Michael smiled warmly behind the Librarian’s back and carried on. "He’s travelled a long way and the news he’s brought is not good.”
"Not good? Pah! You worry too much Brother.” Czerolka banged the table in annoyance.
"I think it would be better if you told them, old man.” All eyes were on the the Librarian who in turn scrutinised them one at a time.
"And these are the ten are they, Michael?”
"There’s another one and Inselman. They’re both on a mission. I will explain later.”
"Young Inselman," he turned to face Michael. "I always said he was a good one, that. Green but brave.”
"Tell us what you’ve got to say, old man" Gruhn butted in. "Save the scrutiny until after we’re gone.”
They all laughed but Michael scowled at the rudeness. The old man smiled to himself and nodded. "The news I bring is not exactly shocking, not when you take into consideration the grovellers that are in charge of the Order nowadays, but it might put a bit of pressure on your deadline.”
As he addressed the men, he started to undo the buckles on the satchel. "As you know, the Book of Blood has been stored in my library these past months now.”
"I didn’t know that,” puzzled Nau softly. Gruhn shrugged in answer.
"The problem started because the Book corrupts everything in its immediate vicinity. After a while I noticed that certain ancient scriptures, scrolls and other items in my library were falling into an advanced state of disrepair. I realised it was down to the corrosive influence of the Book, so I asked the Grand Master," he spat on the floor to show his derision, "if we could store the book in a special room. There is an incantation that renders the walls of a room impervious to the book’s influence but the room must be empty. Regrettably, the Grand Master decided to send the book to Berlin as a present to Himmler.”
"So where is it now? In Berlin?" Schneiderat broke in.
The old man smiled and tapped the unopened satchel, "No, I stole it and came here. You need the Book, not Himmler.” He produced the volume from his satchel and lent back with the satisfied air of a man who has just finished a significant task.
It lay on the table before him. Nobody moved to touch it but everyone stared at its ancient hide cover. Immediately the varnish on the table around the book cracked and turned a sickly shade of grey.
"It doesn’t look much," Schneiderat said finally.
"Is that what all the girls say, Andreas?” Nau enquired.
"At least the girls get to see it, Matze,” he smiled back and a brittle, uneasy laugh channelled through them all.
Michael didn’t feel comfortable with the banter and he moved forward to study the book's cover. Czerolka picked up the Book. "Brother von der Heyde, I present you with the Cronica Insangerata, or as you know it, the Book of Blood. You should put it in an empty room so I can make the proper incantations. It really is as mordant as I said. If any of you have questions, I would be more than obliged to answer them for you.”
Michael nodded but didn’t move to take the Book from him. The last time he’d handled it had been at Marienberg and the sense of revulsion for the Book had still not left him.
"I’ve got a question." It was Grand. "Why did you steal the book? We know what we have to do so we don’t need it, and your boss could spoil everything by reporting its loss to Himmler.”
The librarian nodded and put the Book back down on the table.
"And how do you plan to tempt the demon Lilith to fight you, boy?” Czerolka admonished him caustically, "with marching songs and the promise of a quickie behind the stables? Ha! For that you’ll need the Book. She wants it back because her powers are in direct relation to the Book. She needs the Book just to survive.”
Berndt stoically took the rebuke with as much grace as he could. Clearing his throat he asked, "And the Grand Wizard, or Master, or whatever he’s called, won’t he inform Berlin that you’ve stolen the book and you’ve made your way here?”
"The Grand Master”, he spat again, "won’t say anything to Himmler. He’s too scared that Heini will be angry with him for its loss." He turned to look Bernd in the eye and his voice took on a conciliatory tone, "No lad, there is no danger of Berlin hearing of its absence. The Order would sooner turn Jewish rather than admit a failing to Himmler. The only danger is if Himmler asks about the Book. He knows about it but he thinks it’s with the Order. If he starts getting greedy he might ask for it and then we are all in trouble.”
