The Kaiserine's Champion

by Derek Paterson

  A rotund, cheerfully smiling gentleman came into the room through another door. He wore a black uniform with an officer's scarlet sash about his portly waist. The twin sawblades of the Imperial Medical Corps adorned his collar. His pale blue eyes peered at me through the thick lenses of his spectacles. He said, “Pray tell, who is this fine specimen, Ludwig?"

  “Herr Thenck sent him, Doctor Schmidt,” Ludwig said. “He's from the prison.” He waved his little hand in front of his nose. “Which explains the smell."

  Schmidt came to stand before me, apparently unaffected by how I looked or smelled. He studied me closely for a while and then, without asking permission, he prised my left eye wide open with his thumb and forefinger. I stood silently through this odd procedure, too surprised to object.

  “Please unbutton your shirt,” Schmidt said. I did so. He lifted a shuttered storm lantern from one of the tables and opened it. Its heat burned my neck. “Good, very good,” he muttered under his breath. He closed the lantern and returned it to the table. I was about to button my shirt again when he said, “You were wounded in The War?"

  He'd noticed the scar on my chest. “Yes. A Moskovian musket ball."

  “It penetrated the lung?"

  “Yes."

  “You are very fortunate to be alive. A fraction to the left and the ball would have struck your heart. Do you have any difficulty in breathing?"

  “Not now. Sometimes I have to sit down and rest after strenuous exercise, however."

  He nodded, but asked no other questions.

  “Well, Herr Doctor? Was I right?” Otto Thenck said. He'd been watching from another doorway. He entered the laboratory and moved to join Schmidt.

  “Indeed you were,” Schmidt said. “The wounds show up clearly under the lamplight. But how did you know, Herr Thenck?"

  Thenck didn't answer. Instead he asked me, “Do you remember how and when it happened?"

  “I was wounded in Moskovia,” I said, not at all sure what he was referring to.

  Thenck looked at Schmidt, who said, “Once again we find that the victim remembers nothing of the incident. The filth are indeed skillful in masking their activities.” He pursed his lips. “The elixir will restore his lost memories. I see no reason why we should not proceed at once."

  “Neither do I,” Thenck said. “Go ahead, Herr Doctor."

  Lost memories? What were they talking about? Schmidt picked up a stoppered glass bottle. He held it up to the light and shook it experimentally. Then he uncorked the bottle and turned to face me again.

  “Stick out your tongue,” he ordered.

  I hesitated, suspicious. Schmidt shook his head in obvious irritation. “There is nothing to fear. This will allow you to recall the memories that were deliberately hidden by the vampyre filth that drank your blood."

  “Drank my—? Are you insane?” The absurdity of his statement confused and angered me. Vampyres were mere creatures of legend. Mothers threatened unruly children that they'd be snatched from their beds by vampyres if they were naughty. Did Schmidt really expect me to believe such nonsense?

  And yet—

  And yet there had been stories. I'd heard soldiers who'd served with General Beethoven's 5th Army in Transylvania speak of what they'd encountered in that dark, remote place. Of undead rising out of the ground. Of flying things in the night.

  I shook my head. How could any intelligent man be expected to accept such fiction?

  “Do as Doctor Schmidt says, Herr Manfred,” Thenck ordered in his soft, infinitely dangerous voice. He reminded me that this had nothing to do with fairy tales. The thought of a noose tightening about my neck made me open my mouth and stick my tongue out.

  Slowly, carefully, Schmidt tilted the bottle until a single drop of green liquid left the neck and fell onto my tongue—

  An avalanche of memories.

  We'd met aboard the overnight coach traveling from Guttzeig to High Sazburg. After the first few stops at various mountain villages, we had the coach all to ourselves. It was a long trip and, as people do, we started talking. She told me her name was Fräulein Ulrike Dornier, and that she was soon to be married to a sea captain who commanded one of the new ironclads of the Kaiserine's Imperial High Seas Fleet. They planned to live in the port of Bremhagen and raise six children. In return, I told her I'd been recently invalided out of the Army because of the chest wound I'd sustained in Moskovia, and was journeying to High Sazburg to seek employment. A cousin who lived in the city had written to tell me that merchants were always looking for trustworthy bodyguards, and Army veterans received preferential consideration. I'd been exercising steadily since my release from the military infirmary, fencing twice a day to build up my strength and stamina. My shortness of breath only became a problem if I had to exert myself for prolonged periods.

