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 End: Chapter 3-

There was a certain anthropological irony to the situation, Kain realized as he rolled his shoulder to ease the ache in his abused joints. With Janos Audron now healed and whole, a whole swath of his own history, including several false starts that had already been corrected, was now relatively moot. Guessing what the outcome of the new events would be was an utter mystery. Janos was no longer a pawn of the Hylden, and so it seemed reasonable to assume Janos would not be imprisoned in Meridian in the near future. If the ancient one was not imprisoned, then what magical ichor would be used to power the Hylden’s inter-dimensional device in three hundred years’ time?

He leaned on his now cooperative sword and contemplated the fractured future, somewhat baffled at how his memories had not yet changed to match events. The recollection of the beast Audron had become, and his tedious trip through the ‘Factory’ to find him was as clear as it could be, given the eons that had passed since he lived it. There was no change to his recollection, as far as he could tell. The future remained obstinantly similar, despite the continued deviance in the present.

History had some how absorbed even this victory, he concluded grimly. Some how or another, the Hylden must have found another opportunity to capture the vampire in the near future. Kain shook his head at the mess he was left with. Thrice-damned Mobius and his many-eyed ‘oracle’ had orchestrated quite the clever trick in creating this eternal cycle. Between the pair of them and, he guiltily acknowledged, his own meddling, keeping track of the ever-changing continuum required a half day of careful calculation and a slide rule that moved in three dimensions.

Not for the first time, Kain wondered if his meeting with Janos Audron in that dark future Meridian was a sign that he was on the right track, or the wrong one. Certainly that fragment of the future had never existed before Raziel’s most recent paradox. Kain was interested in avoiding getting nearly-killed by the Seraphan Lord if he could help it. The injuries sustained from that little squabble had set him back 200 years. He would have to give his younger-self a hint later to never trust Sebastian-the-backstabber further than he could throw the ungrateful wretch. It would serve the vampire right to have his betrayal flung back in his face.

Still, the ancient vampire remained a bit of a conundrum in the here and now. Kain looked down at the still-stunned vampire panting on the damp platform. Audron seemed to be recuperating slowly. The decorative carvings in the stone floor provided ample channels for the water to seep away before it could do more harm to the vampire laying on the surface. The Reaver’s fire seemed to have worked small miracles on restoring the Audron to a reasonable degree of good health. At least the man’s bones seemed to be reassembled and his skin mostly intact. Idly, Kain wondered if he was expected to bow and show reverence to his supposed 'sire'. He hadn’t last time. But last time he had been an ignorant four-hundred year old jackass on a quest for revenge. He was supposedly wiser, and older, now.

Waiting for the blue-skinned ancient to gather his wits, Kain couldn’t help but snort in amusement at the idea of obeisance to anyone, even to Audron. If the old one knew Kain's true feelings and opinions in regards to his long-lost civilization, he'd likely be waiting for the kick to the face. Smirking, Kain could readily imagine the retaliation he would get, first from his damnably stubborn sword, and then from Vorador, for such a seemingly-random act of violence. Janos might be history’s biggest dupe, but he was not solely responsible for Nosgoth’s misery. The ancient seemed to have just been swept along in the current. The vampire race was hardly without fault, but Audron could not be directly blamed for their monumental mistakes.

His companion seemed content to take it in slow stages. Pushing himself up onto his knees, the blue-skinned vampire was rubbing his head and muttering what sounded like a long string of curses regarding fate and the Hylden. Kain didn't try to hurry Audron’s recovery. He owed him at least that much for the beating the vampire had just barely survived. Minding his victim’s recuperation with morbid interest, he scanned the underbrush for his latest Raziel. There had been no sign of the knight since he had cut in on the battle. Other than general optimism, he had no evidence of his lieutenant's continued existence. How ironic it would be, for the vampire to survive a head on fight with a Hash’a’gik, only be butchered by mercenaries in the woods? It didn't bear thinking about.

Moving on instinct he stooped to grab a hold of an up-thrust elbow as the ancient attempted to rise, guiding Janos to his feet with a minimum of wobbling.

"Thank you, vampire." Janos was clearly still rattled by the last two blows he had taken. One hand pressed against his head, he hissed as he tried to sort out legs and wings. "A moment of patience, if you can bear it? I seem to be somewhat concussed."

He rubbed his jaw and ran a curious talon over his freely bleeding lip. "Your prowess is impressive. I have lived for a millennium, but never have I felt such a blow. A granite block would have had more give." The ancient laughed weakly.

Kain quickly shifted to avoid a feathery collision as Janos struggled to restore equilibrium. The massive wings flapped inadvertently as his companion staggered. Kain couldn’t help but watch in amazement as the unlikely appendages flipped and fluffed damply, just as any bird’s wings would. Up close, the effect was even more impressive than Raziel’s earlier aerial acrobatics. Wings! On vampires! The novelty refused to fade. He repressed a smile as the vampire settled them gingerly against his back hissing softly at the remaining wet.

