Sanguis Donum

This is a short story that introduces a character I've spent time developing. Comment if you would like to see more of Leraje Meshech or have suggestions.

Ahnumi twisted the graying locks of her hair nervously in her bony fingers. Her husband, Kagroshrilnu, had not returned from his hunt, and the night was getting old. The first dreaded intrusions of dawn already took the black of night away on the horizon, a growing splotch of purple turning pink. Kag promised he would be back before the night had fully come. Ahnumi stood just outside the door of their small cabin on the foothills of the mountains, looking down the rocky landscape and the dry woodland beyond, fearing the worst.

The sound of a stone tumbling down the slope startled her. She scanned the ascent her husband normally took and saw two strange figures making their way up the path.

Lailie came running up to her mother from inside. “Is he here?” she asked.

“What are you doing up?” Ahnumi scolded. The girl, sixteen years of age and old enough to take care of herself, paid her no heed.

“Who is that other man?” she questioned further.

“Neither of them is your father,” Ahnumi said slowly, not doing well to hide the concern in her voice. As the pair came closer, she saw Kag’s ivory bow across the largest man’s shoulders. “Go inside and wake your brother. Both of you get ready to leave at once.” Lailie knew by her mother’s tone not to question her and to obey quickly.

The more Ahnumi could see of the strangers, the more it seemed they meant no good. The man with her husband’s Tauragua bow wore a leather cuirass, grieves, and a straight sword strapped to his belt. The shorter one had no visible weapons, but he strode forward with the surefootedness of a warrior. He was the one that waved to her disarmingly.

“Who are you? And why do you have the longbow of Kagroshrilnu?” she inquired when they were closer. She mentally chose her path should she have to go into the house and retrieve her sword.

“To the point, I see,” said the thinner man. He had a pointed gray goatee, obscuring his age. Ahnumi saw a glint of steel under his sleeve as he raised his palms, perhaps a small, flat pommel. “I’m Froidure, and my friend his Melloth. As to the latter question, we met Kagroshrilnu in the woods. He’s tracking a large bear, and will not return until the end of the next day, he hopes. We promised to inform you.”

Ahnumi didn’t say anything, though she knew her beloved would have introduced himself as Kag to a friend. “Don’t come any closer,” she finally warned.

Melloth came forward suddenly, his face twisted with malice.

Ahnumi bolted into the cabin, yelling for Lailie and Chaney to go out the window. She had grabbed her weapon from a shelf on the wall and turned back to the door when it violently slammed into her. The jolt threw her back, and she hit her head. Staring at the ceiling, dazed, she did not see her two children slip out of the cabin. Then Melloth, the one who had shouldered the door, was standing over her.

She blacked out for an unknown amount of time. When Ahnumi came to, Froidure was dragging her to her bed. He lifted her limp form with surprising strength, sending lances of pain through her lower back and legs. None of it seemed real, and Ahnumi was lead to believe she had really been hurt in her fall. Only one feeling rang vividly clear to her: fear for her son and daughter—and ultimately her husband.

She could not believe Kag would befriend these intruders, and so Ahnumi had lost hope that he was alive.

“But don’t worry,” Froidure was saying to her has he tied her hands with Chaney’s thick wool scarf, “We didn’t give him too much time to scream.” This did little to shock her, but the woman’s heart sank nevertheless.

Ahnumi drooped into a concussion-induced sleep; the last thing she heard was Melloth putting the family’s glass plates into a leather bag.

* * *

Leraje Meshech climbed the broken hill in search of a cave or crag deep enough to rest in. He had been walking all night, and the sun was coming up. His enervation was not caused by hiking, though. He needed sustenance.

An infrequently treaded trail crossed his path ahead, leading up the slope into a small plateau surrounded by trees. The lekrin’s dark scarlet eyes peered up at the grove. The night-seeing sight given to him thousands of years ago by his nature easily picked out the form of a log cabin, set snuggly in the lee of a huge boulder.

Something was wrong.

