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.)

 

Enjoy.

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Chapter One

 

It was bitterly cold.

 

But the winter always was; even in the shelter of his home Vorador was still cold. The chill from outside was creeping in from somewhere, settling into the man’s bones making them ache. The harsh winds howled outside and battered against the walls.

 

It was mornings like today that made him wonder how those weaker than himself managed to live at all. The old and the frail, how did they cope with the harshness that the land now threw at them? The frigid winters, in which the darkness held more fears than simple cold and the infinitesimal summers, where little would grow and little was born.

 

With short stiff movements the mortal moved from his bed and pulled clothing from the floor. Surely the land had not always been so harsh, the elders of the village told stories of warm summers which lasted half the year and times when the sound of wing beats did not send men running. Vorador had often wondered how long ago that time had been for all his life the world had not been a safe place. Mortals somehow managed to scrape out a living in the war zone that Nosgoth had become, but the living was sparse and hard. Even in his youth often the men who went hunting never returned caught up in a violent skirmish between the vampires and the hylden.

 

But Vorador did not remember much of the war for it had ended a mere few years after his birth. He did however remember the night it ended with stark clarity. As the two races warred for dominance of Nosgoth, it became clear that the vampires held the upper hand, constructing strange edifices the some how harmed the Hylden. Vorador had watched the banishment from the safe haven his village held in the mountains, watched as the few remaining Hylden cast out green magic that caused the vampires to go mad. He had watched as the maddened vampires turned on each other and then on the mortals. The safe haven was torn asunder, the majority died that night and at the end of it he was left without a family and only a few that he called friend.

 

Shaking the memory from his mind he finished dressing, wrapping the furs tightly around him to fend off the cold. With a last sour look around the one roomed building he called home he grabbed the small sword propped up against the wall, slung a bow over his shoulder and headed outside. It was still early; the sun only just rising, the village would not truly wake yet for a few more hours. He would venture out and check what traps he had set and return hopefully with something before opening shop for the day. He only had a few simple orders today and it would not take him long. Vorador sighed mournfully, the reason for there being so little in the way of work was that the village was only a third the size that it should be.

 

Refusing to think on it he turned from the village and walked out into the forest.

 

The pillars loomed in the distance; they were beautiful, great columns of marble, wonderful in their simplicity. But despite their beauty they caused only anger in the mortal blacksmith now, for they served only as a reminder that now the mortals and vampires alike lived in a world torn to near shreds by war. The vampire’s once indifferent to the mortals who shared Nosgoth with them now turned their eye to the men and women of the villages but it was not a benevolent eye it was the gaze of a predator. The vampire’s were faster, stronger and air born, fighting them was a near impossibility until quiet by chance they discovered the vampires had a weakness. Water was the human’s only really weapon against them but as the land descended into madness, the water froze and the weapon was rendered useless.

 

The forest was quiet this morning but then that was not a great surprise, the cold and the amount of predators making life extremely hard for the beasts of the forest. The first of his traps was empty, but with a growl of frustration he noted that it had not always been empty. Fur and blood lined the trap, something had been caught and by the great gouges out of the side of the trap, his prey had been stolen by a wolf. Vorador cursed loudly sending birds in the nearby trees into flight. But there were more traps, hopefully all had not suffered the same fate as this one. Lifting the broken trap he continued to head north.

 

He continued on through the forest and found the other three traps he had set, two were empty one was not. However while prey of any kind was good, the small rabbit would barely feed him. It was still some time before he needed to head back to the village and truth be told he was glad of it. For while the village offered protection that the forest did not; the village was a depressing place to be. Staring into the eyes of those around him only to see hopelessness in them he preyed was not reflected in himself. So instead of turning to go back he continued on North and found himself in the glen by the pillars.

 

Vorador froze as in front of him just behind the pillars, stood a doe. He frowned confused at why a doe would be alone as deer usually stayed in herds in the winter. But quickly he shook the thought from himself and moved silently forward, freezing every time the doe moved. Drawing his bow when he judged himself close enough he pulled and arrow and took aim. The doe looked up sharply and turned faster than Vorador could fire, the arrow missed and the doe fled. Vorador frowned confusion overriding his anger. What had made her run, he had been silent and down wind, surely she had not sensed him? The soft sound of wing beats and rustling feathers made the mortal sigh; he did not want to speak now, not today when he was in such a mood as this.

