Rage coursed through Capper's body as Vandel's headless corpse thumped to the earth. Behind it the pile of half-scattered ash that had once been Beel lay, a horrendous reminder of what this battle had already cost. He stared at it for a moment as the winds whipped at the remains, his body trembling, but then an anguished howl snagged his attention, making him turn his head.
He saw Arcil hurtling towards him. He held a bloodied sword in each hand and a slim-fitting suit of bronze and black gilded armour. His Aspect seemed to pour out over the battlefield like a supernova, fuelled by anger and loss. Right now, Capper couldn't muster up a drop of sympathy. He turned to face the Baelock Elder-Blood, set his feet and bent his knees, his axe hanging loose in his right hand. He shook his head and bared his fangs, letting his full vampire visage come forth.
"C'mon!" he bellowed at his charging opponent. "COME AND GET ME!"
Just before Arcil reached him he surged forward, and the two Elder-Bloods smashed together with enough titanic force to generate a shockwave that flattened every vampire within twenty meters of them and tore a series of spidering cracks in the turf.
One of Arcil's swords flew skywards, the other locking against Capper's axe as the pair of them crashed to the ground. He swung his knuckle-duster at Arcil's face, but he jerked his head out of the path and fastened his free hand around Capper's throat, digging his fingers into the windpipe with a growl of fury.
Capper shook like a dog to loosen the grip, then rammed a knee up into Arcil's stomach hard enough to push them apart. His opponent rolled smoothly with the impact, bouncing back up to his feet and collecting his fallen sword as he went. Clashing the blades together with a snarl, Arcil bared his fangs and flung himself forward again.
Over and over their weapons smashed together as they ducked and wove in a tightly coiled dance of death. He gashed Arcil's leg with a reverse stroke of his axe, only to have his face laid open by a flicking upward slash of one sword in reply. Minutes passed and soon both Elder-Bloods were a mess of slowly healing wounds, covered in mud, grass and blood.
Arcil snarled a Vampyr curse and leapt, arcing towards Capper with both swords raised to hammer downwards. Holding his axe crossways in both hands, he braced himself as the Baelock Elder-Blood plummeted back to earth.
Both swords bit deep into the axe haft and Capper roared with exertion as his knees buckled from the tremendous force. Aspect blazing, and fury coursing through his veins, he pushed back, slowly levering himself back into a standing position. They stood there, pushing against each other, muscles straining, teeth gritting and Aspects warring for space overhead like battling shadows. Seconds passed.
Then Capper felt the pressure against him lessen fractionally. He had the edge in pure brute force, and he ground his teeth together, pushing harder. Suddenly Arcil ripped one sword free of the axe haft and swung, not at his head but at his right hand.
Instinctively Capper released his hold, knowing that if he lost a hand he would be as good as dead. The axe fell and the abrupt removal of resistance pitched Arcil forward. Capper took one step back to avoid the swinging sword, then lunged forward again, smashing his upper arm into Arcil's throat with an echoing thud.
Arcil was tipped backwards, feet pointing skyward, but before he could fall he let go of his weapons and grabbed Capper's armour, dragging him down into the mud again. They fell with a crash of armour, weaponless but with murderous energy still boiling between them.
So they kept fighting. Capper still had his knuckle-duster but Arcil did his best to avoid the heavy band of metal, and they tore up the ground as they traded punches and kicks back and forth. All technique vanished as they ploughed through the turf, brawling like two drunks. The rolled to halt with Arcil on top of him, their hands locked together, and Capper leaned up, opening his jaw wide. Then he sank his long fangs into Arcil's shoulder, digging deep through a gap in the armour and latching on. His opponent howled in pain but that only made Capper bite down harder. With his grip secure, he gave a powerful jerk of his neck muscles, pulling with enough force to flip Arcil over the top of him. Releasing his hold, Capper scrambled clear, looking around wildly at the torn-up ground where they'd been fighting until he stopped the chipped and scarred handle of his axe.
Bounding away from Arcil, he yanked it free of the mud and turned, his body still raging with battle-lust. He saw that his adversary had managed to locate a pair of Baelock swords in the melee and stood, breathing heavily, bloodied, scarred but unbowed. They stared at each other for a moment, and Capper felt the anguish rolling out of Arcil's Aspect. Vandel might have been a psychotic killer, but the pair had still been brothers. The insanity of it all surged back through Capper's mind as his eyes flashed over the battle still raging round them.
"Is this what you want?!" he screamed over the noise, pointing his axe back towards the scattered piles of ash that had once been Beel and Vandel. "Your brother dead? My best friend, dead? All for your insane ambitions?"
"Me?" Arcil roared back, circling with swords raised. "You break into my home, murder one of my people and rob my vault, and you have the gall to blame us? If you didn't want a war, Capper, you shouldn't have started one."
"If a war starts here, you won't live to see it." Capper no longer cared. He wanted this to end, and if that meant killing Arcil here and now, so be it. He readied his axe to swing.
