Tablet IXShe hides in the shadows, prowling close.
Her quarry sits on a ledge, legs dangling over a sheer precipice. The mild evening breeze runs invisible fingers through her hair, sending it streaming over one shoulder.
Closer. Time slowed to a crawl as she moves through the shadows, the invisible seam between light and darkness that mortal eyes could not penetrate. It hides her from view, though it does nothing to erase the sense of her presence...at least nothing beyond what she could manage herself.
Close. Within striking distance, to take the head off that slender neck pale in the twilight. She pauses, contemplating the best moment to strike...
Then she hears the low hum of more than one voice, ghosting through the quiet night. It came from the lone figure she stalked, a sorrowful dirge of profound loss. It makes her pause, undecided all of a sudden. Surely a monster would not be capable of such music?
The figure shifts, looking up at the barely visible rim of the moon half hidden by clouds. Tears are visible on that face, with lips parted in silent agony.
The hand half raised to strike is lowered, confusion evident now. What was this? Surely not so mad after all, or more likely, there was a method to the madness, a purpose behind it. Not completely irrational, possibly even salvageable?
"Why will you not kill me?" The voice was sorrowful, and the huntress jolts, startled. Her prey was looking right at her, and not merely in her direction. How had the fiend managed to break her camouflage?
"You wanted to kill me." Now that the disguise was broken, she steps out of the shadows. Her step was wary, ready to fight or flee at a moment's notice. Regardless of what this creature might seem to be, there was no question that it could be very dangerous.
"I do. You are dangerous."
Too dangerous to exist in this world. Despite not being of much auspicious origins herself, the huntress knows that the being before her could be a plague on the world.
"That is true. My very existence is forbidden." A rueful smile.
"Then, you are aware of what you are?" That was disturbing. Most others did not know what they were, much less who they were before the change, but this one seemed to retain a great degree of self awareness. That was very rare indeed.
"Bits and pieces. I know what you are, Night Walker, born of the blood of my kind." Those large eyes grew unfocused, distant. "I see things, people...I don't remember them, but I know things..."
"You are mad." The huntress is afraid, but does not show it. There had been stories of the abominations who had taken on the blood memories of the true immortals, and this one was showing all the signs of it.
A light chuckle, and the lithe figure rises sinuously to her feet, balancing precariously on the edge with her arms outstretched. She walks a steady line on the very edge, not even flinching when pebbles crumble from under her feet.
"Oh, I must be. I have to be. Mad! Such a word!" She twirls on the spot, unheeding of the fact that she could plummet to her death with the slightest miscalculation.
"I have been mad." Her voice was low, steady all of a sudden as she came to an abrupt halt. As if imparting a great secret, she continues.
"I went mad when they killed my beloved. I was mad when they killed my unborn child. I must still be mad, because they killed me too, but here I still am."
She bows her head.
"And now I kill them."
The huntress represses a shudder. There was a ring of absolute truth in those words, the stark reality of pain relived over and over in those fathomless eyes. Despair fought with hatred in that husky timbre, even though the very essence of it rang hollow.
This woman was badly broken in more than one way. It would have been a mercy to kill her, to end her misery. But there was something...
"You want me to kill you. Why?"
She is rewarded with a strange look, almost approaching amusement.
"Do I not deserve death? I have killed...many. I only know how to destroy. My existence threatens the world with war, should I be mad enough to spread my disease."
She spreads her hands. "You were created to deal with my kind. This I know, if little else."
"You want to die." The huntress says, suddenly certain. The strange smile on her quarry's face does not fade.
"I have nothing left to live for. Those responsible for my Master's death are dead by my hand. There is no longer any meaning for my existence. I should have died when He did."
The huntress is silent for a moment.
"I cannot kill you."
There is true rage on that eternally young face, warping otherwise beautiful features into a hideous mask. In a blink she holds the huntress -- now the hunted -- by the neck, shaking her like a rag doll.
"Must you let me suffer? Why did you not kill me when you wanted to? Why!"
She chokes in that suffocating grip; it is perhaps fortunate she does not need air anymore.
"Because..." She gasps. "Because your hunt is not yet over."
The grip loosens fractionally. She takes the opportunity to continue.
"I have seen things. The reasons for which the Immortals are hunted by those they protected...the reason your Master was killed...are you not interested why?"
Confusion. The hand holding her up lowers.
"I...do not understand. How would you know...and why would you care?"
Red eyes flashed in the dark.
"You're not the only one with a vendetta."
~*~*~
On retrospect, perhaps ridding the world of that abomination that night might have been a better choice in the long run.
Summer wondered what whim had made her pause, but it had been too good an opportunity to pass up. On her own, she was forced to run and hide from the presence of hunters, with little thought given to the future.
Meeting her dear Raven had been a revelation. Here was another one of power, disaffected by the reins holding her. Raven could very well have killed her on their first meeting, but she had not. Perhaps it amused the girl to disobey orders, and Summer had never been more grateful for that flight of fancy.
Now she had her fierce hunter by her side, and that made any possible pursuit by the rank and file of those damnable humans laughable in terms of danger posed to their combined forces. Summer recognized that Raven was one of the most gifted of her generation, and the second awakening she had bestowed on her had merely opened her mind to a different world.
Raven could kill the abomination in a straight fight. That was something Summer herself was incapable of. She could only take advantage of a swift, decisive attack from cover, but would be at a vast disadvantage if the damage she made with that first strike was not lethal or incapacitating. Her talent lay in charm and misdirection, not in an all out fight.
Her Raven would be a failsafe, she knew. The abomination could not be trusted. Even now that thing was still only in its infancy, barely aware of the true extent of its powers. It was a gamble she made, counting on the wild card to disrupt things sufficiently so that her target would become visible. Though it would all fall apart if Raven herself fell prey to the influence of the abomination.
Every one of them was different, but there were common characteristics uniting them. Their cursed blood, and their thirst. Other talents manifested according to the individual, and already this one was showing signs of overpowering domination. If allowed to awaken to its true abilities, it would be as dangerous as the ones who had mastered themselves in the first war, maybe even more.
It was almost too untenable a risk to take, but take it she must. Summer clenched her fists. That man had ruined
everything, destroyed her gods -- though she hated them for turning her into what she is now, she knew that it was for a good cause. Her fellows had scattered because of the traitor, and she knew that there could not be many of them left.
After all, they had been plucked from a staid existence from along the banks of the Nile, enlisted unwittingly into a struggle greater than themselves. They were not warriors, merely shaped into the mould of one. If Summer had been less resourceful herself, she would have perished early on. They were nothing if not meant to be disposable.
Well, she would show them. She would not disappear without a trace, as both her creator and her enemies wanted. Vengeance was but a petty thing to live for, but it could be a powerful motivator.
She would see justice done, one way or another. And when everything ended...
She would be happy to let it end then, if there ever was one.
=================================================================
I really like skipping around in time.
Postponing important plans to next chapter. Woohoo!
Topic: Gegenschein: The First [22/10 - Tablet IX] (Read 14311 times)