Back to Averon's writings

---

The Enigmacy

Chapter One: Enigma

“What a bloody horrible day,” Taron said as the rain pattered on his thick steel body armor.
He peered up at the sky and wondered why it had to rain on his shift. At least it wasn’t extremely cold. It didn’t really matter anyway he still hated his job even in the rain. Not like the Royals cared any. He was mainly positioned on this sector of the Wall to protect the manor across the courtyard from being infiltrated. That manor was Zanthors’ manor. He didn’t like Zanthor very much, but that didn’t really matter any, he still had to do his job. As he stared across the courtyard he noticed that the lord was setting off to go to sleep.
“What a fool leaving his balcony easily accessible,” he thought to himself. 
Why protect such a foolish man if he only sets himself up to be killed? He noticed that the rest of the town was asleep or going to be asleep sometime here soon. He saw the crescent, up turned moon. It had both of its tips turned upright, this meant that it would rain. He readjusted his shield to fit better for he had to rush out to his post today. He almost forgot that he was on duty today.
“Hey Taron get your filthy ass over here!” A lieutenant yelled at him from farther down the wall.
“I hope this isn’t about my almost being late.” “Coming sir!” he yelled back at the lieutenant as he sprinted across the wall to where the lieutenant was standing.
“What in the Nine Hells caused you to miss this!” He screamed at Taron as he pointed to what appeared to be a grappling hook on the wall. The lieutenant was clearly pissed.
“Sir I wouldn’t have missed this, sir. I would have seen it. It must have just been thrown on the wall sir.”
“That doesn’t matter Taron. What does matter is that there is someone in the castle and we need to find him now!”
“Yes, sir.” Taron said as he saluted the lieutenant and headed off to catch this intruder.
The lieutenant stayed where the grappling hook was and wondered how the recruit could have missed the hook on the wall. He looked at it. It was obviously hand made; he was once a spy himself. He could tell by the way the hook was designed to grapple this wall in particular. The hook was colored almost the same exact color as the wall.

