A/N There, you weren't expecting two chapters were you? Been working on these for a month now, and finally I've reached the point where I think they're ok. They'll do for the moment anyway. Review responses for my three most valued reviewers,(and yes, there are only three of you left *sobs*) are at the bottom.

7 The Gallant Captain 

Despite retiring late that evening, they are still woken before first light. Reluctantly, Talia pushes her head above the blankets, just as the bell is rung; her nose is instantly nipped by the cold. Dorton is lying next to her, snoring gently, still fast asleep. Jay however, is wide-awake and sitting up in bed and she is looking smug. Disgustingly smug, Talia thinks. This is not really surprising, for Jay had not even finished her first mug of ale yesterday evening. Instead, she had nursed it on her lap for an hour and then sneaked upstairs, at the first opportunity. Now, she leaps out of bed, breaking the ice in the basins on the washstand with a loud, self-satisfied crack; a second later she is pelted with an assortment of boots and clothing from her disgruntled room-mates.

"Now that wasn't very nice, was it?" Talia reproves her. "You're never going to make friends if you behave like that." She catches sight of Dorton, awake now and clearly hung-over. Talia grins merrily and turns back to Jay. "You should at least, show a little sympathy for the afflicted." She adds.

Jay sniffs and turns away from them. She sits on her bed, unsmiling and pulls on her clothes with an air of haughty disapproval.

 Talia gets up and pads across the floorboards, they are so cold, they feel more like stone than wood. She dips a washcloth into the freezing water and then lays it gently across Dorton's forehead; Dorton groans. Then, she opens her eyes and looks around, confused momentarily, to find herself in bed.

"Did I do it?" She asks. "Did I drink him under the table?"

Talia smiles. "Well, I'm not sure," she replies. " We had to carry you upstairs, 'cos you said, your legs weren't working and Buller was on the table rather than underneath it, but he was definitely out cold and you could still talk, after a fashion. So I suppose that counts as victory to you."

"Yes!" Dorton exclaims, raising her fist triumphantly, then she winces and sinks back onto the bed. "Remind me not to make any more sudden movements." She says.

They wash cursorily and then make their way down to the mess-hall. Breakfast will not be served for another two hours but the hall is still busy, mostly with last night's revellers, all of them drinking the bitter brew they call tea; a pungent infusion of willow-bark and other herbs, noted equally for its foul taste and its remarkable ability to relieve the miseries of the hang-over.

Since they have no captain yet, and therefore, no duties to perform within the fort itself, Talia's squad is ordered down to the hamlet to pick up supplies before breakfast. It is still dark outside, and eerily quiet. They make their way down the stony path, very cautiously, the hard soles of their boots, striking the pebbles noisily, despite their care. A few nocturnal animals can be heard, scuffling away into the dense undergrowth between the trees but nothing else. There are no birds singing and the sky above their heads is empty, save for a few lingering stars. Everyone is armed and on the alert, for even at this late hour, attack by vampires is very much a possibility.

Jay is even more nervous than usual, jumping at every tiny sound and shadow. An owl glides across their path and she lets out a terrified scream, firing her crossbow wildly. Her startled comrades fling themselves to the ground as the bolt goes whistling over their heads. Too shocked to speak for a moment, they get up, brushing themselves down and searching around to retrieve the weapons they have just dropped. Dorton checks no one has been hurt and then she turns on Jay.

"Any more Sarafan like you," she exclaims, furiously, "and we wouldn't need bloody vampires!"

As the sky begins to lighten and they near the village, the troop begins to relax a little.

"Why did you sign up?" Dorton asks Jay, she is still angry. "I mean, it wasn't for the social-life, you made that plain enough last night, and I don't mean to be unkind, but you're no great shakes with a bow either, even when you are aiming, not like Locke here. On top of that, every time you go out on patrol, you seem half scared out of your skin. You do realize you nearly killed someone back there, don't you?" She raises her hands in a gesture of exasperation. "I just don't get it," She says. "What made you want to join the Sarafan?"

Jay looks down and takes a deep breath; when she raises her eyes again, her face is practically shining with conviction.

