D2R2 Ch. 2

Atun had left abruptly, as soon as Syn was safely on main-limb. The Phoenix had left her puzzled and afraid—though she wouldn’t admit it—and she gazed at the forbidding darkness from near the trunk, standing still, her arms folded and her mind whirling. What had she just witnessed? Would anyone believe her if she told them about the wind and the heat, and the generally insanity of the moment by the Wikki Forest? That, as she stumbled, dazed and cold, towards Home-Tree, she thought she heard the sounds of shuffled footsteps behind her, moaning and soft shrieking? That she had thought that she was being followed by a being that smelled like death and fire? That she thought—thought—that she had heard someone speak her name?

Not like she was telling anyone. It was just a thought, an insane, never-going-to-happen thought. Everyone in the village already thought she was abnormal and cursed, because of her powers and Atun. She didn’t want anyone to think that she was crazy, too.

But still…maybe one person? Xisu, maybe she would believe. She was, after all, Syn’s grandmother. She read so many books, had had so many adventures, didn’t regard Syn as someone who was carrying a contagious, mutating disease and thereby someone to stay well away from, like the rest of the village. Why wouldn’t she believe? Maybe she had seen something like it herself. And Val…No. Never. “I won’t tell Val anything.”

“Won’t tell me what?”

Syn whirled around to see one of the few sun elves that were taller than her. He had soft brown eyes and creamy light brown skin. Her heart stuck in her throat, but she swallowed it down stubbornly. Why did being around Val make her completely lose it? She struggled to laugh and only came up with a dry cough. “Uh, that the…end-of-summer flowers are…um, there’s a lot of them this year.”

“Yes, a matter of importance. I can’t believe that you actually thought to keep that crucial information away from me,” Val said, sitting down on the edge of main-limb, swinging his long legs freely and grinning up at her. He patted the bark beside him. “Sit.”

“Shouldn’t you be enjoying the festivities?” she asked, ignoring the invitation and leaning against the Trunk. “You know, with all the regular sun elves?”

“Well, all the regular sun elves are boring. I’d rather be with you. You always know interesting things, like the fact that the end-of-summer blooms are numerous this year. Now, really, sit down, and tell me what you were talking about. You are a horrible liar, really out of practice.”

Syn grumbled, “No, I’m not,” but she still sat down beside him. She was out of practice, for lying. She saw that she was already an outcast; why not use the freedom and be as blunt as possible? She felt a secret thrill go through her body, which she immediately tried to extinguish. Her swinging legs provided a good distraction, something to keep her eyes away from his.

“So, what were you talking about?”

Syn glanced involuntarily at him, and her eyes moved from his eyes to his lips, and then to the key that he was twiddling with on his neck. It was beaten gold, and had a tiny design of seven stones in a circle, interconnected, like rings. He had just inherited it from his father, who was known for his wacky adventures. Syn had told him he should try and find the lock that went to the key, but of course Val wouldn’t go. She thought the key was exotic, which contrasted with Val’s safe and comfortable demeanor.

“Syn?”

Syn shook herself out of her reverie and looked away, her ears feeling very hot. How idiotic of her! Now he’d think that she really was a freak. She forced herself to answer. “Yes?”

“I was just wondering what you were talking about.”

“Well, there was just this…See, Atun and I…” Syn turned to him. He seemed confused.

“Who’s Atun?”

Syn gaped. Of course. He didn’t know that the Phoenix that followed her had asked her to call her Atun, and that she had understood. Freak. Freak. Freak. She slapped a grin on her face. “That Phoenix. That follows me. I, uh, named him.”

“That’s ray.”

Syn’s grin became real at his compliment. He had called her ray. That was so…ray. She suppressed a giggle. No. She couldn’t become stupid, all giggly and spineless. She despised those kinds of girls.

“Go on. You and Atun were…?”

“Well, Atun and I decided to go to the ground, earlier this night,” Syn said, feeling a little bit confident. Maybe he wouldn’t think she was crazy.

“The ground? At night? What made you go down there?” Val’s eyes were wide.

“There is this ring of grayish-brown dirt by Home-Tree’s roots. It’s making Home-Tree sick.”

“Really?” Val scratched at a bug bite on his arm. He stared down into the darkness. “I’ve seen that ring, its just…How do you know Home-Tree is sick? I mean, it seems fine to me.”

Syn grimaced. To tell or not to tell. “Well…swear on Uloshi you won’t think its un-ray.”

“Just tell!” Val exclaimed. Syn shook her head.

“Swear.”

“Fine.” He put his hand to his chest and put on a solemn face. “I swear by Uloshi, the Goddess of Fire and Day, Queen of all that is Good, that I will not think you or your adventures are un-ray.” He made a face and then smiled at her. “Now. Tell.”

“I…sort of…felt it. The sickness. I mean, uh, Home-Tree. I felt it crying. It kind of made me sick, too.” Syn stared into the darkness so that she wouldn’t have to see Val’s reaction. Why did she tell? Now he would probably go running from her, the crazy, insane freak.

“That’s not un-ray. That’s really ray.”

