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emerald_embersBlood
No Hylden
Vampires on the fields
Faces he knew
Tearing
Fire
Burning
Blood
The week's events had worn at him, near every day as a General leading him to a deeper understanding of Sianne's almost brutal nature and how the Hylden General always seemed so callous at meetings. That said, the Hylden General probably lacked the moral concerns that preyed on Janos' mind at near every waking moment.
Speaking of waking, lately it seemed to feel nothing like it should, almost as though he had not slept in the first place. Even a visit to Vorador felt a drain on his energy now; human casualties were treated so casually by the vampire elders, more than he had ever thought before becoming a General and learning the truth, and knowing more of the tensions that existed between his race and theirs seemed a strain he was not ready to deal with. Vorador had never questioned him about the war, seemed almost uninterested as long as he was never called to fight by either side and had someone to supply with weaponry and armour, but Janos suspected it was due to... not quite politeness, but certainly some human sense of social responsibility.
Nonetheless, regardless of how he had felt about visiting Vorador, fate had an unexpected twist in store. Irony seemed to hold a power over nature near as great as God's.
"I hope I can call this a pleasant surprise," Vorador announced, eyes glinting with amusement as he entered Janos' room. His position as a blacksmith must have lent him credence amongst more vampires than Janos would have expected; humans were not normally permitted within the capital as a basic precaution given their relative neutrality. It was strange; as much as he hadn't wanted to visit the human, being in his presence seemed to lift a little of the weight on his shoulders. "I brought something for you."
"For the sake of your hands I hope it wasn't a stew pot," Janos replied, amused at the guards who normally took position either side of his bedroom door staring in at him before gasping audibly as Vorador presented him with the Reaver.
That was no ordinary sword. Ordinary swords did not instil awe. A copy of an image you had seen throughout your life was a copy, as much a sculpture or image as a mural crafted in metal.
That was the Reaver.
Janos took the sword in shaking hands when Vorador handed it over, every inch of it filling him with genuine awe, the near frightened sensation he had not experienced since he was nine years old and brought into the temple the one time in his life he was ever to speak with God directly to confirm his faith.
"Everyone I passed in the Citadel -"
"What do I -" Janos interrupted before quickly finding himself mortified by the idea of discussing payment for the Reaver, as much as he knew it was due. "Could you talk to General Lemm about -" Cutting himself off again, awed and near stammering in the sword's presence, and Vorador took the lead once more.
"I had that arranged some time ago," Vorador replied to Janos' unfinished question before edging a little closer to the main cabinet so he would have something to lean against. "I feel it safe to assume your reaction is a pleased one."
"Mm," Janos confirmed, nodding, turning the sword over and over in his hands, almost unknowing what to do with it. Forging the Reaver had been attempted so often by his own kind, but a human's hands had finally mastered its image, its curve and balance, and he was almost faint with the stunned realisation of what it meant.
He would have to present it to the elders, of course, have them bless the Reaver and provide the magical attunements requested in Kylian's notes before it would be more than any regular sword in battle - but as an icon, it already served its purpose.
"Thank you for doing this," Janos said, almost unable to meet Vorador's eyes because his focus kept returning to the Reaver.
"Consider yourself welcome."
Arranging any private meeting normally took up to several weeks, but the whispering and rumour surrounding Vorador's bringing of the sword to the Citadel hastened the need for one and gave the meeting priority over many other matters. And while some thought it strange that a sword could cause so much fuss, especially younger vampires who had not heard all the legends surrounding the Reaver passed down through generations despite the strangeness of its connection with the Wheel, the excitement was more than a little contagious.
The elders took turns admiring the blade and discussing it amongst one another before finally speaking up; "It certainly is masterfully crafted, but what makes you believe it to be the Reaver of our lore?"
"I believe it could become the Reaver," Janos replied before gesturing to the papers he had brought with him, letting them take turns familiarising themselves with the messages Kylian had scrawled across every sheet. "The magic is beyond my understanding, and I am aware that to leave the threads unbound is unconventional -"
"Unconventional to say the least, General Audron," came the interruption before the elders seemed to have a moment's almost silent discussion, sitting back in their seats. "Shia will have to be consulted before this goes any further. I doubt that thought concerns you given your friendship with her, but I trust that you have made no attempts to bribe her into accepting your proposal."