"I signed up because it was right." She says. "It was the right thing to do. It's a vocation. That's what they told me when I signed up, and it's true. Religion, serving the Sarafan, they're the most important things in my life. I thought all of you would feel that way. Fighting demons is a task for the faithful, though you probably don't agree with that. I assume you're all doing it for the money. None of you seem even remotely interested in spiritual matters." Jay turns to Talia. She still looks up to her, though she is beginning to doubt that she is quite the role-model she had originally thought, but Talia does pray, she has seen her, so perhaps, she will be an ally. "Why did you sign up?" She asks her. "Was your decision based on faith?"

Talia shakes her head. "Not really," she says. "Though I wouldn't say I'm doing it for the money, either. I signed up because of my brother, Stephan."

"I never knew you had a brother." Dorton says.

"He died, nearly four years ago. We were close, you know. I suppose that's why I never talked about him."

"What happened?"

Talia shrugs. "It was stupid really, a prank. The usual nonsense boys get up to. You know I lived on a farm? Well, it's a big place, huge in fact, walled like a fortress, with lots of servants and hired hands living in the house alongside the family. It was mid-Winter and it was freezing, I remember the snow was lying thick on the ground. My brother and a couple of his friends decided that this was an ideal time to play a trick on the serving girls. They snuck out into in the yard around midnight, when everyone was asleep and put their hands in the horse-trough. Plunged them in, right up to their elbows. They kept them there for as long as they were able, until they were literally, ice-cold, then they dried them and crept into the room where the maids were sleeping. One of them shouted 'vampire!' and they all put their hands under the blankets and grabbed the girls. One touch of their cold flesh was all it took to convince the maids they really were being attacked by fiends. They leapt out of their beds, screaming as if they were being murdered. They ran down stairs, still screaming, all in various states of undress, which I suppose was the main motivation behind the trick, and in less than a minute, the entire household was in uproar, half the men looking for weapons and the other half trying to hide behind the terrified womenfolk.

Unfortunately, my father didn't see the funny side of it. He grabbed hold of my brother, took down his trousers and beat him with his belt, in front of the entire household, maids and servants included. My brother was mortified. He swore he wouldn't stay another moment in the house after being treated so, and he stormed out.

My father refused to go after him, I don't think he really believed he was going to leave. There was a lot of vampire activity in our area at the time and it would have been suicide to go outside while it was still dark. My father said Stephan would spend the night in the barn and serve him right, too. It would give him time to cool down. I knew that wasn't the case, if Stephan said he was leaving, then, that is what he was going to do, but no one would listen to me and I was too scared to go after him alone.

We think Stephan was trying to reach the local garrison, he'd told me he was going to join the Sarafan, weeks before this happened, but of course, he never got there. We found his body the next morning, less than two miles from the house. I'd never seen anything like it, the snow was red all around him and whatever had killed him had cut right through his backbone with its claws, five long slashes, from his shoulder, right down to his waist, but the wounds were almost dry, he'd been completely drained of blood.

After that, there was nothing to keep me at home; he was the only one in my family I ever got on with. I've nothing in common with my sisters, all they wanted to do was get married and start making babies, something they are all very happily engaged in, at this moment. I wanted more, and I wanted vengeance for Stephan, too. I really loved him." She adds softly.

Jay sniffs, derisively.

"Well, I'm glad it didn't take a death in the family to teach me right from wrong!" She says tartly. "And you have to admit, he deserved to be punished for what he did."

Talia rounds on her incredulously. "What are you saying?" She asks. "That he deserved to die? For God's sake! He was only fourteen!"

"He should have accepted his punishment with humility," Jay says. "If he'd done that, he would have been alright, wouldn't he? Honour thy father and thy mother. That's a precept everyone should live by. If people were morally disciplined, the demons wouldn't be able to corrupt their corpses, nor would they obtain nourishment from them."

Talia looks steadfastly ahead, her lips pressed tightly together. She is too upset by this even to speak.

