The Nosferatu Chronicles: Origins

by Susan Hamilton

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” said the guard. “The princess is unable to sleep and requests Lady Soueti’s company.”

  “Of course,” answered Iroto. “Lady Soueti is not dressed. She will only be a few minutes.”

  Once Soueti had dressed, the guard escorted her to Elzbieta’s chamber.

  “Forgive me for taking you away from your husband, my dear, as I realize he is returning to the front soon,” she said to Soueti in front of the guard. “If you could stay for a little while and read to me, I’m sure it would help me to sleep.”

  “I would be happy to, Princess,” said Soueti.

  Elzbieta turned to the guard. “Return in an hour to take Lady Soueti back to her husband.”

  The guard saluted and shut the door, and once more Elzbieta listened to the sound of fading footsteps.

  “Which book would you like me to read from, Princess?” asked Soueti.

  “You choose one,” she said as she walked to her bedside table and opened an ornate jewelry box.

  Soueti picked up the nearest book.

  “The Cant-er-bur-y Tales,” she said, struggling to pronounce the words that were still foreign to her.

  “He who re-peats a tale after a man, is bound to say, as near-ly as he can, each sin-gle word, if he re-mem-bers it. How-ever rude-ly spo-ken or un-fit, or else the tale he tells will be un-true. The things in-ven-ted, and the phrases new.”

  Soueti looked up and saw that Elzbieta was riffling through her jewelry box and not paying any attention to her.

  “I am sorry, Princess, but it is difficult for me to speak the words,” she said.

  “You’re doing fine,” she said. “Carry on.”

  As she continued to read aloud, Elzbieta sat down in the chair next to her.

  “Fetch the sewing basket, my dear,” she said.

  When Soueti returned with the basket, she saw that Elzbieta was holding several pieces of jewelry in her hands.

  “We are going to sew this jewelry into the linings of your dress,” she explained. “There may come a day when you and Iroto must leave in a hurry, and you’ll need to acquire food and shelter along the way. You will be able use these as currency. Tell no one, except Iroto.”

  “It’s in case the baby comes too soon, isn’t it?” asked Soueti.

  Elzbieta slowly nodded. “I take it that Iroto shares my concerns.”

  “But what if the jewelry is missed, and Dracula demands that your servants be searched?” asked Soueti.

  Elzbieta squeezed Soueti’s hand. “This jewelry belonged to my sister, who died of fever when she was fifteen, long before I married Dracula. I have kept these in memory of her but never wear them. No one knows of their existence.”

  The jewelry consisted of two rings with precious stones, a silver bracelet, and a large gold crucifix hanging from a heavy chain.

  “Once our task is done, we shall never speak of this again and put all disturbing thoughts out of our minds,” she said with a smile.

  SEAL

  Encampment of Dracula, Transylvania

  For nearly six months, the Vambir had led sporadic, savage attacks against the Ottomans, but the enemy numbers were so vast that each attack was repelled by a wave of fresh soldiers.

  The Vambir had the psychological advantage, since terrifying rumors of the Night Attack had been widely circulated. When Mehmed’s forces came face-to-face with them, they soon realized that the rumors had not been exaggerated.

  The Vambir never tired. Human blood acted as a stimulant to their systems and added to their already superior physical strength. As the psychotic effects of blood ingestion manifested, the Vambir gave in to them willingly and entered berserker mode. The sight of them ripping into the necks of Mehmed’s soldiers with their bare teeth caused the troops to run away in terror, despite their greater numbers. The Vambir eventually gained the upper hand, and Mehmed’s forces pulled back to regroup.

  Dracula had ordered the broken bodies of the enemy to be impaled, since Mehmed had denied him the personal vengeance he craved over him and Radu. The Vambir had fed beyond satiety and were mindful enough to collect reserve supplies once it became apparent Mehmed was retreating.

  Teodor had been unable to rejoin Dracula and Iroto on the battlefield. For weeks he had barely clung to life as a fever raged through his body from his infected wounds. Although the fever had abated, swelling had begun in his brain, and the once magnificent soldier was now reduced to a useless, babbling idiot.

