Once and Future King

Legacy of Kain: Once and Future King

(A continuation fan-fiction for Legacy of Kain: Defiance)

/../- implies vampiric ‘whisper’ a.k.a. telepathy/mental projection.

The Soul Reaver isn’t capable of speech as such, but I gave it dialog anyway to show that Kain can interpret its wordless snark without difficulty? I have no idea. Just go with it.

The Beginning - Chapter 2

Kain partially awakened to a wet slopping sort of noise, and for a minute his tired brain was convinced it was a dream brought on by over indulging. A second splash, followed by a wet cough brought him fully back to consciousness. It took only a cursory glance about his surroundings to remember what he had been up to before sleep. But in the hours since he had closed his eyes, it was apparent that at least one of his children had progressed to a point of nominal mobility. Kain leaned sideways to see beyond the corner of the doorway. At the end of the narrow passage he could easily make out the rich light of late morning shafting down through the treetops.

Vorador must have let him oversleep. Kain smirked, mentally noting the kindhearted gesture for a proper teasing later. The gruff vampire was altogether nursemaid-like in his tendencies towards others of his tribe. No one who had ever seen the man on the battlefield could have guessed that the blood-thirsty fiend of their nightmares could be so soft hearted. Not that Vorador wasn’t an unrepentant sensualist when it came to his personal habits and hobbies, but it was a rare woman whom once seduced seemed to mind terribly.

As vampires, the girls had both freedom and power beyond the dreams of the average villager or townswoman. Even when Vorador’s eye roved inevitably to his next paramour, the women he left behind were never truly abandoned. If anything their shared experience in loving and loosing the vampire lord made them band together all the tighter with their sisters. Kain couldn’t fathom the idea of having an entire retinue of ex-lovers rolling their eyes at him as he attempted to court a new face, but somehow the heckling never seemed to bother his ally. If anything he relished the backhanded affection of his women’s fond harassment.

Thinking of Vorador made him wonder what the old bastard was up to. The three of them were supposed to be minding the camp while the others slept, but there was no sign that the vampire lords were out and about. Reaching out with his thoughts he quickly ascertained that the green vampire was conversing idly with his maker. Janos’s attention was focused wholly on whatever it was they were discussing, but Vorador spared him a momentary greeting, confirming that the woods were as quiet as they seemed. Kain withdrew and let the pair continue their discussion as he resumed his comfortable slouch against the wall. He was awake, but not entirely ready to be. His limbs still felt somewhat weak as his body recovered from its unusual abuse the night before. Rubbing his face to inspire a little more alertness, Kain turned to consider what had rudely awaken him.

Raziel. He sighed, recognizing the wobbling casket. Of course.

Raziel seemed to have completed the initial phase of his regeneration. The fledgling was clumsily seeking escape from his now congealed and uncomfortable resting place even as Kain watched in disbelief. Before he could muster the energy to assist, his first-born managed to coordinate his movements enough to find his own way to freedom. The blood-soaked knight dragged himself over the edge of his casket by inches until the shifting of his meager weight proved too much for the box. It tipped, spilling its owner and the last of the dusty sludge it contained onto the tomb floor with a wet thud and subsequent clatter. The momentum of his fall caused Raziel to roll to a stop, helmet and weapons scattered as he lay wheezing softly in pain. Another abortive cough showed that his newly reconstructed lungs were ready and wanting to clear themselves of obstruction. The fledgling curled weakly onto his side and shuddered as his body fought with his attempt at any further movement.

“Foolish child. Why so impatient?” Kain groaned as he stood up, joints complaining at the ill treatment they had suffered in the past twenty-four hours. “It’s practically mid-day. All good little fledglings ought to be damn near comatose.”

It wasn’t like his newest child would understand his commentary. At this point in his resurrection, the fledgling probably didn’t have the intelligence of a village idiot. Rationality would come towards the end of the tedious process of regeneration. While capable of movement, the wretched vampire looked only marginally better than the corpse he had inspected the evening before.

‘Alive’ was pretty much the best Kain could say in favor of his favorite son at that moment. He crouched at the pitiful creature’s side even as the grey fingers slid clumsily along the dusty floor. Raziel seemed either unaware, or unaffected by the hour. Despite all odds he was mindlessly attempting to shift himself again. It was impossible to guess what impulse the newly awakened soul was trying to follow, but Kain wasn’t about to let the fool go staggering outside only to be blasted to cinders on contact with sunlight. He had plans for Raziel in the near future that required the vampire being in one piece. Blessedly, the grey skin was no longer fragile as he reached out a hand to stay the fledgling’s movements. Having absorbed a good bit of the moisture that the blood provided, the infant vampire’s limbs were bone-thin but solid beneath his claws. Kain rolled his wayward fledgling onto his back to keep him from creeping off and checked the knight over for any injury done by his slight fall.

The infant vampire wheezed and blinked up at him, instinctively wary of his presence even if incapable of mounting any sort of a defense against a larger predator in his current state. Raziel’s dark hair was likely still a matted ruin, but it looked black and tidy, slicked to his skull thanks to his recent soak. His eyes, barely open, were also nearly complete, already a semi-luminescent yellow. Kain murmured a scolding at his child before standing and stretching his back, considering the room at large. There was no doubt that the vampire would finish his regeneration ahead of schedule. He didn’t have any memory of Raziel being unduly early compared to the others, in his previous life, why the boy was up and creeping about when only half-reassembled was a little perplexing.

Kain glanced at the other innocent-looking coffins near by and wondered exactly how much extra he had given his first child compared to the others. It hadn’t seemed like much at the time. But the other coffin’s occupants lay as still as the dead, content to sleep through the day without mishap. Then again, there was the strength of the soul itself to consider as part of the equation. He looked down at the fledgling lying before him with a healthy appreciation of what Raziel was capable of when willing to exert himself.

It was not impossible that the spirit remembered something of its past experiences. If anyone could overcome the amnesia of death and rebirth, surely it would be the creature before him. He shook his head at the impossibility of it. The so-called ‘Elder god’ would hardly allow that to happen.

Stooping to grip the frail looking body as gently as possible, Kain lifted the fledgling up and settled him, dripping as he was, against his bare shoulder. The body was still feather light despite its prolonged soaking. It took all of two steps to cross the room and resume his earlier resting place against the wall. A moment longer and he had settled his irksome child in an almost comfortable huddle in his lap.

