Alarmed by the strange scene, I looked back to the carriage where my driver still struggled to soothe the startled horses. Thunder boomed down around us, shaking the ground as the sound rolled through the valley. Jagged fingers of lightning scorched the sky, casting a flash of white on the road, illuminating the silhouette of a man standing a short distance away on a little hill.
A fine rain started falling and the small, cold drops landed with a steady hum, saturating my thin silk tunic and the terrain around us. The figure stood hunched forward, shoulders pulled down underneath a long black coat that wrapped around his body and hung to the ground. He stood like a statue, frozen in place, staring back at me as the lightning vanished over the horizon, flooding the road again with darkness.
“Sir! May I have a word?” I called out to him. “We may be in need of your assistance! Do you know what has happened to this poor, unfortunate young girl?”
Just then, another bolt of lightning braided the cold night sky. I watched as the man’s shoulders turned with a quick motion…and vanished.
I lifted my lantern higher wondering if this man had perpetrated a crime here or possibly knew who the parties responsible were. I walked to the far side of the carriage to see where he had gone, but saw nothing and continued through the mist, hiking to the top of the knoll where he had been standing. As I peered over the hill I saw a long shadow disappear into a thick line of trees.
Shaking my head with increasing frustration, I stepped down from the knoll and returned to the road. I walked back to the carriage and went around to attend to the injured girl, perhaps transport her to a local church when I saw, to my further dismay, she was gone as well.
Fresh blood droplets glistened in the moonlight, leading down the embankment away from the road. Holding my lantern low to the ground, I followed the trail of small red drops as they led me toward a thicket on the left side of the road.
I inched my way into the blackness of the forest, worrying about how rapidly the girl was losing blood. Sheer darkness surrounded me, save the ten-foot radius of my glowing lantern. I looked down hoping to find more of the blood-drop trail on the ground, but saw nothing. Then, after searching the area, I found a small, well-worn path leading through thick foliage.
I paused, looking back toward the road, my mind flashing across the years of training spent in preparation for this monumental day, then shuttered at thought of the girl in the forest may die without my help.
I took a deep breath, exhaling as I watched a heavy ground layer of fog crawl toward me, stretching and contracting over the plants and rocks like ghostly white fingers. I followed the trail deeper into the woods until the path sloped downward and led into a large clearing. There at the bottom of the grade I noticed an old dilapidated house, a dim glow coming from within, behind one of the rear windows.
I made my way down the path, then onto the front porch of the home. The door was slightly ajar. My heart rate elevated as I reached out, pushed it open and took one step inside.
“Miss?” I queried, my voice raised. “I assure you I wish only to be of assistance. I believe you are in shock and should seek help at once.”
Silence.
I edged farther into the foyer, again lifting my lantern over my head, hoping to get a better look around the dusty room. Totally deserted.
A long gloomy hallway stared back at me. I walked forward…all the while sensing someone was indeed near. I came to the first door on my right and silently placed my hand on the knob, gently turning…
I threw open the door, thrusting the lantern out in front and stepped inside. The room was empty except for a large black coffin that lay against the far wall. Its size and elaborate handcrafted design told me few peasants could easily afford such an item. I paused in place, wondering why someone would display a grand coffin in such a manor, raising it two or three steps off the floor on a platform. My heart pumped harder and harder as I crept forward toward the casket’s open lid with lantern held high and in front of me like a ship’s beacon. I reached the top step with my adrenaline spiking…and slowly peered inside.
Empty.
Just then my lantern flickered once…twice, then sputtered, sizzling out into darkness.
I had run out of lamp oil…standing there alone, surrounded by an eerie blanket of darkness, the only sound that of my heartbeat pounding in my chest as a horrible sense of panic rose in my mind.
I set the extinguished lantern on the platform and pulled my sword slowly from its sheath. Frozen in place, I listened closely for the man who I thought may have attacked that poor girl. Beads of sweat broke across my forehead, my face twitched as a drop of perspiration tickled its way down my temple.
I knew someone had injured that poor girl and could still be lurking nearby. My sword felt heavy and slippery in my damp hands as I took a deep breath and blindly backed down from the platform, then turned and left the room.
In the absence of my lantern’s glow, I could barely see an illumination from behind a closed door at the end of the hallway. I crept down the hall toward the light, the floors creaking and groaning underneath me as I went.
I heard faint sounds of rushing footsteps somewhere in the murky darkness behind me. Muscles tightening, I jerked and spun around, sword held high.
Pitch black.
Again, I stood frozen, listening to the sound of my heart slamming away in my chest, louder now like a hammer on an anvil, all else stone silent. I made my way forward, but kept craning my neck to look behind me…until I reached the final door at the end of the hall. I placed my damp, trembling hand firmly on the knob and turned it.
A torch burned from a thick iron bracket, its crackling flame throwing long shadows across the floor before they made violent, angular cuts up into the four walls. The girl from the road sat on the floor, nearly naked with her back leaning against the far wall. She had a large dragon tattooed on her chest. It’s narrowed, wanting eyes of a predator and lizard-like head turned back across its body, showing long, canine-like teeth that looked more like daggers. Its barbed tail slithered up her shoulder and around her neck.
