The Vorbing (18 page)

              Vlad and the knight stood in the doorway of a shack where a poor man lay dying. De la Costa wanted to behead the sufferer, but a religious man like him knew the disease had to run its course. Then the deceased’s relatives had to be allowed time to grieve before carrying out the grisly deed. The brother of the dying man fussed over his feverish sibling, dabbing his head, making him sip water, and tending to his every need.

“Oh, what afflicts me?” the sick brother moaned. “Help me, brother, in the name of God, help me!” 

In a fit of delirium, the sick man’s brother turned and grabbed Pierre de la Costa. “Who is this man?” he said. “He has brought the plague upon us!  Hang him!  We must hang him and burn his body, for God’s sake!” 

The knight angrily shoved the man back and drew his sword. “I am Sir Pierre de la Costa,” he said. “The king himself sent me here to help free you from the rule of Deadulus. If that help is not wanted, I shall return to the capital and inform the king of your insult.”

              “He speaks the truth!” Vlad said. 

              The man bowed his head with guilt. Vlad told the man to calm down and backed up the knight’s claim. The man eventually calmed down and caught his breath. 

              “Forgive me, sir,” the man said staring down at his fidgeting fingers, “madness seized me. My brother’s illness has driven me to despair. Your help is most welcome here.” 

              The knight acknowledged the man’s apology with a nod. Vlad heaved a sigh of relief. All of his hardships on the long road to Mortis almost had counted for naught in a moment of madness.

Chapter Fifteen

When Vlad and Pierre stepped out of the shack, they noticed how unusually dark it was. Rain sheeted down from the black clouds that hung like portents over the mountains in a dark blanket of despair. Against the gloomy backdrop, Vlad started in wonder at Deadulus gliding around the peak. He had never seen the NightLord flying from a distance before. Pierre never had seen him at all, and his mouth fell open in awe. The vampire’s grace in flight surprised them. His enormous wings beat majestically against the oncoming wind, thrusting his muscular torso deftly through the storm, a feat mortal man could not even contemplate. To defeat such a superlative foe was the ultimate challenge. Throbbing flashes of lightning silhouetted his enormous mass against the coal black sky. It was a daunting sight, for sure. Deadulus landed on the summit of the mountain and reared up to his full height. A flash of lightning enveloped his regal form.  He unleashed a triumphant roar and beat his chest. The sound was like war drums echoing across the valley. 

              “He’s throwing down the gauntlet to us,” the knight said. 

              Vlad nodded, his mind racing with questions. “What ARE those things?” Vlad asked, staring transfixed at his enemy.

              “Creatures of darkness,” Pierre replied.

              “No,” Vlad said.

              Surprised, Pierre looked at Vlad.

“They are darkness itself,” Vlad continued. “They emerge from it like they are made of it. How can you defeat something like that? We’ve never won a battle against the vampires.”

“Remember the parable of David and Goliath?” Pierre asked. “No one gave David a chance against this giant Philistine warrior Goliath, but David believed in himself. He had the courage to walk out there, face his enemy and kill him, and no one ever doubted him again. He became king of Israel because of that moment.”

“Wasn’t he nervous?” Vlad asked.

“Of course he was. It’s natural for everyone on a battlefield to have nerves,” Pierre continued, “the key is to never let your opponent know. If your enemy sees that you don’t believe in yourself, then their confidence soars and they become much harder to beat. The vampires will try every trick to frighten you into giving up before the battle. Your determination to win must be stronger than theirs and stronger than your own nerves.  Nothing will stop a true champion from winning if he believes he can. Nothing. It doesn’t matter what you are, it only matters what your enemy thinks you are. The power of your mind is as crucial as the power of your sword, maybe more so. Believe me, I know. Remember the prophecy, see it in your head and become it, and it will be so.”

“Yes, you are right,” Vlad said quietly.

“I’ve been thinking about why your father lost the Battle of McLintock’s Spit, Vlad,” Pierre said. “We face the same problems now. The vampires have the advantage of high ground. In battle, whoever holds the high ground wins. They can see everything for miles.”

“They have one disadvantage: They sleep in daylight,” Vlad said.

              “Yes,” Pierre said, “but they can still exert their power even then and turn the elements against their attackers. Play games with their minds. Even if we could get near the top of the mountain, no one has ever found their lair. Even if we discovered it, they’d just take to the air and escape. They are supreme opponents.”

“You speak the truth,” Vlad said, “but everything that is mighty will one day crumble and fall. That is also true.”

