“We are fighting the contagion of vampirism,” Vlad said, “but we have a contagion that is stronger.”
Vlad’s men listened as they longed to see where his words were taking them.
“We have the contagion of courage,” Vlad said. “When one man feels it, another does, and so on and so on. Where there is courage, there is hope, and where there is hope, there can be victory. Courage and hope are the wind in the sails of every man and every army. Without them, nothing is possible. They are leaps of faith, and we are fighting the nemesis of our faith, Satan himself. We can be confident that God is on our side today. All of you could have avoided this, but you are here because you want to be free men again through our righteous cause. I don’t believe we can win this, I KNOW we can! I feel the winds of courage and hope pushing us towards our destiny of freedom. It is inevitable now.”
The group of Nocturnians roared their support in unison. Vlad had their rapt attention. Their eyes took in everything and their heads nodded in agreement.
“Brothers, victory and freedom are within our grasp,” Vlad said. “Many of you have lost members of your family in the Battle of McLintock’s Spit. I lost my father in that battle. I want you to remember your loved ones when we once again fight these beasts tonight. Their blood lives on in the bodies of the vampires. When you kill one, you free that blood and free their souls. I want you to know that your kin fight with you, by your side. They cry out for you to avenge their deaths.”
The men roared their approval. Vlad jumped down from the cart to their level.
“This battle is about blood,” Vlad said.
He paced at the head of the crowd with confidence.
“They want our blood, and they want to keep theirs,” Vlad said, “and
our task is to prevent that. We must starve them of the energy they get from our blood and drain the supply they have. We shall use the trebuchet, the mangonel, and archers to bring the vampires to earth. This curtain of fire will thin out their numbers and start the bloodletting. When they get down lower, we shall use the heavier, armour-piercing bodkin arrows to inflict more damage. This will force them to attack us. When they come in for the kill, they will be like eagles, with their wings splayed back and their talons outstretched. That way they can stun or kill us from the impact. That’s when we use the lance. If we prop that up against the ground, they will impale themselves on it with their own body weight. Their soft underbellies will be one vulnerable point where we can attack. Their mouths also will be open to bite us as they land. If you can get an arrow or lance in there, then that is another vulnerable point for us to consider. If they avoid all that, then we shall then drive them with our fire into death traps made of hundreds of pell stakes. There, they shall impale and injure themselves and hopefully expire. Use longbows when they are in the air, and crossbows when they are on the ground for close-quarter fighting.”
“Use broadhead arrows in all cases to inflict maximum damage on the enemy,” Vlad added. “We want to blunt their attack as fast as possible to give ourselves a chance. That is our plan, if we stick to it, we have a good chance of success.”
The men cheered, and a smile appeared on Vlad’s lips. It was a marked difference from the hostility they experienced from the same people not long before.
“We fight the Devil himself,” Vlad said, sending a chill through the group of silent men. He saw an opportunity for levity. “The Devil once appeared to a man relieving himself in a field,” Vlad said to smiles all around. “The man told Satan he was as putrid as the filth coming out of his arse, and that he should join his shite and leave him, too. As the man grabbed a handful of leaves to wipe his backside, Satan disappeared in a rage. That put the bastard in his place!”
The men burst into laughter.
“We shall do the same today, and cleanse this land of impurities,” Vlad said.
The men roared their approval.
“We have laughed at the vampires to relieve ourselves of our fear,” Vlad said, “but do not underestimate them. They are wicked and cunning opponents. We must fight hard to beat them. The vampires will try to divide and conquer us, so be aware of your comrades, and don’t drift apart. If we help each other as the vampires do, we have a fighting chance.”
There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd.
“Pierre has been to Kristos City and met the Holy Father,” Vlad said. “He has touched the cross our Lord Jesus Christ died upon. When he shook my hand, some of that divine protective power transferred to me and now I want to transfer it to you.”
He removed his gauntlet and stretched out his right hand. The gathered Nocturnians stared in awe and excitement.
