Crimson's Captivation (5 page)

Crimson refused to acknowledge him. She
instead focused her eyes on Kieran. The man boasted, “She is a
beauty, isn’t she, Kieran? It will be difficult to be harsh to this
one. No, I think I will take my time with her.” His very words
caused Crimson to cringe.

The man stepped back toward the door and
lowered his arms. “Kieran, please proceed with the decree.”

Kieran accepted a piece of reed based paper
and read the decree aloud. “Lord Tor of Russia with dominion over
Ukraine and Crimea sets forth the following orders for his serfs.
You shall not provide pleasure or receive pleasure without
direction. You will be in serfdom for no less than one year. You
will be branded with the mark of Tor, prepared for transportation,
and be added to the Lord’s concubine in the city of Kiev. Insolence
of any kind will be met with cruel punishment, even death.”

Lord Tor shouted, “Mark them! We leave
tonight for Kiev. I’m eager to taste my prize.” He turned on legs
that were far too skinny for his heavy body and exited the room
with his entourage of servants. Kieran nodded to the two caretakers
near the fireplace, silently giving the order and turned to leave
the room.

Crimson screamed out, “Kieran!”

Sena was shocked by the outburst and
implored, under her breath, for Crimson to quiet herself, to
stop.

Kieran stopped in mid-stride but did not turn
around. A caretaker briskly made his way to Crimson and brought a
heavy leather strap across her buttocks. It stung and caused her to
lose her breath but she kept her eyes on Kieran. She hoped he would
turn and rescue her from the selfish lover that was Tor.

Kieran raised his right hand over his
shoulder and showed two fingers, the leather strap cut through the
air a second time and reached her skin, the skin responded with a
red welt. Crimson lowered her head and Kieran exited the room.

Sena turned when the door closed. “You are
brave or stupid. I suggest you keep your compulsions in check.
Kieran must like you because I’ve seen far worse punishment for far
less transgression.” Sena’s statement brought a mischievous smile
to Crimson’s face.

The caretakers, near the fireplace,
approached a table near the pool. They carefully poured water from
a cask marked with a single crucifix into a large silver bowl. They
opened a wooden case and collected the branding iron inside.

Each of the chambermaids gathered a mortar
and pestle from the table near the edge of the pool and crushed
herbs into a gelatinized fluid, added the mixture to the silver
bowl then coated the exposed inner left wrist of the captives.

Crimson could feel the effects of the
coating. It tingled on her skin and seemed to evaporate, leaving
the patch of skin on her inner wrist numb and cold.

“What are they doing?” she asked in Sena’s
direction.

“Numbing the skin for the iron.”

The caretakers marked the young man across
from Sena first. They dipped the head of the branding iron into the
holy water and herb mixture and placed it to his skin, it seared
but the man did not cry out. They then moved to Sena and repeated
the process.

“Does it hurt?” Crimson asked when they
finished branding Sena.

“No, but we will branded for life.”

Crimson cringed when the caretakers
approached her. She didn’t watch. She heard the sizzle when the
head of the iron made contact with her skin, the smell of
wintergreen filled her nostrils. The caretakers left the pool and
returned to their positions near the fireplace. Crimson leaned her
head as far as her extended arm in the cuff would allow, and could
see the mark, a large “T” with a small “o” over the stem of the
T.

She immediately despised the finality of it.
Mark or no mark, she didn’t belong to anyone but herself.

Chapter IV

~ The Trade ~

Throughout the night, horns broadcasting
orders and battle cries through the night’s air merged with the
sounds of galloping horses and men marching in regular intervals.
Just when Viktor’s mind would enter the delicate threshold of
sleep, Swedish forces that were on the move would awaken him.
Memories of Crimson tried to flee but Viktor wouldn’t allow them.
The inner fight to remember kept him awake, and because of this and
the noise, he didn’t sleep well through the night.

