Nosferatu a5-8

by Robert Doherty

  They were indeed a fraction of an inch longer. He felt hope for the first time since Acton had swung the axe. His hands would be back. Judging by how little had grown in ten years it would take a very long time, but that was the one asset he had plenty of. Without exiting to feed, he edged toward the top of the tube and with the stick reset the controls for a much, much longer deep sleep. Then he shut the lid and passed again into darkness.

  CHAPTER 9

  China: A.D. 1167

  The bronze doors leading into Qian-Ling swung open and a young woman staggered out, a boy-child less than a week old in her arms. The doors swung shut behind her and she wandered into the dark terrain around the mountain. She made it little more than a mile before she was surrounded by a group of four men who were not quite completely human.

  They were the descendants of Tian Dao Lin’s Quarters, who had stolen local women and intermarried, mixing their blood and genes over and over again through the centuries until what was left were these creatures who prowled the night, attacking unwary travelers, eating their flesh and drinking their blood like animals, with little intelligence left in their twisted minds.

  They took the girl down in a swift charge, her screams cut off as one sliced her throat open with a stone knife. Three of the four vied for position at the spurting arteries, drinking her blood. The fourth spotted the small bundle she had carried and picked it up. He felt something move inside the blanket and, knowing the others would want this prize too, he made off into the darkness.

  A short distance away he put the bundle down and unwrapped the blanket. He looked down at the baby boy’s face. He frowned, a memory and faint emotion that he couldn’t quite grasp whispering in his mind. He did not, however, feed. He rewrapped the child in the blanket and headed back toward the decrepit village his kind inhabited.

  He went into the mud hut where he lived with his mate, a woman who had lost her own child in birth from a genetic defect caused by too much inbreeding. He held out the bundle to her and she took it.

  * * *

  He was smarter than the others. He’d known that for as long as he could remember. He was also faster, an attribute that had saved his life several times as men in the village, in their burning desire for flesh and blood during particularly lean times, came after him.

  He’d also accepted that he must leave. This was not a place for him, among degenerate survivors in a squalid village. But he did not go until his twelfth year, the day after the woman he had grown to call mother died.

  He left in the night, as even more so than the others in the village, he could not abide sunlight. He went north and west, away from Qian-Ling. With natural cunning he sought out a weak tribe of humans, one that had suffered many defeats and was living in inhospitable land they had been forced to, slowly dwindling and starving. He entered the first night with a deer he had run down slung over his shoulders. He gave the food to the famished people.

  Despite his youth and the oddness of his ways, only being about at night, his ability to hunt and share what he brought down gained him quick acceptance. Within two years he led the tribe, and already he was wrapped in legend, The old woman who was the tribe’s healer and seer claimed he was descended from the union of a gray wolf and white doe and that he was destined for great things.

  He learned that these people were known as the Mongols and lived a precarious existence between the empires of China and Russia. He took the name Temujin, after a former local chief who had died bravely fighting the Chinese. He encouraged the myths that surrounded him. He began to conquer one tribe after another. His fledgling rule grew by force of arms, bribery, or expedient alliances.

  After ten years, in his early twenties, he had accrued so much power that the Mongol leaders declared their loyalty to him and acclaimed him Universal Monarch— Genghis Khan.

  In the year 1202 he led his people against the Tatars and annihilated that tribe, becoming master of eastern and central Mongolia. In 1206 he completed the conquest of Mongolia and was proclaimed the Great Khan. With all the tribes behind he turned his attention in the direction he had always yearned to attack: to the south and east, into China. He invaded in 1211 and overran most of northern China within a year.

  Military necessities forced him to attack toward the capital city of Beijing rather than Xian, which was in the vicinity of his true goal of Qian-Ling. The Chinese Emperor sued for peace and sent a princess with an immense dowry as an inducement.

  Satisfied that his flank was secure, the Khan turned his mighty army toward Xian and conquered that city easily. Then he rode at the head of his column of troops toward the mountain known as Qian-Ling. On the last day of March 1214, he reached the wide dirt road leading to the mountain.

