by Michael Kerr
“How long is it since Pintello came through?” Fig asked.
“I ain’t very good with time,” Aubrey said. “But it can’t have been too long ago, or I’d have already forgotten. Trouble with bein’ a boid is, I’ve got a boid’s brain.”
“Don’t you keep a record of who comes in and out?” Ben asked.
“Oh, sure,” Aubrey said, lowering his neck to the ground and picking up a bark-covered book with his large beak.
Ben took it from him and opened it. The latest entry was for Pintello and Turquin. There was no date or time. Flipping back through the pages, Ben saw that the jester had passed through the door at least a dozen times. Ben closed the book and handed it back to Aubrey.
“There are no dates or times in the book,” Ben said.
“That’s ‘cause I never know what day it is, an’ time ain’t important,” Aubrey said.
“Do you know where Pintello and the dwarf went?” Fig asked.
“Yeah, that’s easy. There’s only one road here. It leads to the lake. But if ya try to get there, don’t travel at night.”
“Why not?” Tommy asked.
“ ‘Cause ya have to pass through the Land of the Vampires, who are the livin’ dead, an’ can only leave their lairs in darkness.”
“Can we get through this land in one day?” Sam asked.
Aubrey shook his head. “No, it’s a two day trip, kiddo. You’ll have to find somewhere to hide at night. But don’t go in caves. That’s where they hang out. Ha! That’s funny. They spend a lotta time as bats...Get it? Hang out. I shoulda been a comedian.”
They all smiled.
“Where do you suggest we hide?” Ben asked.
“Search me. I don’t go anywhere near ‘em. Just take plenny of wild garlic with ya. That’s what Pintello does.”
“Thanks, Aubrey. We’d best make a start,” Sam said. “Do you want to come with us? We’re going to try to get home from the Crossroads of Time. You might be able to get back to New York.”
“Thanks for the offer, but no thanks,” Aubrey said. “I’d only be locked up in the zoo again. Or treated like a freak an’ sold to a circus. I don’t wanna be known as Aubrey the Talkin’ Ostrich.”
They signed Aubrey’s gate book, said goodbye to him, and set off along the winding road, stopping once to pick garlic, that Gorf sniffed out in a meadow. Later, as the light failed, they found the ruins of an old cottage. It looked as if it had been burned down. The roof was missing, and only a few charred beams remained over a shell of crumbling, blackened walls.
Speedy discovered a trapdoor under the thick ash and clay tiles that littered the rotting floor. The steps leading down into the cellar beneath it creaked and groaned under their weight, but did not give way. They checked every inch of the room for bats or anything else that might be a vampire in disguise, but found nothing.
Tommy split open a bulb of the garlic and wiped it on his face and neck, and the others followed suit.
“Wipe some on me, too,” Pook said to Tommy. “I’d rather smell bad than end up sucked dry in my sleep.”
“You can all get some rest,” Gorf said. “I’ll stand guard.”
“Just don’t invite anyone or anything inside, Gorf,” Tommy said. “Vampires have to be made welcome, or they can’t enter people’s homes.”
“But this isn’t our home,” Ben said. “They might not need permission to come in here.”
“A wooden stake through the heart kills them,” Tommy said. “So if one did attack us, Gorf could shoot it with an arrow. That might work just as well.”
“What if real vampires aren’t bothered by garlic, or can’t be killed by stakes and stuff?” Sam said. “They aren’t real in our world, remember, just fiction.”
“We have to believe that they are as we think of them. It’s all we can do,” Tommy said.
It was a very long and cold night in the cellar. Something howled in the distance. And a little later they heard a scrabbling of feet or claws on the floor above them.
As soon as the first rays of the sun filtered through holes and cracks, they went back up the stairs to leave the ruins of the cottage and set off again, walking fast.
For mile after mile they followed the dirt road, not even stopping when they drank water. The scenery around them was gloomy and full of shadows. The road led them through a mountain pass, and the tall, pointed cliffs that rose on either side were as black as coal. The sky was grey, and large vultures or buzzards circled high above them. There was no sound, other than when they spoke to each other, which wasn’t often.
