The Vorbing (8 page)

              “You yourself called him Mattna the Shaman a moment ago,” Vrillium said.

              “Only so you would know which Mattna I referred to; the name is common in Dubhtayl,” Vlad said.

              “My fellow Nocturnians,” Vrillium said, raising his hands, “I have heard enough. Vlad Ingisbohr has condemned himself with his own words.”

              Vlad looked around in disbelief at the situation he found himself in.

              “He admits refusing to join our religious procession!” Vrillium shouted as he jumped to his feet and gesticulated wildly at Vlad. “That is
heresy
!”

              The crowd muttered agreement and their hostility grew.

              “He calls a sorcerer his
friend
!” Gladwish continued. “That is
witchcraft
!”

              “No!” Vlad cried, “I have done nothing wrong. It was I who killed Mattna.”

              Gladwish laughed. “So we can add murder to the charges facing you,” Vrillium said. “So be it.”

“No,” Vlad said. “I did not murder him, I released his soul. He had become a vampire.”

              “Aha, so this sorcerer
was
one of them,” Gladwish said. “You were friends with a vampire?!”

              “I killed Mattna as a gesture of mercy, the way any of us would end the suffering of someone we know,” Vlad said. “I took no pleasure in his death.”

              “Murder is murder,” Vrillium said, “even if your victim was an undesirable.”

              “I also killed Necromus!” Vlad blurted out. “He was second-in-command to Deadulus. I did it alone. Imagine what we can do if we unite!”

              The crowd backed off somewhat and looked to Gladwish for guidance.

              “What?!” Vrillium said. “The vampires will retaliate tonight. They will wipe Nocturne off the face of the earth!”             

“Not if we fight them,” Vlad said.

              “What madness is this?” Vrillium said. “You know only a blind man can defeat the vampires. You know the prophecy.”

              “I know it,” Vlad said. “I just don’t believe it.”

              “You young fool,” Gladwish said. “I will hear no more of this. We should burn you for your crimes. However, we shall spare your life as a gesture to your late father and your once-good family name. Take him outside, and let his banishment commence!”

              The crowd tried to grab hold of Vlad, but he avoided their clutches.

“Leave this place at once, Vlad Ingisbohr,” Vrillium said. “You are expelled from Nocturne forever! If you ever set foot in this village again, the penalty is death.”

              “Good,” Vlad said. “I refuse to live among cowards.”

              “You dare insult this council?” Gladwish said.

              Vlad turned his back on Gladwish and tried to walk through the crowd. Storm Vidor struck Vlad on the back of the head. He slumped to the ground.

              “Call us cowards, will you?” Storm shouted, his red face getting redder.

              The incensed villagers surrounded him as they kicked and spat on him.

              “Stop, I am on your side!” Vlad said.

              The mob ignored Vlad’s pleas and continued their assault on him.

              “No!” Vrillium said.

              The crowd stopped beating Vlad and looked to Vrillium for guidance. Battered and bruised, Vlad crawled towards the entrance to the barn.

              “Let him go,” Vrillium said. “He is no longer a Nocturnian. If you return to this village, Vlad Ingisbohr, you will get worse than you did today. The Ingisbohr name is dead. It died with your father.”

              “Wh-where will I go?” Vlad asked, his voice shaking with rage, fear and adrenalin.

“You can kiss the arse of the Devil in the moonlight for all I care,” Vrillium said. He disowned Vlad with a curt wave of his sleeved hand as a conceited smile played on his lips. “This council is adjourned,” Vrillium said.

The villagers filed out past Vlad, aiming a last few gobs of malicious spittle at him as they went. Vlad trembled with shock as he reached the exterior of the barn. He staggered to his feet and fled for his life. Gladwish was beaming. He had won complete control of Nocturne and its people. The last challenger to his authority was out of the way for good.

