The Vorbing

by Stewart Stafford

  Mattna went over to Judas the crow and smoothed his feathers affectionately with his hand. Judas cawed with satisfaction.

  “Judas is my friend, a good friend. He saves me from loneliness and despair. He is always there when I need him, he never disappoints me, and he never says the wrong thing.”

  “It’s a good thing he’s not a parrot!” Vlad quipped.

  Mattna laughed.

  “You are a good friend, too,” Mattna said. “I do enjoy your visits. You keep my spirit light.”

  “And I keep Judas not-so-light by bringing him fat worms. I tell you, this broth of yours is getting better.”

  Mattna smiled.

  “Is that a hint you want more?”

  Vlad held out his bowl, and Mattna filled it after stirring the bubbling cauldron once again.

  “Tell me another tale of the vampires,” Vlad said in between slurps.

  “Another one, eh?” Mattna said with a grin as he theatrically stroked his chin whiskers.

  “Where did Deadulus come from?”

  Mattna lost himself in mock thought; a good storyteller knew how to build anticipation.

  “Well?” Vlad said, leaning forward, his eyes wide with excitement.

  “Well, one evening, I was trying to negotiate a pass in the Gadzook Mountains, but bad weather set in,” Mattna said. “I stopped for the night in a mountain shack, but found it already occupied by a Northman. He welcomed me in and told me a story about the vampires that I had never heard before.”

  “Oh, great!” Vlad said.

  Vlad got comfortable and gave Mattna his undivided attention.

  “He told me of a local myth that sprang up about Deadulus,” Mattna said. “The story went that Deadulus once had been a fierce king and warrior named Fafnir. He led his men into battle, only for their long ship to be shrouded in an unearthly fog. A flock of vampires swooped down and devoured most of the crew. They spared Fafnir and his brother Regin and made them vampires. Henceforth, Regin bore the moniker of Necromus, and Fafnir became the legendary vampire Deadulus.”

  “So Necromus is the brother of Deadulus,” Vlad said, drinking in the new information with glee.

  “A survivor emerged from the icy water,” Mattna continued, “and babbled delirious tales of dragons before expiring from cold. From this, the Northman’s legend came about to explain Fafnir and Regan’s disappearance. The legend says that they changed into dragons to guard their father’s treasure. The conversion of Deadulus to vampirism was the single most important act a vampire had ever committed. This random attack created the perfect vampire: an ideal hybrid of all the best elements of the natural and the supernatural. Vampires had been hunters, but they had unwittingly created a tactical commander, capable of streamlining the vampires into a strategic force. The vampires then played humans at their own game. They had one of their finest commanders as one of their own. Deadulus had an invaluable ally in his brother Necromus. Whereas Deadulus was a ruthless military chieftain, Necromus had a sharp, practical mind. Even when he was mortal, Deadulus still confided in his brother. Necromus conceived a plan, and Deadulus would ruthlessly execute it. Together, they plotted to seize the vampire throne.

  “The vampires also had taken something from Deadulus that hampered him as a human: his conscience. The amoral aggression of the animal was now his, a gift bestowed upon him by the giant supernatural beasts of the air. He now purged his flock of blood relatives and companions without batting an eyelid. It was almost as if the vampires had opened a Pandora’s Box and loosed an evil never seen in the history of humankind. Once in charge, Deadulus forbade his kind from making human vampires in his image. Henceforth, they would tear bodies to shreds during an attack, depriving the human victim of a mortal shell. Thus, Deadulus had stamped out any threat from other vampires. The only danger now would come from humans themselves.

  “Impinging progress brought the creatures’ tenure in the land of the Northmen to an end. Improving weaponry, better combat tactics and a loss of fear of the vampire all contributed to their downfall in that land. Deadulus and his fellow vampires fled the area and had to seek refuge elsewhere. They eventually found their way here, to Nocturne. We are a closed, rural community, an area already rife with superstition. They knew they could control us. The village provides a haven for them until we catch up with the rest of the world.”

  “Where will they go if they leave here?” Vlad said.

