by Kallysten
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Alinar Publishing
www.alinarpublishing.com
Copyright ©2007 by Kallysten
First published in 2007, 2007
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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Her Last Words
+ Kallysten
Copyright © 2007 Kallysten
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The right of Kallysten to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published October 2005
Second edition November 2007
All characters in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Edited by Maria Morpeth
Cover by Kallysten
ISBN (PDF only):
1-906023-40-9
978-1-906023-40-9
Chapter 1
Despite everything, the first blow was unexpected, and Gabrielle instinctively wanted to reply in kind. The blood trickling from her nose, counterpoint to the sharp pain, roused her demon and she felt her fangs start to elongate. She fought the change, just like she fought the instinct to strike back. And if she closed her hands tight enough that her fingernails drew blood from her palms, she didn't use her fists to fight back. She parried some blows, but without much conviction.
She could easily have struck back; those were only humans around her, and only a handful of them at that. In seconds, she could have killed all of them, or broken a few bones to disable them; neither option would have taken much time or skill. But they had more of a right to hurt her than she did them, and so she stayed there, and waited for one of them to figure out what she was and shove a piece of wood through her heart.
It was far too common, these days, for isolated people to be the victims of attacks as unprovoked as they could be deadly. It was enough to be dressed in clothes that weren't rags to attract this sort of attention. Enough to look reasonably healthy. To look like you weren't starving. To look like you had anything worth stealing on your person. Any reason was enough, really; and sometimes, no reasons were needed at all.
Gabrielle remembered days of peace, when this kind of behavior would have been met with swift retaliation from the vampire clan on whose grounds the transgression had occurred. Vampires were protective of what they considered theirs, and humans definitely fell into that category. The Pacts didn't say it in so many words, of course, and the humans would have been offended to even hear it, but as a clan Master, that had always been how Gabrielle saw things. The people she had protected against demons and rogue humans alike and who had offered blood to her and to her clan had been hers. Free to move to other villages, free to do as they pleased, but ultimately hers, just as much as her Childer had been hers. Responsibility and family, all at once.
Now though, vampires were too busy fighting demons to be able to police the humans. And the humans were so scared by everything going on around them that their attempts to police themselves often ended in summary executions.
Gabrielle knew all that. She had tried, for as long as she had been able to keep a hold on her territory, to keep her people safe. Without a clan around her, however, the task was too large, and all she could do was spend her nights patrolling grounds she didn't dare call hers anymore, and help whatever humans she met. If she heard about demons invading a town or village, she would run there, often arriving too late to do more than mourn and kill a few beasts. The humans who had once looked up to her, sought her help, had for the most part stopped believing in her.
She was glad they had.
Even with the rampant danger, people often stayed in their villages rather than seek refuge in overcrowded towns that weren't as safe as they claimed to be. The village councils that had survived had gained power, and they organized patrol groups to ward off demons entering their villages and keep human thieves and murderers at bay. If they were lucky enough to have them, young people who knew hardly anything about weapons armed themselves with axes, short swords and spears. Otherwise they used sticks and rocks. Decently armed or not, one thing was common to all of them; they reeked of fear.
Gabrielle had laughed, the first few times she had encountered these groups on her territory; these children were pitiful, not quite believing they could fight yet ready to die trying. Over the years, the laughs had turned into sour anger. The humans had learned to fight, at least enough to get by, and as a group they were often as effective defending their villages as she was alone. Eventually, the anger had faded, leaving only tiredness and regret. Gabrielle was tired of fighting, tired of protecting humans who were as wary of her as they were afraid of demons. Two centuries of fighting for them on her own were enough to make up for her failings, or so she thought. If whoever passed judgment on these things thought otherwise ... well, hell couldn't possibly be much worse than this.
She had been ready to die, but she had planned to do so standing, and she was almost surprised suddenly to find herself on the ground. The grass was wet against her cheek, she noticed. Wet and sticky. It took her long seconds to realize it was wet with her blood.
Focusing on small, insignificant details helped. It made the pain manageable if not less—oh, no, not less. They had stopped beating her, now, but she could feel each cut, each bruise and a couple of broken bones. She could hear them talk, too. Talk of the need for a stake carved from special wood, talk of beheading, and short swords hidden back in the village that could be fetched in minutes. Tired as she was, she was ready to tell them that any piece of wood, as long as it was sharp enough to pierce her skin, would do the job, and the special wood was a myth. Anything for all of it to end now, and quickly, the physical pain and the mental agony alike.
The talking stopped, and the part of Gabrielle's brain that wasn't consumed by pain wondered if she had passed out already. Although if she had, she wouldn't have been aware of it, wouldn't have questioned herself, wouldn't still be feeling pain, just as overwhelming as it had been, two centuries earlier on that cursed morning.