“You are not welcome here,” she moaned in a low, sultry voice, smiling behind unfocused eyes.
“Miss, I believe you are in need of some sort of assistance, and—”
“Get out!” she shrieked, her eyes bulging, exposing the depth of her true state of mind. Then she lowered her voice to a breathy sing-song murmur. “You should never have come here…he will be angry.”
“Who will be angry, miss?”
“The wolf,” she said, erupting into a fit of broken, maniacal laughter, pointing behind me.
I spun around. An enormous wolf glared at me from the shadows, hackles aggressively splayed, eyes glowing bright orange in the torchlight. The huge beast lunged forward, looking directly into my eyes as it snarled and let out a deep, rolling growl. Its lips curled aggressively, showing long, white teeth that gleamed in the torchlight. Stains of deep crimson were soaked into its fur and flashes of rage and unpredictable intent shone in its eyes.
Icy fear hacked its way up my spine. The wolf crept forward in a low, half-crouched position, as if ready to leap at any moment, its growl mounting with intensity.
I held my sword high as the wolf circled me, getting in front of the girl, snarling back as if protecting her.
My pulse racing, I edged back …out of the room and kept moving down the hallway with the wolf pressing ever forward. As I reached the front door, the animal became passive, pausing in its tracks. I got the odd, but distinct feeling the animal didn’t necessarily want to harm me, but just wanted me to leave.
I wanted to leave as well…but without making any sudden moves. I turned very slowly and eased my way out.
Not followed, I heaved a heavy sigh and made my way back through the darkness and up the inclining trail to where my driver, Macgregor, sat waiting.
“Grab your sword, at once! Your lantern as well, man!” I shouted. “The poor girl is trapped out in th
e forest by an enormous wolf.”
Macgregor’s shoulders turned with a quick jerk and in no time we were hurrying through the woods toward the house. As we made our way into the clearing, the structure came into view—but this time, no light emanated from within. I rushed down the slope with Macgregor close behind, stepped onto the porch, pushed open the door, and entered.
We raised our swords, and—led by Macgregor’s bright lamplight—searched for the animal. All was quiet as we crept down to the end of the hall and threw open the door. The wolf, the girl and the burning torch had all vanished.
We searched through the small house as well as we could, but upon finding nothing more, we had no choice but to turn away, baffled by the strange events as we strode up the path and out to the road.
I jumped into my carriage, anxious to get on with my trip. Almost before I was in my seat, I heard the sharp “Heeaaah!” of Macgregor’s yell, followed by a sharp crack of his whip. The carriage lurched forward, wheels clattering across the small wooden bridge. I looked back again and again, staring through the mist.
What else could I do? She’d flatly refused my assistance and ordered me to go. Yet guilt seeped through me at leaving her…a helpless, injured girl trapped in the woods by a vicious wolf.
I turned again, struggling to see as the bridge disappeared into the murk.
I had only one choice… alert the local constable.
* * *
After the substantial delay, our morning’s journey finally pressed on with the sun coming up over the horizon. The weather seemed oddly cold for a morning this early in September. A thin layer of frost covered the grass and bushes surrounding us, transforming the landscape into a great sea of white. Bright sunbeams had begun to peek over the horizon, shooting down from the jagged mountaintops like thick fingers, splayed out, beckoning us ever forward.
Today is a day for great competition, however it is dismally unfortunate that my father cannot be in attendance to watch me compete for the honor of our kingdom. We rarely know the exact whereabouts of the king, only that he is either fighting or traveling. We last heard he was courageously defending our land south of Wallachia, along the border of Bulgaria but he could be anywhere. I miss him more than I can explain with mere words and my only hope is to make him, and our people, proud on this most important day.
My thoughts momentarily went back to how my father ascended to the throne of Wallachia, cleverly securing the powerful support of the Catholic Church by joining the Roman Emperor’s new society called The Order of the Dragon. Membership into The Order was limited only to the finest nobility and their primary focus was defending the word of Christianity.
It was a brilliant move and brought our castle tremendous power. Since then, he has unfortunately spent virtually all his time away, risking his life in battle, valiantly defending our great land from the ongoing attacks of the evil Ottoman Empire.
He also regularly travels to the other Wallachian kingdoms to strategize and better align our forces. His years of absence have, however, taken a heavy toll on me. I miss him dearly and fear for his safety constantly.
His extended time away has also made it nearly impossible for me to prove myself a humble warrior, worthy of his praise. My father alone holds the power to grant me the privilege of becoming his official successor and once I have acquired my father’s blessing I will be the sole Heir to the House of Draculesti…and the next ruler of this great land. And, if I succeed today at the tournament of champions, it will mark a most significant step toward demonstrating my combat readiness, assuring my future as the next great Wallachian king.
Until now, I have only watched my father rule from afar—leading us with a steady, but mighty, hand over the many years. He is a great warrior and a king with a brilliant mind for the strategies of war. He has become known as the best negotiator this land has ever seen. He plays chess with men’s lives and wins…always wins.
