The Vorbing

by Stewart Stafford

  “Archers!” Vlad shouted. His archers reacted and stepped forward. “Fire!”

  They unleashed a volley of arrows that struck several of the leading vampires. They fell onto Vampire Mountain, burst into flames, and perished. Vlad noticed that Deadulus had snapped the arrow protruding from his chest, but left the arrowhead and part of the shaft still embedded. Vlad hoped he had made a direct hit on the heart of Deadulus, but could not be certain. If the arrow had punctured the black heart of Deadulus, Vlad knew the NightLord would not have much time left to live. Deadulus averted his dive to near the village of Nocturne and landed on his knees. The vampire attack broke up when they saw their NightLord Deadulus falling away from them. Had Necromus been there, he would have taken control, united the vampires behind him, and kept them fighting. Vlad had taken care of him and that potential counterattack earlier. Besides, the vampires were unable to land on Vampire Mountain and engage the Nocturnian forces on hallowed turf. The vampires swooped around and retreated back into the sky. Vlad’s men cheered and clapped Vlad on the back.

  “It’s not over yet, dear friends. Be vigilant,” Vlad urged.

  Vlad sprinted hard in the direction of where Deadulus had crashed to earth. He felt determined to finish the job he had started. Nothing would deny him his prize after all he had been through. He would avenge his father and all the other innocent people murdered by Deadulus and his kind. Despite getting scratched and bumped, Vlad drove himself onwards. He rounded trees, leapt over logs, and negotiated hedgerows like a man possessed. Vlad prayed he was not too late. An even worse scenario entered Vlad’s mind as he ran: What if the wounded Deadulus escaped and started a new colony of vampires somewhere else? Vlad refused to allow that to happen. He had his foot on the throat of his old enemy and would not release it. The coup de grâce Deadulus had done everything in his malicious power to deserve was coming. Vlad would deliver it with a smile.

  Vlad saw the injured Deadulus rolling on the ground ahead of him. In one fluid movement, Vlad leapt in the air with his battleaxe behind his head to decapitate Deadulus, but all strength seemed to drain from his arms. Vlad dropped the axe behind his back and fell to his knees, holding his head in agony. Deadulus looked around to see who had struck his enemy, but saw no one and nothing. With great strain, the failing Deadulus got to his feet.

  “Is this the great threat I face?” Deadulus said, circling Vlad’s writhing body on the ground, “It seems your own body conspires against you, Ingisbohr. You are not ready for this challenge, boy, just as your father wasn’t. The Ingisbohrs’ failure against me is complete. You have lost and shall share the same fate as your father.”

  It then struck the NightLord what had happened. He bared his fangs, smiled, and laughed a deep, throaty cackle. Deadulus applauded the air as he looked around the night sky. “I give you thanks and praise, dear sisters,” Deadulus said cryptically, as if his “sisters” could hear him.

  “What is happening?” Vlad said. Vlad rolled around, clutching his head in terror and agony. “What have you done to me?” Vlad said.

  “The witches of the land have placed a malediction upon you with their evil eye, young Ingisbohr,” Deadulus said. “There is no escape from their power, and no one can help you. Death is certain now.”

  “Will you leave me here to die?” Vlad asked.

  “Too merciful,” Deadulus said. “Dismemberment is a favourite activity of mine, and you…thorn in my side…shall…experience it…now.”

  It was an empty threat as all strength left Deadulus and he collapsed. Vlad thought he saw the NightLord smile again as the vampire’s hideous face contorted in the final throes of death. The muscles in his enormous frame relaxed. The searing pain in Vlad’s head ceased the moment Deadulus died.

  Then, Deadulus transformed back into the beautiful angel Lucifer he had once been. Vlad noticed his vampire wings had disappeared, but there were no feathered, angelic ones in their place. He assumed Lucifer was stripped of his angel wings for his Heavenly insurrection. Even though he had died as Deadulus, Lucifer seemed to regain momentary consciousness. It was as if God granted him the last request of witnessing his transformation back into his former purity. Lucifer’s crystal blue eyes gazed in awe at the return of his luminescent skin. He then stared skywards, weeping tears of disbelief as all life drained from him. As Lucifer lost consciousness and died, his body lifted off the ground and ascended into the sky.