Schooling his face to its customary boredom he buffed his claws on his clan-cape. It wouldn’t do to stare like a school boy. What was important now was to see if this new development could some how be turned in his favor. Kain was hardly about to dismiss an opportunity to gain another ally in his endeavors. There was a chance after all, that with some careful handling, and attention to nuance, that he could find the necessary leverage to change the future and keep Janos permanently out of the hands of the Hylden. Or failing that, put him in their hands at a time and place of his choosing. Gauging the bemused expression with which the old vampire was trying to acclimate himself to standing upright, he decided on a gentler approach than his usual.

“Are you sufficiently recovered to spare me a moment?”

The blue-skinned vampire ground the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, and sighed as the pressure relieved some of his pain. “It feels as though I have been struck in the head by a hammer.” The ancient remarked candidly. “Several hammers.”

"My apologies for the headache, Audron. Your strength is considerable, but I rather expect I have had greater opportunities to hone my punches in the past several hundred years. Had their been another way to convince your captor to let you go, I would not have hit quite so hard." Kain murmured, feeling he ought to offer some sort of sympathy after his spirited efforts to knock the ancient's head off.

"You know me?” Janos Audron gave up on trying to straighten his tattered robe and truly looked at him for the first time. Mellow golden eyes inspected his face in confusion, then glanced down at the Soul Reaver. The vampire returned his patient stare with wary respect. “Ah. You must be... the Scion."

Janos drew breath, and let it out in an emotion laden sigh, seeming to sink in on himself as he gave up any pretense of strength. “How long have I waited for this moment? So long…” The vampire bent over until he could brace his hands against his knees, no longer pretending he wasn’t still winded and sore from their fight. “And now that it is here, what is there to say…?”

“I wasn’t expecting speeches.” Kain snorted. “It is enough that I am here. There is much to do.”

"Raziel named you Kain." The old vampire smiled weakly and then winced as his split lip reopened. "He was- not well pleased with you when last we spoke."

"He has not been well pleased with much of anything since his resurrection as a wraith." Kain agreed blandly. "But he usually is at his most capable when provoked over something, so I confess I have been goading him a little."

Janos gave him an odd look. "You are fortunate then, that he sides with you despite the fair grudges he holds.”

Kain grinned at the politic phrasing. "Indeed I am. Were Raziel and I to trade places and do it all again, I am certain I would have acted with considerably less grace under pressure."

The ancient’s yellow eyes filled with cautious mirth. His color improved with each passing moment. "Do not take this the wrong way, Kain. But I can easily believe that."

"I will not go down in history for the gentleness of my temper." Kain smirked in agreement.

"I though he was the Scion." Janos confessed after a long moment staring at the ruined Pillars, looking at-a-loss. "All this time! What a stupid mistake to make!”

“I had all the signs to watch for, and still couldn't see what was in front of my face." He slowly straightened as wounds and bruises healed. Smoothing down his hair and gingerly dusting off his rags he tried to set himself in some semblance of order. "Needless to say, I was a fool."

"I think we have all been navigating as best we could with only half a map." Kain offered in a moment of rare generosity. "The process of uncovering this history of false accusation and misplaced revenge has been frustrating in the extreme for myself as well, I assure you. There are things even now that I have a hunch you are unwitting of..."

Turning towards the ancient vampire he gestured at the land around them. Despite the general destruction of the Pillars’ sanctuary, the woodlands were green and wholesome. The sky tinted darker as the afternoon grew thin and tired. "I make no claims to holiness, Audron. That would be a trifle egotistical, even for me. Nor can I boast of innate goodness.”

“What virtue I posses I learned along the way- and poorly too. But for what it’s worth, I am the Scion of Balance. If you will just put your faith in me a little longer, I promise you I will endeavor to set all of Nosgoth to rights again." Kain shook his head at the circular life that had brought him to this moment.

The blue-skinned vampire nodded slowly in agreement. "You are not what I was expecting, Scion. You remind me of Vorador a little. I suppose there has been too much darkness in this world since the time of the human guardianship. We have all become a little harder, a bit more jaded. But I have survived on faith too long now to doubt you. Redeemer and Destroyer- so it was written in the prophesy. In the end it is your choice."

"Not just mine, I assure you." Kain held up the Reaver to give it an ironic look. "I've had a little assistance in order to reach this point."

"Oh." Janos looked at the Reaver's flickering aura, first in confusion, and then in shocked realization. "Oh no. And I had so hoped..."

Kain grimaced. "Damnable fool allowed the blade to consume him in order to restore me, it seems. If you thank anyone for redeeming Nosgoth, it might as well be him. I will not take credit for his share."

"Poor Raziel." Hesitantly, the ancient reached out to touch the Reaver, not minding the fire that trailed over his fingers. "The prophesy said nothing about such a sacrifice."

"Perhaps at the time when it was written, there wasn't any need for a sacrifice." Kain mused. "I have often wondered in the past centuries, which came first, the Soul, or the Reaver?"

"I... do not know." Janos blinked at the idea.

