A Cursed Life - 4. Chapter 4

97 B.C

The sun had just slipped beneath the horizon; I had made it a point
to be up and waiting for that moment. I would never in this new life be
truly able to look upon the sun, being caught in its light would mean my
death. But in those moments right after the sun had slipped beyond the
horizon when it was still light out, it was safe to venture out as long as
I covered up. It was then when I could almost hear the sun burning the
earth just beyond the edge of the horizon, and for a few moments I can
almost recall the image of it. Round and^�bright, very bright, it was a
fleeting memory, one that was losing detail with each passing decade but it
was all I had.

Years ago, it seemed, if I could only time it just right, perhaps I
could see just the tip of the sun as it disappeared beyond the horizon. I
let my impatience and foolish desire get the best of me and I ended up
walking through town with smoke rising from under my clothing and from
around my neck. In my amazement at how different things looked with a bit
more light to draw out their characteristics, I paid no attention to the
slight sound of steam and sizzling flesh. It wasn't until it all came over
me at once that I realized my mistake.

I nearly collapsed and had to lean against the stall of an old
merchant man. I ignored the man trying to sell me various meats, while I
was trying to catch my breath. But he seemed dead set on making some money
off of me at the moment and because of it he never stopped to really notice
the small bit of smoke rising from my body. I became weak and started to
sweat heavily, it felt as though I had been awake for many days. And in all
my many years as a vampire I can't truly recall a time other than this when
I was so tired, so drained.

The deep sleep replenishes all bodily needs as long as a vampire
keeps himself fed. He'll awaken every night as if it were his first night
on Earth, with enough energy to scale mountains and race the fastest
creatures. And here I was crumbling little by little out in the open while
an old man shoved chicken and cow flesh in my face, yelling the different
prices. My eyes began to burn and dry out as I forced myself to try and
straighten up once again. At this point my destination was a better option
than trying to return home. The abandoned infirmary was just up ahead.

Trying to maintain my composure, I made my way to the center of town.
Voices began to drift into my head along the way. And for once, they were
somewhat useful. My staggered movements and ill complexion gave the
illusion that I was just another sickly peasant returning from the
cleansing of the temple. The ceremony: a bunch of humans gathering before a
sacred alter, to chant and wail, to drink and take in their sanctified
mixtures. These rituals often leave the participants disoriented and, in
some instances, in a hallucinogenic state. At the moment, nearly all those
I passed or bumped into were thinking exactly that as I made my way to the
old infirmary.

In the last century or so, religious fanatics were able to convince
the locals that death, disease, and other ailments were sent to them by the
gods and that these things were either gifts or punishments that the gods
had chosen for them. There had been no war in many years so, for the time
being, the nobles and leaders had no qualms when the workers and servants
of the infirmary walked away to follow the path of the gods. And thus it
became abandoned; no longer kept or tended to; it has suffered some in the
last few years.

Crumbling and cracking on the outside, covered in dirt and dust on
the inside. The old building was vacant, it had a few tables and chairs,
countertops and shelves but most else had been taken when it closed down
and the rest when thieves came to ransack the place. There was an old
storage room in the basement and the only light that came in was from the
cracks and splinters in the beaten and withered door that opened to the
outside. The door was located around the back of the building; it was easy
enough to slip in without being seen. I let the door fall closed behind me
as I ducked into the basement.

There was nothing remarkable about the building, and there was no
particular reason that I spent time here. It was simply somewhere other
than home with Amon and Xanthia where I could be alone. In the corner of
the old basement were a chair and table, with a few books laying atop the
dusty table. I had moved the table and chair here and brought some books
to leave here. No one else had been here since the first time that I had
ventured inside. That was the only redeeming quality of the place, there
was so much dust.

