Molly explained her father's disappearance - of how he had confessed to the township about his suspicions about Count Voslow. He had asked several men in the village to help form a brute squad, but none volunteered. Being a man of honor, Molly's father ventured out alone. It cost him everything.
"What of this 'Raven-haired' woman?" Dorian inquired, brushing his beard.
"Ahh!" Molly laughed, hauntingly. "She played her role out, all right."
The vampire explained about the agony she went through when her father's disappearance went from suns, to phases, to lunas. Almost a whole season passed, but there was no word from him. Molly had not only given her father up for dead, she had almost given up all hope.
One night, while closing up, she heard a faint scratching at her door.
"Raven-haired" was lying on the cobblestone, in front of the inn, with her dress torn open at the front. Molly's eyes opened in horror, realizing that this unfortunate woman had been raped. Or that is what she had first perceived.
"He's mad, love!" the unfortunate woman had told Molly. "He's keeping your father as a pet."
"How do you know this?" Molly asked.
"I have seen him with my own eyes, love."
So it was that Molly closed up shop, and headed up toward Count Voslow's castle.
The rumors about Count Voslow were epic. He was a rather bloodthirsty soldier, but hailed as a great liberator of his people. His people, Molly explained, were what was once known as the Nown Nation. It was said that when in battle, Voslow drank the blood of his victims with his meals. It was said, that because he loved war so much that he angered the gods.
Then came the most mysterious part of Molly's story. As a punishment for angering the gods, they placed a curse upon Count Voslow. They, according to both rumor and legend, made the staple of his diet that which he enjoyed to taste. The gods cursed his vanity by making him a blood drinker. So, after the Border Wars, the Count was seldom seen in public. This only solidified the rumors and superstitions of the local folk.
In time, the Count took residence in Mull Garden, an ancient, abandoned castle in the hills nearby. So old and forgotten was this castle that no written records existed explaining the birth of the castle or its history. No one had lived in the edifice for ages.
A perfect place for a vampire.
"Woman," Keeth said, trying his best to hide his laugh, "there are no such things as vampires. They are "hill talk:" tales told to frighten children."
Molly opened her mouth, showing the three her long vampiric fangs.
"Hello! Female vampire here!"
Both Dorian and Rohan choked on their tea as they hid subdued laughter.
Keeth beckoned the woman to continue with her tale.
Molly explained that she had decided to visit Mull Garden to see if her father was indeed held prisoner within. Along the way, wolf, bat, insect, and worm battled with her, pestering and blocking her way. Something was trying to stop her approach to the castle, and it did a good job, almost convincing her to turn back towards town.
Almost&
Upon reaching the castle, Molly knocked on the huge wooden doors. To her utter surprise, Count Voslow himself was there to greet her. He wasn't the monster she had thought him to be. He was handsome, kind, and at times, rather humorous. Molly was paid every civilized courtesy. She was even given the best guest room in the castle. It was three days before she knew that she was in any kind of danger.
Molly soon noticed that the castle was always deserted during the morn - she had free rein and could explore to her heart's content. But, at night, the castle was ablaze with activity. Molly always spent these hours in her room, and it was always locked. One night, however, she rigged her door so that it could not be locked, and soon ventured out into the night. She should have stayed in her room and left the next day, as planned. But she didn't.
"People say that there is no hell," Molly whispered, her eyes focused on the small fire in front of them. Her body started to tremble, and it was not from the cold. "They are wrong, gentlemen. I have walked through it."
In the castle, Molly was witness to a blood bath. She had heard, several times, the sounds of parties, music, and people laughing. Now, she had a chance to see those people.
Molly saw vampires drinking blood and feasting on dead and bloated bodies. All were enjoying the sport of killing their unfortunate prey. Some had sexed openly, not caring who were watching. Above it all was Voslow, sitting in his chair, remotely smiling - lost in thought.
Molly was safe until he saw her.
