Count Rothchild

by Michael W. Huard

  The countess and count greeted Paublo as a friend when he entered their home.

  Eric DeAbleau was first to say, “It’s good to see you once again, the young intrepid adventurer. My wife and I welcome you and your guest back into our home.”

  Gaylen smiled, glad to see there were no issues with all that had happened prior.

  “I’ve returned because I have some rather important information,” he stated.” I know you will find such truly interesting.”

  From behind him, stepping up and before him, appeared a petite woman, she who flung back her cowl to reveal the brightest of long blonde hair and a set of sparkling blue eyes. She was perhaps in her forties, but attractive and still with a rather fresh face. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. DeAbleau,” she announced.

  Paublo put his hand out to her. “Allow me to introduce my mother, Gaylen Van Warden Hartsell.”

  Gaylen now saw the tall raven-haired huntress directly before her. She was by far an imposing individual. If it were true, this woman was the daughter of Rothchild, thought Gaylen, and she could now see it in her looks. She had stepped a tad closer and such features could not hide such.

  They all moved to the living room area.

  The countess had what one would call quite a Gothic chamber, one filled with treasures from her travels. There were weapons, statues, gems and wall hangings all about a room decorated with high bar chairs before an actual mini bar with, of course, a host of wine bottles. Also here was a wide dark red wooden table sketched with dragon patterns and matching high back chairs with black cushions.

  It was a day that would soon turn to evening talk. However, Paublo and Gaylen both were road weary and it was decided they should retire for the evening before discussing more the next morning.

  Guest rooms were given to the new arrivals thereafter, those escorted to by Abdul Wen Allah, a bald and black-skinned man with the brightest of blue eyes. Gaylen, when first seeing this servant-like man, noticed he bowed to her; something perhaps from his culture, she guessed.

  She then by candlelight in her private room took to writing her husband a letter.

  Dearest Jonathan,

  It is with oddness in my heart that I must tell you, my love, that my son is in need of me. He has discovered the life of an adventurer which is where his soul thrives and with such he has come upon great adventure. I feel sick writing this as I know it will take you by storm.

  I am with him. Please forgive my duty as a mother. I could not let him go alone. I have left now.

  I promise you this much, my love for you is deep, it will always be such. You’re a wonderful man and I shall return to you as soon as possible. I hope to have my ring back with me as well. Together we shall carry on a love that will see us grow old together; to be in one another’s arms until the day we’re put to rest from old age.

  I love you, Jonathan. I had to go; I could not let Paublo go at this alone. I know you will be deathly afraid for my well-being once more. I want to say for that I am deeply apologetic. But fear less, we’re in the company of a gifted hunter. She is of high stature and she will be joining with us as we go onward.

  We are not out to do anything but let her have a discussion with Rothchild, and it is I who can help them locate him. I beg you do not follow me and leave our business and home for the sake of bringing me back. I will come back, I promise you under God’s eye.

  I know you may think of me as a fool; this is why I have decided to simply leave and send you this letter thereafter. I know you would continue to forbid me to go, yet if anything was to happen to Paublo, I would never forgive myself. You have to trust me.

  Your beloved wife, Gaylen

  In the morning they dined on food brought by Abdul Wen Allah. The muscular servant from the southern desert was kind and considerate. He did not seem simply a butler, however, or a mere servant. His body was well defined and he carried a decent sized curved sword at his side as well today.

  He announced, “Today is a good day to be alive. In my land we wake up with a fresh outlook to all that is in front of us. We cannot look back or we will find ourselves going in the wrong direction.” He then passed out fresh eggs and warm buttered bread, bacon, cheese and cinnamon tea.

  Tatijana explained more about him as everyone plowed into the breakfast meal. “Abdul and I met as adventurers; he was on a pilgrimage to this part of the world seeking the truth in people and the various cultures. He then one day out of the blue showed up here asking to stay and work and find peace finally in one landing spot.”

  “It is a great honor,” he mentioned. “It is here and with the huntress that I look forward to many great ventures in the future.’ He bowed and left the chamber.

  Gaylen was fascinated by his loyalty and kindness. “He seems like a good man.”

  They then spoke more on the location of Rothchild. It was decided that Tatijana would indeed seek her father out. The knowledge of where he might reside gave her hope of finding him without random encounters and unnecessary travel to places here and there. A good talk would be a starting point.

  She was a little worried about the words of Antione Van Helsing, however. ‘Once you are the hunter and do not finish the job, you become the hunted.’ There now possibly were others out there seeking her as well.

  This time Oliver would stay behind with her Eric, and Abdul. She wanted her husband to have someone extra about with good fighting skill in case their home became a target. It would be safer here this way.

  Therefore it would be three of them. Tatijana, the vampire huntress; Paublo, the would-be young adventurer, and Gaylen, a seasoned bard with knowledge of Count Rothchild’s secret hiding place.

  Eric DeAbleau knew he could not in a million days change his wife’s mind.

  They left the following evening, be it after getting to know one another a bit more prior.

