The Vorbing

by Stewart Stafford

  “He said my mother burns, Pierre, did you hear it?” Vlad asked.

  “Yes, I heard it, we should go,” Pierre said.

  “We must get to my village as soon as possible. I only hope that thing wasn’t telling the truth,” Vlad said.

  Vlad turned to Norvad and Anamis. “Listen, my friends,” Vlad said. “Pierre and I have to ride with all haste to Nocturne to help my mother. You are on foot. You will slow us down. I would bring you into my village, but I don’t think a stranger with a vampire companion would get a warm reception from my people.”

  “I understand,” Norvad said, nodding sadly in agreement. “Worry not, young Vlad. We shall take shelter here. You know where to find us if you need us. Go help your mother.”

  “If you see or hear anyone coming, keep out of sight,” Vlad said.

  “We always do, Vlad,” Norvad said. “Anamis and I are hounded everywhere we go, so we keep to ourselves.”

  “We’ll send for you when we feel it’s safe,” Vlad said.

  “Fare thee well, Vlad,” Norvad said, “and thee, Sir Knight.”

  “Fare thee well, friends,” Vlad said.

  “Fare thee well,’ Pierre said as he mounted his horse. “Let’s move.”

  Vlad and Pierre mounted up with him and waved goodbye to Norvad and Anamis. The old man and his supernatural pet melted back into the tree line as if they never had been there. In less than a minute, Vlad and Pierre had galloped away out of sight. As they rounded the tree line, they came to a river and halted.

  “This is the River Iosa,” Vlad said.

  “There’s no bridge here. how do we get across?” Pierre asked.

  “You whisper a real sin you feel genuine remorse for into the tree over there, and then you walk across the face of the water,” Vlad said to a dubious Pierre.

  “I have no time for games. How do we get across?” Pierre asked.

  “It’s the truth,” insisted Vlad.

  “Boy, if this is a trick to make me fall into the water and look foolish…” Pierre said.

  “You think I would play tricks when my mother needs us?” Vlad said.

  “No,” Pierre said, as he bowed to Vlad, “a boy you are no more. My apologies.”

  “I shall go first if you are afraid,” Vlad said.

  “Afraid?” Pierre said. “Step aside.”

  Vlad moved, and Pierre strode over confidently to the tree.

  “It must be a real sin you feel remorse for, or you shall sink, Pierre,” Vlad said.

  “I heard you the first time,” Pierre said, as he cupped his hand to his mouth and whispered his sin into the tree.

  Pierre then stood on the edge of the riverbank, looking blankly out ahead of him; he closed his eyes and took a step into thin air. Confused as to why he was not feeling wet, he looked down and saw he was standing on the surface of the water. The surface tension of the water bent under his weight but did not break. Pierre was astonished. “I’m walking on water like Jesus!” Pierre said.

  “Keep moving,” Vlad said. “We haven’t got all day.”

  Pierre took hesitant baby steps before taking more confident strides to impress Vlad and save face. Vlad applauded sarcastically from the other bank.

  “Well done, Sir Knight,” Vlad said. “Now, it’s my turn.”

  Vlad took the reins of their horses and guided them across with him. As long he held on tight, the horses would not drop into the water. The animals were nervous but Vlad kept their heads up and crossed fast. Vlad climbed up on the bank and the horses leapt up to join him and Pierre.

  ‘Nothing is what it seems here,’ Vlad said.

  ‘I guess I’ll have to learn to expect the unexpected in Nocturne,’ Pierre said.

  ‘Let’s go!’ Vlad said.

  They climbed back on their horses and took off at great speed.

  Vlad and Pierre arrived at the Yellow Wood, the last natural barrier before Nocturne. In normal circumstances, it gave Vlad great comfort to be so close to home, but not then. He left in such acrimonious circumstances and returned with the tortuous task of trying to rouse the scared, weary Nocturnians to battle once again. Vlad and Pierre faced a hostile, possibly murderous reception. Vlad’s mother was in danger, and not knowing how or being able to help was driving Vlad insane. He knew the next few days would dwarf all the challenges that had come before. Vlad had been so preoccupied with getting help to fight the vampires that he had not considered the consequences of getting it. It was no longer just a plan in his mind to avenge his father’s death, free his people from vampirism, and destroy it forever. The reality was happening before his very eyes.

