Dr. Sandorius
Sandorius forced himself to look away from the Countess lest he be suborned to her will. He looked back at the woods to his rear. There the Frenchman’s sleighs were distracting the wolves as they emerged from the trees. The beasts snapped at the ponies drawing the sleighs while the men in the sleighs fired at them, killing several of the beasts. More wolves were approaching from across the frozen stream to his front.
Suddenly, Madame Geneses burst forth with an aria. The odd recollection flew into this head that it was from Mozart's The Magic Flute. When she began hitting the high notes, the wolves fled away whimpering. “Obviously not music lovers!” she shouted.
Before Sandorius could respond, he noticed the Countess was gesturing fiercely in his direction. A small flaring light sprang from her fingertips and shot in his direction. It was then that he realized that the wagon which had fallen on the baby’s mother had been carrying a store of powder and a number of kegs were scattered on the road about him. He could only turn his back to protect the child when the Countess’ bolt struck one of the kegs. Fortunately, the powder must have been damp for there was only a very small explosion, although some shards of wood ripped through his cloak.
Madame Geneses cried out, "First my muff ruined, now my last good skirt filled with holes. How ever will I get my petticoats repaired in this wilderness?
Sandorius looked back at the Countess. I taught you that trick, you witch, he thought. He held the baby in one arm and extended the other. He made the gestures that would gather the aetheric forces that powered his spells. With an effort, he gathered enough to send a powerful blast back in the Countess’ direction. He saw the force strike her squarely and her body flew backwards several yards, being stopped only when she struck the side of her covered sleigh.
He knew it was only a temporary respite. She would be far harder to kill.
The Brigadier
The wolfish men proved to be most inconvenient. My mount reared and had I not been the excellent horseman that I am, I would surely have suffered a tumble. Nonetheless, once I brought the pony back under control, I saw that the pair of the wolf-men were almost upon me. In a moment, I delivered a middle hew in the German style to the first beast’s breast. The thing fell at my feet with a large gash across its chest.
I assumed I had slain it and turned to meet the beast’s companion. From behind me, a loud musket blast echoed, and the ball struck the second beast in the chest, knocking its feet from under it.
I turned and saw that shot had been fired by trooper that had been driving the sleigh upon which I had ridden. Now this was a scratch troop and I had had little time to learn ought of the men I had gathered, so I asked him his name.
“Corporal Fisztics, sir, of the 1st Ruritanian Hussars,” was his reply, in imperfect French.
“Well, Fisztics, thank you for the assistance, although it was hardly necessary. Still, a fine show of initiative, following after me from the sleigh.”
“You took the horse from the sleigh, what else could I do!” he replied, rather cheekily I thought.
Before I could admonish this insubordination, we heard a heaving sound and saw that the two wolves, which we had thought dead, were stirring, their wounds beginning to knit before our eyes. Both creatures began to stir.
“Now this is really too absurd!” I cried. “How can one be expected to accept such a ridiculous enemy as this!” In my frustration, I struck off the creatures head from his body. With that, the beast finally seemed dead.
“Ah, Fisztics, good that you have such a clever commander,” I said. “Now finish the other one off and makes sure they trouble us no more.”
I rode out of the woods and saw that the rest of the men were holding their own against the packs of wolves. These were more natural is size and demeanor and so were far more easily shot down. As I cheered my men on, I heard a large volley being fired off to my right. Over the sound, I could the distinct and ever bellicose voice of the good Marshal Ney, crying encouragements to his troops.
The Marshal
The walking wolves hit the far left of his line. He saw several men hacked to pieces by the creature’s fearsome claws. The line began to give way there as those nearest to wolves began recoiling from the horror.
Then to his right, he heard the sound of commands shouted in Russian. The Cossacks had regrouped and even now were boiling out of the woods to hit his other flanks.
“Here’s something we are used to dealing with! Stand firm, men!”
The Cossacks hit the line. One large rider came so close, the Marshal could see the frost formed on his mustaches. The Marshal fired his musket and the big Cossack flew out of the saddle. He thrust his bayonet into the flank of nearby horse that threw its rider before running off, the blood streaming onto the snow.
As quickly as they had come, the Cossacks were gone, rushing back to the safety of the woods.
The Marshal could hear the growing screams at the left end of the line. Men were streaming away, some even throwing away their muskets.
