New Order

by Max Turner

  “I almost pity them,” Vlad said, his fingers curling over the hilt of his sword. “Almost …”

  CHAPTER 29

  A JOURNEY IN THE DARK

  I FOLLOWED VLAD through the secret door and into the room beyond. Stainless steel shelves and counters ran the length of the tile floor. A number of tall refrigerator units sat against the far wall. They were full of tiny vials I assumed were blood samples. There were computers, modern microscopes and centrifuges at several workstations, along with other pieces of equipment whose purposes I could only guess at. The entire room might have been lifted out of a medical research facility.

  “I prefer the atmosphere in my old laboratory,” Vlad said. “Istvan has been modernizing in my absence.” He moved to the door, which had a sensor of some kind and opened by itself. “This way.” He beckoned with a tip of his head.

  I followed him to a set of stairs carved into the bedrock. They spiralled up a natural fissure in the stone. At regular intervals we passed doors of solid iron set into the rock.

  Where do those go? I asked. Without lungs or vocal cords I had no means of speech, so I projected my thoughts, as I would with Luna.

  “Those halls contain rows of prison cells,” Vlad answered.

  This must have been where Vlad stored the undead corpses Istvan had referred to—those who had broken Coven law and were sometimes raised up so Vlad could make use of their talents.

  Where is Istvan? Isn’t he coming with us?

  “No. My good cousin has other tasks to perform. Ones that are essential if we are going to outmanoeuvre the New Order.”

  We continued upwards, level by level, past more rows of cells. I realized one of the prisoners in this vast collection must have supplied the blood that allowed me to move like this, as a living shadow. It made me a thief of sorts. I wondered if I should have felt ashamed of this. I didn’t, perhaps because I’d been given no choice in the matter. Instead I felt alive with purpose. We were going to save Ophelia. Everything else was irrelevant.

  Eventually we reached the end of the staircase. The last few steps were blocked by a pile of large stones. Vlad put his hand on the nearest one and paused, concentrating. Then he announced that the way ahead was clear. “To succeed tonight, you must be able to infiltrate the Council Chamber of the New Order. It will require that you sink beneath the earth, just as you must now rise through it to get outside. Think of this as a test. If you are patient, you will find spaces in the soil and gaps around the stones through which you can travel. See how you fare.”

  I touched the stone and felt myself slipping over its surface. Then I willed myself to shrink and searched out tiny pockets in the soil and seams between the rock and the ground. It wasn’t difficult, just time-consuming, and it felt a bit uncomfortable because I couldn’t see where I was going or where I had been.

  When I emerged, Vlad was already outside. How he had managed it I couldn’t guess. My surprise must have been obvious, because he put his hands on his hips and laughed quietly. “Istvan was right about you. You do our line proud.”

  My friends would have been stunned to see this. It was just as Istvan had said: I was one with the night, with the darkness.

  Around me were the ruins of an old castle. The walls and towers had crumbled, but the stones and brick left little doubt that the battlements had once been very thick. It was set on the edge of a precipice. Far below, a river twisted like a black ribbon around the tall promontory on which the castle sat. It was a perfect landscape for what felt like my first real experience as an adult vampire. I had discovered my talent, and so had taken my first step into an exciting new world.

  “You managed your first test admirably,” Vlad said. “Here is the next. Pretend I am your enemy. See if you can slip away unnoticed.”

  I dropped so I was as slender as a thread, then travelled from blade to blade in the grasses at the base of the castle. Instead of moving away, I circled behind him, a more brazen move than my old self would have considered. When I rose again, he’d completely lost track of me.

  “Not completely,” he said. He turned and slashed his sword through the air. The stroke was so smooth that the blade barely made a sound as he drew it from the sheath. He stopped his swing at the edge of my neck. His control was phenomenal. “I could not see you, but I could sense your thoughts and so knew your intentions. You must keep your mind closed. Though you are a mere shadow, there are ways you can be hurt and imprisoned, perhaps even killed.”

  How? I asked, surprised.

