Red Twilight the Weaver chapter 8

Chapter 8

Children of Earth and Moon

After returning to the homestead the children and Jessica discarded their robes again, Jessica takes them and throw them into a cauldron of boiling water, with a long stave she churns the grime from the cloth then strings it across the ceiling to let them dry overnight. This time with very little fuss the kids go to bed in the main room as Jessica returns to her room for the night.

The wisend, kobolt maiden tosses and turns hunted by her past lives. She reaches beneath her bed finding a dusty old book. She cracks the cover hoping to find peace between the pages. "Children of the Earth and the Moon Act I by D. Feyder and Bryon Reach"

***

the old ones

In a time long since passed humanity enjoyed a time of fruitful harvest and wealth like no time since. The times of great bounty were attributed to the watchful eyes and firm hand of their protectors: the tall and beautiful Methuselah (sometimes called the moon people) and their cousins, the Gaiadren {pronounced Gee-dray-en} the Earthly spirits.

But wall man lived in bliss; not all was well amongst their parent races. Times grow tense between the immortals. The Methuselah grow apprehensive of the Gaiadren's animalistic behaviors; there hungers for flesh both as food and to fulfill their strange sexual needs. As did the Gaiadren fear the favor the gods bestowed amongst the people of the night and the Alchemy that they wield.

The old ones saw that there was need of a new government if there was to be lasting peace. To this end called upon there favored children, the strongest and the wisest of their ken to perform a rite that would ultimately transform the two ancient races into a signaler being.

Gaia sent her most lovely daughter to meet with the King of Methuselah to being the hundred-year-long ceremony. But according to the tales the 'Wolves' tell today, she never arrived {in the modern age the Gaiadren began to call themselves Wolves}. The Vampires, as they are called now, blame the Wolves saying that the girl refused to perform the spell as it was written, the Wolves insist that the bloodsuckers murdered their princess. History has forgotten the truth.

Like the old one suspected, War was just around the corner. A battle issued that over the course of the next thousand years would leave the world in ruins and the immortals crippled at the hands of their own weapons.

Most have forgotten the old ways, but no one has forgotten the hate that came after. The Wolves still hunt the vampires, and the vampires are now more powerful and narcissistic than ever before.

Times became more and more desperate, the vampires feared that one day the Wolves would be numerous enough to overrun their cities and overthrow the near godlike over-beings that they had become.

It is true that the moon people never grow old, once they reach maturity they never age another day, as well as the moon people do not experience illness the way the lesser races do. But in all their splendor they are not without fears of their own. The Wolves harness fire to scar their timeless faces insomuch as to rob them of their beauty. Shortly they would then find that not even the alchemy of the Methuselah could heal the wounds left if the head were to be taken and the body burned to dust.

Furthermore, their weakness lay within their lust for perfection and their slow mating rituals. It takes the Methuselah one hundred and fifty years to raise a child into adulthood. Well, on the other hand, a Wolf mother, given fair weather and decent food needs only ten years to give birth to and raise six children.

The Wolves chased the Vampires to the gates of their last Safe-haven expecting decisive victory after lifetimes of conflict. But the vampires would not die quietly. They called forth their heavenly favor to strike their nemeses with a powerful sickness that aged their enemies to a vulnerable state, stealing their strength. The wolves' mightiest warriors were no more. Mighty beast that neared divinity in their prime are now reduced to scavenging hyenas.

The Vampires would recover from their wounds and rebuild their ruined monuments but the world was not without scars. The world has been broken into three distinctive lands. The blight in the south: an endless desert of ice containing a mammoth monolith, alone structure, pillar five hundred feet high as a testament to Methuselah's strength and the sources of the neverending winter. Then the waist to the north: a land burned and salted to see to it no one ever lives there again with a sister monolith to mark yet another irrefutable victory of the night gods. At last alone in the middle of it all 'Paradeco' A string of island virtually untouched by the carnage of the millennia of struggle as well as the new stronghold of the vampires.

