Empire of Fear

by Brian Stableford

  This objection made the pirate pause and scowl, and he seemed to realise the truth of what Noell had said. ‘Mayhap we must leave, then,’ he said, ‘and find a vampire in another place, who may be safely used. Had we but known this last year, I’d have bade poor Selim go mad much sooner, and given him strict instruction as to how to wield his knife. We must pray that Heaven will give us another opportunity.’

  ?Langoisse,’ said Noell, pleadingly, ‘I beg you to be careful. The vampires of Africa are very unlike the ones which rule in Gaul and Byzantium, but I think that any man who deliberately wounded one would be treated no less cruelly, by the tribesmen if not by the vampires themselves. You did not see how the Egungun which came to meet us in the forest behaved when they found Ghendwa hurt. I think we might all have been slaughtered then, had not Ntikima interceded on our behalf, and I still fear for the boy, because none of us has seen hide nor hair of him since we first arrived here. Were we to castrate a vampire, finished or unfinished, I think it would be reckoned an insult so grave that all Africa would hound us to our deaths. Should we ever see Gaul again, I’ll help you start your rumour, but I have wondered long and hard whether I dare raise a hand against the vampires of Adamawara, and have so far decided that I dare not.’

  Langoisse looked at him long and hard, with more than a trace of the old fire in his eyes, but in the end he lowered his accusative gaze.

  ‘Nay, Master Cordery,’ he said. ‘I cannot name thee coward on that account. What you know may be too precious to risk in the kind of adventure which I proposed. I’ll bide my time – you have my word on’t. In the meantime, you must call upon my help to make ready for the journey home. Neither the forests nor the grasslands, nor a legion of savages, can prevent our winning home, if we are truly determined.’

  Noell shook his head, tiredly. ‘There are too many enemies,’ he said. ‘And we no longer have your guns. We have looked for them, but they are nowhere to be found. I do not even know where the donkeys are kept, if they are still alive.’

  Langoisse’s expression became bleaker, and Noell knew that the truth had cut a path clean through the pirate’s hopes and dreams. ‘Aye,’ he whispered. ‘I had forgotten the guns. I have lain too long in this wretched bed, and must get up now, to play my part in this endeavour.’ ‘Do not hurt yourself,’ said Noell, surprised by his own sincerity. ‘You have been very ill, and I would not like to see you increase your troubles by driving yourself too hard.’

  ‘Master Cordery,’ said the pirate, in a cold low voice ‘I think that you misread me. I have greater strength than you suppose.’

  ELEVEN

  Wdhen Noell next took himself into the forest outside Adamawara it was not so much to carry forward his studies as to give him space for further thought concerning the matters which he had broached with Langoisse.

  That all of them desired to quit Adamawara in the coming dry season he took for granted, but it seemed that he must also take it for granted that not all of them were able. He dared not go alone, or with only Ngadze for company; that would leave him scant chance of success, and in any case he could hardly bear the idea of leaving Quintus behind–or Leilah, if the truth be acknowledged. But when he asked himself what chance there was of making an elixir to make aitigu of them all, he had to answer that he could see none at all, unless he was prepared to deal in such wild and dangerous fantasies as had sprung at once to the pirate’s mind.

  While he sat, and pondered, he heard a noise behind him, and turned in a flutter of alarm, fearing to see Egungun walking there, although it was brightest daylight.

  It was not Egungun, but Ntikima, whom he had not seen for nearly a year. The boy was standing beside the crooked bole of an ancient tree, higher up the slope. Ntikima seemed taller than before, and held himself more like a warrior. His expression was very serious, his eyes shadowed in the gloomy light beneath the canopy of the tree. Noell greeted the boy with feeling, and told him how anxious he had been for his safety. He asked whether Ntikima had suffered much from the silver death, and what the present state of his health was, but received no immediate answer. It was obvious to Noell that this was no chance meeting of old fast friends, but something which touched the fate of both of them.

  ‘I have been in Iletigu,’ said Ntikima, finally. ‘I was taken there because I am Ogbone, and once met Aroni in the forest, who made me a promise which the elemi are bound to keep. I have seen and touched Ekeji Orisha, and have watched the gods descend to earth.’