  “In a week, we could be dead,” Vlad said, “waiting for the maggots to burrow into our cold flesh.”

  “If it is our destiny to die, then that is God’s will, lad,” Pierre said. “When you go into battle, you must put fear from your mind. You must fight immortal creatures as if you are immortal, too.”

  “If the vampires bite us, we could be! I don’t want that, to be a scourge on everyone I have ever known or loved.”

  “You’re nearly home, Vlad,”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  They entered Vlad’s village of Nocturne in the pre-dawn of October 31st, the day of the festival of Samhain. That was the one night of the year when the vampires did not attack out of respect for their lost loved ones. The temporary lull was also in deference to the Lord of the Dead, Samhain himself. It was a piece of extreme good fortune, as it bought Vlad and Pierre a day and a half to organise the citizens of Nocturne into a reasonable fighting force. As they progressed, they detected a rotten stench in the air.

  The knight covered his mouth. “Does your village normally smell like this?” the knight asked through muffled fingers.

  Vlad shook his head but said nothing. His mind was racing with possibilities about the cause of the foul odour. Vlad’s reappearance was overshadowed by the exotic knight accompanying him on his white steed. He brought the onlookers out of their houses to see who this new arrival was. The people stared in a curious manner. They seemed unduly nervous.

  “What’s wrong with them?” the knight enquired.

  “I don’t know,” Vlad said, “but I intend to find out.”

  Vlad and Pierre stopped at a hut to discover the problem. The people there also were visibly stressed.

  A pile of bodies covered in flies revealed the answer. They were in the throes of a terrible plague. The doors of the tiny homes containing those dying or dead from infection had yellow crosses painted on them. Another religious procession was taking place in the distance. The villagers prayed for the contagion to leave their village in peace and placed posies all over the village. It was a futile bid to mask the foetid smell of rotten or burning bodies. Ashes from the cremations of bodies in pits floated through the air, coating everything with a light, flaky, grey film.

  The newer cases, the nervous ones, were at the edge of the village. As the young man and the knight travelled deeper into the village, they discovered the more advanced cases. The patients suffered from terrible hallucinations, similar to Vlad’s blood-induced nightmare, but more severe. They also suffered from muscle spasms and loss of balance. They writhed in agony and foamed at the mouth. It was an alarming greeting for two weary travellers who had arrived in the village full of hope.

  Being confronted with such immediate suffering gave Vlad pause for thought. An uncomfortable feeling came over Vlad as if the eyes and hands of Deadulus were upon him, manipulating him. He felt like a tiny pawn on the vampire’s chess board, powerless to stop him from deciding his fate with one sweep of his mighty talons. The vampires operated on a higher plain of existence. They had many gifts that humans sorely lacked. The opposite was also true. Humans had the advantage of being creatures of night and day. They also had a life force flowing through them, which was something the vampires envied. Deadulus was a cunning beast, Vlad granted, but just as every vampire has his night, so every dog must have his day.
/>   Vlad and the knight stood in the doorway of a shack where a poor man lay dying. De la Costa wanted to behead the sufferer, but a religious man like him knew the disease had to run its course. Then the deceased’s relatives had to be allowed time to grieve before carrying out the grisly deed. The brother of the dying man fussed over his feverish sibling, dabbing his head, making him sip water, and tending to his every need.

  “Oh, what afflicts me?” the sick brother moaned. “Help me, brother, in the name of God, help me!”

  In a fit of delirium, the sick man’s brother turned and grabbed Pierre de la Costa. “Who is this man?” he said. “He has brought the plague upon us! Hang him! We must hang him and burn his body, for God’s sake!”

  The knight angrily shoved the man back and drew his sword. “I am Sir Pierre de la Costa,” he said. “The king himself sent me here to help free you from the rule of Deadulus. If that help is not wanted, I shall return to the capital and inform the king of your insult.”

  “He speaks the truth!” Vlad said.