  “Deadulus will cross that bridge when he comes to it,” Mattna said. “There’s always somewhere they can go. Our world is an enormous

  place, filled with isolated areas and willing prey. The vampire is a scavenger, a nomad and a survivor. It is an opportunistic creature if nothing else. Is that what you wanted?”

  “Tell me more about Deadulus,” Vlad said.

  “More?!” Mattna laughed. “You are a glutton for punishment!”

  “I want to know my enemy as best I can.”

  “You must embrace your nemesis, Vlad.”

  “Embrace the thing that killed my father? NEVER!”

  “You and Deadulus may not be aware of this, but he’s forcing you to grow and become stronger. The stronger our enemies are, the stronger we must become to defeat them. So they do us good in the end.”

  “He’s trying to kill me too! Putting my father and me in our graves is not a kindness!”

  “You have to spoil a good theory, don’t you?”

  “I am open to persuasion…for a price!” Vlad said laughing, knowing that Mattna lived in penury.

  “I crave not the opacity of riches, nor the clarity of paucity,” Mattna announced pompously. “I look not for a heroic nor noble death. I hope it’s quick and painless, but it’s not for us to decide these things. It is for the great goddess of nature herself. I will abide by whatever she decides for me.”

  “Our beliefs differ, my friend,” Vlad said. “If anyone else heard those words you have just spoken, it would be your end. I do not wish harm on folk who differ from me, nor do I object to their existence. I am curious to know more about them. People fascinate me.”

  “A good way of thinking, my boy,” Mattna said, patting Vlad paternally on the shoulder. “You will learn much in this life that way.”

  A silence fell, and they were comfortable enough with each other to let it hang in the air there between them.

  “Deadulus fears you, Vlad.”

  “Me?! Why would the NightLord be afraid of me?”

  “Deadulus knows that you are the son of a warrior and that you have courage flowing through your veins. The darkness in your heart is a powerful weapon against him. He knows this. That is why your farm is targeted for attack more than the rest. He and his kind are trying to frighten you and your mother into leaving Nocturne for good. They know that without your presence, this village is at their mercy.”

  “I can’t defeat Deadulus,” Vlad said.

  “Why do you say that? Do you doubt your own ability?”

  “It’s not that. I have complete confidence in my ability. The reticence of the people in my village bothers me. How can I harm the vampires if my people will not help me or themselves? It is just like my father said: They need martyrs before they will act. That is the cost of living under vampire tyranny too long - they have become docile. They’re just lambs to the slaughter.”

  Mattna stared long and hard at Vlad.

  “To defeat Deadulus, you must become like him. Temporarily, that is. You must bring out the darkness in your heart, your mind, and your soul, and use it against him. There you are, my boy. I have told you everything I know.”

  “I need to know more about how to keep them at bay,” Vlad replied, as he put the bowl down and wiped his mouth with his hand.

  “Well, let’s see,” said Mattna, as he wracked his brain for more information for his anxious student. “Have I told you about the Lord’s Prayer?”

  “No, you haven’t.”

  “Rumour has it that reciting the Lord’s Prayer in Latin is effective in
repelling vampire attacks.”

  “Is that true?”

  “I don’t know, I’ve never tried it.”

  “Is there anything else?”

  “Nobody lives forever, Vlad, not even me. You know that, don’t you?” the wise fellow said with a weak grin. “Magic cannot repel nature, no matter how powerful it may be. Magic is a set of instructions handed down from generation to generation, instructions that can be mastered by those who apply themselves. Through practice and the application of these instructions, the user can become a powerful magician. However, these instructions can become stagnant, whereas nature, especially the supernatural, does not. It is always changing and growing stronger. The vampires have an unfair advantage. Their powers are infinite, whereas ours are not. We must use conventional tools to stop an unconventional enemy that always seems to have new ways to attack us. Only when they evolve new powers can we react and block them, but they are always one step ahead of us.”

  “What can I do?” Vlad said desperately.

