The Immortal Knight Chronicles Box Set 2

by Dan Davis

  “There is nothing to discuss,” Dracula said.

  The boyar coughed and shifted in his seat again. “Then why are you here?”

  “To accept your apology,” Dracula said.

  “Apology?” The boyar snapped. “For what? I have done nothing to you.”

  “I have come to hear you beg forgiveness.”

  Bogdan’s mouth gaped. “For what? I supported your father until they killed him. What else could I do then but support Vladislaus?”

  Dracula half turned to the men behind him at the back of the hall. “These men went into exile rather than follow a false prince. And yet you did not. Why?”

  Bogdan attempted a consolatory tone. “Let us eat.”

  “Why?”

  He slapped his hands on the arms of his chair. “Why do you think, you upstart? I am a lord. This is my castle. This is my land. I rule it. They are my people. Give that up, for what? For the memory of my dead lord? His sons were in the claws of the Turks, I did not know if they would ever return. If you would return. What was I supposed to do?”

  Vlad stared at him, unmoved. “I will accept your apology, once it is given.”

  “And what will you do if it is not?”

  Dracula said nothing and I could not see his face. But the boyar could and his eyes opened wide and his skin turned white. He coughed again, before looking around at his men. Many shuffled with unease.

  “Very well,” the boyar said with his chin up. “Very well, then. I do here before witnesses say to you that—”

  “On your knees,” Dracula said.

  Surely, it was too far.

  The boyar stood. He was taller than Dracula but it somehow seemed as if he was still looking up at him.

  “If you would step back, my lord,” the boyar said. But Dracula did not move. The man smiled in discomfort and edged around the younger lord before dropping slowly to one knee. Now, Dracula was the one with his back to the lord’s seat and the man before him appeared to be a supplicant in his own hall.

  “I beg my lord to forgive me for following the false Voivode Vladislaus instead of taking myself into exile. I should have honoured my word. In the name of God, allow me to make amends.”

  Dracula held out his hand with his silver dragon ring and shining rubies. “You may swear fealty to me and follow me as I retake the throne of my ancestors.”

  The boyar took Dracula’s hand in both of his and kissed the ring, swearing that he would do so.

  “Very good,” Dracula said, smiling and clapping his hands. “Now we may eat.”

  ***

  In the sweltering heat of the valley, as June turned to July, we rode hard in pursuit of Vladislaus II and the last of his loyal men.

  It had taken Vlad Dracula a mere four weeks, going from lord to lord, stronghold to stronghold, to gain the support of the majority of the Wallachian boyars. With his support fading away and even his Turkish troops drifting south back across the Danube into Rumelia, Vladislaus had seen what lay in store for him.

  And so he ran from Târgoviște.

  To me, it was a familiar feeling. Ten years before I had pursued Vlad II Dracul from the very same city, only this time my quarry had a greater start and he was not fleeing down into the plains and toward the Danube and to his friends the Turks but instead east across the valleys toward the last of the boyars who remained loyal to him.

  We sweated and our horses gasped but we had to catch him before he could raise a spirited rebellion. If Wallachia descended into a civil war, even if Dracula won it would be weakened and open to invasion. A swift victory on the other hand would mean Wallachian troops and the mercenaries we had with us could all be directed to the vital defence of Belgrade.

  And it was my company who had finally scared Vladislaus into full flight. If I could catch him and hand him over to Dracula, perhaps it would bring me such favour that I could approach him about our immortal army. Perhaps, at the least, it would start us down the road that would lead us to that place.

  Just as I had years ago, I followed Serban once more, who proved to be an excellent rider. The rest of my company followed behind along the road. Miles behind, I expected Dracula himself and the core of his followers to be advancing as swiftly as they could.

