by Dan Davis
The Janissaries were superb and fought with ferocity and skill. My men fell, fighting with every last breath.
I cut them down and killed the last of them, running my sword through his face.
All that remained of the sluji, who were once five hundred, were three badly wounded men who sat on ground soaked with the blood of their brothers and their enemies.
William’s dark boat was crossing the river, a single rower within, moving slowly.
Wading through the grass and into the freezing mud, I reached the boat which was pulled half up onto the muddy bank. It was big enough for thirty men, with four oars aside. Clutching my sword I pulled myself up and over the side, splashing into deep water within.
They had hacked holes through the bottom of it, rendering it unusable.
“William!” I shouted across the river, standing in the ruined boat. “You coward!”
Out in the gloom, he stopped rowing and stood. No more than a shadow upon shadows. “Damn you to hell, Richard!” His voice was loud, travelling across the water and the still night air.
“Find a hand-gun,” I muttered to my men. “Crossbow, anything.” They splashed away toward the corpses on the bank and I raised my voice again. “I will find you, William. No matter where you run, I will find you.”
“Ha!” he shouted. I saw him raise his hands to his mouth as he did so. “You leave me be, brother!”
“I defeated you, William,” I shouted. “Again and again, I defeated you. And now you flee. All your men, dead! Your Sultan despises you. You are finished!”
“I have barely begun!” he cried out.
Walt splashed over to me, hissed, and held out a hand-gun. “The only one still dry. Loaded. You aim, I will fire it.” He had the end of a burning match cupped in his hand.
I took it and squeezed the wooden end under my arm and looked down the iron barrel. It was practically full night and William was drifting further on the current with every moment. The river and the boat and the man had blended into one shadow.
“Radu is dead!” I called.
He said nothing in return. I scanned left and right while Walt blew on the match, ready.
“Did you hear me? I killed your only friend in all the world, William. He died in agony!”
Silence, and then. “And my men killed Vlad!” he shouted. “And he was your—”
“Now!” I hissed at Walt.
He touched the match on the firing pan and the gun banged in my hand. Across the river, William cried out and I was sure I heard him fall into the water.
We stood and listened. There was nothing but the wind in the trees behind me and the gentle sound of the great river in front.
19. The Vampir
1476
It was morning when we cautiously returned to the battlefield. Exhausted beyond measure, our horses dragging their feet with each step.
We were dejected and heartbroken.
I was not certain whether William had in fact been killed but I strongly doubted it. At least I had given him a parting gift. Whether Dracula was dead, I was not certain either but it seemed likely, considering the lifeless state I had last seen him in. Either way, I had to return to the field. Above all, Rob had to be buried. I would not leave him to be tossed into a mass grave or allow his body to be scavenged and lay unburied.
We crept through the dark trees to the edge of the meadow and found the usual sight after a battle. Figures crouched over the dead and dying, collecting bodies and weapons and armour. Hand carts trundling along, horses standing here and there. Locals mixed with soldiers and servants. Crows hopped and squawked and were chased away, only to land on some other poor body.
“Where is the prince?” I asked a Wallachian captain who stood at the edge by his horse.
“My lord?”
“Where is Vlad Dracula?”
The captain was somewhat out of his wits and he stared for a moment, despair in his eyes. “We fell back. The Turks came up here to this field. We gathered the men and pushed the Turks off. They fled south, back to the river.”
“Where is he?”
The Wallachian frowned, looking at me. “They took his head.”
“The Turks took Dracula’s head?” I asked. “You are certain?”
He shook as he recalled it. “They had it raised on a spear. They celebrated as they fled.”
“You recognised him?”
“It was his helm, yes. The only one like it.”
I sighed, rubbing my eyes. “What about the rest of him?”
“My lord?”
“Where is your prince’s body, sir?”
“The monks took it.”
“What monks? They took it where?”
He stared. “Monks.”
I sighed. “Where are your friends, Captain? Where are your servants?”
“Dead.” He looked around. “Or fled. Or…”
Walt approached and patted him on the shoulder. “Come on, son. Let’s find your mates, shall we.” He led the man away across the meadow and passed him off to a group of soldiers.
We retraced our steps back along the track to find the place where Rob fell. He was right where we had left him. However, the others were not.
“Where is Radu’s body?” Eva said.
“Serban’s is gone also,” Stephen said. “Head and body both. Could Radu have been alive after all?”
“Not a chance,” I said. “His people must have taken him.”
“And Serban also?” Stephen asked. “Why would they do that?”
“Where shall we take dear Rob?” Eva asked, kneeling by him.
“What about the monastery at Snagov?” Stephen said. “He appeared to like it there.”
We all instinctively turned to Walt who nodded his assent. “The monks will bury him proper.”
The sun rose as high as it would on that winter day by the time we reached the monastery at Snagov. We rowed across the lake and moored up, leaving Rob’s body on the shore while we approached the buildings, calling out for any of the monks or servants who had stayed or, we hoped, had returned from the battlefield with the bodies of Vlad, Radu, and Serban.
It was deserted.