"You unfeeling little bitch!" Dorton exclaims. She starts towards Jay, fists clenched, her eyes blazing. Talia raises a hand, pleading with her to stop; doesn't fighting, is not going to make her feel any better.

Dorton grabs Jay's arm, and holds her back for a minute, letting the others walk on ahead. "As soon as the captain arrives, you're on report." She hisses.

"For telling the truth?" Jay asks, indignantly.

"For nearly killing somebody back there! Or have you conveniently forgotten about that? You're a bloody liability, Jay, and the sooner you're out of this squad the better! The fact that you also happen to be a poisonous, fanatical, little bitch, has got nothing to do with it!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After breakfast, everybody stationed at the fort, assembles in the courtyard, to greet the new captain. For despite his lowly rank, Lucius' name confers considerable status. Though if the truth were known, he actually resents this, just as much as he resents everything else that comes to him, courtesy of his father. Though, of course, if the opportunity does arise for him to use his name to further his own interests, his resentment never extends far enough to prevent him from doing so.

Talia turns to Buller, who is standing nearby.

"What's he like? She whispers, surreptitiously. "Our new captain? Do you have any idea?"

Buller shrugs. He had encountered Lucius, briefly, while he was stationed in Willendorf and he had not been impressed.

"Best you make up your own mind." He says.

Talia is still puzzling over this rather enigmatic reply, when the doors to the keep are opened. The men are called to attention and Lucius walks out behind the fort commander, to inspect the troops.

He is not in a particularly pleasant mood. The move to Meridian had been bad enough, but to be posted out here, miles from civilization, is, he thinks, quite intolerable. His father could not be reasoned with, of course. He had ignored all Lucius' protests, speaking fondly of the time that he had spent at the fortress in his own youth, over thirty years ago, and boring his son rigid with tales of the exciting life he had led.

The duties Lucius is to perform, do not strike him as being at all exciting. He thinks demeaning, would be a more appropriate word. His squad is to be on almost permanent escort duty, ensuring the safety of civilians from the class he despises most of all, the merchants.

Traders who travel the roads to Meridian are in constant danger of attack, from brigands during the day, and from both brigands and vampires after dark. Those who have contracts to supply the Sarafan are given military protection, or rather, they are permitted to hire it, for everything comes at a price. It is an arrangement borne of necessity, for travel without armed guard is impossible and the Sarafan need food and goods to be brought into the city, but it is the Sarafan who gain the most from the deal, over-charging the merchants for their protection, and forcing them to sell their goods at cripplingly low prices.

Today, Lucius's troop is to escort an arms dealer into the city. He is carrying a consignment of new weapons, and he is to be taken to the Sarafan Lord, as soon as he arrives. Lucius is not impressed by this commission. It seems to him that his father's sole aim in moving him has been to belittle and degrade him as much as possible. No one had ordered him to mind the shop-keepers in Willendorf, he reflects. There, he had been assigned proper, soldierly duties, duties that befitted his status. Now, he is even under orders to be polite to the merchant. "Scrupulously polite," the fort commander tells him.

"Since when, does a Sarafan knight have to be polite to anyone?" Lucius asks him. "Except a superior officer, of course, Sir." He adds.

The fort commander grimaces impatiently. Already, he has taken a strong disliking to this youth.

"I am your superior officer." He reminds him. "And if I order you to be polite to someone, then that is what you will be. No matter who it is! Now, stop wasting my time and get out!"

Lucius strides out of the room, only just remembering to salute. He is simmering with anger. Being polite to commoners, serving their needs, risking his own life to save their miserable necks, surely the commander can see that such things are beneath dignity of any Sarafan knight?

The prospect of spending a night in town had been one small consolation, but now he has a chance to read his orders, Lucius realizes he is to be denied even that. His squad is to be quartered in the garrison at the city gate, but they do not have permission to enter the city itself.

