by David Bishop
"This is outrageous!" the captain blustered. "I am an officer in the Red Army and you are threatening my life! I will have you executed for this act of mutiny."
I shoved him into the tent, surprising the trio plotting and planning within. "That was quick," Eisenstein said. "I knew you'd come around eventually but..." He stopped and looked at the officer. "Who's this?"
"I think he's the impostor," I replied. "Claims he left an important document in here, but says he knows nothing about Captain Brodsky's disappearance."
"All of you will stand trial for insubordination and sedition," my captive began, "unless you release me at once. I will not tolerate-"
He abruptly stopped talking as Eisenstein produced the blood-smeared page we had found under Brodsky's skin. The officer peered at it. "I have never seen that document before in my life."
"He's lying," Sophia snapped.
"Probably," Eisenstein agreed, "but there's a quick way to prove it. Ivan, go and fetch the string of garlic bulbs Strelnikov collected." We had kept the dead man's most prized possession as another potential weapon against our undead enemy, but I had insisted on removing the severed tongues from the necklace. Yatsko grinned from ear to ear but Sophia grabbed his arm before he could leave.
"I've something that should be just as effective," she said, reaching into her knapsack for a drinking flask. A cross was etched into the flask's casing.
"On second thought, why waste time having scum like you tried?" the officer said superciliously. "I notice none of you have insignia. That means you must be part of some penal company. You deserve nothing more than execution."
Eisenstein nodded to Sophia. She poured a little of the liquid from the flask on to her fingers, then flicked the moisture into the officer's face. He screamed in agony as the liquid burned small holes through his face, as if she had thrown acid at him. He tried to wipe his face dry but this only succeeded in transferring some of the liquid to his fingers. They, too, began to blister, wisps of grey smoke rising from the bubbling skin.
Sophia smiled. "Holy water, collected from the last consecrated church still standing south of Leningrad. Utterly harmless for humans, but to vampyr..."
I pressed the barrel of my pistol against the creature's temple. "Start talking, and no more lies; otherwise Sophia will empty that flask over your head.'
"This is outrageous," the vampyr protested. "I refuse to submit to..." His words died away as Sophia stepped closer to him, taking a sip of holy water from her flask. Sophia smiled at the Rumanian before spiting the liquid into his face. He cried out in agony, the holy water eating all the way through one of his cheeks to reveal rows of razor sharp teeth in his mouth.
Eisenstein folded his arms. "We will kill you, bloodsucker, have no doubts about that. But we want some answers first."
"Why should I tell you anything?" the vampyr sneered.
"Give us what we want and your death will be swift and merciful. Defy us and your suffering will be great." Eisenstein smiled. "I don't imagine vampyr experience pain or fear that often. You are stronger and less vulnerable than humans. There is not much that can hurt you, even less that can kill you. As a result, torture will be a novel and excruciating experience. You've already had a taste of what we can do. There's plenty more where that came from, unless you answer our questions."
The creature's eyes narrowed. "What do you want to know?"
"Your name is Maga, yes?" When the vampyr did not reply immediately, Yatsko grabbed the flask from Sophia and held it over our captive's head.
"Answer the question, djavoli!" he warned.
"Your name is Maga, yes?" Eisenstein repeated.
"Yes."
"And you are one of Constanta's men?"
"I am a disciple of Lord Constanta," Maga said grandly.
"It's nothing to be proud of, you bastard," Yatsko snarled.
"That's where you're wrong. I am one of the ten, those chosen by our lord personally to act as his emissaries, to do his bidding. We were all sired by him."
"Sired?" I asked.
Maga gave me a withering look. "When a vampyr creates another vampyr, he becomes their blood father. Lord Constanta was born of the Sire, so to be sired by our lord means I am but two generations from the father of us all."
Eisenstein held the bloody document in front of Maga. "I believe you came back for this. It says you are to rendezvous with Constanta at midnight tonight, three kilometres east of Shlissel'burg."
"Are you tell me all this, or trying to find out if I can read?" Maga asked archly.
Yatsko let a single drip of holy water fall on our captive's scalp. He hissed and spat at us, his face contorted in pain.
