Chapter IX. "Nightfall"

The clouds had snuffed out the sun, and thick sheets of rain showered the mountain forest. The torch-flames beat and danced madly against the torrent, casting flickering light around the manse. Toren was the first one outside when they got close enough to be heard, and his eyes filled with his fatherly worry when he saw them running home.

“She’s been bit,” Leanne said. She didn’t need to say what had done it; the answer was clearly on his mind.

They tracked in rain and mud on the tile floor inside. Rain dripped from Leanne’s hair, and it melded with her tears, but she kept her composure here among these people, her family. Dignity is everything. She needed to remain calm. Shaniera looked worried rather than fearful, like a child with a splinter, not knowing the full measure of the injury they had suffered. When her mother saw her, the look in her eyes froze the blood in Leanne’s veins.

“If you have a potion for curing disease, now is the time for it,” Xadoran said at once. Ah’zuli cried out for the potions to be brought from stores, and Rodar hurried out of the room. He emerged with a glass bottle in the shape of a great teardrop. Ah’zuli took it from him, popped off the cork, and fed it to her daughter like she was a suckling babe. Shaniera grabbed the bottle and pushed herself away from her mother.

“I can take my own medicine,” she said, but she did not look nearly as confident as she sounded. Her hands shook as she raised the bottle to her lips, and her watering eyes flitted about wildly as she gulped the potion down.

“Be sure to drink it all,” her mother said. When Shani finished drinking, Ah’zuli walked over to Leanne. Her gait was calm and steady, her posture reserved. Leanne often forgot how tall the woman was, until she was towering over her. She had also forgotten how strong she was, until the sting of the slap hit her brain, and by that point she was falling to the floor and uncertain of which was left and right. The sword clattered loudly on the floor.

“How did this happen?” Ah’zuli demanded. Half the room stared at her; the other half at Leanne. The prince looked at Shaniera, one hand on his sword hilt. Toren looked at the whole scene in horror.

“I ... don’t know...” she couldn’t find it in herself to say that Ella had done it. She also couldn’t deny it, either; she herself was furious with the girl. She had lied to them, she had hurt Shani.

“Do you take me for a fool, Leanne? Three girls left this house, and only two have returned and my daughter has two holes in her neck. Let me guess, did this vampire get Ella too?” She bent down and picked up the sword. “You dishonor my husband, our venerated dead. Your hand is not fit to hold this sword.” Leanne felt foul in her stomach. She had always feared the strength of Ah’zuli’s words more than that of her hand. “I have tolerated you when I believed you to be nothing more than a healthy distraction for my daughter, but now you have put her in harm’s way, and that I will not so easily forgive.”

Behind her, Shaniera broke out into a fit of coughing. Ah’zuli whirled around. “Shaniera, dear, are you alright?” Shaniera looked up at her mother, nodding meekly, and tried to speak, but no sound came out of her. She opened her mouth wider, caught in a silent scream, and fell to her knees.

“Shaniera!” Several voices called out. Leanne was sure she had been one of them, but didn’t really hear her own voice.

“The potion isn’t taking,” Ithko grumbled, her blade halfway out of its scabbard.

“What do you mean?” Bary asked. “It’s a ‘cure disease’ potion, and this is a disease, isn’t it?”

“Useful as ever, Bary,” Ah’zuli scoffed. She made it to Shaniera at the same time as Xadoran, and eyed him with suspicion as she went to help her daughter stand. The Ash’abah looked at her mournfully, and held out a hand to help Ah’zuli get the girl on her feet.

“Bring the girl somewhere to lie down for a moment,” Xadoran commanded the servants. “Salim, Ithko, attend them to watch over her. I must speak with the lady of the household.” Gro’shuba came to take Shaniera from them, her usual stone-faced demeanor almost showing emotion. Toren went to go with her, but Xadoran held up a hand. “You should remain.” Rodar and Hasan looked to the two Ash’abah that followed the lone orc, then to Ah’zuli, and at the nod of her head they followed, hands by their swords.

“My friends, listen carefully, for we do not have much time.” Xadoran’s voice was low and calm. “I fear that Shaniera is not suffering from an easily curable strain of vampirism.” Expressions of worry travelled between the small circle. Leanne willed herself to shut out the despairing scream inside of her, and listen to whatever was said.