By mid afternoon, racks of dark clouds gathered over them and it started to rain. At first it was just a fine drizzle, but the wind picked up and the rain became heavier and was blown almost sideways at them. They were soon in the middle of a raging storm. The thunder sounded like bombs exploding, and jagged forks of lightning lit the sky. One bolt struck a nearby tree, splitting it in two and making the ground shake.
“We’ll have to stop,” Fig shouted. “It’s too dangerous to carry on.”
“Where?” Ben yelled back at the top of his voice, to be heard above the pounding rain.
They leaned forward and forced themselves onward against the lashing gale that threatened to knock them off their feet and blow them backwards. Being the biggest and heaviest, Gorf led the way, and the others stayed in single file behind him, sheltered a little from the worst of the weather. Gorf’s wide, webbed feet helped him to keep his balance. He was used to trudging through sandstorms, and so was not too bothered about wind and rain. All that did worry him a little was the lightning. It was crashing down like crooked silver spears, and he knew that if one or all of them was hit, then they would be instantly killed.
Minutes later, Sam pulled at the back of Gorf’s tunic. “Look,” she shouted, pointing to a building that resembled a small castle, not built from bricks, but carved out of the black rock face.
Gorf shook his head. “There might be vampires inside,” he said.
“We only need to stay until the storm passes,” Sam argued.
Gorf thought about it and decided that it was worth the risk. He was not sure what a vampire was, but was sure that he was strong enough to overcome one. He headed towards where stone steps led up to the entrance. The door at the top of them was shut but not locked. They hurried inside, and Gorf closed it behind them.
The large central hall had doorways leading off it on both sides. And in front of them was a magnificent wide staircase leading up into the darkness. Every surface was covered in dust an inch thick, and cobwebs hung like rotting ship’s rigging from the ceiling.
Sam walked over to the first doorway on her left. Through it was a large room with furniture covered in damp sheets spotted with mould. And the thick flock wallpaper was coming away from the walls and curling down. She went over to a stone fireplace that was taller than Gorf.
“We should light a fire,” she said. “We need to get dry and warm.”
“We need to get away from here,” Tommy said. “I bet this is where the vampires live.”
“It doesn’t look as if anyone has lived here for a hundred years,” Ben said. “Look at all the dust and cobwebs. It’s deserted.”
Tommy shivered. “Don’t bet on it. This is probably Dracula’s castle.”
“Dracula was just made up by some writer,” Ben said.
“You hope. Don’t forget we’re in Weirdworld, where anything can happen.”
“Let’s dry off, and then we can search the place,” Sam said. “If there are any vampires, we’ll leave. But if there aren’t, we should stay the night.”
For a fire, they broke up a couple of chairs for kindling, and Gorf used two arrowheads to strike together and make sparks to set light to a page that Ben ripped from one of the many leather-bound books he found in a bookcase that filled one wall.
“Downstairs first,” Sam said when they were warm and a little drier. “There must be cellars. That’s where any bloodsuckers’ll be.”
Gorf tore a long strip off one of the curtains, wrapped and tied it to the end of a chair leg, and smeared the material with some of the goose fat he had kept to polish his bow with. It made a fine torch. As usual, he went first. They found a door under the staircase, which led down into an enormous vaulted crypt. In it, scores of stone shelves lined the walls, and on each one was a wooden coffin.
“See,” Tommy whispered. “I was right. This is headquarters of Vampires-R-Us.”
“Let’s open one,” Sam said, walking over to the nearest coffin. “I want to see what they look like.”
The lid was not nailed or screwed down, and so Sam pushed it back very slowly, ready to jump away if anything inside it moved.
