For The Sake of Revenge_An Alaskan Vampire Novel

by DL Atha

  “I was never punished for my actions that day; the Baranov himself sought me out, his voice soft and calm as he said I was not to blame for the tragedy. No record was made of the child’s death as it was hardly the kind of report you could send back to the Tsar.

  “I often wondered if the lack of punishment added to my guilt. Perhaps if the Baranov had ordered a stripe or two on my back, I would have been able to put it behind me. I needed to feel some pain at what I had done, to bleed for my crime.

  “Instead, I became an outcast, more so than I already was as a serf. Soldiers talked behind my back. Conversation would die as I entered the mess hall; the men would draw straws to determine who must take guard duty with me. The Aleutian natives eyed me warily.

  “Ivan was the only man who stood by me, who remained loyal with no judgment. It was Ivan who had distracted the guard as I picked up the child’s body, carrying it away to be buried that night. It seemed a cruel hoax, after having been murdered, to simply burn the child’s body like the rest that were cremated that evening.

  “And it was Ivan who held my hand when the nightmares began a few nights later.”

  I barely noticed when his voice stopped, so engrossed was I in the story that played out through the bond in such clarity that I could see perfectly the child that had died in his arms. I could feel the knife and how it slipped through the child’s skin and the warmth of his blood on my forearm. I scratched at my own skin to get rid of the sensation.

  What I couldn’t brush away was the guilt that vibrated across the bond. Two centuries had come and gone, and this man, considered a monster, was still grieving over the death of a child. They say time heals all wounds, but Adrik was proof that time is not that powerful. His wounds were open and oozing.

  He began to speak again, pictures reforming in his mind, as he continued his story.

  “From the night of the child’s death forward, I relived the experience in my dreams. The nightmares were persistent and inescapable. I could find not a comfortable night of sleep, and soon I was haggard. It was rumored that I was cursed among the citizens of the fort. My countrymen avoided me; the natives considered me possessed.

  “I sought out the help of the surgeon, who thought me very near to mad. He treated me with one concoction after another. None of which were able to help me keep my eyes closed. The nightly tortures became so bad that I took to relieving other men of their evening guard duty. I could not sleep after such a nightmare; I was too terrified to close my eyes.

  “On one particular evening, the dreams had been so violent that I had woken up gasping for air and beating my arms against the straw bed underneath me. My clothes were drenched despite the cold. The dream had woken me earlier than usual, leaving me with most of the night hours to face, awake and shaking in my bed. Out of sheer desperation, I went looking to relieve my friend Ivan from his night patrol.

  “The weather had been particularly nasty that day with squalls coming in from the ocean nearly back to back. A blow-down wind late in the evening had sent ancient rooted trees crashing down the mountains. Afraid for their lives, the hunters scurried in from the mountains and bays with no pelts for their struggles and the fishermen returned with empty boats if they returned at all.

  “A gloom had settled over the fort the rest of the day that carried over into the evening. The men settled into their quarters, and the Aleutians hid in their camps that sat alongside our palisade walls. Ivan was only too happy to give up his night duty on such an evening. Normally, he would have argued with me, knowing how desperately I needed to sleep. But as I said, the weather was obscene so I soon found myself walking the perimeter of the fort.

  “Night duty brought fears of its own that had nothing to do with the weather. Remember, I was a serf of Slavic descent, raised on the stories of every kind of demon imaginable, and walking those trails was more than a little terrifying. Add in the surprise attacks of the Tlingit, who occasionally stole in from the mountains to seek revenge, and the occasional bear attacks, and you can understand why night duty could be quite dangerous. Perhaps that is the reason I sought it out so much; perhaps I had a secret craving for death.

  “The fort was unnervingly dark that night; the fogs rolling in from the ocean so heavy that the lamps of the fort appeared little more than faraway twinkling candles. Rain, mixed with snow, fell continuously. Not so hard that I could not see to walk but enough that it was an impossibility to stay dry. Despite my parka, the rain found inroads into my underclothes and my boots. My gloves could not keep the tips of my fingers warm, and my lips were so cold they ached. Still I patrolled.