She had knelt, then, broken in mind and body, on a battlefield littered with corpses she couldn't look at, because each of them wore the face of a friend, of a member of her clan, of a human from her first allied village. Each streak of lightning in the sky had made it all too clear how many bodies lay around her. Most of them should have vanished, should have been reduced to ashes, but the Primal Forces had done something to the vampires they had killed that night, and their bodies had remained intact in death. Gabrielle had knelt, waiting for the sun as she did now, ready to join the fallen fighters she had led to their deaths. She had failed the members of her clan, as she had failed the humans under her protection. And then, she had heard it despite the relentless thunder over her head. A sob. A heart-wrenching sob. The cry of a lost soul who had seen everything, everyone they loved disappear. Just like Gabrielle had.
She had found it in herself to stand, to stumble to
the crying man lying with scorched bodies. She had called his name, in vain. Erik had not reacted, too lost in his grief to respond to a simple word. Gabrielle had closed her hand on his shoulder, gradually squeezing hard enough to hurt, because Erik did not look at her until she did that. Dead eyes had stared at her, unseeing, from behind a mask of blood and grime. Gabrielle had heard words fall out of her mouth, comfort that tasted of ashes, courage as bright as a dying flame. Erik had continued to stare at her blankly until Gabrielle had pulled him up and led him to shelter in the ruins that had been their lair. Saved him, like she hadn't been able to save the others. And then...
A noise—soft steps—pulled Gabrielle back to the present, and she made the effort to open her eyes. At first, she thought that she was still lost in her memories as her gaze met the icy gray eyes of a vampire she hadn't seen in two hundred years. But when she blinked, the tall shadow only got closer, clearer.
"Have you lost the last sane bits of your brain?” a sneering voice asked, too loud, slightly off. “What the hell is wrong with you? Trying to get yourself dusted?"
Gabrielle's only answer was a grunt. Closing her eyes again, she mentally wished Erik would go away and leave her alone to the tender care of the soon to come sunrise, or to that of these humans. Although they seemed to have disappeared. Where had they gone? To get that sword, maybe?
Strong hands grabbed her, and as she yelled in pain Gabrielle was sure Erik was about to finish the job. In a sense, it was fitting. The pain was excruciating, broken bones moving as no bone should, cracked ribs protesting, bruised skin coming into contact with too strong hands—
Blissful darkness swallowed everything into silence.
Chapter 2
+ Three hundred and fifty years earlier
A man and a woman were waiting for Gabrielle at the entrance of the village, each of them carrying a burning torch. The flames cast more than enough light for her to distinguish their features, nervous and grave; but also, she could clearly see the expectation on their faces. They had waited for this for a long time, and they were glad that she had come to them. She couldn't have hoped for a better way to begin her life as a Master.
They both bowed toward her when her horse came to a halt in front of them, and she inclined her head in return. They then turned away together, their coordination ample proof that the ceremony had been practiced to perfection before they had even known the village would finally be granted the protection of a Master. It had been their choice to establish a new village so far from the closest lair, too far to be protected. Perhaps they had believed they could live without the help of vampires. But clearly, they had found out otherwise, and it had been many months, Gabrielle knew, since they had sent a request for a Master. Their wait was over, now, though. They had accepted her already, the village council giving word back with the messenger she had sent to them that they were eager to meet her. However, the Pact would only be sealed once the ceremony was completed. The details varied from territory to territory, but as far away from her old lair as she was, Gabrielle knew that the core of it would be centered on the sharing of blood. It always was; after all, it was what the whole Pact was based on.
She followed the torchbearers down the street, straight to the central plaza. It was barely more than an open square at the center of the village with the common well on one side, but somehow it seemed almost impressive as the realization slowly dawned on her that the hundred or so people gathered there, all of them facing her as she approached, would soon be her people. She would be linked to them, and they to her, in only a few moments. She had known this would happen some day from the instant her Sire had chosen her, but she still felt an incredible trepidation that it was finally happening. Descending from her horse with practiced ease, she clenched and unclenched her fists repeatedly while walking to the raised podium that had been erected for the ceremony. She heard the ritual words the torchbearers pronounced, and answered with the same words she remembered her Sire using during a ceremony such as this one, but her mind was already beyond this.
The same way, when she slid the strap of the grain sack from her shoulder and offered it to the old man who had walked forward and asked the ritual question, her actions were dictated more by what she knew had to happen than by conscious thought; the importance of it all was too great for her to even think anymore. Hunting and killing a demon, on her way to the village, had seemed innocuous enough. Giving proof that she had, now, was anything but innocuous. It was her first duty as a Master to keep her people safe, and the severed demon head the old man was now showing to the crowd was her pledge to them that they did not need to fear demons anymore.
