The Nosferatu Chronicles: Origins

by Susan Hamilton

  “Rest in peace with your beloved wife,” she said to Dracula’s body.

  As Iroto prepared to make a hasty retreat before Mazja could see him, he stopped in his tracks when Dracula’s body began to shake. The eyes opened and the body defied gravity as it contorted into a standing position. Mazja looked on in bewilderment at the reanimated figure.

  Iroto knew at once that this was the sign from Allah he had been waiting for.

  Mazja is a demon! It’s the only way she could have been in two places at the same time…and she has transformed Dracula into one!

  *******

  Vambir women removed Elzbieta’s clothing and placed collection bowls beneath her to catch the putrid blood that drained from surgical cuts they made to her corpse. When they opened her stomach to remove the internal organs, the gases building up inside were released. Unfazed, the women silently continued with their grisly task. Upon its completion, Elzbieta was restored to her earthly beauty. Her body was then washed and scented oil applied. After neatly coiffing her hair, they placed a shroud over her and left her to the tender care of her ladies, who dressed her in all of her royal finery.

  Satisfied that Elzbieta’s body had been treated in accordance with her station, Chaluxi left to check on Dracula and Mazja. As he walked past the dead priests, he could hear choking noises and saw Mazja struggling with Dracula.

  “Help me!” she cried.

  Together, they restrained him by tightly wrapping the bed sheets around him.

  “What has happened to him? How has he become so strong?” asked Chaluxi.

  “He went mad with grief and attacked me,” said Mazja. “He only managed to stab me in the shoulder. When I crouched over him to feed, some of my blood dripped into his mouth.”

  Unable to speak, Dracula could only grunt as he flayed about with eyes that could not focus. Seeing something that caught his attention, Chaluxi firmly grasped his hair. Opening Dracula’s mouth, he saw canines.

  “Look,” he said to Mazja, “he is changing.”

  *******

  Iroto arrived at the Free Kapikulu barracks on horseback with Soueti.

  “My wife’s time is near,” he said to one of the soldiers. “His Highness the prince has given me leave to take her to the midwife who resides in the next village. We will require a wagon in which to travel, and be sure to hitch a fresh horse, for I am commanded to return immediately.”

  SERMON

  Village of Velt

  Father Andrew offered up a final silent prayer as he walked to the podium. The congregation waited to hear which book and verse of the Bible would be the basis for the sermon.

  “Brothers and sisters,” he began. “Today I wish to expound upon an issue of suppressed history—a grave matter involving evil that will require every last bit of faith to defeat.”

  The congregation exchanged puzzled looks as they waited for the preot to continue.

  “There was an event…some fifty years ago,” he said.

  The congregation murmured nervously.

  Father Andrew nodded his head. “I can see from your reaction that you know of what I speak.”

  “Preot, it was never to be mentioned again!” protested one.

  “Yet how have you come to know of it?” he asked. “Bunica was the last one remaining who lived through that ordeal.”

  The congregation fell silent and lowered their eyes in shame.

  “The evil has lingered hidden away in our minds,” he continued, “passed down the generations in hushed whispers. It has been nourished by fear and secrecy. We must eradicate it by calling it out.”

  “Why, Preot?” asked another in the congregation.

  “Because everyone in the village of Bazna was destroyed by it,” answered Father Andrew. “Destroyed by the Strigoi!”

  The congregation gasped in unison at the forbidden word.

  “How do you know this, Preot?”

  “God has seen fit to reveal it to me,” he said. “A short time ago He began warning me in my dreams that the Strigoi are moving across the land by night, feeding on souls like locusts ravenously consuming crops. I thought they were nothing more than nightmares, but they began on the night Bunica died. This turned out to be significant, for reasons that I cannot reveal.”

  “I will reveal the reasons,” said Emanui. “Bunica told me about the Strigoi just before she died, and every night since then I have been visited by them in my dreams. I confessed this to Father Andrew, unaware that they were haunting him as well.”

