The Homunculus Knight

Chapter 26: A Promise and a Problem

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the harm I’ve caused. I’m sorry for the hurt this will cause, but I need to do this. I cannot live like this. What we are, it’s not living. It’s evil. WE are evil. It has to stop, we have to stop. I can’t control you all but I can make my own choice. I’m ending this for me and sparing the world. Maybe we will see each other in another life?” - Note left beside a pile of ash and bone in Old Iskariam.

Natalie watched Cole fight the Vampire from the open door of the Silly Goat. It was a brutal blood-soaked clash that ended as quickly as it began. Cole decapitated the Nocturnal Noble with a grim efficiency that shocked Natalie. She’d seen Cole fight before, but compared to his clash with the Walking Charnel, this was a much faster and more vicious affair.

Turning away from his kill, Cole stalked back towards the Silly Goat. In surprise and more than a little bit of fear, Natalie stepped away from the door and let Cole enter. The large man had a grim look on his face as he looked around the tavern with a cautious eye. Wilhelm, who’d been watching as well, stepped towards Cole and started to speak.

“What, what have you DONE!?” His words started uncertainly and ended in a shout. “You’ve killed a Noble! They will come for us now!”

Cole shut his eyes in a sign of momentary weariness before answering. “ The Vampire threatened to kill both of you if I didn’t do as she commanded. And what she wanted of me was not something I could give. So I took a third option.”

This was not the whole truth but close enough for the two of them. He’d already endangered the Striga family enough through his foolishness. Cole shut the Inns door, turning away from the two innocents he’d dragged into his mess. Then he grabbed a chair, set it in front of the door, and sat in it. Cole faced the entrance with his pole-axe draped in his lap.

“Natalie can you grab my pack and anything I have left in my room. Wilhelm, could you please find me something to bandage my wounds?” asked Cole, his tone focused and cool.

Wilhelm started to object, but Cole cut him off. “I’ve endangered you and Natalie. I’m sorry for that and will do what I can to rectify it. I will leave in the morning, and when I do, you will tell the Daymen I threatened you to let me stay. Tell them whatever they want to hear, but make it clear I forced you both to help me on the threat of death and an arcane curse.”

It was Natalie's turn to speak up, but Cole didn’t let her. “If they come for you, it will be tonight when emotions are the hottest, and when my shed blood might summon the Castle Guards. I will protect you tonight and then leave when I can be reasonably certain you are both safe.”

Still, Wilhelm and Natalie hesitated, and Cole did something unusual for him. He raised his voice. “GO! Do as I ask!”

The sound of the large man's booming voice shook both father and daughter from their confusion, and they rushed to fulfill his request. Shortly Willhem had some bandages and a small piece of wood for Cole. Cole bandaged his cuts and crudely splinted his broken fingers. Natalie, for her part, rushed upstairs to grab Cole’s backpack and other belongings.

Upon entering his room, Natalie tried not to look at the destroyed window or patches of ash on the floor where a Vampire bled. She found Coles's pack easily enough. He’d set it by the door when he brought Lorena into the room. A quick search confirmed what Natalie suspected. The only thing Cole had not taken with him was the skull in its pouch. Grabbing it from under the bed, Natalie tried not to shiver at the feeling of cloth-wrapped bone. Returning to the room's door, Natalie was struck with a sudden curious impulse.

Pausing for a moment, Natalie unfastened the bag and looked inside at the grinning skull looking up at her. As she looked at it, a familiar oppressive chill flooded her body. The numbing touch of a God. Gasping in surprise and sudden panic, Natalie instinctually touched the skull with her bare skin. Instantly she felt something else press against her mind. A radically different presence compared to the monumental coldness of a God. This one was a small but steady sensation of warmth. A phantom scent filled Natalie’s nose, accompanying the warm wetness she felt touching her soul. The smell of fresh blood, potent enough to make Natalie’s vision swim, assaulted her. Frantically she pulled her hand away from the skull and resealed its bag.

Shoving the skull into Cole’s pack, a shaken Natalie started to leave the room. But a faint whisper in the back of her mind stopped her.

