Heirot

Something was different about Vlad on their ride back to the encampment. He hadn't lagged behind the others, resisting the end of the fight. His head was ablaze with crossed signals. He'd missed something very important, and he couldn't make out what it was, and somehow it was imperative that he do so. It was like pressing against a wall of spikes trying to remember. It hurt, as if it were a place in his mind he wasn't supposed to go. The fact that Verin didn't want him there only made him more hell bent on figuring it out. But the god's power wasn't something to be taken lightly. The majority of the time, Verin's will overrode his so strongly that he could hardly make out any external senses at all. In brief moments of clarity, he would remember everything, and it would crush him under its own weight, and then the details would blur out along with the rest of reality and leave him fighting to grasp what was happening all the way from square one. All the time in between was just an invisible battle inside his mind.

With Atul, he had been briefly aware of his opponent and where he was, but when he tried to think of what had happened just before that, everything clouded. What he did remember was an odd sensation of nostalgia that had driven him to force open his hand rather than finish his human victim. He had done it for a reason, he just didn't know what it was yet. She was important. She had to be. Why was she important?

When they reached the encampment, the vampire had a plan, or the beginnings of one. It started with getting drunk, if that was even possible. In fact, that was the whole plan. He didn't have any inhibitions to lose at this point; he could only hope throwing his body for a loop would help dull the god's influence. Thinking drunk would be better than not thinking at all. If he could just think, for five damned minutes. He clung to the thin strand of focus that told him he needed to find a way to think, not trying anything too fancy, not yet. Instead of going off to cause trouble, he followed some soldiers to the tent where the spirits were kept, took up a stool at the bar, and asked the alarmed bartender almost politely for the most strongest stuff he could give him.

"We got Rilavian whiskey, but it ain't good for much but cleaning wounds and committin suicide," the man answered suspiciously.

"I'll take it," Vlad said, visibly straining to select his own words and control his tone. There was no telling if he could keep spirits besides blood down for long, so it was going to have to do some damage fast. When the man fished up the bottle, Vlad took it from his hand before he could pour it and clenched his eyes as he threw back a long drought from the bottle. His body immediately protested this break of his proper diet in the form of a dizzying ache, but there was nothing to do but wait. He thunked the bottle back onto the counter and rested his forehead on his hand, waiting impatiently for something to happen. The bartender didn't seem to know what to do about this situation, so he backed away and tried to attend to other customers.

It took about five minutes for the drink to hit him. He had a feeling he would metabolize the stuff pretty quickly, but for the time being, miraculously, it seemed to have worked. He was drunk enough to think! The thought was ridiculous, but at least it was his own. He knew who he was. He knew where he was. He knew what he'd lost before coming here. He knew, for the moment, that this had to be the 30th time in the space of a week that he'd remembered losing his country and the person he loved as if it had just happened.

This time, though, there was more. It was like the brick wall he'd been digging at was just a curtain, and he could now sweep it easily to the side. Tenele. That had been Tenele on the battlefield. What in the world was she doing there? He grimaced slightly as he recalled also that this meant she was the one who had run him through the back with a sword. It wasn't a huge surprise for her to hate him, he told himself, and he even tried to believe it. But she was supposed to be in Ighten, healing, pregnant. Instead, she was here. Allied with the army he was ripping to shreds along with Verin's other soldiers.

This changed everything. He had to retain control, no matter what. If he lost it again, the next time he emerged from Verin's spell, he could be standing over her corpse. He couldn't let that happen. Anything was better than that. But he could already feel himself beginning to lose focus again. He could not fight back Verin forever. He could never change what he was now. Standing, he walked out of the tent and stood in the moonlight outside.

"So they picked up a light worshipper, eh?" he overheard someone say nearby.

"Yeah, took him prisoner during the last battle. Must be sent from Ighten. He's sitting in the prisoner tent till they deal with him."

