Author's Notes

HI! I HAVE MY INTENET BACK AND SO THE HOLIDAYS CAN BEGIN. (I am so anti-social, seriously. I need to get a life.. *sigh*) you should have seen me when I saw the internet sign. I ran down the stairs, jumped, shouted "HALLEUJAH!" and... then went and tumbled on the floor. *toothy grin* So welcome to the life of Time-Lordess, I AM CLUMSY!

So here's is an extra long chapter for you to read while I go take internet on a date (brain: Shut up, they think your strange. Mad) *nervous laugh* Okaaay, me gonna go now!

Chapter Three

The Corsairs Tribe

Malik was flung inside the room and lost his balance and slipped to the ground. The guards chuckled, watching him as he was trying to get up with no victory.

The door was grey and metal, and if his days of being shackled in this type of mental, it was argentillium metal, why he needed that, was impossible to know. However what Malik did know was that he was inside a prison cell and that sound was the doors, locking. He scrambled up to the door, slipping ungracefully in his haste to reach the door before the guard walked away. His hands slid against the dusty floor, giving him the impression that whatever barbaric place he had landed himself in was a place where no one questioned those of authority or that of a powerful class.

"Wait!" Malik shouted, hoping the guard was still nearby to hear him, he sounded so pathetic and useless that it sickened him but he needed to survive. He had plans of seeing the next night. "Just open the door, you don't need to help me, I can survive out there, just open this door."

The man who wore a tattoo same as the others sneered at him, his mouth bent on a crooked unpleasant grin, showing his decaying cream teeth. "Are you kidding me, the chief would have my life for this." He spoke in a voice that was seething but seemed like it was close to laughing, like what Malik had just said was the silliest thing in the world. Malik supposed it was, if he was in the guard's place he would have left by now.

Malik growled in frustration and snarled at him. The guard simply laughed at him and went up the stairs, leaving Malik in the company of the sun and of course, the voice.

He turned away from the door, leaning against it, banging his head on the wall to release the anger that always seemed to haunt him nowadays. The room was small but in the form of a simple square. Three grey cement walls and a fourth that didn't exist, it would let in the sun in precisely two hours and by that time, and Malik would be toast. The spiders that hung on the cobwebs around him seemed to mock him and the foolishness he had before even setting foot on the beach.

"So, was this part of the plan?" Malik began seething in anger and his voice turning louder because of the fear he was feeling. "To let this, this stupid tribe kill me before I get anywhere near killing the Dracula's clan?" To anyone else in the area, Malik would have looked deranged, talking to no-one in such a way. Perhaps he was deranged, someone had told him as much. But he was way past caring, he only cared about his survival.

The voice resounded around him, filling his ears in a loud whisper. Echoing around him, he was not going to get used to this very quickly. "Hush boy! We need something from here, wait for my signal." Before Malik could ask what the signal was, and what they needed that Malik could possibly die for, the voice interrupted, "You'll know the signal, won't be able to miss it." And then everything was quiet.

Malik slumped on the door, sitting in front of it and watching the bluish tint of the night sky, fade into a beautiful orange of dawn.

Somehow, Malik didn't want to put his hope into a crazy madman he couldn't even see.

20 Minutes earlier in in the Arctic Ocean, towards the United Kingdom

His jacket tugged his body and pulled Malik further into the blue abyss. It felt weird, he spent two hundred and eighty four years fearing moving water, cowering away from its gentle blue touch. Now here he was, his whole body glowing in a blue energy, the voice had put on him so he could swim. It was scary, like any second his body would collapse and he would be dead. His arms were tired, the injury and the walking in Greenland was not doing any better for it to begin healing, that and his bones were sore from work. He was exhausted but the only thing that kept him from just giving up was the promise of land up ahead.

His arm had not healed but when Malik had begun to worry, the voice had assured him that it was him that was stopping the healing process. "There is a breather, residing in Garside as we speak, probably the domestic. We will lure him into our clutches and breathers being sentimental idiots, he will take pity on you and invite you into the house." At this new information, Malik was puzzled. He was sure the Count would have taken Renfield with him. No matter, no-one would stop Malik from completing his task.

The sea become shallower, and murkier as sand rose. The land was a few two hundred meters in front of him, there was a big cliff that hid the rest of the border from view. Malik took no notice of it, sea borders had cliffs in England.

His trousers and Jacket gathered in sand, his shoes were filled with squishy stuff that Malik didn't want to think about, it had been worrying, all the brown floating rocks, at least that was what he told himself it was. He shuddered. Soon his feet touched the bottom of the sea and he propelled himself forward, hands in front of his legs, clinging to the ground to stop him from tripping. Seaweed naturally slowed this process down, the green weed sticking to his shoes and pulling him back, making Malik agitated.

