The Forgotten Gods

 

Disclaimer: Legacy of Kain belongs to Edios and Crystal Dynamics not me. I am making £0.00 out of this fic, it is written purely because I have a burning need to create. Although I would like to own Vorador . . . then he’d be mine.

 

Warning: this fic contains YAOI (GuyXGuy), blood play and a lemon, if this offends or upsets you do not read this, it’s that simple.

 

MILD Defiance spoilers – reference to the ancients curse

 

Rating: M

 

Pairing: Janos/Vorador

 

Setting: pre all games.

 

Authoress note: Randomly reading over my old fics and I remember this one being so much better than it actually was so in my infinite boredom I am re-writing it . . . again.   

 

IMPORTANT NOTE: I still have the original version for those who want it. This version is completely different, does not follow the same story line as the last one at all. (Really should have probably called it something else and wrote it as a separate fic but oh well.)

 

Also I am assuming the ancients were affected by water, but only after the curse.

 

Enjoy.

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Chapter Three

 

 

It was rare for men to hunt in groups these days, as a large group is easy to spot, easy to attack.

 

Although being in a group did have advantages, such as someone’s eyes would always be on the sky and it was easier to fend of a single vampire when you had several men with swords at your back and of course it made the hunting of larger prey possible.

 

In the early rainy seasons, animals would migrate through the canyons. It was custom now for men to form groups and climb the canyon walls hurling down rocks onto the large herds. It was a dangerous way to hunt, the walls were sheer and difficult to climb, and the stone was weak and sometimes broke under the weight of a man. But it was worth it. When you could return to your village with enough meat to last nearly a full season you didn’t mind risking a fall.

 

“But why do we have to climb?” Nicolas whined watching as the other men in the party looked for an easy way up.

 

“Simple.” His father turned and smirked at him, then flicked his son’s nose “we climb because they can’t smell us if we’re up there. Thus they come into the canyon; if they smell us they will stay outside, waiting”

 

“There’s less risk.” Another spoke and laughed at the young hunters expression

 

“Have you ever been kicked by a stag?” Vorador asked, he to smirked at the boys expression “trust me it’s a bigger danger for them to kill us simply by trampling us, than it is for us to fall.”

 

“Especially considering how many there are!” Nicolas’ father could little hide the excitement in his voice.

 

“Calm down!” the third man, a large man who went by the name Royan muttered “anyone would think this was you first hunt and not your sons.”

 

Vorador smiled and watched them bicker amongst themselves in a good natured way. He always enjoyed these hunts, there was a relaxed feel to the air, and the confidence of men sure that they would take home a great prize. He watched as Nicolas’ father found a way up and began the assent. He waited for the others to follow and laughed at Nicolas’ frightened clamber up the stone. He dodged as the youth sent small fragments of stone tumbling down the canyon wall; he turned to shout up at him to be more careful but stopped when a familure sound caught his attention.

 

“Hold!” he shouted the warning, and everyone froze, eyes scanning the sky and cracks in the canyon.

 

They remained still and alert for what felt like forever but soon the tension passed and Nicolas continued his climb upwards. Vorador frowned he had been so sure he had heard the sound of feathers ruffling. He had heard them often enough in his conversations with Janos, he had at one point been fascinated with them, but now he hid his interest finding his want to run his fingers through them embarrassing. The vampire was his enemy, his predator he was supposed to flee or fight not sit and wonder if the feathers would feel as soft as girl’s hair, would they slide through his fingers soft and smooth or would they be rough. He shook himself when a small pebble that had been dislodged from Nicolas’ climb struck him on the head.

 

He did not understand why occasionally his mind would wonder onto the topic of the vampire, such wonderings often confused him. for Janos was what he was and what he was was a vampire, a hunter of mankind, Vorador shook his head wondering why on Nosgoth he had soft thoughts for one that could kill him in moments. Shaking himself again he turned to the wall and hoisted himself up. The climb was slow, the wall was fragile and he could feel it crumble under his fingers and boots.

 

Then suddenly he heard feathers ruffling again and jerked, looking around. He was vulnerable here, clinging to the wall by his fingernails. He could have sworn he saw something move down on a lower ledge but no one else seemed to notice so he hoped he was simply going mad. He was a good way up the canyon wall now and if they were attacked here he would not be able to protect himself nor aid his comrades. He shivered at the thought, fear coiling in his belly and with little thought he continued his climb. It was however his rushing up the wall that caused his downfall.

 

There was a sound that vibrated through Vorador and he recognised it instantly. The wall he clung to jerked violently and slowly gave way, an entire slice of stone coming free and falling to the ground. Time itself seemed to slow as his grip failed and the ground came up to catch him. He could dimly hear the shouts of the others in his group and wondered briefly if Nicolas would ever hunt the canyons again after seeing him dashed on the stones. But then another slow sound caught his attention, like a heart beat, or wing beats. Ignoring the sounds he let himself look down and saw the ground rising up towards him, his stomach knotted hard and the word turned black.

 

The others in the group cried out as Vorador fell and looked away waiting to hear the sound of him landing broken on the ground but Nicolas did not look away. Instead his cry took a strange tone and the others looked back in time to see the vampire pluck their comrade right out of the air and with a few powerful beats of great wings rose up out of sight into the clouds with his prize. Nicolas’ father swallowed and turned to his son.