  It was late afternoon when we found them, stopped on the side of the road by a pond where they watered their horses and fed themselves with cold meats. We were surprised to come across them so suddenly but they were astonished at our unexpected arrival around a bend in the road. They rushed for their horses and half of them stood to fight while others took flight. Some that attempted to stop us were on horseback and others were on foot. Frightened horses without riders ran in panic. Without waiting for my men to come up beside me, I charged in amongst the enemy, killing one and knocking another from his saddle and charging through their line and on for Vladislaus. I recognised him by the crest upon his clothing and the excellence of his German armour and helm. With a glance over my shoulder I saw that some of my men were with me but not many, most having become entangled with the prince’s men.

  When I turned back to the road, my horse tossed his head and attempted to turn away, for Vladislaus and his men had turned and were starting to come back for their friends.

  Gritting my teeth, I pulled my horse back onto the track and raked my spurs on him. My bloody sword raised high, I shouted a wordless cry and crashed through them, taking a blow on my shoulder from a warhammer that almost knocked me sideways. I cut at them, wheeling my horse around and around, fending off blows from all sides.

  My company was outnumbered but Vladislaus and his men were outmatched. They were unable to conceive how much stronger we were than they and their misplaced confidence proved to be their undoing. We killed a great many of them and caught the rest. Out of sight of the survivors, a handful of the dying were drained of their blood and we finally stopped to take stock of our victory.

  Rob and Walt grinned, for between them they held Prince Vladislaus. He was shaken and furious and behind his anger was a deep fear.

  “Well done, men!” I cried. “You have unseated a prince, this day!”

  We began escorting Vladislaus down the mountain and had reached a flatter section of the track where the river curved away to reveal a wide meadow on one side and the woods on the other.

  Approaching us was a great mass of galloping horses.

  “Line up!” Walt roared. “Defensive line here! Prisoners to the rear!”

  “It is Dracula,” I said.

  “He got our message, then,” Rob observed as Vlad Dracula’s enormous column of horsemen came to a stop between the woods and the swift flowing river, spreading out into the meadows on either side with their long grass and array of red, purple, and white flowers.

  “Bring up the prisoners,” I called.

  Vlad rode closer before throwing himself off and stepping away from his men into the open space between my company and his bodyguard.

  When Vladislaus was brought forward to me, I took him by the arm and walked toward Dracula. We had removed his helm when we captured him, along with most of his expensive armour, and all could see who it was that I had beside me. Vladislaus glared at me once but then he had eyes only for Vlad.

  The young would-be prince stepped forward. Dracula said nothing, his face cold and hard and his eyes glaring as they came together. He looked up at Vladislaus who sneered down.

  “They told me you were a skilled knight,” Vladislaus said. “But now I see that you are nothing but a little boy.”

  Dracula’s face did not change, he simply stared into Vladislaus’ eyes.

  “What?” Vladislaus said, scoffing. “You think you can frighten me? I know I am to be executed. What can you frighten me with?”

  I spoke up. “Your men burned his older brother to death, did they not? I wonder if that’s how you will go? Or if they will remove your skin first?”

  He glanced at me, angry. I laughed.

  “No,” Dracula said, the first word he ha
d spoken. “No, you shall not be burned. Nor flayed.”

  Vladislaus looked down his long nose. “What is it to be, then?”

  Dracula seemed not to have blinked at all. “You shall not be executed, Vladislaus.”

  The voivode scoffed but I saw hope kindle in his eyes. “Ransom, is it? A wise choice. You will earn for yourself a fortune, have no doubts about that.”

  Dracula did not smile but I saw that he was amused. “And who would pay this fortune for you? The boyars will raise a fortune for a man who cannot protect them and their people? Or do you mean that the Turks will pay for a king who cannot hold a kingdom?”

  Vladislaus sneered. “There are many yet loyal to me.”

  Dracula shook his head. “There will be no ransom.”

  “What then?” Vladislaus snapped, unable to stand it a moment longer. “Not execution, not ransom. Then what?”

  “It is to be combat, my lord,” Dracula said, calmly. “You against me. To the death. Now.”

  Vladislaus looked at the men behind Dracula and then back to the young man. “Even if I win, I will lose.”

