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Saturday, December 4, 2004


   lessons of blood! this is a story that i found on the internet and liked!
Image hosted by Photobucket.com Lessons of the Blood
Chapter 1

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She stood alone atop the ridge, gazing out over the fog-covered valley. The wind whipped her hair around, sending it streaming out behind her head, then enticing wisps to drift across her face. Her skirts clung to the front of her legs, and were held erect behind her by that moist wind. Somewhere below, completely hidden by the fog, was the tiny village. Something had drawn her there, with silent commands she was unable to resist, no matter how she fought them. Still, the sun was nearly below the horizon, and the fog would only thicken with the darkness. She stared a moment longer, then turned and returned to her steed.
He whickered in greeting, reaching forward to nudge her shoulder. Cracking a weak smile, she reached up to scratch his neck, then led him back into the trees to find a suitable location to camp for the night. As she gathered wood to make a cookfire, she hoped that the dreams would not come this night.
At least I managed to take a rabbit, she thought as she cleaned it. Her rations had run out two nights ago, and the horse was on his last morsel of grain. The hunting was poor here, and the grasses sparse. A breeze wafted through the wall of dark pines, with a distinct cold edge to it. Too cold, she thought. Summer was almost completely turned to autumn, but it still should be warmer here. Perhaps the looming mountains beyond the village kept it cooler.
Her main concern for the morrow would have to be finding rations for herself and food for the horse. Perhaps there was an inn in the village; it would be nice to sleep in a bed instead of on hard ground for a while. She turned her thoughts away from finding whatever it was that had drawn her here.
The sun was long down when she tossed the last of the rabbit bones into the fire and cleaned herself. Hobbling the horse, she cast her thin bedroll on the ground and tried to sleep. As she drifted off, she dimly realized the fog had crept in even here. An uneasy feeling came over her, but passed quickly. Finally, she let sleep take her.

The faces again. The man, the very pregnant woman. Happy. Smiling. Then the shattering of wood and glass. The woman's distant scream, the manes struggles against the shapeless thing. Pain, cutting, shredding. Blood spilling, staining clothes and floor. Blood. The sound of strange wings. The painfully slow drying of what was left of the blood. Footsteps, more horrified screams. Pressure, everywhere. Fear.

She woke with a start. The dreams, again. Not even exhaustion could drive them away, it seemed. Not these past few weeks. She knew not who the faces were. Sometimes she harbored the idea that they were her unknown parents, but she had no way to know. The hardy folk who had raised her said they did not know who her parents were. Yet, there was always an odd edge when they said this. What did they really know? she wondered silently. With a sigh, she rolled over. Wondering about the past would not bring her answers, not now. Slowly, sleep overtook her once more. Through the fog, now thick, neither she nor the loyal horse knew they were being watched.

When the horse nudged her awake, the morning sun was creeping through the thick trees. She blinked and squinted at the bright light, but slowly roused herself. Ignoring her stomachs rumblings, she started packing what little she had unpacked the night before. The horse craned his neck to peer at his bags, looking hopeful. With a brief smile, she explained that there was no more grain, but that they would get some as soon as they could.
Checking that her thin blade was still concealed, she led the horse out of the treeline. The valley below still held fog, although it seemed to be thinning slowly. She studied the thin track that led down the slope, presumably into the village. It occurred to her that in the fog she had not actually seen the village. If it was not there, she and the horse would be even harder pressed for food.
She shoved that thought behind her as she carefully led the horse down the slope and into the upper layers of the fog. With visibility limited, she was forced to keep her eyes on the ground to stay on the small road. Without that road, she could only tell up from down. The track twisted and turned, seeming to double back on itself as it descended the steepening slope. Oddly, the fog did not thicken as they descended, as she had expected.
The mist clung to her dark hair like a net of fine glass beads, and swirled around the two even though no breeze could be felt. Indeed, the damp air seemed heavy, as if it was trying to swallow them… she could feel her horse's nervousness as he shook his head. Swallowing her fear, she pressed on. She knew that if she turned back now, she would not have the courage to enter the fog again… assuming that they would not become lost trying to leave it.
