by Hall, Ian
“Word has gotten out that the youngest Lucescu has recovered from the blood fever,” Ivan reported as if glad news. “Your family’s holdings have already been the subject of much discussion, the spoils of the Lucescu estate greatly coveted. You will need to stake your claim and position as head of this household without delay, Tomas. You will make your showing at the craft hall tomorrow. We’ll ride at sunrise.”
“Sunrise?!” I rebuked heartily, “So I should burn up and turn to dust as the first ray touches me? All your mighty efforts would be for naught, fool.”
Indeed, Ivan’s reputedly fantastic memory had failed him. Much to the dismay of my mother, and embarrassment of my father, I had come into the world severely allergic to sunlight. Skin bleached and thin as paper, not even the finest down of hair to buffer, I stood defenseless against the sunshine of the day. For all my twenty-one years, I had been sequestered to skulk in shadows. And now this harbinger of Satan meant to lure me into the light.
“You will find yourself quite healed of that affliction as well, Tomas. I should dare say – you will find yourself remarkably indestructible in this new incarnation. Even your dramatic attempt at starvation will not satisfy your unfortunate death wish. ”
“Depart from me, Devil, and take your forked tongue with you!”
“In due time, you will learn, Tomas.”
Ivan did leave me then with a swift pivot of his heel and no further lies. Alone with the rank of rotting meat mixing with the nectar of fresh blood, my hunger pangs began to roil anew. Soon my body trembled, sides splitting to feed.
Like a dark temptress casting a spell, the fragrance enveloped me. I heeded its call, first sinking my dripping canines into the fresh kill, draining every drop of blood from the tissues. Then I devoured the raw flesh, mashing the un-softened muscle to pulp.
And yet my hunger remained, whipping me to frenzy. I proceeded to the next platter, and the next, tearing chunks of rancid meat and throwing them down my gullet, parasites and all.
The darkness within me had won its first victory.
Adamant that he would burn, Tomas wrapped himself in the thickest of fur coats. The usual retinue could not be managed, but twenty proud Zaporozhian Cossacks rode with us; ten in front, ten behind. Although Tomas had buried his head in books for the last ten years, he still knew how to ride, and we cantered along the road at a good pace.
The citadel town of Moshny soon lay behind us, and still no response from the boy. I rode in silence, and watched him blot his dripping brow with the thick sleeve of his fur. Summer on the Steppes is a fantastic time, and the sun did us proud that day. Before we knew, the craft halls were showing in the east, and the sun, now high above, burned my forehead.
“It’s fine to get out, isn’t it, Tomas?” I said, my slight smile belying my roar of laughter inside.
“What do we seek to find at the craft halls?” he demanded, little but a set of thin lips behind a heavy hood.
At last he showed interest, I hoped he realized that he now ruled Moshny, and much of the surrounding country. “Your father used to buy much of the leather tack made by the men of Kiev. They are much prized for their workmanship.”
Tomas nodded, then neared his horse to mine. “And this new hunger of mine?”
“You force it down,” I replied. “You force it down till it’s a speck under your shoe.”
“Easier said than done, Vizier Vyhovsky.”
As we neared the building, I saw a good many horses already corralled outside. “One thing I will warn you of. The other families will take their aim at your new position. Don’t let them tempt you to a duel. Keep your temper in check, make some good purchases, and let them see how the House of Lucescu still conducts business.”
Inside, there were fewer attendees than usual, the blood sickness had ravaged the Cossacks, and the reduced number was understandable. To my pleasure, Tomas bought well, taking a nod from me once or twice, and even bargaining some good prices from the thieves of Kiev.
Three families were disdainful of the new Lucescu, and I noted them for later; Boran Pugachev of the Igmars, Yermak Ifkoshev of the Lugar men, and of course, our old favorite enemy; Azov Kuban of the eastern Tatars.
The men had never been our friends in any of the councils, and their remarks had not raised a hackle with me.
Once we were out in the sunshine again, I announced a hunt, and the whole detachment rode through the forest in a line, hoping to flush out a deer, or even a bear.