"We ask the questions," Eisenstein replied dryly. "You have a rendezvous with Constanta at midnight. Why?"
"We are required elsewhere along the Eastern Front."
"Why haven't the vampyr launched an all-out assault inside the blockade?" Sophia asked. "You could fly in as bats or float past our front line positions as mist, then transform to your real selves and attack the civilian population."
"We decided against that strategy," Maga said airily.
"You mean your numbers are still limited," Eisenstein deduced. "You don't have enough vampyr for such an operation. That's why Constanta was turning Germans into his thralls, why he had to resurrect our dead to be his foot soldiers." Maga did not reply, but his scowling face spoke volumes. "Let's get to some specifics. How many vampyr will be guarding Constanta at this rendezvous tonight?"
"I don't know."
Eisenstein nodded to Yatsko, who dipped his fingers into the holy water.
"I don't know!" Maga insisted, his eyes fearfully watching Yatsko. "Most of our kind are deployed elsewhere, away from Leningrad. Berlin has decided that the blockade is a low priority. That's why I am being withdrawn."
"How many guards does Constanta usually have?"
"Two, at most, and they are ceremonial. He is stronger than all of us; only one generation from the Sire himself."
A thought occurred to me. "Even if we can destroy his guards, we still need a way to prevent Constanta from escaping. What's to stop him turning into mist or a bat, and simply flying away when we attack?" I wondered out loud.
"We'll have to turn his weaknesses to our advantage," Eisenstein said.
"My lord has no weaknesses," Maga boasted.
"Everyone has weaknesses, even vampyr," Sophia said quietly, her eyes lingering on Eisenstein. "We could put Strelnikov's garlic necklace on Constanta. That might stop him."
Eisenstein nodded. "We'll take it with us. Let's get ready to move. We need to leave before the advance begins."
"What about this... thing?" Yatsko asked, preparing to empty the flask over Maga's head. "Should I finish it off?"
"Save the holy water. We may need it later." Eisenstein drew his silver-edged sickle and showed it to the vampyr. "My friend Yuri died because of you."
"You will all die if you try to capture Lord Constanta," Maga predicted. "He will tear your bodies apart and feast on your souls."
"He already has," Eisenstein whispered before decapitating the vampyr.
All of us watched silently as Maga evaporated into a cloud of ash and soot.
"Let's go," Eisenstein quickly ordered.
Chapter Fourteen
The four of us were already out on the ice when the advance began at dawn. We heard the sounds of gunfire and explosions, screaming and pain, cries for help and cries for mercy. But we hardened our hearts and continued east across the frozen lake, ignoring the plight of our comrades on the shore. We had another battle to fight; another enemy to face. Only two of us would survive the conflict that lay ahead. You know that I must have been one of the survivors, otherwise I could not be writing these words. Now I must tell you what happened to the others: who lived and who died, for better and for worse.
Finding the rendezvous site proved simpler than I had expected. The ruins of Shlissel'burg were obvious, even from the undulating surfa
ce of the frozen lake. We marched onwards for another hour, everything but our eyes masked from the bitter, sub-zero winds by scavenged scarves and winter camouflage clothing. A thin column of black smoke rising from the shoreline drew us to a small log cabin in a clearing, looking out over the lake. There were heavy wooden shutters closed over the large windows that faced Lake Ladoga. The cabin was surrounded on three sides by tall silver birches, and a dirt track led away into the forest. The smoke issued from the squat cabin's chimney, and a plentiful supply of chopped wood was stored beside the cabin in a lean-to.
"How kind," Yatsko growled. "His lordship has started a fire for us so we can thaw out."
"This must be the dacha of some official," Sophia decided.
"I don't see any sentries," Eisenstein observed. "All the thralls must be busy helping to defend Shlissel'burg. If Constanta and his vampyr guards are inside, they will not risk coming out in daylight. That must be why the shutters are closed over the windows, to block out the sun."
