NaNoWriMo - Where We Fall, part 2 of 14
Blood
No Hylden
Vampires on the fields
Faces he knew
Blood
Nightmares again, Janos mused as he woke up, looking out at the still dark sky with sore eyes. Two nights of scarcely any sleep and he was exhausted to the core, aching with fatigue.
The Citadel was too quiet late like this; so many of his kind were nearly regimented in their sleeping patterns. The lack of a tavern seemed to effect the atmosphere of night, as he knew he'd headed down into Uschtenheim in the darkest hours of the evening and found humans who seemed anything but exhausted, stumbling from the nearest tavern's doors to the next, laughing amongst each other and oblivious to the cold. during the daylight he seemed to be a source of curiosity for them - so few vampires were "insane enough to live in the North voluntarily" - but when they ran into him in the night they were always in a sillier mood, telling him off for scaring them if he stepped out of shadows he hadn't noticed himself in or dropped out of the sky before they had seen him flying above them.
God, he missed Uschtenheim so much. It wasn't that he was overly fond of his own company; simply that, when surrounded by others, he felt obliged to constantly make certain they knew where he was. The constant "Where have you been?" if he neglected to inform someone before heading on a trip, however short, bothered him. Besides, he simply felt as if he had no time to think to himself; always seemed torn between training and teaching, research and practise.
It was obvious that he needed to go elsewhere to relax, but he could not afford to travel far from the Citadel; the human village nearby ought to do, same as Uschtenheim had whenever he tired of the aerie. Ignoring the faint tingle of the ward against Hylden attacks over his balcony, Janos set off for the village with the intention of finding somewhere to rest.
It was strange to realise that, given he'd passed the area several times before but always in the daylight, he'd never noticed the blacksmith sandwiched between the hill and forest to the side of the village. It seemed almost idyllic, red light of the forge inside glowing over the bluish green of the hill, and he couldn't resist the urge to land. He'd watched the village grow over the years, miners and metal-workers supplying both themselves and the Citadel with weapons and armour forged from the natural resources to be found through the shallowest of quarries; took some joy in knowing that the human race was prospering even as his and the Hylden struggled.
Strange that someone should leave the forge's fire burning overnight unless the owner found sleeping as difficult as he currently was. Then again, it wasn't the sleeping that was the problem, was it? It was the nightmares.
But there was something... soothing about the atmosphere here, something he couldn't quite place. Perhaps it was the cool and being so close to humans, maybe something else; but still. It felt far more familiar to him than the Citadel.
Janos stretched out and closed his eyes, knew falling asleep was unwise given how exposed he was, but the Hylden rarely showed a presence near to the Citadel and it had been too long since he last truly slept.
Cooled by the night air and the grass 'til it felt as close to home as anywhere south of Uschtenheim might, sleep found him with ease for the first time since his seeing the killing fields, and nothing short of a physical shaking would have pulled him back out of it.
Waking with an imprint of grass on his cheek and rumpled robes was embarrassing, the blacksmith's forge still burning on a lower heat as he looked over towards it. Dawn hadn't quite come but he could smell it on the air, feel its dew soaking him to the skin.
It didn't matter. His bones felt comfortably heavy from finally getting the deep sleep they had needed, and he was actually looking forward to what the day had to bring for once.
As days went, this one seemed determined to have a surreal edge as if it were attempting to make up for the dreams he could not remember from the night preceding it. Bare moments after returning to his room to change into robes that weren't quite so grass-stained, Janos nearly jumped at his door being hammered upon. "General Lemm wants to see you!"
"I'll be a m -"
"Sorry Sir, but she was insistent on seeing you now," interrupted the voice from outside so Janos decided against worrying with sashes or armour for now, knowing he could - hopefully - return to attend to that task once Sianne was done with him. Sianne had been one of the two necessary vampire Generals for near a decade; her tendency to outlive her fellow Generals had made most think of her as the 'senior' General despite the positions carrying the same weight in theory and in ceremonies. Her survival was due to a lethal combination of strength, talent, and a mouth that could scorch anyone in range with expletives into submission; that, and a fierce, fierce temper.
Most people thanked God she was on their side provided they were not brought face to face with that temper, and as such Janos had no intention of keeping her waiting.