As we rode, hand on the reins, I even saw Tomas smile.
The ride in the open air enchanted me, despite my heavy covering. My head I kept down, away from the sun, but the breeze still licked my face soothingly.
Ivan announced the hunt and, like soldiers to battle, the entire complement trotted toward the plush canopy. With the forest as my shield, I at last shed the cumbersome fur and felt a pleasant chill as the sweat evaporated off my body. Keenly, my enhanced hearing picked up the grumbles of some of our complement. I pulled my horse astride Ivan’s, talking only for his ears.
“They find my appearance disturbing,” I said.
He looked all-too pleased with himself. “Were you unaware of the mystery surrounding the fable of the youngest Lucescu son, Tomas? Always kept from view, there has long been much speculation about you.”
I let the revelation seep in; like the sunlight, it dealt a potent sting. True, I had been confined to the holdings of my father’s lands, attended solely by the most trusted household staff and free to wander the grounds only at nightfall. Never did I suspect the nature of my condition had caused such musings among the townsfolk; a fact those close to me had kept hidden.
“It is good that you are something of a mystery to them, Tomas,” Ivan suggested with a confidential tone. “It will keep them on their toes; they will not know what to expect. As for your appearance…they will grow accustomed.”
I wondered at that. My own mother had never grown comfortable to my bizarre attributes; even seeking to protect me from the disgrace of my own reflection. All mirrors had been removed from the east wing of the house that I may never have to look upon the disease of my pallor. But, she could not keep my pale eyes from seeing; a basin of water, a well-polished spoon; through these I caught glimpses of my odd features. This fact I kept from the mistress of Lucescu estate, knowing it would only trouble her further.
Leaving me little time to ponder, the most experienced trackers among us pulled his horse up to the front of the line and quickly dismounted. Ivan reined his horse to a halt and the rest of us followed suit.
To my chagrin, the tracker reported to Ivan. “Bear – due west,” he announced, pointing to invisible imprints in the soft ground. “The forest grows thicker that direction; we should tether the horses and continue on foot.”
A thrill came over me as another of our party outfitted me with bow and full quiver. This would be my first opportunity to show the men Tomas Lucescu was more robust than he appeared. I was an excellent shot and my eyesight quite remarkable in limited lighting. Surely, were I to bring down a spectacular kill, my standing would heighten dramatically.
Ivan pulled me by the elbow. “Easy, Tomas. Victor will take the lead.”
Victor indeed! With much resentment I allowed not only Victor but the full band to push ahead of me into the dense wood. My inability to thwart Ivan’s commands became increasingly aggravating; I believe he knew full-well the ownership he possessed over my will. I resolved quietly to myself to find a way to break this peculiar bond.
Nevertheless, I found myself trailing the others, Ivan flanking me on the left, his own bow and quill at the ready. Before long, the spindly trees grew so thick there was barely the breadth of a man’s shoulder’s between them. Ivan, my keeper, had no choice but to fall back; at last I enjoyed some autonomy.
Up ahead, I smelled the musty scent of wet bear. The awning of branches became even thicker. I lost sight of Victor and most of the others and knew full-well they would converge on the mar
k before I ever got within eye line of him. My opportunity to prove myself would then be lost; I might forever be the peculiar weakling with no manhood to speak of.
I set my will against Ivan’s and increased my pace. Like a rush of wind, I sped past the others. The trees bent to my passing. Only a scattering of broken limbs remained in my wake.
The bear sensed my coming and rose to its full, enormous height. Its massive arms opened as if to welcome me to a dance. I smiled at the bold invitation and let my arrow fly. A clean hit, dead center of its chest, but the beast did not fall. Instead it advanced on me, snout curled back in a ferocious snarl.
I felt my own lip peel, my own fangs sharpen, and I flung at it in a crushing embrace. My claws tore at the bear’s side, peeling flesh like the rind of an orange. Once the fresh blood gushed, my fury could not be stopped. I mauled it with such viciousness, that by the time my mind returned to me, the bear’s stomach lay open, ribs broken and torn asunder, it’s bloody heart in my hands.