“You? Who are you?” Natalie was stunned and tried to understand the source of the lilting feminine voice. Was this the Skull? Was Isabelle the long-dead Vampire speaking to her?

Again the voice spoke, faint and delicate like the rustle of silk sheets. “You smell of grief and lilacs. You taste of blood and tears. What have you done with my beloved?”

This was Isabelle or whatever was left of her. Natalie was hearing the whispers of a ghost. The ghost of the woman who’d bound Cole to her and fed on him like a parasite. A spike of bitter anger coursed through Natalie at that thought, and she muttered under her breath.

“Beloved? You call the man you ensorcelled and drank from your Beloved? I know what a Vampire's venom can do to a mind. It's bad enough you controlled him in life, Isabelle. You can’t even let him be free when you’re dead!”

The smell of blood returned, and it hit Natalie like a punch. It carried a sense of anger and outrage with it. Hurriedly Natalie shoved the skull into the pack and stepped back from the it. The smell faded slightly, but Natalie could still feel an ugly fury emanating from the skull. It felt like someone was smearing hot blood on her. A disgusting and disturbing sensation rubbing against her soul.

“You know nothing! You speak about what you don’t understand! You are unworthy of his secrets and his love! You will not take him from me!” spat the voice, its silken tones corrupted by a spitting hiss that reminded Natalie of an angry feline.

Before Natalie could rebuke the mad-ghost rasping against her mind, another voice intervened.

“ENOUGH. TROUBLE NOT THIS CHILD WITH YOUR RANTING SHADE”

Cold and mighty like a glacier, but somehow soft as sand flowing in an hourglass, the second voice banished the stink and filthy sensation of blood. Replacing it was a brisk chill that faded almost instantly.

Eyes wild and stunned by what happened, Natalie quickly grabbed the bag and hurried downstairs. She knew what the second voice was. The speaker's identity was clear as glass but not something she wanted to think about. Those words had shaken her very soul, echoing like thunder yet crisp as cracking ice. The intent and focus of something so far beyond her; interpreted as a few words. Natalie had heard the voice of a God, which frightened her more than any threats from a blood-soaked ghost.

Natalie moved towards the staircase but stopped before going down. A sudden thought struck her. She would probably never see Cole again, and that idea pained her more than she wanted to admit. Setting the pack down, Natalie went to her room and grabbed the statue of Stockings the Cat. The one she’d started when Cole first arrived, and just finished last night. She knew it was foolish, but part of her wanted Cole to take something of her with him. If he carried around that cursed totem of the woman who claimed she loved him. Maybe it would be counteracted by a symbol of someone who genuinely… cared for him. Another word instead of “cared” flashed through Natalie's mind but was quickly squashed away.

Heading downstairs, Natalie stuffed the statue in Cole’s pack. When she arrived, she found Cole sitting staring at the door. Her father sitting and staring at Cole, and the Cat sitting on the ground in between Cole’s feet. Dropping the pack next to him, Natalie pulled up a chair and sat next to Cole.

“So what do you intend to do?” she asked, pulling her attention off what happened upstairs and onto the mildly less harrowing tension in the room around her.

Cole considered Natalie’s words for a moment before speaking. “I’ll head south and see if I can continue my work without causing any more trouble. Hopefully, the chaos caused by Lorena's death will delay whatever is coming.”

Pausing for a second, Cole took a deep breath and looked at Natalie. “I suggest you continue with your plans to leave and do so as quickly as possible. Something is coming, and I don’t know if I can prevent it.”

Looking to Wilhelm then, Cole continued. “I suggest you follow her Master Wilhelm. My presence here is not a fluke of fate. A threat is encroaching on Glockmire.”

That got the middle-aged man to sit back in his chair and grimace. Considering how bad things were going, Cole figured it was time to be a little franker with the Innkeeper. His actions had put the man and his daughter in danger, so maybe he could try and get them out of harm's way before leaving.

Softly, Natalie asked, “What about the Varcolac?” She didn’t know why she brought up the Monster but Natalie did.

“I will destroy it, I will honor my oath. When it is done I will find a way to send word to you” answered Cole, as a pang of sadness went through him, for the words spoke of the finality to his connection with Natalie. She’d helped him and requested he destroy the Undead that killed her mother. Something Cole had agreed to do, even with her accompanying him.

