She found the bow of a tree and watched the men at war. Saxons, Russians on the southern side of the river were being bombarded with Swedish cannons from the north.
“Hmmm,” she said in a whisper. “How shall I find this Viktor amongst all this madness?”
* * * *
After a little over two days of travel, Viktor and his men arrived in Riga. The gods had blessed his trip and except for the occasional close call with enemy vessels and the alarming bursts of storms on the open seas, the trip was smooth and quick.
From the safety of the ship, Viktor studied the port city of Riga and it looked as if it were on fire. Smoke billowed into the sky and turned the light of day into a gray fog. It reminded Viktor of the paintings of hell he had seen in Germany. Viktor and his men were at the front ramp of the ship, ready to disembark as soon as the ship moored. And when the ship finally settled, Viktor at once began searching for provisions. He found the field commander and produced the decreed writ from Princess Sophia. “Where is your quartermaster, commander?”
The commander read the written decree and eyed Viktor. “Young prince, what is it you plan to do?”
“That, sir, is not your concern. I’m in need of provisions. Where is your quartermaster?”
“Who knows? Do you not see the cannons on the move? Do you not see the smokescreens from the small boats full of burning straw and hemp? We are taking the fight to the Saxons. Their men infest the other side of the Daugava. We have Russian troops trapped on the island of Lucavsala. Those things I know. What I don’t know is where the quartermaster is, nor do I care. Wait here, prince, I have a message for you.”
“Commander!” Viktor screamed, but the commander ignored him and walked away. A moment later, the commander returned with a message from Karl Rehnschiöld. “I have two letters. One from Commander Karl Rehnschiöld to you and the other is for the king’s eyes only.”
Viktor read his message and smiled. “Men,” Viktor said to the two men by his side. “We have arrived in the middle of battle, but do not fear. The king has been making his way into Poland these last few days with an entire troop of men and supplies and we shall meet him there. He has word of where Crimson is. We shall obtain civilian clothing, what little supplies we can, and head south, immediately. I cannot tolerate another delay.”
“Viktor, the commander said there are Russians to the south?”
“Yes.”
“And what? You want to barrel right through them?”
“That’s exactly my plan.”
Within the hour, Viktor and his men were dressed in the civilian garb common for northern cities of Poland. Mixed in with their attire was a confusing combination of red and blue colors. Viktor’s last man joined them with supplies of fresh water and food and they rode on horseback to the crossing point of the Daugava. Viktor took a deep breath and went first. He dug into the side of his steed and the horse galloped at full speed across the shallowest part of the river, spraying water into the smoky air. His heart pounded as it had done the first time he kissed Crimson. He felt more alive than ever.
His men followed and they bore through the makeshift line of the Russians on the other side of the river. The three of them were little more than a blur and the few Russian soldiers who saw them didn’t attack because they couldn’t ascertain if they were friend or foe.
They ran hard for two hours until they reached the outskirts of Mitau to the south. Viktor halted his men. “We shall follow the river west until we meet of up with the king and his men.”
“Where are we heading, Viktor?”
“Minsk.”
“Sir, isn’t Minsk in Russian hands.”
“It is,” Viktor confirmed.
“Dear Lord,” the youngest soldier said aloud. “We shall surely die this day.”
“We may,” Viktor said. “But we will die with sword in hand and with hearts that are pure. We will die for love.” Viktor brought his horse to a steady trot and followed the Daugava River west.
* * * *
Sena had been watching the battle over Riga from a distance and then, suddenly, three men on horseback shot across the river. She had the sense that they rode as if they were running toward something, not away from something. Their swords were sheathed. Their clothing not military, and they apparently, had no intention of fighting as they barreled through the southern line.
She jumped from tree to tree, trailing them.
Chapter V
~ The Sincerity of Deep Sleep ~
Crimson lay in her bed unable to sleep. All of her thoughts were about tomorrow. Soon, tomorrow or the day after, Kieran’s men would arrive and take her away. Once that happened, there was little chance that Viktor would find her and she would be lost to him forever. The thought of it was more than should could bear.