Vlad didn't wait to hear the rest. He suddenly knew exactly what he had to do. He walked toward the next tent. Two torches stood perched outside its gate. Vlad still had enough control to use his powers, and he did. The torches floated up out of their supports and tilted toward the canvas, gliding along it in a slow, wide circle. In seconds, the front of the tent was in flames. Someone shouted an alarm, and soon enough, everyone in the camp was running to address the issue. Vlad turned his back on the conflagration and ran toward the other side of the camp.

The prisoner's tent stood wide and, as he expected, unguarded. It wasn't surprising to find the tent mostly empty inside. Verin didn't take many prisoners. A man in the familiar garb of Lothos's priests was kneeling at the center of the room, chained to a stake. Vlad wasted no time, although the man made a cross over his chest as soon as the vampire appeared with his glowing red eyes at the edge of the tent. The man seemed to recognize Lord Dracul. Vlad just went straight up to the monk. He didn't have a lot of time.

"Purify the room," Vlad ordered with a low voice.

"What?" the man asked dumbly, but to be fair, the request really made no sense.

"Just do it, now," he snapped in a harsh whisper.

"My hands..." he mumbled.

Vlad rolled his eyes, walked behind the monk, and split the chain that was holding him with his bare hands.

The monk stared up at him in utter confusion. "They said you had turned to the enemy," he said warily. "And here you are setting me free. What is going on?"

"I can't very well tell you, if you don't PURIFY THE DAMN ROOM!" Vlad hissed. That seemed to shake the man from his confusion. He maintained careful eye contact with Vlad as he reached a hand down into the sand and drew a symbol from memory. He laid his hand flat on it and murmured a prayer.

A wave of invisible energy jumped out from his hand and radiated through the tent. Vlad felt it as an oppressive pounding in his bloodstream that knocked him immediately to his knees opposite the priest. He leaned forward on his hands and gagged, but managed to compose himself and sit still. Verin's presence was completely gone from his mind for the first time since that day he'd lost Tenele. "Tell me how you got here," Vlad managed to ask the priest, though he sounded like someone was standing on his chest.

"Sinead sent a team of us, and supplies, with Lady Tenele to ally with the Prince, Atul." the priest said, looking at Vlad almost worriedly. "Lord Dracul, the blessing is hurting you."

"Leave it up!" he said quickly. "How can Tenele be sent here in her condition?"

"What condition?"

Vlad shook his head and regretted it afterward, trying to hold as still as possible. It was like he was floating in a sea of jellyfish that were sliding and stinging against him. So Tenele hadn't told them. He wasn't entirely surprised. There was no way Sinead could send her here knowing she was pregnant. "I need some help," he finally said tiredly.

"From me?" the priest asked incredulously, glancing at the door.

"I need you to exorcise me, or whatever the heck you people do," he demanded, his red eyes looking up at the monk intently.

"I....I can't help you do that!" the man protested nervously, clearly not believing him.

"Sure you can. I'm a vampire," he soothed the man calmly.

"You're Sinead's!"

"I am not hers any more."

"It is a sin to take one's own life," the man said angrily.

Vlad laughed then, a low, oddly pleasant sound. "You are behind on your current events," he smiled darkly.

"No, I'm not," the priest said very firmly, "and this is not right." He swept his hand over the run in the sand, destroying it before Vlad could stop him. Verin's call pounded back into his head even as his blood stopped boiling his veins to acid.

"Could you be any more useless," Vlad snapped, really angry now. He pressed his hands to his head, his eyes glowing with something that was a hybrid of his and Verin's consciousness. "I will kill them. I will kill HER. This country and the rest of the world will fall to destruction," he growled, his eyes threatening to enjoy it but his voice laden with real fear. He was losing control, and he couldn't stand it. He couldn't move or blink for fear that his mind would not be his own if he did. He jerked as the Priest put a hand on his shoulder.

"If that is not what you wish to do, then stop it. Stop it yourself," he said.

"That's what I'm trying to-"

"No. You aren't trying hard enough. This is not the way," he said again.

