by Unknown
“I’m not being loud, D, you just think I am,” Lev seemed to shout, although I was sure she was talking normally. “Your brain isn’t used to the heightened senses yet, just give it time.”
Eventually a pair of black heeled boots appeared before my side of the bed, and Lev crouched down to look at me.
“And here I thought I had nothing left to teach you,” she told me with a smirk. “Come on, tough guy, get up. Need to get you sorted.”
With a little assistance from her, I managed to crawl from under the bed and pull myself up, although I nearly collapsed as I got to my feet again. Lev caught me easily, and helped lower me to a sitting position on the floor.
“Okay, baby steps. You’re still weak from the change, so you need something to help you regain your strength.”
She moved out of my visual range for a moment, and I heard something being poured from a bag-like container.
Then the smell hit me, the coppery tang setting off some newly-inherited instinct to feed until sated.
When Lev returned to me I snatched at the cup hungrily, pouring most of the contents into my mouth.
That had been a mistake. While the smell may have triggered an instinctive craving for it, the taste of blood was still something my body was unused to. The slightly sweet metallic taste, coupled with the thickness I wasn’t used to, soon had me retching again and coughing up what I had just drank.
“Easy, D, not so fast,” Lev warned, a little too late. “Your body still needs to adjust to the taste.”
“Sho I ng- Fuck, how do you talk with theshe things in?” I sputtered, still choking on the taste of the blood.
“Same as everything else - acclimatisation. You get used to it in time.”
She waited while I got my misbehaving biology under control again, then rested a hand on my shoulder.
“You ready to try again?”
“Do I have a choice?” I tried to hide the tears stinging my eyes from her. She was a friend to both me and Corvi now, so if she knew how much this state grieved me she would only tell my wife, and Corvi had enough to deal with.
“Not really. Okay, let’s try again,” she told me, as she brought me another cup. “Remember, take it slow. Let your body adjust, get used to the taste.”
It had taken nearly forty minutes for me to get to the point where I could keep the grim drink down, and it’s lucky I finally did - the blood pack had been almost empty by the time I’d gotten used to it. It’d taken me several attempts, and I had nearly been sick twice, but I finally kept it down.
As Lev helped me back to my feet, she took a brief look at my face and grimaced.
“Yeeaah, I think we better find you a fresh covering for your eye,” she said, and I barely remembered pulling all my dressings off during the...unpleasantness of the night before. “Don’t want to be going through the corridors - or worse, seeing your lady wife - with that mess staring at everyone.”
“What, you don’t think they’d be jealous?”
She laughed at that, before pointing to a carry-all she’d left on the bed.
“You got some fresh clothes in there, I’ll go grab you a fresh cover for that and you can get dressed. Back in five.”
Once she’d left, I sifted through the clothes she’d brought for me, finding a decent pair of black combat-style trousers which seemed to fit me well enough. I also found a T-shirt I recognised - a blue-ish one with the characters of Family Guy on it. I wasn’t a fan, but Sergeant Colwin had been. He had been a good man and an excellent soldier, and he deserved a better fate than being murdered by Irenae. I decided to wear the T-shirt as a way of remembering him.
Lev returned after a few minutes, and carefully cleaned my eye-socket again before putting the fresh dressing over it.
“There ya go, should be fully regenned by tomorrow at the latest,” she piped up cheerfully, and passed me my boots.
“Come on then D, let’s go see your wife - she’s pretty worried that you hate her right now.”
I scoffed at that. The very idea seemed alien to me.
“She’s my wife,” I stressed. “I couldn’t hate her, not now, not ever.”
“That’s what I told her,” Lev said, leading me out of the medical facility, “but would she listen to me? Would she fuck.”
I stood at the door to Corvi’s room, since she was still on enforced leave by Lev’s order, and I could sense her trepidation. She knew I was there, but she was afraid to face me after what she had done.
That was hardly surprising. She’d told me Corinne’s story, and then done almost the exact same thing, the only difference being the reasons for it.
I was about to knock, when I remembered that being married meant that it was as much my room now.
I opened the door, to find Corvi waiting for me on the other side, her stance that of a woman waiting to be executed.
Her time away from me had been well-spent though - she’d clearly rested as much as she could, had a shower and had a decent meal or three, probably under duress from Lev. Her hair was neat and straight again, and although she still looked strained she looked a lot more like herself.
I closed the door behind me, then immediately crossed to Corvi and pulled her into my arms. I don’t know how long I stood there, holding her tight and sending my love for her through our link, but after a while I parted from her just enough to pull her into a kiss. I felt like I hadn’t seen her in years, even though it had only been a matter of hours, and I kissed her as if it would be the last time.
When we finally parted, she looked at me with undisguised lust burning in her eyes. Much as I’d wanted to give in to her needs and my own desires, I felt it had to wait - we had a lot to talk about at that time.
