SWNOVELS Chapter Fable
“So, what do we do?” Alena asked. “We both know going out there is as dangerous as staying here, if not more so. Especially with her.”
The brief flash of annoyance in his eyes told her he realized the danger, and she was pushing it.
She half expected him to mount his horse and ride off, ignoring her question, but he turned to face her, his eyes steady as he caught her gaze.
“Hope and curiosity,” he answered bluntly, and she froze.
If hope and curiosity were all the saving grace they had, they were screwed.
Without another word, she steered her horse past him and out of the stables.
Rowan awaited them in the courtyard, and she looked as reluctant as they were to leave the perceived safety of the courtyard.
Her strange vampire horse kept shying until she firmly took the reins, and he grew instantly still like a block of granite.
She had never heard of or seen such a creature before, but Rowan had trained it well.
Their father possessed the same knack with horses, but it also extended to people.
Alena remained quiet and grim as she steered her horse past Rowan, avoiding her sister’s searching gaze. The dhampir would sense the tension between her and Marcus, and she didn’t feel obligated to explain.
Rowan noted Alena’s manner, and although they spoke too softly for her to hear, she had a good enough idea why they were at odds.
“I don’t suppose it would help to ask where we’re going?” she asked, and they just spurred their horses forward without answering or looking back.
Left with the choice of remaining behind in the empty castle or riding off alone into the night, she fancied neither option.
She followed, taking the reins of the extra horse and leading it outside with her.
They might need a spare.
Rowan stopped outside the gates to retrieve her possessions, and the instant she uncovered the tiny heap, she sighed.
Her sword was missing, and her heart ached more for the loss than she ever thought possible.
The weapon had been an integral part of her for so long that she couldn’t picture being without it.
“Damn,” she swore under her breath, defeat streaking through her and her shoulders slumped.
“What now?” Alena demanded with slight irritation, having waited for her.
“They took my sword.”
The urge to ride after them and take a swathe out of their hides almost overpowered her, but she forced herself to calm down.
Emotions were dangerous in situations like these, especially with implacable allies.
“They killed my men and yours, stopped to steal a sword, and yet left everything else?” Marcus quipped.
Did he sound perplexed or disbelieving?
And why didn’t she like the thought of him not trusting her?
“It possessed silver inlays in the haft, and a master swordsman crafted the blade,” Alena answered in her stead, clearly familiar with the blade, and Rowan’s brow knitted.
Seeing Victor with that sword and knowing for whom he intended it, Alena remembered well her first taste of envy and hatred.
Back then, it was tangible proof of the child he sired and the only time she saw him touch the life of this unfortunate creature.
“It was valuable.”
Her voice carried no expression.
“It belonged to my mother,” Rowan said.
Anger, hatred, and a flash of agony laced her words but quickly disappeared, never intended for them to see or hear.
“No, Rowan, my father had it crafted. It never belonged to her and was always intended for you. Perhaps it was his way of acknowledging you and giving you something of himself,” Alena said with no particular inflection, but every last word seemed to hit Rowan like a punch.
She froze; her eyes became wide, and her mouth set in a grim line.
Alena could imagine that the sword she cherished now had much less value.
No longer a reminder of her dead mother but her cruel sire.
Marcus glanced at Alena and noted the closed-off expression on her face.
He knew it well by now; she adopted it when she hurt or betrayed
She spurred her horse forward, but he waited for Rowan with hooded eyes.
The dhampir mounted her horse without saying another word, again unapproachable and aloof, but he let her be.
Her world had just shattered and rearranged itself.
After that, they had nothing much to say and rode in silence.
There would be time enough to speak later, and the only valid conversation he wanted to have, had to wait until they were alone.
There was no knowing who or what was listening or how.
They risked dawn to make it to a group of sheltered caves.
Nothing followed them as if they were unimportant, but none of them believed in the fallacy, glancing over their shoulders every so often.
Rowan sensed it when they hit the open road, and the impression never changed or lessened even as they switched to the back roads.
Somewhere, somehow, someone followed their movements with undivided, malicious intent.
Rowan lingered near the entrance for much longer than they dared but pivoted on her heel as the sunlight gained strength and night gave way to day.
