The Blade of Truth
Malloy bullied Trjónn back into the room he had been staying in, using his larger bulk and strength to corral the smaller man. While the former Viking was older than him, Trjónn had been a sailor in his mortal life, his build far more spry and lanky with lean muscles meant to get him quickly from one end of a sea slick deck to the other. Malloy had been a warrior on the front lines for his people, wielding a macuahuitl with fierce fervor to destroy whatever foe came his way. While he did not have height on the older man, he significantly outweighed him in sheer weight class.
Laughing derisively, Trjónn spat, "Is this what the great Ebio's come to? Allowing a pup to usurp her rule?"
"Silence your tongue, cousin," Malloy snarled, "else I might tear it out."
"Will you cut out my heart and sacrifice it to your fallen gods?" the other vampire questioned with a mocking laugh. "Oh, wait, you don't believe in them anymore than I believe in the gods that were supposed to bless my people. And don't lie to me and tell me that you didn't see it, Malloy. She let him hit her! Ebio could have murdered that disobedient child in her sleep and she let him pummel her until she was bloody and broken!"
Shaking his head, Malloy sneered, "I am more than aware of my own mother's flaws in judgment, as well as her reasons as to why she did what she did."
Shaking his head, Trjónn hissed, "Even you hesitated! You, cousin, who famously has no fear!"
Idiot. Of course Malloy had fears, only young children who didn't know better and fools didn't have fears.
Part of him had feared that Xiang would never return when she had left him for those first few years of Darragh's existence, stalking and eventually turning his little brother. She had confessed what she had done the very night that she had returned and they had both kept his existence quiet since that day, knowing that his bloodbrother did not remember the boy that had been left behind.
Since that night they returned to England years ago, Darragh secure on the ship beneath them and his own concerns running wild, he had feared for so long that his new brother was going to be the end of his mother. He wasn't so far way from his mortal life that he had forgotten the woman who had birthed him but she was dead. And Ebio was the one who had saved him. At first it had been fear that Darragh was going to go out of control and kill indiscriminately but Mother had handled that by bringing Gnaea in. Now he was afraid that she was going to dash herself upon the rocks as a sacrifice for his younger brother.
"He is her favorite, I'm well aware of that," Malloy stated flatly. Much as she loved both him and Gnaea, there was some deeper connection between Ebio and Darragh. He didn't know if it was just a natural connection or if that oath made between her and his mother in that abandoned village had done...something. If somehow the magic that made a hunter had made the oath something more than just mere words. Pushing those thoughts aside - he was not here to be jealous of his brother - Malloy squared his shoulders and said, "That isn't the matter at hand."
"What then?" Trjónn asked, tipping his chin up haughtily.
"The knife, cousin. I know you took it off a hunter years ago but no hunter's blade does that to one of us."
The wound on Darragh's shoulder was like nothing that Malloy had ever seen or experienced. Normally the wounds wrought by the blade were just wounds, a cut or slash that healed at a mortal pace instead of a vampiric one. That was the magic behind them, that it stole their healing capabilities that kept them a step ahead of the easily wounded mortals.
Darragh's wound had split open his arm from shoulder to wrist, as if the flesh itself was pulling away from the wound. Instead of a long cut the width of the blade that had done the work, the wound was three to four times larger than it should have been. Gaping and leaking blood onto the floor, Ebio had called for their servants for supplies and had begun packing the wound with rags that one of them brought her as Malloy had bullied Trjónn up the stairs.
He had heard his younger brother whining - that high-pitched, pained whine of pain like a beaten dog - and Mother whispering reassurances to him as if Darragh hadn't smashed her chest in moments before. And he had also caught her clipped, "Find out why," that she had hissed at him, their eyes meeting just before he crested the top of the stairs. They both wanted to know what it was about the blade that had done such damage to someone that was precious to them.
Darragh might hate them now but Malloy hadn't been lying. He was his brother still, even if they would never hunt together again after this night. Despite his misgivings and actions over the years, there was affection and - dare he admit to it - love in him for the Irishman. Plus, Darragh's brother was his grandchild now through Xiang and that meant something too.
Trjónn laughed at him and said, "That's what this is about? The knife?"
"The wound the knife made," Malloy corrected. "You saw what it did."
"I did. Fine work!" The older vampire then laughed, grinning, and said, "And it's not the knife that did the work. Whoever birthed him did half the work to make it happen and Ebio did the rest."
Snarling, Malloy gave up on being polite and lunged, his hand easily closing around Trjónn's throat. The slighter man attempted to dodge but Malloy was simply faster. As Trjónn's back hit the wall and he let out a grunt, Malloy bared his fangs and got in close to his bloodsister's child, using his bulk to hold him in place. Pressing his mouth against an ear that was pockmarked with old scars and notches from earrings that had been obviously torn out of it during a mortal life, he growled, "My dearest sister would not care one whit if I killed you, cousin, she has told Mother and I this herself. You were brought into this family by the whim of circumstance and it would not take much effort for me to remove you from it."