  The man bowed his head with guilt. Vlad told the man to calm down and backed up the knight’s claim. The man eventually calmed down and caught his breath.

  “Forgive me, sir,” the man said staring down at his fidgeting fingers, “madness seized me. My brother’s illness has driven me to despair. Your help is most welcome here.”

  The knight acknowledged the man’s apology with a nod. Vlad heaved a sigh of relief. All of his hardships on the long road to Mortis almost had counted for naught in a moment of madness.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Vlad and Pierre stepped out of the shack, they noticed how unusually dark it was. Rain sheeted down from the black clouds that hung like portents over the mountains in a dark blanket of despair. Against the gloomy backdrop, Vlad started in wonder at Deadulus gliding around the peak. He had never seen the NightLord flying from a distance before. Pierre never had seen him at all, and his mouth fell open in awe. The vampire’s grace in flight surprised them. His enormous wings beat majestically against the oncoming wind, thrusting his muscular torso deftly through the storm, a feat mortal man could not even contemplate. To defeat such a superlative foe was the ultimate challenge. Throbbing flashes of lightning silhouetted his enormous mass against the coal black sky. It was a daunting sight, for sure. Deadulus landed on the summit of the mountain and reared up to his full height. A flash of lightning enveloped his regal form. He unleashed a triumphant roar and beat his chest. The sound was like war drums echoing across the valley.

  “He’s throwing down the gauntlet to us,” the knight said.

  Vlad nodded, his mind racing with questions. “What ARE those things?” Vlad asked, staring transfixed at his enemy.

  “Creatures of darkness,” Pierre replied.

  “No,” Vlad said.

  Surprised, Pierre looked at Vlad.

  “They are darkness itself,” Vlad continued. “They emerge from it like they are made of it. How can you defeat something like that? We’ve never won a battle against the vampires.”

  “Remember the parable of David and Goliath?” Pierre asked. “No one gave David a chance against this giant Philistine warrior Goliath, but David believed in himself. He had the courage to walk out there, face his enemy and kill him, and no one ever doubted him again. He became king of Israel because of that moment.”

  “Wasn’t he nervous?” Vlad asked.

  “Of course he was. It’s natural for everyone on a battlefield to have nerves,” Pierre continued, “the key is to never let your opponent know. If your enemy sees that you don’t believe in yourself, then their confidence soars and they become much harder to beat. The vampires will try every trick to frighten you into giving up before the battle. Your determination to win must be stronger than theirs and stronger than your own nerves. Nothing will stop a true champion from winning if he believes he can. Nothing. It doesn’t matter what you are, it only matters what your enemy thinks you are. The power of your mind is as crucial as the power of your sword, maybe more so. Believe me, I know. Remember the prophecy, see it in your head and become it, and it will be so.”

  “Yes, you are right,” Vlad said quietly.

  “I’ve been thinking about why your father lost the Battle of McLintock’s Spit, Vlad,” Pierre said. “We face the same problems now. The vampires have the advantage of high ground. In battle, whoever holds the high ground wins. They can see everything for miles.”

  “They have one disadvantage: They sleep in daylight,” Vlad said.

  “Yes,” Pierre said, “but they can still exert their power even then and turn the elements against their attackers. Play games with their minds. Even if we could get near the top of the mountain, no one has ever found their lair. Even if we discovered it, they’d just take to the air and escape. They are supreme opponents.”

  “You speak the truth,” Vlad said, “but everything that is mighty will one day crumble and fall. That is also true.”

  “Another cardinal error your father made was that he attacked a superior force directly on their ground and got annihilated. The vampires had all the advantages, and the people of Nocturne had none.”

  “What should we do?” Vlad asked.

  “You should set a trap for the enemy on your territory,” Pierre said forcefully, “where you have the advantage, and then you lure them into it and destroy them. Now that is a battle plan.”

  “Together we will right the indignities that my father and my people suffered,” Vlad said.

  “Aye, lad, we will,” Pierre said smiling.

  “If we capture Deadulus,” Vlad said, “what then?”

  “Beheading and consumption by fire is the only safe way to go,” Pierre said. “Release the creature from its prison of vampirism.”

