Chapter Twenty Five
Fane Bumbescu staggered through the forests, tears staining his dirty, cut cheeks, the salt stinging in three deep scores on the left side of his cheek.
So dizzy…
Fane had no idea what had happened to his family, to his neighbours, to his entire town. During the heat of action Fane had slept in a barn away from his home when the Demons had come. It wasn't until the morning when he had woken to a ghost town littered with the bloodless bodies of people he once knew. Tears poured from his eyes as he remembered the Preacher, his body crucified on the crucifix which stood proud upon the only church. He had been such a jolly man, welcoming to strangers. Fane was, like the rest of his village, highly religious and very superstitious. For their community leader to die in such a way Fane could only think that the Devil had been involved.
"Mamă!" Fane shouted desperately "Tată?"
Freash tears poured down Fane's face as he continued to run through the forests, sobbing wildly. He was too scared to look back, stopping only to sleep for three hours a night then continuing his crosscountry sprint. He needed help. Someone had to help him find his parents.
Fane broke free of the thick fir forests and stumbled towards a vast lake. He hadn't realized his thirst till presented with water, dropping to his knees and lapping up the water like a dog. It was freezing, hurting his teeth slightly as the burning pain in Fane's throat vanished. The water also offered Fane a reflective surface to study himself; his long greasy blonde hair was plastered to his head, this very tanned skin looked sticky and grimy with sweat, dirt and blood. A shaking frail had run along the three scars on the side of his cheek. Fane knew nothing as to where they had come from but was absolutely certain it was the mark of the Devil.
There was a rustling behind him, Fane gasped and clumsily grabbed a rock and turned around, eyes bleary brown eyes waiting for the Demons to finish the job they had begun on his village.
"Hello?" a voice called as a boy stepped into the clearing.
Fane stared at the boy in shock; he was about Fane's age, built very muscularly with shaggy black hair and ghostly white skin. Unlike Fane the boy was well dressed with a small sword attached to his hip by a brown leather belt which instantly worried Fane as the wind blew against his ragged night-dress and his weakened hand held the smooth pebble he had intended to use as a weapon.
"My name is Darren," the boy said, smiling and revealing his white, sharp teeth under his rosy red lips. "What is your name?"
Fane knew brief English from when outsiders came to his father's farm but even then the outsiders never had such a strange accent. Fane had never heard such a strange voice. Was this another Demon?
"Where you from?" Fane pointed a weak finger at the boy, "You not Romanian."
"I'm from the west," Darren nodded, hands up high to show he meant no harm, "I am from a placed called Limerick, in Ireland. Are you Romanian? What is your name? What happened to you?" Fane looked confused, swaying unsteadily as he tried to translate everything this Darren of Limerick said. As the lost boy ran his hands through his hair, Darren could see the three scars on the side of his face and gasped; he'd been marked by the vampaneze!
"Marks," Darren nodded, stroking his own cheek to emulate Fane's, "Where are you from?"
"Town," Fane croaked, pointing back the hundreds of miles he'd struggled to run, "Beelzebub,"
"What's that?" Darren frowned, "You're from a town called Beelzebub?"
"No," Fane moaned, dropping to his knees, "Beelzebub enter town. I not speak good English,"
Darren looked stupid, stood there with no idea as to what this boy was on about. He did, however, see Fane was becoming dizzy, darting forward when the boy collapsed on the stony bank of the lake. "Are you okay?" Darren asked, checking for a pulse before laying the boy in the recovery position.
In times like this there was only one thing Darren knew to do.
"MR CREPSLEY!"
Whilst this was occurring…
It was so hard to believe that a simple thing such as learning to flit would have such a great impact on Larten but it had. No longer was he panting and vomiting through Vancha's training sessions but rather was out fighting and running Vancha now. What's more was that Larten's morale boost was infectious.
Arra was at the top of her game once more, fearlessly back flipping on the makeshift bars, her head held high and proud constantly as she went undefeated during sparring matches. There had been a huge amount of commotion when Arra managed to better Gannen in a duel before taking his brother on instantly. It was safe to say that neither brother had expected such a slender lady to fight like such a panther.
Gavner, also, was back to his large, muscular built self. His hair was back to being shaggy and spikey, and that boyish personality seemed to be at an all-time high. After yet another successful wrestling match, Gavner eagerly devoured the venison which a vampaneze had caught and cooked for that morning's dinner.
"Truly the vampaneze are masters of culinary arts," Larten mumbled as he sat with his best friend and enjoyed his own meal of diced deer and beans. As much as he hated the vampaneze he was glad of the tender meat they'd hunted, butchered then cooked for the camp.
"I heard Vancha's wanting to move us along now," Gavner nodded, "Apparently we're ready to take on the vampaneze."
"I have no doubts about the Resistance. I worry about our brethren in the mountain," Larten nodded, wiping sauce from his mouth, "We have been away for the best part of a year. Anything could have happened. For all we know Kurda liquidized the entire ca-"
"Mr Crepsley!"
Gavner and Larten stared at each other for the tiniest of seconds, dropped their plates and legged it towards Darren as he continued to scream at the top of his voice, "Mr Crepsley! Gavner!"
Breaking into the clearing, the vampires halted before Darren, Larten hurriedly examining his assistant whilst Gavner removed his knives and glared around the lake, looking for attackers. When he spied the boy lying on his side by the lake, Gavner frowned.
"That boy's been marked," Darren nodded as he lead Larten and Gavner towards the boy. "He was going on about his town. I think he said it was called Beelzebub,"
Larten and Gavner shared a sceptic look, knowing what Beelzebub actually meant. Scooping Fane up in his arms, Larten flitted towards the Resistance camp whilst Gavner jogged with Darren, "Beelzebub means Devil, Darren. Did you catch his name?"