Janos had not entirely expected to be led to the General's actual room, though the small crowd outside certainly suggested that something unusual was going on, as if that had not been obvious from her very summoning him. "Is that Audron?" Came the shout from inside, followed up before he could answer by, "Come in, then."
Set out on the table that most used for serving meals, surrounded by small mountains of paperwork, was the largest spider Janos had ever seen. It didn't seem quite dead, spindly white legs still twitching despite being curled inward, but even so, it was clearly unwell or dying.
Dear God, it was hideous.
Sianne half-laughed, a quick, barking sound, seeming amused by his expression; chances were he was showing his disgust, albeit unintentionally. "Well thank God for small blessings, I thought I'd lost you to that damned suicide mission. I can't believe that bastard didn't tell me -" She seemed to cut herself off, grabbing Janos by the shoulder and pushing him towards the twitching creature on the table. "What is that?"
Janos twitched his wings while tilting his head, uncomfortable in the creature's presence but feeling as if he recognised it on some instinctive level; that there was more to it than just unnatural size for a spider. "I cannot name it."
"But?" Sianne prompted, eyes fierce.
"Well, it's clearly demonic, so there should be runes to put on clothing or amulets, maybe weapons -"
Sianne nodded to cut Janos off from further explanations before folding her arms. "You were a good three times faster than everyone else I've brought in here and I need a new General seeing as the last one got himself killed."
"I -"
"Accept? Good. The Hylden are encroaching on Termogent forest and I'm too busy leading another damned fool mission to reclaim Stahlberg again to teach them a lesson about invading our stable territory regardless of how much I'd like to rip the wings off whichever of the bastards thought it would be a smart idea."
Janos did his best not to flinch at each obscenity given he knew full well her tendencies with bad language and the fact she had a tendency to only worsen around those who openly disapproved. "Is there anyone around with a good knowledge of the territory?"
"You're looking at her," Sianne replied with a smirk. "Good, fast question though, General Audron. You can pick my brains until dawn if needs be, but tomorrow morning I'm off to throw some numbers at Stahlberg and hope for the best. Shall we start? When I get back we can go through all the completely irrelevant duties of being a General in this army."
Well. He could not say he had anything against the concept of becoming a General, but he would have liked to give it a little thought. Still, Sianne was not a force to be argued with, and she seemed confident that others would respect him enough once he'd stopped burying his head in books all the time.
Damn it, he'd liked burying his head in books.
Avernus and Willendorf were long lost, but the Termogent forest was too close to sacred territory for its loss to be affordable so Janos was unsurprised by the orders when they came. In a way it was advantageous that the Hylden had attempted to make an advance on such familiar territory; losing Willendorf had been unfortunate but understandable given the area's remoteness from the Citadel. Termogent was dense with vegetation that, provided one knew the area, was ideal for using as disguise.
Given that he'd lived reasonably close to the area, Janos did have some familiarity with certain aspects of the forest; largely what it was like to fly over, given he'd had no interest in landing in the marshy waters. Thermal pockets were rich, but they were moist, sticky and clammy, and if one's wings were not well-oiled then they could get weighed down easily by dirty air. That alone was alarming.
Sianne's family had come from the area but she was unable to come with them due to being asked to head the attack on Stahlberg for reasons he wasn't privy to despite his position; still, she was willing to pass on her knowledge of the area and through it, help formulate a plan of attack and help him to come up with strategies for the best and worst case scenarios.
Worst, of course, largely involved underestimating how many Hylden had entered the area or having the Hylden be fully aware of the time the vampire counterattack would come. If that were the case then it might be wisest to make a swift retreat, especially given Hylden wings were far better suited to the swamp environment than vampire wings; still, there were advantages to their own build when it came to what would, most likely, be a strength oriented battle.
Strange to be flying across the mountains in next to nothing, but despite it being an unusual route it was simply the only way to ensure they were not seen by the enemy before reaching the forest. The Hylden had to know a counterattack was coming at some point, but as long as they did not know precisely when, any preparations they made could only count for little. Some of the soldiers who were used to warmer Southern Nosgoth were particularly suffering in the cold, though those from the North or mountainous regions like he were almost comfortable. Uschtenheim winters could be far, far more bitter than this, even in full robes and a cloak. They would thaw soon enough on landing in Termogent; that sticky, thick warmth clung to the skin like a physical entity. He despised so much heat, personally - cold could be guarded against with clothing, but warmth lingered even after shedding all of one's clothes. Thank God, at least, that leather armour had been chosen over the usual plate armour for this particular battle as per Sianne's guidance.