Puffs of dust rose into the air as the lid creaked back. And By the light of Gorf’s torch they all looked in at the remains that rested on a layer of dark soil at the bottom of the coffin. The skeleton inside was not going to harm anyone. Someone had driven a thick wooden stake through its ribs, over where its heart would have been. The skull appeared to be human, but the two large and pointed fangs set in its top jaw were definitely not. They checked every single coffin. All of them contained skeletons which had stakes through them; embedded in the soil they rested on.
We’re safe,” Tommy said. “They’re all dead.
“Not all of them,” a raspy voice said from the doorway behind them.
They swung round to be confronted by a hideous sight.
The vampire was tall and extremely thin. It had wispy, silver hair, its ears were large and crinkly like cabbage leaves, and its eyes and thin lips were the same white as the parchment-thin skin that was stretched tightly over its skull.
Ben took a step forward and threw a handful of garlic bulbs at it.
“What did you do that for?” the vampire asked him.
“It’s garlic,” Ben said. “You’re supposed to cringe away from it.”
“Why?”
“Well, er, because vampires are allergic to garlic.”
“I didn’t know that. I’ve heard we don’t like crosses and stuff. But most of what is believed is not true.”
Gorf raised his bow. He wasn’t about to stand and talk all day with an undead monster that probably intended to try and drink their blood. He fired, and the arrow hit the vampire exactly where he supposed its heart would be. The wooden shaft sank almost up to the feathered flight, but the vampire just frowned, then raised a large hand with veins like ropes on the back of it and plucked the arrow out with two-inch-long, curved fingernails. It examined the arrow and shook its head. “Wrong sort of wood, I’m pleased to say. You need a particular type of mountain ash, which has been seasoned for seven years and steeped in holy water by at very least a bishop. But why did you do it? You don’t even know me.”
“We know that you’re a vampire,” Sam said. “And that you drink blood.”
“Not entirely true, young lady. I can’t stand the stuff. That’s why I’m a little anaemic looking. I eat a little meat, but blood gives me terrible indigestion.”
“Are you Count Dracula?” Pook asked.
“No. He was slain a very long time ago. My name is Charlie. Who are you?”
Sam introduced them, and Gorf apologised for shooting Charlie.
“No harm done. Let’s go upstairs,” Charlie said. “This place gives me the creeps, with all these coffins and bones.”
“Don’t you sleep down here during the day?” Tommy asked.
“Not likely, Tommy. I spend most days up in the attic. It has a great view of the mountains. I stopped sleeping in a coffin many years ago, before the vampire hunters came here and killed all the others. I think I must have claustrophobia. I can’t stand being cooped up in small spaces. I use a regular bed, and have thick drapes up at the windows to keep out the sunlight.”
Back upstairs, they took the sheets off the settees and chairs and made themselves comfortable.
Charlie felt a little dizzy, due to it not quite being completely dark. But with the storm clouds blanketing the sun, and being inside, he thought he would be okay.
“What do you do, if you don’t go out sucking people’s blood, Charlie?” Tommy asked.
“I spend the days reading, painting, and writing. And at night I sometimes change into a bat and fly around with a local bunch I know. Or I turn into a wolf and jog through the woods with a pack that moved into the area last year.”
“Don’t you ever get lonely?” Sam asked.
“Sometimes,” Charlie said. “But it goes with the patch.”
“Why don’t you come with us on our journey, Charlie?” Pook said.
“It would be too awkward, having to stay covered up all day. And this is my home. I belong here.”
“Maybe if you wore shades and slapped a strong sun block on your face and hands, you could go out in daylight,” Tommy suggested, then explained what shades and sun block were, when Charlie looked blank.
“Too risky, Tommy. If one ray of sun touched me, I’d be toast.”
As they spoke, a large moth flew into the room and began to circle one of the torches that Charlie had lit and placed in holders on the walls. He furled his black cape around himself, changed into a bat, and flew up to wrap his leathery wings around the insect and eat it. When he turned back into a vampire, he was chewing, and the end of one of the moth’s wings was sticking out from between his lips.
“I thought you didn’t like blood?” Ben said.
Charlie shrugged. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I can’t resist moths. And they don’t have blood like yours. They’re very creamy, a little like marshmallow inside.”
