The Vorbing (17 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Pierre stopped walking outside the cave and shook his head.

              “It is a shock,” Vlad said.

              Pierre stared into the distance and pointed towards Nocturne. “I can’t believe that Satan awaits us at the end of that road,” Pierre said.

              The trees ahead waved lazily in the breeze, but to Vlad and Pierre, the branches had become the fingers of a dying man beckoning them to their doom. The road ahead had not changed, but Vlad and Pierre’s perception of it had. They were now hyper-conscious of everything, and looking for signs of malevolence and malice where none existed. It was another weapon in the Devil’s arsenal to unsettle them.

              “I can’t believe that my home is the closest place to Hell on earth,” Vlad said. ‘It makes the survival of my people there all these years even more remarkable.”

              “Yes, it does,” Pierre agreed. “I can only imagine what you’ve been through in Nocturne. You’ve experienced things no other human being ever has before now. You have my admiration for that.”

“I always knew Deadulus was evil,” Vlad said. “The full extent of that evil didn’t hit me until just now.”

              Vlad noticed a worried look on Pierre’s face and the knight looked back towards Mortis with a longing glance. “You’re not backing out on me, are you?” Vlad asked.

              “I’ll be honest, Vlad,” Pierre said. “Part of me wants to flee, and the other part can’t wait to confront Deadulus...or Lucifer. I’ve done God’s work all my life; I never thought I would end up facing his mortal enemy in the flesh. It’s staggering. I’ve faced many opponents on many battlefields, but I’ve never faced the ultimate evil. This is new territory for me, Vlad.”

              “Satan is counting on his reputation scaring you away,” Vlad said. “It’s much easier than having to wage war on him. So, what are you going to do?” Vlad asked.

              Pierre sighed and thought for a moment. “What else can I do?” Pierre asked rhetorically. “I made a commitment to you, to your village and to God. I’m also here on the king’s business. I will do what I came here to do, and no devil or vampire can stop me. I will stop them.”

              “That’s the spirit!” Vlad said. “Now, no more talk of the Devil, or I won’t sleep.”

              Vlad flopped down to make a fire. Norvad and Pierre were on the other side making up a triangle of allies in the night. Vlad thought it wise that they eat and rest before entering Nocturne. If Vlad’s fellow Nocturnians chased them away into the wilderness, they could ride for hours with full stomachs and clear heads without having to stop. As the flames rose, Pierre cooked their last ration of fish. Even the horse and donkey helped themselves to bruised apples on the ground. Anamis had filled his belly earlier and kept watch instead. The fish finished cooking on the fire. The hungry trio of Vlad, Pierre, and Norvad ate it and fell into a pleasant slumber. They would not know such peace in the days ahead, and they knew it. Vlad relished every moment of sleep.

              Vlad awoke with tightness in his chest. He groggily put his hands on his ribs and felt something cold moving there. His eyes opened in terror. He would have cried out to warn Pierre, but whatever was around him was constricting his lungs. He did not have to wait long to find out what it was. An evil reptilian face slithered into his eye line, reared up and fixed him with its yellow eyes. It was a huge green serpent, far bigger than any snake Vlad had ever seen in his life. The serpent’s forked tongue popped in and out of its mouth as it tasted the air, trying to sense fear in its prey.

              “I am an emissssssary of the NightLord Deadulusss,” the serpent said. “He hasss inssstructed me to asssk you to join him. He offersss you the richesss of eternal life if you unite with him. The NightLord Deadulus will ssspare your village, and no more blood ssshall be ssspilled. What sssay you, young Ingisssbohr?”

              Vlad remained silent. The snake coiled itself around Vlad’s neck to add more pressure to its pressing questioning of him. Vlad felt a stick within his grasp on the ground.

              “Refussse thisss offer, and I ssshall sssnap your neck and you die where you lay,” the serpent continued. “Your village and everyone in it ssshall perish. There isss no need for any further bloodssshed, isss there? Now, for the lassst time, what ssshall I tell my massster, young Ingisssbohr?”

