Bathory's Secret: When All The Time In The World Is Not Enough (Affliction Vampires Book 1)

by Romina Nicolaides

  The years continued to drag on. The only indication of time we had in this place were the smells of seasonal cooking flowing though the cave system, or the reduced water in the rivers in the laundry in the winter and summer as well as the rate of water droplets from the ancient stalagmites in the ceiling. During the spring and the autumn the drops came more frequently, whereas in the summer they stopped altogether. We could tell if it was a particularly harsh and dry summer if there was not a drop from the roof and the atmosphere inside was more stifled than usual. The heat did not come so much from outside but we felt it more from the ground. We would often joke that this was due to our proximity to hell as we were so far underground. Winters were stable but damp and a little cold. Snow was brought in from outside for our water needs as the river still flowed but at a reduced rate. Spring showed itself when the snow melted on the mountains and the water flowed freely and abundantly through the entrails of our cave. During these times I would close my eyes and remember the feeling of the warm sun on my skin and the smell of flowers in the air. The thick swarms of fruit flies, butterflies and bees of summers past made for fond memories.

  About three years after I had returned from the Breedery we were struck by a particularly harsh summer. The atmosphere in the Keep was stifling, the drops from the ceiling hadn’t come in months and our river had dried up to almost nothing. The nuns and the priests were suffering considerably and even the guards had been allowed to drop their red robes for the thinner linen white chemises they wore underneath. We also began to notice a drop in their numbers as word got round that they had taken ill with some peculiar disease which was decimating their numbers both in here and up top. Even the Father Superior was rumored to have taken to his bed. The items that arrived for washing had also changed. Where they would normally comprise of red robes with the smell of sweat and mud they were replaced by more and more bed sheets and underclothes stained with sweat, blood and puss.

  The guards appeared to be on edge, tired, distracted and afraid. I’d never before sensed anything like this in all my years in this place. The sadistic air of confidence they all carried seemed to have dissipated into self-pity and despair. One morning while I was crouched into my usual place, struggling with what little water was left for washing, I was approached silently from the back by someone who cupped my mouth to keep me from screaming.

  “Shhh! It’s me Theodora, don’t be afraid.” I turned back to see Vyktor and instantly wrapped my arms around his neck in relief. It felt so good to see him and touch him.

  “Vyktor what is happening here? Where are all the guards?”

  “There’s some crippling disease out there, they call it the Pestilence and it’s killing humans in their thousands. Entire villages are dropping dead one after the other, with the dead filling their houses and no one left to tend to them or even bury them. Few seem to be immune to it and this time it’s also taken hold in here. Most of the guards missing are dead and the others are ill in their beds. Even Father Superior is exhibiting some signs but is putting up a good fight, most probably from all the Afflicted blood he's been drinking. There’s rumors of a shut-in tonight because they don’t have the numbers to guard us.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “My guard told me. You remember the one I would help from time to time? He was also taken ill and might die so he felt the need to tell me.”

  He paused for a brief moment and grabbed me by the side of my arms.

  “And there’s more, Theodora, our baby is alive!” A cold sweat washed over me.

  “What? Are you sure? How do you know?”

  “They tell the mothers the babies have died so that they go back to work quietly, but some do make it.”

  “How do you know it’s our baby?” I couldn’t allow myself to hope unless I was perfectly certain. At this he gave me a knowing smile. “He has one blue eye and one green, Theodora, and he appears to be about three years old. The guard said that no other babies survived that were born during that time. Plus he heard them call him the Norse baby, because they categorize them by where the Father originated. It's our baby, Theodora!”

  I was in awe, could what he was saying be true? All this time I thought my baby was gone, what would I do now he was alive?

  “There’s going to be a rebellion tonight. We are going to take advantage of the reduced numbers in the guards and we’ll revolt at dusk just before lockdown. He's explained to me where they keep the babies, and we’ll go take our son and escape!”

  “But how will we get out?”

  “My guard said he would arrange to open the gates before he fell into the stupor, I just hope he managed to keep his word.”

  “I think there’s a safer way, one where we don’t have to depend on the guards. There’s a passage for the water where the stream runs in the winter. It is secured by a grate, but it’s old and rusty.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “I fell into the stream once and ended up there. The water level is much lower now so it will be easier to shift. I think it’s less risky than depending on the guards. It could be a trap.”

  “Very well, I hope you are right because we only have one chance at this. Remember, tonight before lockdown, when you see your chance take it and meet me up by the Breedery, we’ll go together.”

  “But I don’t know where it is, my eyes were covered when they took me up there.”

  He stopped for a moment to think. “You’re right, go to the Feeding Hall instead and wait for me there. They’ll be closing it down because the nuns have taken ill.”

  “All of them?”

  “Most of them, yes.”