It was interesting to watch who took to the trees and who didn't as they moved through, careful to keep as quiet and generally inconspicuous as possible. Some struggled to grapple with vines and branches, some were discomforted by the swamp wildlife; still, they were good men and women, none of them giving up in the face of mild adversity. A good job too, given the battle was likely to be a messy one.
On hearing movement that he hadn't authorised Janos rapidly made gestures for silence, admiring the sudden stillness it induced - but then, those chosen to head the attack were mostly veterans and familiar with how obeying orders generally meant living longer. A pity Gemma was no longer with them, it would have been good to have someone who was a friend as well as a familiar face, but he had swift learnt she was one of those lost on the previous General's mission.
Janos held still, sweat trickling down his back as he looked through the lush, thick dark green veil blocking him and his men from the view of the Hylden passing underneath. Flight was impossible unless one rose to dizzying, oxygen-starved heights around here in the densest part of the forest; one could only pass over or beneath the canopy, not through.
They had waited and waited, but any new moment could cost them the element of surprise. It wasn't a risk for him to take, given two of the spider demons commanded by the Hylden had already been caught and silenced on the journey; sent ahead as scouts, presumably, though there was no magic linking them to their masters that could communicate a message and all had been caught swiftly enough to be incapable of screeching for assistance.
Long enough. Standing tall, Janos made the gesture for his men to prepare the initial magic assault - only wind and ice missiles this time, stagnant water producing too many gasses to risk fire - took a deep breath of the humid air that would have been vile in scent anywhere save the highest parts of the trees, and finally bellowed, "Now!"
The land around the Hylden was torn apart, trees collapsing and blocking the route they had planned on taking, a few of the Hylden caught in the blasts or under the fallen trees.
Hopping down lightly Janos raised his pike and charged the first Hylden in sight, trusting the men stationed across from him to warn of any unexpected attack from behind; the first kill had to be made, then caution could return, every initial second invaluable. It was almost easy, practise making the stabbing motion simple while surprise meant the adversary in question froze and reached for his sword rather than shield. So many fell to the same, the instinct to survive by killing rather than defending too strong to be overcome by sense, though once the Hylden they had been able to flank without making their presence known fell, shields and swords were out and it was knowledge of the territory that came into its own.
Mud slowed feet too used to flight, the Hylden's hooves superior in this respect to vampire feet for picking across the wet land without getting stuck, but Hylden had always been more reliant on flight in battle than vampires, their movements ungainly on land. Moreover, they were equipped for a normal battle where Janos had advised his men to take as little as possible, leather armour worn in place of plate, lighter pikes used rather than heavy despite the fact it meant less damage was guaranteed by a single blow.
It was dirty for more than the mud; battles in the air left blood and corpses falling out of the sky whereas the gore of this was something to be moved through, and it meant killing blows were necessary - ruining an opponents wings left them in agony but alive, no fall to kill them; even a collapsed enemy could still wield a sword. And dirt meant the battle was slow; advancing through the mud and over fallen corpses of friend and foe, the lack of anywhere to truly run or fly to meaning they were packed dense.
It was a mess but it was a predicted mess and as those at the front tired they obeyed their instructions to fall back and let those behind them take over, rest as best as they could in the circumstances and check the bodies left behind, see who could be helped, who needed sending to the wheel.
Leading the assault meant disobeying his own rules about taking fatigue as a sign to let others forward, trusting his sweat to wash away the flecks of blood and dirt splattering across his skin, thankful he'd worn a shirt beneath the leather to help take away some of the heat trapped between his skin and the vest. His muscles ached but the forest was theirs, it was their environment even if he preferred cold to a near infinite degree, and he would not lose it to the enemy. The Hylden had plenty of alternate territories to press on into for the war, but an assault heading into holy ground?