  Mazja made her way to Dracula’s tent to report the latest Ottoman casualties.

  “He is with the Amylas, milady,” said one of the guards posted at his tent.

  Safely away from the thick of the fighting, propping up dead Primitives on his stupid toothpicks.

  Mazja smiled at the guard. “Would you permit me to wait for him inside? I should like to remove the Ottoman gore from my boots.”

  “Of course, milady,” answered the guard. “I’m sure he would want you to be comfortable.”

  Once inside, Mazja walked over to Dracula’s writing desk and saw several maps of the region. She decided to make copies for herself. If the Vambir had to flee suddenly, they needed to know the locations of any nearby villages or mountain ranges.

  Taking a fresh sheet of parchment, she looked through Dracula’s maps to select the most useful ones. Her keen sense of hearing would alert her if Dracula approached, and anyways, it was a perfectly logical thing for a commander to make a copy of a map.

  Seeing a map of a large mountain range named the Carpathians protruding from the middle of a pile, she pulled it out, but in doing so the stack of maps and papers on top of it fell to the floor. Bending down to pick them up, she saw a letter written in Dracula’s own hand.

  Dearest Elzbieta,

  I hope this letter finds you well.

  For two days we have fought the Ottomans with ferocity akin to wild beasts. God willing, by the time this letter reaches you, we will be victorious.

  I repeat my pledge to you, my darling, that once the Turk is vanquished, I will devote myself entirely to Christian matters. I will try to be the husband you are worthy of and will seek God’s wisdom in all things. Your loyalty and faithfulness is a model for all women to follow. I have neglected you for too long, and those days will soon be finished.

  The Vambir will be justly rewarded for their assistance, but thereafter their sanctuary will be at an end. I know their presence has disturbed you and many others at court and wish to assure you that all will be well.

  Yours as long as life endures,

  Vlad

  In the lower right corner was Dracula’s personal seal. Mazja carefully replaced the letter then dipped her fingers in the blood on her boots, using it as ink to quickly compose a letter of her own. When she was finished, she located Dracula’s seal and affixed it in the correct place. After rolling up the letter, she tucked it inside one of her boots.

  She quickly finished her original task of copying maps then exited the tent.

  “Thank you for allowing me to rest inside,” she said to the soldier. “I need to confer with Chaluxi on a logistical matter and will return later.”

  *******

  “If their prince was killed in battle, they would follow you,” said Chaluxi. “Your speech outside the burning house has become legendary.”

  Mazja shook her head. “There’s no chance of that. His ‘fighting’ consists of commanding his troops to impale the bodies of the dead and wounded.”

  “What now?” asked Chaluxi.

  “The letter said he was done with war,” said Mazja. “What would happen if there were new enemies to fight?”

  “He would still need us,” answered Chaluxi.

  “Is there enough power for a single personal shield to last six days?” asked Mazja.

  Chaluxi looked puzzled. “Yes, Commander. But why?”

  “I’m going to make a run back to the castle,” she said. “I will take minimal rest and travel both night and day. Send word to th
at Primitive prince that we have heard rumors of Ottoman reinforcements arriving, and I have gone ahead to investigate. That will explain my absence. He won’t dare follow. He might actually run into some real fighting.”

  “What do you hope to accomplish back at the castle?” asked Chaluxi.

  “To make Dracula believe he still needs us,” she said with a smile.

  FRIENDSHIP

  Transylvanian Countryside

  Jasper placed his push dagger in the fire. When the end was glowing red, he removed it and approached the boy lying next to the fire. Upon seeing it, the youth became agitated and attempted to move away but was too weak to do so.

  “Be still, boyo,” said Jasper. “The demon bite will become infected if I can’t stop the bleeding.”

  Assuming that the boy could not understand him, Jasper pointed to his neck and made a flowing motion with his hand. The youth’s eyes widened with understanding and fear. Jasper again moved toward him, but he still tried to flee.