Janos knew better than to take the comment to heart; it was their task to question matters regardless of how obvious the truth seemed. "I have not contacted her since the Reaver's creation."
"The sword's creation, General Audron," came the swift correction. "While the sword may carry an uncanny resemblance to that from our legends, it has not yet been blessed or granted the magic requested. Until the sword is used in battle it will not earn that name, and should Shia ask that the magic be bound or refused altogether it will never do so."
The messenger dispatched to Shia's room seemed decidedly uncomfortable on his return, giving Janos a strange look before walking up to the elders and talking to them. After some more discussion the elders gave Janos a similarly strange look before asking, "You are certain you have not discussed matters with Shia?"
"I have lacked the time and so has she," Janos replied, wondering what had drawn the question; surely they knew his schedule as a General and Shia's as a seer made meeting up a rarity despite their friendship?
"She has requested your presence before coming to a decision," came the explanation of their curiosity. "You have our permission to go to her. But a word of warning, Audron - do not attempt to sway Shia's opinion. You will be punished if caught."
Janos opted not to answer vocally, simply nodded before heading out with their permission towards Shia's room.
As surreal as the whole experience with the Reaver had been thus far - surreal to the point that it seemed nothing ought to strike him as odd any more - Janos was somewhat surprised as he entered Shia's room to the scent of food cooking and found two dishes set on the table despite no sign of either Shianna or Samael. "You have a hard choice ahead of you, so I thought you should have something to settle your stomach and nerves first."
"As ever, I must thank you for your hospitality. But why talk to me over the others?"
Serving the soup, Shia sat down and picked up her spoon, tapping it against the table. "Because you are a friend." Waiting for him to take his first taste of the soup, she said calmly, "History takes two paths. As a seer it is my responsibility to say yes, and create the Reaver. It is the only way the vampire race will ever win. But... Janos, I can't recommend it as a friend. I love you dearly and you will suffer beyond my understanding."
"And the other path?" Janos said, keeping his gaze steady and preparing to accept the worst.
"The other path sees the war continuing for years. Perhaps centuries. I see a great machine, a great Citadel, and Hylden rule. You would be dead decades before that came to pass and it is the closest to peace you could ever see. I'm sorry."
The soup was delicious but Janos' stomach could not take much more. Still, he made certain to swallow a few more spoonfuls for politeness' sake before giving up. "Why would God not foresee this?"
"You know my opinion of your god," Shia replied softly, dipping a piece of bread in her soup as if she were as uninterested in eating it as he was. "The path that I should recommend to your elders is bloody and violent, and in the long term much of that violence will be aimed at you."
Janos closed his eyes, thought of 'bloody and violent', and found all he could picture was a field of beheaded Hylden and himself standing behind the guillotine. "Will it end the war?"
"Yes."
"Recommend it then," Janos said, raising his hand for a brief moment to silence her when she went to protest. "It's my duty as much as yours. I can bear the responsibility."
Nodding in return, Shia sat in silence a moment longer before getting to her feet and walking over, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I'll make the recommendation. I suggest you stay back here, I'd rather not explain the finer details in front of you."
Janos blinked, somewhat confused. "If that is what you want."
"We know better than to expect what we want," Shia replied, patting his shoulder before opening the door onto the main corridor. "If you're finished with the soup would you mind scraping the remains back onto the stove? I've yet to feed the other two."
"Certainly," Janos replied, smiling awkwardly as she closed the door behind her before doing as she had requested and standing over the stove, stirring the pot on occasion to prevent the contents from burning and to give himself something to do while he waited.
Eighty Hylden, Shia had announced after the meeting with the elders to Janos and Sianne; to use the Reaver against their enemy as a race rather than a collection of individuals, it would require the two Generals to let the blade feast on the blood of eighty Hylden. The details of the ritual that would turn the Reaver from a weapon of immense power into the object that would end the war were still secret, Kylian's writings on the subject in language archaic beyond Janos' understanding, but that much could be told.
Strange, to find that feasting on the blood of the Hylden was literal in more than number - Janos had heard in the legends that the blade fed, but the first time he pulled the sword from an enemy's body to find his opponent reduced to a shrivelled husk he had almost dropped it in shock. Such magic had not been seen before by any generation he knew; still, wielding the Reaver gave Janos a sense of right, a sense that even if the Hylden had started behaving more and more as if they were on the verge of winning the war that it was his side who were soon to be victorious. Whatever the Hylden were hiding could not compare; the Reaver felt strange in his hands, at home but, at the same time, something otherworldly. Something about the sword felt like a relic despite its lack of age, and even as the lands around burned with the war, scorched land in dire need of healing, crops failing as the Hylden's consumption of energy rendered the world starved of life, Janos could not shake the feeling he was holding the instrument of their salvation.
