O Cursed Fate
By Sapadu
Chapter 19: Mortvia Aqueduct
The fog was no less oppressive, when Hector entered again. The only mercy he might have counted was that, with Solomon hovering just about his ear, he could be more certain that whatever echoes or splashes he heard in the water, it was foes come to charge him and he was more easily able to keep his feet on the dry stone platforms to find easier ways to draw them out, one by one, and the addition of his lance to the battle allowed him to deal with his enemies with a suitable distance, even called to mind the barbaric image of a man using a spear to hunt fish in open waters.
The waterways were still unpleasant and dank, and at times, Hector could swear he felt the gaze of some being hovering just behind him, as if watching and waiting, but never with any substance that he could turn and face it. The Mermen swarmed, as was their wont, though Hector was less molested by them, as he was before. Perhaps being just him alone, they overcrowded and made their own numbers their enemies – and, indeed, though Hector received more than his fair share of blows, and a number of times when pure fortune smiled on the beasts and they managed a stroke of attacks in succession to keep him from finding his feet, it was only a matter of time before he managed his own counterattacks and felled each of them.
Solomon chittered with each opportunity to keep him aware of his surroundings, and once or twice did as bade and urged a potion down his throat when his head plunged under the surface of the waters – often at the behest of a terrible moment as he was still under attack and left defenseless until the enchantment was dispelled.
At each turret, Hector had to stop and take a moment to recover – the abundance of Mermen, especially, with their propensity to curl onto themselves and hop about before attacking, left him in a daze and the slippery stones, their well-worn features, and the everpresent fog finished what little of his sense of direction remained. Twice, he found himself returned to the first waterway, distinct from the others by virtue of both sides flanked with statues – whilst the others had only one side so encumbered, and the other a more solid wall of stone – and Hector's temper grew sour and more cross, still, when a patter of rain began, the noise as thunderous on the water in the ducts as a thunderstorm, and only worsening the cold and the heavy fog. He turned back into the first turret, met again with another pack of Mermen that swarmed him with a heavier vigor, the likes of which he had not experienced thus far, and his exhaustion crept up on him.
The door he left through deposited him, again, at the entrance to the aqueduct, and once the fresh swarm of Mermen had been cleared – one at a time, as he waited on the platform – Hector waded through the waters and back to Julia's shop, cold and cross, and in sore need of a moment of peace to contemplate a better method to press forward. Indeed, his mood was so foul that Hector turned down the path and found a cluster of Zombies and a lone Lizardman to unleash his frustrations, costing him little effort and an easy means to strike, slice, and crush beings whose presence was intolerable to him, until his spirit was no longer so sharp and heavy.
A brief lightening came as, upon the last foe felled, Solomon bobbed, then disappeared into a globe of swirling light, and emerged again in a different shape, entirely.
No longer burdened with vexation, Hector turned to return to Julia, keen for her to see this new change, and a hope that such an event might spur a greater inspiration than a mere plea for help. Indeed, when he passed through her door, and her greetings exchanged, she seemed just as interested in the character of this new fairy as he had.
"Hello, Miss Julia." And more interesting, Solomon greeted her with immediate good manners and more importantly, Hector did not recall addressing Julia by name before this devil, leaving the matter how Solomon knew to be pondered, "Please help?"
Julia seemed more amused than perturbed, and assessed the situation with an astute eye, "Hector, by any chance, you would not happen to know a certain tale?" She asked, turning to a drawer and emerging with no enchantment, spell, nor indeed, even a potion – naught but a spool of thread.
Immediately, the idea sprung to Hector's mind, "The tale of Theseus." He agreed. Julia raised an eyebrow.
"You sound so surprised." She said. Hector pondered for a moment, before Solomon landed before him and pleaded.
"Master, tell us, please?" He realized he should have been more annoyed at the sway his Devils held, to be able to coax his will with a pitiful demeanor. Still, he felt no true antipathy, and openly explained only one of the two memories that had exercised their grip on his imagination.
~ Mortvia Aqueduct ~ Youth ~
The captain of Lord Dracula's guard was a quarrelsome man, who walked with a hunch and carried a polearm upon his person at all times – one that he was as prone to use on the other soldiers under his command as he may strike enemies or goad prisoners as they shambled in chains. Hector did not find pleasure in his company – not so much as he might find in the company of any person – but spent many an hour in the towers and turrets, discussing matters of the security of Lord Dracula's castle, traps and snares for any potential invaders, and weaknesses to be improved or turned to a strength of their own.
This day, they had spent observing the waters of the Aqueduct, especially how it's length of stones served as such a blind spot for any aspiring heroes, whose folly drove the attempt to scale and trespass, or the more technically minded and ambitious thoughts of destruction and the possibility to cripple them from without.
