The Vorbing (25 page)

Vlad was afraid to open his eyes, but did so anyway. He looked around and up at the sky and got to his feet. “Did we just see Heaven, or did my eyes deceive me?” Vlad asked in disbelief.

“I saw it too, Vlad,” Pierre said as he stood up, wiping away tears of joy. “It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. Even more beautiful than I ever dared to dream it was.”

“Yes, for me too,” Vlad said. “Defeating the vampires was one thing; we also released Lucifer from his curse as an unexpected bonus.”

“None of us knows God’s plan for our lives and this world, Vlad,” Pierre said. “This was what he wanted all along, and you were his instrument here to achieve it. Praise the Lord.”

“Someone else saw this for me, too,” Vlad said. “The seer who wrote that prophecy in that cave, whoever they were.”

“You’re the seer, Vlad,” Pierre said. “You and that magic eye of yours.”

“Get this seer some beer,” Vlad said.

Pierre laughed, and there were murmurs of agreement from the others.

              “This is the most virtuous thing I have ever done in my life,” Vlad said. “It has taken away my fear of death.”

“Then you are capable of anything,” Pierre said. “You’ve become fearless.”

Mattna’s words came into Vlad’s mind, and he smiled. It was his victory, too. “Deadulus is dead,” Vlad continued. “Nocturne is free of vampires! We are free! It’s over!”

              The rest of Vlad’s warriors cheered and rose to their feet.

King Stargard sat sagely on his throne before the invited people of Mortis and the locals in Nocturne Village Square. Following the king’s declaration of a holiday, great feasting was about to take place at a banquet. Vlad Ingisbohr stood before King Stargard.

“Vlad Ingisbohr, champion of Mortis and now champion of Nocturne,” the king began, “we honour you.”

Wild cheers came from the crowd.

“Your unique achievements during the Battle of All Hallows deserve unique recognition,” the king said. “So, I have created a new chivalric order in your honour: the Order of the Vampire!”

The crowd gasped and then cheered. Two soldiers grabbed Vlad, removed his father’s breastplate, and placed a new breastplate on him. It had the emblem of a winged vampire on the chest.

“Let us see!” a man in the crowd shouted, and the crowd took up the chant.

              Vlad bashfully turned around. The crowd applauded him and his new armour. The king rose to his feet, and a minion scurried to his side with a gold sword on a purple pillow. The king took the sword, and the minion bowed his head and cowered away.

              “Kneel before me, O common man,” the king said.

Vlad complied. King Stargard raised the gold sword above Vlad’s head. The crowd went silent again. Vlad was nervous, but tried not to show it. The king touched both of Vlad’s shoulders with the sword.

“I dub thee Sir Vlad Ingisbohr of the Order of the Vampire,” the king said. “Arise a knight, a vampire knight!”

Vlad stood in a daze; he was knighted. How he wished his parents were there to see his moment of glory. His father never would believe it either.

“There is more, my friends,” the king said as he raised his hand and brought silence once again. “The village of Nocturne is no longer a place named after darkness. So, henceforth, it shall be known as Ingisbohria in honour of your champion Vlad and his martyred father.”

Vlad could not process what he had just heard. There was an audible gasp from the crowd and a moment of uncertainty, but they would not displease their king, and so they applauded and cheered wildly.

“Furthermore,” the king added, “I shall send Bishop Hopkins on a pilgrimage to Kristos City to ask the Holy Father to beatify Adam Ingisbohr.”

Bishop Hopkins clearly had no prior knowledge of the announcement. He bristled visibly and cocked a stunned eye at his king before regaining his composure and nodding in vigorous diplomatic agreement. Vlad felt humbled by the incredible honours being bestowed on him and his family. Beatification was the first step to sainthood. Vlad could not think of his father as a saint, but he was so proud of him. At last, his father was getting the recognition he deserved. An unprecedented week was growing more so as it progressed.

“Even if this request is not granted by the Pontiff, the name of Ingisbohr shall from this moment on be a name of honour in this land,” King Stargard continued. “Any slight on this noble name shall be a slight on the crown itself, punishable by death.”

              The crowd reeked of guilt, as some or all of them had dishonoured the Ingisbohr name over the years. Some sections worried they might face a retroactive death sentence. They applauded with tactful gusto.

“I formally incorporate the village of Ingisbohria into my realm,” the king said smiling, “and a permanent garrison of knights shall be posted here to protect you all. No longer shall you face threats alone. You shall all be safe under my wing.”

The former Nocturnians and new Ingisbohrians exuded delight at the securing of their futures. They cheered and applauded with all their might.

              “Henceforth,” King Stargard continued, “Samhain and the first two days of November shall be feast days in this land. Those who fell in battle and their great victory over satanic forces shall never fade from our memories.”

The crowd cheered as frantic chroniclers scribbled with quills on parchments as they tried to keep up with the number of new regal decrees.

“I declare three days of feasting to honour your great achievements,” the king said as he clapped his hands. His minions appeared and erected a dozen long banquet tables. They placed copious platters of beef, pork, chicken, fruit, and goblets of ale and wine upon them.

There were excited whoops and laughter from the crowd. Their famished eyes grew big, and they licked their lips in anticipation of the rich food and drink that a second before had been a forbidden dream to them.

“Let the feast commence!” the king shouted, as he put his arm around Vlad and guided him over to the place of merriment.

              The villagers followed at a respectful distance. They then took their places at the tables with vociferous murmuring.

“Pray silence and bow your heads,” Bishop Hopkins sternly intoned, and silence descended. Everyone joined their hands in prayer. “Bless us, O Lord, as we sit together,” the bishop continued. “Bless the food we eat today, bless the hands that made the food, bless us, O Lord. Amen.”

              “Amen,” everyone said.

