An Unattainable Magic

A Camp for Rogues

Ayden had not been allowed to remove his blindfold that night; Nikodemus had not been available when he and Lenox arrived to discuss exactly what Ayden’s goals were by coming to the Rogues. He was taken to what he could only assume was a tent or some form of structure that they could dismantle at a moment’s notice. The night was cold, and he did not sleep, but when the first warmth of the morning sun seeped through the material surrounding him, he was greeted by someone removing his blindfold. “I didn’t even hear you come in,” Ayden indicated to the ground. “One would think that it would be difficult to be quiet, with the snow and dirt.”

            The young vampire smiled, his six fangs glinting in the light. His golden hair was long and had a gentle curl to it. His eyes held the faintest tint of red, divulging that he had not fed for at least a day or two. “Perks of being born a vampire instead of bitten and turned into one,” with a flourish, he gestured to his feet; they seemed to not be touching the ground, or if they were, just barely. “Weightlessness has its perks, and flight is always nice…but Lenox said your shroud was particularly impressive,” he smiled again. “I am Nikodemus, and welcome to my camp.”

            Ayden took his outstretched hand and shook it warmly. “Ayden Walker,” a wave of realization washed over Nikodemus’ face, and he lowered his head. “Please, don’t feel sorry for me. My mother made her choices, and she suffered the consequences,” the words cut through his very core, but in order for this ruse to work, Ayden had to play off that he had no cares for any of the Council. Ayden missed his mother and father every day, and if this was the way to catch those who had destroyed his family, then so be it.  

Nikodemus, who was obviously shocked, shrugged his shoulders. “My particular sector had absolutely nothing to do with the m******e of Oitsa. We do not destroy unless it is deemed unavoidable. Mostly, what we do comes across as embarrassing pranks. In the long run, it hurts their pride and reputation far more than it hurts their physical being,” Nikodemus looked to Ayden, searching for understanding on his face. Ayden nodded, waving his hand to allow him to continue speaking. “We have a few things planned for the Autumn Festival, but I still don’t know if I can trust you enough to divulge that, just yet.”

Looking around what Ayden now realized was a tent, he was sure of one thing; he would not be seeing the rest of the camp until its leader trusted him. How long is this going to take? Ayden wondered to himself, never taking his eyes off the golden-haired leader. “I’ll be back with something for you to drink, later. Please, do not leave this tent until I have given permission. I’d hate to have to hurt you,” there was a lilt of playfulness in his voice, but Ayden could tell that Nikodemus wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. Ayden agreed, albeit reluctantly, and sat, watching his captor disappear through the flaps of the tent. 

Nikodemus returned to the tent where the newfound bitten one was being kept until he could decide if he was trustworthy or not. Nik trusted most people, he always had; there was something about this Ayden that he simply could not figure out. Was he a spy? Nikodemus had dealt with spies before. Was it that he was a survivor of the m******e of Oitsa? Possibly, Nik had never heard of anyone surviving before. There were rumors of a seven-year-old girl escaping, but they had never been corroborated.  He looked at the outside of the patched, mostly cream-colored tent. Nikodemus could deny him blood, causing him to become more irritable and therefore make Ayden easier to get information out of. No, Nik thought to himself, I am not one for torture. As he entered the tent, he noted that Ayden was asleep. 

            Clearing his throat, he woke the sleeping newcomer. “I brought you a rabbit,” Nik said, releasing the animal from the pouch he had slung across his chest. The animal sat, momentarily frozen. In that moment, Ayden was upon it, his jaw clasped around its throat. Slowly, the struggling ceased, and he drank his fill. His eyes returned to their normal, golden brown tone, and when he was finished, Nikodemus took the limp body and skinned it, tossing its deflated, useless meat aside. Ayden cleaned his face, hating to seem like a wild animal. “I’m going to ask you honestly, and I expect honesty back; what are you here for?” Nik locked eyes with the bitten one, boring into him.

            “I’m here because I believe in what the Rogues are doing. The Council has too much power, and it needs to be diminished,” the secondary part of his statement, at least, wasn’t a lie. Ayden did think the Council had too much power, but that did not necessarily mean he agreed with the way the Rogues went about their cause. However, Ayden’s eyes never left Nikodemus’s, only increasing the look of his honesty. Over the years, Ayden had had to become an adept liar. Nik watched him for a moment more, looking for any glimmer of dishonesty, any small tell of a lie. Once he was, momentarily, satisfied, the born vampire extended his hand to the bitten one, and they embraced hands. 

            “Welcome to the cause, brother,” Nik said with a sincere smile. Ayden flinched at the fact that he called him ‘brother’, however Nikodemus wrote it off as being used to be an outcast, never knowing what his place in society was. “The Council has made all of us, but vampires specifically, feel like outcasts. They have made the mortals fear us, which they should not. We aren’t evil and I now you understand that, Ayden.” Nikodemus gestured towards the exit of the tent, and Ayden, almost reluctantly, followed. 

