The church’s name used to be Four Holy Marshals Catholic Church. The place was certainly abandoned and in ruins. The only noises were the ghastly howls emanating from inside the church. According to our fearless leader, those were the calls of the damned. The Buckriders were getting ready to ride out into the night.
“We wait here. Fortune may favor us and we won’t have to provide a distraction.”
There was something about Radu’s voice that cast doubt on his beliefs this would be easy. We did as we were ordered and waited. The church doors eventually burst open and I was able to get my first look at the foul daemons. The greenish bodies of the men were almost transparent. Little yellow eyes rested in the misshapen heads and their toothless maws seemed to distort the area around them.
Each Buckrider carried a short blade, each looking different and unique to the daemon. Their blades had faces on them, moving up and down the length of the blade. “That’s what will get you sent to Hell,” Radu quipped.
The worst part was the beasts they rode on. Horned creatures, their skin was transparent and you could see the muscle, organs, and sinew. Smoke came from their noses as they breathed and their eyelids were fused shut. Their tales had stingers on them and their feet were cloven-hoofed, the symbol of the Devil.
“I’m a man,” I whispered. “I can admit when I was wrong.”
Before my apology could be accepted, the lead Buckrider pointed his blade in our direction, even though we were well hidden. The rest of his horde responded and screamed.
“Oh shit,” Radu cursed. “It seems a tactical retreat won’t be happening.”
Abigail loaded up her crossbow. “Destroy that heart and fast, Max,” she barked.
“Please do, Brinza,” Radu added dryly. “Vlad’s supposed to go to Hell, not me.”
So, in other words, no pressure. I slinked off to the west while Radu and Abigail stepped out to become a distraction. May God have mercy on their souls.
Chapter Ten
T he noises of the Buckriders attacking my companions began to fade away as I entered the old church. At the front altar was the heart of the original Buckrider as Radu had told me. The red, glowing organ seemed to pulse, the sounds of the beating heart echoing softly in the broken house of God. I slid my sword free from the scabbard and began to approach.
A figure stepped out from around the altar as I moved in. The bearded figure was one I knew very well. “Father?” I asked.
“Maximus, it’s been far too long,” the booming voice of Ivan Brinza replied.
My dad looked exactly the same as the day he’d left the village. He was wearing his brown overcoat, the hide trousers my mother stitched for him, and his sword was hanging at his side. Both his brown hair and brown eyes were identical to the Ivan Brinza I grew up admiring.
This wasn’t my father. This was a hallucination.
“I know you’re not real,” I challenged.
He smiled kindly. “Who is to say what’s real and what’s fantasy?”
Dammit. That was an expression my father used when he was alive, to tell villagers that the darkness beyond the borders was fact. “Whatever you are, I’m not going to fall for this.”
“Maximus, you thick-headed lump, do you not know your father when you see him?”
Crescent Moon was out and the moonlight was shining off the blade. “My father died when he joined Radu Dracul on his ill-fated mission to kill Vlad.”
I initiated the attack, my blade ready to cleave this apparition in two. Star Light, my father’s broadsword, was in the hands of this fiend. Using both skill and speed, he intercepted the blow. The sound of metal cracked in the silence of the night.
Removing Star Light from my blade, my father stepped back. “Not a bad first attack. I assume you’ve killed a great number of daemons with that move.”
“You should know, you taught me that before you left.”
“Ahh, you hold anger over my abrupt exit.”
I had a flash in my mind, to years ago when my father left. He didn’t give much of an explanation, probably the same one his father gave to him. “Stay strong, young Maximus. God has called me to do great things for this land.”
So yes, I was angry. “You died, your remains eaten by a werewolf!” I shouted.
“Let it all out, son.”
There was so much pent-up aggression I needed to release. I attacked again, this time bringing the blade down from the side, hoping to dissect this creature in two. Again, the Ivan mirage was quicker and parried away my blade. Not stopping, I tried to kick the hallucination in the stomach, only for him to slide back, out of range.
Annoyed, “Fight back!”
Star Light swayed back and forth, but Ivan made no moves to attack. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, son. I have no need to attack.”
“What happened?” I asked, before I could stop myself.
“Vlad was too strong, even for the combined might of Radu and myself. My death, it was rather quick and painless.”
For some reason, that brought me comfort. This creature could be lying, but what if this was truly Ivan Brinza? “Radu said my grandfather came close to killing Vlad. Did he improve that much over the years?”
My father relaxed, anticipating a stop to the barrage for the moment. “Denis Brinza was a hero and legend. Had Radu sought him out a few years earlier, I feel they would’ve succeeded. It didn’t help that your grandfather was betrayed by a former companion.”
These were things Radu had told me. “That doesn’t answer the question of how you failed.”
He sighed. “Vlad is not just a warrior, but a skilled magician. He has two witches with him as companions, also. If you prepare, as I did, for a fight of blade against blade, you will fail.”
A vampyre and a warlock? That was something Radu had failed to mention. “What about Radu, is he trustworthy? He’s certainly a very angry man.”