 

“I did not expect to see you here.” Vorador breathed at the quiet thump behind him that heralded the others landing. “You realise you just lost me my dinner.” Normally the sound of wing beats would send man running, but over the years Vorador had come to recognise the sound of the vampire now behind him and he was not afraid even although he knew he probably should have been. The fact that he stood now unafraid in the company of a vampire was unheard of, and if he was found out he knew he would be banished or killed but somehow he still found himself willingly meeting with the vampire.

 

Their first meeting was rather typical save from the fact they both survived the encounter and instead of being devoured Vorador found himself pinned to the earth having a conversation. Janos had let him up after a time and Vorador found himself not wanting to continue the fight which had already left him bruised and sore. Rather a strange half friendship was begun, over the last few years it had changed to a strange type of companionship. The vampire grateful for company that was not continually mourning the past and the mortal pleased to find someone who still held hope that their world was not yet damned.

 

“I am sorry. Janos answered “But why would I not come here?” Janos spoke softly as the mortal turned to look at him. Vorador sighed and placed the bow back over his shoulder and walked to retrieve the arrow. “it was after all made by us.”

 

“Yes it was.” Vorador could not keep the venom from his voice. The mood he was in and the loss of the doe souring his attitude towards the vampire. For in the eyes of mortal’s it was the vampires who caused all their suffering, it was the vampires who had caused the war, it was the vampires who now hunted them mercilessly and it was the vampire in front of him now that had chased away his dinner.

 

“you are angry.” A cloven hand reaches out to touch the mortal’s shoulder, “there will be another doe, you will not go hungry, have faith in your abilities.” The mortal however seemed to have developed selective hearing and turned sharply

 

“of course I’m angry.” He fumed “if t wasn’t for these stupid things,” he kicked at the mind pillar “or your stupid war! I would still have my family, I would not be freezing to death every night and my people would not be dying along side yours.”

 

“Are we to have this debate again?” Janos asked “I’m afraid my argument has not changed.” He laughed a little “and I doubt yours has either.”

 

“It was a selfish, stupid thing to do.” Vorador grumbled “you thought not of the damage done to the world, to the others who share it with you but only of your own selfish desire.”

 

“It was not a selfish desire.” Janos answered, but his words were not angry but rather desperate. It cannot have been a simple selfish desire, it cannot have been; to many had died, to many had suffered and the greatest price was paid. There had to be something more profound, with more meaning than desire.

 

“Then what was it?” Vorador asked frowning at the vampire next to him. Janos looked to the ground, his expression unreadable. Despite knowing how badly the war had damaged everything, for both Vampires and mortals he could not show fear or remorse to this mortal. This one who while speaking with him and in his own way understanding him had no idea what it was truly like to be him. To be driven by a God now lost to him forever.  

 

“It was a crusade.” Janos breathed after a moment “although the word does not feel right, it is the only one I can give.”

 

“The Hylden were the only ones that could truly oppose you.” Vorador breathed and held up a hand when the ancient went to interrupt “we mortal’s may fight you when you hunt us but more often than not we die when we face you. The Hylden however could have truly opposed you, challenged you for dominance of Nosgoth.” With a sigh the mortal turned away from the vampire and looked back at the pillars,

 

“You do not lie, but still you are wrong.” Janos spoke; the vampire disliked this conversation, mainly because while the mortal had no true understanding of the depth of the war, or the vampire’s reasons for it he did have a point. The vampire’s in an effort to please their God had doomed the Hylden, the mortals and themselves. He cared not for the Hylden, but the mortal’s he would not have harmed, he had always been quiet fond of them.

 

He looked to Vorador standing staring up at the pillars, he was fond of this mortal, perhaps because he was the only one of his kind who would willing converse with a vampire, perhaps because he was so strong willed despite being somewhat narrow minded at times. Whatever his reasons Janos enjoyed the mortal’s company even when Vorador was argumentative like today, it was somewhat endearing. He shook his head wondering briefly what the others would say about him having a soft spot for a mortal and such a brash one at that. But then it wasn’t a mere soft spot, a soft spot was what one felt for pets and Vorador was no pet. No it was something more.

 

A sound caused the vampire to look up and on instinct inhaled sharply hoping to scent what had caused the sound but all he could smell was the mortal next to him, being wrapped in stinking furs did nothing to conceal the scent of the mortal himself, of his life force flowing smoothing just under the skin. Janos felt his hand’s trembling.