To sleep with death

'Life beneath the Methuselah king's is good' most would say, half of how have become so Inebriated as to forget that they live beneath an entity that is neither man nor god. The Vampires construct schools and libraries, their subjects enjoy clean water, wine runs in abundances, women come cheap, and the price of life is low. All wealth is managed by the local lords or by taskmasters that the lords have appointed. Work hard and please your lord and you live a long and healthy life. But if you displease them, you are collected as a 'tax.'

There is little to no crime in the cities because the law is clear, 'one strike you're out.' Thieves, rapist, and killers are not tolerated. A deputy sees you commit a crime, there is no trial, no logistics, you just disappear into the castle or monastery your lord presides within, and you never return.

Human children living in the cities and townships ruled over by the vampires are conditioned to believe that the white skin, dark hair and sharp eyes of their masters are beautiful. Some even try to imitate the vampires to gain their attention dreaming of possibly joining there ranks. The Methuselah don't honestly have the power to transmogrify a human into a Vampire, but the flattery is welcome.

It has taken generations, but the vampires have become numerous again. The children of the vampires that drove the Wolves to the brink of extinction are now coming of age and ascending positions of authority in the land that their fathers governed before.

The moon people can be as cruel as they can be fair, some of the younger ones have fancied playing games with their human servants changing them to ridicules games of predator versus pray. Utilizing the mythology of their namesake commanding their pets to try to kill them with shape sticks and fresh fruits before they are turned to pigs or cat or any number of other hysterical from, It's not fair that's true, but to the sadistic it's funny.

But in spite of good humor, the pains of the past never subside. The older vampires remember the near humiliation that their wolf counterparts delivered and offer a rare treat to any skilled or brave enough to try. Bring a wolf to your master, bruised and broken as need be, but still alive and you or the individual of your choosing is deemed a noble with all the benefits in toe, up to and even including a bride of Methuselah dissent. This promise has inspired a newly born witch hunt. Everyone wants to be a king and if capturing a wolf is all it takes, so be it.

The place of man

do not mistake me, child, humans may be weak and small by comparison, but they are far from useless, the vampires think of them as food and cheap entertainment, but they are in-fact frightfully intuitive and marvelously creative.

Man has a gift that none of the other races possess, the ability to 'Dream' therein making them fine artisans, and uncanny engineers. Most of the tools and artillery on both sides of the war were crafted by human smiths. The art, the architecture, most the culture of vampires was stolen from human literature and the most devastating of devices in undead arsenal provided by human weapon-smiths. Yes, it is true that Alchemy is powerful but when combined with tools of war humans make it becomes so much more. Be wary.

But it is not all bad. There is a bright side to the alliances, that would be renegades. Most noteworthy would be the 'Pilgrims' worthy friends indeed. The Pilgrims conjure up nightmares for their once masters. Savage fighters garbed in the skin of their fallen enemies with welding stolen weapons lurking in the night and slaughtering the kings they once served and freeing vampire slaves. No one can understand the indignation that leads them to bestial life that they now lead. There is a rumor that these savages and rejects are organizing and that is good news indeed.

Running with wolves

The skies are burned; food is in short supply it is a hard time to be alive if you haven't sided with the bloodsuckers. But it is times like these that weakness gets breed out of a race, and a stronger race is born. The vampires hurt the Wolves only as much as they could be hurt. The pride has scattered, almost lost to the winds. The elders had sent word out to every man and women of breeding-age that was still healthy and asked them to mate, mate with anyone around: Man, wolf, or dog, isn't important, mate as often as you can. The time would come soon to fight again, and when the time comes, we would need every healthy wolf available. For twenty-two generations that would be everyone's job. The order was clear and most everyone took the rule for all it was worth.

Wolves are nothing if not adaptable. They relish in the opportunity to watch their prey learn from them and each other. You see, they need to learn quickly for they unlike there equals do not enjoy immortality so much as they do timelessness, they still are subject to illness, they still bleed when cut, and if they stop eating they quickly turn to dust. For these reasons, the wolves have learned to employ a variety of skills unique to them. Transmutation, mind games amongst the most prevalent, but as every vampire is unique so too is every wolf, so to call any beast common is to make a grave miscalculation.