  “What about the females and infants?” Vlad asked.

  “I have heard that once the lead vampire is killed, the spell over the others is broken,” Pierre said. “If not, they have to have the same fate as Deadulus. There is no other way. You can’t let them spread to another area and breed again to cause more death and destruction somewhere else.”

  Vlad and Pierre heard frantic footsteps running up behind them. It was Vlad’s neighbour, Gatov. “Vlad, come to the town square quickly,” Gatov said, panting. “It’s your mother.”

  Vlad mounted up and galloped into the town square leaving Pierre and Gatov trailing behind him. When he arrived in the square, Vlad saw Hana Ingisbohr writhing in agony as she burned at the stake. Vrillium Gladwish and the town elders supervised it. A baying mob of Nocturnian onlookers completed the dramatis personae of the sad pageant.

  “Oh, God, no!” Vlad said as he leapt from his mount.

  The flames around Hana Ingisbohr were high. She was finding it hard to breathe due to the smoke and extreme heat. Seeing Vlad, the surrounding villagers stood in shameful silence.

  Vrillium roamed around, encouraging the flames to rise with glee. “Burn, witch, burn!” Vrillium said, daring Vlad to defy him.

  “Even when I die, my curse remains upon you, Vrillium,” Hana said as she choked and struggled for breath.

  Vlad leapt onto the burning pyre to save his mother, but the flames were too high and drove Vlad back. Vlad’s sleeve caught fire. He beat out the flames fast.

  “Mother!” Vlad roared.

  ‘Vlad!” Hana shouted weakly to her son, her voice trembling from her injuries.

  The flames engulfed Hana. She gave a shrill scream that Vlad would hear until his dying day.

  Pierre arrived at that moment and took control of the situation. “Get water and douse those flames!” he commanded.

  “This is no concern of yours, sir,” Vrillium said. “Interrupt this execution, and you shall join her in death.”

  Pierre turned and looked without fear into the imperious eyes of Vrillium Gladwish. “I am a knight of the realm!” Pierre said. “To disobey me is to disobey the king himself! Now do as I say!”

  Two men threw buckets of water on the fire
and it died down at last. Vlad leapt up again and cut his mother free. She fell down into Vlad’s arms. He felt her body shaking and caught the scent of her charred flesh. Severe burns and blisters disfigured her pretty face, making her almost unrecognisable.

  “This woman was tried and found guilty of witchcraft!” Vrillium said.

  “Who put her to trial?” Pierre said.

  “The council of Nocturne,” Vrillium replied.

  “On whose authority?” Pierre said

  “We are allowed to judge our own people, sir!” Vrillium said.

  “It is against the law to hold a witch trial without a magistrate from Wychbury being present,” Pierre said. “Therefore, your judgement and punishment of this woman is unlawful.”

  Vlad slumped on the ground in shock, cradling his dying mother.

  “Your father...w-watches over you, Vlad! As...will...I,” Hana said. Her

  lips quivered and closed forever, and her head fell forward onto her chest. Vlad saw his mother die, but it felt unreal. The intensity of his shock and disbelief prevented Vlad from noticing the floods of tears streaming down his cheeks. He wept uncontrollably and rocked her body back and forth in his arms.

  “Why, God, why?” Vlad said.

  Vlad feared his mind was collapsing at the devastating atrocity before him. He wondered why God let the naked evil of the vampires flourish while allowing a kind, loving person like his mother to die in agony for nothing. Apparently, God didn’t do explanations, either. Most deities didn’t. Mortals lived or died because of a divine being’s actions, and life went on regardless. It was a world of madmen.

  Pierre put his hand on Vlad's shoulder to reassure him. “Easy, brother,” Pierre said, “she's with God now. Her pain in this world is at an end.”

  “Why did they do it?” Vlad said. “My poor mother harmed no one.”

  Gatov came over to console Vlad. “We tried to stop them, Vlad,” Gatov said, “but the elders insisted that your mother be cleansed by fire for witchcraft.”

  Pierre glared at Vrillium. “You've just killed an innocent woman,” Pierre said. “In the king's name, I place you under arrest for murder.”