The Dracula Chronicles: Bound By Blood

by Shane KP O'Neill

  “Yes. There is more, but I believe the elder here can tell you of that.”

  The vataf looked to Karul. Before he could speak, Dracula cut in. “For the now, I must take my leave. We shall meet again on the morrow, soon after sunset.”

  “Well, Karul?” the vataf asked. “Is there more?”

  “Yes, Vataf.”

  “That is why you asked that question of him?”

  “Yes, I wanted to know if he had seen it too.”

  “Why did you not tell me?”

  “I did not have the opportunity.”

  “Then speak. I want to hear it.”

  “In many hundreds of years, we are to leave this place.”

  “We shall go with Dracula?”

  “Yes, Vataf. He shall lead us across land and sea.”

  “Do you know the reason?”

  Karul nodded again. “One day, he shall rule over all mankind. When that day comes to pass, we shall be at his side.”

  WALLACHIA. THE MAGLAK VILLAGE IN THE

  FOOTHILLS OF THE CARPATHIAN MOUNTAINS.

  JANUARY 2, 1500.

  The Maglak men waited for his return. Dracula said he would be there at sunset, and that time had come. The vataf ordered the women to remain inside. He did not want them to see any of this.

  Dracula and the others touched down close by. “Good night, Jakab,” he said.

  The vataf had discarded his old family name. He did not feel it in his best interests to keep it in this country. Their Christian names had stayed the same.

  “My Lord.” He bowed, but his tone remained cautious. “You have news for me?”

  “We have observed the army of Caliu.”

  “They are coming our way?”

  “They are, and their intent is clear.”

  “Then we shall have to move the women and children.”

  “There is no need. We have the matter in hand.”

  “What is their number?”

  “At a glance, I would say six hundred.”

  “There are few more than a hundred men here.”

  “It is enough,” Dracula said. “That is, if you fight as well as you did under me.”

  “That has not changed. We still train hard to keep good our skills.”

  He smiled. “Good, then we must draw our plan.”

  “Where are they camped?”

  “On the banks of the Dimbovita River.”

  “Near Snagov?”

  “Their camp was half a day south of Snagov. This army, I imagine, came from the east and passed through Bucharest.”

  “So they are less than two days away?”

  “Yes, that would be correct to assume.”

  “What can you say of the look of them?”

  “There are some good soldiers there, but many have not seen any bloodshed as yet. That is what turns this in our favour.”

  “If we can surprise them?”

  “Yes, we cannot engage them in open battle.”

  “Then that is what we must do.”

  “How good are your men with the bow?”

  “I wager we can rival even the Vlach tribes in that area.”

  “Good, for that must be the emphasis of the attack. One hundred fine archers can decimate an unsuspecting army.”

  “Where and when do you propose to do this?”

  “They are moving north along the river, and their progress is slow enough. The night of the morrow when they camp.”

  Varkal spoke for the first time. “They are sure to cross the river south of Tirgoviste. Then they should follow the Arges to here.”

  “There is a spot between the two rivers.”

  “Yes,” Dracula said, knowing where the vataf meant. “With the heavy forests, they are sure to camp there.”

  Varkal nodded. “It leaves them only a short march then to here. If they march out of the camp at dawn, they would arrive here by the noon.”

  “It is the perfect place for an ambush. It surprises me they would camp there.”

  “Why would they not?” Varkal said. “They do not expect any sort of an attack.”

  “That is why it would work,” Dracula said. “You know the location well, Jakab?”

  “Yes, My Lord. We know it.”

  “Have the men in the trees around the area before sunset. Wait there for us.”

  “How many men?”

  “Bring a full one hundred. Leave the rest here in the village to guard it. My wife shall remain with them to watch over your loved ones.”

  The vataf looked to Ilona, who nodded her head.

  “In the meantime,” Varkal said, “sharpen your swords, and craft a healthy supply of arrows. You shall need them.”

  Just before sunset, the Maglaks made it to the trees, where they had a good view of the area below. Here was where they expected the invading army to camp. From these three sides, they could hit their enemy hard.

  The soldiers of Caliu had not yet arrived. The vataf hoped they had been correct in their assumptions. If Caliu did not set up camp here, then the plan was doomed to fail. That would mean the end of the tribe. Sunset came, and darkness fell over the field. Dracula and Varkal found the vataf soon after.

  “There is no sighting of them as yet,” he said.

  “Have no fear,” Dracula said. “They are on their way.”

  “Good, it gives us time to prepare.”

  “Bring the men together.”

  Soon the hundred men gathered around. The moon shone through the trees, lighting the area well. Dracula took an elevated position so they could all see him.

  “My son and I are to launch the first strike. We shall steal into the camp and kill as many of the enemy as we can, while they sleep.”

  “Might they see you in the moonlight?” one of the men asked.

  “No, but we shall see them. So the moon is to our advantage. Use it well.”

  “We shall make our way towards Caliu’s tent,” Varkal said. “When you see it aflame, that is the signal to attack.”

  “I do not expect there to be a strong sentry guard,” Dracula surmised. “They are not expecting us. It should allow us to wreak a lot of damage.”