The Night-stalkers had a method to their madness when they froze the Southlands. The way they saw it no one but a vampire could live out in the fridge blight. They were wrong. The wolves could do it too. But that was hardly there most impressive feat of deception; the wolves also learned how to mimic humans and vampires alike, how to wearer their clothes and fight with their weapons and lust, espionage became their new favorite pass time.

Strange as it may seem, humans made themselves out to be a much more useful assist then would have been believed. After all what good can mortals do in a battle between immortals?

And so, enter a strange walk of people calling themselves 'Pilgrims' there not sophisticated, they're not strong, but they are fueled by zealous rage, inspired by an unseen force and filled with lunatic determination. Ferocious and fearless enough to impress even the wolves. An unlikely friend, but a welcome one, and maybe even useful to boot, The Pilgrims brought with them to the blights civilization in the form of trader colonies, Filthy, lawless places. Everyone has guns, everyone has drugs, and no one is in charge. People live worse than animals; it is repulsive. But fun. A good place for a wolf to practices his spirit magic and bone-up on hearsay, and for the egotistic learn what's 'hot' on the mainland.

Man eat man seems to be the rule of thumb in those ports. The real inquiry for a skeptic might be where did the pilgrims come from?

It is a shame that the relationship we share with our 'would be allies' is one built on lies but it seems that the nobility that our fathers held in such esteem is a thing of the past. If you are smart young wolves, you will tell no one your name, and no one will see your lovely face, you will slip silently from place to place till it is time for you to serve your purpose.

I have given on to you the wisdom passed down from mother to daughter for countless lifetimes and now young one I most wean you from my arms and send you into a dark and frightful place. You will see suffering, you will see death, but with luck and skill on your side, you might find love. Your rivals are old and patient, and yet they are cunning, they will take everything from you if you let them, so don't.

Go now, waist not a moment more, and shadows hide you.

Rose petals in the wind

Max, the hunter, lifts his rifle. He aims it down the street where Hetatsubachi-una awaits. 'I can't believe he is real' the hunter thinks as he quivers in fear and anticipation. 'the snow devil is real'

Hetatsubachi crouches on all fours, he sees the hunter and he knows that he is no pilgrim to spite his roes. Hetatsubachi speaks to his rivals mind "Vampire's slave, I have traveled across an ocean of time and a sea of ice to come here. Do you think you have what it takes to fight me?"

Max hesitates; he has never experienced wolf magic before. He can see the devil twice, first standing before him in the shape of a dog and yet again hiding within the eye of his mind. The hunter sweats shaking. Max remembers the stories, Hetatsubachi, the devil of the snow, wears a scar in the shape of a flower over one eye to mark he killed king Krusha a master vampire, and he did it with his naked fangs, he has master all the magic of the old world he might even be the oldest wolf still alive. The hunter knows well that the reword for killing 'Kingslayer', he shall get to name his own kingdom. But if his first built doesn't kill Hetatsubachi he won't have time for a second.

The risk is worth it. Max can kill this wolf. His weapon was given to him by an overlord, he can't miss. The hunter takes aim, he steels his nerves slowly he gathers his courage. The wolf, with its white hair and yellow-black eyes stairs, not run, not conjure his magic, simple looks, and waits. It is only a hundred or so feet, it will be easy.

"Come on Max, I didn't come all this way to kill you. Think hard, if you can, I'm after something far bigger. Walk away and you won't become dog-food"

The devil is playing games with him, maybe he is afraid. Max takes the shot. The gun flickers with light and a burst of lightning leave the barrel. It passes through the wolf-like a shadow. The hunter barely has time to lower the gun from his shoulder and ponder whether or not the wolf is dead before Hetatsubachi's jaws are around Max's neck, struck by the diabolic strength, he flies backward a dozen feet failing to stop his descent even passing through the wall of a pub. Blood flow free from the wound. The wolf squeezes ever so tighter infatuated with the blood filling his mouth. Max is dead long before he lay still on the floor. Thieves' bandits and outcast alike scatter from their seats in shock at the sight of this grate dog holding a human by the neck. Hetatsubachi removes the esophagus dropping his hunter.