Raziel was all sharp elbows and uncoordinated knees still, but it was clear to see where muscle and fat was returning to the withered frame. Kain watched idly as the tracery of ligaments along the fledgling’s arm slowly became more pronounced. The body against his trembled as nerve endings and vessels reformed along his limbs. As interesting as the process was, Kain couldn’t deny he was still in need of another nap. Tucked firmly against his shoulder, his new child seemed less inclined to struggle. Raziel simply shivered passively as the vampiric curse worked its sinister restoration. The scent of stale blood drying on his skin was far from appetizing.

“You need a proper bath, child.” Kain critiqued, mostly for his own entertainment as he sought to return to unconsciousness. “Remind me to have some of Vorador’s wives tend to you when I wake, would you?” Even emaciated and insensible, the comfortable feeling of Raziel’s presence against him was enough lull him back to sleep.

* * * * * *

The next time Kain awoke it was with the assistance of Vorador’s toe claws digging gently into his calf. He hissed half heartedly at his ally, rousing himself with difficulty. The fur clad vampire simply looked down at him in amusement.

“Noon, Kain. I thought you might be hungry.”

“I’m up.” Blinking the last of his sleep away, Kain shifted his sleeping companion enough to get a better look at the fledgling. There was no evidence now of the odd wakefulness that had driven the fool to crawl out of his sarcophagus. Completely comatose, Raziel put up no resistance to his gentle probing. Only hours had slipped by, but already the vampire was looking more like himself to Kain’s jaded eye. The fledgling’s skin was rapidly filling out and gaining faint hints of color; the hollows between his ribs and at the base of his neck less pronounced. The vampire looked merely three-quarters starved now, not skeletal.

“So. Did he find his way across the room on his own? Or did he have help.” Vorador couldn’t keep the amusement out of his question.

Kain shot him a sour look. “He found his way to the floor at any rate. I thought it best to pin him down before he got it into his addled head to go out for a stroll.”

“Odd that you never mentioned before now how pretty he was. Or rather he will be, once he’s fed up a little.” Vorador crouched to get a better look, grinning widely. “Just look at those cheekbones. Umah will be after him for sure.”

The green vampire looked at him drolly, unable to resist one last dig. “But then I guess I’m not surprised. You’ve always favored the handsome ones yourself, haven’t you? Sebastian had little else going for him as I recall.”

Kain resisted the urge to strangle his oldest ally for his perception. It was no use denying the vampire. Vorador was not wholly off the mark. The first time he had raised Sebastian, there had indeed been a time when the nobleman had served as more than mere agent.

But that was a long time ago, longer then bore contemplating. The idea of re-enacting that particular bit of adolescent stupidity had never even crossed his mind back in Meridian. And even if he had wanted to, he was hardly the young and supposedly attractive man of his youth. Sebastian would have recoiled at the very idea. Even Umah or any of his once-upon-a-time lovers less-shallow would probably think twice before embracing his scarred old carcass now. Mind, body and spirit were centuries more world-weary now, and more the better. Not for the first time, he shook his head at his past antics.

Attempting to dissuade Vorador from the idea of Raziel as his paramour would only encourage the vampire to tease him further. He settled for deflecting the letch instead. “Rest assured, this one’s generally accepted physical appeal will not have any bearing on his competence in battle.” Kain shifted the scrawny fledgling slightly against his shoulder to allow himself to stretch properly.

“And for your reference, as a human I wouldn’t have called him particularly enticing. Firstly he was Moebius’ lackey, and we’ve met their type before. Secondly, the fashion of the time - if you recall five centuries ago - involved rouge for men and ludicrously overdone clothing.” He gestured at the overly stylized ancient armor that still hung off the fledgling in places.

Vorador snorted in amusement, remembering the useless fashions that swept Nosgoth over the centuries. “Did he go that way? I suppose as a ‘pretty boy’ of that era he would have been obliged to, even as a crusader. I’m surprised that none of the others had their hair in ringlets.” The old vampire stood to investigate the other caskets.

“Ah well, this lot seem stable enough for now.” Vorador spoke at last, grinning down at Kain as he returned from his inspection. “And blessedly, they won’t remember their fashion faux pas when they awake, or anything else for that matter. Six fledglings with the instincts of generals to join in our fight against the Hylden; positively inspired, Kain. And a little insane. Just as expected from you. Let’s hope they prove more faithful than your last bunch.”

“I have every expectation of even the worst of them being better in every way than my first bits of baggage.” Kain remarked acidly, silently grateful that Vorador had changed the subject. Shifting his sleeping burden until Raziel was curled on the floor instead of against him, he stood and rolled his shoulders. The vault’s floor was smooth polished, but his old bones were still inclined to complain at napping unpadded all night. His recent stay at Vorador’s mansion had softened him a little, he mused.

Raziel seemed content to continue drowsing. He weighed the odds of the boy reawakening when he left against his desire to stretch his legs. What ever his motivations of the morning, the youth was behaving as expected now. Kain told himself to stop worrying, in need of some fresh air. Doing a bit of a sweep of the woods nearby was a convenient way of both clearing his lungs and escaping Vorador’s cynical commentary. The Saraphan Order might be defeated, but there were still plenty of other groups at large in the world who wouldn’t hesitate to attack a camp of resting vampires. Nodding his greeting to Janos as he passed the ancient vampire at the mouth of the crypt he didn’t hesitate to step out into the dappled sunlight and down into the valley. The pair of vampire lords could see to the infants for an hour or two while he explored the valley.

*****

The forest was uncommonly peaceful. Early autumn color was starting to show even in the protected lowlands. Various small creatures scurried at his arrival, interrupted in their foraging by his soft footsteps. Kain followed a game trail that wound down and towards the nearest river, crouching to feel the soil as the trees gave way to watercourse and meadow.

Further down along the edge of the lazy little river, a tightly constructed stockade fence line warned him of the human settlement nearby. The mortals near Vorador’s forest were somewhat resigned to vampires wandering out of the trees, but that didn’t mean they extended an open invitation to nighttime visitors to stop in and dine. Vampire gold spent as well as anyone else’s however, and the small village had profited by their dealings with his army enough that their relations weren’t entirely disagreeable. During the day, the humans had precious little to fear by all accounts.

With overlords more interested with eating the local bandits, than their grain, the villagers had plenty to keep them occupied beyond their tidy stockade while the sun was up. Washerwomen were down along the shore merrily gossiping as they went about their business. Some young human was whistling as he pushed a barrow down the lane leading to the fields. Kain could hear them and the dozens of other noises of village life from his hiding place, vampiric senses honed by years of practice. He crouched and listened simply for the sake of it, inspecting the well-kempt roads and healthy peasantry with a proprietary fondness.

