The Dracula Chronicles: The Path To Decay Read online

  “Then believe me,” she said. “He fears you. The message you sent him had the desired effect. He is securing every city and town south of here in the event you might return.”

  “Then that is good for him.”

  “You learned well in your time in Adrianople.”

  “I studied them long enough. It is what you advised.”

  “You know already how to instil terror in the hearts of men.”

  “It is what they taught me. I was angry. He needed a message sent to him to know with whom he was dealing.”

  “Oh, he knows it. You can be sure of that. So what might you do with the woman?”

  “I do not know. I have not decided as yet.”

  “Shall you take her for your own?” Lucy asked, dropping her head to one side.

  “I hardly think so.”

  “She is quite beautiful, after all.”

  “I had not noticed.”

  “Oh, Vlad, do hush.”

  “Hush? For what reason do you say that?”

  “You know you could have her any time you want.”

  “She does not interest me in that way.”

  “We both know that she does. Every man who sees her wants her. Those men around her right this moment are all thinking of what it is to have her. Even those you look on as friends.”

  “Not this one.”

  “Very well,” she agreed, giving an exaggerated sigh. “If you say it is so, it is so.”

  Vlad laughed. “Are you jealous of her?”

  Lucy became defensive. “Jealous of her? No, why would I be? You think this of every woman you come into contact with.”

  “It feels like it to me.”

  “You are your own man.”

  “Should you not be jealous then? I thought I belonged to you.”

  “You do belong to me.” She smiled and ran her fingertips along his chin as she walked by. “You shall always belong to me. Still, you are free to do what pleases you.”

  “Is that what you do?”

  The smile broadened on her face. “On times, yes. You please me, my sweet prince.”

  The words brought back an instant memory of Ayshe. “Well, I have no such interest in the woman,” he declared.

  Lucy saw it, but let it pass. “Good.”

  “She is far older than I.”

  “So what might you do with her?”

  “While she is in my custody Basarab shall worry and fear the worst.”

  “Yes.”

  “As you said, she is a beauty. I am sure he wants no harm to befall her.”

  “So why are you here?” she asked. “It is the last place I expected to see you.”

  “It is my home. I thought I might find answers here.”

  “Answers to what?”

  Vlad shrugged. “Of what to do next, I imagine.”

  “Those answers are already in your heart. You need only look a little deeper for them.”

  “I need to know who I am. That and my purpose.”

  Lucy laughed to his annoyance. “You ought to know that already.”

  “All I know is that I am the son of a murdered man. What else is there to know?”

  “Well, do you not have a responsibility? Since your father is dead.”

  “To what?” he groaned. “I am responsible only to myself.”

  “Who would continue with his work? If not his own son?”

  “Somebody shall, I am sure.”

  “How can you believe that? Do not be a fool. Listen to me with care.”

  “Why? Why would I do that?”

  “Somebody has to talk sense to you. You cannot see it for yourself.”

  Lucy noticed his growing agitation and backed away a little. She sensed rain in the air and looked to Vlad as though she wanted to leave.

  “Vlad,” she said, lowering her tone to get his attention once more. “There are some things in life only one man can do.”

  “You are speaking of me? I am no one special.”

  “Yes, you are!” she shouted. “You are the son of Dracul.”

  He shrugged to try and dismiss the significance of it.

  It did not deter her. “He was the man that said, ‘kill your enemies before they should kill you.’”

  “He failed to do so and it brought his downfall.”

  “Listen to his words. His enemies are yours. They would kill you first if you should allow them to. Be the man you were born to be!”

  “What do you know of my father?”

  “I know he was a man who fought for his country, for his people.”

  “Everyone knows that. It is no secret.”

  “He loved very few things in his life except his wife, his sons and Wallachia. He was the Dragon and people spoke of him with awe.”

  Her words brought back strong memories of his father. She described him in the most perfect way, as the man he had idolised his whole life.

  “He needed only his mouth to unite his people behind him,” she continued, speaking with fire in her heart. “To shy away from the responsibility of carrying on his work would be a bad thing. It would bring shame on you. Follow in his footsteps, Vlad. For you are the only one who can.”

  “To do so is madness. I am not likely to make his same mistakes.”

  “Moses thought the same thing when God told him to go to the Pharaoh and free His people. Did God not prove Moses wrong?”

  “I am not Moses!”

  “No, you are Dracula! Vlad Dracula! A name that can be even greater than Moses.”

  He dropped his head, almost embarrassed by his own negativity.

  “The same way Moses freed his people from Egypt, so can you free yours from Hungary. It is your task from this day and you cannot escape it. You are Dracula, the son of Dracul.”

  Vlad was silent for a time. He thought hard about what Lucy said. She had amazing insight.

  “I have something to show you before I go.”

  “What is that?” he asked.

  “Follow me.”

  She walked off into the smoke and mist. He followed at a quick pace, but when he caught sight of her, she was a fair distance away. She moved through the ruins with a grace he could not match.

  Again he lost her in the mist. He broke into a run, but stopped dead in his tracks. He was in a small clearing behind where the ruins of the palace still smouldered.