Chapter Six

Vlad’s blurred vision and aching body somehow carried him out of Nocturne. He did not look back. Vlad’s stunned psyche registered the pain of his injuries and then a feeling of welcome numbness. His birthplace and former home fell away into the distance and into the recesses of his mind. In moments, he had become a pariah at the mercy of the elements. Dread and uncertainty coursed through him. Vlad stopped to catch his breath and review his situation. Angry Nocturnians had not followed him, and that was a relief. Vlad had reached his pain threshold for the day. Gradually, his mind considered what he needed to survive and how he would get it. He looked at the Mortisian road ahead and into the surrounding woods. If Vlad disbelieved he had left the safe womb of Nocturne, confirmation was staring him in the face. There was a stone altar with cattle skulls adorning the top of it. Vlad knew straightaway what it was.

              “Pagans,” Vlad said through trembling lips.

              Where there were pagans, there undoubtedly were sacrifices too, of the human kind. In the dappled forest light, Vlad thought he noticed human skin and blood on the altar, but he was unsure and thought it wise not to wait for confirmation. The sound of distant female laughter made him look around frantically. He ducked in behind a tree and peeped around, but saw no one. Vlad had heard stories from his grandfather about wood nymphs and spirits that lured men to their deaths. He left the area with great haste

              Vlad’s heart wanted to return home, but his head reminded him that his only choice was to keep pressing ahead. From going hunting with his father, he knew that a moving target was harder to hit. It was too late to turn back. His old life in Nocturne was a memory. His people brutally had exiled him from their community, and only certain death awaited him if he returned alone. He forgave them in his heart for not believing in him when he had not yet proven himself. They were frightened, ordinary people, and fear made the nicest people make questionable choices. Vlad did not forgive Vrillium Gladwish, though. He had done everything in his power to thwart the Ingisbohrs and deliberately led Nocturnians astray to make them commit heinous acts in his name. It was more than personal.

              Vlad reckoned that Gladwish had prolonged the reign of vampire terror by having Nocturnians at each other’s throats instead of uniting them for battle. Vlad’s animosity for Gladwish had many layers to it. He had an overwhelming desire to return, confront, and oust Gladwish. Vlad would restore the name of Ingisbohr to a place of honour in Nocturne again if it took a century. He silently pledged that to himself.

            
 
As he rounded the corner and entered the forest properly, Vlad saw the River Iosa before him. It was the last obstacle between him and the road to Mortis. The river came down from the highlands carrying sediment in it that gave the raging water a blood red tint, especially at sunset. The legend was that the blood of the victims of Gadzook Goblins or Carthic Giants had stained the river red. No vampires ever drank from the Iosa, confirming to some Nocturnians that it was not real blood. Others argued that the water had diluted the blood and made it unpalatable to Deadulus and his kind. Vlad spotted the white flesh of a Spraoid fish (pronounced
“Sprid”
by locals) deep in the River Iosa. They emerged from a whirlpool near the riverbed. It deterred anyone from swimming in that river, although Spraoid fish did get caught and eaten from time to time. The fish allegedly cured many ailments when consumed or when rubbed directly on the skin of the afflicted. They stank for several days, but their ailments diminished or disappeared, according to local superstition. Spraoid fish appeared to be pure white in the dark water. When caught, their scales changed to rainbow colours. It only enhanced their magical reputation.

There was no bridge over the River Iosa, and to outsiders that would be a major problem but not to Nocturnians. Vlad went to the ancient tree beside the river and confided in it a real sin he had committed. The tree seemed to shudder and groan with disapproval and pain as it absorbed the sin into it. Nocturnians in denial always said it was the wind. Only a true sin not confessed before would work, otherwise the person would become an involuntary swimmer and drown. Vlad confidently strode out across the flowing water but did not sink into it. He walked across the water. As his feet crossed to the other side of the bank, he took his first step on the road to Mortis. Vlad froze and stared into the unknown up ahead in the gloom.