The humble settlement belonged to him as much as the woods or the ruins did. He had the time, and the ability to see to what few needs the mortals had. Strangers to the valley might remark on the hardship of living so close to the vampire stronghold, but the villages under his protection rarely suffered from droughts or pestilence. If they poached a few deer from the edges of the forest, he wasn’t about to claim a boy’s hand in revenge. His inspection revealed nothing worrying. The fields were waist high with grain, and the livestock frisked in the sunshine.

He burrowed his fingers idly in the soil between his feet, the unconscious habit of a previous life hard to break. The loam his claws sifted through was dense and rich smelling, a pleasant change from the dusty withered land he had walked through for two times ten centuries. Every time he absently checked, he was pleased again by the vitality he could sense in the world.

Scooping up a fistful, he rubbed at the blood flecks still clinging to his claws and arm from where Raziel had been napping, scrubbing until only the smell of the dirt remained. Dusting off the soil he sighed, realizing he was due himself for a bath. The smell was much improved, but now his arm was a noticeable shade of brown.

He shrugged at his own foolishness. There would be time for ablutions and more once he returned to camp. For the moment he chose to continue downstream, away from the village, to see what else he could observe of his tiny kingdom.

An urgent mental whisper from Vorador distracted him as he was strolling further down the valley. Curious, Kain headed back to the tomb site and all but walked head-on into the band of humans that the vampire lord had warned him were in the area.

The bandits never saw him, oblivious, like all mortals to his mist form. But Kain sighed quietly just the same as he rematerialized behind a tree. He was too old for such antics. Watching their progress he decided that the band of thieves was both terribly lucky and also terribly incurious about their surroundings. None of them noted the disturbed brush along the edges of the trail, or the obvious wagon tracks.

Following a little behind he listened to their conversation, learning that they were passing through the mountains in search of rich prey on the Great Southern Highway. Seeing as they meant no harm to the sleepy hamlet nearby, he was inclined to let them. The merchant caravans had outriders for just this reason. As the road was not yet part of his domain he had no reason to police it just now.

Kain pondered scavenging one of the more laggardly criminals from the back of the group to supplement his offspring’s diet however. It wouldn’t do to have humans feeling _too_ comfortable when crossing vampire territory. Janos wouldn’t approve. He sighed again and let the bandits slip out of sight, the joy in the kill lost by the foreknowledge of his peaceable ally’s complaints.

The sun was already heading towards the horizon as he walked back into camp. Distant mountains cast their shadow across the valley and made it seem later for the vampires still taking their rest. Several of Vorador’s elder children were already up and about, taking over the duties of setting up watches and dispensing food. Never particularly amused by small talk with the young ones, he nodded at the various greetings but didn’t pause until he had maneuvered his way back to the crypt.

Torches burned brightly in the subterranean chamber, welcoming him in. Some thoughtful soul had cleared the empty casks while he was out, and tidied up some of the armor and debris. But otherwise the tomb was exactly as he’d left it. Kain wasn’t particularly surprised to see that his misfit fledgling was once again awake.

“Precocious, aren’t you.” He couldn’t help but remark.

Raziel watched him with unabashed curiosity, clearly distracted from the task that had captivated him a moment ago. Kain returned the fledgling’s gaze with one of his own, standing quietly in order to see what the newly resurrected knight would do. The new vampire looked nearly complete, if still gaunt. But while there was intelligence in the creature’s looks, he couldn’t call it self-awareness yet. Some final delicate repairs to brain tissue were likely still in progress as the curse finished its work.

Kain was duly impressed with the boy’s progress compared to the corpse he had been that morning. Raziel was soon bored with watching him however, and returned to doodling random lines in the dust on the floor, pausing occasionally to itch at the dried blood on his hands. Kain left him to it, curious about the progress of the others.

The other five fledglings had progressed as well, each of them now recognizable despite their thin faces. Turel slept fitfully, jaw twitching as he slowly dried in his box. Melchiah’s chest rose and fell steadily with each breath. Dumah had managed to fling one armored arm up partially covering his eyes as if irritated by the dim light, but he too slept. Kain found the last two much in the same condition, and was well pleased with the developments. He turned back to his most interesting child to see what Raziel found so amusing in playing in the dust.

Crouching next to his first-born, Kain felt a moment’s chill as he looked down at the childish drawings. The spiral pattern Raziel favored was simple but compelling. Interspersed between the circular shapes were some crude hourglass-like curves. The fledgling seemed much focused on them, drawing the pair of shapes again and again.

It had been a while, but he could hardly forget the last time he saw those particular symbols paired together. The events at the base of Moebius’ citadel were indelibly etched in his memory. Both were references to the beast lurking amongst the roots of the world. Reaching out, Kain caught the vampire’s fingers in his grip, lifting them from their latest drawing. “Enough, child. Enough.”

Raziel looked at him and then his captured hand; neither offended nor startled by the interruption. There was no recognition in the innocent gaze. Kain grimly forbid himself from any feeling of disappointment.

To become a vampire was to start with a clean slate, unencumbered by any joys or disappointments of a previous life. Only he and Vorador seemed to have any ability to remember their origins, and neither of them had been created by exactly conventional means. The memory of awaking half-alive in Moritanius’ sanctum still gave him nightmares from time to time. As for Vorador, the green vampire seldom spoke of his early life of training under they last vestiges of Janos’ civilization. He couldn’t imagine reminiscence over what he had lost with the Crusades brought Vorador any joy.

Raziel was spared both nightmare and regret by the amnesia of rebirth. Kain tried to tell himself it was for the best. There was time enough in this new and green Nosgoth for the vampire to indulge in a little fledgling innocence before being obliged to become the man he would inevitably grow into. Still, there must have been _something_ of his Raziel’s nature left in the child’s addled brain. Why else draw such unmistakable warnings with his first waking moments?

“Your soul remembers. Even if you do not.” Kain sighed, feeling his age. “Have no fear child, you will not be obliged to return to that monster for some time if I have any say in the matter.”

Considering carefully the potential future the fledgling was about to live, Kain realized that Raziel, of all people, would likely never come face to face with the false god again. He grimaced as he contemplated the vampire’s alternative arrangements. Being imprisoned for eternity in a sword was hardly a better answer.

Raziel ignored his words entirely, far more interested in his three-fingered hand than anything he might say. For a moment Kain humored the fledgling, allowing the knight to claim his hand and investigate his claws. Eventually the poking became irritating and he pulled back to consider his options. Something would have to be done to keep the vampire occupied while they waited for sanity to return. With the others seemingly content to sleep the night away and regenerate at a more leisurely pace, there was no reason for anyone to rush.

