The chill on top of the tower intensifies. Rhodry shivers and hugs himself.
Christopher is tempted to take the boy in his arms, share some of his warmth, except he doesn’t feel very warm. He might very well steal Rhodry’s warmth if he did.
Christopher: You’re frightened of the undead.
Rhodry: Very. Most living creatures in Rowenda, no, in the lands of Ouroborous are frightened of the undead.
Christopher: Are most living creatures seduced by them as well?
Rhodry lifts his gaze from the unicorn spire on top of the temple below to a moon visible behind the clouds.
Rhodry: I don’t know. I can’t speak for most living creatures, can I? I’m not even sure if I can speak for myself.
Christopher: You said vampires were enough to frighten and seduce the living. Whom were you speaking of?
Rhodry: Imagine a perfect statue, an idealized eternal replica of a living form.
Christopher: I don’t have to. (It’s his turn to shiver.) I’ve seen them, standing in the gardens of their brides, unable to speak.
Rhodry: (gazing at him) You look so fragile, so vulnerable. I almost want to touch you, comfort you, but I fear you are but smoke and air in this place. I might accidentally breathe you in.
Christopher: Serpent-Born and shadow. I suppose there is something a bit vampiric about both of us. Certainly more vampiric than past Marriage Feasts who give all they have to their hungry brides.
Rhodry: These brides sound like vampires as well. Are you from gardens filled with vampires?
Christopher: The sun always shines, yet the plants always bloom. Mist and shadow offer some relief from it, until the sun sets. At such a time, a bride selects her Feast at a ritual where the other ladies sing.
Rhodry: This sounds vampiric as well, almost like a haven for vampires.
Christopher: They call themselves arachnocrats. They live in the Gardens of Arachne, surrounded by a barrier of mist. Sometimes the land is called Mystere.
Rhodry: (giving him a sharp look) Mystere? Are you sure?
Christopher: I’m sure of very little. Too many of my memories feel like dreams.
Rhodry: Spoken like one who’s been drawn into a vampire’s mesmerizing gaze, feeding their hunger again and again.
Christopher: I’m the one feeding on others in the Shadow Forest. Memories, thoughts, dreams, vitality; all reduced to liquid pools of color.
Rhodry: Maybe a vampire can feed on that instead of blood in Mystere. There’s a land at the botton of the Sea of Questioning; sung of in legend called Mystere. You can only reach it if you find a magic Door.
Christopher: All Doors lead to the Shadow Forest. Doors with the Shadow Forest can take you almost anywhere.
Rhodry: You’re making me long to sink down to the bottom of the Sea of Questioning to find your Door.
Christopher: Do you hate this place that much?
Rhodry: Few creatures are more seductive than a vampire. Their mesmerizing gazes, their voices which can make the very air caress you, and their kiss, which steals your life away.
Christopher: This sounds a lot like the brides in the Gardens, although my Damian was like that, too. I don’t think he’s a vampire.
Rhodry: We know so little about them other than legends. Most of the undead we’re unfortunate enough to encounter are zombies, ghouls, wraiths, ghosts, and skeletons.
Christopher: What are they?
Rhodry: Ghosts and wraiths; well, I suppose they’re a bit like shadows. They’re spirits which were once alive. If a vampire drains your life, you’re most likely to become one of them.
Christopher: Maybe that’s what I am? At least here and now?
Rhodry: Perhaps. I’m not sure if you’re dead. You give off a vibrant, pulsing energy; purple tinged with green. I’d think you were alive, except I’m not sure if I can touch you.
Christopher reaches out his hand to Rhodry, a little shyly.
Rhodry takes it, grips it, feeling the other boy’s fingers.
Rhodry: You’re solid. You’re not a ghost or a wraith.
Christopher: Maybe I am, because you wish me to be.
Rhodry: Maybe. I doubt you’re a ghoul.
Christopher: What’s a ghoul?
Rhodry: Rarer than ghosts or wraiths are ghouls. If a vampire tries to make you a vampire and fails, you could become a ghoul.
Christopher: Do I seem like a ghoul?
Rhodry: (considering) No. Daeric, Maggie, and other people I’ve talked to have fought ghouls. They have long fingernails and sharp teeth. Often their skin has a green or grayish color. While some of them do have a menacing beauty, they look nothing like you.
Christopher: Thank you, I think.
Rhodry: You’re welcome. Those are the undead created by a vampire’s kiss. Zombies and skeletons are undead raised by a witch’s spell or a necromancer to achieve a particular purpose. Usually to guard or kill something. Once they’ve achieved that purpose, they turn to ashes.
Christopher: Are there many skeletons or zombies in Caerac Keep?
Rhodry: There shouldn’t be any. If the Unicorns find them, they’ll lay them to rest at once. Although…
Christopher: Although?
