A Journey of Black and Red

The Warden of Missouri sits down, and Lord Kouakou stands up to provide an answer.

“The Warden of Louisiana has the floor,” Constantine says with a certain impatience.

“Thank you Speaker. We would offer a rebuke if the Warden of Missouri had made a point. We have yet to hear how a country split in two is to our advantage. Thank you.”

Lord Kouakou sits back down and I allow myself a minute smile. Each Warden has two opportunities to speak tonight in order to limit the risk of delay. With his answer, Kouakou both preserved his vote, and offered a scathing retort.

“Next, we shall hear the proposal of Yann, Warden of Virginia. You have the floor.”

A tall Lord with a hawkish nose and thinning hair stands up. His height almost equals that of Constantine’s himself. He smiles benevolently and speaks in a calm, reasonable voice.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow leaders. As the Speaker mentioned before, we come from very different backgrounds and traveled here pursuing different dreams. There are, however, values that bind us as vampires and as members of the Accords. Values that we all understand and support. One such value is to let mortals be mortals, provide a guiding hand, and appreciate their efforts and failures from a distance.

For decades now, the nation that we call the United States has existed as an uneasy marriage between two dominant cultures. The north favors progress, the south, tradition. The north favors industry and the south, agriculture. The north promotes equal opportunity while the south takes to their peculiar institution, as they named it themselves. Now, the fires of war have ignited, and the country has been torn asunder. Two peoples now stand where there was once one.”

Yann allows himself a condescending smile.

“No matter what Lincoln and members of this assembly believe, there will be no unity even if they win. Slavery and segregation are deeply ingrained in the culture of many of the southern states. No defeat, no matter how total, will strip away this legacy. Rather than force the abusive couple back together, would it not be preferable to allow them each to go their separate ways? To choose their path and see where it leads them? Beware, my friends, the cost of hubris, for to favor the Union is to force the hands of mortals when the wish of the many is to separate. My proposal will center on favoring the separation of the two antagonists in a way that minimizes damage. I have spoken.”

“Thank you, Lord Yann,” Constantine says as he stands up again, “does someone wish to offer a rebuttal?”

I raise my hand to the surprise of my own party. The fact is that I can provide an adequate answer to such a trite argument without much effort while the times of Kouakou and Sephare remain precious. The Union faction nods, and I am now in charge of providing an answer.

“History is an old thing, and like old things, it tends to repeat itself.”

The tiny jab is well-received.

“Five thousand years have passed since the kings of Sumer sent raiding bands to abduct captives to work their fields. Five millennia since the cities of Mesopotamia and elsewhere engaged in fractious disputes and intestine wars. If the mortals have not learned everything they could about secession and slavery since then, they never will. By supporting the Union, we are not putting two people back together who stand for different things. Our estimates are that less than one man in five owns slaves in the south, which means that four in five are somehow convinced that the practice benefits them despite all evidence to the contrary. What we are doing is severing the powerful hold that slave owners have over public opinion.”

Constantine and the others appreciate brevity. Deep inside, none of us will be swayed by words, as we are all creatures of conviction. What we are doing is, in fact, facing off for the sake of those among us still on the fence. If one party appears as too irrelevant or unconvincing, they will be seen as weak, and we abhor weakness. If the Union faction is to bring more people to its cause, we need to be perceived as competent and well-prepared. Such is the purpose of my argument, and that is why I must remain concise so as to not waste everyone’s time. This is not a lecture.

“To think that splitting countries will afford us more power is a mistake, for our reach in this government will simply shrink with said government.”

This is aimed at the people around Yann. The Confederacy has its capital in Richmond, where the Roland lord also made his seat. He has the most to gain from their continued existence. The others, however, do not. With this sentence, I cast a doubt on Yann’s true motivations by reminding everyone that he has his own selfish interest in the matter.

“More borders, more taxes, more regulations, a perpetual state of hostility and a rift that only widens with every year, this is what we will all have to contend with. I have spoken.”

I sit back down. Constantine lets another Warden speak up. This one is a Roland from Quebec and a secret ally of Sephare.