  “They will eventually reach us, and we must prepare,” said Father Andrew. “This church is a safe haven. No Strigoi will set foot on holy ground. Upon the first sighting, we will stay here at night and hunt them down during the day as our fathers and grandfathers did. If you find yourselves cut off from the church at night, take refuge in your own homes with garlic and crucifixes. I will also supply each household with vials of blessed holy water.”

  “When will they be upon us?” asked another parishioner anxiously.

  “God has not seen fit to reveal the exact day and time,” answered Father Andrew, “but they are coming soon. Be ever vigilant and listen for the church bells at night. They will announce their arrival.”

  REBIRTH

  Castle Dracula

  After sunset, all of the soldiers in the vicinity gathered at the cliffside where Elzbieta had met her end. Her body, resplendent in her gown and robes of state, had been placed on top of a great pyre. Rumors abounded regarding her apparent suicide. To avoid the delicate subject of Christian funeral rites, it was announced that the Vambir would personally honor her according to the customs from their land. The words Chaluxi recited to those assembled were based on Vambiri rites.

  We gather here to honor our fellow Vambir. We commit the body to the sun and the ashes to the hemo-fields. Vambir death is reborn in Vambir life. Behold, the Eternal Cycle!

  Dressed in the hooded, black robe of a monk, Chaluxi began in a loud, clear voice.

  “We gather here to honor Her Most Gracious Highness, Princess Elzbieta of Wallachia,” he began. “We commit her body to the fire and her ashes to her beloved homeland. The death of the body is reborn in the everlasting life of the soul. Behold, eternal Paradise!”

  A palace guard handed Chaluxi a torch, and with it he lit the pyre. Within minutes, the flames engulfed her body.

  Dracula was seated in his throne, restrained by ropes. Everyone could clearly see that he had gone mad. Unable to speak, his head gyrated as he grunted and hissed incoherently. It was common knowledge that Dracula had experienced a brief bout of madness in Sultan Murad’s dungeons when he had been forced to witness daily executions as a teenager.

  Iroto and Soueti were nowhere to be found, and it was assumed they had fled to avoid Mehmed’s vengeance for the Ottoman deaths incurred during the liberation of the Free Kapikulu. No one doubted that an attack upon Castle Dracula would be launched as soon as word of Dracula’s mental infirmity reached Mehmed.

  The kingdom had no ruler, and, terrified at the prospect of Mehmed foisting Radu upon them, the soldiers pleaded with the Vambir to provide leadership. Not wanting to risk offending Primitive sensibilities about female heads of state, Mazja wisely nominated Chaluxi as “Protector” in Dracula’s stead. She assured them that this post would only be filled temporarily. Given enough time, Dracula would move on from his grief, and his sanity would be restored. There were many who secretly wished this would not be the case.

  *******

  Iroto kept the horse at a tranquil trotting gait, resisting the urge to whip it into a gallop. Although he wanted to get as far away from Castle Dracula as possible, too fast a pace would dangerously jostle Soueti and also draw unwanted attention.

  He calmly assumed an air of self-confidence as they passed through the first village. Everyone had heard of the dark-skinned general of the Free Kapikulu, and to question Iroto’s business was to question Dracula himself. Pausing long enough to obtain supplies, he asked a local which roa
ds would give the most direct western route.

  “The quickest way would be through Bazna, sir,” the local told him, “but it would be better to avoid that area, especially traveling with a lady.”

  “Why?” asked Iroto.

  “The demon Nosferatu lurks in the woods and was responsible for wiping out the entire village over a year ago,” he explained.

  “Is Bazna still abandoned?” asked Iroto casually.

  “New folks moved in, sir,” answered the local, “but mysterious goings on are still being reported.”

  The local suggested an alternate route that would only cost him two extra days. Iroto expressed his thanks and continued on his way.

  I shall go through Bazna. Soueti can’t wait an extra two days, and Dracula’s superstitious troops will avoid the area if they are ordered to pursue us.