“You’ve got a leg on your chin,” Speedy told him.
Charlie found it with his tongue and popped it into his mouth. “Thanks,” he said. “Are you all hungry? Would you like some fresh deer meat, or maybe some fox head stew?”
“The meat sounds good,” Gorf said. But the others shook their heads.
As Gorf carved himself large slices of raw venison from the side of deer that Charlie had fetched from another part of the castle, the rest of them talked.
“We’re on our way to the Lake of Life,” Sam said. “But first we need to find a jester called Pintello. Do you know if he passed this way, Charlie?”
“A small man with an even smaller companion went by before dawn,” Charlie said. “Does that sound like who you are looking for?”
“Yes,” Sam said. “He’s stolen something from us, and we have to get it back.”
“May I ask what he took from you?”
“A cup made of gold,” Ben said. “It’s a chalice, and it’s magical. If the Dark One gets hold of it, then everything good that exists might cease to be.”
“I’m afraid you may be too late,” Charlie said. “for the town of Ujimar stands on the shore of the lake. It’s a place where all sorts of thieves and murderers trade in stolen property, and will kill for the price of a tankard of ale. It is likely that this Pintello has already reached there and sold the chalice to the highest bidder.”
“I can’t believe we’ve come all this way for nothing,” Sam said.
Charlie looked thoughtful. “Perhaps not. It’s dusk. I shall change into a bat again and fly over the mountains in the direction of town. Maybe I’ll come across this jester, and might be able to retrieve your gold cup.”
“Thank you, Charlie,” Sam said. “We’ll set off now and meet you on the road.”
Gorf opened the castle door, and Charlie, having shape shifted into a bat, flew off in pursuit of the two thieves.
― CHAPTER THIRTEEN ―
UNLUCKY FOR SOME
Pintello was not scared of vampires, for he was much more than a jester. He was part demon, and brought bad luck wherever he went. Turquin was also a demon, but was not very bright, since being kicked in the head by a unicorn when trying to cut the hair from its magic tail when he was a child.
“We shall trade this chalice for a sack full of diamonds, go to another world and live like royalty
for the rest of eternity,” Pintello said as they strolled along the middle of the road. “Maybe somewhere with warm seas, white sandy beaches and palm trees.”
Pintello knew how priceless the chalice was. How the human girl had come by it was of no interest to him. All that mattered was that he had felt the power of it emanating from her bag when he had been sitting behind her at the tournament. Being a gifted magician and pickpocket had made stealing it a simple task. He had leaned forward to talk to the strangers, and while they were listening to him, had used one hand to untie the flap of her bag, remove the cup and pass it to Turquin.
He smiled to think that they would never know who had robbed them. They would search Chimera for it, while he got rich and vanished to a new world.
A bat swooped down, flew past them, and then circled and landed on the road twenty paces ahead.
“Do you think it’s wounded?” Turquin asked as the bat moved jerkily towards them, using the claws on its leathery wing tips to pull itself along.
“I think it will be more than wounded when I crunch it under my shoe,” Pintello said.
Before he could take another step, the bat swelled up, to change into a tall, pale-faced figure in a long black cape.
Pintello reached into a pocket and took out some of the garlic he had picked just in case this sort of thing happened. “Best you turn back into a bat and fly away vampire,” he said. “Or else I might lose patience and use a little garlic and demonic power to ruin your evening.”
“And you’d best be warned that your garlic or ungodly mischief will not work on me,” Charlie said. “Give me the gold chalice you stole, or face the consequences and prepare to be sucked as dry as salt.”
Pintello laughed. “Do your worst. My demon blood would choke and poison you in an instant.”
Charlie believed him. The mad glint in the jester’s eyes was not wholly human, or like any other normal life form. He decided to be extremely careful.
The rain had stopped, but thick cloud drifted over the sharp peaks of the mountains and cut off the light from the rising moon. And as it did, Charlie drew his cape around himself and became as black as the night, invisible to his enemies.