Kain examined the remaining cask at the center of the room and found it still half full. The fountain’s magical properties were waning with every hour the blood was separate from the spring, but there was still enough enchantment left to have kept the life giving drink from going stale. He found his dropped goblet and dipped a portion for himself before refilling it and approaching the first coffin. It was a tedious process to pour a cup full down each of his sleeping lieutenants’ throats, but it served to calm the more restless of the sleepers. Finally he stooped to retrieve one last goblet full for his most precocious child, only to turn and see that Janos had silently arrived to beat him to it.

The ancient crouched beside Raziel, supporting the base of the vessel as the young vampire drank, ignoring the fledgling’s uncoordinated attempts to support the cup himself. Kain ruthlessly suppressed the moment of seething jealousy before Janos could pick up on the ugly feeling. He could hardly tear into the ancient for being helpful. It wasn’t fair to the creature to blame him for the partiality that a different Raziel had shown centuries ago. Kain just dearly wished that the ancient vampire would be helpful with _someone else_. He had no intention of relinquishing the best and brightest of his offspring to the old one just to have him be raised to be a mealy mouthed bore.

Only hours old, Kain realized, watching Raziel wipe his mouth and proceed to treat Janos with the same calm indifference he used with everything so far. Only hours old and already he couldn’t help but feel possessive of the vampire. The others might go to hell if they wished; take up basket weaving; join with the enemy. Raziel was _his_. Had been and always would be.

Forgotten was the apathy he had felt for the fledgling on their first meeting. Knowing full well what the man before him was capable of, Kain was more resolved than ever to set things right. With Raziel all things were possible, for Raziel was still destined to be free. Even now there was an echo of the unknown surrounding the fledgling. The Pillars sang in the back of his mind as he probed the question. Did Raziel still possess some element of the un-choreographed fate he had once laid claim to? Something was different about the fledgling, compared with the others, but neither the Pillars, nor he himself were sure what it was.

This time things would be different. He felt the resolution within his bones. This time his first-born would never be left in the dark as to his worth, or be badgered with questions of loyalty. Kain already knew the answers to all of the mysteries that had once plagued him regarding the handsome fledgling. There weren’t any doubts. He shook his head in dismay as he watched Janos fuss over the youth. If he wasn’t careful, he would end up spoiling his child beyond salvation. Or, more likely, Janos would probably beat him to it. Some measures would have to be taken to prevent Audron and the others from coddling the child too much, Kain sighed, if only to keep him from grinding his teeth every time the ancient tried to speak with him.

“Janos.” He resisted the urge to bark at the vampire when the sage moved to finger-comb Raziel’s caked hair. “Do you mind?”

The graying vampire looked up innocently, ignoring the implicit scolding. “Is it not amazing, Kain? How quickly he progresses? I would not have thought it possible had I not seen it with my own eyes.”

“Dazzling, I assure you.” He replied dryly. His claws twitched at the way Janos smiled in delight at his child’s curious hand on his feathers. Tossing the sage out of the tomb by his wings was hardly politic. Considering everything, it wouldn’t do for the boy’s first conscious memory of his sire to be Kain throttling his once-and-probably-future mentor in a fit of jealous rage. Still he could hardly stand by and do nothing. The blue skinned fool was already fussing with the fledgling’s hair again.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten.

“Stop pestering the child, Janos?” He felt secretly happy at the older vampire’s wounded look. “You’re going to give him a complex if you keep manhandling him like that.”

“He’s conscious, Kain.” Janos was not above gently scolding back. “Someone ought to be making him feel welcome. Not just leaving him down here by himself all night. He’ll be far happier regaining a sense-of-self in camp where he can be seen to properly.”

“The noise and groping he’ll likely receive out there will probably only confuse him.” Kain disagreed. “It’s more peaceful here. Besides, I want to keep an eye on him. He woke too soon for my tastes. Something might have gone awry.”

Janos sniffed, strangely stubborn about relinquishing his hold on the fledgling. “I think I am eminently qualified, Kain, to diagnose any problems that might arise with Raziel’s development. I have quite a few fledglings of my own, as you know.”

“Never one like this.” Kain muttered, mostly to himself. Still he could hardly rebut the declaration. The blue skinned ancient had embraced more vampires than he could number. There was no doubt that if anyone could claim resident-expert status on fledglings, it would have to be Janos. It gave Kain a somewhat unfair, but perfectly acceptable way to win the argument however. He acted on it immediately, feeling happier even as he spoke.

“Truly, Janos, you are a blessing in disguise. I don’t know how I ever could have managed this lot without the assistance you and Vorador have kindly provided. I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving my kin to be tended by any hands less worthy. But since you’re here, I am confident that my absence will do no harm as I see about cleaning this one up.”

Leaving Janos to puzzle through his meaning, Kain wasted no time in gently hauling Raziel upright. When it was clear the fledgling’s weak legs wouldn’t support him, he expedited the transfer by scooping Raziel up bodily and carrying him from the crypt.

“Mind Dumah’s fists.” He called back through the opening at the startled sage. “He has no concept of aiming yet, but his strength is already formidable.”

Kain crossed the camp quickly with his tattered burden, thankful that Raziel seemed content to be carried. The man’s head easily fit against his neck, his breath tickling his jaw as he drew an assortment of curious stares. Most of Vorador’s brood seemed to be vying for a first glimpse of their newest cousin. Raziel stared back, undismayed, as curious about the camp as he seemed interested in everything.

Kain recognized two of Vorador’s older ‘wives’ as he passed and hoped that with age came some nominal amount of self-control. “If the two of you would assist? I believe some grooming is in order.” Bowing their heads in acknowledgment, the women rose and followed him into the tent.

Luckily, the females seemed to know their business. Kain felt ridiculous enough holding onto the fledgling without having to give orders at the same time. He settled for sternly looking on while they prepared the low tub and gathered the necessary towels. The dark haired one gestured that he might deposit his burden in the assigned location while she unstoppered the first of many flasks of herb infused oil. He couldn’t help but grimace at the strong smell.

“We either brought this, or bought fresh milk from the village.” She replied to his unspoken disapproval. “Milk spoils.”

“Carry on.” He accepted the logical argument and retreated to a canvas chair to oversee the proceeding. In good time the rags and blood caked armor were cut away leaving the fledgling bare-skinned for washing. With him glaring, the pair could hardly coo appreciatively over the already handsome vampire as they readied soap and oil. Kain couldn’t complain that the women were anything less than capable as they proceed to thoroughly scrub and wipe away any trace of grime. Through the whole process, Raziel sat perfectly at ease. Other than sub vocalizing once as a particularly painful looking mat was combed of his hair, he allowed the manhandling without protest. Dried, dressed, and guided to sit on a nearby pile of cushions, Vorador’s wives completed their assigned task and proceeded out of the tent to rinse the tub for their next subject.