  “I had just rounded the corner and began my ascent to the farther limits of the fort where the visitors’ cabins sat when I saw Irena. Despite the weather and the lateness of the hour, she waited for me on her porch. I stopped, planning to turn and retrace my steps, but she beckoned me forward, saying that her fire had gone out and it needed to be restarted.

  “I could hardly disobey an order from her, especially for something as necessary as a fire, given the weather. Her father was the Duke of Kozlow. She was nobility, and orders from her were to be obeyed as from the Tsar himself. Behind her, I could make out, through the windows, the figure of her native maid working in the kitchen. I was relieved; she had a chaperone.

  “As a human, I was said to be handsome, beautiful actually. Many women had wanted me over the years, a few men as well. And as a serf, there was very little I could do about it. Beautiful serf children were often abused throughout their lives, and I had been lucky to be spared that by my masters.

  “Irena had pursued me for weeks. The gossip around the mess hall in the evenings said she was a prolific lover. Any other man would have given their right eye to be close to her, but I wanted nothing more than to be as far from her as possible. I had avoided her at every turn, kindling her anger against me each time I refused her advances.

  “Please understand that Irena was beautiful, and I was not immune to her charms. But my aspirations were not of the flesh; I wanted to be a part of the clergy. I had for months been beseeching the fathers to secure my serfdom from my owner as a donation to the Church.

  “Irena was dressed that evening in the thinnest of chemises despite the ugliness of the weather. It was difficult for me to even walk past her into the home. The mists had collected on her skin, and through the moistened gown, I could make out the heaviness of her breasts, the darkness of their upturned tips. Her stomach was flat with youth, her pelvis tilted forward as she leaned against the columns of the porch, making the hollow between her thighs stand out all the more.

  “I was a man, and she obviously wanted me, and I could feel myself rising in response. I had never been with a woman, and it crossed my mind to give in to her, to feel myself sinking into the softness of her body. How much easier it would be to not have to fight her. But I resisted, knowing I was struggling for a greater prize.

  “I did my best to ignore her as I built the fire back, and soon the heat was radiating such that the air had lost its sting and the glow of the flames illuminated the room. I turned to go, whispering my wishes for her good evening without raising my head or meeting her eyes.

  “I noticed then that her maid was gone. The house was small; I could see into every room, and the maid was nowhere. I realized the danger of my situation at that point, but it was too late. Irena was determined to have me and now we were alone.

  “She was still wearing her rain-slicked chemise, but she discarded it now, the material dropping to her feet with the heaviness of the rain. She stood between me and the door. It was impossible to reach it without brushing against her skin.

  “Looking back on that night, I should have run. I should have fled as fast as I could and given what small amount of money I had to a native with a canoe. If I could have gotten to the mainland, I might have stood a chance on my own. But I was a serf, and the thought of escaping had never occurred to me. I was raised to obey my master on this earth as in Heaven.
>
  “Instead, I stood mute, my eyes cast down, not knowing what to do, but realizing the danger I was in. The seriousness of my situation danced in the air around me. My ears buzzed with fear.

  “I felt her hands on my body, first on my arms and then my chest, and next her lips brushed mine. The intimacy of her touch startled me. It was not right for a woman of her station to be touching me. The consequences would be severe for no one except myself. I asked her to stop, pleaded with her in the name of the Church to let me alone.

  “But she was the master and I was the slave; I stood paralyzed by fear as she slipped my heavy parka off and tossed it aside.

  “‘Do not deny me,’ she warned. ‘I will tell my father you forced me. I can only imagine what he would do to a man in your position who dared to defile his first-born daughter.’

  “I had no defense against her. I was terrified. It would do no good to tell my story as I could hardly accuse the duchess of rape. I stood still as a ghost as she removed my shirt.