Dimly he caught sight of the Hylden's leader towards the back, was strangely relieved to note it was not their General. Unsurprising, really - though Ezekiel's prowess in battle was alarming, he had a habit of avoiding any conflict outside of territory familiar to the Hylden. Besides, he seemed to hold greater political importance than Generals in the vampire army; where his and Sianne's opinions were valued by the elders, Ezekiel was treated as an elder by his kind.
Still, the leader's features and crest seemed similar to Ezekiel's so it was likely the two were at the very least related; perhaps his failure to conquer the forest would send a message to their adversaries that this holy war would not be fought on holy soil.
Finally, after a sword grazed his shoulder - not enough to wound, but enough to send a message that he had been careless - Janos slipped a little behind and let the others press on ahead. Another few minutes and they would be near sweeping; the Hylden at the back seemed to be realising the fate of those in front and slipping away, the leader hesitating after his last blast of ice into the midst of Janos' men before looking behind at those fleeing. The first to flee had been cursed; now it seemed he would be doing the same, and while Janos rarely used magic when in the midst of his men in case his aim was knocked out of place by a hylden and he did more damage than good, he saw no reason not to encourage his enemy's disappearance with a hurricane blast while surrounded only by the dead and tired.
Knocked off the beast he had been riding to stand over his men, the Hylden leader finally realised the inevitability of loss and turned, summoning a last wave of white spiders before fleeing. Any pretence of rank and file fell apart then, the Hylden who could following their leader while the last were caught between vampire pikes and demonic hunger; some demons were more controllable than others but spider demons, from what Janos had seen, were only interested in feeding and on whoever was first in their path at that.
One man could only summon so many though, and spiders had none of the heavy external armour that the towering demons did, their flesh - if it could be called flesh - tough and brittle, falling apart under a hard enough hit.
His men began their post-battle cheering before the last demons were slain, and despite the prematurity of it, Janos found himself pleased by the success. He would have to station scouts to make sure if the Hylden visited again there would be early warnings of it, but for now he could take comfort in their losses having been few and the relatively new battle technique having proven itself useful.
It was amusing how much of the post-battle discussions amongst his men seemed devoted to the mud, and the unpleasant experience of trudging through it, but aside from those carrying wounded who could not be restored by basic first aid and simple spells, most were able to return to travelling through the trees; still not as natural as flight, but decidedly more comfortable than the muscle-wearying motions of picking across the dirt. He would likely follow the path of those in the mud after overseeing those who would not survive the journey home being given last rites and final peace by those who had made their home in the army despite an inclination towards the priestly. He recalled being told that initially, the training of warrior-priests had been frowned upon; thought of as vulgar, that while being returned to the Wheel was the greatest gift someone could wish for, to train a class that both blessed life and took it away was tasteless. Deep enough into the war and the decision proved itself wise, given how many could not make it home to be blessed, and how without a priest to travel alongside them the men were often left lacklustre, forgetful of what had made them come to fight.
Though he had turned down the opportunity to train as a warrior-priest despite apparently being ideally suited to the role, given his love of history and research, Janos did sometimes wonder what it was like to actively possess such spiritual authority, marvelled at the relaxed expressions of those who were helped into passing on rather than left to suffer through their final moments in the damp of the swamp.
Sianne seemed almost pleased by his return, which was a compliment in and of itself, though she was more preoccupied with taking him aside to run quickly through more of the protocol that came with being a General than with finding out the details of the victory.
Most of what she had to say he'd expected to some degree or another from observing rituals and ceremonies as he moved up through the ranks, but even so she had several words on what happened behind the scenes to share with him. This, too, he had expected - but they were details that despite expecting, he had not known in their entirety, and hearing about them was something of a relief. He'd been sent into situations with no information before but while he had a certain ability to improvise, it certainly wasn't a talent he had any interest in developing further.
"Whether you want to be or not, now you are as much a spiritual leader as a military one. Ironically, I should be thanking God that you can take the spiritual duties on with more enthusiasm than I ever could. When the next ceremony comes along I'll run you through the words; trust me when I say it is far easier to memorise the speeches under pressure than when you have three pages of script lying forgotten on your desk.
"Another part of your role as a military leader is that you are in charge of letting those below you know their place. I might have a reputation as gruff and unpleasant but even if that weren't my nature I would need to pretend; it keeps others from trying to take a role they have not earned and it stops this army descending into chaos at any given point. If someone has a good idea, thank them for it once and put it into practise. If they have a bad idea, turn it down and as politely as your patience allows, tell them not to waste your time with such nonsense ever again.