“All of you place your hands on mine, quickly,” Vlad said.
The men complied, slapping their hands down on Vlad’s. Vlad sensed a growing confidence in the group. They looked to him and he stared back with absolute conviction.
“Feel the Lord’s power,” Vlad said, looking around at the sea of expectant faces. “He works through us today, and he will not forsake us.”
“Amen,” they all said.
“Now our hands have touched the cross of Christ,” Vlad said. “We put those sanctified hands on our weapons and fight as soldiers of God this night. Do you hear me? Soldiers of God! The Holy Spirit surrounds and protects all of us so we can be victorious when the sun rises over this land tomorrow. I swear it! May God send fire from the sky to strike me dead if that’s not true.”
Vlad waited to be struck by a bolt of lightning, but none came.
“You see?” Vlad said. “Do you see? There is the sign, brothers! No fear! No fear! The vermin that have ruled our lives for so long will be no more after this night; I pledge it on my father’s soul. Their time on this earth is coming to an end, and they know it. It’s time to stop running and hiding and time to fight back against the pain these demons have inflicted upon us as a people. We shall not return from this mountain until we have cleared every one of their stinking carcasses from the face of the earth. Will we fight together as brothers?”
“Aye!” his men said.
“Will we win together as brothers?” Vlad asked.
Again, the crowd bellowed in a positive manner.
“And afterwards, will we live together in peace as brothers?” Vlad said.
It was another rhetorical question, but one that had to be asked and approved of to bind them all together. The crowd shouted their final volley of approval in reply.
“Then come, brothers, let’s win our liberty!” Vlad said. “It’s long overdue!”
Vlad stormed up the hill, followed by his jubilant warriors. They marched in a wedge formation up the ever-increasing incline for five minutes, but still the vampires did not appear. Vlad leapt over a wide trench, to shouts of encouragement from his men. Each man who leapt across was also greeted with cheers of approval. Vlad urged them to be quiet, lest they give away their position. When every man had crossed the ditch, Vlad continued his advance. His men now adopted a tortoise shell formation with their shields over their heads in case of an aerial attack.
They had gone twenty feet past the ditch when Gatov stopped and pointed at the sky. “Look,” Gatov said, his eyes widening with fear.
An eclipse was underway, and the sun’s light dimmed little by little. The Nocturnians relied on superstition for an explanation.
“The vampires have taken away the sun!” Gatov cried with terror in his voice. “It’s an omen of death!”
There was a muffled sound in the distance.
“Quiet,” Vlad said, and motioned for the men to crouch down.
The keening gale mocked Vlad’s team of men, whipping their faces with its cold tongue. They all fixated on the dense fog that curled around the summit. Being men of the land, all present knew that the strong wind should have dispersed the fog. However, the ghostly haze that cloaked Vampire Mountain did not budge in the blustery conditions. Every man now was wishing he was home, but it was too late. The giant beasts they a
ll feared were coming. Soon, the life-or-death struggle for Nocturne and the eternal souls of her people would be underway.
Mighty Deadulus sat on a throne made of the skulls and bones of humans and animals, his enormous wings draped over the back of the macabre seat of power. The lesser vampires shuffled, hooted, and clapped from nerves before him. Deadulus just had to raise a clawed finger for silence to descend. All listened with great anticipation to what their NightLord would say, and Deadulus milked the moment for all the dramatic tension it was worth.
“Man fell from grace with his creator when our ally, the serpent, tempted him in the Garden of Eden,” Deadulus said, leaning forward. “Now, this place is where the final battle will take place between us and his precious humans.”
The vampires dragged their clawed feet along the dusty, mossy floor of their lair, muttering approval.
“They use the word human as an excuse for their imperfection,” Deadulus continued. “Tonight, we shall remind them of their lowly place. We will not allow the disease of civilization to eradicate us.”
The vampires reached full hysteria as their bloodlust raged within them. Deadulus rose to his full height and stretched out his massive wings.