Syn turned to him incredulously. “Really? You mean it? You don’t think I’m a freak?”

“No!” Val punched her softly in her shoulder. “How many times do I have to tell you, Syn? You’re pretty, and smart, and really ray. More ray than any of the other girls in the village. You’re not a freak.” Val scratched his head sheepishly. “And you’re really brave. I would never, ever, ever go down on the ground at night.”

Syn punched him in his shoulder, thrilled at her courage. She was touching him. Gone were the memories of the vacuum, the shrieking, and the imagined follower. “Val, it’s actually not that scary. I mean…I dare you to go down on the ground.” She smiled; when she was younger, her and Val used to play the dare game all the time. It was one of the best memories she had of her childhood.

“No!” Val laughed, but his laugh was touched with fear. “No one knows what’s down there!”

“You’re such a…wimp,” Syn said jokingly. Val’s eyes narrowed playfully.

“Well, you’re…”he began, floundering for an insult. She always beat him on those, too. “I’m not going down there.”

“Wimp.”

“No. Smart. I don’t know what’s down there.”

“Well, I went down there and even to the Wikki forest…”Syn stopped. She had been waving her arms around frantically, and she realized that her bracelet was gone. “By Uloshi, my bracelet!”

“What? Where?” Val asked, searching on the bark. He thought she dropped it.

Syn put her fists to her eyes. That bracelet had been given to her by Val. And she had lost it. Nice move. “I forgot it, down there.” She pointed ominously to the dark ground.

“Down there?” Val asked, his eyes widening. Syn had put her head in between her arms, too embarrassed. She was embarrassed because she had lost the bracelet, and she was embarrassed that she was embarrassed. Val’s eyes blazed with determination. “Syn, I’ll…”

“VAL!!!” shrieked an infuriatingly high voice, not unlike the sound of a dagger blade on rock. One of the girls, Tila, who had not made her infatuation with Val and her hatred of Syn very secret, came bouncing over. “Why are you over here with…”she paused in her screeching dialogue to glare at Syn. “Her?”

Val scrunched up his eyes in polite irritation. “Oh, I was talking to her…”

“You should be with us! Ly is telling stories!” Tila ignored Val’s protests as she began to pull at his arm. “Come on!”

Val glanced at Syn, who was staring stonily into the darkness. He turned back to Tila. “No thanks, Tila. I don’t want to.”

“No. Go ahead.” Syn stood up and brushed off her pants. She wouldn’t want to inhibit his fun night. He wanted to go with Tila. Syn could tell. She would not be subjected to anyone’s pity.

“Where are you going?” Val asked as Syn pushed past Tila and went towards the fires. He got up and shook Tila off of him.

“I’m going to the hut.” Syn stalked off. He didn’t want to talk to her anyway. It didn’t matter.

“Here, I’ll walk you there.”

“Val!!!”

“No thanks.”

“No.” Val looked apologetically towards Tila, who was pouting with her hands on her hips. “I want to walk you there.”

“I don’t need you to.”

“She doesn’t want you to, Val! Why would you want to anyway?”

Syn’s fist clenched. Her nails dug into her palms. Yes. Why would he want to walk her there? She was nothing but a freak, a crazy freak that had abnormal powers and was followed around by a Phoenix. That she could understand. But still, Tila didn’t have to continuously point out the fact that Syn was too unusual to want to be associated with. Why she continued to pester Syn, especially after the fire-ant incident, confused Syn. If only Syn had some fire-ants right now…but, no. She walked ahead.

“Syn…”

“No!” Syn whipped around, ready to tell Val that she didn’t need his pity, didn’t need to be taken care. She could take care of herself, like she always did. But, once she saw him, she froze.

Val stood completely still, his hand outstretched to her. Tila was in the middle of a step towards Val, her leg lifted halfway in the air. The air was strangely still of any talk, any breathing, any laughter. It was as if time had frozen.

Syn went to Val hesitantly. The shadows on the Trunk were fixed, the fires ahead frozen in their intricate dance. Only her footsteps could be heard on the main-limb, echoing forlornly as she slowly halted in front of Val.

What had happened? Syn stared into Val’s sad eyes. What was this? What was wrong with her? First the smell and the heat and the strange wind near the Wikki Forest, and now this? Was this her powers getting stronger or something? Syn didn’t think that was possible; all her powers had to do with was fire. But nothing else could explain it. Was she doing this? And if so, why and how?

Syn saw a pale blue light suddenly shine on the left of her. She turned quickly, a hand on her dagger, her other hand to shield her eyes. The blue light was just off the main-limb and hung in the air, like a portal, shimmering and shining in the darkness. Syn’s eyes widened. What was this?

As if to answer her question, Syn heard a soft voice beckoning: Come, Syn. Syn’s eyes got wider. Oh no. She was not going in there. That would be idiotic. She tried to back away, but she couldn’t. She tried to side-step the light, but she couldn’t do that either. It was as if her feet were numb, or were at least ignoring her silent commands. No thank you, her feet seemed to say. We are perfectly content right here.

Come, Syn.

