The Vorbing

by Stewart Stafford

  “I have to go before night falls or the vampires will come in here and kill us both,” Pierre said. “I will stay in the church in the village tonight. I hate leaving you alone when you are grieving, but those are the rules of this place, and we must abide by them.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Vlad said. “In all the commotion, I forgot to explain to you that the vampires don’t attack on this one night of the year to honour the festival of Samhain in honour of the Lord of the Dead himself.”

  “Paganism,” Pierre said grumpily. “I understand, but I am not happy about it.”

  “If it keeps us alive for one more day, who cares what it is?” Vlad asked.

  “We fight tomorrow, just hours away,” Pierre said. “The people of the village have sent word to say how sorry they are for what happened.”

  “To hell with those cowards!” Vlad said. “They were conspirators in my mother’s death. They stood there and watched her die in agony, and they conspired to drive me from my home. Wretched scum!”

  “They are people, Vlad; weak, scared, and imperfect, as we are,” Pierre said. “Forgive them and give them guidance.”

  “Forgiveness is not in my heart right now,” Vlad said with barely-repressed rage.

  “Then use that anger against the vampires,” Pierre said. “The head of Nocturne’s council is gone now. You must fill that void, or someone else will, maybe someone worse than that Vrillium person.”

  “Go back to the king and tell him I lied about the vampires,” Vlad said.

  “I can’t do that,” Pierre said.

  “It’s finished!” Vlad shouted.

  “Vlad, I know what you’re going through,” Pierre said.

  “You know nothing about what I’m going through,” Vlad said.

  “Vlad, my wife died of plague ten years ago!” Pierre said. The knight winced that he had revealed his own pain. He had hidden his vulnerabilities deep where his enemies would not find them.

  “My condolences, Pierre, but you had time to get over that,” Vlad said. “You want me to fight in the morning, and I can’t.”

  “Vlad, I’ve lost friends in battle that were like brothers to me, as you are,” Pierre said, gripping Vlad’s shoulders and glaring at him with frightening intensity, “but I had to fight on and make crucial decisions. There was no time to grieve or even bury them. That comes later, because that is war. You must do the same.”

  “You’re a soldier; I’m not,” Vlad said.

  “You didn’t think that when you beat me in the king’s tournament,” Pierre said.

  “That was some kind of divine intervention or a fluke; I don’t know,” Vlad said.

  “Call it what you will,” Pierre said, “but you had more willpower than I did, Vlad. We need that fighter on the field of battle tomorrow, or we won’t make it. Your father was a warrior, and you are, too. If we give up now, that means your parents died for nothing and all our efforts were in vain. Don’t throw everything away.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” Vlad said. “You are right. The vampires have struck their cruellest blow against me right when I was about to fight back against them.”

  “Our satanic Deadulus has all the cards in his favour, Vlad,” Pierre said, “and it’s not because he’s superior to us. He’s a cheat and a liar. He and his vampires don’t care how they win, they only care that it happens by any means necessary. Our code of honour must remain intact until hostilities end. That is the difference between us and them. The worst thing we can do now is give the vampires time. We must attack and make them dance to our tune and not vice versa.”

  Vlad let out a big sigh. “I’ll be honest with you, Pierre,” Vlad said. “I don’t know if I can do this, but I will give it everything I have.”

  Pierre hugged Vlad. “That took more courage than any tournament victory, yet only I have witnessed it,” Pierre said.

  “I needed that,” Vlad said. “You are a good friend.”

  “As are you,” Pierre said. “I’ll leave you now to gather yourself together. I will be back at first light. You’re not alone, Vlad. Your mother and father are with you still.”

  “Thank you, brother,” Vlad said.

  Pierre smiled, nodded, and left.

  Vlad Ingisbohr stood outside the family farm. He was processing the surreal paradox of everything looking exactly as he had left it while his life had changed irrevocably. Vlad also could not reconcile the fact that the family unit he grew up in was a memory, not a reality. He had seen his mother every day of his life. He wondered what he would do without her. She was the one person he trusted and who never let him down. She would never be there for him again. He felt lost in an unfamiliar and cruel world, and there was no way back to the old life for which he longed. It made him feel insecure and frightened for the first time. He thought he knew what sadness was before, but it occurred to him he was oblivious to real sorrow until that moment. The protective wing he had sheltered under protected him no more.