This caused my father to laugh, the very same one I grew up with, one that was infectious. “He’s still a giant pain in the ass, is he?” Sensing a comfort level being built with me, he sheathed Star Light. “Radu’s life has been cursed by his own brother. He will never understand why he was poisoned the way he was, but trust him. If there’s one thing he values above all else, it’s the hunt to end Vlad Dracul.”
“You really are Ivan Brinza.”
“For just one more moment.” I didn’t understand that. “Succeed, Maximus. End this eternal night we live under.”
I shook my head. “I will, Father.”
That’s when the transformation took hold. Ivan Brinza, if his soul truly was here, was no longer present. In its place was a daemon that took hold of the body that once belonged to him. The same reddish eyes that Radu had opened, an unholy haze flowing off of his body. Seeing this, it reminded me that I had two people outside very much depending on me to finish the job. I hoped I hadn’t wasted too much time.
This figure had no problem using Star Light to attack. He moved just like my father, with compact and powerful strikes. At first, I was caught unprepared for the blows and the tip of the blade nicked my arm. However, I knew these moves. I’d studied my father’s style from the moment I’d known what he did for a living. This imposter daemon wouldn’t be able to show me anything I hadn’t seen.
My strength in this fight was that the style was one of my own. I used some of what my father taught me, what I could incorporate that was. Being two different body types, I was made for a more wild, unpredictable style. The people of Stefania, they called me The Bladed Whirlwind.
With my feet under me, I lunged for the daemon with Crescent Moon, undercutting his attack and drawing blood against him. Black ooze dripped from the wound, proving even more that this wasn’t truly my father. He missed two more strikes, my upper body movement impeccable. I wanted to end this quickly, knowing that Radu and Abigail were probably on their last efforts.
The daemon used the sword like an axe, trying to chop my hand off. I used the pommel guard as an effecti
ve way to intercept Star Light and twist it away. The blade was yanked from the daemon’s hand, leaving him unable to defend himself. There was only one way to bring this to an end. I formed the cross over my body. “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, return to Hell, daemon!”
I thrust forward, Crescent Moon ripping through the brown jacket and into the chest cavity of my opponent. Defeated, the phantom slumped over the blade. I kicked it off and it disintegrated into ash. I’d overcome the trials, the heart the last thing that needed to be cleansed from this plane.
Walking past the pile of ash, the heart was still beating on the altar. I felt a shriek of terror come from the bedeviled organ as I sliced it in two. The halves fell off the altar, going black before they hit the ground. Upon impact, they shattered. The Buckriders were defeated.
I ran from the church, hoping I hadn’t been too late in destroying the target. Outside, I began shouting for my companions. “Radu, Abigail,” I called out. There was no answer. “Dammit! Dammit all!”
I was about to fall down in despair when I heard coughing. “Do you have to shout? There could be other nasty creatures in these parts.” It was the dry, sarcastic voice of Radu.
“Max, you did it!” This more cheerful tone belonged to Abigail. “Bless the Father, I thought we were damned for eternity.”
They both looked a bit worse for wear. Radu was bleeding from a few different places and Abigail’s wrist looked broken. One of her arrows was sticking out of a charred husk, which I pulled out. Snapping off the arrow head and breaking it one more time into two pieces, I was able to set the break with some extra strips of fabric. She seemed pleased with the crude field medicine I was able to perform.
Radu’s paleness was even more pronounced than usual. “The Buckriders, they drained a considerable amount of energy from me. I need to feed, and sleep.”
“Feed off me, if you must,” I volunteered. “I can’t allow you to kill anyone back in the village.”
I expected him to argue with me. I guess he was too hungry to pass up such an offer. An iron clamp snapped shut on my arm. A split second later it began to burn as his fangs entered my skin. It was an odd sensation, one that quickly made me light headed. I stumbled forward, even with the vampyre attached to my arm. Abigail tried to support me with her good arm, but my body weight was too much.
Radu didn’t stay latched on much longer. When he released, my blood was all over his face. There was no shame to what he just done. “I will consider that repayment for this errand that nearly cost us our lives.”
I couldn’t get back up, so he picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder. I would’ve been embarrassed except I had no energy to feel such things. Just like that, the three of us returned to the village, victorious in another daemon slaying endeavor.
Chapter Eleven
**Italia; 1775 the year of our Lord**
T he late summer night in the northern reaches of Italia were starting to get to me. The humidity was unbearable, though that was about to change as the Alps were just in front of us, our exit from the Bohemian Black Forest about to take place. The menacing natural barrier was about to challenge us in ways neither Abigail nor I were ready for. Radu, sensing the evil omens in the mountains himself, called for a stop.
We’d set up camp and the vampyre and seer were fast asleep. My mind was working so fast. The moment we left Bohemia and stepped onto the sacred ground that was Italia, something deep began gnawing at me. Maybe it had to do with seeing my father, Ivan, again. No, it was something sinister. There was a dark cloud around me, one only I could see.
Radu brushed off my encounter with Ivan as the Buckrider heart taking advantage of my insecurities surrounding his death. Even Abigail seemed not to believe me, though she was much more polite about it. She tried to comfort me with the notion that the farther away from the site of the apparition, the less it would haunt me. Nothing was haunting me, no matter what the two of them believed.