“Hold, you little bastards! You have far more to fear from me than from these mangy dogs!” he shouted. This seemed to check the flight. Men stopped and turned. The Marshal pushed them back into line.
“Surround them, there are only a few of them. Hem them in with steel.”
Though he could see fear in many of their faces, the men did as they were told. The wolves were soon surrounded by wall of bayonets. The men began stabbing the every-maddened creatures.
The Polish sergeant, Captain Milna’s man, came up to him. In heavily accented French he said, "Serene Might Marshal, cut wolves then let me put these into the wounds, it finish them". He produced a handful of bullets made of silver.
"Wherever did you get these?" asked the Marshal.
"Plunder from Moscow, I make into bullets when first wolves began following us. Not take chance with werewolves."
The beasts were held down by the bayonets and deep wounds cut into them. He saw that when the sergeant rammed the bullets into the woods, the creatures writhed in agony before finally succumbing.
"Right, men, follow this sergeant. Nothing can block our way home now!"
Dr. Sandorius
Milna was fighting some of two of the werewolves that had come out of the forest. He swung the great sword. There was a glow in the grey light and Sandorius thought he heard something almost musical as the blade struck wolves. In moments, the two were in their death throws.
However, a figure emerged from the woods. He was gaunt and bald and terrible fangs extended from his lips.
"Take the child and go!" cried Milna. "I can deal with this one."
When Sandorius turned back, he saw that the pack of mortal wolves had fled, no doubt the Countess' control over them lapsed when she was struck by his blow. Nonetheless, he saw two of the Countess servants, human in form but clearly vampires like her, crossing the stream close to the bridge. They meant to attack the soldiers across the way, keeping any help when the Countess revived. He was being left for her.
Madame Geneses hurled one of the casks of powder toward them. Sandorius tried another spell to ignite it but he was too weak. His ability to work magic had been gradually fading and now was gone completely.
Suddenly, a thick mist rolled towards him. In a moment it solidified into the body of the Countess.
“You have no power left, Ivo. I have made sure of that,” she said. “Now you shall pay for all the times you have interfered with my plans. To think I was offered you to share the world with me."
She flicked her wrist and unnaturally long claws sprang from her nails. She struck at him with these fearsome claws. He parried the blow with his short hunter’s sword. She wore an ancient red armor that exuded evil. Protection wrought from the blood of innocents. His returning strike at her did nothing.
She caught his leg with a wide swinging blow. He could feel the claws slicing through his flesh. His leg gave out from under him. He collapsed and felt the blood coursing from his vein, taking his life with him.
She walked slowly towards him. She too looked weakened, now doubt more affected by his last powerful blast.
Then the baby cried and a look of frenzied hunger came into her eyes.
Just as she seemed to lung toward him and the baby, a sharp point sprung from the side of the Countess' chest. Madame Geneses had ripped a plank from the side of the wagon. She had thrust it sharp, splintered end through the Countess' back. Although it had not killed the creature, it must have come caused some damage to her heart. The Countess screamed. In a moment, she became an insubstantial cloud of mist that whisked quickly away.
"That will teach that bitch not trifle with a diva!" said Madame Geneses. "And who wears red like that, ugh!"
The Countess was not dead, but the body she cherished so much had been horribly injured. They would be safe from her for a time.
The Peasant Soldier
He led the troops back to the broken bridge. By now the men he had left had laid planking over the spans so they should be able to cross easily. However, he saw that his men were fighting with two Russians on the other side of the stream. Then he realized, they were Russians, they were vampyr!
Just as he reached for his hawthorne stake in his satchel, he saw a large object fly through the air and land near the feet of the two monsters. It was a small keg of powder. Soroka quickly put his rifle to his shoulder and fired at the keg. When the ball struck it, the powder inside exploded. The two vampyr were staggered by the blast and struggling to put out their flaming clothes.
At this point, the main body of the Marshal's men arrived. Soroka formed them into a line along the stream banks. Soon the Pan Marshal was standing next to him.
"How do we kill these monsters?" the Pan Marshal asked.
"A stake through the heart, or more surely, cutting off their heads."
"I think we can manage that." The Pan Marshal ordered the line to fire. Over a hundred balls struck the two vampyrs, there was little left of their bodies.