Alena watched her intently, fighting the emotions stewing inside her.
She wanted to confront Rowan about the past, but Marcus forbade it and would tolerate no more insubordination from her.
So many questions stewed inside her, but she didn’t think it would be appropriate to ask about the human woman who became her father’s weakness.
How much did Rowan know about the woman who died moments after her birth?
They moved further into the protective darkness.
As a made creature, even the suggestion of daylight irritated Marcus’s skin more than it did hers as a pureblood.
His prowess lay in other areas, and her superior breeding didn’t compare to his age or the strength his sire gave him.
If she lived, she would one day be far more powerful than him, and she would wait patiently for that day.
They discovered some miner’s long-forgotten torches and provisions and settled in a small antechamber. Marcus used flint to light the torches and wedged them into cracks in the wall.
The dense darkness in the cave prevented their night vision from functioning correctly, and Alena found some comfort in the light illuminating the shadows.
It wasn’t a castle, but much more than she expected, and she was grateful for it.
“I believe you owe me an explanation,” Rowan appeared calm and relaxed, but she sensed her tension and recognized it in her watchful, hooded expression.
“Two years ago, Alena’s grandfather, Albertus, disappeared; Victor and Sara went missing shortly after that. The only thing they had in common was how it happened,” Marcus obliged her
Alena didn’t know if Marcus noticed how Rowan almost cringed when he mentioned Victor.
Her brows knitted at the involuntary reaction.
“Their blood covered the walls, and it was all that remained of them. They were older than most and more powerful, and it wouldn’t have been easy to take them or kill them.”
Marcus unobtrusively watched them.
The distance between them was a gaping divide wider than the ocean and deeper.
“Alena became obsessed with her father’s disappearance but could find no answers until she remembered something from her childhood; a book in the library at Rosenbaum.”
HE half expected Rowan to glance at Alena, but she didn’t, while Alena stared fixedly at nothing.
Her expression betrayed that she found his description of her efforts lacking.
“Two months of searching led to her discovering the ancient tome. I didn’t believe her at first, not until the riders came. Unfortunately, I’m not easily convinced of inexplicable things,” he mocked himself.
Rowan discreetly glanced at him, and she suspected he could be a little rigid if he chose.
Foolishness would not amuse him.
“When humans mentioned the first of our kind in obscure texts and documents, there was a myth. A legend about one of the first pure-born vampires and those ancient humans claimed that this creature was immune to daylight from the moment of his birth.
“They said he looked like an angel but was more of a monster than anyone could foresee.” Marcus’ pensive attitude compelled her to listen.
“Someone murdered his mother when he turned five. His sister died on the day of his twelve birthday, but everyone realized the horrible truth as he finally came around to killing his father.
“He slayed his entire family, but there were many deaths in the vicinity that only made sense once this revelation came about.”
Marcus kept glancing at her as he spoke, almost as if he wanted to see if she found anything about this story familiar.
“He grew more powerful with each kill as he searched out vampires with singular traits and slew them one by one. It is thought that he absorbed their strengths, power, and life force from their blood.
“He saw the rest of us as inferior and believed we were a scourge that needed eradication. He wasn’t like us and wanted a world without us and with him as the sole ruler.”
She noticed how he observed her as she wondered about the relevance of this story to their situation.
“He dabbled in dark arts and made humans into something else, neither vampire nor human.
“Soldiers without blood hunger that experienced no cold or fear, killing for sport and obeying him alone.
“They were loyal like dogs but never lived long, and he kept experimenting.
“At first, they lived only a week or two, then a month or two. Some lived for years, but inevitably, they always died.”
The story suddenly made sense, and her attention focused on him as she listened more intently.
“Carcus, one of the first elders, led this monster into a trap,” he started a small fire as he spoke.
The smoke spiraled up through the openings in the roof that led outside.
“They devised a potion to make him slumber, but it could not kill him, so they buried him deep beneath the earth in a location only one in any generation knew.
“He had many names given to him and wore as many faces, but where he first started out and why only the one document of him exists, we don’t know,” Marcus concluded.
She hadn’t expected him to volunteer as much information.
“As interesting as I find the origins of this beast and his minions, I still don’t see how this involves me?” she asked, watching him struggle with some decision.