  “The fire shall cause a panic,” Varkal added. “When they see Caliu is dead, they should lose the stomach for a fight.”

  “That is when we attack?” the vataf asked.

  “Of course,” Varkal said, raising his voice. “Listen to me.”

  “I want you to split into three groups,” Dracula told them. “As we discussed in the village, an attack on three sides should prove deadly.”

  “And keep your calm,” Varkal warned. “No one is to fire till they see the flames rising from the tent. If I am struck by an arrow before I exit the camp, the man who fired it shall not be returning home.”

  “There shall be chaos,” Dracula reminded them. “So keep your heads calm and your aim true.”

  “Men, take your positions,” the vataf ordered.

  Within the hour, the enemy filled the field. They took a long time to set up camp, weary from the march north. Caliu posted sentries in the four corners. His other men lit fires around the perimeter before settling down. Few of them ate. They just wanted sleep.

  Dracula watched and waited. It was hard on the Maglaks, where the bitter cold ate into fingers and toes. They had to remain still so as not to reveal their presence to the enemy. One of them moved up and down to keep his feet from going numb. A twig snapped beneath his foot.

  The others shot him an angry glance. The sentries were sure to hear it. In the corner of the camp nearest them, the two sentries looked up to the trees.

  “Did you hear that?” one of them said.

  “It was most likely a deer,” his comrade answered. “The thought of it turning on a spit is enough to make my stomach growl.”

  “We should go and check it.”

  “What? These forests are full of wildlife. Some not so pleasant either, I wager.”

  “It is our charge to check.”

  “Wh
at? You think someone may be there?”

  “There might be.”

  “You are being foolish. It is the dead of winter. Who would be there at this hour with it so cold?”

  “A hunter, perhaps?”

  “Then what concern is that of ours?”

  “He could see us, and our camp.”

  “I am sure he would hardly care if he did.”

  “He could alert someone that we are here.”

  “I beg you, please stop. You have too active a mind.”

  “I am trying to keep to the task given me.”

  “Well, if you wish to take a look, go ahead. I shall remain here and keep watch.”

  “You wish me to go alone?”

  “Yes, if it concerns you so.”

  “I am not going into the trees alone. There might be wolves.”

  “I know. So ease down, and we might have a quiet night.”

  The vampires watched the two of them like hawks. They stole up behind them once the two men relaxed again. Before either man knew it, they had knives run hard across their throats. The vampires laid them down gently and returned to the trees.

  They moved to the next corner on the same side of the camp. When the clouds masked the moon, they struck again. Nobody suspected or heard a thing. They had taken out two of the four sentry posts.

  The other sentries stood about. They wished they could join the rest of the camp in sleeping beneath warm blankets. The effects of the cold ate at their spirits, and they could not wait for the mission to end. Then they could return home to the comforts of their wives.

  The vampires put them out of their misery soon after. Home was something none of them would ever again see.

  Dracula looked to his son. It is time to do this. In separate lines, they cut the throats of the sleeping men one at a time.

  It reminded Dracula a lot of the night attack against the Turks many years ago. This is exactly what he did on that occasion. He only hoped it paid as great a dividend now. It did not take him and his son long to wipe out a fifth of the force.

  Varkal closed in on his target. The only tent in the camp signified that was where he would find Caliu. He skipped over the last few sleeping bodies before the tent. Inside, Caliu slept soundly.

  He gazed down at the snoring boyar, the urge to drink strong. Caliu stirred and turned over, the blanket slipping from his body. The sudden cold on his back woke him with a start. He opened his eyes to see Varkal’s face only inches away.

  Varkal clamped a hand over his mouth before he could raise the alarm. Caliu looked up at the intruder with real fear in his eyes. Varkal held a blade up for him to see. It glinted where the moon shone through the canvas. He felt Varkal run the tip along the side of his neck. The cold steel marked his skin, making him shiver.

  “Tell me how it feels,” Varkal whispered in his ear, “to be the hunted.”

  Caliu’s eyes followed his, and he dared not move. Even if he did, he could not prevent the blade from slicing through his throat. He waited in the hope the intruder might reveal what he wanted.

  “You have only one thing I want,” Varkal said. He grinned when Caliu realised he had read his thoughts. “Your blood.”

  His words and the tone behind them hinted the intruder intended to kill him. Caliu struggled against the hand that held his mouth.

  Varkal held him firm, and bared his fangs to bite the boyar.

  Dracula could tell, even from a distance. No! he relayed across the camp. His son heard it, but carried on. Varkal sank his fangs deep into the side of Caliu’s neck.

  Caliu jerked his head back hard. His whole body tensed while the first of his blood left his body. He clenched his teeth as the muscles in his jaw tightened. His mouth came free of Varkal’s grip, and a scream escaped his lips.

  Varkal drove his fangs in deeper to speed up the transfer of blood. The men around the tent awoke. They knew something was amiss in their boyar’s tent. Some of them shouted out to raise the alarm.

  Dracula had to act fast. He picked up a bow lying near one of the men he had killed. Grabbing the pouch of arrows beside it, he flew through the air to one of the perimeter fires. He nocked two arrows against the string of the bow and, leaning down, he lit the ends of both.