  I chuckled a little inside. If I was not going to get my chance to fulfill my fantasy hate list, then the thought of some of these despicable people dying of a painful and debilitating disease filled me with immense joy as I imagined them lying in bed covered in sores and writhing in agony. I hoped Father Eusebios met with a similar fate.

  That evening, when the bells rung for nightfall, we were rounded up by the guard on duty and one by one we returned to our cells. Normally our silver apparatus and the guard’s silver neck brace and mail were enough to ensure we couldn’t attack them but this guard was gravely ill and was barely managing his own body weight let alone that of his armor and weapons. He had already removed his helmet and let it fall somewhere on the ground and all those of us that were walking in line with him could see his strength reduce little by little and his breathing grow heavier. His skin glistened with sweat and his eyes glazed more and more with each step he took. His silver tipped lance, normally held tall and proud, was now being dragged along the floor adding further strain on him. He never noticed the boulder one of the prisoners deposited in the middle of his skull.

  After a quick feast, we quickly bundled up his bleeding head to stop it from making a noticeable mess and hid him as best as we could in the nearest empty cage. Somebody took the keys from his belt to try and take off our cuffs but they were only keys to the doors so we reluctantly left them on and went our separate ways. The others proceeded to release as many prisoners as they could and I quickly made my way to the Hall and Vyktor.

  I reached the top of the stairs to a hall closely watched by several relatively healthy looking guards in full silver gear. I hid behind a natural stone crevice and crouched down so that they couldn’t see me. They seemed terrified but hell bent on protecting whatever was in there. My heart stopped as soon as I saw them as I expected it to be empty. The smell emanating from it was putrid and foul and I suspected they were using it as a makeshift nursing area. Lost for a solution to my problem and clueless as to what to do next, I felt a hand grab my neck and another cup my mouth tightly for the second time in one day.

  “It’s me, don’t worry.”

  Hearing Vyktor’s voice calmed me, but I punched the top of his leg in frustration for making me jump.

  Turning to face him, I saw his face was covered in blood.

  “Good kill?” I aske
d wondering what he’d been doing since I last saw him.

  “Inevitable,” he said simply.

  “What are we going to do now?”

  “I didn’t expect this, but it makes sense I suppose. That’s one of the largest areas they have in this place that can hold so many bunks and which seals securely too. If they don’t die of the disease, they’ll probably suffocate in there, it’s insufferable.”

  “Why don’t they go up?”

  “Word is that the outside area is also filled with the sick, including non-clergy. Many are bringing their ill here and abandoning them in the hope that the Order will care for them out of charity, only they can just about care for themselves. I overheard them talking, and even though many of the priests don’t know the full extent of the Keep’s situation, they’re unable to take in any more patients. Also many of the higher ranking ones are drinking slave blood and it seems to be working if taken in large enough quantities. Those that are drinking it are taking longer to die, it appears. If our blood is any sort of cure for this we have to hurry and get out of here as soon as possible because they will drain us all out of sheer desperation. We have to go now, I found where they keep the children and it’s a long trek.”

  Reaching the Nursery was quite difficult; it involved several long and hard to locate passages deeper into the system than I’d ever been. At points the passage was so cramped we had to crawl on all fours to get through and it was covered in pointers (what we called the stalactites). After a time it also started to change in structure, the ground felt colder and grainier and it appeared to glimmer.

  Eventually, after following the tight passages for quite a long while, we reached a grand opening and I was completely taken aback. This area was completely different than anything I’d seen in the Keep before. It was enormous, made entirely of white stone and had an air of majesty befitting of a palace. The main area was obviously man-made and carved in a perfect circular shape and lit by torches all the way around the wall. It was mesmerizing. High in the ceiling hung an enormous and intricate chandelier carved right out of the stone with hundreds of candles in its sconces. Underneath the chandelier, also carved out of the stone, was what appeared to be a round altar and all around it were twelve stone thrones all facing the center.

  All of these objects appeared to spring from within the cave wall, emerging from the stone as if frozen in time, motionless and unforgiving, adding both to the grandness and the eeriness of this space. You could tell that a lot of work had been done here and I wondered who had done it and how long ago it had been finished. Inside the sconce holders in the chandelier stood the melted stumps of hundreds of beeswax candles and some of the overspill circled the altar creating a waxy yellow halo around it on the ground. I must have paused to take stock of my surroundings, because my haze was interrupted by a sharp tug on my arm, “Come along, this is no time to admire their handiwork.” Breaking out of my thoughts, I followed Vyktor who seemed to know his way around this unfamiliar part of the system.

  Just past the gallery area, we reached a sharp precipice which appeared to go down forever. Across the precipice, on the opposite side of the chasm, was a terrace with a passageway and stairs leading even further into the unknown. Standing on the edge of it, all I could see was the depth of the endless black hole leading down. What little light was cast by torches on the wall appeared to be greedily sucked into the blackness for they were no match for the Stygian waterfall.