She lay there thinking of her conversation earlier with Uric in the courtyard, as she tried to halt the seconds that brought her closer to the morning sun. She struggled with the idea of what she must do.
* * * *
Darya, once again, was sneaking in the hallway. Her heart pounded and thumped in her eardrums with each light and timid step she took towards her mother’s chambers. She had cried most of the night when her mother told her that Sergen was being sent back to the auction house. She convinced herself that her mother had no idea what love was and was just an evil, scorned woman who only thought of proper decorum. She’s heartless!
Darya slowly opened the door to her mother’s bedchamber and snuck in. For the briefest of moments, she thought of killing her mother while she lay in bed asleep. But she controlled herself and made her way to her mother’s dressing area, where she opened her satchel and quietly began filling it with her mother’s gold and silver jewelry.
See what you have driven me to, Mother? She thought, as she placed the last bit of gold into the satchel. Stealing as you have stolen. Sneaking as you have snuck. Loving as you have never loved. She inched her way back to the doorway and looked once more at her parents, then made her way to Sergen’s quarters.
“Sergen, are you ready?” Darya whispered through the door.
“Yes,” Sergen quietly closed the door behind him. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked when in the hallway.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my whole life. I have no fear,” Darya answered and she kissed him on the cheek. She grabbed his hand. “Let’s go.”
In her room, Crimson heard Sergen and Darya whispering. She wondered if they would even make it out of the palace before they had to have each other. That one little stray thought settled her decision. She had to stay here if there were any hope that she would be found by Viktor. She waited until the whispers in the hallway ceased and eased opened her door.
Crimson made her way to the courtyard, then to the yew tree where she picked two red aril’s from a low hanging branch. She thought for a moment, then picked one more and made her way back to Uric’s chamber.
“Uric?”
“Yes, Crimson.”
“Remember when you said you’d thought of taking a long sleep from the cones of the yew tree?”
“Yes.”
“I have three of these red berries. Will they put me to sleep?”
“The seeds will, Crimson. What is it you’re asking?”
“I want to sleep so that Kieran’s men cannot take me.”
Uric sat up. “Dangerous suggestion. One seed may make you sleep, but that same seed could kill you.”
“Then help me?”
“How?”
“Watch over me as I ingest the seeds. I’ll nibble on one just enough, then you should give me more if it appears that I may wake.”
Uric shook his head no, “Crimson, I can’t. What if I kill you?”
“If you don’t, Uric, I’m already dead,” Crimson responded. She took Uric’s hand and placed the berries in his palm. “Please, you must. I can’t bear to go back to the auction house. I’ve learned that love requires sacrifice. I’ve learned that
if there is no sacrifice, then there is no love. I’ve learned of the true meaning of sincerity.”
Uric studied the berries in his hand. “Sincerity?”
“Yes, my young German prince. My intent is sincerity and you helping me will be yours. You’ll be saving me, Uric. Saving me from the hell that is the auction house. Saving me in hope that my love, Viktor, will find and rescue me.”
“What if he finds a corpse, Crimson?”
“Then at least,” she pondered aloud, “At least he has found me. Doesn’t matter. This is my only option. Please, you must.”
Uric peeled back the red flesh of the berries and exposed the inner greenish-brown seeds. He began nodding his head yes. “I’ll do it Crimson. May God have mercy on my soul.”
He gave one seed to Crimson and told her to nip off half of it with her teeth and chew it thoroughly before swallowing. Crimson did as instructed and moments later, she fell to her back and began to convulse. Her convulsions were violent at first then she was still. Uric pulled back her blouse and laid his ear to center of her breast. He could hear her heart beating. It was slow, so slow.