We crept across the ice towards the lake's edge, our white garb helping us blend into the frozen expanse. As we neared the shore, a black German staff car appeared through the trees and parked by the cabin. Two soldiers jumped from the front seat to stand guard, while an adjutant held the rear door open. A portly German general emerged, lazily acknowledging his junior officer's salute before waddling into the cabin through a door. The adjutant hastily returned to the vehicle's interior, no doubt eager to keep warm. The two sentries started a slow circuit of the clearing, sharing a cigarette while talking in low voices.
"I've seen that general before," I told the others. "I can't recall his name, but he came to Moscow when Hitler and Stalin agreed the Non-Aggression Pact. He's one of the Führer's most trusted advisors."
"What the hell is he doing here and why now?" Yatsko wondered. "The Red Army is less than ten kilometres away on either side of this place."
"He's risking a lot coming here," Eisenstein agreed. "Hitler must have sent him to talk with Constanta. We have to find out why. Yatsko, stay here with Sophia, and keep an eye on those sentries. Zunetov and I will go closer and see if we can hear any of what is being said inside."
Before we could reply, an artillery bombardment shattered the peace nearby. A shell exploded a kilometre to the west, close to Shlissel'burg. The resulting fireball curled upwards into the sky, distracting the two sentries.
"Now's our chance," Eisenstein said, tugging on my sleeve. We ran across the frozen soil to the cabin, keeping low to the ground, before concealing ourselves behind the woodpile in the lean-to. I expected to hear the guards shout at us, or the fatal sound of gunfire. But no shouts or shots came. We had slipped past them.
"Well?" Eisenstein asked. I pressed an ear against the cabin wall, trying to make out what was being said inside. But all I could hear were muffled voices and murmurings. I shook my head and shrugged. Eisenstein produced his bayonet and dug the sharpened tip into the space between logs where the wall was thinnest. By edging the blade back and forth, he slowly created a small gap between the logs. Once he removed the bayonet, I pressed my head as close as I could to the gap. The voices inside were now clearly audible.
"The Führer is unhappy about the lack of progress made by your forces," a gruff German complained. "You promised our alliance would yield results, yet we have seen little evidence of that."
"It would be easier if your glorious leader did not keep changing his mind," a man replied, his German tinged by a Rumanian accent that I recognised within moments. I gave Eisenstein a nod and mouthed Constanta's name to him before returning to the conversation inside.
"My men have been divided across too many campaigns in too many theatres of war to have a significant impact. You have them fighting all across Europe as well as helping to keep control of your U-boat crews in the Atlantic. You even have them assisting the Japanese in the Pacific. Here in the east, my men are constantly being shifted from one part of the Ostfront to another. We were about to make a breakthrough at Stalingrad until the Führer - in his wisdom - decided to redeploy us elsewhere. I had one of my best disciples embedded behind the enemy's front line not ten kilometres from here, but now I am having to pull him out for a new assignment; something forced upon me by orders from Berlin. We need time to cultivate our war of terror on the Russians, time you simply do not give us."
"I came here for answers, not excuses," the general barked. "You personally promised the Führer results-"
"That was before I lost most of my men at Ordzhonikidze!" Constanta raged. "The soldiers who killed them there were German, remember, not Russian."
"An isolated incident... Only a handful of that mutinous rabble survived."
Another voice spoke, in a language I did not recognise but with an accent similar to that of Constanta. It must be another vampyr, talking privately with the hauptmann in their own tongue, I thought. They were joined by a third Rumanian voice who sounded angry and bitter. Constanta seemed to agree with whatever his colleagues were saying before he switched back to German.
"As my colleagues have pointed out to me, the incident at Ordzhonikidze set back our efforts by a year, if not longer," the vampyr leader said sternly. "Perhaps you'd be so kind as to remind your leader of that fact. He might also like to recall that it was he who stipulated my men and I operate in secret, so nobody knew of our presence on the battlefield. That directive, made over my objections, has significantly hampered our efforts to prosecute this war."
Constanta paused, and I could hear the general shifting uncomfortably in the long silence that followed.