Two human children crouched behind some bushes as they looked fretfully to the house. There was some commotion within it, but nothing Leraje would consider violent-sounding. One of them was a young woman with long, light brown hair; she had her arm protectively around the boy, who held a hunting knife and had polished stones for eyes. He seemed enraged.

Knowing well how to approach a situation silently, the lekrin stalked up to them. Soon the day would be in full, the sky already orange, its zenith a bruised blue. Perhaps he could find shelter in the cabin if he helped these two with their apparent troubles.

When Leraje was about fifteen paces away, the boy turned and saw him. His eyes bulged in surprise, but he soon went back to his angry countenance. Before the black clad traveler could open his mouth to speak—he hoped he would know their language—the boy lunged at him.

The knife stopped short, but he thrashed back and forth, coming closer each time. Leraje did not want to hurt him; instead, he caught his wrist in a motion so quick the child gasped. In less than a second, he had the knife and the boy’s arm brought up behind his back. The lekrin applied a small amount of force upward, just to tell the child he was in danger of getting his shoulder dislocated.

The girl stifled a scream. She was prepared to rush in and help her brother.

“I am not your enemy,” Leraje said in the common human tongue. “I’m a weary traveler, and I would like to help in whatever trouble you two seem to be in.”

“Two men came into our house. Our mother is inside!” the girl cried. The lekrin was glad they were able to communicate.

Looking at the cabin, he saw nothing unusual. He walked around to the front to see the door closed but slightly crooked. Warm light spilled through one side.

It opened then, a very muscular man throwing the wooden portal aside, muttering, “They’re probably a thousand paces from here by now. The girl better be worth it.” The brute of a man stopped and gaped at the stranger before him. “Hey! W..w...who are you?”

The ancient, Meshech, had heard all he needed to determine the man was no friend. He unsheathed his slender sword quicker than Melloth could fumble with his, but luckily, for the human, Melloth staggered backwards enough to avoid the first thrust. “Froi!” he screamed for his partner and attacked ferociously.

Leraje blocked Melloth’s attempts to slay him quickly and brutally, letting him play out his momentum. They were just outside the door when an angular man came into the growing dawn. He didn’t look as startled as Melloth had been; he simply jerked his wrists, a long dagger appearing in each hand. To fight with such weapons must be a testament to his skill, the lekrin thought to himself.

The larger human’s swordplay became more intricate, as if his companion both bolstered him physically and mentally. Leraje came at him fast and furious, keeping the offensive, hoping to dispatch the man before “Froi” attacked. Of course such a desire was hardly counted on. Froidure darted behind the lekrin, slashing whenever Melloth’s and Leraje’s blades twanged. The lekrin was forced into an awkward dance of evasion and offensive thrusts.

Finally, Froidure managed to stab the traveler, probably puncturing his lung. His smile was short-lived, for the lekrin kicked out and struck hard on Melloth’s kneecap. Before the big man realized his leg was broken, Leraje clave his head off. The slender brigand was shocked that his dagger did not fell the man, but he kept his head enough to continue the fight.

Then a sharp pain erupted in his chest. His breath cut short, and as he looked down, he saw a metal tip protruding from his breast. Chaney yanked out his hunting knife and let Froidure crumble to the dew-covered ground.

* * *

Ahnumi sat with her daughter crying into her shoulder. Chaney was by the fireplace, staring at his knife, horrified. The sun’s first direct rays filtered through the closed shutters. No one spoke; the only sound was Lailie’s sobs and the crackle of the fire.

The stranger lay on Ahnumi’s bed, recovering from his wound. What the family did not know is he would probably be completely healed by the end of the day. Still, he wheezed when he drew breath too quickly.

Hours passed by without conversation, only polite exchanges involving food or drink. “I must say I’m terribly sorry for everything that has happened. Would I have come s–” Leraje was cut off by Ahnumi’s hoarse voice.

“Please, we are very grateful. Our lives are indebted to you. Nothing can change the fate of my husband, Kagroshrilnu. Though I do not feel it, I know the pain will pass. We will cope. I have to believe that.”

