The Nosferatu Chronicles: Origins

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The Nosferatu Chronicles: Origins Page 3

by Susan Hamilton


  The other Nubian guards broke their spears and threw the pieces to the floor in acceptance of their fate.

  Dracula threw back his head and laughed.

  “Ekrem and Hassan shall return alive and well to your camp tonight,” he said to Iroto. “One man dressed in a robe and turban looks the same as another from a distance. And if the ‘envoys’ are accompanied by their Nubian guards, no one will notice until it is too late. Would it please you to kill your former slave masters and be reunited with your wife?”

  “And become slave to a new master?” asked Iroto.

  “Look around you, Iroto,” said Dracula, indicating the soldiers present. “No one who swears loyalty to me is a slave. I will not stand at the head of an army that is forced to fight out of fear that their families will be slaughtered. Once we have put down your masters, the Kapikulu are free to remain here or go where they wish.”

  “And if we choose to stay, what of our freedom of religion?” asked Iroto.

  “This kingdom follows a different path,” answered Dracula, indicating a large crucifix on the wall. “If you join our ranks, your private worship will be respected, as long as it remains private.”

  Iroto walked back to the Nubian warriors and conferred with them briefly. Dracula’s proposal offered them hope, albeit slim, that their families could be spared.

  “We will fight for you, Prince,” said Iroto.

  Anticipating what Dracula now expected of him, Iroto thought only of Soueti as he placed his hands on the sides of his turban and briefly lifted it. The lives of the Kapikulu’s families depended on Dracula being placated with this gesture. “I tip my hat in respect to you, Prince Vlad Dracula. Long may you reign!”

  Dracula smiled as Iroto’s comrades followed suit.

  ARRIVAL

  Low Earth Orbit, 1459

  The lights onboard the Isla flickered as the computers brought the life support and gravity systems online. Once atmospheric conditions were stabilized, the revival sequence was activated.

  As Kevak exited his stasis pod, he fell heavily to the cold floor.

  I’m alive.

  With great difficulty, he managed to stand up and take a few tentative steps before falling again. His body began to convulse, and he was racked with nausea and pain.

  A normal reaction to the shock of revival. Stay calm.

  Instead of fighting against the convulsions, he allowed them to pass through him and used the pain to remain conscious. When the convulsions subsided, he stumbled back to his pod and ingested a hemo-nectar ration. Sensing movement, he turned and saw other crew members experiencing the same ordeal.

  “Don’t fight it,” he called out to them. “It will pass. Take your nectar ration as soon as you can.”

  Kevak walked to his post and saw Mazja standing at the view port.

  “Navigator,” she beckoned, “behold, New Vambiri.”

  Kevak stood beside her and gazed down.

  “There’s so much blue, Commander,” he said.

  “My thoughts exactly,” said Mazja. “See what the atmospheric scans have to say.”

  Kevak returned to his post and studied the compiled data. “Two parts hydrogen and one part oxygen – water!”

  Mazja allowed herself to laugh.

  “Surface scans indicate 78% nitrogen and 21% oxygen. Hemoplants can grow here!” he happily exclaimed.

  Seeing other crew members at their posts, Mazja issued new orders: “Helmsman! Power up engines in preparation for atmospheric entry. Navigator! Run a scan to determine if there are any life forms on New Vambiri. Yeoman! Find out how long we were in stasis.”

  Fryhi gasped when she read the data on her terminal. “Twelve thousand, three hundred and forty-one years, Commander!”

  As Mazja looked around the bridge, she noticed some crew members were absent. “Find out what’s keeping the missing crew, Yeoman.”

  “Engines powered up, Commander,” said Chaluxi. “I’m going to test the thrusters with some small pulses.”

  “Commander,” reported Fryhi, “several crew and passenger pods are offline.”

  A wave of panic ran through Kevak as he frantically entered Vrin’s code into his terminal. The pain he had just experienced upon revival paled in comparison with the anguish that encompassed him when he saw the readout.

  STATUS: OFFLINE

  Years of memories flashed through his mind in seconds: his pairing ceremony with Vrin, the birth of J’Vor, and the moment he had kissed them goodbye before running to the bridge.

