Strigoi

by Tony-Paul de Vissage

  “Ilona!”

  Ruxanda’s shriek made Marek’s heart clutch as the child pulled away from Dan and ran down the stairs, throwing herself on the nursemaid’s body. She burst into tears, hugging her and kissing the pale forehead. “Ilona, wake up.”

  “Come, Xandi. Please, sweetheart.” Lily pulled the child to her feet, putting her arms around her and stroking the blond curls while Ruxanda continued sobbing.

  “Bring the crippled one here,” Vasili ordered. “The master wants him dead also.”

  Dan was pushed next to the twins. Jerking from his captor’s hands he glared at the man so viciously the soldat took a step away from him.

  “He’s no threat to Ravagiu,” Marek protested, knowing how Dan hated hearing that. “Spare him and our women.” He didn’t look at Lily or his little sister. Couldn’t. If the soldat realized how much he cared for them…

  “Don’t worry.” As if he’d read Marek’s thoughts, Vasili smiled. It was like seeing a snake bare its fangs. “We won’t harm the females. My master has something special planned for them.” Turning to a guard holding a bow, he nodded. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

  Taking an arrow from the quiver over his shoulder, the guard nocked it. He pulled the bowstring taut, aiming at Marek’s chest. He loosed the arrow.

  There was no way the archer could miss at that close range. Maek braced himself. The next instant he was sprawling on the floor as Lily’s body struck his, knocking him out of the soldati’s grasp and onto the stairs.

  With a soft, solid thud, the arrow buried itself in Lily’s chest, stopping her violent forward lunge. She fell to her knees, toppling onto the steps.

  Zoltan launched himself over the railing, his men following.

  Staggering to his feet, Marek threw himself at Ravagiu’s captain, fangs dropping to bury themselves in the soldat’s throat. He felt them grind against each other, severing arteries, sending blood spurting.

  Zoltan brought down the archer, snapping his neck. The twins and Dan turned on their guards. Grappling the sword from the hand of the soldat behind him, Dan twirled it around and plunged it to the hilt into the man’s belly, just below the rim of his armor.

  “Blestema!” Andrei stared at his cousin in surprise.

  “Andri, look out!” Dan looked past his shoulder.

  The warning made him whirl to face the lunge of the soldat who had held him. Dan raised his sword, meeting the onslaught of another of Ravagiu’s guard. Seizing the soldier’s arm, Andrei slung him against the wall, grabbed the dagger attached to his belt and cut his throat before the man could recover. The soldat crumpled onto the steps, hands clutching, vainly trying to staunch the spurting blood.

  Behind him, there was another liquid gurgle as Vlad dispatched his own captor. Andrei looked back in time to see his blood-soaked twin spit out a piece of tissue and wipe spatter from his mouth.

  “Couldn’t get his sword away from him,” Vlad explained.

  Marek’s yell made them look down the steps at their brother. Pulling away from Vasili’s body, and wrapping a hand in the fabric at the neck of his armor, he shook the dying soldat.

  “Where is he? Tell me so we can end this.”

  Vasili managed a blood-filled laugh choking into a throaty gurgle. His body jerked once and went still. With a roar of rage, Marek slung the body across the foyer. It struck the wall and fell in a sprawling tangle of broken wings and limbs as he ran to where Lily lay.

  “Lily...sweetheart.” He knelt, taking her in his arms, and looked up at Zoltan who staggered toward him. “How the Hell did this happen?”

  “The beer. As soon as my men were affected, I sent a messenger to the vintner. He denied the shipment had been sent.” Zoltan paused for breath. “He knew nothing of a new wagonmaster. I was on my way to warn you.”

  He stopped as he saw his master wasn’t listening.

  Lily’s hair had come loose from its combs. He brushed it back, kissing her forehead. His lips were moving, though no one could hear his words. Unmindful of the blood, he crushed her body against his chest, rocking back and forth in misery.

  “I thought we were so safe.” His whisper was anguished. “I never dreamed he’d use our own people. Lily, oh, gods...my crimson lily.”

  “Master.” Zoltan dared touch his shoulder.

  Marek stiffened, raising a face twisted in pain.