No. I don’t want to, she thought. Syn tried with all her might to move away from the light, but she couldn’t. And even worse, now her feet were taking steps toward the light. What was going on? With all her will power, Syn stopped her feet from going forward, though she was sweating with the effort and still wasn’t able to move away. She was on the very edge of main-limb now.

Now you are just being silly.

Syn’s body launched itself at the blue portal. Syn’s cry of frustration was lost to the night as she felt herself pulled into the blue light.

*****

“Attention! Attention, everyone!” Kelai’s father, King Graset, clinked a silver fork against his golden goblet, hoisting it above his head, his skinny, pale arm quivering with the effort. “Attention!”

Kelai turned sullenly to the front, as did everyone else at the long table, dressed in jeweled tones and subtle jewelry. With a sigh, he fixed his stare at his father. Ames, who was sitting besides him, elbowed him gently. “Stop frowning.”

“Very well, then,” he whispered, and then tried to fix a look of extreme interest on his face. He was a good actor, and he knew it. Inside, he was extremely bored, and incredibly frustrated. He had just put the little Kishiyl into his room with a few scraps of raw meat charmed from the help when his father had told him to get dressed in one of his finest outfits. Supposedly there was going to be a dinner party in the banquet hall. Wonderful.

Kelai moved around restlessly. He despised this outfit. It was too tight, and too…King-like. He hated all the outfits that he had, except for his normal outfit, consisting of black pants, white shirt, black vest and black trench coat. They were comfortable, attractive, just worn in enough, and with all those pockets, Kelai could carry anything he wanted with him, and often did. Books, vials…The naki!

Kelai had to stop himself from slapping himself in the head, which would have caused his father to frown at his son for interrupting his speech and for the vampires close to him to wonder what was wrong with him. The naki was loose in the Tunnels, and here he was, sitting and waiting for his father to say something that he didn’t really care to hear! What if the naki turned around, came back into the city? What if it went on a bloodthirsty rampage, killing commoners here and there? And here he was, drinking out of fancy goblets and dressed in his finest. He sighed in frustration. These parties, with all their flitting about and socializing and neck-biting really weren’t his thing. It was more Erusil’s kind of fun.

He turned to Erusil, glaring at him with contempt. His brother’s golden curls were impeccably brushed, not a hair out of place. His skin was paler than Kelai’s, white while Kelai’s blushed a pale brown, from his exposure to the outside world. Kelai didn’t love his brother; to tell the absolute truth, he really did despise him, but thank Uloshi for small mercies. At least Kelai had the world outside of the castle for himself. If Erusil had loved to go out into the Tunnels as he did, Kelai would have had to probably venture out of the Tunnels entirely. That was his world. Here in the castle, Erusil ruled with a mighty and very domineering fist, and didn’t hesitate to remind Kelai of it. Before he had grown into his own strength, or more likely, his own intelligence, Kelai had been an often victim of his beloved older brother’s pummeling.

Why? Kelai, when he was younger, had tried to find out. He had loved his brother, looked up to him, and wanted to emulate him. He had never told of the beatings. He wasn’t a sun elf; he was loyal to his big brother, hoping for some kind of affection in return. But he had grown out of wondering and hoping and had grown into avoiding and, when pressed to it, fighting back. Erusil had just always hated him. Never did Kelai remember a time when he had looked upon him without a sneer on his face.

Kelai shook his head as his father’s thin lips flapped on and on, indecipherable. Very long-winded speech coming. A speech filled with phrases such as “I am so delighted all of you are here…” and “the Golden Age of our people…” and “Such a wonderful night…”. It wouldn’t be such a wonderful night if that naki burst in through the doors and killed everyone in sight. He could just imagine it. The wooden doors bursting forth, all that would be seen of the commoner guards was their hands, still clutching their spears in death throes, the naki racing…no, shuffling, in, about to touch everything in sight. The horrors! The screams! The dirt and bits of flesh all over everyone’s finest! Then, Kelai would miraculously find a lone vial of Leela powder in his outfit, even though he had no pockets whatsoever, and he would throw the powder at the naki, making the dead evil body dissolve. And he would be a hero. And wouldn’t have to listen to this speech.

His father’s lips were still going, the goblet going back and forth in enthusiastic movement. Whatever he was talking about was surely making him happy. Too bad Kelai just couldn’t listen. All those words, all those blank meanings, why couldn’t people just get to the point? Just say, “Good evening, everyone, this is what I want to say, blah blah,” and that would be all. There was no need to remark on the wonderful heat emanating from the stones surrounding the city, the good reproduction occurring in the nobles’ cow farms, their central source of blood, the lack of riots in the streets of the city. Would you please just get on with it! But Kelai knew he was just as guilty of such…rambling to put it politely, as any other vampires in the room. That was just how vampires spoke. His people spoke rings around any other beings, often using a plethora of words and soft tones to get their points across. That just came from a lot of reading. And seeing as he read more than anyone else, Kelai figured that he was very loquacious and eloquent, to put it politely.