  Dracula raised his voice but still did not turn away from his enemy. “If Vladislaus defeats me in this fair trial of combat, you shall let him and his men go free. This is my command as your lord. Do you agree to honour it?”

  They called out their assent. If it came to pass, I doubted they would honour their word. Still, it was enough to give Vladislaus hope and I understood later that it was as much a matter of Vlad’s cruelty as it was his sense of honour.

  Vladislaus was ordered to prepare himself and his surviving men were allowed to approach and dress him for combat, with his own armour and weapons. I was mildly annoyed because I had already claimed those fine items for myself and I was not about to have my men strip the dead man in front of his former subjects.

  “You disapprove, Richard?” Vlad asked me as his squires strapped his armour on.

  “I approve very much,” I said. “It is always a pleasure to see young people embracing the old ways.”

  He smiled. “And you know about the old ways, do you?”

  “A little.”

  “And yet you do not seem happy. Is it because I have not thanked you for catching him for me?”

  “I have no need for words of thanks. It is the favour of the Voivode of Wallachia that I seek.”

  He stepped forward, scattering his surprised squires, and held out an armoured hand. I took it as he looked into my eyes.

  “You have it, sir. We must talk, you and I. There is much to discuss.”

  “Then we shall do so,” I replied, letting him go and pointing over my shoulder. “After you kill that bastard.”

  His eyes were mirthless as he nodded to the squire holding his helm. “It will not take long.”

  Eva came close to my side. “Walt and Rob are taking bets.”

  “I would not bet against our young lord, here.”

  “No? Do you not often say that in battle experience more often bests youth?”

  I glanced at her. “I say no such thing.”

  She scoffed.

  Fully armoured, the great lords stalked toward each other as the sun touched the rim of the ridge to the west, casting deep yellow light into the valley.

  Dracula feinted an attack and Vladislaus covered himself, but it was clear he had not been deceived. Their blades clashed and they withdrew, feeling each other out for a few more moments until Vladislaus launched into a furious attack. Vladislaus was taller and his blade longer and he used his reach advantage to thrust at Dracula’s face. The shorter man parried as he stepped back and back. But he was not in a blind panic and he did not retreat in a straight line, stepping and moving at oblique angles as he defended. Both men had been raised since early childhood to be great knights and had received superb instruction by experienced masters, and they had made it their business to practice throughout their lives since. Even when he had been a hostage of the Turks, he had received martial instruction.

  But Vladislaus was taller and older and it became clear that he had the advantage, as slight as it was. Dracula’s attacks came up short and it seemed to all watching that the combat was certain to end only one way. Certainly, Vladislaus had sensed it and he redoubled his efforts to break through Dracula’s defence before exhaustion overcame him. After their sharp start, their movements had taken on the rhythmic state that one reaches when weariness begins to take hold. And there are few activities in life more wearying than prolonged armoured combat.

  Vladislaus gave a sudden burst of speed and caught Dracula on his helm with a powerful blow, powerful enough to knock any mortal man from his senses. The watching crowd cried out.

  But Dracula did not fall. Nor was he dazed, even for a moment. Instead, a change came over him. He stopped defending and instead attacked and all trace of weariness was quite suddenly gone. Indeed, he used his sword with one hand instead of two, almost casually, as he advanced on his tired opponent.

  I realised then that the fight up to then had been all deceit on Dracula’s part, feigning lesser skill than he had. It stunned Vladislaus, who began retreating in panic.

  Dracula surged forward so quickly that he was almost a blur, and his sword whipped through the air, left and right, knocking away his enemy’s sword and driving him to his knees with a flurry of blows. Eva grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

  Advancing on his kneeling opponent, Dracula twisted the helm from Vladislaus’ head and tossed it aside. The Voivode of Wallachia’s eyes were wide, and his face and hair were soaked with sweat.

  “Look at me,” Dracula said, grasping Vladislaus’ slick hair in his gauntleted fist and pulling the man’s head back.