One thing that Sinead taught me is that the mind is an imperfect tool. For example, if one proposal is immediately dismissed as ridiculous, then the next one will appear as more attractive by comparison. Such biases also affect us vampires. We are, after all, made from human molds. Sephare and Yann know this, that is why Yann offered his proposal after the Warden of Missouri’s weak statement, and the Warden of Quebec will be used as a sacrificial tool to introduce Sephare’s own resolution. After a short speech on the possibility of neutrality, his opinion is quickly deemed as pointless by both larger factions. Sephare does not speak last. Kouakou does.

It surprises me a bit. The tall Ekon lord usually contents himself with letting the smooth Hasting handle diplomacy. I know, for participating, that they focus most of their efforts on their home fief of Louisiana, as well as the numerous requests for freedom they receive from their Supplicants.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Accords, thank you for hearing me tonight. I fear that the topic of our debate has drifted away from its true core. The war, the splitting of the land, even the peripheral questions such as state rights, they all are symptoms and effects of the true cause, and that true cause is that one person in eight in this country are colored slaves. Slavery, is the cause and heart of tonight’s meeting.”

A daring approach, and one that serves Kouakou well. Despite some posturing, our dealings are mostly cold and methodical, and yet tonight Kouakou speaks with a fire that I did not expect from one of us outside of battle.

“In the past year, I traveled to the north of my state to attend to some errand. I rode on horseback from New-Orleans to a plantation near the border of Arkansas. I rode alone. In that short period of time, I slew seven men who tried to rob me, and charmed more away from my path despite my burning desire to kill them. I am tired of it. Tired of the same requests to reunite a mother and their child, to take revenge against an overseer for the loss of a limb or that of a relative. I am tired of the perpetual institutional discrimination I must tolerate on my own land for the sake of peace. I want it to be clear when I say that there is no coming back.”

I resist the urge to turn to Sephare and gauge her reaction. This feels off-script. It would not help anyway, the wily Hasting would never betray her reaction.

“I cannot withdraw from mortal affairs when said mortal affairs prevent me from moving across my land. I cannot let the mortals experiment when said experimentation leads to the suffering of my followers. I am no cattle, and I am done pretending to be one. We now have one opportunity to bring to a close a conflict that has been delayed for decades. We can purge the wound clean and reunite the central nation of the Accords, or we can let it fester in endless warfare until every drop of blood drawn by a lash has been paid by one drawn by a sword, and by the Eye, either one will happen.”

Stupefied silence descends upon us. I never expected him to be so vehement! And… I like it. Finally, some politics I can get behind!

“I will now present a proposal for full support of the Union in their mission to reabsorb the south. We will offer both measures to allow war to come to a swift conclusion, as well as ways for our southern brethren to offset the losses incurred by the emancipation of their workforce. Please be advised that our ability to assist is limited, and so is my patience. I have spoken.”

Meaning that only the southern lords who vote with us will be compensated.

In the end, we are left with four proposals. Constantine calls the session in recess until we have had time to study them in detail. We all retreat back to our respective aisles of the manor, and pretend that it does not show the clear faction split. We take some time to read the printed documents until Sephare interrupts us as she struts into the room we have chosen as our gathering spot.

“Do not waste your time reading the ‘neutrality’ and ‘stalling’ proposals. They are not true factions, merely decoys. Ariane, please see Wilhelm while the rest of us plan. He has something for you.”

I barely had the time to get off my ship in time for the vote, so I have little idea what the man has in store for me. I stand up and leave Melusine to pore over Yann’s proposal. She did not need Sephare’s advice to understand that the two other texts were inconsequential.

I climb down the manor’s busy stairs to the steward’s office. The entire building is a hive of activity, with security present at every step. Vassals and guards alike step aside to let me through, and my travel time is short.

Wilhelm’s office is still earthy and cozy, with woods and earthy tones, but the mood is less welcoming now. An armor stand occupies the corner. Sheathed blades hang from several pegs on the wall. The man himself reviews a map on his desk, and casually invites me over to join him.

“We are mobilizing,” he informs me. Wilhelm has dirty blond hair in a tail and his beard looks wilder than usual. He is much more woodsman than butler.

“Most Masters and lords who have not left are now training in teams under the direction of a few battle lords and experienced fighters like Naminata. One of our three training grounds is in the state of Texas, in the Natalis compound. Lord Jarek just sent us word that he expects to be attacked. I need you to go there and support him during the evacuation.”

“We are not going to attack?”

Wilhelm sighs, his muscular frame making the gesture more visceral.

“We are not ready. You have never been in a vampire war?”

“Not yet.”

