As he turned to check the horses, he could make out figures jumping down from the trees.
*******
Kevak stopped running when he heard screams. A dim light flickered in distance. Several hours remained before daylight, so there was time to investigate. As he ran toward the light, he saw that it came from a lantern still attached to an overturned cart. Two of the strange four-legged creatures he had seen months earlier in the surveillance footage were lying motionless on the ground, still tethered to the cart. Several figures were crouched over four Primitives. Concealing himself behind a tree, Kevak removed a view-scanner from his pack and was able to obtain an enhanced image of one of the figures.
Urit! But he’s…changed!
As Kevak had suspected, the Primitive substance had brought about a physical metamorphosis in the Vambir. Their formerly smooth scalps were now covered in the wispy, fibrous tendrils that grew from the heads of Primitives. Their ears were no longer pointed, and the size of their hands had shrunk considerably.
When one of the Vambir became sated, he stood up and yawned. Kevak zoomed in the viewer and saw that his central fangs had retracted. The metamorphosis had compensated for this by the appearance of a modest set of canines, which were unnoticeable unless their mouths were wide open.
The Vambir can blend in with Primitives now.
“Enough!” yelled one of them.
Mazja!
“String them up and drain them,” she ordered. “If the others have not been successful in feeding, they will need sustenance.”
Kevak grimaced as he watched the Vambir collect the red substance into containers as it slowly flowed from the four suspended Primitives. As soon as the bodies were drained, Mazja vaporized them with her lasgun. She then walked calmly over to one of the four-legged creatures and stroked its head as it sluggishly got to its feet. Untethering it, she grabbed onto the long fibers that grew from the back of its neck. With one fluid motion she jumped on top of it.
“Soon we will have enough of these beasts for everyone to travel in search of new food,” she told the others.
Urit untethered the second revived horse and rode behind Mazja as the others silently followed on foot.
Waiting until the bio-scanner confirmed the Vambir were out of range, Kevak inspected the scene. A trunk had fallen from the cart, and some of the contents had spilled out onto the ground. He could see clothing and rectangular objects that held sheets full of written symbols.
Primitive hieroglyphics!
He gathered up the Primitive objects and put them, along with his pack, into the trunk. Grabbing the handles, he hoisted it over his shoulder and resumed his journey back to the crawlspace.
*******
“Why won’t the hatch open?” demanded Mazja.
The Vambir who accompanied her stood silently with downcast eyes, hoping to avoid her wrath. They were relieved to hear more Vambir approaching on horseback, led by Chaluxi.
Upon being told the situation, Chaluxi calmly studied his scanner readings. Mazja saw his expression change.
“Core breach!” he exclaimed. “The fail-safes in place won’t allow the hatch to open.”
“Override it so we can send in a team,” she ordered.
“It’s not possible to override a core breach lock-out unless the code is entered from the arm panel of a radiation suit, Commander,” he answered.
“But the suits are inside!” she yelled.
For several minutes she paced restlessly back and forth.
“How long?” she eventually asked.
Chaluxi shrugged. “The automatic scrubbers may render it harmless in a few months, Commander, or it could take years.”
“Damned sloppy, this business!” she scoffed. “What caused it? Radioactive waste from one of the thrusters?”
Chaluxi nodded. “Not all of the fuel was burned up in the atmospheric entry, so it seems probable, Commander.”
“It’ll be light soon,” said Mazja. “The building where the Primitives gathered at night contains an underground chamber that stores their intoxicating beverages. It can easily accommodate all of us. How long will our equipment last without hydrogen cells to recharge them?”
“Used sparingly, another six months,” answered Chaluxi.
“Has everyone returned?” asked Mazja.
“Yes, Commander,” said Chaluxi.
“Then let’s get back to Bazna,” she ordered with a sigh.
*******
The Vambir awoke suddenly to the sound of horses stopping just outside the tavern they had taken shelter in. The floorboards above them creaked as several Primitives walked around. Chaluxi quickly activated his muted palmcom in order to read the translation of their words.