              The serpent relaxed its grip to allow Vlad to answer. Vlad grabbed the stick off the ground and stabbed the serpent in the eye. It released Vlad from its grip and fell into the fire, where it writhed and screamed in agony. Pierre woke up, startled at the commotion beside him.

              “Then burn in Hell, Vlad Ingisssbohr, asss your mother burnsss!” the serpent roared as the flames consumed it.

              The creature laughed demonically. Vlad picked up a boulder and brought it down on the fire, but the serpent disappeared in a puff of red smoke. A cloud of sparks showered him and Pierre. Both of them backed off, in shock at what just had happened.

              “He said my mother burns, Pierre, did you hear it?” Vlad asked.

              “Yes, I heard it, we should go,” Pierre said.

              “We must get to my village as soon as possible. I only hope that thing wasn’t telling the truth,” Vlad said.

              Vlad turned to Norvad and Anamis. “Listen, my friends,” Vlad said. “Pierre and I have to ride with all haste to Nocturne to help my mother. You are on foot. You will slow us down. I would bring you into my village, but I don’t think a stranger with a vampire companion would get a warm reception from my people.”

              “I understand,” Norvad said, nodding sadly in agreement. “Worry not, young Vlad. We shall take shelter here. You know where to find us if you need us. Go help your mother.”

              “If you see or hear anyone coming, keep out of sight,” Vlad said.

              “We always do, Vlad,” Norvad said. “Anamis and I are hounded everywhere we go, so we keep to ourselves.”

              “We’ll send for you when we feel it’s safe,” Vlad said.

              “Fare thee well, Vlad,” Norvad said, “and thee, Sir Knight.”

              “Fare thee well, friends,” Vlad said.

              “Fare thee well,’ Pierre said as he mounted his horse. “Let’s move.”

              Vlad and Pierre mounted up with him and waved goodbye to Norvad and Anamis. The old man and his supernatural pet melted back into the tree line as if they never had been there. In less than a minute, Vlad and Pierre had galloped away out of sight. As they rounded the tree line, they came to a river and halted.

“This is the River Iosa,” Vlad said.

              “There’s no bridge here. how do we get across?” Pierre asked.

              “You whisper a real sin you feel genuine remorse for into the tree over there, and then you walk across the face of the water,” Vlad said to a dubious Pierre.

              “I have no time for games. How do we get across?” Pierre asked.

              “It’s the truth,” insisted Vlad.

              “Boy, if this is a trick to make me fall into the water and look foolish…” Pierre said.

              “You think I would play tricks when my mother needs us?” Vlad said.

              “No,” Pierre said, as he bowed to Vlad, “a boy you are no more. My apologies.”

              “I shall go first if you are afraid,” Vlad said.

              “Afraid?” Pierre said. “Step aside.”

              Vlad moved, and Pierre strode over confidently to the tree.

              “It must be a real sin you feel remorse for, or you shall sink, Pierre,” Vlad said.

              “I heard you the first time,” Pierre said, as he cupped his hand to his mouth and whispered his sin into the tree.

              Pierre then stood on the edge of the riverbank, looking blankly out ahead of him; he closed his eyes and took a step into thin air. Confused as to why he was not feeling wet, he looked down and saw he was standing on the surface of the water. The surface tension of the water bent under his weight but did not break. Pierre was astonished. “I’m walking on water like Jesus!” Pierre said.

              “Keep moving,” Vlad said. “We haven’t got all day.”

              Pierre took hesitant baby steps before taking more confident strides to impress Vlad and save face. Vlad applauded sarcastically from the other bank.

              “Well done, Sir Knight,” Vlad said. “Now, it’s my turn.”

Vlad took the reins of their horses and guided them across with him. As long he held on tight, the horses would not drop into the water. The animals were nervous but Vlad kept their heads up and crossed fast. Vlad climbed up on the bank and the horses leapt up to join him and Pierre.

