Page 68 of Captive
Murmurs spread through warriors who had gathered nearby. Each objection struck against Boarstaff's already fragile composure. Couldn't they see he was trying to do what was right?
"I've made my decision," Boarstaff kept his voice level but projected it to reach those gathering nearby. "Sebastian will bathe in the pools under my direct supervision. Guards will be posted at every entrance. No one enters until he's gone." He sighed, the weight of exhaustion and grief pressing down on him. "He's already lain in our chambers where our magics reshaped him, chambers he found the strength to leave when our mission was in danger."
"The pools are for our people," one elder protested. "For those who've earned the right through birth and service."
"And for those the Heart Tree's guardians deem worthy," Boarstaff finished for him, echoing the ancient teaching. "Today, hebrought one of our fallen back with dignity his kind have never shown us. Today, he chose something beyond centuries of hatred."
He stepped closer to Thornmaker, lowering his voice so only the spearmaster could hear. "You saw him carry Oakspear's body across territories despite the danger. Tell me honestly, old friend, have you ever seen any outsider make such choices?"
Conflict played across Thornmaker's features, hatred of vampires warring with grudging recognition of what Sebastian had done. Finally, he stepped aside, though his expression remained guarded.
"If the council objects," Boarstaff addressed the gathered elders, "bring it up at tomorrow's meeting. But tonight, I'm using my authority as warchief to make this decision."
The underground passage opened before them, worn steps leading down to where waters had flowed beneath the settlement since before the great divide between their peoples. Boarstaff assigned four warriors to guard the entrance, instructing them to permit no one to enter until he gave the signal.
"Not even council members," he emphasized, knowing Thornmaker might try to intervene once his initial shock passed.
As they descended into the chamber, Boarstaff breathed deeply of the familiar mineral-rich air that had soothed his battle-worn muscles countless times before. The warmth from the pools created a perpetual mist that clung to the walls, giving the cavern its ethereal quality. Something in the ancient space seemed to ease the tightness in his chest, though the hollow ache of grief remained.
He watched Sebastian carefully as they entered the sacred chamber. The vampire moved with uncharacteristic hesitation, his shoulders tensing as he drew his first breath of the mineral-laden air. A short cough escaped him, followed by a look of surprise that Boarstaff found strangely endearing.
"The air feels... different here," Sebastian observed, running a finger through the mist that swirled between them. "Richer somehow. Like the water itself is breathing."
"It's the minerals from the water," Boarstaff explained. "They rise with the steam, settle in the lungs. Just breathe normally, your body will adjust." He didn't add what every orc warrior knew: that the mineral-laden air was part of the healing, working from within just asthe waters worked from without.
Sebastian nodded, taking another experimental breath, this one deeper. "In the citadel, we filter everything. Even the caves don't have this... quality." His fingers traced patterns in the mist. "Nothing is allowed to exist in its natural state there."
"Some things work better when left to their own devices," Boarstaff noted, studying him thoughtfully.
The pools lay in partial darkness, only a few formations glowing with soft blue light. Mist drifted up from waters that had carved these caverns over countless centuries. The air carried scents of earth and stone and healing herbs that shamans added during ritual occasions.
"You're standing watch?" Sebastian asked, his gaze moving to where Boarstaff had positioned himself near the entrance to the largest pool.
"Yes." There could be no compromise on this point. "You can clean yourself, but not without supervision."
Sebastian accepted these terms with a nod. He approached the edge of the pool cautiously, as if expecting the water itself to reject him. When nothing happened, he removed the simple linen pants they had provided.
Boarstaff tried to maintain clinical observation, but found his gaze drawn to Sebastian's form despite himself. The seams where metal met skin had softened, blurring boundaries until they fused together in ways that seemed almost natural. The deep puncture wound in his side looked worse than Boarstaff had initially realized - jagged edges looked burned but unhealed, a black star-shaped wound sending thin dark lines outward beneath his skin.
Sebastian slipped into the water with barely a sound. For several minutes, neither spoke as Sebastian submerged completely, emerging with water streaming through his long dark hair. Blood and dirt dissolved into the pool, carried away by currents that flowed through hidden passages beneath the settlement.
Boarstaff found his gaze lingering where it shouldn't. Water traced paths down Sebastian's chest, highlighting the strange beauty of his transformation. Where metal met flesh now seemed almost natural, like veins of ore running through living stone. The fluid movement of Sebastian's body as he bathed held none of the mechanical precisionfrom before - just raw grace that made Boarstaff's mouth go dry. He forced himself to look away, angry at his own distraction when he should be focused on security.
Yet despite the cleansing, the wound in his side continued to weep that strange dark fluid. When Sebastian shifted in the water, Boarstaff caught pain flickering across his features.
"That wound isn't healing," Boarstaff observed, concern overriding his determination to maintain emotional distance.
Sebastian's hand moved to the puncture. "Specialized blade. Designed to shatter inside vampire flesh. Brass components laced with something that disrupts our natural healing." His mouth tightened. "One of Cornelius's more creative improvements. Mainly used against our own kind who step out of line. Zarek is particularly fond of them—he enjoys watching the suffering they cause."
The casual cruelty of it struck Boarstaff hard. To design weapons specifically to torture your own people... And for Sebastian's brother to take pleasure in that suffering. The thought reinforced his growing suspicion that Sebastian had good reason to turn against his father's house.
"How long can you go without feeding?" Boarstaff asked directly, pushing aside his discomfort with the topic.
Sebastian's gaze flickered up, meeting his across the mist-filled cavern. "Not much longer," he admitted. "The fight with Zarek... drained more than expected. Carrying Oakspear took what strength I had left."
The mention of Oakspear's name brought a fresh wave of grief, but also gratitude. Sebastian had risked everything to bring his fallen lover home with dignity.
Without hesitation, Boarstaff drew his ritual knife from its sheath at his belt. "Then feed," he said simply, stepping to the pool's edge.