"A hypothetical question, I suppose." Kain shrugged. "It isn't as though they are separable now. For the near future at least, I need the blade intact. But it would be pleasant at some point, to get my idiot-child out."

"Is he still... aware?"

Kain shifted his grip until he held the sword by the curving blade, offering it hilt-first to the vampire who oversaw its creation. "See for yourself."

He was not entirely sure what to expect once the Reaver left his fingers. He had at least nominal confidence that the sword would not be spiteful enough to cleave to the ancient at its bearer in place of him. Being the Scion of Balance had to count for something in his stubborn child’s estimation. Still, he could feel the twitch of concern, and hated himself for his lack of absolute assurance. He knew with dark certainty that there would be no hesitation in his killing the blue vampire, if it came down to it. In all other things he was inclined to new-found magnanimity, but the Soul Reaver was his and his alone.

Janos reverently lifted the blade from his fingers. But the moment the sword left Kain’s possession, the prominent aura on the weapon evaporated without trace. Blinking in surprise, the ancient vampire tilted the sword, closely inspecting the length of the serpentine blade and hilt. “What did I do? Why does it stop?”

Janos frowned and concentrated on the blade, clearly attempting to communicate to the presence trapped within. After a few moments of straining, he shook his head in dismay. “I can feel nothing. It is as if the Reaver is as it always was…”

Kain shrugged and reached out to take the weapon back. He was as confused as Audron by Raziel’s reluctance to speak to the vampire he had so stubbornly saved moments before. In the instant his hands closed over the blade, the Reaver flared to life again. The phantom flames had a desperate feel to them as they coiled tightly over his wrist and up his arm to shoulder height.

He felt the urgency in the thrum along the blade and up through the hilt. Kain closed his eyes, to better understand what it was that his now-silent child was trying to tell him. The emotion communicated to him through the flames was not at all what he expected.

Fear.

Looking down again at his sword, Kain could make no sense of it. The Reaver was afraid, even now. It seemingly clung to him, as if for reassurance. Without more explicit words, he had no way to guess what the sword was thinking however. He shook the blade gently, wondering if it was suffering any lingering after-effects from the fight.

Janos watched the Reaver’s antics with concern. “It seems the weapon is bonded to you, Kain.”

“I am the Scion of Balance, after all.” Kain stated the obvious.

“I think it may be more than that.” The ancient smiled patiently at the reminder, gracefully ignoring the chide. Raising a hand hesitantly, Janos moved to touch the sword again. “If I may?”

The vampire did much as he had a moment before, closing his eyes and attempting to commune with the evil looking blade. The fires surrounding the Reaver did not quail this time; rather they faded and fanned with a sort of apologetic pulse. When after a long minute, Janos still seemed content to say nothing, Kain grew impatient.

“And what is your diagnosis?”

“How cruel.” The vampire opened his eyes slowly. “That he who was once so proud of his ability with words, should have them taken from him.”

“We seem to manage well enough. I need no speeches to read his meaning.”

Janos gave him a steady look. “I do not blame you, Kain.”

“There is nothing to be blamed for.” He refused to allow himself to feel defensive. “The fool brought this on himself.”

“For you.”

“For Nosgoth.” Kain stated flatly. “I never asked for more than that.”

The vampire met his gaze a moment before deliberately looking away, refusing to provoke him further. Janos was as wise as rumored, at least. Kain took a calming breath.

Janos held out his hand. “Give me the sword again, then, if you care so little. I wish to conduct an experiment.”

Sighing at the foolishness of it all, Kain moved to comply, but a jolt up his arm made him pause. He could almost hear the sword’s cry of dismay. For whatever reason, the Reaver was firmly against his giving it away a second time. Frowning he tried to make sense of it.

Trying to communicate with the soul inside the sword intentionally wasn’t a trivial exercise. Like two swimmers desperately trying to join hands in a torrent, he could feel his consciousness and the blade’s skirt and impinge on one another, but an actual connection was near impossible. The only impression he was able to take away was one of deep and utter cold, a nothingness that went beyond the absence of touch or sight, to a complete and desolate isolation. Kain tightened his grip on the weapon instinctively, drawing it back towards him.

“The sword lives through you.” Audron murmured thoughtfully. “Without your presence, Raziel does not exist.”

Kain tried to rationalize what the vampire was saying. “But that means that every time I put the Reaver down, the fool within is damned to oblivion?” In a moment of perfect clarity he could see now why it was the Reaver of the past was a maddened and parasitic entity. How long had it lain abandoned in its shrine until he had come along? Centuries at least. No wonder it both clung doggedly to, and yet also hated and consumed its hosts.

Even as he understood what was at stake, he couldn’t help but voice his first perturbed gut reaction. “What the hell am I supposed to do, take in into the bath with me? Sleep with it?”

“Tell me, Kain. How often, in the past have you let it stray more than an arm’s length from your side? Or allowed any other to touch it? For any reason?” The ancient vampire folded his arms across his chest and gave him a disapproving look, not amused by his levity.