            Once outside, Ayden was absolutely amazed at the organization of the camp. Everything was coming from a different direction, and it assaulted his hypersensitive senses. Tents dotted the landscape, looking like a multicolor, patchwork quilt. He could only envision what something so bewildering would look like from the sky. There were at least three dozen tents, all organized it was appeared to be sectors. Ayden could hear the banging of blacksmiths hammers, the chanting of alchemists enchanting their bobbles, the smell of potions brewing, both helpful and harmful. Blood scents mingled in the air; mortal, werewolf, werebear, vampire, warlock, and wizards. Though he was unable to pinpoint one, like his companion could, he was overwhelmed and taken aback. Never in his twelve years of working for the Council had he seen so many different species working together towards a common goal. “I didn’t realize the Rogues were so,” Ayden paused, choosing his words wisely, “well organized.”

            Nikodemus let out a hearty, amused laugh. “I don’t think many people would call us well organized, Ayden!” He exclaimed, pushing him playfully. “We’re organized chaos, at best. Come, I’ll introduce you to everyone,” he smiled, leading Ayden towards the center of the compound. “Lennox will have to take over here, brother! I’ve business to attend to,” and with a smile and a salute, Nik took off in the opposite direction. Lennox stood next to Ayden, his large, paw like hand on the vampire’s shoulder. “Come, I will introduce you around, and show you why we are here.”

*                                                                                                                                            *

 The tour of the camp took much longer than Ayden had anticipated, though he was pleased to be with Lenox, Ayden had been told, was Nikodemus’s second in command. “Why would he trust you with something like that?” Ayden questioned as the two meandered around the camp. “Vampires and werewolves don’t traditionally work well together,” he noted, glancing at his companion.

            “I’ve earned his trust,” Lenox stated simply, shrugging his masculine shoulders. “I’ve been with Nikodemus since the beginning. This camp is our creation, these people are our friends, and some of them are family. We have a lot invested in this movement.” The old werewolf pointed towards a small cluster of mustard colored tents. “Those five tents are my pack. I do not have a license to breed, because I do not think I should have to. My mate and I have children, we have grandchildren, and we have one great grandchild. None of our offspring have applied for a breeding license; we should not have to. Bloodlines are so muddy in the werewolf community, and they refuse to allow us to breed with the mortal humans. My daughter mated with a mortal human, and they would have never been allowed to reproduce with the Council’s laws. However, because of them, there is new blood among the werewolves. Halfbreeds are extremely important, without them we would be so badly inbred that we would all die. The Council doesn’t realize that,” Lenox paused, looking to Ayden for understanding. 

            A wave of realization washed over Ayden, and he nodded thoughtfully. “As a bitten vampire,” Lenox continued, “you don’t have the same regulations imposed on you. You were a mortal human; therefore, you can meet, fall in love, and reproduce with a mortal human without a license. Werewolves,” the old wolf shook his head. “My pack doesn’t turn mortal humans. There are some who do, with the intent to expand our bloodlines. Why should that be necessary? Why should my daughters’ mate have had to relinquish his mortality, with which he is perfectly happy, simply because he loves my daughter?”

            “He shouldn’t have to,” Ayden responded, his voice low and thoughtful. “I used to work for the council,” he revealed tentatively. “I was a hunter; I was trained to take down people like Nikodemus. When my contract was over, they refused to reestablish it, because of my age and an injury I had sustained. My original intention to join you is not for the same freedoms you joined, but to make them understand that hunters like me don’t have another option of employment; we’re trained and programed to work one way and one way only. The world outside of the council is not equipped to deal with us in an average workforce.” Lenox nodded, running a hand through his long, gray hair. “I’m here to make the Council understand that.”

            Lenox clapped him on the shoulder, “Then in that, at least, we have a common goal; to expand the Council’s understanding of how we as individuals live under their rulings.” He gestured towards the side of camp where the smell of fire and the rhythmic sound of hammers erupted from. “Nikodemus has asked me to outfit you with a weapon, and armor if you deem it necessary. It’s time to take you to the Blackstone Forge, to meet Cartais.” Awe enveloped Ayden, and he gave Lenox a look of disbelief. Cartais was known as the most accomplished blacksmith in any of the Four Quarters of Ceokia. “Most people think he died, but the rumors of his death were false. He merely left society to work with us. Nikodemus had quite a lot of convincing to do to bring him here, and our additional two camps order weapons and armor frequently, as well as many other Rogues we work with.” Lenox grinned, almost cocky. “We’re very lucky he chose us to work with. He’s the reason we cannot fail.”

            Still stunned by the realization that he was about to be face to face with the Cartais Blackstone, Ayden had to nearly jog to catch up with Lenox, who had already made his way swiftly towards a large structure made of black and gray stones; Ayden marveled how he could have missed it before, but was filled with a sense of thrilled anticipation that he would soon be wielding one of the famous blades made by a famous blacksmith. The camp was more like a maze, and everywhere Ayden turned there was more to see; he could hardly take it all in while keeping up with Lenox.

