The Nosferatu Chronicles: Origins

by Susan Hamilton

  The terrified congregation murmured as they listened to Nicolae’s description of the creature he had encountered.

  “Did you also see this demon, Sorin?” asked the preot.

  “Only the back of it as it ran away,” answered Sorin. “I could see that it had a bald head with pointed ears.”

  “It made its escape faster than a spooked horse!” added Nicolae.

  “It was the demon that killed everyone in Bazna!” yelled one of the villagers. “It has waited for the new families to move in, and now it will come back to feast on us!”

  Upon hearing this, many villagers spoke of leaving. The preot raised his arms and called for silence.

  “This is our home, blessed by the Lord,” he began. “God knows the fate of those who called Bazna home before us, and it will be revealed in His good time. His ways are mysterious, and it is not for us to question His will. He has seen fit to repopulate Bazna with new families, new shepherds, and even a new preot. If there is a demon lurking nearby, then with His help, we will defeat it.”

  He then turned to the shepherds. “Nicolae, where did the encounter happen?”

  “At the cliffs beyond the plain,” answered Nicolae.

  “Holed up in a cave, no doubt,” said the preot. “We shall report what we have seen to the authorities and ask for reinforcements. Gather your families and return here for the night. In the morning, send the women and children away to the next village. Once the soldiers arrive, we will hunt down and kill this servant of Necuratu: this Nosferatu!”

  “Death to Nosferatu!” cried the villagers.

  PLOTS

  Castle Dracula

  Mazja sat on the edge of her bed and admired the opulent surroundings. The vast underground chambers of Dracula’s castle could easily be mistaken for the Highcaste Sector of Lun.

  We could make a comfortable life for ourselves here.

  But there were many obstacles to overcome.

  Lies. So many lies to remember. I must remember exactly what I told him earlier…

  Mazja had informed Dracula that the Vambir came from an inhospitable land that forced them to live underground in a vast maze of caves for all of their recorded history. Over the generations, their eyes had adjusted to the dark conditions, resulting in their superior night vision.

  “A gift from God to aid you in battle,” Dracula had commented admiringly.

  “A blessing that is balanced by a curse,” Mazja craftily replied. “I trust you to keep this secret, as knowledge of it would embolden the Ottomans. Sunlight greatly handicaps our ability to see. We are extremely vulnerable during daytime battles. To protect ourselves—”

  “— you tap into superstitious fear by portraying yourselves as vicious nocturnal creatures!” finished Dracula. “Pretending to drink the blood of the fallen during your midnight battles has the enemy terrified of an army that draws its strength from the Evil One.”

  “I fear that the Ottomans are not the only ones who hold this opinion,” Mazja answered sweetly. “I’ve seen the way many of your courtiers look at us.”

  “You need not trouble yourself in this kingdom, Lady Mazja,” Dracula assured her. “The Son of the Dragon rules here. The Vambir facade is a clever one, and we must strive to see that it is maintained.”

  Mazja had gone on to explain that the Vambir deliberately kept to themselves so that the secret of their vision deficiency would not be inadvertently revealed through friendships formed with those in Dracula’s court.

  “Friendships require trust, and trust exposes weakness,” she said.

  “As you have done with me?” Dracula asked, teasingly.

  “Precisely, my Prince…my friend,” she had replied with pretended shyness.

  Within each of Mazja’s lies was a grain of truth, making them easier to remember. As he escorted her back to her chamber, Dracula engaged her in frivolous small talk, to which she responded with discreet laughter. In a brief moment she let her guard down and did not notice the large mirror hanging in the hallway. As she turned her head toward Dracula, she caught a glimpse of her reflection. It was the first time she had seen her entire altered form. Overcome with revulsion at the loss of her Vambir features, she lunged past Dracula and drove her fist into the image of the hideous Primitive she had become.

  “Another façade?” Dracula had asked.

  “No, Prince,” Mazja answered breathlessly, as she struggled to think of a convincing lie. “I was taken unawares. Our ancestors believed that a mirror captures the soul if the reflection sees the original first.”

  Now, in the privacy of her chamber, Mazja replayed the events of the evening in her mind.

  He seemed to believe everything. I must tell Chaluxi to brief the others about avoiding mirrors due to our ‘superstition.’

  As Dracula had said goodnight to her, Mazja detected his heart rate increasing.

  He is attracted to me, and as long as I remain unattainable, his desire will grow. But eventually, I will have to give in to that filthy Primitive.

  There were other things for her to worry about. The blood cravings were strongest when the Vambir were in close proximity to Primitives. Their heightened senses were so acute that they could hear the faint sounds of the blood coursing through their veins. They knew which of Dracula’s men despised them based on their vital signs. The soldiers and priests, in particular, elicited strong reactions. But this advantage in sensitivity to the biological workings of Primitives was counterbalanced by the fact that the blood hunger could take over at any time.

  Mazja had commanded that under no circumstances were the Vambir to feed off anyone in the palace. Such actions would expose their true purpose. They would live in protected splendor as long as they could maintain the pretense of being mercenaries. It was of the utmost importance that they kept their cravings in check. Their hunger would be rewarded on the battlefield. Anyone who disobeyed her would meet the same fate as Kevak and the children.