Vlad thought he heard the man murmur a prayer. "Just run. Now. Stupid fool," he cursed sourly, leaning forward and pressing his forehead into the sandy floor of the tent as hard as he could. He fought Verin with everything he had, but still the god's power climbed like a cancer into his mind and made itself at home. A scream of hopeless frustration ripped out of the vampire's throat before he lost consciousness. Then he stood up calmly to an empty tent, smiled, and set off to take care of their escaped prisoner.

* * *

The next morning at Atul's camp, a mutilated body wearing priest's robes stood mounted on a stake just beyond the perimeter of their tents.

She stretched her arm out across the cot, seeking the cool familiar skin of her lover, only to find nothing but an empty space, as she had many mornings before. She stared at the empty spot, withdrawing her hand from the space and rolling over onto her back to stare at the canvas ceiling.

“You dressed?” Atul’s voice called lowly from outside the tent.

“Sort of,” Tenele told him as she reached down to grab her pants. “Give me a second.”

It only took her a few minutes, but she was dressed and wearing her thin coat as she stepped out. “Thanks for the place to sleep… I hate to think where you slept,” she told him as they walked together.

“Outside the tent.”

“On the ground?”

“I got a bad feeling in the night, like Vlad would come to kill you as you slept,” he told her as they moved towards the central part of the camp. “There’s a situation though… Someone found our camp last night…”

“Was anyone hurt?”

Atul led her to the edge of camp. Out in the distance on the tip of a sand dune was mutilated bloody figure held up by a stake in the ground. His bloodied robes tossed in the breeze. “It seems someone brought us a present.”

Tenele stared in horrified shock at the body. “Someone get him down. Bury him,” she whispered to a person standing beside her. “Did anyone see who it was?”

“No, but I’ll give you one guess,” Atul muttered.

“What’s our next move?” she said with a soft exhale.

“First, you get this,” Atul told her, handing her the long object he’d been carried that was wrapped in a tan cloth.

“Ugh, a gift?”

“Not exactly. I forgot about it last night with everything that happened,” he told her as she unwrapped it to find her mother’s long sword. “You left it.”

Tenele looked up at him quickly. “Thank you… It was my mothers.”

As the body was removed Tenele and Atul met with the leading officials of his revolution. They’d come from smaller encampments all around to give updates on how things were going. It was fair to say that it was going bad.

“Most of the forces have been pulled away from the capital. Its at a weakened state, we could over run it if we pulled our forces from the battle field and headed that way before your father’s men realized what happened,” an average looking man said, a retired goldsmith.

Atul put his fingers to his brow as he pondered this possibility. “That’s true… But, in the time it takes to return to the capital, the armies would have realized and not be too far behind us. What will we do if we’re over whelmed trapped in that city?”

“There making a move on Fala,” another mentioned.

“There’s nothing we can do for Fala,” Atul whispered. “It’s a loss were going to have to except.”

“But, my mother….”

Atul sighed. “Our forces are stretched to their limits, as is my fathers. Our numbers are far less, and we are managing to hold our own, though barely. If we send aid to Fala we will only weaken our defenses. There is nothing we can do. My father knows I’m soft hearted and figures I’ll want to send aid here and there. I can’t do it, I’m sorry.” Tenele knew how hard it must be for him to say that to someone. She had to say it once before on the battle fields at the Boarder.

By the end of the first half of there meeting they had come to no terms of how to deal with there stressed situation. Tenele found herself anxious, and so she walked away from the camp a bit. She just paced back and forth in the sand, her mind blurry. She wanted to get this over with. To face Vlad again, and do the job she needed to do. But, she was also sent to help with Atul’s rebellion. However, it would be something impossible to do if Vlad was cutting through his people.

