Vigil (9 page)

Chapter Seventeen

‘Go in. Clean it up. Feed, but leave none alive. We have no need of more men. The Voivode fears us already. Were our ranks to swell further, instead of diminishing, he may just take action against us. Tell the men.’

Radu
, orders issued, sat back on his horse and watched the vampire army unleashed. They tore into the ranks of the enemy, already in disarray and trying to stem the spread of the madness. He knew the madness well. It was how he had been born. It was the same for all of them. But it could be controlled, with the leash, and with enough time. Some of the changed ones never got over the hunger. It consumed them, and they were no more than beasts. But those that lived…they were the most powerful warriors of an age.

He watched in pride as the
Cavalry of Night set about their grim work. It took many hours. A few of the Hungarians no doubt escaped, but that was unavoidable in war. The rest were soon food for his men. It was good. They had fought well and once again shown their loyalty. They were hungry. They were always hungry. But it could be controlled. He remembered the Romani woman who had taught him to control the hunger, long ago when he had first turned to the night. It was powerful magic, and far from cheap. But the power!

He laughed, and his second
-in-command spared him a glance. With a nonchalant flick of the wrist toward the screaming enemy, he said, ‘Go. Feed. I will feed shortly.’

His second heeled his horse into a run.

Radu watched him go. He could control his hunger now better than ever. He barely needed to feed anymore. That was true power. Controlling the animal within.

His men didn’t need to know that, though. He did not need a rival.

Before night fell the battlefield was littered with the bodies of the enemy. Every one of them had been decapitated.

He ordered a pyre built.

When the wood was stacked high they gathered the severed heads and threw them into the fire.

No, he didn’t need a rival. He didn’t need a hand on his leash, either. Time, he mused. That, he had plenty of. He just needed time to make the country his own. Then he would know the true meaning of power.

One of his men brought him a survivor.

‘I saved you a meal.’

The man was trembling.

It was all so quiet, apart from the beating of hearts on the plain. The horses, the night kin, this man’s heart beating like a mouse caught by a cat…but…

What was it? There was something else...

‘Did you leave one alive?’

‘No, captain.’

‘I can hear…’
he began, but then fell silent to listen better. The terrified man’s heart was too loud. Radu slipped from his horse and punched the human in the throat. He began to choke, his windpipe crushed. Gradually his heart slowed, not dead, but dying, and he could hear again.

‘I can hear a heartbeat. Down there. It is getting quicker.’

He walked slowly toward the battlefield. He stood in the midst of the dismembered bodies, walking slowly, concentrating. His second followed him.

‘I don’t hear…’

The Captain held his hand up to silence him.

‘Here. A heart beats under the earth! Bring a shovel and dig!’

The second-in-command came running moments later. He had no imagination, but he was an obedient pet.

‘W
ell, dig, you whore!’

He began digging, widening and deepening the hole as the light faded and the night kin’s vision returned to normal.

A hand burst from the earth then began pulling a cadaverous man from under the earth. He was scarred and his eyes were covered in scum. Beetles and worms crawled over his body, in his nose and mouth. His heart was beating faster, faster. He pulled himself from the earth as the Captain watched.

An old one. He could feel it. He could smell it on the vampire. God, how long had he been in the earth? No doubt the blood had seeped into the ground and woken him.

The creature pulled himself up and screamed. The Captain could feel his ears bleed and not a few of his men cried out in pain themselves.

It was the cry of the hunger. They all knew it well.

The captain pulled a silver chain from his pocket and quickly snapped it over the vampire’s neck, then dragged him fully from the ragged grave out into the night.

With his other hand, Radu
pulled the last remaining survivor onto his knees and held the weakening human before the old one. The creature did not need to be told twice. With a terrible cry he tore into the screaming man’s face, eyes, neck with such ferocity that soon he was unrecognisable as a man.

‘Remember, old one. It is I who feed you.’

Now the pain.

With a silver leash he attached to the coll
ar, he pulled the vampire to heel.

Eventually, he would be high in the army. Ancie
nt, even. Perhaps older than Radu himself. One day this creature could be a valuable asset to the Captain.

F
irst, he would have to teach the beast to control the hunger. Some could not. If he did not learn, he would be killed.

For Radu, there were no half measures.

*

Chapter Eighteen

So, for the second time I was born.

This time, I decided I did not want to die.

*

Chapter Nineteen

Outskirts of Alba Iulia

The cell was thirty-six square feet. It was barely long enough to lie on the cold packed earth. The earth was damp. Water constantly dripped from the ceiling. Moss grew on the tightly laid stones of the cell, in the gaps where mortar had crumbled, on the dripping ceiling. There was very little to recommend it but the darkness, the blessed darkness that covered each foot with comforting gloom.

The pain in my head was immense for the first few days. My thoughts were chained even as I was free, free to pace within the confines of my new home. My skull pounded. Shards of bone ground against each other and the jellied mass of my brain grew into the space where my rent skull was reforming. The injury that had been serious enough to keep me unaware for centuries hurt so badly that any thought I had seemed to ignite the fire that lived constantly behind my eyes. I was thankful for the darkness and the cold stone, stone that I could put my face against and cool my burning thoughts.

