Stepping off the train, Gliss felt like an anvil had been lifted from her shoulders.
Sixteen hours had been an interminable chore on her way down to Veridian Shores, impatient as she'd been to get to work on her mission. This time the long ride had given her time to fully regain the big picture of what she'd achieved. When the Keystone was reunited with the Tomb of the First, her clan would have access to a trove of weapons beyond anything the prancing, posturing fools of Veridian Shores could ever hope for.
She still felt a small twang of guilt for what she'd done to Capper, but now that she'd had time to think it over, she realised it was because he was a vampire in the wrong city. The way he behaved, the way he pushed against all the grandstanding and game-playing; he should have been turned in Iron Hollow. But fate said no. In another life maybe she would have asked him to come with her, but the stakes were too high for decisions to be made on a whim. He'd found that out the hard way.
So when she stepped off the train, Gliss felt a rush of adrenaline that coalesced into one word: success. She'd beaten the odds and made it home in one piece. She breathed it in, the metal and burning of the air and the cold sear of the air that scoured across her skin. The humans here were harder too, their blood strengthened by hard labour in the relentless industry of Iron Hollow. The city militia stumped disinterestedly along their patrol routes, outfitted in a vague uniform of blue and grey and armed with an eclectic mix of firearms.
Gliss walked into the city's grateful embrace, following the deeply engrained route to her true home. The streets formed tightly-knit grids, packed to the seams with growling trucks and freight haulers. Humans marched by in columns, either en route to a shift or making their way to the seedy entertainment districts that hosted innumerable bars, brothels and everything in between.
She made her way through it, conscious of a handful of distant vampire presences. After a few minutes she could pick out two from her clan, apparently shadowing her through the city as she approached. Gliss loped along the main street leading out of the train station and swung herself onto one of the many tram-rails that criss-crossed the gridiron streets. The things weren't quite trains, lacking actual carriages. They were driverless slabs of metal that rolled along carefully placed rails from one end of a grid line to another – faster than walking but slower than a car – and were crammed with support rails for passengers to cling to.
Clamping a hand around one, she tucked her body into the press of bodies already riding this particular tram-rail and hung on for four blocks. Nimbly dismounting, she made a quick check to confirm that her chaperones were still following her. She could still feel them – probably hurtling from rooftop to rooftop to stay out of sight.
Let them skulk, she thought. I'll be home soon, then none of us will have to hide again.
Four more turns through Iron Hollow's grid of streets brought her to the edges of her clan's territory. She passed that invisible boundary with an involuntary smile, gripping the reassuring sphere of the Keystone in her pocket to keep it real in her mind. A small part of her felt the thing might disappear like smoke, unable or unwilling to believe she'd actually pulled this off. But then she cleared the dark concrete masses, able to see home in the flesh at long last.
The home of Clan Tempest.
Unlike the grandiose mansions of Veridian Shores, her clan's abode was altogether different. There were no spires or huge open grounds, no watch towers and no ring walls. Instead it looked like a series of heavily connected bunkers. The largest of them was a hexagonal slab of basalt rock jutting up from the base of a disused quarry, with spidering armoured corridors linking it to a dozen others of varying sizes. It blended with the surrounding rock, and the quarry itself was smothered in a blanket of residential blocks.
She felt the Aspect wall long before she actually reached it. It domed the whole complex like a barrier, kept at constant strength by a dozen rotating members of the clan scattered around the perimeter, tasked with defending their home from incursions that took less material forms. Completely invisible to the naked eye, it nonetheless marked the first line of defence.
So Gliss walked to within a few meters of it, sat down, crossed her legs and reached out to it. Her Aspect bumped gently against the wall, announcing her presence as passively as possible. The barrier rippled at her touch. A moment later a voice from one of the guardians pierced her mind.
You have returned! The voice belonged to Rurrick, one of the most potent of the clan's Aspect manipulators – an integral part of the ever-lasting barrier around the complex. He would have recognised her the instant her mind touched the Aspect wall.
She smiled. It's good to be home, Rurrick.
A productive trip, I take it? You seem to be in good spirits.
Very much so, she replied. Pass the word to the Elders. I need to see them.
Consider it done. I'll open the wall for you. Welcome back, Gliss.
She felt the oblong opening in front of her, a tiny gap being prised open, a doorway that welcomed her in like a mother's arms to a long a lost child. Warmth flooded through her, and with a contented sigh, she stepped through.
When Gliss reached the main doors of the central structure they already gaped open for her, and she could see a welcoming committee of four vampires waiting for her. The one in the lead was a stocky, heavily built young man with a shaven head and a snarling dragon's head tattooed across one cheek in black ink. A rugged grey-brown coat of a hunter hung on his stolid frame and the sickle thrust through his belt glinted in the moonlight.
She strode straight up to him and flung her arms around his broad shoulders, pulling the other vampire into a hug. His thickly muscled arms wrapped around her and heaved her off her feet, extracting a high pitched giggle, then a squeal as he spun her around.