Tenele looked over her shoulder as she thought she felt eyes on her. Nothing was there. Nothing but sand. She sighed, continuing her pacing until she thought she saw movement over the dunes. Her heart began to beat a bit faster as the adrenaline was pumping. She stepped towards where she’d seen the movement. She crossed over the dun, her hand idly on the swords hilt at her side. She saw nothing, but she heard something. It was a whistling sound… and a thudding of hooves through the sand. She glanced behind her, but before she could even think of moving, the horse was running by her and the rope he’d thrown about her snatched her form her feet to drag her through the sand.

Tenele saw, in the haze of everything happening, a few other horsed men riding towards the camp. But, strangely it wasn’t the hole army. It must have been a recon mission to see there numbers, and the soldiers had gotten a bit overzealous.

Tenele fought with the ropes, trying to reach her dagger and cut them loose, but her hands were pinned to her, and the rope was cutting into her arms. “Son of a bitch,” she cursed. Since the sand was soft it didn’t hurt terribly bad to be drug through it, but she knew that it couldn’t stay that way for long. She worked hard to try and wiggle an arm free as the horseman clothed in sand colored clothing and riding a tan horse kept riding. He climbed a large sand dune and Tenele managed to wiggle one arm free, but the rope just pulled tighter around her middle. It was too late, the crossed over the dun and by now Tenele was finding it hard to breath with the rope pulled so tightly about her.

She didn’t lose consciousness completely, but somewhere in between that dune and the next she found herself being drug through an encampment until finally they came to a stop. Sand covered and a bit delirious, she looked about. She saw feet, lots of feet as she rolled onto her hands and knees. And then she saw a long flowing robe that seemed to have a life of its own suddenly materialize out of no where. Suddenly the feet about them stepped back quickly.

Tenele looked up grimacing. “Great…” she whispered, sitting back on her heals.

“I told you you’d regret what you did,” he told her, bending down a bit. “You didn’t believe me.” He cut the rope that was tied to the horse, but not the one around. He instead tugged hard and fiercely to drag her to her feet, which she was reluctant to come to.

“You can’t touch me,” she smiled.

“That’s the wrong thing to say in a camp full of willing servants who can touch you,” he said with a wide grin, as he turned her to face away from him. “And you angered me to the point I’ve done a little investigating… Solanos gave me a few hints how to deal with meddling humans such as you. Especially ones that have angered me to the point I’d like to deal with personally. At the moment though, I know someone whose better suited to handle you.”

He shoved her to one of his guards. “Tie her,” he ordered.

“Y-yes, mighty Verin,” he muttered quickly, too busy bowing to do his job. Tenele struggled, but frankly it was pointless.

“You should have listened when they told you not to piss off a God,” he told her darkly, as they tied her arms to two different posts. Tenele stood with her back to them and facing some other soldiers on the other side. She was trying to stay calm, really she was, but what good could come from this?

Unless…

Tenele glanced down at her belt and the pouch that had managed to not come off. It was half-way stuck in her pocket. They removed her weapons, took her mother’s sword that she’d just got back. But, thankfully they missed the small dagger lodged in her boot and covered by the overlap of her pants.

Verin gathered a long leather cord, a whip into his hand. “Retrieve Lord Vladimir for me,” he said with black humor. “I have a present for him.”

A few minutes later, Vlad came around the entrance to the tent, being led by another soldier who had dragged him from his chambers. He was passively pondering the possibility of eating the cocky human later on. As he turned to look into the tent, he froze. His expression looked darkly amused by the sight of Tenele tied up inside, but his legs didn't appear willing to move.

"He doesn't want her. Why let the vampire have all the fun, my lord. Let us take her," the soldier beside Vlad suggested.

Verin tilted his head and narrowed his eyes on Vlad with a sadistic smile. "Well, if that's what he wants, I didn't think I'd see the day when he'd refuse something to toy with," he said, handing the whip to him. "She's yours until he says otherwise." Verin kept his eyes on Vlad a moment longer as the soldier stepped up with a greedy smile, grinning as he circled around Tenele.