He felt like he was stepping off a precipice from which there was no way back, and he was right. He had no food or drink, and was without a horse, weapons, money, or a map to guide him, nor did he have family, friends or any shelter ahead of him. Vlad faced a long journey through alien, hostile territory for a possibly fruitless endeavour in a harsh, intimidating city where no one knew or cared about him or his problems. He was an animal running for its life, and he felt it in every fibre of his being. The veneer of civilisation could not mask that. He did not dare contemplate his desolate future if his desperate mission to Mortis failed. Vlad checked himself for even thinking about Mortis when reaching it was far from guaranteed. He was at the fear barrier; he either would go through it (and get the confidence that awaited him on the other side), or he would turn away and always wonder what might have been.

            
 
An eccentric bird sang in the trees. Vlad had heard nothing like it. It preoccupied him and broke the spell of fear that gripped him. The honour guard of elm trees on either side of the road ahead swayed teasingly in the brisk breeze. The rustling of their leaves was their conspiratorial whispering and mocking laughter in unison. Vlad took it as a sign, and he would not be mocked by anything or anyone. He had to face up to his quandary, no matter what. Vlad had to show the people of his village that he was as brave as his father. He would do exactly what he had set out to do, and no one, neither man nor beast, would stop him. Vlad breathed deeply and took fast, determined strides on the road to Mortis. As he left the last vestiges of Nocturne behind, a rock seemed to lift from his back, and he felt free and full of energy.

              The majestic columns of elegant elm trees flanking either side of the road and the encroaching mist obscured the surrounding countryside. All Vlad saw was a vast bank of ferns and small trees at ground level surrounding a mossy, dirt track. Merchants on their way to and from Mortis had gradually worn the shrubbery down, and the wooden wheels of their carts had cut a path into the forest floor. Beyond the elms stood seemingly endless rows of ancient trees, the girth of their trunks had grown undisturbed for centuries. They stretched far up into the sky. That sight made Vlad pause momentarily. It would be a good place for someone or something to ambush him. If there were more bandits or vampires hiding in that woodland haze, Vlad would be oblivious to them when they attacked.

              Vlad reckoned travel would be impossible there when it rained. The road would become a virtual quagmire. Vlad was filthy, but he still trotted on the grass verge to avoid getting any dirtier. He tried to run on the edge of the verge in case someone or something leapt out of the forest to attack him. Keeping his distance from the forest gave him a vital few seconds reaction time. It was the difference between life and death…or living death. Vlad was too far from Mortis to reach it before nightfall. He decided to put as much distance between himself and Nocturne as possible, and hope that shelter presented itself.

              Vlad felt better until he looked ahead. His brief optimism faded fast. Several ruffians were loitering with larcenous intent in the immediate area. They paced impatiently like filthy, caged animals, but stopped when Vlad’s approach drew their gaze. Vlad knew they were looking for trouble, but they had seen him, and it was too late to turn back. There was no avoiding them. The ruffians mumbled instructions to one another and nodded agreement on their plan of attack. They fanned out across the road to block Vlad’s path. Vlad wondered whether his sore, fatigued frame could withstand a second bout of violence from fresh assailants. His stomach tightened with trepidation at what was to come. They already outnumbered him, and it was getting later and later.

Hana Ingisbohr jumped with fright at the desperate knocking on her kitchen door. She thought it was someone seeking shelter from the vampires, so she did not open the door, as was the precaution in Nocturne. Then Hana heard Ula sobbing on the other side of the door and she rushed to open it. She knew something had happened to Vlad.

“What’s wrong? Where’s Vlad?” Hana asked.

“They’ve banished him from Nocturne forever!” Ula said, weeping uncontrollably.

Hana gasped and put her hand to her mouth, but she quickly put aside her shock. She knew she had to act fast to reverse the situation. “What did Vlad do?” Hana said.

“I don’t know,” Ula said, her voice trembling with confusion and sorrow.

“Who banished him?” Hana said.

“The council did it,” Ula said.

Hana hugged Ula and then grabbed her shawl behind her, wrapping it tightly around her as she stepped out into the near-twilight. “Right,” Hana said with determination. “Come with me, Ula. I’ll skin them alive for this.”