“Well, they didn’t take their wine with them,” said one as he inspected the bottles displayed on the shelves behind the counter.
“They didn’t take anything,” said another. “That’s why we’ve been sent here. We’re the lucky ones. Other units have been deployed to the fighting in the east. Dracula’s ‘Forest Army’ only made Mehmed more determined to eliminate him and take over Wallachia. If he succeeds he will place Radu on the throne, then hopefully things will get back to normal. I think we can manage to stretch out this investigation till the end of winter. The villagers have been gone too long, so I reckon they’re all dead. It’s just a matter of following our noses once the warmer weather arrives.”
“When will the other troops arrive?” asked the first one.
“In a few days,” answered the second. “So now would be a good time to go into the cellar and pick out the best selections for ourselves.”
Upon reading her palmcom translation of the Primitive’s conversation, Mazja whispered orders to the Enforcers to kill them all once they were in the cellar. If just one escaped into the daylight, then the Vambir would be powerless to stop him from raising the alarm. Chaluxi motioned for everyone to hide behind the wine racks.
The Vambir silently watched as one of the soldiers walked down the stairs carrying a lamp. He set it on top of the closest rack and removed a bottle. After using his teeth to remove the cork, he put it to his lips and turned it up. The Vambir listened as he gulped down the liquid. Letting out a large belch, he set the bottle down next to the lamp. As he squatted to remove another bottle, he dropped it when he saw a pair of reptilian eyes staring at him from behind the rack.
An Enforcer came up quickly behind him and sunk his fangs into his neck. Within seconds, the soldier was unconscious, and the Vambir silently dragged him behind one of the racks.
“Gavril, what are you doing, you fool?” called out one of the soldiers as he walked toward the cellar. “Every bottle you break is coming out of your share…Gavril?”
The soldier walked into the cellar and saw the broken bottle near Gavril’s lamp. “Gavril!”
The soldier was quickly overtaken by another Enforcer, but managed to scream before being subdued. The remaining soldiers upstairs became alarmed.
“Petru! Gavril! What’s going on down there?” shouted one of them.
The soldiers stood tentatively at the top of the cellar stairs. Seeing that they were not going to venture closer, Enforcers sprang into action and pulled them down. The Vambir descended on them in a feeding frenzy.
“Stop feeding!” whispered Chaluxi harshly. “There may be others outside!”
The Vambir ignored him as their blood cravings took over.
Mazja pointed her lasgun at one of the wine racks and discharged it.
“Get away from the Primitives, or I will vaporize every last one of you,” she said coldly.
In a fit of madness, one of the Enforcers drew his lasgun and aimed it at Mazja. Without hesitating, she vaporized him.
“Anyone else showing signs of hemostim madness will be next!” she warned.
A youngster hissed but made no move to attack her. His mother frantically pulled him close to shield him.
“Get that brat under control,” Mazja ordered her.
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The terrified mother nodded her head in compliance.
Several minutes of silence followed as the Vambir tried to detect the sound of footsteps outside.
“There are no Primitives remaining, Commander,” said Chaluxi as he read his scanner. “We must leave here as soon as it is dark. These Primitives were the Enforcers of their species, and more will be coming. We are too vulnerable in this chamber to take them on in daylight in greater numbers.”
“Agreed,” said Mazja.
“Where shall we go?” asked Urit. “It’s freezing outside!”
“According to the palmcom translation,” said Mazja, “these Primitive Enforcers were involved in some kind of major conflict in the east, under the command of one they call ‘Son of the Dragon.’ Since we now resemble them physically, joining his conflict would present an opportunity for feeding without attracting attention.”
“How will we feed during the journey?” asked Urit.
Chaluxi inspected the bottle Gavril had set down next to the lamp.
“We can drain the Primitives and store the liquid in these containers,” he said.