Would he save Erusil from the rogue naki? Kelai mused. He could just let the naki touch Erusil, and then all his problems would be gone in a few days of flesh-eating sickness. Made him nauseous just thinking about the smell. But…no. Kelai stifled a sigh. Morals. What a bother. Sometimes he wished he didn’t have them. But he knew that he would feel guilty if his brother died, and he hadn’t done anything to stop it. He couldn’t figure out why he felt that way, but, there you go. He was a sap.

“…my youngest son and your future King, Kelainalimahishilanhelkoriangkerinadianla…” Kelai snapped to attention. His formal name? No one called him by his formal name unless they were talking about something to do with the Council, or with his Kingship, or anything such as that. Whatever his father had to say must be incredibly important. He glanced at Erusil and anger consumed him. Anything was better than thinking of Erusil.

“And so, I am truly honored to announce the betrothal of my son, Kelai, and Ames!”

Kelai froze. Maybe thinking of Erusil was better than this speech.

*****

Erusil’s fingers dug into the very expensive banquet table, causing sharp, deep grooves in the wood. Erusil ignored the splinters showering his best pants. Kelai….and Ames? Did the old man want to die in an unnatural, painful, yes, very painful, way? Was he deliberately looking for more ways to defraud Erusil?

He allowed his eyes to fall on Ames. Beautiful, beautiful Ames, with her silky, pillowy, raven hair that he longed to run his fingers through? With her heart-shaped face that always had the gentle beginnings of a smile on her ruby-red lips? With her shining, flawless porcelain skin and quiet disposition? With her softness, kindness, obedience…And she was to be given to Kelai? What had he done to Uloshi that had caused this horrible occurrence to happen? Oh, yes. The old man was just begging to die by excruciatingly agonizing poison.

Amesyniakalaeia. That was her full name, and that was the name that Erusil called her tenderly by in his mind. Such a beautiful name; it meant “Soft, pale ice-flower blooming in the black stones”. It fit her perfectly. Ever since he had seen her, playing with his little brother, he hadn’t been able to think of any other vampiresses. All others were too tall, or too thin, or too fat, or too vulgar. Ames was perfect in his sight, a radiant image of Uloshi. She was so frail; he had wanted to marry her himself and protect her from all evil. She was in a lower-status noble family, and he desperately wanted to become the King and then ask her for her hand. She would love to be Queen. He had wanted to dress her in the best silk and velvet, give her flowers and jewels and pets and everything she wanted.

But he had never talked so much a word to her. Every time he wanted to open his mouth, the words dried up and died on his tongue. He couldn’t talk in front of her; he became an idiot, a position he hated to be in. He had wanted to woo her off her feet, but he couldn’t find it in him.

Then there was the problem that she was Kelai’s friend. Kelai had probably filled her ears with fabricated tales of his cruelty; that was just the kind of person Kelai was. Thus he was always afraid of meeting her gentle brown eyes, afraid to see hatred and fear in them. But, even after years of being Kelai’s companion, she had still looked at him with open trust. Kelai’s tales must have not gotten to her; she must have either ignored them or hadn’t believed them. But it didn’t matter. Kelai had won, again. He was going to have Ames.

If he had been able to kill Kelai on the spot; if he had just been able to launch himself over the table to Kelai’s smug and politely surprised looking face, and tear into his throat with his own teeth, without harming his future, Erusil would have. But such an act of savagery would not win him any supporters. The vampires that were sitting around the great banquet table were his future followers, and such violence would not sit well with them. Not at a table. On the battlefield, possibly, yes, but not at a dining party. He had to force himself to not stare at his younger brother; just the sight of him stirred his blood.

He forced a strained smile on his face and applauded with the rest of the vampires as the old man sat back down and gave the signal to eat. Everyone took up their knives and forks, or they picked at the succulent fruit in the silver bowls on the table with their long, graceful fingers. Erusil took a hearty swig of the wine in the goblet and then placed it back on the white, embroidered cloth with a hard thump as he glared at Kelai.

Kelai was staring into his goblet. It seemed to Erusil that he was smirking, the grin of triumph hidden by his curtain of long, dark curls. Ames was eating daintily, picking at a few pomegranate seeds, smiling at the congratulations that floated her way. Kelai, of course, was too wrapped up in his own happiness to be polite to answer them as well. Erusil stabbed into the meat, picturing Kelai’s face.

He glowered again at Kelai as he ripped into his bloody beef, as he tore still-wet grapes off their stems, as he took yet another long gulp of the spicy wine. If looks could kill…but, no. It wouldn’t be as fun as creating Kelai’s downfall with his very own hands. Erusil allowed himself a fierce smile as he glared at Kelai, who seemed to be choking on his blood. And then, once King, he’d be able to kill Kelai himself. But no sooner than that. He would just have to bide his time till after the dinner, when the plan would be put into motion. Erusil mused, thinking of being King and killing Kelai. Poison or throttling would be less messy, yes, but throat-tearing did have its high points…

*****

“Kelai.” Kelai was lost in his own world. Betrothed…to Ames. Betrothed…to Ames. The very thought…it was horrendous. It made him feel unwell. Almost as if he were being forced to marry his mother, dead or not, or a sister. Not that he had a sister, but still…and not that Ames wasn’t beautiful. She was beautiful. Excruciatingly so. He just didn’t…, how should he say this, feel for her as a to-be groom should.