"That's all I can think of for the moment; I'm sure some ceremony or another will turn up soon enough proving me forgetful but for the time being, it will do. Any questions?"
"None I can think of," Janos replied honestly, wondering where Sianne kept all that air for long speeches given her chest wasn't particularly large.
Dear God, he was never, ever going to think of Sianne's chest again if he could help it.
"I knew there was a reason I picked you out. Not enough men with common sense around," She announced before leaving the room without any announcement, and it was only after five or so minutes of waiting he realised that she had no intention of returning.
He had never bought into the concept of nicknames that weren't contractions of a person's name, but found himself sympathising a little more with those who referred to Sianne as 'the whirlwind'.
As much as he had every intention of slipping under his sheets and falling asleep as swiftly as possible, on entering his bedroom Janos found himself restless. Not out of anxiety; there was no sense of forthcoming nightmares, no unsettled feeling running through his nerves - just a need to be outside.
Most of the world seemed similarly filled with motion, as if the full moon had some strange effect on all Nosgoth's sentient beings, and Janos opted to head down towards the human village to see if he could shake off the mildly trapped sensation he had felt while alone in his room. Admittedly he could have visited any friend in the Citadel, but if they were similarly discomforted there simply was no way that he would be able to sit with them comfortably; one set of restless wings was enough to fill any room, never mind two sets. Or more, in the case of Shia and Samael.
Landing lightly on top of the hill he normally favoured, it was satisfying to see that the human village was as active as the Citadel, people walking from place to place and the air loud with music and laughter. On some level he almost longed for that sort of life - for the simplicity humans seemed to have, their worries focused on work, on family, and little else. They concerned themselves little with the war, given that neither side had showed particular hostility or hospitality towards them, and had taken a mostly neutral view of the situation.
As a General, neutrality was almost wholly absent as an option for him now; but before such thoughts could take advantage of his restless nature and leave him distressed he waved them aside, closing his eyes for a moment before looking over at the blacksmith's, which seemed lit as ever, and...
Well, that was peculiar.
Janos blinked at the window as if he expected the sign to disappear or otherwise prove to be a simple trick of his imagination, or perhaps to find he had misread the script, but no, it was staying and his first reading had been accurate enough.
For god's sake, vampire, knock. I don't bite.
Feeling uncertain, even though he couldn't think of any other vampire the sign might be referring to, Janos walked down the hill and up the few steps to the forge's door, hesitated, then knocked.
The face that regarded him on opening the door was amused, thin-lipped, and streaked black with soot and sweat. "You pick your moments," growled the man who was, apparently, the blacksmith, opening the door wider and letting Janos in before taking a rag blacker than even he was before wiping his face and revealing the skin underneath to be a mixture of tan and red, the soot's irritating effect clearly visible. "Damned chimney backed up, I've barely started cleaning the mess. I'd say sit down but -"
Janos found himself laughing despite his own confusion, took a seat anyway on what looked to be, under the half-inch or so of black dust, a bench. Soot rinsed off easily enough and it made a pleasanter contrast than the rust-shaded stains from battle. "What made you extend the invitation?"
"Hm?" The sound was muffled by the rag, used seemingly as protection against the dust as he brushed the floor, the task seeming futile at first until enough repetition of the movements started to reveal something that actually resembled wood. "Gnn-" He lowered the rag for a moment, wiping it across his face again, facial hair trapping so much dust Janos wondered if the human would be forced to shave because washing cleanliness into those thick hairs seemed impossible. "Good job whoever put in the floor was useless. So much dust falls down the gaps in the woodwork I think this place must be as supported by dirt as by stone."
Janos laughed despite himself, not knowing what to make of his... well, host, and figuring it was best for him to wait out the room's cleaning before concerning himself with repeating his initial question. What had at first seemed to be a trick of lighting and dust seemed to be a tattoo - more than one tattoo, he realised soon enough as the human turned to continue sweeping. The whole place would need sweeping again within the hour given how much dust had been lifted into the air, as the fact he'd had to cover his mouth with the sash of his robes testified.