I'm not taking this. I'll resign! He tells himself, but even he isn't convinced by these rebellious words. Deep down, Lucius knows he is going to do exactly as his father wishes, just as he always does, for he has never managed to stand up to Agrippa, no matter how unreasonable his demands. The only people he will be able to force into showing him some respect, it seems, are his troops.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the sun begins to dip towards the horizon, the fortress is put on full-alert, for Geddes had brought word from Agrippa, warning that an attack is almost certainly imminent and even more alarming, the arms dealer has failed to arrive. A runner is dispatched and he comes back with the news that one of the carts has broken down, not five miles from the fortress. The fort commander orders Lucius to take his troop and investigate.

The commander is glad of the opportunity to get rid of Lucius, even for a short time, for his presence makes him uneasy. The Sarafan Lord's purge of suspected traitors is already spreading ripples of disquiet through the Sarafan high command. Rank no longer seems to offer any protection, and paranoia is rife amongst those who would have considered their positions unassailable, only a few short weeks ago. No one is sure where this is going stop, or who they can trust among their comrades. Accusations are flying, and certain people have no scruples about using this opportunity to settle old scores.

In this climate of mistrust and suspicion, the fort commander is understandably wary of having Agrippa's son foisted upon him, and despite the reasons Agrippa has given for placing Lucius under his command, he still suspects he may be harbouring a spy. As a result, he has decided that Lucius should spend as much time as possible outside the fort, on active duty, leaving him little time to pry into the commander's affairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as the horses are ready and his men are assembled in the yard, Lucius gives the order to move out. They stare at him in surprise, and to his extreme annoyance, nobody stirs.

"I said, move!" He roars at them.

Talia steps forwards.

"Permission to speak, Sir." She says, saluting him respectfully, "But isn't it traditional to visit the chapel first?"

Lucius advances towards her, his face twisted by an ugly sneer.

"Spare me your peasant piety!" He snarls at her. He looks contemptuously at his men. "Is that what's wrong with you?"

The men look down, shuffling awkwardly. Ward had always held with the tradition of saying a prayer before they left, nothing fancy, just a simple blessing. Over the months they served under him, the ritual has a gained deep significance, for Ward had lost very few men, fewer than most captains. While they would be loath to argue with their captain, most of these men believe that observing this rite has brought them good luck, giving them protection in their struggle against Kain's dark forces.

Lucius steps up to Talia. In his mind, she is now entirely responsible for this breach of discipline, even though in reality, she has merely supplied the reason for it.

"Impudent slut!" He snaps. "Did I say you could speak?" He takes hold of her chin, squeezing it hard between iron-clad fingers. "Later," he says, "in my chambers, you can get down on your knees and open your mouth, but not now. Do you understand?"

Talia glares at him; she is speechless with indignation. Ward would never have spoken so crudely. "And you can call me Sir, while you're doing it!" Lucius adds, turning away.

Talia curls her lip derisively. She is not going to let this contemptible bastard speak to her like that, and get away with it.

"Well, that confirms the rumours." She says quietly, but still loud enough for everyone else to hear.

Lucius halts, mid-stride and turns back towards her. He cannot believe she would dare to answer him back.

"Rumours?" He asks. "What rumours?"

"Well, if I'm going to be able to call you 'Sir'," she sneers, "I won't exactly have my mouth full, will I?"

There is a snigger from somewhere in the ranks. Beside her, Dorton bites her lip, hard, desperately trying to suppress a smile. At the same instant, Lucius' heavily mailed glove deals Talia a hard slap across the face. Its sharp edge snags her lip, tearing a jagged gash across the corner of her mouth. The bruised flesh starts to swell, almost immediately, and it is bleeding profusely. Talia puts up a hand, dabbing the throbbing wound with her sleeve.

"When we get back," Lucius tells her, "you're going to be very sorry you said that. Very sorry indeed!"

Talia stands her ground and glowers at him. Seeing she does not intend to back down, Lucius turns away again, soothing his ruffled pride by thinking of how best he might punish the defiant little bitch.

Talia's mouth is already full of blood. She spits it onto the cobbles where Lucius was standing the moment before, her expression completely contemptuous. At this moment, she has no regrets.   

"I'm glad I said it." She whispers to Dorton. "Whatever he does. I'm glad. And I am not apologizing."