Grand nodded and Nau stepped forward, "Old man, I just wanted to say that that was the first time I’ve seen big Bernd Grand being called a boy. You’re the bravest librarian I’ve ever met.”
Czerolka’s face, which had been frozen in its customary scowl, suddenly cracked and he cackled like an old witch. The laugh was contagious and the sombre atmosphere was momentarily relieved.
Michael waited for the laughing to stop before putting his own question forward. "Brother Czerolka, before I addressed the Brothers at Marienberg, you told me of a few requisites for the mission, but you never explained the reasons for these conditions. The silver weapons I understood, the bringing of the Dracyl’s brother made sense too, but why must we only march with ten men against an army?”
"Isn’t it obvious, Michael?” he answered.
"Well, no, to be honest. It makes no sense to me at all. The whole plan makes sense up to a certain point. I just don’t understand why we can only march with ten men and not as many as we can find.”
Nodding his head, he answered. "Symbolism, Brother Michael. It’s all symbolism. How many names are there in the Book of Blood? Ten. There are ten names that signify the end of a curse and the renewal of the old ways. Have you explained this to them?" He nodded at the squad.
"Yes, the numerology was explained.”
"And promptly forgotten,” Nau muttered to Gruhn
"Gentlemen, make no mistake, you are fighting evil in the truest sense of the word. Your only protection lies in magic and belief." He paused to look to see if they were listening. They were. "The magic is in the silver swords and the Book of Blood. The very fact that your enemy is a vampire dictates that you must turn to the supernatural to destroy him. You must be aware that normal rules do not apply. This Anti-Christ is not just Communism, this is the Beast and he was roaming the earth before the usurper cult called Christianity was even thought of.”
"So what has that got to do with the number of men called to kill the bloodsuckers?" Gruhn asked nobody in particular.
Czerolka ignored him. "Ten is the number of names in the Book of Blood. To mirror this list of ten names, we have in the Bible the ten generations. That is the ten patriarchs of the Antediluvian age. From Adam to Noah there are ten named patriarchs. These names are of the same period as the first names in the Book of Blood. They are Adam, Seth, Enos, Cainan, Mahaleel, Jared, Enoch, Methuselah, Lamech and Noah. You will represent these ten biblical patriarchs of the Antediluvian age.”
"Which one am I?” Wolfgang asked, triggering a ripple of laughter.
"It’s not the names that are important, it’s the numbers present. We want to mirror the Dracyl’s Book with numbers from the Bible.” He took in their blank faces and resignedly pressed on. "Also in the Bible, in the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, we have the Ten Righteous.”
"I’ve heard about Sodom and Gomorrah,” Gruhn smirked.
"I’m sure you have, but the point is that God was willing to spare the judgement of Sodom and Gomorrah if ten righteous people could be found therein. You could compare the world under vampire rule with Sodom and Gomorrah and thus you would be the ten righteous people. God will come to your aid to save the world from the iniquity of a demon’s reign.”
Once again the blank faces stared him down, with only Michael showing any comprehension. He turned to Michael. "Finally, what is the tenth line of the Oratio Dominica?”
Michael thought for a moment. "Sed libera nos a malo.”
Smith asked what they were all thinking, "What on earth is
the Oratio Dominica?”
Czerolka looked up from the Book to study Smith from his seat.
"So the Dracyl finally speaks …" he slyly mocked. Smith fleetingly considered rising to the bait but let it slide. "Don’t you recognise the line, Englishman? Didn’t you ever go to church?"
"Old man, from the age of six onwards, every Sunday was Church Parade. But the service was conducted in English. Latin is only used by the Catholic denomination of which I am not.”
”Tell me, then, if you would be so kind, what the tenth line of the Lord’s Prayer is?" The old man studied him as Smith tried to remember the litany.
Unsure but goaded to answer by his pride, Smith stammered, "And deliver us from evil.”
"Correct, so you’re not the Anti-Christ I thought you were after all.” The sarcasm was beginning to tell on Smith but he doggedly held his tongue.
