Chapter 13 Trap
Trap
Earlier…
Tarn and Farun loped towards Ryder. Their large, furry werewolf forms were silvered in the twin moons.
Their eyes glowed blood red to show that they–like all creatures in the Ever Dark–were loyal to Daemon.
They had happy grins on their rather terrifying faces.
Blood, too. Evidently, they’d found something good to eat.
They skidded to a halt before him, tongues lolling out, big eyes blinking. Ryder greeted them with a low sound in the back of his throat. Their ears pricked and their tongues lolled even more happily. He thumped each of their sides.
They were outside of the city. The pale white stone wall of Nightvallen was to his left.
He could have reached out and touched the stone that would be cool no matter what the weather.
But he continued to pet the werewolves. They let out sounds similar to purrs.
Then there were the clip-clop of hooves coming towards them.
A shadowy figure was riding towards them.
“Caemorn, what brings you out tonight?” Ryder asked as the werewolves’ former Master and now boon companion pulled back a set of reins on a coal black stallion.
“I am restless,” Caemorn answered. “I thought to join you on your hunt.”
Caemorn wore a black velvet coat with a flared collar.
His shirt was crimson silk embroidered with silver Kaly deathshead designs.
His pants were black leather as were his boots that reached his knees.
He had Borage, a magical spear forged by Daemon himself, slung over his back.
The tip glowed a faint blue-white. It would glow brilliantly if enemies were nearby.
“You are most welcome, but we are to simply patrol and not go too far with the Helm party tonight,” Ryder reminded him.
The Kaly Vampire was always precise so it seemed strange to him that Caemorn would use the word “hunt” instead of “patrol”.
Caemorn confirmed this as he said, “Something will happen tonight. It is assured. Whether here or inside…” His silver eyes grew distant. “I feel death walking.”
“Then I am more than happy to have your companionship,” Ryder said.
“You have not shifted, but I see that you have taken Daemon’s approach to dress.”
A small smile lifted Caemorn’s lips at the fur coat that covered Ryder’s naked body from neck to ankles. Unlike Daemon’s, which was snow white, his was a mixture of whites, grays and blacks.
Ryder grinned. “Daemon claimed he got the idea from me. And then I found this in one of the closets of my palace. Just waiting for me to put it on. Very practical.”
Caemorn’s gaze went distant for a moment and then he nodded, “Yes, yes, I recall you wearing this coat many times when we would go into battle. It would meld into you when you shifted and then appear on you again when you came back to your humanoid form.”
“Who were our enemies back then, Caemorn?” Ryder asked. “You are not talking about the War…”
Caemorn shook his head. “No, I was referring to when we all fought together, which we will have to do again.”
“I would rather that than fighting against each other,” Ryder admitted.
“Yes, because that way leads to madness as we well know.”
“So you remember these old battles and our enemies?” Ryder prodded again.
He was fascinated by the Kaly Vampire. While Daemon and Seeyr clearly remembered their past as they had never lost themselves, Caemorn was the only Immortal he believed recalled everything too.
“There were many,” Caemorn said. “Most were fought by those who were our food and our potential children.”
“Like humans?” Ryder’s brow furrowed.
“Yes, just like them. Some were more capable. Some less.”
Caemorn shrugged as if it didn’t matter that species they had done the exact same thing to as what they were doing to the humans now had rebelled to that extent.
His memories as Weryn had shown him battles so filled with blood and destruction that he had felt the horror of it over the singing of war in his blood.
“You would think if this has happened before with our potential children that we would be better at it. Revealing ourselves, I mean,” Ryder pointed out.
“This is better than before. The idea of the academy has merit. It will work. For a time,” Caemorn answered, seemingly unconcerned.
“Aren’t you worried that we’re making the same mistakes with humanity? That we will be fighting with them as we have with others in the past?”
Caemorn’s gaze focused upon him. “You’re normally eager for the wars.”
Ryder shifted from foot to foot. “Not this time. I’ve had enough.”
For a time, Weryn’s voice was soft, but there.
“That is different then,” Caemorn answered. “Maybe that will be enough.”
“What about you? Did you like the wars? It gave you more material for your work,” Ryder pointed out, trying not to judge the Kaly’s ability to use the bodies of the dead.