  ‘Will you be an elemi yourself?’ asked Noell, standing to face his visitor, but shy of reaching out to touch him, because of his manner.

  ‘Once, I hoped that I would be,’ replied the boy. ‘I was to be a magician and a healer.’ He paused, then added: ‘I owe a debt, Noell Cordery, and have come to pay it.’

  Noell felt an unnatural calm, as though a coldness had stolen into his heart. He knew only too well that the debt which Ntikima owed him was the debt of a life, and that if Ntikima had come to pay it now, his life must be in dire danger. ‘Have the Ogbone decided, then, that Egungun must come to find me once again?’ he asked.

  ‘I am Ogbone,’ said the boy. ‘I know what Ogbone knows. Ifa has spoken to the babalawos, to tell them that you mean to do wrong in Adamawara, and that you have already offended against the most sacred taboos.’

  Noell fought a momentary impulse to laugh. Had Ifa, then, been eavesdropping inside his head? Had his conversation with Langoisse been overheard? ‘Is there any defence against this judgement?’ he asked.

  Ntikima shook his head.

  ‘The priests of Ifa have juggled the palm nuts,’ he said, ‘and they have spilled the secret blood. Yesterday was ajo awo, the day of the secret, and the babalawos huddled their shaven heads in urgent conference. Ekeji Orisha is troubled by what you have told the elemi, and has said that there is a kind of poison in your words. The ancestors in Ipo-oku are disturbed. Egungun will come, and I must put myself before you, as you once placed yourself in front of me. ’

  There was something new and unexpected in the way that Ntikima spoke of the priests and the gods. It was a tone which Noell had not heard in his voice before. Ntikima’s was not now the voice of a devout believer, but the voice of one who had begun to doubt his idols.

  When he was in Burutu, thought Noell, he was completely Ogbone, in his thoughts and in his heart. But now that he is in Adamawara, there is a little of Burutu in him, kept secretly in his soul, which has given him eyes to see. It is not just the debt dflife which he owes to me, but a clearness of vision. Without that, I do not think he would be here, come to warn me against the risen dead.

  ‘What is it that I need to do?’ asked Noell, aloud.

  ‘You must leave Adamawara,’ Ntikima told him.

  ‘I cannot leave alone.’

  ‘Not alone. You must take the others with you – all those that you wish to save. Even the white babalawo is in danger now. ’

  ‘It cannot be done. Langoisse has not the strength, nor Quintus. They could never cross the lifeless forest, let alone the plain beyond, the uplands and the forest.’

  ‘To stay is to die very soon,’ Ntikima assured him. ‘You must take whatever risks there are. I cannot promise to deliver you safely, but I will do what I can.’ He paused, as if uncertain how much more he dared to say, and then went on: ‘I do what I must, but if I do not act cleverly, they will kill me too, as they would have killed you when you took my place. Shango saved you then, and I must pray that he will extend the same mercy to me, but you must do as I say.’

  For a moment, Noell took leave to doubt what was being said to him, but the boy bore himself now with an authority more profound than the earnest confidence which he had had in days gone by, when he had told them what he knew of Adamawara and the Uruba gods.

  Though he had never quite realised it before, Noell saw that it was not Ghendwa but Ntikima who had brought them to Adamawara. It was Ntikima who had laid down the lure with his innocently-told tales; it was Ntikima who ha
d told the Ogbone about the man the tribesmen called the white babalawo. All along, they had been moved by Ntikima, and now he was urging them on again, perhaps to their deaths. Trust in providence had become Quintus’s watchword; was this black youth a personification of the providence which had had them in its charge all along?

  ‘By telling me this you place yourself in danger,’ said Noell.

  ‘I am already in danger,’ said Ntikima, flatly. ‘I owe as great a debt to you as that which I owed to Aroni. I must forsake Aroni, and must trust myself to Shango now.’

  Precisely what this might mean, Noell was not sure, though he knew it was a change of allegiance for which he had every reason to be thankful. Did not Ntikima, who saw with clearer eyes now, know that it was Langoisse’s bullet which had struck Egungun down, not Shango’s thunderbolt? Or did the boy still believe that it could be one thing and the other?