The place did not look like a common seaside terrain but at least had the weather of Britain so Malik assumed he had swum to the right place. He shrugged off the damp seaweed still clinging to his feet and brushed off as much sand as he could off of his frame. The smell, well that could not be helped. The sand below him did however look comfortable, and Malik tried to resist the urge to just flop on the ground and sleep.

The burning registered quickly enough that Malik dodged the fireball whizzing his way towards him. In fact the night sky was ablaze with orange specks, like warning shots. He looked at the fireball that had nearly been the death of him and saw it smash onto a nearby rock. Its flames curved around the rock and ended at the top with a wisp of smoke trailing upwards to the heavens above.

Malik looked away from the fire display above and turned in the direction of the fireball had come from, for he was pretty sure that the bit of England in which he had arrived didn't show any obvious life signs.

A man was in front of him, he didn't look too old, probably four hundred years of age, only a century older then himself. He had a muscular physical appearance. Broad shoulders. Strong, thick neck and an angled square-like face. His nose was small and his lips seemed to be a cresant, hardly showing any emotion. His eyes, however gave away such emotion of absolute, pure excitement. Malik guessed they didn't normally have visitors, he wandered why that was. His eyes were a brilliant twilight blue, that danced and flickered and were so, so dangerous. Malik looked at his clothing. A kind of Greek robe, tartan pattern. Red, black and green criss-crossing past one another. The man wore sandals that showed his dirty nails. He had thick and mad light brown hair that ended at his shoulders, a beard that was more dirt than hair, giving him an older yet slightly madder quality.

A tattoo was on his arm. Starting from elbow height and stopping close to his shoulder. It was mostly black curving triangles with a snake's body spindling in between, than ending with the head of the snake hissing sharply, fangs exposed and "Corsair" written in the mouth.

Malik looked up and saw a whole bunch of vampires with crossbows, arrows tipped with flames or axes, splattered with poison. How had not seen this? Why had the voice not warned him about the people here? There were at least a hundred of them, at the edge of the cliff and in the darkness they were just silhouettes, dark and menacing.

"Welcome to Scotland Outsider." The man spoke, welcoming him as if he was food. Maybe he was, the people did look mad enough for it. However this did not worry him, it was something else.

"Scotland? You are really mad aren't you? This is not Scotland" Malik didn't know what aggravated the man about what he had said, maybe it was the 'mad' part but suddenly, the man had him by the scruff of his jacket and Malik was inches from his face. He could see the blood on his fangs.

"I think I would know where my home is, don't you?" He sneered, and dropped Malik on the floor where two guards handcuffed him, Malik trying his best to resist and maybe escape. "Now, you will come with me."

The army of feral Scottish vampires had already left and Malik was under the watch of two guards, who really irritated him, sounding like Malik was a childish boy who needed lots of direction. Malik decided to toy with his enemy, ask questions but in a way that screamed "I am not defeated". So he did just that and caught up with his captor. "You know, I think it's really impolite to not introduce yourself." Malik started "How about some information?" "We are your captors and you are a trespasser." The man replied stiffly. "I am warrior chief of the Corsairs tribe. My name is Emmanuel Maldover Wolfgang. We are taking you to our leader"

Malik hissed at the guard, who had prod his back with his tribal like staff. The man laughed and the other guard kicked his feet. "Look up, Outsider, that's the last place you will ever see." The guards jeered at him. Malik looked up and saw that up on the green hills, there was a whole village. Illuminated by fire and candles. The houses were made of wood, elderly woman peeking out of their make-shift window and looking at Malik with detest. There were wheelbarrows on the side and a small village market at the centre, the smell was nauseous. The main path was surrounded by men and women and children. The children looked at him with wide eyes and the adults lowered their fangs threatening him, to which Malik sneered at. The crowd cradled garlic cloves in their hands and when Malik passed, threw them with such ferocity that it hurt as well as stank. All of the villagers also wore the same tattoo. Maybe it was a symbol.

Keeping his head down and muttering angrily. Malik arrived at a stone castle, it was alive with lights, Ivy growing up the stone brickwork. The glass was dusty, this entire place was slowly rotting away.

Emmanuel shoved him inside and pushed him towards a golden door, with a serpent snaking up the arch doors. He halted in front of it and without looking at the guards, gestured for them to stay and the guards slowly cowered to their post on either end of the door. He gave the impression that he was used to being obeyed and took for granted his power. He then pushed open the door to a royal looking throne room.

It had brick arches leading up to the throne. The carpet was a smoother stone and leading up to the throne there was a red carpet, gold patterns sliding up the edges. The room was illuminated by two chandeliers with candles placed on them, swinging gently. There was a long oak table with many chairs at their side, the table was covered with paper, which had writing on it. Black ink was neatly assembled at the middle of the table, in front of each table. It felt like there were meetings here regularly.