The next part was to be performed by the villagers, and Gabrielle was offered a seat to be more comfortable as they did. The torchbearers slid their torches into stands on each side of her and were the first to let a few drops of blood each fall into a metal cup. She couldn't see it from where she sat, but she knew a few crushed herbs were at the bottom of the cup, chosen to keep the blood fresh during a ceremony that could take more than an hour. One by one, the members of the crowd approached, and each of them cut his or her own palm, joining their blood to that of the others in the cup. All present that had lived through their fifteenth birthday participated in the ritual, and it took a long time before Gabrielle was presented with the full cup that symbolized all the lives that were now hers to defend. She stood before taking the cup, and raised it high over her head, her gesture silently thanking all those who had shed their blood for her this night, and who would do so in the future. Her hands trembled a little as she brought the cup to her lips; she drank deep, and didn't stop before she had emptied the cup, aware that this very act was granting her the title of Master more than her Sire freeing her of his rule and sending her off to establish her own lair had.
She was startled, when the cup left her lips, by the instantaneous clamor that rose from the crowd, so silent until that instant. She quickly realized it was shouts of happiness she was hearing, and smiled for the first time that night, coming close to laughing herself as the tension left her body.
"If it pleases you, my lady,” the female torchbearer said, bowing to her, “our young people shall talk to you while the feast continues."
Gabrielle nodded her assent, and pushed the hood of her cloak back before sitting again. Another part of the ritual was about to begin, one she had mixed feelings about. She would need help, to protect the village, and it was traditional for a Master to choose amongst the young humans of the village someone she would make her Childe and train to fight with her. She had no desire to choose so quickly, however. For her first Childe, she wanted someone whose company she would enjoy, not just the prettiest or strongest of those she would meet. She had made that clear in the message she had sent to the village council, but of course they expected her to at least meet her potential Childer that night. She was sure she would need at least a few weeks, before she could make her choice. She wanted to talk to them, and a few words, as she was doing now, were far from enough.
Or so she thought, until piercing blue-gray eyes looked straight at her as a man put a knee down in front of her. All the others had kept their heads bowed, barely daring to look up when she asked their name, but this one looked straight at her.
"I am called Erik, my lady.” The young man answered her question, his gaze never wavering. “May I ask to know your name?"
Gabrielle laughed in both surprise and delight. This one was truly unique. Broad of shoulders and his ashy blond hair gathered in a short ponytail at the nape of his neck, he looked no different from a dozen other young men she had talked to already that night, but his wit seemed to be something else altogether.
"My name is Gabrielle, Erik. Although I think you might learn to call me Sire."
The shock or fear she had expected did not appear in his eyes, nor were they present in his voice when he replied: “If it is your wish, my lady."
There were still a dozen or so young men and women wait
ing to come to her, but Gabrielle stood. Erik remained on one knee, his head now tilted back so he could still see her. The torchbearers rushed to her, inquiring whether anything was wrong, and she reassured them with a smile.
"I have seen enough for tonight and wish to retire. Sunrise will be upon us fast, now."
"If it pleases you, my lady, I will guide you to your lair,” the female immediately offered, bowing lightly. “It is near the forest. It is not very large yet, but we will enlarge it as you see fit. Only ask and our best artisans will work to satisfy your needs."
Gabrielle nodded once, but made her desire known to have Erik lead her there. The torchbearers beamed at that news, clearly thinking that she had made her choice already, and for a few seconds Gabrielle wanted to tell them she was only going to speak to the young man. But then he stood, and without waiting for further instructions went to get her horse and led it to the podium, holding it in place for Gabrielle to climb on. His small smile, as he did all this, intrigued her as much as his daring eyes had. Maybe she had truly found her first Childe, after all.
The villagers were cheering around her as Gabrielle left the town square and she remained very straight in her saddle. One of the lessons she had learned from her Sire was at the forefront of her mind at that moment; always, she had to remain in control of herself, and show the humans someone dignified, someone they could look up to, someone they could trust with their lives.
Soon enough, the cheers and songs behind them were nothing more than murmurs fading in the wind, and Gabrielle focused more fully on her companion. Erik was attractive, and certainly she wanted to be able to look at her first Childe and find beauty in what she saw. She would spend a lot of time with him, and she had to choose right. Appearances were only part of it, though. She couldn't abide foolhardiness, and needed someone who wouldn't cower in fear when he was first confronted with demons. The latter, she wouldn't be able to judge until they rode into battle, but she thought herself a good judge of character and she intended to know before long what kind of man Erik was beyond his daring eyes and pretty smile.