Voslow was more embarrassed than angry. She could see that in his eyes. He roared like a madman, demanding to know who had neglected to see to his guest. A trembling servant stepped forward. Voslow grabbed the unfortunate man and ripped his neck open. Voslow drank most of his blood, throwing what was left of the servant to the floor, for others to eat. It was then that Molly decided to escape.
It was far too late.
Count Voslow took Molly, dragging her by the hair, to a high tower room. To her surprise, he cried while he raged. Molly was under the impression that although a demon, Voslow was noble in his hearts - a victim of his own station.
Molly was thrown into the tower room, and was not fed or given water for four days and nights. Her world was nothing but darkness, hunger, thirst, and the squeaking of rats. Always, she felt that "something" was there, in the darkness, watching.
"Was it your father?" Rohan asked. There was an understanding - a pain there - that the elf seemed to project with some passion. This caught the eye of everyone, especially Dorian.
"No," Molly confirmed, closing her eyes with the saddest of regrets. "I never found my father. To this day, his fate is unknown to me. I pray, and assume, that he was killed. I hope he was killed."
There was a long, awkward pause.
Rohan returned his steady gaze to that of the crackling fire.
Molly continued with her story.
On the fifth sun, Molly awoke to the smell of cooked food. An entire table had been prepared. Lost in her hunger, she feasted. "Something" was there. "Something" that was more hungry than she was.
Count Voslow stepped from the darkness to admire Molly's hunger. He was dressed in his best battle uniform, looking so much like the brave knight that he had once been. He wanted her to see who he used to be.
In her admiration, Voslow attacked and drank most of her blood.
Then, as if haunted by a sad unknown, if not private memory, Voslow stopped. He realized what he had been doing and started to cry out in agony. Molly compared the actions to that of a child who had done something quite terrible, was appalled that he had ever done such a thing, and then tried to backtrack, hoping to put right what had so badly gone wrong.
Voslow cut a deep wound into his right wrist and pushed Molly to take from it.
A power took hold of Molly, and before she knew what she was doing, she, like her attacker, was drinking blood from another being's body. At a certain moment in her attack, Voslow ordered her to stop, and she collapsed onto the tower room's floor. She did not wake until later that same night.
Molly found the castle empty.
Terrified that Voslow would come back, she fled, not realizing that it was already too late.
The damage had already been done.
***
No one commented.
All just stared into the fire.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jatel's eyes blinked open with barely enough energy to hold their own. Hope soared - this was indeed a good sign. Leaving the fire, Keeth guided and escorted the squire to his quarters. There was still much-needed rest and healing for the young man to go through, and the wizard was not going to risk anything.
"Take good care of him." everyone heard Molly say. The woman lowered her head, not having the heart to stare Jatel in the eyes.
The squire's alertness peaked upon hearing the voice of his attacker.
This, above all, caused the woman great
shame.
Both Rohan and Dorian did their best to ease the woman's inner sufferings, but, and rightly so, Molly was far beyond comforting. This was of her doing, and she knew it. Although much of a victim as Jatel, she was still responsible for her own actions. There could be no excuse.
The elf, dwarf, and vampire continued to lose themselves in the dying embers of their fire.
Yet another morning was about to begin.
No one paid close attention to the surrounding fog.
***
When Ka-Ron finally awoke, her thoughts focused on three things: Jatel, the female vampire, and her sword.
The knight was as quick as a streak of lightening.
Before Rohan, Dorian or Keeth could move a muscle; the pregnant knight jumped up, grabbed her sword, and ran up on deck. So enraged was she that she failed to notice Jatel laying on the bed next to her. He turned on his side, never waking, not realizing the fury Ka-Ron was in.
"Where is she?" Ka-Ron demanded, exploding upon the deck.
Molly, turning, saw the knight's sword searching for her flesh, but she never moved a muscle. Like a terrified swimmer trying to make a hungry shark ignore him, the vampire stayed as calm and as still as a mill pond. Closing her eyes, she waited for the fatal strike.
The tip of Ka-Ron's sword found its mark.
