The Nosferatu Chronicles: Origins

by Susan Hamilton

  Chaluxi flung his quilt to the ground and raised a fist above his head. “Side by side! To the death!”

  “Side by side! To the death!” shouted the soldiers in response.

  As Mazja put her fist to her chin in the Vambir salute and curtsied to them in a humble gesture of appreciation, they joyously responded with wild cheers.

  This has worked out better than anything I could have hoped for.

  HARVEST

  Outskirts of Bazna

  Red blooms! They’re ready to pick!

  Kevak filled his baskets and carefully climbed down into the cave. Never before had he seen blossoms so big. The bio-scanner confirmed his belief that the soil from the clifftop had yielded a superior crop.

  He distilled the precious hemo-oil using steam obtained from boiling pond water. When the first droplets were produced, he cautiously tasted them and felt the nourishment flow through his body. Looking at the last half ration of hemo-nectar that remained, he began to laugh.

  Once again he had stood on the precipice of his own survival and avoided destruction. Exhausted from his work, he wearily climbed into the stasis pod. No longer having to resort to entering stasis to stave off hunger, he looked forward to the normal rest that sleep provided.

  As he peacefully drifted into slumber, he mumbled words of thanks to Iam then dreamed of the hemo-crops he would cultivate on Earth in the years to come.

  RECOVERY

  Castle Dracula

  “Teodor!” whispered Luca into his ear. “Wake up!”

  Luca gently shook him and called out his name again. Teodor’s eyes slowly blinked as he returned to consciousness. Looking at his surroundings, he recognized it was his room at the castle. He was drenched in sweat yet felt intensely cold. As his teeth began to chatter, he gathered the blankets around his face.

  “Luca,” he said. “How long have I been out?”

  “You were brought here in a litter four days ago,” answered Luca. “What happened?”

  “We were wrong,” he whispered. “Daylight does not harm them.”

  “The soldiers who brought you here said that Marin was executed, and you were wounded when his assassins attacked you.”

  “Are the assassins still alive?” asked Teodor.

  Luca smiled and shook his head.

  Teodor moved to grab Luca’s arm but was racked by a wave of pain. Opening his shirt, he saw a bandage soaked in blood and puss. The smell was foul.

  “Were they tortured first?” he asked breathlessly.

  “Neither of us would be alive if that had happened,” answered Luca. “What do you remember?”

  “Mazja and Chaluxi…outside in daylight,” he said as he struggled to speak. “I killed the first assassin…the other two nearly finished me off.”

  “Lucky you,” said Luca. “No one would dare question your loyalty to Dracula now.”

  “What of the Vambir?” asked Teodor.

  “We leave them alone,” said Luca. “If they deliver an Ottoman defeat to Dracula, they are untouchable.”

  “It’s not safe,” said Teodor. “Mazja and Chaluxi knew. And there’s something else…you were right — they have made a deal with the Evil One. The mirror in the hallway did not capture their reflection!”

  “Impossible,” scoffed Luca. “Your fever is affecting your faculties.”

  “I know what I saw,” insisted Teodor.

  Luca covered his nose to keep out the stench emanating from Teodor’s bandages.

  His wounds are infected, and he’ll die soon, taking our secret to the grave.

  “All will be well,” he assured Teodor. “Rest now, and let your body mend.”

  CRUSADE

  Encampment of Matthias Corvinus, Transylvania

  Jasper longed to return to Wales. Answering the call of Pope Pius II for a Crusade against the Ottomans, he had expected that fame and glory would easily come to him. It had taken a journey by sea and months of travel on horseback before reaching the army under the command of Matthias Corvinus in Hungary. What Jasper had envisioned as chivalric battle turned out to be nothing short of butchery. The Welshmen who had accompanied him were now corpses decaying in mass graves hastily dug at various battlefields. Owen had been right in his assessment of war.

  Jasper had fashioned his helmet with a long nose guard to protect his face. This afforded him visibility superior to the Hungarian helmets, which resembled buckets with eye slits. His hulking figure, chainmail, and blue surcoat with a gold crucifix singled him out, and he became known to the Ottomans as ‘The Crusader.’