  Vlad was joined by Norvad and they followed the mighty angel’s course with astonishment. Up and up the lifeless body of Lucifer went, being reborn to Heaven. All the other vampires resumed their angelic form, and they followed Lucifer into the clouds, as did all the Yara-Mas in the forest. Anamis resumed his cherub form again and ascended into Heaven.

  “No, Anamis, my friend!” Norvad said with despair as his beloved pet and friend departed from him. “Don’t leave me.” The old man sank to his knees sobbing.

  Vlad picked Norvad up and hugged him. “Be happy for him, brother, he is free,” Vlad said, a peaceful smile on his lips. “You will see him again. He is going to a better place.”

  Norvad was overcome and speechless. He nodded his agreement and put his head on Vlad’s shoulder. Vlad consoled him as best he could as he looked skywards at the incandescent vista as the former vampires went to their eternal rest.

  As Lucifer entered the turquoise tear in the sky, it seemed to roll back, and no one on the battlefield could believe their eyes. The sky was full of angels; there were billions upon billions of them, stretching into infinity. All of them in full voice as they sang with joy at the return of their Lucifer.

  Beneath the angels, there appeared to be a swirling vortex of souls awaiting entrance to Heaven. Lucifer was sucked up into the vortex and the dazzling glare beyond. The eyes of all present then felt their eyes drawn to the centre point of the Heavenly choir. A massive figure, too bright to make out, stood there with its arms outstretched, dwarfing the angels surrounding it. Vlad believed it was God himself welcoming the pure soul of his fallen angel back to his bosom. When their eyes fell upon that vast presence, all on the battlefield fell to their trembling knees, closed their eyes, and joined their hands in prayer. Vlad could not look away, and watched in amazement.

  Still, Lucifer rose and rose until he was between the arms of the enormous figure that embraced him. Immediate blinding white light and hurricane-force winds in the sky followed. The former Vampire Mountain lit up like it was daytime. Vlad averted his gaze and shut his eyes with all the rest. Even so, he saw the bones in his hands through his eyelids due to the unprecedented celestial brightness. Then, as soon as it had come, the vision of God, Lucifer, and all the angels disappeared. The turquoise tear in the sky was no longer there, either. The blood moon lost its ruddy tint and returned to pale normality. Blood remained on the battlefield where sounds of war and pain faded to nothingness.

  Vlad was afraid to open his eyes, but did so anyway. He looked around and up at the sky and got to his feet. “Did we just see Heaven, or did my eyes deceive me?” Vlad asked in disbelief.

  “I saw it too, Vlad,” Pierre said as he stood up, wiping away tears of joy. “It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. Even more beautiful than I ever dared to dream it was.”

  “Yes, for me too,” Vlad said. “Defeating the vampires was one thing; we also released Lucifer from his curse as an unexpected bonus.”

  “None of us knows God’s plan for our lives and this world, Vlad,” Pierre said. “This was what he wanted all along, and you were his instrument here to achieve it. Praise the Lord.”

  “Someone else saw this for me, too,” Vlad said. “The seer who wrote that prophecy in that cave, whoever they were.”

  “You’re the seer, Vlad,” Pierre said. “You and that magic eye of yours.”

  “Get this seer some beer,” Vlad said.

  Pierre laughed, and there were murmurs of agreement from the others.

  “This is the most virtuous thing I have ever done in my life
,” Vlad said. “It has taken away my fear of death.”

  “Then you are capable of anything,” Pierre said. “You’ve become fearless.”

  Mattna’s words came into Vlad’s mind, and he smiled. It was his victory, too. “Deadulus is dead,” Vlad continued. “Nocturne is free of vampires! We are free! It’s over!”

  The rest of Vlad’s warriors cheered and rose to their feet.