Raziel watched them leave with interest. But like a cat, paid them no mind once they were out of sight. The fledgling began a careful inspection of his shirt cuffs while Kain looked on in amusement.

The oil was of a light enough pressing that it left only a faint sheen behind after toweling was done. Normally Kain did not favor the method of bathing, but seeing the result he concluded that the women were entirely right. Raziel’s newly clipped and combed hair would be well served by the softening properties of the oil, and his rejuvenated skin could only benefit as well. All together he looked far more healthy, if such an adjective could be applied to a vampire, than he had before.

Kain rose from his chair and crouched next to his fledgling, curious to see how the boy would react. Ignored, he was obliged to capture the fledgling’s fingers again to draw his attention. He sighed, irritated by the vampire’s simple-minded fascination with anything and everything. “Stop that.”

Again, the sound of his voice had the power to compel. Raziel immediately turned towards him, studying his face with a searching expression. Something had changed behind his eyes. Kain couldn’t help but reach out to gently catch the vampire by the chin, holding his gaze. “Do you know me, child?”

Raziel stared at him a moment before lifting his own – so human- hand to mimic his gesture. Kain almost flinched at the feel of the fledgling’s fingers lightly resting on his face. He had grown out of the habit of being touched, but even that wasn’t what startled him. The impulse refused to be defined or labeled. Fading even as he sought to better understand what it was. The Reaver, belted as ever across his back, sighed softly in response. Forcing himself to relax, Kain allowed the impertinent gesture, puzzled equally by his sword and child alike; hardly surprising as they were one and the same.

The contact only lasted a moment. Raziel was soon distracted by his clan cloak, fingers leaving his skin in favor of gingerly plucking at one edge of the worn fabric. Sitting back, Kain unbuckled his cape and pulled it off so his child might see it better.

“Look carefully, Raziel.” He counseled. “Look well and remember it. For it is your destiny. This is my imperial standard, both past and future. I created it at the dawn of my ambition to rally those who could aid me to my cause, and to strike fear into those who dared oppose me. It could be said that I created you for much the same reason.”

Raziel stared at him in calm and possibly uncomprehending acceptance.

“I am Kain, child. Your lord and master.” He smiled slightly at the future that lay ahead of them. “Together, we shall conquer the world someday, you and I.”

* * * * *

For a night Raziel prowled around camp by himself, exploring the boundaries of his new existence. Alternately preoccupied with his eldest’s development and the slower recovery of the rest of his fledglings, Kain divided his time between camp and catacomb. Even when focused on the others, he felt Raziel’s proximity. The fledgling seemed equally sensitive to his presence, seeking him out if left in Vorador and the other’s company too long. When day broke he returned to his tent only to find the boy curled up on his rug like a stray rather then on the cot at the far side of the space someone has set out for him. Kain shook his head in bemused wonder at the child’s stubborn whimsy, stooping to drape a blanket over the vampire’s thin shoulders before settling the Reaver in its stand by his bed. An hour of rest and he was up again, inspecting his wayward fledgling for any sign of wakefulness before shifting him up onto the bed and leaving him to sleep out the remains of the day.

Dusk brought a flurry of activity yet again. This time several of the crypt’s occupants stirring, ready to venture forth into the world. Turning from a conversation with one of Vorador’s wives about the progress of his little flock, Kain found himself yet again under observation. His liveliest offspring was a scrawny addition to the shadows next to his tent. Dismissing the woman back to her duties, he held out a hand, silently inviting Raziel to join him. Quick as a cat the boy was at his side, pacing a circle around him before allowing himself to be touched. Kain caught the side of his head in a gentle cuff before giving into the temptation to ruffle the fledgling’s hair. Raziel ducked and playfully endeavored to avoid him, while at the same time never entirely slipping beyond his reach. It was a childish game, but something in the boy’s eyes hinted that he was entirely aware of it.

“Have you eaten?” He asked. Not surprised when the vampire nodded in assent to his question. That Raziel understood the conversation around him was clear even in the hours before dawn. He simply didn’t choose to participate in it.

“Will you not speak?” He chided as Raziel ducked his touch yet again, trailing after him as he returned to the tomb where his brothers stirred. As endearing as Raziel’s laughing looks were, Kain found he missed the sound of his child’s voice. For reasons known only to him however, the fledgling maintained his silence. Distracted from his worries about Raziel by Janos’ greeting Kain alternately scolded and encouraged the rest of his still-addled little family out of their now-unnecessary resting place and into the arms of the waiting mob.

Bathed and tended in batches now that several were ready at once, Kain’s remaining fledglings were property of the camp at large from their very first conscious moments. Zephon and Melchiah reacted to the attention with looks of confusion while the others were oblivious to the speculation all around them.

Kain almost missed Rahab’s introduction into civilization entirely, the process of bathing his sedate lieutenant finished with so little fuss. Turning around from a burst of laughter at his second youngest’s tumultuous episode in the tub, he spied the vampire’s next-eldest sibling curled half in the lap of one of Vorador’s prettier wives while another idly combed his hair. The fledgling appeared exhausted just from the press of people all around him, and was coping with it through the simple technique of closing his eyes and pretending it wasn’t happening.

Turel on the other hand could only put up with so much of the well-meant groping before startling his caretakers with a wordless bark of dismay. He half-crawled, half-staggered to the relative safety of the wagons and huddled against a barrel with a surly expression for anyone who came too close. One of the guardsmen took pity on the fledgling, settling himself next to the vampire and shooing the women away when they sought to finish his grooming.

Melchiah was social by comparison, still relatively witless when judged against to how he would be in a matter of hours, the boy quickly adapted to the fussing and smiled readily when praised. Likewise Dumah was inclined to be tolerant of being dressed and inspected by a small mob curious women, although he was visibly less satisfied when cosseted by the men around him. Kain snorted at his infant inclinations.

Raziel simply watched. Keen eyed and alert to everything and anything around him, he reminded Kain of a young hawk in its mews. Ready to fly and hunt, even if he wasn’t yet certain of what was predator and what was prey, he seemed intent on studying his world thoroughly before deciding how to interact with it.

In the end, the honor of speaking first went to Zephon, of all of his children.

“Ouch!” The anklebiter declared abruptly as he was groomed. Turning to look at the woman combing his hair in with a petulant expression, the vampire added. “That hurt.” Before seeming to realize he’d done something remarkable in voicing the complaint and abruptly clamming up.