‘But this is why he was on the wall; to clean up behind the recruits.’ He told himself as he walked down the wall to see if there were any more of these hooks on the wall. He would rather this be an assassination plot then a full out invasion. These thoughts and more ran through his mind as he walked in the same direction that Taron went.
“Don’t want him to miss anything, again.” He told himself. 
Just then a figure emerged from the shadows below the wall at the end of that grappling line. It climbed the line quickly and quietly, landed on the wall, and once again was enveloped by the shadows. The light downpour of the rain, the crescent upturned moon and the shadows all played on the minds of his enemy. All of these factors only helped him with his mission, that if it was going to be this easy, he knew he could complete.
In the darkness he sat waiting for the perfect opportunity. With his deep brown eyes he stared at his target, the lieutenant. Amazed how a man of his position could have forgotten to pull up his hook, but this only worked in his favor. The light wind blew his tattered black cape that has served him well in so many other insertions like this one.
“Funny,” he thought to himself. “How someone of my stature can be unnoticeable in the night.”
He, with his stature of over six feet was no Dwarf, and his immensely powerful arms made anything he wielded a weapon of limitless proportion, like his dagger now was. He crept to his enemy, enveloping him with his cape, grasping his targets forehead, slicing his neck with his dagger; he dragged his target into the shadows. He then carried the body down beside the moat and removed all valuables from it. He disposed of the body in the river after he had removed all the rings, heirlooms, and other tokens of wealth. He once again scaled the wall and rolled up his grappling hook and rope when he reached the top. He then put it in a special pouch designed for it on his belt. 
He snuck off into the night once again this time his target was another guard that by the screaming of the lieutenant, he knew his name was Taron. This gave him one more thing that he knew about his next target. He jumped over the staircases that lead into a beautiful courtyard. This courtyard was covered with all kinds of plants from all over. He waited in the courtyard for the guard. He picked himself one of the finer plants that reminded him of him at this very moment, a black rose. This type of rose was only grown in this city among the other special flowers the city produced. He believed that this type of rose was under appreciated, for it had a great semimetal value to him. A value so deep that it hurt him to think about the feelings that it invoked deep within his soul, for it was a gift left for him so long ago. But he knew that in accomplishing his task tonight he would possibly have one last chance, and that was all he needed. He now only had to get the guard here; he knew just how he was going to do that. He had an incredible gift that he had acquired over his life, the ability to mock an individuals voice almost perfectly. He would now put it to the test once more.
“Taron get your ass over here now boy. You got a lot of explaining to do!” he screamed with the exact tone of the lieutenant. Taron would be closing in on his position any time now and he laughed at himself appeased with his efforts.
“Damn that lieutenant,” Taron said below his breath as he dashed toward the courtyard, “I wonder what he is going to blame on me this time?” But he didn’t notice the man in the shadows; he couldn’t have for he was so well hidden. Taron blitzed to the middle of the courtyard and looked confused and somewhat alarmed to the fact that the lieutenant that called his name not too long ago wasn’t there. But the confusion of the guard only worked to his advantage. He reached deep into his pockets and found his most beloved weapons, his shurikens. These were no ordinary shurikens they were made from the black claws of a dragon. Naturally black these shurikens needed not to be painted like most of his other weapons. This was one of the many reasons that he liked them. These were also more durable and lighter than any other, making them easier to throw and much more appealing to carry. 
He put one in each of his hands, and threw them skillfully at his target. The guard had no time to respond, they were thrown so adeptly and so fast that the quickest of men would not have been able to evade them. They had flown as fast and as precise as a falcon diving for its prey. They hit both in his neck and the back of Tarons head, embedding themselves deep in him. He fell limp from the impact of the shurikens, and hit the ground with a metallic cling. Followed shortly by the reverberating sound of his long sword hitting the ground making a sharp sound piercing the night’s air. This sound echoed through the open courtyard.
He the figure grunted in displeasure, he didn’t want that to happen but what is done is done. He just had to hope that no one had heard that, and if they did that they didn’t care. He stayed in his safe place in the shadows for several moments pondering what he should do. He finally decided to dispose of the body. This he did with great speed and precision. He once again searched for valuables and found some. He then did exactly what he did with the lieutenant’s body; he sent it to its cold water grave. He deeply regretted giving someone who was simply ‘following orders’ such a disgraceful grave. But it was necessary for his mission. He was glad that he was given no orders and he rarely followed orders, he strived to serve a higher cause. The one that drove him to this exact place right now was one that had been driving him insane for years on end. That one time that everything could have been so perfect, none of this mattered what is done is done, he could only hope he could have that one last chance that one last dance.
He made his way across the courtyard to the immense iron gates of the lord’s manor. The only thing that made Zanthor so powerful was his magical weapons that he made to slay two things. Both of these were highly regarded by him, the vampire and the dragon. As immense as the gates were they stood no opposition for his mastery of locks, for he was the best there ever was. He reached into his belt and produced a lock pick kit unlike any other. Not only was it handmade by himself, but it was made perfectly for the lock on this gate. This was only because he had made several trips to this city getting to know the lay of the castle. He never did like the idea of going in blind. He always tried to make at least four trips to a target area before initiating a mission. He, while in the city, had approached the gate and using some of his tools had acquired all the information about the lock on the gate that he needed. His lock pick kit did exactly what it was supposed to, and with great haste he made his way through the gate. He made sure to close the gate behind himself, as not to cause any oddities. 
‘Leave it like you found it.’ His mind told him.
He made headway to the balcony that was so foolishly left open. It was about six stories above him at this time. This didn’t faze him at all; it only made him work that much harder to reach his target. He attached the appropriate amount of line to the grappling hook, and pitched it onto the balcony railing. He knew that no one would see him; the shadows were perfectly placed to cloak him in the night. He made his way up the rope, as covertly as possible. Knowing that any move if not right could get him a fate worse than death itself, but he had played this sport before, and he only emerged the victor. But that could all change, anything could happen, but he tried not to think about that as he scaled the wall of the massive estate. He reached the balcony, and bringing his massive body onto the balcony he brought up his grappling hook and rolled up the immense amount of rope with it. The rope was extremely light and not very gargantuan in diameter, in fact it was only about as round as his ring finger. He was appeased with its great strength to weight ratio.
He noticed that the lord had left his curtains to wave in the wind. This would be the last foolish mistake that the lord would make. He made his way into the lords’ room, or what he believed to be his room. He drew his dagger from his thigh at that moment, just incase he met a welcoming party. He made his way through the curtains and examined the room before him. It was Zanthors room, the massive tapestry and the elegant paintings only proved his knowledge. He had reached the heart of the fortress, now to slay the king. He noticed that the lord gave nothing to those who could only wish to be as lucky as him. He while ignoring those in need withheld all his riches to himself; this made the shadowed figure very sick to the soul. But he knew how Zanthor had become so rich; he and he alone knew how to produce a weapon that’s purpose was to slay two things, dragons and vampires. Zanthor had somehow figured out how to combine both of these amazing powers into one single weapon. This worried the tall shadow, for these two things were highly revered by him. What disturbed him even further is that Zanthor was going to issue a large stockpile of these weapons to the local militia.
This would start a vampire crusade, and funding the cruss was Zanthor and a couple other lords who don’t know what exactly is going on. He knew that he had to stop this massive scale catastrophe before it ever started.  But believe it or not this was not the true reason behind his coming here; he had a much bigger picture that he was here to accomplish. Although a menial task the smaller task was a world more of importance to him. He had to slay the lord so he scanned the room for him. There he was lying on his bed asleep, the poor man knew not of what stalked him in the night not the driving force behind the beast. He was just sleeping, probably dreaming of what would become of the world if his plan of entire vampire extinction succeeded. The figure once again reached into his belt and produced a short narrow dagger. It was filed down to a very fine point, one which could pierce almost anything that he pushed it through. It would serve his purpose well. He approached the sleeping lord, with the narrow dagger in one hand and his other dagger in his right hand. He knew that now was not the time for him to screw up, that in all of eternity if he had to make a mistake that it could not be now. He crept closer and closer to the lord, when he finally reached the bedside of the lord he put the larger dagger away and put his palm on the blunt end of the narrow one. The lord was in just the right position for the type of assassination that he wanted. He lined up the dagger appropriately and put every ounce of strength he had behind it. The narrow dagger did just as it was supposed to, it was driven straight through the lords right ear, and angled just right it was driven into his spine, killing him instantly. It was surprisingly a very easy assassination. Now to retrieve the model weapon that was to be shown to all the other Nobles that would help sponsor the cruss. He searched the lord for his keys; he knew that the he kept them on him at all times.
He finally found the keys to the model weapon above the hearth in the far corner of the room. He needed this weapon so that the Nobles wouldn’t be able to replicate this cursed weapon. He first had to check the case for traps; he never knew what could happen so he always took the necessary precautions. He checked the case and found no traps so he unlocked the case and admired the weapon that he now held in his possession. It was a masterpiece of both forging and magical enchantment, one that he couldn’t help but admire, but despise its purpose at the same time. It resembled a long sword, but he knew by its pure gold hilt and handle, and its pure silver blade with assorted engravings that it was no ordinary sword. He then wrapped this masterpiece in a thick cloth, so it didn’t glimmer or shine in the moonlight as to give him away, attached it with a long leather strap under his cape. He still needed to do one last task before leaving this manor.
Next to the fireplace was the entry for the lords sitting alcove. Decorated with various tapestries, paintings and the book cases filled with many different novels and books of random knowledge. It amazed him how one mortal could accumulate all this knowledge. But this was not what he had come here to get, although all of these books had to be a repeat of his own library. He walked into the room and examined the large Oriental rug that rested in the middle of the room.
“Strange how a rug sits in the middle of the room without a single piece of furniture resting on it.”
This thought crossed his mind and immediately his instincts kicked in. He lifted the carpet and as sure as blood is red a trap door was revealed. He made a slight laugh under his breath, one again appeased with his efforts; he examined the trap door for traps, but found none. Picking up the trap door he walked down the stairs, into a dark, cold, musty dungeon. But he knew all to well the use of this dungeon and he was for the second time that night raptured to the core.
He moved hunched over down the long hallway. He observed the passageway, so he wouldn’t be surprised by any appearing figures. It was then that he heard footsteps and saw a shadow cast upon the cold stone wall. He then climbed up the wall until he reached the top of the wall. Once at the top he braced himself there using his legs as support. He drew out his Ninja To from its place on his back and placed it in both of his hands with the blade pointed downward. Waiting for his prey like a spider, he was patient in waiting for that exact moment when his prey would be the most vulnerable. He noticed that his target was another city guard, or what looked like another city guard. He noticed that this guard carried with him another weapon that resembled the one that he had stolen from Zanthors quarters. He waited until the guard was right under him; he then brought his enormous legs together. Sending him like an arrow downward to kill his opponent. The sheer force of something as massive as he was would have crushed the guard. When his feet met the earth his sword had driven itself straight through the guard, most likely severing his spine. This really didn’t matter at this point; he knew that the guard was dead. He pulled his stained sword out of the impaled body. He let the body hit the ground for he had no use for the articles that the body had. He acquired the sword that the guard was carrying, pulled a vial of putrid dark beryl liquid, and sprinkled a small amount of this liquid on the sword. He was careful not to get any of this liquid on his fingers, for the liquid was melting right through the sword with no problem at all. One could only imagine what it could do to his fingers. He made this concoction himself and found its effects quite pleasing.
The once magnificent piece of forgery was now nothing but a hilt. He overturned the body to see if there were any symbols or pieces of identification that he could use to get some understanding of what he was dealing with. He noticed that the figure had a silver stake on his belt. At this time a maelstrom of thoughts were released into his mind.
Was he too late?
Was all of his effort not sufficient?
Would he only be met by failure once again?
He shunned all of these thoughts from his memory. He WAS going to succeed, no mater the cost. He moved swiftly down the hall. Searching every cell for his prize, his one desire, what he had really come for. Until he finally saw her, lying on the cold cell floor, she was beautiful. She rivaled a dryad in beauty, and surpassed him in intellect. Her long flaxen hair spread about her, and her coral lips with her fangs protruding from them. She was dressed with very little. He was going to extract her from this horrid place. 
He immediately set to work on the lock, noticing that none of his lock pick kit would do him any good he became much bristled. He decided to use his acid on the lock. He poured it on the lock, and stepped back. The liquid ate through the lock with no trouble. He was relieved that he finally got through the lock. When he pulled on the door to open it he found that it was also locked somewhere else. He would not be met by failure when he is so close. He grasped the bars of the door and channeled his rage. He pulled on the bars with all his strength, ripping it from its hinges. He set it on the wall behind him and entered her cell.
He expected her to attack him upon his entry but she took no action at all. This worried him, he held her hair gently in his palm, and turned her over on her back. He noticed that she had been beaten severely; she had deep cuts all over her body. Most of them were bleeding on the grey stone floor, turning the stones puce. He could tell she had been here for some time, due to the many scars on her body. He held her in his robust arms, once again. He covered her in a fur that he brought with him; he could feel that she was frigid. He noticed that she was sleeping in an unconscious state of being. He carried her from this place of torture and misery. He walked up the stairs that led into the lord’s quarters; there he laid her down on a bed. He closed the trap door, and picked her back up. He laid her next the opening to the balcony and did his last few tasks before he left the manor.
He produced another vial of liquid this time crimson in color, this he dispersed throughout the room. This liquid took him years to prefect, and even more time to recover from when it was used in the wrong manner. He set himself into repel from the balcony, and held the Vampiress close to his chest as he ascended the wall. It was still raining; this was only beneficial for him, and his equal. When he reached the ground he held her in one arm and pulled on the rope with the other. The rope fell to him as he expected it to do. He caught it before the end of it hit the ground and stashed it away in a bag. He held her in both of his arms as he sped through the enormous iron gates of the manor.
When he reached the courtyard he laid the Vampiress under a tree. He then withdrew his longbow from his back and pulled from his quiver a masterpiece of fletching, the arrow looked normal to anyone who was dumb enough to not observe the point of it. The point was a glass blown tip, filled with a ruby liquid, the same liquid he dispersed into the room. He then wrapped the arrow in a piece of fabric, and lit the fabric ablaze. His target….the lords quarters. He placed the arrow between his ring and index finger and pulled on his massive bow. He let loose his arrow and held his breath he could not afford to miss. The arrows flight took it right into the lord’s quarters. He knew he only had a short period of time before he would loose his cover, so he set out for the Wall. Once again he set himself into rappel, and holding her tight against his chest with his left arm, while guiding them both down the Wall with his right arm. He tugged on the rope and much like before it came screaming down at him, he grabbed the rope like a serpent and rolled it into a bag. He had his paragon, and he intended to keep it. He now trudged through the shallowest part of the water; the place that his senses told him was the place where he could easily cross. He made sure not to get her wet, for she was already cold.
Upon reaching the other side of the moat he saw the lord’s manor, in all its glory. He looked down on it like an obstacle of the past, something he alone conquered, and something that pushed him to near fatigue. He knew it was only a matter of time now before his potion took affect, he decided to sit and wait for the spectacle. So he sat under a tree on the outskirt of the forest and watched to see if his concoction would do what it was supposed to do. He had the Vampiress laid on top of him, so she wouldn’t get too cold and catch something.
“Alright…any time now….three…..two…..one….”
No sooner had he finished counting then the room that the lord was in erupted in flames. A sheer hellfire, the entire room enveloped in flames. He had released a maelstrom of fire in the room; he was sure that by now the vehement of the flames had incinerated the lord’s body and most likely the entire room along with it. He now shifted his attention to a more pressing matter, the Vampiress. He couldn’t help but admire her, her long flowing hair, the way the sweet zephyrs and moonlight played on it. Although her body was covered in tarnish and his with cinders, he still cherished else. He remembered all the interesting discourse that they had, and how he loved her. How when she was in his arms she was unassailable. She had been through much mortification since she left him, he could tell. How his zeal was to find her by any means necessary, and hope to have that one last chance. He believed that fact to be his lagmappe, how once his mind was set there was no going back. But this was only the prelude to what he was planning; he had set this entire event out in his head years in advance. He dreamed about seeing her again, and here she was in his arms once again. Funny how life works out sometimes, but he never lost hope. 
He stood up revealing his massive stature in the moonlight; he whistled and from the forest came a massive stallion. His stallion Nax, he admired his grey mane, and black body. He saw his red eyes emerge from the forest as he sped to his master’s position. Nax stopped short of the tall figure and let out a sigh of warm air. The figure stroked the stallion on the head and admired his beauty. He then picked up his treasure and carried her to Nax, he naturally being curious moved closer to see what his master was bringing him. Nax immediately noticed it was another person. The tall figure mounted Nax, while holding the Vampiress and sat her down in front of him. He then grabbed Nax’s reigns and they were off in into the night. He held her close to him never letting go for a blink of an eye.
About the time that the sun was rising he decided to make camp for the day and wait for the cover of darkness to travel to his estate. The ride would take at least two days…and that is if everything went well. He laughed at that thought; he very rarely had that opportunity where he had clandestine operation would go off without a hitch. But this one did, and he was glad of that. He set up his small tent for her to rest in; it was nothing magnificent it just provided shelter from the elements. He laid down a woven bed roll and laid her on it. He then tended to all of her wounds, with the aid of all of his mixtures that Nax had so willingly carried with him. He loved Nax for that. He poured the liquid on her wounds and watched it, he was proud of his accomplishments in this field in particular. How he could fool death, and even cheat it. He had already done that. He sat next to her admiring once again her beauty. He ran his hand through her long beautiful hair; he loved how it felt in his hands. He wet a towel with water and started to wipe some of the grit off of her body, for it hid her beauty. He started with her face, he was amazed how dirty her face was, and he then started on her arms. From there he worked his way down her body. He then rolled her over on her back and cleaned there. 
She had a clout on him that he didn’t quite understand, whenever he was around her he felt at peace. All of his problems disappeared when he held her, and how he loved to do so. He then held her head in his massive left hand, and with a canteen in his right, gave her sips of water. He could tell she needed it for she swallowed it greedily. He gave her all the water that he had in the canteen, and then he wrapped her in bear fur, and laid her on the mat to sleep. He stood guard so that they wouldn’t be ambushed because of his ignorance. He sat in front of the tent about 10 feet off on a hill. That way he could see all those who were approaching him. He could easily make a precise arrow shot at one-hundred-fifty feet. He had been known for being able to do so when the conditions were right…and they were.
He loved being out in the woodland, away from the busy city. He could live off the land forever, but he found his manor to be much more comfortable. He was watching the woods for a prolonging period of time; he wondered why the city guard hadn’t tried to hunt him down yet. He cleaned up after himself quite thoroughly. But he couldn’t help wonder on the subject if they would ever try to seek him out, no matter he was never going back there again, he had no need to. He watched the woods for hours on end, expecting either a guard or a beast of some sort to try and attack him, but this never happened. About noon he strode back into the tent to tend to the Vampiress. He noticed she was still sleeping in her unconscious state, he believed that she would be out of this state in a few days. He fed her then was out again to his post. He exited tent and sat himself down at his post once again.
When nightfall came he started to pack everything up laying the Vampiress next to Nax, he knew Nax wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He finally rolled up the tent and attached it to Nax’s saddlebag, content with himself. He carried the Vampiress and sat her on Nax in front of him, and they were off again to his manor. The moon seemed to play on her body once again, as it often did. It played on all of her features, her long golden hair, and her tan skin. He noticed that she wasn’t as cold as she had been the last day, this was a good indication. He rode with her in front oh him the entire night. He admired the stars during his ride, as he knew that she would if she were conscious. He seemed enthralled by their beauty, as he was hers. He observed them and picked out all of the constellations that he knew, that wasn’t very many, only numbering twelve. He was displeased with himself, with all the knowledge he had he could only pick out and name twelve constellations! But this didn’t bother him much, for he knew that if he worried about what he didn’t know he would only depress himself. He decided he would learn some more when he sat in his library.
The ride was long, but at least he covered a lot of space. That was that much more space between him and the Port of Harem. He was never going to return there again, he knew that much. In fact as far as “the criminal always returns to the crime scene” goes he never returned to one of his crime scenes. He had been riding for seven hours now, but he did not care. The sun now started to cast its light upon them, oh how he hated the first sight of light. He kept on in the direction of his manor; there was no trodden path to it so one had to know where they were going. It was noon when he decided to give Nax a break and feed himself and the Vampiress. So he jumped off Nax, holding the Vampiress in his arms, and started to make a scanty meal for them both to eat. He gave Nax a special fruit and some meat, and fed the Vampiress the same. He noticed that if you touched the food to her tongue she would weakly try to chew and swallow it. He fed her what little food he had for her and ate a small roll of bread himself. He then saddled up Nax and set out for his final leg to his manor.
The ride wasn’t quite as enjoyable during the day, but it saved him time nevertheless. He made it to his manor at nightfall just as he had planned to. The large stone walls of his manor were awe inspiring, the deep vast moat around his manor could only be crossed by boat, or one could swim if you really were that senile. He whistled and the drawbridge to his manor came down, providing an entry to his manor. He entered the courtyard of his manor appeased to find it just like he had left it. He loved all of the black roses and various other plants that he grew for his potions and drinks. The courtyard had several entrances to his manor. The cobblestone paths leading from the fountain at the courtyards center proved this. They all led to two enormous glass doors that behind them were different wings of his manor. He entered the west wing carrying her. He carried her through the sitting alcove, with its white marble floor, elegant tapestries and paintings. Most of these were from around the world, he took pride in them. Especially the one that he had painted that hung over the fireplace in his best room.
He carried her up a spiral staircase in the far right corner of the room, to a large wooden door. This was his best room, he didn’t sleep here often because of all the memories it brought back, but he felt that by lying her down on the large bed in the center of the room that a memory was complete. He pulled the thick covers over her body, and made a small fire in the hearth of the fireplace. So that the room would be kept considerably warm, he knew that she would like the room this way. He then closed the glass door that led to the balcony. He turned around and admired his best room; it had a table right beside the bed with the best wine he had ever tasted in it. With one bottle on the top of the table with several crystal glasses upturned next to the bottle. He admired his painting once more and set off down the stairs to care for Nax. He exited the west wing and entered the courtyard, There Nax was running around the fountain playfully, he did love Nax.
“Come here boy,” the tall figure said.
And Nax did just that stopping just short of his master, sending cobblestones all over the area. He saddled Nax and rode him to the stables between the west and south wings. He upon reaching Nax’s stable took off his saddlebags and put them on his own back. He then put Nax in his stable and gave him clean pure water, fresh hay and grain that he picked himself, with Nax’s help. He then entered the south wing to do some reading in his library. He walked down a set of steps and entered the south wing through a large glass door, he admired his glass doors. From there he walked down a hallway, passing several sleeping quarters a kitchen and a washroom, until he reached a giant set of wooden doors. These doors creaked open without hesitation. Behind them was a library of great proportions, it had twenty-five rows of books reaching one-hundred feet in height. He had acquired most of these books himself. He quite often found himself reading these novels and texts of knowledge for days on end, losing track of time. That was one reason that he had the adjacent kitchen and sleeping quarters. The fireplace in the middle of the room had a hefty pile of logs stacked next to it, enough to keep a roaring fire going for days on end. He loved this room, and all of the knowledge that it contained.
He gathered some books on astronomy and sat in front of the fireplace in one of the four chairs positioned around the fireplace. There he sat for several hours learning all he could about the constellations. From where they got their names to where they were in the sky. After several hours of this he decided to leave this room and check on his recently arrived guest. He closed the book he was reading and set it next to the chair he was sitting in. He walked down the hallway, through the stable and into the west wing. He found his manor very easy to get around. He walked up the stairs and into the room, he found her just like he had left her. He sat in a chair beside her, wondering why she hadn’t come out of the coma state yet.
“What had that bastard done to her?” he said under his breath.
It didn’t matter he could easily asses her medical situation and fix it with all ease, if needed. He decided that he would give her another day to come around before he would take action and get her out of the coma. He put his hand under her head, lifting it gently. He then poured her a glass of the wines sitting on the table next to her. He poured some in her mouth little by little, he could tell by the delight in her facial expression. He poured her four glasses of the amethyst liquid. After he let her drink all four glasses he could tell that she was more relaxed, the way she breathed reflected it. She was no longer taking shorter staggering breaths, but long deep ones instead. He left her there to sleep through the day, as he probably should.
Well he needed to clean himself first and unload all of his accouterments. He made his way down to the stables and picked up Nax’s saddlebags. He then carried them to the east wing where he kept his other impedimenta. He pushed open the door and walked through the foyer of the castle, this wing was mostly a guest living quarters on the upper level. Then he walked up a flight of stairs and down a hallway that connected the east and north wing but before the hallway connected to the north wing there was a large painting. This painting was of a famous Sir. Arthur, him on his valiant white stallion, before his final battle. He found this painting to be extremely amiable, which is why it served this purpose. He pushed the painting aside and revealed a hidden door. This door led to his personal armory. He walked down about five steps into a large stone room. It had only torches to light the room; he preferred their dim glow over the overpowering light of outdoors.
He gazed around the room at the many weapons that he had collected over the years, he had every weapon imaginable. All of his weapons were on display in their wooden racks and in drawers. He unloaded all of his weapons, putting then in their appropriate places. He put his shurikens in a drawer, his Ninja-To on a wooden rack and his two daggers in a drawer below his shurikens. The newly acquired sword from Zanthor’s manor was put next to his collection of other long swords. He had an armory of great proportions, so numerous were his weapons that he constantly found himself admiring every one of them. The walls were covered with weapon racks of all sizes, they all housed his weapons. They were all either made by him, stolen, or made for him as a gift. Many of the weapons that had special qualities were given to him as gifts.
He took off his leather armor, this he made himself, and put on a dummy. That way it would keep its form. He then took off his chaps and fitted them on the dummy. This took about twenty minutes to accomplish. He then took off his leather gloves and bracers and set them on top of the cabinets that sat below a bathrobe that he kept in this room for when he came to undress. He took off the thick woolen shirt and pants that he wore, then the common shorts and shirt, finally setting his boots on specially made pegs. He then enveloped his body with the bathrobe and exited his armory.
He set out down the hall, making sure that the painting was in place, to the north wing. Here his personal quarters were. He continued to walk down the hallway passing several rooms on the way toward the immense doors at the end of the hallway. He opened these doors and for the first time in almost three years he was back in his abode. Here he picked out the attire that he would wear the rest of the day. He chose his amethyst shirt outlined in golden lace, with matching pants and beret. He had a fetish for wearing these colored berets that he couldn’t quite understand. He loved how they were merely a decoration for the head and served no other logical purpose whatsoever. He then set out for the washroom; this was adjacent to his room. He pushed open the door to the washroom and sat down in the carved, smooth, marble bath. There he washed every inch of his body at least three times. After finishing this he felt cleansed of all the dirt and grime that had covered his body. He dried his entire body, admiring his chiseled self in the mirror. He finally rediscovered the fact that he was above normal in both size and strength; he rediscovered this every once in awhile. He walked into his room and clothed himself in his amethyst shirt, pants, cape and finally better. He before leaving the room but on his leather boots and walked down the hallway. He passed three doors then turned down another hallway that led to a flight of stairs. He walked down the flight of stairs and into the social room of the castle. This is where most of his guests would enter upon reaching his castle, this was his bar. He walked into the courtyard, and into the west wing. He turned right when entering the west wing and headed toward the kitchen. He made himself a plate, one of meat and some bread, and sat down at the small table and ate his meal.
He decided to check up on his guest and feed her if she was not conscious. He walked up the staircase and once again found her like he had left her. He sat the plate down on the end table, and ran his hand through her hair. He noticed a slight emotion of pleasure from her when he did this, this meant that she could feel his touch, this alleviated his spirits some. He once again placed his massive hand behind her head and began feeding her; at least she could chew her food. He fed her all that he had, and then gave her some of the wine from the table to drink. He also had brought with him a potion that would hopefully help the wounds on her body heal, and if not that at least help ease the pain. He dabbed this potion on a rag and gently ran it over her open wounds, he could see her face cringe as he did this, and he meant not to hurt her but only to help. He noticed that the incisions on her body were healing quite well, due to the elaborate potions and care he took to nurture her back to health. The bandages that covered her wounds were no longer necessary, so he removed them. After taking care of her wounds he noticed that she hadn’t changed much physically, except for the couple scattered wounds and scars, she had only become even more opulent. He remembered her sea foam eyes and her long hair that he now held gently in the palm of his hand. He admired every feature about her, from the way her hair complimented her body, to her well built smooth legs. She is what he risked every danger for; every hurdle that he had jumped over eventually led him to her. He had spent nearly a decade searching for her. But he spent five times that solving a bigger issue. He just had to hope that she still remembered him, he sure did.
It was now that the fatigue of four sleepless days set in; he decided to sleep in this room. Just in case she woke up and started to wonder where she was, maybe seeing him would remind her. The daybed in the corner of the room looked very welcoming to him at this point, He decided that he would partake of some well deserved sleep; he was no good if he was tired. So he laid down on the daybed and fell quickly asleep, into his dream state. He woke and found the sun high in the sky, it was noon. He had slept ten hours, he felt revived in a way. He was growing perturbed by the fact that she had very little clothing to wear, and he had none to give her. This could easily be fixed. He started ascending the staircase to a large room; this was here that he kept all of his supplies for making outfits.
He had textiles, thread, chord, lace, beads, jewels, and bone, anything one could imagine was in this room. There were only three things missing, the skin of a mortal, scales of a dragon, and the hide of a unicorn, but he had no use for any of these. He gathered the appropriate components and descended the stairs to her quarters. He sat the accoutrements that he brought with him on a table in the room; it was here that he made his masterpiece. A dress that was familiar to him, one he made long ago. He was relieved that she hadn’t changed much; this made making the dress even easier. He paid attention to every detail; every bead was to his liking. He fabricated for her a dress that was so familiar to him; it was like a dream to him. His mind was enveloped by his current task, everything including time slipped away from him. His every thought was in the gown that he now made her, this was his most magnificent work. The way the fabric would fit her body, the way the very color of the gown would compliment every feature about her. The gown in all used about twelve feet of fabric. He had much more, but he was satisfied with what he had currently created. With this thought passing through his mind, he set his masterpiece on the table. The gown was a masterpiece; it was now that he noticed it was morning.
‘Time does fly.’ He told himself as he left the room.
He proceeded down the stairs into the sitting alcove, he then entered the kitchen. He made he fixed them both breakfast, one of eggs meat and some bread. He made his way to a table in the middle of the room, where he could easily watch the stairs if she decided to wake up. He ate his meal and wondered what Zanthor wanted with her. He pondered on this idea while he finished eating his eggs, then the idea suddenly hit him.
‘He was using her to test his weapons.’ He suddenly felt sick.
How anyone could defile something so beautiful was beyond him, he had to be a very sick man. He had killed him and seeing how he made her suffer only made him even prouder of his accomplishment. He finished his meal, but with the feeling of despair hanging over him.
“Now to feed Nax.” He said as he left the kitchen into the stables.
Once there he fed Nax some hay, and some fruit. Nax did love his fruit. He left Nax to eat his meal, and entered the kitchen. He walked to where he had placed her plate where he left it on the table, and headed up the stairs to her room. He entered the room and sat in a chair next to her once again. He put his hand under her head and slowly fed her the food that he had made for her. He was surprised that she could chew food in this state, but she did so very slowly. He then gave her a small glass of water, and then put the glass on the plate. He could tell that her state was improving, she breathed much easier. He proceeded into the kitchen where he washed off the plates and stored them in the cabinet once again. Her state still worried him.
He decided to make his concoction that would bring her out of this cursed coma, well, it has been four days now. So he decided to get her out of this coma state. With this thought he headed into the open courtyard, passing through the stable feeding Nax on his way. He entered the south wing and entered the first room on his right. In the center of the room was a spiral staircase, but this staircase led not up, it descended into his laboratory. He strode down those stairs into this musty room. In this room there was a mysterious glow of candle light. This gloomy illumination was all that light the room. Shelves six feet high lined the left side of the room; these were filled with all sorts of solutions and such that he could ever hope to use. On the right side of the room he had shelves like the left side, however; this side had tombs of knowledge. All of which had to do with alchemy, most of these were over fifty years of age, others barely two. He searched through the books, finally finding the right one. He opened it and searched through the pages for what he was looking for. He finally found it, the potion that he would create. The entire book, like many of the other books, was written in a language that many didn’t understand. He acquired knowledge on subjects that he enjoyed willingly, not giving a second thought to what he was getting into. He skimmed down the pages and found the ingredients list, bark of a magical tree, tooth of a basilisk, blood of a human, and the leaf of an ivy plant.