  For a shocking moment, it seemed he didn’t see Zoltan, his mismatched eyes held such a glaze of grief. “We should go after them.”

  Marek ignored him, staring at Lily’s dead face, the bloodless pallor of her skin. He touched her cheek.

  “My lord.” The captain raised his voice, forcing into it the authority commanding his men. “Don’t let your lady have died for naught. The wind hasn’t risen. The spoor will still be there.”

  “You’re right, Zoltan.” When Marek looked at him this time, there was sanity in his gaze. “Did any of Ravagiu’s men survive?”

  “One.” From across the courtyard, someone answered.

  Zoltan’s lieutenant dragged a bruised soldat to his feet. “We were waiting to give you the pleasure of killing him, master.”

  “I won’t kill him,” Marek replied. He got to his feet, reluctantly letting Lily’s body slide to the steps. “Let him go.”

  “Sir?”

  “I’m sending you back to your master with a message.” Marek directed his words to the soldat. “And a gift. Zoltan, get me Vasili’s head.”

  He waited while the captain walked over to the crumpled corpse, drew his sword and brought it down against the torn neck. Pulling the head from the body, he returned to Marek’s side, dripping blood onto the granite tiles.

  Marek nodded at the soldat. The lieutenant released the man and Zoltan thrust the head at him. Seizing it by the hair, the soldier gave Marek a stony look.

  “Tell your master this…Someday we’ll meet again and only one will fly away.”

  The soldat didn’t speak.

  “Get out of my sight and return to that monster calling itself a man.”

  Taking a step to the open doorway, the soldier looked around as if expecting to be stopped. When no one moved, he dashed for the outside. They heard the flapping of wings.

  Marek turned back to Zoltan.

  “Wait a few moments, then we’ll follow him. Andri, Vlad, arm yourselves.” His brothers selected weapons from those around them. “Dan?”

  His cousin looked up expectantly.

  “I’ve misjudged your ability, cousin, but must ask that you stay with Ruxanda...” He glanced at Lily’s body, then away. “…and my nurliu, until I return.”

  Without speaking, Dan came down the steps, kneeling beside Lily’s body as the twins reached their brother’s side. They were the only ones seeing the tear slide down Marek’s cheek as he looked away.

  “Let’s release our wings and go.” He reached up to rip off his shirt…

  …and disappeared.

  * * *

  Blinking, Marek put up a hand, shielding his eyes. He stood in the circle of light in the Domnitor’s court, its brightness making everything else in the chamber dim and shadowy.

  “Maiestate, please.” Acutely aware of his bloodied clothes, he didn’t try to hide his desperation. “I beg you, don’t call upon me now. My people, my castel have been attacked.”

  “Will you dare dictate when you will be summoned?” The Prince’s voice came at him from all sides, assaulting his ears with the concussion. “This is exactly the time. We know what has happened.”

  “Maiestate…” Marek looked up, trying to find the face accompanying the voice. All he could see was a blurred shape beyond the light.

  “You will be silent, Marek Strigoi, and listen.”

  Bowing, Marek obeyed, seething with impatience. He stared into the darkness, jaws clenched to keep from speaking his thoughts.

  I shouldn’t be here. I need to be at the castel, following that soldat’s spoor before it’s dispelled.

  “Tonight
’s action has made us realize as long as there is one member of your family living, this feud will continue,” the Prince went on. “This killing must end, Marek Strigoi.”

  “Lord, I agree, but…”

  “There has been too much loss of life, ghidaj, and that alone has forced us to make a decision.”

  “Another decision?” In his despair, Marek laughed, though the sound was close to tears. “It was your decision that sent my father to kill Mihnea Ravagiu. Your order making me cease my hunt for Ravagiu. If I’d been allowed to pursue him, it might be over now.”

  “You blame us for this attack?” An angry glow appeared in the darkness, highlighting a high-backed throne-chair and the massive figure seated upon it.

  “Yes, I do.” Marek tried to make his voice as steady as the Prince’s. “We’re innocents in this fight. We did nothing to provoke Ravagiu. It’s you, Maiestate, and your decisions, who are responsible for all who’ve died, not us.”