  “Defeat the vampires,” Mattna said. “Death is the ultimate end of their progression.”

  The old man stood up and gripped Vlad by the shoulders.

  “My life is almost at an end, and still, my mortal enemy lives,’ Mattna continued.

  Vlad felt a tide of tears rising in his eyes, but kept his composure. He had learned so much from his old friend. All his wonderful wisdom would die with him. Vlad dismissed the confusing thoughts from his mind, as they were too upsetting to contemplate.

  “The reason I have told you so much about the vampires is that I want you to carry on the struggle,” Mattna said. “I think your father has a worthy successor. You are young, strong, and you have heart. Those are three things the vampires fear most. More than any stake, cross, or flame.”

  Vlad’s eyes welled up with tears.

  “Of course, the life force within us will never get extinguished,” Mattna added, “even by death. It merely assumes another form. It is nearly time for me to move on to another plain of thought.”

  Vlad reluctantly absorbed Mattna’s words, nodding as if in a trance.

  “If you ever need more advice or help, there is one who knows more about vampires,” Mattna said.

  “Who knows more than you?”

  “In the Northern Forest, there’s a woman.”

  “A woman? What could a woman possibly know about defeating the vampires?”

  “Never underestimate the power of the female, Vlad. Life springs from their bodies. It is only right that a woman should possess the knowledge necessary to defeat the essence of death.”

  Vlad shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  “Now,” Mattna said, “her name is Carnessa.”

  “Is she pretty?”

  “It depends what you consider beautiful, if beauty is of any significance. Carnessa is a giantess, a seven-foot tall Atrubian witch, reputed to be the most powerful sorceress in all of Dubhtayl.”

  Vlad seemed impressed with Mattna’s description of her.

  “You may not need her now, Vlad, but someday you might.”

  “I suppose you are right,” Vlad grudgingly conceded.

  “To procure what you need from Carnessa, you must appeal to her vanity.”

  “How?”

  “Compliment her on her beauty.”

  “I am a warrior, not a poet!”

  “You’ll never know how to inspire men to fight for you or learn a witch’s secrets without words, Vlad.”

  “I agree.”

  “She is smarter than you, Vlad, remember that. Misjudge her at your peril!”

  “What does she have that will help me beat the vampires?”

  “That reminds me. I have something that could help you do that, Vlad, and I want you to have it.”

  Mattna went over to a large, oak chest in the corner and produced a metal object.

  “Here.”

  “What is this?” Vlad asked, as he took the gleaming object into his hands.

  “That was your father’s.”

  Vlad stared at the plate in awe.

  “That was the breastplate your father wore at McLintock’s Spit.”

  “How did you get that? You didn’t fight at McLintock’s Spit.”

  “I am a scavenger, Vlad. That’s how I survive. I retrieved it from the battlefield early the next morning. The ground was churned up and scarred. There were human corpses everywhere. The few vampire corpses I saw disintegrated with the rising sun. I saw things in that dawn light I cannot banish from my mind.”

  Mattna shivered at the unwelcome memories that barged back into his thoughts and shook his head from side to side as if to shake them loose from him like lice.

  “No one was around, and that enabled me to find many useful things,” Mattna continued. “I sold the rest of the things I found that morning to passing peddlers, and they carried news of McLintock’s Spit to the capital, but I kept that breastplate for myself.”

  “Why did you keep it?”

  “Even though I do not believe in the wars of man, I knew your father was honourable, that he fought with great bravery against evil and sacrificed himself so others might live, including me. There are times we must fight or be destroyed. I know that now. That breastplate is like a relic of Adam’s martyrdom. A constant fear of mine is that the council of Nocturne will come for me in the night. I thought I’d use the breastplate to bargain with them for my life.”

  “You’d be wasting your time, old friend. The council have no respect for my father or those who fought at McLintock’s Spit. They see the whole thing as a fool’s errand. They would probably throw that breastplate on the dung heap and your body with it.”

  “You must think me a cold, selfish man, using your father’s belongings to save my own skin and keeping this from you,” Mattna said, staring at the floor in shame.