 
  Chapter 2: Awakening

      Serrif turned and walked to one of his cupboards. Several jars were within, labeled from wolves bane to virgin’s blood. He dug around until he found a single jar labeled Daiki. He set it out onto the counter then selected another cupboard. More ingredients were found, this time he pulled out the jar with three teeth. He took this jar and set it on the counter next to the Daiki.
     He entered the corridor and walked down to the stables. Vines clung to the stable walls. Serrif reached out and plucked a single leaf from the ivy vine and returned to his manor.
     Next he went to his kitchen, found a stone bowl and a sharp knife. He entered his laboratory again and began adding the ingredients as the instructions suggested.

     Grind the bark, tooth and leaf together into a fine powder.

     Serrif found a grinding stone and began the slow work. After everything was a fine yellow powder he left and found another bowl, this time metal. He returned and read the next part of the instructions.

    Add the human’s blood, mix and heat.

    A deep sigh emanated from Serrif but he picked up the knife anyway. He held his hand over the metal bowl and press the knife to his palm. He sliced it across his palm and then set the knife onto the counter. Serrif closed his hand and squeezed, droplets of blood oozed in-between his fingers.
    Several drops fell into the bowl and collected at the bottom. He poured the powder over the blood and mixed it together. He then picked up the bowl and set it onto the open fire of the fireplace.
    Satisfied, Serrif went to bandage his hand. Once finished he returned with a wad of clothe in each hand and took the brew from the fire.

Drink within fall of night.

        Finally a chance to wake his beloved! To see his true loves eyes once again. It had been forty years since the last day he had seen them, filled with love and a deep sadness. He would finally show her that nothing could keep them apart.
         Serrif carried the bowl into his kitchen and filled a goblet with the rancid mixture. It still bubbled and steamed, and had turned to a deep purple.
         He climbed the staircase that led to his library and his favorite room, with the disgusting mixture still in hand. Serrif then walked down the corridor and entered his beloved’s room.
        He knelt down beside her bed and lifted her head with his good hand. He held the goblet to her mouth and began to pour the liquid. She sipped at the little he had poured and grimaced, but didn’t pull away. He poured more into her mouth until the goblet was empty.
Setting the goblet onto the bed stand, he let her head fall once more onto the pillows. He stroked her honey hair once more before her stood up and left the room.

“Wake up bitch,” Zanthor said as he kicked Gizem awake, “It’s fun time. You don’t want to miss that now do you?” The smile on his face was terrifying, a mixture of hate and desire.
Gizem shuddered and in a raspy voice whispered, “Go to hell you fucking bastard.”
Zanthor face twisted in rage as he grabbed her by her hair and poured a foul tasting liquid into her mouth. She fought, but the liquid trickled down her throat no matter how hard she tried to spit it out.
Finally Zanthor, satisfied with his work dropped her to the ground and faded away into the blackness.

The blackness slowly faded away to reveal an all too familiar room. This has to be a dream. Gizem thought. The painting on the wall, the bed she was in, even the smell brought back the memories.
The last night she had seen Serrif, her true soul mate. It had been at least forty years ago, the fateful night she had refused Serrif’s love and disappeared.
Gizem, in a daze, sat up in her bed. Her vision blurred as tears that had not been shed during her five years of torture were falling at the mere thought of Serrif. He had to be dead by now. Yes, he had been young, but forty years would be beyond a human’s lifespan. Especially since Serrif always got himself into fights.
Why? Why did she suddenly dream of being here? Why were all of these memories she had tried so hard to bury, suddenly come flooding forth? Gizem’s body shook as she sobbed uncontrollably.
A gentle weight pressed on Gizem’s shoulder. Her sobs slowed, and then stopped as she looked up to find the one person she had not expected to see; the handsome face of the young, late, Serrif.
He smiled and said nothing at the shock openly shown on Gizem’s tear streaked face. She reached out with a shaky hand and touched his face. He was real. She really wasn’t dreaming.
She broke down and cried once more as she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him. She buried her face in his chest, breathing in his delicious scent. He picked her up and set her upon his lap. He held Gizem there and rocked her.
Serrif didn’t say a word; just let her have a much needed cry. Her crying died away, but she didn’t move. After several minutes had past, Serrif finally looked down to find his beloved had cried herself to sleep.
He laid Gizem gently back down onto the bed and pulled up the covers. Then, he got up and left the room once more.

Gizem woke the next day and kept her eyes closed. Please, don’t let him come today. She whispered to herself. Don’t let him come and hurt me anymore. She opened her eyes to find herself in the room again.
Could this be? I wasn’t dreaming after all? A single dress, of a deep emerald green was laid across the back of a chair. The same exact dress she had worn so long ago. She had worn it so many times just to please Serrif.
Gizem stood up and walked across her room. She stopped and touched the soft fabric. Even the beads were in the exact same position and design.
She walked from the room and into the corridor. Everything was the exact same as she remembered it, the same pictures, the same chandeliers, and even the same paint on the walls.
The stairs caught her intrigue, would everything still be the same downstairs also? Step by step Gizem descended the stairs. When she was halfway down, she caught sight of the front door swing shut. Who was it? Did she dare even hope?
She gave up all thoughts of decency and ran down the rest of the stairs and out through the door. The tall dark form was heading to the stable, no more then a few meters away.
“Serrif!” The dark form turned at the name and fell back a step as the woman slammed into him.
“Gizem, what are you doing out of bed? You must rest,” Serrif murmured into her honey blonde hair.
“Screw rest,” she spat on the verge of tears again, “screw Zanthor, and screw the rest of human kind. Excluding you.” Gizem added absentmindedly. “How did you get me out of that hell hole anyway? How are you even alive?”
Serrif tilted back his loves head until he could look deep into her eyes. “I found a potion of eternal life. As soon as I had it, I drank it and then set all of my sights to finding you.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.
After he had finished Gizem asked in a husky voice, “That still doesn’t answer one of my questions.”
“Lets just say that I ‘persuaded’ several city officials and a few guards of your whereabouts,” he said, laughing, “Do you remember our last night together?”
Gizem’s laugh was light and melodic, “How could I not? You had me dressed up like a glass doll. Then, we danced all night long. I never thought my feet could hurt so much.”
Gizem felt his hand go to her waist and then his other hand take hold of her hand. Before she knew it, he had her dancing like they had so long ago.
They twisted and turned, dipped and kicked in an elegant dance of pure love. Everything around them was forgotten as they danced until the sun had set. When they had finally stopped, Serrif escorted Gizem back to her room and brought her dinner.
When all the food was eaten, he took the dishes and left his lover to herself. She sat on her bed, marveling at him. He truly loved her and she loved him. And they could live forever. She didn’t have to run from her memories anymore, because their lives had no end.
With the final thought, Gizem crawled under her bed and slept a dreamless sleep.



             Chapter3: Search and Rescue

Serrif awoke the next morning feeling completed for the first time in his life, how he missed her presence and her love. How his life had been torn apart and he cast into a pit of a dull loveless life without her.
But now she was with him safe and he felt that his life had purpose to love her for eternity.
He decided to make breakfast like he always did, but this time she would join him. His thoughts exploded as he thought about her
‘Where had she been these 40 years of his life? Why did it take me so long to find her?’ But these thoughts were slowly lost as he prepared breakfast for the two of them; he decided that for the second time he would make sufficient use of his spice racks.
He cooked a breakfast that would fill the stomach of any beast and please even the most noble of birth, he only rarely cooked this way.
‘I’ll have to cook like this more often.’ He said as he added a dash of this and a pinch of this into his food.
In all it only took a couple of minutes for him to complete his masterpiece that would please both of their stomachs; he slowly walked to the room at the foot of the stairs and set a table for the two of them. He then put a bowl like cover over each of their meals so that they wouldn’t get cold while they waited to eat together, he wasn’t sure how long Gizem would be.
He decided that he would do something worthwhile while he waited for her, like practice some of his skills. He walked to his armory and equipped the same gear that he did when he rescued her, but he added one small thing a 45 pound weight. He now weighed around 355 pounds. He only weighed 210 without his gear and with all of it including the weight his gear weighed in at 145 pounds. He found the heavier and tougher he made things on himself the better he became.
He walked up a flight of stairs in the east wing, opposite Gizems’ abode. He walked up about four sets of stairs until he reached the top of the tower.
The tower was the tallest one in his manor, it stood several stories high. He still did not know why his ancestors had built it this way, but nevertheless it provide him with the opportunity of repelling down it in any weather conditions, as he often did. He hooked a grappling hook on the balcony, and as he did this the pain on his right hand reminded him that he was wounded. He gloved both his hands in black gloves and gently began his decent.

“No dam-it no!!” Gizem moaned slightly as the cruel and decisive Zanthor opened her cell door and pinned her to the wall with his powers.
“Now dear,” He said as he drew a new weapon, “You know that there is no use in struggling against me.” He said as he ran his hand against her cheek, “I always win!” He then gouged her several times with the dagger and she blacked out.
She awoke suddenly expecting to be once again in her cell with Zanthor standing over her with yet another weapon of his design, ready to beat her with it.
But she found herself in Serrifs manor the same room that he had carried her to the night before. The same room where he had cared for her and nurtured her back to health, where she felt most at home. She couldn’t even remember life before Serrif. She walked out onto the balcony to catch the beautiful scent of the mornings’ air when she noticed a strange figure on the tower.
The figure looked like Serrif, but she didn’t remember him as a thief. The last time she was with him he couldn’t even walk quietly in the dark much less repel down a wall swiftly and silently. But it was clear to her now that he had acquired many new skills through the years. She observed him for awhile to see if he had really gained any new talents.

He repelled down the wall with great speed and agility, he had through the many years perfected his equipment and clothing for his purposes of infiltration. His leather armor was black along with all the other clothing that he wore. He had studs on the chaps and chest but they were also black. He wore a cloth wrapped around his head and face so that his face wouldn’t attract attention in the shadows. His belt around his waist along with a small pack on his back had all the gear that he needed for a particular assignment. His weapons here housed on his back also along with his bow and quiver of arrows. He wore a small pouch on his left inner ankle that would hold his rope for him while he repelled, this way the rope didn’t make a snapping sound when it hit the ground and no city guard could sit and watch the bottom of the rope.
He decided to practice some archery, so he turned around while drawing his bow and shot at several targets that he had laid out on the ground. When he had finished this he continued to repel down the wall.
It was now that he noticed Gizem standing on the balcony of her room.
‘How long had she been there? That really didn’t matter.’ He thought to himself as he waved to her.

She then hurried down the stairs to meet him as he finished his task. She entered the main room at the bottom of the stairs and saw that he had already prepared breakfast for the two of them.
‘He always did think ahead.’ This is a quality about him that she found consistent, he was always planning ahead.
She was now in the courtyard and he had almost set foot in the grounds but she mad it there before him. When his feet did meet the ground she embraced him and he did also.

“Good morning beautiful.” He said softly into her ear.
“It is now that I am with you.” She said as she gently kissed his lips.
“I do believe it is time for breakfast. Don’t you?”
“I do.” She stated as they walked into the sitting alcove where he had set out breakfast.