  “We allow your grief causes these ill-spoken words, Marek Strigoi.” The dark figure’s head inclined toward him, the voice once more emotionless, anger in check, though the sound seemed to come from between gritted teeth. “We show our mercy by not ordering your death for speaking to us so. We will order it, however, if you continue this useless feud with Mircea Ravagiu. You will renounce the sânge ravensa. We will have no more innocents slain in this vendetta. Our decision on that is made, and to ensure our subjects’ safety, you and your family are banished from the Decebral this night.”

  “You’re banishing us?” Marek was shaken by this injustice.

  “If your deaths are to come, let it be elsewhere.”

  “I’m your Taietor. Who’ll enforce your laws if I’m gone?”

  “Your successor has been chosen.”

  There was a movement within the shadows. A second circle of light appeared, the man standing in it looking around in bewilderment. He was in the act of dressing, one arm thrust into the sleeve of his coat.

  “Cézar?”

  “Marek?” His cousin gave him a confused stare.

  “We have relieved your kinsman of his charge, Cézar Strigoi,” the prince interrupted. “You are named our new Taietor.”

  Directing his gaze into the shadows as Marek had, Cézar finished putting on his coat, standing in stunned disbelief.

  “I’ve no anomaly.” In the silence his protest was a weak undertone. “This can’t be right.”

  “Marek Strigoi, you and your household will be gone from the Decebral before the sun rises.”

  “Maiestate, sunrise is only a few hours away and we’ve dead to tend. Surely, you won’t force us to leave them unburied.”

  “We are not totally unfeeling. Give your dead proper but swift burial. If you are still within the valley’s boundaries when the sun rises again, however…” The voice changed direction, the shadowy figure aiming his words at Marek’s cousin. “Cézar, Marek Strigoi and his family will be your first armate.”

  Stricken, Cézar looked at Marek. “Cousin, I’m sorry.”

  Marek’s only answer was a nod. There was a violent tugging on his left arm as the Domnitor’s symbol disappeared from his sleeve, reappearing on Cézar’s. His cousin touched the insignia, then let his hand drop to his side, resignation and acceptance in the movement. Turning his back on Marek, he bowed in the direction of the shadowy form.

  “Do not expect aid from anyone, Marek Strigoi, not from your kinsmen nor your devotats. We hereby declare any who seek to help you also included in your sentence.”

  Cézar and the Prince disappeared in a dazzle of darkness.

  Chapter 22

  Marek found himself on Castel Strigoi’s first story landing.

  “Marek?” Below him, Dan stopped midway up the stairs, Lily’s body in his arms, Zoltan beside him. “What happened? Where did you go?”

  “The Domnitor called for me.”

  “Damn. He doesn’t have an assignment for you now, does he?”

  “It was something quite different.” He couldn’t keep the irony from his words as he looked past Dan to the empty entryway, deliberately ignoring his beloved’s body. “What did you do with Ravagiu’s men?”

  “We dragged the bodies to the courtyard and burned them.”

  “The soldat.” Marek directed his next question to Zoltan. “Did you follow him?”

  “I failed, my lord.” The captain looked distressed. “I had him in sight and then a sudden wind came up. I was blown halfway back to the castel. By the time I recovered, he was gone and so was his spoor. I couldn’t find a trace.”

  Marek digested that fact before speaking again. He gestured at the bloodstained foyer.

  “Our own people? Where are they?”

  “We placed the bodies in the family crypt,” Dan answered. “I felt it best. I was just going to…take Lily there...” His voice broke.

  “Give her to me.” Marek started down the stairs, meeting his cousin halfway.

  Dan transferred Lily’s body into his arms. Her head fell against his shoulder.

  How many times have I held her this way? Carrying her to our bed when she fell asleep as we sat before the fire and talked?

  She might be asleep now, cradled in his arms, waiting for him to awaken her.

  Lily will never awaken. She’s gone. Forever. Marek tightened his grip. “Zoltan, wait for me here. Come, cousin.”

  He stepped into the corridor, leading the way to the crypt.

  * * *

  They had used every bit of floor-space, going deep into the recesses of the vault where it stretched under the castel proper. The bodies lay in orderly arrangement side by side, legs straight, arms crossed over their chests, coins placed upon their eyes…soldati, gardi, and deomi given honor in the burial place of their masters.