“We vampires are the shakers of worlds and the conquerors of universes!” Deadulus said, as he dripped with pride. “We were here at the beginning of this world, and we shall be here at its end and beyond. We are as omnipotent as the deity that mankind worships, but more powerful. We are their god’s guilty reflection as the humans are as his favourites created in his own image. Let us rededicate ourselves this night to rending that image asunder, as it offends our divine eyes. The vampire is the rightful ruler of Heaven, this world, and Hell below!”
Deafening screeches of support came from the vampires.
“We must crush these mortals once and for all this night,” Deadulus said, reaching his peak, “and reassert our dominance over this land that they have forsaken. Come, my vampire brethren, let us fly and fulfil our destinies. Death to all humans! Spare none from our wrath! Not even the babe in its mother’s womb!”
Deadulus ran through the pack of vampires and took flight as the others followed their king into battle. The solid rock face of Vampire Mountain dissolved into an opening that Deadulus soared through. The other vampires hopped down the passageway and were airborne behind their master in seconds.
A drop of rain hit Vlad’s hand. When he looked down, he saw a trickle of blood on his skin. He dismissed it as a briar cut sustained on the ascent. Another drop of rain hit his face. Vlad touched the moisture with his hand and saw blood again on his palm. More and more drops of rain fell. It was raining blood. Vlad’s men panicked.
“Raise your shields above your heads,” Vlad commanded. “Keep going.”
Vlad’s men did not listen, so he calmly put his shield over his head and continued the climb. “I will fight alone if I have to,” Vlad said. “I am not afraid.”
It was the right gesture at the right moment. One by one, the men raised their shields over their heads and followed Vlad. The blood rain ceased.
“See?” Vlad said, lowering his shield. “A charlatan’s trick for simpkins. If we are determined, we can’t lose. Now, come on!”
Vlad and his men stopped in their tracks. Dark figures emerged from the mist. It was not the vampires. It was the ghostly army of the men who died at McLintock’s Spit. Vlad’s men stared in wonder at the spirits of their lost loved ones and friends. The ghosts stood deathly still ahead of them, gripping their weapons. Cowls covered their bloodied faces and heads. A man stood in the centre of the ghostly army. It was Adam Ingisbohr. Vlad gasped when he saw his father. The distant, fading memories of Vlad’s parent were replaced by new ones of seeing Adam before him again. Vlad thought he would not see him again until he got to Heaven.
“Father, you’re alive!” Vlad said with astonishment.
“No, not alive,” Adam replied. “I have come to warn you, son. Leave this place before it is too late and before you join us in eternal damnation!”
“Damnation?!” Vlad said. “You did nothing to deserve damnation. You gave your lives so we could live.”
“I speak the truth,” Adam insisted.
“You are not my father,” Vlad said suspiciously. “A foul vision is all you are. Away! Back to Hell with you!”
“Don’t throw your lives away as we did,” the spirit said.
“Be gone!” Vlad said, turning his eyes away in exasperation.
“Very well,” the spirit said. “Consider yourself warned. On your own heads be it. You are all going to die, all of you!”
The spirit rejoined the others. They faded back into the fog. A rumbling sound began. Vlad looked up to see a tsunami of blood splashing over the peak and edges of the mountain. Vlad’s men backed away and looked behind them as if to run back down the mountain.
“Stay where you are!” Vlad insisted.
The volume of blood was immense, and as it built up it spilled over the top of the mountain and rolled down towards Vlad and his men, who retreated.
“Stop!” Vlad insisted. “We will be okay. There is nothing to fear.”
The crimson tsunami increased in size and speed as it neared Vlad and the others, and it grew to a terrifying height. Vlad’s men turned and ran, but Vlad sighed, took two paces forward, and held out his arms in a cruciform pose. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” Vlad said, “no evil shall I fear.”
