“Beware the self-righteous man, for he will destroy the world many times over before he sees his folly,” Vlad said quietly.
“Is that from the Bible?”
“No, it’s from me!” Vlad said laughing.
“Hmm, I thought it was some Bible passage I had never heard before, and that would be unusual, as I know all of it. Call me self-righteous again, and I’ll cut that insolent tongue from your head.”
“You’ll try, I’ve beaten you once already, remember?”
“I am a man that’s seen the world and almost died defending my beliefs. I left many friends behind in the ground on crusade, virtuous men who laid down their lives for God. A boy who has never left his village and sacrificed nothing cannot judge me.”
“I grew up without a father because he gave his life fighting the forces of darkness,” Vlad said, angrily getting to his feet. “Don’t tell me I’ve sacrificed nothing. I have fought and left my village. That’s how I defeated you, remember?”
“Yes, you have sacrificed for God too. Forgive me, young Vlad. You are more like me than I’d like to admit.”
It was probably the closest that proud Pierre de la Costa would ever get to paying him a compliment, and Vlad silently accepted it.
Pierre traced one scar with his finger, lost in thought for a moment. “I heard of a tribe in a far-off country who painted their bodies and faces for war,” Pierre said. “These scars are my war paint.”
“Yet you keep your war paint hidden beneath armour,” Vlad said.
Pierre stood up with his arms out in a daring pose. “Let my enemies see my lacerations and know the warrior they face,” Pierre said, addressing any invisible foes within earshot.
“They are impressive,” Vlad said, with barely disguised admiration.
“War is ugly, brutal, and painful, Vlad. You only see beauty when peace is won. Remember that. We are sleepwalkers on the path we have chosen. Have no illusions about that.”
“Then why did you choose to fight?”
“It was not a choice. It was and is my duty as a knight and defender of the faith. My church and my king compelled me to go, and I did.”
“Did you kill people?”
“Of course, it was war. Kill or be killed.”
“Thou shalt not kill,”
“We were fighting enemies of our faith, Vlad. It was a necessary evil, just as killing the vampires is.”
“I suppose so.”
“When I returned, they called me a hero. What is a hero but someone who does good by evil means? I take no pleasure in taking a life. If the cause is just and the threat great enough, I will do it and live with the consequences. That is the difficult road of which I speak.”
“I have never known life without the vampires. Every day is a difficult road for me, comrade.”
“Yes, this is true. Let us eat now while we can. I always have an appetite after I wade.”
“Even if the wade is involuntary?” Vlad asked with a cheeky grin on his face.
“Especially then!” Pierre said, stabbing the air with his finger to make his point.
They both laughed. Vlad tossed a piece of cooked fish to Pierre. It burnt the knight’s fingers. He juggled it from one hand to the other until he felt it was cool enough to bite into. It was not cool enough, and the knight opened his mouth and inhaled cold air to cool the inferno in his mouth. Vlad laughed again. Pierre gave him a kick.
“Do you know women have an open wound between their legs that never heals?” Pierre said.
“What?!” Vlad said incredulously.
“Yes, it’s true. I have seen it. The birth canal. It bleeds every so often, too. It must be agony.”
“No wonder vampires mostly kill women in Nocturne,” Vlad said. “Men usually die in battle against the vampires, but in peacetime, females make up the majority of those attacked or killed. It must be that bleeding wound, you could never hide from a vampire if you had that.”
“I could never go through what a woman goes through in childbirth,” Pierre said. “They have my admiration for that.”
“Aye, it is a miracle, but an agonising one.”
“We can agree on that.”
“Is there anyone else who gets your admiration, Sir Knight? Who is the best warrior you have ever seen on your travels?”
Pierre’s features flickered in the firelight as he stroked his beard and tried to remember.