Blinking in surprise, the vampires pulled back and stared at the fledgling, before looking to Kain for guidance. He shrugged, seeing nothing abnormal in the boy’s development. The former Saraphan were bound to begin verbalizing as their brains returned to some semblance of normalcy.

As if the feat accomplished by one was a sign to the others, they all began to talk. It was hardly grand poetry, but the fledglings were more than willing to apply words to things they knew, cheerfully encouraged by Janos and the others in their early successes. For those among the cabal who had never witnessed a resurrection other than of the mundane sort, the childish idiocy of the former Saraphan crusaders caused no end of amusement. Kain leaned back against a bale of supplies and shook his head, knowing the comical process of mental recovery wouldn’t last much longer. Once they possessed their full wits, his children would undoubtedly be far less entertaining for the cabal at large. But they’d be useful, and that was all he intended for them.

Perhaps it was because he was silent that the others didn’t notice Raziel slipping towards the edge of the firelight and away from the crowd. Kain caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and moved to follow surprised by the sudden initiative shown by the vampire. His first instinct was to check the fledgling before he strayed too far from the group, however when the chance came to catch the boy and turn him back towards the camp, he let it pass without action. Raziel moved like a ghost between the trees, unaware or uncaring of his presence a few paces behind. Wondering what it was that drew the former-knight forward, Kain gamely followed. The valley absorbed the happy commotion of camp a few meters into the trees, leaving them with the wind, and the sound of owls for company. Raziel seemed to pick his course at random, until finding a deer track, he followed that a while instead. Kain recognized their destination as being a little further upstream than he’d explored earlier, and moved to catch his child before they came to the water. Fortunately Raziel had other ideas than to cross the dangerous barrier. Content to stay well away from the water once free of the trees, he turned his gaze upwards instead, seemingly captivated by the clear view of the stars. Kain followed his look and could not deny that the sight was unusually fine.

The waxing crescent of the moon hung just over the mountain’s peak behind him, it’s brilliance limited to a sliver against the night sky. Without a cloud to obstruct them, or the moon to overwhelm their glow, the quantity of distant points of light seemed to multiply far beyond their norm, vast collections of them forming a band across the heavens. It was impossible to not feel small, when faced with such a clear view of infinity overhead. Kain’s eyes immediately tracked towards the eastern horizon, picking out the distant threads of the Pillars, rising ever upwards towards eternity. Somewhere, impossibly high above, either they stopped half way to nowhere, their tops capped with finials somewhere above the clouds. Or perhaps they butted up directly against the sky like roof trusses where it hung like an inverted bowl over the surface of the earth. He wasn’t sure which hypothesis he found more comforting. Either way, it was still a beautiful sight.

A touch against his arm drew his thoughts back to earth again. Kain noted his companion’s stare with a small smile. Raziel had the audacity to look concerned at his distraction. He tilted his head to consider the vampire’s thin features. “It’s not safe for one such as you to walk alone. Even at night.”

Raziel dipped his head apologetically, glancing at the trees around them as if to point out that they were entirely alone. Suddenly his silence was irritating. Kain couldn’t quite explain to himself, exactly what it was about the fledgling’s pantomime that grated on him, but never the less, the urge to shake the infant knight by the shoulders was there.

“Speak, child.” Kain nudged the boy’s shoulder. “You have a voice, and the wits to use it. Say something.”

For a moment he was certain the vampire would refuse him. Pale yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness, appraising his demand with silent intensity. “Anything.” He tried to encourage the boy without sounding any more foolish than he already did.

“Why?” Raziel spoke at last, voice rough for lack of use as the fledgling formed his first words. There was no malice in the question, only calm curiosity. “To what purpose?”

“So that I may hear you speak.” Kain sighed, feeling older than ever to be having such an awkward conversation with a man he’d once known so well. The idea that it was all to be done over again was momentarily so fatiguing that he couldn’t bear to consider it. And yet, it was Raziel beside him, and when seen in that light, the years they would repeat together would be over and done with far too soon. “I have waited to hear you voice for longer than you realize, child. Do not make me wait longer still.”

“What would you have me say?”

“Tell me your name, at least. Do you know it?” He quashed the urge to ask for something more ridiculous. Infant the boy might be, but he wasn’t a mindless parrot to be asked to recite phrases of no meaning to him just because they were something he wanted his previous Raziel to say. Forgiveness, or absolution, were things this Raziel couldn’t grant him.

“Raziel.” The boy frowned, seeming to really recognize himself for the first time. “I am… Raziel.”

“That is correct.”

“You are Kain.” Raziel looked up at him, issuing the statement almost as if it was an accusation.

“I am that creature.” He nodded. Raziel frowned again, giving the statement due consideration. Kain distracted him with a gesture encompassing their clearing and the meadow beyond. “This- this is Nosgoth.”

“Is it yours?” The fledgling asked innocently.

“Not yet.” Kain snorted in amusement. “But it will be.”

“Why?”

“Because it is my right. And my duty.” He reached out and ruffled the vampire’s hair again entertained in spite of himself at the flurry of questions. The caress was rapidly becoming a habit. Kain scolded himself over his obvious fondness for the fledgling, hooking his claws into his belt loops to prevent himself from repeating the gesture. “Look your fill at your precious stars, child. I will grant you a few minutes longer before we must return to camp.”

Nodding slowly, Raziel turned his face skyward again, soon lost to anything but the distant twinkle of above.

*****

“Felicitations appear to be in order, Kain.”

The words echoed softly despite the open air all around him. The rooftop was quiet, and the evening far too early for the vampiric residents of the manor to be awake. Other than the birds, and the wind through the trees, he ought to have felt very much alone. Kain resisted the urge to flinch, folding his arms in annoyance instead.

The impression of dank passages in the darkness, and the wet slithering of primordial limbs came to him with little warning. The sudden presence nearby soured an otherwise mild evening considerably, but he couldn’t easily pinpoint its locus. He quashed his instinctive impulse to check over his shoulder, knowing that while his adversary adored startling him, it was extremely unlikely that the beast’s latest puppet was within Vorador’s sanctum. Vampires were, by in large, immune to the false god’s mental manipulations; due, perhaps, to their particular status somewhere between life and death. The Hylden had done him a singular favor in that sense, in cursing his adoptive race.