Strange, that I should look upon this abandoned place and find the
dirt to be its best feature. It wasn't that I liked the disarray and
unclean nature of things; it was that things were so well preserved. Every
step would leave a print in the dirt. And everything that was moved or
touched left its own evidence in dust or lack thereof. Every time I came
here it was all exactly the same and no one else had come to invade my
personal space. Even the voices didn't bother me here in this dark place.
Perhaps it was being underground, or the thick walls that held off the
voices, or maybe it was the stale atmosphere and how the very space of this
place seemed dead.

And this place was mine and mine alone, until a few weeks ago. To
the left of the table was a small cabinet, and before I was even fully
settled inside I could hear the scratching from within. I moved across the
room and knelt down to the side of the cabinet. The scratching grew more
feverish as I approached and a few whimpers and slights growls could be
heard on the other side. I had only opened the cabinet door a bit when a
large white dog came bursting out.

The animal bounded into the room and made circles in my path as I
once again stood and moved towards the table. "Goliath, I can't play with
you now" I stated as I moved past the large dog. I was still weak and
wanted to sit. Judging from my hands and arms, my skin was a few shades
darker than it should have been. I was never pale in appearance, and yet I
imagine having not been in sunlight for so long a time, my skin easily
picked up some color from the exposure. Something that wouldn't be
noticeable after a day's sleep.

The large dog wondered over and came to rest at my side as I sat,
trying to regain my strength. I placed my hand atop his head as he sat
there looking up at me, panting. The dog comes and goes from the building;
the back wall of the cabinet has a large hole in it, and a small dirt hole
that leads to the back of the building. Apparently, there was a bit of food
kept in that old cabinet and the animal had dug it out and actually made a
hole in the wood backing. I hadn't had enough time to swipe some meat from
the merchant as I did whenever I came. I began calling the animal Goliath
due to his size, and his dark grey colored eyes reminded me of the wolf
from the forest all those years ago. That was something from a far off
memory that I hadn't recalled much until seeing this animal.

I'm not sure why I took to the animal so readily or why I tolerated
his presence at all. And for that matter I don't know why the animal seemed
to enjoy me so much. For the last few weeks, he would show up at one point
or another and I took to bringing him bits of meat. One thing was for sure,
other than master and Xanthia, this dog was the only living thing I was
able to be around without voices filling my head. That's not to say the
animal had no thoughts, it's just that his thoughts, like all animals, are
too simplistic in nature for me to try and translate. It's like trying to
translate baby talk, the youngster may have a genuine idea or emotion he
wants to convey but you and I can only guess or get a general understanding
of what he wants.

For me, I imagine it's similar to reading the surface thoughts of
humans. To look into their mind would take more effort but would also
produce much more information. Gently touching the surface and skimming
through the thoughts and feelings there is an easy way to gain a general
understanding of the person. I'm able to do the same with some animals.
Perhaps I welcome interaction with this animal because it doesn't come with
the invasive aspect that's accompanied the rest as of late.

I leaned back in the chair a bit, feeling my body temperature slowly
returning to normal. It was worrying that my body still felt so weak, I
was beginning to think I might have done some actual damage to myself. I
may have to feed again tonight to quicken my healing. A quick whimper
brought my attention down towards Goliath who was looking up at me
expectantly, no doubt looking forward to a few more pieces of meat. I let
my hand fall upon his head and then moved to scratch him behind the ears.

Soon a tingling sensation began to surface in the center of my
forehead. It was similar to the sensations I get when thoughts first begin
to move into my mind. In the center of my forehead, it started, and then
moved out around my body like a sudden fever sweeping through me. My left
side seemed to have more weight suddenly as though this new sensation was
literally pulling at me. "No treats for your companion this night?"
Surprised, my head whipped left, in direction of the voice.

"Amon? What are you^�.why are you here? How did you find me here?"

"Is it so strange that I would find you? Were you trying to hide?"

"No^�it's just.."

"Then you think me so feeble or yourself so impressive that I'm not able to
track my own fledgling?"

"Of course not master, I simply didn't expect you to be looking for me. You
and Xanthia usually keep to yourselves when we all go out, that's all."