"You're...lying," Trjónn choked out and Malloy growled, moving his thumb to press it harshly against the hollow of the other man's throat. As he applied pressure and Trjónn choked, he chuckled darkly.
"I have just watched my mother allow my brother to beat her bloody in an attempt to save him from madness, do not test me. Now, I will have answers as to what your precious knife did and so will she, because she bid me to get them." Malloy then shifted, grinning into Trjónn's scarred cheek, and growled, "And you know how I love to please my mother. Do make it hard for me to get the answers out of you. Perhaps I will make a return to the ways of my people and take the heart out of your chest after all."
Trjónn's breath rattled out unevenly and then he gasped, "Fine. I'll talk."
Nodding, Malloy waited for a long moment for something else to be said and, when it wasn't, leaned back slightly to look down at the other man with an arched eyebrow. "I'm waiting," he said expectantly.
"We can't..." Trjónn inhaled another breath sharply as Malloy pushed his thumb down into the thin skin of his throat. "...talk about this like adults?"
"This is talking like adults, dear cousin. I know your ways and that to get any clear answers out of you we have to force them out at knifepoint, or else you will figure out a way to swindle out of them."
A brief chuckle came from the other man at that and he murmured, "She really did tell you how to deal with me." Trjónn then licked his lips before saying, "The story as I know it came from the hunter I took it off of, after I tortured it out of him. Some Hancóc bitch a century ago was the one who made a batch of blades for them. Fully made them, from forging to the enchanting, insistent that the magic in the blades would be richer and fuller because of it."
Trjónn's blue eyes darted towards Malloy's face and at the stony visage directed towards him, he flinched before continuing. "Apparently," he went on, "a Smith hunter was turned during that time by the vampire he was hunting somewhere in the Colonies. Around about the time that you and Ebio were in Ireland stalking the other half of our topic." Malloy growled at the notation and closed his hand a little tighter, making the other man choke. "J-just making the note."
"Move. On."
"O-of course," he choked out. Trjónn inhaled a wheezing breath - despite not needing necessarily to breathe, it was required to speak - and continued, "Apparently they were close. Lovers maybe, friends definitely, and she wanted to make sure that he died at the hands of his clan. So she made several hundred weapons over the years, blessing them to burn vampiric flesh but also to do more to it if it belonged to someone who carried Smith blood in them. The more blood of the clan they carried, the more it would do to them."
Now the older vampire grinned, mouth stretched broadly in a smug and knowing smile. "Which means," he declared almost proudly, "that your boy is not just some disobedient pup, he's a hunter's pup."
And Malloy prays to gods that he hadn't believed in since Tenochtitlan fell that Trjónn never heard of the Smith hunter who supposedly died on a hunt for Itztli, the son of Ebio, a handful of years before his tale of the witch who forged weapons for the clan. He hopes that he never heard of Marie Smith and never comes to suspect the truth behind what brought Darragh to their family. Nor that he ever meets an Irishman while out in the world, one with blue eyes and a serious expression who smells of Xiang's blood and his own and faintly of Ebio's.
Trjónn's smug smile didn't last long as Malloy tightened his grip again, so tight now that if he needed oxygen to live the man would be turning blue. As it was, he was choking in pain, air wheezing in and out of his bobbing throat as he tried to speak.
Leaning in, he snarled, "You are allowed to proudly proclaim that you rescued Mother from my brother's fists. And I will let you keep your knife."
"But if you expose my brother, cousin," Malloy continued as he squeezed tighter, feeling something crunch underneath his fingers, "I will kill you. I will kill you dead and no one in our bloodline will mourn you. Do you understand?"
There was a wheezing, pained noise of confirmation and Malloy finally released Trjónn. He stood watching him with dark eyes for a moment before he turned, took a step, and was gone.
When he returned to the entrance hall, two of the servants were carefully cleaning up the pool of Darragh's blood and Xiang was standing by the front door. Her hands were folded demurely in front of her and she had a small bag by her feet, dressed and ready to head out into the world. Moving to her, he pulled her into his arms and she came willingly with a soft sigh, tucking her head underneath his chin.
"Is he still alive?" she asked softly into his throat.
"For now," he replied. Malloy then gently pushed her back and asked, "Where are you going?"
Xiang looked seriously at him and replied, "Grandmother asked me to go to Issuru. For..." Her voice trailed off but Malloy didn't need her to finish the words.
Darragh had attacked their sire and, despite Ebio allowing it, that required for him to be judged. He had broken one of their laws and now Issuru and Nazar needed to determine if he was still safe to live or needed to die.
Lifting a hand, he gently caressed her cheek and murmured, "Be careful, my love. You know I worry when you aren't by my side."
She smiled and rose on her toes to kiss him, her soft hands cupping his jaw and pulling him down to her. Malloy growled softly, curling his hands around her slim hips, and kissed her back fervently. When they pulled away, Xiang softly said, "I'm carrying a letter to send off to your sister as well. Grandmother is asking her to come and take your brother with her to her home."
Nodding, Malloy softly said, "Probably for the best. Which, speaking of Mother, I should go tell her what I learned from Trjónn. Is she..."