As the sunlight touched the terrain, its heat began burning into the morning’s chill. A fine mist rose up like smoke, as if the bright white frost secretly concealed red-hot embers just below the surface. I watched the beautiful trees, wide green-blue rivers, and deep lush valleys from my carriage window and listened to the sound of the horses as they hoofed their way forward on our journey…on to the academy’s storied Tournament of Champions in our capital of Targoviste.
I have spent most of my life until now training for combat, but I have also studied many other subjects. The king summoned the finest instructors from Bucharest to educate me in mathematics, science, geography, classical art, and philosophy. I also spend part of each day studying other languages, such as Latin and Slavic. All of my classes are taken privately inside our castle’s grounds. I have never known another student from the time my studies began—until now, the day of the tournament, the last day I am to be called a student.
The competition is held annually in the great city of Targoviste. Other graduates from the surrounding castles, who are also of royal lineage, compete against one another to be crowned the champion scholar. There is always great interest from the many royal families, as well as the townspeople who gather to watch and cheer us on.
The competition consists of a simple tournament with three separate rounds. Win all three rounds and become this year’s champion. There is no cause for shame if you lose, as this remains a friendly training competition. However, and most importantly, the champion’s castle will receive respect from its peers, and it is also said a victory brings good luck into the victor’s castle, promising a fruitful spring harvest for its people.
My heart raced, hot blood pumping through every vein in my body as I waited in my carriage, leaning forward, fingers constantly kneading the edges of the sword’s hilt.
I had trained for years. I was fully prepared. And I wanted to win…desperately.
Even though I had never seen my competitors in training, I had just as good a chance for winning the tournament as anyone. I was sure of it.
And I would soon find out.
* * *
We arrived at the coliseum late—definitely not a good start. The city was buzzing with interested onlookers as our carriage rolled down into the bowels of the huge arena, underneath the towering rows of seats above. I was rushed into a dressing room by a frowning, obviously displeased attendant.
Quickly, I slipped on our black and red ceremonial robes, both shoulders proudly displaying our castle’s great crest—a dragon reaching out from behind a red shield, one sharp talon clenching a long dagger, the other a royal scepter, its tail coiling up into a barbed point.
Next, I lifted my chainmail over my head, sliding my arms through and firmly into place, then my helmet. I took a sharp breath.
I was ready.
We strode up to the floor of the arena. The seats were full of restless onlookers who seemed to know I was the reason the games had fallen behind schedule. They stared down at me in silence as my attendant directed me up a stairway and onto a large podium where the other seven contestants stood.
The other competitors possessed the same steely eyes and stone-cold expressions of grit and determination. I could tell they, too, were not pleased with me for arriving late. Then I heard a double blast of horns blow, signifying the beginning of the draw.
A man walked toward me with a creased brow, lips pulled back sharply into a grimace. He gripped a black velvet sack in his hands, pushing it forward as he approached. I reached in and pulled out an emerald green stone, knowing each stone was part of a matching pair. I looked down the line to see who had drawn the other green stone, but the other contestants and their attendants unfortunately obscured my view as they were directed where to go. Everything happened too fast. I didn’t have time to take in the scene before someone quickly ushered me backward.
All eight of us were led from the podium and onto the dirt floor of the arena, where there were four separate fightin
g rings. I entered a ring, and for the first time saw my opponent. He looked smaller than me, and lighter too.
I watched him pace back and forth in his corner, stretching his lean muscles while trying to get his adrenaline pumping. I could tell he had strong legs for his size and that strength would probably make up somewhat for his lack of height. A pure horn tone sounded, catching me by surprise, then rose by the familiar royal fifth of an octave. The fight had begun.
We rounded on each other and I immediately noticed his quickness. I admired his excellent footwork as he nimbly stepped forward and back, left, then right. He was wiry and agile, but I already knew what he would do to utilize his obvious skill set.
He stepped up without pausing and his body jerked down, then lunged suddenly forward. He dove in hard and low, intending to grab my legs, drive me backward off my feet, but as he shot toward me, I threw my legs out behind me and pancaked flat down on top of him with a thud, restricting his movements with a simple arm lock.
He squirmed to his side, showing impressive flexibility, trying to break free, but I expected that as well. I slowly released, giving him enough room to spin, but as he did, I shifted my weight around and wrapped my bicep flush under his chin, successfully engaging a deadly sleeper hold.
He scratched and clawed at my arms. I gently flexed, cutting the oxygen going to his brain. I could have easily broken his neck if this was a real combat situation…but it wasn’t.
Without any air, his body convulsed, arching wildly in my arms like a small antelope with its throat caught in the jaws of a lion. He couldn’t escape, and he quickly realized it. He surrendered by tapping hard three times on the dirt and I released him.
We stood, bowed, and shook hands. Relieved to make it past the first round, I sucked in a deep breath and walked over to the holding area, awaiting my next opponent.
Large sheets of red and yellow canvas obscured each of the fighting rings, making it impossible to gain any strategy by watching the others compete. Three other winning fighters soon joined me, and then an attendant led us back to the podium.
Vampire Mafia: Santa Cruz Page 14