"I've asked Lord Dracula to keep traps of bait along the flows – it shall draw Mermen and, with any luck, they shall keep the waterways logged with natural defenses that we need not trouble ourselves, and even if the beasts should fail, the sounds of battle will alert the rear guard." Hector was of the opinion this would suffice. The captain sneered.
"You give credit to these untrained pittances of soldiers, and wild, untamed vermin? The supplementation of enchantments makes no true alternative – I'd have it that no less than four spells graced these walls, to ensnare, to befuddle, to terrorize, to wrest their very souls from them. It would be a most fitting punishment for those that dare defy our Lord."
Hector simply replied that there was no such enchantment that humans could not find an answer to, "Have you never heard of King Minos? Old stories tell, in his kingdom, when a young man was sent to his death against a fiend called the minotaur, he..."
The captain spat.
"Ah – and you believe old Pagan nonsense as that?" He snarled, "Just because our Lord Dracula has disdain for the church, you take such liberty to plunge into old myths and fantasies as -"
"The enchanted labyrinth he must traverse was easily traversed with the aid of a string tied to the entrance." Hector interrupted, "No matter how clever you think your tricks, there is always a solution to those willing to seek it. A barrier of beasts, however fallible they may still be, still offer the dual purpose of exhausting the intruders and raising an alarm."
"And you have been too easily foiled in the last fortnight." Their Lord Dracula appeared behind them, for all appearances as though he had been summoned by mention of his name, "You would do well to not speak for me, unless I have commanded you, thus."
Lord Dracula's command lay heavy, and 'twas Hector's devices put into practice.
Baljhet Mountains ~
"So, you suspect, if there is already one such enchantment new to the Aqueduct, whomever has taken advantage of the years of absence may have also implemented a means to confound the solution I propose." Julia surmised.
"There may be a possibility." Hector agreed, only for Solomon to flit over to Julia's side and clumsily take the spool, despite the tool being nearly the size of the fairy's body, itself.
"Try, Master – try." The devil did not speak in the tone of a plea, but almost of a chide – and, upon reflection, Hector reasoned that if his fears proved fruitful, it would only leave him at their current predicament and to fail an attempt would gain him no true harm. He pocketed the spool, and was somewhat lighter of heart when he quit Julia's shop.
~ Western Village ~
Winter was long and cold, but passed with little suffering to Hector's mind, merely accepting of a joyful bounty. Indeed, the last year alone had brought him to a newfound pleasure of things that might have previously been scornful to him. In time, reflection would dawn on him that Dracula's castle and all its finery, however rich it may have seemed, had brought him no joy. Delicate sweetmeats, rarities from the furthest reaches of the world, even the clothes on his back had been empty and hollow. The fine wines had only left his throat dry, the food as dust in his mouth, and the only thing he remembered, truly, was a bitter, dark brew as black as night, brought from the southern, Moorish lands.
Though their supply was scant - even meager - it was never portioned in a miserly spirit. The worst of days saw the villagers gather inside the church, a roaring fire in the grate and each having brought something to give comfort to their fellows. There was good-natured talk amongst people who he began to understand as friends, stories and news exchanged. The warmth of the hearth brought stories of spirits, apparitions, and gossip. It struck him at first as peculiar, and only with time did he realize 'twas only stories far distant enough in the past that they could be properly embellished and enjoyed, with some added flourish amongst the tellers with the suitable flair.
There was the story of a ill-mannered boy who disobeyed his mother's warnings to return home before darkness fell, who ran deep into a winding, twisting path in the woods, until he stopped to rest under a tree with twisting knots in the roots, winding coils in the pure bare white of the trunk, and never stirred again, for the tree had claimed him and if a careful traveler observed the tree from a distance, they would notice that each knotted root was the shape of each lost, wandering soul who had stopped to rest beneath it.
There was the tale of a cowardly merchant, who wished nothing more than to be as rich and as long-lived as he could, and one day, fell in the path of Death and, terrified and desperate, struck a deal with that foul being, that Death would never come for him, in exchange for a proper sum. Death agreed, and no later than the next night, as the merchant lead his caravan along a narrow precipice during a storm, the stone crumbled beneath his feet and in consequence, the merchant became trapped in a ravine too narrow, too steep, too nestled in the mountains for any human rescue to come for him, and buried beneath a pile of stones. But Death held to their bargain, and has not come for him yet, to this day – all who passed through those mountains could still hear the desperate, pained cries of that merchant, unable to die, and alone forevermore.