  Serpents filled the area all around. The ground was so thick with them that he froze with fear. He recoiled and watched as they slithered and copulated around each other. Beyond them he saw a sword propped all alone against a wall. It glistened in the moonlight and caught his eye.

  He went to walk towards it, but hesitated again when he looked down. The serpents slithered and slid to either side to clear a path for him to walk through. This he did, to the spot where the sword rested.

  His heart raced when he drew closer. He knew at once the awesome Toledo blade given to his father by the emperor, Sigismund. It was the Fier Negru.

  He looked around, but saw no sign of Lucy. Her voice drifted to him on the breeze. “Despite what you may hear,” she said. “It still has not known defeat.”

  “What do you mean?” he shouted into the mist.

  “Your father threw his sword down. He wanted to leave this world to be with your mother.”

  Vlad wiped the tears that filled his eyes. He picked the sword up and brandished it over his head. The precious stones on the hilt looked dazzling, even in the fading daylight. They threw myriads of green and blue on the walls around him.

  “The Fier Negru is my gift to you. Use it to take back what is yours.”

  “I am Dracula!” he shouted. “I shall win back my throne! For I am Dracula, the son of Dracul!”

  WALLACHIA.

  THE PIATA IN TIRGOVISTE.

  DECEMBER 13, 1447. LATE AFTERNOON.

  Vlad returned to the piata. Just to hold the Fier Negru was enough to invigorate him again. A few times he looked about with nervous apprehension. He had caught sight of peopl
e darting about in the shadows. It occurred to him that the city was not the safest place for him to be.

  He prepared to mount his horse and leave the city just as a group of men emerged from the mist. They formed a circle around him, their manner threatening. He looked at them and studied their eyes, seeing the misery and hunger that spurred them on. Holding the Fier Negru out before him he readied himself for a fight.

  “Are you the son of Dracul?” one of them said to him, his voice bitter.

  “I am,” he replied, and stuck out his chest, not looking to deny the fact even if it were a smarter idea to do so.

  “Do you see the misery your family has brought to our lives?”

  “It is not my family who brought this upon you.”

  “We suffer through our loyalty to Dracul.”

  “You should apportion the blame to John Hunyadi and the boyars loyal to him. You were happy enough before they came here, when your bellies were not so empty.”

  “Hunyadi, Dracul, they are all the same to us. What does it matter which tyrant controls the throne? It is we, the people, who suffer for it.”

  Vlad moved towards the man in a threatening pose. “Do not compare my father to the bastard, Hunyadi. This city prospered when my father was alive.”

  “And owing to his quarrels we shall starve this winter.”

  “He is responsible for your welfare no more. If you suffer, you can thank Basarab for that.”

  “They are all one and the same.”

  Vlad glared at the man. “You shall soon know real tyranny. Had some of you risen up to support my father when he needed your help, you might not be suffering in this way.”

  “Enough of our blood has been spilled to end their quarrels.”

  “Then you are on your own.”

  “That sword would fetch a pretty sum,” the man said, eyeing the Fier Negru. “It would feed us all for a while to come.”

  Vlad rose to the challenge. “The sword I wield was my father’s. It is yours if you can take it from me.”

  The man nodded to some of the others, who tightened the circle around him.

  “I shall look for you when I return to take the throne,” Vlad assured him.

  “You would be wiser to stay away. Your kind is not wanted here any more.”

  Vlad sensed a few of them stealing in behind him. He stepped back slowly, looking over his shoulder. Turning faster than they could have expected, he brought the Fier Negru down against the first of them. His victim screamed when the blade ripped into him high on the arm and removed it from his torso.

  Raising his elbows to hold the sword as a dagger, Vlad deftly ran the tip along the throat of a second. The man dropped, dead before he hit the ground. He charged a third man and brought the Fier Negru down against the top of his skull. The man fell to his knees, his eyes wide and blank as blood gushed down over his face.

  The circle around him widened a little. Any time Vlad approached any of them, they stepped back. They feared his obvious ability, but would not run. They had not eaten in days and such a need drove men beyond the limits of their own courage.

  He eyed them with hate, their sticks and rocks in hand. “What great Wallachians you are,” he taunted them. “Twenty to one to try and kill your own prince.”

  “You are nothing to us,” one of them remarked.

  “Well, even with those odds you shall not prevail. I shall kill every last one of you if I must.”

  “We have mouths to feed,” the first man said, hate in his voice.

  “When I return for my throne I would feed them,” Vlad promised him. “’Til that time, you need to do it yourself.”

  “That should not help my children on this day while they cry from the hunger,” the man said, his tone cold and unflinching.

  They readied themselves to rush him. In that moment, they caught sight of riders pouring in through the city gates that stood wide open still. Vlad did not turn to look. He kept his focus on the men intent on killing him.

  He saw the arrows that brought several of them down. The others turned and fled into the smoke and mist. Vlad waited until they had all gone. Then he turned to see who had come to his rescue. There, sat proudly on his horse, he saw Litovoi.

  Vlad smiled when their eyes met. “You have the best timing.”