“Another cardinal error your father made was that he attacked a superior force directly on their ground and got annihilated. The vampires had all the advantages, and the people of Nocturne had none.”

“What should we do?” Vlad asked.

“You should set a trap for the enemy on your territory,” Pierre said forcefully, “where you have the advantage, and then you lure them into it and destroy them. Now
that
is a battle plan.”

“Together we will right the indignities that my father and my people suffered,” Vlad said.

“Aye, lad, we will,” Pierre said smiling.

              “If we capture Deadulus,” Vlad said, “what then?”

              “Beheading and consumption by fire is the only safe way to go,” Pierre said. “Release the creature from its prison of vampirism.”

              “What about the females and infants?” Vlad asked.

              “I have heard that once the lead vampire is killed, the spell over the others is broken,” Pierre said. “If not, they have to have the same fate as Deadulus. There is no other way. You can’t let them spread to another area and breed again to cause more death and destruction somewhere else.”

              Vlad and Pierre heard frantic footsteps running up behind them. It was Vlad’s neighbour, Gatov. “Vlad, come to the town square quickly,” Gatov said, panting. “It’s your mother.”

Vlad mounted up and galloped into the town square leaving Pierre and Gatov trailing behind him. When he arrived in the square, Vlad saw Hana Ingisbohr writhing in agony as she burned at the stake. Vrillium Gladwish and the town elders supervised it. A baying mob of Nocturnian onlookers completed the
dramatis personae
of the sad pageant.

“Oh, God, no!” Vlad said as he leapt from his mount.

The flames around Hana Ingisbohr were high. She was finding it hard to breathe due to the smoke and extreme heat. Seeing Vlad, the surrounding villagers stood in shameful silence.

Vrillium roamed around, encouraging the flames to rise with glee. “Burn, witch, burn!” Vrillium said, daring Vlad to defy him.

“Even when I die, my curse remains upon you, Vrillium,” Hana said as she choked and struggled for breath.

Vlad leapt onto the burning pyre to save his mother, but the flames were too high and drove Vlad back. Vlad’s sleeve caught fire. He beat out the flames fast.

“Mother!” Vlad roared.

‘Vlad!” Hana shouted weakly to her son, her voice trembling from her injuries.

The flames engulfed Hana. She gave a shrill scream that Vlad would hear until his dying day.

Pierre arrived at that moment and took control of the situation. “Get water and douse those flames!” he commanded.

“This is no concern of yours, sir,” Vrillium said. “Interrupt this execution, and you shall join her in death.”

Pierre turned and looked without fear into the imperious eyes of Vrillium Gladwish. “I am a knight of the realm!” Pierre said. “To disobey me is to disobey the king himself! Now do as I say!”

Two men threw buckets of water on the fire and it died down at last. Vlad leapt up again and cut his mother free. She fell down into Vlad’s arms. He felt her body shaking and caught the scent of her charred flesh. Severe burns and blisters disfigured her pretty face, making her almost unrecognisable.

“This woman was tried and found guilty of witchcraft!” Vrillium said.

“Who put her to trial?” Pierre said.

“The council of Nocturne,” Vrillium replied.

“On whose authority?” Pierre said

“We are allowed to judge our own people, sir!” Vrillium said.

“It is against the law to hold a witch trial without a magistrate from Wychbury being present,” Pierre said. “Therefore, your judgement and punishment of this woman is unlawful.”

Vlad slumped on the ground in shock, cradling his dying mother.

“Your father...w-watches over you, Vlad! As...will...I,” Hana said. Her

lips quivered and closed forever, and her head fell forward onto her chest. Vlad saw his mother die, but it felt unreal. The intensity of his shock and disbelief prevented Vlad from noticing the floods of tears streaming down his cheeks. He wept uncontrollably and rocked her body back and forth in his arms.

“Why, God, why?” Vlad said.

Vlad feared his mind was collapsing at the devastating atrocity before him. He wondered why God let the naked evil of the vampires flourish while allowing a kind, loving person like his mother to die in agony for nothing. Apparently, God didn’t do explanations, either. Most deities didn’t. Mortals lived or died because of a divine being’s actions, and life went on regardless. It was a world of madmen.

Pierre put his hand on Vlad's shoulder to reassure him. “Easy, brother,” Pierre said, “she's with God now. Her pain in this world is at an end.”

“Why did they do it?” Vlad said. “My poor mother harmed no one.”