“It was too dangerous a weapon to ever let out of my sight.” He replied absently as he considered the question. “Anyone might have taken it up and challenged me with it.”

“And that was the only reason?” Janos asked carefully.

“No.” Kain conceded. “No, I also- Liked holding it. It will sound like lunacy, Audron, but it feels comforting in my hand. Felt comforting. Even before I knew what it was, what it held within. Even when the Reaver hungered, or struggled against my will, I felt it belonged to me.”

The ancient vampire shrugged, seemingly out of advice. “I have one or two ideas of how, and even perhaps ‘why’. But I do not think it would be right, or fair to Raziel, to test them. Covet the blade as you have done before, and both you and it will be well served.”

“That was my intention all along.” Kain murmured, resting both hands on the hilt as he let the blade stand point-down on the platform. He sent it what silent assurance that he could, hoping it understood his concern and forgive him his momentary blunder. Slowly the hilt warmed again with his touch, the erratic flickering calming to its usual translucent blue nimbus. Seemingly no harm was done.

Kain sighed in relief. Witticism aside, the sword felt more of a burden now than it ever had in his youth. No longer did he worry about its motivations, or it strength. Both had been tested and found worthy. In place of such trivial concerns were his new-found fears for the blade’s spiritual wellbeing. How exactly did one council or comfort a mute ally made of steel? He had promised Raziel that he would not let history repeat itself. That he would strive to prevent madness from taking hold. But in the end, did he have any power to stop it? There had to be a way. He would just have to exert himself to find it.

Janos walked slowly towards the back of the platform, politely looking away as Kain regained his countenance. “What happens now, Scion? If you are here, should not the Pillars be restored? Or is it too late?”

Considering the new topic, Kain turned to considered the cracked and smashed remains of his battleground with Hash’a’gik. Long shadows gave the ruins an even more mournful look than usual. He told his subconscious to stop looking for Ariel’s spectral form lurking amidst the remaining columns, but old habits were hard to break. Two of the nine Pillars were almost entirely gone. Most of the rest were mere stumps, even compared with the ruins they had been in his throneroom. Balance stood nominally upright, taller than the rest, but even it was a shadow of its former glory. Truly the platform looked the worse for the wear.

Strangely even in its broken state, the Pillar of Balance called to him. He could feel its slow, steady power humming in his bones. All was not yet lost, not so long as a thread of energy remained in the central shaft. Walking over, he placed his hand upon the sigil and tried to will it to restore itself. No longer tainted by Nuraptor’s madness, he ought to have had the authority to repair the damage or at least commune with the elemental force within.

The monolith refused to respond to his presence with more than a flicker of emotion. Feeling its confusion, Kain’s eyes widened with comprehension. The Pillar was willing, but unable to accept him as its master. It didn’t know which Kain to listen to, not with two of them blatantly violating the continuum in this age.

Mind busy trying to determine the best way to resolve the one paradox, he glanced at the Reaver, and was reminded of a second conundrum, equally nightmarish to solve. Sending one Raziel back to the future was easy enough to accomplish, but there was another buried not twenty miles away.

“Does a corpse count as a paradox, do you think?” He mused aloud.

“How do you mean?” Janos moved to stand beside him and gave him a confused look.

Kain shook his head, not having the energy to explain. One item had been resolved, but the hours were passing quickly for poor Vorador. There would be no way for him to reach the surly old vampire before his beheading, not without bending time again and risking further interference with his own past. Kain worried that too much manipulation of the continuum, with everything already a hopeless muddle, could only do more harm than good.

Besides, there was Audron consider. The vampire’s wings had to be good for something; if his recent battle hadn’t damaged them beyond repair. Looking appraisingly at his companion he decided it was worth asking. The Reaver seemed to have done a thorough job in patching the ancient back together. Besides, Janos would have a vested interest in rescuing and reassembling his protégé. “I don’t suppose you could find the stamina to fly?”

“I wouldn’t say no to a meal first,” the ancient blinked at the change of topic. “But it seems I am a long way from home.”

“There are brigands in the hills.” Kain gestured vaguely back down the road leading to the Pillars. “Take as many as you like. These times seem to perpetually breed more.”

“What other choices do desperate men have when armies crush both friend and foe in these so-called crusades.” The vampire shook his head sadly. “I swore an oath long ago, never shall I drink from one unwilling, never from a living creature at all, if a better option presents.”

“Vorador’s body lies cooling on a slab in Avernus, awaiting some final and potentially permanent indignity… and you would dither in rescuing him due to moral quandary?” He couldn’t keep the contempt entirely from his voice. “You truly are the foolish one, aren’t you.”

“Vorador is dead?” Janos stared at him is slack-jawed dismay. “How? How could this be?!”

“Mobius.” Kain spat. “Conniving bastard caught and beheaded the poor fool in revenge for his killing spree amongst the Seraphan knights and Guardians a few centuries ago. Ironically, Vorador was motivated at the time by your own death at the hands of the Seraphan brotherhood.” He shrugged. “Behold, the circle of life.”