  And there he was halted and could go no farther. An invisible wall that nothing could penetrate extended around the mountain in all directions.

  The Khan spent four months encamped just outside of the barrier, probing it nightly, and each time he was stopped. He had bows, spears, even the explosive Chinese powder used against the strange barrier all to no avail. Finally, the demands of keeping his empire intact forced the Great Khan to return to the east and sack Beijing to put down a revolt.

  With Qian-Ling denied to him, the Khan decided he would take the rest of the world. There had been a story in the village of someone like their common ancestor Tian Dao Lin, coming from the west a long time ago and disappearing into the mountain-tomb with Tian Dao Lin. The Khan led his forces in that direction.

  He conquered Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Afghanistan, and most of Persia. He sacked the great city of Samarkand, slaughtered every single one of its inhabitants, and killed the Sultan Muhammad in 1220. He continued west, farther than any Mongol had ever been, deep into Caucasia, where he defeated a combined Russian-Turkish army. While he was doing that, the Chinese once again revolted. Realizing it was as impossible to maintain such a large empire as to enter Qian-Ling, the Khan staged his own “death” in August 1227.

  A handpicked group of twelve warriors took his body to a hidden location to be buried. The night before the burial, the Khan killed all twelve and buried their bodies.

  Then he mounted his horse and rode to the west, fading into history and legend.

  He went to the fledgling city of Moscow, where he assumed a new identity. One of many he would have over the ages until he was finally known as Adrik.

  CHAPTER 10

  Qian-Ling, China: A.D. 1405

  Nosferatu woke to familiar darkness. He was in an Airlia tube, of that there was no doubt. He had spent so much of his life in one, he could sense the dimensions of his prison. However, it wasn’t his tube, of that he was also certain. He reached up and, as he feared, the lid was secured from the outside.

  He tried to recall what had happened. China. Tian Dao Lin. Qian-Ling. The large bronze doors locked, the dead Quarters. The gold spider. Then the Airlia with the spears. That was it. His last memory. They had captured him. The feeling of despair was brought up short by the next thought — why hadn’t they simply killed him? And then — was Nekhbet still alive in the deep sleep in her tube?

  Nosferatu reached up and felt his neck. A shunt was in place, but he couldn’t remember having been fed. So why am I still alive? And how long have I been in here? This was the first time he could recall being awake. He reached farther up and felt the crown on his head and his panic came back. How long have I been asleep?

  He heard movement, someone touching the tube, then the top swung up. Nosferatu could only make out a form leaning over him. Hands removed the crown from his head and the leads to the muscle exercisers around his body. Nosferatu blinked, trying to adjust his eyes. The lighting was very dim, but it still hurt his pupils. He could tell from the form that it appeared to be a human who had opened the tube. The man put a hand on Nosferatu’s shoulder and pulled him to an upright position.

  Nosferatu looked around. He was in a room with a half dozen black tubes. A black wall made of some strange material
was to his right. He turned back to his left, where the man that had awakened him was opening another tube. The man was short, less than five and a half feet in height. He wore a richly embroidered silk robe with images of fire-breathing dragons sewn into it. In one hand he held a spear, like the ones used to overpower Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin.

  Nosferatu was not surprised to see his fellow Undead sit up in the other tube. The man who had freed them turned back to Nosferatu. Though the man was short, his eyes indicated he wasn’t completely human, as they were the red-within-red cat eyes of the Airlia. A One Who Waits.

  “I am Ts’ang Chieh, court official to the most noble Emperor ShiHuangdi, Commander of all the World, the Hidden Ruler whose reign goes from rising to setting sun and beyond.” He stepped closer. “ShiHuangdi was Artad’s Shadow. Do you know what a Shadow is?”

  “I’ve met Aspasia’s Shadow,” Nosferatu said. “We know.”

  “How long have I slept?”

  Ts’ang Chieh glanced at the display at the head of the tube. “One thousand, seven hundred and thirty years.”