Time quickly lost meaning in the featureless fog. She knew the sun had to be out there somewhere, otherwise they would not have been able to even see the faint path. The horse became nervous as trees seemed to jump out of nothing to swipe at them. She stayed closer to him, patting his neck and nose and murmuring claming things to him.
Finally, the fog thinned ever so slightly. To either side of the road, odd shapes could be seen. She paused to take a closer look, and saw the remnants of stone foundations. Thick vines and shrubs overwhelmed them, threatening to obliterate these last faint traces of the buildings, which had once been here. It appeared that they had been abandoned and crumbled many years ago, with no signs of fire. Of course, the vegetation could have hidden that as well. First scattered, suggesting farms, as they continued down the track the bygone foundations became closer together. She silently wondered if the entire village was gone.
The first solid building loomed out of the fog, startling them both. She paused, studying it. It seemed to be a large house, but with no signs of residents. She frowned briefly, then moved on. Once past that building, the fog seemed lessened, and more hulking shapes of more buildings were seen. She slowed their pace, looking around carefully.
There… she spied a lit window. Cautiously approaching, she spotted a figure looking out at her, which quickly disappeared. She stopped a moment, listening. Looking carefully, she saw a carved symbol above the large door. It was a standard in this region for the office of the town Burgomeister. She considered that the symbol, with no writing, could mean that the majority of the people were illiterate.
Although she could not scoff if they were. Certainly her own foster parents were only barely literate, and most of the people in their town were not. She had been lucky enough to convince the town Scholar to teach her, but few had such luck.
After a long moment, the shutters over the window next to the door were opened. An older man leaned on the sill, the medallion of the Burgomeister around his neck. He studied her, unspeaking. Finally, she raised her hand in greeting.
"Good morn, Meister."
He nodded slowly. "That remains to be seen. What is your business in Romburg?"
How amazingly social, she thought. "Foremost, food and rations for myself and my horse," she said carefully.
"And then?"
She considered fabricating a tale, but decided against it. The man had no reason to trust her, yet, and lying would not give him one. "I know not. Something has drawn me here, and I will know no peace until I find it."
He regarded her silently for a long moment. "What's your name girl?"
"Liesa Petra," she said quietly.
"Very well Liesa. There is a store a few doors down where you can try to get what you need."
"Is there an inn?" she asked.
He pointed next door. "They are almost out of business, we get few, if any, travelers anymore."
She wanted to ask why, but dared not. Not yet. Bowing her head, "Thank you Meister."
"Aye," he said gruffly. "Just hope I don't get wind of you causing any trouble."
Nodding, she moved on, wondering what he was so afraid of, and why the flow of travelers was almost gone. The fog swirled, offering her a glimpse of a shadowed castle atop a high ridge, then closed again. She shuddered at the fog's odd behaviour… for there had been no wind.
The horse was disturbed as well, pulling back on his lead. She did her best to soothe him, although it took several minutes before he was calm enough to move on. When she looked up from the horse, she saw a young boy perched on a railing, watching them.
"Hello," she said.
"Hi. You're new."
She forced herself to keep a straight face. "Yes, I am. This is the inn?"
He nodded. "Yes. Mum and Da run it, but lately it's just been the townsfolk drinking at night."
"What happened to everyone else?"
"The road's gone, and we can't leave the valley."
She frowned briefly. "There's a path still. Why can't you leave?"
The boy shook his head. "There's no path. If you try to walk through the woods you get lost and end up here… or wolf fodder."
There was a path, she thought, but did not argue with the lad. Instead, she changed the subject. "Who lives in the keep on the hill?"
"Used to be the Baron von Grigorivich, but the family's been dead for years. No-one but the ghosts left there now." Yet he hesitated. She wondered if perhaps there was something else there.
"Thank you lad. I have to get some things, but I'll come back to talk to your Mum and Da about a room."
