The Nosferatu Chronicles: Origins

by Susan Hamilton

  Once Dracula was alone with Mazja and Chaluxi, he reclined on the bed and casually fluffed up a pillow.

  “You are not of this world,” he said. “I wish to know the true account of your origins.”

  Mazja and Chaluxi exchanged worried looks.

  *******

  The lead wolf leapt onto the side of the wagon. Its front legs landed inside as the back ones paddled furiously against the side, seeking a ledge to push its body up. Iroto drew his sword and stretched around to strike it. Landing a blow to its shoulder, Iroto watched as it shrieked in pain and lost its grip on the cart. He let go of the reins, and the horse bolted forward in a panic as Iroto climbed into the body of the wagon to fight off the other wolves as they attempted to jump in. Seeing the lights of Bazna in the distance, Iroto felt confident that he could keep the wolves at bay until they reached safety. The wolves would end their pursuit once they sensed they were getting too near the village.

  His confidence was shattered when the wolves stopped trying to jump in the wagon and raced ahead to attack the horse. At first they nipped at its heels, trying to make it stumble, then suddenly a large female latched onto the horse’s throat. The horse came to a sudden stop, and Iroto and Soueti were thrown hard against the front of the wagon. Soueti cried out in pain, and Iroto was horrified to see her water had broken. He could hear the sickening sounds of the wolves feeding off the struggling horse. Picking up Soueti, he silently carried her off the back of the cart.

  “They are feeding on the horse and have forgotten about us,” whispered Iroto. “Try not to cry out. Are you able to walk?”

  Soueti gritted her teeth as her contractions began and nodded. They needed to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the wolves while they were distracted with their feeding. Nothing else mattered.

  Kevak sprinted with the same desperation he had when escaping his execution. And just like that night, he was not going make it to his destination in time. He could see that the wolves had left the body of the horse and were now chasing the dark-skinned humans. The male was exceptionally strong and holding them off, but there were too many for him. The female looked to be in a great deal of pain, and the male was handicapped by having to defend both his position and hers.

  Help me, Iam! Help me to reach them in time!

  Iroto used one arm to steady Soueti as he backed up to a tree surrounded by thick bushes.

  “Crawl deep into the bushes!” he ordered. “I’m going to draw them away. Run to the village when I’m out of sight.”

  Soueti began to sob, realizing that Iroto was going to sacrifice his life for her and the baby.

  “Do as I say!” he pleaded.

  Soueti crawled into the bushes and watched as Iroto lashed out at the wolves like a man possessed. Every time he would run a few steps, one of the wolves would snap at his calves, trying to bring him down. Iroto was forced to pause and strike before he could resume running. Eventually, he put enough distance between him and Soueti for her to make her escape.

  But Soueti was unable to run away. Her womb was expelling the baby, and she was powerless to stop it.

  “Now, Soueti!” cried Iroto. “Run!”

  As he squinted to see if he could make out her form running away, one of the wolves attacked him from behind and knocked him to the ground. The others rushed in and made an end to him in the same fashion as they had done with the horse.

  Soueti could hear the sounds of the wolves feeding off Iroto as her son was born. Holding the infant in her arms, she willed herself to ignore the immense pain that engulfed her and prepared to run toward Bazna. Just as she was crawling out of the bushes, the baby cried. The wolves heard it and quickly lifted their heads in her direction. Soueti silently crawled back into the bushes. Ripping off a piece of her gown, she wadded it into a ball and placed in the baby’s mouth to keep him quiet. Tenderly placing him on the ground, she kissed him on the forehead.

  “You are the beloved son of Iroto and Soueti,” she tearfully whispered into his ear. “I beseech Allah to accept our lives in exchange for yours.”

  Soueti darted out of the bushes. As the wolves turned to attack her, there was a flashing light. The beast farthest from her was cut in half and disintegrated before her eyes. Seeing the figure of a man running toward her from where the flashes came, she smiled with relief just before the nearest wolf latched onto her throat.