Walking through the empty buildings, I called for anyone. I called for Theodore, who had stayed, and headed for the library.
“They were not at the battlefield,” Stephen said beside me, his dagger in his fist. “And they are not here. So, where have they gone?”
“They must have come here,” Eva said. “Where else could they go?”
“There is nowhere else,” Walt said, his face a mask of anguish.
We stopped as one at a noise up ahead. The screeching of iron hinges and the shuffling of feet.
“You have returned, my dear brothers,” a raspy voice called out up ahead. It was Theodore. The ancient, blind monk stood filling the doorway to the library, like a bag of bones beneath his robes.
Walt scoffed behind me. “Silly old sod.”
I raised my voice as I continued toward him. “It is not your brothers who have returned, Father Theodore. We also are looking for them. It is I, Richard Ashbury, who fought with—”
“I know who it is returning,” Theodore said, his voice seeming suddenly stronger. “Come and speak with me a while, Richard Ashbury, the vampir.”
I followed him into the library in time to see him ease himself into his chair by the window, the place I had first seen him. It was open and the cold afternoon air smelled of pine and woodsmoke.
“You call me a vampir?” I asked him, crossing the library to stand over him. “Why do you say that?”
“Have a seat, brother,” he said, indicating the seat opposite.
I ignored him. “You called me a vampir. And you are right. But how did you know it?”
Theodore smiled. “I know it, Richard, because I am a vampir, also.”
A chill spread up my spine. I was shocked and at the same time, it seemed as if I already knew. With a sigh, I sat across from Theodore while he smiled
through me. Cold air poured in through the window but the old man did not seem to feel it.
“You call yourself a vampir, Theodore?” I looked at his lined face and the broad yet bony shoulders under his robes. I wondered how he could be an immortal and also aged and infirm. “What did you do to the other monks? Did they return here after the battle?”
“They came with men to bury,” Theodore said, pointing toward the graveyard outside his window. “And then my brothers had to leave. You see, they were afraid of you and your brother and what you might do.”
“Afraid of me? But it is William who means to conquer your people.”
Theodore smiled. “And you, Richard, are the one who is hunting strigoi. You are both young and dangerous. Both of you are quite mad.”
“I am not young,” I said. “But I am dangerous. And yet William is the mad one.”
He raised a large, bony finger. “Both of you are tearing through the world like mad bulls, not knowing our ways. It is not your fault. But you are a danger to us and my brothers had to go into the wild once more.”
“The wild?”
Sighing, he turned his unseeing gaze to the world. “We were here for a good while. We dwelled here in peace, our lives safe from notice, from interference. They will go on, at least for a time, but I am tired of this life. It is time for mine to end.”
I shook my head, more confused than ever. “You call yourself vampir. How can that be so when you are so..?” I gestured at him, searching for the right word.
“Aged?” he said, smiling. “Decrepit? Frail?”
“How old are you?”
“I do not remember. Is it eight centuries? Or nine, now?” He shrugged. “Enough. Yes, enough, now.”
“Do you drink blood? You feed on your monks?”
“You misunderstand. Our lay brothers, the servants, provide our blood. When it is required, some few of those are chosen to join us and so we go on.”
I laughed at my own idiocy. “So you were all immortals? All the monks? The entire time I was searching for strigoi but I already found them all?”
“All of my brothers are strigoi but not all the strigoi were here. They are everywhere in these lands. The places they now call Albania, Serbia, Hungary. In all these places they have their own names for us. The Hungarians call us izcacus, the blood drinkers, and believe we are demons. Others that we are risen from the dead.”
“How did you come to be made?”
He opened his arms, presenting himself. “I am like you. We are born vampir, from our vampir fathers, though we must die in our lives to become all that we might be. We have greater power and the ability to make strigoi with our own blood. But we, you and I, are lesser than our fathers. We cannot mate with woman. As you will know.”
I rubbed my face and sat back. I did not know where to begin. “Who is your father?”
“A son of a creature that we call the Ancient One. The First Vampir. He has many names. My father was born of him and later my father made me. My father taught me many things. But he is long dead.”
“So we are… cousins, you and I. We share a grandfather. The Ancient One.” I hesitated. “Did you meet him, Theodore?”
“Alas, no. He has not been heard of in a thousand years. Lost and likely dead, though some say he will one day return and rule over all vampir, strigoi, and human alike. If he does, I shall not be here to see it.”
I almost told him that Priskos yet lived but I held my tongue. It seemed to be an even greater secret than I had imagined.
“So you made your brothers? The monks? I thought the abbot led them?”
“Ioánnis is young. Not yet four hundred years. He has heart enough to go on. I have remained to guide my brothers, my sons, for many years beyond my desire to do so. But they have to go into the wilderness once more and to wander until they find a new home. I am old and broken and do not wish to travel. Only to die.”
“I do not understand. How it that you are an immortal and yet you have aged?”
He sighed. “Aged, yes. But slowly. Some vampir live for a thousand years and seem to hardly age a decade, as did my father. But for centuries now I have drunk only the blood of lowly servants, many of them old men. In my youth, I was a warrior and I drank the blood of the warriors that I defeated. If I had continued to drink the blood of the strong, I would have my sight and a straight back and the strength of my legs. Alas, I chose the path of peace.”