  Nekhbet. It was all Nosferatu could think of as the impact of those numbers sank in. He was consoled by the knowledge that she was in the deep sleep and would not have been aware of the passage of time, just as he had not.

  Of course, there was the danger of some natural disaster having overtaken her hiding place in the Mountains of the Moon, but Nosferatu knew he could not dwell on that or he would go insane.

  “Who is this Emperor ShiHuangdi?” Tian Dao Lin was out of his tube, getting his legs back under him. “Emperor of what?”

  “Who was the Emperor ShiHuangdi is the correct phrasing,” Ts’ang Chieh said.

  “He combined all the lands to make the Middle Kingdom known to the outside world as China. We are now in the midst of a vast empire stretching from the Yellow Sea to the far mountains of the west.”

  “Why have you woken us?” Nosferatu asked. He realized he had jumped over the more important question of why they had been taken alive.

  “You are needed,” Ts’ang Chieh said. “Aspasia’s Shadow is causing trouble in the West. The truce is threatened. The new Emperor, Yongle — acting on my advice and the wishes of the God whose name must not be spoken — is mounting an expedition to maintain the truce. You both will accompany it.”

  “For what purpose?” Nosferatu asked. “To kill Aspasia’s Shadow.”

  * * *

  "The emperor must be taking the threat quite seriously,” Nosferatu said, as he and Tian Dao Lin stood next to Ts’ang Chieh on top of the harbor watch tower and peered out over the fleet. A forest of masts crowned the flotilla, which stretched as far as they could see to the mouth of the harbor and beyond. They had traveled from Qian-Ling to Nanking in style, an imperial escort guarding them the entire way.

  “Three hundred and seventeen ships,” Ts’ang Chieh said. “Crewed by 27,870 sailors and soldiers. The commander, whose ship you will be on, is named Cing Ho. He knows of your nature and your mission. He will get you as close to Aspasia’s Shadow as he can.”

  “And then?”Tian Dao Lin asked.

  “You kill Aspasia’s Shadow.” Ts’ang Chieh reached inside his cloak and removed two swords in sheaths engraved with High Runes. He extended them grip first to the two Undead. Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin took the weapons. “But”—Ts’ang Chieh drew the word out—“before you kill him, you must find out where his lair is and enter. You must go there and kill the clone that is waiting to replace him. If you do not do that, after a certain amount of time the clone will automatically be reborn to replace him and your efforts will have been in vain. And I am certain the new Aspasia’s Shadow will extract vengeance on whoever slew the previous one.”

  Nosferatu glanced at Tian Dao Lin. “And why should we do these things for you?”

  “You are not doing them for me,” Ts’ang Chieh said. “You are doing them for Artad. He let you live so many years ago when you invaded Qian-Ling. He could just as easily have had you killed.”

  “Why not have your Ones Who Wait do this task?” Nosferatu asked, remembering the creature that had tried to kill him in Athens.

  “The Ones Who Wait suffered a terrible defeat a while ago,” Ts’ang Chieh said. “It will take many years for them to regain their ability to counter Aspasia’s Shadow.”

  Nosferatu wondered what kind of defeat and in what form, but Ts’ang Chieh had no more patience with questions or delays. “If you do not agree to perform these tasks, you will be killed right here immediately. Admiral Cing Ho has other orders, and he will, shall we say, execute them if you stray from your mission.”

  * * *

  Cing Ho’s flagship was the largest oceangoing vessel yet built by man. Over four hundred feet long, it had a compass, a stern rudder, and several watertight compartments built into the hull for safety. It displaced over three hundred tons, making it over three times larger than the ships Columbus would sail to the New World at the end of the century.

  As Ts’ang Chieh had said, they were well accommodated aboard the massive flagship with a belowdecks cabin that was all their own. The ship was a marvel compared to what Nosferatu had previously traveled on. Besides its huge size, it had nine full masts spaced out along the deck. The four-story-high rudder was controlled by an intricate system of blocks and tackles so that one helmsman could handle the wheel. Next to the helmsman was the navigator who had a compass consisting of a magnet floating in a small bowl of water.

