“So, you are having a bad time of it?” Aeris asked. “Do not expect sympathy from us, dhampyr.”
The dhampyr glanced at the Diocate. “I expect none. I know what your church preaches about my kind. Go ahead and kill me. I could care less; I have nothing left to live for. Everyone I love has been taken from me. I could barely manage to survive by chasing chickens around my yard, even before the Storm Lords came and destroyed the entire town and captured me.”
“Everyone you love?” Aeris asked dispassionately. “What do dhampyrs know of love?”
The dhampyr looked at her as if she were an idiot. “Don’t confuse a dhampyr for a vampire. I am as mortal as you — more so, in fact. I’m but a human with a condition I never asked for. I’ve been a pariah ever since I started showing signs of my condition several years back. My family was forced to move to a farm away from town for fear of my safety. I’ve lived on nothing but the blood drained from chickens ever since. Do you know how unsatisfying that is? But I have no other recourse,” the dhampyr complained angrily. “My brother gave his life defending our town from the Storm Lords! My mother then died a few months later of the wasting sickness because it wasn’t safe to bring a priest to our farm to treat her for fear of them finding me!” He shook his head. “My mother, my brother — they taught me more about love, personal sacrifice and pain than you will ever comprehend, you emotionless alfar!”
Hilda frowned slightly. She had been watching the dhampyr throughout with her Truth Sight. There was no question that he was telling the truth as he saw it. She gestured to Aeris to let her do the questioning. “So how did you end up in Vladimir’s squad?” she asked the dhampyr.
“The Storm Lords finally overran the village. The ghouls must have smelled my chickens. I had a fairly large number, since that’s all I ate. They came, scaled my walls, and ate all my chickens.” The dhampyr pressed his fists to his eyes to suppress tears at the memory. “Then a ghast came and was surprised to find a dhampyr hiding on a human farm. He took me to his vampire lord, who asked for the name of my father — who I have never met, by the way. He then contacted my father, who sent Vladimir to enlist me against my will in the forces of the Storm Lords.” The dhampyr was half crying, half shouting in anger.
“So, it seems like things turned out well for you,” Aeris said.
The dhampyr looked at her once more like she was insane. “It worked out for me?” he asked sarcastically. “I had never killed a sentient creature for food, ever! As I said, mainly chickens. Occasionally I could get goat or cow blood if someone was butchering and my mother or brother could purchase it. I had never even drunk human or any other race’s blood before the vampire lord took me in! Do you know what it is like to have to drink blood that you know came from someone who was murdered?” the dhampyr demanded. “Then Vladimir, he would let me drain just a little bit of blood from the people we encountered. Everyone I spared, he killed. Eventually, I ended up killing my victims as painlessly as I could, lest Vladimir savage them far worse!” The dhampyr shook his head in what seemed to be great remorse.
He turned his head to face Aeris angrily. “So go ahead, do your worst! I have been through hell and there is literally nothing you can do that is worse than the last four months of my life. Just put me out of my misery.” The dhampyr sobbed, placing his head on his arms, which were crossed upon his knees.
They were all silent for a bit. Finally, Hilda spoke up.
“When was the last time you fed?” she asked.
The dhampyr shrugged, not lifting his head. “I don’t know… two days, perhaps.”
Hilda looked to Aeris. “Find him some fresh animal blood. I suspect he would like it still as warm as possible.”
“What is your name, boy?” Stevos asked.
The dhampyr sighed in resignation. “Rede. Rede Yondin.”
Hilda nodded and turned to the guard. “Make sure he has a chamber pot and fresh water as well.”
“We shall speak more later, Rede Yondin,” she said, looking directly at him, but he did not lift his head.
Hilda gestured and led them out. The guard and Aeris relocked the door and Hilda led them back out of the dungeon. Once they were out of the prisoner section, Hilda stopped and addressed the guard and Aeris. “This is very disturbing on several levels. See to his safety while I decide how to proceed. He is not to be harmed, nor interviewed by anyone without me present.”
“As you command, your saintliness,” Aeris said, nodding in agreement.
Hilda closed the door to their conference-slash-dining room. She and Stevos sat down in silence for several moments. Hilda sighed loudly and looked to Stevos.
“Well, that was something. I never thought I would be moved by one of the Unlife,” Hilda said.
“I could detect nothing but sincerity in him. Both in terms of the truth of his words, and his emotions,” Stevos agreed.
“As with me,” Hilda said.
“What is the saying? The worst thing that can happen in battle is that you discover your enemy also has a soul?” Stevos asked.
Hilda chuckled. “I think that saying was for conflict between humans, or mortal races at least. I am pretty sure it does not apply to Unlife.”
“True,” Stevos agreed. “However, where truly do the dhampyrs sit on the spectrum of Unlife? As you noted, we have cures for ghoulism and vampirism; they can be redeemed. Either through contrition or, as you did last night, for handling purposes. Revenants, zombies and such, those can be laid to rest. What can one do with a dhampyr?”
Hilda shrugged. “Not much. You kill them. The proscription is to allow them to have peace in death.”
“Yet if the dhampyr is contrite? Is, in fact, someone as this Rede appears to be?” Stevos asked. “If he were a ghoul, or a recently made vampire, he could atone, be cured and resume his life. Yet our only option for someone like Rede is death?”
“I will have to double-check, but I am pretty sure this issue is not frequently discussed,” Hilda said sourly. “It does not come up. Most dhampyrs are raised by their vampiric parent in the ways of bloodshed and terror.”
Stevos sighed. “We serve a god of justice. In this case, if we can verify his account, is death justice for him?”
“Probably not,” Hilda said, raising her arms. “But do you think our people here are going to be okay with letting a dhampyr go free? There is something of a grudge match going on.”
Czernobog von Smerti rose from his troubled Atun-slumber and made his way out of his repositorium with unusual haste. He needed to get a report on the previous evening’s events from his liegenghast, Teodor. He was not in a good mood as he entered his study. Teodor stood alert and attentive.
“What have we learned?” Czernobog demanded.
“Vladimir’s squad was in the forest approximately a night’s march from the Citadel at last check-in. That would have been about two hours before you lost your link to Vladimir. They were monitoring the retreat of the mortals to the Citadel, as well as updating our maps of the region,” the ghast told his master.
“Were there reports of fighting in the region?” Czernobog asked.
“No. However, we do have a report from further back towards our main line that there was a brief period of intense light from the approximate region they would have been in,” Teodor replied.
“A brief period of brief light?” Czernobog asked. “As in atunlight?”
“Yes. Something like an extended flash of atunlight from a single location,” Teodor said. “A few small burns were incurred, but no casualties at the main lines.”