  “I was trembling yet I was hard with desire. How could I not be? Would any man have been any different? She led me to her room at the back of the cottage and, like a lamb to the slaughter, I followed her.

  “I do not recall every detail as fearful as I was, but I remember her long nails slicing into my back and my skin raising in angry whelps. She did the same to my neck. With practiced hands, she pulled my virgin cock from my pants, stroking it until I thought I would explode. This was all wrong, and though my body was betraying me in all ways, my mind screamed at me to leave, to protect myself, but it was too late.

  “‘Kiss me,’ she whispered into my ear, and I did, my mouth lowering onto hers. Her lips were hot and demanding; I could feel them swell underneath my own. Her legs wrapped around my waist, her hands kneading and pressing on my buttocks. Beaded blood from her scratches ran down my back and onto the sheets, and I could feel the heat of her at my groin.

  “My mind was still begging me to leave, run, anything but stay here in this room. But as so many men are, my spirit was willing but my flesh was very weak. But I was weak with fear as much as from lust. I lifted to push into her heat and…”

  Adrik stopped then, the visions in his mind closing down. I gasped slightly as the movie in my head came to a stop as well.

  He sat quietly beside me for a moment, saying nothing. His expression was full of self-loathing and hate. Finally finding the resolve, he continued. “Her father and six officers burst through the door. I, the beguiled slave, had been lured into a compromised position. The maid had slipped out the door for the purpose of fetching the duke. The blood dripping down my back and the scratch marks were the supposed proof of the rape.

  “You see, Irena was an accomplished whore, but there was another skill she excelled in as well. She was a consummate liar. She began to cry as soon as she saw her father, begging him to save her from me. The maid later confirmed to the Baranov that Irena’s menses had stopped. It was only this evening that the maid had realized what was happening as Irena had been too terrified to mention to anyone what I had supposedly been doing to her nightly.

  “Now you might ask, why would not some man who knew the truth of Irena come forward? Had I not said she was a whore? But I ask you, why would anyone save a slave?

  “The duke was livid. He could not see reason. Not a handprint could be seen on Irena; not a scratch marred her skin. She certainly did not look abused, but no one would have been able to rationalize with him even if anyone had been willing to try.

  “Without consulting the Baranov, I was dragged out of the cabin to where a tall pole, used to dress out large game, was sunk into the ground. Blood and scraps of fat littered the ground at its base. It took four men to do it, but my arms were stretched high around the pole and secured with leather so tight that blood oozed from my wrists. I was to be whipped with the great knout.

  “Do you know what it is?” Adrik asked me. His eyes had gone colder, harder.

  I shook my head ‘no’.

  “The great knout, as it was called, was essentially a whip, the favored method of punishment in Russia. The handle was the size of one of my arms from which hung a wooden strap the length of my forearm. This ended in a metal ring to which were attached straps hung with knots of leather or wire hooks. The leather was soaked in milk and dried in the sun to make it hard.

  “Fifty blows and above were considered a death penalty. Punishment by the knout was so exceedingly brutal that hardened criminals often lost consciousness just watching the sentence carried out on fellow criminals.

  “I was never a vain man, but facing that knout, I pleaded with God that I not embarrass myself. That I remain on my feet, that I not beg for mercy, and that I not piss myself, and knowing that I would likely do all three before death claimed me.

  “The ropes suspending my arms were pulled tighter such that my feet were lifted off the ground and I could just barely touch the balls of my feet to the earth. I was naked, my buttocks and privates exposed to the entirety of the camp, and I was utterly humiliated. The wind caressed my back, and chills raced the length of my spine. I shook with the anticipation of what was to come.

  “Behind me, the men and women of the fort gathered. The duke had wanted a crowd and had sent a soldier to rouse the fort so there would be plenty of witnesses to my humiliation. To my left, Ivan stood, his face immobile until the knout was brought forward and tested by the Duke for strength. He took a step forward then, his face contorting with rage.