“I cannot believe it.” Janos shook his head, stunned. “Not Vorador.”

“Go and see for your self then.” Kain goaded grimly. “It’s a short distance, as the crow flies. And plenty of human cattle to pick from should you get peckish along the way.”

“I refuse to become a slave to bloodlust.” Janos vowed, just as firmly. “I have not lived this long just to fall into the old trap now. A man is defined by his actions in this world. I have always believed it. I will always believe.”

“You didn’t live this long at all.” Kain snapped back, irritated already by the blue-skinned vampire’s pacifism. “You’ve been laying like a slab of meat with a missing heart these several hundred years because of your damned inability to adapt to reality.”

“And what reality is this?”

Kain grimaced and sheathed the Reaver across his shoulders. “I speak of the reality that there are some people in this world who simply need killing.”

“All life is precious, Scion.” Janos protested.

“You keep thinking that, Audron, if it gives you comfort.” Pointing to the east, he gestured at the darkening sky. The sun already hung low on the horizon. “Vorador is that way, if you can be bothered to save him. It is no skin off my back either way. Follow the road north of here for a short while and you will come to a fork. In the embankment above there will be a cave. The blood fountain contained within may appeal to your delicate sensibilities.”

The ancient vampire looked first towards the sun and then toward the road behind them in surprise. Bowing his head he sounded suitably humbled, “Thank you, Kain.”

“Don’t thank me, just go retrieve Vorador. I have a hunch he’ll be useful later.” He waived off the earnest words.

Catching the old vampire as he stretched out his still tattered looking wings, he recalled one last warning. “There will be a rather irate young vampire bound and muffled towards the back of the cave. Do not on any account help him, I have plans for him later and don’t want to have to run him down when I need him.”

Janos gave him another baffled stare, but blessedly didn’t question. With a rustling rush of feathers he threw himself into the air and laboriously gained altitude. Kain watched a moment to make sure the vampire was heading in roughly the correct direction. He had played his only reasonable card for Vorador. He wished the pair of them luck, but their final outcome wasn’t his top priority. His new Raziel still hadn’t put in an appearance. It behooved him to check to see if the knight hadn’t magnified his predecessor’s paradox by doing something as damn foolish as dying in the past, again.

The last of the day’s light was streaming through the trees as Kain made his way through the initial underbrush. It caught on the wings of insects as they flittered about, and made ghosts of the bits of pollen settling on the breeze. Not for the first time, he was enchanted by the richness of Nosgoth’s life, here in the past. The shadow of the Pillar’s corruption was barely detectible yet, nothing more than a sort of flavor on the wind, hinting at darkness to come. But for now at least the world was fruitful, golden-green and humming with self-satisfied decadence.

Raziel’s trail was not all together difficult to follow. Damaged feathers had stuck here and there amidst the broken twigs and leaves. The rich smell of the vampire’s blood hinted at his passage even where the trail was less visible. Gamely following the wounded knight’s path, Kain found himself trekking deep into the forest, over a small brook and finally to a gnarled monster of a tree.

His lieutenant looked to be fast asleep where he sat half propped against the warty old trunk. Head tilted back, cradled between the base of one of his smoky wings and the solid bulk of the tree, Raziel paid no mind to the sunset as he rested. Here and there Kain could see evidence of the knight’s efforts, his outer layers of robe, surcoat, and shirt pulled off into a messy heap, strips of the soiled rags shredded into bandages for his bare chest and arms. Of his priestly costume only his sword remained, the elegant weapon resting across his thighs as if he expected his rest interrupted.

For a moment Kain was tempted to let the man sleep. While looking far better than earlier, it was clear the fight had taken its toll on the vampire. Studying Raziel’s wings he noted how the drying blood had clumped and matted a wide swath of feathers along the one, several feathers missing from the clean row at the edge. Other than the bloodstains, the vampire seemed in decent shape. He wavered between hunting up a light snack for his future-child, or simply rousing him for a return to the cave. Given the vampire in question, using the Reaver to heal him was simply out of the question.

In the end the cave won out. The blood fountain’s restorative properties would do more for his wounded companion than a mortal’s life-force could. Kain sighed, remembering that couldn’t leave his younger self unsupervised much longer, whatever his plans were. There was no telling what the foolish vampire would get up to, bound hand-to-foot or not.

He crossed the distance between them on cat’s feet, crouching so as to not cast a shadow across the sleeping vampire. It was far easier to appreciate the similarities between this Raziel and his own while the knight lay unawares. Kain drank in the sight of the familiar profile for a long moment, saving the memory against darker times.

“Raziel.” Not wanting to startle the vampire, he called his name before nudging his shoulder.

His new Raziel shared the old one’s habit of abrupt awakenings. Suddenly alert, the knight clenched his sword and tensed to strike on instinct. Kain easily encased the weapon’s hilt, and the hand holding it, in his own steady grip. “Be calm, child.”

