“No. It is not mine. See the smithy's signature mark here?” Riddick pointed to an engraving.
Val and Elijah looked closer. The letter ‘V’ was elegantly inscribed where the sharp edge met the handle.
“You would think a vampire crafted this,” Elijah said. “It is far too nice a sword for this bunch. They must have stolen it.”
A vampire smithy — Teller! Val thought. “Where did this sword come from?” She could not hide the eagerness in her voice.
Riddick spun the handle of the sword around in his hand and examined it further with his expert and critical eye. “There are no other markings. I can’t tell where it came from.”
As soon as the local smithy opened for business the next morning, Vallachia entered the small steamy shop.
“Please, sir, can you tell me anything about this sword?” She handed him the weapon.
The man inspected it briefly and frowned. “Aye, it is made in Targoviste. As are many of the swords in these parts.”
Vallachia’s heart jumped into her throat. It very well could be Teller! “Would you be so kind as to tell me how to find the smithy who made this?”
The man sighed. “He owns the largest smithy shop in all of Targoviste. You can’t miss him.”
“Thank you very much!” She almost hugged the man but refrained. Could it be? Could Teller have made this very sword? Could he be in Targoviste now?
As she turned to leave, she overheard the man muttering to himself, “Damn that smithy. He has stolen yet another customer from me.”
It took some convincing but Elijah and Riddick eventually agreed to accompany Val to Targoviste. They were not about to let her go alone and they knew she would go with or without them for protection.
“We have been through this before, My Lady,” Riddick said. “You need to forget about this fellow.”
Elijah was also less than thrilled with the idea of looking for Teller.
“I am terribly sorry, Elijah but I must know if it is Teller who made this sword. This is the first clue I have gotten in a very long time. I need to know if he is well.”
Vallachia enjoyed seeing Targoviste again. It truly had not changed much since she was young. The first people they encountered gladly pointed in the direction of the largest — and the only — smithy shop in Targoviste. Apparently, all smithies had to work in this shop, as it was the only place in the city that produced metalworks. Vallachia wandered off the main street and up to the front counter. She struggled to suppress her excitement. What if Teller works here? She frowned. What if he does not? She tried not to panic at this last thought.
“Pardon me,” Val said to the two men behind the counter. “Does a smithy by the name of Teller work here?”
“Teller? No ma’am. I have never heard of anyone by that name.”
Val deflated, like someone draining a water-skin. “Who do you work for?”
“That would be Vlad, Madam.”
That explains the ‘V’ on the extraordinary sword Riddick found. “May I have a word with him?”
“Afraid not. He is out at the moment.”
The two men behind the counter looked identical. They had to be twins or at least brothers who were very close in age. It was the other one who spoke, “He is most likely with one of his mistresses. He sneaks out around mid-day ’cause he knows their husbands will most likely be away.”
The other man gave his brother a disapproving glare. “Shut that flapping mouth of yours, Costel. Do not speak of the master like that in front of customers.”
This confirmed it for Vallachia — the man they were speaking of was not Teller. He would not seduce married women.
“We can give him a message for you.”
“That won’t be necessary. I must have the wrong man and I must be leaving town. Thank you for your time.” I may never find Teller, she thought. She struggled against the darkness that threatened to consume her, as she headed back to Riddick and Elijah who were keeping a watchful eye on her from down the street. Elijah looked relieved when Val shook her head no, indicating that she did not find Teller. Val could not help but rub at the pain in her constricted chest.
The three old companions weaved their way through the streets as they left town.
Vlad rounded a corner and caught an unusual scent. It differed from the scent of humans. For some reason Sergiu came to mind. Yet, it was not Sergiu’s scent. It must be other vampires, he thought. He followed the scent, rounding corner after corner but there was no one in sight. I must be hallucinating. What am I doing wasting time? I must be getting back to the shop. I’ll be working late as it is to fill that order from Constantinople.
Meanwhile, Vallachia took flight from the woods not far from her lost love.