There was something strange in the way the Reaver fed; the way that even should he despatch an enemy by pike, the sword demanded its share of blood, seeming to draw strength from feeding on their adversaries. But that was to be expected; Janos felt as though it knew whose side it was on, knew who it had chosen to assist, and a holy weapon would never have the same homely feel as a regular sword.
Sianne hated the Reaver. He'd watched her with it repeatedly, holding it almost behind her - as if she did not want it to see her killing despite the fact Shia had told them it needed to taste eighty deaths before it would be ready for whatever the final stage constituted. The first time she had used it she was quiet afterwards for the longest of moments, holding it to herself as though it were more sentient than its appearance suggested. He did not know entirely what to make of her behaviour - she seemed reluctant to hand the sword over, but a peculiar sort of reluctant; as though she would relinquish it gladly but didn't feel there was anyone she could let take it.
"Sianne?"
"I don't trust that damned thing," She had said at last, releasing her hold on the handle and stepping back quickly with the sort of awkwardness that screamed of fear, and that in itself was bizarre. He'd seen her flanked by raging Hylden and holding steady.
"Why?" He had asked, looking at the sword in his hands and finding that aside from the somewhat garish handle and unusual curve of the blade it was nothing more than that in physicality. The magic overlaying it definitely had a peculiar presence to it, but even so; it thirsted, but not uncontrollably.
"That sword hungers," Sianne explained. "It isn't just draining blood because of the magic. I would swear that sword knows what it's doing."
He couldn't quite respond to that in a way she would like, because of his very feelings about it; "I would swear that too, but it was forged for our side. I think it knows who it's fighting for -"
"Say what you like, Audron. That sword wants to keep killing even when the battle is through. And it does more than kill," she announced before shuddering with what seemed to be halfway between disgust and fear. "One of the Hylden hit the sword hard enough with their own that they should have damaged it. It should be damaged. The sword did not change and that Hylden disappeared, and no one else around him noticed. It was as if - it was as if the sword stopped him from having ever existed."
While eighty seemed like an immense number, his and Sianne's positions as Generals meant this thirst for eighty Hylden was satisfied swiftly enough, though keeping exact track was more of a difficulty. Shia seemed to have some awareness of the object though, came by the case Janos rested it in between battles every so often and waved her hand through the air above it, shaking her head each time 'til the last.
"Have the elders meet," Shia told him when the day finally came that she nodded after making her checks. "And Sianne attend. No absences permitted. Bring Kylian's papers with you." Straight to the point, as usual when something of importance was at stake, and while such an order might have taken weeks to complete under his word alone, the moment Shia's name was mentioned in connection with it the meeting was brought forward.
The elders seemed a little confused as to why all of them had to attend, but Shia was swift to set them straight; while taking turns in applying their magical expertise was permissible in the weapon's crafting, this final stage would require all their work at once. A moment passed in which Janos noticed Shia giving him a look of some concern but he nodded on realising what it meant; gave his silent confirmation that despite what she had foreseen for him, it was a pain he would willingly endure for Nosgoth's safety. The war would destroy the land if it continued, that much was clear, and he could not conscientiously let that happen.
"The Reaver is ready. I'll need the seven of you plus Samael and our two Generals to accompany me East, close to Ziegsturhl. No questions asked. Pack light, and no bodyguards or guests are to be brought with you."
Janos' task seemed simply to be that of guarding the Reaver; despite Sianne having also used it, he was the one given the task of holding it. Likely that had as much to do with Sianne's repulsion towards the object as anything else, but it was strange to be the only openly armed member of the ten travelling with Shia. Sianne had her swords and pikes, certainly, but they were bundled at her back and not permitted as part of the ritual. Several times Janos had been tempted to make certain he had packed Kylian's papers in Sianne's bag, given he had not been allowed to carry anything more than the Reaver, but he suspected Sianne would have quite happily taken the Reaver and stabbed him with it if he brought up that they might all be travelling for nothing.