Dorton does not reply, but she has a nasty feeling that Lucius is going to be demanding a lot more than a simple apology.

Once more Lucius gives the order to move out, and this time the men comply, falling in and standing by the gate, though they are none too happy that Talia is still among their number. Geddes, attempts to reason with his captain.

Sir," he says, quietly. "She really shouldn't go out like that. She's bleeding." Lucius glances over to the men; they are looking askance at Talia, instinctively edging away from her. "Our orders are to investigate, Sir." Geddes continues. "We don't want to draw unwanted attention to ourselves. If she comes out with us, in that condition, she'll undoubtedly attract the demons to us."

Lucius frowns. So, this is what his father has saddled him with, a bunch of milk-sops.

"Bleeding, is something women do," he says. "And while it may seem unnatural, it doesn't usually kill them. I'm not leaving that bitch to sit by the fire while we go out. If she wants to play soldiers, she can start acting like one. Now fall in, before I have you on report for insubordination!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There are scarcely two hours of daylight left when they finally leave the fort, the men are all on horseback while the more lightly dressed women are on foot. Lucius is determined to assert his authority, which means that Talia is still among their number, and they have not visited the chapel. In consequence, it is a very unhappy little troop that makes its way onto the Highway.

Dorton had not dared to carry out her threat of reporting Jay to Lucius. After what had happened to Talia, she had felt it would be unwise to approach their captain with any complaint. As a result, Jay is still with them.

Talia is pale and unusually quiet, hardly speaking to the other two girls, though it is not the prospect of impending punishment that is occupying her thoughts. This is the first time she has gone out without lighting a candle for her brother, and she is still brooding over the things Jay had said about him, earlier. Implying his death was somehow, his own fault and that the vampires had drained his blood because it was morally tainted. She casts an angry glance in Jay's direction, but as usual, Jay is straggling behind and does not notice.

Her lip is still bleeding and it shows no sign of stopping; already, her cuff is soaked with blood. Talia sighs, she wishes she were not here and she knows everyone else must be feeling the same. The simple fact of her presence, means they are all in danger.

She is walking in front of the party, well ahead of the men, with Dorton and Jay by her side, because this is where Lucius has placed them, in spite of the fact that he and the others are in full armour and it would be more usual for the girls to bring up the rear. In that position, they would not only be less vulnerable, but they would also be much better placed to provide the men with cover in the event of an attack. However, while every one present knows this formation benefits no one, they have also seen that their new captain is impervious to reason, so no one has even tried to discuss the matter with him.

Everyone, except for Lucius, perhaps, has a sense of impending disaster.

____________________________________________________________________________

Review Responses (up to chpt 5)

Nocturnally Damned: Ah you old romantic, you! One mention of a nice sword and the girl goes completely to mush! Was thinking of you when I wrote that bit, actually . No way, was I going to let Rahab off that easily, though! That would be far too simple for my twisted little brain. This way, the situation still retains a little… potential.

Ayden   *walks in looking worried and rather threatening at the same time* I really didn't like the way you said that.

Sereda  *tries to look innocent* What?

Ayden   'Potential' *draws sword*

Sereda  *calmly* Put it away, Ayden. Unless, you want me to revise chpt 4 and have Rahab make you a present of  frilly apron and a handsome feather duster!

Ayden  You wouldn't!

Sereda *fingers poised threateningly over keyboard* Just watch me! You'll be dusting that cathedral 'til the end of the story, if you don't behave!

Ayden  *throws up hands in disgust* Bloody authors! You're more power-crazed than Kain! *wanders back into story, sulking*

Now we've got rid of him, back to the responses.

Syvia: Yeah, I love the lts too! Very hard to make them behave nicely tho', but then, they wouldn't be any fun if they were nice! ;) I'm pleased Berrin has gained a fan, I'm fond of him too! I think he may make an appearance or two in the future!

Tom T Thomson: Well, you don't say a lot, but what you have said is very positive, and you do make the effort to review! (hint, hint to anyone else lurking out there!) Thanks, I appreciate it.