Back at the stables, Val laid the foal down on fresh dry straw in an empty stall. As she did, a twig fell out of her coat, which still warmed the baby horse. She picked up the twig and studied it. It had the deepest dark-green leaves with sharp points and a few bright red berries clung to the stem. “Holly, the winter berry,” she whispered. Of course! She had not thought about it before but the clearing had been full of holly shrubs. She turned her gaze to the foal, “I knew it! I was meant to save you.” After making sure the foal was warm and safe she flew to Elijah. He would be worried.
In no time Val landed by Elijah’s side at the overlook.
Relief filled his iron-grey eyes. “Where were you? I was ... ” Her mischievous smile caused him to pause.
“I have a gift for you. Come!” She took his hand to lead him away.
He smiled triumphantly. “I told you the road was faster.” He glanced around and added, “Where is Baby?”
“Almost back to the stables, most likely. Come. We must hurry.”
“What is going on? You’ve only just arrived.”
But she had already jumped onto the back of his charger. “It is a surprise.”
Elijah sighed and quickly positioned himself in the saddle behind her. They rode swiftly home, giving his fat yet powerful steed some much-needed exercise.
Chapter 14 Copenhagen 1386 A.D
Once back in the stable, Vallachia said, “Now, close your eyes.”
“What are you up to, Val?” Elijah reluctantly closed his eyes and let her lead him into the foal’s new stall.
“You may open them.”
Elijah smiled when he saw the foal wrapped in her coat.
“I saved him from a pack of wolves. He was lying next to his dead mother.”
“I thought I smelled wolf blood on you.”
“I had to save him and I knew that he was meant to be your horse.”
Elijah gave Val a questioning look, so she continued, “Because I found him in a grove of this.” She held out the twig with the dark green leaves and bright red berries.
“Hollis,” Elijah whispered as he took the twig from her.
“You remember.”
“How could I forget? Your first horseback ride was on Hollis — whom I had found in a holly grove. He was an excellent horse.”
“I hope this foal will serve you as well as Hollis.”
Elijah bent down and rubbed the colt’s neck. “I will name him Hollis as well.” He spoke softly as not to further scare the already frightened youngling. “He needs warm milk.” Elijah disappeared through the stall door and called down the long corridor for the stable boy.
The servant quickly appeared.
“Bring me the large red mare who recently had a foal. We must see if she will take to this new foal. She has plenty of milk for two.”
Vallachia was not sure why Elijah could not have fetched the new mother himself, as it would have been faster. It was a very old and ingrained habit, she supposed. People became accustomed to having others do everything for them.
In no time, the stable boy led the large red mare into Hollis’s stall. They watched as the mare sniffed the foal and moved away. She knew it was not hers. She sidestepped and slightly kicked her rear leg, pushing the foal away when he tried to nurse on long wobbly legs.
This big red mare had been Val’s but as soon as her horses had babies she gave up riding them. Young fillies were more fiery and energetic. Giving birth seemed to calm them. Val preferred spunky horses, perhaps because they resembled her. Yet soon Baby would go into estrus and Elijah would breed her to his charger. It happened every time. Then Val would have to find a new spirited young filly to ride.
“Do you think she will allow him to feed?” Val asked.
Elijah frowned. “Sometimes it works but more often mares reject foals that aren’t their own. Let us leave them alone and give them time to get used to each other.”
“Come on, Mama. Don’t be stingy with your milk,” Val said as she turned to leave the mismatched pair.
They checked back on the horses after a good half hour. The mother was still reluctant.
“Soon Hollis will grow too weak to stand and feed.” Elijah furrowed his brow. He gathered a rope hanging on a nearby nail and tossed Val an apple. “Here, distract the mare with this.”
The Court had fall apples stockpiled in the cellar solely for the horses — as they did not eat them. If their own orchards failed to produce enough, Elijah would have apples imported from the south. Their horses were indeed spoiled.
As Val fed the mare the apple, Elijah deftly tied her front legs together and then her back legs. Now the mare could not easily move away from the hungry foal. Hollis began to nurse eagerly. Elijah picked Val up and swung her around.
“It worked! You are a genius,” Val declared.
Eventually Elijah had the mare’s foal brought to her. “She will need extra rations of apples and more hay but she is healthy and will easily be able to feed them both.”
Hollis thrived and grew into a magnificent steed. Once fully grown he stood over sixteen hands high. This was much taller than any of the other horses they owned. He had a shiny honey-colored coat with a long blond mane and tail. His tail would sweep the ground when he walked. Hollis was quite a sight to behold. Elijah would spend time with him every day. He trained him and hand fed him apples. This he did himself because he wanted Hollis for himself. The horse grew to know and trust Elijah above anyone else.
Chapter 15 Wallachia 1262 A.D
When Teller woke his thoughts were hazy. He looked around the dark cave but this time reality returned to him more quickly. Sergiu! I’m in Sergiu’s cave. The year is 1262. I can fly! Vallachia is with Elijah. He let out a moan and rolled over pulling a pillow over his head. He wanted to find someone to sink his aching fangs into. This would help him to forget about her.