He shifted, his place in the shadows seemingly becoming less dense as he
moved forward. I took notice of every step, and he made not a single
sound. Of course I didn't realize he was there. And yet I was a bit
surprised that I didn't even sense his presence before he was upon me. And
yet, perhaps I did. The odd sensations that came over me, they occurred
only moments before Amon spoke and made himself known, perhaps even exactly
as he arrived. Oddly enough it seemed as though my body was warning me;
perhaps I was just caught of guard. Still, if I wasn't so weak at the
moment, I might be able to better discern things.

Goliath sprang to his feet as Amon approached and a low growl began to
roll from the back of his throat. "Shhh^�, calm yourself." I said placing a
hand on his head gently. As Amon moved into the light, his appearance
was...shocking to say the least. His hair was wild and even had bits of
debris and dirt throughout it. His eyes were full black orbs; it was
evident that he had just fed even without looking further. Allowing my eyes
to drift further as more of his form freed itself from the shadows, I saw
blood. Blood all over him, it stained his cheeks, it formed in the corners
of his mouth and was soaked into his shirt. Never before had I seen him in
such a state. There was so much blood on him that I instantly though it
might be his own, he'd never be that sloppy with a kill. "Master? Are
you^�harmed?"

"Hmph, No." he sneered.

"...The blood"

"A few crumbs after a meal, nothing more." He stated sauntering closer to
the table. A lie, he and Xanthia taught me to feed, including how to avoid
messes such as this. Oftentimes when one was caught up in the moment and
instinct took over a few drops or splatters were unavoidable. What I saw
now was the unmistakable graffiti of blood. As he came closer to us,
Goliath let out a few barks and his growl became much more apparent. I
couldn't be certain if he was simply afraid of Amon's menacing form or if
the smell of blood was getting to him. The smell of blood. I hadn't
noticed it at first, the blood was dried, an hour or more. He had been
walking around covered in blood for an hour or more.

"Haha, look at him, listen to that bark, he's wild, untamed." He moved
closer still and actually reached out to touch Goliath. "This stupid
brainless animal is more instinctual than you; more free willed , less
tamed, more^�" Goliath backed away from Amon's hand, and yet his stance and
behavior became all the more threatening.

"Look at him, so alert, so ready and completely certain that if I come even
a bit closer to him he'll rip my throat out."

"Amon, what is this?" I spoke finally, I rarely called him by name unless
things were quite serious. In response, he turned to me slowly and looked
me directly in the eyes. His were still black orbs as though the hunger
were upon him at this very moment, despite being gorged with blood. He held
my gaze, his face devoid of expression, and in one quick move he reached
forward and grabbed Goliath by the neck, never letting his eyes lose
mine. I knew he had the dog by the neck without even looking and heard
Goliath whimper under his grip and yet I made no move to interfere.

Never before had I seen Amon like this, his gaze was unpredictable, his
actions without reason. Was he daring me to try and stop him? Was he
testing my will? His eyes narrowed slightly as his body shook violently
for but a moment. The sound of bone breaking clapped against the walls and
resounded around us. This was followed by the sound of a small thud as the
animal's frame fell to the floor.

Amon stood once again, still holding my gaze and moved back across the room
without a word, without hesitation, and left as quickly and silently as he
had come. Mouth agape, I looked down to Goliath; I was more confused than
I was saddened. Xanthia taught me to put emotion aside many years ago, it
wasn't heartless, it was survival. To guarantee your own survival was the
most caring act of all, or so she said and it had made sense at the time.
I watched his form retreat from sight in complete confusion.

It was hours later when I returned to our home, I knew not what I would say
or with what purpose I would say it. I had many questions, all of which I
was sure would only bring forth Amon's temper. Xanthia, she would have to
be the one I questioned, she would know as much as anyone, they shared
everything. Entering the house I heard the piano, it was a constant
presence, her music. Without fail you could find her working on one piece
or another at night's end.