“You and your family are very strong. If I may ask, what do you plan to do?” The lekrin’s voice was as gentle as possible given his torn lung. He could feel his flesh knitting itself together as he rested in the dim room.

“Chaney is old enough to hunt small game around the hills. Perhaps his sister can help. That will have to be sufficient until he can go further into the woods. I will continue to work my garden outside.”

“Have you no brothers or close friends?”

“We have each other, and that has been enough.”

Leraje sat up slowly. “I would like to help you, but all I have with me is some gold coin. I’m afraid I’m unable to stay too much longer, but I will help any way I can.”

Ahnumi’s head drooped. “Lailie and Chaney, the day has come, and we have no more food in the house. You must do your chores, or we will have nothing to feed ourselves or our guest.”

“Yes, mother,” each replied somberly. They gathered their things and left the cabin. Chaney pointedly took his late father’s ivory bow. They asked no questions, because they knew their mother wanted privacy with the stranger.

“There is something you wish to discuss,” the lekrin said when the children were gone.

“I am in my fifth decade of life. I will not live much longer, and I am afraid for my son and daughter.” She sighed deeply. “After I die, they will have to travel to the nearest village and seek employment. I only wish... I...”

She broke up, tears flooding her eyes. Leraje could see it in those eyes; she had no more will to live. If she lived another night, it would be far too long for her. “I have seen more decades than is usual for one of my race, which can be nearly fifty,” he spoke up, not disclosing his true age of seven thousand years. “If you let me take them into my tutelage, I will train them to live off the land. Your husband would have shown them, and I would teach them the things he was unable to teach. I assure you they will not have to depend on others.”

Something crossed her face not unlike a smile. “You are a kind man, but I could not ask this of you.”

“Thus I offer.”

“It is not that I do not love them. I simply can’t care for them any longer.” Ahnumi knew she would die, that the dizziness in her head was a sure sign. “I’m hurt. My fall has left my thoughts clouded, and there is a sharp pain.”

“I understand.” Leraje suspected he knew what was wrong. After a long pause, his voice soft, “I’m sorry...”

Ahnumi passed away in her sleep that night. Lailie and Chaney awoke and somehow knew this to be true, though they did not understand the nature of her injury. After they had prepared for their journey and buried their dear mother, they left the hills with tears still in their eyes. It was dark, Leraje insisting that they rest during the day. The three went off into the southern horizon with a profound sadness in their hearts.

* * *

The smaller moon shined into the dry ravine despite it being so low in the sky, the night ending. Lailie’s face, chiseled in this pale light, made her look dead. She was sitting next to her brother, who had already fallen asleep. Meshech had taken advantage of the opportune campsite and rested early, well before morning.

The lekrin was sitting a ways off with his back against the rock wall. He looked toward the girl as she stood up and walked over to him.

“You cannot sleep,” he said as she sat across from him.

She pulled her shawl tighter around her as a breeze swept through. “Where are we going?”

“Do you know where your home is in the wider world?”

“We live at the base of the Silver Mountains, on the southeast side by the Rio Berg,” she stated as if she had memorized the line.

“Yes. We are making our way around the southern tip. Then we will travel northwest along the edge of the Rolling Forest. That stretch will take a quarter of a year, and we will arrive in the Highlands. The city of Keleos is our destination.”

“What will become of us?” There was fear on her face.

“Do not worry. You will stay with me until you are ready to go on your own, be that when we reach the settlement or far after. I will not just abandon you two.”

“May I ask why we must travel in the shorter night?”

Leraje just smiled. “You might say it is an affliction. The sun drains my strength.”

“And it takes away your appetite?”

At that the stranger laughed. “No, those of my kin seek nourishment elsewhere.” Just talking about it reminded Leraje of his growing need for blood. The game they had been hunting in the woodlands was not enough.

Lailie gave him an odd look. “What else is there to have?”

Eventually they would find out, but Leraje had trouble taking others into confidence, especially the human race. He very well remembered the village south of the Arrow Range in far off Aesrin.