Silence fell over the inn after that, broken only by the rustling of the wind outside and the purring of an unconcerned Cat. At different points, both Natalie and Wilhelm tried to keep themselves busy with chores. But they eventually rejoined Cole’s vigil. Hours crept by, and nothing happened. No shouts and screams in the night. No rattling of armor or cries of challenge. It was a normal night, except for the tension in the Silly Goat, and the Vampire bones in the street beyond it.

Multiple times Cole tried to speak. To offer words of comfort to Natalie or Wilhelm. But the platitudes died on his lips before they could take shape. Similarly, Natalie tried and failed to muster the courage to speak her mind. So the silence dragged on as the night continued. Multiple times Wilhelm nodded off; he was not the young man he’d once been, and staying up all night was not something he could do easily. Natalie sat wide-eyed, exhaustion taking its toll, but she refused to rest. Cole sat motionlessly, senses peeled for any threat. Only occasionally moving his foot to stroke, the cat curled up next to his legs.

Then after what felt like an eternity, the first early light of dawn became visible. The pale grey promise of day glowed in the Silly Goats windows. To Cole’s surprise, the Castle Guard hadn’t arrived. He’d thought his fight with Lorena would surely summon them. He tried not to worry about why exactly they hadn’t attacked. Cole refused to chalk it up to good fortune.

Meanwhile, Natalie angsted and debated internally. Sometime in the night, she’d made a startling realization. With that realization had come an idea, one she struggled with. An idea she needed to marshall her courage if she wanted to see it realized. Natalie had to make a decision and do so quickly.

The first golden rays of sunlight peeked into the inn, and they signaled to Cole it was time. He stood up from his chair, gently disturbing Stocking's rest, and grabbed his pack. Natalie watched him with bated breath, her mind racing between different options, she then made her decision. Cole stepped to the door, opened it, and turned to face Natalie and Wilhelm. He started to say his goodbyes, but Natalie stopped him with a kiss.

Fueled by exhaustion, panic, and a simmering infatuation. Natalie embraced Cole and met his lips with her own. Cole suddenly stiffened at the action before relaxing into the kiss, for a blissful moment of shared intimacy. Then Natalie reluctantly pulled herself away and put her hands on Cole’s chest.

“Find me in Vindabon in a year's time. You owe that to me, Cole.”

Startled, confused, and more than a little entranced, Cole touched his lips before nodding solemnly.

“Yes, I will find you in a year's time, Natalie Striga.”

Reluctantly Cole stepped away from the beautiful woman who’d kissed him and turned to leave. With pack and pole-axe in hand, Cole set out. He felt both weighed down with worry and lightened with something sweet. A contradictory experience that made his heart throb. Leaving the Silly Goat, Cole looked at the Vampire's bones still lying in the street. It surprised Cole that no one had discovered the remains, and part of Cole was tempted to take them. But he decided it might cause more problems than they might solve.

Leaving the Bones and the Silly Goat. Cole made his way to the gates of Glockmire and set out to the south, out of the mountains and away from Natalie. Looking up at the rising Sun, Cole murmured to himself:

“Vindabon. That sounds nice.”

Agate Doruscion had the distinction of being a rising star among the Vampire court of Glockmire. As the scion and apprentice of Doru of the Bones, chief necromancer of Lord Johan Glockmire. Agate had repeatedly proven that her magical and political skills surpassed what would be expected of a Vampire of her age, becoming the pinnacle of what a young Vampire should aspire to in the Blood Duchies. Unfortunately, none of these accolades did anything to stop Dietrich Freymond from wrapping his fingers around her throat.

Back in the Castle, Dietrich had wasted no time tracking down his target. Agate was the owner of the Obsidian Athame Dietrich had linked to the rogue Necromancy. This, along with her talent, ambition, and youth cemented her as the prime suspect of being the Feeder. So when he cornered her in one of Doru’s laboratories shortly before dawn, Dietrich was ready when Agate tried to run.