 

It had been a great amount of time since the ancient vampire had fed,

 

When the curse had fallen all his kind had been ceased by a great madness to which only a few returned to sanity alive. The madness that had taken them was what they now called their ‘Hunger’ their lust for blood, preferably the blood of man. When the vampires had fallen on the mortals, so many had died; both mortal and vampire had fallen for while being small and short lived without the gift of flight the mortals of Nosgoth were not defenceless. But once the initial madness had subsided most came into some concept of control, however despite this many thought little of hunting man. But Janos was not many.

 

He had woken from his first fall to madness with blood in his mouth and in his belly and the bodies of those he had slain lying near him. That alone was almost enough to drive him to despair. But some strength had prevented it and instead he had sworn to himself he would not hunt men, for in his mind the mortal’s of the land were like children, misguided and vulnerable, it was wrong, terribly wrong for them to suffer for the vampires mistake.  Yet after the first month he broke his word, it was impossible to live without hunting, for even when he choose not to hunt but rather to starve, the ‘hunger’ the madness took hold again and drove him to hunt; and when he allowed that to happen so many died that need not have.

 

So he reached a compromise with himself, he would hunt to keep himself under control. But still even though he knew he was doing what he could he still could not crush the feeling of guilt when he felt the bodies go limp with death while he himself was warmed.

 

“I think I will leave you now, I grow weary of this conversation. It does little but frustrate me.” With those words the mortal rose and the vampire watched him leave.

 

Janos hated to admit it but he was grateful for the mortal’s absence. It had been to long since he had fed. A sharp pain twisted in his gut reminding him of this but it was still want not need at the moment so he would not hunt yet. Also he had something else to think on, for despite being grateful for the mortal’s absence he disliked letting Vorador leave angry. So with a small effort he opened his wings and lifted himself into the air, his mind set of fixing that problem.

 

The darkness of night had well and truly fallen when Vorador heard a polite knock at his door. He frowned instantly wary, for it was unspoken law that the village had a curfew. Vampires were night predators by nature and although they would hunt in the daylight they preferred the night and so common sense dictated that being indoors at night was safer. Vorador had snorted, if a vampire truly wanted to it could get inside, that had been proven many, many times. But still he doubted a hunter would knock. Lifting his sword he moved to the door, and opened it a hairs breath to see bright golden eyes staring back at him. Fear gripped him but not the fear that he was soon to die but rather the fear of being spotted. Reaching out and grabbing an arm he pulled the other inside.

 

“What do you think you are doing!” he snapped closing the door again quickly. “Do you have any idea what would happen to me if anyone saw you and knew I had allowed you here?” Janos blinked and feathers ruffled as he pulled his wings against himself as so not to knock anything in the small dwelling down.

 

“I was not seen.” Janos spoke softly, unable to keep the slight arrogance from his voice. Vorador snorted and moved back to the fireplace.

 

“Did you come for a reason or was it simply to endanger me?” he breathed turning away from the vampire. Noting for the first time that he was, more than likely, the only human who could turn his back to a vampire and live to tell of it.

 

But then Janos seemed different. He did not seem a predator; he had intelligence, sympathy and compassion. He was not what mortals pictured when they thought of vampires. Powerful predators, gods who had once been indifferent to the mortal’s world but now ravaged it. Janos didn’t seem mad, and Vorador could not picture him ravaging anything. The thought made the man cough out a chocked laugh and earned him a strange look from the vampire who was trying to settle himself in a chair not made for a creature with a ten foot wing span.

 

“No I have a …” the vampire seemed awkward and paused for a moment before continuing “gift for you.” The vampire smiled, seemingly pleased with himself, Vorador raised an eyebrow and only just noticed the vampire was carrying something wrapped in cloth.  “as I cost you your meal today, I thought it only polite to replace it.” Again Vorador found himself thinking of predators and wondering how many predators worried about being polite.

 

Vorador turned and walked to the chair smirking as Janos fidgeted his wing tips being crushed under him. The vampire held out the package and the human took it. It was not overly large and smelt faintly of the rivers, the mortal pulled the cloth away revealing a salmon and looked up in astonishment at the vampire.

 

“How did you manage to get this?” Vorador asked somewhat surprised by the offering.  

 

“It is a skill.” Janos smirked, preening slightly at the mortal’s obvious impressed nature. “Speed is the key, we dive and strike in seconds barely touching the water at all.”

 

“Well.” The mortal looked to the vampire “thank you.”

 

“You are quiet welcome.”

 

End chapter

 

Authoress note: Different than the older version but better I hope

 

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