by Jon F. Merz
“Absolutely. I could do with a hearty meal and my back is stiff from sleeping on the ground.”
Wolfric grinned. “That might be the first time I’ve ever heard you complain about something.”
Felix smiled. “I’m susceptible to pain like anyone else, Wolfric. It’s just that I often don’t speak of it because it distracts my mind from what I ought to be focused on.”
Wolfric nodded but kept smiling as they rode on.
The town’s homes looked as though they were mostly constructed from clay and wood with thatched roof tops. Wolfric wondered how the tiny homes weathered the harsh winters, but as small as they were, he could not deny the fact that they looked extremely cozy and neat.
As they slowly walked their steeds into the town, people mulling around outside and going about their work stopped and looked them over. Wolfric felt scores of eyes on him as they gently eased their mounts down the main thoroughfare. Felix wore an easy smile on his face and Wolfric attempted to copy it. He wasn’t sure if it looked as casual as that of his teacher, however.
They drew to a halt beside a tavern that advertised itself as an inn as well. Felix swung down from his saddle and tied his horse up. Wolfric did the same. Both men patted their horses and then ducked inside the tavern.
It fell silent as they entered, faces turning to look over the newcomers. Felix held up a hand and gave a warm greeting. Wolfric echoed him and then they walked to the counter.
The barkeep, a stout man with a full beard and very little hair on his head, stopped wiping down glasses and nodded at them. “Good day.”
Felix’s smile widened. “Good day, sir. I wonder if you have rooms available for my son and me?”
“I have two that should suffice,” said the barkeep. “Payment is in advance. How long will you be staying?”
Felix drew out several gold coins and slid them across the bar. “A few days, perhaps. We’re riding through on our way to Bucharest, but we have no pressing engagements there, so we may linger if we find the place hospitable enough.”
The barkeep glanced at the gold coins. “You’ve come a long way.”
“My son has never ventured to this part of the world before. It seemed a fine time to travel before he gets old and settles down with some fair maiden and finally gifts me with grandkids.”
“You’re hungry then? Wanting food are you?”
Felix smiled. “A meal would do us both well. And ale if you have a good one.”
“We make a tasty fruity ale from the orchards above the town. You no doubt passed them on your way in.”
“We did indeed. Apples?”
“That’s right,” said the barkeep. “We had a good harvest this year so the ale is especially sweet.”
“Two of those sound just about perfect,” said Felix. “Have you any stew?”
“A hearty beef mash that should suffice,” said the barkeep. “I’ll have my daughter bring some along shortly. There’s a table in the back there by the fire if you’re looking to warm yourself.”
Felix nodded his thanks. “Grateful for it, actually. Many thanks.”
They turned and moved through the bar toward the fire. Felix took his usual seat with his back to the wall, able to look out across the tavern and see everyone.
Wolfric took the seat next to him and felt the warmth of the fire as it crept into his bones. He felt a wave of fatigue wash over him and he guessed he wasn’t yet fully recovered from the lack of sleep.
“Here you are.”
Wolfric looked up and saw the dark eyes of the barkeep’s daughter staring at him. Her smile broke through the raven mane that tumbled past her shoulder and framed her deep blue eyes. She couldn’t have been much younger than Wolfric and he found himself struck mute by her beauty.
“Thank you,” said Felix.
“Thank you,” said Wolfric.
She moved away and Felix took a hearty swig of the ale. As he brought the tankard down from his lips, he whispered to Wolfric. “Get yourself focused, please. You are not here to seduce her. You’re here to help us protect our people.”
Wolfric blinked and took a breath. “Absolutely. My apologies.” He took a long drink and then licked his lips thereafter. “That is delicious.”
“It most definitely is,” said Felix. “If the beef stew is anything near as good, we shall eat well while we are here in town, no doubt. Just make sure you don’t go looking for any…dessert. Understood?”
“Completely,” said Wolfric.
But even still, he could barely take his eyes off the beautiful girl.
Chapter 21
When they had finished lunch and moved their bags into their rooms, Felix called Wolfric into his room and nodded for him to sit down on the chair by the window. Wolfric did so and Felix motioned for him to stay quiet and watch.
Felix began scouring the room, peering into every nook and cranny of the place. He peeked behind the small framed print on the wall, behind the headboard of the bed, and even in the bureau itself. When he’d spent about ten minutes checking everything over, he nodded and sat on his bed and spoke in a lowered voice.
“You must always assume that people are watching and listening. Treat every new place like you are on the stage in a play. We are outsiders here and the locals will do their best to learn about us in any way they can. For that reason, we will adopt the use of Flemish when we speak about anything. Other European languages are too common throughout the continent, but Flemish is fairly isolated from the eastern European lands.”
“It’s not one of my best languages,” said Wolfric switching over to it. “But I will do my best.”
“If you have anything that you don’t understand, then we will switch to English. Understood?”
“Perfectly.”