  ‘Do you know where they have hidden the donkeys?’ asked Noell, and quickly added: ‘We will need the guns and powder, too.’

  ‘I will do what I can,’ the boy replied.

  Noell did not look away from Ntikima’s eyes while he paused for half a minute, wondering whether he dared to say more. In the end, he felt that he had to. ‘My friends will die,’ he said, ‘unless they become aitigu. We are told there was once a medicine whose secret was forgotten. Is it really forgotten?’

  The boy was neither startled nor offended by the question, but Noell knew that it was too much to hope for that he might offer the reply which would save them all. ‘It is forgotten,’ he said. ‘It has been put away, and there is nothing I can do to make you stronger than you are. Will you hear what I can do?’

  Noell nodded his head in weary assent.

  ‘Can you find your way here in the dark of night?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Two nights hence, you must come, soon before first light. I will need as long to make preparations. I will try to bring the donkeys, and some food, but you must gather whatever you can. Keep the secret from your servants, and at all costs from Aiyeda and the man who wears the turban. You will not find me here, but do not wait. Go with all speed when dawn comes, and put your trust in Shango.’

  Noell would have asked further questions, but when he opened his mouth the boy suddenly raised his hand.

  ‘Remember,’ he said, insistently. ‘Trust Shango!'

  Ntikima turned away, running with some urgency. He was swal?lowed up by the forest. Noell shook his head, and threw away a clot of earth which he had been kneading in the fingers of his left hand. To his own surprise, he felt as much relief as fear, for confusion now was banished by necessity. He knew what he had to do. All awkward questions could now be set aside, in favour of trust in Ntikima’s wit and wisdom.

  Trust Shango? he repeated, ironically. He could not even trust in his own God, and could hardly hope that a single idol from a heathen flock might serve where the Lord of All could not. But Shango had spoken before through the barrel of a musket, and perhaps that was all that Ntikima meant. ‘Well then,’ he murmured, as he began to stride purposefully toward the wall of rock and its hidden gateway to Adamawara’s Eden, ‘perhaps we must try for the treasure after all, in Langoisse’s way, and damn all consequence that might attend the quest!’

  He wasted no time, upon his return, in communicating what had been said to him to his friends, but in view of the need for secrecy he had to tell them as carefully as he could. He had no opportunity to bring them all together to agree upon the making of a plan.

  Langoisse, who was still confined to his room though no longer in his bed, was the easiest to find. Noell saw by the way that he reacted that the news of their rumoured danger was like an animating spark, drawing the pirate suddenly to an unspoken resolve, but he had not time to counsel caution, and did not really care to. Langoisse was ever a man, as Noell knew, to take the devil’s risk when all was to be gained and nothing lost. On this occasion, Noell did not feel disposed to try to stop him.

  Noell said nothing to Quintus, when he eventually found him, to warn him of what Langoisse might do. And when he had told them all to be ready – except Ngadze, whom he dared not trust entirely – he found business of his own to be about. He set about the gathering of a pack which he could to take with him when the time came. But when he sat alone at sunset on the day which Ntikima had designated for their flight, he had to face the pangs of his conscience, which tugged him in two different directions. He had to tell himself that he had not urged Langoisse to any crime, and that what the pirate would do must be to his account alone; but he had to tell himself that Langoisse would surely execute the task all the more cleanly and cleverly if left to himself, unencumbered by a feeble accomplice, because he did not like to think that he had sent the other man to do a foul job unaided.

  Oh God, he said, in an entirely unaccustomed moment of prayer, give me strength, I beg of you, to take action on my own behalf, in future. Let me not live my life entire without ever once grasping a nettle, and deciding for myself what must be done. No sooner had this plea been uttered, though, than Noell was chiding himself again, for theatricality and for taking in vain the name of a deity in whom he did not believe.

  ‘In any case, it probably matters not,’ Noell whispered to himself. ‘If I fail to make an elixir of life, if Ntikima fails to pay his debt, if every one of us must die, in Iletigu or in the lifeless forest … well, then, what mattered Noell Cordery’s little life in the great pattern which unfolds within the shadow of eternity? ’Twas only one more useless thing among millions.’