And then I feasted. Its blood warmed and energized me. I had never before felt so alive, so powerful. So immersed in the feeding, my wits utterly failed me.
Victor’s swift arrow struck my neck square-on. Fangs wet, I turned on him, snapping the arrow from my neck like a twig. Human blood, I found, tasted even more intoxicating than anything animal. As I sucked on his artery, I tasted intellect, cunning, indeed the man’s very soul, in a liquid rush down my throat.
Engorged, I lifted my head to find the remainder of our party lying like wreckage over the forest floor. Ivan stood above them, great anguish in his eyes.
“You fool! You left me no choice!” he bellowed. “They had seen you for what you are.”
What a waste. Twenty of the best men the family boasted, all survivors of the plague, had perished, at my hands, in the blink of a human eye.
Tomas stood above Victor, his clothes covered in blood. The arrow still skewered his neck, the white swan feathered flights tucked under his chin.
And for what? A goblet or two of bear blood? Hardly worth one single death, never mind twenty.
I looked at the mess I had created. Twenty men had died, but at least the secret lay safe, Tomas could still return to Moshny. I cursed the Order under my breath, the lack of training given to me, the lack of foresight. Easy for them to see the plague an unforeseen variable, but they might have prepared me better for the act of turning.
Tomas, still crouched over Victor, obviously caught in two minds; he had gorged on the bear, but now had tasted the sweeter juice of human blood. “Be still,” I counseled, trying to come up with a convincing story for the townsfolk. “Fight the feeling. Push it deep inside.”
“Don’t you smell it?” he asked, advancing on the nearest fallen. “Can’t you feel it pulling you?”
“Enough!” I roared. The word fell flat in the forest, but Tomas did stand still. I walked to his side. “Was the order to stay behind so difficult to carry out?”
“You wanted to deny me my prize!” Tomas’s neck muscles strained at his protest.
I took him by the shoulders and shook him severely. “You ignorant whelp! I put you behind to protect you from assassins! You are the foremost Lucescu! And yet you forge ahead out of greed?” I reached behind his head and broke the arrow at the nape of his neck. Tomas did not flinch.
“I ran to protect my standing. To be first to the kill.”
I carefully pulled the fletching through his neck. “You would have done well to heed my orders,” I said slowly. Blood pumped twice from the open wound, then stemmed.
He grabbed the bloody stalk of the arrow from me and cast it aside. “I am Tomas Lucescu, the last Romanian Cossack! I take orders from no one!” he spat in my face.
My temper had overflowed. Despite my life’s work, Tomas seemed reckless enough to throw it away in an instant. I slapped him with the back of my hand. He reeled and toppled over, landing near the remnants of the bear.
“Right at this instant, you’re nothing more than a petulant child!” My bellow seemed to find some mark in Tomas; he flinched, and did not rise. “My order has strove to put a Lucescu in the Hetmanate for many years! The plague has almost struck the Romanian Cossacks from the Steppes, and your selfish actions will finish the job! You have to grasp the situation here, Tomas, or you will be the source of your own downfall!”
I started to walk among the slain. “Help me here, it must look like there has been a fight, and the victors have taken spoils.”
Reluctantly Tomas helped me arrange the bodies in such a manner that it looked like an ambush. We stripped some of the bodies, and threw the weapons away. I counted the bodies, but dismay hit when I only got to eighteen.
“Count them, Tomas!” I snapped. “Quickly!”
Together, we faced each other, united in our count. Eighteen.
“Oh, the heavens,” I said, putting my face in front of his. “If word has got back to Moshny, we are ruined!”
Ivan and I made our retreat back to the Lucescu Keep under the cloak of nightfall. The moon had always been my faithful lantern and it shone brightly to light our path home. Though no one followed, we lashed our horses to a thunderous gallop, expending them until their mouths foamed and legs gave.
Gregory rushed from the stable in a tither, waving a horse brush as if it were a cudgel. “Mr. Tomas! What’ve you done to her?”
