by Sydney Addae
Rugger stood, stretched, and began pacing. Little could be heard over the clicking noises of the boots he wore. No doubt, his mind raced over all he’d been told, Brieloff mused. Most he knew already. Rugger wasn’t crazy, at least not yet, and he understood the terms of the canon. He just didn’t like it.
Finally, he spoke while looking out towards the mountains. “I still believe the ancients committed a gross injustice to our people. Earth was never the answer; it compounded the problem. We are quickly losing our identity. Most of us are more human than Vemdorian. Our people have become lazy through the centuries, they no longer transport or use their strength, and refuse to survive without what they consider comforts.”
Hands spread wide, he appeared lost. “I also believe our people are casualties in a master game between the One. Yes, we were told of the Trickster prior to the bargain between the ancients and the One. But Brieloff, there was no way to understand how intimately the Trickster dwelt with man and his kind. We were desperate and had no frame of reference. We were, and still are, pawns.” Rugger’s head hung as he made his last remark into the quiet of the room. “You ask what I will do. I...I do not know.” He sounded bleak. “I cannot settle this thing in me. A war rages inside and I’m having a difficult time controlling it. Orton has deep concerns over my stability and helps more each day with the training. We have decided to take only a handful of students and even that will soon be curtailed. I admit, I cannot continue this path. It tears me apart. One minute I know what you say is true, we had little choice, the next I feel as though we have been betrayed and I become enraged.”
Sighing, he executed a short bow. “I have heard your words, and I know they are true. We are indebted to the One, although I do not like it.” Rugger shuffled towards the entrance, shoulders slumped, his earlier bearing changed.
Inwardly, Brieloff grieved for his comrade, yet he recognized the danger the unstable man presented.
“I thank you for the time you have taken with me today,” Rugger spoke from the door.
Brieloff returned the bow and watched him leave. “Do not allow the Trickster to fool you into doing something that will destroy you.”
Waving his hand tiredly in reply, Rugger continued down the path.
Brieloff sat and wrote notes from this meeting, reflecting on all he’d heard. Although Rugger did not commit to anything, his words set hard upon Brieloff’s shoulders.
Rugger was right; Vemdorians had known nothing of deceit or immorality. There had been no concept of right or wrong prior to entering this realm. The seduction began soon after their arrival. Greed, jealousy, and pride followed shortly thereafter, causing many to forget the canon they’d formed with The One. He’d seen it all, had participated himself at first. It was not one of their more shining moments as a species, but they’d gotten a handle on it and began turning things around. Humans called them Vampires and they were correct, he thought. They preyed upon man in order to live. No one should have to live like that.
Chapter 6
Baron headed to the Black Mountains with the intent of bringing his mind and body into a cohesive unit. He figured it would take a couple of days to resolve the personality differences between his kinsmen and himself.
Two weeks later, bent over at his waist, he clutched his sides and tried to catch his breath. Leaning against an old tree, he wished fire and damnation against his tormentors.
“You’re trying to kill me!” Baron yelled at Brevar, his lineman known for his mastery of weapons.
“No. You must master your body. I understand it’s new to you, but your performance is pathetic. You are out of breath from running ten miles! Even a child can run ten miles,” Brevar mocked, not bothering to hide his disgust as his body faded in and out.
Baron closed his eyes at the insult, too tired to do more.
Throwing his hands in the air, Brevar disappeared.
Baron sighed and fell to the ground, holding his head in his hands and moaning. He despaired of ever living in peace again. His linesmen had boldly informed him that they would leave after imparting their gifts for posterity. Inhaling the crisp air, signaling sunrise, he listened to the early morning sounds. The bird’s ditty calmed him; the insects raised their voices, a symphony of sound. He could lay here and listen for hours, singling out each insect, bird, or animal. Smiling at the last hoot of the owl, he prepared to respond when a voice disrupted his trance.
“Up, up, up, Baron.”
He groaned as he glanced at Marias the Just.
He stood slowly, grimacing in pain. “Tell me, Marias, why can’t all of you just leave me the knowledge, like an implant or a data chip in my mind, so I can access it at will?”
“You know the answer to that.” Marias reached out a hand to offer assistance. Baron refused. Smiling, Marias continued as they walked slowly towards the makeshift camp. “A child learns the value of walking by taking the steps to get from point A to B, or the value of money by working for it. I know this seems cumbersome to you now, but there is a lot at stake here. It’s not just for your immediate progeny, but the future of our race. It must be done right.”
They reached the camp. Baron marched straight to his canteen, tipped it up and drank. Wiping his mouth with the back of his arm, he glanced at Marias, who seemed to be leaning against the tent. Baron didn’t think he’d ever get used to seeing the ghost-like images of his linesmen. They were a peculiar lot ranging from fashionably dressed to rags. Each was insanely passionate about something and drilled that element into him with military precision. He set his canteen down, prepared to listen.