Gatov came over to console Vlad. “We tried to stop them, Vlad,” Gatov said, “but the elders insisted that your mother be cleansed by fire for witchcraft.”

Pierre glared at Vrillium. “You've just killed an innocent woman,” Pierre said. “In the king's name, I place you under arrest for murder.”

Vrillium shot into the air with amazing speed. “Behold my power!” Vrillium said, as he levitated high above the cowering crowd who blessed themselves unconsciously and uncontrollably. They shrieked in terror and fell to their knees to praise him.

Vlad stepped in front of the crowd. “This man is no God,” Vlad said, “behold his evil!”

Vlad took out Pierre's small bottle of holy water and threw some of it to Vrillium's right and left. The blank spaces beside Vrillium’s body turned red and bled with audible demonic roars. Two young vampires became visible. The crowd gasped and screamed at the sight of vampires holding their chief elder Vrillium in mid-air.

“Our father, who art in Heaven,” Vlad began, “hallowed be thy name...”

The young vampires became frightened and fled, dropping Vrillium on his head. Vrillium’s neck broke with a loud, appropriate crack.

Pierre knelt down to examine Vrillium. He then turned to address the crowd. “Your elder is dead,” Pierre said. “You have seen he was in league with Deadulus.”

Vlad took Pierre's sword and hacked away at Vrillium's lifeless body before sinking to his knees and weeping. “She's gone, Pierre,” Vlad said. “My mother is gone forever. He stole her life away from her.”

Pierre pointed at Vlad and looked into the eyes of the people of Nocturne. “Look what you have done to Vlad!” Pierre said. “You drove him out of his home, forced him to go to all the way to Mortis, and participated in his mother’s murder while he was gone. I didn’t know him at first, but he has more than earned my respect. He beat me and many other skilled bowmen to win the king’s archery tournament. Yes, Vlad Ingisbohr is the champion archer of Mortis. You should welcome his triumphant return as Nocturne’s favourite son. Instead, you put him through this heart-breaking agony. Vlad is all that is good in this cursed place. I am shocked that none of you can see that. If I could relieve him of his unimaginable pain and take it into my heart and soul right now, I would do it. I am proud to call him my friend and brother. You have all done many shameful things to Vlad and his family. I will see to it that you make amends. Every able-bodied man in Nocturne is to meet here in five minutes for battle drill. Don’t have me come looking for you. Five minutes!”

              The grumbling crowd dispersed. Although they were shepherds and farmers, the men of Nocturne were first and foremost expert hunters. It was the first thing inculcated into them as children. Their parents believed that war or a natural or supernatural disaster (like the vampires) could strike at any moment. The ability to hunt was vital to survival. They were lethal with a bow and arrow, spears, or knives. The Nocturnians lacked the symbolic figurehead of someone like Vlad to fuse them into a fighting unit. Pierre’s tactical shrewdness, technical brilliance as a warrior, vast experience, and regal connections were huge advantages (All of which had counted for naught against Vlad’s instinctive genius in the king’s archery tournament.). Together, they made a formidable team.

              A primordial screech from behind them made all their heads snap to the left.

              Two Nocturnians emerged from the shadows gripping a squirming, screaming young vampire. One had tied a rope around its neck and held onto it while the other held both its arms behind its back and held it up while pushing it forwards.

              “A scout,” one of the men said. “We caught him listening back there in the trees.”

              Pierre jumped in front of the crowd. “Avert your eyes, or it will bewitch you!” he bellowed, looking away from the creature.

              Vlad stepped forward and put his hand on Pierre’s shoulder. “If I don’t look in its eyes,” Vlad said, “no trust can be built up between us.”

              “We must never trust these base creatures!” Pierre said.

              The crowd roared their agreement.

              “Brother, that is an angel of the Lord!” Vlad said, pointing at the vampire.

              The crowd gasped in horror and then murmured amongst themselves.

              “He’s a blasphemer like his mother!” a woman in the crowd said.

              The crowd murmured agreement.

              “That is an angel of the Lord with God’s curse upon it!” Pierre said.

              The man with the rope around the vampire’s neck spoke. “Have you both gone mad?” he said. “An angel of the Lord? It’s a vampire, evil incarnate; half my family is dead because of them!”

              Vlad sensed the agitation of the crowd. It was a disturbing reminder of when they attacked him during his banishment from Nocturne. He had to do something fast. “Brothers!” Vlad said. “There’s something I must tell you that you may find shocking, but it’s the truth. Deadulus IS Lucifer!”