When they entered she took a seat at the table while he removed his armor and such and laid them out on a table in the room.
“I don’t like to eat in my good armor.” He stated as he removed it from his body.
“Go ahead its not like I mind.” She stated while she examined his fortified body.

She now noticed a few things that were different about him. He was definitely stronger that he was, and more scar ridden. She noticed the many scars that ran his body some on his chest and others all along his back. Was it possible that he too had been tortured like she had been? Or were they all battle scars? He put on a robe and sat across from her; He then removed the top from his breakfast and was met by the pleasing aroma.

“Well aren’t you going to eat?” He stated playfully.
“Yes.” She removed the top from her meal and found it still to be warm even after sitting for about an hour.
“So are you going to answer my question?” She said in between bites of his delicious meal.
“How I rescued you right.”
“That still puzzles me. How one man could infiltrate a city and in an hour rescue a single prisoner.” He noticed when she said prisoner she said it with great sympathy.
“Let me tell you.” He said as he stopped eating. “At first I believed that I would never find you, but Zanthor was one who was known to capture strays and use them for many horrible things.” He said all this while looking into her deep blue eyes. “Nevertheless I had to look and see if I could find someone who knew something of you. So I observed people for an extended period of time, until I came upon a man who looked and preformed strange in his duties. I knew the city had only about ten hired guards at night and I memorized all of their faces. But this man was none of them and yet he would walk the streets by day and disappear at night as if he were on duty. So I followed him to Zanthors manor one day I saw him reporting to Zanthor and talked somewhat about a Vampiress. I knew then that I had possibly found you but I had to be sure.”
“I talked to many city officials and said I was interested in being a hired guard for Zanthor. From my many encounters with the officials I gathered information that he had a plethora of staff guards working at both night and day for him and he was in no need of help. I then paid them a little and asked them for a list of names so I could ask the hired hands some information about their jobs. The officials didn’t decline. I got a list of names and the man that I saw was on that list. So when he got off duty I met him and we talked some. It was then that I saw one strand of your beautiful hair on his shoulder. It was then that I knew it was you that they had captured. So I patted him on the shoulder, paid him some gold for his time, and told him that he was doing a good duty for the city, while secretly taking the strand of hair from him. That next day I packed up all my belongings and set my plan into motion. I made a lock for Zanthors main manor gate, and memorized when the guards shifts were over. The just before nightfall I left the city and sent Nax into the forest. I scaled the walls of the city, opened the gate to his manor, and scaled to the balcony of his room. It was there that I killed him.” He said this while a sign of relief crossed her face.
“I quickly found the opening to the dungeon and searched them for you. In the process I killed the very man that I had paid in admiration for his services to the city.” He laughed slightly. “And he had my money on him so I got my money back.” Gizem laughed. “Anyway I found you in the dungeons and rescued you from them.”

Gizem was amazed but one question still had to be answered, “What did you do with Zanthor?”
He sipped on his wine and answered casually, “I sent him to his fiery grave. I soaked the room in my very favorite potion and burnt the entire room along with him. In both hate and to make the entire ‘assassination’ look like the lord had simply left a candle on.”
“You killed that basted.” She stated overjoyed.
“Yes I did.”
“Thank you. Although I would have liked to do it myself.”
“I would have let you but as you can understand you weren’t exactly in the proper condition to do so.” They both laughed.
“But if it is any assurance at all he is definitely not going to be doing any more harm anymore.”
“Even if he was alive I am with you and that is all that matters to me right now.” She looked deeply into his brown eyes and saw the same caring, loving Serrif that she fell in love with so long ago.
“Anything for you.” Holding his glass in his left hand.

She also noticed a fresh wound on his left hand. “And what is that from?”
“Ahh, that m’lady is from the potion that I had to make for you to bring you back to me. A small price.” He said as he drank from his glass. “A very small price.”

‘Not only had he devoted 40 years of his life to finding me but he gave his very own blood for me.’ This thought crossed her mind along with an accompanying thought.
“What were you doing those 40 years after I left you?” He turned from eating and looked directly at her.
“Training myself, acquiring immortality, and searching for you.” He took a small bite of his meal and chewed slowly, looking at Gizem all the while. Setting down his fork, he then asked, “And what have you been up to? Doubtless into a shit-load of trouble.”
Gizem set down her fork, dabbed at her lips with a cloth napkin, and took a sip of the luscious wine. “It’s a long story, are you sure you want to know?”
“We have all the time in the world,” Serrif said, chuckling. “I’m sure I can stay awake long enough to listen.”
With a sigh she began, “Well as you know, I stole one of your horses and ran off with it.” She talked on and as she did, her memories flooded back from the corners of her brain, unbidden. “I rode for a couple of weeks from city to city until I came to Amon,”
“You went to Amon?” Serrif practically jumped out of his chair. “You went to that God-forsaken place?”
Gizem lifted her chin in defiance, “Yes, I went to Amon. Now shut up and listen.” She sniffed, and then continued, “When I got there, the first thing I did was go to an Inn for a much needed rest. I paid for board, and then went to the common room to hear what news there was.” She took a breath and then said hurriedly, “Then I got in a bar fight.”
Serrif was laughing so hard that his whole body was shaking. He finally choked out a “You got in a bar fight?” and started laughing even harder.
With a harrumph, Gizem pushed away her plate, stood up, and walked toward the staircase. Serrif’s large, calloused hand closed around hers and pulled her back. She glared at him, her blue eyes flashing and her cheeks red with embarrassment.
He looked down and away and murmured, “Sorry, please stay?”
That really set Gizem on her heels, submission? Serrif? Could this be possible? He was actually apologizing and asking her to stay. And yet, Serrif wasn’t Abidan either. He wouldn’t be gentle, kind, or polite. He would never apologize or ask Gizem to do something. When Abidan wanted something, you said when and where. Abidan wouldn’t have a female that was dominant over a male, whether or not he had to beat her to prove his point.
It was her turn to look away. Gizem walked back to her seat and sat down. Serrif returned to his seat and watched her. He didn’t say anything, just watched. He sure had changed. Once upon a time, he would have demanded to know what was wrong, what she had done and why.
She coughed then continued on, “As I said, I got in a bar fight. I didn’t start it, some drunk man did.” She added quickly. “Anyway, I killed him, got thrown out, then when I went to get your horse, it was stolen.
“I wandered around a bit to find another inn but after a while, I noticed that I was being followed. I tried to lose them, but in the end, they caught me. It turned out that the man I had killed belonged to a guild of thieves as their assassin,” Gizem took a sip of wine then pulled her plate back and began to finish her meal.
Serrif leaned forward, eager for the rest. Gizem could just tell that he was trying with all him might to not rush her. “And since I killed him, I made the guild leader mad. So when I was caught, I was taken to him,” she said in-between mouthfuls.
“What did he do?” There it was. She knew Serrif wouldn’t be able to hold off for long.
“He and I had a little chat,” Gizem said simply. “He wanted to know why I killed him and I wanted to know why it mattered and how he knew so quickly. He said that was for him to know and for me to keep out of his business. Then he asked if I would like to work for him and be paid handsomely for it,” Amazingly, she had finished with her meal. She stood up and took her plate into the kitchen, Serrif following with his plate.
“You didn’t take the offer did you?” Serrif asked as he began to wash the dishes.
“Of course I did,”
Serrif dropped a soapy plate into the basin that landed with a thud. “You’ve got to be kidding me! You wouldn’t do something so reckless as that! You always got me for doing stupid things and as soon as I’m out of your sight you go and do a stupid thing yourself!”
“Don’t you dare tell me what to do!” She had had enough of men trying to control her. She had to deal with it for forty years. “It wasn’t my fault. He didn’t give me the option of yes or no. It was take it or die!”
He stood there for a few moments staring at her. “You could’ve just run out in the night.”
“You don’t think I tried? He had his men guarding my door and he had them outside my window. He had so many men out on guard duty that night you would think he was preparing for an invasion,” anger flared at Serrif. He couldn’t possibly know what it felt like to be caged up for thirty years.
Serrif ran a hand through his unkempt hair, “I didn’t know he had guards watching you.”
Gizem glared at him one last time before she walked over and began to finish the job he had forgotten. “Anyway, I worked for him for twenty-five years. I collected money, killed the low lives that got in his way and protected his precious caravans of stolen goods.
“For the last few years I began to feel guilty for all the innocent people I killed,” Silently, Serrif helped scrub out the remaining pots and pans. “I began to make plans to find a way to run away. Since I hadn’t tried to runaway for those twenty-five years, the guards outside of my room and window weren’t there anymore.”
“Why didn’t you try to runaway?”
The corner of her mouth quirked up in a smile, “Because I knew they would hunt me down. No one leaves Abidan, at least that’s what he says.”
Another shocked silence ensued where Serrif left the room for a moment and came back with a towel. “You worked for Abidan? The Abidan?” he murmured as he started drying the dishes.
“Yup, it took me the better part of two years to figure out a way to get out in a way that he wouldn’t realize until I had a good lead,” Gizem sighed. He sure was taking this hard. What was wrong with teaming up with much wanted and yet feared bandit, especially one that has enough contacts and thugs to keep anyone from disturbing him? Maybe the fact that Serrif had been searching for her and looked in the exact opposite places of where she actually was to find her. On the other hand, maybe it was something else.
“Well, I got away on one of the caravan trips. I killed Abidan’s men that accompanied me, took a horse and ran off,” the statement sounded simple when in actuality it was harder than shit. God, it must have taken her hours to get them to trust her enough to have a few shots of hard rum!
The two began to stack the dishes into their appropriate places, trying not to meet each other’s gaze. Gizem handed Serrif a pot to put away and as he took it from her, his hand brushed against hers. Immediately her cheeks grew hot. Why all of a sudden am I so self-conscious? These past few years must really have taken a toll on me. She thought as she hurried to find another dish to put away.
Serrif coughed and said, “So what did you do for the last fifteen years?”
Happy with something to distract her from the awkward moment, Gizem happily began again, “I went to the nearest port city, found a ship and boarded it. I didn’t care where I went so eventually I went to the continent Daichi and wandered around there for ten years.
“I found a place to live and stayed there until the first of Abidan’s bounty hunters came after me. Then I was forced to be constantly on the move. Then I thought it would be better to hide in a city, that way I could blend in with the crowd.
“Automatically people come up to me asking me to be their temporary body guard. Turns out that if a person is a merchant and they see you with any sort of weapon on hand, they will hire you. Then on I was a guard for hire. If you wanted a guard you came to me, I was the best in the business.
“All good things come to an end. For me, that was after I had taken a job for someone who happened to be one of Abidan’s lackeys. He lead me right into a trap, knocked me unconscious, and took me back to Amon,” she took a breath. Serrif took her arm, like a gentleman, and lead her from the kitchen, up the stairs and into the library.
Gizem sat down in her favorite armchair. Time to end this ridiculously long story. She thought. “When I got back, Abidan beat me as a lesson to never disobey him again. Then he got word of some rich lord looking for a vampire and was willing to pay a large amount of gold for him, or her. I swear, I could she the gears working in his head as he put two and two together to figure out that he had the advantage.
“Before I could even think of a way to get away he had me shipped away to Zanthor, where as you already know, to be tortured for five years as his ‘test subject,’”
A whistle emanated from Serrif as his lover finally fell silent.

“Well I believe it is time for me to tell what I really did.” He said looking directly into her beautiful blue eyes. “What I previously told you is the truth,” he stated assuringly, “however some details need to be added.” He stated casually as he walked over to the fire and threw some logs in. The brilliant blaze lit the room temporarily chasing away the shadows.

“Do continue.” Gizem said as he sat back down into his chair.

“That night that you left me I felt my entire life slip away from me, my anger flared like it had never before. I felt lost, confused, and forgotten all at the same time. It was then that I found that note that you left me next to your bed explaining your departure. It was then that I knew that if I wanted to find you and be with you I had to obtain immortality or you would be lost from me forever.” He looked indirectly at her, “Something inside me wouldn’t let me consider losing you.”
Her cheeks once again grew hot, ‘he obviously loves me, I never meant to hurt him like I did.’
“Therefore, I set out on my quest for immortality. I stayed up months at a time never sleeping and hardly even eating, my passion consuming my every function. Even in my dreams I dreamed of immortality, I even mixed potions in my dreams trying to obtain this fancy of mine. I was obsessed to say the least. Then finally one night after five long years of failure I broke down and accepted that I would never again see you, I would never obtain immortality, and that I would never again be able to love you.” His eyes at this point were at the verge of crying and they spoke of a sorrow so deep that mere words could not explain. She saw this and pitied his demise but knew it was not the end.
“But in my demise I somehow mixed the solution for immortality, eternal life. To this day, I still don’t know how I did it but I had. As I drank that potion, I felt life fill me. My age left me and my youthful spirit and body returned to me. It was then that I noticed that I had to look for you I had to find you before you disappeared from my life forever. I set off into a town not to distant from here Jirandon. Once there I entered some of the gladiatorial contests to see if I had lost my edge and if I really had acquired immortality.”

“Gladiatorial contests? And you told me I did stupid things.” She said chuckling at him.

“Well there is something you should know.” He said while exploring her eyes for emotion, “Have you ever heard of the Verith Gladiator?”

“Yes I have. He is supposedly a great gladiator never been defeated if I remember correctly.” She added mysteriously.

“I am the Verith Gladiator or was at least. When I was young, I entered there when I was around sixteen and left when I was twenty. How do you think I met you?”

‘He was right I had met him in Jirandon, she hadn’t asked him what his occupation was or even where he was from. I was helplessly in love with him then, as I still am now.’ “I had just assumed that you were in the neighborhood.” she said.

“I laid eyes on you and fell helplessly in love with you, at first sight.” This was said slowly and carefully as not to agitate her.
“Nevertheless I entered the tournaments and fought in the ring for nearly three months after obtaining immortality, I was unbeatable, the ring champion. However, I resigned shortly after obtaining this title as not to attract too much attention to my immortality or my skills. This is when my life took a dramatic turn, one night after fighting my last battle a man approached me, and this man asked me if I wanted to learn the ways of the shadow. I realized that if I wanted to see you I would need these skills so I told him yes.”

“The Guild of Shadows!” She said amazed. ‘So that explains his new skills.’

“Exactly, he took me to a training site deep underground and there I trained for twenty years. Turns out my reputation intrigued them and led them to believe that I was immortal so they checked me out and offered me the opportunity of a lifetime. I learned the ways of the shadow. Training was long and brutal but I survived. One night I was asked if I wanted to become one of the elites, I accepted and took the challenge.”
“The challenge was this I had to breathe in the fumes that they gave and face my deepest worst fear. I then had to conquer it, only then could I be elite. I did as they instructed but could not conquer my fear; I even told them that I would not be able to do so. I graduated never becoming elite of the Guild.”

This intrigued Gizem. “What did you see?” she asked

He turned his head sat up in his chair and said “You dead in a cell, and me unable to get to you and unable to tell you I loved you.”
This stirred a range of emotion in Gizem ‘So his worst fear is losing me, not death or suffering but losing me.’