Nodding, Marias pushed away from the tent and began pacing in front of him. Baron for his part, sat and received instruction. He preferred the legacies transferred in this manner—calm, intellectual, and insightful. He was making tremendous progress with Marias, Ian, and Cull. He spent hours with Ian, devouring the principles of effective strategies. Cull, the former Councilman and Elder, left the legacy of selflessness and the ability to lead from a solid position of strength, along with the mental acuity to process data quickly and plot a course of action succinctly. These were his favorite linesmen. Bulgar, a healer, was next. His lessons creating mixtures resembled Baron’s lab work. Unfortunately, once he learned what they sought to teach, they no longer appeared, and he was left with the harder taskmasters–the physical ones.
The days were long and hot, the nights worse. The small generator that kept his blood supply cool was the only concession made for modern conveniences. He’d been surprised to discover his tolerance for the sun had increased and he could move about during the day with no problem.
“Get your ass up here, Baron!” Icar yelled immediately after Marias left.
Baron ran up the hill to reach his tormentor.
“We are going to practice breaking down firearms today. I am pleased that you know the differences in the types of weaponry. That’s tremendous progress from when we started.”
Baron stood looking at all the weapons on the ground and wondered where they came from. He started to ask, but one look at Icar’s face changed his mind. Moving forward, he knelt and picked up each weapon, looking them over. Tensing, he heard Icar murmur, “Calm down. You know this stuff; let's just make it more interesting.”
Brevar placed a blindfold over his eyes.
“Put the weapon down, pick up another and tell me all about it.”
Baron’s heart raced as his hand hovered over the weapons. Inhaling, he reminded himself this was just a test. He detested violence. True, he created tools to help his people combat violators of the law. But none caused death.
“Focus, Baron,” Icar snapped, with Brevar nearby. “Tell me what weapon you hold, its function, its ammunition, the best time to use it, and how it’s used. Tell me now! Begin with the one near your left hand. Do it!”
Heat raced to his face at the harshness of Icar’s command. Hesitantly, he reached forward, his hand connected with some sort of long weapon.
“This i
s a blade, knife, or dagger, best used in close combat, could be deadly or cause a delay depending on intent.” He concentrated on the heaviness, the feel, and texture. “It is a knife in its holster.” Placing it down, he picked up the next.
An inner sense of pride engulfed him. With each weapon he picked up, his voice grew stronger. His knowledge surprised him as well as the sense of knowing he would not hesitate using one of these to protect himself or his line. The continuation of his line, his people, was the pinnacle of his responsibility. He would succeed or die trying.
When the blindfold came off, he was surprised to see all of his linemen standing around him. Tall and proud. He stood and they all nodded at the solemn oath he had not uttered, but they all heard. From that moment on, he accepted his responsibility as Last of Line. His lessons in combat, medicine to heal his people, and construction to ensure they were housed in the bleakest of times became his passion and focus of each day. He thrived as he tuned into his inner strengths and melded the personalities of his line into a cohesive unit.
Halgreth, and then Rhiannon, were the last to present their legacies. Halgreth’s ability to create masterpieces of art and music amazed Baron. He’d be happy if he could recognize fine art or listen to the melodies his lineman crafted since he couldn’t carry a tune or paint a stroke when he tried. As a spellbinder, they all agreed that Rhiannon would go last since Baron needed to master the other traits before learning to throw up barriers, move through space, and engage spells for protection.
For Baron, it was the culmination of a journey as he spent days reviewing and learning new information. All too soon, it was over. Baron acknowledged he’d come from an amazing line. Each person left an imprint on him for posterity, and he’d committed to passing it all on.
“We’ll be watching and if you need anything that we possess, it’s yours for the asking. Otherwise, we’ll step back so you can make your own way,” Cull said.
He nodded and gave a small bow. “I appreciate it. There have been too many voices in my head lately. Sometimes it’s been difficult to function. I understand all the knowledge was given for one purpose.”
“Yes,” Cull agreed. “One mind, one voice, and one goal–preserve the line and our people.”
As Baron packed his gear and prepared to leave the mountain, he sensed his linesmen had returned. Turning slowly, he watched as they all reappeared. Nodding in respect and grudging affection, he waited.
Ian spoke for the group. “Baron, we just wanted to say that we are all proud of you. And as usual, the One has chosen wisely. You will represent us and our people well.”
Baron nodded in acceptance of the compliment, proud even, although he knew there had to be more for them all to materialize at once.
“We would also like to thank you for your commitment to the posterity of the line and our people. The two are intertwined.” Pausing, he spread his hands wide, including all the linesmen. “Family is a human concept, but we’ve been here long enough to know that our people change to survive, so we are a family of sorts. To that end, we have discussed the pool of vampire females available to assist in the procreation for our line.”
Baron tensed, he did not intend to allow them to interfere that far into his life. “Wait a minute–,” was as far as he got before Marias interrupted him.
“We are not choosing your Blood-mate Baron; we cannot do that. What we are doing is offering our opinions. You have little experience in this area and many may attempt to trick you. It will be a great honor to be bred by you. Let us assist you in this.”
Crossing his arms, he looked at each of them. Some were smiling, others looked bored, and some appeared sincere. They were a rowdy group. He’d had to put his foot down more than once to remind them whose body and mind it was.
Looking at Ian, he nodded. “Go ahead, I’m listening.”