A staff prodded his back, urging Malik forward to a man that sat on the throne. The man smiled at Malik's displeasure. Malik snarled bitterly at the man. He had blond hair but not as wild as all the others he had seen here, it was combed well but you could see the tips of white sprouting from the roots. He had fair skin with a few wrinkles around the eyes and mouth. His eyes were a torrent of green, like the murky sea of a seaweed ridden beach. His nose and cheekbone were chiselled to perfection and he had pale red lips, cast in a devious smile. He wore a black gloves that had the ends cut off tattily. A band of gold encased his right arm and on the right arm, there was the same tattoo, except this snake head had a crown of bloodied bones. He wore clothes similar to the Count's. Black with a red lining. Black leather trousers and winter boots. On his shoulder, flung was the fur of a polar bear, except it seemed to be vandalised by graffiti so that there was a criss-cross of red, green and black. Around his neck he wore a pendent with a snake sliding up his neck, black, small and scaly. It was held together by a piece of string.

Malik was in front of him and shoved forward so that Malik was on his knees, his hands behind his back. Malik snarled at Emmanuel to which the man on the throne and Emanuel chuckled. "You are a difficult creature aren't you?" The man on the throne said, to which Malik looked up, his eyes black and hissed.

"Oh, how rude of me." The man faked being absolute ashamed at his 'bad manners' and slumped in his chair. "Alexis William Corsair. Leader of the Corsairs."

Malik scoffed, "Bit full of yourself aren't you? Naming a whole tribe after yourself" Malik felt good insulting someone, it didn't make him feel like he was at the mercy of a group of mysterious tribespeople, and it made him feel in control. Not vulnerable.

"He is a feisty one, isn't he?" Alexis teased. He looked to Emmanuel, "Where did you find him?"

"He was washed up on the beach, young Outsider seemed to be in the impression he was in England, sir." Emmanuel spoke politely. This information was received with guffawing from Alexis.

"England! England is miles down south, boy" Alexis slapped his leg in a fit of hysterical laughter.

"Yes, I figured." Malik spoke, the fury bouncing up from his words.

"So, what are we going to do to him?" Alexis asked Emmanuel, suddenly serious.

"What we do to all trespassers sir, surrender him to the agony of dawn." Emmanuel replied formally.

"Yes. That is what we will do." Alexis stretched his 's' into a snake hiss, he took his symbol seriously.

"No, this boy is trouble, I can feel it." A man interrupted, he was standing beside Alexis and was supported by a walking stick. He had white hair that ended at his hips and a beard that went down to his thighs. He wore a brown rag-like gown, and mud brown eyes that had seen all the misery of the world. He had wrinkles around his face and a mark on his neck. His voice was choked and delivered with heavy breathing like as if was a difficulty saying each word. He was ancient.

The elderly man looked at him with scrunched up eyes like he was trying to figure something out. "Head Advisor of the Corsair tribe, Miles Dimitri SabreClaw." He introduced himself.

"As you were saying, Miles." Alexis gestured for Miles to continue.

"He isn't like the others, we should give him a painful death, slow, hurtful and cruel." Miles replied.

"It doesn't matter how their like, we just need trespasser's off the village." Emmanuel spoke agitated, why should we give a boy such special treatment? It was completely irrelevant.

"And why might that be?" Malik asked, genuinely curious, why did they want to remain isolated?

"Be quiet, Outsider!" Alexis scolded and motioned to Emmanuel to whip Malik, the burning pain in his back made Malik keep quiet. Alexis pointed his next words to Emmanuel. "Miles has always been very reliable, it would be foolish not to listen. Show him to the Light Cellar."

Emmanuel nodded curtly and flung him outside of the council room, and then whispered to the guards. The guards smiled and grabbed hold of either end of Malik's shoulders. He was guided down a set of stairs while being explained to what he was being taken to.

"It is said that Master Alexis controls the sun, he is given power over the star at precisely 3:00am and must return the power at 6:00am, Master intends to put you in there and make the sun go and face the fourth wall, he will then make it rise, but agonizingly slowly, not enough to kill you, but not enough to let you live. Once it is 6:00, you will be begging for death. At which point he will kill you." The guards cackled.

"So why doesn't he do this all the time?" Malik asked as he was pushed down the stairs

"Master reserves this torture for 'special' vampires only." The man replied.

"I'll take that as a compliment." Malik replied.

"You can take it how you want, but I'm afraid that concludes our storytelling." The man opened a door and Malik started shuffling on his feet to escape.

Malik was flung inside the room and lost his balance and slipped to the ground. The guards chuckled, watching him as he was trying to get up with no victory.

Great. Just great

Now he had to escape, he didn't want to die again. He had no plans of going out like this.

Author's Note:

Yeah... Ingrid isn't coming back until chapter five. I still need to finish this bit and yeah... sorry if your like really bored of the constant travelling but I want Malik to actually to go around places and us to see that... I sound like a cheesy writer and euk.

I don't when the next bit will come but I know what's going to happen, if that's any constellation because then you don't need to see me have writers block.

BYE! (oh and sorry again for the really long chapter)