“When I graduated from them they gave me some parting gifts. From my combat instructor five dragon claw shurikens, two katanas, and a dagger. From my thieving instructor a lock pick kit, a grappling hook, and two-hundred feet of black rope. The guild master was the most gracious of all he gave me black studded armor infused with the essence of shadow itself, a cape, boots, and my horse Nax. They asked me to do one last task, an assassination mission as my exit fee. I could not refuse and they took me to Amon and gave me my target to assassinate. And you wouldn’t believe who it was.”

“Who the mayor of the town? Or better yet a nobleman.”
“No, Abidan.” He said laughing.
“You couldn’t have.” She said in disbelief.
“Ahh, but I did, I killed him, he was my target. He was a target of the guild for many reasons; his countless illegal trading was costing the guild a shit load of money to obtain its resources. Further more he threatened to disclose the location of the Guild and that was inexcusable we had to get rid of him.” He looked at her limp in her armchair her face spoke of disbelief.

“All by yourself?” she added when she finally could speak

“No I had an accomplice his name is Farthenon. We managed to kill out target but I was caught in the process.”
“ He murmured something strange as I killed him “If only she still worked for me you’d pay.”
“I was wondering who this ‘she’ was, so I investigated his records. I noticed he had shipped off an assassin of his to Zanthor in Hales Port. I investigated further and found a description that remotely matched yours. But they found me while I rummaged through his records. They imprisoned me in a cell with a spiked floor for God only knows how long they were constantly throwing glass shards and if I was lucky only salt water on me. I was beaten and stood no chance for getting out alive.”
“Come here.” He said as he stood up, she did and he unbuttoned his shirt. “Now if you were wondering what all of those wounds and scars are from I’ll tell you.” He held her hand and ran it over the countless scars and deep puncture wounds that he had. He moved her hand as he talked.
She noticed that he was as strong, if not stronger, as the last time she remembered seeing him.
“These on my chest are from the spiked floor they dug in deep; these long ones on my lower chest are from a dagger.” She noticed also that many of the countless scars didn’t affect his charm.
“What about these on your back?” she said reaching around him.
“Those m’lady are from a nine spurred whip. They just loved that whip; they especially loved beating me with it.” He added with some sarcasm.

She felt the pattern of the scars on his back and marveled at the fact that there was no real pattern to them. He had been beaten so often that there was no pattern. She then felt his arms encircle her.
“How did you escape?” She added with her cheek against his chest.

“The promise of the shadow m’lady.”
“Never forget, never a noise, never forsaken.” 
“I knew that someone would be back for me some day. Therefore, I waited for ten years longing to see you. I was finally rescued and they took me to Jirandon. It was then that I immediately began to search for you.” 
  “So I set off to investigate the matter of the escaped assassin. I traveled to Hales Port and looked around. I spent five years memorizing everything that happened there from the hours that the guards worked all the way down to their habits. I heard one night from a local tavern that Zanthor had been offering a reward for a Vampire but had since called off the deal. This sparked some suspicion in me. So I investigated the guards that worked for Zanthor. In all I talked to three guards they all gave me a description of the Vampiress that matched you. So I set into motion my plan to rescue you.”

He had been through hell and back to rescue her and had the scars to prove it. But why did he risk everything to attempt to rescue someone who he thought was her?
“What if it hadn’t been me in that cell?” she questioned.

“I was sure it was no other could be as beautiful as the guards described.” He stated this with all truth for she was beautiful in his eyes, he saw no other.
 
Chapter 4: Parley

The way he made her feel was soundless, she felt safe with him and the world disappeared when he held her.

“As long as you are with me you will never be harmed again.” He whispered into her flowing blonde hair, “never.” He reiterated.

“How can you promise such things?” she said looking away from his gaze.

“I would willingly give my life before I let anyone harm you, I would fight until my last breath, give my very all before I let someone take you from me.” He lifted her chin with his massive hand. “Because I love you.” He kissed her lush red lips.

“I love you too, with all my being.” She stared into his deep brown eyes, seeing them glimmer as she said so.

“Come with me,” he said “there is someone I want you to meet.” He took her arm and led her to the stables.

“You keep many horses.” She stated while looking through all the stables.

“You can ride any of them at anytime if you wish.” Hs said as they walked deeper into the stables. “But there is one thing I must ask.”

“And that is?”

“If you choose to ride Nax that you tell me first, he is somewhat overzealous and I wish to know when he is out.”

‘Wonder why that is?’ this request puzzled her somewhat, but when she saw Nax it all made sense.

Nax was lying down in the hay when his master approached him. His deep red eyes immediately fixed onto his master and he let out a massive sigh. As he stood up it was clear that he was a massive stallion, his silver-gray mane complimented his massive jet-black body. Gizem could see his muscles tense beneath his skin as he stood up to his full height, in doing so his head was above his masters.
‘My god Nax is huge.’ “This must be Nax.”

“This is, he’s my best boy.” He stated as he rubbed Nax’s head. “He’s demonic if you haven’t gathered by now.”

“He is beautiful.” She stated somewhat in awe. “But is he a war-horse?”

“He can be. Although he much prefers the freedom.” Nax let out a deep breath that moved Gizems hair like an autumn breeze.

Just then, Serrif heard a trumpet sound outside his wall. Gizem and he immediately turned and looked at each other.

“Go inside and wait for me in the armory.” He stated quickly.

“But who is outside?” Gizem wasn’t sure she even wanted to know.

“The city guard from Hales Port.” He stated confidently “Now go to the armory where you won’t be seen!” That said Gizem quickly kissed him and ran in the direction of the armory.

Serrif climbed up a set of stairs and looked to see who was at his gate. Sure enough, he had been right it was the city guard from Hales Port. He had no doubts that they were here to question him about the events that had taken place there.
“Who goes there.” Serrif calmly said, there was no need to yell he was sure they would tell him regardless of what he said.

“The Royal Guard of Hales Port!” The point man yelled at him.

“What does thy wish of me?” Serrif replied although he already knew the answer.

“We wish to inquire about some local happenings.” The lieutenant of the group stated.

“Very well I’ll let you in.” Serrif simply whistled and the drawbridge lowered itself.
The guard came in slowly, looking in many directions as they urged their mounts forward. In all there were only about ten of them; however, they were well armed and like most royal guard well trained. They all stopped in the middle of the courtyard, while the lieu-tenant stepped down from his horse and approached Serrif.

“Good-day lieutenant.” Serrif said as he drew closer.
“Good-day to you too.”
“Would you like to come inside and discuss matters?”
“That would be amiable”

Serif led the lieutenant into the main sitting room where they both took a seat at a small wooden table.

“So what brings you here to my manor?” Serrif said as he poured them both a class of cool water.

“There has been a disturbance in the city.” Serrif acted as if this matter intrigued him somewhat. “Someone had entered the city at night, assassinated two city guard, burned down a manor of a rich noble, and stolen a valuable from the manor.”
“What help do you think that I can provide?” This interested him slightly what could he possibly want from him?
“I believe that since you are proficient in tactics like this that you could give me some insight to the situation.” He looked away and said almost ashamedly, “And we would like to search your home.”
He stared at the lieutenant wondering if he knew. “You have my permission, search all you want. Now what evidence have you got.” No matter what the lieutenant said Serrif would make it seem like a hired assassin was at large instead of a man on a mission.
Immediately the two soldiers that were waiting outside the door rushed in and disappeared down the corridor.
“Well as you know two guards are missing, and so is a prized weapon of the lords.”
“That isn’t uncommon, most likely the prized weapon was the target and the guards were just in the way.”
“That is possible but there is also another valuable that is missing.” He said while lowering his voice.
“And that would be?”
“A Vampiress.”
“Do you know anything of this Vampiress?” God, he hoped Gizem was safely hidden in the armory.
“All I know is that she was bought by Zanthor.”
“What would he want with a Vampiress?”
“We are trying to find that out ourselves.”
“Well what other evidence do you have?”
“The lord’s room was burned.” The lieutenant stated as he sipped on the cool water.
“Well, that isn’t surprising. Maybe it was an assassination mission, or maybe even a search and rescue.”
“Search and rescue? Who would want to rescue her?”
“Not sure a hired hand definitely, or maybe even a friend, but on that subject who would rescue her and take the prize weapon?”
“I know it just doesn’t make sense.”
“Well I know where you could start looking for answers.” Serrif said while lowering his voice as to make it seem as if he was disclosing secret information. “A man about a days ride from here trains mercenaries. Maybe you should start by questioning him, and looking around his establishment.”
“You speak almost as if you know who the assassin is.” He said suggestively.
“Now what would I get from protecting a hired assassin?”
“Your right I am just a little edgy that’s all.”
“That’s forgivable at least you didn’t come and arrest me for being a suspect.” Serrif said laughing.
The two soldiers filed back into the room. The saluted and reported nothing out of the ordinary and that they had met his niece. “Well, I must be going. Moreover, good luck with that niece. They can be such troublemakers, ” The lieutenant winked as he stood up and shook Serrifs hand.
“Well, good day to you and do look into that man for me. ” as he led him and the two searchers back into the courtyard he wondered, Niece? I don’t have a niece.


Gizem was standing next to large rack sporting some lovely halberds when she heard footsteps outside the armory door. As quietly as she could she walked over to the door and pressed her ear to it. She could hear voices that were definitely not Serrif calling to her.
“I tell you, this guy is suspicious,” said a high-pitched voice.
“And I’m telling you that this guy hasn’t done anything in years,” argued a slightly lower voice. “I’ve been here before and he couldn’t herd a flock of chickens with the amount of guts he’s got.”
No guts eh? What kind of an impression does he have with these people? Her lips curved up to a smile.
“I don’t know about you, but that guy has enough muscle to have a shit load of guts if you ask me,”
“Well I’m not asking…” The voices faded away as they entered a room and shut the door behind it. Now was her chance.
Gizem ripped open the door and made a run for her room. Since no one shouted for her to stop, she kept going until she had safely made inside. Quickly she put on the gown Serrif had made her, went to her beauty desk, and began to apply make up. After the rouge, she applied the stains to her lips and the shadows to make her eyes stand out. Lord knows she hadn’t done such a thing for long time. But the good thing was she still had the touch.
Careful to set her lips to a pout (as though she were angry about something) she walked out of her room confident that her fangs were concealed. It didn’t take long before they found her wandering the halls. They stood and goggled at her like they had never seen a girl before.
She gave a suggestive smile and walked closer. “My, my what do we have here?” Damn, when did I get so good at accents?
The two guards almost fell over each other to introduce themselves. “I’m Derrick,” “And I’m Frederick,”
What idiots. Gizem thought but just smiled. “Why aren’t you two the cutest things I evah saw! What brings you around yonder?”
“We are looking for a runaway fugitive,” Derrick quickly answered and received an elbow in the ribs for his trouble from Frederick.
“We’re not supposed to say that!”
“Well you boys have fun look-in around and all. Say hello to my uncle for me,” with one last wink Gizem turned and walked back into her room. And they are smart enough to come to the right place?
Their footsteps echoed back to her as they descended the staircase. Good they were leaving and she could get rid of the make up and dress. She changed back into her tunic and breeches, took off the make up, and returned to the armory.

Serrif after seeing all the men leave went to check on Gizem. He stood in front of his painting of Sir. Arthur. He moved the painting aside and walked into the room. He saw Gizem fondling through all his weapons. She was standing in the middle of the room holding a short sword in each hand. She was practicing on imaginary figures. He admired her skill, as he watched her. She stopped and walked to him.

“So what was that about?” She said as she approached him.
“They just stopped by to see if I knew anything about the occurrences in the city. We had a little parley. What about my niece?” He said as he walked over to a weapon rack pondering what weapon to use.
“Oh, I just wanted to say hi that was all. They didn’t suspect me or anything. Interesting how they came to you.”
“Isn’t it?” He said, as he put on two heavy steel hooked gauntlets that strapped to his wrists.
“What are you doing?” She said as he put a katana in each hand.
“I am going to train with you.” He stated as he played with the katanas.
“I’ll go easy on you.” She said as her eyes flared.
“So will I.” He said as he got his stance ready.
“Ready?” She said.
“I am come at me.” And as she did, he watched her move and planned his next move.
As she got close enough to slash at him, she spun around and nearly cut him across the chest. He had seen this coming and he blocked the attempts with his gauntlets. He then made a move at her upper arm, these she blocked easily. They both made this dance of endless blocking and slashing for some time until she made a very quick almost unseen move at him. She slashed him on his upper shoulder, sending a dark red flow of blood down his chest. He just grunted and continued while she tried not to laugh.

“I thought you said you’d go easy on me.” He said as his sweat stung his eyes.
“I did and I am.” She stated admiring the blood flow that she had created.
“If this is easy I don’t want to know what difficult is.”
“I think I should fix that wound of yours.” She said as blood droplets hit the cold stone floor.
“If you can that would be nice.” He said while he sat down in a chair.
“Ok.” She then sat down in his lap and faced him. She ran her hands along the blood flow and cupped the blood in her hand.
“You can have the blood after you heal the wound.” He whispered into her ear.
This enticed her and she laid her hands on the open wound, focused her energy and closed her eyes. He could feel her working; the pain was slowly going away. She lifted her hands off the wound and it was as if she never cut him.
“All better.” She stated playfully.
“Now for your reward.” He said laughing.
She cupped one of her hands and tried to gather as much blood as possible in it. She then liked her hands and his chest clean of any excess blood and sighed deeply.
“Glad you enjoyed that.” He said as he playfully nudged her.
“It still bothers me how they cane to you to answer their questions.” She said taking a couple deep breaths.
“It bothers me how they know about my profession more that anything else. However, I think they just make a lucky guess, and that they just happened to come to my manor.” He loved to play with her long beautiful hair.
“Let’s just hope.” She loved drilling with him, although this was her first time she hoped that she could do this again some time soon.
“Its mid-day and I am sure that by now you are hungry.” He was right the two of them had been drilling for hours before she finally scored a hit on him.
“Your right,” She said as she carefully placed the short swords in their place.
He followed her example, put away his equipment, and led her like a gentleman to the kitchen, where the two of them worked on the noontime meal.

    
                     
     
              
Chapter 5 Hidden Sorrow

The two of them soon established a schedule that they followed everyday for a several weeks. Each morning one of them would fix breakfast for the both of them and then work on the daily chores until the other was ready to eat. Then, they would wash the dishes together, change, and practice in the armory. Afterward they would pack a quick supper and go for a ride through Serrif’s lands. Once they returned they would go to the library together and talk in front of the fire and go to bed at a time they thought appropriate.

During those weeks, the two didn’t talk about their past again. Gizem tried her best to avoid the subject and Serrif, realizing this, wouldn’t press her onto it again. Even though Serrif felt that everything had gotten better since Gizem had come back, he sensed a definite change in his lover.

She was much quieter than he had remembered, more withdrawn, and her temper was worse. Once in a while, Gizem would lock herself in her room and wouldn’t come out no matter how much Serrif called to her. Other times he would catch her wandering the halls. She wouldn’t be doing anything, just walk through the manor and examine everything in it.

One time Serrif found her asleep in the library. When he had gently shook her to wake her she had panicked and tried to claw him to death screaming Zanthor and Abidan’s name. When Serrif backed off, she had come to her senses and broken down. He did his best to comfort her, but he knew that her inner struggles had to be faced alone, and holding her would be the only thing he could do.