  As the wolves took down the female, Kevak continued to fire his lasgun at them until they had all been vaporized. The female was still alive, struggling to crawl away.

  “Do not be afraid!” he cried out. “I have medical supplies nearby and can carry you!”

  As he placed his hand on her arm and gently turned her over, he recoiled as he saw blood spurting from a huge gash in her throat. The female’s eyes bulged wide with horror when she saw his face, then suddenly her labored breathing came to a halt. The smell of fresh blood set off the chemical reaction in his brain that brought on intense cravings.

  “No!” he roared, staggering away from the carnage.

  He kept walking until there was enough distance between him and the smell for the cravings to subside. As he looked back at the motionless bodies on the ground, his acute senses could detect no signs of life.

  Kevak was filled with sorrow and rage. “Why, Iam? Why?” he shouted to the stars. “A few seconds sooner and I could have saved them! I could have been their Good Samaritan!”

  Kevak waited for a reply but received none. “They were innocent!” he yelled. “You allowed them to be slaughtered before my own eyes!”

  The only sound to be heard was the rustling of the trees in the wind.

  “Silent again?” he asked bitterly. “I have had my fill of one-sided conversations.”

  Kevak sighed heavily with resignation. “Believing in divine purpose was no different to believing in the Passenger Lottery,” he muttered.

  Kevak considered his future on this cursed planet and concluded that all it held for him was miserable loneliness while being unjustly despised as a murderous demon. He could never read the Bible again without feeling embittered over the two lives he came so close to saving. Vrin and J’Vor were gone, and Iam was nothing more than human mythology. Sinking to his knees, he looked down at the lasgun in his hand.

  “Vrin, J’Vor,” he said sadly. “If only my pod had also failed during the crossing. I am done with New Vambiri.”

  Tightly shutting his eyes, he brought the lasgun to his head and took a deep breath. As he was about to discharge it, his ears detected faint human cries coming from the bushes.

  *******

  “Why should I not order your immediate executions?” asked Dracula.

  “Because the change you have undergone will prove deadly if you try to discover its nuances on your own,” replied Chaluxi.

  “Such as?” asked Dracula.

  “If you venture out into the daylight, you will be reduced to ashes, just like your beloved wife,” said Mazja bitterly.

  “Rubbish!” retorted Dracula. “I saw you both outside in the daylight with my own eyes.”

  “A deception that required technology far beyond your understanding,” said Chaluxi. “By all means, test it for yourself in a few hours. Radu will thank you for providing him with an undisputed claim to your throne.”

  “Let us set aside that argument for the time being,” said Dracula to Chaluxi before turning to Mazja. “Why did you not simply let me die instead of initiating this change?”

  Several seconds of silence followed.

  “Because you did not know you were capable of producing it,” he said, answering his own question. “The stab wound I managed to inflict was indeed my life-saver. And I would venture to guess,” he continued, “that if one of my soldiers were to ingest my ‘new blood,’ he would also find himself ‘changed.’”

  Chaluxi sunk into despair; it was now clear that Dracula intended to follow the same course as Mazja.

  *******

  Kevak parte
d the bushes and saw the squirming newborn male. The crumpled cloth Soueti had placed in his mouth to keep him silent had fallen to the ground. He gently picked up the crying infant with his giant, claw-like hands and marveled at the miracle of life. Rocking the baby tenderly in his arms, he turned to take him back to the cave.

  Something metallic in the grass caught his eye. Bending down, his fingers grasped a gold chain. It was very long, and he was awestruck as a large crucifix came slowly into to view as he pulled it up. As his eyes followed the holy symbol gently swaying back and forth in the breeze, an immense sense of peace came over him.

  “J’Vor,” he whispered to the tiny, precious face. “Your name is J’Vor. By the grace of Iam, you have been returned to me.”