  Wave after wave of grief struck him. Vlad cried for three hours non-stop until his eyes were blood red and ached in his head. He felt guilty that he had abandoned his mother when she needed him most, even though he knew that the banishment was the work of the vampires acting through Vrillium Gladwish and not his fault. It still didn’t ease his guilty conscience. He continued to mentally torture himself over it.

  Vlad tried to sleep but woke up in a fright after an hour when the shock of his mother’s murder flooded back into his mind again. Denied healing sleep by stress, Vlad started hallucinating. He worried that his mind would crack and he would descend into madness if he did not rest soon. Ula consoled him as best she could but there was little she could do for Vlad. He had to go through the initial stages of grieving in his own way and time and try to process it all.

  It was a stroke of luck that he had arrived back in Nocturne on the one night the vampires could not attack. There was no way to plan it. There were too many things outside of his control. If there was one tiny morsel of comfort for Vlad, it was that he had been there for the last moments of his mother’s life. She had not died alone, or with strangers as his father had. It was a relief having company with him overnight. The thought of being alone after his loss with no one to talk to was anathema to Vlad. He feared he might do something desperate out of exhaustion and not thinking straight. Although he was physically present outside the farmhouse, Vlad’s mind was far away. There was an incredible sunset that made the whole sky look ablaze and cast everything in an eerie pink glow. Vlad thought it was a dream. It added to the nightmarish feelings that churned within him. As a light drizzle fell, Vlad stared up at it, telling himself that his mother’s death had not happened. The self-perpetuating lie brought him an uneasy solace.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was dusk, and a chilly one as Deadulus sat silently on a rocky outcrop overlooking the village of Nocturne. Through clouds of rotten breath vapour, the NightLord pondered the impending struggle that he and his kind would face. He knew battle was imminent, and although he would never let the other vampires see it, he was growing weary of constantly defending what he had achieved. There was something else he also would not let the other vampires see: He fell to his knees and looked to the Heavens, his enormous claws clasped in prayer.

  “Oh, Master,” Deadulus sobbed, “canst thou forgive me for what I have done? I tried to oust thee as ruler of Heaven and I have paid the ultimate price. I am the monstrosity thou hast made me forevermore. What is the point of being good when I shall never taste the sweet nectar of paradise again? There is none. I deserve thy punishment, Master…but those creatures down there…What have they done to so deserve thy favour? They sided with my ally, the serpent, in the Garden of Eden and refuted thee. Thou cast them out of Eden into that paradise lost below, and STILL thou bestoweth thy divine grace and favour upon them? I am an unloved child in thine eyes, Master. How I envy those mortals, their lives are brief, but they have love. We vampires live forever, but our only sus
tenance is a lust for blood. Thou hast made me crave to drink from a human heart instead of pondering the complexities of it like their poets. Oh, I am cursed for all eternity, forgive me, Lord, forgive me. Purge thy contempt for me. Restore me to the beauteous being I once was in paradise, real paradise, not here. Not this.”

  Deadulus threw himself prostrate on the ground, his wings extended outwards in a show of total submission. “Feel my pain, Creator,” Deadulus said, sobbing in the dirt as bloody tears streamed down his face. “Pity me, show mercy and kindness and love as once thou didst. How I wish to feel that again. Show me the way back. Return me to thy bosom and I shall never stray again. I beg thee.”

  The vampire’s acute senses awaited any signal from on high. None came. Disbelief and shock crossed the face of Deadulus. With a dawning realisation, he knew he never would be forgiven for his transgression, and the pain of that realisation jolted through him. It was an eternal punishment. The vampire got up off his knees in astonishment, then more agitation, and finally, ferocious anger.

  “No sign from thee, Lord!” Deadulus roared as he rose to his feet. “Not even a cherub to acknowledge my plea? Why Lord, WHY??? LAMA, LAMA, KYRIE SABACHTANI! No, no, you do not forsake me, I forsake you!”