  There was no comfort at all to be found in these thoughts, and Noell was glad when Quintus came into his room, to sit with him while they waited. All preparations were made, but their conversation was about innocent things, lest they be overheard. Noell was sure that the monk could not suspect what Langoisse had gone to do. Neither of them went to his bed when the sun was gone; they sat instead over a lighted candle, uneasy and afraid.

  Noell went to Leilah’s room at one point, to make certain that all was well with her, and was astonished and annoyed to find her gone. He had not expected that the pirate would take her with him on such a mission as this, and he could not think of any other reason why she should not be there. He cursed the coldness which had grown between them, and made him leave her so much alone that he no longer knew her part in their adventure, but there was nothing to be done about it now. He could only return to Quintus, and wish the hours away.

  He almost began to wish that naught would pass except the hours, and that Langoisse would come to him empty-handed, but he never quite gave way to that failure of resolution. And when the night was well advanced, with the stars standing out as bright and sharp as they ever did, Langoisse did come to him, with something precious cradled in his hand.

  ‘It is time for you to make your elixir,’ he said to Noell, ‘and make haste to cheat the devil of our death. Be quick, for I do not know whether the semen of a vampire is as incorruptible as the remainder of his flesh.’

  Noell dared not glance at Quintus, to see what the holy man’s reaction might be to this speech, but he took what Langoisse gave him, and was astonished to find it not a mass of bloody flesh, but only a small stone jar, with thin white-yellow stuff inside it, which looked more like spittle than aught else.

  ‘What is it?’ he demanded.

  ‘What thinkest thou?’ returned Langoisse, in a fever of anxiety. ‘It is stuff to make vampires, if you have told me true. But we need blood to nourish it, do we not, ere we even begin? Hurry, Master Alchemist, 1 beg of you!’

  Noell, mystified, stared at the several droplets of fluid, which were already beginning to dry out. The fluid was milky, like the ejaculate of any common man. It was by no means the ‘semen black as night’ which Guazzo had mentioned, but Langoisse would surely have made no mistake. He knew that this must, indeed, be the semen of a vampire.

  Langoisse was right: there was no time for questions or for hesitation.

  Nevertheless,
Quintus asked in an icy tone: ‘What have you done, Langoisse?’

  ‘I have bought us the chance to live instead of die,’ replied Langoisse, ‘if God has made Noell Cordery clever enough to do it.’

  Ignoring the tart exchange, Noell quickly added some water to the stuff in the jar, and then opened the box which contained the parts of his microscope. He took from it the keenest of his knives, and without a pause for fear or thought he slashed at his own left arm, drawing a line of blood across the white flesh above his wrist. Deliberately, he spilled as mucli of the blood as he could into the jar.

  ‘I know what is needful,’ said Langoisse, quickly. ‘Take mine too.’ He produced from his belt a pointed dagger, but Noell shook his head, and looked among his own things for a second scalpel, which he moved through a candle-flame before holding it ready.

  While Langoisse held out his forearm, Noell drew the blade of the knife along the length of a blue vein. The pirate did not cry out, but clenched his teeth and hissed in alarm as blood gushed from the long cut. Noell caught the blood in a drinking cup, and as the cup filled he tipped in the contents of the jar which Langoisse had brought him. This mixture he swirled about, adding salted water from a bottle.

  ‘What is’t?’ said Quintus, in an angry tone, but stifled the question half-asked as his reason caught up with his astonishment. Noell glanced at him, trying to apologise with his eyes for the fact that he had said nothing, deliberately concealing from the monk what he and Langoisse had said to one another on this subject.

  ‘I can only hope that no other substances are vital,’ said Noell to Langoisse, speaking rapidly but with assurance. ‘Pray, if you will, that we have what we need.’

  He turned to look Quintus in the eye. ‘No time,’ he said, with a hint of apology. ‘Decide now, I beg thee, whether thou art in this with us, or whether thou wouldst rather seek the merciful arms of thy loving God. 1 can promise nothing, but wilt thou try with us the power of the rite?’

  Quintus stared at him so gravely that Noell was certain that he would refuse. But instead, the monk bared his own arm. ‘Let God decide,’ he said, with a strange lightness. ‘If He does not want me to be a vampire, no doubt He will have his way.’