"Downstairs guest room," Xiang said, nodding towards the room in question. "She felt he would be more comfortable there now that he remembers."
"Likely." He then pulled her close to kiss her again and murmured, "Travel safe, my love."
"Always," she replied, kissing him back softly. Then Xiang stooped to get her bag and was gone in a blur, the door barely registering the fact that it opened and shut again behind her. Malloy stared at it for a long moment before he nodded towards the two staff cleaning the blood and made his way towards the guest room.
The door was open when he reached it and Ebio was standing at the end of the bed inside, her hands clenching and unclenching on the intricate carvings on the footboard. Past her narrow shoulders, he could see Darragh laying on his side on the bed, with one hand stretched out and occasionally clenching into the bedsheets as a soft whimper escaped him
Stepping up next to her, Malloy softly said, "A Hancóc forged the blade with the express intent to cause harm to a Smith hunter who was turned a century or so ago."
Ebio's shoulders flinched and she sighed heavily. "So he knows," she murmured.
"I told him I would kill him if he told," he offered.
"Of course," she noted softly. "You are a good brother."
Malloy fought a flinch because before Gnaea had confronted him years ago he certainly hadn't been but he had been trying since. Despite his misgivings about what might happen to their mother because of him, he did love his brother. Instead, he reached out to gently touch her shoulder and asked, "What do you need me to do, Mother?"
Ebio exhaled softly and then replied, "Now go and find Nazar. But make sure Trjónn is on his way before you leave. I do not want him to remain in this house tonight and if I speak to him face-to-face, I will kill him. Even if he did not know that the blade would wound Darragh, he interfered in what was between the two of us."
"What do I tell Nazar?" he asked. "The truth?"
She nodded, turning to look up at him. In her face, Malloy could see the weight of what was happening crushing her, of Darragh first so angry at her and then terribly wounded. Ebio's hand found his arm as she said, "He will know if you don't tell him. All of his years give him deep insight on all of us."
Nodding, he turned his head slightly towards the bed and asked, "Will you be alright here? Alone with him until Gnaea arrives?"
Ebio smiled sadly and replied, "I will be fine, my son. Go pack for your journey. Safe travels."
"Mother..." Malloy sighed and pulled her stiff form into a brief hug, kissing the top of her head. "I would have killed him," he whispered brokenly. "You know that I would have if he had not stopped."
A slim arm wrapped around his waist and he heard her smile as she said, "I know. And I would have forgiven you as well if it had come to that."
Malloy didn't know how to reply to that so he simply kissed the top of her head again, looked at the wounded form of his brother still sluggishly bleeding through the rags stuffed into his arm, and then left. He had clothing and other items to pack, a cousin to bully out of the house, and then a trip to make.
There was the First to find and a trial to happen.
Timeframe: 1781
Location: Paris, France
Event: Malloy confronts his bloodsister's child, Trjónn inn Hǫggvinkinni, in order to find out what the hunter blade that he carries as a trophy did to his bloodbrother, Darragh.
Consquences: After discovering that the hunter's blade Trjónn carries was meant to specifically cause extra harm to any vampire with Smith blood, Malloy threatens to kill his bloodsister's child if he reveals the truth about Darragh. Then, after seeing his own child off to her hunt for his grandsire, Issuru, he heads off on his own search at Ebio's insistence for the First, Nazar.
Once a proud warrior amongst his people, Itztli was dying in the streets of Tenochtitlan when Ebio came upon him. There he became her second child and intensely loyal to her when she helped him slaughter the Spaniards that had ruined his people. For centuries, he and his child Yen Xiang Jun remained at his sire's side until she told them to go live their lives.
When Ebio and Gnaea Abella were travelling through what would eventually become Norway with Elisabeth Bongam, they came across a ship that had been wrecked in a storm. And the lone, injured but still walking man who was methodically cutting the throats of his shipmates who still lived. Gnaea saw something that she respected in that need to do what needed to be done and turned the man, who's name was Trjónn. Despite that beginning to his life as a vampire, he eventually showed himself to be a schemer who would do whatever he needed to stay alive - and had been killing his injured shipmates to take their supplies. Though she still claims him, Gnaea does not appreciate the irreverent behavior of her son. His favorite claim to make is that he is the one who saved Ebio when Darragh Ó Conaill was attacking her.
The only child of Malloy, she at first feared him as the strange man stalking her in the 1570s. After confronting him, fear became desire as he wooed her, eventually leading to her giving herself to him in order to save her brothers' lives after they tried to attack him. The only time after that that she has left her lover's side was to briefly return to Ireland, where she groomed and eventually turned Daman Ó Conaill, hoping to gain another version of his brother. When he did not, she returned to her sire's side as she knew that she would ruin the sweet man that he was.
The favorite of the Elder Issuru's children, it is known that she was born in Egypt and that she and her sister, Abana, were turned at the same time. In her life, she has garnered a brutal reputation that makes hunters usually whisper her name and has sired three children, loving them as if they were her own by birth.
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