  Even though it didn’t seem possible, the NightLord became even more filled with rage, his huge frame shaking. “I will never pray to thee again, Maker, never again shall mighty Deadulus crawl before thee, NO!” he roared, shaking his fists at the sky. “Instead I shall destroy your beloved creations, yes, every last one of them – old, young, male, female, rich, poor, I shall take no hostages or prisoners. There will just be wrath! Then you shall see the error of thy ways, Yahweh. Lucifer shall burn brightest again as I always did in thine eyes. Then I shall return to Heaven with my forces and take my rightful place on thy throne. I shall cast thee down here and make thee the horror of thine own imagination until I return to judge thee on Judgement Day.”

  As he spat out the last word of his tirade, the fury of Deadulus subsided and his cavernous chest heaved less and less. Lightning crackled in the distance as light rain fell.

  Vlad was about to go back inside and rest when he saw something in his peripheral vision. He turned his head and froze. The feral features of Deadulus emerged from the shadows, his monstrous silhouette backlit by the moonlight.

  Vlad fell back against the doorway. “Get away from me!” Vlad shouted, expecting a death stare from Deadulus.

  Deadulus stopped and remained still. “Fear not,” Deadulus said, “this is the one night I cannot attack. You are safe, Ingisbohr.”

  “Don’t move any closer,” Vlad said as he got to his feet.

  “As you wish,” Deadulus said. The vampire’s body language was slow and relaxed.

  Vlad had never seen Deadulus so placid or cooperative before. He remembered what Pierre said about Deadulus being a cheat and a liar and winning at all costs. It made Vlad even more nervous that the NightLord would cast aside the rules of Samhain and kill him. “What do you want… Lucifer?” Vlad asked suspiciously.

  “You know my name,” Deadulus said, an impressed smirk on his face, “but it would take aeons to know me. Even then, I am full of endless surprises.”

  “Yes,” Vlad agreed, “this visit of yours surprises me.”

  “I have come here to talk,” Deadulus said.

  “Talk about what?” Vlad said.

  “Both your parents are gone,” Deadulus said. “Tomorrow you will join them, and the Ingisbohr name shall be eradicated.”

  “Or yours will,” Vlad said.

  “Why enter Heaven as an ordinary spirit like them when you can enter with me as my ally when I return to claim God’s power for myself?” Deadulus said.

  The vampire said it with total conviction. Vlad struggled for breath at the audacity of the offer. “Am I so dangerous that you would offer to share the power of God and the riches of man with me?” Vlad asked.

  “You have abilities far beyond what anyone thinks you are capable of,” Deadulus said, “but I shall put those talents in the ground tomorrow if you defy me.”

  “I reject you, Satan, and all your power,” Vlad said, surprising himself with his strong words.

  Deadulus tried another tactic. Reasoning with Vlad had failed. The vampire decided to bypass Vlad’s logical mind. “Your mother went to Heaven today,” Deadulus said, “or Hell, depending on whether you believe she was a witch or not.”

  Enraged, Vlad went for Deadulus, but the vampire raised his clawed finger. “Now I must ask you not come any closer,” Deadulus said.

  “My mother was innocent, and your crony Gladwish killed her, so YOU are responsible,” Vlad said.

  “I will accept blame if you accept blame for killing my mate, Votona,” Deadulus said.

  “I killed her!” a voice from beside Vlad said. It was Sir Pierre de la Costa, confronting Deadulus for the first time with his hands on hips.

  “You?” Deadulus said.

  “Yes, me, not Vlad,” Pierre said. “What will you do about that, vile creature?”

  “Slaughter you as you deserve to be, knight!” Deadulus roared.

  “You know me?” Pierre asked with a cocky smile, infuriating his vampire nemesis even more.

  “If you stand up to be counted with my enemies, you shall fall with them in death, you AND your king!” Deadulus roared.

  “So this is the mighty Deadulus,” Pierre said. “Brave words, Lucifer, but I let my actions in battle speak for me. Tomorrow you will see and feel them when your blood is on my sword or Vlad’s sword, whichever one is irrelevant. The prophecy says this boy will deliver his village and this land from evil, your evil. You know there is nothing you can do to stop him. It is fate, and it will happen. Your goal was to come here and break us before we set foot on the battlefield. You are unsuccessful, your Satanic Majesty.” Pierre mocked Deadulus further by bowing theatrically.