Vlad closed his eyes as the tidal wave of blood towered over him and engulfed him. Vlad’s men cried out at the loss of their leader and waited for the wall of blood to sweep them away, too. It did not happen. Everything went quiet, and when they looked up, the tsunami was gone. Vlad stood there, still alive, with his arms still outstretched. He opened his eyes, took a relieved breath, and looked around at his men. They stared at Vlad in disbelief. The only wave striking them was a small one of shame for doubting and deserting him.
“Another trick,” Vlad said with indignation. “There’s nothing they can do to stop us. Follow me!”
The Nocturnians cheered and followed Vlad. They climbed until they were right before the mist barrier. A cry like an eagle’s echoed from within the mist. Vlad and his men stopped.
“Slingshots!” Vlad commanded, and he and his men produced their weapons, fitted them with rocks, and spun them furiously and released them. The rocks shot into the mist, and the wounded cries from within told Vlad they had found their targets.
“Down!” Vlad shouted as he hit the ground. “Archers!”
The others dropped to the earth, too, although some not as fast as others. A pair of talons emerged from the haze, and the man beside Vlad had his throat ripped out by a vampire so fast that no one saw it. The speed and viciousness of the attack stunned Vlad and his men. One vampire after another emerged from the mist. A curtain of arrows from far behind Vlad killed six vampires, but more emerged from the mist to replace them. The arrows almost hit Vlad’s men, and he held off calling for the next wave of arrows for fear of friendly fire. The vampires were crafty and remained as close as possible to Vlad’s forces to nullify the threat from the archers. Vlad knew that he and his men would be slaughtered if they remained in the open. The air superiority the vampires enjoyed gave them a supreme vantage point of the battlefield in all directions.
“Retreat to the trench!” Vlad shouted as he barrelled down the mountain with his men following behind him.
Vlad heard the snorting of a vampire at his back and felt the cold, foetid moisture of its breath on his neck.
Sir Pierre de la Costa appeared further down the mountain. “This way, Vlad” he shouted. “I’ve brought help!”
Norvad looked on from a safe distance behind a cordon of soldiers. The knight had been good to his word and brought him back with him.
The vampire’s claws hammered into Vlad’s back, sending him toppling headfirst into the mountain. Vlad put his hands out to break his fall but smashed his head off a rock
sticking out of the mountainside.
“Vlad!” Pierre said. The knight had anxiety etched all over his face for his fallen comrade. The blow to Vlad’s head rendered him unconscious. He continued to tumble and fall until he landed in the safety of the trench. Pierre rushed to help him. Vlad did not move. The vampire that knocked Vlad out saw Pierre and seized him by the shoulders and lifted him out of the trench.
“They’ve taken the knight!” Gatov shouted. “Retreat! Retreat!”
Chapter Eighteen
Vlad opened his eyes to find them blinded by a white light. The only sound was the howling of the wind and his heartbeat. Vlad still physically was on the battlefield, but he felt disconnected from it, as it was a giant blurred landscape with muted sounds. It all moved slowly, as if in a dream. Vlad saw a figure beckoning him from beyond the fighting. He looked around the battlefield, and when he looked back, Vlad saw the figure had moved closer to him. The figure was his father, Adam Ingisbohr. Intuition told Vlad it was his real father and not the fake vision sent by the vampires to confuse and deter him.
“My son,” Adam said. “You have moments to defeat Death. You must fill your mind with the things that matter to you. Think of the people you love that still live, or you will end up staying here for eternity.”
Vlad scanned the battle-scarred faces of the apparitions in front of him. They were far more dishevelled and skeletal than the figures that presented themselves to him earlier. The tattered, bloodstained peasant garments they died wearing billowed in the chill wind. Some, their faces partially or fully torn away, writhed with pallid maggots. Others bore the bite marks of vampires and had deep, weeping gashes ringed by flaps of grey skin that fluttered like flags of surrender in the breeze. Vlad knew the real men of McLintock’s Spit were before him. Had Deadulus sent them, they would not be telling Vlad how to rejoin the living to fight vampires. Vlad stared at the possible near future of himself and his men.
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