He watched her through the night, and when she began to stir and look like she may wake, he rubbed the seed on the grit of her teeth until she fell deeper into sleep. By early morning, she was barely breathing and seemed like she would never return. Her heart was still beating, but only just enough to keep her alive.
Uric thought of Crimson’s plea, “sincerity.” He lay with his head on her stomach, facing her. He brushed back the hair from her forehead and used a cloth to wipe away her sweat. In his mouth, the two remaining seeds swam in the flesh of his cheeks. Then he closed his eyes, bit down, and swallowed them.
“Sincerity,” he thought. “Such an honest term.” He never knew the meaning of the word until he let it all go.
The next morning, the palace was in chaos. The countess screamed down the hallways and berated any servant that dare showed their face.
“Tor!” she screamed. “Darya and Sergen are missing and he stole all of my jewelry.”
Tor rushed into the hallway to find his wife beside herself with anger and guilt. She rushed him when she saw him. Her fists balled up and she hit him on the shoulders and chest. Then she fell to the marble floor and sobbed. “Darya is gone, Tor. Darya is gone. We should’ve never brought them into our home.”
Tor comforted his wife as best as he could. He knelt beside her and took all the blame she unloaded on him. He tried to hug her, to console her, only to be pushed away.
“You must find Darya, Tor!” the countess pleaded.
“I will, my love. I will.”
Tor stood and made his way to the servant chambers where he found Crimson and Uric dead in an apparent suicide. After closer inspection, he determined Crimson was alive, but barely. “Guards!”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Bury the small one. Have a caretaker look after Crimson and bring her back to health. She’s still alive. She may know where my daughter is and I want information from her. Am I understood?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Wait,” Tor said as he felt the mushy berry under his foot. He bent to pick it up. “The yew? Tell the caretaker she has been poisoned by the yew.”
Tor watched as Uric’s body was wrapped in white cloth and taken out the back hallway and he followed. Along a peaceful wooded area behind the palace, a grave had been dug and Tor insisted that Uric be given all charities of death. Tor laid a cross upon Uric’s chest and consecrated the ground with a prayer. When the body disappeared beneath the earth, Tor said a final prayer and checked on Crimson in Darya’s bedroom.
He slowly pushed opened the door. In the dimness, he could barely make out Crimson’s body. The caretaker pushed open the curtains and light flooded the room. Tor saw his prize lying there, motionless. “How is she?” he asked the caretaker.
“She’s in a deep sleep, my lord.”
He inched toward the bed and marveled at the fairness of Crimson’s skin, the locks of her hair neatly covered the pillow and she seemed so peaceful in her deep sleep. “Very well,” Tor said. “Attend to her. I want her alive.”
Chapter VI
~ Love and Bravery: Foolish Things? ~
Most of the intense battles were to the west near the Baltic towns of Riga, Daunamunde, and Narva. The Swedish army fought hard to push Augustus out of Livonia, only to face combined Polish and German armies as they pushed southward. The push into the interior cost thousands of lives and little ground switched alliances. Even after King Charles had displayed great military prowess in the victory at Narva, his generals began to make costly mistakes—mistakes that turned the tide of war. King Charles couldn’t have known, but his decision to rescue Crimson might have cost Sweden the war.
Viktor and his men found the ride along the Daugava River without incident. The few soldiers that appeared along the river were easily avoided, but another snowstorm had set in. Snow flurries, again. At dusk, the wind shifted to the south and blew snow directly into their eyes. Victor did not want to stop. He wanted to push forward, but the wind grew stronger and forced them to seek shelter among a thicket of trees near the riverbank.
“We shall camp here tonight,” Viktor said. “We’ll rest and make our way toward the king and his men in the morning.”
“Viktor, do you know where the king and his men are?” a younger man asked.
“Yes, another day of travel, I suspect, to reach the fortress of Polotsk. The king will be near the town of Koknese. We’re close, so close. We’ll sleep in rotation this night. I’ll take first guard.”