"So why do you think the number of soldiers needed to destroy the Dracyl, I mean your brother, is ten?” He sat back and muttered loudly for all to hear. "This should be very interesting, the opinion of a defector."
Smith pondered the question and threw a question back, "Why are you asking me old man. Are you too senile to remember the answer yourself? Would I be right in assuming that ten is probably the highest number you can comprehend?”
A long silence drew out as the two eyed each other. Nobody spoke but all were conscious of the deep enmity that the Librarian held for the Dracyl bloodline. Only Smith seemed unaware and held his gaze until Czerolka snorted and turned to the rest.
"The tenth line in the Oratio Dominica is Sed libera nos a malo. Deliver us from evil. This line is the amulet you will wear to brave the demon hordes. That is the true magic of this battle. Your belief will be your keenest weapon.”
Michael looked at the lost faces of the squad. Czerolka saw their doubt as well and decided to elaborate, "The Dracyl and Lilith were cursed by Gods who don’t exist anymore. They died with their religion. As the people stopped worshipping them their power faded to nothing. Lilith and the Dracyl are held to their curse only by their own belief in the authority of the old Gods. That is the power, or the problem, of faith. We worship the one God. Our faith must be pure and unbridled if we are to destroy the Dracyl. Believe in God and he will deliver when the time is come. The line, Deliver us from evil, is written in your numbers and your belief." He looked around at the men and repeated again, "Deliver us from evil.”
Nau doubtfully put his hand up to speak, "I realise what you’re saying but I’ve never even been in a church. How can I believe in something that I don’t even know about?”
"You’ve never been in a church?" the Librarian enquired, shocked.
"No, my parents were both Party members from the beginning and they saw no reason in going to church. They’re the reason I joined the SS.”
"And I thought it was to cuddle with Matze," Wolfgang sniggered. The old man held up his hand for silence, "Tell me one thing. Do you believe that there is a God?” He turned to them all, "Do you all believe in God, because if your faith is brittle, then your sword arm will be weak and you will fail. Without conviction the words will be lost in the wind.”
Nobody answered at first, it was Schneiderat who broke the silence. "I believe. I always have, and now in the face of what we’re going to do battle with. I believe more than ever.”
Wolfgang was next, "So do I.” One by one they confirmed to the Librarian their belief. Only Smith and Nau remained silent.
"Englishman," Smith noted that he didn’t use the word Dracyl, "you haven’t answered. Do you believe?”
"I have seen the evil so you don’t need to ask me, old man. I believe because if there is no God, we are doomed in the truest form of the word." Nobody batted an eyelid at the theatrical nature of his answer and Czerolka nodded before turning to Nau.
"And you, young man. Can you believe?”
"I don’t know," was his answer to their insistent looks.
Czerolka nodded. "Very well. Your honesty in the matter is a good sign. We must be ready to face the Dracyl on the 22nd of December, the Winter Solstice. That’s the shortest day of the year and thus for the Dracyl the best time to take on the sun god that cursed him. So we still have time to convince you, and if all else fails I’ll go in your place.”
The stunned hush that followed soon broke as Czerolka once again started to cackle his amusement. Von Struck distractedly surveyed their laughing faces and pondered on the debatable logic of the Librarian’s symbolism and the potential evil of an ancient manuscript.
Chapter 47
Transylvania
The chase materialised from out of nowhere.
They had been making reasonable progress throughout the first day and had ridden until shortly before nightfall. They were tired and hungry but their mission consumed all other priorities and they decided their discomfort was secondary to the success of the plan, namely escaping to the East.
They decided to walk through the night, leading their mounts on foot to spare them. Their overriding fear spurred them on through the hunger and fatigue, and even the horses seemed to sense the necessity of their undertaking.
The wood was as black as pitch but their eyes had adjusted to the darkness and they found they could make out the trail. Their progress was slow but steady.
Around four in the morning, Mordechai announced that he needed a rest. Reuben studied the watch Rasch had given him when events were looking up after the opening of the first camp, and decided they could all do with a break.