The Vampress had not gotten far. Dietrich had quickly grabbed her and now wrapped his hands around Agate’s throat, crushing her windpipe. This did not kill Agate but instead crippled her ability to cast spells. With her throat crushed and the strong iron grip of Dietrich preventing her from regenerating, Agate couldn’t speak a single word. Which was exactly what Dietrich intended. Looming over the panicking younger Vampire, Dietrich growled at his victim.

“You are accused of acting beyond the license given to you by your liege. Of conducting experiments with magics forbidden to one of your ranks. Experiments with the express purpose of overthrowing Lord Glockmire. How do you plead?”

In response, Agate let out a gurgling croak, telling Dietrich he wasn’t squeezing hard enough. As Dietrich strengthened his grip, Agate thrashed and tried to pry the Scarlet Knight’s fingers off her throat. It was a useless effort, and Dietrich felt comfortable explaining the case to the accused Vampire.

“I’ve been tracking the actions of someone working to gather powerful lesser undead. Someone who intends to use overwhelming numbers and power to usurp our Lord. In the course of my investigation, I discovered a cache of Ghouls in the mountains. Lured there with a ritual spell of some kind. The ritual symbol was carved using an obsidian athame. Much like the one you own.”

Agate’s eyes widened in horror, bloody irises flitting around the laboratory for any possible escape. It was the look of a cornered animal and one Dietrich had long learned to recognize. Part of him was tempted to simply squeeze a little harder and pop Agate’s head from her shoulders and be done with it. But Dietrich needed to finish this cleanly, with a confession and public execution. Instead, he’d break Agate’s neck, giving him enough time to collar and cuff her before she regenerated.

Dietrich moved to use both his hands and adjust his grip for the more difficult act of violence. Creating a momentary opening, which Agate took full advantage of. She bit her tongue hard and let a small stream of black blood pour out of her mouth. The blood slithered down between Dietrich's fingers and Agate’s neck. Then pushed against his fingers with remarkable strength. Her struggling limbs and blood's combined effort allowed Agate to slip through Dietrich's grip.

Agate lept backward and scrabbled towards a shelf nearby. Grabbing a sealed jar with twitchy fingers, Agate tossed the jar at Dietrich with all the strength she could muster. Its glass exploded against the Scarlet Knight’s armor and released a pungent yellow cloud. Dietrich hissed, a mix of pain and annoyance forcing the sound from his lips. He’d underestimated how strong Agate’s blood manipulation was. To control such a small amount of blood and produce such a potent effect was a testament to Agate’s talent. Dietrich might have been impressed if he wasn't currently in incredible pain. She’d thrown a container of Sulfur at him; the acrid material burned his skin and eyes. Brimstone was one of the lesser banes of Vampires, but being doused in it was enough to raise burning welts on his skin.

Roaring in fury, Dietrich pushed through the pain and confusion. His eyes and nose were useless, so he followed Agate’s movement with his ears. The faint clank and clatter of glass and wood guided Dietrich to his left. Lunging forward with explosive power, Dietrich brought a gauntleted arm down before him. Instead of cold dead flesh, he caught a table’s edge. Dietrich smashed the wood to splinters and sent a shower of glassware and table fragments flying everywhere.

A pained shriek accompanied the clatter and tinkle of falling debris as some of the shrapnel hit Agate. Honing in on his prey, Dietrich barrelled forward. Blinking away the pungent Sulfur, Dietrich saw Agate before him. Reaching out, he closed his fingers around one of her arms and squeezed. Bone crunched, and flesh tore as Dietrich's vise-like grip did its grisly work. Agate pulled away with surprising force, letting Dietrich rip her hand off in a gruesome display.

Before Dietrich could recover and get a better grip on the fleeing Vampress; she spat some words in a humming language. The air in the room grew suddenly thick with a cloying smell that vanished as quickly as it came. Dietrich swore in frustration as what he’d feared came true. Agate had managed to heal enough to properly cast a spell. The spell's effects were instantaneous. Agate's body melted. Dissolving into a pool of blood that flooded out of her clothing and slithered along the stone floor with surprising speed. The Agate-Pool flowed towards the door and slipped underneath it with ease.