I moved into the living room and stood beside her as she played. Looking
up at me she gave me a slight nod and I sat next to her on the small bench.
In true form she never missed a note and never faltered with the tempo, she
simply played while turned to me and spoke. "I know what you saw, and I
know what's been done, more so than you. Speak not of it and do not bring
it up again."

And like that it was over, all the thoughts and questions that swirled in
my head would go unanswered. As it always was, for so many years I've lived
with them as family and mentors and yet there are so many secrets and so
many questions that go unanswered. It was more than frustrating; it was
enough to send me into a full blown rage. I felt it coming over me, that
sudden surging of blind anger. Xanthia stopped playing and swiftly placed
her hand upon mine, no doubt noticing the change in my demeanor and knowing
how frustrated I was.

"Devon, there is so much that you don't know and should." she said removing
her hand from mine and placing them back at the piano. She hesitated
before beginning again. "And even more that you shouldn't"

1350 A.D

They were moving outside, I could sense them there, beyond the
walls. Was it neighbors seeking refuge from the chaos and sickness outdoors
or the misguided townsfolk coming to purge the demons in an attempt to
appease their god and stop the plague, maybe even the Bechini? It was all
wishful thinking on my part, a waste of hope that had no chance to change
the truth. They were out there and they weren't human. Savage townspeople
brandishing torches and shouting scripture would be much more welcome.

The three of us remained at the back of the house in the master
bedroom. Xanthia and I both sat on the large bed as Amon stood directly in
front of the door, glaring at it, past it. All of us were, humans are easy
to sense and it doesn't take a reader to pick up on their surface thoughts.
We all stared strongly at the bedroom door and surrounding walls, all the
while our minds were stretched so much further. Times like these are always
delicate even when dealing with humans alone, being the pack animals that
they are.

I've seen it time and time again, all over the world. Take a group
of average humans, all with their own problems and desires. Place the
appropriate amount of stress on their already "directionally chaotic" lives
and watch what happens. Xanthia has been using that phrase to describe the
livelihood of humans for years. Like a flowing river their lives move
along, and the people, like the water, swirl and bubble and crash against
obstacles and rocks; all moving in a predetermined direction. Predictable,
foreshadowed, chaos.

People can and will come together and unite for many different
reasons, none so readily accepted and rapidly contagious as hate and anger.
When the stress rises to the right level and enough people can identify
with each other and find some temporary bond through their problems, all
that is left is somewhere to focus it all. Give them a scapegoat, give
them someone to blame for their problems, someone to hate. Wrong or right
doesn't matter; it's all about focusing that hate, and allowing your anger
to reach a peak that people would never allow under normal circumstances.
And once they have that scapegoat, that target to focus on, all sense of
right and wrong can be easily overcome.

It's been a constant occurrence over the last few months. A sudden
surge of madness in the street, a chaotic uprising of the
citizens. Throughout the area, in villages and towns and, more importantly,
the cities, mobs have been starting at a moments notice. To them, the
humans, even those involved, it seems so spontaneous. To us, those who can
truly see beyond our own eyes and circumstances, the warning signs were
easy to see. Once you know what to look for, you can predict the next
outbreak very efficiently. If one mixes eggs, flour, and sugar in a bowl,
there's a good chance that you can bake a cake. That's all it takes,
learning to look for the right mixtures of different catalysts and
deciphering the level of each element needed.

Tonight was one of those nights. With all the problems that came
along with the plagues, even when they seemed to have passed. The world, in
many parts, was still in disarray and chaos. Labor shortages lead to
revolts and lawlessness, which lead to attempts at enforcing the laws and
the cycle continued. And amongst all the chaos was a second level of
disorder; the immortals were at war. A war that would not be allowed to
continue for much longer. I won't pretend to think the elders were
concerned about the deaths of their people. One thing that was undeniable
was that the elders would not allow attention to be brought to our world.

