CHAPTER SIX
Skender saw the dog slink away at his approach. He thought about killing it with a throw of his knife, but better to tend to the task at hand.
He knew Iorghu should not have sent those two; Iosif was good for heavy lifting and intimdation, but little else. Emilian had been incautious on this hunt, an older and wiser red-eye would have evaded them because of his haste. He did not call their names before openng the heavy door, his voice would not carry, and he already knew they would not answer. After grabbing Iosif's torch from the holder beside the door, he stepped into the crypt. He closed the door behind him.
Skender scanned the room, reading the story told by the shattered vase, the trickle of drying blood running down the side of the large, but plain final resting place.
Inside the casket, Istok felt his strength returning rapidly. He should find another hiding place, he thought. Just then the door shut with a thud. He pressed his nose to the crack where casket and lid met, and sniffed, it was Skender. Good! He would kill him just as he killed his friends, or maybe .... Istok smiled at the thought of the killer as his acolyte. Then Skender spoke, his sibilant whisper quite audible to the vampire's ears.
"You bested them, you killed them both, and dragged them in there with you." Skender sighed, he dropped to one knee, leaned closer to the lid, where Iosif's legging had been pinched, leaving a gap into which he spoke. "But they would have killed you, would they not? And now, the struggle for life continues, my friends will be coming soon. Only I stand between you and freedom, red-eye. Do you want to live?"
Istok listened, but did not trust the man who had been trying so very hard to kill him. Skender continued his monologue.
"Listen to me, I am not like them, I am like you." He paused for effect. "My mother was unaware that she carried me when she agreed to be changed. That had never happened before, to anyone's knowledge. My blood intermingled with her sponsor's blood, it changed me, but not all the way. I eat human food, have human desires, but I can see, hear, smell, and taste as well as a yearling red-eye." He grimaced at the gap to show his teeth. "See? They pulled my fangs."
"So why kill vampires? Iorghu hunted down my mother, killed her, but not before ripping me from her womb. He left me at an orphanage for 12 years, a monthly stipend and annual visits kept the wards from mistreating me. He saw that I was not going to change further, had seen evidence of my senses, and he channeled my anger and bitterness into killing those who had robbed me of a mother and a chance at a normal life." He thought he saw a flash of somethng red through the crack, a reflection off its eye.
"Tell me, Istok. Yes, we know your name, Ferka does our research, not as well as Vali did, however. Tell me, do you want to live?" There was no answer. Silently, Skender pulled his knife, the long one, from its scabbard. There was no sound from the casket. "I closed the door behind me, to show my good faith, I could not escape, should you be yet unsated."
Yes, Istok wanted to live, he wanted to hunt, not be hunted. This one's guilt might be his key to freedom. He would kill him anyway, he wondered what half-breed vampire blood would taste like.
When Skender repeated his question, Istok pressed close to the gap and said, "Yes."
Skender watched the gap, waiting for a response. When the answer came, he saw the creature's red eye, and he quickly slipped the knife into the opening, thrusting it in all the way to the hilt, feeling flesh and bone give way as it went.
The slab flew off its position as if lifted by the scream that it preceded. Istok flew out of Ileanna's resting place with an ungodly howl. The knife was embedded in his right eye, only a few inches had not penetrated into his skull. He ran into the wall, breaking the haft off even with the wound, the blood of two victims gushed out, spraying the room with each violent motion of Istok's head.
Skender scrambled out of the way of the red-eye's throes. He had thought a brain injury so severe would stop the creature, they had never had a chance to experiment with the concept.
But it did seem to have render it senseless, Istok was lurching blindly from one side of the crypt to the other. He grabbed Grandfather Pyotr's casket from its position above His grandfather, and pulled it to the ground with a loud crash. Its contents spilled out at Skender's feet. He got his short blade ready to fight, but Istok had found the door and burst through it, breaking it off the iron hinges as he stumbled out into the black night.
Once outside, Iorghu coughed violently, he looked down the trail leading to the crypt, then spoke to Ferka, who spoke the sick man's words for him. Lekos had lifted his knife from Vali's neck, but had not sheathed it. Petru held Lucian at bay with Vali's beloved jezail; he wondered if he would ever hunt with it again.
Creature!" Ferka shouted. "You have formed a bond, an unholy one, with these brothers. We ask, how strong a bond? Would you risk everything for them, as they did for you?
The voice came from the direction of the barn, but closer. "Release my friends, and go in peace."
In one smooth motion Iorghu drew his pistol and shot Lucian above the left knee. He cried out and fell to the ground. Vali rushed to his side, ignoring Lekos, who followed him, sword held at the ready. Iorghu ignored the scene he had created and turned to face the incoming fog.
