Elana stood at the entrance to the ruined graveyard at the centre of the wood. Light from the torches was already half way down the hill. She could see them bobbing in the darkness as the men who had brought her here ran back down to the village. Fear chased them just as it had stalked them on their way up but then, their Gift protected them. He would not strike if he knew they brought his Gift.
A light wind fluttered the leaves on the branches. Elana hugged her cloak to her, trying to stop her teeth from chattering. She smelt the familiar scent of wool and strove to make her limbs move forward beyond the empty gateway.
The moonlight streaked between the trees. She could see the white slabs of toppled gravestones and the stone box resting this side of the fallen stone wall. The darkness deepened under the huge yew tree, a pool of black so rich it hurt her eyes to look, yet she felt drawn towards the tree's embrace. She smelt him then, not the sweet sickliness of putrefaction, of things long dead, but a dry sharpness that told of thousands of years of fallen leaves. She did not recall her feet moving over the dampened grass but suddenly she was there and could just see his outline against the night sky.
She was glad then that she could hide within her hood so he could not see her fear.
"Have you need of a gift, my Lord?" her soft voiced wavered in the still night air.
"Always, my child." His voice was deep and dark, hovering about her ears with the softness of velvet, yet strong and merciless within. "Come closer that I may see you better."
He moved towards the ruined wall into a path of bright moonlight and for the first time she saw the being she had carried in her heart all these long years. He was as tall as she remembered, his long dark hair falling past his shoulders onto his silken cloak. His face was deathly white in the moonlight, his finely chiselled cheekbones accentuated by the moonlight and his full lips dark and proud. She could not meet his eyes - eyes that would see into her soul, sparkling like coal black diamonds and rich with the wisdom of centuries. She fell to her knees before him and felt the touch of his hand upon her head.
"Why have you come, little one?"
"To offer myself, my Lord."
"Whose choice is this?" His hand felt heavy upon her head and she knew she must answer truthfully if he were to accept her.
"It is the will of my village that I come before you, my Lord, but I have spent my whole life wanting to offer myself to you, truly I have!"
"How can this be so?"
Was it her imagination, or did his voice hold a hint of amusement? Every ten years the village at the foot of the mountain offered its tribute of a virgin to the Vampire King. Most of them went to their doom in trembling fear and not all were accepted. Some made their way home with madness in their eyes, while others were found by the side of the mountain streams with their throats ripped out by wolves. Elana knew her fate was not secure - but she pressed on.
"I have seen you before!" Immediately she knew from his touch that she had surprised him. "Forgive me, I know that I did wrong, but I could not help myself!"
Her whole body trembled until she felt a light touch on her shoulder and she found the strength to continue. "I was just a child when you came before. I hid behind a tree as you drew near to claim her. You spoke to her - but for one brief instance you looked at me and I knew it was my destiny to be your Gift."
The Vampire searched his memories. One tribute in his long life merged quickly into another. He claimed them or rejected them, brought them to that moment of joy and then refreshed his life blood with their own. They joined the ranks of his Dark Angels and he thought no more about them. But this one... intrigued him and he cast his mind back to a moment's gaze upon a startled child. Yes, he remembered and wondered what significance this might have.
"Continue."
For one fleeting moment, her eyes flickered upwards, searching his face, watching for some reaction to her words. She sensed his moment of memory, his dark eyes softening as if her presence now held meaning for him. She was no longer a nameless tribute, a gift to be taken and then forgotten. It had begun.
'Who are the Kindred, Dathos'? Elana recalled her fateful question to the High Priest.
'Why do you wish to know, Elana? Have you been seeking knowledge that is not yours to have?'
'No, Dathos. I saw him when he flew across the mountain. He was like a giant night hawk soaring in the sky. I followed him up to the top of the mountain. He was so wonderful I just wanted to see him. I hid in the thicket when I saw the torches. I heard the voices of the village men and I was afraid they would beat me. They brought Selina with them, she was crying. Some of the men were crying too. I didn't understand why they were so unhappy. When the men left, I was going to go and comfort Selina, but he came and spoke to her and she didn't cry any more. I heard him say that soon she would be one of the Kindred and would be part of him for ever. What did he mean?'
The High Priest looked troubled. 'You heard him speak?'
'Yes, Dathos. I think he saw me too.' She did not understand when the High Priest came and took her in his arms and held her close. She'd been too young to realise the significance of what she'd said, but he'd known. A child had followed a vampire, not any of the Kindred, but the King, himself. She had followed him and she had heard him speak at a time when only the Tribute...the virgin offered to him by the village, should have heard his words. The Gods themselves had shown her fate that day and it was the High Priest's duty to train her in this task, that she might find favour when her turn came to offer herself.