It was not long ago that the official order came down from the old
ones for the fighting to stop. And while the elders were to be feared and
respected, this, like all their messages, rules, and orders, was without a
face. It's difficult to influence so many when they can't even see you.
The world was full of vampires, tens of thousands in Europe alone. This war
would literally cut our population in half; thousands of years of culture,
knowledge, and family lines were being wiped out in only a decade's time.

Vampires have killed each other before, we are not perfect. Though
we don't view these things as humans do, and while it is against the law
for an immortal to kill another, I don't think there has been a single time
in history that a vampire has been punished for doing so. You have to
understand, killing a vampire is not a task taken lightly, even by other
vampires. Senseless killings don't exist in our world, for the most
part. Imagine, for whatever reason, you cause the death of someone. This
person has been alive for thousands of years, has made hundreds of friends
and he himself has family members who are also thousands of years
old. Would you want all of that falling down on your head?

Even the worst or strongest vampire alive could do little to save
himself against a small army of thousand year old vampires. It's worth
noting that a vampire grows stronger and more powerful with age. The
elders, the oldest among us, are said to be nearly god like in their
combined powers. This alone is not the true reason that the elders are
able to hold such reign over our people. The elders are kings and queens
of our people, and like real kings and queens, they command armies and,
worst of all, an elite. The line of the elites can be traced back as far
as the legendary Order of Twilight. This order was the first group of elite
vampires brought together by the elders to defend our people against a
surmounting threat. And in times such as these, the elites can be used as
hammer and sword to crush the opposition or the delicate blade of a surgeon
to bring an end to suffering and wrong doing.

One thing is for certain, if the elite are called in, blood will
flow. In the past, the Twilight were celebrated and honored as the hands
of the elders. They were knights and warriors who had devoted their lives
to the protection of the people. The elite of today are but a mere shadow
of the Twilight. The members of the currently standing elite do not hold
the name Twilight, in fact, no group has held the name Order of the
Twilight since the invasion of the council settlement at the peek of the
dark ages.

Rumor has it that some dark menace was able to locate the elders
and attacked them full on. Breaching the guard and protection of the
settlement, it sought out the elders in its rampage. Upon reaching the
council chambers, this thing, this horrible foe, found only the members of
Twilight. The strongest among us, save the elders themselves, stood
against this enemy that day. Of these nine fabled warriors, only four
survived the initial attack. And only one lived to tell the tale.

These are only rumors, and I know not enough of our past to separate
the truth from fiction. Conversely, widely held as the truth is that
whatever did occur back then was the start. The start of the secrecy and
the faceless rule of the elders, it was the creation of the concealing
shroud placed over our already dark world. The elders were never again seen
in public and no longer directly delivered messages to their people. The
elite of today have been built in that image of silent strength. Masters
of concealing their movements among our people and striking without
warning, the only sign of their presence is the parchments they leave
behind.

With but a single marking, this paper relays several messages. The
symbol is that of the elders, and it means that whatever has been done, it
was done by their order. Unlike the elders, over time the elite have been
seen by many. The description is never the same, even though, unlike
humans, our capacity for memory is great and we can relay experiences and
memories from centuries ago as if they happened yesterday. So it is
believed that there are many elite groups now, spread all over the world
carrying out the elders wishes.

"If things continue to escalate, it will, of course, be time to
leave." Xanthia spoke, turning to face me. Her words brought me out of my
trance, picking up on all the chaos from the humans had wrapped my mind in
thoughts of our own conflicts and that which waits on the edge of it, ready
to deliver a finishing blow. She was right of course, the townspeople
viewed us as nobles and, despite not having any real ties to the town or
any of it's businesses, we would eventually be swept up into the revolts
and street riots if things continued on their present course. I gave no
verbal reply to her statement, only a sharp nod and a slight grunt.