She couldn’t help the way she was acting, Serrif knew, those forty years gone had taken their toll on her. He had been imprisoned for ten years, suffered, but had reassurance that someone would save him and that he would make it out. Gizem had suffered for forty years, been beaten most of those 14,600 days never expecting someone to come to her aid, but instead, she was expecting to die.

’Who wouldn’t be different after that? Who could have walked out of all of that without a scratch and their head held up high? I know I couldn’t.’ Serrif thought in the library one day. He looked to the right of him at Gizem. ‘If I had gone through what she did, I would probably be worse.’

Gizem was in a better mood today; she sat in her fluffy armchair reading one of Serrif’s vast tomes. Her face was hidden behind the large book entitled, Spells For the Inquisitor, not one of Serrif’s best choices, but Gizem sure looked to be enjoying it.

As he watched her, the book shifted and lowered. Gizem’s smooth face was cocked to the side as she asked, “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” Serrif held up his hands.

With a snap Gizem closed her book and set on the night stand nearby. She smiled in a hinting way and said, “Let’s do something.”

“What?”

“Let’s go snoop around and see what the jolly old follower’s of Zanthor are doing,” there was a glint that Serrif was all-to-familiar with.

‘Perfect maybe this will help her conquer her fears.’ He knew he had better give in. “We need to plan our route.” He said walking over to a wall covered by a tapestry.

“We’ll need a map of some sort.” She said raising herself and following him.

“Exactly,” he said pulling the tapestry and as it fell to the ground, it revealed a massive map that covered the complete side of the wall, “I think this map will do.” He stated watching her expression of surprise.

“I have never seen anything like this.” She said examining the map. “Everything in here and marked, even your lands and manor.”

“Yes, everything is here. I acquired this map through a local trader, after I told him of some underhand dealings that a member of his was doing. In thanks for my services he gave me this map.”

“Well, here is Hales Port.” She said pointing out a town on the map.

“Right, but what you don’t know is that his followers aren’t there. They reside in the mountains to the north.”

“You mean these mountains?” she said pointing to a range to the north.

“Yes, the Gregorian Mountain range.” He was pleased with himself he remembered the name.

“How can you be so sure that his followers are there?” She said placing her index finger on her chin.

“Easily,” He walked over to his fireplace and drew the model weapon from the case he had placed it in.

“What are you doing with that!” She was surprised that he would keep such a vile weapon.

“It is a clue and I knew that it would come in handy,” He stated calmly as he held the blade in his hand, “ it has a unique characteristic.”

“Slaying vampires ruthlessly?” She stated carelessly. ‘Why did I say that?’ she asked herself he meant no harm in keeping it.

“When it meets the blood of a mortal,” He sliced his hand sending warm blood on the blade, “the blade bears the insignia of the mountain.” Sure enough as his blood heated the blade, the insignia did appear.

“I see, so you believe his followers to be in the mountains of Gregoria.” She was not convinced.

“Not only do I have that as proof but I also have letters from followers stating their exact location to be in these mountains.” There was no denying that proof.

“Well, at least we know we are going to the right place.” At least he knew where he was going.

“I suggest we both get ourselves ready, I plan to leave well before first light m’lady.”

“Why so early?”

“So we can make it to the city by nightfall.”

“To Hales Port!”

“No, I would not put you in such danger. We are going to Ravens Hearth a small town to the north of the Port. I know everyone there it is where I stayed during my gladiatorial days. I know someone who will house us.”

‘How could he have everything planned out so perfectly?’ She asked herself questions like this constantly now.

“Well if we have everything planned out we should start packing.” She stated while avoiding his gaze.

He moved closer to her placing his rough hand on her chin lifting her eyes to meet his glance. “You worry me, and I know I will never be able to make the horrors and pain go away. I only wish to help ease the pain you feel, I feel as if you are lost from me.” He was telling his deepest inner feelings and she could tell he was distressed.

Her eyes filled with tears and she felt weak, almost faint. She fell into Serrif crying desperately. “I mean not to cause you pain, or make you feel that way. I don’t know how I’ve changed but I know I have.” She said between breaths of air. “The constant nightmares that won’t go away, the terror of thinking that I have awoken and are back with one of those two bastards ready to torture me.” She buried her head in his chest and cried openly, soaking his shirt with her tears.

“I know I would never be able to understand what you have been through. I had hope of being rescued while you had no hope at all.” He held the back of her head caressing her gently as she wept. “I promise you that you will never again be hurt by anyone.” He gently embraced her. “If you want you can go to sleep and I will get everything ready for tomorrow.”

She slowly gathered her emotions and kissed him. “I couldn’t let you do that now could I?”

“I guess not. Well we better get going on gathering our supplies, tomorrow will come quickly.” He wiped her face with his shirt. “You can pack the food and I will pack everything else.”

“I agree well I’ll get started.” She said taking his arm as he led her to the kitchen.

“By the way,” he said as he walked out the kitchen, “I adore your cooking.”

“Thank you.” She said as he left for the armory to gather everything that the two would need for their trek through the mountains.

He gathered a tent, and two sleeping mats, three thick fur pelts, and some other random things that would help the two of them sleep better in the environment that they were about to enter. He put all of this in a saddlebag and returned to gather his personal supplies. As he did, Gizem was staring out the kitchen window while preparing the meals that they were going to survive on.

She was preparing meals that would suffice both her appetite for something different every day and his appetite for any type of food as long as it didn’t mold in a couple of days. She tried to incorporate rum into her cooking so that they would feel warm in the cold climate that they were going into.

He gathered his personal supplies and headed into the dining room where he sat his equipment down on a table to make sure he had everything.

“Lets see.” He said out-loud to himself as he packed items into the saddlebags, “Ankle bag, lock pick kit, rope, grappling hook…” He droned on naming every item as he put it into the bag making sure that he had everything. The remaining items that he would wear he laid out on the table and named them one by one also.

Gizem entered the room and thought the current scene quite entertaining. He was naming every item like a toddler learning its first words. She laughed under her breath as not to disturb him, she approached him carrying lunch on a platter.

“And my potions.” He was finished laying out his belongings. “I didn’t see you there.” He said as she approached him with a platter of food.

“I made us lunch.” She said as she offered him the platter.

“Thank you,” he said as he took the platter, “I do love your cooking.”

“I guess I’m pretty good at cooking but you are better.” He didn’t expect that remark; he thought she was a much better cook than he was.

He looked at what Gizem had cooked the both of them and was surprised what she had cooked in so little time. She had cooked ham, beef and small pastries all in the time that it took him to pack gear.

“This does look delicious,” She was glad he liked them, “may I ask what is in the pastries?” she answered,

“Yes, but I’d have to kill you first if I told you”.

“Well then maybe I’ll fight for it”. They both laughed.

“It’s mostly seafood.” She answered.

“I didn’t know that I had any seafood in my pantry.”

“You did it was downstairs in the cellar.” She said as she sat down next to him.

“Don’t remember that lot of seafood but ok.”

“You had a lot of it.” She stated as she ate one of her pastries. “I even made some for our journey.”

“Did you really?” he loved the taste of the pastries. “That is going to be refreshing during our long ride.”

“I know.”

“Thank you for the delicious meal.” He said as he kissed her cheek.

“Glad to cook if you like it that much.” She said as she laughed.

“Your cooking is exquisite.” He said as he walked into the kitchen to wash his plate.

While washing his plate he saw all of the items that Gizem had used and he decided to clean those also. He then went to the stables to prepare Nax for the journey.

Gizem entered the kitchen and was surprised to find everything clean. ‘He must have cleaned everything for me.’ She grabbed the cooking utensils Serrif had just cleaned. ‘Sorry to make his efforts a waste of time but I have to make more pastries for our trip.’
She laughed slightly and then set to work making pastries again.

She had finished making them when Serrif walked into the kitchen.

“Do you have a thick winter coat?”

“No I don’t.”

“Well then come with me I’ll have to make you one.” He helped her clean up the cooking utensils and then led her to her room where he would fit her for a winter coat.

“I do get cold easy.” She said as he unrolled the thick winter bear pelt that he would be using.

“Well I’m glad I could help”. He said as he smiled, he then laid the fur atop her and made his measurements.

“This is going to be a very warm coat.” She stated as he measured.

“That’s the plan,” he added, “We’ll need to be as warm as possible especially around this time the mountains are very snow heavy.” ‘I sound like an idiot.’ He told himself.

“I’m glad to have a tailor amongst us.” She said as he removed the fur and started work on the coat.

“Glad to be of service.” He said as he started to work on cutting and putting together the coat.

He worked for some time, making the fur a perfect fit for her. He stitched over and over the same seams making sure that the coat would not fall apart. He then lined the coat with silk to make it more comfortable.

‘He’s been working feverishly for some time.’ She thought as she laid down on a couch watching him work on a nearby table.

“I’m almost done.” He said as he finished lining the coat.

“Looks beautiful.” She said as he fit the finished coat on her. “It’s so warm and comfortable.” She held it close o her body, what made it even better is that he made it especially for her.

It fit her perfectly loose enough so that it held her warm body heat inside it yet tight enough to hold it close to her body.

“A perfect fit.” She stated as she flaunted it, twirling around in the middle of the room.

“You forgot the most essential part.” He stated as she drew closer to him. “The hood will keep your face from windburn.” He placed her long hair inside the coat and put the hood over her head.

“The silk feels good against my face.” She loved the smooth feel of silk.

“Glad you like it it’s all yours.” He gathered up the cut pieces of fur and put them in a pouch.

She walked to him and embraced him, “Thank you.” She whispered into his ear.

“Anything for you.” He whispered sweetly into her ear, he embraced her also.

“Come now lets eat dinner and sleep, we’ll need it if we are going to start early tomorrow.” He was right they were going to need their sleep.

She took his arm and followed him to the kitchen. She noticed that she had finished making the meals for the journey, but forgot to make dinner.

“Ahh, I never get tired of those pastries.” He said noticing some of them were set out.

‘I had extras.’ She told herself relieved.

“Are you going to join me?” He said as he pulled out her chair for her.

She gracefully sat herself down as she always did and he pushed her chair in. He was the only person who treated her right. She despised men who wouldn’t after what she had been through. He took his seat across from her. They both began to eat until Serrif looked across the table deep into her eyes and noticed some-thing.

He noticed a hunger, but not one for food nor love. He knew what she longed for.

“I have a gift for you when you finish eating.”

Her mind raced what could he possibly have for her? Dare she even hope?

They finished eating and he led her to his cellar. He drew a small golden box and held it in front of him.

“I toiled years to perfect this.” He said seriously, “And I expect you will adore these two items.” He said as he slowly lifted the lid of the box.

Inside were two items a ring and a crimson stone the size of Gizems palm. Serrif put the ring around Gizem’s finger and it was then that she realized its beauty. The ring was made of one large diamond. The band was a clear-cut diamond. And where someone would have but a diamond Serrif put a large ruby, the size of Gizems fingernail. On the sides of the ring in gold were engraved two dragons holding the stone in place. And on the inside hidden from all view was written “Forever.”

She was speechless when he whispered “Will you be mine forever. To love and cherish until all comes to an end.” She didn’t know what to say.

“I poured my every emotion for you into that ring. My love, my desire, my companionship. Every emotion I have for you is in that ring.” She could tell, as she felt emotions for him the band of the ring had a haze in it that changed colors.

“You don’t need to answer me now just think.” He could tell that she wouldn’t be able to make up her mind clearly at this time.

“But moving on this stone here is very precious.” He filled a cup with water. “It has a very unique ability.” He dropped the stone into the water and they both watched.

The water slowly turned pink then finally ended up as a dark red substance. Gizem immediately noticed what the water had become.

“Its blood isn’t it.”

Serrif reached in and removed the stone. “Try and see.” He then handed her the glass.

She took the glass and carefully sipped on it. The taste, flow, and temperature of the liquid told her that it was indeed blood. She sipped on the glass for some time.

“Yes it is blood.” He stated as he watched her hunger quenched.

Gizem felt an inner hunger quenched as she drank the blood. Did he know that she had a hunger for blood at that very moment? Was it just a lucky guess? Was she that easy to read? When was the last time she had ever quenched this thirst?

“We really must be going to sleep.” He said as he watched her dangerously drift off into thought.

“Yes I suppose it is time.” She took his arm as he led her into her room.

“I will think on the offer.” She said as she kissed him goodnight at her door.

“Please do.” He said as he watched her slowly close the door.

She then enveloped herself in a cloud of thought. Did she love him? She had to she knew that she would give anything for him just as he would. However, how could she be sure of this? How did she know that he loved her? The gifts could be a cloak hiding his true intentions. Nevertheless, he had to care for her he nursed her back to perfect health, and even cared about her inner struggle although he could do nothing about it.

She asked herself questions like this for hours on end. She couldn’t sleep; she looked outside and noticed a storm was raging. Pouring water so thick, that one couldn’t see in front of them self.
It suddenly grew very cold, she hunkered under all the covers that she had but she still felt cold. She then put on the coat that Serrif had made for her and she felt slightly warmer.

‘Why is it that when I put on this coat that I feel warmer? I know it is no thicker than all the covers that I was just under’

It was then that the answer came to her. She was not physically cold, but cold in the heart. Something that she had shut away the last forty years, she had kept shut away to keep herself strong. To keep herself alive, so that she could stay decently sane in hard torturous times.

She was going to go and find him, her one true love… Serrif.

Serrif was out in the courtyard, drenching in the rain, kneeling in the middle near the fountain. Arms horizontal and head looking up with his eyes closed. A million thoughts were flashing through his head. About what could happen if, they got caught snooping around to see what Zanthors followers were up to. If she felt the same way, he did about their relationship. He needed her to live, without her; he felt that his life had no purpose. He could love no other. He pondered on these questions as he focused himself on the task. He remembered how she called his name her sweet voice longing to be with him, as it almost never did now.

“Serrif.” He heard the sound of his lover call out to him in his mind.
He could still remember how it sounded.

She couldn’t possibly love him anymore. His heart descended until it felt like it was somewhere in his stomach. Years ago she had called him that way, but she was different. Too scared to be able to fully trust anyone ever again.

“Serrif where are you?” He remembered the times she couldn’t find him and she called out for him, those times were over, she no longer loved him, nor longed to be with him.

His life had no purpose anymore. His mind was still playing tricks on him making her voice play over and over again. Calling for him, longing for him. Why must his mind play tricks on him? When would the torture of the love they once had that she obviously no longer felt stop tormenting his mind?
Maybe it was the fact that it was nearly freezing and all he was wearing was a pair of pants. He was trying to focus himself but he couldn’t his mind kept playing tricks on him.

“Serrif please answer me.” His mind was now running over and over again, why wouldn’t it stop!

Her desperate cries grew louder and it almost seemed like she grew nearer. He paid the voice no heed, but it haunted him. He couldn’t stand it, the melody of Gizem’s voice reiterating in his mind. He brought his hands to cover his ears, but it didn’t stop the flow.

Focus. Serrif made himself take away his hands from his ears, back to the proper place. Deep breathes. He slowed his breathing and closed his eyes, trying his best to clear the voice from his mind.