  His intense grief came to an abrupt halt when an explosion sent the Isla spiraling out of control into the planet’s atmosphere.

  “Thruster malfunction!” shouted Chaluxi.

  “Get those stabilizers online!” ordered Mazja.

  “Not responding, Commander,” he said as he repeatedly pressed the keypads on his panel.

  “Use the other thrusters to counterbalance,” said Kevak.

  “I’ve lost them all!” Chaluxi exclaimed.

  Kevak could see flames licking across the outside of the view port. His panel readings indicated the initial thruster misfire had triggered a feedback into the others.

  “Initiate lifeboat conversion procedures, Helmsman,” ordered Mazja, “and jettison the passenger pods.”

  “Belay!” shouted Kevak to Chaluxi. “We’re still in the thermosphere. Any pods jettisoned now will be incinerated.”

  “Gravity will tear apart the Isla any second,” said Chaluxi.

  “Navigator, is it possible to issue the jettison command once we’ve made the conversion to lifeboat?” asked Mazja.

  “Yes, Commander,” answered Kevak.

  “Lifeboat conversion on my mark,” ordered Mazja. “Three…two…one…mark!”

  The lifeboat was a disk made up of concentric circles, with the bridge composing the innermost one. The outer bands included an infirmary, dormitory, assorted laboratories, and storage facilities for rations, computers, hydrogen generator cells, and weapons. Once the lifeboat was ejected, Chaluxi stabilized its trajectory.

  “The Isla is starting to break up, Commander!” reported Fryhi.

  “We have no choice! Jettison the pods!” commanded Mazja.

  Chaluxi entered the command into his terminal. “Pods jettisoned.”

  The crew watched helplessly as the first group of pods were incinerated as soon as they emerged from the evacuation ports. The Isla broke apart into pieces that briefly glowed before bursting into flames.

  “Goodbye, my dearest,” whispered Mazja to her spouse Behot, whose pod had traveled in the passenger section.

  “Look!” cried Fryhi. “Some of the pods made it! They’re not burning up!”

  Fryhi was right. The pods scattered like grains of sand in the wind before smoothly gliding into formation as the automatic guidance systems took over.

  “How many?” asked Mazja.

  “Unknown, Commander,” said Fryhi. “The homing beacons won’t come online until they have landed.”

  “Navigator,” said Mazja, “are they on a trajectory for a nighttime landing?”

  “Negative, Commander,” answered Kevak, “but the solar shielding is at 100%.”

  “Very well,” said Mazja. “Follow their trajectory.”

  *******

  The people of the Transylvanian village of Bazna began that day the same way they had for generations. Farmers tilled the soil, shepherds tended flocks, blacksmiths mended horseshoes, and dough was kneaded into shape in preparation for baking.

  Meteor showers had been observed by humans for thousands of years. In 1459 A.D., fireballs roaring across the sky were believed to be angels who, after rejecting God, were cast out of Heaven.

  The villagers’ daily routine was interrupted by a sonic boom. Looking up into the early morning sky, they shook with fear as they saw the cascade of fireballs accompanied by something never witnessed before: flying coffins.

  FREEDOM

  Ottoman Encampment, Transylvania

 
; The soldiers were partaking of their afternoon meal when they spotted riders approaching.

  “The envoys are returning!” shouted one of them.

  In the distance, they could see two figures on horseback, resplendent in their extravagant robes and turbans. Their faces were veiled to keep out the dust kicked up by the horses. The Nubian escort rode close behind, followed by the cart that had been especially designed to securely carry the gold to the sultan. Extra donkeys weighted down with covered sacks accompanied the party.

  “Look,” laughed another, “not only has the Son of the Dragon changed his mind about the tribute, it appears he has also included a late payment fee.”

  Dracula and Teodor were disguised as the envoys. Everything was as Iroto had described. The camp took the shape of a circle with the outer band consisting of Mehmed’s regular forces surrounding the Kapikulu. The slave army was not exclusively Nubian; Indians and Roma also contributed to their ranks. As Dracula’s group came within striking distance of the camp, the Regulars remained unconcerned.

  “Refreshments are ready in your tent,” said one of the Regulars when the ‘envoys’ reached the camp.