  Deadulus hissed and deafened both Pierre and Vlad with his roar. He cast one last look of hatred at his opponents and disappeared back up Vampire Mountain with a grunt.

  “I cannot attack you tonight,” Deadulus screamed as he departed, “but tomorrow you will feel the full strength of me and my legions. What I will do to you both shall make McLintock’s Spit pale into insignificance. You shall know what eternal damnation is!”

  Deadulus had just made a cardinal error, but his monstrous ego rendered him blind to it. It was the same flaw that got him cast out of Heaven. He had to push things too far, and could never admit when he was wrong, dooming himself to repeat that mistake. It had proved his undoing in the past. Before the vampire’s threatening visit, Vlad had been a broken man, but Deadulus had fired him up for battle in a way no one else could have. Pierre stood with quiet delight at the thought of that. It meant he could stop having to light a fire under Vlad to get him motivated and busy himself with other crucial preparations that needed to be made. Vlad and Deadulus hated each other, but they brought out the best in each other, too, whether they knew it or not. Although they would never admit it, there was a grudging mutual respect between them. Deadulus would not have to come to rattle Vlad’s cage the night before battle if he thought he was dealing with an insignificant threat. He and Vlad were involved in a war of annihilation. There would be no victory only survival. The supreme test was about to commence.

  The disturbance Deadulus created waned with his departure. Vlad noticed Pierre’s cheek palpitating. It was a barely perceptible ripple in the knight’s vast ocean of stoicism.

  “You tremble,” Vlad said with surprise.

  “Of course,” Pierre said. “Any man who says he never trembles when his life is in danger is a liar. It’s not every day you meet the Antichrist, Vlad, but I never let him see my fear either, that only fuels his confidence and damages mine. There is no more powerful weapon than your own head, remember that.”

  They silently watched the darkness swallow up the last of Deadulus.

  “My father spoke to me in a dream earlier,”
Vlad said.

  “The dead don’t speak to us, evil spirits do,” Pierre said with deadly seriousness, “that’s necromancy, communing with the dead. The Bible forbids it; it is clear on that. Beware of those dreams, Vlad. That is Deadulus coming to you in your sleep in the guise of your father and other powerful demons. They will use your pleasant memories of your father to make you stray from the path of righteousness. I will have no more talk of this wickedness, do you hear?”

  Pierre’s sudden anger surprised Vlad. “These are not bad dreams, Pierre,” Vlad said.

  Pierre drew his sword in fury and put the blade to Vlad’s throat. “Speak of this again and I shall run you through!” Pierre said.

  “Very well,” Vlad said.

  The knight sheathed his sword. “I am a man slow to anger,” Pierre said, “but push me at your peril, boy.”

  Vlad sat in shocked silence and Pierre turned away. Pierre leapt onto his stallion and turned his back on the village of Nocturne.

  Vlad’s eyes went wide with disbelief and panic. “Where are you going?” Vlad asked with great concern etched upon his face.

  “We need reinforcements, Vlad,” Pierre said. “We can’t hold them for long with what we’ve got. We’re surrounded by enemies; it’s time to bring in some allies. There is a fort near here, I can raise men in the king’s name and they will follow me here to join us.”

  “Wait,” Vlad protested. “You can’t leave me alone here; it’s the first time I’ve done this.”

  “The time for childish games is over, Vlad,” Pierre said. “It is time to be a man like your father was. You wanted this confrontation, well now it’s here.

  Face it and overcome it, or you will die with your people. Just stick to our plan, no matter what. I shall return.”

  “What if the battle starts and you’re not back?” Vlad asked.

  “You are in charge,” Pierre said. “I trust your good judgement, now trust mine. I’ll pick up Norvad and Anamis on the way back. Farewell, friend!”

  Pierre rode off on his horse and Vlad felt all his hopes go with him. His heart sank as he went back inside to try and sleep. His head ached from the pressure he felt.