  Once the three traveled across the plains heading west, they reached the free cities. It was then they took to the king’s sea, their destination, Teevas Isle. Gaylen knew where to go. She could only hope the count was still at his castle.

  As the sun was setting it was announced on board that if they were lucky they might spot a whale or two. Gaylen, Tatijana and Paublo were more than willing to take in the sights and all looked about wondering if such a large mammal or two could be seen.

  The whales did the unseen woman’s bidding and now appeared before them as most of the crew ran to one side of the ship to see as well. In truth this was a favor for the master, a well-planned stalling tactic.

  From the other side, starboard, she appeared. The crewman in the crow’s nest above began yelling, “Mermaid!” that which was a rare occurrence indeed. All knew whales were fairly common, but to see such a mystical being in the water would be a treat for any here to behold.

  The whales dove under as such was announced and everyone went across to the opposite side of the rail seeking to view the proclaimed mystical fish-woman.

  She gave them a far off view of her upper half. They could see her long dark hair and what looked like speckled golden skin. No one on board cared anymore about the whales’; all eyes were in this direction now.

  Gaylen put her arm around her son, smiling as if to share this moment together.

  Unseen, a massive wave had formed behind them and rose above the ship, racing forward.

  Everyone on board had placed their weight to one side, and when the tidal wave hit, it rocked the ship heavily over, thus dumping several of the crewmen into the ocean. Those still on deck held on for dear life as water erupted all over them.

  Tatijana herself lost footing and swung over the side, barely grasping at a wooden rail piece and holding on from falling into the ocean.

  Paublo crawled to help her stay on board as more water pummeled him. He saw his mother was still on the ship, leaning against the side wall.

  She yelled for him to be careful.

  Paublo then grabbed the dark-haired slayer and pulled her as much as possible back on board. Two othe
r shipmates came to help as well.

  Some of the capsized crewmen drowned, yet others were now crying out, falling victim to the ravaging great white sharks that had suddenly appeared in the area.

  The ship had taken on so much water that all those still about needed to grab buckets and begin a long process of dumping such overboard. It took nearly three hours to clear the ship of the water. All mourned the passing of those taken by the sea.

  Those three hours of solitude was what Count Rothchild had called for. Saashia had done what was asked of her.

  Chapter 17

  In the basement of Bran Castle there was an elderly prisoner sitting in his cell in a straitjacket unmoving and suffering from lack of food and water.

  He now felt death creeping upon his very bones; it had been so long now. The count would appear and give him scraps of food and drink every so often to keep him barely alive.

  The man had lost all weight; he was weak.

  Drakko was now at his cell looking in. The man then miraculously broke free of his old and dirty bonded vest. It had taken years to get the item undone. He looked to the count with broken eyes.

  Rothchild seemed impressed at seeing the jacket in tatters. “This is your penance for seeking me out and seeking those of my kin. Only a fool would take up such a profession to study and see through. You will not become as I, and you will not have an easy death by any means. You will continue to feel how it is to live but be tortured in mind, body and spirit.”

  The man cried out, “Please kill me; please.”

  “I will do no such thing,” answered Rothchild.

  He had been keeping Oscar Van Helsing on the brink of dying yet alive for more than twenty years.

  This particular day he lost it; Oscar Van Helsing was finally going mad. “You say she's coming back to you, the young woman who is now much older, ha ha, you think she would have loved you … and come back to you sooner, no, perhaps you will find love when you are the fool no more.” The crazed prisoner cackled and laughed. “You should have let me die back then!”

  Rothchild listened to the old professor’s muttering with little effect on his own thoughts.

  Van Helsing then sobbed, yet called out more mockery minutes later. “Don’t you know that every time you feel the embrace of such love, it only ends horribly? You will never be loved the right way. You tell me your tale over and over and it always ends the same way. You’re death’s cold embrace, a shadow, not a real man.”

  The count scowled. “Who are you to speak of love?”

  The captive ran to the cage wall and shook it like a wild man. “Oh, I had love and was happy,” he countered. “I was able to care for another and not always by thinking on myself like you. You’re vain beyond words, a leech of life.”

  The count became furious, pounding at the cell door, striking out at the professor. “You shut your mouth, shut up.”

  He then left the old man to his misery.

  Oscar Van Helsing prayed out loud, even still now to the Lord. “Zeus the Almighty, I beg of thee, give onto me but one chance for revenge, one chance to drive a stake into this horrible man.”

  Back on dry land, be it finally at their desired location, the three travelers came to a rest for the evening after heading off the road and finding an outcropping of trees close together to form a sort of backing wall. The branches and leaves were like a canopy for overhead shelter, as it had begun to rain.

  Now on Teevas Isle, Gaylen explained that they were getting close. Tatijana took out a tarp and connected such to stakes in the ground and ran it up to the trees as a roof over them as well. The horses were placed to their right and tied loosely to the trees, while the three prepared a fire to stay warm.

  They were discussing who would stay awake at the various intervals for night watch when suddenly an arrow zoomed by, just missing Gaylen and embedding itself into a tree behind her.

