Malice of the Cross

by Jeremy Croston

  Drakovia

  Malice of the Cross

  Jeremy Croston

  Copyright Page

  Bolt Publishing, LLC

  478 E. Altamonte Drive #102-728

  Altamonte Springs, FL 32701

  Copyright 2017 by Jeremy Croston

  All rights reserved. No part of this book can be reproduced scanned, or sold in print or electronic form without permission. We encourage you, the readers, not to engage in any form of piracy.

  ISBN Number: 978-1981279715

  Printed in the United States via Createspace

  1 9 2 8 3 7 4 6 5

  Publisher Note:

  This book is a work of fiction.

  All of the names, places,

  and events that occur are from

  the author’s imagination.

  Any resemblance to an actual

  person, alive or dead, place,

  historical event, or business establishment

  is purely coincidental.

  Contributions:

  JoAnn Debo – Editor

  Karen Vacanti – Content Manager

  Ryan Latterell – Social Media/Marketing

  Shoutline Designs – Cover Art

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Table of Contents

  Prelude

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Epilogue

  About Us –

  More Reading –

  One Last Thing:

  Prelude

  **Moldavia; 1473 the year of our Lord**

  G reste, the hub of activity of this part of Moldavia was doomed. Black clouds moved in fast, signaling the fall of the rain of fire. Roofs were the first to go up in the inferno before the blazes moved to the ground. Even then, the fire was soon the second deadliest player on the field. He had unleashed his daemons, more specifically the gargoyles. The first one snapped up a young man, no more than eighteen, and tore his head off. A fountain of blood erupted from his neck, the head no longer acting as a stopper.

  Have you ever seen a ball of fire hit someone so hard that it blew apart their stomach? I just did. As the man’s gut blew up, chunks of his freshly digested meal splattered on the faces of those right around him. It was the start of Armageddon for the villagers. Their death sentences were about to be handed out.

  As the city burned, the peasants were fleeing for their lives. It was too late to run away, but I gave them credit for not standing around and allowing death to find them. No, that was left for the idiots of the clergy. They stood outside the churches, yelling for people to repent their sins before their inevitable doom. Their shouts didn’t last very long; a few gargoyles landed on the steps and gobbled them up.

  I had to bite back a chuckle as the clergy were ravaged. It should’ve disgusted me. I just didn’t really care that much.

  There was so little I could do, either way. The clergy had forced the monster’s hand, even after I warned them that he was not one to be trifled with. The bishop, the nameless and corrupted face from the Vatican, laughed in my face. “God will see us through,” he declared.

  God saw them through, all right; right into the mouths of those dreadful gargoyles Vlad freed from Hell. One flew overhead of my position, an eyeball dangling from its mouth. The ghastly beast slurped it up as it continued its flight.

  Those that weren’t eaten alive by daemons were turning into ash from the blazes forming. A man pushed his wife out of the way while he tried to escape. As another gargoyle feasted on her intestines, a fireball from the sky obliterated his head, sending brain matter everywhere. The rest of his body was incinerated by the red flames that engulfed it.

  These scenes played out over the next hour until death was the only thing left. With so many humans flayed and charred, I was surprised not to see the Reaper himself harvesting the doomed souls. Maybe he was just out of sight, waiting for me to leave to do his dirty business.

  The only one to survive that assault was me. The stench of the dead bodies was filling my nose and I’d have to leave soon. I was hoping to see Vlad Dracul, or The Impaler as his followers called him, emerge from his castle. The daemon man, the one who made a pact with the devil, took hold of this part of Europe. Because of his stupidity, his greed, I paid the price as well.

  Who am I, you ask? I’m Vlad’s younger brother, Radu. Or that was my name, Radu died the day I was sucked into Vlad’s awful plan for bloodlust and pain. I renamed myself after the high Archangel, Gabriel. Even taking on a divine name doesn’t change the one simple fact: I’m a vampyre. Vlad, that damn fool, he dragged me to Hell kicking and screaming.

  Underneath my wide-brimmed, brown hat, my brown hair dripped from the sweat of the fire. I scratched the rough growth on my face and turned away. There was nothing else for me to do here. Because of what I was, my red eyes being a dead giveaway, these people died from arrogance.

  Well played, brother.

  Where would I go next? I didn’t know. What I did know was that seeking the aid of humans would no longer help me gain what I needed to kill Vlad Dracul. If I had to sink into the depths of Hell itself to find what I needed, so be it. Maybe it would take a monster to kill a monster.

  I had no problem becoming a monster. I already was one.

  “As my death approaches Lord,

  forgive me for not doing more.

  I’ve done my best to prepare them for the darkness,

  made sure each knew the Bible.