  On the first day of battle, Jasper had engaged in hand-to-hand combat using his long sword and shield, but the close-quarters combat had hampered his ability to strike effectively. Were it not for his superior strength, the surging enemy would have stampeded over him, but he had been able to drive them back by using his shield as a battering ram.

  That night he fashioned a dagger with a ‘T’ handle so that the blade protruded between his fingers. The compact push dagger allowed him the arm room needed to strike the enemy during close-quarters combat with the full force of his body.

  With his long sword inside its scabbard at his hip and wearing a belt that held replacement push daggers, he took his place in the front line at the next battle. Ottoman swords could not penetrate his shield or chainmail, and he dispatched enemy soldiers with ease by using his long reach to plunge the push dagger into their eyes or throats.

  Blood and gore hung loosely from his chain mail as he waded through the dead and dying, leading the charge. By the end of the day the Ottomans were on the run, and word of his heroic feats spread throughout the ranks.

  A week later he received a summons to meet with none other than Matthias Corvinus. As he made his way into the commander’s tent, he bowed to him and then regarded with curiosity the two people seated at the table.

  Looks like a rich nobleman and his wife, but why would anyone bring a high-born lady to a battlefield?

  “So, you are the Crusader,” said Corvinus. “It is rumored the Ottomans have been told that whoever delivers your head to Mehmed will receive a bounty of a hundred gold ducats.”

  Jasper remained silent and awkwardly shifted his weight between his feet. He was not used to conversing with those above his station unless it was to take orders from his commanders.

  “Then let us propose a toast to Mehmed’s continued prosperity,” said the man seated next to Corvinus as he poured wine into a silver goblet and offered it to Jasper.

  Accepting the goblet, Jasper raised it in a gesture of respect before gulping down its contents.

  Corvinus smiled at Jasper and indicated the man seated next to him. “I present to you Prince Vlad Dracula of Wallachia.”

  Jasper was briefly taken aback but quickly bent down on one knee. “I am honored to meet the Son of the Dragon.”

  Matthias Corvinus is the son of the White Knight, whose forces killed Dracula’s family!

  “I can tell from your expression that you are confused by our alliance,” said Dracula. “There is an old saying: ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ We have put aside the hostility between our fathers and are united for the sake of all Christendom.”

  Dracula motioned for Jasper to stand. “Corvinus has ordered a nighttime attack in three days to coincide with the new moon. While this is occurring, my elite Vambir warriors are going to slip behind enemy lines and launch a surprise attack from the rear. The Vambir, led by Lady Mazja, will be accompanied by the best men Corvinus has available under his command.”

  Jasper glanced at Mazja, who met his gaze but did not smile.

  “Do you accept this commission?” Corvinus asked Jasper.

  “Gladly, Sire, for the glory of Christendom,” he replied.

  “Select the twenty best men you have fought beside to accompany you and meet here just after sunset on the night of the battle,” ordered Corvinus. “Oh, and leave your Crusader’s tunic behind. The bright colors will be detected by the enemy, and yo
u’ll need every minute of concealment that the moonless night can offer.”

  *******

  Three days later, Jasper gathered the men he had chosen and met up with the Vambir at the appointed place and time. He had every confidence in his men, but his first pick, Friedrich, was unable to join him, explaining that he had been given a secret task to perform for Corvinus. Friedrich was nearly the same height and build as Jasper and had been quick to adopt the push dagger as his principal weapon after witnessing Jasper’s lethal use of it.

  As Jasper’s group approached the Vambir, he was disgusted to see that not only was Mazja present, but nearly a third of the fighters were also female. He had assumed Mazja’s role was that of a figurehead, since she surely must have come to power through a lack of male heirs.

  Female fighters! They put the entire mission at risk! What was Corvinus thinking?

  “You will leave your horses here,” said Mazja to Jasper. “We have many miles to run before we reach Mehmed’s forces.”

  “Horses would make the journey faster, milady,” suggested Jasper.