Listening to the happy regale stirred in Hector a curiosity for what appetite they might have for more exotic tales, though he shared this with no one, and when he asked Rosalee whether any of the legends that had reached his ears – or, indeed, any of the epics he had absorbed through many a lonely hour in Dracula's well-supplied library – would be suitable fare for these nights, she implored he listen more, and when and if he chose to speak, perhaps to cautiously omit any that may bring him suspicion for speaking of other gods before The Lord.
There was, also, talk of a young man in a distant region of Wallachia who did not fear the monsters and fought with the strength of ten men. Hector listened to those with a keener ear – the villagers did not know the significance of such a man appearing, and so close to Dracula's realms.
Dracula's name was never on their lips, though he was certain they all knew of his horrors, and lived with his shadow over their heads.
They told stories of horrors that lay in the world beyond - of vicious beasts that decimated other villages, or demons that laid waste to cities, and all spoke how they always left none alive.
"If they leave no survivors, how do the tales reach us?" Hector asked, after one such tale. The man who had spoken looked to his friends for a reply, and when none came, the owner of the inn bellowed with laughter.
"Ho, gents - it seems the lad has more wit than the whole room of you."
It was but the first time that Hector began to see more than just faces among the people - what he had taken for coldness, he was reminded could be seen as caution, and being welcomed so slowly was another reminder that he'd been so long removed and only aware of the ugliness of humans and forgotten the grace that still remained in their hearts.
And something inside Hector – something that had long been cold and dark, until he'd forgotten it was there – began to spark with light.
Mortvia Aqueduct ~
He needn't have worried for Julia's cleverness – the length of thread, tied about the head of the lion statue at the gate, was fine enough that none of the swarming Mermen saw fit to attack, and the spool was of a distinct shape that Hector could drop it on the stones and charge into the fray as needed, and find no trouble in retrieving it to continue along his way. His fears were even greater assuaged as Saul pressed him to take lefts at every opportune moment, with the argument it would prevent their confusion to their path.
The path lead to a dead end, but the tower did contain a map of the Aqueduct, nearly in its entirety. Hector retraced his steps and found his way to the furthest tower, this time with little trouble or mishap. Twas only in this chamber – where his path seemed dictated to the left – that Solomon urged him elsewise, to the end of the tower where the wall appeared as though it had been hastily cobbled of boulders and crudely hewn rock, instead of blocks of stone, intended to be fitted with mortar.
"This way? You have a notion?" He asked. Solomon did not reply, instead began vain attempts to pry the rock open. Hector cautiously sliced at the wall with his sword, and was surprised to find that a crack appeared and pebbles flew. Immediately visible was the beginnings of a doorway, prompting Hector's desire to dig with his blade at the rock as viciously as he might a wall of monsters, until a set of double doors – more fresh than the worn, nearly smooth stones of the rest of the Aqueduct – emerged from the ruin.
They carried him through two waterways, littered with a scattered assortment of Bone Soldiers and Mermen, before coming to an empty chamber, with naught but the occasional floating specks of light – any other place, he might have thought them fireflies, but inside the Aqueduct, Hector wondered if they weren't specks of loose power, unable to be tethered like miniscule specks of dust floating in a ray of sunlight.
The only treasure on the floor was a tiny box – barely the size of a tinderbox, lined with fine gold trim. Hector picked it up, and immediately, Solomon folded up and disappeared into it, before returning to confirm Hector's suspicions.
"Let us return to Julia – I suspect having David with us will prove useful in moments that Samson needs to rest."
~ Western Village ~
For some weeks afterwards – especially as the cold set in and the first snows fell and the people of the village set their stores to venture out of their homes as little as possible – his conversations with Rosalee continued thus. She had strength in her convictions that there was goodness to be found, regardless of what the surface might betray, in any man or beast she met, the likes of which gave Hector pause. She found simple joy in things that would have passed beneath his notice, and he was at a loss to explain if it was simply because the people of this village had so little to call their own, or if it was simply her nature to refuse even lack and want to cloud her spirits.
In due time, he was deemed well enough to set out with trapping parties, to set snares or nets in places in the forest with the hopes that if they might not catch meat, at least the chances of pelts or of keeping the village safe from prowling monsters. It was less dangerous than hunting, and Hector was of greater use when it came to devising more clever snares, and insight to what would be effective against more dangerous creatures as wolfish devils or winged monsters.
'Twas, he pondered, satisfying to take part, and moreso that the other village men seemed to cease with their comments when he'd proven he was useful to their purposes.
Their inquiries instead, turned to questions of his origin. Some speculated he might be the son of some great lord, run away from an arranged marriage and lost in unfamiliar land. Others pondered if there might be any reward if they returned him to his home.
"I'm no son – merely a servant. And not one my master would reward for my return." Hector replied, "Indeed – his temperament is such that he'd be more likely to punish any who trespass in his domain."