                            ‘Nothing is what it seems here,’ Vlad said.

‘I guess I’ll have to learn to expect the unexpected in Nocturne,’ Pierre said.

‘Let’s go!’ Vlad said.

They climbed back on their horses and took off at great speed.

              Vlad and Pierre arrived at the Yellow Wood, the last natural barrier before Nocturne. In normal circumstances, it gave Vlad great comfort to be so close to home, but not then. He left in such acrimonious circumstances and returned with the tortuous task of trying to rouse the scared, weary Nocturnians to battle once again. Vlad and Pierre faced a hostile, possibly murderous reception. Vlad’s mother was in danger, and not knowing how or being able to help was driving Vlad insane. He knew the next few days would dwarf all the challenges that had come before. Vlad had been so preoccupied with getting help to fight the vampires that he had not considered the consequences of getting it. It was no longer just a plan in his mind to avenge his father’s death, free his people from vampirism, and destroy it forever. The reality was happening before his very eyes.

              “In a week, we could be dead,” Vlad said, “waiting for the maggots to burrow into our cold flesh.”

              “If it is our destiny to die, then that is God’s will, lad,” Pierre said. “When you go into battle, you must put fear from your mind. You must fight immortal creatures as if you are immortal, too.”

              “If the vampires bite us, we could be! I don’t want that, to be a scourge on everyone I have ever known or loved.”

              “You’re nearly home, Vlad,”

              “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

They entered Vlad’s village of Nocturne in the pre-dawn of October 31
st
, the day of the festival of Samhain. That was the one night of the year when the vampires did not attack out of respect for their lost loved ones. The temporary lull was also in deference to the Lord of the Dead, Samhain himself. It was a piece of extreme good fortune, as it bought Vlad and Pierre a day and a half to organise the citizens of Nocturne into a reasonable fighting force. As they progressed, they detected a rotten stench in the air.

              The knight covered his mouth. “Does your village normally smell like this?” the knight asked through muffled fingers.

              Vlad shook his head but said nothing. His mind was racing with possibilities about the cause of the foul odour. Vlad’s reappearance was overshadowed by the exotic knight accompanying him on his white steed. He brought the onlookers out of their houses to see who this new arrival was. The people stared in a curious manner. They seemed unduly nervous. 

              “What’s wrong with them?” the knight enquired. 

              “I don’t know,” Vlad said, “but I intend to find out.” 

              Vlad and Pierre stopped at a hut to discover the problem.  The people there also were visibly stressed.              

              A pile of bodies covered in flies revealed the answer. They were in the throes of a terrible plague. The doors of the tiny homes containing those dying or dead from infection had yellow crosses painted on them. Another religious procession was taking place in the distance. The villagers prayed for the contagion to leave their village in peace and placed posies all over the village. It was a futile bid to mask the foetid smell of rotten or burning bodies. Ashes from the cremations of bodies in pits floated through the air, coating everything with a light, flaky, grey film. 

              The newer cases, the nervous ones, were at the edge of the village.  As the young man and the knight travelled deeper into the village, they discovered the more advanced cases.  The patients suffered from terrible hallucinations, similar to Vlad’s blood-induced nightmare, but more severe.  They also suffered from muscle spasms and loss of balance.  They writhed in agony and foamed at the mouth.  It was an alarming greeting for two weary travellers who had arrived in the village full of hope. 

              Being confronted with such immediate suffering gave Vlad pause for thought. An uncomfortable feeling came over Vlad as if the eyes and hands of Deadulus were upon him, manipulating him.  He felt like a tiny pawn on the vampire’s chess board, powerless to stop him from deciding his fate with one sweep of his mighty talons.  The vampires operated on a higher plain of existence. They had many gifts that humans sorely lacked. The opposite was also true. Humans had the advantage of being creatures of night and day. They also had a life force flowing through them, which was something the vampires envied. Deadulus was a cunning beast, Vlad granted, but just as every vampire has his night, so every dog must have his day.