Chaluxi placed the cork back into the bottle. “The stoppers can easily be reinserted. As for seeking shelter from the daylight, if we travel through the forest, we can always use the lasguns to hollow out pits and cover them with tree branches. If we take our daytime rest in semi-stasis, then what we can store in these containers should be sufficient. Although it will be a drain on power, I would also suggest that everyone learn the rudiments of the Primitive language using the palmcom’s sleep inducement teaching algorithm. ”
“Yes, it’s a good plan,” agreed Mazja. “We will seek out this Son of the Dragon and offer our services as mercenaries. With any luck he will live in a grand house that will become our new home.”
PERJURY
Court of Mehmed II, Ottoman Empire
The palace guards found Tariq practicing on the archery course. He knew one of them, Jamahl, and greeted him with a smile, believing Mehmed was bestowing a new honor upon him.
“You are arrested for high treason,” Jamahl announced.
Tariq was taken aback at the baseless charge and protested his innocence.
“Mehmed has made up his mind,” said Jamahl. “I have seen this happen many times. Your best hope is to confess and plead for mercy.”
“What am I supposed to have done?” asked Tariq.
“It’s something to do with Gevherhan,” answered Jamahl. “That’s all I know.”
He was placed in chains and unceremoniously hauled before Mehmed. Standing next to her father, Gevherhan’s face was streaked with tears.
“My daughter’s tutor was curious as to why she was not reading her lesson for the day,” said Mehmed softly as he waved a piece of parchment in the air. “This is what occupied her attention. A poor attempt at a poem declaring love—a poem penned by you.”
Mehmed held the parchment close to Tariq’s face. As the youth read the names assigned to the heart and arrow, he knew at once that Gevherhan had falsely accused him of being the author in order to save herself.
I am doomed.
“Do you deny the charge?” asked Mehmed harshly. “Is Gevherhan a liar?”
Tariq sadly shook his head. “I am guilty, Sire. Guilty of loving such a beautiful and virtuous maiden from afar. Knowing that she was unattainable, I set down my feelings on paper in the feeble hope that the thought of me could occupy a place in her heart, since we were destined to live separate lives.”
Mehmed looked sternly at Gevherhan. “What is he to you?” he demanded.
“Nothing, Father, nothing!” cried Gevherhan. “He is the scrawny son of a scribe who has ingratiated himself at court due to his prowess as an archer! I praised him with kind words when he won each contest, and he took that as license to court me!”
“Indeed,” said Mehmed, turning to face Tariq. “Since your passion did not go beyond penmanship, your life is spared. You are hereby conscripted as a bowman into my army. Your superior skills will be well utilized on the battlefield. May you eliminate Dracula’s soldiers with the same ease as you attained your numerous bullseyes.”
*******
Fatima found Gevherhan in her chamber selecting pieces of jewelry to wear.
“I have just heard what happened to Tariq,” she said harshly.
“What of it?” asked Gevherhan.
“This was your doing,” accused Fatima. “You were the one who wrote that silly love poem. Spoiled by everyone’s fawning attentions, you only wanted Tariq because he pointedly avoided you, and when your deed was uncovered, you threw him to the wolves.”
“You’re becoming demented in your old age, Fatima,” said Gevherhan. “I will disregard your words this time, but from now on you will address me with the proper respect.”
Fatima opened her robe and removed the crumpled parchments.
“Recognize them?” she asked, waving them in front of Gevherhan. “They are the rough drafts of what your tutor found in your possession. You were too lazy to destroy them yourself. I am taking these to Mehmed as proof of your treachery. I expect he’ll hand you over to a Christian convent. When that happens, you can bid farewell to your life of privilege.”
Fatima stormed out of the room and into the hallway. Terrified of what her father would do once the truth was revealed, Gevherhan ran after her.
“Fatima, wait!” she pleaded, removing one of her bracelets. “This is solid gold! Give me the parchments and it’s yours!”
“Hmph!” grunted Fatima as she turned to go down the marble stairs.
“No!” screamed Gevherhan, but Fatima ignored her and continued on her way.