Dietrich followed after his quarry, letting out a stream of curses collected from more than a century of military service. He didn’t bother to open the door, he simply smashed through it. Inhuman muscle and the sheer momentum provided by his plate armor reduced the sturdy wood to splinters. Ahead of Dietrich, Agate had made good progress, squirming down the hallway with a strange flowing slither. Unfortunately for Agate, the hallway they’d entered was long and straight, with few avenues of escape. The laboratory Agate had taken for herself was located deep in the Castle’s bowls. Its isolation from the rest of the structure had protected her secrets and the wider Castle from any accidents. Now Agate regretted that choice as Dietrich closed in on her.

Like some stampeding beast, Dietrich charged down the hallway. Every step, a crash of metal as he paid no mind to stealth and pushed his body to supernatural heights. Dietrich closed in on Agate and started planning how to capture or kill her. He’d never before been forced to fight a bloodform Vampire. For that talent was a rare thing, with only a handful of Strix lineages being able to use it with any sort of reliability. Unsheathing his executioner’s sword, Dietrich tried something experimental and launched the weapon before him like a javelin. His aim was true, but Agate dodged the impact of the huge weapon. She saw it as a threat, and that gave Dietrich ideas.

Picking up the weapon, Dietrich continued his assault. Getting close enough to swing the blade in a wide arc. Despite her efforts, part of the Agate-Pool was caught by the blade and was splattered onto a far wall. Instantly Agate’s movement changed. Parts of the puddle of blood dragged behind the central mass. Turning what had been a fairly compact wriggling shape into a longer, much more serpentine form. As he watched, Dietrich could see some of the scattered blood trying to rejoin the greater whole. Crimson droplets fell off his sword in defiance of gravity, towards the direction of his quarry.

Dietrich got two more good slashes at Agate, but neither did as much damage as the first. She was getting better at dodging them, and Dietrich had the worrying suspicion she wasn’t used to this ability and was markedly improving as they fought. Eventually, the hallway reached an intersection in the Castle’s labyrinthian tunnels. Agate flowed into the left passage with literally liquid agility.

Trying to follow, Dietrich gripped onto the wall’s corner and swung his weight into the turn. He miscalculated, and the crude masonry shattered under his weight, sending Dietrich skidding across the stone floor. Dietrich smashed into a wall and cracked the stone before recovering his balance and continuing the chase. His error had cost him, and Agate was now far ahead. Growling in frustration, Dietrich tried to regain his momentum.

The chase continued, both Vampires flitting through the dark halls of the Castle. Dietrich never getting close enough to attack Agate but also never far enough away to lose her. But time was on Dietrich's side; if he could stop Agate from escaping long enough, other factors would come into play. The Sun would be rising soon, trapping Agate in the Castle and forcing her to fight against the supernatural exhaustion that came with dawn.

When sunrise came, it would leave both Vampires drained, but as the older and more stalwart of the two, Dietrich was confident he could outlast Agate. Even if the chase continued down into the lowest levels of the Castle and turned into a ridiculous game of cat-and-mouse, Dietrich still liked his odds. Something as complicated as turning into an animated pool of blood is not done easily. Eventually, Agate would be worn down, and Dietrich would break her.

Agate's destination became clear after a few more minutes of this hunt. She was headed for the main entrance to the Castle. Slithering up stairways and out of the catacombs beneath the Castle and towards its main entrance hall. It seemed Agate had decided to race the Sun. She might be able to get out of the castle before Dawn, but she would not be able to find safety in those moments. If day came and she managed to escape its light, the servants of the Court would track her down as she slowly fell into the torpor all Vampires experience during the day.

Agate slipped through the last pair of doors and made it into the atrium. Dietrich burst through the doors and followed behind, a hungry grin on his lips. This chase had grown infuriating, and he looked forward to ending it. The atrium was a large chamber with a pair of great doors in its front and back. The larger set was reinforced with steel binds and magic; these were the Castle's entrance. The other was an ornately carved set of double doors that led into the Castle proper. The sidewalls of the atrium held a few smaller portals that led elsewhere in the Castle. One of which Dietrich and Agates had exited.