Chapter 26 Wallachia 1354 A.D
Over the decades leading up to 1354, Vlad grew bored and restless. With no other vampires around he was often alone. Sergiu visited at least once every couple of years, yet never stayed more than a month’s time. Once he had deemed that Vlad was doing well, he would disappear again. After his random visits Vlad would feel even worse — more alone and trapped than ever. Sergiu would invite him to accompany him on his travels but Vlad had to man the shop. After all, it must be run properly. Targoviste was his home — or was it his prison?
Vlad could not have human companions for any length of time as their questions about his agelessness were difficult to answer. He was forced to keep people at arm's length. It was increasingly difficult to pretend to be human in this ageless body. There were no more responsibilities for Darius’s family. There was nothing he wanted to spend his ever-accumulating wealth on. And the worst part was that he was no closer to getting Vallachia back. He felt like a hollow vessel endlessly pounding away on red hot metal. It no longer brought him pleasure, neither did his latest mistress.
Vlad was bound to the smithy shop. By the summer of 1354 this downward spiral had led to sloppy feeding habits. Instead of going across town to feed, he often killed closer to the shop, leaving the bodies in the street instead of burying them.
Teller also became less choosy about whom he killed. Initially he had only fed on the occasional drunkard, who often went unmissed in the city. Now he would feed on anyone. Upon awakening he would be dazed. He did not care. Maybe the Court will come for me and end this miserable life? Maybe Vallachia will finally find me? He often dreamt of her walking into the shop. Her face was radiant and beamed even brighter when she would see him. He dreaded waking from those dreams.
It was an unusually warm fall night in 1354 when Vlad woke to the sound of an angry mob making its way to his manor. He shook his head to clear it. By the time the men arrived, Vlad stood on his front porch leaning against a column. This is going to be fun. Perhaps in number they will have the strength to kill me — I hope.
A group of a hundred men surrounded the front of Vlad’s home in a half circle. They were chanting “Killer, Killer.” Many were armed with swords or spears. Vlad had no weapons about his person and wanted none.
“There he is — Vlad! He has not aged a single day,” one elderly man yelled.
Then a man Vlad had fired from the shop for being indolent, yelled, “He has the strength of ten men. I have seen it myself, the way he can sculpt metal — it’s not natural.”
Vlad slowly moved down the front steps with the usual confident and sarcastic grin on his face. It was the expression of a man who had nothing to lose.
“He is responsible for the deaths. I know it!” another man yelled.
As Vlad approached the mob, the men nervously stepped back.
One daring man stepped forward and said, “Vlad, come with us peacefully. You are to be held accountable to the people for the recent murders around town.”
Vlad’s smile broadened. “Come and get me then.”
“That might as well be an admission of his guilt,” one man declared and yet another man yelled, “Get him!”
Two men charged toward Vlad with swords drawn. He easily dodge
d their slow and wild swings. He moved too quickly for the human eye to follow. His fist found one man’s jaw; the bones cracked loudly as he flew fifteen paces back. He landed in a heap at the foot of the mob. In an instant Vlad turned and threw a punch into the other swordsman’s chest, caving it in and sending him flying back as well. Neither man moved. They were both dead before they hit the ground.
Someone yelled, “Tie him up!” Two lassos went over Vlad’s head and shoulders, tightening around his torso and pulling from both his right and left side. He pulled the two thick ropes apart as if breaking a twig.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Vlad roared. He moved a couple of paces toward the crowd. They retreated a couple of steps back. A handful of men in the rear of the mob made a run for it.
“He is the devil,” one of them declared.
“Aye,” Vlad conceded. “I’m the devil who has seduced half of your wives. The other half were not worth my time.” This was not entirely true — the point was to provoke them. He wanted them to kill him or at least try. Perhaps he simply wanted the fight.