Nervously several of the patterns scramble for their guns and knives. Hetatsubachi's eyes flare as he jars forward, the bar and its accessories dislodge and flies across the room ripping one whole wall form the building. Panic runs ramped the patrons of the pub flee for their lives as the blood-hungry wolf marches from the wreckage. Hetatsubachi has a job to do, and no man is going to get in his way.

The wolf's eyes roll around the streets searching for his pray. And at last there it is! A girl, twelve maybe thirteen standing before the smiths forge dressed like a tomboy with short natted hair. His tail raises in anticipation, nearly drooling from the delight. "Princes Shah-czar, I've been looking for you" he whispers lowering his torso in preparation.

A horse cuts of his line of sight, a long thin hooked blade drops before him. His eyes scissor in on the sword "Horse knife. You must be from Akadoma." Hetatsubachi's eyes follow up the metal blade and beyond the steel horse to a black robbed warrior with a fedora covering his face.

The Stranger pulls back his giant blade then cast it out in a mighty swing. The snow devil howls as the blade goes up and cast a cyclone of flames around the metal beast. The horse whinnies recoiling from the fire.

Hetatsubachi swivels his eye taking in his environment. The situation is getting worse. The townsmen are organizing, and the stranger appears to be a vampire. After six days and nights of running, he lacks the strength to destroy this town and then kill a vampire, besides reducing this town to smoldering ashes is hardly relevant to his interest in the first place.

He is to close to the princess; he can't fight here. He will need to lead the Stranger out of town. Surely Hetatsubachi can outrun him on the open plains and then come back for his target. 'This was not in the plan, what is a vampire doing out here? And why is he wearing the pilgrim's death-shroud? '

Hetatsubachi makes a break for it; he dashes under the lags of the metal horse leaving a trail of fire for the Stranger to follow. Hetatsubachi wants him to lay chase, so he does.

Hetatsubachi leads the stranger into the endless ice, he finds a hill to stand atop and wait's the Stranger is but steps behind him. The bat and the wolf, what lovely symbolism, black and white, night and day, a duel to the death at dusk, what could be better? But today is not a good day to die, there is too much work left to do, to many schemes that still need executing. He will have to kill the Stranger quickly and then make all haste back to town, he has lost half a day already and he can hardly afford that.

The Stranger stops at the foot of the hill; he can see the trap and the bait. Now, where is the trigger? "You make quite the entrance, don't you?"

Come hither darling the wolf thinks "I'm hardly the subtle type"

"You didn't need to kill those people" the Stranger comments

"Feeling sentiments bloodsucker?"

"Why should that matter to a fellow flesh eater?"

"You think you're smart, don't you?"

"Do you?"

"Aren't you going to fight me?"

The Stranger keep his distance he has seen this magic at work once before "you do know that mind tricks don't work on Methuselah, don't you?"

"What if they did?"

"I would be dead already wouldn't' I?"

"What if I were just playing game with my food?" It's a conversation only gentlemen killers could have. Staring each-other down, sizing each other up. Which one is going to go for the first strike? Which is more foolish?

"Vermillion is a long way from any den, what were you looking for?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Would you believe me if I said I could help?"

"How foolish do you think I am?"

"You looked at the blacksmith's daughter."

The Vampire is smart, and that is why he needs to die now. Hetatsubachi stomps on the ground walls of glacial spike erupt from the earth. The Strangers horse ripped asunder; the Stranger leaps sixty feet into the air his cape flowing like wings as he soars over the attack.

The Stranger summons shadows phasing into close quarters with the Snow devil. Steel clashes with bone as Hetatsubachi's mouth wraps around the blade. The air tremors as the monsters collide. The Stranger grips his sword with a single hand and utilizes the other to call the darkness to his aid. Hetatsubachi invokes his mind magic and the spells explode about their casters flinging the twosome about. The stranger flips around in the air and land on the ground dragging himself on his knees upright burrowing into the earth near harmlessly. Hetatsubachi land on all fours, crouching he unleashes psionic rage.