Now that she had brought my attention back to the present, I
recalled the strange feeling I had had before. I questioned silently if
Xanthia and Amon could feel it as well, noticing the presence as I
had. They both seemed as though they were more pensive over the chaos
caused by the humans in the street. Not I, something else was out there
and it was hard to pinpoint. One moment I would sense one and then several,
only to lose the sensation all together. The more I struggled to identify
the sensation, the more alert my system became. My abilities, as they have
developed, allowed me to sense people and other vampires from a distance
without effort. And the fact that I couldn't locate this elusive target
with all my focus was causing me to panic inside. Like having your vision
fade away slowly, I felt as though one of my senses had been cut off. And
yet, when I pushed, I could feel the minds of humans on the other side of
town. Something just wasn't right.

"That strange presence, what is it Xanthia? My focus is off."

She once again turned in my direction but held my gaze for a moment before
she spoke. "What presence are you speaking of? Tell me." Her body
language told me that I had her full attention as she leaned in a bit
closer and her eyebrow scrunched up in concentration. Just as I began to
speak Amon turned from the door to listen as well.

"Something is out there but I can't locate it and I'm not sure what it is."
I spoke, once again returning my gaze to the door and stretching my mind
beyond those walls and out into the street.

"You're not sure what it is and you can't find it, that doesn't even make
sense boy, is there something out there or isn't there?" Amon snapped. His
agitation had been clear from the moment we all came together in the
room. He hadn't spoken since then and now his words were harsh and somewhat
desperate.

"Amon, please let him finish, go on Devon tell us what you feel." Xanthia
said calmly. She's always calm.

"I'm not even sure if it's a single being or several, but it keeps grabbing
my attention from time to time. My mind jumps to it and the second I try
to concentrate and pinpoint it I lose it, or them. It has to be vampires; I
think^�I mean no human could ruin my focus like this. I can sense all of
them as always but this thing, it's like looking through a dirty window, I
can tell something is on the other side but not what it is." I finished
with a sigh, as I once again lost my focus.

"This is all useless, your mind is losing focus again boy, thoughts
wondering here and there." Amon stated harshly as he began to walk from one
end of the room to the other.

"There is nothing wrong with my mind, as though you would know anything
about it. I'm the one trying to focus my mind to see what's out there, if I
hadn't said anything you'd still be standing there watching the humans like
a boy with his pet ants." The words fell from my lips and grew more bitter
with every syllable and an anger surged through me with every word. When I
was finished, I was standing in a huff at the side of the bed staring at
Amon. This has happened before, Xanthia says it may be a side effect of
the reading but I'm not so sure. It comes over me suddenly and I'm
possessed by such anger that I can't stop my self from going off. It's rare
but when it does happen it's like I'm a different person. Worst of all was
when it happened towards master.

"Hmph, well great reader, tell us then" Amon was moving quickly towards me.
I backed away, already knowing what to expect from him. There was no force
I've seen in all my years of darkness that could measure up to Amon's
temper. I was nearly backed into the corner when he reached for me and
harshly pulled me towards the door. In a flash, my face was against the
door with such a force that the very walls surrounding it shook. I could
only grunt in response, for Amon's hand was tightly around the back of my
neck holding me there against the wooden door.

As my hair fell over my face, I could feel a slight bruise beginning on my
left check where it made contact with the door. Amon was strong, I'd
forgotten how strong. "Well, go on then, tell us, child." He's been like
this before and it was still shocking to see and worse to experience. He
would get so angry that his body was trembling and yet his voice would be
so calm. He began to tighten his already more than firm grip on my neck
and I winced harshly under the pressure.

"Nothing, master! I sense^�I sense nothing." I huffed as he added his body
weight to his grip and leaned in closer to me ears.

"Are you sure? You have to be certain boy!" he was practically growling at
this point as he spat out the words.

"Amon, enough, he'll focus no better like that than he did on his own."
Xanthia spoke, her calm voice gave way to a different one. Her words were
strict and where there was usually room for patience with everything she
did and said, these words were spoken with the understanding of "now".