“I have met many fearsome warriors on my travels. The ones that fascinated me most were the Redua. They are superb swordsmen and horsemen and fight with the hearts of lions. When they are defeated, they believe it is an unbearable shame and take their own lives. I tried to convince them it was a sin to commit suicide and that defeat was an opportunity for rebirth, to be born again with the added knowledge of one’s own limitations and a new appreciation of the skills of one’s enemies. My suggestion greatly offended them, and I narrowly avoided death at their hands. Only their respect for me saved my life. Their traditions are rigid and were there a long time before you or I. I could no more impose my beliefs on them than they could impose their beliefs on me. So I had to accept it and allow many Samurai to die needless deaths – such a waste. I still believe what I told them was right, but they have their beliefs and I have mine. Every warrior, every man must fight his way for the things he believes in. If necessary, he must die as he sees fit, too.”
Vlad pondered the knight’s words in his head. “How is defeat ever good?” Vlad asked.
“The path to knowledge lies in the heart of errors. We only truly learn from our mistakes. Besides, when opponents attack, they reveal themselves and their capabilities. After several defeats, you can get the measure of your enemy. I’ve seen it happen.”
“The only problem with that belief is that if you make a mistake on the battlefield, you’re dead,” Vlad countered.
Vlad’s attempt to outmanoeuvre Pierre quietly impressed the knight.
“Not always, luck always plays a part in battle, whether you win or lose, survive or die.”
“Skill is surely also a factor, right?”
“Yes it is, but we only find out who we really are through adversity. When we celebrate victory, there’s no soul-searching, because we’ve proved ourselves right. Defeat forces you to ask many questions of yourself and your tactics. You question everything then, because doubt does that to you. A little doubt can be a good thing. Hubris is the real enemy of every soldier. It blinds you to the warning signs, and that can be fatal.”
“As I went further into the east, I saw something incredible,” Pierre continued. “They had created the gift of dancing light.”
“They had what?” Vlad asked, intrigued.
“They can make light dance in the sky, light which explodes with the force of a thunderstorm and then shimmers with all the colours of the rainbow,” de la Costa said.
“How do they do it?” Vlad said, burning with inquisitiveness.
“It’s a powder they invented. Putting a spark to it creates a force which hurls a projectile into the air. It then bursts into a thousand colours. That magic powder enthralled and frightened me in equal measure.”
“How could you fear something so enchanting?” Vlad asked in disbelief.
“The power of this powder could be harnessed for other uses,” de la Costa said.
“In what way?”
“It has the potential to be used in warfare, to spread fear and confusion in the opposition. Not just that, if the powder can hurl a harmless projectile into the air, couldn’t a larger dose be used to fire a lethal projectile at an enemy?”
Vlad pondered this revelation for a moment.
“And if this could be achieved,” Pierre continued, “wouldn’t man be obsolete on the battlefield?”
“Are you saying fewer people would die?” Vlad asked.
“No, I’m saying that men like me would not be needed anymore. My area of excellence is on the battlefield, leading men into battle. If the battle can be fought from afar, why
would they need me?”
“Oh, surely not, knights represent courage, honour, and chivalry. People who stand for that are permanent necessities.”
“Perhaps, but in a different way...Who knows, mankind may even learn a valuable lesson. Maybe the devastation this powder could bring would make the human race turn from conflict for good.”
“Then you would be nullified,” Vlad said, pointing at the knight.
“Something tells me I should be,” Pierre said with a knowing nod of his head.
Silence fell over the two of them as they drank in the implications of the discussion.
Vlad resumed munching his fish supper. “I believe I’m here for a reason,” Vlad said. “I never knew what that reason was until I set out on this quest, but I believe I have found my raison d’être.”
“The vampires?”
“Yes,” Vlad said nodding.
“Is that revenge you’re caught up in, Vlad? I’ve seen men consumed by that. When they have sated their vengeance, they often find it‘s a hollow victory that leaves them on a cliff’s edge with no future.”
“It is justice for me, my people, and for my father’s death.”
“If the vampires are your raison d’être, what happens when they’re gone? Did you ever think of that?”
“I’m too busy climbing the mountain to think of the summit yet. For now, this is my mission, and even God himself couldn’t change my mind about it now.”
Thunder rumbled in the Heavens.
“I think you’ve upset him,” Pierre said as he looked skyward.
Vlad smiled. “My apologies, Lord,” Vlad said with an exaggerated bow of his head.