Tenele swallowed her sudden panic, keeping her head held high, despite the worry. This wasn't supposed to be this way. What had gone wrong? She hadn't wondered that far from camp. What were the odds. Then, it occured to her that it hadn't been a recon mission, it had been Verin's own personal planning. He was doing this to get back at her... or maybe doing this to get to Vlad? But, no, that couldn't be true. Vlad would not care either way.

Something flashed in Vlad's eyes and then faded. As if his feet had come unglued from the floor, he walked calmly into the tent, taking the whip from Verin with a smirk. "I hardly think so," he said with a threateningly icy voice to the soldier who seemed bent on having Tenele. "Perhaps I will share some of the scraps, if I leave any." He gave the man a sharp look that said to get the hell out, and the human's libido seemed to be the last thing on his mind as he swiftly retreated from the vampire and strafed around him toward the safety of the world outside the tent.

Vlad was standing just a few yards from Tenele now, and he turned toward her with darkened red eyes, uncoiling the whip. He moved to stand just in front of her, staring at her very hard. Verin's influence just across the room poured over him like a drowning current. He didn't speak, didn't, breathe, didn't blink. His hand raised suddenly with the whip and took aim, but it froze there. His eyes were still locked on hers, and they had begun glowing with energy. His mouth flattened from its deep, cruel smile into a tight line. He narrowed his eyes at her, and they glowed so brightly that it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"Go on, Vladimir, don't be shy," Verin goaded from the sidelines.

The vampire's arm tensed until it seemed shaking with effort, though it wasn't even moving. Then his shoulder heaved forward and the whip flew down.

And missed her. By a hair. The hard leather cracked deafeningly against the floor. His was no human blow; this would do real damage. Verin was scowling, and Vlad's unreadable expression was tight with effort. A stream of blood began from his nose as he drew the whip backward again.

Tenele was breathing in paniced heaves. Her hands tightened into fists and she tensed up, staring at Vlad with tense frightened eyes. She saw the whip coming and tilted her head to the side, clenching her eyes shut as she braced for the impact. The young Queen's Maiden jumped from her skin as she heard the sound of the whip crack against the floor. Taking another heaving breath she glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, bracing for the impact she knew would come.

What could she say to argue it? Tenele had been whiped before, back when she was a prisoner in the Arken camp, so whipping was nothing new to her. She remembered the harsh feel of the leather against her skin, so she knew when to tense and when not to. But, for some reason she couldn't get her body to relax. Vlad was the one doing this, he was the one going to hurt her. He was the one playing with her so cruely by missing. She didn't know when he'd hit, and that was probably scaring her the most.

"Just get it over with," she hissed angrily. "Or have you suddenly found a heart again?"

The vampire blinked at her, and that was a dangerous distraction. He felt Verin climbing over his mind ravenously, seeking openings. There was very little left he knew how to keep closed, and Tenele's words disarmed him. She thought he wanted this. He could do very little to prove to her that it was otherwise. He took note of the ropes that tied her risks. He didn't have the stamina to do this much longer. When he lost what remained of his feeble control, he would kill her. Worse, he would destroy her. Mutilate her, and there was no telling what else. The blood from his nose flowed against his lips and streaked down his chin.

He raised the whip a second time and took aim. He only had one chance at this; his will wouldn't hold out for a third miss. It would probably trash her wrist, but one hand was all he could give her. One hand to protect her from him, to somehow escape this place. Verin's will howled in his mind as he struck down with all the strength he had.

The whip leapt nimbly to the side and snapped hard and fast across the rope that held Tenele's left wrist taut. It made a snapping sound, tugging Tenele's arm with the impact. Vlad turned his eyes away from her and tried will all the force his mind could summon to make his hands reach together and tear the whip in half. But they wouldn't obey him, and if he lost control, the whip was the least of the threats he could pose to her. He tried his best to stand still, to give her time. He was breaking into a sweat, his face drawn tight with effort.