  “By a stronger night stalker, but as far as Istvan and I are aware, none save you exist.” He sheathed his sword and turned his attention to the line of forested hills before us. “I have missed this place, Castle Dracula. It was shattered by a landslide over a hundred years ago but remains my favourite sanctuary.” He took a deep breath. “I wish to walk the grounds as I did in older times. It will clear my head and help me focus on what must be done. It is far to Tirgoviste. I will not arrive in time to see the start of Ophelia’s trial. You should go ahead so that one of us will see it in its entirety.”

  So I’m going alone?

  “You are a shadow, little cub. A night stalker. As quick as thought. How could I keep up, even flying as a bat or raven?”

  I hadn’t considered his means of travel. I’d just assumed that I would scout ahead for him on a journey we would make together. The thought of having to go on my own took a healthy bite out of my confidence, especially since I wasn’t as safe as I’d first believed.

  What if you don’t make it in time?

  “Rest assured, it will not end until I am there.”

  How can you be sure?

  “This trial is not about Ophelia. It is about the Changeling and his New Order, and me, and the old Coven of the Dragon. If they wanted to execute her, she would already be dead. No, it is me they want, and so I will give them what they desire, and we’ll put an end to things.”

  But you’re supposed to be dead.

  “I would never let so small a thing as death stop me from saving Ophelia. The Changeling knows this, and so would expect me, even if I didn’t tell him I was coming, which I did.”

  I was incredulous. We’ll be walking into a trap?

  “And walking out again. That part will be more difficult, but I have a loaded hand to play. And if I die, and Ophelia is freed, is that not a reasonable trade? What kind of husband would not exchange his life for that of his wife?”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He’d once been so crazy he’d threatened to feed my friends and me to the crows.

  “A good leader knows when to take risks, and when to make sacrifices, even when he must sacrifice himself. But you know this already. To have confronted Death so your friends could escape the ship is proof enough. Now go, little cub, and see how they might remake the world, this New Order.”

  I don’t know where I’m going.

  He pointed to Polaris. “Keep the North Star on your left until you reach the Dimbovita River. Follow that south to Tirgoviste. On the north edge of the city you will see a small lake. The Prince’s Church is there. You will recognize it by its three spires. Bordering this is the Prince’s Court, my old seat of power, now in ruin. The southern tower is all that remains standing. There, deep beneath the earth, is a vault of stone and iron. It is the old headquarters of the Coven, and it is where Ophelia is being tried. Find out what you can. And shield your thoughts. Bury them deeply. You must not fail in this.”

  I did as he asked, then felt the tendrils of his mind digging beneath my own. He seemed satisfied. “I will see you at midnight.”

  He turned and walked down the hill. I watched him disappear, then realized what he’d asked me to do. Fly halfway across Romania and single-handedly invade the headquarters of the New Order, who’d been warned that trouble was coming, while he went for a stroll across the countryside. I would have laughed at the absurdity of it had it not been me heading into the lion’s den. Then I realized that, contrary to wh
at Vlad had said, this was not about him and the Changeling. It was about Ophelia. I would have sent my shadow dancing through the gates of hell if it would have brought her back.

  With my eyes on the horizon, and Polaris on my left, I flew through the air at the speed of thought. The trees below passed like a scene from a movie run at fast-forward. Farms and villages shot past. Then I saw a dark, smooth streak in the landscape, the Dimbovita River, and turned to follow it south. It took only moments. Tirgoviste was spread below me, its streets and stores, sidewalks and houses. On the near edge of the city was the lake Vlad had mentioned. It was bordered by a park.

  I had expected Tirgoviste to be a busy city, but it was small, quiet and sleeping. I shrank, then slipped to the edge of the Prince’s Church. It was made of rose-coloured brick and looked more like a fortress than a place of worship. A tall, round tower with a square base sat about fifty yards away. Sandwiched in between were the ruins Vlad had mentioned. His former court was now just sections of wall made of the same pinkish brick. No trace of the roof remained. I hovered over the empty rooms for a moment, then sped to the base of the tower. There was no one around. Just me and the wind.