  We were getting along famously until I lifted the curtain to see where we were on the mountain road. A shaft of light from the rising moon struck Fräulein Dornier and she recoiled from the window in shocked surprise. In the space of a single heartbeat she changed from a beautiful young woman to a snarling harpy with cat eyes and fangs as long as my fingers. She lunged at me, pinning me against my seat with fantastic strength. I tried to break free, but couldn't. Her mouth opened wider than it should have been able to; her fangs grazed my neck—

  I opened my eyes. Thenck and Schmidt were staring at me dispassionately, as if I were a specimen insect under the lens of a microscope, my wings spread and pinned, my belly ripe for the scalpel. I could only marvel at what Schmidt had done. My attacker had somehow concealed my recollection of her assault, but whatever Schmidt had given me had torn away her deception, revealing the entire disgusting business.

  “Now do you remember what happened?” Thenck asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “I remember only too well. There was—a woman. Or at least, I thought she was a woman..."

  “She was vampyre,” Schmidt said, matter-of-factly. “She did not drink enough of your blood to kill you, therefore you are still alive, and still human. Had she drained you sufficiently for death to occur, you would now be vampyre yourself.” He took off his spectacles and began cleaning the thick lenses with the end of his officer's sash. “Or, if she did not wish you to become vampyre at the moment of your death, you would have become a mindless undead zombie instead, rotting slowly until your body eventually fell apart. A far worse fate, as I'm sure you'll agree?"

  I touched my neck, and detected a ridge of healed flesh which I hadn't even noticed before. She was vampyre. A shudder ran down my spine as the full implications of Schmidt's words came to me.

  “Explain the gift to Herr Manfred,” Thenck said.

  Schmidt nodded. “When the vampyre bites its victim, not only does it extract blood upon which it feeds—some of its own bodily fluids enter the victim. This exchange prepares the victim for the extraordinary physical changes which will come about if and when said victim dies and becomes vampyre. The victim's strength is increased and his or her senses become sharper, enhanced far beyond normality. This is known as the vampyre's gift. It only lasts for a period of days, and will fade completely if the vampyre does not return to finish its dirty work."

  Given what I now knew, I had no reason to suppose he might be lying.

  “I believe,” Thenck said, “this explains how you were able to fend off the Duke's Wardens in the alley. When my Constables reported the incident to me, I knew there must be something special about you. I'm glad my instincts proved correct. Tell me, when did the vampyre attack you?"

  “What? Oh—two nights ago.” I shuddered, picturing her hot feral eyes and her extended fangs only too clearly.

  “You're certain?"

  “I arrived in High Sazburg only yesterday aboard the coach from Guttzeig, so yes, I'm certain. Why?"

  Schmidt said, “It is likely that the vampyre's gift still flows in your veins. As I have already intimated, it will fade soon—perhaps tonight, or tomorrow, who can say? Fortunately, Herr Thenck arranged to have y
ou brought here in time. I am unable to initiate the start of the transformation from human to vampyre—only one of them can do that—but my elixir will stop the vampyre's gift from fading, and will also permit the change to continue."

  I stared at Schmidt blankly, wondering whether I'd heard correctly. “May I ask what you mean when you say ‘continue,’ Herr Doctor?” I asked.

  “Come, Herr Manfred,” Thenck said, “you are not a child, and can be trusted to draw logical conclusions. The vampyre's gift allowed you to defeat the Duke's Wardens. Without it, they would have cut you into very small pieces. I instructed Doctor Schmidt to give you his elixir because without it, the vampyre's gift would soon have left you. The elixir is already working, pulsing through your bloodstream, transforming you into a vampyre.” He quickly held up a hand, stopping me before I could protest further. “Long before the transformation is complete, you will either have won or lost in the Arena. If you are still alive at the end of the contest, Doctor Schmidt will give you the counter-elixir he has developed. This will halt the change, and return you to your human state. Is this not so, Herr Doctor?"