Rhodry: They have the power to create skeletons or zombies themselves. Clerics can raise the dead.
Christopher: Do they?
Rhodry: The Followers of the Dragon did, if they needed soldiers or answers from the dead. The Servants of the Unicorn aren’t supposed to.
Christopher: You think they do, don’t you?
Rhodry: I often wonder if they don’t point the finger at someone else, so it’s away from themselves. Faith does this too often, although she has the decency to question herself.
Christopher: Faith?
Rhodry: She detests me and everything I am. It’s hard not to detest her back.
Christopher: Is there any reason you shouldn’t?
Rhodry: One of her temple sisters has vanished, just as Daeric has vanished. Another temple sister lies in a dreamlike state, too weak to move. Faith thinks vampires attacked her sisters.
Christopher: You don’t?
Rhodry: Vampires are rare. Yes, there are a lot of people showing the symptoms of a vampire attack, but I feel almost as if someone is deliberately trying to make it look that way.
Christopher: What makes you think that?
Rhodry: The visions and dreams I’ve been having. One of the captives has been sending me images of the dark place where she’s being kept. She doesn’t think it’s vampires who has her.
Christopher: Who is this captive?
Rhodry: She’s called Alyx. She’s from a land south of Rowenda, called Aethyria.
Christopher: Named for another princess?
Rhodry: Yes, another adopted daughter of Serena. Graeca and Aethyria were twins, until Graeca was lured away from her sister by the pipes of a satyr, playing from a grove. Graeca followed the music into the moonlight, changing into a man. He never saw his sister again. The twins and their lands were forever separate.
Christopher: Would he really stop seeing his sister for such a reason?
Rhodry: It’s possible Aethyria refused to see Graeca, saying he was no longer her sister. This isn’t the tale Graecans tell.
Christopher: What do they say?
Rhodry: Graeca and Aethyria were twin princes, but Graeca lusted for his brother. Aethyria fled from him to throw himself into a river which separated two lands. When she emerged from the water, she was a woman. Graeca was so crushed, he turned away from her to listen to the piping of the woodland creatures, surrounding himself with only men. Aethyria went to the opposite shore, calling thirteen terrible maidens to guard her from her brother’s lust, if he ever changed his mind.
Christopher: I’ve walked in the dreams and discarded pain of twins who’ve let gender come between them; as an excuse for lust or fear. Too often this spirals into something they refuse to overcome.
Rhodry: (letting out a low laugh) To most Aethyrians, Graecans and men in general are regarded with suspicious contempt. Alyx was unusual in her willingness to walk in my dreams and let me walk in hers before she was kidnapped.
Christopher: How did she get kidnapped?
Rhodry: Someone was crying out to her for help in her dreams. She traced the cry with magic to Caerac Keep, only to disappear.
Christopher: You think she’s still in Caerac Keep.
Rhodry: Somewhere. I can sense her and so can her sister. We’re trying to find her.
Christopher: You, Faith, and Alyx’s sister. You’re all searching for your lost loved ones.
Rhodry: There’s someone else with us. (A faint flush rises in his cheeks.) A mysterious magician named Varwyth. He claims to be an old friend of Daeric’s.
Christopher: Do you think he is?
Rhodry: It’s possible. Daeric has been around for a long time. He knows many people he refuses to talk about with me.
Christopher: It sounds like Daeric has a lot of secrets.
Rhodry: He’s trying to protect me, but I don’t see how ignorance is going to help, especially from something powerful enough to take me from him.
Christopher: Maybe he doesn’t want you to live in fear of some of what he knows is skulking about?
Rhodry: Maybe. All I know is I’ve heard the cry for help as well as Alyx. A voice which sings and weeps.
Christopher: Maybe it’s whatever took Alyx, Daeric, and Faith’s sisters. Maybe crying for help is how it hunts.
Rhodry: (shivers) It’s possible, but whomever is crying doesn’t seem happy or hungry. Just…trapped. As trapped as Alyx is.
Christopher: Be care you don’t find yourself trapped as well.
Mist is rising up to Christopher’s feet, chilling his legs.
Rhodry: (looking down at the mist and raising his eyes to meet Christopher’s) I’m guessing it’s time for you to leave. Thank you for stopping to talk to me.
Christopher: You’re welcome. I hope you find your loved ones again.
Rhodry: I think we will. This is our story. Our scribbler may allow us to suffer, but I’ve noticed she likes to end on a hopeful note. Haven’t you?
Christopher: (mist rising to his chest) Yes, I have.
The mist swallows him entirely.
Rhodry gazes at the space where he was.
Rhodry: As beautiful as vampire, making an exit like one, but somehow I don’t think you’re a vampire, Christopher. At least not like the one I’ve dreamed of.
His hands reach to touch his neck. There are two tiny red wounds upon the pale flesh.
inspirationcauldron 