The sun arrived from the direction of
Finland, peeked over the Baltic Sea and he woke to the thundering
sound of another company of cavalry galloping by. He draped an
animal hide over his shoulders and warmed his hands and feet near
the remaining embers of the campfire. When warm and awake, he tore
a hunk of bread from his loaf, ate one of the apples, and leaned
against the willow he and Crimson called their own. Mindlessly, he
watched a company of men head toward the port. His mind was
elsewhere as he planned out his search for Crimson. An officer
backtracked and approached his camp.

“Sir, you didn’t stay out in the open this
last evening?” the officer asked. His horse snorted and pranced
around the campsite.

Viktor stood and tossed water on the embers
of the dying fire. The fire hissed and steamed. He grabbed the
reins of the officer’s horse, trying to quiet the animal. “Yes, I’m
on a quest to find my love.” Viktor offered the officer a hunk of
bread and the apple core to the powerful horse.

The officer’s horse refused the apple. The
animal wanted to run, grew even more restless and plodded around
the camp snorting and neighing. The horses of the cavalry had
always impressed Viktor; they were pure testosterone and seemed to
relish the carnage of the battlefield.

The officer dismounted and took the bread
from Viktor. “I’m Colonel Stenboch. There are dangers here of which
you may not be aware, lad. I suggest you stay in the safety of the
palace during the night. You shouldn’t stay out at night.”

“I’m no child. I’m aware of the danger you
speak and fear my Crimson …”

The Colonel interrupted. “The dangers I
contend. The Danish have invaded Schleswig. We have amassed and are
heading to the defense of our ally. And, the damned rogue horrors
of the night—we captured an injured shadow walker just before dawn,
not far from here. An alert pike man found the creature in a tree,
his pike missed the creature’s heart but pinned his flesh to the
trunk of the tree. The creature actually began to pull the pike
through his own wound, inching his way toward the pike man. Can you
imagine? These horrors are not men, simple and true.”

The mention of the capture of a horror peaked
Viktor’s interest. “Where is he, this captive? I must speak with
him.”

“I do not think that wise. Did you not hear
that the creature pulled his way along the pike to get to my
soldier? They are dangerous.”

“Sir, I am Viktor, nephew of Christian
Albrecht of Holstein-Gottorp and favored subject of Princess
Sophia. I demand to see this vampire. I insist.”

The Colonel surveyed the dress and mannerisms
of the young man and besides, he didn’t have time to deal with the
captive; defense of the homeland was far more important. “I cannot
stop the progress of an entire company for your whims, lad. If you
wish, you may take the prisoner to the slayer in Nyberg. Are you
familiar with the area? You are to find Johan.”

Viktor lied, “Yes, I know Johan personally
and will accept the mission.” He did not intend to take the vampire
anywhere. The creature would be interrogated and die on this very
spot if need be. This capture could be his most promising lead. His
search was refreshed and powered by his new vigor.

The colonel mounted his horse and looked down
at Viktor. “Wait here. I will have the quartermaster release the
prisoner to your care.” The powerful horse reared on its hind legs
and he was off in a flash in the direction of the back of the
company.

Moments later the colonel returned to the
camp with another officer bringing up the rear. The second officer
had a packhorse in tow, tethered by rope and introduced himself as
the quartermaster. The introductions were brief and curt. He nimbly
dismounted, tied the horse with a covered body slumped over its
back to a low hanging branch in the willow. Without a word, the
quartermaster immediately mounted and thundered off to rejoin the
company.

The colonel, still on his uneasy horse, eyed
Viktor and warned, “The horror is injured but still dangerous.
Proceed to Nyberg with great haste. Do not remove the blanket else
the creature will burn in the sun and will most certainly escape.”
The colonel laughed a fiendish laugh, as if it were drawn from the
depths of hell. The hell born laughter ricocheted off the willows,
scampered across the lake in angst and sent chills down Viktor’s
spine. He knew that in mere moments he was going to be alone with a
creature that would kill him without hesitation.

Fear imposed itself and choked Viktor as he
watched the colonel speed off to the front of the cavalry. He felt
the lump in his throat. It was now just he and the creature, but
Viktor wanted answers and pushed away the fear just enough to lift
the edge of the blanket. The sun seared the newly exposed hand of
the creature and the horror immediately curled and clawed its way
back under the shadows of the blanket. The sudden agile movement
startled Viktor and he stepped backward, tripped over his bedding
and landed on the seat of his pants.