"Okay lady," he said. "Watch out for sprites."
She smiled inwardly. Every adult knew that sprites were just a story told to children to explain why things vanished, and to keep them in line. Leading the horse on, she worked her way toward the town store. She found it with relative ease, and tied the horse's reins to the railing.
The horse's ears laid back for a moment, then he shook himself and calmed down. Glancing around, she saw faint tracks in the mud. A large dog, she thought. The door of the store stood open, letting her see the items displayed inside.
It struck her as odd that they seemed to carry so much garlic, strings of the pungent bulb hung from every possible point. She sneezed, drawing the attention of the storekeeper, an old man who peered at her over the rim of his spectacles.
"Can I help you miss?" he asked at last.
"Traveling rations, and grain if you have it."
The man rummaged, then came up with a jar of jerked meat. "I'm afraid this is all I have, although Ilsa at the inn may still make hardbread, and possibly dries fruit. They stable horses as well, but if you're trying to leave today I have some grain."
She considered. "No, I will likely stay the night." Thinking how to phrase her question carefully, "I hear the road through here is blocked?"
"Nay, not blocked. Gone. You're the first traveler we've had in many moons."
"Gone? Washed out?"
He shook his head. "Vanished completely overnight."
"But how could that happen?"
"I certainly don't know. Alira may." He paused. "Frankly, I don't know how you made it here."
She hesitated. "There was a small path that led down into the valley and into this town."
He frowned. "Very strange. Alira will want to know of this, perhaps she can understand why."
"Alira?"
"Past here, right at the crossroad. Take that track to its end, her hut is at the foot of the cliffs. She's a strange one, but knows about the mysteries."
A Sage or a witch, she thought. "Very well. Thank you." She paid for her supplies and went outside once more. Disturbing thoughts swirled through her mind as she untied the horse and led him on the route given her by the shopkeeper. Something was very definitely wrong in this valley.

Her steps brought her slowly closer to the dark cliffs that loomed through the fog. When the buildings faded behind her, it sent another shiver down her spine, but she kept on with determination. She knew that she should be able to see the sun, however faint, through the fog. Yet it was hidden. Only the dim light that filtered through the fog and allowed her to see at all hinted that the sun was indeed somewhere above.
The shack seemed to appear from nothing in the fog, light from the hearth inside filtering through cracks in the walls. Peculiar smells came to her as well. The black walls of the cliffs were just behind, almost creeping up to the little building. A gnarled tree loomed over the door; a dark hawk watched her from a low branch. A woman stood in the doorway. A faded scarf covered her hair and framed her wrinkled face. Yet her eyes sparkled with youth, leaving her true age indeterminable.
"Good morn, Liesa," she said, her voice rising and falling.
She froze, the horse shifting nervously. "How did you…"
"I know," Alira said. "But that is not the foremost question in your mind."
This woman was making Liesa very uneasy. Still, she had made no threatening move yet. "I followed a small path into this valley, yet the people of the village say the roads are all gone."
"Tis true, the roads away have been obscured, and the roads in as well. But perhaps the power that hid them allowed you to enter, for its own reasons."
"The power?"
"The true power in this valley does not lie with the Burgomeister, but with the lord of the Keep."
Liesa glanced up the cliff to the vague shape of the Keep above. "I was told the residents were dead."
The witch simply smiled. "Tell me, why did you come to the valley?"
She stiffened. "I don't know. Something drew me here, no matter how I fought it, yet I know not what or why."
"Tell me about the dreams."
How did she know? she thought with alarm. Still, she told of them, slowly and haltingly. Alira listened silently, nodding when the tale was done.
"Come inside, I will cast the Runestones for you." Liesa hesitated, but followed the strange woman into her shack.
The odd smells were much stronger here, of course. Any number of strange shapes rested on myriad shelves. In the fireplace, some liquid bubbled in a tiny pot. Alira showed Liesa to a table and retrieved a small leather bag. "Hold the bag child, and relax. Let the Stones attune themselves to you. Yes, good." She instructed Liesa to pull five stones and where to lay them on the table, then leaned over them to study the simple symbols carved into them.