"That'll do," The human mused, before lifting a stool from by the forge and taking it outside, banging it against the wall to shake the dust off it before bringing it back inside and sitting on it. "I'll be able to see what I'm doing better in the morning, anyway. I'll never understand why there aren't as many vampire blacksmiths as humans; soot barely shows on you, clothes aside."
"I can't speak for the others, but I can't abide the heat," Janos replied after dropping the sash back into place before holding out his hand. "Janos Audron."
"Vorador," Replied the human, looking at Janos' hand with a puzzled expression before holding it slightly awkwardly and shaking it. "Not used to clawed hands. Where are you from? I know the Citadel gets visitors from all around, but your accent..."
Janos smiled; it had been a long time since he'd undergone any questioning about his lacking the local accent. "Uschtenheim."
Vorador looked almost taken aback. "Good god, you don't like heat. Isn't it always frozen there? Or close enough, anyway?"
"I like the cold," Janos explained, wondering why he felt like justifying himself. "I grew up in the area. All this warmth is - is alien, to me." And seeing as Vorador was settled into conversation now, he could repeat himself; "What made you invite me inside?"
"Funnily enough I was starting to wonder why a vampire kept coming to rest and occasionally fall asleep out in the open next to where I work. Strange, isn't it, how that would pique my curiosity?"
Janos flushed despite himself, realised how peculiar he must have looked. "In my defence, you chose a scenic location."
Vorador seemed amused, though honestly, between the facial hair and dirt it was hard to identify any emotions and Janos was mostly guessing based on flashes of teeth and anything shown in the human's eyes. "I didn't realise vampires could get embarrassed."
"I assure you, we run the full gauntlet of emotions."
"All that restrained elegance gives off a certain impression." Vorador folded his arms. "Any reason why you always come alone? Unless, of course, I've missed something."
Janos wondered if there was any decent excuse, but after a moment's thought figured the truth was as worth telling as any other reason. "If I'm struggling to sleep, I find that sitting up there helps me to relax."
"Where did you go beforehand? When struggling?"
"I didn't start struggling until recently," Janos explained, clasping his hands and resting them between his legs. "The war has never been pleasant but lately certain aspects have taken a turn for the worse."
"Well, you're always welcome to vent your frustrations here," Vorador said with a shrug before yawning. "I'm used to people turning up with a request for a sword and turning the request into a rambling account of why they want one. Least I can hope for is someone with a story that's actually worth telling."
"Thank you," Janos replied, a little puzzled by the human's forthrightness. "I should not be complaining, in all honesty. I've already had words with God about the issue in question."
"Ah, God," Vorador replied with a touch of disdain before getting up and stretching, reaching above the forge after folding the rag in his hands several times and pulling down a blackened pot that was spitting liquid in protest from under its lid, setting it down on the floor and lifting the lid before tossing it and the rag aside with a clatter. "I'm not one for religion."
"In all fairness, human gods don't speak to them," Janos replied in a tone he hope came across as explanatory of his faith rather than disapproving of others. Whatever was in that pot smelt... intriguing. He'd never sampled human cooking, assumed it to be much the same as theirs, but the smell of this was unfamiliar. Not unpleasant, just unfamiliar.
"I can't say I expected a dinner guest," Vorador said, laughing and shrugging his shoulders. "But then, I doubt there are many humans who prefer to eat at the same hours I do." Vorador stood up taking care not to upset the pot before walking across the room and opening a cupboard, making a quiet satisfied noise as he pulled out two bowls and spoons. "Thank god whoever designed that cupboard had their head a damn sight better in place than the person who put in the floor."
Janos watched as Vorador served the... well, it seemed part-way between a soup and a stew, somewhat difficult to place, taking his bowl and spoon with a thank you and blowing on the surface before trying his first mouthful with a little trepidation.
Oh.
Oh, good God.
"Too hot?" Vorador prompted.
Janos laughed and smiled wide, shaking his head. "This is the most delicious thing I've eaten outside Uschtenheim. What on earth is it?"
Vorador smiled back, seeming proud of the reaction to what was assumably his cooking. "I can't give you a name, I only know the recipe. Takes hours to cook properly but as you can see," he said, pointing to the curved metal shelf going around the top of the forge, "If it's prepared in the morning, it's done while I work."