“Kelai.”

He loved Ames, of course. He loved her as he would love a family member…but no more. He didn’t have feelings for her, as his father had probably guessed. Wrongly. Very wrongly. Why hadn’t his father talked to him before announcing this to everyone? After he checked on the Kishiyl, he would go and speak with the King. Maybe he could change his mind. If not, he didn’t know what to do.

“Kelai.”

He couldn’t get it out of his head. He was only seventy-five! Still young! He knew it was sappy, unrealistic, but what he really longed for was to fall in love. True love. Not arranged, oh-we’re-going-to-be-married-anyway love. The kind of love that he read in the books of the castle library, the kind that would make him dizzy and sick with the feeling, the kind that would be reciprocated so that he and his soul mate would live forever in this little bubble, not to be bothered with anything like Councils or dinner parties. Ames…and him. There was no true love in that relationship. It was almost incestuous. Repulsive. And revolting. Repulting.

“Kelai.” Someone placed a hand on his shoulder. Kelai broke out of his reverie, and stared at Erusil’s hand. On his shoulder. Touching him.

Erusil snatched his hand from Kelai and smiled at him. Kelai shifted his stance, ready to take a step back. Smiling? Smiling? Was the world going mad? First his brother stares daggers at him all through the hideously long dinner, and then he smiles at him? What could possibly be next? Sauntering into his room and accidentally stepping into a new world?

“Kelai. I’m so pleased about your betrothal. You must be ecstatic.” Erusil’s smile was still fixed upon his face. It was more like a showing of teeth than an expression of merriment. Kelai warily decided to follow suit with his brother’s polite manner until Erusil decided to get to the point. Which would take some time. Because they were both vampires.

“Yes. I am ecstatic. Very much so.” He allowed himself a tense laugh. “I…Being married to Ames…all that I could ever possibly wish for…I suppose.”

“Wonderful.” Erusil’s smile got bigger. “Walk with me for a minute, will you?”

“Uh…” But Kelai wasn’t given a chance. Erusil grabbed his arm, his fingers digging into his skin, pulling him along. Kelai followed along, Erusil striding quickly through the stone halls. He talked rapidly, with tight enthusiasm.

“Just wonderful, don’t you think. I should have known. You and Ames…it was destiny, wasn’t it?” Erusil said. “You and Ames. Hah. You and Ames. You went to Father and asked for him to announce the betrothal, didn’t you?”

“No, see, what really happened…”

“Of course you did, Kelai.” Erusil let go of Kelai’s arm but made sure he was still walking with him. “Of course. You and Ames. Just a wonderful couple. You will be the King, and Ames will be the Queen, and everyone will be happy. Wonderful.”

“I suppose. Is there any reason you needed me, Erusil?”

“Why do you ask?” Laughter, harsh and loud.

“Well…I am just asking. I mean…” Kelai shook his head. “You are acting strange. Very strange. Quite odd, in fact. Pardon me for saying so.”

Erusil didn’t turn to look at him, just kept on walking in a measured pace. “Acting strange you say?”

“Yes. No personal offense, I hope?”

“Of course, little brother! Nothing personal.”

“So…what was it that you needed from me?”

“I need…well; it isn’t so much as what I need for you to do for me than it is what I can do for you, Kelai.”

Kelai was silent, pondering over such a statement. Kelai really wished that he could see Erusil’s face, but his brother always kept ahead of him. Erusil continued.

“You want to be King, right? Of course you do. Everyone wants to be King, but you’re the lucky one to do it, right? Hah. But, I realized something last night.” Erusil stopped suddenly. Kelai nearly ran into him, but halted just in time. Erusil’s face was lit with his wide smile. “My dearest little brother hasn’t done something he needs to do before becoming King.”

Kelai glanced around, noting that there were no doors, nothing but the stone walls and darkness farther down the hall. It could be that Erusil had decided to come here and beat him for some unknown vengeance. There would be no witnesses. He would first saunter forward and put his hands around Kelai’s throat…

Erusil waved a hand in front of Kelai’s face playfully, to bring his attention back to him, but Kelai flinched and stepped back into a defensive stance. Erusil pretended not to notice as he turned to the wall and waved his hand over it. Instantly a door appeared, and Erusil, grabbing Kelai’s arm again, launched himself into the room.

The room was blank, with nothing but a blood-torch on the left wall. There was no pallet or bed, no carpets, no paintings. There was nothing in there, but…

Kelai became still as he saw the tiny sun elf shivering in a back corner. She flinched and began to cry louder as she heard the two vampires step into the room, and saw the door, her one escape, disappear again into the stone. Her brown eyes were red-rimmed, her skinny legs and arms wrapped into a ball. Kelai glanced at Erusil, confused.

“Kelai, to be King, or to be a legitimate noble vampire, you must complete the Blood Partner’s ritual. I picked out this little sun elf, especially for you. As your brother, I wanted to make sure that you got this done.” Erusil’s bright eyes gleamed in the heat-light, and the way he looked at Kelai made him feel as if he was some interesting specimen that Erusil was dissecting. “You have to do this. Your future happiness depends on it.”

