The Vorbing (11 page)

It sought to grip on to his clothes and gain a foothold to concentrate its efforts on Vlad’s neck. It repulsed Vlad even more, seeing the peculiar fusion of reptile and rodent up close. There was the bat’s twitching head with its rat-like face, moist mouth and nose, and those staring red eyes.  It was all incredibly alien-looking to the human eye. Vlad managed to get enough of a grip to batter the creature against the wall. When he had dazed it sufficiently, Vlad threw it out to where the vampires crouched. “You will have to do better than that, Deadulus,” Vlad shouted triumphantly. 

A sight then greeted his eyes that made him regret his moment of defiant bravado. Deadulus had manipulated his entire head through the crack in the cave wall.  Before Vlad reacted, it had advanced to where Vlad stood. Vlad’s mouth hung open at the vampire’s uncanny contortion of his physical frame.  Amazement rapidly turned to terror as Deadulus continued his sadistic trek toward the cornered young man.  Vlad once again began to pound the cave wall with anything close by while keeping an eye on the vampire’s position. As the NightLord approached Vlad’s leg, he opened his mouth, ready to vorb on his blood. Vlad detected the slimy, sharp teeth against his leg as he hammered at the stubborn object.  A swift kick to the vampire’s head bought Vlad a few vital seconds.  A small hole appeared in the wall. Vlad quickly made it a large crater by charging into it with his shoulder. The vampire’s teeth got a grip on Vlad’s ankle. Vlad shook himself free and clambered through the hole. His strenuous activity had dislodged the already fragile wall, and it came crashing down on the NightLord’s head. Vlad laughed at his muffled yells as he escaped. 

              Young Ingisbohr pressed on through the semi-darkness of the cave. The direction of the wind was the only thing guiding Vlad as it gently blew through the passageway.  He stumbled over something and fell on top of it.  Vlad found the vacant eye sockets of a skeleton peering back at him, and he recoiled in horror.  As he stared at the skull for a moment to catch his breath, his legs were pulled from under him, and he felt himself being dragged along the ground.  One of the vampires had found an opening in the passageway, extended his arm beyond its normal length, and grabbed the young man’s leg.  The claw pulled him toward steadily toward a tiny opening in the wall.  Vlad tried to dig his heel into the ground to slow down his advance, but to no avail.  When the hand had pulled him in line with the hole, there was silence. 

              The vampire’s head emerged from the hole and reared up above Vlad

ready to strike.  Vlad managed to grab one of the bones from the skeleton and held it in front of himself.  The creature rained down pounding blows on Vlad with its head.  The young man managed to jam the femur in the creature’s mouth.  The vampire released its grip, screaming in agony as blood gushed from its pallet and tongue. It tried to dislodge the bone from its mouth by swinging its head from side to side.  Vlad procured a boulder from up the passageway. He raised it above his head and brought it crashing down on the creature’s temple. Blood squirted over Vlad’s face. Several more enormous blows from Vlad brought the struggle to a quick conclusion. Vlad collapsed against the cave wall, wiping the blood from his face as his chest heaved from the exertion. The vampires roared furiously on the other side of the wall. They began pounding the wall to try to get at Vlad, but he was not going to stay there long enough to get caught.  The young man resumed his dark quest to escape the cave. 

              Vlad eventually came to a bubbling pool.  He dropped a stone in to test

the depth. It seemed shallow enough. He put his hand in to gauge the temperature. Again, it seemed favourable. A distant sound in the passageway persuaded him to push onward.  He hopped into the pool and began wading through it.  As he walked, he felt something nip his leg.  Then, he felt his other leg being nipped.  Vlad danced through the water in pain as he felt bite after bite on his legs. The vicious biting stopped, leaving Vlad’s skin throbbing and bleeding. While he felt a slight relief, at least he had known where his attacker or attackers were when they were biting him. He had no idea where they had disappeared to, nor what they were planning next, and that worried him even more. After a second’s pause, Vlad began to move forward again, but a bone-crunching blow to his chest sent him flying backward.  Vlad lay dazed in the water for a moment, swallowing copious quantities of it in the process.  He jumped up, coughing and spluttering.  Then, the pain in his chest hit him, and he drew in massive breaths.  Vlad strained to see, and detected something dark brown moving in the water. He was not going to wait to verify whether it was a threat or a trick of the light. Vlad waded through the water and accelerated with every step. After a couple of steps, he tripped and fell forward into the pool. Something had wrapped itself around his leg and was dragging him underwater. 