“You ceased to be a soldier in order to become a monk? Why? To hide from those who would harm you?”
“If I had continued to live as a warrior, I would have died many centuries ago. Even a warrior as strong as we cannot cheat fate forever. All those I made died. I came to a monastery in Constantinople and discovered the rules of Saint Basil. I was entranced. For a time, I was consumed by it. I raised my head and argued with matters of Church and the empire. I argued with emperors and wrote and wrote and wished to reform this rule or that. So many words. You will find my writings here and elsewhere.” He smiled, his wrinkled face creasing deeply as he turned his blind eyes to the scrolls lining the walls. “It seems so foolish now. Self-indulgent and naïve. And I angered one emperor too many and then I had to leave Constantinople and I took some of my brothers with me. We have lived in many monasteries in the centuries since. And we were here so briefly but this was a good place. A good place for our troubled souls to search for peace. And it is a good place to die.”
“You are the one who created all the strigoi in these lands? And they were all were monks?”
“No, they do not all come from me. Once, I had brothers. My father had brothers and so we had cousins. We vampir of Rome made many strigoi and with them we fought to keep the barbarians from Rome’s door. My father and his brothers were soldiers and strategoi for many emperors but we could do only so much as the empire slowly declined. It took us centuries to realise that it is not military power but moral supremacy that keeps a people strong. We did not do enough to stem the moral decline of our people and when we realised, it was too late. My father, his brothers, my brothers and cousins, they all died fighting the enemies of Rome. I believed the vampir were all dead, other than me, for it seemed I found only strigoi in my travels. Some I gave sanctuary. Others, wild and mad, had to be killed. But then you came to me and I knew.”
“You knew what I was? How?”
“Even without my sight, I could see it in you. In your bearing, in your manner, I could feel your age. You reminded me of my brothers. Even so, I was not certain but young Serban confirmed he had seen your power. You were young and yet somehow you were vampir. I must ask, who is your father, Richard? Can it be that one of my father’s brothers survived after all and you are his son?”
“No, I have a different lineage. My father did not know what he was and he died in ignorance. And so I did not know either. Neither did my brother William. We had to be killed before we discovered the truth about our nature.”
Theodore smiled. “The truth? To be raised in ignorance must have been terrible. And even now, you have discovered so little, I pity you. And you have sworn to kill your brother, and his strigoi? That is not our way.”
“It is my way. Besides, you said not moments ago that you killed your own.”
He made a growling sound as he cleared his throat. “Only when the rogue strigoi’s actions threatened to bring down us all.”
I leaned toward him. “And William’s actions threaten to bring down Christendom. Even if they did not, he has committed murders that must be revenged.”
Theodore’s thin lips drew even thinner. “Revenge, is it? Ah, I see.”
“It is justice.”
“Because he broke the laws of man?”
“Because he sinned. He killed innocent women and children. Many times.”
“Ah, children.” Theodore tilted his head back and breathed deeply. “It has been so very long since I drank a child. I remember the sweet taste upon my lips. Such power in a child’s blood.”
I swallowed my
revulsion. “So I have heard. But why is it so?”
“God is mysterious. But the child is like a sprouting seed, is it not? Within the acorn is the strength of the oak.”
“Whatever the benefit, it is wrong, surely you see that? You profess to be a man of God, do you not believe the murder of children to be a sin?”
“It is a sin, for men. But are we men, you and I?”
“I do not know. Once, I knew I was a man but as the centuries have gone by, I have begun to wonder. Am I to understand that you do not believe the laws of man, the morality of God, applies to us? To vampir? You are convinced, then, that we are not men?”
“For centuries, I have asked this question.”
I waited for him to continue but he did not. “And you have an answer?”
“I have many answers. But which is the truth? I do not know. Perhaps I was incapable or perhaps I needed more time. But my time is up, and so I must die without knowing. I am ready to die and you will kill me.”
“You want me to kill you?” I said. “Why?”
“I cannot kill myself. That is certainly a sin, for men and for vampir. And yet I cannot go on in this broken body. Can you do this thing?”
“Killing men, or immortals, has never troubled me. And yet I have so many more questions before you die.”
“I am so tired, Richard. After my eyes failed, I wished to die and yet my brothers begged for me to stay with them. I have given them decades against my will. If you wish for another hour of my life then when our time has run through you must give me what I want in turn.”
“And what is that?” I asked, though I could guess.
“I will answer your questions and then you will end my life swiftly, striking my head from my body and burying my remains in the manner I wish. Do you agree to grant me this mercy in exchange?”
“Certainly.”
“Then go on with your questions, Richard.”
“How many of us are there in the world?”
“Vampir? Only me, you, and your brother. There were many but they all died. Their offspring are yet walking the earth.”
I knew of at least two sons of the Ancient One still serving Priskos but I said nothing about that. “And their offspring? The strigoi that they made? How many of them are there?”