Tenele made the strangest sound as the whip cracked against her wrist and the rope that held it. Her arm fell quickly, too quickly to have fallen on its own. All the signals in her brain were screaming off pain warnings as she stumbled back into the pole that her other wrist was tied to. She flexed her fingers quickly because she couldn't feel them. The whip had broken the skin, almost to the bone, but she could move her hand and that's all that mattered. Why had he missed? Or was he planning on taking her apart with that thing one limb at a time? Tenele pressed herself against the pole, almost willing to hide behind it if she could.

Then, she felt a sharp pain in her back. It was enough to cause her expression to falter. It was a small peircing pain, and as she felt the small blade withdraw she felt the heat of Verin's breath on her neck. "What angers me the most about you, is not your defiance. It is not your annoying combacks or your persistance... It is the simple fact that you, a mere human, hold a stronger power over something than I do. No matter, he'll kill you soon. He'll do horrible things to you... And if he doesn't kill you, you'll eventually bleed to death... slowly. Either way, I've found a way to rid myself of humans such as you."

Verin stepped towards Vlad, only before tucking away the weapon he'd received from his brother. Forged by the hand of Death himself. "Stop being so pathetic, Vladimir. Do what you were meant to do... Or I'll send them all in to do it for you," he mutterd darkly as he patted Vlad's face, which had Tenele's warm blood on it. He smeared it in a dark line across his cheek before stepping past him and disappearing as he walked.

Tenele leaning against the pole, swallowing as her hand fiddled with her pocket and the small pouch. Her eyes were a bit watery as she watched Vlad, his nose bleeding and her blood on his face. She laughed half-heartedly as she wiggled her fingers into the pouch. It would have been easier if she'd had two hands. "You know... I never in all my years thought it would end like this... Not with you killing me at least." Her fingers found what she sought. "Well, come on Vlad, do it. What's the use in wasting time? I mean, don't you want to be the one to kill me? Or shall we go a head and invite half your men to do the job that you can't manage?" She was egging it on, but she needed to get him up close and personal. As much as she knew that he could kill her before she'd be fast enough to pull that ball and press it to his skin. She needed to try.

Vlad shook his head, trembling with the force of his effort. Her blood smelled so sweet against his cheek. "Run," he barely breathed. He could hardly bear to look at her. "Now."

But then he felt something in his mind snap. He couldn't stop it now. His mind took a back seat to Verin's and watched in numb horror as he threw the whip to the side and cupped Tenele's neck hard between the fingers of his hand. His other hand grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from whatever it was reaching for. "Have something interesting in this bag?" he asked her with dark amusement. Holding her wrist, he released her neck in order to grip her pouch and rip it from her side, throwing it to the floor about two yards to Tenele's left. "What a shame, it fell," he said.

No, no, no, no... Tenele's mind screamed over and over as the bag was yanked before she could fully withdraw the orb and it clattered to the ground. He held her wrist tightly in his hand, her fingers grinding exposed nerves and bone. The pain was enough to make her tremble and her eyes water profusely to the point she appeared to almost be crying. Why was he stalling? Was he expecting her to beg?

Tenele wasn't about to beg, no matter what he had planned.

What did he have planned? She feared knowing what horrors awaited her, and though it terrified her she was almost tempted to ask. "I'd ask you to kill me quickly," she said softly, her green eyes meeting his red irises, the eyes she used to look at so lovingly. "But, I don't think I'll be offered such a luxury." She tugged idly on the rope that held her other hand. "What are you going to do to me?" she breathed, her voice cracking.

Tenele's mind raced with what to do to remedy the situation. She needed to get her other hand free so she could reach the dagger. A dagger she hoped he didn't find. If she could get to the dagger, she could wound him to distract him enough to get to the ball, or if she could get him to throw her in that direction...

Tenele felt a warm wetness dripping down her back, but she hadn't the time to pay attention to it.