Soon, Viktor’s men were asleep near a bustling fire and Viktor walked the perimeter of the camp. He sensed it at first, that feeling of being watched. He purposely made sudden turns in hopes of catching the onlooker behind him. Then he heard movement in the bow of a tree. Just as he raised his torch, Sena was in front of him and pinned him to the trunk of the tree. Light snow fell around her from where she leapt from the branch above and in the backlight of the campfire, it made her look like an angel.
Sena didn’t say a word as she cupped her hand over Viktor’s mouth. She had more strength than Viktor and easily tilted his head to the right where she found the shape of Cygnus on the left side of his left neck. Viktor struggled against her, but it was useless. Then she peeled open his coat and shirt to find a crescent moon birthmark on his right collarbone.
“You are Prince Viktor, yes?” Sena asked in a whisper in Viktor’s ear.
Viktor nodded and mumbled under her cupped hand. Fear ran through him and set every nerve on fire. He closed his eyes and thoughts of death stabbed him in the gut. Was she a scorned sister of Caspian seeking revenge? Did he and his men travel all this distance to be so close and have it all taken away at the hands of a crafty female vampire? He struggled again, but Sena easily thwarted every attempt he made to escape her grasp.
“And you are seeking Crimson?” Sena asked as she leaned in and sniffed him. She could smell his fear and it made her heart pound.
Viktor’s eyes opened wide. He shook his head yes and mumbled, “Yes, yes. I’m searching for Crimson.”
Sena held him in place for several seconds and then slowly backed away. “So you’re the prince Crimson speaks of? I’m Sena. Crimson has sent me to find you.”
Viktor’s first instinct was to attack the creature and he eyed the pike that lay near his feet. “You know of Crimson? I doubt it,” he said as he gently knelt to grab the weapon. “Crimson would not befriend a vampire.”
Sena smiled and Viktor’s motion toward the weapon slowed when he saw her fangs. “Touch that pike and I will have no choice but to harm you,” Sena cautioned, and Viktor stopped in mid movement. “You have no idea what Crimson is capable of, young prince. Rest assured, Crimson and I are friends and I’m here to guide you to her.”
“Why should I trust you?” Viktor asked, still eyeing the pike.
“Simple, Viktor. Because I’m the best hope you have.�
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Viktor fell to the seat of his pants and folded his arms across his knees. “Is she okay?”
Sena sensed the concern in his voice. “She is,” Sena said as she sat down in front of him. “She’s Tor’s concubine in Kiev. But she waits for you, Viktor. She waits for your rescue.”
“Kiev? I thought she was in Minsk.”
“No, Gaten is most likely in Minsk, but he is not your concern. Your love is in Kiev.”
“What of this Kieran?”
“He, my young prince, is further south still. If your intention is revenge, then you and Crimson will surely be killed. Or worse yet, you will be killed and Crimson will forever be in captivity.” Sena stood and peeled a large piece of bark from a nearby birch tree. She found a dark rock and began mapping out the location of Tor’s palace on the white skin of the bark.
“Why are you helping me?” Viktor asked as he watched her.
“I’m not sure that I’m helping you. I think I’m helping Crimson.”
Viktor swallowed hard and asked, “Has she been … Sena, has she been used?”
Sena stopped drawing the map and met Viktor’s eyes. “If that matters, then you should return to Sweden.” She waited for a response and when none came, she pressed, “Does it matter?”
Sena heard him first, the young man of Viktor’s party sneaking up behind her. Then she could smell him. She waited and when he had the pike mere inches from her back, she swiftly turned and snapped the pike in two. In an instant, she had his face pushed deep into the snow. Her instincts kicked in and she had to fight it to avoid ripping at his exposed neck.
It happened so fast that Viktor didn’t even notice until he saw Sena move so quickly that she was a blur in a swirl of disturbed snow and splintered wood.
“No!” Viktor screamed as the snow settled. “Don’t harm him.”
Sena growled. “Does it matter, Viktor?”
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