause of, let alone control. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought the urge to run. He could not flee from a simple hole in the dirt; it would shake the confidence his troops had in him. “Nothing here, move along,” he said in the strongest voice he could muster. He took one last look into the gaping maw before walking away as fast as he could without rousing suspicion. “Fan out and move on.” Footsteps faded quickly into the distance.
Areven let out a sigh of relief, both for the leaving search party and for the vanishing of the smothering darkness. “It seems I am in your debt again.”
“Why so you are. It appears that I am guaranteed a traveling companion for the next period of time.”
The elf raised an eyebrow in curiosity, “Oh?” She felt the vampire nod as he rubbed his face in her hair.
“We cannot stay here now, they will be back come sunrise now that the spell is broken, and I’ll be of no use then.” He glanced up at the sky, marking the position of the moon, “In fact, we had best move now so that we can find shelter by daylight.”
The elf nodded, and the vampire lifted her onto her feet as he stood. She picked up her pack and slid it onto her shoulders. “How do we get out?”
Kazarian crouched down and leapt upwards, landing on the surface. He knelt down on one knee at the edge and reached down to grab her outstretched hand. His fingers intertwined with hers and he lifted. Her arm ached at first, until he pulled her far enough to wrap his other arm around her waist. She expected him to let go, but he did not, and she felt comforted by his touch. Reminders of what he was drifted to the surface of her mind, but it did not disturb her. She was unsure as to why. He was a vampire, a creature to be feared and killed, not one whose touch was to be enjoyed. She shook her head to rid it of the thoughts. He wasn’t like that. She knew him. She felt as if she had known him forever, and she liked him.
It was barely an hour till sunrise when she heard a faint growl escape him as he stopped suddenly, dropping his hand. “What is it?” she asked with a concerned look.
He pointed at a pile of rubble, lips drawn back in a snarl. “They have destroyed it, one of my refuges. I had hoped that we could spend the daylight hours here and travel to the next sanctuary as the sun set again.” He sighed in despair, “I know of no other shelters near here.” He sat down roughly on a boulder and rested his head in his hands. “There is not enough time to reach another.”
Areven could not believe that he was so willing to accept defeat. She would not let him die; he had saved her life. She leaned back against a large tree while looking at another beside it and tried to think. It is too bad that there is no hollow beneath your roots in which we could hide, she thought. She started to her feet, as if waking from a light doze, and began walking northward with purpose.
“Where are you going?” Kazarian called. She gestured for him to follow. He shrugged and fell in behind her. She traveled as if she knew where she was going, despite never setting foot in that particular forest. She led onward through the trees, stopping before a vine-covered cliff face.
“Areven love,” the vampire said softly, “it’s a dead end.”
She shook her head and reached out towards the foliage without touching it, her eyes glazing over an earthy green. The vines pulled apart, untangling themselves and revealing a hidden opening. Sunlight began to trickle through the trees and Kazarian dove inside. Areven followed, the vines returning to their previous position as she passed. Her eyes returned to their normal brown and she slumped down, unconscious.
###
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Christine Forshner
Writer. Editor. Gamer. Pharmacy Technician.
If archaeologists going through boxes in her parents' basement can be believed, Chris has been writing legible stories since being shown how to make letters. She began editing in school while "helping" with others' homework and the mental red pen never quits. (Not even ads are free of its glare.) She is an avid gamer (both tabletop and video), reader and writer outside of a day job as a pharmacy technician specialising in reports. Tools of the trade: iPhone with Pages.
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