  As my ending begins, may the tale of Brinza family

  continue on through Maximus…”

  -Elder Darius, Stefania (1773, the year of our Lord)

  Chapter One

  **Moldavia; 1775 the year of our Lord**

  “B artender, another!” I yelled over the raucous crowd. Having slayed another vampyre the previous evening, I was in quite the celebratory mood. “In fact, another for everyone in the house!”

  With a quick smile and a fast bottle, the bartender fulfilled my request. As each patron lifted their mug into the air, a jubilant roar was bellowed in my honor. “To Maximus Brinza!”

  For those who are unfamiliar, the house of Brinza is one of the oldest in Moldavia. Much like my father before me, and his father before him, I took up the family occupation of defenders of the common people. Ever since the blood-daemon Vlad Dracul took hold of our countryside from Wallachia, it has been the responsibility of those who can protect to protect.

  The previous evening, one of Dracul’s maiden vampyres came into our town of Stefania (named after our greatest leader) to seduce and kill the men. Unfortunately, the bitch found me. Max Brinza doesn’t lose fights. With my sword, blessed in holy water and with salt forged into the edges of
the blade, the beast stood no chance. When its foul head hit the ground, the townspeople scooped it up and placed it on a pike by the gates. It hung there with the rest of the beasties I’d killed.

  I felt a tug on my tunic’s sleeve. It was the bishop of our small village. “Max, this is the fourth attack this month. I feel the daemon is targeting this village,” he told me.

  “Julius,” I said solemnly. “He’s coming for me.”

  Julius and I grew up together, my path with the sword and his with the holy word. He was as much a defender against the night as I was. Given the battles we’d seen together, first as fellow soldiers and now in this capacity, it was only a matter of time before the dark lord of Europe would target me. I was a bit pissed it took him this long to recognize me as a threat.

  Julius put his hand on my head. “Thank you, Lord, for watching over Max yet again. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, amen.”

  No sooner did Julius finish his blessing than did the door to the bar fly open.

  “Maximus!” a young boy called for me. “My father, he’s been taken by one of them!”

  Another so soon? “Lead me where, child!”

  I rushed up and left my ale on the bar top. The rest of the villagers in the tavern were hushed. Never before had two creatures come back-to-back like that. The night was cool and there was fresh powder on the ground from a brief mid-afternoon’s snow. I loved these conditions.

  The boy led me to his homestead on the western edge of town. There was a fire burning; the mother was with a young child. “Stay here,” I told them all. I pulled my longsword from its scabbard. “Is this the way the foul creature went?”

  The wife nodded her head, but didn’t speak. The path led behind a small barn which butted up against the woods. I followed the small path, worried that the father was dead and that this was an ambush. On the backside of the barn, there were splashes of blood. This wasn’t a good sign.

  I heard a yell from the forest. I ran into it and almost collided with an older man. His shirt was ripped and he was bleeding profusely. “Are you the one abducted by the vampyre?” I asked him.

  Too terrified to speak, all he could do was nod his affirmative. “Go, your family is waiting for you. Tell everyone to seek shelter until I come back victorious.”

  He seemed to acknowledge my request and he left the forest. His blood would be my trail to find the creature. And it didn’t take long. This one had a set of balls to him. He was standing around a fire, giving away his position to me.

  I didn’t even bother to sneak up on him. “Have you come here to die tonight?”

  He lifted his head, covered in shadows due to the wide-brimmed hat he wore. “That depends. Do you think you can kill me?”

  “I haven’t lost to one of your kind yet.” His red eyes were a dead giveaway. Strapped to his hip was a longsword, not dissimilar to mine. The biggest difference was the silver skull at the end of the pommel. Matching me, he slid his out. The steel twinkled in the moonlight.

  I’d never seen a vampyre use a sword before. There was something quite different about this one. He seemed distinguished, even regal. “You must be from his inner council,” I surmised.

  “What are you talking about?” the vampyre fired back.

  “Vlad Dracul. Obviously he sees me as a threat and sent an assassin.”

  He smiled at me, his long fangs breaking free of his mouth. “I like you. You have spunk, Brinza.”

  It knew my name! “This proves it!” I held my sword up high. “It is time for you to die, daemon.”

  Our blades crossed, the beast easily blocking mine with minimal movement. The only thing my first attack accomplished was to knock his hat off. He was about my height, a few inches above average, with scraggly brown hair and scruff covering his face. Like most of his kind, the beast had an uncanny, unnatural handsomeness to him. He would easily be able to scoop women up and corrupt them.

  There was something very distinct about the tunic he wore under his long coat. The crest that was woven in with gold thread was familiar but I couldn’t place it. He saw me gazing at it and swiped at me with his sword. I blocked and countered, lunging toward his gut. The tip of the blade pierced him, but not nearly deep enough to kill.