“But…” Kelai gazed at the tiny form. The sun elf was so small, and helpless. This couldn’t be the savage monsters that Kelai had heard about and read about in vampire literature. Kelai thought of how he would feel in such a situation, taken from his family and put into an unusual place. He knew that the sun elf probably couldn’t see, her weak eyes needing firelight instead of heat-light. He also knew that the sun elf probably couldn’t understand what they were saying. Kelai was grateful for that. But that still didn’t solve the sun elf’s problem. She was far from home, far from her family. Kelai glared at Erusil. “I am not going to do…that to this sun elf.” Just thinking of such a barbaric act made him swallow bile. “She’s just a little one, Erusil. Why did you take her?”

Erusil ignored him, sneering at him. “Fine.” In an instant, Erusil was at the sun elf’s side, picking her up by one arm and drawing a dagger. The steel glinted in the heat-light, and, even though she couldn’t see, Kelai knew that the sun elf had heard because she tried to pull away from Erusil’s clutches desperately, crying out in a foreign language. Kelai, who, illegally, had learned the other languages on his travels and in his readings, could just understand the sun elf’s crying. She was calling for her mother.

“Erusil, stop this nonsense.” Kelai was shaking with anger. He wanted to pull the sun elf away from his brother, but he didn’t want her to get hurt. Erusil had his dagger against her neck; Kelai wouldn’t be able to get to her in time. Kelai searched frantically for something to say that would stop Erusil. “This is insane, Erusil. This will prove nothing.”

“Oh, contraire.” Erusil’s sneer widened. “This will prove everything.”

Kelai ran to him.

And Erusil slit the sun elf’s throat.

Kelai halted. The blood, pooling on the stone floor, gushing from the wound…it’s sweet, heavy fragrance hit Kelai in the face, wiping away any intelligence. All that was left was the thirst, the gnawing, dry, excruciating thirst. His throat felt desiccated; his mouth felt as if he had swallowed sand. The sand was coarse, the sand was repulsive…the blood would wash the sand out of his mouth. He’d be able to quench this horrible thirst. The all-consuming thirst. So…thirsty.

The sun elf clawed at her throat, trying to pull herself away from the heap she had collapsed in at Erusil’s feet. Erusil watched her and Kelai keenly. Her hands were grasping weakly at the stone, searching for purchase in her own blood.

And her frantic heart was beating, beating, beating…

Kelai took a step toward the sun elf. Her frantic movements, the heavy salt smell of the silky liquid pouring from her body, her soft cries of panic and pain, the sound of the rasping of his tongue against his fangs; it all thrilled him to no end. He focused on the blood. Such a beautiful, enticing color. Such a wonderful viscosity. The color swam in front of his starved eyes. Scarlet crimson ruby blood thick sweet wonderful quenching red…

Her struggles were getting weaker, the light beginning to dissipate from her large, frightened brown eyes. Her mouth was moving slowly, her tongue moving thickly as she tried to call her mother to help her, to call Uloshi to take her away.

And her heart was beating, beating, beating…

Kelai took another step forward, and another, and another, until he was in the blood, his finest slippers getting stained with the liquid. He knelt, ignoring the blood, and picked up the shivering sun elf, let her lay in his arms. He glanced at her eyes, growing dimmer and dimmer. Then he stared at the real attraction, the open mouth on her throat, the blood still flowing. Just to put his mouth to her throat, to drink in the liquid, so delicious, so sustaining, so fulfilling. Such ecstasy would occur if he just drank the blood.

The sun elf stared at the invisible ceiling, the light fading faster from her eyes. Her lips quivered, her tired brain whispering for someone…anyone…to help her.

And her heart was beating, beating...and then it stopped.

The absence of the heavy thumping of her heart’s beating snapped Kelai out of…whatever he had been in. He woke up, like from a nightmare, and stared horrified at the small body, limp in his hands. The scent of the blood now repulsed him…because it came from this tiny thing, that hadn’t done anything to him at all. And now, she was dead.

Kelai began to shake as he placed the body back down. He stared at his bloodied hands. An impulse came to him, to lick the blood off, such sweetness…but no! He couldn’t!

Finally, he gazed at Erusil. His brother had been watching the whole thing and was now grinning at Kelai. Anger raced through his body. Erusil had done this. Erusil had killed the sun elf, had released this…monster that was harboring in his own body. Erusil was to blame.

Quick as lightning, Kelai launched himself wildly at Erusil, swinging his fist. He felt it connect and heard Erusil go down with the force of the blow, but he didn’t want any more to do with it. Kelai ran frantically for the wall where the door was hidden, hit the stone and, the door appearing, grasped the handle with a slippery hand, almost tearing the bronze handle off, and ran out of the room.

His footsteps echoed off the stone as he raced away from the body and the memory of her heart, beating and beating and beating, and then stopping. Such silence…it made him sick to think of it. He ran faster. Kelai, even in his frantic state, knew that he wasn’t just running from Erusil and the body. No. He knew that he was also running from the thirst, that hideous demon in his body. And he also knew that he would never be able to outrun it.