“Vampires are most effective when fighting in squad-sized groups, but the volunteer teams we have need to work their kinks out in order to be even remotely effective. We will not have the time to match the coordination of some of our foes, but even a month of training will make the difference between a bunch of fighters vaguely on the same side, and a functional raiding party. We do not have a month. The Europeans are moving in.”

“It feels rushed. Are you certain?”

“Yes, and they are right to do so. Lord Jarek wants to transport his retainers and the fighters he has trained north, by sea. The land route would not allow fledgelings and mortals to make it out in time. The old monster asked you by name.”

“I’ll have the Dalton’s Spirit depart immediately.”

“They can help with evacuation, but you must leave immediately. Vadim will help you travel to the compound. Can I count on you?”

“Yes.”

“Vadim will leave after the voting session. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Understood. I will be off then.”

I leave the office and make my way back to our shared office, only for Melusine to stop me by the entrance. I am still wearing a formal dress, but she is not. I recognize the armored suit I had made for her and enchanted myself, with an elaborate heart protector and an integrated focus in case she loses her usual gauntlet. I designed it from the top down to serve my faithful second. I even wrote ‘hussy’ on the inner plate of the heart protector before sealing it shut. Truly, it suits her.

“Hunting something?” I ask.

“I am coming with you. I have been cooped for too long doing politics. Even a Lancaster must sometimes partake in the king of all hunts, lest I forget the taste of my own blood.”

“The king of all hunts being other vampires.”

“Indeed. So, do you accept?”

I was not aware that I could refuse. Melusine is a City Master, and our agreement is clear.

“Of course. We only need to make sure that Vadim can transport the both of us.”

“He said that he could, because we both have blood-bound Nightmares. The strain will be lower on his mind.”

“Very well. After the vote.”

“After the vote.”

Times are grave. We did not even bicker.

The vote goes exactly as predicted. Every round, the proposal with the least votes is eliminated. Stalling is dismissed first, then the neutrality proposal goes next. Surprisingly, it received support from a few more people than I expected. Not enough to make a difference.

Only twenty-seven Wardens remain after last session’s warning. Seventeen vote for support of the Union, while ten vote for support of the Confederacy. Thanks to my and Sephare’s actions, a number of southern lords have joined our cause, including the twins. The opposite side is led by Yann, unsurprisingly, and a few Roland and Cadiz including that backstabbing prick, Lord Ceron. Suarez voted in favor of the Union, even though he has much to lose financially. His support split the Cadiz faction in two.

Another vote, and the stalemate remains.

To triumph, the Union faction needs a majority of two-thirds plus one, so nineteen votes. We are two short.

Constantine ends the session with the next planned in three days to allow both sides to conduct backroom negotiations. I fill the necessary paper to delegate the voting rights of Illinois to Sephare while I am absent. Melusine could have done it, but she is coming with me.

“You can depart in peace,” Sephare tells me, “I will work on the other side while you go rescue the big lug. Do keep him alive, please.”

“It might be difficult to convince Yann.”

“Not really. He already contacted me with an absolutely outrageous proposal. I refused, of course.”

“You did?” I ask with some surprise.

“Not only was that asshole overly greedy, he also dared to condescend. I know his type, and they always think themselves too clever. I will deal with him on my own terms. Have some trust in me, Ariane, when have I let you down when it came to Florentine politicking?”

“Florentine politics is always a letdown.”

“Pah! You, and the other honor-bond straight arrows. You are lucky to have me to steer the ship through those murky waters. In any case, I wish you good luck. Extend my salutations to Jarek and please make sure that he survives. There are few who call themselves his equal when it comes to physical prowess.”

“Yes, he is a mighty warrior.”

“Warrior? Oh! Hmm. Yes, of course.”

What?

“You’d better be on your way,” Sephare finishes.

I return to my own quarters and change into my full battle gear. I no longer travel without access to it, and I even have a compact chest that I can fasten to my back in case of emergency. Although it might be unwieldy, I would rather appear ridiculous than be again caught without all my tools of destruction. And besides, who would make fun of someone capable of holding a huge chest on her back? No one with any lick of sense.

After writing a list of instructions to Sheridan, who once again disappeared with Melitone somewhere in the bowels of the complex, I grab Melusine and we make our way down. We find Vadim already waiting for us by the stables.