“I take it-” she paused for a moment to clear her throat, and regain some composure. “I take it that means you don’t hate me?”
Her fear of that happening was both endearing and heart-breaking, and I caressed her cheek gently.
“Never, Sythan’en. You’re my wife, you delightful idiot, and we’re bound - where you walk, I walk. Now and always.”
She nearly cried again, more out of relief than anything else, as I told her that. Instead she chose to hug me tightly, burying her face into the space between my neck and shoulder.
“We should talk though, hon,” I told her, and she just nodded. “You need to fill me in on what’s actually going on, and you need to tell me how we progress with Irenae’s trial.”
And talk we did. She told me of the growing unease within The Order, the base commanders around the world who were becoming increasingly concerned by the Countess and her methods. She told me about the slow build-up of forces to overthrow her reign, and put someone in charge who actually cares about The Order’s purpose once more. Because of the Countess’ precognitive power, it was a cautious process, but the talk was going around that with me now a part of the organisation, our leader was not likely to wait too much longer to start her own personal crusade.
“The question is,” I said, while Corvi had moved to acquire a drink, “how exactly am I supposed to become this...’psychic weapon’ she mentioned?”
Corvi shook her head as she sipped her beverage.
“No idea. You met her, you know what she’s like - if she doesn’t think you need to know, she won’t tell you.”
“And she doesn’t think anyone needs to know,” I added, and Corvi nodded again. She sat down beside me, resting her head against my shoulder, and I could tell she was worried - scared, even - about what was to come.
“It’s going to be a dangerous road, whatever happens,” she said. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
I wasn’t sure if I could make that promise in g
ood conscience, since none of us knew what was planned or what would happen, but I did my best.
“I promise I’ll be as careful as I can be.”
“I guess that will have to do, my love.”
She downed the rest of her drink quickly and stood up, holding her hand out to me.
“Come, my love. We have to put my sister to trial, and that’s something that cannot wait now that you’re up and moving again.”
I took the offered hand and she pulled me to my feet, wrapping an arm around my waist.
“What’s going to happen?”
“She’s going to be difficult, or try to be,” she answered sourly. “However, I will see justice done - for you, for Colwin and for the honour of all vampires.”
Despite being essentially a self-contained village, none of our bases had anything that resembled a courtroom, so one of our sparring rooms had been adapted for the purpose. A raised dais had been placed at the furthest end of the room, and a small amount of seating had been arranged on either side, forming an aisle down the centre of the room. On the dais stood an ornate wooden chair, which Corvi occupied, and a space was left clear in front of the dais for Irenae to be brought into.
Despite the small amount of seating, there was a massive gathering from all over the base - most of our Omega Company troops had heard of what had happened by now, both to Colwin and to me, and they were hungry for justice. Those who weren’t on duty were packing the hall, standing where they could or even watching from the doorway.
As Corvi’s husband I had a right to stand by her side, but as the victim I had an obligation to speak against Irenae , and someone had to speak for Colwin as well. I had no doubt that Irenae would try and justify her actions somehow, and I was eager to see how Corvi would ensure she was judged effectively.
Eventually my sister-in-law was marched down the aisle, her chains robbing her of the self-important swagger she had before. She had been forced to lose the elegant dresses she loved and swap them for a single-piece, dull grey cover-all, and her black hair hung limply around her shoulders.
Despite the indignity of her position, she still tried to maintain some appearance of civility, standing with her back straight as she was brought to a halt in front of Corvi and myself. That in itself was disrespectful, since the accused were meant to kneel in fealty and remorse.
One of her guards solved the situation, dealing a blow to the back of her knees with his shotgun. No-one spoke out about that.
“Irenae Delacore,” Corvi began, her tone ice-cold and hard as flint, “you are here to be judged for your crimes against The Order, which-”
“I reject your authority to judge me,” Irenae shot back, and the gathered crowd held their breath as Corvi’s expression hardened. “I serve Sharriana Grey, Countess and head of The Order, and I act with her authority. You have no right to judge me, sister.”
The last word had been intended to twist in Corvi’s heart as her insults had done so many nights before, but my wife was unmoved by it now. Wrath had rendered her immune to such barbs.
“I have every right, since your crimes extend beyond the rules of the organisation we serve. You broke the rules of the shivan donai, one of many rituals of vampiric society. You also murdered one of my soldiers in cold blood, and so you are to be judged by the laws of mortal society as well.”
Irenae scoffed.
“You speak as if this is of any consequence to me!” she spat. “That pathetic creature you allowed into your bed is a contemptible whelp, fit only for-”
The sound of the strike that cut her off echoed around the room, and Lev turned away from the woman she’d just punched to face Corvi.
“Forgive me, my lady,” she said with a small bow, “the disrespect of the accused was...vexing.”
Corvi waved the comment away, and Levaertes took her seat once more.
“So, Irenae, you believe yourself above any law?”