  “Even if the horses remained quiet, the sound of their hooves would be heard by the Ottomans, and our plan would unravel before it could be executed,” she replied.

  She turned away from Jasper and began to run. The Vambir fell into pace behind her as Jasper’s men sat dumbfounded atop their horses, looking toward him for guidance.

  “Tether the horses and follow the Vambir,” he commanded as he dismounted.

  For three hours, Jasper and his men struggled to keep pace with the Vambir. They willed their exhaustion away by refusing to give in to the unthinkable idea that females could outrun them. Eventually, they climbed to the top of a steep hill and found themselves overlooking the battle from behind enemy lines. The Ottomans were gaining the upper hand on Corvinus’s army. A glint of something reflecting off the torchlights caught Jasper’s eye, and he squinted as he focused in on the figure in the center of the battle.

  “Friedrich!” he cried. “He is wearing my tunic! Oh God, no! The Ottomans are overtaking him!”

  Jasper and his men watched helplessly as Friedrich was struck down and hacked to pieces. An Ottoman grasped the decapitated head by the hair and jubilantly hoisted it for all to see.

  “What have you done?” shouted Jasper to Mazja. “I removed twenty of the best fighters from our front lines, and the sight of Friedrich in my tunic meant that the Ottomans put all of their efforts to bring him down! He was purposely left vulnerable!”

  “Exactly as planned,” retorted Mazja. “Look how they are fighting over what they believe to be the Crusader’s head. The winner will take it to Mehmed to collect the bounty and lead us straight to him. We will then kill Mehmed and end this war. The Crusader and Corvinus’s twenty best fighters will be spared. A successful outcome, by all accounts.”

  “Tell that to Friedrich, you foul wench!” screamed Jasper as he ran to confront Mazja.

  With lightning speed, Urit intercepted him and sent him sailing through the air with a blow from his forearm. Jasper fell hard on the ground and had the breath knocked out of him.

  “You filthy Primitive,” sneered Urit. “You accepted this commission, now do your duty or we will slaughter you here and now!”

  As Jasper regained his breath, one of his men unsheathed his sword and struck Urit from behind. Blood gushed out of Urit’s open wound, and Jasper watched as he momentarily crouched in pain then quickly recovered.

  “Kill them all,” ordered Mazja. “We’ll tell Corvinus that the Ottomans overtook them. It won’t matter to him when we arrive back with Mehmed’s corpse.”

  A female Vambir jumped on top of Jasper and hissed in his face. He could see her canines about to latch on to his throat. Without hesitation, he plunged the push dagger into her temple and she let out a bloodcurdling scream before falling over dead.

  “Strike them in the head!” yelled Jasper to his men, but it was all for naught. The Vambir moved so quickly that they were a blur as they easily dispatched Jasper’s men.

  Jasper stabbed wildly into the air as a blurred figure ran at him. He felt a cold, clammy hand squeeze his throat and lift him into the air. Struggling to breathe, he looked down and saw he was being held aloft by Urit.

  He is fully recovered!

  Urit began to laugh and exposed a set of canines identical to the female who had just attacked him.

  A familiar sound whizzed by Jasper, and he suddenly fell to the ground. Urit lay dead beside him with an arrow through the eye. More arrows could be heard landing in their midst.

  “We have been discovered!” cried Mazja. “Over there! Ottoman archers on the opposite hill! Hurry!”

  “Stay down, Crusader,” said a voice in Jasper’s ear, “and live to fight another day.”

  It was a male Vambir, crouching over Jasper and pretending to feed off him until the others had left to follow Mazja. For a brief moment, Jasper thought he could sense the revulsion this Vambir felt for his comrades but he had no time to ponder it as the male vanished in a blurred motion.

  The archers were a group of four whose duties were to fire arrows over the Ottoman front line to give them cover while advancing. Once the two armies had made contact, the archers were no longer needed and headed back to their encampment. These four were among the youngest and had broken off from the main group in the hope of using the short respite to obtain fresh meat by hunting for game they had seen earlier in the day.