His mind raced with hazards. He had last seen
a vampire in Germany. Back then, the creature was dead but somehow
held in suspension before turning to dust. Viktor, eight years old
at the time, was too afraid to closely inspect the creature. He’d
inched toward the glass coffin and focused on the tip of the
nearest fang. His heart pounded and palms became sweaty. He was
afraid that at any moment the creature would spring to life, smash
through the glass and tear at his throat. His uncle, seeing the boy
was afraid, snuck up behind him and clapped his hands loudly.
Viktor ran from the exhibit. The memory caused his heart to race
all these years later.

He paced around the camp contemplating the
safest way to interrogate the creature then he had an idea. He
packed up the camp, tethered the packhorse carrying the creature to
his own and rode north.

He found the perfect rye field and trotted to
the middle of it. The field was large and recently planted, the
shoots barely breaking the ground. Most importantly, not a shadow
existed for the creature to run and take cover. It was perfect, a
wide-open field with the heavenly sun above.

Viktor dismounted and drove a stake into the
ground. Then he tied the rein of the packhorse to it. He tied a
rope to a corner of the blanket, wrapped the other end around the
reins of his horse, and then walked his animal a good distance from
the creature.

Viktor shouted in the direction of the
creature, “Listen, I know you can hear me. I will ask you some
questions for which I demand answers. If you do not answer, or try
to harm me—I have rope tied to the blanket that protects you from
the sun. The other end is tied to my horse. One order from me and
the blanket will be jerked off your soulless body and you will be
exposed to the sun. Do you hear me?”

There was no response, and this made Viktor
nervous. He was sure the creature was planning his death. “Do you
hear? Speak now!” he shouted.

The creature responded, “Yes.” His voice was
almost a growl and he swiftly turned under the blanket to face
Viktor.

“Good, good.” Viktor’s heart pounded in his
chest and crawled into his throat. He slowly approached the
packhorse. “You were captured not far from here. Where there’s one
of you, there are others. I want to know what happens to the young
women you take?”

“I take and feed.” The creature grunted.

“Yes, but what of the bodies? I’m looking for
my love—Princess Crimson. Missing five days now.”

“A princess? Is she of royal blood?” The
creature groaned.

“Yes, yes she is,” Viktor responded,
surprised by the excitement in his words. “What happens to these
women? Were you here five nights ago?”

“Yes, I know of the princess. It is the
tracker you seek.”

The response caught Viktor off guard and he
suspiciously wondered if the creature was lying. “You know of
Crimson? You had better not be messing with me or I swear I will
send you to a fiery hell.”

Viktor could see the creature moving under
the blanket. It hunched up on the back of the packhorse and Viktor
stepped backwards fearful the creature was about to lunge toward
him. The creature tossed something from under the blanket. It fell
among the green shoots of the field and captivated the rays of the
morning sun. Viktor carefully approached and found the item. He
kneeled, collected the chain and immediately recognized it. “This
is the necklace I gave her. Where did you get it?”

“A gift from the tracker.”

“A gift? Where can I find this tracker? What
is his name?”

The creature grumbled under the blanket. “So
many questions … My answers would come more clearly in the darkness
of the forest.” The creature's tone changed to that of hope, to
that of a barterer.

“No! Your answers will come now or you will
once and only once see the light of day.” Viktor walked away from
the creature while moving his horse away. The blanket slowly lifted
and began to slide off the creature.

The creature hissed under the blanket and
grabbed its fabric. “Stop!”

Viktor halted the horse. “Speak then. I am
losing my patience with you.”

Invisible hands mounded folds of the blanket,
pulling it down over the packhorse. The creature spoke. “Yes, our
worlds are black and white. Without gray, there should be no
dilemma but there is my lord, and it braves the distance between my
answers and your questions. If you want the name. If you want the
location. Then we must close that distance, my Lord. We must reach
an understanding.”