“True. The wars always provided for my experiments and then some. But I, too, long for quiet. We are all too raw to start all that again. Later maybe. But not now. Now we have so much to do to restore ourselves and each other.”
Caemorn patted his horse’s neck as it was dancing a little beneath him.
Even the most tamed beasts were a little anxious with the werewolves.
Farn and Tarun were sniffing the air and letting out low growls of displeasure.
There was no game, Ryder interpreted. They wanted to go further into the Ever Dark to find a challenge, toss their heads back and howl before making chase.
But they knew that Caemorn wished to remain here and so they would remain.
Plus, they wished to be near Ryder. The Weryn Vampire couldn’t help but be a little chuffed at their admiration of him.
“They think you’re their king,” Caemorn responded dryly to his unspoken thought.
“Daemon is the only king,” Ryder said automatically.
“Oh, yes, but you’re like them. In a way,” Caemorn answered. “The greatest of them.”
“Have you removed the restriction on their shifting?” Ryder asked.
Werewolves were shapeshifters somewhat like Weryn Vampires.
A memory wanted to surface then that would tell them just how connected they were to him.
But Ryder pushed it down. It wasn’t that he was afraid of what he would learn, but every new memory of his time as Weryn chipped away at his Ryder personality.
They were the same man, but the nature versus nurture argument had been firmly answered in his opinion.
Nurture mattered a lot. But had it made Caemorn bind Tarn and Farun in their werewolves forms centuries ago?
It was before he knew who he truly was so wasn’t it Caemorn’s decision and not Kaly’s?
But he was also abused by Kaly. Neither his First or Second Life were easy ones so perhaps it is still nurture.
There was a sickening fear that Caemorn could do to him whatever he had done to Tarn and Farun. Not that Caemorn would. They were friends. Becoming friends. And he had to trust in that.
He trusts me by being here without any of his protection spells up. The forest is crawling with my Bloodline.
Amaris and Kane were in shouting distance.
Demos and Siban were on the opposite side of the city, but one cry from his lips and they would be here in an instant, too.
He could feel his pack all around him as if they were an extension of him.
He was never alone. Not really. Caemorn was the opposite.
Until Balthazar, he had always been on his own, relying upon his great skill and mind.
Now he had friends and allies, too. But Ryder doubted that Caemorn would ever call for their aid, not because he doubted they would answer, but because he would never want to put them in danger.
“I have, but they…” Caemorn’s lips pressed together. “I don’t believe they can shift any longer. Their humanity has been lost.. Or that is what I am theorizing. Balthazar has offered to read their minds, but…”
“You don’t need Balthazar to read their minds. You know what they are saying,” Ryder said.
“On a surface level. You are just as attuned.” Caemorn ran his hands through the fur between Farun’s ears. The werewolf chuffed in pleasure. “Balthazar could know everything, of course.”
“You’re afraid they blame you? No, you would expect them too and be prepared for it,” Ryder amended. “You fear they don’t remember their humanity at all, that you’ve broken them. That’s what you meant by lost.”
Caemorn said nothing, nor did he nod, but Ryder knew he was right. Guilt filled Caemorn for so many reasons, mostly valid. Ryder could hardly judge. They were, of course, protecting Nightvallen against his own fledgling.
“It was easier when I chose not to care,” Caemorn sighed. “When I could just do what had to be done or what I wanted to do and never thought of it again. No guilt. No caring though either.”
“Yes,” Ryder agreed.
Caemorn lifted an eyebrow but then nodded. “It’s as if we had to be reborn so we would have consciences. Maybe Immortals are bereft of them. I am not counting Daemon in that as he has always been more than the rest of us. Though Seeyr clearly has one so perhaps that is not fair either.”
“It’s interesting that these short lives compared to our prior ones have such a heavy weight,” Ryder admitted.
“Grayson is…” His heart beat a little faster just saying the young man’s name.
He wished he were with him. He always did.
He hoped his beloved was having fun with the Helm game.
He forced himself to speak without that longing clinging to every word as he said, “Grayson is trying to escape the mere 25 years he’d live this time around, but is failing. ”