  King Stargard sat sagely on his throne before the invited people of Mortis and the locals in Nocturne Village Square. Following the king’s declaration of a holiday, great feasting was about to take place at a banquet. Vlad Ingisbohr stood before King Stargard.

  “Vlad Ingisbohr, champion of Mortis and now champion of Nocturne,” the king began, “we honour you.”

  Wild cheers came from the crowd.

  “Your unique achievements during the Battle of All Hallows deserve unique recognition,” the king said. “So, I have created a new chivalric order in your honour: the Order of the Vampire!”

  The crowd gasped and then cheered. Two soldiers grabbed Vlad, removed his father’s breastplate, and placed a new breastplate on him. It had the emblem of a winged vampire on the chest.

  “Let us see!” a man in the crowd shouted, and the crowd took up the chant.

  Vlad bashfully turned around. The crowd applauded him and his new armour. The king rose to his feet, and a minion scurried to his side with a gold sword on a purple pillow. The king took the sword, and the minion bowed his head and cowered away.

  “Kneel before me, O common man,” the king said.

  Vlad complied. King Stargard raised the gold sword above Vlad’s head. The crowd went silent again. Vlad was nervous, but tried not to show it. The king touched both of Vlad’s shoulders with the sword.

  “I dub thee Sir Vlad Ingisbohr of the Order of the Vampire,” the king said. “Arise a knight, a vampire knight!”

  Vlad stood in a daze; he was knighted. How he wished his parents were there to see his moment of glory. His father never would believe it either.

  “There is more, my friends,” the king said as he raised his hand and brought silence once again. “The village of Nocturne is no longer a place named after darkness. So, henceforth, it shall be known as Ingisbohria in honour of your champion Vlad and his martyred father.”

  Vlad could not process what he had just heard. There was an audible gasp from the crowd and a moment of uncertainty, but they would not displease their king, and so they applauded and cheered wildly.

  “Furthermore,” the king added, “I shall send Bishop Hopkins on a pilgrimage to Kristos City to ask the Holy Father to beatify Adam Ingisbohr.”

  Bishop Hopkins clearly had no prior knowledge of the announcement. He bristled visibly and cocked a stunned eye at his king before regaining his composure and nodding in vigorous diplomatic agreement. Vlad felt humbled by the incredible honours being bestowed on him and his family. Beatification was the first step to sainthood. Vlad could not think of his father as a saint, but he was so proud of him. At last, his father was getting the recognition he deserved. An unprecedented week was growing more so as it progressed.

  “Even if this request is not granted by the Pontiff, the name of Ingisbohr shall from this moment on be a name of honour in this land,” King Stargard continued. “Any slight on this noble name shall be a slight on the crown itself, punishable by death.”

  The crowd reeked of guilt, as some or all of them had dishonoured the Ingisbohr name over the years. Some sections worried they might face a retroactive death sentence. They applauded with tactful gusto.

  “I formally incorporate the village of Ingisbohria into my realm,” the king said smiling, “and a permanent garrison of knights shall be posted here to protect you all. No longer shall you face threats alone. You shall all be safe under my wing.”

  The former Nocturnians and new Ingisbohrians exuded delight at the securing of their futures. They cheered and applauded with all their might.

  “Henceforth,” King Stargard continued, “Samhain and the first two days of November shall be feast days in this land. Those who fell in battle and their great victory over satanic forces shall never fade from our memories.”

  The crowd cheered as frantic chroniclers scribbled with quills on parchments as they tried to keep up with the number of new regal decrees.

  “I declare three days of feasting to honour your great achievements,” the king said as he clapped his hands. His minions appeared and erected a dozen long banquet tables. They placed copious platters of beef, pork, chicken, fruit, and goblets of ale and wine upon them.

  There were excited whoops and laughter from the crowd. Their famished eyes grew big, and they licked their lips in anticipation of the rich food and drink that a second before had been a forbidden dream to them.

  “Let the feast commence!” the king shouted, as he put his arm around Vlad and guided him over to the place of merriment.