              Vlad held on with a desperate death grip, but the rocks were slippery, and his fingers slid off them. He fell back into the pool. Bubbles from his mouth obscured his view underneath the muddy water. He felt something sticking into his side. Vlad reached down and found it was a sharp tree branch. He stabbed his attacker with it straight away. The creature released him from its grip. Vlad shot to the surface and struggled to get out as he gasped for air.  A giant serpent-like creature rose from the water, and with its jaws gaping, it went for Vlad again. Vlad managed to grab it by the throat before it delivered its lethal bite. Its salivating vertical jaws snapped repeatedly in front of Vlad’s eyes. The jaws opened wider as it began to get the upper hand.  The monster was readying itself for the kill when a roar from the passageway made it raise its head. 

              Deadulus and two other vampires stood watching the deadly duel. Vlad threw the serpent towards the vampires. As he splashed through the end of the pool, he listened to the titanic battle raging between the vampires and the resident reptile. They were fighting for a prize. That prize was dinner, and Vlad was it.  He had advanced twenty feet up the tunnel when an abrupt silence signalled the end of the duel. Vlad stopped for a moment to drink in the implications and then hurried onward.  There was a swirling mass moving up the passageway towards him. Vlad backed up to the end of the tunnel. A shaft of daylight beckoned to him. As he clambered the final few feet to freedom, the serpent wrapped its torso around his waist as its head slithered up Vlad’s body.  Eventually, it came face to face with him. Vlad had no defence, and the snake hissed as it attempted to finish him. Vlad released his grip on the cave wall, and they fell fifteen feet onto the hard rocks. The reptile bore the brunt of the fall. Bruised and dazed, the two battle-scarred warriors paused for a moment to get their bearings. The lull quickly passed, and they resumed battle. 

The serpent thrust its venomous head at Vlad, but he stepped out of the way. The serpent’s head shot over a precipice that led down to another part of the cave.  Swiftly collecting up the folds of scaled skin, Vlad hurled the serpent’s body into the abyss. The creature’s loud hiss echoed through the cave as it drifted down into darkness. Taking a final look down the passageway for any last-minute surprises, Vlad began his ascent to the surface.  Summoning every last ounce of energy he possessed, Vlad dragged himself out of the cave and collapsed on the surface. Like a mole burrowing out of the earth, Vlad covered his eyes with his hand as the glow of the day stung his eyes. When he had fully recovered, he got to his feet to take in the surroundings. A bat-like screech echoed in his ears as he felt himself pinned to the ground by an almighty force. 

              It was Deadulus, king of the vampires.  As it was daylight, Vlad knew Deadulus was not at his strongest, and he felt more secure but still nervous. Deadulus was scary enough with a neutral face. He was twice as frightening when he wore a mask of anger across his ferocious features. Furious red coals of rage burned in the NightLord’s eye sockets. 

              “You killed Necromus!” the NightLord said, pointing at Vlad. “For that, I will flay the flesh from your bones strip by strip.” 

              “Your kind made me kill my friend Mattna,” Vlad replied, “and for that, I shall cut out your heart, drop it in holy water, and watch it burn.” 

              Deadulus drove his fist into the ground beside Vlad’s head. Trembling, Vlad stared at the crater beside his head. 

              “You are a dead man, Ingisbohr!” said Deadulus. “I look forward to committing your soul to eternal damnation.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Vlad said.

With a furious growl, Deadulus took to the air, leaving Vlad lying exhausted on the ground.