  Once I’d taken a moment to collect myself, I drifted over the porous ground and let my essence sink in. I didn’t go far before I hit stone. It wasn’t natural bedrock. This stuff had been carved, like the vaulted ceiling of Vlad’s lab. I inserted myself into a seam between two large, curving pieces of an arch, then emerged in an antechamber that was crowded, wall to wall, with vampires.

  CHAPTER 30

  THE TRIAL

  I MADE MYSELF slender and passed from the shadow of one vampire to another, careful to keep my thoughts hidden. Beyond the crowded antechamber was a short hall, ending in an iron gate, like the portcullis in an ancient castle. Those outside jockeyed for the best position to see through the bars. Beyond were four guards. Each had a sword sheathed inside a dark overcoat, and I saw what might have been a shoulder harness for an automatic on the one nearest me.

  The room beyond the portcullis was circular in shape, with a large set of double doors at the far end. Two sets of stairs, one on either side of me, rose up the walls and led to the back of an open balcony facing out over the next room. I could see the backs of the vampires who were seated up there, whispering and shifting like patrons at a movie theatre.

  I moved into the room and up the stairs, then found myself overlooking the large oval Council Chamber. It had balconies on three sides. Beneath these were tiers of benches that made me think of a miniature coliseum. Every seat was filled.

  Along the wall farthest from me was a raised dais. On it was a row of large chairs, sitting side by side behind a counter-like desk. Four figures, dressed in long, flowing crimson robes, sat in judgment there. War and Famine were recognizable by their faces and Death by his cowl. Pestilence was hidden behind a masquerade mask. His arms, neck and hands were covered in tight red cloth. The material was stained in places with tiny dark blotches, fluid from his leaking pustules. Despite this effort to make him presentable, the sight of him still filled me with revulsion.

  Ophelia was slumped behind a table in the centre of the room. Her eyes were bloodshot and flitted nervously over those assembled, as though uncertain that any of it was real. Her body armour had been replaced with a simple cotton smock that I’m guessing had once been white. There were bloodstains on the sleeves.

  Baoh was sitting beside her. Since our disastrous visit on the Dream Road, I had not heard from him and so had assumed that he was dead. The sight of him, poised and alert, was a tremendous relief. He straightened his orange habit, then leaned closer and whispered something in Ophelia’s ear. She didn’t respond but stared vacantly at the floor. When she pulled up a sleeve to scratch at her wrist, I saw that it had been slashed open. Her fingers found the edges of the scab and started to pick. Baoh reached over and gently pulled her hand away. She seemed oblivious. Her eyes never left the floor. I had never seen her brought so low, and it was heart-wrenching.

  Without thinking, I started drifting towards her. Then, Famine, the Countess Bathory, turned her head in my direction. I quickly buried my alarm and darted out of sight. When I sensed her attention was elsewhere, I ventured closer to the edge of the balcony, hidden in the shadows of a man’s boots.

  “… inappropriate to hold her responsible for the crimes of her husband.” Baoh had left his seat and was addressing the Horsemen. He must have been acting as a lawyer of sorts.

  “Ophelia kept the Impaler in check for centuries. Who knows the depths of depravity to which he might have sunk had she not been there to pacify him in his moments of irrationality?” Baoh looked around the courtroom. It seemed an odd gesture for a blind man. His skin-covered orbits seemed to sweep the entire assembly. “How many here might have fallen victim to his uncontrollable rages had she not mitigated his violent temper, time and again?”

  “That only makes her complicit in his crimes,” said the Countess. “There is no doubt that he was insane. The lawful course in such cases is to bring a formal charge before the officers of the court. Yet not once did she do this. Not once.”

  “Vlad was the court. How do you accuse a man of anything when the powers of prosecution and judgment lie with him alone?”

  “That issue is not relevant to the original charge,” said Tamerlane. “Only two generations in any one line can exist simultaneously. Ophelia spawned Vlad, who spawned this boy, Zachariah. A child! And in a single year, two more children in her line have been created. This Charles Rutherford and the girl, Luna Abbott. It is insupportable!”