*****

Erusil walked out of the room a few minutes after Kelai had left, closing the door and fingering his eye. There would be a bruise. And possibly a bump on his head, from where he had fell back and hit his head on the stone. And it was such a waste of blood, but Erusil would not think of that right now. No sense raining on his happiness.

Erusil smiled and walked away from the room, down and away from Kelai’s fleeing footsteps. Yes, he was banged-up, but it didn’t matter. Not now that Kelai had failed the test. Kelai could never be the King now. No un-Satiated vampire could be allowed to become a King. And, as a plus, any un-Satiated noble vampire would be called a blasphemer, and would be killed in front of the entire Council. Of course, the death of Kelai in front of the entire Council would harm Erusil’s plans to kill Kelai himself, but Erusil could be generous as long as he became King. And, with his younger brother dead and the old man soon to be, the Council would hasten to crown Erusil. All was working according to plan.

Erusil chuckled, and then broke out in a fit of laughter as he strode through the darkness. Yes. Everything was working according to plan.

*****

At the sight of the skinny, short boy in black-rimmed glasses, the ogre-wraiths stopped their grunting and stood to tense attention. The boy stood, petting a small, orange kitten that he was cuddling in his arms, waiting, his checkered vest flapping in the howling mountain gales. One of the ogre-wraiths, gray drool dripping from his over-sized lower jaw, rushed to pull down the draw-bridge. The wood echoed on the stone with an ominous clang. The boy didn’t glance at the towering guards as he sauntered into the castle. He had more pressing issues. Everything was not working according to plan.

The skeletons, animated into an eternity of menial servitude to the Spirit Queen, nearly crumpled to pieces at the boy going past them. Even when he went past them without a glance or a word, past the moldy tapestries of tortured souls and the rock walls papered with giant webs, the skeletons had to wait a moment to find it somewhere in what was left of their brains to obtain the courage to go on.

The boy held the kitten tight in the crook of his arm while he brushed his floppy white-blonde hair off his forehead. The kitten mewed pitifully, and the boy petted it absently. His whole manner was of polite boredom, as if he wasn’t sure as to why he was in the castle, but too lazy to figure it out. He was hardly surprised as he brushed past wraiths and some well-kept nakis as he approached the circular stone steps of the castle. His eyes, ice chips of blue, stayed focused on his mission. He needed to talk to the Spirit Queen.

The only time on his short journey to the lair of the Spirit Queen that his absent manner slipped was when an unfortunate wraith tried to apprehend him. New and inexperienced with the revered and feared guest, all the wraith saw was a bundle of seemingly mortal flesh and blood. Almost disappearing in its excitement, red eyes gleaming in anticipation, the gray mist went forward quickly, to the horror of all the others watching. The wraith had expected an easy meal; what he didn’t expect was the boy to turn on him with such a malevolent coldness in his icy eyes that the wraith froze. This was obviously no normal boy. All the others, naki and wraith alike, watched with apprehension of what would happen to the wraith, and relief that it hadn’t been them.

The boy, however, with one, clawing rub on the kitten, which caused it to meow in pain, just gave the wraith a warning glance and continued on his way. He had more important things to do, and besides, the wraith had no heart. He was extremely satisfied by the tiny, rapid pitter-pattering of the kitten’s heart that he could feel on his arm. He would be extremely satisfied.

Up and up and up the stone steps, alone because none of the inhabitants wanted to be trapped in such a small space with him, he pondered on the situation. It was a little bit of a nuisance, coming away from the little girl’s bedside to talk with Tyana. The Spirit Queen had made a sloppy mistake; a mistake, it was true, but there was no room for mistakes in his plans. Mistakes were bad. Mistakes unraveled great ideas. Mistakes, therefore, were not to be tolerated. But he was in a good mood. Maybe he wouldn’t punish Tyana. Not yet.

The boy opened the aged wooden door and went into the inner chamber of Tyana unbidden. The Spirit Queen was sitting behind her desk, a great onyx table, drinking something from a chipped porcelain cup that matched a beaten teapot. Her eyes were large, black holes, her skin a mass of slightly wrinkled, tight skin that framed her skull. Her lips were thin and gray, like her strands of hair that peeked from her huge golden crown. Behind her chair was a large mirror, made from the glass eggshells of the Dragon beyond the Horizon, and bordered by solid air. Wisps of blue and light purple were swirling in the mirror. The walls were covered in elaborate webs, the silken threads twisting in loops and stripes, showing pictures of dancing fire, immense Dahse and, nostalgically, whirling clouds and the opaque sky.

A tinkling of porcelain drew the boy’s attention from the web masterpieces. The Spirit Queen, in her fear and surprise, had dropped her cup full of some dark, viscous liquid. She choked out, “Lucar! Wh-what are you doing here?”

Lucar said nothing, just took a seat on the rickety wooden chair on the other side of the Spirit Queen’s desk. The tottering movements of his seat made him look down, petting the kitten ferociously all the while. One of the chair’s legs was too short. That reminded him of a chair, long ago, in a small, broken-down, cold cottage. Interesting.