  From maps Iroto had memorized, if they traveled due west for four days, then due south for two, they would reach the Mediterranean Sea. From there it would be a simple matter to trade the horse and wagon along with Elzbieta’s jewelry for passage to Africa. He also carried several gold coins he had received in payment for his service to Dracula.

  “We shall be home soon, my love,” he assured Soueti.

  Home soon…far away from this accursed land.

  *******

  “Where should we put him, milady?” asked one of the palace guards carrying Dracula’s throne.

  “What have they done with Teodor?” asked Mazja.

  “A cell in the gaol quarters has been converted to keep him comfortable and safe from himself,” answered the guard.

  “Then house them together until a second cell can be converted,” answered Mazja. “Chaluxi and I will accompany you.”

  As they walked to the gaol, Mazja asked the guard why Teodor was a danger to himself.

  “The brain fever he suffered left him as an animal, milady,” explained the guard. “He lashes out at those who come to feed him and attend to his bodily functions. If left to his own devices, he attempts to scratch or bite himself.”

  As they approached Teodor’s cell, they could hear him groaning. He was tied to a bed with his hands and feet restrained. Pillows had been secured under his head and between his neck and shoulders. As soon as Teodor sensed their presence, he began to shriek and thrash.

  “Place the throne inside the cell,” ordered Chaluxi, “but don’t loosen the prince’s restraints. How long will it take to have a second cell converted?”

  “We must take apart the royal bed and reassemble it here, Protector,” said the guard. “It should take no more than half an hour.”

  “Very well,” said Chaluxi. “Lady Mazja and I will stay here until you return.”

  When the guards had departed, Mazja looked with disgust upon Dracula and Teodor.

  “Suitable cell mates, these two,” she said.

  “What has Dracula become?” asked Chaluxi. “The appearance of canines was instantaneous.”

  “As was the onset of madness,” said Mazja. “Pity.”

  “How so?” asked Chaluxi.

  “If ingesting our blood changes the Primitives into creatures similar to us, then we could swell our ranks with half-bloods from the strongest fighters of both Dracula’s and Mehmed’s armies,” she said with a faraway look in her eyes. “No one could defeat us.”

  Chaluxi was immediately engulfed by apprehension. The tentative balance of morality that had defined his existence was now shattered. The sole consolation he had clung to since being forced to ingest human blood was the surety that the sterile Vambir would eventually die out.

  “We should kill Dracula now,” said Chaluxi, walking over to Teodor and loosening one of the straps around his hands.

  “What are you doing?” asked Mazja.

  “We can blame it on Teodor,” said Chaluxi. “You heard what they said about him. It will be easy to explain that he escaped his bindings and ripped out Dracula’s jugular before we had time to react.”

  “No!” insisted Mazja. “The crown is Dracula’s by birth. As long as he lives, then Radu has no claim.”

  Teodor grew agitated and began to shake his head vigorously. Using his free hand, he grabbed one of the pillows propped between his neck and shoulder and threw it to the floor. Upon seeing his own exposed flesh, he bit himself. When he released his teeth, blood slowly trickled from his shoulder wound. Mazja and Chaluxi invoked their long-practiced mental exercises of suppressing their cravings as their brains released dopamine in response to the smell.

  As soon as Dracula detected the scent of blood, he jerked his head in Teodor’s direction and fought fiercely against his restraints.

  “He has the blood craving,” noted Chaluxi with dread.

  “Loosen his straps and let him feed,” said Mazja. “Maybe it’s required to complete the transformation.”

  “No!” protested Chaluxi. “We may not be able to control him! His transformation has been unnatural. The hemostim madness is building within him.”

  “There’s too much he doesn’t know,” said Mazja. “He will need us to guide him, and we can still rule through him.”

  “Logical conclusions don’t apply to madmen,” said Chaluxi. “It’s too risky.”

  “Together we can kill him in an instant if he turns against us,” said Mazja.

  When Mazja stepped past Chaluxi to loosen Dracula’s restraints, he grabbed her arm.

  “Commander, no,” he pleaded.

