Chapter Twenty Eight
Arra stared at the lake in complete horror, unsure what to think. Her eyes caught Gavner's moist cheeks, his hands firmly pulling at his short brown hair as he seemed to mouth the same words over and over again; 'Oh no. Oh no,'
Darren had dropped to his knees, mouth and eyes wide as he stared at the ice and prayed for a miracle; Larten would break through the ice and lead them onward after saying something cheeky no doubt. The boy stood when he saw Gavner begin to break up, throwing his arms tight around the older vampire as a sob erupted through his entire body. "It's okay," Darren soothed though his own voice was starting to croak in emotion as the minutes turned into hours in what felt like seconds with no sign of Larten or Glalda.
"His name was Larten Crepsley," Vancha cried, beginning the orange haired vampire's eulogy.
"Oh no," Gavner wept, looking up at Vancha pleadingly, "Sire it has only been a few minutes,"
"Gavner it's been three hours," Arra corrected promptly as she gazed dully out upon the re-freezing lake. Nothing seemed real anymore, it was like a bad dream that she hoped to wake up from promptly and then forget.
"He died in battle. Even in Death may he be triumphant," Vancha continued as the Resistance repeated each word, "His name was Gannen Hurst. He died in battle. Even in death may he be triumphant," there was an obvious croak in his voice as he recited the final eulogy though it seemed unnoticeable to the men for Arra tuned in on it like a radar. She turned to Vancha who looked equally as lost as she did and smiled reassuringly to him that she, too, felt like he did. "What next, Sire?"
"We need to continue onwards. We shall have to go around the lake but it needs to be done. We've lost our King and my brother so forgive me if I'm not optimistic about us winning," Vancha muttered as he began walking ahead, not wanting to linger, the Resistance following his steps. Gavner croaked and followed onwards though he couldn't prevent the tears pouring from his eyes or the crumbled smile on his face as he wept for his best friend to return to them.
Arra sighed and followed back in at the end, her mind blank completely. When she was alone she allowed herself to express a single tear, holding back the flood, for she knew that that was all Larten would ever want to see from her.
Meanwhile…
News of Glalda's fall had shaken the Mountain but when King Larten Crepsley's death was announced the entire Hall of Lords was in uproar, a beastly celebration ensuing which led to hundreds of sore heads that following morning.
Not all the Vampaneze ran straight to the Beer Hall however.
Lord Kurda was glad of the time alone, slumping into his arm chair with an immovably stupid smirk on his chops. They'd killed the King….
He hadn't imagined that Larten would have been the King. He had been trouble in the Tunnels and frequently his name would be complained to him for frequent offenses but Kurda didn't have the heart to severely punish Larten; he was a dear old friend even if their political views clashed…
"New kid, come and drink with us!" Larten grinned, Gavner Purl and Arra Sails beside him, smiling. Kurda rubbed his shoulder shyly. This was his first Council and he hadn't ever felt this nervous in his entire life. His mentor had left him to mingle but he was struggling to do so; Kurda wasn't arrogant but he felt his way of thinking was far different to that of the others; brains over brawn was his motto though it conflicted with the entire vampire persona. Still, when he recognized Seba Nile's assistant as the man whom had led he and his mentor to their various chambers, Kurda couldn't help but nod.
"Thank you," Kurda sighed in relief, "I'm so nervous."
"We thought you looked a little lost," Arra smiled, handing him a mug of ale. She seemed lovely, Kurda decided, it was rare to find a female vampire and from the stories he'd heard of the few women here he had expected a heavy and aggressive she-man sort of creature. She seemed the opposite to that stereo type and was rather pretty, for a vampire anyway.
"Aye," Gavner grinned and slapped his shoulder, "Where're you from anyway?" he asked, "With a name like Smahlt I'd have thought you were Hebrew,"
"I think am on my father's side somewhere far back," Kurda nodded, sipping his ale carefully; it tasted foul and he didn't think much of the mess it made of the vampires in the Mountain, "I'm from Europe,"
"That is what I like to here," Larten smiled welcomingly, "I am from England. Gav is from Oz and Arra from America. Nice to meet you," he stuck his hand out to Kurda, a hand of friendship which Kurda was grateful to have received. He knew at that moment he was going to be okay in the mountain now that he had acquainted himself with a group of friendly faces….
Kurda felt weak for the tears he shed. It wasn't until those personal hours when he was alone that he felt guilt for his actions, for the lives he'd seen the death of and for the friendships he had broken. He may have always seemed to fall out with Arra, Larten had left to travel and see the world and Gavner had General duties which compelled him to have to move around a lot, the four always felt comfortable in each other's presence. Kurda laughed as he remembered when Gavner had come back after seven years on a hard mission and the four got stupidly drunk and went swimming. Everything felt so natural as though there had never been a distance between the friends. Arra seemed to forget her and Kurda's recent argument and Larten and Gavner wrestled playfully.
"What have I done?" Kurda asked himself as he buried his head into his hands and let out a soft sob, Larten's welcoming, smiling face hunting him for his sins.
Meanwhile...