The mountain lifts from the earth and courses through the air. The Stranger sprints into the attack and smashes his blade through the monument splintering it in its entirety.

** *

Daybreak, the Stranger, wonders back into town dragging a satchel behind him housing the remains of his horse and one exhausted Gaiadren. The militia meets the stranger at the gates arms in hand.

"Keep walking vampire, we don't need your kind here." they cock their weapons. The stranger throws his satchel. The wolf rolls out as does the broken pieces of a horse. He then tosses down a fist full of jowls "I need another horse. Then I'll be going, "

The towns spokesmen walks forth "we'll take your money and you'll be going. Right now! You'll find no love here."

The stranger strolls into town. He unleashes the first horse he spots and guides it off. No one gets in his way. He knows the wolf's secret, but he need not speak.

* * *

The wolf is taken to the deepest darkest hole in town, and a cage is thrown over him. He is shackled with mystic chains to stop him from using magic. The smith daughter kneels over the cage the following night at midnight. Shah-czar smiles down at him. "You know you're going to get hurt walking around like that."

"I have come to bring you home princess" the rugged wolf commands

"How do you plan to do that from inside a cage? Personally, I would by masking myself as a man and begging someone to free me. But seeing that everyone can see you're a wolf already, I don't think that is going to work for you."

The white wolf places his paws apart and lowers his head with a light deep growl "the calling has begun, It is time for war."

"I head this rant once before. If you fight, you die, my mother did. Do yourself a favor, worship the Methuselah. They are kind gods."

"I would rather be dead then sheath my fangs."

The young wolf-girl kneels "you can have it your way. But as for me, I would rather be a live coward than a dead fool."

"Where is your wolves pride, princess? When a wolf dies fangs out, they are welcomed onto Fenrir, and his host Skoll and Hati and the brave never fall..."

"I've seen enough death already; the vampires will never go away, someone needs to call off this feud. Better me then my young. Will you help me end this?"

** *

The book falls on Jessica's face as she, at last, has found sleep. She rolls onto her side dropping the book off one side of her bed. There is a rustling and Jessica opens her eye to see she is no longer alone in her bed. She gasps and pulls her legs into her body defensively but then calms seeing it is Pepper.

Cutely Pepper grabs one of Jessica's ears and rubs down her neck. Jessica lies back down relaxing. "I would say 'good morning,' but I don't think it is yet."

"Jessica," Pepper whispers with her.

"Is something on your mind darling?" Jessica rubs one hand across the tuff fur on the side of his face.

"I wanted to ask you something." He freezes a moment; nervously his tail stretches along his back. Jessica's eye move slightly up seeing the timed wag "my family isn't from the commons, we live a half day's walk from the town, In the farming sector, mother rises sugar crop and makes five trips a session to trade with our nearest dealers for,… stuff like these." He points out the antiquities' that are Jessica's flair. "I don't see many people. Mom keeps us all close to home. This is the farthest any of us have ever been from the farms. All the new smells and..." He freezes again.

Jessica touches her nose to Pepper's. "What are you trying to say?" She dabs her tongue against his nose playfully.

"I'm having trouble sleeping, all the strange things around, they're magical and enchanting, but you, your smell, the strange flowers, there all so existing and… can I stay here?"

Jessica tips her head examining the fumbling statement. "you mean in my room?"

After a long, somewhat unsettling stare he nods. "I think that's what I mean."

Jessica nods "yes." She caresses his face once more. "Turn around please" Pepper follows the instructions turning to face away from Jessica, Jessica hugs up against him draping one arm over the boy holding him gently, the hot breath on his neck and loving warmth on his back tranquilizing, as for Jessica she finds the same hold true for her. In her solitude she has nearly forgotten how desperately she needed the comfort of another to feel safe at night. It is a part of all warm-blooded animals. To sleep alone is a thing of torment to all but those who know no better.