 

“That’s another danger of the canyons.” He breathed.

 

It was the wind that woke him.

 

It was cold against his face, so cold that it burned. It took him a moment to fully wake and for those moments of confusion he felt somewhat safe, held against someone. But then he realised he was staring at a blue chest, and the wind was so strong it was making his eyes weep. The motion was smooth but at times they would twist without warning when the wind pushed them. He was flying.

 

Flying.

 

Panic rushed through him so hard that he physically spasmed. The vampire holding him let out a cry of surprise and they dropped fast, Vorador heard himself cry out as they fell. However Janos managed to catch himself and beating his wings hard regained the lost height.

 

“Do not do that.” He breathed, it had been a long, long time since he had become winded merely flying, but the weight of the mortal along with himself made staying airborne difficult. It did not help that Vorador was still panicking; the mortals heart was racing so fast the vampire feared it would bust, his hands and blunt nails dug into Janos’ arms and he continually twitched and every movement threatened to topple them from the air again.

 

“What . . . what’s.” The mortal managed

 

“You fell.” Janos panted “and if you don’t stay still we will fall again.” Thankfully the mortal had been unconscious most of the short flight and the aerie was in sight now. Unfortunately Vorador choose this moment to look down and panic once again. He thrashed suddenly in the vampire’s arms causing both mortal and vampire to cry out. The mortal continued to thrash on the way down, twisting and fighting to get out of the vampires grip.

 

Janos clenched his jaw hard and felt his wings buckle under the combined weight. The frozen lake was rising up to meet them and he knew if they hit it chances were they would both perish. The mortal from the crushing fall and he if the ice broke under them. With a howl of effort he forced his wings out against the wind and the weight and preyed to his silent god that the wind would catch them.

 

The balcony was not far and they were falling at an angle, all he needed was for the wind to catch them enough to push them onto it. His wings were twitching under the strain, but his prayers were answered and the wind rose up and pushed them the last few feet. Causing them to glide unpleasantly down and hurtle down onto the stone balcony. The vampire closed his eyes as the marble loomed up at them and wrapped himself around the mortal, protecting him. He felt them hit once and bounce upwards again only to crash down again. He heard a loud crunch and a few smaller snaps but felt no pain, only numb panic.

 

They bounced once more and skidded along the marble until they collided with a wall. His wing bent in a way it should not and he cried out in panic still not feeling any pain but knowing soon he would. They lay crumpled against the stone wall on the balcony and Janos concentrated on breathing. He hadn’t had a landing like that since his youth when his own father had been teaching him to fly. It had felt like he spent most of his adolescence with bandages on some part of his body from a flight related mishap.

 

When he was sure he was breathing he listened to the mortal beneath him. Vorador too was breathing and Janos offered up a prayer of thanks to his silent God. Then slowly began testing his body, the tensed his clawed talons and found them to be working, then he moved upwards, his legs worked when he moved them, his back also and his arms. His wings were battered and one was sprained but it would heal. Again he offered thanks for being in one piece then sitting up slowly growling when his muscles protested, he looked over the mortal.

 

Vorador had not been as lucky as he had. The mortal had been on the bottom of the fall and had broken two ribs from the first bounce, an arm was facing the wrong way and a shoulder seemed dislocated. He was bleeding, and gently Janos lifted him seeing that Vorador’s back had been scrapped raw when they had skidded into the wall.

 

This was not good.

 

Every time he tried to help he just did more damage. He had been watching the mortal in the canyon, for the rainy season was soon to begin fully and he would need to hunt before then. He had been fighting his own bloodlust for far to long this time and he was fining it increasingly difficult to control himself. So he had hunted, hoping to pick a mortal from the canyon walls. Only to find that his mortal was among those hunting this day. He knew he shouldn’t refer to Vorador as his but it was hard not to.

 

The mortal despite his brash actions and sometimes unpleasant words, was somewhat dear to the vampire. Janos valued the friendship he held with the human, and enjoyed his company more than that of his own kind. Vorador was honest about the world and his own opinions were voiced loudly without fear. Janos found himself admiring that confidence. But there was something else to his attachment, something he doubted few would appreciate. Vorador was not small, nor was he delicate in any sense of the word but he was frail, there was venerability to him that Janos doubted others had ever seen and it made him love the mortal.

 

So today when he had seen his mortal fall he had acted without thought and had spread his wings and caught him. It was only as they cleared the clouds that he realised what he had done. Vorador’s people had seen him carried off, they would assume him dead and if he returned to the village he would be branded a daemon, a creature of ill intentions and danger.

 

He had effectively ruined the mortal life in one fell swoop.

 

But at least the mortal was alive. Then on flying home he had successfully managed to almost kill them both and in saving them had harmed Vorador greatly. The vampire sighed; he truly was a wretched creature to do this to the one creature who almost understood him. With a silent groan of despair he bent and lifted the mortal gently, trying not to cause him further pain. He did not succeed completely as Vorador cried out when lifted. Janos looked down and saw the mortal still seemed unconscious. With a nod and a feeling of determination Janos carried him inside.

 

“I will help you.”

 

End chapter

 

Authoress note: DAMN IT! This was only meant to be four chapters long! God damn you Janos! *shakes fist at the ancient* why do you have t be so . . . so . . . DAMN YOU!

 

Looks like this is going on a bit longer than expected folks.

 

Please review.