Hana closed the door and stormed off to Nocturne Village Square, followed by Ula.

As Vlad neared the three ominous figures ahead, they approached him. Vlad had nothing valuable on his person, but gripped his meagre belongings in his pocket anyway. The first was tall and thin with dark hair. The second one was portly, and the third was diminutive in stature, almost a dwarf. Vlad kept his head down and got ready to run. 

              “Hello, friend,” the portly thief said. “Where are you going at this time of night?”

              “I have no time to explain,” Vlad said. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

They blocked Vlad’s way. “We asked you a question,” said the thin bandit, jabbing his finger into Vlad’s chest.

              “We saw you walk on water without sinking,” the dwarf said. “You’re a warlock! An enchanter!”

              Vlad backed off and adopted a defensive pose. 

              “Well!” the thin one laughed, “looks like we have a fighter amongst us!” 

              “I want no trouble,” Vlad said. 

              “Well, you’ve got it,” the fat robber replied. “Get him!” 

              Vlad was about to get his second beating of the day. They circled him, trying to find a weak spot. Vlad remained stuck in the middle, like an animal awaiting slaughter. Rather than wait for them to attack, Vlad went for the toughest one first. 

He powered into the fat man’s chest and felt like he had run headfirst into a wall. Vlad got knocked backwards. Thinking quickly, Vlad gouged the fat thief’s eyes, and he collapsed, screaming in agony. The thin one charged at Vlad. Vlad’s foot stamped downwards into the thief’s knees, knocking his legs out from under him and sending him sprawling headlong into the muddy road. Vlad looked at the dwarf thief. The runt backed up, and Vlad hesitated before returning his gaze to the downed plump thief to assess any remaining threat from him. The dwarf pulled a knife from his boot and grazed Vlad’s leg with it. Vlad struck the small thief across the face as he collapsed, and they both tumbled over, Vlad holding his bleeding leg and wincing. He knew it would be a marker for the vampires to zero in on, but that was a future worry. Vlad was preoccupied with living through the attack upon him at that moment. The other two thieves stood up and dusted off their clothes. They patted their diminutive companion on the head. 

              “Well done, David,” the fat one said. “You have felled Goliath.” 

              Once again, they encircled Vlad, punching and kicking him. Vlad struggled to hold onto consciousness.  When the beating had finished, he felt tiny hands going through his pockets.  When they found no wealth, they gave him several parting punches. They then lifted Vlad up, and with a mighty swing, threw his body over a wall. Vlad landed with a thud and fell, somersaulting down the hill.  He heard the ruffians laughing at him as he toppled downwards. Vlad finally came to a standstill and slumped to the ground in a muddy heap. Vlad lay there looking up at the sky through dense clouds of breath vapour. All he needed was a minute’s rest.  Yes, that was it, a few minutes.  He curled up in a foetal position to increase his body temperature quickly. Vlad’s heavy eyelids drooped, but he shook the sleep out of him and rubbed his eyes. Vlad knew he should keep moving, but he felt battered and bruised and thoroughly exhausted.  Disconnecting from the warnings emanating from his brain, Vlad succumbed to sleep.

              Vlad dozed restlessly, aware that he was stealing a few hours from his journey.  His eyes moved rapidly through his closed lids.  His dream came to an abrupt end when he flinched and woke himself.  Reality came crashing in like a landslide. It was dusk, and Vlad was dangerously exposed with nowhere to hide. 

              “Must push on,” Vlad said wearily to himself.  He gradually got to his feet, and every part of his body hurt. He yawned, stretched, and cried out in pain. It was then he noticed how dark it was. 

              “My God!” Vlad said. He turned and clambered back up to the road. 

              Two choices presented themselves to Vlad’s startled brain: Hide somewhere and hope the vampires did not find him, or keep going along the road...and hope the vampires did not find him. Either choice was a gamble.  He decided that the closer he got to Mortis, the safer he would be. His instinct told him that a moving target was harder to hit. Vlad reached the road.