"Garven!" she laughed. "Put me down!"
Grinning, he deposited her on the ground again. "Sorry, Gliss. Guess I'm just happy to see you."
"Likewise."
"And these jokers too." He jerked a thumb at the other hunters.
The female hunter stepped forward first, a wraith-like individual named Anka with a long ponytail of dirty-blonde hair coiled around the side of her neck. They bumped fists firmly and exchanged a swift, strong hug. Gliss repeated the greeting with Baylor, the tallest of their cadre – a sallow-faced, dark haired man – and Domnall, the shortest of the group; a vampire with flame red hair and matching goatee.
Seeing them again filled Gliss with a sense of complete belonging. Before being dispatched to Veridian Shores she'd been the head of this hunter cadre, one of the best in the clan. It was why she'd been chosen in the first place – one of the best at finding an asset and claiming it.
"Back from the pit o' snakes in one piece," Domnall laughed. "Same clothes too."
"I like these clothes." She gave him an affectionate punch on the arm. "I hope you've all kept out of trouble while I've been gone?"
"Would we do a thing like that?" Anka smiled slyly.
Gliss shook her head knowingly. "I guess not."
"So did you get it?" Garven asked, breathless excitement filling his voice. "I hope your trip wasn't for nothing."
"Hardly." Reaching into her pocket, Gliss withdrew the cloth wrapped Keystone, relishing the hungry looks in the eyes of her companions. They watched, enraptured as she unwrapped the top layer of cloth, to reveal the jewelled sphere beneath. She waited for a moment, letting them stare. Then she spoke. "I think you should take me to the Elders."
Garven nodded silently, managing to tear his gaze away from the Keystone and up to her eyes. He inclined his head to the others and they fell into step around her. She returned the artefact to her pocket and let them lead her on.
In contrast to the rigid castes of Veridian Shores, Gliss's clan had a far simpler hierarchy. There were still Elders, and technically Elder-Bloods existed, but they did not exist in a separate cadre from the rank and file vampires responsible for the day to day running of clan affairs. There were guards, masons, smiths, hunters and a tiny collection of negotiators that were loosely dubbed as 'diplomats' but no individual received automatic status. The Elder-Bloods had to prove themselves worthy to take command of a guard troop or a hunting expedition.
What that meant was a ruthlessly efficient structure, unhampered by the potential pitfalls of promotion beyond ability. A strong Elder-Blood may have lacked the tactical nuances to effectively command a squadron of guards, while a weaker clan member may have the opposite arrangement. Being back in that system now made Gliss see just how far their cousins in the south had strayed. The glamour and temptation of Veridian Shores had nearly ensnared her, but now that she was back she knew this was the way the clans should operate.
The halls of the Tempest compound closed in around them, thick with concrete and painted start white, with burning, bowl-like lamps hanging from the ceiling to light the way. They twisted and turned through the warren, swallowed up into the din of metalwork shops and training rooms. Huge tracts of space housed libraries the likes of which the rest of the vampire world could only dream of, dug deep down into the rock of the quarry floor by the clan founders aeons ago. It was a juggernaut of efficient knowledge that had brought them to the brink of greatness.
The Elders' central chamber was vast, with a low ceiling but stretching away in all directions, its walls papered with packed bookshelves. It made the Glaive archive seem like a child's stamp collection by comparison. All through the space she could see, and feel, the Elders hard at work. At a glance they looked similar to the other clan members, clad in simple clothes – shirts and long coats of browns, greys and blacks, eyes focused on the maps and ancient tomes that were spread liberally across long wooden tables like thick jam.
The air above them crackled with the massive strength of their Aspects, however, belaying their true nature. Beings of power unmatched anywhere else in the city, the Elders of Clan Tempest had directed their charges onto a path to reclaim the lost past of the ancient Vampyr, and their will was unstoppable. Scribes and clerks scuttled back and forth between the tables, pinning reams of notes to boards, or filing them away in huge wooden cabinets, meticulously organised by date and category.
It was good to be back. With Garven and the others walking behind like an honour guard, Gliss strode through the bustle, head held high, smiling thinly as eyes widened at the sight of her. Faces turned to follow, but she resisted the urge to stop and speak to any of them, instead fastening her eyes on the explosion of documents and charts that completely dominated one end of the room.
The vampire at the eye of the storm moved with a fervent energy, flashing back and forth with inhuman speed as he scribbled on maps and immense leather-bound notebooks, pinning sheets to boards and large tables as he moved, almost as an afterthought. He was a tall, slimly built individual with black hair trimmed back to a thin fuzz over his scalp, his body neatly framed by a long-sleeved black top and a pair of dark, grey-green camouflage trousers. His eyes were like two roaring furnaces – searing orange and bright with the flow of energy that coursed through his veins.