*******
Jamahl heard Gevherhan’s screams and came running with a contingent of guards. He saw an old maidservant at the bottom of the stairs, dead from a broken neck. Gevherhan was crying hysterically as she put her arms around the body.
“Are you injured, Your Highness?” asked Jamahl. “What happened?”
Gevherhan opened Fatima’s hand and showed Jamahl the gold bracelet.
“I caught her stealing it,” she sobbed. “As she ran out of my room, I chased after her, telling her I would forgive her if she returned it. She looked back at me when she was on the stairs and lost her footing!”
Gevherhan continued to wail and moan in front of the guards in pretended grief for Fatima. Other servants arrived and coaxed her back to her plush apartments. Once inside, her tears stopped, and she ordered everyone to leave. Lifting a water pitcher, she poured the contents into a large basin. Taking the crumpled parchments she had removed from Fatima’s body, she submerged them in the water and watched with a smile as they slowly dissolved into mush.
DEFERMENT
Outskirts of Bazna
Once safely back at the crawlspace, Kevak inspected the Primitive items inside the trunk. Among the clothing was a long, black velvet cape. Draping it around his shoulders, he received immediate relief from the winter chill.
This will do nicely.
At the bottom of the trunk was a leather pouch that contained several small, metallic disks of a gold and silver color. Kevak theorized that the Primitives used them as currency, just as the Vambir had done in the distant past before technology ushered in an age of electronic credit.
As he continued to rummage through the trunk, he found oblong glass objects that held a dark red liquid. Fearing that it was the Primitive substance, he was relieved when the scanner revealed the contents to be a depressant they ingested.
Suppressing the urge to further explore the Primitive objects, Kevak used the portable terminal to determine the seasonal cycle of the planet.
New Vambiri…somehow it doesn’t sound right.
To his dismay, he learned it would be several months until the regional temperature was suitable to plant the hemo-seeds supplied by Chaluxi. His rations would not last, necessitating the need to return to stasis until warmer weather arrived.
At least I ha
ve the option of using the pod.
Although Kevak disliked the cramped conditions of the crawlspace, it provided the best protection from discovery. Once he emerged from stasis again, he would find a proper cave in which to live. Even though the Vambir were now locked out of the lifeboat, it was not safe for Kevak to live there, since they would most likely be returning every few months to check on the status of the ‘radiation leak.’ The technological gear he now possessed would provide him with a comfortable existence, and the recharging potential of the hydrogen cells meant he would never have to worry about a power drain. Over the next few hours he diligently worked on generating a cloaking shield for the crawlspace. Once powered up, the cloak assumed the look and feel of the surrounding limestone.
With his most important task completed, he knew he should enter stasis immediately, but even with the cloak in place, he felt uneasy about the prospect of being discovered. The revival sequence might take too long to bring him into consciousness if the Vambir detected him and managed to disable the cloak. He briefly considered the option of entering semi-stasis, but his body was still recovering from his near-death experience, and he wasn’t sure if he could maintain the hibernation for the months required.
Allowing his curiosity to get the better of him, he picked up one of the Primitive rectangular objects and used the palmcom to translate the hieroglyphics on the cover: Alexander the Great. It told the story of a Primitive king that had ruled a thousand years earlier and inherited the throne at the age of twenty upon his father’s assassination, rumored to have been planned by his mother. Alexander began his reign by executing any competitors for the throne, but his mother, Olympias, surpassed him in brutality. Alexander’s father, Philip, had cast her aside and taken a new wife. Shortly after Philip’s death, Olympias ordered the woman’s execution, along with her daughter, and they were summarily burned alive.
The same agonizing fate I narrowly escaped.
Alexander had spent his entire reign engaging in military campaigns in order to expand his kingdom and died at the age of thirty-three. Ironically, Alexander did not die in battle but was believed to have been poisoned by one of his friends, and shortly after his death, the empire he had spent years building crumbled apart.
The Nosferatu Chronicles: Origins Page 9