Neither Hylden nor Vampire were susceptible it seemed. The demon-loving fools were too warped by their time in the abyss. And even if they weren’t, their hatred of the ‘wheel’ was as much a part of them as their own limbs. The monster’s mouth-piece would be human, or perhaps bestial, or maybe nothing physical at all, just a concentration of the burrowing fiend’s energy. Kain considered first the manor’s grounds, and then idly checked swamp around them with both eyes and occult senses.

The so-called ‘god’ was out there, somewhere. But then, in a sense, he always was. It was only the intensity of the sensation that had changed. He snorted to himself, reminded yet again of the ages old adage, that one couldn’t see which tree was the tallest when standing in the middle of a forest. The Hub of the Wheel, the beast called itself, and indeed its reach was incredible. There was likely not a single corner of the earth that the uncanny creature had not burrowed into. With a body quite possibly spanning the continent, it was truly an omnipresent foe.

Still. It wasn’t like old squid to heckle him without an avatar near by. Letting his eyes drift across the swampy scenery around Vorador’s manor, Kain’s gaze fell on a shadow that hadn’t been there a moment before. Perhaps it was a man, or it once had been. The cloaked form wavered somewhat in the half-light of dusk, not exactly real, for all its chatter. No point hunting it, he sighed. The specter would just melt away beneath his claws.

“Or perhaps, I should offer my condolences.” The ancient monster chuckled softly in amusement. “It’s only a matter of time, after all.”

“As a prophet you’re less than impressive.” Kain remarked dryly. “I thank you kindly for reminding me of what I am already well aware of. Will there be something else? Perhaps you wish to illuminate me as to the immanent onset of moonrise… or better yet, the solstice a week from now…”

“You mock me, Kain, yet it is yourself who is deluded.” The Oracle of the ancients sighed patiently. “All of your hopes and dreams, pinned on an infant vampire too weak to face the light of day? A drop of water? A lick of flame? A lucky knife? I have barely to lift my hand…”

Kain hissed as the ground trembled slightly. Birds erupted from their sleepy perches in the trees around the valley, cackling and crying as they were startled awake by the shaking. The old manor shed small pieces of grit and plaster. Deep below, the Elder God was undoubtedly at work.

“I could, you know.” The self-proclaimed god murmured slyly. “Your petty flock swallowed up all in an instant… drowned, crushed, buried… _forgotten_. And Raziel. Your sweet Raziel, upon whom you have gambled your life, dead among them. _Mine_. Again. Forever. What would you do then, I wonder?”

Pressing his lips together, Kain, ignored the leviathan’s threat, as upsetting to his liver as it was. Batting words back and forth was just that. It was the possibility that the monster could act on his ambition that concerned him. He reached out with his will, both across the forest to the west, and down into the bedrock at the same time. The Pillars opened to him with their wealth of ageless wisdom, and confirmed what he already suspected. The land under Vorador’s home was made of far sterner stuff than the swamp adjacent. The squid might shake all it wanted, it was unlikely the granite outcrop would ever budge. Omnipresent? Unfortunately. Omniscient? Quite possibly. Omnipotent? Seemingly not. Kain smiled to himself in quiet relief at not having to produce a miracle on little notice.

“You’re bluffing.” He stated what they both knew. “But don’t let me stop you. It sounded very well, for an idle threat. My congratulations. Clearly you’ve been practicing.”

“You persist in taking your situation lightly?” The deep voiced monster asked. “How long, Kain, do you truly think it will last? How long can you keep such an infant alive when there are legions actively seeking his death?”

“I managed well enough last time.”

The Elder God snorted in cynical amusement. “I wasn’t _trying_ last time, Kain.”

“Does that mean I get to look forward to you trying now? What an amazing thing. Do let me know when you start… I’d feel churlish if I failed to notice.”

The ground shook again with the subterranean beast’s annoyance. Somewhere out in the deeper recesses of the swamp, a distant crash heralded the fall of a tree, probably a dead trunk upset from its tenuous existence by the recent quake. Still there were no further words from the beast. Seemingly tired of his conversation, the former Oracle of the vampires faded from his perception until it was indistinguishable from the low level aura he sensed everywhere. The beast had turned its attention elsewhere, it seemed.

Reviewing their dialog, Kain was fairly pleased with his reactions. It was hard to put a score on such minor feints as that, but in this case he felt confident that he had come out with the upper hand. Annoyed, but not discomposed, it wasn’t he that had backed down in the end.

He locked his claws together behind his back and stretched mightily. Enjoying the return of the sleepy atmosphere to the swamp. Lanterns were being lit in the courtyards below, the distant murmurs of the young ones echoing the same questions over and over again. Had they felt the tremors? Had they ever felt an earthquake before? Were such things common? Was there any damage to the house? Kain listened with half an ear as he turned to consider the complex roofline of Vorador’s sprawling home, seeing here and here where tiles had worked loose. Still the rambling manor seemed little harmed by the shake-up, some sweeping, and a few minor repairs, and no one need ever know.

/Kain?/ The mansion’s owner whispered loudly from somewhere within. /Kain was that _your_ doing, you lunatic? Have some respect for other people’s property! If you want to go play god and upset the local geography, do it _somewhere else_, you hear me?/

/I was not the quake’s author, if that’s what you’re implying./ He rolled his eyes at the predictable squawking from his host. /But if I were you I’d get some of the lighter youngsters up and walking the roof before the next storm./

He couldn’t help but antagonize the green furred vampire a little, entertained by his distant grumbling about the cost and nuisance of repairs. As far as he could see barely a windowpane was cracked by the property’s recent ordeal. The old curmudgeon was unbearably house-proud at times.

Vorador would undoubtedly scold later, if the vampire learned he’d been baiting ‘god’ again. Kain sighed at his peculiar position in the world. Certainly he was the Scion of Balance, but it didn’t seem to grant him any special immunity from heckling by his nearest and dearest. He might simply terrorize Vorador and Janos into submission, he supposed. Kain had little doubt that he could, if he wished, compel both of his supposed peers into roles little better than slaves. But what would be the point? He had no use for grovelers, and frequently enjoyed the idle spats with Vorador especially as a way of passing a dull year or two. The chance for some rational company down through the long ages was worth the occasional nagging, he supposed.

The Pillar of States hummed helpfully, reeling off a dizzying array of equations for him, a proud child seeking to impress its parent. Sparing a thought to consider what it wanted, Kain physically flinched at the volume of unwanted information. The Pillar’s wealth of scientific lore showed how it might be possible to transmute mud to stone or stone to water, the heats and pressures required to reform stone and move it about as if it was mere butter in the churn. It was ready and willing should he give the command to reshape not just the manor’s foundation, but the entire valley.