“Lord Scion.” Gathering his wits, Raziel greeted him with unnecessary reverence. “You are victorious?”

“Indeed,” he drawled mildly, releasing his protective grip on his lieutenant’s weapon. “Audron has been dealt with satisfactorily. Your injuries?”

“As well as can be expected.” Raziel had the grace to look embarrassed by his weakness. “I am fit for duty, my lord”

“You’re exhausted.” Kain disagreed, easily doing his own assessment. “And half-starved. A bandit could have made quick work of you just now. This time is rife with would-be Seraphan. It isn’t wise to let your guard down.”

“Even as I am, they would have found me more sport than they bargained for, noble sire.” Raziel disagreed calmly. “I would not dishonor you by falling easily to mere human rabble.”

Rubbing his face, Kain couldn’t help himself, “I don’t suppose you could dispense with the constant obsequiousness, child? It does tend to grate on a person during prolonged conversations.”

“My Lord?”

“Kain.” He corrected, somewhat amused by his lieutenant’s failure to immediately comply. “You may call me Kain. It is what I am accustomed to, from you.”

“So informal?” The handsome vampire wondered aloud. “Have we always been thus, in your world?”

“For the majority of our time together, yes.” Kain nodded, and then smirked evilly. “There was some… unpleasantness between us in the recent past, and for a time you took to calling me an assortment of even less formal names. But I would appreciate it if you called me Kain.”

“How remarkable.” Raziel used the trunk of the tree as a sort of crude prop, leveraging it and his sword to get back onto his feet. “I do not know if I will be able to manage it, Kain. My lord was never well pleased with informality, and habit is not always easy to overcome.”

Collecting the bundle of bloody clothing from where it lay on the grass, Kain stood slowly, minding his companion’s pained progress. “Try for my sake.”

“As you wish, my lord.” The vampire immediately winced at his slip.

“Are you up for a bit of walking?” Kain asked instead of scolding further. Seeing the nod of agreement, he set them back on track to intercept the road, not minding the half light. “First we will find you some nourishment. Then we shall speculate on what is best to be done next.”

Any bandits lying in wait along the dusky road let them pass without confrontation. Whether it was the menacing flicker of the Reaver blade’s aura, or his companion’s unearthly wings that was the deciding factor, Kain was unable to guess. He couldn’t honestly complain at the humans’ sudden burst of self-preserving instinct. After all that had happened since dawn he found he was sick to death of fighting. Having no injuries to boast of, Kain could only blame the constant shocks of the past twenty-four hours for his fatigue. So many secrets revealed; so little time to unravel the hidden meanings before he was forced to act.

Too tired to even pretend to lie to himself, he found he sorely missed his old lieutenant’s company. Kain could have used the distraction of his favorite’s sharp tongued critiques. The new Raziel pacing along softly at his side was far too respectful to interrupt his thoughts as the old one often delighted in doing.

Glancing sideways, Kain silently appraised his new lieutenant’s condition, glad that they were nearly at their destination. The knight looked visibly worn down, face drawn and pale as he followed, not even seemingly aware of the rising moon above them. So subdued, the passive posture didn’t suit the vampire at all. Kain wondered what sort of life his lieutenant had lived to turn him into such a docile creature.

“It’ll be a mile yet.” He caught the winged vampire’s attention. “Do you need to rest?”

Blinking slowly, Raziel surfaced from his own meditations only to shake his head. “I would not slow you down.”

“It’ll slow me down considerably more if you collapse.” Kain replied dryly. “With those wings, I confess I have no proper idea of how one might carry you.”

Apparently the very idea was offensive to his new subordinate. Raziel’s feathers visibly fluffed outwards in anxiety. “I would not expect it, lord.”

“Kain.” He corrected firmly, feeling the loss of his erstwhile son more than before. There was just something so terribly dull about the new one.

“Kain.” Raziel sighed apologetically, following a step behind him.

Soon enough they came to the split in the highway. Kain wasted no time in leaping from ledge to ledge on the fractured hillside leading up to the cave’s mouth, glancing back once at the top to make sure his ally was not too far behind. Raziel’s movements were far from graceful. Dressed in the tatters of his uniform, the vampire refrained from using wings in favor of hands and feet, hauling himself up the crumbled cliff side to join him at the top.

Kain reached down as the knight fumbled for the last hand-hold. Wordlessly catching the grasping fingers in his own steady grip, he pulled the lieutenant to the safety of the ledge. Looking down at the earnest gratitude apparent on his replacement child’s face Kain resisted the urge to snarl in annoyance. He turned instead to the shadowy interior of the cavern, leaving the vampire to sort himself out. “Feed yourself while I tend to matters.”