This was Revan Gladore, the leader of Clan Tempest, the man who'd set her course all those weeks ago. A genius, leading through his brain rather than brute force, he had driven his followers like a priest drives a flock, urging them on into the deepest realms of the past until he uncovered the prize of prizes. He sensed her presence and his head snapped up from the blizzard of historical documents, those burning eyes fastening onto her. When he saw her bearing, his rugged features slipped into a cragged smile. A handful of documents tumbled carelessly from his fingers as he straightened up.
Gliss braced herself, excitement bubbling in her chest as she approached the Elder. This was a moment she'd been relishing, and now that it had arrived she didn't quite know how to begin.
"Glissandra," Revan purred, his voice vibrating in her ribs.
The sound of her full name sent shivers up her spine. "Did you miss me?"
"I think we all missed you." His fangs emerged through the smile. "Seeing as you're here, I assume you have accomplished what was asked of you."
"I wouldn't be here otherwise."
"Then show me."
Obediently, she withdrew the Keystone and peeled away the layers of cloth. Revan's eyes grew even brighter as the artefact emerged from its wrapping. She could feel the hunger coursing through his Aspect, so quickly held it out to him. Revan might have been a scholar at bedrock, but he was still an incredibly powerful vampire in his own right. It wouldn't do to keep him waiting.
In a slow, cat-like motion, he extended one carefully manicured hand and extracted the Keystone from her palm as though it might shatter if he pressed too hard. He turned it back and forth, examining every inch of it. On the charts behind him Gliss saw more than one sketch that matched the object almost exactly. There was no question, she'd brought home the right trinket.
"Well done, Glissandra," he breathed. "My confidence in you was well-placed."
"You gave me a task, and I accomplished it. It's what I do."
"I cannot argue with that." His eyes flickered from the Keystone to her. "Please, walk with me. The rest of you can return to your duties."
Unsure what awaited her, Gliss dutifully fell in behind Revan as he loped from the room, the Keystone still clasped gently in one hand. They stepped through a small doorway barely discernible through the wall of bookshelves and charts, and into a narrow, brightly-lit passageway.
"Where are we going?" Gliss asked quietly.
"To my chambers where we can talk, unobserved," Revan replied. "What you have accomplished will place us on a path to greatness. I feel it is only fair that you be made aware of the full magnitude of what we seek. Come."
Surprise rippled through her, but she suppressed the sensation, following Revan through the hallway until they came to a heavy metal door. A large toothed wheel sat in its centre – the lock, she presumed. Revan waved her backward for a moment, then stepped forward, placing his hand over it. A moment later she heard the faint muttering of ancient Vampyr fall from his lips. The wheel glowed a searing emerald green for a few seconds, then he reached forward and turned it.
A loud clunk echoed through the hallway and the metal slab split apart, receding into the walls. Beyond it, the crisp white of the compound's walls gave way to a warm mahogany as they crossed over into Revan's domain. A broad desk filled the centre of the room, ringed by an enormous arced bookcase, packed from end to end with even more volumes. She saw at a glance that while much of it pertained to the histories of the continent, there were also works of fiction, poetry and drama scattered throughout. A yellow glow from gas-lamps filled the air.
"Please," Revan said, gesturing to a plush armchair on one side of the desk.
Gliss sank into it as he sat down on the opposite side, settling against the high crimson back of the chair. He reached down into a drawer of the desk and removed a crystal decanter and two small glasses. She waited patiently as he poured them both a glass of crimson liquid – pure blood, no additives or diluting agents. A sip send shudders of pleasure through her. This came from the richest blood Iron Hollow had to offer. Revan sniffed at his experimentally, then drained it in a single, long gulp. Then he placed the glass down, turning it between finger and thumb.
"What I'm going to share with you," he began gently. "Is not common knowledge among the clan members. Only my most trusted researchers know what we have really found."
"And what is that?" she asked, suddenly uneasy. She knew Revan had his secrets; never expected to learn them either.
"You will be sceptical. Most are, and with good reason. But we have studied the tomb over and over and over, triple checking every single reference for any sign of error, and there is none. This truly is the vault of the First."
She nodded. "Yes, where its greatest treasures were buried."
"That is part of it. It is true that there are weapons within those walls, weapons that would put fear in the hearts of every vampire in the city."
"But there's more?"
"Much more."
"So what do you think we've found?"
"Gliss, it is not just weapons that we seek," Revan told her.
She frowned in confusion. "I don't understand."
"I believe this tomb contains more than artefacts that merely belonged to the First, Glissandra. And my beliefs have been strengthened by meticulous research."
"Then ... then what does it contain?"
Revan smiled malevolently. "Why, the First, of course."
"Wait a second..." Gliss's eyes widened in shock as the magnitude of his statement slammed home. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"Yes. It's been alive for uncounted millennia, kept so by the mechanisms of the tomb. With the Keystone we can finally open it and release the First from slumber to lead Clan Tempest into a Golden Age of domination."
She shook her head, recoiling, nails digging into the fabric of the chair arms. "The real First? You can't be serious."
Revan's eyes hardened and she felt ice grip her heart. He leaned back against his chair, clasping his fingers together. "I am more serious than you will ever know."