“Between all of us, we have had sexual relations with every female vampire or Fem alive. We have come to the conclusion that not one of them will be good enough to have our seed.”
“Your? What do you mean your seed?!” Baron roared. Feet apart and teeth bared, his hands balled into fists, he made a step in their direction. No one moved.
“Didn’t you know we have to approve of the bearer in order to release the fertile seed for the first offspring? After that, it’s all on you,” Cull asked in a conciliatory tone.
“Hell no, I didn’t know that! Who would have or should have told me that?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He pointed at Ian, who said nothing. “Or you?” he pointed at Marias, who looked pained. “Damn it, any of you could have told me.” He swore, looking at the group. “Who else is there if not a Fem?” he questioned. The silence grew as his eyes rounded as big as saucers. Shaking his head, he backed up, pushed his hands forward as he warned them off.
“No way, no way, no animals!” he shouted, thinking of the shifters.
Horrified, they gasped collectively. “Of course, no animals, where would you get an idea like that?” Rhiannon asked him.
He stood and focused on Rhiannon, wondering what the hell was going on? Then he froze as another possibility hit him. Surely, they wouldn’t push that idea. For centuries, he’d avoided anything to do with humans. They knew how he felt about it. He shook his head to dispel the lingering image of the bronzed beauty from the cafe. Even they wouldn’t go that far, the looks on their faces confirmed they would.
“Fuck it and fuck you. No humans ever! I don’t even talk to them. Are you crazy?” Pacing in front of them, he continued. “The races do not mix! Have you been gone so long that you have forgotten that basic rule?”
“As you know, there were no females on our home planet. We were unfamiliar with man’s ways of reproducing. We thought it unwise to divide our species. Yet, that changed when we noticed the harmony that developed between the split species and the subsequent results of replenishment. Some of our people changed, and we now replenish ourselves in a way that’s common to man,” Bulgar explained.
“I know that! Why would we need to replenish with other beings now?”
“Because the female Vemdorians are not reproducing,” Halgreth replied sadly. “They have become greedy and breed for reasons other than continuation. I impregnated two females, yet neither gave birth. They have complications if you don’t meet their demands. It has become a business for them. The council is aware, but there is little they can do.”
Baron wanted to comfort Halgreth. He was a gentle giant who created masterpieces, both in art and music. The world needed his gifts in the earth. It frustrated him to know so much had happened while he’d been in his labs. Running his palm over his face, Baron looked at his linesmen, grim reality lined their faces.
“I know you mean well, but not telling me about this approving thing was wrong. I’ve put up with a lot of shit from you, but that is not going to happen. I will impregnate a Fem of my choosing. We will replenish our own kind, not mutants!” Turning, he got his bag, swung it over his shoulder and stalked off.
“Well, that went over well, didn’t it?” Icar teased.
“No, no it didn’t. Although it was the same response I would have given. I’m proud of him. A few weeks ago he would have run screaming. Tonight, he stood tall and told us to fuck off,” Brevar pointed out.
Bulgar, the doctor sighed. “Yes, he has grown, but to what point? He will be targeted and we must help him, whether he wants it or not.”
“Hmmm, why did we add that little part about him needing us to release the sperm for him to procreate? I don’t remember that.” Marias questioned Cull and Ian.
“I sensed his attraction to a human, despite his protests. In a brief discussion on sex, he became aroused when he saw sex scenes of humans, not Vemdorians.” Cull paused, letting that soak in.
“We wanted him to feel free to pursue whoever he wants and not feel as though he was letting us down by not dealing with our kind,” Ian explained, looking at each lineman.
“Humans are territorial. He
will have a hard time dealing with more than one at a time,” Sven the architect threw out. “It will take a long time to re-build our line that way.”
“True,” Ian said. “But they will have the One’s protection, being partially human.”
“Maybe, maybe not, Ian,” Rhiannon said into the thoughtful silence. “We cannot be sure how the One will react. Do we really want to chance it?”
“True, the covenant does not specifically address this, but what else can we do? The way things are headed; these bodies we are housed in are wearing down faster than before. Our people refuse to leave this planet. Therefore, they must be prepared for the final conflict written in the texts. If we can breed with humans, it will limit the impact of the sun and give our people some added protection.” Bulgar shrugged. “I do not see what choice we have,” he said, expressing the root issue plaguing everyone’s mind. One by one, they agreed and disappeared.
Upon returning home, Baron sensed the repeated summons from Lukian and Rauff. He was too angry to care. What a fucked-up way to end weeks of training. There was no way he would have anything to do with humans. After all the time they spent together, for them to drop that on him at the end smacked of treason. Yes, he decided, they were betraying their people and him.
“Fuck them.” He threw his gear to the floor. Dropping onto the bed, he placed his head in his hand and growled. Then fell back onto the mattress. “How much more of this change am I supposed to take? Must I sacrifice everything I believe in for this privilege? If I must produce the future, should I not at least be true to myself?” he ended on a whisper. Exhausted, he rolled over and slept.
Hours later, he woke and decided to stop complaining and start living. First things first, he needed clothes. His new appearance would be a lot to take in, and he preferred to operate from a position of strength. He wanted his ‘vampire’ mate to look upon him fondly.