  SUNKEN

  Village of Velt

  Dracula had underestimated how religious faith and superstition would affect those he transformed. The soldiers he had selected were of Romanian peasant extraction, and once transformed they perceived themselves as Strigoi. Such was the power of their beliefs that they lost the ability to speak, entered into an immobile stupor during daylight hours, and were easily repelled by garlic and crucifixes. Incapable of fighting as a cohesive unit, they left their posts and wandered aimlessly at night, attacking anyone they stumbled upon. Emanui’s village was the only one prepared for their arrival.

  Upon the first sighting, those living close to the church sought refuge with Father Andrew. Looking through the gaps in the shuttered windows, the parishioners trembled with fear as the Strigoi stood motionless just outside the gates. Father Andrew had ordered for the bells to be rung throughout the night in order to alert everyone that the event they had feared was now upon them. Just before daylight, the Strigoi had silently dispersed at precisely the same moment.

  “We must find and destroy every last one while they are dormant or they will return night after night,” ordered Father Andrew as he led a group of men into the forest. “Search every barn, poke every haystack, and walk through the wheat fields with pitchforks. Any space that can conceal a body from daylight must be checked!”

  Emanui had spent the previous night in her hut, unaware of what was happening in the village. On a still day, she could barely hear the distant church bells, but the wind last night had prevented their warning from reaching her. For weeks she had only managed a few hours of restless sleep as she was continuously haunted by the Strigoi nightmares.

  The sun shined brightly in a cloudless sky. Stepping outside the hut, she stood close to the garlic garlands and sniffed.

  They are losing their pungency and will soon be useless. I must gather more.

  The bright sun and lack of wind made the day unseasonably warm, and she set out with a large basket. The path took her by a pond where she used to fish with her father as a little girl. Bending down to pick up a pebble, she threw it into the water and made a silent wish for the nightmares to cease. She watched the widening, concentric circles of ripples until they touched the bank but did not notice the tiny air bubbles emanating from the deepest part of the pond.

  Venturing farther away than she had ever gone before, she spotted a wild rose bush.

  I can make rose water, just like Bunica taught me!

  Rose water — a welcomed respite from the constant stench of garlic. Once she had made it, she would splash it over her skin and hopefully feel cleansed. The tiny pink blooms were at their peak and easily twisted off in her hands as she collected them.

  With her basket half full, she sat down and relished the warmth of the sun. Collecting the sweet rose blooms had been a pleasant diversion, but she had to set about the drudgery of searching for fresh garlic. The singing birds in the trees around her sounded like a lullaby. Exhausted from the weeks of sleep deprivation, she closed her eyes and drifted off.

  *******

  She awoke shivering. The sun was setting. Half of it had already disappeared below the horizon. Clutching the crucifix around her neck, she reproached herself for not taking the precaution of bringing one of the garlic garlands. Grabbing the basket, she began to run. By the time she reached the pond, the sun had set, but there was still enough light to see in the dusk. Bunica’s warning ringed through her head.

  Never be caught outside after dark!

  Something was stirring in the pond.

  Jumping fish chasing each other…

  She had seen it before with her father, and they had laughed at the sight. But the thrashing in the water became violent and sustained.

  A deer must have waded in…

  She watched in horror as hands slowly protruded from the murky depths.

  Strigoi!

  Dropping the basket, she sprinted the rest of the way home. As soon as she was inside, she bolted the door and inspected the nailed-up, shuttered windows. Feeling terror rising inside her, her hands shook as she lit the kindling beneath the logs in the fireplace. Within minutes, the wood crackled loudly as it caught fire. She struggled to keep her panic at bay as she reassured herself that the precautions she had taken would protect her.

  The garlic outside is still pungent. That, along with the crucifixes, will keep them out. The fire is burning, and they can’t reach the chimney. As soon as it is daylight I will run to the village. I just need to make it through the night…

  She could hear hisses and guttural animal sounds coming from every direction outside the hut as she walked tentatively to the window. The need to know how many were outside was stronger than her fear. She placed her cheek against the wall and lined up her eye with a tiny opening in the seam. Clapping her hand over her mouth to prevent the scream from escaping, she saw mud-soaked bodies with limp arms swaying in anticipation as their gnashing teeth bit into the night air. Even though she was concealed behind the shutters, wide-open eyes that did not blink seemed to be focused on her. The garlic garlands and crucifixes were working…for now.