"You have little time to make a decision, vampire. May I assume that you are Merku's whelp? That you followed Vali here after he quit my party?" He had reloaded the pistol as he talked, now Iorghu aimed the weapon at Lucian's right knee.
"There is no need for that, I am here." Dragos walked out of the mist, his cloak billowing out behind him. He stopped ten feet from Iorghu.
"Give yourself up, demon, to our mercies, and they go free, free to farm this land, until they die."
"No." Dragos smiled, the rising moon added an orange cast to his usual pallor. "I suggest that you let them go, or I will kill you, slowly, with fang and fire."
The bullet from the jezail tore into Drago's left side, passing through a lung, but missing any ribs. Dragos staggered, but did not fall. Blood oozed from his mouth. "You have one bullet, already I am healing. Make it count." And Dragos lunged for Iorghu as he turned his pistol from Lucian to his prey of choice. The scream from the direction of the crypt paused both men, all looked down the path. The scream had become high-pitched, the wail of a wounded and frightened vampire.
Iorghu looked at Dragos. "Which of you is Istok?"
Then the creature was among them. Iorghu had no time to aim the pistol before he was knocked to the ground. Istok was vainly grabbing at his head as he rushed by. His bloody fingers made purchase on the steel nigh impossible. Then Lekos bravely stepped in and swung his sword n a wide arc cutting off Istok's left arm at the elbow, and drawing blood from his side.
Istok managed to seize Lekos' sword arm and pulled the mercenary to him. He grabbed Lekos' head and, with beguiling ease tore it from its rightful place. The body fell to the ground, blood spurting from the neck. Istok flung the head away and swung his arms back and forth, hoping to catch another of his hated pursuers.
Vali covered Lucian's body with his own as the senseless monster lumbered by. Petru had dropped the now-unloaded rifle in the dirt, and was advancing on Istok, looking for an opening. Iorghu was reaching for the pistol that lay on the ground next to his foot, with which he kicked the flintlock out of reach just before the big man could grab it. Dragos was gasping for breath, the rifle ball had hurt him more than He had let on. In a corner of his mind, Vali realized that Dragos was not an 'it' to him, not anymore.
He tackled Petru just as was he about to bring his sword down on Dragos, who had slumped to the ground. They rolled across the yard, each trying to gain the upper hand. Vali, though once a great soldier, was no match for a battle-hardened man fresh from the wars in the West, and soon the soldier was atop him, hands around Vali's throat. Vali's struggles abated as his muscles lost oxygen. He looked into the eyes of his killer.
Petru's eyes were unfocused, his grip on Vali's throat lessened, and Vali sucked in air as fast as possible. Petru fell on his chest, and Vali pushed him off, seeing then what had caused his weakness.
Dragos pulled his mouth away from Petru's calf. The blood was good, he would never quit again. His strength was returning, with the influx of the life-giving fluid. Vali looked at him with a mixture of horror and gratitude. The blood, accelerated by adrenaline, was pumping through Vali's vessels with a rushing sound that Dragos could hear, a call to dinner he fought not to heed.
Iorghu walked up to Dragos and shot him behind the ear with the finally-recovered pistol. The demon fell over without a sound.
"God Damn you." Vali yelled, "he just saved me. "
"He was just feeding, you stupid fool. He would have fed on you eventually." Skender walked out of the gloom, the horses having run off in a panic. Iorghu's question went unvoiced when Skender nodded.
"Oh Iosif, poor child. Well, at least his Mother died first, saving me that sad task." He looked at his second-in-command. "Are there any more? Skender said no. "Are you sure, apparently, you have been wrong before." Off towards the barn, Istok's moans punctuated Iorghu's queries.
Ferku joined the party gathered around Dragos' body. Vali looked Iorghu to where his brother had lain, he was not there. To keep him from following his gaze, Vali addressed Iorghu. "What happens now?" You have your red-eye, in fact, you have two. Two rewards, and fewer still with whom to divide them." Keep looking at me, Vali willed. He hoped Lucian had the strength to do what Vali hoped he was doing. "What need have you for a farm?"
Iorghu took one step towards Vali, and knocked him to the ground with a hard right cross to the abdomen. He kicked Vali when he tried to get up, then stepped on his neck, putting much of his bulk into holding the farmer down. He reloaded his weapon as Ferka stepped in and kicked Vali's ribs repeatedly.
"Stop, Ferka. I want him to see the ball come out of the barrel, and into his eye." He knelt and raised his weapon. "I lost a son, and you think I am glad for the extra profit?
Vali looked at his executioner through a pain-induced haze. "You, not him, are the monster."