"I'll give you the chance you never gave my love," Ka-Ron said. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but shook with both conviction and rage. "Why should I not kill you right now?"
"Ka-Ron! No!" Keeth pleaded. The wizard was stopped by Rohan, who gave the learned man a cautious shake of his head.
"These are dangerous waters we are in, wizard." Rohan whispered.
"Knight, pray! Know what you are doing here." Dorian cautioned, rising his own hands in self-defense.
"Why should I not kill you?" Ka-Ron repeated. Subtly, the knight moved minutely forward. The tip of her sword cut deeply into the vampire's flesh.
The wound hurt.
Molly opened her eyes and fought back the instinct to freeze her attacker with her stare. The vampire knew that her attacker was only doing what she would have done in similar circumstances. Ka-Ron was acting only out of pain.
"You cannot kill me, woman," Molly challenged. "So much the pity."
The vampire put her hands in the air and surrendered.
Ka-Ron swallowed hard, and for an instant envisioned pushing her sword through the vampire's soft, feminine neck, so as to see the vile creature's eyes expand in agonizing horror, as she realized that she was about to die. All this ran through the knight's head. With keen eyes, Ka-Ron moved forward, her sword still embedded into Molly's flesh. She breathed heavily. Her muscles tensed.
The vampire soon challenged her.
"All you have to do is push, knight." Molly's eyes didn't blink. The vampire was serious.
Ka-Ron was at an impasse.
Could an errant-knight willingly kill an unarmed woman? No! Not even if she sincerely wanted to. Not even if the bitch honestly and irrevocably deserved it.
Ka-Ron dropped her sword.
Everyone took a relaxed breath.
Ka-Ron started to cry.
Molly, realizing that she was the cause of all of this, could only meekly, step forward and wrap her arms around the crying woman. What surprised the vampire more than anything was the fact that the knight, in her agony, held her back, using her shoulder as a means to seek both comfort and to cry upon.
"Now, there's something you rarely see in this universe." Keeth said with wonder.
"What is that?" asked the elf.
"Honest and sincere forgiveness."
"Ahhh," the elf softly responded.
The moment was fleeting.
Ka-Ron's body shook violently. Letting go of the vampire, she pulled herself away with great horror flashing upon her face. Instinctively, the knight grabbed at her stomach. Her stomach, showing signs of violent movements, swelled to that of a woman at full term - eleven lunas.
"To the gods! What is happening to me?" Ka-Ron asked.
Molly turned a questioning gaze to that of the wizard. Keeth darted forward, almost knocking Rohan to the deck. Both the elf and dwarf looked on in awe.
"What manner of magic is this woman under?" Dorian asked, looking up at the elf for an answer.
Rohan had none. Still, from the corner of his eye, again, he saw Dorian staring at him in a manner he found quite uncomfortable. Rohan swallowed hard, but dared not glance in the dwarf's direction. He found the stare frightening and wanted to preserve the knowledge that he did notice it and wanted to play the ignorant victim.
"Ka-Ron, I believe that it is the time."
Ka-Ron glanced at Keeth with wide eyes. "So soon?"
Before the wizard could say or do anything, Ka-Ron's body quivered again, causing the knight to scream out in agony. On the deck, between the knight's legs, there now existed a puddle of water and blood.
The baby was coming whether Ka-Ron was ready or not.
"Yes," the wizard stated, trying his best to control his panic. "I think it's time."
"This isn't supposed to happen to me," Ka-Ron huffed, fighting back the pain. "I was a man once."
Keeth shrugged his shoulders, not really knowing what to say.
"Well, we learn by doing."
The wizard noticed a spot on the deck where Ka-Ron could lay down. He guided the woman over, having her prop herself against a barrel, which he tipped over onto its side. The knight started to sweat.
"Keeth," Ka-Ron said, screaming once more as another wave of pain hit her. "I have been trained to fight in combat, I have been train to be brave, but&"
"But what?"