Janos did his best to repress the urge to shovel down the... oh, for ease's sake it was best to think of it as a stew. He was a decent cook but the tools for better recipes were difficult to locate in the Citadel; he kept swearing to himself that if he had the chance to visit Uschtenheim again he would dry some of the local herbs to bring back, but... "In all honesty, I think this could be one of the best meals I've ever had. Thank you for this, I don't deserve such hospitality."
"You've satisfied my curiosity about what on earth those hill visitations were for. I can think straight again," Vorador replied, eyes softening slightly at the edges. "That alone deserves hospitality. That and you didn't spend the time I left you sat on the bench whining for attention."
"I don't think I deserve praise for something I didn't do, " Janos pointed out, amused, returning to his food. He'd eaten before - certainly remembered eating, anyway - but the very presence of something this delicious had him feeling ravenous to the point of it being almost embarrassing.
"I can give praise for whatever I damn well like in my home." Vorador looked over at Janos' bowl and the rapidly dropping food levels in it. "Good job I never got the hang of portions. How would a second helping sound to you?"
"I really shouldn't," Janos replied, laughing despite himself and all too aware that if he didn't slow down he was going to get indigestion.
"Are you certain?" Vorador asked, waving a serving spoon of the stew with a smirk that spoke volumes.
Well, he'd been through enough recently and it wasn't as if he frequently indulged in gluttony or excess. "Just this once, then. Please."
"Thought you might agree."
Given the late hour of his return, Janos expected that dropping by to see Kylian would simply be a matter of glancing in on the sleeping young man to make certain his health was steadying, but it seemed that his nurse at least was still awake.
"I was not expected any visitors, least of all you, General Audron," announced the girl on duty with a nod of deference. "What brought you here?"
"I wanted to check on Kylian's health in general terms, but given I have your expertise at hand, may I ask how he is doing?"
The nurse scratched the back of her head. "I wish I could tell you what is wrong with Kylian but we're not certain. He has more lucid moments now and can look after himself, but still, some days he just... drifts. He claims not to remember his time in the ruins, but on his drifting days he sits at his desk and draws images he could not have seen anywhere else." She handed Janos a wad of papers, the writing on them in Kylian's hand but the wording and spelling frequently archaic. The drawings were particularly intriguing, stylised after ancient murals but annotated in his modern handwriting. "He's been especially restless tonight but that isn't unusual for a full moon. It brings out the worst in most people, sane or otherwise."
"If he is awake, might I talk to him?"
"He tends to be quiet even when he isn't drifting, but feel free. You did save his life."
"Shia saved his life," Janos insisted, but entered the room before the nurse could respond, found Kylian studying a wine glass on his bedside table with the glazed fascination of one who thought he would never see something like that again. "Good evening, Kylian."
"Leave the sword unbound," Kylian said vaguely, distantly, as if talking without any awareness of what he said.
"Why?"
"Janos." Kylian stood up and walked over to him, cupping Janos' face in his hands, expression pained. "I'm so sorry. The Reaver is the key. It will bind itself. The Pillars are the lock, the Reaver is the key." Despite the room's warmth Janos found himself shivering, did not know what to make of the chaste but lingering kiss Kylian gave him before pulling away and repeating again, "The Pillars are the lock, the Reaver is the key," returning to his desk and muttering the same phrase over and over before taking his pen and dipping it into the ink well, scrawling out the phrase across a sheet of paper. "Redeemer and destroyer," Kylian muttered, seemingly as an afterthought, adding that to a corner of the page before smiling and stabbing the pen deep into his wrist.
"Nurse!" Janos yelled, pulling out his hair tie and using it as a tourniquet to slow the blood flow while she fetched bandages, slapping away Kylian's hand when it went to remove the pen.
"Get that out of me!" Kylian yelled, eyes frightened more than anything else but noticeably more perceptive, the expression a reminder of the puzzling situation with regards to his behaviour of late. "Get it out!"
"We have to make sure you won't bleed yourself ill first," Janos scolded, letting the nurse take over the task of keeping the tourniquet tight as she pulled the pen out of place, both Kylian and the nurse glancing at him with puzzled frustration that he took as his cue to leave, regardless of his former student's safety.