The insult worked, as numerous men charged him and a handful of spears spiraled toward him. He easily evaded them and caught one spear as it flew through the air. He spun it around jabbing the sharp end into the chest of the first man to reach him. He lifted him up with the spear and swiftly forced the dull end of the weapon deep into the ground. This left the dying man suspended in the air on the end of the spear. Vlad quickly dodged other blows.
Shoving his foot under a spear on the ground, he kicked it into his hand. Swiftly spinning it around he impaled another attacker and staked him up in the same fashion as the first. The man’s blood ran down the spear onto Vlad’s hands. The sight and smell of blood overwhelm him. He could feel the familiar aching sensation in his jaw. Two more men were impaled before the rest back away. Many more men had retreated at this point. Who could blame them? They had no idea what they were up against when they came for me.
The remaining brave — or stupid — men stared at the monster before them with wide eyes and mouths agape. Long fangs protruded from Vlad’s lips. He was covered in the blood of his victims. A low growl came from deep within and eventually emerged as a furious yell. Some men stumbled and fell as they tried to flee. Vlad grabbed the nearest man by the back of the neck and sank his teeth into him. After the lifeless body fell to the ground, Vlad leapt into the air while spreading his jet-black, ten-foot wings to their full extent. As the powerful wings lifted him, they sent dirt swirling up into the faces of the few who remained. He ascended high into the sky.
Chapter 27 Wallachia 1354 A.D
Vlad could hardly think. He moaned and rolled over, pulling a blanket over his head to block out the faint light coming from the small cave opening. He was accosted by a musty smell so he threw off the old blanket and surveyed his surroundings. That’s right, I’m in Sergiu’s cave, he thought. Last night’s slaughter slowly came back to him. He let out another moan and rolled over, hoping to force himself back to sleep. If only I could not wake for an eternity.
An old and familiar scent registered with Vlad. He sat up quickly to find Sergiu by a small fire outside the cave. Undoubtedly, he was heating water for a wondrous brew — something worth getting up for.
Vlad pulled his hood up to cover his burning eyes as he stepped out into the bright morning sun. Usually the sun was only a slight nuisance, but not on mornings when he had had too much blood the night before — such as this morning. His head throbbed and his eyes stung even with the hood to shade them. He plopped down next to Sergiu.
“There you are, lazybones,” Sergiu said, by way of greeting. “I was not sure when or if you would ever wake.”
Vlad slapped his shoulder. “You are a sight for sore eyes, old friend.”
“That was one hell of a way to get my attention. You knew I was in Trebizond. You could have simply sent for me. You did not need to slaughter half of Targoviste.”
“How did you know I was having trouble ... again?”
“I’d heard rumors of the unrest in this region. I figured you had something to do with it, so I headed this way. Unfortunately, I stopped to visit some companions along the way. Little did I know how bad you were or I would have arrived sooner.” Sergiu handed Vlad a cup of brew. “I may have been able to prevent your little escapade last night. I am glad I found you before the Court did. Thankfully they have other concerns; they are keeping their eyes and ears peeled for any sign of Ramdasha’s next move.”
“Who is Ramdasha?” Vlad asked, only half interested. He preferred to focus on the cup of warm water, which smelled mostly of mint with a hint of jasmine. He held the cup greedily with both hands, simply inhaling the hot steam. It helped to clear his head.
“I swear, my dear boy, you ought to get out more often. You have never heard of Ramdasha?”
“You are the only vampire I know. I only get news of our world from your scarce and brief visits.”
Sergiu’s eyes widened. “In all these years you never encountered any other vampires wandering through Targoviste?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Well then, it is high time you mingled with your own kind.” Sergiu studied the vast mountainous expanse before him.
Vlad followed his gaze. The thought of meeting others like him was not appealing. He quite enjoyed being the strongest and fastest around. Yet, he did wonder what they would be like.
“I spent some time with the Court in Denmark the first part of this year,” Sergiu said. “I mainly went out of curiosity and to attend Lord Chastellain’s celebration of one year of peace after ending the vampire plagues. Thankfully, Targoviste managed to go untouched by the plague. Though parts of Hungary were badly affected by the young rogue vampires.”