“Come on, lazybones, it is time to get up,” Sergiu beamed.
“Are you always this genial? Because it is grating on me.” Teller tossed the stale pillow off his head.
Sergiu threw a chalice of water in Teller’s face, causing Teller to sit upright.
“What was that for?”
“Here,” Sergiu said as he handed Teller a steaming cup of strong smelling brew.
This lessened Teller’s anger, as the substance smelled delectable. “What is it?” Teller wiped the water off his face with the sleeve of his tunic.
“My favorite drink. I call it ‘Sergiu’s secret brew.’ It is simply mint and sage leaves that I have gathered from these mountains. I dry them to perfection and steep them in boiling water.”
Sofia, the healer in Teller’s village, used to create medicines in this manner but Teller had never heard of drinking such a brew for enjoyment. He took a sip of the hot liquid and moaned, “This is wonderful.” It was nothing like Sofia’s horrible tasting concoctions. Teller’s head cleared, so he eagerly took another sip. He looked around to find that Sergiu had bundles of dried plants hanging about the cave.
Sergiu wore a look of satisfaction. He was pleased that Teller was enjoying his special brew.
Teller followed him out to a small fire burning in front of the cave entrance. Apparently this was where he heated the water for his drink. They sat around the fire and watched the sunrise. Nothing but lush green mountains surrounded them. This place was peaceful and isolated. Without the bothersome scent of humans, Teller’s head was already clearer than it had been in a long time, possibly since he had become a creature of the night. The brew seemed to help as well. The problem was that a clear head let in the pain — all that he had lost; a perfect human life, all the lives he had taken. How can I possibly live with myself?
“That is quite enough brooding, my dear boy. Tell me, what skills do you have?” Sergiu said.
It was a relief to Teller that Sergiu did not appear to want to know about Teller’s past, because he did not want to talk about it. Sergiu was only concerned with the future.
“Well, I am
fairly good with metal,” Teller answered.
“Excellent, a fine skill. One that can make you money.”
“Why do I need money?”
“You are going to need something to do besides sit here all forlorn staring at the mountains for an eternity. For starters you need money to be able to pay back that poor innkeeper. Not to mention, you will not get very far dressed as a peasant. You need money to buy better clothes —
“I don’t want fancy clothes. I don’t need anything ... except blood.”
“How else will you ever make something of yourself?”
“Who says I want to make anything of myself? And besides I can steal clothes when needed.”
“Simply because we have to kill to survive does not mean we have to abandon all morals. You will feel better about yourself if you can make your own way. Living an honest life, as honest a life as possible anyway, will empower you. Just because we need human blood does not mean that we have to become thieves as well. You can start by refraining from all the blood — it makes you dim. I only feed every four to six weeks, I suggest you do the same.”
“Four to six —
Sergiu narrowed his eyes at Teller.
“Fine, I will try.”
“Then you can start by getting a job to pay Petru back.”
“Oh, shit.”
“What is it?”
“I left a woman’s body in the room back at the inn.”
Sergiu slapped Teller upside the head with the back of his hand. “You see? Too much blood makes you dim!”
“Ouch.” It hadn't been a hard slap, only enough to sting a bit and to get Teller’s attention. He deserved that, he supposed, so he let it go. He was not convinced that an honest life was the one for him. Yet working with metal again did sound appealing. “So, you are in opposition to Lord Chastellain and this Court of his?” Teller asked.
“Absolutely not. The Court is in the right. Vampires should remain hidden from humans, as this is what is best for everyone. There would be chaos if humans knew we existed. I am grateful they are in power and I’m not saying this simply to save my own head.”
“Yet you told me you enjoy saving vampires from their clutches.”
“I believe some vampires are worth saving and capable of change. I’ve seen it. With a little guidance they can learn to control themselves. Lord Chastellain prefers to sever heads first and ask questions later — if you know what I mean.” Even this Sergiu said with a smile.
How can anyone be so jubilant all the time? Teller wondered. Sergiu’s words were confusing; either the lord was the enemy or he was not. There is no in between … or is there? Irrespective, Lord Chastellain is my enemy — he tried to kill me. Not to mention his son is no friend, if for no other reason than stealing Vallachia from me. Teller narrowed his eyes and his frown deepened.
“I already told you, that is enough of your self-pity and loathing. First things first, today we will find you a job in a smithy shop. We will head to the southeast region of town. That way we will hopefully avoid anyone who may be looking for you in the northwestern part of Targoviste, where they know you by the name of Teller and now the killer of the woman in Petru’s tavern. It will be best for you to go by Vlad from now on.” Sergiu appeared to have everything already planned out for Teller’s new life.
They sat in silence for a moment staring out over the seemingly endless array of the Carpathian Mountains. “This could all be yours someday — if you pull yourself together.”
Teller looked at him with curiosity. What does he mean by that?
Chapter 16 Wallachia 1262 A.D
Sergiu and Teller took flight for town. It did not take long for them to locate the local smithy for the southern region of Targoviste. A man in his late forties was hard at work in a small one-room smithy shop.