“You seem to be able to take care of yourself,” he changed the subject. “But you will not leave your brother?”

“I promised.”

“An honorable thing. When he awakens, both of you must find food in the daylight. Be careful, and do not go too far into the woods. We are not yet right next to the Rolling Forest, but the elf tribes may be about. They are not hostile, but they may yet be troublesome. It is best to avoid them altogether.”

“I understand,” she said sincerely.

Leraje Meshech gazed at the girl. He felt his slowed, malnourished heart throb in his chest. Although he did not want to, he decided he would take blood from her while she slept.

Lailie saw his eyes somehow change from an almost black scarlet to a heated crimson. She felt her heart skip a beat, and she knew.

Before she could open her lips and stutter something unintelligible, the lekrin spoke. “Many, many centuries ago, the patriarch of all lekrins had five sons. One of them, by the name of Ashkenaz, was cursed by an immortal being and blessed by another. He was the father of my kin.”

“I’m sorry,” she started. “It is just what I’ve heard. Is that why you...?”

“Blood. I need and desire it. Some call us demons, but not all of us are murderers. That does not change our reputation, however.”

“I’m not afraid; I trust in you. You have been kind to us, and I am grateful. I only wish I could repay you.”

He smiled at young Lailie, his fangs a little more visible than before. “No. Perhaps your company will be enough. I don’t get to talk much.”

“I would very much like to hear about your life. Surely you have great tales from your many adventures.”

“That I do.” Leraje’s irises smoldered in hues of red. For some time, his breathing was long and deep, as if he was calming himself.

“There is something I can do, isn’t there?” she said, leaning forward. Her golden eyes were silver under the falling moonlight, her light brown hair a faded grey. The only part of her that still seemed alive was her flawless skin. It was pale but still vibrant.

“You do not know what you are speaking of,” he said, pronouncing each syllable carefully.

“I do. I offer you my blood. It is the least I can give for all the care you’ve shown. You saved us the fate of our parents.”

“It would leave you too weak to hunt, and you might have dreams.”

Lailie responded by letting her shawl drop. She bared her shoulder and neck and came closer. “I want to give you this. You know you must sometime.”

Unable to argue, the ancient Meshech drew her near so he could smell the warm blood pumping beneath her smooth flesh. He knew from where to take blood. Few other than his kind knew, but the vessels leading to the brain taste far richer than do those leading away. The lungs were responsible, and Leraje knew this.

Therefore, with practiced gentleness, the lekrin pierced her skin. The instant he did he shivered with anticipation. Her blood was like liquid silk down his dry throat.

Lailie sighed sharply, but that was all. As Leraje drank from her, she slouched into his arms. Already she felt cold, and the vampire provided little heat. She could feel his heart beat stronger as he drew more and more of her lifeblood from the base of her neck. Finally, he let go. Lailie slumped further, and he supported her.

“Will I turn into...?” she mumbled.

“No,” he said assuredly. “Only if a ritual is performed.”

Leraje thought about taking another lover, but could not begin to think about ending the life of such a young and beautiful woman. He remembered his early years as an undead, when he had several slaves and a few high-ranking underlings. He used to be the commander of five thousand lekrin soldiers before the war against the Tauragua.

But that was long ago. Leraje Meshech would not bring her into the immortal fold so early.

“Sleep peacefully, I hope,” he whispered. Instead of carrying her to her bedroll and possibly waking Chaney, he let her fall asleep in his own bed.

Since long ago incapable of sleeping, the stranger lay back and contemplated his new course, and when night came again, both children were ready to travel. They boy kept looking from Leraje to his sister, and neither of them spoke. Lailie glanced at the lekrin and blushed. She nodded to tell him she was not too weak. The dreams had her.

The threesome set off once again into the night. Thunder echoed from behind the rising mountains to their right. Leraje mentioned that the wet season was coming, and was in full on the other side of the range. Lailie and Chaney looked up at the peeks, wondering what their future beheld.

The wilderness rumbled in response.