  Amused, “I haven’t been touched by a blow in a long time.” He then proceeded to backhand me. It was a blow so hard, I couldn’t even see straight for a moment.

  When my eyes could see, it was just in time to block his next attack. It was an overhand chopping motion; his technique was perfect. My sword took the blow, but it took both hands to keep his supernatural strength from overpowering me. He was using one hand and wasn’t even trying that hard. This asshole was toying with me.

  That made me angry. I lashed out with my foot to his stomach. He wasn’t ready for that kind of roughhouse tactic. “I won’t be underestimated, vampyre!”

  On his heels, I charged straight in with my shoulder and rammed him in the chest. I followed up with the pommel of my sword to the side of his head, drawing more blood. As I tried to finish the creature off with one last swipe to remove its head, he moved way too fast for me to see. Before I could defend myself, his hand was wrapped around my throat.

  “Who was to die tonight, Brinza?”

  “You,” I choked out.

  He laughed one more time before he released me. “The rumors were true. An arrogant, hot headed soldier protects Stefania. Imagine my surprise when I found out it is the son of Ivan Brinza.”

  “How do you know my father?”

  “Much like you, he tried to kill me and failed. However, he came to join me on his last hunt.” The beast hung his head in shame. “That was the last time I came so close to fulfilling my destiny. I’m sorry he died that night.”

  No one except Julius and I knew how my father died. He joined a group of warriors headed for Vlad’s castle to kill the creature once and for all. There were said to be no survivors.

  “Liar,” I said softly.

  “I have no reason to lie to my friend’s son.”

  I spit on the ground. “Don’t desecrate my father’s memory with lies. You are no friend to the Brinza house.” My father only killed these vile creatures—his talents had led to him being recruited by a holy man to kill the worst of them all, Vlad Dracul.

  Ignoring me, “Not only was I Ivan’s friend, I was your grandfather Denis’s friend. It was only a matter of time before I sought you out.”

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  He took off his coat, the full effect of his royal tunic and crests in full show. This was the crest of the house of Dracul, long before Vlad became a daemon. “The Impaler has no relatives. What sort of trickery is this?”

  “Vlad has removed all evidence of information that could be used against him.”

  The more I studied the creature, the more I could see a resemblance to the face we’d been taught to fear from the moment we were born. “What would a daemon like you want with my family? We hunt your kind and kill them.”

  “My name is Gabriel. For three hundred years I’ve been waging a shadow war against my creator, to undo the curse he brought upon me. Certain houses have produced warriors that were more worthy than others.”

  Gabriel sheathed his sword and reached out with his hand. “Before your father died, Ivan told me that the spirit of the clan was strongest in you. I’m here to recruit you, Max.”

  This was too much to take in. There was sincerity in those blood red eyes and he knew the truth of my father’s death. Still, a part of my mind was unwilling to trust him, just based on what he was. I think Gabriel could tell, as well.

  His hand was still out, waiting for me to accept. “There was a village where the church elders refused to believe me. Vlad called upon a rain of fire to wipe them out, just for fun. I tell you this in order to show you that I am trustworthy.”

  “Those who proclaim their trustworthiness generally aren’t.”

  Gabriel could see this was going nowhere. “I have
one more thing to offer you.” I looked at him sideways. What could he offer? “As a sign of good faith, I will tell you my real name. If you take this back with you and speak to some of the elders of your village, it should give you everything you need to know.”

  “I accept this.” I placed my hand in his and shook it.

  He gave me a bow. “My true name is Radu Dracul, youngest brother to Vlad himself.”

  Chapter Two

  T he moment I entered the village, I was surrounded by those I was sworn to protect.

  “Is the creature dead?”

  “Where’s his head, Maximus?”

  “Long live the Brinzas!”

  I gave short, discreet answers. I needed to find Julius immediately. I knew he would have left the tavern and gone to his church the moment I went after the vampyre. I pushed through the crowd and stormed my way to the church. My different demeanor put the rest of the folks following me on edge, but that was neither here nor there. The information the vampyre gave me was most disturbing.

  At the church, I turned to address the villagers. “A scion sought me out in the hopes to end this great darkness we live under. Until I have more information, please just trust me.”

  Rumblings broke out amongst the people, but no one stopped me from entering the church. Inside, at the altar, was Julius. He was kneeling, praying at the moment. I walked to the front and took a seat on the wood pew. I picked up the Bible and flipped to verse Job 27:6.

  I hold fast my righteousness and will not let it go. My heart does not reproach any of my days.

  As I closed the Bible, I thanked the Lord for his blessings. When I opened my eyes, Julius had joined me on the pew. “There is great trouble in your eyes, old friend,” he observed.

  “The vampyre I went out to slay, he’s very much alive.”