"You might also care to tell him this," Constanta eventually continued. "We fight alongside your army because we have a mutual enemy, the Russians, and because you were winning. We do not believe in your cause; we have our own quest, our own crusade. Should the tide of war turn against your forces, we would have to rethink our alliance. Remember our agreement: once the war is over, we shall have a sovereign state of our own. That alliance becomes null and void if you cannot deliver a victory, general."
"Are you threatening me, Hauptmann?"
"Merely stating a truth, however mercenary it may seem to you."
Eisenstein tapped me on the shoulder. "What's happening inside?"
"They're arguing. Seems the vampyr are not happy with how they are being used by the Germans, while the Führer wants them to be more effective."
"Interesting," Eisenstein said. "Any indication how many are inside?"
"Constanta and the general, plus two more men I suspect are Rumanians. If there are others, they're silent as the grave. Why?"
"We planned to capture Constanta and take him back as our prisoner. But if we could bring the general as well..."
I could see where his thoughts were leading. "It would prove that the Germans are in league with vampyr, and be a massive embarrassment for the Axis forces."
"Precisely. I'll get the others over here so we can storm the cabin."
But before Eisenstein could move from the lean-to, we heard a truck approaching through the woods. A troop carrier appeared from between the trees, coming to a halt inside the clearing. More than a dozen German soldiers disgorged from the vehicle, taking positions around the cabin and scanning their surroundings.
"Bojemoi!" Eisenstein exclaimed in exasperation. "Now what?"
A young officer emerged from the truck and marched to the cabin. I resumed eavesdropping on what was being said inside. The officer entered, curtly apologising for his interruption. At least two Red Army units had bypassed Shlissel'burg and were approaching the cabin from the west, he reported. Another unit was also headed this way from the east and could reach the area before midnight. The officer had been sent to escort the general back to HQ.
"They must know I'm here," the general decided.
"You have a spy within your staff," Constanta observed. "None of my men would ever betray the location of this rendezvous point."
"You are welcome to come back with me, hauptmann," the g
eneral offered gruffly.
"I am meeting my disciples here. I will not abandon them. Unlike some, those of us in the Rumanian Mountain Troops pride ourselves on never leaving behind one of our own, no matter how great the risks involved. Besides, I doubt the Red Army will make it here before midnight."
"On your own head be it," the general replied. "I will leave two of my men here as sentries for your protection." He bid Constanta farewell and hurried out of the cabin, accompanied by the junior officer. The general scuttled towards his staff car as another mighty explosion shook the ground.
Beside me Eisenstein was cursing beneath his breath. "Dubiina! We should have grabbed the general when we had the chance." Within a minute the staff car was driving into the woods, followed by the troop carrier with its soldiers. Only the two sentries remained behind, left to fend for themselves.
"We can still take Constanta prisoner," I whispered. "He's the reason we came here, remember?"
"I know," Eisenstein lamented, shaking his head. "You're right. But now we have to deal with those sentries as well as the vampyr guards inside the cabin."
The two Germans had resumed their slow circle of the clearing, casting nervous glances towards Shlissel'burg in the west, where explosions were continuing.
"They'll come past the lean-to on their next circuit," Eisenstein calculated. "That's our best chance. We can't let them make a sound in case it alerts the vampyr."
He handed me his bayonet before drawing the sickle from its sheath. Then we waited, crouched behind the woodpile, listening intently for the sound of the sentries approaching. After what seemed an eternity, the two men came towards the lean-to, the frozen grass crunching beneath each footstep. They were complaining about the general, wondering how he had stayed so fat while those on the front line survived on the most meagre rations.
Privileges of rank, I thought.
The sentries passed the woodpile, oblivious to our presence. Eisenstein nodded and we edged out after them, matching their footsteps. I crept up behind the soldier nearest the cabin and clamped my left hand over his mouth, while my right stabbed the bayonet through his back and out his chest. He thrashed and flailed, but I twisted the blade in the wound before pulling it free. My victim slumped to the ground, blood and steam escaping from the holes I had left. Eisenstein sliced his sickle across the other sentry's neck, severing both the windpipe and carotid artery in one swift, brutal movement. Once both men were dead, we dragged their bodies into the shadow cast by the woodpile before signalling for Yatsko and Sophia.