The Vanheim Master sits atop a Nightmare bred for speed. Zana, Melusine’s mare, embodies the pictural ideal of a lithe romantic horse. Pathetic. By contrast, Metis is a solid warhorse who can plow through a battle line without tragically collapsing for a nearby painter to capture. In fact, she even plowed through a werewolf army and emerged on the other side with bloody hooves and a tasty treat of werewolf ears. I can ask for no better pony.

Almost as if she was designed for me.

I frown suddenly, and try to remember if Metis had been that way when I first got her, and find out that I cannot quite recall. Not with any measure of certainty. Nightmares are truly mysterious, and so is Vadim’s power. He addresses us as we climb on our mounts.

“Neither one of you have travelled with me so far so you should listen. There are rules. You must not stop. You must not stray away from me. As much as possible, keep your eyes on my back and for the love of the Eye, stay silent. It will be difficult enough to travel that distance in a single night with three people. I will need all the focus I can get.”

“We understand.”

With one last nod, Vadim rides down the path to the house-filled valley, where the attending mortals dwell. We accelerate out and, contrary to the usual, leave the main road leading to Boston. The Nightmares ride through the underbrush with haste, their hooves trampling the ground.

We ride faster still.

Trees to either side rush by in our maddened cavalcade. I can still spot the shining lights of civilization in the distance.

“Come on,” Vadim mutters.

I think I can see the road in the distance.

And suddenly, I cannot. The lights, so numerous a few moments ago, disappear one by one until their very existence becomes like a memory. Darkness, not the peppered black of the night sky, true darkness, spreads around us. I can no longer see the heavens above us through the suddenly dense canopy. The distant sounds of the city fade in moments, replaced by the silence of the deep forest. The young trees of a young forest give way to ancient, ossified trunks covered in scarred bark, twisted and gnarled with grasping roots worming their way through the damp loam. Any other creatures would have had to slow down to avoid the many pitfalls there, or risk snapping their legs like twigs. Instead, the Nightmares rush with renewed vigor, and for good reasons. We are, after all, in their world now.

I resist the urge to call upon a light spell, unused to the impenetrable veil that blocks my sight. Anything that attracts attention here would be… unwise, as there are things that call this alien world their home. Sometimes, whatever small radiance makes its way down from above glints on a spider web, on small glittering eyes hiding amongst the heavy boughs. We stop for nothing. Whoever falls there will be condemned to amble through the infinite forest until the Thirst claims their minds.

Time soon loses its meaning in the typical fashion of the space between spheres. I have no need to direct Metis as she knows exactly where to go. I do not let the fear of the unknown grasp the cold part of my mind. Instead, I call my instincts to the surface and ride on the euphoric wave of the exhilarating journey. We no longer need to appear human. We can cast aside our worries about the war, both the mortal one and ours, because we have no way of impacting it for now. There is just us and the dark world of nightmares, the prey we will find at the end of the trail. I turn to Melusine and give her my best smile. She spares me a glance. A deep understanding passes between us, one that needs no words, and her serious air melts under the euphoria she allows herself to feel. We hiss together and the Nightmares answer with amused snorts. Vadim’s back relaxes. He joins us.

And then something moves in front of us, something massive. I hear a growl. I spot matted dark fur.

We have no time for you.

Get.

Out.

Of.

THE.

WAY.

“ROOOAAAR!”

The warcry is echoed by two others and the angry neighs of our flesh-eating partners. The thing growls more and shuffles away, more annoyed than scared. I laugh at this amazing scene and we continue, never stopping.

It takes us a small eternity to see our destination. I can tell that we approach when the fabric of the forest fails, and we catch whiffs of pine and iodine.

“Just… a little… more,” Vadim mutters in an exhausted voice. One last effort, and we burst out of the forest’s edge and onto a sandy beach, the sea crashing underneath the hooves of our mounts. They slow down. I can feel the heat radiating from a tired Metis and the shortness of her breath expanding her powerful flanks. Her glossy hide is wet with sweat.

Vadims is barely better. The Vanheim Master slumps on the back of his ride. He is spent.

“Come on, we are nearly there,” I tell them.

I recognize the coastline for having traveled it several times in the past. We are several miles north of the Natalis village. The frigid wet of Boston is far away. The weather here is clement enough that a small shawl over a dress would suffice. We have crossed two thousand miles of land in only a few hours.