  It’s only a matter of waiting them out…

  Her hopes were short-lived. A loud thump sounded above her. Looking through the window again, she saw them climbing the tree next to the hut. She had not thought to put garlic and crucifixes on the roof.

  They wouldn’t dare come down the chimney!

  The blood cravings of those on the roof led them to the chimney, and the first of them dropped through, crashing head first into the blazing fire. A sustained hiss could be heard as its soaked clothing made contact with the intense heat.

  Emanui turned over the wooden table and pushed it against the hearth then threw the chairs at the pinned creature as it was struggling to escape the flames. More Strigoi came down the chimney, but in their rush to get to her they became jammed.

  Grabbing the oil lamp, she slammed it down hard on the floor next to the overturned table. As the flames began to spread, she gathered the garlands from the inside walls and put them around her neck while clutching several crucifixes in her hands.

  Unable to reach the stakes stacked next to the fireplace, she held her breath to ward off the smoke as she unbolted the door. No longer standing around the hut, the Strigoi were either on the roof or climbing up the tree and did not notice her as she silently sprinted down the path that led to the village.

  On the way, she encountered scattered groups, but the garlic kept them at bay as she ran past them. Using her fear to overcome her exhaustion, she pressed on toward the village.

  Up ahead on the path, she could make out a group closing in on two men. A large, muscular man lay unconscious on the ground while his young companion stood next to him, armed with a bow and arrows.

  “Here!” cried Emanui.

  The Strigoi turned their attention away from the men and faced her. When confronted with the garlic and crucifixes, they retreated.

  “Put one of these around the neck of your friend,” she said to the archer as she handed him a garland. “Has he been bitten?”

  The youth could not understand her, so she took the garland back and placed it around the neck of the unconscious man herself.

  “
Jasper!” cried the youth, trying to rouse his friend.

  “Tariq,” mumbled Jasper.

  The Strigoi surrounded the trio but would not cross the invisible threshold generated by the sight of the crucifixes and the smell of garlic.

  “We must get to the church in the village,” said Emanui, using a stick to draw a large house with a steeple in the dirt.

  Tariq shook his head. Taking the stick from her, he used it to draw flames engulfing the church along with several stick-figures surrounding it.

  “Barn,” she said as she pointed in the opposite direction of the village and imitated the sounds made by cows and chickens.

  Tariq nodded, and they both helped Jasper to his feet. The slow-moving Strigoi were unable to keep up. By the time they reached the barn, the Strigoi were nowhere in sight.

  “We must look out for them all night,” said Emanui. “Once the daylight comes, we will be safe.”

  Although the men did not understand her words, they correctly guessed her sentiments.

  “What happened?” asked Jasper as he rubbed the back of his head.

  “Our horses were spooked by something and bolted,” explained Tariq. “I was thrown clear, but you rolled backwards and struck your head.”

  Jasper noticed the garlic garland around his neck and began to remove it, but Emanui stopped him.

  “No!” she exclaimed.

  “She thinks garlic can stop the Vambir,” he said to Tariq.

  “Those things that spooked the horses weren’t Vambir,” said Tariq, “and while you were passed out, the garlic kept them away.”

  Jasper pointed to the garland around his neck and nodded his thanks to Emanui. “Jasper,” he said, introducing himself.

  “Tariq,” said Tariq with a smile, remembering how he and Jasper first communicated.

  “Emanui,” she said. “Strigoi,” she continued, pointing outside.

  “Those Strigoi were once soldiers in Dracula’s army,” said Jasper to Tariq. “I recognize what’s left of their uniforms.”

  “The Vambir and the Strigoi have the bloodlust in common,” said Tariq.