Alira's hand hovered over the stone to Liesa's left. "This is for what has been." She frowned. "I see violence and death, blood and pain. Those closest to you gone, and your own beginning in the midst of this death."
"What…" Liesa began, but Alira waved her to silence and moved her hand over the center stone.
"This is for the now. There is a power calling to you, setting your feet upon its path. This would guide your destiny if it has the chance, but that path also leads to your doom. The choice will be yours, if your mind remains clear and firm."
Liesa's eyes widened at these dark words. The witch moved to the rightmost stone.
"This is for what will be. I see darkness, a tree with many branches. Many choices await you, and each decision will change your path from one extreme to another. At one and another tip are light, at most of the rest darkness. The future is always uncertain."
The gnarled hand moved to the stone below the center, nearest Liesa. "This is the forces working against you. This is … the self, doubt. A lack of confidence will hamper you and keep you from realizing your full potential." Then to the last stone, at the top of the cross. "This is for the forces working with you. I see light, and need, and curiosity. The drive to learn more can lead to trouble, but in the end will see the resolution of the questions and mysteries that surround you."
Liesa waited, wondering. Finally, she dared to speak. "But, what does it mean?"
"The Stones have spoken. I have given you the reading, the meaning and import are for you to decide, or discover."
She thought about this. "You said the true power lies in the Keep. Who… what… is this power?"
Alira smiled that unnerving smile. "You ask dangerous questions. The Stones speak true, your curiosity will lead you to trouble."
"But also to a resolution," Liesa countered.
"You listen well. In the Keep lies darkness, and it hungers for life. It commands all that is dark and evil in this valley, and it strives to shut out the light, for light is its enemy." The witch cocked her head to one side. "Some of that darkness is linked to you, Liesa. Perhaps this is why you were brought here, but for what reason… I cannot say."
"Can not, or will not?" she asked angrily.
"Do not presume to take such a tone with me girl," Alira said in a low hiss that sent chills down Liesa's spine. "I have told you all I can this day. Leave me."
Liesa hurried outside, retrieving her agitated horse and taking the path back toward the village. Lost in thought, she did not notice the black bird watching her from the branches, and following her path.
She turned once to look back at the hut. Where the path should be, the treeline was unbroken. Brush filled the spaces, the path and the hut were nowhere to be seen. She stood and searched with her eyes, wondering, but nothing appeared. The horse stamped twice, bringing her attention back to him. The sun was beginning to set, Liesa knew she had to get back into town before dark.
The horse seemed as relieved as she was to re-enter the little village and come to the inn. The boy was not outside, so she looped the horse's reins over a post and walked inside. The boy was there, with an older man that bore a strong resemblance.
"See Da, I told you the stranger'd come back," he said triumphantly.
"Yes, alright Alex. Go help your mother." The boy scurried off, and the innkeeper studied Liesa. "The lad says you may want a room?"
"Aye keeper, and a stall for my horse if you have it."
He nodded slowly. "We have it. Can you pay?"
She mentally counted her few remaining coins. "I can pay for tonight, and work for any more if I need to."
"Very well. Alex!" The boy returned from the kitchens. "Show her to the stables, then bring her back in here."
Alex nodded eagerly and followed Liesa back outside to retrieve her horse. "So you here long?" he asked with youthful curiosity.
She smiled slightly. "I don't know yet. You think your father will give me chores when my money runs out?"
His head bobbed as they entered the stable. "He's good at that. G'wan sprites," he called into the stable. Liesa frowned behind his back. The boy had a focus on sprites for some reason. She shook off the sensation that something was scurrying for cover.
The horse was soon settled in his stall, and Liesa and Alex finished rubbing him down. The boy was eager to get back into the inn.
Liesa took the time to take a good look at the inside of the inn. She saw the placement of hanging dried flowers, and more bulbs of garlic. Someone had carefully placed a powerful warding hex here, but against what? Alex tugged her to a table and urged her to sit down, then scurried off to the kitchens once more.