Sergiu boldly approached the man. “Pardon me, kind sir, it looks as if you could use an extra hand around here?”
The smithy eyed Sergiu with suspicion. “I can’t afford any help, mister. You best be on your way.”
“Ah but you will be able to afford help and much more after you see what this young gentleman can do. He will make you triple the money you make now, if not more.”
The man studied Teller. “You look strong enough, but I’m barely making ends meet, I could not pay you.”
“How will you be able to get ahead if you do not have help? There is no way you can do it all yourself; get the metalwork done, tend to customers, not to mention, keeping the fires stoked.”
Teller could almost see a new line form on the smithy’s face. The weight of Sergiu’s words caused him to slump.
“That is why you had best stop wasting my time and let me get back to work,” the smithy said.
“Just one day. Give the boy one chance to prove how much help he can be to you. You do not have to pay him for the day’s labor if you still think he is not worth it.”
“What?” Teller demanded. He did not know which was worse, the insult to his skill or the fact that he had to work for nothing. “I am not a slave.”
Teller turned to leave but Sergiu stopped him. He spoke quickly and quietly so only Teller could hear. “Don’t worry about the money. It will come once he sees what you are able to do with a vampire’s strength and stamina.”
Teller studied Sergiu for a moment. Teller could see that he was genuine. His only motive was to help Teller. Teller was already growing quite fond of the man. Teller gave him a nod and turned back to the smithy. “My name is Tel-Vladislav and this is Sergiu.” He held his arm out to the smithy, which was received. This was a common gesture when making an acquaintance but more commonly used when making a deal. In this case it was both.
“My name is Darius.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Teller was anxious to show this man what he was capable of. “Let’s get started, I’m sure there is plenty to do.”
“You’ve got that right, young man,” Darius said. “I’m at least a month out on orders. That is what I tell my customers but truthfully I will be lucky to have their merchandise to them in that short amount of time.”
The front of the shop was a simple open-air counter where people placed orders or picked up their new metal goods. The shop itself was a small dirt-floored room behind the counter. He pointed to a stack of small pieces of papyrus with orders on them.
“I was working on an order of knives for a tavern. You can start on a small job.” Darius thumbed through the orders. “Here you go. A friend of mine needs a new axe head. That should be easy enough for you.”
Teller had a hard time hiding his scowl. Easy enough indeed.
“I will help out in the front,” Sergiu offered. “I can take orders and give folks their merchandise. Besides I need to keep an eye on this one.” Sergiu pointing to Teller. “To make sure he stays out of trouble.”
Teller glared at Sergiu and Darius looked concerned.
“Don’t fret, you don’t have to pay me,” Sergiu said.
“Well then, what are we waiting for?” Teller said. In no time he had a perfectly formed axe head, as smooth as a silk scarf. With his supernatural strength he could easily pound the molten metal to the desired shape. Darius was still hammering away on the first knife for the tavern when Teller placed the hot axe head into a cooling trough. The protesting water hissed and sizzled, filling the air with steam.
“What are you doing, boy? That axe cannot possibly be ready for cooling?”
“See for yourself.” Teller lifted it out of the water with the tongs and placed it on the table.
Darius inspected the axe with awe. “It is perfect, how —”
Sergiu had been thumbing through the orders. “This looks like an important one. A lord is requesting fifty swords. No doubt they are for his guards.”
Teller looked at Sergiu with wide eyes — he could read. Only a handful of people in Ludus could read, Teller was not one of them. Not that he had much interest in sitting around reading, even if there had been someone to teach him.
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“An educated man,” Darius said. “I have learned enough to write down orders, otherwise I would never remember them all.”
“Aye, scarcely enough. You did not spell ‘sword’ correctly,” Sergiu stated.
Teller threw the axe head to Sergiu who swiftly caught it. “You can make yourself useful and sharpen that.”
Sergiu frowned at Teller; yet moved to the sharpening stone.
“I will have the swords ready by morning for the lord’s order,” Teller declared. “They will be the finest he has ever seen.”
“No one can make that many swords in one day,” Darius said.
But Teller was already busy at work. Darius headed home late that evening and Sergiu and Teller stayed up all night. Sergiu sharpened the swords once they had cooled. When Darius came into work early the next morning, he found sixty beautifully-crafted razor-sharp swords leaning against the wall and Teller had already moved on to the next round of orders.
Darius studied the swords. “I have never seen such craftsmanship. The lord will be pleased. Why did you make more than ordered?”
“Once the lord sees these swords he will want more,” Sergiu said with confidence. “It will then be easy to sell the extra ones to him and, if we are lucky, he will place another order. In fact, I have been known to sell fish to fishermen. Why don’t you let me deliver the swords?”
Sergiu’s ready smile made him hard to deny and easy to like.
“Very well. The lord will be delighted to have them so soon and that will allow me to get to work here,” Darius said.
Of Princes and Dragons: Book 2 (Lords and Commoners) Page 6