  “Not at all, you had your reasons. I would be scared, too, if I lived out here all alone. The plate is of no use to my father anymore; I would have no quarrel with you getting some good from it.”

  “You should, too. I want you to have it, Vlad. I knew the chances were good that you would one day follow your father’s example and avenge his death...and here you are. If there was any luck in that plate, your father must have used up most of it.”

  “I don’t deserve it.”

  “Yes, you do, my boy.”

  “I’m not ready.”

  “Yes, you are. You have been a dedicated student, Vlad. It is yours now. Wear it with pride and remember me when you claim victory over evil.”

  Vlad was speechless as Mattna pressed his father’s breastplate into his hands. Adam Ingisbohr was torn apart by the vampires while still alive. There was no body to bury, no funeral, and no proper grave to visit to pay respect to him (only the headstone Vlad had erected on the farm). It was the final humiliation for a man who deserved better. McLintock’s Spit became a taboo subject in Nocturne, and life just lurched on somehow. Adam left few things behind, just clothes and the simple tools he used on the farm. Vlad was even starting to forget what his father looked like. He cursed the vampires and hated himself for it. The plate was a welcome reunion with his fading memory of his beloved parent.

  Vlad slowly stood up and looked Mattna in the eye.

  “What can I do to repay your confidence in me?” Vlad asked.

  “Kill Deadulus!” Mattna said, as his eyes filled with conviction.

  “It’s what I want, what my father wanted, and what you want,” Vlad said smiling. “I will do everything in my power to ensure that it happens.”

  “Imagine what you could do if you were fearless, Vlad.”

  Vlad smiled to himself as he thought about it.

  “A little fear is good; it makes you cautious, forces you to prepare, but fear has held me back, kept me here all my life. Don’t let that happen to you.”

  Mattna pointed at the door to his hut.

  “Go out into that world and become fearless. Make real your dreams,

&nbs
p; and let nothing and no one stand in your way.”

  “I will,” Vlad said.

  “Good, good,” said Mattna with a big smile on his face. “Leave me now, I am tired.”

  Vlad looked at the plate and then at Mattna.

  “Goodbye, my friend,” he said.

  “You have God on your side, Vlad,” the old man said. “Never forget that.”

  “I won’t,” Vlad said. “You are the first person I shall thank on the day of my victory.”

  Mattna did not reply.

  With that, Vlad left the hut and went home.

  Chapter Four

  Vlad lay restlessly on his bed. He muttered something in his sleep. Noises outside made him jump and open his eyes. He listened as he felt the sweat roll down his temple. Instinctively, he grabbed the crucifix from the wall. He thought he heard a familiar voice calling him, so he moved closer to the window. He made out a shadowy figure crouching down in the moonlight. It was Mattna.

  “Vlad, come outside, quickly,” Mattna pleaded with an unusual urgency in his voice. Vlad put the cross down and swung his woollen cloak over his shoulders. He opened the door and stood in the doorway as the chilly night air sank its teeth into his goose-pimpled flesh.

  “What are you doing out there? Have you forgotten about the vampires?” Vlad asked.

  “I have no reason to fear them now with dawn almost upon us,” Mattna replied.

  Mattna edged closer to Vlad.

  “Keep back!” Vlad said angrily, “I can’t invite you inside. Go home before you get us all killed.”

  Only then did Vlad notice Mattna’s pale and gaunt appearance. He had gone from relative health to looking like a dying man in just a few hours. “My God, Mattna!” Vlad said, startled, “You don’t look well. You should go home and rest.”

  “I gave you your father’s shield,” Mattna said. “Now, there is one thing you can give me…”

  “Name it, and you shall have it,” Vlad said.

  “Your blood!” Mattna roared as he lunged at Vlad.

  Vlad desperately tried to fend off his friend. He saw that Mattna’s eyes were blood red and his mouth foamed like a mad dog’s. The stench of his breath was making Vlad nauseous. Mattna grabbed Vlad with tremendous force and threw him to the ground.