“You’re trying to change things, Vlad,” Pierre said. “That makes you dangerous; dangerous to the vampires, and dangerous to the people of your village.”
“I still bear the sting of all their hostility,” Vlad said, chewing on a blade of grass.
“Change can frighten some of us, Vlad. Your people may even agree with what you’re doing but be too lazy or scared to change with you. So they turned on you instead. That was the lesser of two evils.”
“I’m not evil, and certainly not the lesser of anything,” Vlad said. “We have to turn their perceptions around, and together we can do that. The people of my village are scared. There is no doubt about that. Who wouldn’t be? Supine, they are not. They work hard in the fields and in the village no matter what the weather. They have my eternal admiration for that. Even though we are under siege from the vampires by night, my people have never allowed our society to disintegrate. Even though they treated me harshly, I believe that good still exists in their hearts. The council of Nocturne have led them astray, that’s all.”
“Is the shepherd possessed, or the flock?” Pierre asked. “I don’t know these people and shall make up my mind about them when I meet them. You are a biased witness, Vlad. Do not let sentiment cloud your judgement, or it could be the end of both of us.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Vlad agreed. “Perhaps they are not worthy of change, in which case they will suffer destruction.”
“Our Lord tried to change things; are you willing to suffer the same fate?” Pierre asked.
“The vampires tore my father apart while he was still alive,” Vlad said. “If that is my fate, too, then I shall face it. I’d rather be dead than live my life oppressed by vampires and all those foul things in league with them. Besides, I have you to back me up now. I didn’t have an ally in the past.”
Little drops of rain fell, and then heavier ones. Vlad huddled in further under the tree, while Pierre used a rocky outcrop as shelter. “Tell me about your father, Pierre,” Vlad said.
Pierre’s face screwed up in disgust. “The less said about him, the better,” Pierre replied. “He moved under meat in the marketplace and he was a brigand. He met an ignominious end on a gibbet. Repeat what I have just told you to anyone and I shall cut your tongue from your head with my dagger. I mean it.”
“It will be our secret,” Vlad said.
“I have prospered in life, and I will not have that man’s hideous memory destroy everything for me,” Pierre said.
“Have you ever been in love?” Vlad asked.
“There has been much wenching in my life, but no love,” Pierre said with a tinge of sadness in his voice, “but I crave a wife, a family, and a homestead, like all men.”
“That is good,” Vlad said. “I want that, too.”
“So many friends I fought with are dust in the ground,” Pierre said. “I have no time to wallow in misery when my knightly duties fulfil me so.”
“If the people of my village will not fight with me, I will just ask God to forgive them. A man who is not afraid to die can change the world, Pierre. Remember that. Even after he is gone, his example can burn like a beacon for others to follow. Whether I am a champion or a martyr after the battle, I cannot lose.”
“I hope I never owe you money, Vlad. I have a feeling you would chase me to ends of the earth to recoup the debt.”
“We may be closer to the ends of the earth than you know. Tell me more about your adventures.”
“Haven’t I bored you enough with my stories?” Pierre asked smiling.
“No, I found them very interesting, but I am tired.”
“Yes, I am weary too,” Pierre said as he stretched and groaned, holding one of his old battle wounds.
“Sore?”
“Yes. All this dampness isn’t helping. This is what you have to look forward to as an old soldier: the same stories recited over and over to take your mind off your broken body.”
“I see the wind has competition in wailing.”
Pierre tossed a pebble at Vlad for his cheekiness.
“Find solace in sleep, young Vlad, before I find something bigger to throw at you,” Pierre said.
Unceremonious rustling in the bushes made Vlad drop his food. He prepared to run for his life. Two figures emerged from the undergrowth. De la Costa requested his sword, but Vlad reassured him. “It’s all right,” the young man said. “They are friends of mine.”
Norvad and Anamis hesitantly walked over to the fire. When the knight saw the albino vampire up close, he jumped backwards and assumed a fighting stance.
“You make friends with monsters?” the knight asked in a shocked tone, as he tried to compose himself.
“This is Anamis,” Vlad said. “He is not like the other vampires. He does not drink blood nor eat meat, just the fruits of the forest.”