He turned to pull his water bottle from his bag and, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement silhouetted against the nearly full moon. He turned to look square on and saw, to his horror, the Count’s soldiers heading in their direction.
"Oy vey," he involuntarily muttered. "Quick, get on your horses and follow me!"
Mordechai and Stephanie turned in the direction he was looking and wordlessly sprang to action, exhaustion falling off them like an old coat as panic threatened to take over.
Though the vampires were still a long way off, they vectored in quickly and gained on the horses with alarming speed. Reuben stole a glance to see if he could spot them and gasped in terror when he saw how quickly they were gaining ground. He put his head down to drive his mount on but he knew it was a lost cause. Turning again to look, he was fascinated by the speed of their attack, and saw now they were only a hundred meters away.
Stephanie dug her feet into her horse, wordlessly urging him on, while silently praying for deliverance. The silence of the vampires made the scene all the more surreal and she half-hoped it was all a figment of her imagination.
Mordechai couldn’t keep himself from looking back. The vampires were now almost above them and seemed to be hovering in the treetops. He blindly let his horse run with the others, unable to keep his eyes off the airborne horde. Though they looked to be hovering, Mordi knew it was an illusion because they were holding a constant distance between themselves and the fugitives.
"Why don’t they attack? What are they doing?” he distantly wondered.
Then, as if rising from beneath a sea of green, Count Blestamatul emerged from tree top level to take the lead. The clouds parted, the moon shone through, and Mordechai clearly saw the Count.
Swollen and hideous, his enlarged head cracked open and he grimaced to show his knife-like teeth. Mordechai put all his trust in his horse and watched, fascinated, as the bulging, powerfully-built vampire pulled forward to the front of his swarm.
Still the vampires did not attack and they seemed content just to follow from above the tree tops.
"The path is too narrow for them to dive down on us,” Mordi told himself but he didn’t really believe it.
Suddenly, from the tree-line to their right, a shot rang out. For the briefest of moments a solitary figure was thrown in relief by the muzzle flash. It was followed by another and then another until the whole right side of the path they were on was lit up by the steady firing. Mordechai looke
d back to see the vampires flinching as the bullets hit them from their unseen assailants. He whooped inwardly, not seeing or caring who it was that had come to their aid.
Volley after volley slammed into the swarm as the three of them rode deeper into the wood, and all the time Mordechai kept his eyes on the flying vampires, willing them to flee the barrage. However, although the rounds were clearly hitting them, they didn’t fall or falter in their pursuit.
As if on a given signal, they swooped down on the Russian line. The vampires flew past them, ignoring the fleeing civilians, intent only on their attackers.
The pack hit the tree line like a rain of boulders and the three of them heard the drawing of swords over the screams of the soldiers and the rattle of machine gun fire.
Mordechai chanced another look at the fight but now the vampires were no longer silhouetted by the moon there was nothing to see. Only the noise of the struggle and the flash of cordite carried the battle to him as it raged to his immediate right.
The path was still clear ahead and none of their would-be rescuers had made any move to halt them, busy as they were with the vampires, so they galloped on, impervious to the killing and the darkness surrounding them.
The horses were blowing, and just as Reuben thought about slowing the pace, he heard the dry grate of a sword being drawn behind them. He turned to see, in the frenzied illumination of the fight, the grinning and bloated face of the Count as he exploded through the trees after them. Reuben knew that no amount of whipping would incite his mount to sufficient speed to escape him and he inwardly resigned himself to die in that frozen wood.
Mordechai was the closest and Reuben watched in disbelieving terror as the Count reached him and effortlessly pulled him back to bite his neck. It seemed like the Count's face and hands engulfed his whole shoulder as he worried into the wound. Blood flooded down Mordechai’s chest and the gush was so rich it looked like a black cloak in the half light of the battle.
Mordechai himself made no sound. His only appeal was an outstretched hand and a mouth held agape in the agony of death.
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