I left camp and began to explore the surrounding area as the sun came up over the horizon. For months, traveling at night was the only thing I knew. Those rare occasions where I could enjoy actual sunlight were few and far between. I just wished the horrid weather of the night left with the rise of the sun. Soon, it would be too hot to be moving around. I’d have to make it back to the shade of the camp before that happened.
I heard the sound of horses. Immediately, I took cover in some shrubs just off the worn path. As the riders approached, I realized it was two gypsies. Their caravan must be nearby.
One of the gypsies kept going, but the other stopped. The first didn’t stop to see what was happening, leaving the other to walk over to the area where I was hiding. Throwing her hood back, it was a younger lady, smiling while gazing in my direction. She didn’t speak any of the languages I knew, not at first to start.
Not sure what she said, I slowly got up and used Latin in the hopes it would be a language she was familiar with. My mother insisted I learn the language, even though as a child I hated my lessons. “Hello there,” I began.
She nodded in recognition and switched over to Latin as well. “I wasn’t sure if you’d understand my language or not.”
“No, I didn’t. I’ve never spoken to a gypsy before. Was that your own gypsy tongue?”
“Yes,” she said, continuing to beam. “My apologies, I assumed you had some gypsy blood, based on your aura. Maybe the sunlight is playing tricks on me this early.”
That was an odd thing to say. It was getting early, as the sun was starting to hover over the trees. “I must be going, farewell,” I said, excusing myself.
“Wait,” the gypsy replied. “You are a daemon hunter, aren’t you?”
I guess the sword hanging off my side gave that away. It wasn’t like the swords the Crusaders carried, no a sword of this length was generally carried only by freelance warriors and those who fought against the beasts from Hell. I appreciated not being considered a freelancer.
Lying just wasn’t in my nature. This probably upset Radu to great lengths. “Yes, I am,” I answered honestly.
The gypsy took a few more steps closer to me, almost inspecting my features. “Your features, they remind me of an old tale the women in my caravan are told.”
“Oh?”
“Many years ago, a gypsy witch began dabbling in dark magic. Not satisfied with the spells and enchantments she was able to perform, she sought a dark master.”
While that didn’t seem good, I also didn’t know what they had to do with me. “I think your story should be told to someone else, no offense.”
She didn’t skip a beat. “Not much is known about the witch, other than her features. Described as a great beauty, the witch’s prominent facial features were a highly sought after trait. Your features remind me of hers, from the descriptions.”
As if I needed another thing to worry about. “Again, I must apologize. There are no gypsies or magic users in my family. We are just a family that believes in fighting in God’s name, that’s all.”
“As you say, warrior. Be safe and look to the Lord and his strength.”
“1 Chronicles, 16:11. Thank you for the blessing,” I said. It was time for me to offer my own in return. “Rejoice in the Lord, always.”
She bowed to me and got back up on her horse. “Philippians 4:4, a good verse to live by.” She galloped off without another word.
I no sooner walked away from the scene then did I discover Radu in a dark patch of shade, watching. He didn’t move, allowing me to be the one to approach when I was ready. “How much did you hear?” I asked.
“Enough to know that what that gypsy girl told you will eventually begin to bother you.”
The way in which he said that, did he know something? “My family has no gypsy blood in it. Her words were just strange and unnecessary.”
We walked in silence, sticking to the shaded areas, most of the way back to camp. Before we entered, he stopped me and lowered his voice. “There are certain truths that w
ill come to light as we get closer to the source of the malice. We can either do this the easy way or deal with them as they come. That won’t be pleasant.”
“I’m lost as to what you’re referencing.”
“You claim to have met a remnant of your father in the Buckrider church, correct?” I nodded my head. “Did the remnant tell you anything of your family history and why I seek out the Brinza line?”
Maybe I was foolish to assume Radu chose my family based on our skill and reputation. “No, should he have?”
“Perhaps you did meet Ivan Brinza. He was never one to tell the hard truths when needed,” Radu whispered, more to himself. “I will thank him one day for letting me be the one to explain it all.”
My annoyance was starting to get the better of me. “Get it out, would you?”
“As you know, from the Seer’s ability to connect to my memories, Vlad has two witches that act as consorts to him. One of those witches, she had a child. It was quite the scandal three hundred years ago, as this took place right before his transformation into a vampyre.”
I didn’t care much for his story, as I found it as insightful as the gypsy’s. Pandering to him, however, I pressed, “Who was the father?”
“One of the kitchen staff. The witch was careless and wanted to satisfy her own needs. The child was ushered out of the castle into the Wallachian countryside. The father was executed, Vlad’s last act as a man.” Radu shivered for a moment, as if experiencing an unpleasant memory.
“I’m still unsure—”
He gave me a murderous look. “Your impatience chafes me.” He composed himself to finish his tale. “The baby boy was given to an elderly peasant couple, one who had no ties to the castle. With no children on their own, the father was happy to have a son he could give his family name to, one that would be passed down for generations.”
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