Dietrich found Agate in front of the Castle’s gate. The rogue Vampire was in the process of reforming from her transformation. Blood congealed into muscle and bone, creating Agate’s body one layer at a time. Leaving a naked and exhausted-looking Agate before Dietrich. Vampires do not sweat or pant like living creatures do with great exertion. Instead, Agate’s facsimile of life was lacking. Her skin was corpse-pale and taught. Muscles occasionally twitched as dark magic fought with rigor mortis and Agate’s eyes were glassy and unblinking. She seemed like a fresh corpse in every manner except for the fact she stood upright and spoke. It was the most basic skill a young Vampire learned, to use the stolen blood of others to make their dead flesh act like it was alive. Without it, the beautiful and terrible Nocturnal Nobility looked like fresh corpses puppeteered by twitchy inhuman movements.

“Dietrich, you are a close-minded brute. Incapable of anything other than crude butchery. A dogmatic old fossil unworthy of my efforts even if I was willing to share them!” spat Agate from a raspy throat.

Dietrich looked around the atrium and saw the four Castle Guards standing at attention by the far wall. With a thought, he took control of them and moved the four plate-armored pawns to his flanks. Surrounding Agate on three sides. Leaving her only escape route, the Castle entrance. Dietrich raised his weapon to point at Agate and responded to her taunts.

“Agate Doruscion, this is your final chance. Surrender and face the Lord's Judgment. Or continue to resist and face mine.”

Agate made a pitiable sight, thin, waifish, and now gaunt from exhaustion. She’d used up her reserve of Blood and now was barely more than an intelligent ghoul. With his quarry backed into a corner, Dietrich expected some final trick. A nasty bit of magic or clever words to save herself or destroy him. He didn’t expect her to laugh.

The strange creaking noise came from Agate as her body failed to imitate life. Turning away from Dietrich, she put her hands on the Castle doors and started to push them open. The sturdy wood creaked as Agate spent what must have been the last bit of undead strength to open them. Dietrich's eyes widened in surprise, and he took a step forward as Agate stepped outside the Castle. The pale grey pre-dawn light illuminated the mountain pass and the town within it. It would only be moments before the sun broke over the peaks and flooded Glockmire. Stunned, Dietrich held out a hand towards Agate and barked.

“Are you mad? Surely death by my blade is preferable to burning in Sunlight? Return here, and I promise you will die painlessly!”

Agate just laughed again and spun about in the pre-dawn light. Her arms were outstretched like a village girl dancing at a harvest festival. With every passing moment, the world grew brighter. Radiant death was seconds away, and Agate didn’t seem to care. Her coarse laughter elevated to a grating volume as Agate finally turned to look at Dietrich and smiled. Her colorless lips drew into a too-wide smile, exposing her fangs and white gums.

“Dietrich, what would you give to see the Sun again?” she asked, the wild-eyed Vampire uncaring to the lightning world around her.

Dietrich didn’t answer; he looked on in terror as the cresting sun started to shine down on the valley floor. It would come soon and with it, a terrible death. Agate laughed as the light came closer, an onrushing tide of fire ready to swallow them both. As the first hints of golden light touched Dietrich's eyes, he darted back into the Castle and slammed the doors shut. Inside the Castle, a deep bell toned, marking the arrival of day. Dietrich had escaped death by seconds and now slumped against the door, recollecting his nerves. He didn’t hear the screams he expected from Agate, but that was not unheard of. Some Vampires burned quietly.

Locking the gate shut and commanding the motionless Castle Guards to stand in front of the great door, Dietrich scurred away. Of all the terrible things in the world, none scared Dietrich like the sun. It was like that for all but the most jaded Vampire. The idea of Sunlight and the terrible death that came with it brought instinctual unbridled terror to Dietrich. A mark of the unnatural state his mind, body, and soul was trapped in.

Shaking away the fear, Dietrich sheathed his sword and moved toward his crypt. He’d be able to stay conscious long enough to dictate a report to one of his thralls, but not much more than that. Fighting to stay awake, Dietrich trudged down towards his lair. He tried to take solace in the fact he’d completed his duty. Agate was dead, and without her, he could destroy the caches of Undead at his leisure. But something still nagged at him, preventing Dietrich from feeling truly comfortable in his victory. Instincts born from decades of battle and slaughter whispered to Dietrich, telling him the fight wasn’t over yet.