  Jasper stopped and sighed, then placed the dagger back into the fire. Removing a knife from his belt, he calmly cut into his own forearm while the terrified youth looked on.

  “See?” asked Jasper, pointing to the blood dripping from the wound. He removed the dagger from the fire and pressed the glowing red end against the wound. The boy could hear the sounds of Jasper’s heavy breathing and the hiss of evaporating blood.

  “All better now!” said Jasper with a smile, showing his seared flesh to the boy. “No more blood!”

  The boy slowly nodded. Jasper picked up a small branch from the pile of wood and broke it in half. Pointing to his teeth, he bit down on it.

  “This will help with the pain,” he said.

  The youth opened his mouth and accepted the stick. He tried to remain calm, but when he again saw the searing dagger, he began to whimper.

  “It’ll be alright, boyo,” said Jasper softly, as he stroked his head.

  The boy squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the pain. Jasper pressed his hand firmly on the boy’s head to hold him still and pushed the dagger against the wound. The boy’s muffled screams came to an abrupt end when he passed out.

  *******

  When the youth opened his eyes, he could see a skinned rabbit slowly cooking on a spit above the fire.

  “Ah, you’re awake,” said Jasper as he showed him a quiver full of arrows. “I scooped it up as we made our escape from the demons. I’m not nearly as adept with a bow as you, but I managed to catch us some supper.”

  Jasper inspected the arrow tips. “Mediocre workmanship. I could make better ones for you.”

  He walked to the spit and rotated the rabbit. “I’m going back to Wales. I came here for all the wrong reasons. Blacksmiths make a good, albeit dull living, and you could be my apprentice. Of course, if you wish to return to Mehmed’s army and face more demons, you are free to make your own decision once you’ve recovered.”

  Jasper looked at the youth, who met his gaze and said nothing.

  “My…name… is…Jasper,” he said loudly, pointing to himself. “Jasper! Me…Jasper!”

  Jasper repeated the rudimentary sentences in French.

  The youth began to laugh then winced from the pain of the cauterized wound.

  “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Jasper,” he answered in French. “My name is Tariq. Me…Tariq!”

  “So, Tariq, you understand French. If I had thought of that earlier, there would have been no need for me to have done this to myself,” said Jasper, indicating his arm.

  “It made an essential contribution toward acquiring my trust,” replied Tariq. “My tutor taught me several languages. How is it that you can speak French?”

  Tariq’s question immediately filled Jasper with sorrow, since it had been Friedrich who had taught him. Friedrich had started by making sure he understood essential commands that were needed in the thick of fighting.

  “How did one so young and obviously highborn descend to the rank of an archer?” asked Jasper, changing the subject.

  “I am not a boy,” answered Tariq. “I am sixteen, and it was my extreme misfortune for Mehmed’s daughter to fall in love with me. The silly girl flirted with me constantly, but I never responded in kind.”

  “What happened?” asked Jasper.

  Tariq rolled his eyes and sighed. “She took pen to paper and composed a ridiculous poem declaring her undying love for me. It was discovered before she could deliver it, so she panicked and claimed that it was I who had pursued her.”

  “And Mehmed believed his daughter over you,” said Jasper.

  Tariq shook his head. “That’s not how it’s done. I never denied the accusation. To say the daughter of Mehmed was lying would be the same as accusing Mehmed himself.”

  “It doesn’t seem like a fair resolution,” said Jasper.

  “It was the best outcome I could have expected,” said Tariq. “Mehmed was able to save face by packing me off.”

  “Do you think he knew the truth?” asked Jasper.

  “I am certain of it,” replied Tariq. “My father had encouraged me in archery from a young age when it became readily apparent that I would never develop into the physical specimen you are. I won every competition at court. If Mehmed had truly believed I was guilty, he would have sent me straight to the front lines to be cut to ribbons in the first battle. Instead, he left my fate in the hands of Allah.”

  Jasper checked the rabbit and began to slice off pieces of meat. “You stood your ground against the demons while the others fled,” he said as he handed him a piece.