Gizem was looking desperately for Serrif calling his name. However, she couldn’t find him and he didn’t answer. Where was he? Was he in trouble? No, he could easily handle himself. She finally found him kneeling in the middle of the courtyard in the pouring cold rain. The only reason that she could find him was due to the lightning illuminating his figure, making him stand out in the pouring rain.
She threw his coat on a nearby table and ran to him. She cared neither for the pouring rain nor for the cold. She needed to be with him.

He was meditating, trying to clear his mind so he could focus on the task ahead. He heard footsteps in the rain but thought it was his mind playing tricks on him again. But when he felt her cold body thrown on his he knew everything he had heard earlier really was her.

“I love you.” She sobbed into his chest. “I need you.” She was as soaking wet as he was, but she was much cooler.

These remarks caught him off guard. He didn’t say anything at first. The shock paralyzing his tongue.

“Don’t you love me back? Isn’t that why you gave me this ring and the Blood Stone?” Gizem thrust her hand out to him, showing the ring he had given her.

“I love you and I can’t live without you.” He whispered to her. He pulled her hand to his lips and gently kissed them.

“I’ll be yours forever.” She said as she stared into his deep dark brown eyes, with her wet hair thrown about her body.

“As I will be yours.” They embraced the same as they had forty years ago, two lovers destined to see each other again.


 



Chapter 6: Accomplices

Serrif awoke to find Gizem with her head nestled on his chest. He didn’t want to startle her but they needed to get moving as soon as possible. He carefully placed his hand on her cheek as he whispered softly to her, “Gizem, its time to get going.”

She lifted her head. “Already?” she said slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Yes if we want to make good time we should get moving,” He said as she shook her head sending her long hair onto his chest, hiding her face.

“Ok then lets get going,” She said as she jumped from the bed.

Serrif followed her example and started getting dressed also. He put on his boots, and fit them snugly onto his feet. He then put on a silk shirt and looked to see how Gizem was doing. She had already put on every-thing except her coat that he made her. He looked at her boots in astonishment.
“How do you fit into those things?” He asked playfully as he noticed they came up to her knees.

“Quite easily actually.” She stated as he put on his cloak.

“Do you want to have breakfast now or on the ride?”

“I packed us breakfast for on the ride.”

“Then I guess that its settled, on the ride it is.”

They both walked downstairs and put on the remaining of their gear. They both equipped leather bodies and chaps that they wore under the cloaks. Serrif equipped his shurikens, katana and compound short bow while Gizem equipped her duel short swords and longbow. They both then headed out to the stables where Serrif saddled Nax and Gizem saddled Farthenon, Serrifs prized mare. They both then rode out for Ravens Hearth. The ride was long and enjoyable. They rode for a couple of hours before Gizem popped a question.

“Do you want to stop for breakfast now?” Serrif had all but forgotten about breakfast he was too busy taking in the marvelous views.

“Sure.” He jumped down from Nax and helped Gizem off Farthenon. Gizem then grabbed four pastries out of a saddlebag and handed two to Serrif as he sat down underneath a large willow tree.

“Quite a place isn’t it?” He said as she sat next to him.

“Yes quite.” Was the reply that she gave him. They both stared out across the land. The mountains were purple shadows in the distance with white tops and the green of the forest climbing its base. The road stretched on and disappeared behind the base of a hill not too far away.

Serrif slowly ate his first pastry, enjoying the sweet and saltiness of the fish. He was chewing his second bite when had a peculiar feeling, a sudden shadow of fear. He knew not how to react; he only felt a sudden urge that there was something ominous in the distance, something very powerful. Nevertheless, as he looked around he saw nothing. Not even a plant was moving. He became very distressed because his instincts had never fooled him before. The night he rescued Gizem he felt scared for the first time in his life.

“Are you ok?” Gizem asked as she ate her pastry.

“Yes, just looking around.” He said as his voice trailed off.

“You worry me sometimes.” She stated as she finished her second pastry.

“Sorry, just had an urge to look around.” He said as he put his second pastry into the saddlebag, avoiding her gaze.

They rode for what seemed to be an eternity until they came upon a small town with several middle class houses scattered around. They approached the gates of the walled city, hoping that they would be permitted entrance even though night had already fallen.

Luck wasn’t exactly with them, the gates had closed, and a single guard watched from his perch from above.

“Halt who goes there.” A guard shouted below him the whole while cursing the strangers for disturbing his patrol.

“Serrif Chatlyn, of the gladiators ring.” Serrif answered.

There was a long silence, where a lonely wolf cry could be heard in the distance. The horses shifted and stamped their hooves with impatience.

“Impossible, he is dead.” One city guard answered.

“Not impossible, unlikely. Even ask Lieutenant Demerol, he was at my manor just a couple of weeks ago.”

“We will see.” The single guard shouted out an order to someone below and stood watching them with extreme distrust. There was another long silence before another man appeared next to the guard’s right shoulder, “Serrif is that you? And who is this that rides with you?”

“Who else would it be? I do believe you’ve met my riding partner, or at least heard of her by your searchers, she is my niece.”

There was the whispers of the two and finally the guard said, “You are who you say you are, welcome to Raven’s Hearth.”

With that, Serrif and Gizem passed through the guards and headed toward the northeastern corner of town. They came to a small house with smoke rising from the chimney. The shudders on the door where drawn closed, the thatch on the roof needed replacements, and the weeds around the lawn gave the house the feeling of abandonment.

“This is it, lets see if they still remember me.” He said as the two walked up to the wooden door.

Serrif knocked and a middle-aged woman with her gray locks tied into a long braid wearing a dirty apron answered.

“Yes what is it you wish?” She asked as she stood in the doorframe.

“Hadria is that you?” Serrif said remembering the face that then was that of a little girls.

Hadria was amazed, how did this stranger know her? “Do I know you?” She said looking into Serrifs eyes.

“Its me, Serrif.” He stated

As if the answer wasn’t good enough she looked around at Gizem and asked, “And who is this?” Gizem walked up to stand next to Serrif, her face hidden from her hood, but her long hair dangling out of it.

“She is my…” Serrif had almost finished the sentence when Gizem finished it for him.

“Wife.” Gizem stated as she removed her hood, she could see the surprise in his eyes when she said this.

“Well I see you have finally found someone.” Hadria said as she greeted Gizem into the house.  “Mother, someone is here that I think you will want to see.” Hadria said as they neared the kitchen.

There was little different of the place of Serrif’s memories and now. The living room with the hearth on the far wall with three chairs placed around it. A table sat on the left side of the room near a dusty hutch with a solitary vase sitting atop it. The kitchen was neat and tidy and a doorway lead from it to the single bedroom.

On entry, Serrif saw an old woman in a wooden rocking chair. Rocking slowly back and fourth, like a pendulum, while knitting something. When she saw Serrif, she expressed a mixture of surprise and enlightenment, “Serrif, darling is that you?”

“It is, how have you been?” He stated as he hugged her lightly and kneeled next to her when she was finished planting a wet kiss onto his cheek.

“You look haven’t aged a bit.” She said as she took a closer look at Serrif.

“It’s only a trick.” He didn’t want her to know he had obtained immortality.

“You know, I can’t really be blamed for it, my eyes are not what they used to be. An old woman like me makes many a mistake without even trying to. So. what are you doing here?” She asked as Serrif took a place at the dinner table.

“My wife and I plan to go into the Mountains for a couple of days.”

“Sounds romantic, I’m glad you finally found someone dear.” She stated as Hadria put dinner on the table.
“Come now, we can all catch up on things later, dinner is ready.” Hadria stated as she helped her mother take her place at the table.

After they said grace and ate dinner the conversations ensued, “What have you been up to? How long are you going to stay? How did you two meet? When’s the wedding? Why all the weapons? Are you after somebody? Who?”

The questions went on and on, but thanks to Gizem, Serrif wasn’t overwhelmed. It seemed she was better at the woman talk than he was, and she didn’t even know these women. They all caught up on the old times and discussed the current policies of the regime with only minor awkward explanations. Serrif wasn’t surprised to hear that they had heard a rumor about how he had saved Gizem from Hales Port. All the two hosts knew was that the place been breached and infiltrated by a hired hand and that something valuable had been stolen, but they knew not what. Neither of the guests told them what they knew.

Shortly after dinner, Gizem and Serrif were given their room, the same room that Serrif had stayed in forty years ago.

“So how are your parents doing?” Hadria asked while she left the two to be alone.

“They are,” he took a deep breath, “fine.”

“That is good to hear.” Hadria said she then closed the door.

Gizem knew this couldn’t be true, she didn’t see them when she was at his manor. Actually, she never remembered seeing them at all. She could tell from the way he said fine that he was lying.
Serrif sat on the side of the bed sighing while slightly bent forward. Gizem crawled over the bead and sat beside him.

“What did happen to your parents?” He knew that there was no need to lie to her she deserved to know.

“As you can guess they are dead, but the last time I saw them was when I left them to gain some money as a gladiator that was fifty-five years ago.” He looked not into her eyes but at the floor, he was sure that if he looked into her eyes he would break down.

“The manor you know as mine is actually now mine but what you don’t know was that it wasn’t my families. It belonged to a proprietor that was good friends with my father, so he let us stay in his manor. We tended to his needs and took care of some political things for him. When I turned sixteen, I headed into the city so I could gain enough money to become well educated so I could take over for the proprietor when he died away. Sure enough, he died shortly after I met you. I saw that you had an intellect enough to help me run the land so I planned to marry you and own all the land.

Little did I know that another rival family had seized the manor killed all the inhabitants and sent me the letter to put me into a trap. That way they would have no opposition. The night that I left you in the inn in town, I went to the manor to tell my parents that I had found my true love. I instead found my opposition. They had killed my family and left their corpses to rot in the courtyard.” He couldn’t continue any more.

She saw a single tear fall from his eye. As it hit the cold stone floor Serrif regained himself.

“I brutally slaughtered all of them and buried my parents in the cellar in a secret room. I then got you and we danced that night.”

She never could have guessed this one thing about Serrif.
Chapter 7 Lusts

Gizem awoke the next morning to the smell of freshly baked bread and hot cereal. The place next to her was empty, Serrif having gotten up a while before. She stretched and yawned, taking as much time as possible to leave the warmth of the bed. She couldn’t stand to stay there for long before the tempting smells began to awaken a hunger deep within her.
Slender feet touched the cold wooden floor as Gizem slipped out of the bed. She padded softly across to her pack and quickly dragged it over to the bed. Things that were neatly stowed away were flung across the room as she dug for a single object. Growing impatient she seized the pack and flipped it up side down and began to shake it furiously. More objects clattered onto the bed and with a final thunk a large blood-colored gem the size of her fist landed on top of a pair of her breaches.
Its perfection could be seen to people who knew nothing of gems quality. Not a mar or smudge could be found anywhere on it. Within it’s depths a red mist swirled, changing shades and tints. Water. Gizem thought. I need water.
Almost despairingly, Gizem set down the stone and dressed. First her tunic, then her breeches, and last came her knee high boots. She dropped the stone into her pocket, stuffed a water skin and as quickly as she could, repacked her things.
Gizem’s hunger was fierce by that time as she entered the kitchen. Hadria was placing a loaf of bread onto the table that already had the porridge. Her mother sat in her chair and was waiting for Hadria to take her place.
“Oh, my dear, good morning!” the frail woman cried as she caught sight of Gizem. “Won’t you join us? Serrif left on some urgent business and said for you to wait for him.”
“No, I would love to eat with you, but I have some business of my own. But, could I have some water?”
Hadria brought forth a pitcher saying, “Of course. But try not to stay out too long; Serrif could come back at any minute. He tends to over-react at times.”
Boy isn’t that the truth. With her water skin filled, Gizem said her good byes and walked out of the quaint cottage.
The streets were bustling with activity as everyone went about their business. The sky was over-cast and seemed to set a gloomy cast over everything. Gizem marched forward and melted into the crowd. She pushed past farmers, merchants and peasants as she made her way down the street.
There were too many people around, the constant noise and constant fleeting touch of strangers made Gizem nervous. As soon as she could, she found a street that led away from the crowd and melted into the shadows. She took side passages without a second thought that the average person wouldn’t dare go near.
Men stalked by, faces hidden beneath the cowl of their cloaks while women stood at corners flaunting their ankles. Catcalls echoed off the high walls as drunkards caught sight of Gizem. One even approached, calloused hands groping the air. A sudden anger drained away Gizem’s control as she spun upon the poor man with fangs bared and a menacing hiss pushing past her lips.
The man’s face changed from an unhealthy pink to an even unhealthier white. His eyes bulged, dilated pupils growing wider to envelope all but a sliver of iris. Mouth agape a strangled cry cleaved the air as Gizem found out just how fast a drunk can run.
As she turned away the rage slowly seeped away, leaving the bitter aftertaste of shame. I didn’t mean to. A voice kept on crying out, but another kept saying, The stupid idiot deserved it, if he didn’t drink and go wandering around in a dark alley, nothing would have happened. But he might tell someone! I might be discovered! What if people are still looking for me? What then? If someone goes running around screaming Vampire! at the top of their lungs people are going to start looking for me again. At that thought, Gizem doubled her already hurried pace
~*~
Serrif pushed open the door to Hadria’s cottage. Both women sat in their chairs, Hadria sewing while her mother napped. Hadria looked up from the torn blouse and smiled warmly at him. Setting it aside she said, “Your wife went out for a bit of a walk, Serrif.”
In the process of hanging his coat, Serrif froze. He turned his full attention to Hadria and queried, “And where did she go on this ‘walk’ of hers?”
“She didn’t say,” a worried expression crossed her face. “Why? Is something wrong?”
“I’ll be right back,” was the reply before the door slammed shut behind him.
With a start the old woman jerked awake, shouting, “Oh, punch the man already!”