Other townspeople began to gather in the common room, staying away from Liesa and murmuring amongst themselves. She saw the storekeeper, but not the Burgomeister. Strain as she might, she could only make out tiny bits of the conversations.
"Paths…"
"Dark fog…"
"Lord of…"
"Keep…"
She stifled a sigh as Alex brought her the evening stew. Her eyes watered at the strong garlic presence in the food, but hungry as she was it went down quickly.
The night wore on, and the townspeople drifted home. The innkeeper barred the door, and showed Liesa to the small room she had rented for the night. She tried to be friendly, but got little more than grunts from the big man. Still, the bed was more comfortable than the ground, and warmer. Her thoughts whirled for a while longer, then she slept.

The man, the very pregnant woman. Happy. Smiling. Then the shattering of wood and glass. The woman's distant scream, the manes struggles against the shapeless thing. Pain, cutting, shredding. Blood spilling, staining clothes and floor. Blood. The sound of strange wings. The painfully slow drying of what was left of the blood. Footsteps, more horrified screams. Pressure, everywhere. Fear.
A dark castle atop a windblown cliff. A silhouette waiting in the entryway, beckoning with a small gesture. The call in her mind, drawing her near.

She awoke with a start. The same dream again, but with a new twist before it thrust her awake once more. Restless, she padded to the washbasin and splashed cold water on her face. That castle… was it the one she had glimpsed through the fog? What was there to draw her, what power called her?
A scratching at the window shutters startled her. A branch, she hoped, but it persisted. It sounded more and more like claws, gouging at the heavy wood. She backed away, hand on the doorknob. "Go away," she mouthed, not trusting her voice enough to even whisper it aloud.
The scratching stopped. She froze, barely daring to breathe, but the sound did not start again. Trying to be silent, she crossed to her pack and drew her longest dagger. The silver glinted in the faint light under the door. Still the night was quiet. After a long moment, she crept back to bed, shivering. Still clutching the blade, she curled up and tried to warm herself.
She did sleep that night, but fitfully and poorly. She finally gave up and prepared for the day, pulling on her spare set of clothes and taming her hair. Shouldering her pack, she started down the stairs.
The innkeeper's wife bustled around the common room, cleaning and setting things in order. She looked up at Liesa and smiled, straightening.
"Good morning mistress," she offered.
"Good morn, matron. May I help you?"
"Heavens no dearie, I can handle this. I'll be working on a breakfast soon, if you're interested?"
Liesa smiled. "That would be wonderful." She settled in near the fire, stifling a sneeze at the fresh garlic that had been hung. "Matron?" she said as she rubbed her nose.
"Hmmm?"
"I do not mean to be rude, but why is there so much garlic here?"
The older woman studied Liesa for a long moment. "To ward away the Nightwalkers," she said quietly.
Liesa frowned. "I thought those were…"
"So did we. But they are real, and they are near."
Liesa shuddered. The Nightwalkers, the dead that rose and preyed on the living, here in this valley. No wonder the people were afraid. Her stomach knotted, perhaps there was a powerful one here, powerful enough to obscure the roads and summon the dark fog. Powerful enough to draw her across the leagues.
"The castle on the cliffs," she murmured.
The older woman nodded. "We live in their shadow. Some have tried to flee, but the roads… any who try find themselves here again, or we find their bodies the next morning. They say the lord controls the dark wolves that prowl here, and the crows that circle outside town. And…"
"That is enough of that talk wife," the innkeeper said. The woman scurried away to the kitchens. Liesa frowned, but the man cut her off. "Such talk draws the wrong kind of attention."
Liesa sneezed, drawing a dark look from the innkeeper. "You're sensitive to it."
She hesitated, then, "I'm not used to so much of it at once."
The man huffed, and busied himself elsewhere. Liesa thought in silence, staring into the fire until the wife brought out some sizzling eggs. Spiced with garlic. She looked over her shoulder, then whispered to Liesa, "I'm sorry for him. He's afraid, that's all."