Amon's bear like grip fell from my neck and he moved to stand at the
adjacent wall. Like always, he would wave off the entire occurrence. His
temper simply got the best of him and we all knew it. "Perhaps France, or
maybe back to the Orient Xanthia, you liked it there and Devon has never
been."

Xanthia paid him no attention as she rubbed the back of my neck. She could
be quite motherly at times, though even that was done in the calmest of
manners. She never got overly excited or panicky like mothers sometimes
do. Amon got no response, only a quick look from Xanthia. And the change in
his demeanor told me that it was not a kind look. "The^�uh, night is
nearly over, and^�I think things will hold up until tomorrow at the
least. I'll be in my study" he said. It was always the same, one look from
Xanthia was enough to send, what moments ago was a towering beast of a man,
running from a room like a scolded child.

He left the room quickly and let the door fall closed behind him. "His
temper will always be the master of him, and he knows it" Xanthia spoke,
going to the corner to straighten a painting that had been knocked crooked
when Amon pulled at me. "Just like his master before him." She finished as
she tilted the painting back to its original place.

It took me a moment to realize it but that was the first time that either
of them had ever mentioned Amon's master. Before I could speak, to question
further, she continued. "Besides, you know better than to try his patience
like that, the man hardly has any." This was true, Amon had no patience, he
isn't someone you make wait or toy with in any way.

"It wasn't my fault, I couldn't help it, it just came over me again." I
stated, looking to her for some understanding.

She sighed as she moved to sit beside me on the bed. Looking me over, she
shook her head slightly. "You two are so much alike and you don't even know
it"

It was then that a small sensation began to burn in the center of my
forehead. My senses crackled to life and suddenly my entire body was
alert. Something was wrong, very wrong and my senses weren't telling the
whole story. Xanthia noticed the sudden shift in my demeanor. "What is
it?"

"I'm not sure, everything feels more constricted, like the space around us
is suddenly much more full."

"You're not making any sense."

"I know, it's just^�I mean, I think something might be^�"

Before I finished with my stumbling words, a slight crash was heard
in the other room, like a book fell from a table end or a small candle
hitting the floor. Nothing all that alarming and still with the way my
senses were so fired up that small sound had my full attention. My sense of
smell and hearing were working overtime and my nose began to tingle and
become irritated. I was concentrating on what was happening in the other
room, the sensation from earlier having returned. Once again, it was as if
I could feel someone, something, and yet I couldn't tell what it was at all
and that alone was enough to make it nonexistent to my other senses. I
couldn't smell anything unusual or even hear anything. And yet my mind was
alert and trying to grab hold of some phantom that just didn't seem to be
there.

"Perhaps you should rest a bit, take some time with that book of yours."
She said rising from the bedside and heading for the door. Just before she
reached it, we heard yet another sound. This one was strange, like metal
dragging across solid wood. We both paused for a moment, Xanthia obviously
allowing her senses to penetrate the walls as I was. It was then that I
felt it, a faint sensation that hit me like a bit of static electricity.

A sense of purpose wrapped in anxiety and aggressive force. It was unlike
anything I've sensed in a long time. Soldiers would often give off such a
feeling as they defeated an enemy on the battlefield. This was not a
feeling coming from any of us. "That's strange, what is it exactly that
he's doing now, I wonder?" she questioned, placing her hand on the door
knob. She was still under the impression that it was nothing more than
Amon, perhaps still wrapped up in his mood.

"Xanthia, wait^�someone else is^�." as I started to speak and she began to
turn the door knob. A large flank of metal came thrusting through the door
at lightening speed, as if the thick wood of the door was nothing more than
a thin bit of parchment. The blade was a slender one, obviously something
used more for piercing than powerful swinging. Towards the base of the
blade were many strange symbols that I couldn't understand, they were of a
nature unfamiliar to me. Xanthia gasped harshly as the blade entered her
right shoulder and exited her body from the rear.