  As Jasper got to his feet, he could see Mazja leading the Vambir up the hill to confront the youths. Never having experienced close combat, three of the youths panicked and fled as the faces of the hissing Vambir came into view. One archer stood firm in his position, calmly continuing to draw, aim, and release arrow after arrow in a swift, automatic motion.

  He’s just a boy!

  Jasper sprinted toward the hillside. As he ran, he prayed fervently.

  Almighty Lord, forgive me. I made this journey for personal gain. Give me the strength to fight the demons. Bless me, Lord, and if it is Your will, help me to save the boy. Permit me to do a good deed before I breathe my last, as proof that my time spent here was not in vain.

  When Jasper reached the base of the hill, he could see Mazja and two Vambir closing in on the boy.

  “Commander! The Ottoman carrying the head is getting away!”

  Jasper recognized the voice of the Vambir who had saved him.

  “Finish off the Primitive,” Mazja commanded to one of the Vambir as she turned with the others to follow the Ottoman carrying Friedrich’s head.

  The Vambir sprang in front of the boy just as he released an arrow from his bow. The arrow lodged in its cheek but only served to enrage it. The boy turned to grab another arrow, but his quiver was empty. Three feet away was a full quiver that had been dropped by one of the fleeing youths. As he reached for it, the Vambir pounced on top of him, and he was powerless to stop its jagged teeth from sinking into his throat. The youth felt a warm spray of blood covering his head as the Vambir rolled lifelessly off him. Protruding from the top of its head was a push dagger. Watching in a daze, he saw a muscular soldier twist and remove it. It was an enemy soldier, but not part of the group of demons that had just attacked him.

  “Come with me, boyo, and live!” shouted Jasper, knowing the boy could not understand him but desperately trying to convey that he meant him no harm.

  The boy swooned and Jasper easily hoisted him over one of his shoulders. Detecting no Vambir or enemy soldiers approaching, Jasper made his getaway.

  GESTATION

  Castle Dracula

  Elzbieta opened her chamber door and saw the midwife accompanied by one of her ladies.

  “I have brought the midwife as you instructed, Princess,” said the lady.

  She handed the lady a sewing basket, along with ten neatly folded shirts. “The collars on these need to be embroidered. Come back when you have finished.”

  The lady took the basket from Elzbieta and curtsied.<
br />
  Elzbieta waited until she could no longer hear the footsteps of the lady before speaking. “Is there any possibility that the child Soueti carries was fathered during the time she was enslaved?”

  “No, Princess,” answered the midwife, “you saw the stone.”

  “I’m not going to risk the life of the baby on a stone,” she said. “You examined her today. When was conception?”

  “At least two months after she was liberated, Princess.”

  “You are absolutely certain?” she asked.

  “There can be no doubt, Princess,” insisted the midwife.

  “And you will testify to this, should Dracula summon you?” asked Elzbieta.

  The midwife looked puzzled. “It is the truth, Princess.”

  Elzbieta breathed a sigh of relief and dismissed the midwife.

  She had recently overheard bits and pieces of disturbing stories amongst the courtiers about Dracula’s brutality regarding women he had deemed as unchaste. She knew Soueti better than anyone else at court, except Iroto, and had no doubts about her virtue. Fearful that Dracula would not share her high opinion of the former sex slave, Elzbieta resolved to do all in her power to protect her and her baby.

  If she carries the baby to full term, Dracula will accept it as Iroto’s child.

  But if the baby came prematurely, Dracula would have festering doubts.

  If she delivers early, she and Iroto must leave here at once.

  But how to bring it about, if it came to that?

  If he suspected that I assisted them, even I would not be immune to his wrath.

  She walked to the prie-dieu in her chamber and knelt before the crucifix.

  With God, all things are possible.

  *******

  Iroto laughed as he felt the baby kick the hand he had placed on Soueti’s midsection.

  “The child is strong,” he said proudly.

  “It is eager to meet its father,” said Soueti with a smile. “The kicks grow more numerous each day.”

  Their laughter was interrupted by a discreet knock on the door. Iroto opened it slightly and saw a palace guard.