Liesa nodded and started on her breakfast. The couple left her alone, the wife clearing her plate when she rose and headed for the stable.
Alex was grooming her horse when she got there. He looked up and waved at her. "Morning lady," he said cheerily.
"Morning Alex. Taking good care of horse for me?"
"He likes me," the boy answered. The horse whuffled in his hair.
"He seems to," she smiled as she gathered his saddle and gear. The boy helped her get the horse ready, then followed her as she led him out into the morning light.
"Be careful out there lady," the boy cautioned.
"We will, you behave yourself," she told him. Waving to him, she led the horse towards the edge of town.
Once clear, she climbed up to ride. "Where should we go now boy?" she asked quietly. He whickered and started to wander. She started to get lost in thought, distantly realizing they were circling the small town. The sun tried to filter through the fog, but only lit it for a few paces.
The horse started to pull away from the town, heading into the woods. Liesa took note of which way the town lay, but let him wander. The trees grew thicker, blocking more and more of the light. She began to worry that they would lose their way, but still she let him walk.
The trees gave way to a small clearing. The horse paused, sniffing at the remnants of the grass. Strange, the sound of laughter seemed to drift on the breeze, malicious laughter. The horse whickered nervously and shifted in place. Liesa scanned the clearing carefully, but saw nothing but dying grass and dark trees.
She felt a tiny tug at her belt, and her hand flew down to see what had happened. She felt nothing, but was getting more and more nervous. Could Alex's sprites be real? The horse started to dance, and she turned him to leave the clearing. They never saw the crow perched above, watching.
They worked their way through the trees once more, Liesa watching more carefully now. The fog drifted, thicker here, thinner there. The horse was beginning to get nervous. She could occasionally catch a glimpse of the cliffs, they seemed to be getting closer. Liesa thought of the castle there, briefly.
Suddenly, they were on a path. The horse whuffled, and stopped. "I don't know either, boy, but someone seems to have given us a road."
She looked both directions, wondering. One led back where she thought the town lay, the other towards the cliffs. The sun was hard to discern, but it seemed to be shy of midday. "Maybe we should go ask Alira," she said, and turned the horse towards town.
The path twisted and turned, seeming to double back on itself. They rode on, Liesa quiet. After a length of time, the cliffs loomed ahead. "What the… this is certainly odd." She hesitated, wondering if she should turn around and try to reach town.
She did turn the horse, urging him to a fast walk. Overhead, the sun crossed the apex of its path and started its descent. Liesa pulled some rations from her pack, eating in the saddle.
They rounded a bend in the path, and found themselves at the cliffs again. Now she was feeling nervous, chills running down her back. "Seems we have no choice on this road. Do we dare try to make our own path?" The horse snorted. "I suppose you're right," she murmured. She gazed at the cliffs again, then prodded the horse to walk the path again.
Their path found a narrow way to climb the cliffs, angling upward and doubling back to angle higher. The horse whickered in protest, but plodded along. Liesa tried not to look down.
The path widened as it approached the top of the cliffs, easing the horse somewhat. The fog was thicker here though, obscuring the path a few paces ahead and behind. The wind was stronger as well. Liesa pulled her cloak tight against her, but still the cold penetrated.
They walked. Time was lost in the fog, the small world a few paces wide, a few paces long. Occasional trees appeared and vanished as they plodded past, but there was no other sign of life. They walked.
The sun found the horizon and began its slow fall beneath. Liesa and the horse walked on. Without warning, the castle loomed huge and dark before them. The drawbridge lay across the pit that may have once been a moat, the portcullis was raised.
She stopped and slid off the horse, gazing into the dark maw that was the entrance to the keep. Was that movement she had glimpsed? A shiver ran down her spine.
It was movement. A silhouette waited in the gateway. A thin hand reached out, and beckoned her silently.
The dream! she thought. The figure beckoned again.