Ka-Ron's eyes projected true and honest panic.
"I don't think that I can be a mother."
The wizard gazed down upon the knight's stomach. Her dress was ripped up to her pelvis, and as more water and blood came from her, he shook his head with utter helplessness.
"I don't think we have much room here for second thoughts, my dear."
Ka-Ron screamed again.
Molly had been left alone by the fire while the elf and dwarf were doing their best to see to their new friends. Rohan, at the bow, had been gathering up some loose sails, hoping that the wizard could use them as bedding, when he noticed the Argo's immediate surroundings.
Deep in the surrounding fog, there moved a mindless horde. With desperate hands reaching up towards the ship, and hollow eyes focusing on each member of the Argo's crew, twenty wraiths licked dried lips. They appeared to have once been members of the village. Of that, the elf was certain. The clothes on each undead body were native to Cibola.
"We appear to have company," the elf warned.
All took notice.
All except Ka-Ron and Keeth.
They were busy.
Dorian and Molly soon joined Rohan in his observation of the approaching group of men. The vampire shook with disgust.
"These are Count Voslow's men."
"Vampires?" the dwarf inquired.
"Yes," Molly agreed. Quite nervous, the woman started to rub her neck. "They are nothing but the mindless undead. Puppets. Voslow wishes to know our intentions."
"That's easy." Rohan said. "We wish to leave him alone."
"Sadly, elf, he will not leave you alone."
"Then, what are our options?" Dorian asked.
Molly looked down at the tiny dwarf. She softly smiled, admiring Dorian's attempt to peer over the ship's railing to gain a better view of what was happening. She prayed a silent prayer hoping the best for him.
"Options? We have none."
"Then it is a fight Voslow is seeking?" Rohan's eyes filled with concern.
"Yes."
Ka-Ron was heard screaming once more.
Ka-Ron's world had exploded into an everlasting war with pain - more pain than the knight had thought possible for a man to endure. Her whole world shrank to the next attack of pain.
"Remember to push gently, my dear."
"I am pushing! I am!"
Ka-Ron's focus became her feet. Straight up in the air, bobbing to and fro, with Keeth's smiling face between them. Occasionally, after the pain subdued, he gently rubbed her stomach. His hand seemed to probe her progress, and the knight thought she felt a subtle warmth coming from the aged hands.
"Remember the breathing method I instructed you to use," the wizard coached.
"Wizard, the pain is just so much."
"It is meant to be, my child. This is life being made. That never comes easy."
The knight gave out one final scream.
"Jatel!" Ka-Ron yelled, her face turning a healthy shade of frustrated red.
"Push!" the wizard ordered.
With incredible strength, Molly picked up a huge iron pot and placed it upon the fire. Rohan started adding more logs to the flames, hoping to quickly make the fire hotter and stronger.
"Hot tar?" Molly asked.
"Hot tar."
Dorian started pulling out a number of long arrows and adding cotton and wool to their tips.
"And lighted arrows, my dear." Dorian started to hum a simple tune. "We will have a grand time welcoming our new friends, hey, lass!"
Rohan shook his head.
The elf could not help but control himself from laughing.
On the ground, the danger got much closer. About half of the advancing undead started grabbing hold of the Argo's landing gear. The men snarled, howled, and slowly started to climb their way up the ship's hull.
"Rohan! We have company."
The undead invaders crawled up the hull of the ship, getting closer and closer to their goal. In the distance all on board could hear the advancement of dozens more. Count Voslow was going to do all he could to gain hold of his newest visitors.
"It's me." Molly suddenly realized. "Voslow is after me."
"Why would he worry so about you?" the elf asked. Rohan poured hot tar into buckets, placing them near the side of the ship.
"I escaped," Molly pointed out. "I have control of my mind. Most who turn into a vampire are mindless zombies, such as these attacking us. Intelligent vampires are quite rare."
"Then what are Voslow's intentions with you?" Rohan asked.
The Misadventures of Ka-Ron the Knight Page 22