  Paublo and Tatijana were already reaching for their weapons when out of the dusk stepped three small humanoids all with arrows nocked, pointing their bows directly at the threesome. More moved to the left and right as well.

  These beings were no more than three feet tall, perhaps four foot as to the largest of the lot. Each had yellowish skin, big noses and chins, stumpy legs and all had scowls upon their faces.

  In what would be either the luckiest maneuver ever or some wildly amazing skill, Tatijana leaped up and threw her great scimitar in a round off motion at the arrow pointing goblins. It whirled in the air and hit the one on the left side and went right on to the middle and right goblin, severing all three of their small heads. Their lifeless bodies toppled over and hit the dirt.

  The other goblins looming in the shadows and hiding behind trees stopped dead in their tracks.

  Then a few brave came from the right and ran at Paublo and Gaylen. He moved to cover his mother and fended off both. Gaylen had her staff out, but did not take a swing yet.

  With a toss of a nasty dagger, Tatijana dropped one of their fresh assailants. The other Paublo sliced and stabbed until the thing was finished.

  As it appeared, any others now ran off, until one little shit grabbed Gaylen by the legs.

  She gulped at the situation on hand, hearing her son yell out, “Kill it, mom!” She then jolted her staff’s end downward and ran it through his ear. Luckily the creature flopped over dead after the blow.

  Once the goblins were defeated, the companions prepared to saddle back up, ready to ride to a different area to take rest; a suggestion by the huntress that made sense.

  Tatijana, seeing well Gaylen did not fight much, called out to her, “So I must ask you, when is the last time you’ve picked up a weapon, Gaylen?”

  The mature, small blonde woman gave the tall darkly-clad huntress a funny smile. “Well, I've been doing some performing on stage with a staff; does that count?” She then added, “Did you see I at least took one of those diminutive buggers down?”

  Tatijana shook her head that she had seen such and hoped her stage work was at least useful time spent. She asked, “So what can you do with such a stick?”

  Gaylen showed her. “Well, I can flip it around my head, twirl such around behind my back, spin it to the side, and do all kinds of nifty things.”

  She took a break from such a performance, placing it on her back in its holder. Gaylen knew what the black-haired woman was about to say.

  “Not quite; it would be best that you take the stick off your back and sharpen one end of it. Carve it to a fine point and then perhaps it may come in handy.”

  It had been a long time since the bard felt fear, and that was what consumed her at this very moment. She felt a knot in her stomach. She could not help but wondering if this was a mistake.

  She had not planned to thrust such a staff into his chest. Was that what this huntress was thinking and saying? Was she to help kill her one-time host?

  Soon enough they rode for maybe ten to fifteen minutes and navigating the rain find another spot to make camp for the evening.

  The morning came rather fast. Each slept only here and there. They had already traveled far from the main villa, into the grasslands, and further northwest into the hills.

  They continued to ride towards the graveyard Gaylen had told them about. At intervals they would halt and rest the horses and let them graze some.

  During one of their rest stops, Gaylen told her son and the vampire hunter more about the isle itself. “Since I have been here a few times, and over the years that I have been away, I have researched more about the island we ride upon. It is governed by a burgomaster, be it the Polanski family, those who first discovered the region quite a ways back.”

  Gaylen took a drink from her canteen and went on. “It’s a fairly tight-knit community, who export rope, fish, wheat, wine, bacon, eggs, and pigs as some of their main commodities. We have passed the main community sector and now we, as you probably have noticed, will see a few farms here and there as we go on. We’re riding northwest; our destination will be
a caretaker’s home, one who oversees the main cemetery on the island. It’s not too far from the sea, but fairly isolated and, as you’re discovering, a fair road trip from the mainland.”

  Paublo found himself taking in the fresh air on this brief stop.

  His mother had more to add. “Most of the other details of the island are somewhat scarce, though there has been a tale of a haunted mansion to the far Northeast. It is said that an infamous sea captain named Cornelius Gravestone bought the mansion from the burgomaster and moved his family in, hoping to spend more time with them. He thought the isolation and locale was perfect for his wife and two kids.

  “But, as the legend goes, he was out to sea not that long after, back to his wandering ways, and later his wife was known to dabble in necromancy due to her boredom and loneliness. The people here claim a spirit arrived in the house that which appeared scaring all, and murder and mayhem took place up there. Soon enough the place was shut down and has been closed ever since.”

  Tatijana and Paublo were pondering Gaylen’s tale about ready to saddle up again now.

  Gaylen had a few more things to say. “The main religion on the island has been known fairly openly as that of Athena, who many refer to as the goddess Gaia, or simply Mother Earth. Also Poseidon, lord of the sea, as you would imagine out here, is looked on favorably and there are temples for each on this island.”

  The trio rode onward, be it slowly still, as she added, “Along with the Polanski family, another family who were known as first settlers, the Barisnakov, are here and they own a ton of land while running the shipping business at the docks. There is a known struggle between the Polanski and Barisnakov for who truly found the island first.”