  Dracula studied the Regular’s facial expression carefully. He saw that he was having trouble deciding which of the veiled men was Ekrem, and at that point Dracula signaled for the attack to begin. Soldiers poured out of the cart and cut down the nearest Regulars before they could raise the alarm. The covered sacks on the donkeys concealed more soldiers, and when they leaped out, it was the signal to the rest of Dracula’s troops, hiding in the woods, to join the fight.

  Iroto drove his steed past the outer tents into the heart of the Kapikulu.

  “The Son of The Dragon promises freedom to those who will fight for him!” he shouted. “You can be reunited with your wives and children! Take up arms with me and free your families!”

  “It’s a trick!” yelled one of the Kapikulu. “Once the Regulars are defeated, we will still be slaves!”

  “Is this a trick?” asked Iroto as he displayed the Dragon’s sword. “This is the most sacred possession of the Son of the Dragon, which he has entrusted to me!”

  “It is the sword of the Dragon!” exclaimed another Kapikulu.

  Just as Dracula had anticipated, the sight of Iroto with the Dragon’s legendary sword filled the Kapikulu with a genuine hope of freedom, and the Regulars fell quickly against the combined forces of Dracula’s troops and the Kapikulu.

  Iroto dismounted and ran to the tents that held the families of the Kapikulu.

  “Soueti!” he called out.

  As he searched the first tent, he came across a group of Regulars cowering in fear.

  “Ibrahiem!” pleaded one of them, “you must protect us! Mehmed will…”

  Iroto silenced them with the Dragon’s sword.

  “My name is Iroto, and I am no longer a slave to do your bidding,” he said to their corpses.

  As he searched more tents, Iroto was horrified to find slain women and children. The Regulars had begun executing the families of the Kapikulu in a desperate attempt to terrorize them into fighting against Dracula’s forces. The abominable act was short-lived when the Kapikulu reacted by turning on the Regulars. From the corner of his eye, Iroto saw a trembling hand move beneath a slain body.

  “Soueti!” he shouted, pulling the lifeless body on top of her aside.

  Soueti was covered in blood, but it was not her own. She was dressed in the skimpy, see-through garment of a sex slave. Grabbing a blanket, Iroto used it to cover her.

  “Soueti, I am here,” he whispered to her. “We are free, my love.”

  Soueti looked at him, but her eyes did not register recognition. Iroto began to softly sing a lullaby from their village. Slowly, Soueti remembered the words and joined in. But the memory of her once happy life only served as a contrasting reminder of the indignities she had suffered in the months since being taken captive, and she turned away from Iroto in shame.

  “I am stained,” she said.

  Iroto took her hand and rubbed his thumb over the blood that covered it.

  “Look, my love,” he said, “you are only stained with the blood of your captors, and it can easily be washed away.”

  Soueti silently shook her head as tears streamed down her cheeks. “You know the rest of it.”

  “I know that you are my dearest love,” he assured her, “and nothing has the power to change that.”

  Soueti began to weep, and Iroto took it as a good sign: the first step in healing.

  *******

  Although Dracula preferred to be known as ‘Son of the Dragon,’ he also took pride in the title ‘Vlad the Impaler.’ On this day he was determined to live up to the latter by providing the Kapikulu with their revenge. One hundred of his soldiers, the Amylas, had been given the sole duty of locating and felling straight pine trees which were then whittled into poles for impaling. As they arrived on the scene, the Kapikulu let out a great cheer as they handed over the captive Regulars to them.

  Iroto walked with Soueti to Dracula, and made a solemn show in front of both armies of returning the revered sword of the Dragon back to its rightful owner.

  “You are slaves no more!” shouted Dracula to the Kapikulu. “The dignity of your wives remains intact! The sin of their sexual enslavement lies solely with their captors! If Iroto consents, he will be the general of a new battalion known as the Free Kapikulu, and his honorable wife shall take her rightful place at court as Lady Soueti to Princess Elzbieta.”