Vlad closed his eyes, safe in the knowledge that any nightmare was an improvement on the egregious events he had endured in the previous hours.

Chapter Eight

Vlad felt dehydrated. He had been without water for nearly a day. He thought he heard the pleasant sound of flowing water, and he followed it until he came to a small river. The cool, fresh, mountain water quenched his thirst and made him feel alert again. His mind told him to push on to Mortis, but Vlad was aware of the gruelling day that lay ahead of him. He needed all the energy and strength a good breakfast could supply. Vlad followed the stream for a while until it was deep enough to allow fish to swim in it. He waited patiently by the bank for any movement. As he did so, Vlad heard a man’s voice crying for help from further up the river. The man’s legs were visible as he struggled to surface in the water.

Vlad ran to the spot and reached out to grab the man’s ankle to pull him out. Vlad heaved with all the strength he could muster, and the man’s severed leg came away in his hands. It was severed below the knee. Surprisingly, the man did not cry out. Vlad froze until the surface of the water exploded. A gargantuan Mimic fish leapt out at Vlad with the man’s other leg in its mouth. There was no drowning man at all; it was a ruse. The Mimic fish had held the severed legs of an earlier victim in its mouth while imitating their cries for help to lure the next victim. It was fishing for humans from the water with bait from their own kind; apparently it had learned something from fishermen and turned the hunt on its head.

As the huge fish lunged at Vlad, it spat out the dead leg and opened its gaping mouth to swallow him. It failed to do that, but succeeded in clamping its sloppy lips down on Vlad’s shoulder. Vlad used his body weight to pull the fish onto land, but its strength did not dissipate. If anything, it got stronger as it sucked more and more of Vlad’s flesh into its mouth. The Mimic fish started to swallow Vlad whole. Vlad’s arm and shoulder were already in its mouth; one big gulp, and Vlad’s head would be too. He knew it would squeeze hard on his neck then and choke him to death. Vlad was panicking when a spear from out of nowhere pinned the Mimic fish’s head to the ground through the eye.

              Vlad pulled his arm out and gazed with shock and relief at the smiling, dirty face of Norvad the Beggar. He had a straggly beard and dressed in rags. Norvad twisted his spear in the Mimic fish, and the creature stopped moving.

              “Hello, stranger,” Norvad said, pointing at the Mimic fish. “Shall we eat?”

              “You were waiting for that to attack me so you could spear it?” Vlad said, still breathless from his exertions with the fish.

              “Yes, but I saved your life,” Norvad said.

              “By risking it,” Vlad said. “Thanks, but no thanks.” His stomach growled with hunger.

              “Your body betrays you,” Norvad said. “Help me drag this fish to my fire, and we shall have a hearty breakfast and be good company for one another.”

              “Eat a fish that eats humans?!” Vlad asked. “I’m no cannibal.”

              “Beggars can’t be choosers,” Norvad said. “Eat or starve, the choice is yours. I can’t live your life for you.”

              “Very well,” Vlad said, grumbling as he got to his feet.

              Vlad grabbed the tail of the Mimic fish and Norvad grabbed the dorsal fin, and they strenuously carried the weighty fish to a smouldering pile of leaves not far away.  Norvad quickly set the fish down and threw dry twigs on top of it and blew on them to make the flames higher. Vlad then found a branch and skewered the Mimic fish with it through its midsection, and they set it over the fire to cook. The glorious smell of a hot meal assailed Vlad’s nostrils. It had been too long since he had smelled that reassuring aroma. 

              “It won’t be long now,” Norvad said, smiling as he nodded at the fire.

              Vlad licked his lips and willed the fire to expedite cooking his meal. “Who are you?” Vlad asked. 

              “I am Norvad,” he replied.

“I am Vlad Ingisbohr,” Vlad said.

Norvad’s eyes illuminated. “I’ve heard of this name; it is distinguished.”

              “Thank you,” Vlad said. “What were you doing in the cave?”

“I live there,” Norvad said.