I tried not to think in those first terrible weeks. I could only grunt. I made nonsensical sounds at my captors, snarling both with pain and injured stupidity. I could not feed on these creatures – their blood smelled different to those things with a heart beat. Their hearts beat slow and steady, never changing even when I tried to bite them and claw them with my long nails. Growth had been slowed by my injury, but the growth of my nails and hair had, it seemed, been unabated by my death.

I had a full beard that after a few days began to itch. I scratched at it with my nails and realised they were crippling me, so I broke them off with snatching teeth. The
y sat in the corner of my cell like curled bones.

I remembered little of my former life. I remembered a bear, and eventually I remembered the axe falling and my stupid childish thoughts as I had fed.

I fed now but the blood was cold. My captors placed a bowl of blood on the floor just out of reach on the dirt floor. Then they pushed it through a slot in the iron door that held me in the dark. They had learned quickly that if they came too close I could grab and claw them through the small gap.

With great heaving sobs of joy I lapped the blood each day, and each day I grew a little stronger. The pain in my head began to lessen, my thoughts became clearer. Thinking no longer hurt as much.

I longed to be free. I longed to see the stars. I longed to hunt.

But the hunger I remembered from before. It was there, gnawing at my belly, making thoughts difficult to grasp. Often, in the night, the slow ones outside laughed at the roars of pain and anger that came from my cell. They laughed at my pain, cruel laughter, but they did not taunt me. They did not speak to me. The creature in the cell was a pet, nothing more.

I learned that the hunger would not kill me. Not as the axe had done. The hunger was a friend, a constant companion. In the dark with nothing to look at but the bugs that crawled through the gloom, I found that the hunger could focus my mind.

Each day I took the blood and lapped at it with my tongue.

Eventually, I could think without pain. I did not know how long I was held in the cell underground, not then, but I became used to the rhythm of the day. My eyes grew sharper and my hearing more defined. I could hear the strange words of the people in the hall outside. Even though I could not see the slow ones that brought me my food I could sense their smells and their voices. I gave them names.

Otter, a small suspicious creature – he smelled of caution and his voice was high and girl-like.

Bear. A gruff voice. Heavy, powerful footfalls. He wore steel boots. He smelled of children’s blood. He was dangerous, cold inside. His heart pounded slowly in his chest, almost as if he was hibernating.

Mongrel. His blood was full of animals. The others seemed to find fun in him. Sometimes they pushed him around and laughed at him. He was timid, even though he had the power I did. He was stronger than a man, but weaker than his two companions.

One left on occasion, and when he came back the best smell followed him down the hall and into my cell, the blood of a person, the quick ones.

Each day, the same routine. They never grew bored. They never changed. But I did. I grew stronger. I grew smarter. I remembered many words. I listened to their conversations. I could smell anger on Mongrel when the others spoke to him sometimes. I knew what words were insults. From their hearts and from the sounds I began to decipher some of their strange words.

In many ways I was a blind man, learning words for things he could not see, only touch. I could not see. I could not touch. But my hearing and my sense of smell was outstanding, better than any mere mortal.

I had an advantage in that I knew all the words for things already, I just had to learn other words for the same things.

I listened. I paid attention.

The Mongrel spoke to me directly one day, and I learned my first word in Romanian.

‘Blood,’ he told me one day.

The following day I spoke to him.

‘Blood,’ I said.

I listened when he told the others about it. They came to the cell door from then on, only occasionally, but I had listened well. Eventually I could speak some words. And those words I could speak grew into halting sentences, then sparring conversation.

When I finally knew the words, I was at last ready to ask.

‘When can I go free?’ I asked Mongrel when he came to my cell with my daily blood.

I could hear him smile. It was a rare smile on his face, but I could hear the change in his voice as he replied, as though through upturned lips and bared teeth.

‘I tell the Captain. He will be pleased. Tomorrow, I think.’

He left. I paced the walls. Then I sat down and waited for another day to pass. Another bowl of blood. Freedom. For the first time the freedom seemed more important than the blood.

*

Chapter Twenty

Outskirts of Alba Iulia

The smell was the first thing I was aware of. I was barely aware of the new slow one, something tickling my senses. But it was the smell of the quick one that brought me from the floor to the door. Suddenly the hunger was back. Dimly, in my hunger, I could hear a mewling sound like a puppy before dinner time, a noise at the back of my throat that I was ashamed of and at the same time was powerless to stop.

I clawed at the door. My strength had grown but I was still not strong enough to break through the thick iron, but oh how I tried.

All thoughts fled. I desperately tried to get the door open but I could not. Tears fell, blood red tears. I pushed and punched and kicked, I beat my head against the door. The door burst open and my three captors were there. They jumped on me and I fought them tooth and nail, but they were too strong for me. They held me against the wall of my cell. My eyes were hurting from the sudden increase in the light. It was just the glow of a distant candle, but I had been in the earth for centuries and in the cell for God knows how long. My eyes could not take the light, but the pain of the sudden hunger and the smell of the quick one made me forget all pain. I could not feel my tendons stretching and straining against their powerful arms.