"He didn't tell me. He can't speak very good English and was pretty suspicious of my accent," Darren nodded.
"This entire area is very suspicious and superstitious of anything strange, Darren. This is the old Transylvania, you know? He probably thinks you're a demon or a witch or something fictional." Gavner laughed slightly, "Don't take it personally."
"He said the Beelzebub entered his town…do you think it was the vampaneze?" Darren said in a low whisper.
"We'll find out," Gavner nodded as they came to the Resistance camp, Larten and Arra sat at the foot of the tree in which the medical hut was. Gavner could see Gannen's cape flutter as he entered the hut, no doubt with Vancha.
Within seconds the whole camp was aware of the human boy and in minutes the entire forest was alive with the sounds of his terrified screams and desperate sobs for his mother and father.
Miles and Miles and Miles away...
Glalda licked his bloodied lips and grinned at the men around him making camp for dawn. He rubbed his bloated belly and stretched out on the bed of moss he had created, the thick trees preventing the worse of the blizzard from hitting them. Vampaneze usually are very organized with drinking human blood but after seventeen years of being locked up in a mountain with bottled blood given to them by the Blood Scouts, a good killing spree was in order.
It had done his fifty strong army good too, awoken dormant muscles and instincts which living in the mountain had pretty much ridded them of. Perhaps draining an entire town was too much but Glalda didn't care all that much. He'd thought it was funny, especially when one of his men had humiliated the Preacher. That had been a hilarious moment, times like that wishing Glalda had some sort of camera.
The winds were howling loudly, screaming in their ears as snow pelted the landscape at a merciless speed. The mountains were frequently cursed with terrible snow and ice but Glalda had never seen the weather be so unforgiving; the wind and ice combination could strip the bones off a vampire or vampaneze let alone a human or a deer.
"Lord Glalda," a scout whom had flitted a head said as he returned, face frost bitten and red, "I don't think we're going to be able to move anywhere in this. It's too dangerous; we could become very lost and disorientated. Our best bet, I feel, is to just wait for the blizzard to end before continuing."
"How long will that take?" Glalda asked.
"Two days, maybe three?" the scout informed, "I can't tell you for sure but these parts aren't strangers to this sort of weather."
Glalda sighed and shooed the scout away as he curled himself up to rest. His orders had come straight from the Lord of the Vampaneze; that wicked young man with the prematurely grey hair and those wicked pale eyes. He was a man after Glalda's own heart. Steve Leopard, dubbed 'Lord Leopard', was a schemer and very cunning. Already he was changing how vampaneze worked and thought in the Mountain, shaping them into nothing short of mercenary soldiers.
Vampire King or not, the vampires would surely never succeed in their pathetic plight.
Late into the day...
Fane was confused as he sat in a tree house, several strange men around him. There was one of the Resistance members he had warmed to and he sat beside her squeezing her hand whenever Larten or Vancha got too close. For some reason he wasn't scared of the bulky Gavner or the cape wearing Gannen though was terrified of Larten and Vancha.
"Can you point to your town on the map where your home is?" Arra asked softly, walking Fane towards a large map of the area and the Mountains on a table. Fane seemed to understand and pointed out to a settlement a hundred or so miles away. No one could believe the boy had made such a trek alone but, judging by his current state, no one argued. "What happened?" Arra asked even softer than before, "What did you see."
"Neighbours dead. Sister dead. Preacher dead," Fane mumbled, "I was sleep in barn. Everyone dead in morning," he gripped Arra tighter and began crying. Instinctively Arra pulled him into an embrace and looked at Vancha, Gannen and Larten for the plan of action.
It was Gannen who spoke up, "There are three more Villages which may be at risk. We would be wise to evacuate."
"Aye," Larten nodded, watching the sobbing boy's back quaking as he buried himself in Arra's chest. A memory was evoked in Larten as he recalled his blood brother, Wester Flack. He had been made an orphan after the Vampaneze slayed his family. With that in mind Larten suddenly felt strongly in favour of evacuating other villages, "I want no other children orphaned."
"What do you expect us to do then?" Vancha spat, "You can't just uproot fifty odd humans because we said so. We would be best to ready the Resistance and make for the Mountain. Obviously they're looking for us now."
Larten shrugged defiantly, "I want the villages evacuated."
"I don't think that's possible," Vancha growled.
"Then we will make it possible," Larten snarled.
Gannen interrupted before an argument broke out, "If I send a few of my men out there with Fane we could convince them?" he offered, "Vampires don't have the same vibrant red hair and purple skin that we do. Perhaps my men could even scare them to leave?"
Larten looked at Fane who was now staring at Gannen, recognizing his name in the conversation. When Fane stared at Larten there was a noticeable fear but also strength in his eyes; Larten was certain that this boy could prove useful to the Resistance. "Aye, Gannen," Larten nodded and knelt before the boy and stared him at eye level, "Fane, will you help us move other villages away from the Demons?"
Fane looked very confused but nodded, "I help make people leave,"
Larten nodded and Gannen took the boy down the tree to find his friendlier men to accompany him.
"Right," Vancha nodded. "I think we should move now. If we pack up, don our armour we could leave tonight. With any luck we'll make it to the snowdrifts without any problems."
Hallo ^^
There's chapter Twenty-Five up now :D
I know I keep saying the next chapter will be the first battle but it's still a work in progress. However I can tell you that the next chapter will be something completely different and then the following chapter will be the first battle scene :) Brownie Promise xDD
Thank you all so so so much for the reviews so far; I'm glad to read them all (it makes me feel popular when my inbox has lots of notifications :P)
Preston :D
(wide smiled face for I just had a duck sandwhich and feel I should express my joy that it was so tender :D)