  The journey proceeded in leaps and bounds south along the coast of China, with several engagements with Japanese pirates along the way. From Canton they sailed to Indochina, then on to Indonesia, where Cing Ho confronted and defeated a large fleet of Chinese pirates who were headquartered in Palembang. He kept the lead pirate prisoner to bring him back to Nanking for execution.

  With each victory, Cing Ho provided Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin with captives to feed on in the privacy of their cabin. The two were confined to their cabin except once weekly, when they were allowed to wander the large afterdeck in the evening. Occasionally they met Cing Ho there. Nosferatu found the Chinese admiral to be quite a fascinating character for a human. He was of Arab-Mongol descent and had been captured by the Emperor’s forces during the northern border wars. Upon his capture Cing Ho was castrated — a common practice with prisoners — and pressed into the army of a prince named Chu Ti. In 1402 Chu Ti rebelled and usurped the throne from his own nephew and became the Emperor Yongle. For his faithful and brilliant service, Cing Ho was made an admiral.

  When Artad directed that a fleet be sent to battle Aspasia’s Shadow’s growing influence in the Middle East, Cing Ho was given command of the mission. Nosferatu began to realize there was more to the mission, though, than was readily apparent, as they progressed up the west side of Indochina and then on the coast of India. By defeating various pirate groups, the fleet was opening up a waterborne trade route to the west, one that would be much quicker than the Silk Road. Also, Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin heard whispers of a special cargo on board the flagship, something that had come from the Gods themselves. Any effort to find out exactly what this cargo was drew immediate silence. It appeared that the cargo was held in a locked, waterproof room near the front of the ship, to which only Cing Ho had access.

  They rounded the tip of India and entered the Arabian Sea after two years under sail. When they landed at Omuz in the Straits of Oman, Cing Ho led a large force ashore. The ostensible reason was to subjugate the local population, but he took Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin with him, the first time their feet had touched dry land since leaving China. He ordered them to scour the local area at night and see if they could find word of Aspasia’s Shadow.

  For weeks Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin went from village to village, even venturing out into the desert, all to no avail. At Nosferatu’s urging they ranged north far into the desolate countryside of what would become Iran until they found an oasis where a group of Bedouins were camped.

  From his journeys
many years ago, Nosferatu still remembered some of the desert people’s language. He and Tian Dao Lin entered the encampment just after nightfall, their wrists draped with pearls and their open palms filled with gold.

  The first Bedouins they encountered were wary and would not take the offered riches; but they took the two to an ornate tent set in the middle of the camp, next to the water. Nosferatu and Tian Dao Lin entered and bowed before the old man who sat in the place of honor, and four of the desert warriors took a position between them and the old man, scimitars drawn.

  “We come from the land of the Emperor Yongle, far to the east,” Nosferatu said. “We bring you gifts of peace.”

  The old man didn’t reach out to take the gifts, but indicated they should be deposited on the ground in front of the warriors. Nosferatu did as indicated and waited.

  “I am Al-Fatar, leader of the Qabila of Fatar. We have heard of strange, great ships to the south. Is this how you came here?”

  Nosferatu nodded. “Yes. We have journeyed far.” “Why?”

  Nosferatu knew such directness was unusual for Bedouins, who had strict rules of hospitality which he had counted on. He realized it would be best to be as direct. He sat down cross-legged. “We are seeking someone. A powerful lord who is supposed to dwell between here and the land of Egypt. Since you travel much of that land, we thought you might be of assistance in this matter.”

  “This lord’s name?”

  “Aspasia’s Shadow.”

  Al-Fatar shook his head. “I know of no such lord.” “He might go by another name,” Nosferatu said.

  “Then how would I be able to tell you if I knew him?”

  “He is more than a man,” Nosferatu said. “He has lived the lives of many men. He has walked the Earth since before the beginning of time, when the Gods themselves walked the Earth.”

  Al-Fatar stared at Nosferatu. “If he is so powerful, why should I tell you of him?”