  It was a mistake to spare those who had given in to the cravings on the battlefield.

  At the slightest sign of weakness on their part during the next battle, she would deal with them as she had Fryhi, and they knew it.

  But will that threat be enough? Most likely not…

  Chaluxi and other loyalists were closely monitoring them, but it was a distracting effort that required constant vigilance. Their weakness put everything at risk.

  *******

  In her private chapel, Princess Elzbieta and her ladies silently prayed. Upon first beholding the Vambir, she had felt an instant sense of foreboding.

  Revulsion in the presence of evil.

  But there was more. Dracula was enamored with their queen, and she was using this to influence him. It was not the first time he had strayed. Long ago, Elzbieta had accepted his infidelities with dignified aloofness. Such was the fate of women in arranged marriages. To his credit, Dracula had been discreet with his paramours and did not flaunt them in open court as other monarchs did. The affairs were always over quickly, and in public Dracula showed Elzbieta the respect that her position as princess entitled her to.

  But this Mazja is different. The others were all froth and frills and readily gave in to his desires. The warrior queen enflames him. She’s nothing like anything he has encountered before: as strong as she is beautiful.

  Elzbieta found herself wishing that Mazja would give in to Dracula’s lust, for he would soon tire of her, and her influence would then be at an end.

  Her refusal to lie with him makes him want her more. No woman has ever rejected him. He is bewitched with the chase.

  Bewitched — it was an appropriate description.

  It is said that witches avoid the sunlight and feed off the blood of humans.

  It was obvious to her that Dracula was under some kind of spell, which she was powerless to break. Reminding herself that the only one who had power over evil was God, she fervently returned to her prayers.

  *******

  Teodor was the last to ente
r the room. Luca, the high priest, and Marin, Dracula’s chief counselor, were conferring in hushed tones and were startled when he quickly opened the door.

  “You two look guilty as sin,” said Teodor.

  “This is no joking matter, Teodor,” scoffed Marin.

  Teodor had been waiting years for an opportunity to seize power. Dracula’s unstable state of mind only made his soldiers fear him. He did not have their undying loyalty. But for the time being, their fear was enough to bind them to him.

  Teodor knew how to manipulate the jealousies of those assembled. Luca believed the Vambir were demons, or at best pagans, while Marin was disgusted that Dracula now relied on a woman for advice on matters of state.

  “He is possessed by demons,” said Luca.

  “He is possessed by lust,” countered Marin.

  “You are both correct,” said Teodor. “Mazja exploits his desire for her. But what is Mazja’s desire for her tribe? To serve our prince? I think not.”

  “She is the Whore of Babylon,” said Luca.

  “If only she were a whore,” replied Teodor.

  “What’s to be done about her and her kind?” asked Marin.

  “We must exploit their weakness,” answered Teodor. “Every living thing has some kind of vulnerability — even demons.”

  “We can’t even poison the wench,” said Marin, “since none of them eat in public.”

  “What is it that we know about them?” asked Teodor. “More to the point, what do they avoid?”

  “The daylight,” answered Luca. “A civilized man takes his rest at night, but it does not prevent him from venturing outside during darkness.”

  “Precisely,” said Teodor. “They are vulnerable to daylight, for some unknown reason. The soldiers are telling a disturbing tale about the Vambir dead on the battlefield. Apparently their remains burst into flames precisely at sunrise. I wouldn’t give it much credence, however, since the witnesses to the event deserted. Deserters will say anything to justify their treason.”

  “If it’s true,” said Marin, “then how are we supposed to entice them outside into the sunlight?”

  “Now that Mehmed’s troops are advancing, the Vambir must engage them soon,” said Teodor. “The enemy encampment is located too far away to reach in one nighttime ride.”

  “Our prince will see to it that they are housed safely during the journey,” said Marin with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The countryside is dotted with manor houses.”

  “Yes,” said Teodor, “but none of them are large enough to accommodate the whole tribe, and only a few have cellars.”

  “A cellar can become a death trap,” said Luca. “An oil lamp can easily be overturned by a careless servant and start a fire that would quickly spread. If the flames don’t consume them, the lack of air to breathe should suffice.”

  “They would either burn or be forced to run outside,” said Marin.

  “And if the house on fire does not contain their queen?” asked Luca.

  “The soldiers stationed in her house would leave to assist the others,” answered Marin.

  “When is the deed to be carried out?” asked Luca.

  “Mehmed’s troops are moving slowly,” said Teodor. “Once the wine runs out, they’ll pick up their pace. Word of the Night Attack has spread beyond the borders of Wallachia, and Dracula believes the Vambir will deliver Mehmed into his hands. I overheard him tell Mazja that he plans to engage Mehmed in hand-to-hand combat during their next encounter.”

  “He has not informed his counselors of this!” exclaimed Marin. “How have we come to the point that a freed slave is now a general, and a woman dictates battle strategy?”

  “Iroto is no threat,” said Teodor. “He serves Dracula so that his wife and the Kapikulu can have a better life, and he would never do anything to put them at risk.”