Irenae shook her head, her chains preventing her from wiping the blood from her nose.
“No, not any. The laws of our race are sacred. To that end, I request the Fenaen shivan, and name Deimos Black as my opponent.”
It was an interesting move, although it didn’t seem to surprise Lev, who rolled her eyes from her seat near Irenae.
I sent a translation to Corvi by our link - the Fenaen shivan was basically a trial by combat, something she clearly intended to win by naming me as her opponent. She clearly had less understanding of the vampire rituals than she claimed, however, because she actually had no right to name an opponent - her opponent was her accuser, or their appointed champion.
Corvi thought all of this over, knowing as I did that Irenae would destroy me completely if she was allowed to face me. She wasn’t sure how to continue, so I told her silently to agree, and I would deal with the appropriate response.
“Very well, by Vampiric Law I hereby agree to your Trail by Combat - however, as your accuser, Deimos Black has the right to appoint another to fight on his behalf. Deimos, what say you?”
I eyed Irenae coldly, hoping she was aware that I knew the game she was trying to play.
“I know little about you, Irenae, but your skill with a blade has been mentioned to me. We both know that you wish to face me because you know you have superior skill with a sword. I face you, you kill me, you go free. However, for the torture you inflicted upon me, for the death of Sergeant Colwin, and for the contempt you showed to the principles of The Order and all vampires, I cannot allow you to walk free unchallenged.”
I turned my attention to the assembly, addressing them directly.
“I don’t know most of you well enough to name a champion, and I have no right to appoint someone without fair warning to them. So I ask the vampires here - will one of you stand for me, to reclaim the honour this woman so shamefully spat upon?”
A moment of silence reigned, and for a moment I feared no-one would answer.
I should have known better.
“I would stand for you,” Levaertes said, rising slowly to her feet.
“As would I,” Kalin responded, and I nodded to him in thanks.
“And I,” said Valden, one of the first vampires I ever met at the base.
“Kihnahn velothae,” replied the relatively young redhead who had spoken to me at our wedding party, her response meaning ‘I accept this duty gladly.’
The surprise came when even Corinne stood, and said simply, “I will.”
What I found acutely terrifying was the way she said it, as if she hungered for Irenae’s death.
I was flattered by the response - I honestly didn’t think I had that much support from the vampiric group, and had the moment been different I think I would have wept at the display.
“As grateful as we both are for your support,” Corvi told them, moving to stand beside me, “only one can stand in his place. W-”
Levaertes moved forward and dropped to one knee in front of both of us.
“My lady, I stood as your vithonai, and Deimos is a dear friend. I respectfully ask to have this honour, and if I am declined then I shall challenge her after the fact. Let me stand for you both now, and I shall see your will done.”
I had to admit, Lev was very persuasive when she went all formal on us.
Corvi looked to me, giving me the final decision.
“Very well, Levaertes. Do us proud.”
Once again, I found myself at the duelling ground, only this time as a spectator. Despite that, I still shuddered at the memory of what I suffered on that same ground. Those memories would last...a while. The others who were assembled for the trial were present as well, save for those who had to leave for their duties.
Le
vaertes stood at one side, making idle motions with her plain duelling blade. Her sense of dress for the occasion was much the same as for any other - a reinforced blood-red corset, a short black skirt that showed a little too much thigh to be decent, and her trademark knee-high, heeled boots. She’d removed her leather trenchcoat because it weighed her down, or so she said. I personally think she was just showing off again.
Irenae, now free of her restraints, was back to her usual posturing - making ridiculous flourishes and spins and pirouettes, foolish moves which were designed to simply show her own skill and nothing more.
Corvi finally moved to the centre of the duelling circle, and looked to both women.
“Remember, this is not a duel to the death - when one fighter yields, the fight is over. Is that clear?” She looked to Lev first, and my friend nodded.
“It is, my lady,” she said with due respect.
Corvi looked to Irenae, and very pointedly repeated the question.
“Yes yes, whatever you wish,” she answered, her haughty attitude back with a vengeance. “Now, if we are all done with this foolish gesturing, shall we start?”
Corvina snorted in disgust.
“Very well.”
She strode from the circle, and turned to face the combatants.
“Begin!”
From the moment the fight began, the result was a foregone conclusion.
For all her experience and boasting, there was one key difference between the two combatants: Irenae was a master of the sword, certainly, but she was a duellist. Levaertes, although half Irenae’s age, was a fighter. The difference was painfully clear.
Irenae’s first lunge wasn’t even deflected. Lev simply side-stepped the attack lazily, as if this was a theatrical fight. As Irenae whirled around with a downward slash, Lev flicked the attack away and dealt her opponent a scything cut across the front of her thigh. Enraged by such a small wound, Irenae threw herself at Lev, unleashing a rapid series of slashes at her. The only sound was that of steel on steel as Lev met every blow with ease, each movement made casually and without effort.