Vlad's eyes widened at her words. This was worse than torture. Torture stopped once you gave into it. His fingers loosened from her wrist and wrapped around her back, pulling their bodies into contact with each other. Stop me, stop me, Tenele! Don't keep asking me to kill you, he thought desperately, but his mouth wouldn't obey him to form the words, and he knew she couldn't escape him now. He didn't know how to stop himself, how could she? Their torsos pressed together, he leaned in close to her face as if to kiss her. But instead, his bloody cheek brushed hers as he lowered his mouth toward her neck. "You're quite wordy. I believe I can think of a way to make you stop talking," he said craftily beside her ear. No! He hated the words. He wanted them back. He wanted to take all of it back. He wanted to go back and die with her in Verin's maze with their hands tied together.

Tenele closed her eyes and tried to shift a step back, but she was pressed tightly to him. Any other time she'd revel in this feeling, and it would have always brought her happiness to be this close to him. But, not all she could do was tremble. She pulled franticly on her wrist to the point her skin was rubbed completely raw. She tugged even more, trying to pull it through the hole, bending and flexing her hand. She raised her leg, having to move awkwardly to do it because of his body. It might even have seemed suggestive if it hadn't been for the tear sliding down her cheek as she reached her hurt wrist down franticly for the dagger in her boot.

Vlad lowered her teeth to her neck, his fangs pressing light dents in her skin. He paused. Her movements against him felt like struggling, and it excited his instincts. He didn't just want to bite her. What he wanted to do would kill her. It would leave her neck a gaping ruin. His arms tightened around her back, as if holding her closer could divert energy from his jaws and stop him from what he was about to do.

He remembered the priest's words. He wasn't trying hard enough. That was difficult to believe at the moment. Every fiber of strength his will possessed was struggling against this unfair possession of his soul. He sucked in a tight breath between his teeth and her skin, trying not to move, but his fangs glided slowly down, piercing her skin. He tried not to taste the faint trickle of blood that rolled into his mouth, bringing with it everything the scent of her wounds had promised.

Tenele clenchd her eyes tighter, almost breaking at that moment his teeth entered her neck. This had always been a sweet act of love between them, except for that time that Vlad was mad with hunger. But, this was because he wanted to kill her for the sheer cruelty of it. Tenele's hand found what she saught and as she made a sobbing gasp she grip the dagger tight. She couldn't break, not now. But, she wanted too. Oh, how she wanted to fall to her knees and let it out. Atul had been right, it was dangerous to hold in such emotions, and she felt her very soul crumbling. "I didn't betray you," she cried as she held the dagger tightly. "He lied. I was never pregnant." Why was she telling him this? Why now. No, she needed to get a grip. Tenele took a deep quivering breath and she plunged it into his thigh, the closest thing her had could get to at the moment.

Vlad's teeth withdrew from her neck just before the dagger flew into his leg. In that ripping pain he found the clarity he needed to register her words, to register everything. His blood carried the holy weapon's power through his body and chased Verin out of his mind. His arms instantly loosened around her and he pulled his head back to look into her eyes. He touched the tears on her cheek with his fingertips. She wasn't pregnant. She wasn't going to die. His lips moved into a weak, but genuine smile. "Good," he breathed dizzily, feelings his legs trying to give out. His thigh felt like hellfire, and it was circulating to the rest of his body. He extended one claw and managed to lift his arm to slice the rope on her other hand. Already he was drawing breath in stiff gasps, but he didn't reach for her hand to remove the dagger. He moved his hand as if to touch the bloody wound on her neck, the raising bruises from where he had strangled her the day before, the tears she was crying. Her whole body was proof of his abuse of her, and he had to close his eyes from it. He couldn't look at her or meet her eyes.

"I am so sorry," he gasped, and then his voice twisted with more than just physical pain. His eyes burned as they had when she'd stepped through the mirror, and he kept them closed tight. "I had to... make you believe... I had to, or it wouldn't have worked. And now you're here...hurt anyway...and you can't even stab me in the right spot..." His legs folded under him and he collapsed in front of her, breathing spastically. He wanted to say more, but his voice broke when he tried to speak. He rested his head against her shin and gasped, "you have to go." His hand reached for the hilt of the dagger that seared in his leg. "I'll finish this..."