The blood welling from the earth refreshed and revived, as it always did. For the second time in hours, Kain braced his arms against the low lip of the pool and tried to clear his head. Moonlight did little to illuminate the cave proper, but there was an occult fire trickling along the cracks in the walls and from atop the fountain’s carved pedestals that served well enough. A human might have been crowded by the darkness, but a vampire could navigate easily enough. He tilted his head slightly, noting the quiet fastidiousness with which his lieutenant fed. There would be no trouble from that corner at least. The creature was obedient to a fault. Kain pushed himself upright again and followed a natural gap in the cavern’s wall into a deeper corner of the cave. No more than two steps into the room, and he hissed in heart-felt annoyance. Of course nothing would ever be easy, even this close to his goal. He should have known, really.

Crouching down, Kain picked up the frayed pile of rope left on the floor. Other than a few strands of white hair, and the stirred up dust on the floor, the room was entirely unoccupied.

A quick glance proved that both the fledgling’s pack, and sword, had vanished with him. Whether by Janos’ hand or another ally, or some occult means yet to be discovered, his young copy had flown the coop while he was delayed. “Damn the idiot.” Feeling older than ever, Kain stood, fingering the tattered evidence between his claws as he suppressed the urge to grind his teeth. There was no telling what the young version of himself would get up to. He had no delusions about his former gullibility. Egomaniac as he had been as a youth, he would make easy pickings for one such as the squid underground, or even the Hylden.

The Reaver flared sympathetically against his shoulder. Kain spared it a soothing thought. As poor of a consolation as it was, at least the young fool hadn’t run off with his favored blade. Had the vampire taken him up on his offer to trade, Kain wasn’t entirely certain if he could have found the fortitude to just walk away and leave the Soul Reaver with a new master; even if that new master was himself. Frustrated, he punched the wall of the cave, the stone unyielding beneath his fist, neither capable of truly hurting the other.

The last thing he had wanted was to waste time tramping across country in order to flush out his former-self as causality and Nosgoth both crumpled around him. Fate it seemed, wasn’t in a listening mood. Still, standing around uselessly would hardly help matters. Kain reached out with his will even as he navigated the narrow passage back to the fountain, searching the nearby landscape for the runaway. Either the fledgling was hidden, or far beyond his ability to see. He cursed again.

“Kain?” Raziel was sitting on the convenient lip of the blood pool, wings held carefully aloft and away from the spray as new feathers grew in. “You look- Is something amiss?”

He schooled his expression back from murderous at the sight of the vampire’s alarmed look. “He’s escaped.”

“Who’s escaped?” Raziel blinked, trying to fathom the source of his ire.

Kain settled on the fountain’s edge with a hiss. “Kain. I left him here. But he’s since absented himself, no doubt Janos’ doing. Soft hearted idiot.”

“The Adversary is soft hearted?” The vampire rolled his shoulders, stretching his wings to settle his feathers. “That I find hard to believe.”

“The adversary is no more.” Kain corrected grimly. “I detangled the Dark Entity from the vampire. The one is banished. The other is turning out to be a nuisance.”

Raziel silently digested the commentary. Catching sight of the tattered rope dangling from Kain’s hand, he reached out to claim it, curious. Kain snorted in amusement as the knight turned the clue over in his claws, trying to puzzle out its meaning. First toying with the frayed end, and then sniffing it. The vampire frowned in thought. “I don’t know if I entirely understand you, master, but I don’t think there was outside interference with this. It seems whoever was tied up chewed their way free.”

“It was Kain.” He repeated himself, accepting the rope back from his puzzled companion with grim humor. “I suppose I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Wait.” Raziel held up a hand. “Are you saying, Kain, as in, another Kain? Not you?”

“The Kain of this era. Yes.” Kain rubbed his forehead. “Damn fool’s run off somewhere. Sulking no doubt.”

“You?” The dark haired knight was looking at him in dismay. “You bound and gagged yourself?!”

“Your semantics are a little confused. But yes.” Kain smirked and rested his elbows on his knees. “I met the one who was supposed to fight Audron, here. He proved… obstinate. So I left him here to rethink his options while I followed you. It seems now I underestimated him. He was even more obstinate than I gave him credit for, and more resourceful as well.”

“He is you after all.” Raziel offered a half smile. “But what now? Isn’t the moment of danger past? Shouldn’t we leave him to get on with his life unmolested?”

“I’m not sure.” Kain mulled over what he knew, and what he didn’t. The vampire had an excellent point. How much was he supposed to deflect from his youthful self before he altered history in a way unintended? All he knew for certain was that the Pillars were not yet restored, and that event was not likely to occur until he both purified the other Kain, and either absented himself from this era, or more likely, died. He spoke slowly as he put his thoughts in order. “There is at least one power left in this world that is currently bent on destroying him; an ancient being that lurks in secrecy deep beneath the ground.”

“Must we fight that for him as well?” Raziel craned his neck and bent his wings, inspecting himself. Kain watched, mildly impressed at the way the vampire was able to reach back and catch his wingtip, guiding the appendage closer so as to finger-comb the dried blood off of his feathers. “If it is so ancient, how is it that no one knows about it?”

“It exists in a manner that is only partially perceivable to the senses. It is a creature of the spirit realm, but no less real for its insubstantiality.” Unable to help himself he reached out and caught the wing’s leading edge after watching his lieutenant struggle to hold the awkward pose and take care of what ever it was he was attempting to do.