  “I shook my head at Ivan, reminding him with my eyes to hold his tongue and do nothing stupid. There was no reason we both should die tonight. Besides, he had family to consider back in Russia, and the duke had a long reach of influence. Ivan’s family could be tortured with merely a word from the duke.

  “At first, I was certain I would die. The duke was a large man, quite capable of collapsing my spine with the whip. As much as I dreaded the pain of dying by the knout, I had no fear of death. I looked forward to it. It would be glorious, for as soon as my eyes closed to the darkness of this earth, they would open in Glory with the light of Heaven to illuminate me forever. There would be no more pain, no more nightmares, and I would never be a slave again.

  “I bowed my head so that I could not see the crowd that had gathered around to watch the torture I must endure. Most of these were free men; they had never suffered at the hands of nobles nor faced the knout. They had not starved and withstood the knout for stealing food to feed their family. For them, this was a spectacle only—a sport.

  “I closed my eyes and focused on what I would see in Glory instead of the heavy footsteps of the duke behind me.

  “‘Let this be a lesson to any man, free or otherwise, who thinks that he can lay hands on a woman above his rank,’ the duke’s voice rang out to the small crowd that had gathered around me.

  “There was complete silence except the duke’s exhalation as he threw his weight into the first blow. The air sang as the strap flew from his hands and my skin gave way beneath the leather as he sliced an inch wide strip from my neck to my buttocks.

  “My body contorted, every muscle contracting along the length of my spine until I felt like a marionette whose strings were held by multiple people all moving in different directions. My blood spurted on the wind, the hot fluid spattering on my arms and face. I danced on my tiptoes, remaining on my feet out of sheer willpower.

  “After the first blow, the duke asked for my confession. He promised to stop if I would declare his daughter guiltless. I inwardly resolved to remain truthful and prayed for a quick death. I prayed for forgiveness of my former sins and the strength to endure.

  “By the tenth blow, my legs went out from under me, my bladder gave way, and I had lost so much blood that I could barely hold my head up. Still I would not confess to this crime I did not commit. One of the soldiers ran a log between my legs and tied my feet on either side to support me for further punishment; they cinched my arms up higher so the ropes might hold me steady. />
  “The blows resumed and kept coming methodically. I cannot even begin to explain the pain. My body was afire; the smell of my blood was thick in my nostrils. My back was a twisted mass of pulverized flesh, and my skin lay in strips at my feet, carved off my body like meat.

  “I clenched my jaws so hard that I broke two teeth. One I managed to spit out; the other I swallowed in a paroxysm of pain. My shoulders dislocated from the muscle spasms as did one hip. When the crowd had counted out the sixteenth lash to fall across my back, I was certain I would not remain alive to endure another.

  “At that point, I was in and out of consciousness. I would return to myself long enough to catch bits and pieces of Ivan’s prayers on my behalf. The sound of some animal crying reached the haze of my mind. Sometime later, I recognized the cries as mine.

  “The crowd urged me to confess. Even Ivan begged me at this point, but I refused. I was proud, for I had fought the good fight. I had kept the faith. Or so I thought. True hell awaited me, and if I had known that, I would have cursed the duke and spurred him to whip me harder and faster until my blood lay cast on the ground like a crimson cloak behind me. How I have begged that time could have been turned back on itself and I could have died that night, but it was not to be.

  “My last conscious thought was to search the crowd for Ivan, for our eyes to meet and for him to know I had not been defeated. But it was not Ivan’s eyes that met mine. It was the cold glare of Irena’s maid. Her rage was palpable and familiar. It was the same rage I had felt the night the native child had died in my arms.”

  Adrik paused here, and I sat quietly beside him. The log underneath us was cold, and although I was still only dreaming, I couldn’t help but shiver at both the wintery landscape and at the brutality he had experienced.