Chapter 132 - Exodus of the Neirie, 23,000 Years Ago part 10

It was many night's journey to the land of the Tanti. We followed the slave refugees from a safe distance, staying close enough to aid them in the event of some threat, but far enough away that we were not tempted to prey upon them.

In the evenings, when we roused, we enjoyed the simple music the people made around their fires, though from time to time it also filled me with a great melancholy. Many of their songs reminded me of the songs my own people used to sing in the evening, when our bellies were full and our children were sleeping in our laps and we had gathered outside the Elder Siede for community.

It was enough to bring a black tear to my eye, listening to the melodies. I remembered laying with my wives to music like that, making love as our tribesmen sang at the cave of the elders, night not quite come but the evening insects chirruping, the flesh of my wives moving sinuously beneath my body, the heat and smoky smell of our wetus mingling with the scent of our sweat.

I wanted to reach out and grasp those memories, pull them to me and press them into my heart. I wanted to fly from this cold existence and take refuge in the arms of my old lovers, but they were gone to me now, never to return.

Ilio saw the melancholy come over me and would try to distract me with idle talk. He would talk about the gods of his people, the extinct Denghoi, or badger me with his endless questions.

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes my mood would lighten, and I forgot the past for a little while. Other times, he could not draw me from my gloom, and I had to leave him for a while.

I would run through the grassy plains at full speed, racing beneath the moon and stars, run so fast my passage ripped the grass from the ground by its roots, run and run until I was far away and I could rage in solitude at my fate… or weep.

One night, Ilio looked up at me in surprise as he hardened the tip of a spear in the fire. "Do you hear that, Father?" he asked with a grin. "They are singing to you! They are singing to Thest!"

I had been listening absently to the melody but paying little attention to the words. I never knew what they were saying anyway. I craned my head so that I could listen more closely and was shocked to hear my name woven into their song.

"That must be the Tanti," I said after a while. "One of their gods is named Thest, too."

"I believe they sing to you, not their god," Ilio replied. "They are praising you for saving them from the Oombai."

"Your stick is burning merrily, boy," I said, nodding toward the fire.

"Oh!" he cried, and shook it out.

The next evening, we woke to find that the Neirie had left an offering to us. We smelled it immediately upon rising. A gourd was perched upon a stone a short distance from our camp. Inside was a small amount of blood. Cold, congealed, but human.

"Superstitious fools," I growled, after we had identified the source of the blood tribute. "Do they mean to tempt us to murder?"

Ilio stared at the gourd with wide, glittering eyes, his nostrils flaring. He looked like he was about to snatch the gourd from my hands. He had been trying to strengthen his willpower the last few nights, drinking as little blood as he could manage. The offering those silly Tanti put out for us—I was fairly certain it was the Tanti who left it—had nearly pushed the boy over the edge. He was trembling, his fingers opening and closing compulsively.

"Ilio!" I shouted.

The boy jumped, his eyes jerking from the gourd to my face.

"We cannot accept this tribute," I said. "It would only strengthen the temptation to feed on them."

"Yes, I… I understand," Ilio whispered. "But, Father… the smell!"

I held the gourd out to him. He jumped back as if I'd tried to strike him.

"Take it," I said. "Pour it out upon the earth."

"I… I don't think that I can!"

"Yes, you can," I insisted. "Pour it out. Then we will hunt."

He nodded, took the gourd into his hands. The blood inside was thick and dark. Several insects had drowned in the sticky fluid, tempted to their deaths by the rich, salty scent. I wondered if the boy could do it. Could he pour it out, as I'd commanded, or would he give in to his bloodlust and try to gulp it like a greedy child before I stopped him?

He made a noise that was halfway between a choke and a sob, his hands trembling, but he tipped the gourd and poured the scarlet fluid into the grass.

"I'm very proud of you," I said, patting him on the shoulder.

"Foolish mortals!" he snarled, throwing the gourd into the dark.

He threw it with his full vampire strength, and it shot away like an arrow into the night sky, hooting.

"Come, let us hunt. You shall drink your fill tonight. Your will has already been proven this evening."

As we continued to travel, keeping pace with the Neirie refugees, the featureless topography of the Pannonian Plains became increasingly hilly and forested. The hazy blue scrim of the mountains grew higher and more distinct with each passing night. We were nearing the lands of the Tanti… a region called Romania in your modern era. The mountains we were approaching were the Southern Carpathians. Rugged, their flanks swathed in thick pine forests, and beyond the Carpathians: the Black Sea. But we were not to reach that sea. Only I, many years later, would breach those waters. The home of the Tanti sat in a valley at the base of the Southern Carpathians, near a lake that no longer exists, in the middle of what is now called the Retezat National Park.

The lonely Pannonian Plains had fallen behind us. The region we passed through now was more densely populated. Twice, in the weeks that followed, the Neirie refugees crossed paths with small groups of roving hunters. Though Ilio and I watched nervously from afar, the encounters were relatively peaceful. It seemed, at long last, that the Neirie's luck had changed.

By day, the men hunted while the women gathered. There was an abundance of game to be caught—hares, deer, squirrels, birds. Plenty of forage on the hillsides and in the forests to collect-- herbs and vegetables, fruit and berries and mushrooms The Neirie began to look plump and strong once again. They were no longer the walking skeletons they'd been when they won their freedom from their Oombai overlords.

It was midsummer now, the weather hot and humid. Tapas, the leader of the refugees, left their camp one evening and walked a good distance toward us, torch in hand. I watched from our camp as he shoved the handle of the torch into the earth and sat. I waited to see what he would do next, but he did not move. He just sat there with the wind blowing his red hair to and fro.

"I think he wishes to speak with me," I said to Ilio finally.

"Are you going to meet with him?" the boy asked.

It was a blustery evening, cumulus clouds piling up in the sky like great black boulders. The dark base of the storm clouds gathering to the north of us flickered with lightning. The air felt energized. Judging by the wind, the deluge was headed our way, but I estimated that it would be hours yet before we needed to seek shelter.

"I suppose I should," I said. In fact, I was eager to visit with the giant. It had been weeks since I spoke with anyone other than my adopted son. I enjoyed Ilio's company, but Tapas was a man, and did not speak only in questions.

"Perhaps I could accompany you," Ilio suggested.

"I believe that would be allowable," I replied. "You have made good progress learning to control your hunger. I think Tapas would be safe from your appetite." I smiled at the boy. "Or you could hunt by yourself tonight. Bring us back a tasty meal to share beside the fire."

I had to restrain my laughter, watching him try to decide. Each option was equally tempting. His glinting eyes twitched swiftly to and fro. Speak with a mortal… or hunt on his own. His decision surprised me.

"I will hunt while you converse with the mortal," the boy said.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

Ilio shrugged, rising to his feet. "It is just a man."

I rose as well, dusting off my leggings. "Do not stray too far," I said, and then I yelled after him, "And do not bite off anything bigger than you can chew!"

Teasing him just a little.

"I'll be fine," he said, exasperated, as he hurried away from the fire. He grinned back at me, eyes bright. "Now watch me fly, Father! The wind is so strong tonight!"

He took several running steps and lifted into the air, his garments flapping. I watched his figure diminish into the distance, arms thrown out to his sides. The gusting winds tossed him back and forth a bit as he sailed through the dark, but he was right. I worried too much. He would be fine.

Smiling indulgently, I headed toward Tapas.