Blood streaming down her clothing, she made not a sound as she tried to
pull back from the weapon. I was quickly at her side and helped steady her
as she backed off of the blade. The metal slid from her flesh with a
sickening sound as it moved over the bone of her shoulder. There was
little time between her being struck and what happened next. No way to
prepare, no way to fully understand the new situation.

"Amon!!!!!"

The blade in the door was yanked harshly from the wood, taking a
small bit of it as it left. There was enough of a hole made that I could
tell that all the candles and torches in the next room had been put
out. Amon must have walked right into whatever was happening out there and
had no time to react. A few seconds later the door was nearly kicked off
its frame and as it swung wildly open and crashed into the wall it came
away from the frame and wood splintered and cracked in a small explosion.
The darkness of the door frame was suddenly filled with several figures
moving quickly into the room. My body was so tense and alert that I could
hardly manage to push Xanthia to the far wall behind me. I lunged at the
hooded figures and was met with deliberate and decisive force.

My feverish and desperate movements were a waste. As I grabbed for
the first two that had come charging into the room, I was hit hard across
the jaw and I lost my footing for a moment. In the time it took for my body
to simply try to balance itself, I was kneed roughly in the stomach, a blow
that knocked the wind out of me and left me bent over. A few seconds later,
the handle end of a sword was coming down on my face. Their movements were
too fast for me to even begin to defend myself. I collapsed to the floor,
under the blunt force of the blow and I had barely settled on the floor
when three more came through the door. The other two moved passed me to
the corner where Xanthia was fighting like a wild women to keep the
original two at bay.

The third man remained hovering over me with a sword at the back of
my neck. I could just barely see the struggle from my position on the
floor, I was facing nearly the opposite direction. To my surprise, the
struggle behind me did not end as soon as I would have expected after the
other two moved in. I had never, in my entire life, so much as seen this
woman show signs of frustration or displeasure but the sounds I heard
behind me changed that entirely. Her shrieks weren't of a women crying out
in fear, she was grunting and shrieking with every strike she landed
against her attackers. Each call was followed precisely by a thud or a
clap. How she could move fast enough to keep up with them, I'll never know.

Yet another figure entered the room and moved swiftly towards the
back where the other five were battling this thin and seemingly angelic
woman in a small corner. Whoever this final attacker was, he made short
work of the mess the others had caused. Feet shuffled and bodies were
shoved here and there but with a bone crushing strike to the body, I heard
Xanthia yell out in pain. Whatever fight she had in her was gone at that
point. I was horrified when the movements continued just out of my line of
sight. She was done, she'd given up with that last strike but I heard a
bone snap shortly after, that was followed by Xanthia hitting the
ground. Her voice filled the room as she yelled out. The hooded figures
moved to pick her up and began to drag her into the next room. "Silence
her" spoke one of the men.

It was then that panic set in and I began to fight again. They were
going to kill her. She was beaten, broken and helpless and now they were
going to kill her. I squirmed and kicked at the men around me like a wild
animal forced onto its back. Trying to find enough space on the floor
between them to get to my feet, I was kicked harshly several times and felt
one of my ribs crack. I heard Xanthia yell out for Amon in the next
room. It wasn't a yell for help but a yell of desperation. I couldn't
gather my thoughts enough to concentrate on the next room, but I feared the
worst.

A few quick words were shared between our attackers and they began to
pick me up and move me into the next room as well. "WHAT IS THIS? WHY ARE
YOU HERE??" I was more than afraid at this point, I was helpless. I
couldn't fight them. Xanthia had been taken down after giving it her best
and now she was dead. Amon either managed to escape or he had met the same
fate. I couldn't sense him at all, he must have realized what was happening
with enough time to escape. He always told me to be aware of my
surroundings at all times. It's my fault, I distracted Xanthia with my
complaining; she, no doubt, would have been aware of this if not for me.
Once again they die, my family, and it's all my fault.