  As Iroto listened to Dracula’s noble words, he was mindful of what had happened to Ekrem and Hassan. It was vital for Dracula to win this war of propaganda, and Iroto would not dare be the cause of robbing him of it. He and Soueti knelt before Dracula and accepted his blessing amid the wild rejoicing of the Kapikulu. Soueti was safe as long as Iroto was useful, and for her sake he played along. Hereafter, he would have to remain alert for any changes in Dracula indicating that his usefulness was at an end. Allah had arranged for these events to take place, and he would not question His wisdom. His thoughts were interrupted by the screams of the first of the Regulars being impaled.

  Dracula jerked his head in the direction of the screams. “There are ladies present! Tell them to stop at once!” he ordered Teodor.

  The executions were brought to a temporary halt until after the families of the Kapikulu were escorted back to Castle Dracula.

  “See that the families are fed properly and assigned living quarters,” said Dracula to Teodor.

  *******

  Princess Elzbieta warmly welcomed Soueti into the ranks of her ladies. Dracula carefully maintained two public personas. To his enemies, he was a vicious angel of vengeance, but to Elzbieta he was the epitome of Christian chivalry. Since no one would dare tell Elzbieta of Dracula’s battlefield exploits, she remained blissfully unaware of them. The moniker ‘Vlad the Impaler’ was merely enemy propaganda, she had reasoned. After all, not only had her husband just liberated an entire army of slaves whose wives had been subjected to horrors she could not fathom, but he had also become their benefactor.

  Two maids gently removed Soueti’s slave garments and washed the dried blood from her skin with warm, scented water. Once they had helped her into a flannel nightgown, she was given a cup of broth to restore her strength. Suddenly, Soueti clutched her abdomen as a wave of pain passed through her, then she fainted.

  “Fetch the midwife,” ordered Elzbieta, who suspected that Soueti was either pregnant or had some sort of gynecological injury.

  *******

  Iroto returned to the battlefield with Teodor to witness the grim spectacle of the ‘Forest Army’ Dracula had ordered constructed with the impaled bodies of over two thousand injured and dead Ottomans.

  “Make sure the poles are aligned properly,” ordered Dracula. “Mehmed is a stickler for straight lines in the ranks, and we wouldn’t want to disappoint him.”

  Iroto watched impassively as those who had enslaved him and raped Soueti writh
ed in agony on the stakes. He took no pleasure in their sufferings but felt no sympathy either.

  Their actions determined their fate.

  *******

  “Has she miscarried?” Elzbieta asked the midwife.

  “She miscarried this, Princess,” answered the midwife, opening her hand to reveal a smooth stone. “It was placed there to prevent a pregnancy. It’s a common barbarian practice used with camels and other beasts of burden.”

  “A beast of burden,” repeated Elzbieta, realizing that Soueti’s sexual enslavement had not been limited to one man.

  “She has been violated repeatedly, Princess,” said the midwife.

  Elzbieta made the sign of the cross. “You shall speak of this to no one,” she commanded as she dismissed the midwife.

  Entering Soueti’s chamber, she sat on a chair next to her bed. Pulling out a handkerchief she kept in her sleeve, she showed her its embroidered rose.

  “Do you like it?” she asked.

  “It’s beautiful, Princess,” whispered Soueti.

  “All of my ladies know how to embroider,” she said. “As soon as your strength has returned, we will begin with simple images and work up to more ornate designs. We also sew shirts for the poor. I will engage a tutor to instruct you in Greek and Latin so that you may read the classics in their original form. If you would like to receive musical tuition, there are several instruments to choose from…”

  As Elzbieta spoke softly and soothingly, Soueti drifted off into peaceful slumber, her first since her tribe had been enslaved by the Ottomans.

  *******

  “Liberating the Kapikulu is a great victory over Mehmed,” boasted Dracula.

  “What was liberated today was but one battalion, Sire,” said Iroto.

  “Then your comrades still enslaved will take heart when word of it leaks out,” replied Dracula.

  Iroto sighed. “I fear, Sire, that the remaining Kapikulu and their families will suffer greatly for what happened today. Mehmed will vent his rage on them.”

  “I was once in the same position,” replied Dracula. “Every time my father displeased Murad, I was severely beaten for it. I can assure you, Iroto, it only strengthened my resolve. Henceforth, you are to be visible at the head of the Free Kapikulu in every conflict. Your presence will inspire hope in those who have given up.”

 

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