“Whenever a family challenges another, they
either raid their mansion with a humongous force or defeat them in a
fight,” told Manira.
“Defeat the actual family members?” asked Rowani, confused.
“Yeah, all of them who are able to fight that
is. But often the family leaders set their bodyguards on the
challengers first because they seriously believe they can’t be
defeated.” Manira shrugged. “Sometimes it’s true. A
challenger might not defeat the bodyguards, or maybe defeat the
bodyguards but can never beat the family. If every member of the family
is beaten, that family has to pack their bags immediately. Didn’t
you know this?” Rowani shook her head. “Wow, you survived
the Dark Kingdom without even knowing this rule.”
Rowani thought about it. “That method is the
most effective but unreliable way. Hasn’t anybody else ever tried
my mother’s way? By diplomacy and trade?”
“No one’s done that for at least a
century, but it’s the safest way, which is why the Kirilians are
being kept a close eye on.”
“It would be very hard to topple the Vilkons,” Rowani said thoughtfully. She sighed.
“Feeling defenceless?” asked Manira. The
woman in the bed nodded. Her bodyguard stood up. “I’ll
teach you some basics now. Come on, get up.”
Rowani stood shyly in her nightdress. Manira gave
her a staff. “No no, hold it with both hands facing the same way.
Get those knuckles facing out. Hold it at shoulder-width
distance.” Manira dug about in her bag and put on gloves with
thick hand padding. “Okay Rowani, first, you defend yourself from
my punches with that staff.”
She attacked her student with light punches. Rowani
see-sawed her staff to block the punches, but then the staff came too
close against her so she had to step back. Manira kept her distance and
made her punches snappier. Rowani had to step back too fast, so she
stepped to the side. One step was so big that her
‘attacker’ missed.
Manira smiled. “Well done, you mastered the
element of surprise. But-” she gently punched her student’s
torso, making Rowani look down in shame “-you should never let
your guard down.”
The underground chamber was dark and made of stone. Rasheliss sat on
the top of the stone stairs swirling a wine glass of something blood
red. Next to her was a small table where there was a brass pitcher with
more wine glasses.
“I thought you would help yourself to more,” told Lord Winguard. He walked to the pitcher.
“I have too many thoughts in my head,” she answered bleakly.
Winguard helped himself to some blood. “What I extracted from the Sorcerers is very interesting.”
“I thought as much Lord Winguard,” assured Rasheliss with no change of expression.
“The initial research for the ritual they attempted to perform was done by Tanus.”
“That is quite surprising,” she reacted without emotion.
He stalked to the other side of her.
“Rasheliss, the Council has been growing quite concerned for you.
You do a lot of favours for Scythe and they increased after
Tyrain’s death.”
“My affairs are my business, my Lord,” she answered without a tone of defence.
The older Vampire stared at her for a moment.
“Is it because you still love him?” For the first time in
their conversation, she faced him. She looked back in embarrassment.
“You know honesty is heartily encouraged.”
“Scythe is so much like his grandfather,” she said quietly, regretfully, almost mournfully.
“So is your son,” Lord Winguard pointed
out. “You should visit him more often. Years pass more quickly
for him.”
They froze as they heard a tortured scream, echo throughout the halls like light air, hanging mistily.
Lord Winguard raised his glass. “Here’s to justified torture.”
“Here here,” answered Rasheliss quietly. They drank.
It was long after lunch. Dorania and Midiro were sitting in a cosy living room, drinking tea and eating scones.
Midiro smiled cheerily. “I’m amazed at
Rowani’s change. It’s like…she’s rediscovered
her past and her lost self at the same time, but also learning new
things. I checked on her earlier and found Manira teaching her how to
defend herself. Not too much of course, just the basics.”
Dorania had become more stiff during her
husband’s comments. “Her name is Rowan,” she hissed
defiantly.
“I don’t believe we christened her that name Doriani,” told Midiro conversationally.
“You know what my name is!”
“Ah yes, Dorania, a dark shadow that Doriani created to hide her fear.”
She faced her hardened husband. “And the name of our bodyguard is Manar.”
“She prefers being the Light Citizen she was
born to be and I know she doesn’t like her ‘Manar’
persona. You may want to deny your past, who you really are, but not
her and certainly not our daughter. Not any more!”
She stood up. She forced herself calm. “I know
what it is. When you crept to the Vilkon Estate, they brain-washed you
into their way of thinking.”
“Maybe they have, but I had to do something to
save Rowani. What were you doing? Trying to outsmart the Vilkons to
prove a point in this power struggle?”
Dorania raised her voice. “The only reason
they sustain their power is because of their size! They do not manage
their territory properly!”
Midiro seemed concerned and stood up. “Why
don’t you face it Doriani?” He walked to her, with his arms
outstretched. “I know it was tragic, but you have to come to
grips with it sometime. Larees would not have wanted this to
happen.” He tried to embrace her.
Dorania’s face was crumpled in grief. She
stepped back, pulling away from her husband. “No Midiro! I
can’t! Not now!”
“When?” he quietly asked.
She stared at him for a long time. She quickly
turned around and was ‘Lady Kirilian’ again. “If you
need me I will be in my private parlour,” she said rigidly.
She walked down the empty corridor presenting old
family photos and ancestors’ portraits. A clock said
‘3:16’. In front of her was a large, thick ray of sunlight
coming through a large window and filling the entire corridor. Dorania
turned left here. She ascended the nearby stairs and opened one of the
doors. This bedroom was relatively small and sparse, as in, little
furniture. The walls were burgundy and the bed linen and curtains of
the one window were a very dark green, a similar shade to ivy green.
She slammed the door shut, quickly searching the room. She found a
young man huddling against the bed on her left. He darted his eyes
alternately between his left and front, wary of both the window and the
door.
“Kiyor,” she ordered. “There are things you must tell me.”