  The villagers followed at a respectful distance. They then took their places at the tables with vociferous murmuring.

  “Pray silence and bow your heads,” Bishop Hopkins sternly intoned, and silence descended. Everyone joined their hands in prayer. “Bless us, O Lord, as we sit together,” the bishop continued. “Bless the food we eat today, bless the hands that made the food, bless us, O Lord. Amen.”

  “Amen,” everyone said.

  “Thank you, Your Grace, for saying grace,” King Stargard said. “Now, I order you all to make merry!”

  The king grabbed a leg of chicken and tore off a slippery mouthful of bird flesh. His chest shook as he bellowed with laughter, as did everyone else as they grabbed big handfuls of food and joined him. The king leapt to his feet with flecks of chicken skin in his beard and grease on his lips, and pointed to Vampire Mountain. “Furthermore!” he bellowed, “that rock shall no longer be called Vampire Mountain. Henceforth, it shall be called Mount Ingisbohr, in honour of our champion Vlad and his deceased parents. Now, give me ale before I abdicate in favour of a frog.”

  The congregation whooped and cheered incessantly. Where there previously had been only bad news, there appeared only good. Vlad took a goblet of ale, and with the king’s encouragement, he quenched his thirst. The king slapped him on the back, nearly spilling the rest of the goblet of ale everywhere. Sir Pierre de la Costa toasted Vlad and his king with his goblet of ale, and the king joined them in a celebratory drink. Vlad had become so inured that he had forgotten how to celebrate. He was determined to put that right.

  “I shall enjoy every moment of this, Sire,” Vlad said, trying to convince himself as much as those around him.

  “Indeed, you shall, my boy,” the king said. “Thoroughly deserved. We cannot underestimate the scale of your victory. What say you, de la Costa?”

  “I could not agree more, Sire,” Pierre said. “I am proud to call this boy…this man, my friend.”

  “That is raving praise coming from him,” King Stargard said. “Believe me, I know him well.”

  Vlad laughed. Pierre seemed offended, but Vlad moved to quash it. “You are a good friend,” Vlad said to Pierre. “I could not have done this without you.”

  “Oh, modesty, be damned,” the king said. “Pierre would not have been here had you not brought him, although he is a fine knight, I have to admit. That is raving praise coming from me. Take that scrap from my table, de la Costa.”

  “Gladly, Sire,” Pierre said laughing.

  “Mark him,” the king said, pointing at Pierre. “Decorum shall be a stranger to him by dawn… and to us all!”

  Vlad stopped feasting when he heard a low rumbling noise. As it got louder, the others heard it, too. They stopped eating and looked around them. The great unspoken dread in all of them was the return of the vampires, however illogical that was. A figure came into view. It was a bemused soldier, pulling the mangonel.

  “Where do you want this?” the soldier asked, looking for space to put it.

  There was a huge laugh of relief from all present. />
  Vlad threw his head back and laughed as he put his arm around the soldier.

  “You have missed the battle, my friend,” Vlad said, as he guided the soldier to the food, “but you are just in time for our victory feast.”

  The soldier smiled, took off his helmet, sat down, and drank his fill and filled his belly.

  Ula arrived at the festivities with a smiling, healthy Lillia Kurten clutching her baby in her arms. Vlad’s war against the vampires was his life’s work but Ula was his life. The knighthood was flattering but the right to live in peace with the love of his life was by far the greater prize.

  “I see you’ve been reunited,” Vlad said.

  “Thanks to you, Sir Knight,” Lillia said with a curtsy.

  Ula copied the curtsy, gently making fun of Vlad’s new title.

  “All I did was help a person in need,” Vlad said.

  “You have saved this land for my child and the generations to come,” Lillia said.

  “That’s in the future, now we celebrate!” Vlad said with a smile.

  Norvad made room on one of the long benches for Lillia and her baby and she filled a plate with food.

  “Did you see me being knighted?” Vlad asked.

  “I did indeed, my love, I’m so proud of you,” Ula said throwing her arms around him and kissing him.