"Enough."
The voice boomed out over the combatants as though it had come from the sky itself. Capper froze with his axe raised, and felt a chill crawl up the base of his spine and up to his neck. Then an Aspect he knew well washed over his with enough force to set a firebrand of pain burning behind his eyes. In front of him Arcil flinched, hissing in pain, letting his swords drop and screwing his eyes shut.
All around them Elder-Bloods and guards on both sides lowered their weapons as the glacial presence rolled over them like a kind of creeping paralysis. Slowly but surely the two clans edged apart – guards muttered orders and some vampires began pulling their compatriots away from the enemy.
Capper lowered his axe, pushing his Aspect back out against the pain. With his jaw tightly clenched, he turned and looked in the direction of the Glaive estate, and saw the cause of the disturbance. A party of vampires marched towards out towards them in a rough arrowhead shape, and at its point strode the towering form of Jocasta.
He still wore his simple dark robe, but one huge hand now carried an ancient war-scythe that was easily capable of cleaving a man in two. His eyes seared out across the bloodied, ash-strewn grounds and cold, dispassionate anger radiated from him, engulfing every single vampire present.
He stepped out from the group, and Capper realised he was flanked by Brooke on one side and Marshall on the other. Brooke caught his eye and a pained expression flashed across her face. She looked away, turning her eyes to the ground. Marshall, on the other hand, had a triumphant sneer on his face.
Jocasta kept walking until he stood a few yards away, his stare hardening into a vicious glare that raised the hair on the back of Capper's neck. Then he looked to the other Glaive fighters.
"Sheathe your weapons," he said. His voice was controlled, but Capper could feel the undercurrent of rage in it and the unfamiliar sensation of fear gripped him. "There will be no more killing tonight."
With obvious reluctance the Glaive forces moved away from their adversaries, lowering bolt-throwers and sheathing their duelling rods. Then Jocasta walked past him, approaching Arcil. He planted the butt of the scythe against the ground, staring down at the Baelock vampire as a father might regard a naughty child.
"Arcil, this was foolish."
"I make no apologies," Arcil answered quietly, standing up straight to meet Jocasta's gaze. "Glaive violated the Synod."
"Capper violated the Synod," Jocasta told him. "He did not act on the orders of the clan."
"It does not change what he did."
"Arcil," Brooke's voice suddenly cut across the air. "None of this is what it seems to be. We've all been pawns in someone else's game."
Confusion flashed across Arcil's face, and Capper looked back questioningly at Brooke. She walked over to him, sadness in her eyes. Then she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"You should have listened to me, Capper," she sighed.
Dread began filling his chest. "What are you talking about?"
"It was Gliss, it always was." She looked at Arcil. "She came to steal the Keystone from whoever had it. And she succeeded."
"What?!" Arcil tensed. "What are you saying?"
"All this," Brooke continued, making a vague gesture to the field of battle. "She caused it just so she could slip away unseen. She needed you as a diversion, Arcil. She knew how you would react if you believed we had violated the Synod."
"That's not true."
"I'm afraid it is." Brooke's shoulders sagged and she looked back to Capper. "She played every single one of us. She had us fight among ourselves just so she could escape the grounds."
Arcil's jaw tightened. "So where is she now?"
"Probably on a train to Iron Hollow by now. I sent guards to try and follow her but ..." Her voice trailed off and she shook her head, eyes downcast.
Capper stared at her, unable to believe what he was hearing. Slowly he looked around, but there was no sign of Gliss. She could have been dead for all he knew.
"How do you know-,"
"I chased her myself, Capper," Brooke snapped. "And I drank her blood before she could get away. I've seen her memories so don't even think about doubting me this time. You were wrong about her and this is where it's brought us."
He closed his eyes. He couldn't look at her. His fingers dug deep into the axe haft as he searched for some release for the churn of conflicting feelings moving inside him. You were wrong. After everything that had happened he mind locked up. He didn't know what to do. After all he'd done for her he couldn't bring his mind to accept that Gliss had been playing him all long.
Capper clenched his teeth, unable to speak. His Aspect writhed with indecision. Part of him wanted to scream, to deny everything that had been said. The other part knew with an aching sense of inevitability, that Brooke was telling the truth.
"Arcil," Jocasta spoke again. "I advise you to take your soldiers and return home. I assure you, Capper will be dealt with. I send my apologies to your Elders for the intrusion and violation of your trust."
As courteous as it sounded, Jocasta was not making a request. With reluctant slowness, Arcil sheathed his swords and straightened up, keeping a wary eye on the war-scythe that was half again as tall as him.
"I'll tell them," he said quietly. "But I make no promises. This may not end here."
Without waiting for a response he turned and trudged away. Baelock's forces coalesced around him and they trickled from the Glaive grounds, Aspects melting away into the night. Capper watched them go, stunned into a motionless silence by the sudden turn of events. Then Jocasta laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and turned him in the direction of the main house.
"Come," he rumbled. "We have a great many things to discuss."