Not sure what he had been expecting, Kain was startled at the feeling of coiled strength beneath the palm of his hand. The feathered limb was as real and solid as Raziel’s arm would have been. What he had mistaken for frail, downy softness was only the outer most layer. Just beneath the surface the warm contour of sinewy muscle was oddly reassuring. The memory of the feel of his old Raziel’s wings beneath his fingers followed close behind. Gossamer smooth and just as fragile beneath his claws, his former lieutenant’s bat-like evolution had been undeniably beautiful in its way. Not that he had allowed it to last long. Tearing this Raziel’s wings out would require considerably more effort, even if he could muster the stomach for it. Given the amount of blood likely contained in the massive arteries feeding the vampire’s appendages, losing one abruptly would probably be deadly.

Closing his hand carefully over the feathers Kain checked the limb’s motion, freeing up Raziel to dig his claws into the thick down of the short feathers without having to struggle with maintaining his balance. “Do you need assistance?” He watched with the vampire’s efforts with interest.

“If you could be patient just one moment… One of the damned things is impacted and the itching will drive me crazy if I don’t-” Raziel hissed and itched at a patch of new growth, finally getting his claw tips around a broken looking shaft. He yanked at the offending feather, pulling it out with a wince. “Aaaah.”

“Perils of molting?” Kain couldn’t help but jibe, curious in spite of himself as he let go.

“You have no idea.” The knight replied, candid for once. Turning the bit of feather over in his fingers he made a face and cast it aside. “There are always one or two that don’t come in right after an injury.” Standing, he moved to the cave door, beating his wings briskly against the air as soon as room permitted, craning his neck as he stretched one at a time to complete his visual inspection. One last ruffle, and they were folded discretely against his back. The antics couldn’t help but make Kain think of hunting hawks fussing on their keeper’s fists.

“It seems you are once again in order.” Kain observed dryly.

“As fit as can be, all things considered.” His lieutenant nodded, looking much more alert than previously. Spying his tattered gear still in a pile, the dark haired vampire crouched to pick through the remains, donning the tattered undershirt and mail armor with practiced dexterity, despite the wings.

Raziel looked up as he tightened the laces at his waist. “So what do we do? Find this ephemeral creature underground? Or track your younger self?”

“I think finding Kain will be the imperative act.” Kain frowned. “I dare not leave the youth to his own devices, not when the Pillars are yet broken.” Tilting his head back, he brushed the Reaver’s hilt with the side of his face. “Besides. There is the matter of the Soul Reaver that still must be settled. There is only the one blade. If it is to be his, he must be convinced to take it up and fulfill his destiny.”

“I was always taught that the Pillars were restored as soon as the Adversary was defeated.” Raziel mused. “Another exaggeration, I wonder.”

“Or an alteration in the course of history.” Kain grimly replied. “We must work quickly, child, or you may become just as stranded as I in this timeline, with no future of your own to go back to.”

Raziel paled at the idea. “Is such a thing possible?”

“Oh yes.” Kain eyed the moon to judge the hour, feeling oddly depressed at the thought. He hadn’t loved his future particularly. The desolate and ruined countryside had been a constant reminder of his failure as Balance Guardian. But it had been his in a way this fruitful world never could be. And it was lost to him, forever, in the moment Raziel fulfilled his destiny.

This world, and its happier future, was all that remained. Most of him was well pleased with the developments, even if it stung to admit that it belonged to another Kain, a younger one. His victory had turned him into a sort of living ghost. No longer belonging in this timeline, or any other, he couldn’t lay claim to any of it, not the sword on his back, nor even the man at his side.

He had had his chance, and used -perhaps squandered- it to the best he was able, now it was this young Kain’s turn. Hoping the fledgling would appreciate the sacrifices made so that he could have an easier time of it was futile. The boy neither knew nor cared, nor could he be expected to. Regrets and fancies aside, there could be only one Kain. He chided himself against the idle wish that he would be that one again.

“Yes it is very possible to become stranded.” He murmured. “And should that unfortunate event occur… your likelihood of survival is rather slim.”

“Yet you live.” His lieutenant pointed out gently.

“For now.” Kain agreed. He took a slow breath to settle his frustrations. “Fate it seems, is not quite done with me yet. We shall have to endeavor to return you to your proper time before things get too out of hand, though. It makes no sense for you to suffer the same trap if you do not need to.”

The wind from the east carried with it the scent of heavy rain. He looked back at the relative comfort of the cave and then out onto the moonlit highway. Raziel was no doubt old enough to endure a mild wetting, should they be caught out when the storm struck, and he himself was categorically immune to all but the worst downpours. It made no sense to idly waste time when there was prey to catch. He reached out, habitually, and squeezed his lieutenant’s shoulder with old affection as he hopped off the ledge. “Come, let us hunt.”

Jumping down onto the road, he missed Raziel’s look of startled pleasure completely.