Suddenly, a mounted hussar leading three sleighs approached them. He quickly explained that the Emperor himself had sent him to rescue the Pan Marshal.
"Thank you, Brigadier, we shall be glad of your assistance."
Soroka asked about Pan Milna and the Pan Brigadier said he was just uphead, fighting some nasty brutes. Soroka felt better, knowing that Pan Milna had a special sword, a blessed one, captured by one of his ancestors from the Black Cross Knights. Pan Milna should be alright until Soroka got there.
Soroka rushed across the bridge. In a short while, he heard the sound of fighting. There was Pan Milna fighting with a large vampyr, the body of another was lying at his feet. Soroka then saw with alarm that Pan Milna was wounded and blood was flowing from his throat.
As Soroka ran towards him, he saw another soldier rushing out of the woods to help Pan Milna. Pan Milna struck at the vampyr and it fell at his feet. The other shoulder was there in an instant and struck the head from the vampyr's body. Soroka sighed with relief.
His relief turned to alarm when he saw a cloud of mist swirling behind Pan Milna. In a moment, it formed into another large vampyr, a huge razor-like blade in his hands. Soroka shouted a warning. Pan Milna turned and thrust his blade into the vampyr's body but not before the vampyr brought the blade down onto Pan Milna's throat. They both collapsed into the snow, blooding running like a stream from the bodies.
Soroka screamed.
Dr. Sandorius
After the Countess had vanished, Sandorius lost consciousness. When he awoke, he was alone but he saw that his leg had been bound, covered with the much put upon petticoats of Madame Geneses. The baby was gone.
Sandorius desperately forced himself up. He saw that Madame Geneses was leading the horses pulling the Countess' covered sleigh. She bore the baby in her arms. It was quiet and contented.
"Ah, Doctor. I am glad you are about. At least we shall have a more comfortable ride now. That woman was most vain. Half of the supplies in this sleigh are cosmetics. Fortunately, there are flasks of mare's milk that I can use to feed the child, I've already soaked my handkerchief with and the little darling seems to be enjoying it. I'd heard that bathing in mare's milk is good for the skin but to bring it to this place…such vanity!"
"Vanity is her downfall and she's bathed in stranger things than mare's milk."
"So you know her?"
"There was a time when I thought I did, but I was very wrong…"
Dr. Sandorius
After the Countess had vanished, Sandorius lost consciousness. When he awoke, he was alone but he saw that his leg had been bound, covered with the much put upon petticoats of Madame Geneses. The baby was gone.
Sandorius desperately forced himself up. He saw that Madame Geneses was leading the horses pulling the Countess' covered sleigh. She bore the baby in her arms. It was quiet and contented.
"Ah, Doctor. I am glad you are about. At least we shall have a more comfortable ride now. That woman was most vain. Half of the supplies in this sleigh are cosmetics. Fortunately, there are flasks of mare's milk that I can use to feed the child, I've already soaked my handkerchief with and the little darling seems to be enjoying it. I'd heard that bathing in mare's milk is good for the skin but to bring it to this place…such vanity!"
"Vanity is her downfall and she's bathed in stranger things than mare's milk."
"So you know her?"
"There was a time when I thought I did, but I was very wrong…"
The Peasant Soldier
Soroka sat in the snow crying. How could he let Pan Milna die? Panna Milna will be very cross. Still, Pan Milna had killed two werewolves and three vampyrs, that should be some comfort to her.
Soroka should probably kill the Corporal Fisztics. The Ruritanian was going through Pan Milna's pockets, looking for valuables. Of course, Soroka would have done the same thing. Waste not want not but still Pan Milna had been his Captain, not Fisztics'. Still, Fisztics had helped Pan Milna, so maybe Soroka would only cut off his hand. Then Fisztics found the locket. He pulled it from the Captain's neck.
Soroka grabbed his rifle to shoot the Ruritanian. Then, a grey-haired man limped over to Fisztics and snatched the locket away from him.
"That is not for you."
Soroka then realized that the old man was holding an infant in his one arm. The man looked at Soroka and said, "Don't worry, Sergeant. I owe your Captain a great debt." He looked at the picture in the locket, "I make sure his lady and his son are looked after."
The old man looked down at the child and then said, "A new start...Yes, I owe him quite a lot."
No comments:
Post a Comment