  He unrolled a map and spread it out on the table. “As for Mehmed, it will take at least two weeks to reach his encampment, here. This region has only a few scattered farmhouses.”

  “Farmhouses,” repeated Marin with a smile. “Fire hazards, the lot.”

  As the conspirators left the room, they were unaware that Chaluxi was in the chamber directly beneath them. The thick stone floors separating the levels of Castle Dracula prevented eavesdropping, but this only applied to human ears.

  CHOICES

  Outskirts of Bazna

  Kevak had learned from his palmcom translator that the little creature he saved was a youngling from a species called ‘sheep,’ in particular a ‘lamb,’ and the beasts he vaporized were called ‘wolves.’ Immersed in his reading, he was startled by the scanner alarm.

  It’s the proximity alert!

  Standing behind the cloaked shield, he could see Primitives on the plain approaching the cliffs in the daylight. For over a week he had nervously kept watch and was beginning to hope the Primitives who had seen him had been too afraid to tell anyone.

  They sent for their Enforcers.

  He watched as they broke off into several groups, one of which started climbing the cliff face directly below his cave.

  “It’s difficult to tell if those are cave openings or shadows,” he heard one of the soldiers say.

  “We’ll have to get closer,” said another.

  Eventually, the soldiers arrived at the thin ledge in front of the cave entrance. In single file, they moved sideways as their fingers searched for indentations in the rock to cling to.

  They saw no entrance. The cloaking shield had duplicated the cliff wall not only in sight, but in touch as well. Kevak was face-to-face with the soldiers, separated by mere inches of cloaked shielding. This was his first opportunity to observe Primitive characteristics since studying the one the Vambir had brought back to the lifeboat.

  Head, torso, two arms, and two legs. Hands with five digits. Faces with two eyes, two ears, a nose, and a mouth. Our DNA cousins. Without the fibrous material that grows from their heads, they could pass for Vambir adolescents.

  When the soldiers made it to the clifftop, they saw that it was covered in clumps of bushes with thick, razor-sharp thorns. Kevak had had the foresight to cloak the hemo-crops, and the soldiers agreed that not even a demon would seek refuge here. Finding no signs of Nosferatu, the soldiers departed.

  If I had allowed the wolves to kill the lamb, the Primitives would have never come in search of me. Yet if I had it to do over again, I would have acted the same. Perhaps the ancient Lowcastes thought of themselves as the lambs and the Highcastes as the wolves. One day a deity would come to save them…

  As he watched the soldiers retreat across the plain, he thought of a passage from Genesis.

  God created Ha-adam in his own image. In the image of God, He had created them. Male and female, He created them.

  The palmcom translator revealed the ancient word ‘Ha-adam’ was the root for ‘human.’ The Primitives referred to themselves as human.

  Iam created humans in his own image.

  But the Vambir and humans had the same physical characteristics, and if Iam created beings in his own image, then one could infer that the Vambir fell into that category as well.

  Kevak had searched the Vambir data banks for any information regarding the ancient Lowcaste deity cults, but as he had expected found nothing.

  Two planets on opposite sides of the universe having life forms that were genetically linked, albeit weakly, was statistically impossible.

  I don’t believe in coincidences.

  He picked up the Bible and continued reading in the hope of discovering a link to Vambiri’s ancient past. Kevak marveled at the second half of the Bible called the New Testament. Iam was the father of Jesus, whose purpose was to die for the sins of all humans. He had difficulty coming to terms with such a disturbing concept.

  Could I have sacrificed J’Vor? Never. Abraham had proven himself willing to sacrifice Isaac, but in the end Isaac was spared.

  Thoughts of J’Vor rekindled his intense grief, and Kevak returned to rea
ding to distract himself. A phrase in the book of Matthew resonated within him.

  So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.

  Kevak remembered the time he had spent in the Lowcaste sector and was filled with shame. During his life on Vambiri he had never been concerned with their plight until he had been forced to wander among them in search of hemo-rations. The memory of the garbage disposal elevators overflowing with the emaciated dead replayed in his mind.

  How could I have been part of a society that inflicted so much cruelty?

  The answer became clear to him. The Primus and the Council had structured the caste system in such a way that the two groups never had any interaction. Even servants of Highcastes were themselves Highcaste. It was easy to tolerate an unfair society when one was completely unaware that it existed. He had been taught at an early age that Lowcastes were genetically inferior and incapable of holding any position in society that required an elevated intelligence. Nature had designed them for simple tasks, and when technology eliminated the need for hard physical labor, they led peaceful, albeit dull lives.

  It was all lies. How could I not have seen it?

  His thoughts Lowcastes shifted to humans as he remembered the one that had died in the lab.

  I was part of the experiments that brought about his death.

  A picture of Vrin and J’Vor being experimented on by humans quickly flashed through his mind. He looked down at the Bible in his hands and quickly closed it.

  “Your Bible is no longer entertaining, Iam,” he said. “I have broken the most serious of your Ten Commandments and completely understand that you would want nothing to do with a sinner like me.”

  *******

  Kevak diligently tended the hemo-crops and resolved never to read ‘The Good Book’ again.

  “Why would something purported to be good make me feel so bad?” he wondered aloud.