~*~

An old weathered signpost stood in front of an equally weathered Inn. A faded picture of a swordsman stabbing an orc through the chest labeled it as The Slayer. With a harrumph, Gizem pushed open the heavy oak doors to a common room that was almost devoid of people.
The bar sat across from the door, stools placed at even intervals in front of it. Several dirty tables were scattered across the room, most of them pulled against the wall. A fireplace was set into the far left wall, its flames reduced to smoldering coals that no one bothered to stoke. A grand total of five people were in the room, drinking deeply from their mugs of ale. No one but the barkeep looked up as Gizem en-tered and seated herself at a table pulled to one of the walls.
Before she even had a chance to bring out her water skin, the barkeep was standing at her shoulder demanding her order. “Privacy,” the word came out in a deep growl at the fat man. He blanched and utter-ing apologies and assurances as the man ushered her to small, dirty room.
A straw-stuffed mattress and a cracked washbasin decorated the dark room. Dirt and dust coated everything and stains on the walls gave it an unused feel. No doubt rats made their home in the mattress and floorboards, but she wouldn’t be here long for it to matter.
The silent shuffle of feet behind Gizem told her that the Innkeeper was still in the doorway. In a shaky voice he asked, “Madame, the payment for the room?” He gulped and finding some solace in her not saying anything continued, “It’s fifty Carbuncles.”
“I’m not here to stay, I’m here for privacy. Get out before I make you!”
“Now see here, madam, no one gets a room to themselves for free! You pay me now or I’ll call the guard on you!” He smiled in smug satisfaction, having thought he won the conversation.
“If you don’t leave by the count of three, my good man, I’m going to satisfy my need for blood unto you,”
“I will not be intimidated by your false claims! This is my Inn and you will pay me now!” By that time his thin face had begun to turn deep shade of red. Fists were held clenched to his side, barely be-ing controlled to not punch out the woman’s pretty teeth.
“One…” A slender hand gracefully reached up solitary sleeve.
“I will call the guard if you don’t pay me right now!” wide eyes followed the movement as the steadily faltering voice proceeded to demand payment.
“Two…” The white of light reflecting off of metal caught the scrawny Innkeeper’s eye as the hand slowly retracted, throwing knife in hand.
The once red face completely drained of color, eyes bulged and mouth dropped open. “You’ll pay for this!” he cried as he swung around and scrambled out of the room. A loud bang echoed as he slammed his bony shoulder into the doorframe and with a curse tried even harder to flee back down into the safety of the common room.
“Three,” Gizem whispered as she hurriedly shut and locked the door. She pulled out her water skin, finally having achieved her solitude, and dropped the crimson sphere into its depths. Leaning against the door, she waited, eyes closed, as she felt through the thick leather at the water begin to thicken and take on a new scent.
Breathing deeply Gizem took in the metallic and salty smell. Her mouth began to water and the hunger within grew fiercer. She had been starved for this for so long, and the blood Serrif had given her while practicing so long ago had been no more than a joke compaired to how much she really needed.
Her heart began to beat furiously in anticipation. Soon she can feed and be satisfied. Soon the ter-rifying beast that resided in her core could be satiated and go into it’s deep hibernation once again. A sud-den giddy happiness stole her. She could drink to her hearts content! No more livestock. No more unsatis-fying feedings. All the blood she could want and she didn’t have to sacrifice an innocent soul. But what’s the fun in that? No more sacrifices means no more hunting. The beast questioned her. You know you like the thrill of it! The thud of their heart pumping that luscious brew of life, the scent of their fear, the fact that they know of their demise all adds to the fun of it all. Don’t pretend, Gizem, it’s irresistible and you know it.
No, I don’t, Was all she could think to reply as she tilted the vermilion fluid into her mouth.

~*~

Rumors were everywhere. People were whispering it to each other in alleyways, in the corners of Inns, and even out in the streets. A vampire had made its way into their humble home.
A crowd had formed in front of a particular disheveled man, who, by the looks of it, was down right drunk. His hair was tousled, his clothes were stained and ragged, his face red and eyes bloodshot. He spoke in a slur and tried to look at each person that surrounded him, but seemed to have trouble focusing. In his grubby fist clasped a mug which he would drink from in-between every few sentences. And when he had emptied it, he would look into its depths and then brandish it to the crowd, in which someone would refill it.
“I tells yah, she was the pret’est thing I evah did see. An’ I was gonna as’ her if’n she’d’a wanna go home with such’a han’som feller like me, bu’ when I wus ‘bout to ask her, she turned an’ tried to take a bit out o’ me neck! I wus lucky tha’ I had me knife, cuz I sure would be dead if’n I didn’!” He took hearty swig out of his mug, belched, and took another swig.
“What did she look like?” A low voice cut across the crowd to him.
Lowering his mug, the man eyed the newcomer. He was big, he was dark, and he was definitely irritated. He stood a head over everyone else in the crowd, carried a massive sword and looked ready to get the information out of him any way possible.
With a shrug the drunk replied, “She ha’ long blon’ hair, an’ gree’ eyes, and wa’ walkin’ around wit’ noffing but a wa’er shkin.” He went to take drink out of his mug, but found it empty. And when he looked up again, the man had gone.

~*~

A deep sigh escaped a pair of rosebud lips at the extreme pleasure that filled her body with life. Lidded emerald eyes stared away into nothingness as limbs tingled with renewed vigor. Cold shivers ran up and down Gizem’s spine, sending frenzied messages to muscle and tendon. Everything went limp, trembling legs collapsed sending the fragile body crashing to the ground. She lay there, in a daze, devoid of thought and just let her senses take control.
She felt the cold, hard and dirty floor against her naked cheek, the pain of splinters imbedding themselves into her palm, she felt her muscles stretch and relax. She could hear the tiny patter of a mouse’s feet, the grinding noises it made while chewing on the wood. Conversations, the creak of leather, the clop of horses hooves, the muffled stamp of a booted foot, the rattle of a cart and the whisper of wind drifted in through the window. The gentle breeze seemed to caress Gizem’s prone form, causing Goosebumps to form. Scents wafted upon the embodiment of air; manure, dirt, foodstuffs that are being sold to the public, mead, and, distantly, a smell that triggered a memory.
It bothered her. The musky scent was a mixture of pine, sweat, and horse. A frown marred the sculpted face. What is it? It seems so familiar…but what? What sets it apart from all the other men out in that street? She closed her eyes and took a deeper breath. More scents came, including the one that bothered her, but it seemed to be drowned out by the scent of other men. It was completely obliterated, which had to mean that a large group of men were close by.
Eyes suddenly snapped open in horror; the Innkeeper. He had told her he would call the guard, and now they were here. Frenzied thoughts buzzed through Gizem’s mind, They will catch me. How will I get out? If they catch me, they will take me back to…who? She couldn’t remember, but had a feeling if she was caught, something terrible would happen.
Weak and shaky arms pushed at the floor as Gizem struggled to get up. Her limbs seemed to become jelly under her body’s weight. In fact everything seemed to be too heavy, her head even seemed to be too much for her neck to support.
Leaning against her door, Gizem panted and waited for her legs to settle beneath her. Voices drifted from behind her door as the Innkeeper telling the guard where the cheapskate was holding herself up. The soldier thanked him in reply and began to march up the stairs, the thud of their boots seemed to make Gizem’s heart beat faster as they steadily drew nearer.
Taking a cautious step away from the door she found that she could support her weight once again, even if she was a bit wobbly. As quickly as she dared, she scooped up the empty water skin with the blood stone inside and hurried to the window. She pushed open the shutters and looked down. Nothing but a flat wall and the slight ledge of another window beneath her made a jump to safety seem reckless.
The thud of boots grew ever louder as they neared her door, a man shouting for the person inside to surrender. With a roll of her eyes, Gizem took one last look in the room and jumped into the empty street below. She landed on her feet and went into a forward roll to keep the momentum from shattering her legs into pieces.
She hit a wall and lay sprawled in a heap, too dizzy to get up right away. She rose and as she did so a great bang echoed into the street from her former room. Quickly she began to walk away without drawing too many more looks, as if jumping from a two-story window was a natural thing. But a soldier’s head poked out of the window, searching for the woman described to him. He saw her just as she turned a corner and shouted to his men, charging through the bedroom door as he did so.
Gizem pushed through the crowd, trying to lose herself in it. Her legs shook as she walked, threatening to buckle beneath her but she forced herself to keep going. Curses followed her, as she seemed to stumble into every passerby and never utter an apology. She had to keep going or the guard will catch her, and ultimately Serrif.
Hoarse shouts from far behind alerted Gizem of the guard’s approach. She lurched forward through the crowd, eyes darting in all directions for a place to hide. The multitude of people kept her from maneuvering toward the side of the street, making her struggle to gain ground. It was like trying to swim, but with something that hit back.
The wind picked up from behind her, blowing her hair into her face and bringing an array of scents to her heightened senses. The musky smell she had found familiar while in her room was mixed in with the odor of the other humans surrounding her. Strangely it gave her hope as she ducked around the many bodies obstructing her path.
Slowly she made her way to the edge of the street with the guards on her heel only a few paces behind her. A well-muscled arm reached out from within an alley and locked a vice-like grip on Gizem’s wrist. Panic took over her mind as she frantically clawed at it and pulled away. She watched as the guards drew close enough to push the last few peasants aside and draw their swords.
A maniacal grin marred the otherwise handsome features of the lead man as he raised his arm. Gizem watched as it lowered in slow motion, and felt her body dragged off to the side. A loud clang rung in her ears as she collided into the hard body of her captor causing her to shudder at the thought of how close she had come to death.
But she wasn’t allowed much time to recuperate; she was soon pulled deeper into the dark alley, the dark figure running with sureness. Several times she opened her mouth to ask him his name, but dragged oxygen into her lungs instead. The familiar scent radiated off of him, sending a flood of confused relief.
Why am I relieved? I don’t know him. He seems so familiar though, like a forgotten dream. Thoughts raced through the Vampiress’ mind as the aftermath of the revitalization. Though, it’s grasp hadn’t yet left her.
“Through here,” the deep voice resonated in a sort of melodic way that gave Gizem a reason to want to hear more.
As they rounded a corner she asked, “What’s your name?”
Something about his sudden change of stature gave Gizem the impression of surprise. He didn’t answer but said instead, “Hurry, we’re almost there.”
She followed without questioning him further as he led her past a group in front of a tavern. They all seemed to be listening to a single person who raved in a drunken stupor. The squat man caught sight of her and roared in fear. He fell off of the barrel he was sitting on and pointed at her, shrieking at the top of his lungs, “I’s her!  Tha’s the bloo’y vam’ire! She tried t’ kill me! She’s the one!” Every head turned to stare at her. There was a full second of silence before a woman screamed and the whole street ran in all directions. It was as though someone had disturbed an ant’s nest, but without even trying.
The man tugged harder on her wrist as the soldiers appeared from the alley they had just left. The Vampiress needed no urging and picked up her pace. They ran down the street, around a corner, through another alley, and down a final street to finally come to a place that too, seemed familiar to Gizem.
The ragged shack looked to be in shambles even though it was occupied according to the smoke issuing forth from the slanted chimney. The tall man opened the door and dragged Gizem within, slamming the door behind him. Two women shrieked as the bang startled them from their private lives.
A grandmotherly woman sat in an old rocking chair clutching her breast. The other rushed over to the man-which since they were no longer running, Gizem noticed he had blond hair and clutched his arm. “What is it? What has happened?” she asked fearing some untold horror.
“We must leave now,” he replied as he gently pushed her aside and disappeared into the small kitchen.
“So soon?” moaned the old woman. “But you and your pretty wife just arrived! You simply must stay longer dear. I won’t hear of it. You haven’t had a chance to try my simply divine gooseberry marmalade!”
Married? I don’t even know this man…do I? Gizem wasn’t quite sure if the old hag was sane, or her assumed daughter. They had barged into their house and here they were asking for them to stay a while longer? She had half expected the man to threaten them to be quiet so they could hide for the fall of night.
The man returned carrying two saddlebags and some equipment. “We cannot stay. We have to leave now,” he said apologetically.
“At least do come and visit this old lady again before she dies?” she pleaded, gnarled hands reaching. He went to her and wrapped his arms around her fragile frame and promised to come back. Then he turned and ushered Gizem out into the street once again.
From a shack came he lead two magnificent mounts, his things on both. He mounted the one that was black as night and held the reins out to Gizem. With an eyebrow quirked in curiosity, she mounted it.
“We will be riding hard and fast, do not loose sight of me,” he instructed her before galloping off. She urged her mount after, wasting no time. People dodged to the side as the two barreled down the street, cutting close corners and almost trampling several peasants.
They soon came upon the gates, wide open to the world and to those exiting the city. Hope flared into Gizem’s breast as the guard stared stupidly at the two horses making a run for it. They watched as the two made an easy exit and not until Gizem and Serrif were long gone did they learn of their mistake.
Gizem was beginning to regain her memories, remembering her rescuer’s name and why they were in that city in the first place. She tried her best to get her mare to catch up to Serrif, but he veered off the road, causing her to bypass him. She reeled the horse around and charged after him.
His back was straight and tense, hard muscles taught, a sign of his anger. Shame flooded Gizem’s being; she had caused a great deal of trouble now. She had blown their mission. It had been all her fault. Biting her rosy lip, all she could do was follow him and try to talk to him when they rested for the night.

~*~

The ride that day had been hard and uncomfortable. The whole time Gizem expected the cities’ guard to come charging from the brush and capture them. But no such ambush occurred. When night fell, Serrif stopped in a clearing and began the work of setting up camp. Gizem was quiet and did her share, suddenly afraid of how Serrif might react. She tried her best to avoid his contact, and when they were to eat, she refused food and sat away from him.
Misery hung over her like a dark thundercloud, sending forth bolts of embarrassment and remorse. Serrif had kept his space too, not saying a word to her. When he had finished eating he rolled out his bed-roll and slipped beneath it. His even breathing told Gizem of his slumber.
Utter anguish rolled over Gizem; he hated her. After he had pledged to love her forever and given provided the greatest gift in her entire world, he shunned her. Serrif wouldn’t openly say it, but his silence was telling enough.
Tears rolled down Gizem’s cheeks, as she tilted her head to the heavens. His hate hurt more than the forty years of torture she had endured, so much more. She walked to the closest tree and climbed up it. Sitting upon a branch and looking to the stars she wept. Sobs shook her body as she clutched her knees to her chest. Silently Gizem begged the gods to forgive her, to wish to be human again, to make Serrif love her again, and ultimately to kill her.
“Don’t say that,” a silent voice whispers up to her.
Looking down with red eyes, Gizem found to her surprise that Serrif stood looking up to her. Another sob racked her body with the knowledge of his love. He still loved her.
He slowly climbed up the tree sitting beside her bringing her close, “I am sorry if I seemed so cold earlier today.” He looked at the ground.
“No worry.” She rested her head on his arm.
“I just got worried that I you might be in trouble, hurt, or even captured again.” His voice trailed off into the brisk, cold night’s air.
The air came rushing from atop the mountains, bringing with it a cool, crisp breeze. The leaves moved with this newly brought breath and sounded an orchestra of their own. They were at the foot of the mountains, the mountains massive stature now in sight. They were green with treetops until about halfway up, where the trees gave into the craggy steep mountain passes. Then slightly after that, there were the white peaks of the mountains, holding supremacy.
“I was foolish feeding like I did, wondering into town…”
“You need not worry about it you did what your instincts told you to, you need not regret your instincts.” He stared off into the forest.
He saw her breath in the winter’s air, floating off into the night just as his did. It was getting colder by the minute; he felt the breeze and heard it coming.
“We need to get some rest now,” he added assuringly, “it is going to get quite cold here soon and I for one don’t want to freeze.”
She stirred to get up and climb from the tree.
“You need not move.”
She was surprised. How did he plan to get down? She knew he could not fly.
He held her in his arms and casually slipped from the tree branch. They were a good thirteen feet off the ground and Gizem was sure that Serrif was going to break something on impact, she just wondered what it would be. However when he impacted the ground he bent at the knees, hips, and back to support himself. She heard nothing break, no shattering of bone.
“Impressive.” She stated as he carried her to her bedroll that he had neatly laid out for her.
“Like I said as long as you are here with me you need not worry, for I will always be here for you.” He laid down on his bedroll beside her and kissed her goodnight on her cheek as he slipped away into sleep. She followed his example and drifted lightly into nothingness.
 Serrif awoke with the full moon still shining its rays on the camp. He noticed immediately that it had gotten very frigid since he had started to sleep earlier. He threw on his boots and walked the perimeter casually to make sure everything was in order, the snowcapped peaks glistening in the distance. He checked on Nax and Farthenon both were asleep and well. Good Serrifs mind quietly told him, but he felt as if he had left something unattended. He turned around and saw Gizem, shivering in her sleep.
‘It is cold.’ Serrif’s mind said as he walked to her, noticing his breath was floating heaven bound.