  “Yet we were each able to kill them, so they are not truly demons,” said Tariq.

  “Corvinus referred to them as Vambir. They are in the service of the Son of the Dragon. I saw one of them take a blow to the back from a sword, and within minutes he had recovered. That is not human. If they are not demons, then they are possessed by demons.”

  “There are all kinds of poisons employed by Mehmed’s assassins,” said Tariq. “Maybe there is also a substance that renders a person impervious to pain.”

  “And affects the mind,” said Jasper, “causing one to go berserk.”

  “Perhaps,” said Tariq.

  When they had finished their meal, Jasper stretched out by the fire.

  “Tomorrow I’ll see if I can find us some horses,” he said. “I’m going back to Wales. If you wish to return to the ranks of your fellow bowmen, then you must leave soon, otherwise they will think you’re a deserter.”

  “I prefer to tag along with you,” said Tariq. “Did you make such an offer earlier when you were babbling away in a language I could not understand?”

  “I did,” answered Jasper. “You would accept the friendship of an enemy?”

  “The Vambir are my enemy,” answered Tariq. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

  FLIGHT

  Castle Dracula

  Mazja was exhausted. She had taken no rest in her race to Castle Dracula.

  I’ll take my rest when it is finished.

  As she waited in the darkness behind a line of trees, she wondered what was keeping Elzbieta.

  Those in the dining hall should have finished eating by now.

  Eventually, Mazja’s patience was rewarded. The flicker of a candle flame could be seen through the window of Elzbieta’s room, and figures were moving around.

  Her ladies are preparing her for bed. How ridiculous to stand there passively while others undress you.

  Once Elzbieta’s ladies departed, Mazja watched as she knelt at her prie-dieu.

  Time for a test of faith, you stupid Primitive.

  Mazja removed the letter she had written in blood in Dracula’s tent from her cape and wrapped it tightly around an arrow that she had picked up on the battlefield. Chaluxi had modified the lasgun in order to allow the arrow to travel inside the ray. Once the sensor locked on to Elzbieta’s window, Mazja discharged the weapon and the window shattered, sending shards of glass flying through the room
.

  Startled, Elzbieta crouched on the floor in a defensive posture. Many years ago the same thing had happened. A small bird had waited too long to roost, and in the darkness the confused creature had crashed through her window. She knew that the next sound she would hear would be the helpless animal fluttering its wings in an exhausted, futile attempt to escape. But this time there was only silence. Rising slowly, she looked warily around the room. There was no bird, but on the floor amid the glass was an arrow with a letter wrapped around it. Picking it up, she tentatively unrolled the letter and immediately recognized Dracula’s personal seal at the bottom.

  What manner of delivery is this?

  Her heart raced as she saw the large letters that had been written by a finger dipped in blood. Lighting a taper, she brought it close to the parchment in order to decipher the words.

  VLAD DEAD.

  OTTOMANS COMING.

  She gasped, but the terror in her was so great that she could not find her voice to scream. Her husband and protector was dead, and Castle Dracula would soon be overrun with Ottoman conquerors. There would be no quick end for any of Dracula’s subjects, especially the women.

  Mazja expected Elzbieta to go running to Luca with the letter. As soon as they recognized the seal, they would believe that Dracula and the Vambir had been defeated. Luca would seize power, and when Dracula returned to the palace, he would find his position usurped and realize Marin had been telling the truth about Luca and Teodor being part of his conspiracy, despite Teodor’s injuries at the hands of the assassins.

  Dracula’s kingdom would be divided, and he would desperately need the Vambir to restore order. Any minute now the castle would erupt into a cacophony of fear and confusion.

  After fifteen minutes, Mazja was frustrated that the palace was still quiet. She had seen Elzbieta run out of her room, and surely by now she would have gone to Luca with the letter.

  It was then that she detected movement outside the castle. It was Elzbieta in her flowing nightgown, ambling slowly toward the edge of the cliff overlooking the Arges River with the letter still tightly clutched in her hands. She was saying something.