No creatures on earth can match that speed.

“An impressive display, Vadim.”

“Enjoy it, Warden… because I am not doing it again.”

I pat the lanky man on the shoulder and send Metis into a trot. We cross over dunes covered with tall grass and in between palm trees. I understand that Vadim fell short by about twenty miles, but I can hardly complain in the face of his extraordinary performance. It will take days for the Spirit of Dalton to travel so far south.

We arrive with plenty of time to spare before dawn. The Natalis village is as organic and eclectic as I remember. While most of the newer buildings show a definitive hispanic influence, the vampire dwellings range in style from wooden huts to Alpine chalets. Anyone watching it for the first time would believe that they have stumbled upon an impossibly-sized carnival, blue shutters on white walls offering a counterpoint to high-peaked dachas that would not look out of place on the shores of the black sea. The entire city squirms with moving mortals loading and unloading skiffs carrying cargo to transport ships. They work with singular discipline that armies would envy. A powerfully-built master oversees the process, surrounded by an entourage of administrators. We maneuver through the moving files and dismount to address him out of politeness, but he moves forward and hails us as soon as we come into view.

“Are you Ariane of the Nirari?”

“Yes, and those are Vadim of the Vanheim and Melusine of the Lancasters,” I reply. I introduced them by order of seniority.

“You are here sooner than planned. Thank you. Lord Jarek waits in the wolf’s maw, at the end of the valley.”

I know of the place. Jarek had several strongholds placed across the arable lands his clan owns. This one is the most defensible one. It covers the entrance to his domain.

We depart immediately.

The wheat fields are empty of both men and stalks this late in the year. Fallow expanses of earth give the place a desolate air only made more desperate by the late evacuees rushing to the piers.

I find Lord Jarek on a large stone overlooking a maze of rocky outcrops and brush marking the end of his land. I recognize the stone. He brought it here himself.

Most of the time, the Natalis paragon wears custom-made clothes in a variety of styles, all having in common a singular feature: they looked like disguises on their owner’s titanic frame. Now, wearing armor, he looks more natural than ever.

While Loth’s protection is a streamlined suit of interlocking scales designed for speed and efficiency, Jarek’s plates look like someone once decided to wear his own portable bank vault and went to work with a forge, persistence, and no sense of design. I know the impression to be deceptive, of course. It still reinforces the warlord’s image as a force of nature, an avatar of power with no finesse and no particular need for it. Plates and spikes and enough jutting parts to catch someone off-guard. I would know. I have been at their receiving ends more than a few times as we sparred.

“Thank you for being here,” he tells me without opening his eyes.

“Of course. So, hmm, what is happening exactly?”

Lord Jarek remains silent long enough that I almost think that he is ignoring me. When he speaks, his deep, gravelly voice rolls over us.

“Bertrand’s soldiers will soon be upon us. The trained masters and most of my people are already on the ships. The civilians will stay and be left unharmed, but my retainers still need some time to board the transports. I called for help to hold back the first waves long enough for all of my people to go safely. That is what is happening.”

“Us and who else?”

“There is a second team with Lord Islaev inside of the fort. They will provide backup. You are with me.”

“You want me to be part of your team?”

“Yes.”

Another moment of silence until he asks me a question.

“Do you know why I picked you among all the others I could choose?”

“I am unsure.”

“Two reasons. First, you understand. You did not ask me to fall back and regroup with Constantine.”

I could not even contemplate Jarek leaving while his people are not safe.

“Yes, I can see it in your aura. Others will ask me to see the big picture. They would batter my ears with talks of strategy and long-term while invaders trample my home, take my children. You are like me, Ariane of the Nirari. You understand. The second reason is that I can count on you to watch my back. We have been allies for a long time.”

“But why do you not use your own people?” I finally ask, afraid of the answer.

“Because the two lords have their own squads, and the Masters are too weak.”

I am reminded that I have never, ever landed a wound on Jarek during our spars, at least not when he was wearing his armor. He seldom even materialized his gauntlets.

“Out of all the Masters present in the Accords, only you can reliably survive it.”

It?

Jarek turns to me. His gaze is black as coal and just as burning.

“You will finally see the real deal, Ariane of the Nirari. You will see a vampire war, a battle with lords on both sides. And you will witness it, I who was turned by Natalis himself. You will see my Magna Arqa. I hope you live to tell the tale.”