Thankfully, on arriving at the clearing Shia had apparently chosen for the ritual, Sianne unpacked the papers herself and handed them over, along with the various bundles Shia had apparently prepared for all this earlier. No one seemed entirely certain what the results of the ritual would be - legend spoke of the raising of the Pillars but without stone or tools to craft it, that seemed unlikely. All anyone knew for certain was that in some way or another, this ritual would assist in the vanquishing of the Hylden; odd, given that Shia was one herself, but then, she had been officially neutral with a faint leaning towards their side longer than he could fully recall, inseparable from Samael since youth.
Shia looked over the clearing one final time before nodding, leading Samael and each of the elders she had brought with her to stand in a partial semi-circle, pausing after a moment before moving them around and gesturing for Sianne to complete the pattern. Janos couldn't help but feel hesitant when she requested he hand over the Reaver but certainly wasn't going to be the one to break the ritual, let her take it and wave him aside while she went to stand a little forward from the middle of the pattern. Clutching the papers Kylian had written so long ago now, Shia started reading the somewhat archaic language of the ritual aloud, everyone seeming a little confused by the fact nothing visible seemed to be happening, when her wording started to speed up, slipping more naturally into the archaic version of their tongue and it quickly became clear she wasn't reading from the papers anymore.
Janos could do little but watch, his skin tingling with more than a sense of something great passing; he felt uncomfortable, almost as he did when preparing for a battle, and all too quickly he realised the reason was that he could feel a battle coming - the temperature always dropped in the presence of Hylden, and it seemed Sianne was equally aware that something was wrong too judging by her expression. Whatever Shia's words were doing seemed to have rooted everyone to the spot, and Janos looked around for any visual confirmation of a Hylden presence, finally noticing with a chill down his spine the outline of some less than stealthy soldier's jagged spear sticking out over the nearby cliff tops.
But they were not moving either - had they come, their own Seers warning them of the ritual to some degree, and found themselves as rooted to the spot by Shia's words as he found himself? Or were they biding their time?
Shia seemed to be through with words but no one was free yet, and Janos would have cried out were his voice not as stolen from him as movement when she turned the Reaver on herself, stabbing it through her stomach but standing still even as it sucked her blood from her, even as she went limp, held in place by some unknown force. For a moment, everything was still; and then, tearing, loud enough Janos feared his ears would shatter at the sound of it, and this was no tear in the land, no flattening of hills, it was the sky itself, red blazing through the hole in the sky and the figures on the cliff top seemed freed suddenly, wisps of nightmarish shapes moving out from them. Even as the skeletal, gaseous figures headed towards the clearing the Hylden revealed themselves; horrifyingly what had appeared at first to be simply taking flight seemed to be symptomatic of the Hylden being sucked into the hole in the sky itself, though no tugging force could be felt by their own kind - and if this were true, then the dark, misty-looking dots in the distance could too be Hylden. How many were there, being drawn into that abyss in the sky? How many had there been?
All of the world seemed to be demanding shares of attention, but when the dark mist finally cleared, begging the thought, the terrifying, surreal, impossible thought that all the Hylden were gone now, it was the tear in the sky that demanded viewing again, closing up with a great crack like thunder. The land itself seemed to shake - and then Janos realised it was shaking, a great white plateau seeming to force itself up out of the soil beneath those gathered - or appearing out of nowhere to force itself into the soil, he could not quite be certain.
He could not say when the Pillars came. He did not recall blinking; did not recall looking anywhere that would have meant his not seeing them form.
The Pillars just were, as though they had never been otherwise, and dear God, he had seen that image near as often as the Reaver but the Reaver had been created and these just... they had not been, and now they were, brought forward by nothing he could picture, formed of nothing he could imagine, as sudden and infinite as a divine being waking into omniscience.
Seeming released at last from the paralysis that had held him in check, same as the others, Janos fell to his knees at the sight; the others were part of this, he was only the Reaver's guardian, not one with any of the Pillars, but...
And Samael was with Shia, holding her close while the others had started talking to one another animatedly, trying to work out what in God's name had just happened, and though his thoughts should have been with them he was focused on catching what little he could hear of Samael's conversation with his dying wife - God, again, she might be the last Hylden left unless one counted his half-breed daughter, and Janos hoped, hoped with all that was left in him that Shianna had not been taken to wherever the other Hylden had been banished, but only time would tell on that matter.
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