  “I have the counter-elixir ready,” Schmidt said, as if waiting for Thenck's cue.

  “I want it now,” I said.

  “Quite impossible,” Thenck said. “It is necessary for my plans that the vampyre's gift stays with you until the Arena contest ends."

  “Damn you, you should have asked—!"

  Thenck shrugged. “To what end? Do you wish to die in the Arena? Of course not. Had we explained everything first then you would eventually have said yes anyway, but we could afford no delay, since we had no idea when the vampyre's gift would leave you. What's done is done, for the good of all. You must accept it, Herr Manfred. The alternative must surely be obvious?"

  Rather than make me think rationally and strive to prolong my life, Thenck's unsubtle threat only served to anger me. A low growl began somewhere deep in my throat and I decided there and then to end this charade and take my chances against the guards’ muskets. A burning pressure built up within my skull and my teeth throbbed. I took a half-step forward, intending to show Thenck exactly what I thought of him and his damned plans.

  A sharp pain on the back of my head made me turn around. Ludwig had climbed up onto a chair behind me and struck me with a wooden club. I only had enough time to say, “You little—!” before the laboratory floor reared up and slapped me hard.

  * * * *

  I awoke to find myself in another room, lying on a soft bed with clean sheets. An oil lantern cast its soft light upon the face of the girl who sat in the chair beside the bed, reading a book. She was a pretty young thing, with clear blue eyes and plaited blonde hair. She reminded me of the girl I'd left behind when I'd marched off to The War. By the time I returned from the Moskovian campaign she was happily married to an ex-cavalry officer who owned a medium-sized estate and had plenty of money. My Army pension would have just about taken care of their dogs’ food bills. I hadn't even tried to see her again.

  My companion glanced up at me and started in surprise, seeing that I was awake.

  “Please,” I said, holding a finger to my lips, “No noise. My head is killing me.” Ludwig had given me another lump to match the ones Thenck's Noseys had imparted the previous night.

  She said nothing, so I asked, “Who are you?"

  No answer. I would have questioned her further, but the lamplight showed the thin red line around her throat. It occurred to me that perhaps the learned Doctor Schmidt had some connection with this odd scar. She also wore a brown leather glove over her right hand. I could only guess what injury it concealed and wondered whether Schmidt might be responsible for this, too.

  “Can you talk?” I asked, slowly and clearly, pointing to my own mouth.

  She shook her head, no.

  I tried to think why she might be here. To look after me? To inform Schmidt or Thenck when I regained consciousness? Either possibility had merit. I raised my head and examined the room. The first thing I noticed was the door. It had neither handle nor bolts, which meant it must be opened from outside. Another prison cell then, although the bed was comfortable and I had pleasant company. The second thing I noticed was that the only window looked out into a dark alleyway and was fitted with iron bars. Evidently they didn't intend for me to leave that way. A table in the corner supported a water jug, a washing-bowl, a tub of soap, a razor and a shaving mirror. Someone had also laid out new clothing, a uniform such as Corsican mercenaries wear and a pair of boots that looked to be my size.

  My head pounded as I weakly pushed myself up and swung my legs off the bed. The girl stood also and waited by the chair, watching me. I rubbed my jaw. I could have struck a Lucifer upon the bristles. The thought made me smile, but only briefly, for I became aware of the gnawing hunger deep in the pit of my stomach, and turned to look at the girl.