“Highwaymen; they converged from the south,” I spouted. “It was all we could do to outrun them.”
He dropped the brush and fell to one knee beside the gelding. Stardust had been a favorite of the stableman’s; indeed she had been my sole companion on many a midnight ride. I stroked her silver mane as an impassioned Gregory doted over her like a lover.
“Gregory!” Ivan snapped, stepping over his own mount like so much rubble. “Prepare me a fresh horse.”
His demand ignored, Ivan’s fury from the forest redoubled. He rounded on the stout stableman, pulling him up by the nape of the neck as if he were made of rags. Gregory’s boots flailed some four inches off the ground.
Ivan’s inflection sounded severely monotone, “Prepare me a fresh horse.”
He dropped the stableman to his feet and Gregory spared no second glance to Stardust as he ran off to do Ivan’s bidding. I kept to my horse, comforting her with the soft brush upon her fine, black coat.
“I must return to the Order at once,” Ivan said to the air, “tell them of your thoughtless indiscretion; they will know how to contain the situation.”
I did not pay him the slightest acknowledgment.
“You will confine yourself to the holdings,” he continued. “If any should come for you – do not stand against them. Keep hidden; I’m sure Apostol entrusted you with the whereabouts of his secret rooms?”
Still I kept to my task of ministering to my fallen friend.
Ivan came at me then, smacking the brush from my hand and locking my head between iron clutches, “Do not be fooled, boy – your survival is far more dependent on the Order than the Order dependent on your survival. You could be plucked from history, unmissed and forgotten, and the still the Order will continue. If you do not reverse this trend of idiocy, I will crush you under my heel and another will be selected to rise in your place.”
He released his hold. I tried my jaw for good measure and found it still quite mobile. My abhorrence for the man welled over in a bitter, hate-filled, grin.
“And what will become of you, Ivan, once the Order learns how badly you have chosen? It might be you who gets crushed under heel.” I allowed a laugh at his expense. “Surely your feeble attempt at controlling me will be the subject of much discussion when the Order is notified that I disobeyed your direct command.”
Ivan shook his head despondently. “That should not have been possible.”
“For a vampire worth his salt, perhaps not; my failure tonight only underscores your own.”
His posture stiffened in a useless show of dominance, a comical sketch, derivative of the bear. I rose to mi
mic his stance, waiting for him to decide how far he would push. For what seemed an eternity the two of us remained posed, eye-to-eye; a pissing contest unworthy of our high positions. However, neither of us was inclined to back down. Nor did Ivan seem in a hurry to test my defiance.
Gregory returned to us with the reins of an erratic stallion for Ivan in one hand and a soaked sponge for Stardust in the other. Timidly, he handed possession of the horse with a rehearsed disclaimer.
“Bruno here was all I could have at the ready under such short notice; he’s been fed, brushed, and freshly shoed.”
Ivan took the leather straps with a look of regret and apology for the stableman. “He’ll do nicely, Gregory.”
“Not quite broken, Mr. Ivan. You may be in for a rough ride.”
I did not attempt to hide my glee over Gregory’s choice of mount for the superior Ivan Vyhovsky. Bruno came easily by bridle and for the promise of sugar cubes; but attempt to mount the creature and calm him turned to calamity. Watching Ivan bucked and trampled would make for delightful entertainment.
Predictably, Ivan’s conceit betrayed him. “I believe I can manage.”
Gregory nodded acquiescently and knelt to squeeze cool water from the sponge through Stardust’s lips. Her breathing had already begun to slow; I suspected she would recover.
Ivan placed his boot in stirrup. Bruno’s neck shook a resounding “NO!”
“You may want to walk him a few paces before mounting – perhaps until you get to the road outside the gate; let him get to know you,” Gregory offered congenially and without looking up.
“Good suggestion, Gregory. I will do that.”
Right then I appreciated the malodourous yet coy stableman. Ivan’s misfortune would befall him when he and Bruno were quite alone, void of bystander or assistance. Though I would be unable to witness the tragedy first-hand, I would wait anxiously for the sad news to reach my bedchamber in the morning.