The Spirit Queen, however, was not reminiscing on a past life. She was trying to swallow, her throat tightening, wondering why Lucar was at her castle. Only when things were really bad did he come to her castle. Most of the time, he talked to her through the mirror. She waited silently, cracking her bony fingers. When he saw fit to talk, he would talk.

“Tyana.” Lucar shook his head, as if he was a parent that didn’t know what to do with a misbehaving child. Tyana’s throat constricted further with a mix of terror and anger; he was the only being who knew her real name, giving him complete power over her. “Tyana, Tyana, Tyana.”

There was more silence. The tension hung over them like a murky fog.

Finally: “Aren’t you going to invite me to drink?”

Tyana’s skeletal, gray hands went up in a flurry, the sleeves of her black robe slipping to her knobby elbows. “I am afraid that I broke the only teacup I had.” Lucar cocked his head, as if confused. Tyana’s continued on rapidly. “But I’ll get one of the skeletons to get you a cup, if you wish.”

“Never mind. Besides, I only drink tea, with milk.”

Silence. Tyana fidgeted uncomfortably in her chair. The mountain wind howled over the castle. Lucar stared at the small, square hole that served as a window. It was way up high, near the ceiling, but he could still see the darkness through it. Darkness. Light. Day. Night. Earth. Sea. One day, he would control them all.

Then: “There is a problem.”

“What is it, Lucar?” Tyana asked hesitatingly. He could see her frantic thoughts. A problem? What had happened? There was no problem! He almost laughed aloud.

The kitten meowed from Lucar’s arm, purring at the softening touches. Lucar gazed at the kitten in his arms tenderly, cuddling it. Then he looked at her. She suppressed a sigh of relief. He was staring at her as if merely bored, not with his icy glare that could shake her to her core. He wouldn’t hurt her this time.

He sighed, exasperatedly. “Honestly, Tyana. You say you are the Spirit Queen, yet you have no idea what goes on in the Spirit World.”

She was silent. He would elaborate.

“A few portals were opened last night, Tyana. A few naki got free. This was not supposed to happen.”

Tyana let out a breath. She had been expecting something worse than this. If the giant on Mount Valdore had gotten free, or Nefertiskalor…suffice to say that things could have been worse. “It is all right, Lucar. Naki can’t survive long in the real world. They’ll dissipate.”

“Cute little kitty,” Lucar whispered to the small creature in his arms, ignoring Tyana. “Cute, cute little kitty. My cute little kitten. My sweet little kitten. Sweet, sweet, sweet little kitty with your little fur and little paws and little heart…”

At times like this, Tyana wondered why she even listened to Lucar. He was just a boy. Yes, he knew of some powerful dark magic, yes, he knew her name…but still! Just a boy! She was a thousand years older than him. She had seen the earth cool from its molten, sea-like state. She had seen the first stars prick their ways through the dark abyss that was the night sky. The situation should be reversed. She should be frightening Lucar, holding power over his small, and easily-breakable head. Her hands itched; just one hit. Her arms may have been spindly, but she was still pretty powerful. Just one hit…

Then he looked at her, and Tyana forgot all rebellious ideas. “Yes. I know they can’t survive long. But, you must understand. You need complete control on your region if my plan is to work. Complete control. No portals opening. No nakis getting free.”

“I’ll get right on that, don’t worry, Lucar.” Tyana hoped that Lucar would leave now. She could feel her bones starting to twitch.

However, Lucar didn’t move from his seat. He was staring, fascinated at the kitten. He petted the orange fur vigorously, whispering sweet nothings into its ear. The kitten was purring happily. Tyana watched as his fingers played in the kitten’s fur, like a spider. Inch by inch Lucar’s hands were getting closer to the neck. His hand ran up the back, against the grain of the fur, scratched gently at the shoulders, and then settled at the soft, warm neck. Then, with a quick twist, a movement he had practiced on many other beings, human and animal, Lucar snapped its neck. Tyana flinched at the quick click of broken bone. Slowly, Lucar turned the dead kitten over on its back and then, revealing a viciously long, pointed nail, sliced into the kitten’s skin. Blood welled on the orange fur, some hot drops falling on his school-boy pants, but he ignored the blood. With a deft crunch, he broke the kitten’s ribs and pulled out his dagger-like nail with the prize skewered on top: the tiny heart.

The heart was still pulsating slightly, dripping and glistening in the foggy light. Lucar crushed it in his fist deftly, draining it of all blood. The scarlet drops fell to the stone, creating a dull echo. Finally, he opened his mouth and popped the heart in, like a berry. He chewed on it quickly and swallowed. Then he looked again at Tyana. His eyes were dull with boredom. “Don’t forget Tyana. No mistakes.”

Tyana watched, shivering, as Lucar turned his back on her and walked towards her wooden door with a jaunty, boys’ gait. She watched as he went past her spider-pictures of Dahse, of the Spirit World, and of the world she missed most: the world of the living. She watched as his feet, in well-worn slippers, echoed hollowly on her stone floor. But what she watched most of all, with much unease and foreboding, was the little orange, disemboweled body, swinging gaily from Lucar’s clenched fist.