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"…The… Vampire…. Slayer!"
Alexander carefully inscribed the words, then turned expectantly to his
master for further instruction. The old man sighed contentedly and shut
his eyes.
"Morosthenes?"
He jolted awake.
"Hmm?"
"You wish to take rest before continuing?"
"What? Oh. Continuing? No, no, that's it. Thank you for your
excellent work, Alexander".
The young scribe took this in.
"Of course, master." He paused. "Though I must say I am
most curious to know what happened to Artemesia's empire after her
death."
Morosthenes frowned.
"My sources are rather sketchy. I presume it collapsed into chaos and
ruin as she suggested it would. I've only really got Sesostris's journal
to go on, and he doesn't say much. Though I must say I didn't make great
efforts to research the matter, as my interest was in Artemesia."
"Her's is certainly a remarkable story. I am awestruck by your
account, it surpasses all you have done before. I am truly honoured to be
your scribe."
He paused.
"But one other thing I wonder, old man, you yourself, I know so
little of your past… it seems clear from what you write that you were
once a Watcher… but no longer?"
"I was, as you surmise, a Watcher. And, as you also surmise, no
longer. And so I write these chronicles, I know not to what use they may
be put, or whether anyone will ever read them. Other than yourself."
"You are skilled at avoiding my inquiries, Morosthenes! If I am not
greatly intruding, I am most curious to know of your experience with them,
whether you had a Slayer to your charge, what led to your split from the
Council, of whom you write with such vehemence, what impelled you to write
of the Slayers of the past!"
Alexander's voice became mischievous as he continued:
"You note that it is not uncommon for Watcher and Slayer to become
intimate beyond the call of duty, might this be the cause of your fall
from the Council's grace?"
Morosthenes snorted.
"If you are not greatly intruding, that is! No, great Zeus no, not
that! But yes, I did have a Slayer under my supervision. Penelope was her
name."
The Watcher-historian's voice became sad, and a far-away look came into
his eyes, but then his voice took on a declaiming character, the
story-teller in him taking over.
"She was only fifteen when she was called. She was brave, and always
willing to face her terrible duty – but she was not strong of character,
and found the burden of slaying a heavy one. Most likely she would not
have lasted long in the fight, though I did my very best to train her and
strengthen her confidence. She had not the fire in her breast that makes a
strong Slayer, that Artemesia certainly had. But she was a good and
dutiful girl, and this I do know, that had she been given the chance, she
would have died bravely, doing her duty in defence of humankind."
"But it was only a month and a half she had been slaying, when she
got into a fight with two vampires in a dark alley. I was nearby, ready to
step in to help if needs be. She staked one, but it was so dark, and the
alley so cramped – "
" – there was another alley opening into it, and somehow a drunken
man trying to make his way home stepped into the melee from this place,
and Penelope, mistaking him for the vampire, staked him through the heart.
She screamed so loud when she saw the blood spurting from him that it
scared the other vampire away."
"I came running, and found her slumped over the body, quivering and
weeping. I picked her up, took her home, tried to reassure her, but for
several days she could neither eat nor sleep, tormented with what she had
done. I, naive fool that I was, reported the matter to the Council,
thinking that they would surely understand that this was a tragic but
innocent mistake, that they might even be able to help her overcome
this."
"We were summoned to Alexandria, for her to face the judgement of the
Council. I explained to them all the circumstances, and what manner of
girl Penelope was, but they would not listen. They found her guilty of
murdering a human, they insisted that, having once shed human blood,
however unintentionally, her Slayer power had become dangerous and out of
control."
"Her power out of control! Pah! She was terrified of her power, of
what she could do! How could they be so blind? Artemesia, she tasted power
and in the end wanted more and more – Penelope had one glimpse of what
she could do, and wanted to run a thousand miles! But they would not
see!"
"What did they do?" asked Alexander.
"The sentenced her to death. I could not believe it. I begged with
them, pleaded, but they were deaf, deafened and blinded by their
arrogance, their hubris, their fixation with their ancient rules and
traditions!"
"I am sorry indeed to hear of this. And so as for you, they dismissed
you from the Council?"
Morosthenes shook his head.
"Not at first. But I could not accept what they meant to do to her.
And so the night before she was due to be put to death, I slipped into the
cells she was held, drugged the guard, and broke her loose. We fled
through the city, and stayed in what I thought was a safe house, ready to
sail the next morning. I wanted just to take her as far away as possible,
away from the Council, from vampires, from being a Slayer. If it meant her
living out her days in a cave with barbarians in Caledonia, I would have
considered it well worth while if it meant she never had to hear the words
"vampire" or "Slayer" again."
"But they found us, the Council's operatives, just hours before we
were due to sail. Four of them came heavily armed. But still we could have
escaped, we could have fought our way through them – She could have
fought her way through them!"
The old Watcher took a deep breath, his voice beginning to crack.
"But she wouldn't. In the moment of battle, she froze. She couldn't
bring herself to harm another human being again. Even to save her own
life."
"And so they took us. They took us back to the Council, and they
carried out their sentence upon her. Poison. The Watchers' weapon of
choice for dealing with errant Slayers."
The younger man listened in stunned silence, greatly moved. But as
Morosthenes halted in his story, wiping a tear from his eye,
Alexander prompted him again.
"But they let you live?"
His voice broken and shaking, a mere whisper, Morosthenes replied.
"They made me watch! They made her drink hemlock, and they made me
watch her die. They wouldn't even allow me to hold her hand as the life
drained from her."
"I am sorry." Alexander replied at last.
"They dismissed me of course, but took no further action against me.
But that night, I broke my way into the Council's section of the Great
Library – for I still knew the codes that would gain me access - and
made off with as many of the Watchers' Journals, Council Annals and other
prized documents as I and two servants could carry. Then I fled across the
sea to Cyprus, and then up into Macedonia."
"I wanted to know as much as possible about the other Slayers. From
the Watchers, but also from anywhere else I could find. I wanted to know
their stories, I wanted to tell their stories, these countless and
anonymous girls who have protected humanity throughout the ages, without
thanks and without recognition, who shed their blood for all of us. I
wanted them to be remembered somehow. I wanted to do that much for her. It
is not much, and maybe no-one will ever read these chronicles, or those
who do will dismiss them as the rantings of a madman. But it is all I can
do."
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