Come echoed in her mind. She started, taking a step back. The horse danced nervously. Her feet started to move of their own accord, taking her nearer the gate. The horse resisted, but finally followed.
Her boots made no sound on the damp wood of the drawbridge. The horse clomped behind, but even his steps were muffled. When she stepped onto the stone of the archway, she stopped and realized that she had crossed in a daze. She knew that call, she recognized the power that had drawn her to the valley, much more powerful here... in its lair.
The figure stepped back, beckoning again. She stood, not wanting to continue yet unable to turn back.
Come echoed in her mind again, and her feet again moved her forward before she knew what was going on. She found herself in the courtyard of the keep.
The figure was before her, taller than she and near. She smelled a mustiness, as of an ancient closet. Or a tomb. It raised pale hands to its hood, and lowered it. Black hair framed a pale but strong face, dark eyes studied her own.
Liesa looped the horse's reins over an iron sconce on the wall and studied the strange man. He smiled slowly at her, then offered a hand to lead her inside. SHe hesitated. "Who are you?"
Your destiny rolled through her mind, but the man spoke. "Stanis von Grigorivich."
Still she stood her ground. "The villagers said that family was dead."
The man kept his smile. "They are a superstitious bunch. Come, let me offer you supper and wine."
She started to follow, starting to drift into a daze again. She shook it off and persisted. "You brought me here, why?"
Your destiny echoed in her mind. "Is it so wrong for a lonely man to seek companionship?"
"Companionship?" Why did her feet follow the man when she wanted to stop. "Why me? Surely there are plenty in the village..."
"You are special," he said simply. "My power allowed me to find you, so far away, and call you here. You are the one."
"What one? What are you talking about?"
They entered the keep proper. He guided her through the halls, lit by torches and lanterns that caused their shadows to dance as if independent.
"You have been in my mind since your birth," he said, unnerving her further.
She planted her feet and willed them to stay put. "You make no sense."
"You have a strong will. Come, eat, and I will try to teach you of your destiny." He gripped her elbow and steered her into a dining room. The table was already laden with a generous supper, and he showed her to one of the high-backed chairs. He sat across from her, watching her, with only a goblet.
"This is too kind, Baron," Liesa said. "But I still don't understand..."
"Do you remember your real parents?" he interrupted.
"My... no, they died before I was old enough to know them," she started. "How do you know any of this?"
"They died the night of your birth. They were attacked by a creature of the night, a monstrosity that sought their blood for nourishment."
Liesa drew a deep breath. "A Nightwalker. How do you know this?"
"Nightwalker, yes, that is the name here. Other peoples name the same creature Vampyr. The shock was too much for your mother, she started to birth you."
Liesa glared at the man. "How do you know this?" she said slowly and distinctly.
"The birth of a Dhampyr makes itself known to the Vampyr nearby. The one who did this to your parents was starving and fleeing those who sought to bring him to justice for... other crimes."
"You were..."
"One of the hunters. We all knew what had been done, but our hunt was too urgent to take a newborn with us. Still, the bond was made."
"Bond. Why you?"
He sighed. "The one who killed your parents was one of my spawn. When he was destroyed, the bond passed to me."
Liesa tried to ignore the shivers running up and down her back as she faced the Nightwalker. "What do you want of me?"
"One of my kind, more powerful, has cursed this valley, in order to keep me here and try to drive the people against me. I cannot defeat him alone, I cannot even leave the valley. But a properly trained Hunter can challenge him."
"WHy should I help you?"
"You have so much potential that you never even knew you had. I can show you this potential, help you reach it fully. I can teach you how to fight the dark scourge that are my kindred."
"And if I refuse?" she asked slowly.
"Then you will forget that we ever met, and I will attempt to lift the curse enough to allow you to leave the valley. If I cannot, I fear you will be trapped here as the villagers are."
"I see. So I have a choice to either help a Nightwalker or become his prey."
Anger flashed briefly in his eyes. "I avoid feeding upon humans. If you choose not to explore your potential, then I will not cause you direct harm."