He did not tell them of the fearsome punishments Lord Dracula reserved for those who displeased him – nor, for that matter, the fate he feared awaited him if his master were to ever find him.
"What kind of servant were you, then?" Asked one of the grayer heads amongst the party, "A servant who did not work in the stables, or the kitchens, or do any of the harder tasks would surely not be so easily replaced... and we can all see you would clearly make a poor page or serving boy."
This was a question he was still unprepared to answer. He let them speculate amongst themselves, until the men began to tread too closely to the truth – that he had been a squire or amongst the calvary, or in some way a warrior for a lord who had sold his soul to the Devil.
"My master felt I was most useful in the library or his study." This was true, if not fully encompassing of what Dracula had valued in his servants, and put their prodding inquiries to rest.
And, in weeks to come, Hector found that 'twas not the only quarrel he'd ended, with his arrival.
Mortvia Aqueduct ~
Again, he retraced his steps through the outer embankments – having the map, Solomon's guidance, and the thread, he was quicker and surer about his path, and it grew steadily easier to meet the Mermen as they rose. Samson grew swiftly stronger, even learning a new means to attack, simply by propelling its heft onto their foes and permitting sheer weight to be the undoing of all caught under its influence. They reached the final tower, fought their way through, and Hector was pleased that, between all the time spent retracing the paths in those waterways, both Samson and Solomon were nearing transformations.
It was upon exiting that tower that Hector found himself on a set of steps that rounded a corner that ran a bridge over a moat and lead to a fortress impressive enough to be more than just part of the Aqueduct. If anything, it looked as though there was a greater barracks inside, both for an army, and perhaps for a pump and well system.
Hector remembered this place. Dracula had intended to drive nearby rivers into the basin, and with this fortress properly secured, be able to release the water in a controlled distribution that could allow him a means to drive some arcane engine. He had never shared with any of his servants what use the wheels might have as they were turned – Hector knew such devices were used in grain mills, or perhaps a giant forge to keep the fires stoked, though he could never ponder what use Dracula would have for them – and in any case, his intentions had changed before the project's completion, and began his conquest of all humanity.
In any case, this portion of the Aqueduct was enclosed and, while not warm, at least not exposed and it would be good to be out of the rain. But Hector paused as he heard a familiar boom and crash.
"Master?" Solomon asked, "What is that?"
"A cannon." He grimly realized. A more distant, faint rumble that was distinctly thunder resounded, followed by a similar, much harsher and personally abrasive sound that could only be traced to the interior of the fortress. Hector wondered if he would be better served turning back, and awaiting the end of the storm inside the towers of the Aqueduct – or, indeed, returning to Julia and taking the time to more prudently prepare for battle at a fireside, and with the aid of ample texts and her quick wit – before he could only conclude that, even without the storm, he was like to reach this spot just as wet through from battling along the waterways, and still the cannon would be an obstacle. If he remembered, there were also two towers that had been constructed as war engines – Dracula would have them mounted on wheels and sent out onto the battlefield to carry greater regiments of troops, and each carry their own cannons to bring down walls of fortified cities, or human lords' fortresses.
"David, you may be our best chance." Hector bid the horror that was his first warrior from his deck, and he swept his wet hair from his face before pressing in.
Immediately, he could see a glowing circle on the ground, just under his feet. He and David sprinted from the door, straight for the first tower, sitting plainly in the center of the courtyard. The wood was rotted and creaked with every slight gust of wind, but close to the base, Hector presumed the cannon higher up could not fire on him.
"Master, behold! Another cannon awaits, our salvation assured!" David called, through the hazy downpour. Hector could barely see, until he saw a faint spark utter from a lumbering shadow in the corner, and nearly dodged a cannonball as he darted away from his meager shelter and towards the spinning cannon. The Skeleton in the seat remained hunched, as though in concentration, and Hector had to struggle onto the platform to shatter the bones and claim the weapon for himself. Returning fire to the tower was no real trouble – several well-placed shots sent it toppling over – the question then arose that, from his position, Hector could see a chasm where, before, there had been stairs that lead up to the entrance of the inner Aqueduct. The years and some other damage had clearly destroyed at least one such means of ingress, before Hector realized the second tower – far more decayed and crumbling and unstable – was close enough that, in three shots to the far supports, it toppled over and neatly formed a bridge.
Hector did not trust the wood to hold for long in the rain, and David made short work of several Orcs that had crawled out of the portholes to defend the fortress before following him over the unsteady path. A few Bone Soldiers on the far bank rose to challenge him, only to be neatly sorted, and Hector finally pressed through the doorway – a wooden fixture, with bronze bolts on the edges and across to keep a secure grate – and into the Aqueduct's interior chambers.