“You expect me to trust that...that...thing?” de la Costa said, pointing to Anamis.
The bloodless vampire tilted his head, aware of the quarrel.
“He is a placid creature,” Vlad insisted. “I know him.”
“Who are you?” Pierre asked Norvad.
“This is Norvad,” Vlad said. “He is wise.”
“I’d sooner take counsel from a heathen,” Pierre said, horrified at the suggestion.
“Oh, come now,” Norvad said, “why don’t you pet him? He won’t harm you, I assure you.”
The knight looked at Vlad for reassurance, who nodded and gestured towards the tiny creature. Cautiously, the knight approached Anamis, removing his glove and stretching his hand out before him. Before the knight had even touched him, the vampire swung his head around violently and sniffed the air. The knight flinched and withdrew his hand to his chest.
“His eyesight is not great,” Norvad said. “He has his own secret way of telling who is approaching. Now keep going...that’s right.”
Once again, the knight resumed his approach. The second time, his hand connected with the creature without a hitch. Watching a knight, the emblem of war, happily interacting with a vampire, the symbol of fear, death, and decay amazed Vlad. He marvelled at the strange delights of the land of Dubhtayl. Pierre de la Costa had a broad grin on his face as he stroked the pale animal before him.
“They’re not so bad when you see them up close,” the knight nervously confided.
; A sudden jerk by Anamis brought the mutual appreciation to an end. The creature’s nostrils flared wide as he drew in as much of the scent as possible.
“What’s wrong with him?” the knight asked.
“Something is approaching from that direction,” Norvad said, pointing back across the space they had just come from.
Vlad heard something coming from a different direction. He turned his head to determine where the noise had come from. All of them heard it then. The strange sound was difficult to make out at first, but the more they listened, the clearer it became. A wall of berserk snarling seemed to close in on them from every direction. The light of their campfire illuminated several pairs of glowing red eyes that stared directly at them through the scrub. The eyes were low to the ground, as if whatever was looking at them was about to spring out of the darkness and attack them.
“Vlad, hand me my sword,” the knight whispered.
The growling reached a crescendo
“Quick, boy, hand me the weapon!” Pierre demanded.
Vlad froze with fear. Instead, Pierre grabbed a blazing log from the fire. An uneasy silence had developed, like the calm before the storm. Norvad and Anamis took shelter behind Pierre and Vlad. Vlad was steadying himself when a roar from the thicket shook him from his petrified state. A black, furry object leapt from the trees and headed straight for the knight. Pierre waved the burning branch at the creature, but it continued its relentless advance. Its sinuous legs pounded the ground as it ran. The mouth of the creature was open, roaring and ready to receive its prey.
When the creature was five feet from Pierre, he thrust the fiery kindling, like a javelin, into the creature’s mouth. The animal stopped dead in its tracks, letting out a retching sound. A roar as loud as anything Vlad had ever heard followed. He almost felt sorry for the huge beast as its innards welded together from the red-hot javelin. It collapsed into a quivering, hairy mass. Eventually, it lay silent and motionless, except for the involuntary breathing, which also eventually stopped. With this, the other beasts rushed from the bushes. Anamis loudly hissed at one that approached from behind the old man. Pierre dove across the fire to remove his sword from its scabbard. He waded into the progressing beasts, hacking and chopping as he went. High-pitched squealing punctuated the air as animals lost heads, paws, and claws before Pierre de la Costa put them out of their misery. The knight had taken care of three of the beasts when they retreated. The crimson glare gradually faded, a nefarious wave receding with the tide. With the threat lifted, an assessment of the damage began. Vlad went over to the first beast Pierre had killed. He saw what had attacked them. It was a werewolf, most likely one of the pack that had chased Vlad earlier at the ruined abbey. They had been a constant scourge on the road to and from Mortis. Vlad was glad to see one of his tormentors gone for good. The vampires might not have the ability to navigate through the thick vegetation of the woods, but they could send emissaries on their behalf. The creatures of the night had no shortage of nocturnal allies. Vlad smiled to himself. The vampires had failed to stop him again.
The Vorbing Page 14