“You live there?” Vlad said incredulously. “What about the serpent?” 

              “Oh, he doesn’t bother me, and I don’t bother him!” Norvad replied. “I live in a different part of the cave. We just stay out of each other’s way!”

Vlad shrugged. 

              “What were you doing there?” Norvad asked.

“Hiding,” Vlad said.

“Hiding from what?” asked Norvad. 

              “Vampires,” Vlad said earnestly, as he scanned the old man’s face for any signs of laughter.  He saw none. 

              “Vampires, eh?” Norvad said. “I’ve heard of them. Never seen one, but I’ve heard of them.”

              “You hear a lot,” Vlad said. “The one who chased me is called Deadulus, and he is the strongest of them all. He killed my father.”             

              “I have also heard of this one,” Norvad said. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks again,” Vlad said.

Norvad told Vlad a story of how Deadulus had consolidated his bloodthirsty reputation. 

              “Early in the reign of Deadulus, not long after McLintock’s Spit,” Norvad said, “a foolish peasant woman failed to find refuge after dark.  She hid in a dark forest, hoping to find an opportunity to escape.  A column of vampires soared over the trees of the forest.  After a quick look around, the woman decided to make a run for it.  She left the safety of the dense forest and came to a clearing.  She checked the skies again and saw nothing.  Deadulus swooped out of the sky and tore the woman’s head from her body. To the amazement of the NightLord, the torso kept running! He hovered several feet above the ground, cradling the head against his chest. Deadulus turned the still-conscious head around and looked into its eyes, his face contorted into a mask of sadistic glee. The vampire held her decapitated head aloft and asked if she saw how mortal life fled from her. The eyes of the head flickered and rolled around, paralysed in the vampire’s hands. The body slumped to a halt on the edge of the clearing, blood erupting from the neck stump and trickling down all the greenery in sight. It was the signal for the NightLord to hold the head over his mouth.  Any loose blood dripped down his throat.  When the flow of blood stopped, he crushed the head between his mighty hands, sending dark, bloody brain tissue streaming into the jagged cavern of his mouth.  He dropped the collapsed cranium to the ground like an apple core and rushed to where the body lay. There, he single-handedly ransacked the corpse, drinking the rest of the poor woman’s blood and feasting on the internal organs. He then took to the sky to rejoin the hunt for prey. When the peasants found the remains of that woman, word spread like wildfire about what a ruthless creature Deadulus was. Few people stayed out after dark following that incident.” 

              “It’s a story I’ve not heard before,” Vlad said, “but it seems consistent with what I know about Deadulus.”

              “You must use all your skill to defeat him, my boy!” the beggar said. “But eat first.”

              When the Mimic fish was ready, Vlad held it to his nose and savoured the scent of cooked food in his nostrils. It smelled even better knowing it had tried to eat him earlier. He was about to take a bite. Vlad chuckled to himself and sat down to consume his fish.  He ravenously munched on the fish. In no time at all, not a morsel remained. He licked his fingers clean and wiped them on his garments. Vlad stretched and looked around the forest.  Vlad was not sure of the old man with him (at least Vlad assumed Norvad was old). It was difficult to see his features properly with all the grime on his face.

              The old man scooped great dollops of food out of a pot for himself. He had made it earlier, before encountering Vlad, and it was cooked to perfection. He put it into a makeshift bowl. “Broth tonight, sloth tomorrow, I say,” Norvad said laughing.

              It made Vlad think of Mattna, and a cloud of sadness crossed his face.

“Was my joke that bad?” Norvad asked.

              “No,” Vlad said, “you just remind me of someone I lost.”

              “Oh,” Norvad said, wisely not digging for any further information.

              There had been no time to take in all that had happened. Vlad’s eyes glazed over as he stared into the distance in a daydream. His eyes refocused and went wide with fear. 

              “There is a vampire behind you,” Vlad whispered to Norvad. “Don’t move.  I’ll grab a stick from the fire to drive it back.” 