Vlad shot his gaze to Sergiu. “Did you see her?”
“Aye and now I understand what all the fuss is about. The Lady Vallachia is quite lovely. She rules to the left of Lord Chastellain. Prince Elijah hardly leaves her side. He is very protective — perhaps even possessive of her. Who could blame him?”
This was not exactly news, yet rage boiled inside Vlad. If Sergiu is trying to make me feel better, it is not working. Her position to the left of the Lord bequeaths her with the status of third in command. That is remarkable. How did she manage to gain such a high rank in the Court? “So they are married?” He managed to choke the words out through gritted teeth.
“Not as far as I can tell. The gossip around the castle is that the lovely pair are engaged. Yet with no wedding date set and the years continuing to pass, many assume they are clandestine lovers. Though everyone knows this, so I don’t know what the secret is. Honestly, they appeared to be... friends. At this particular gala the Prince danced with another. This came as a shock to those around me, it was all anyone talked about, as Elijah usually dances solely with the Lady Vallachia.”
This was difficult to hear. Yet, hope swelled in Vlad’s chest. Maybe Val is not married and Elijah is with another.
“It is very difficult to get near the lady,” Sergiu continued. “She is well protected and rarely alone. I tried to speak with her during the dance. I wanted to ask her about her relationship with the Prince and to see her reaction when I told her of you. Yet as I approached, a very large man,” Sergiu paused and eyed Vlad for a moment. “Much like you in some respects — anyway this guard, Riddick, I believe he is called, gave me a look which made it clear that I was not to take another step toward her or he would rip my heart out of my chest — with his bare hands, I’m sure.”
“So she has no news of me?”
“I’m afraid not. I did not think it appropriate to sneak into her chambers, which are directly across from Prince Chastellain’s. With my luck she would yell for her prince and the Court would have my head. Unlike you, I do not have a death wish. She is unreachable to someone such as me. Sorry my old friend, I did try.”
She may not be married. For the first time in a long time Vlad had a purpose. He stood to
leave but Sergiu rose and clasped his forearm.
“And where do you think you are going?”
“I have to see her.”
“Slow down there, son. You cannot simply show up at the High Court’s Castle expecting to take their most prized possession. She is highly coveted by all who follow the Elders. It would be suicide.”
“Just as well. I cannot carry on like this any longer.” This life is worth nothing without her. She loved me once, maybe she still does and if not the Court will kill me. It is the perfect plan. I will get what I want no matter the outcome; as I will either get Vallachia back or I will be dead.
Vlad took another step forward but was stopped by Sergiu’s secure grip.
“Very well, I understand. You want to win the affections of the Lady of the Court. Then I implore you, let us be smart about this, Teller. Let me help you,” Sergiu pleaded.
The use of his human name got Vlad’s attention, as well as the concern in Sergiu’s eyes. This was enough to stop Vlad from flying north. Sergiu truly cared for Teller and did not want him to head off on a mission that would most likely end in his death. Sergiu was the only one who was truly fond of Vlad. This made Sergiu the only one he would listen to. Vlad slowly nodded and sat back down.
“Good man.” Relief swept over Sergiu. They sat in silence for a time before he added, “Are you certain it must be that particular woman, as there are many beautiful vampire maidens.”
Vlad narrowed his eyes and the muscles in his jaw flexed.
“Very well, I had to be sure. It makes sense, I suppose. You always did like an unviable challenge.”
Vlad’s mind raced. A challenge, that is what I needed and Vallachia was the perfect prize. He pictured her standing by his side on the high balcony of a large palace overlooking these mountains — their home. “That’s it! I have riches but no power. I need a castle to win her back. I must become royalty, as this is what she has become accustomed to.”
Of Princes and Dragons: Book 2 (Lords and Commoners) Page 10