SHe steeled herself. "How do you feed, then?"
"I have paid servants who raise livestock for me. It is difficult sometimes, but it allows me to survive."
Liesa glanced at her dinner with new understanding. The Baron followed her eyes. "You should eat something, you will need your strength." He saw her hesitation. "I swear to you that nothing before you is tainted in any way, nor will accepting it give you any bond."
She focused on the meal in front of her, considering her options. THe thought of having a purpose appealed, but she feared the idea of hunting Nightwalkers... and of learning from one. She thought back to the witch's runes, and what they could mean. A lack of confidence can hinder you, the witch had said.
The Baron watched her silently, feeling the emotions warring across her mind. Best not to let her know her could read her so easily, not yet. Not while she could still escape. Carefully, he sent out a feeling of trust. Very slight, she must not realize how strong his influence over her was, not if his plans were to work.
Liesa's jaw set, and she forced her eyes upward. Bracing herself, she studied him. "Alright," she said quietly. "Teach me."
The Baron gave her a tight-lipped smile and raised his goblet. "As you wish. Please, sup, you must fuel your body."
Fervently wishing she had made the right decision, Liesa started on her food. It was well prepared, without a hint of garlic. The Baron sipped slowly at his goblet, Liesa steered her mind away from the realization of what he was drinking.

He watched her over the rim of his goblet. Now that she trusted enough to eat, she had quite an appetite. She would need it, he thought to himself. Her training would be hard, but the harshness was necessary to make her a Hunter.
The Baron escorted her from the dining room when she was finished, assuring her that servants would clean up in her absence. "Horse," she said suddenly. "He's still outside."
He nodded. "Of course. Come, I will show you where to stable him."
"But we should get back to the village."
"It is unwise to travel at night," he said ominously.
She glared at him. "I can handle..."
"Not these," he interrupted. "Not until you are much more trained."
"What, you say there are Nightwalkers stalking out there?"
He met her eyes with a level gaze. "Why do you think the villagers fill heir homes with garlic? Why do you think they barricade the doors and windows at night, and paint door frames with sacramental wine? My enemy sends his minions to prey upon these people, to drive fear into their hearts. They believe the stalkers are my own minions. My enemy would delight at the chance to turn a Dhampyr to his side, into his slave."
She stopped. "How do I know any of this is true?"
"You do not. But you also have no other source of information at this point."
He was right, much as she hated it. The horse whickered at her, impatient to get out of the cold fog. Still fuming silently, she loosened his reins and led him after the Baron. The horse had his choice of stalls in the large stables, empty but for three other horses. She gave him a roomy box stall, and checked the hay and grain. They seemed to be fresh and safe, so she measured out enough to keep him fed, if not as full as he seemed to like to be.
She kept her knives with her as she allowed herself to be taken back into the keep proper. When she finally slept, it was a gentle sleep, free of the nightmare that had plagued her for so long.

Stanis stood in a balcony, ignoring the cold damp wind that whipped his clothes around him. He almost felt sorry for the girl, any hopes she had of a normal life had been torn away. Of course, those had truly been shattered when her mother was bitten and killed, changing the baby into a Dhampyr. Now, finally, things were coming together. He needed to be patient a while longer, but he would be free of this valley.
He could sense his enemy's mind, probing, searching. Stanis made a small gesture, and thickened the fog, gave it more swirls to confuse and divert that probe. Soon, his Dhampyr would free him of this enemy, and once free of this enemy and the valley, he could move on to the next stage of his plan.
In the wood below, dark shadows drifted across the shrouded landscape, searching for warm life to drain. Larger then natural wolves stalked beside them, finding a scent trail to follow to an unprotected victim. His scream was muffled and lost in the thick fog.
In the village, people slept fitfully, taking turns and standing guard. The dark creatures did not often attempt to enter the homes, anymore, but there was always a chance a door or window frame was unprotected somewhere.
At the foot of the cliffs, Alira stared into the flames of her hearth, studying the images there and smiling to herself.



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