Felix nodded. “Now we arrive at the heart of our task: to surreptitiously dig for information in order to find the culprit and render their sentence. To do so, we must learn about the attacks that have taken place here. The villagers will be loathe to discuss such things with us, so we need to start our search elsewhere. Presumably, either with the owners of the manor house or the church itself.”
“Which would make the best sense?”
“I’m thinking the church,” said Felix. “We can inquire about services, marvel at its structure, and strike up a conversation with the priest who runs it. That should be enough to give us a smattering of information we can then leverage elsewhere. Once we do that, it should be easy enough to start finding a trail.”
Wolfric nodded toward his room. “Will our things be safe here?”
“Don’t leave any of the flasks here with your baggage. We will bury them somewhere outside of town where only we can find them. If someone in the town discovers their contents then we will surely be found out for who we truly are. And around here, they will take no chances. We’ll be killed.”
“I’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes,” said Wolfric. “I’ll fetch my stuff.”
“Good.”
They chose to walk from the inn around the streets of Malancrav, which were little more than barely paved avenues lined with simple homes and quaint shops. They passed a bakery, butcher, and a general goods store that all seemed open for business despite not having any customers.
On the outskirts of the town, they headed back into the foothills and found their way around down a winding path that meandered by a small brook filled with flowing ice cold water running down from the mountains. Felix nodded to an old tree with a hollowed out trunk and they stowed their flasks there, each of them taking a long drink on one before putting them deep inside. They stood waiting for the jolt of energy from the blood and when it had passed, they walked back and across a field left barren from the harvest.
Dark clouds now bloated the sky and a stiff breeze seemed intent on scaring away all the warmth that the sun had previously offered. Felix pointed at the church as it loomed large before them. “That’s a three-naved basilica. Supposedly, there’s quite the fresco inside.�
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“How do you know?”
“Some of the locals were discussing the church’s plans to renovate a part of it during the Spring while we ate lunch.” Felix smiled. “As I told you, you must always be listening and looking even when you appear not to be.”
They walked into the church and Wolfric was struck by the incredible beauty of the place. “It’s marvelous.”
“Well, thank you,” said a voice behind them.
Felix turned and smiled at the old priest standing there. “I apologize. My son is a bit of an admirer of frescos like this.”
“He has a good eye then,” said the priest. “That one there spans twenty meters.”
“And the others in the archways?” asked Wolfric. “How many are there?”
“Fifty-three,” answered the priest. “It’s nice to see someone who has such an appreciation for the art. I find their beauty is largely ignored by the parish, but I do try to maintain them to some degree of brilliance.”
“My name is Felix and this is my son Wolfric. It’s a pleasure to meet you…?”
“Father Mirescu,” said the priest. “This is my home. And welcome to you both. You are clearly not from around these parts. Your names are certainly not Transylvanian.”
“Indeed,” said Felix. “We have journeyed here from the west on our way to Bucharest. But we’re in no rush, so we’ve been wandering quite a bit.”
Father Mirescu grinned. “Wandering around the mountains in this land will no doubt subject you to the possibility of danger. I certainly hope you’re prepared for such things.”
“We are,” said Felix, showing his pistol and sword. “And we have met some of the that danger already.”
Father Mirescu looked them up and down. “Well, neither one of you seems worse for the encounter, so I’ll assume you managed to hold your own with the grace of god.”
“Twice,” said Felix. “But thank you and to the almighty as well.”
“He does his best to watch over travelers when he can,” said Father Mirescu. “Especially those with a keen interest in Gothic frescos.”
Wolfric smiled. “I’d imagine the congregation must enjoy having such a well-appointed church as this to worship in, Father.”
“When I can wrangle them in here for services,” said Father Mirescu. “There are the faithful, of course, and they are wonderful people. But I wish I could convince more of them to come worship with the rest of the congregation when I preach. Lately, it seems as though more of them are interested in drinking at the tavern and chasing ghosts in the woods.”
“Ghosts?”
Father Mirescu waved his hand. “Oh, silly stories they like to tell each other when the ale has been flowing fast. Legends are nothing new around these parts. They’re unavoidable, after all, given our location and the nature of the environment. You rode through those mountains, so you know what spending a night there can do to your imagination.”
“Indeed,” said Felix. “But ghosts?”
Father Mirescu frowned. “Perhaps ghosts is not the right word. We call them strigoi in our language. Do you know it?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Felix.
“Blood demons,” said Father Mirescu. He quickly made the sign of the cross on his chest and then said a whispered prayer. “They hunt in the night and drink the blood of the living.”
“Are they man or beast?”
“They are the undead,” said Father Mirescu. “And we have had a few incidents over the past few months that have some of the locals spooked about the possibility that a strigoi is hunting in our town.”
Felix lowered his voice. “If it’s not prying too much, what sort of incidents are we talking about, Father?”
“Two women have been attacked. And a young baby. In all three cases, the victims were left with puncture marks on their necks from where the creature feasted upon their blood.”
“They didn’t cry out?” asked Wolfric.