Lord Leopard grinned wildly, two sober body guards following his every step as he marched to the Hall of Death. He could hear the low crying of his victims sobbing in both fear and confusion; they had been swiped under Steve's orders from their home miles and miles away, kidnapped and brought into the mountain where they hung against the wall by chains which could restrain the strongest of vampires.
The guards crossed themselves as they entered the dreaded room, hanging their heads when they saw the three young adults quaking at the sight of Steve.
"Allen, Tommy and Annie, how are you this fine night?" Steve smiled wickedly as he sat on the floor before his and Darren's friends.
"Steve what's wrong with you?" Tommy growled, his shackles jingling as he shifted his pained joints, "Why are you doing this to us?"
"Can an old friend not speak to his mates without being questioned?" Steve sneered as Allen and Annie stared at him with complete terror. Annie looked so much older, in her mid-thirties now, a few grey hairs amidst her dark locks and a tired look in her eyes; she had the beginnings of wrinkles on her forehead and her lips looked dry and cracked. Tommy and Allan had aged slightly better. Tommy was a million pound goal keeper now, living a luxurious life when not training for football. Allan was a scientist studying genetics and cloning and also a successful author having published several award winning reports into zoology and animal genetics. Both boys were in great shape still, though they were in their forties and had lives of their own.
"Let us down, Steve," Allan said for the hundredth time, "It's not like we can run away! We don't know where we even are,"
Steve laughed at that and shook his head, "I'm in a good mood tonight so you're going to be moved into cells. But if you don't behave then you're on your arses." With that, the silver haired Lord bowed to his friends and made his way to join the celebrations. Darren had no idea what was ahead of him when he and the Resistance attacked, Steve smirked. How he did love a little bit of theatre.
Meanwhile...
Vanez Blane staggered through the Ghetto Hall; his balance deserted him along with his strength and pride. He felt ill constantly, suffering from terrible Typhoid which had resulted in a red tail stain on the back of his trousers, a sight which was common to all the vampires who were still holding on to life. Holding on…
Vanez prayed to the gods for the day his body would finally let go and let him die. It was what he wanted, he hated this weakened hopeless life he and the others were living. It was a sad existence that he pitied himself for living.
As he turned into the common room where he found all seventy survivors, sat on the seats around a small fire which burned on a few lumps of coal they had smuggled from the digging tunnels. Often they would meet like this, exchange stories and dreams, share rations and help repair clothes. It was in these moments that the vampires forgot their over bearing hunger and fear and recalled better times.
"Cause I remember when we used to sit in the government yard in Trenchtown. Oba, ob-serving the hypocrites. As they would mingle with the good people we meet. Good friends we have had, oh good friends we've lostalong the way. In this bright future you can't forget your past so dry your tears I say." The vampires sung to each other, shy smiles on their faces as they attempted to block out the smells and sounds of the party the vampaneze were having. Human songs of hardships were forever sung by the vampires in a bid to make them feel a little better and like a large family. "No woman, no cry. No woman, no cry. Little darlin' don't shed no tears. No woman, no cry,"
Kurda walked down the corridor of the Ghetto halls, unprotected and alone with no weapons, tears in his eyes as he heard his people singing almost joyfully. He gulped before entering the cramped, warm, smoking room as his people sung their hearts out. A few vampires looked up at him and passed him a slight smile; he was a traitor and evil but a vampire none the less. Wordlessly, crying like a baby, Kurda removed the bag from his shoulders and laid the loaves of bread, chicken breasts and fresh fruit before them all before making his leave till a bony had grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back in.
"Vanez, I am sorry, my brother," Kurda wept as the dirty eyeless vampire pulled him against his bony chest, "I don't expect to be forgiven but I will start bringing you food. I swear by the Gods."
"Join us, Sire. Tonight is a night that we need every vampire voice we can to block out the sounds of the vampaneze celebrations." Vanez nodded, leading him back into the room as the vampires continued to sing;
"Said, said, said I remember when we used to sit in the government yard in Trenchtown. And then Georgie would make the fire light. Log wood burnin' through the night then we would cook corn meal porridge of which I'll share with you.
My feet is my only carriage so I've got to push on through but while I'm gone...
Ev'rything's gonna be alright. Ev'rything's gonna be alright. Ev'rything's gonna be alright. Ev'rything's gonna be alright. Ev'rything's gonna be alright. Ev'rything's gonna be alright. Ev'rything's gonna be alright. Ev'rything's gonna be alright.
No woman, no cry. No woman, no cry. Little darlin' don't shed no tears. No woman, no cry. No woman, no cry. No woman, no cry. Little darlin' don't shed no tears. No woman, no cry,"
Once the singing was over Kurda's food was dished out to everyone, laughing and joking with each other and retelling stories of Prince Paris, Larten Crepsley and his reckless adventures, Petra Vin Grahl and Kurda was present for them all, smiling and joking with his kind for a night that he wished would never end.
Thought I'd give Kurda a break :L Felt sorry for him.
Not got a huge time to write an author's note but thanks for the reviews! :)