The forge of Cartias Blackstone was not what Ayden had expected to see; he had seen the abandoned forge in the Capital, and it was elaborate and beautifully crafted. This, however, was merely a cave carved into the bottom of Olkmont Mountain. As they approached, Ayden could hear the rhythmic strike of hammer on metal, something he had not heard since he had left the Capital. The art of a blacksmith was one left almost exclusively to the mortals of Ceokia, as well as other, more mundane jobs, such as fishing, hunting, and teaching. If a mortal was lucky enough to be born into a military or blacksmith family, he or she was very lucky. Mortals were stronger than almost any other life in Ceokia, except for the werebears; they matched werewolves nearly hit for hit and could even out fight a vampire in hand to hand combat. Ayden was always amazed with the Mortals he had met and had been bested by more than one. 

            “Cartias!” Lennox called; his booming voice akin to a howl. “Come and meet our newest recruit, he is in need of your assistance.” A burly man emerged from the smoke, and Ayden was immediately struck by his appearance; The Cartias who had lived in the Capital was clean shaven, and smartly dressed. This man, however, had shaved most of his head except for a braided Mohawk, much after the Nordic style; his arms were bare, and covered in tattoos, and he was missing his left leg, which was replaced by a mechanical contraption of his own creation. “Ah, Cartias; this is Ayden, and Nikodemus has decided he’s to stay with us.”

            Cartias grunted, giving Ayden a long, slow look over his lanky frame. “Nik is too soft, we don’t need more vampires; we need more mortals, more fighters.” He wiped his brow, dragging soot from his hand across his face. “Can you fight?”

            “Moderately well, I suppose. I was a trained hunter,” Ayden responded, meeting the blacksmiths eyes. “I was trained to fight when it was necessary, but I’m not very good with a weapon; hand to hand combat is my preferred fighting style.” Cartias laughed, slapping him on the shoulder; the act sent a shock wave through the young vampire’s body. 

            Lennox smiled slyly, watching their every interaction. “I trust you can equip him with something so I can give him a few lessons, my friend?” The old werewolf chuckled. “Lord knows we don’t have enough of you trained mortals; the Council wouldn’t stand a chance if we did. That’s why they keep them all locked up in the Capital Military.” Cartias nodded, solemnly, and looked over Ayden again. “How long until you can make him something useful, something I can teach him with? A few days, or are you backed up on orders?”

            “Nah, give me until the day after tomorrow, I reckon I can get him something fair enough to practice with by then, and then something a bit more fancy in a week or so,” Cartias grumbled in a gruff but friendly tone. “Don’t worry, Little Vampire. We’ll make a proper fighter out of you yet.” With that, Cartias disappeared back into the smoke of the forge. Ayden looked at Lennox, perplexed and impressed after his visit with Ceokia’s master blacksmith. The old werewolf gently led Ayden away, chattering about what else he would have to see, who else he would have to meet. Ayden, however, was lost. If someone whose family has been so loyal to the Council for generations, Ayden thought to himself, I wonder what changed.

            After walking for a while, Ayden stopped, and Lenox gave him a confused glance. “How did Cartias come to be here? Everyone thinks he is…well dead. His forge exploded, and the only piece of him that was ever found was his leg.” It had been a huge story, and Ayden (along with several other hunters) had been put on the case of trying to find the bomber for six whole months. There were still people on that case; Ayden just was not one of them anymore. 

            “Cartias was the one behind the explosion,” Lenox explained. “He was tired of supplying the council when all they were doing was fighting people who only wanted to be allowed to love who they choose. Councilman Aurigan, the head of the werebears, was starting to preach about the purity of bloodlines and the danger of mixing blood. Sure, most born from mixed races are harmless and mortal, but some are unable to control their change, and cause horrible damage. Your mother, Councilwoman Walker, was on his side. She was the Chief Healer of the Council and had seen some terrible things. Cartias petitioned the Council to allow him to marry his long-time love, a vampire named Melinda. Aurigan and your mother ensured that this was not only denied, but that interspecies relationships were made completely illegal. Melinda was removed from Council Capitol, where Cartias had his forge. It was then that Nikodemus approached him, and he decided to take up his offer and leave. He blew up his forge, but misjudged the strength of the explosion, and accidentally took his leg with him,” Lenox let out a sigh, shaking his head. “I hate to think what would happen to my children’s children if they ever found out that they’re half mortal.”

            Ayden was taken aback in shock; no one would ever tell him what lead to the m******e of Oitsa, nor to the death of his mother. Councilman Aurigan was one of the worst men Ayden had ever had the displeasure of meeting and was not shocked that he was behind the propaganda that was leading to this war. Lenox looked up to the sky, and then to Ayden. “I have to get you back to your tent; I have other recruits to show around. I must ask you not to leave your tent unaccompanied, just for our safety. You understand, of course.” Ayden nodded reluctantly, and they walked back to the tent Ayden was being kept in silently. When he returned to his tent, he found another rabbit waiting for him. He drank, and quickly dozed off.