He pushed its overeager sendings aside with a grimace, not quite ready yet to cope with the fact that he might, in a very literal sense, bend the world to his will. As gratifying as it was to be able to play at godhood if he wished, he was more than willing to leave most of his powers in the realm of the theoretical. It wasn’t comfortable to consider what he _could_ do, on a whim, too seriously. He’d spent too many years enthralled by his own megalomania already. Some things were left well enough alone. Still, the sense of abstract disappointment he got from the Pillar was almost pitiable. Kain shook his head at his own fondness for the semi-sentient edifice.

He hadn’t much use for States, usually. Nature? Certainly. Time, Mind and Conflict, all of them he leaned on fairly regularly, for advice, for assistance, or simply to scold. But the others? Dimension, Energy and Death did their duties with little need for his interference, or intervention. If he had to describe their personas, the word ‘content’ seemed the most apt. Balance’s presence was so interwoven with his own that he often didn’t even truly _feel_ it the way he did the others. It was simply there, a part of him, a solid support to lean against when he was having an especially tiring decade. But States, was often petulant, eager. Its presence was rather like that of a hummingbird or other small, darting thing. It felt in accordance with its nature, he supposed. It _was_ the totem of ‘change’ after all. Neither a force for good nor ill specifically, it wasn’t the sort of thing to sit about idle. He, its benevolent guardian, ought to steer its energy in some vaguely productive manner he supposed. But what?

Looking around the swamp, and the now fading presence of the false god, Kain had the beginnings of an idea. Reaching out again, he mentally tapped the Pillar to get its wandering attention. Turning mud to stone, he suspected, wasn’t all that difficult, in the grand scheme of things. But how might a person go about turning a complex, and possibly inter-dimensional, creature spanning a thousand leagues… into something else? Water, mud, quartz crystal, swamp gas, pure gold, he wasn’t picky. He just wanted it gone. The Pillar accepted the challenge with what he could only describe as a burst of joy. Its magics turned inwards in impossibly complex patterns as it considered the idea. Kain nudged it again, reminding the artifact that it was to _ask_ him before it actually did something.

The Pillar’s preoccupied acknowledgment made him smile again. For some reason it reminded him of Melchiah during the Dark Empire. Often times he’d needed to shake his youngest general by the shoulder to get his attention when the vampire was fully involved with one of his ‘projects’. Still, he had to wonder if maybe he’d unwittingly caused a problem by setting the Pillar to such an arbitrary task. Balance’s steady unconcern left him comforted, however, and Kain was willing to wait, if the answer to his question needed a year or two to consider. He had plenty else to keep him occupied for the near future.

Kain made his way down the stairs from roof to corridor, from corridor to suite. Entering the wide hall where his newly restored little family took its rest, he observed the fledglings as they rose for the evening.

Some members of his inner circle more successful than others at making a start on their ‘day’. Raziel and Rahab were already thick as thieves, pressed, dressed, and ready for their training as they stood to one side. The smaller of the two was pointing out something in a tome he was holding to his brother, but they both paused to bend slightly in acknowledgment of his passing.

Melchiah fumbled a bow as he stood half-dressed. Zephon was lounging in bed, dressed but still idle as he offered cynical critique on his younger brother’s ability to sleepily pull his boots on. He flipped a vague salute. Turel, caught between alternately seeing to his own preparations and attempting to get his younger brother from bed, gave him a silent look of resignation. Kain snorted and caught Dumah by the shoulder, quilts and all, in order to deftly roll his stubbornly sleeping carcass off his mattress and onto the floor. Turel dipped his chin with a small smile to thank him as he stepped over the now alert, if disoriented, fledgling on his way down the hall.

“You lot have twenty minutes before I expect you ready to present yourselves at the training grounds.” He turned to remind them as he reached his door.

Five pairs of eyes met his with perfect comprehension. The sixth pair, blinked stupidly as Dumah still sought to catch up with the events that had led to his waking. Gesturing to Raziel, and then to his lagging brother, Kain sighed. “Assist Turel, in getting that one in order, would you?”

“At once my lord.” Raziel bowed slightly as Rahab snapped his book shut with a look of annoyance as his nearest elder sibling.

Kain snorted in amusement at how even in ‘childhood’ their natures and preferences were already plain. Between them Raziel and Turel would manhandle their younger brother into his clothes and marshal him into tidying his space. The sooner the pair became accustomed to ruling over their potentially obstinate sibling, the better for them when they became generals. Taking his cue from his elder bothers Rahab would do much the same for the younger set, and everyone would be ready on time.

He left them to shift for themselves, shutting his door on their soft squabbling. There’d be precious little time to himself until dawn, with the crew of rowdy fledglings to keep in check, never mind dealing with the rest of the cabal. Unhooking the Reaver from his shoulder, he settled into his chair and propped his feet on the edge of his bed, stretching his legs as he sought a moment to settle his thoughts. The blade shimmered softly in the relative darkness of his private rooms. Its soul was sleeping, but still evident despite the long years since their last ‘real’ conversation. He ran his claws over the carved skull on the hilt. Habitually checking it for any sign of damage or unusual wear, glad to see none. Kain rested the blade across the arms of his chair, and folded his own atop its sinuous length, letting it carry his weight as he relaxed.

“Well, child…” He sighed. “It seems we must be vigilant this time around.”

It was impossible to tell if the blade’s fond hum of contentment was in response to his statement, or just a general reaction to his touch, and his thoughtful mood. He caressed it fondly, wishing, not for the first time, that it would remember him in its dreaming.

“You heard the delusional burrower’s ranting, didn’t you?” He continued, not caring if the Reaver wasn’t really listening. “Your alter-ego seems to be in high demand this time. What do you make of our odds, hmm? Of keeping him in one piece long enough to be able to play this game with us when the time comes?”

The Reaver was warm beneath his arms, just as alive as the boy in the hallway, in its own occult way. Where the child could smile or frown or give voice to his thoughts, the blade was a blank. Still, there was something terribly soothing about its consistency. Kain rested his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes, letting its steady presence lull him into a momentary oneness with the world.

The Elder God wouldn’t make good his threat _tonight_, or any night in the near future. Kain knew it better than that. The creature would wait. Wait for him to forget, for him to let his guard down, wait for the moment when the assault would be especially poetic. Then it would strike. Ah, melodrama, he could almost hear his former Raziel sigh in cynical amusement. Really, the false-god was the least of his worries, for the moment. The very real possibility of the fledgling walking stupidly into a rainstorm due to a moment of absentminded foolishness was far more likely. First things first, he sighed. Get the young idiots trained up into something resembling a group of self-sufficient adults. Then he would worry about the rest.