  “How do we get across?” I asked turning to Vyktor in horror.

  “This part troubled me as well earlier today, but as I stood here wondering, I noticed a nun crawl as if from the pits of the chasm and up on the edge, so I examined the space she emerged from.”

  The cliff edge appeared to trail off towards the right and lead to a much lower area not immediately visible if one stood at the exit of the throne hall. When we reached the little dais, however, beneath the top edge we noticed two old wrought iron rings on which some rope was secured but which disappeared deep into the chasm. It was obvious that someone had gone to great lengths to make the passage across impossible to find if they didn't know it was there. I imagined the mangled corpses of those who had tried to get across via the wrong means and their forgotten tomb at the bottom of this great rift.

  Vyktor knelt down and pulled up a thick white rope ladder the exact same color as the cliff stone. The rope had been painted white helping it blend in seamlessly with the rock face. With Vyktor and blind faith as my only allies I descended the rope not quite certain where this would lead, when my foot landed on a solid but flexible surface. When I looked more closely I realized this was a hanging bridge and just as the rope had been painted white to blend in with the cliff, the level part of it had been painted black to blend in with the darkness above and below. This bridge was virtually invisible, especially in the lowlight conditions of the Keep. Fortunately our enhanced eyesight allowed us to precariously make our way across and reach the opposite side of the cliff to the other white rope ladder. Climbing up and out of the chasm I looked back and marveled at the distance traveled and the ingenuous yet simple way the gap had been bridged. Someone had gone to great lengths to make this part of the Keep hard to find and even harder to access.

  “I’ve not gone beyond this point,” Vyktor announced with a look of trepidation whilst taking a small torch from the wall.

  “Then how do you know we are going in the right direction?”

  “The nun I saw earlier was carrying a baby.” With a lump in my throat I put my hand in Vyktor’s and together we walked up the white staircase. At the end of it we could potentially find our stolen child or our doom. We were prepared for both.

  Thirteen

  On discovering the stairs leading up to the unknown, Vyktor and I slowly made our way up a winding staircase of pure white marble. The white flecks glistened under the light of our dying torch which struggled to illuminate the steps. The feeling of this staircase was tight and suffocating and all around the walls was writing in a language I couldn’t place. It seemed similar to the Greek of my youth, but I couldn’t make it out. The ink had the usual reddish tint but it smelled different.

  “Vyktor it’s blood!” I blurted out in shock.

  “I know I can smell it too, it’s not human or animal.”

  I felt the hair on my arms stand on end. The Order’s indoctrination never failed to shock me.

  The staircase ended rather abruptly with a large wooden door made of a dark hard wood. It was also entirely inscribed but due to its color the lettering was white.

  Undoing the hinge we both held our breaths as we pushed it open to reveal a long dark corridor with niches all along its length on both sides, each holding a large votive candle. At the end of this corridor we came to an opening but in the place of a door hung a curtain made of the familiar red material of the Order’s robes. A large silver cross was embroidered in the center of it surrounded by silver filigree brocade. Pushing it aside I expected to see another grand hall or ceremonial area but instead we were faced with a small room with two rows of cribs each holding a sleeping baby. The babies of so many slaves lay here, solely bred to catch more of their own when they grew older. The babies were small and many appeared deformed. Without realizing I held my breath at the sight of them. They were so pale and delicate you could virtually see the veins pulse under their translucent skin and they slept so peacefully it was almost eerie.

  “Baby Ghosts,” I whispered.

  “Where are the older ones?” Wondered Vyktor just as I was coming to the same realization.

  My thoughts were interrupted by a crashing sound at the end of the Nursery and I looked up to see a nun looking horrified at the sight of us. She was dressed all in white from head to toe and her gown was the richest I had seen in all my life. It was made of the finest and shiniest fabric you could imagine and covered all the skin on her body leaving only her face showing and her hands from the wrist onwards. It too was rich brocade, densely embroidered with crosse
s and filigree of white on white.

  Still in shock, she looked down to the container she had dropped which now lay shattered on the ground. It had been made of fine glass and had transubstantiated into a thousand pieces amid the pool of blood it had once contained. “No!” She cried staring at the blood which had soiled the whiter than white ground and her equally pristine gown. She seemed tremendously out of sorts by that spill and was at a loss at how to deal with this double conundrum of intruders and spillage. It was at her reaction and the sudden contrast of the blood with the floor and her robes that I realized that everything in this space was pure white. From the cots, to the chairs and the sconces, the bedding, and whatever else the eye fell upon was the purest white. If it was not made from the marble that was so prominent in this part of the Keep, then it was made of the finest quality glass.

  With lightning speed Vyktor reached the nurse who was now beyond terrified. Grabbing her neck he glowered showing her his fangs, at which point she started to cry and pray.