  Her eyes widened in alarm and she took a half-step away from me, seeing something in me that frightened her. She glanced at the door, as if wishing it would open so she could leave. Why was she here? The answer to that fateful question struck me an instant later. The pounding in my head receded and I closed my eyes, listening to the booming of her panicked heartbeat and the stentorian gasps of her breathing from the other side of the room—sounds that magnified and echoed in my skull like the tolling of a cathedral bell. The rush of blood through her veins and arteries called to me, irresistible, delicious—

  I leapt the space between us in a single bound. She moaned and struggled against me, as I had struggled against the vampyre demoness who'd attacked me in the Guttzeig-High Sazburg coach. The girl's strength was no match for mine. My incisors extended fully as I forced her head to one side and kissed her exposed neck. They found the soft, warm flesh, piercing her jugular.

  The girl instantly became limp in my arms, sedated by the chemical mix I injected into her bloodstream. Her eyes rolled and her lips formed a lazy smile as I stimulated that area of her brain responsible for pleasure. She didn't resist when I lifted her and carried her over to the bed. Crouching over her, I hungrily drank her blood while my hands roamed freely over her trembling body. Finally she arched her spine and shuddered with pleasure, a bestial sigh of relief rasping from her throat.

  Her blood revitalized me. New strength flowed through my limbs and every cell in my body cried out in rapture at the sensation of rebirth. Satisfied, at least for the moment, I pulled my incisors free of the girl's neck while injecting a powerful coagulant into the twin wounds to prevent her from bleeding to death, while at the same time stimulating her flesh to regenerate and heal the punctures. In a matter of hours they would be invisible to the naked eye—no one would ever know she had fallen victim to a vampyre, and the wonderful thing was, she would remember none of it, just as I had remembered nothing of what had happened aboard the coach until Doctor Schmidt brought my memories back.

  All of this I knew instinctively, with a surety of knowledge that could only have originated from one source—the vampyre who'd done to me as I'd done to the mute girl. She'd given me an awareness that made me laugh with unbridled joy as I gazed at the unmoving girl on the bed, relishing our mutually satisfactory transaction. I hadn't taken enough blood to kill her—she would sleep and then awaken some hours later, feeling slightly weak, but that would pass quickly. Then she'd find her senses enhanced far beyond their human limitations. She'd see the world with a clarity she'd never before dreamt might exist. I'd passed the vampyre's gift on to her.

  Having completed the feeding process, my incisors retracted into my skull. I began changing back to what I'd been. It was a new and unfamiliar feeling, and one that was not altogether pleasant. My mood changed along with my physical appearance. The girl on the bed lost her attraction; my euphoria turned to revulsion and self-disgust for what I'd just done. I'd been transformed into an animal that fed on other human beings.

  Just then the door opened and Thenck stood there, framed in light from the outside corridor. The guards I'd
met downstairs were behind him, their rebuilt faces hideous. Ludwig waited off to one side, shrunken and afraid. What had he expected to see when the door opened? A vampyre, obviously. Perhaps he'd also expected to find the girl dead, but she was still breathing, was still very much alive.

  “I see you are awake, Herr Manfred,” Thenck said. His voice betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

  “Awake and unhappy, Herr Thenck. You have manipulated me with breathtaking arrogance. I am sickened by what has transpired here."

  Thenck shrugged. “It was necessary, in order that you are prepared for whatever lies ahead in the Arena. Let that be an end to it. For your information, it is early morning outside. You have slept almost twenty-four hours. Doctor Schmidt tells me this is not unusual when the change begins. However, you should be getting ready to leave for the Arena. It would not do for you to be late."

  I looked at the sleeping girl. “What about her?"

  “She is none of your concern. We shall take care of her."

  He signed to one of the guards, who passed his musket to his comrade and came into the room. With almost reverent care, he slipped his arms under the girl's body and easily lifted her off the bed. He then carried her out into the corridor. Thenck glanced at her as she passed, and I imagined I saw some momentary trace of concern and emotion in him, but this vanished quickly when he returned his attention to me.

  “Naturally I do not wish anyone to know you are working for me. To this end I have arranged for you to adopt a false name and identity. You are to be Bruno, the personal bodyguard of the Lady von Klaus. That story will stand up to any scrutiny. All you have to worry about, Herr Manfred, is staying alive. And winning, of course. Kindly be ready to leave in thirty minutes. Ludwig will come for you."