  “But hardly Ophelia’s fault,” Baoh replied.

  “It is the eldest in the line who is responsible for maintaining the line’s integrity,” Tamerlane said. “That was a policy Vlad instituted himself.”

  Ophelia glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the doors, then looked down at the floor, indifferent.

  “Does the accused have nothing to say in her defence?” Tamerlane asked.

  Ophelia didn’t respond.

  “You must answer when addressed by this court!”

  “There is no point in getting angry,” Baoh said. “Had you wanted her to show more respect for these proceedings, you would have shown her more respect as your prisoner. No civilized nation on earth would deny someone the basic right to sustenance. She has been starved, and her wrists—”

  “The court regrets that this extreme treatment was necessary,” said the Countess. “The accused is possessed of psionic talents that make her dangerous. Bloodletting is not unprecedented. Vlad did this often to reduce the risk posed by those he detained. Ophelia would know this, of course.

  “And she has flouted too many laws for us to assume she would submit willingly to any kind of cross-examination. Harbouring infected children. Facilitating the spread of the pathogen. Her line is three generations too long. If every family were so unscrupulous, the results would be catastrophic. Such wanton and unlawful behaviour is not to be tolerated!”

  “Unlawful, yes,” said Baoh, “but it does not warrant a death sentence. Not for Ophelia, who can hardly be made responsible for the behaviour of Vlad.”

  The Countess was unrelenting. “But these children were all wards of hers. She chose to shelter them. It is abominable!”

  “And treasonous,” added Tamerlane. “Have you no answer for this, Ophelia?”

  She wasn’t paying attention. Baoh placed a hand over hers and grew quiet. Her face calmed. She started to speak, then stopped herself right away. Famine was watching her closely. Her eyes were intense. Something sinister was happening.

  “If the accused refuses to address the court, we will end this now,” said Tamerlane. “No mercy can be shown to those who disregard the law. No mercy—”

  “Mercy? Please!” said Baoh. “Frank and honest words should be our currency. It was never the intention of this court to show mercy to the accused. This is a witch hunt. Nothing more.”

  “Enough,” said th
e Countess. “None are above the law. You will mind your tongue, charlatan. This court has not forgotten the role that you played in helping the boy to escape us.”

  Baoh shrank. He had saved me from Pestilence on the Dream Road. Of course, they would know about that. The accusation was meant to muzzle him, and it did. But Famine’s words had the opposite effect on Ophelia. Her eyes rose from the table.

  “All of these accusations are true,” she said. “It would be pointless to deny them.”

  A ripple of noise spread through those gathered. Their whispers rose in volume until the entire courtroom was alive with conversation. Even Pestilence sat up a bit straighter, a raspy gargle of surprise audible through his mask.

  “Silence,” someone whispered. It was Death, John Tiptoft. His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the centuries of force behind it. “You must have more than that to say in your defence, Ophelia. Do not be afraid to speak the truth here. Despite what Baoh insists, we have not passed judgment on you yet. Few are those whose sins are so grievous that they cannot make recompense. I would suggest you answer these charges with a more thorough explanation.”

  Ophelia glanced around the room once more. “I do not recognize the authority of this court.”

  “That will not save you, Ophelia,” John Tiptoft said. “You will die with the sunrise, unless you can convince us you deserve leniency.”

  “For helping a child? He was Dr. Robert’s son, and a better man …” She stopped speaking. Something was wrong. She was concentrating too hard. There was sweat on her forehead. Her jaw twitched. A moment later, she looked up at the Countess Bathory and shook her head slowly back and forth. “You are not half as clever as you think, Elza. Your voice has no sway over me.” Her eyes swept over the panel of judges. “I pity all of you. My ward, Zachariah, is not some child to be trifled with. Help him, nurture him, and your rewards will be great. Stand against him and you doom yourselves. He is the Messiah. The Child of Prophecy. He cannot be stopped.”