  He did not care that Varkal was inside the tent. Without taking proper aim, he fired. The arrows whistled through the air before ripping into the canvas. Almost at once, it caught alight. He fired two more at it before exiting the camp.

  By a miracle, none of the four arrows hit Varkal. He looked up to see the canvas on fire. It was the signal for the Maglaks to attack. He left Caliu there to die, and, in a panic, he shot up into the air. Moving at pace, he took the flaming canvas with him. The first arrows rained in on the camp; one hundred in all.

  He cried out as the hot canvas melted against his skin. Like a maniac, he fought to get it off. It dropped down and fell against the prostrate body of Caliu. At once, it burned the boyar. But, paralysed from Varkal’s bite, he could not even cry out. He just lay there as the flames engulfed him.

  In the camp below him all Varkal heard was chaos. Only the dead did not rise to their feet. That number quickly increased. The Maglaks bombarded the camp with pinpoint accuracy. Under the light of the moon, Caliu’s men had nowhere to hide. They could not see their enemy and, in their dozens, they fell.

  Many attempted to run through the pass they had used to enter the field. Dracula waited there for them, and cut down every man who passed his way. Varkal joined him, his hair and clothes still smoking.

  He could see Dracula was deeply annoyed. His father’s rigidity frustrated him. Another of Caliu’s men ran their way. Varkal took his head off with one clean swoop of his sword, a large spray of blood flying through the air. “The plan has still worked,” he said, in his own defence.

  The Maglaks came out of the trees. They waded through the dead bodies in the camp. Any who still lived, they put to the sword. The vampires joined them again.

  The vataf looked to them. “I thank you for this, My Lord.”

  Dracula and he locked forearms in a sign of friendship. “Then may this bond between us last for all time.”

  TRANSYLVANIA. TEN MILES WEST OF CLUJ

  NEAR THE BORDER WITH HUNGARY.

  EARLY MARCH, 1502.

  Antonia awoke at the crack of dawn to another cold morning. She thought about getting up, but she did not feel too good. It was warm beneath the blanket. She decided to remain there, and snuggled into her husband.

  Andrei groaned in his sleep, the familiar sound drawing a smile from her. They had not spent much time apart in their fifty-four years of marriage. One night a month, he sloped off. At sunset on the thirteenth day, the Dark Ones could see him if he did not shield himself. It meant he had to go well away from his loved ones. He would find a quiet spot to hide and build up his defences. Then and only then were they ever away from each other.

  She groaned too. Her bones felt stiff and ached when she moved. For a while now, she had not felt too well. Andrei sensed it, but she never let on. When he did ask, she assured him she was fine. They had known each other from birth and wed at seventeen. He trusted her word, even though he sensed otherwise.

  He felt warm to touch, as always. She moved her knees in behind his and moulded into him until they were one. The padding beneath them was a comfort, and she was glad of it. They needed it, at their age, sleeping against the hard ground.

  That was one of the many things she loved about him. He did everything he could to ensure her comfort. She deserved it, he said. Everything he had, she had given to him. Six sons in their first ten years together.

  After the split with the tribe many years ago, they raised and nurtured their sons alone. She watched her boys grow into fine young men. Each one was the image of their father in one way or another. He proved the perfect role model.

  In time, her boys all fell in love and married. Their wives joined them so as not to break the family unit. The unions produced another twenty childr
en. Eight of those had married to produce a half a dozen more. It capped a perfect life for her. She lay there thinking if her time came now, she could have no complaints.

  Andrei stirred when she moved against him. He reached back with a hand and rubbed her thigh. She wrapped an arm around him and snuggled up closer. “Good morning, my love,” she whispered.

  He shifted slowly around to face her. His body ached too. “You are awake?”

  “I always wake before you,” she said, offering her familiar smile.

  “That is what you keep telling me.”

  She reached her head up a touch to kiss him. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He pulled her in closer. They locked in a tight embrace and kissed again, slowly.

  “You are such a beautiful man,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  “I am what you have made me.”

  “No, my love. This has always been you.”

  “It is as well for me, then, that I am. Or you may not have loved me.”

  “I have always loved you. How could I not?”

  “It helps me know how fortunate I have been, when you say such things.”

  “I am the fortunate one,” she said, planting a soft kiss on his neck. “I have been blessed, as have our children. What more could a woman ever want from a man than what it is you have given me?”

  He held her tight in his arms. The same rush of love that had passed through him almost every day of his life, did so again. “You still take my breath away.”

  She nuzzled into his neck. “Thank you,” she said. “You have given me a wonderful life.”

  He pulled away a touch. “You say that as though it is about to come to an end?”

  “We are old, Andrei. It cannot be that far off, for either of us.”

  “Well, not quite yet. I am not ready for you to go.”

  “Do we have a say in such things?”

  “I do. You know I have stopped people from crossing over.”

  “Yes, I know, but promise me one thing.”

  “What, my love?”

  “When it is my time, let me go.”

  “It is not your time.”

  “Promise me.”