Seeker followed Skender at a respectful distance. He was aware of the scents of blood and death, but there was too much to make sense of. What he did understand was that his master was getting hurt by the Bad Men.By the time the biggest had his gun pointed at Vali, Seeker was running, as Iorghu pulled the trigger, the dog jumped and hit his arm. The shot deafened Vali, he felt the ball dig into the earth next to his left ear.
Seeker bit deep into Iorghu's arm, and only let go when Ferka ran him through with his sword. With a yelp, Seeker fell to the ground, gravely wounded. Vali cried out hoarsely, "No, no.... My God, no!" Ferka pulled the sword from the dog's middle, and drew it back as he readied to swing it at Vali. The first shot from the two-barreled pistol hit Ferka in the chest, the second smashed through Iorghu's eye, hittng his brain, killing him instantly.
Lucian was in the doorway of the cottage, the two barrel smoking in his hand. He started to reload it, but Skender, the last man standing, ran quickly to Lucian and stabbed him in the back with his dirk.. Vali watched helplessly as Skender lifted his brother's head and prepared to slice his neck. He looked at Vali, and grinned, pleased that brother would watch brother die.
Istok had been ignored during the mayhem at the house, no one even heard, or cared, when he fell into the sheep pen and made a meal of several loudly-bleating animals. Nothing eased the pain, and he had trouble thinking of anything else, but hunting gave hm something to do, and his senses had returned, to some extent. Except sight, the part of the brain that carred out that task was severed from the rest, but in the fog and darkness, he still had the advantage. Slowly, methodically, he ran down and killed every denizen of the pen, taking a swallow from each torn throat.
Even that was too much, he vomited bright red streams onto the south wall of the barn as he passed. Having purged he could now feed, and he wanted to feed, needed to feed. And humans were about, one in particular's scent was most inviting. He made his way around the back of the cottage just as Lucian dispatched Iorghu, he heard someone run up onto the doorstep, then smelled Skender's exotic bouquet. Hoping that nothing was in the way, he rushed at the source of the scent trail.
Skender was pleased, Vali would watch his brother die, and Skender would have another memory, another datum for his encyclopedia of death. He put his knife to Lucian's throat, Lucian writhed in pain underneath him. He laughed at Vali's expression when he pretended to draw the knife across Lucian's neck.
The laugh was the final clue Istok needed. He calibrated his trajectory, and with his good arm jerked Skender upright, the already healing stump he used to club the shorter man. Skender had other plans, however, he dodged the blow, dropped the knife from the hand Istok was about to break into his left hand, and drove it into Istok's middle, again and again, then again. With a roar, Istok flung Skender against the doorframe. Vali heard the loud crack as Skender doubled over, only backwards, and quietly died. Istok slid to the ground, even he could not recover from so many wounds inflcted in so short a time.
Vali got to his feet, the moon was high overhead, he looked at the carnage that was all around him, it was like being back at war again. He hoped it was over. Lucian groaned, Vali went to him, looked at his knife-wound. Had Skender used the long blade, Lucian would be dead. As it was he had a chance, if Vali cleaned the wounds in time. He lifted his brother to his feet, together, they looked out at their front yard.
"They're all dead?"
I think so, we must check."
"Is Dragos?"
Yes, Vali replied, he is." Vali pointed to where Iorghur had shot Dragos.
There was no body, only a dark patch that was most likely blood.
"Where is Seeker?" both said in unison.
Seeker was dying, he knew it, felt it. He had no complaint, many things had died, some he had killed. He was thirsty, though and struggled to his feet. He saw Vali, as still as the rest in the bloody tableau, but his chest rose and fell, he was sleeping.
Then he saw the tall man-not-a-man. He too was alive, but he would not be for long. Seeker collapsed next to Dragos head. He did what dogs do, and licked the ugly wound. He licked and licked, he wanted someone to take him to water.
Dragos eyes flickered. and the dog moved closer. Dragos saw the wound and used the last of his strength to pull the dog to him. He stopped before Seeker died; the dog had fought as hard as any of them, he wanted to save him, but there was only one way. He tore at the still-tender flesh of his chest-wound until blood flowed. Then he pulled the dog's mouth to the bloodstream. Seeker lapped at the warmth, slowly at first, then eagerly, faster, until Dragos pushed him away.
"No, friend. You nust not drink too much this early in the change." He stood up, and felt dizzy. The healing would not be complete for a few days, in either of their cases. They must rest. He looked about him, dead, all dead, except his friends, and the feelings stirring within him he knew he would not resist if he stayed. He would miss the books, the readings. But he had a friend now, a friend forever.
"Come, Seeker, we are going hunting!". Seeker barked excitedly, and together they ran up the valley, jumping the creek with ease.
Recent Comments