“Thank you, Your Grace, for saying grace,” King Stargard said. “Now, I order you all to make merry!”

The king grabbed a leg of chicken and tore off a slippery mouthful of bird flesh. His chest shook as he bellowed with laughter, as did everyone else as they grabbed big handfuls of food and joined him. The king leapt to his feet with flecks of chicken skin in his beard and grease on his lips, and pointed to Vampire Mountain. “Furthermore!” he bellowed, “that rock shall no longer be called Vampire Mountain. Henceforth, it shall be called Mount Ingisbohr, in honour of our champion Vlad and his deceased parents. Now, give me ale before I abdicate in favour of a frog.”

The congregation whooped and cheered incessantly. Where there previously had been only bad news, there appeared only good. Vlad took a goblet of ale, and with the king’s encouragement, he quenched his thirst. The king slapped him on the back, nearly spilling the rest of the goblet of ale everywhere. Sir Pierre de la Costa toasted Vlad and his king with his goblet of ale, and the king joined them in a celebratory drink. Vlad had become so inured that he had forgotten how to celebrate. He was determined to put that right.

“I shall enjoy every moment of this, Sire,” Vlad said, trying to convince himself as much as those around him.

“Indeed, you shall, my boy,” the king said. “Thoroughly deserved. We cannot underestimate the scale of your victory. What say you, de la Costa?”

              “I could not agree more, Sire,” Pierre said. “I am proud to call this boy…this man, my friend.”

“That is raving praise coming from him,” King Stargard said. “Believe me, I know him well.”

              Vlad laughed. Pierre seemed offended, but Vlad moved to quash it. “You are a good friend,” Vlad said to Pierre. “I could not have done this without you.”

“Oh, modesty, be damned,” the king said. “Pierre would not have been here had you not brought him, although he is a fine knight, I have to admit. That is raving praise coming from me. Take that scrap from my table, de la Costa.”

              “Gladly, Sire,” Pierre said laughing.

“Mark him,” the king said, pointing at Pierre. “Decorum shall be a stranger to him by dawn… and to us all!”

Vlad stopped feasting when he heard a low rumbling noise. As it got louder, the others heard it, too. They stopped eating and looked around them. The great unspoken dread in all of them was the return of the vampires, however illogical that was. A figure came into view. It was a bemused soldier, pulling the mangonel.

“Where do you want this?” the soldier asked, looking for space to put it.

              There was a huge laugh of relief from all present.

              Vlad threw his head back and laughed as he put his arm around the soldier.

              “You have missed the battle, my friend,” Vlad said, as he guided the soldier to the food, “but you are just in time for our victory feast.”

              The soldier smiled, took off his helmet, sat down, and drank his fill and filled his belly.

Ula arrived at the festivities with a smiling, healthy Lillia Kurten clutching her baby in her arms. Vlad’s war against the vampires was his life’s work but Ula was his life. The knighthood was flattering but the right to live in peace with the love of his life was by far the greater prize.

              “I see you’ve been reunited,” Vlad said.

              “Thanks to you, Sir Knight,” Lillia said with a curtsy.

              Ula copied the curtsy, gently making fun of Vlad’s new title.

              “All I did was help a person in need,” Vlad said.

“You have saved this land for my child and the generations to come,” Lillia said.

              “That’s in the future, now we celebrate!” Vlad said with a smile.

              Norvad made room on one of the long benches for Lillia and her baby and she filled a plate with food.

              “Did you see me being knighted?” Vlad asked.

“I did indeed, my love, I’m so proud of you,” Ula said throwing her arms around him and kissing him.

              Ula learned closer to Vlad’s ear.

“The rewards are not over for you, Sir Knight,” Ula whispered in Vlad’s ear.

              “Really, Lady Ingisbohr?” Vlad asked.

              “We’d have to be married for you to call me that,” Ula said.

              Her eyes went wide at the implication.

Vlad dropped to one knee and Ula assumed the proportions of a giant towering over him.

              “Will you marry me, Ula?”

Vlad heard himself saying the words with disbelief. He swore to avoid the attachment he was committing himself to because of the vampires. The many permutations of freedom were ill-fitting new clothes Vlad and everyone in Ingisbohria would have to get used to.

              “Oh yes, yes, thrice yes!” Ula said, giggling with excitement.

King Stargard spotted the proposal and leapt to his feet, sending food and drink flying everywhere. The multitude rose with their king.

“A toast to the happy couple; Sir Vlad and the future Lady Ingisbohr of Ingisbohria!” King Stargard roared.

Every glass was raised to toast their union. The laughter and feasting continued as night fell, a night which for the first time held no lethal danger... at least none the revellers knew of.

Regan McGillycuddy screamed with labour pains in her room. Her mother Bathoria paced anxiously outside her room. The door flew open, and in stepped the local midwife.

“Oh, you are here, good woman,” Bathoria said. “Thank the Lord.”

“I came as soon as I heard it was Regan’s time of childing,” the midwife said. “I heard her screams across the fields. I have heard that Regan had congress with Deadulus,” the midwife said. “Is this true?”

Bathoria did not confirm the rumour.

The midwife gripped Bathoria’s shoulders. “Is it true?” she asked. “I must know.”

“Yes!” Bathoria screeched. “God help me, it is true.”

“I have heard of women who have had congress with these creatures,” the midwife said. “Some give birth to pieces of iron or leather.”

Bathoria made an odd sound from her throat and put her hand to her mouth.

“While others have birthed hogs, cats, dogs, even lions,” the midwife went on as she removed her shawl. “One woman birthed a serpent with two feet that within hours had grown to sixteen hands high with the skin of an eel on its back and a twisted member and limbs.”

Bathoria howled with disgust and panic. “Good woman, no more!” she screamed, “I am frantic with worry already!”