  “We were passing on our way home, my Liege,” he said. “It is as well we came into the city to take a look around.”

  “I have done nothing to deserve that title.”

  “You are the son of Dracul.”

  “I do not have a throne. My career so far has been the burning of towns and driving innocents from their homes.”

  Litovoi shrugged to say it did not matter. “You have to make a beginning. It served its purpose, I am sure.”

  He climbed down from his horse to check if Vlad’s assailants were properly dead. The first man Vlad had struck lay on the ground wounded and bleeding heavily from his severed arm. Litovoi saw he was still breathing. He drew his sword and brought it down against his head. The wolves ambled about the ruins, growling to the mist at things the men could not see.

  The Vlach leader saw the woman hanging from the gallows. He ordered his men to cut her down and bury her. “No one deserves to be left like that,” he said to Vlad.

  “Why would a woman be hanging there? It is odd.”

  “It does not matter to her any longer. Let us hope she is at peace.”

  They cut Maia down and buried her in the grassy area beside Mircea.

  “You buried my father?” Vlad asked him.

  “Yes, my Liege. I gave my word I would do so.”

  “I hope he can find peace too. He had precious little of that in his lifetime.”

  “It is good that we crossed paths again. I have something of his to give to you.”

  He produced the golden medallion that had been around Dracul’s neck. It was the same one bearing the insignia of the dragon given to him by Sigismund. “This means you are the Dragon,” he said, handing it to Vlad.

  Vlad placed it over his head and around his neck. “Thank you, my good friend.”

  “I see you have already acquired the Fier Negru?”

  “Yes, I found it here in the ruins. I cannot imagine how, but there it was.”

  “It is not always best to question these things. At least it is with its true owner.”

  Vlad nodded, touching his hand on the hilt.

  “What might you do after this? Where might you go?”

  “I must return to Adrianople. I gave my word.”

  “It is a noble man that makes good on his promises.”

  “It is what my father taught me.”

  “Then he taught you well.”

  Vlad nodded. He took great pride in his upbringing.

  “Remember the Red Hand tribe is with you. We would not desert your cause. When you are ready to fight Basarab we shall stand with you, should you call on us.”

  The two locked forearms in a show of friendship. Vlad then thanked him for all he had done, and left. He headed for his father’s camp to the east of Bucharest where Rodrigul awaited his return.

  WALLACHIA.

  THE FORESTS TO THE WEST OF

  THE DIMBOVITA RIVER.

  DECEMBER 13, 1447. AN HOUR BEFORE SUNSET.

  Andrei eyed the darkening horizon. Rarely a moment had passed since meeting his mother that he did not think of this one. Those that would seek out and destroy him would be able to see him after sunset. He shivered at the implications of what that meant. If they could see him, then they would come. Not only would they rip his body into a thousand pieces, they would relish it and make him feel it in his every nerve. But not only that, they would destroy all that he loved as well.

  Constantin observed him from a distance. Thoughts of the events at the waterfall remained fresh in his mind too. He kept running the words Andrei had said through his mind and it worried him. Is that what Andrei’s destiny shall amount to? Fighting the Dark Side?

  Andrei feared th
e hours ahead, but the time was close for him to go. They shall be able to see me soon. He looked about the camp knowing he could not remain for too much longer. The others were sure to notice him gone. It worried him that they might go looking for him again. Therefore, he felt it best to let his father know.

  The elder stepped forward from his tent. He stood out in the open when Andrei approached him. “What is wrong, my son?”

  “I must go, Papa.”

  “To where is it you are going?”

  “Back to the cave.”

  “You mean by the waterfall?”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “But night is drawing in. You should be with your family.”

  “No, Papa. Not this night.”

  “I shall not hear of it. It is dangerous out there.”

  “They can see me, Papa. I must go.”

  “Who can see you? What are you speaking of?”

  “The forces of Darkness, Papa. They can see me on the thirteenth day.”

  “I have never heard of any such nonsense in my life.”

  Andrei looked him straight in the eye, his expression the sternest his father had ever seen from him. “Please do not doubt me, Papa. If I do not go, then the whole tribe is in danger.”

  The elder thought back to the blue light under the waterfall. He thought too about the blue glow that surrounded Andrei when he fell into the pool. Andrei was not one to lie or dramatise things. Most of all, he thought of the night Andrei was born and what Magath had said before she walked into the white light.

  He returned the look his son gave him. “You are telling me the truth, Andrei?”

  “Yes, Papa. I must go. No one must follow me. No one must know where I am going. It is the only way I can be sure you are all safe.”

  The elder deliberated over it a moment. He did not want to let Andrei go. But then he knew Andrei was special and different from everyone else.

  “My mother came to me the other day,” Andrei said, his voice quietening.

  “Your mother?”

  “My birth mother. She showed me how to protect myself against the demons that would seek me out. They can see me at sunset. And this is the thirteenth day.”

  The old man looked up at the late afternoon sky. Shades of grey, purple and black extended across the heavens. It worried him now as he knew Andrei spoke the truth. There was no cause for him to even ask. “Then go, my son.”