Then the one I had barely acknowledged in my hunger came in. His heart was as slow as mine. It beat powerfully, but like a bear sleeping…thud…thud…thud…

In his hand he carried a collar and a leash. Dimly I remembered them from my second birth. I fought harder still, but it was no use. He leashed me as easily as a dog and my strength fell away. The collar burned and drained me. I crumpled against the strong arms holding me back. Now they were holding me up, instead.

The slow one tugged on my leash and took my head in his powerful hands.

‘Listen, and listen well.’

I stared at him dumbly, drool spooling from my slack jaws. The hunger was still there. I wanted to feed, but I could not break free of the sudden stupor.

‘Come in, girl,’ he said. His voice was strong and he was confident. The men holding me smelled different in his presence. It was subservience. He, not they, was my captor. I hated him.

A girl came into the cell. Her face was gaunt and stupid. Her heart beat strongly within her chest, though. I wanted to tear out that heart and eat my fill of it.

The man tugged on my leash as though he could sense my desire despite the collar. I suppose that he could.

‘This girl is yours. The blood that you have been drinking for the past year has been hers. If you bite her she will become as you are, then you will be able to feed on her no longer. If you kill her, you will be able to feed on her no longer. If she dies you will get no more food.’

He nodded to the slow ones holding me, Mongrel and Otter and Bear. They released me and I slumped against the wall. I crawled forward despite the warning. The hunger was so powerful. But I could not reach the girl. The man holding my leash would not let me.

He dragged me upright. From his belt he drew a knife. He pointed at a bowl by the door, my bowl.

‘You will learn to bleed her. I will show you how.’

He ordered the girl to hold out her bare arm. Docile, the girl held out a scarred arm, barely healed wounds from wrist to elbow. Still holding the leash, he told Mongrel to hold the bowl under her arm. He made a swift cut. The girl did not even flinch.

Her blood poured into the bowl and I was mewling again.

He placed the bowl at my lips. I drank deeply. Then when I had finished the bowl he took it away, removed the leash and turned my head toward his.

‘She is your food. Learn to control your hunger or you will die by my hand. Do not think you can fight me. Keep her alive and you will live. Learn this lesson well. It is your last and only lesson.’

I fought the urge to continue feeding on the warm blood that pumped around the girl’s body. I believed this man. I hated him, but I loved him also. He had brought me food.

He placed the bowl and the knife on the floor.

Then they left me alone with my meal and the dark for three months. They brought her food which I had to feed her. She was too long a captive to feed herself. Perhaps she did not wish to go on living. I did not know. All I knew was that I had to keep the knife away from her.

In the dark with the constant quickness of her heart, I learned my lesson well.

One day, when the girl’s heart was slowing and she was feverish, he returned. He opened the door to my cell but he was alone. He carried no leash. I did not think to attack him. I did not think I would survive the encounter.

He came into the cell, brightened to painful levels by the light from the hall. Crouching down on his haunches he pulled the girl’s eyelid up and peered into her eyes. He took her arms and examined them. They were puffy and they smelled bad.

‘She is not long for life. Kill her now.’

I stared at him. If I killed her I would have no more food. He was right, though. She was dying.

I reached out to take her to my teeth but he laid a hand on my shoulder. His strength was immense and I could not fight him.

‘Not with your teeth. With the knife. She is done. Her mind has long been broken. She is finished. Kill her. This is your final lesson.’

I could not fight him. But he did not lie. Not then.

I plunged the knife into her chest where her quieting heart waited. I think for a moment she looked happy as she died. I watched as the light of life fled.

The Captain pulled me to my feet.

‘Come. It is done. You are ready.’

I was afraid to leave the cell. But deep down I realised that much longer in the cell and I would become to him like the girl had been to me.

I was stupid no longer. I knew this.

He passed me some clothes that were waiting outside. After so long naked they felt uncomfortable against my skin, but I put them on. I pulled boots over my feet.

‘This way,’ he said, and strode off ahead of me. We passed a candle in the hall. My guards were not there.

We walked through many corridors, took many stairs. Eventually we came out into the night and my first time under the stars for years
, perhaps hundreds of years, was blissful.

Before me, near on a thousand men waited in a courtyard before a great castle of stone. Each sat on a horse and held a lance. Swords rested at their hips.

There were two horses at the head of the army. One had an ornate saddle.

I took the one with a plain saddle and a quick one came with dead eyes, bearing a sword and a lance that he struggled with. I took both. When I strapped on the sword, as I was shown, I felt complete. I felt power streaming into my limbs. The hunger was there, but the power was stronger. I could feel my slow heart in my chest, but I could concentrate even though there were quick ones all around, standing in the shadows watching us.

‘Tonight, we ride!’ called the Captain.

We were going to war. The slow ones were going into battle and at last I was among my own kind.

*