  Though the bodies of the nobles were housed in vaults in the walls, in the extreme back of the vault stood a single sepulcher, a large marble rectangle chiseled and carved with the Oracle’s ancient symbols and inscriptions. It was the tomb of another bearing the name Strigoi. There was no date for his birth nor the year in which he had died, only his name: Marek Strigoi

  Marek stalked to it.

  “Marek, look.” Dan pointed at the words. “He has your name.”

  “Or I have his.” Marek couldn’t suppress a shiver as he spoke.

  As children, he and the others weren forbidden by his father to enter the vault or investigate that isolated tomb so intriguing to the youngsters. After János’ death and burial, along with Anike’s, and the interment of little Károly’s bones, Marek avoided the place. Now, the white stone rectangle seem to mock him.

  Is this some reminder of our eventual mortality? The gods know we’ve seen enough of that this day. He placed Lily on the sepulcher’s surface.

  In the dimness, she seemed to be smiling, lips upturned slightly, the way they sometimes did while she slept, that gleaming fiery hair curled about her shoulders in beautiful disarray. He wanted to gathered those glorious locks in his hands, press his face against them, kiss her awake.

  “Goodbye, dearest lady.” Dan seized one of her hands, pressing his lips against her fingers. As he released it, he looked at Marek. “I’ll wait for you by the door.”

  Hand to his eyes, he walked back to the entrance.

  As Marek lifted Lily’s hand, the light from one of the wall torches reflected in the stone on her finger. It was a large amber cabochon swirling with shades of yellow and orange, one that had graced Anastazca’s finger, and later Anike’s. He had given it to Lily as to his wife. Sliding the ring off her finger, he tried to place it on his own. His hands were too big. The ring would only fit his little finger and even then, it had to be forced. He dropped it into his pocket.

  “I’ll keep this to remember you, my love…and what I’ve lost.” His vision blurred as he bent over her.

  I won’t weep. I’ll never again do that for anyone.

  Touching his mouth to Lily’s cold lips, he nearly convinced himself she responded. Then h
e straightened and walked to where Dan waited.

  I won’t look back. I’ll never think of her this way.

  Dan stood near the entrance, leaning against one of the heavy pillars supporting the ceiling. His head was bowed, hands pressed against his face, his body shaking with silent sobs. Marek placed a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything, letting him give vent to his grief. Soon the tremors stopped.

  Dan dropped his hands, snuffled slightly, and took a deep, shaky breath.

  “I’m sorry. I know you think me weak for giving way like that.” He avoided Marek’s eyes, looking at a darkened corner. “I loved her, Marek.”

  “We all loved Lily.”

  It looked as if his cousin would say more, but all he murmured was, “Yes. She was…” He fell silent, shaking his head.

  “Where are the others?” Marek felt it best not to allow either Dan or himself to give in to any more sorrow.

  “Upstairs in your sanctum. Waiting for you.”

  “Let’s go there.” Marek led the way up the stone stairs. “I’ve something to tell all of you.”

  * * *

  “But you’re the Taietor,” Vlad protested. “Who’ll carry out the Domnitor’s justice now?”

  “My successor’s already been chosen. Cézar.”

  “Cézar?” Andrei snorted. “He’ll get killed on his first assignment.”

  Marek shrugged. His cousin’s survival was the least of his worries.

  “For the gods’ sakes, why?” Dan burst out. “Why did he do this? It’s insane.”

  “Careful, master,” Sabine spoke from the shadows. “Those words could be construed as treasonous.”

  “Let them.” Dan’s voice rose. “I don’t give a damn.”

  “Dan, shut up.” Marek’s voice was quiet in contrast. “The walls may have ears.”

  Who knew what means Ciprian had at his disposal to spy on his subjects?

  His cousin whirled, staring at him. He was visibly trembling.

  “Calm down, both of you.” Surprisingly, it was Andrei who spoke.

  “It’s most odd the prince would be so unjust,” Sabine went on. “First refusing to continue his hunt for Ravagiu, then ordering you to cease your own searches, and now…”