  Mazja prepared to strike him, but in that moment, Teodor broke free of his restraints and fell upon Dracula, biting him in his shoulder. The tables were quickly turned when Dracula leaned his head forward and sunk his teeth into Teodor’s jugular. The rush of blood down Dracula’s throat instantly fortified him, and he easily broke free of his restraints. Color flushed through his cheeks, and he felt the clarity of his mind being restored. Once no more blood remained in Teodor, Dracula walked slowly back to his throne and calmly sat down.

  “I am reborn,” he declared triumphantly.

  *******

  The lone lantern on the wagon provided only enough light for Iroto to see a few feet around him. Bazna was five miles ahead, and they had encountered no one on the deserted road. With no moon to illuminate the way, the canopy of gnarled trees that overhung the road made it seem like they were entering a cave. Iroto looked back to check on Soueti. Seeing that she was asleep on a mattress composed of several folded blankets, he estimated that it was past midnight.

  The innkeeper in Bazna won’t be happy to receive new guests at this hour.

  The horse neighed and shook its head. Something was disturbing the animal. Iroto had to pull the reins tightly to keep it from breaking into a gallop.

  “Whoa, boy!” he shouted. “Keep steady!”

  The sound of growls and howling filled the space around him.

  Wolves!

  Iroto stopped pulling on the reins and allowed the horse to gallop. The increased speed of the wagon jostled Soueti awake.

  “What is it, husband?” she called out.

  “Wolves,” answered Iroto calmly. “Stay down. We’re almost at Bazna.”

  Iroto could see the outline of the beasts running alongside the wagon.

  “Yah!” he cried, whipping the horse to go faster.

  *******

  The seed is the Word of Iam.

  Kevak inspected the hemo-sprouts that were thriving on the clifftop. Iam had provided the rain when it was most needed, and Kevak estimated it would take four weeks to reap this second harvest. Not only was Earth soil suitable for hemo-cultivation, but it also accelerated the Vambiri harvest cycle by two months. Multiple crops could be grown and harvested in staggered planting times. He would be able to reap at least three harvests before the harsh winter would put a temporary halt to the process.

  The familiar sounds of howls echoing over the plain cut through the night air, but Kevak’s ears detected something else—a bolting horse pulling a wagon. Using his night vision, he scanned the horizon and saw th
e dim flicker of a lantern on the wagon.

  It carries dark-skinned humans!

  This discovery of a different human gene pool confirmed Kevak’s belief that Iam counted the Vambir among his different races of children. But his elation gave way to foreboding when he could see that they were being relentlessly pursued by wolves.

  They won’t make it to Bazna in time!

  Kevak grabbed his lasgun and quickly descended the cliffs. Once he reached the plain, he sprinted across it to intercept the wolves.

  *******

  When the guards returned to the gaol with Dracula’s disassembled bed, they saw Mazja pressing a bloody sheet against Teodor’s neck. Dracula was calmly sitting on his throne, no longer in his restraints.

  “What happened?” asked one of the guards.

  “We were checking the prince’s restraints and did not notice that Teodor has slipped his,” she explained. “He used his hand like a claw to dig into his own neck. The Protector went to summon the doctor.”

  “Why is the prince not restrained?” the guard demanded.

  “I have been released from the madness of grief,” Dracula replied, “and there is no further need for restraints.”

  Chaluxi arrived with the doctor, who promptly pronounced Teodor dead.

  “A mercy,” said the doctor clinically, “as he would never have recovered his faculties.”

  “A mercy,” repeated Chaluxi.

  The doctor turned to Dracula and remarked how pleased he was to find him with a calm demeanor.

  “I am quite recovered,” he said. “Grief overtook me, the same as the madness of fear did when I was much younger. Thankfully, both times it was only a temporary condition.”

  “May God be praised,” said the doctor. “Begging your pardon, Sire, I think it would be best if you remain in the room being fashioned for you here for observation. My quarters are nearby, and I will be close at hand if your condition changes.”

  “Perfectly reasonable,” agreed Dracula with a smile.

  He remained seated until the guards had reassembled his bed. “You may leave us now,” he said to the doctor and the guards.