              Before Vlad reacted, something sprang from the dark crevice and landed beside the campfire and between the two frightened campers.  It stared Vlad in the eye and sniffed.  It put its snout right up to Vlad’s hair and sniffed down the rest of his body. At close quarters, Vlad studied its physical features. It differed from the other vampires. Its skin was pale white, unlike Deadulus and his breed. Its method of detection was also different. Deadulus also sniffed, but the use of the nose complemented the eyes. With the vampire before Vlad, the sniffing seemed to be its only way of detecting food. Vlad still had the fish in his hands and he held it up, curious whether it would eat.  When it got a scent of the charred fish flesh, the vampire gently moved back from the proffered morsel. Vlad was astonished. He knew he was encountering a new species of vampire. He was even more surprised when it crept over to the beggar and the old man stroked it affectionately. 

              “There you are. Good boy, good boy,” the old man said happily.

Vlad disbelieved what he was witnessing.  “He’s your pet?” Vlad said, half bewildered and half amused. 

“This is my friend, Anamis,” the beggar said. “He is the reason I can escape the detection of the snake.  He alerts me every time.  I have had him since he was a baby.  I fed him and reared him like a human child.  He is very affectionate.”

“I can see that,” Vlad replied, as the albino vampire rubbed its head gently on the old man’s shoulder.

              “What a wondrous creature,” Vlad said. “He has the face of my enemy, but I sense no malice from him.”

              “Anamis is a placid creature,” Norvad agreed. “I owe my life to him.”

              The fact that it had lived in a cave all its life explained its pale skin.  After the display of mutual fondness between the beggar and the beast ended, Anamis jumped alarmingly into the bushes behind them. Vlad lay flat on the ground as the creature sailed over his head. 

              “What’s he doing now?” Vlad breathlessly enquired. 

              “He’s catching his breakfast,” Norvad said with a grin. 

              The bush shook with the creature’s activities, and there were audible munching sounds. 

              “What does he eat?” Vlad asked.  

              “Insects, berries, nuts, roots, you name it,” Norvad replied. 

              Vlad looked back to where the small vampire was and shook his head in amazement.

              “He does not survive on blood?” Vlad asked.

              “Nay,” the beggar replied. “He consumes the fruits of the forest.”

              “So this vampire is not an undead creature,” Vlad said. “Perhaps Deadulus and the others are not undead, either.”

              “So why do they need blood then?” the beggar asked.

              “Food and to make a mockery of Christ’s everlasting covenant, I guess,” Vlad said, “but this creature’s existence has thrown everything I know about vampires into doubt.”

              “All I know is that Anamis is a good friend,” Norvad replied. “I would not be without him.”

              “A bloodless vampire?” Vlad said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Now, I’ve seen everything!  I wish all vampires were like him.” 

              “Yes,” Norvad agreed, “we would all feel safer.” 

              The creature returned with red juice stains on his milky-white lips, the result of consuming berries.  He stopped where Vlad stood. 

              “You can pet him if you like,” Norvad said as he munched on his food. 

              Vlad reached up a trembling hand to pet a creature he always had assumed was purely evil. The little vampire looked up, aware that something was above his head. He sniffed Vlad’s hand, and Vlad nervously withdrew it. 

              “Fear not,” Norvad said. “He will not harm you.  Keep going.” 

              “Petting vampires is a new thing for me,” Vlad said. “I am more accustomed to driving stakes into their hearts!”

              “Oh, yes,” the beggar smiled, his eyes warily watching Vlad. 

              Once again, Vlad placed his hand over the vampire’s head.  This time he gently brought his hand down and stroked the willing animal. The delicate creature made an appreciative sound, like the purring of a cat. Vlad smiled and petted him more forcefully. A cautious trust developed between them as Vlad got used to the creature’s sudden movements.

              “Warm,” Vlad said. “He’s warm. When Deadulus or any of the other vampires touched me, they felt ice cold to the touch. It was at night though, and the night air could have chilled their skin. Anamis seems to be different.”