  Just as Vladislaus opened his mouth to speak, Dracula lifted his sword hand high and drove the pommel down into the fallen man’s face, breaking the bones of his cheeks and eyes. It was powerful enough to knock Vladislaus unconscious, as his raised hands fell limp. But Dracula held his head in position and brought the pommel down again and again, until the man’s face was caved in and the insides pulped. When there was nothing left but a sucking hole, he pushed the dead man down and walked slowly back toward his horse.

  The hundreds of watching men stood in silence for a long moment before one of his men cheered and then suddenly, they all were.

  “Richard,” Eva said, speaking rapidly. “Did you see? See the way he moved? The speed. Do you think—”

  “Yes, I saw it,” I said. “There is no doubt. Dracula is an immortal.”

  8. The Battle of Belgrade

  1456

  “I would have you stay,” Dracula said as I prepared to mount my horse. All around us, the field swarmed with men and horses, assembled for the ride to the west. “You and your entire company.”

  “It would please me to stay,” I said to Dracula, “and there is much to discuss. But there is not a moment to be lost. Belgrade must not fall.”

  “There is no doubt about that,” he replied, shading his eyes with a hand and wincing. He wore a broad-brimmed black hat and gloves. I recalled that he had always been well covered when outside, especially in the bright summer sun. “I wish that I could fight also. There is little I would prefer in all the world than to fight a great battle against Mehmed. Alas, it shall have to wait. I cannot leave the land I have not yet completely won.”

  “I understand, my lord, and when we have smashed the Turk at Belgrade, I shall return.”

  “Do you think you shall?” Dracula replied.

  “Return?”

  “Smash the Turk. Hunyadi has not managed to do so yet. Not when it truly mattered.”

  “We must,” I said. “If Belgrade falls, they will be across and into Hungary and from there, where can they not go?”

  He nodded, his face unreadable. It was as though he did not care either way.

  I hesitated. So many questions were on my mind but I could not ask them. Not yet. “What will you do now, my lord, if I may ask?”

  “There are many men
I must speak with. Wallachia must be put into good order. The traitors must be discovered and punished, and good men put in their place. I hope that you will return soon, with as many of my soldiers as possible. I need them. Wallachia needs them.”

  “You need them to return?” I asked. “Or do you need them to kill the Turks?”

  Dracula’s mouth twitched. “They have been poorly led in past years. My predecessors gave orders that they stay intact, no matter what. I have ordered these men to do their duty and kill twice their number in Turks, and to show Christendom that Wallachia is resolved to destroying the enemies of Christ. I will not have my people shamed once again.”

  “I am very glad to hear it, my lord.”

  “Come back, Richard.”

  He held out his hand and I took it.

  “I will, my lord.”

  Dracula had already turned away to speak to his lords as I mounted and rode to my men, who sat watching me.

  “Getting on rather well with the little bastard,” Walt said, “aren’t you, Richard?”

  “I think he likes me,” I said.

  “He is luring you in with false courtesies,” Stephen said. “So that he can catch you and kill you.”

  I tilted my head. “Thank you for your unique insight, Stephen, it had not occurred to me that one of William’s immortals may mean me harm.”

  He blustered. “I simply meant that he will kill you the moment he has the chance and—”

  “But he has had the chance,” Eva said, cutting him off. “Many times. Something has stayed his hand. Perhaps he is not certain about Richard, or perhaps there is some other reason. Perhaps there is something he wishes to know before he acts. Or it may be that he wants you as an ally after all. Perhaps William has sent him with orders to win you over.”

  “Fat chance of that,” Rob said. “Right, Richard?”

  “We do not know what he wants,” I said. “I do not know how much it matters. There may be an advantage in capturing him and questioning him about William before we kill him. And before we capture him and kill him, we must come up with a plan that does not lead to us all being slaughtered by an army of his men. But first, before all that, we must go to Belgrade. For all we know, the Turks have already reached it.”