“The beast attacks during the nights when most are asleep. It is believed the strigoi is capable of putting its victims into an almost catatonic state whereby they feel little pain during the process. Once it is done feeding, the creature leaves and moves on to a new victim. Each victim was only attacked once, but it has left the town feeling a bit more paranoid than it has in years.”
“The victims,” asked Felix. “Have they recovered?”
“Indeed, although there are those alarmists in the town who feel they are infected now and have ostracized them in social circles. It is a tragic thing.”
“This creature, the…strigoi…has it been hunted?”
“There have been attempts to locate it. Local men with dogs have followed trails in the woods but those have led to nothing of substance. We have sought the recently deceased in the graveyard, trying to determine if any of them have come back from the dead.” He shook his head. “I must apologize, all of this must sound utterly absurd to men of your kind from the west. Surely you have little time for superstitions like this.”
Felix laid a hand on his arm. “There’s no need to apologize, Father. We have traveled a fair bit all over and we try to help out where we can. My son and I are used to different cultures and legends. If we can be of service to the people of this town, then perhaps we will stay a bit longer than we had planned.”
Chapter 22
Father Mirescu smiled, but Wolfric thought he could see sadness within it. “Bless you, my sons for taking an interest in our affairs. I’m sure your desire to help will be appreciated, but I can’t speak for the majority of the townspeople. Indeed, some of them might well view your offer with a mixture of suspicion and outright animosity.”
“Why would they do that?” asked Wolfric.
“Pride,” said the priest. “This is our home and we like to think that we can take care of ourselves. We’ve weathered an awful lot over the years. Harsh winters, summer droughts, warfare, civil unrest, and through it all, we’ve always stuck together to bring about a better resolution for the town. I don’t see this as being very different.”
Felix held up his hand. “You apparently have a creature that prowls through the night preying on the innocent by drinking their blood. This situation might well be different from anything you’ve dealt with before. Turning away help might not be wise.”
“As I said, the townspeople will have to make the decision. It is not for me to say.”
“This…strigoi…can it be killed?” Felix folded his arms. “Do guns or blades slay it?”
“Who can say?” Father Mirescu sighed. “The old legends speak of the strigoi as being susceptible to wood. That they may be killed by staking them through the heart and cutting off their heads. Burning their bodies also is said to work. Garlic repulses them. Holy water and a crucifix may provide some protection. But these are only what I’ve heard since the time I was younger. I’ve never dealt with something like this before. Perhaps they are invulnerable. I do not know.”
“No creature is invulnerable,” said Felix. “And even the things of nightmares may be felled by those with faith and a stout heart. Provided their cause is just, the good lord will aid his servants in their fight with the darkness.”
Father Mirescu made the sign of the cross again and Felix did the same. “Tell me, who owns the manor house around the way? Do they wield a lot of power in the town?”
“The Apafi family used to own much of the land around the town and the manor house was also theirs. They were granted the land back in 1340 but it is now owned by Hungarian royalty. To tell the truth, we don’t see much of anyone using it these days. Occasionally, we’ll see someone ride into town and go to the manor house, but I think that is just to make sure there are no problems. Last summer, a retinue of royals showed up for about a week before departing again. They didn’t even interact with us. Perhaps it is simply one of many such residences they own. The wealthy do not often care about where they go, so long as they have some place to go.”
“Indeed,” said Felix. “And the Apa
fi family? Were they good to the town?”
“Very decent people,” said Father Mirescu. “It was with their help that the orchards sprang up and provided the town with a wealth of great harvests and products to sell. Have you tried the ale yet?”
Wolfric grinned. “We did. It was marvelous.”
The priest nodded. “We still work the orchards since no one has ever complained about it even with the transfer of ownership of the manor house. I doubt the royals would be interested anyway.”
“Perhaps we will wander around and see if anyone is there,” said Felix.
“It grows late already at this time of year.” Father Mirescu pointed to the stained glass windows. “Even now the light fades from the sky as winter’s nightly chill returns. I shall retire presently to my quarters for dinner. You are welcome to join me if you wish.”
“That’s very kind,” said Felix. “But I think my son and I will wander a bit.”
“Do be careful then. The strigoi hunts at night. And while he has, thus far, only preyed upon the sleeping, who can say if he would not strike at a pair of men wandering in the night?”
“Has this creature scared everyone indoors after sunset?”
“Most will bar their doors and windows once the sun vanishes. It is not just the strigoi they fear, but the dark itself. As I said, we are in a region where our legends are sometimes much more than just stories we tell.”
“Noted,” said Felix. “Thank you very much for the information. I’ve enjoyed speaking with you as I’m sure my son has also.”
“Without a doubt,” said Wolfric. “Thank you, Father.”
“God bless you both,” said the priest. “Feel free to return anytime. And best of luck if you do indeed try to help us out. They may not admit it, but most of the townsfolk are scared and would welcome a pair of strapping men such as yourselves. But tread gently with them. Their pride is easily bruised and sometimes men do not how to get out of their own way.”
Felix smiled. “We shall.”