The Price of Purpose
When I rose and took stock of the shoreline outside Zara’s walls, I saw that the crusading army had split into two camps. The Venetians and most of the French and other crusaders had concealed the letter from the pope that forbade any attack on Zara, and they made their preparations. The splinter group, composed mainly of Montferrat and his kinsmen, had refused to take part in the siege and were setting out for the holy land on their own. As I watched the column march to the south, their former allies spat in their direction even as they gathered rocks for their catapults and assembled their battering rams. I knew that I would need Oliver Colwan’s service later, even if it meant straining his precious faith, so I followed them down the coast, unseen.
Two nights later, Colwan entered the Montferrat camp to visit his sons as the smaller army rested on a bluff overlooking the sea. I approached his tent, making no effort to hide my presence so as not to startle him.
One of his son’s wives welcomed me inside, and in the smoky dimness I saw Colwan watching me warily, his hand on his sword hilt. I asked to speak with him in private, but he stated that his family knew of our nature and he kept no secrets from them. So be it. I asked him why he had really come on crusade. “To free Jerusalem,” he said. “For the mortals?” I replied. "Which would you rather do: fight for the honor of a fat mortal pope in Italy, or confront the spawn of Satan directly?"
Naturally, he didn’t understand my words, so I spent the next hour recounting the tales of the Darkest Ones to him, and how they had spread their influences throughout the Levant, and how their followers would one night bring their plagues and madness to Europe. The women and children covered their ears and wept, begging their lord to make me stop. But Colwan listened as I told him of hidden pits in the wilderness where thousands had been sacrificed to the great sleepers, how their followers had opened doors to Hell and offered themselves up to an eternity of agonies to satisfy their masters, and how they had donated the flesh and bones of kindred and mortals alike, including his beloved Nazarean. Colwan’s face grew darker as he listened, and his hand bent the metal of his sword, so much was his anger and fear. I then told him of my greatest discovery.
“Far to the east, in the sands of Persia beyond Galilee, the penultimate of evils has taken place. A wandering hermit, a truly mad prophet of the Clan of Seers, went searching for and found one of the lost resting-places of the ancients. Whether to gain its power or its blood, the mad one devoured the ancient, and was in turn devoured. His madness increased ten-fold, and after a long sleep he returned to the west to seek out and awaken more of the ancients. In the forests of Hungary I believe he bestowed some of this knowledge to the Usurpers, though I am sure they would deny it now. The mad one slept again for an age, but has recently showed signs of stirring. He will begin to hunt for the next ancient soon. That, Colwan, is why I need your help.”
I stepped closer to Colwan, who stared up at me. One of his sons sought to restrain me, to expel me from the tent even as he cursed me in the name of his God, but his father waved him away. I then made my offer. “Colwan, you left the crusade before I could make my intentions known. The siege of Zara was not a diversion. You see, the kindred that sailed with the army are recruiting another for the TRUE crusade. We are going into the eastern mountains to hunt down the Malkavian before he can do any more harm. But time is short. Even now, his servants prepare for his awakening, and then no one will be able to stop him.“
Colwan stood and gazed straight into my eyes. Conviction blazed within him as he saw a new purpose for his faith. “Tell me what I must do.”
“I need you to return to Zara. After the siege, our group will set out to the east, away from the mortals.”
Colwan then asked the pivotal question. “But what if others learn of this? Surely they will try to capture this Malkavian and take his power for themselves.”
“You are quite correct, Colwan. No soul, living with or without God’s grace, must know of our mission. That is why I wish you had granted my request to speak in private.”
Colwan shuddered, and looked around at the mortals huddled around the tent. Both of his sons, their wives, and three of his grandchildren wept or cringed in silent fear. I said, “I hope your faith is strong enough for what you have to do now.”
I waited for Colwan outside the tent, until the last of the muffled screams subsided. The salty scent of fresh vitae filled the air. Colwan emerged, streaked with gore. He walked stiffly over to me, slowly donning his helmet and adjusting his sword belt.”
“You have made the better choice, Colwan. Do not regret what you have done, for this mission is above all of us.”
He straightened his shoulders then, and stood as still as a statue. His words droned without emotion. “Do not call me by that name. The Colwans are all dead now. The line has ended, by their father. A father that has devoured his children… I am at your service, my lord. Lead my soul to salvation.”
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