SHADOW OF THE IMPALER-THE TRAITORS DESTROYED
KINGDOM OF HUNGARY, NEAR THE WALACHIAN BORDER
I found Miklos' camp three weeks later. Constantia, rested and refreshed, traveled beside me as the trailing elements of the Janissary Brigade tried to keep ahead of the Royal Army. Miklos had set up a camp to supervise the last Turkish Forces withdrawing from the raid, and he had only a few hundred men to guard him against the 10,000 soldiers of the Hungarian King.
The guards, men borrowed from the Sultan's personal troops, were clumsy when we attacked. Constantia broke the necks of three of them who didn't even have swords drawn. We burst into the camp, killing every Turk that dared come our way. We ripped open Miklos' tent, grabbed the man-who was cowering under his map table-and dragged him out of the tent into the forest before the Turks could rally.
"Oh, God! Please, Vlad, have mercy! Please!"
He was crying, barely resembling the warrior I knew from twenty years before.
It was repulsive.
I slapped him roughly, my sharp nails leaving scratches that were now welling up with blood. He wailed loudly and fell back, sobbing loudly. I then picked him up by the scruff of his shirt and shook him.
"What did you do with her?" I demanded.
Through a face streaked with tears, blood, and dirt, he had the gall to whimper, "Who?"
My fist clenched, I smashed against his chin, sending three teeth flying. This caused him to scream in pain, which only infuriated me even more: he should know how much I hate screaming!
"Lydia! What did you do with her, traitor?"
He winced. Wrong answer. I slapped him again. Constantia was silent as she watched me beat him, possibly wondering if I was truly mad.
"All right! All right!" he cried. He collapsed to the ground and trembled before me, his shaking arms raised before him in a pitiful attempt to protect himself.
"I slew her…with my sword across her throat…a day after you escaped Tirgoviste. I gave her a short burial."
"Where?!"
His lips trembled as he muttered, "I…I…I don't…know."
I stepped back and stared at him. It was only then that I noticed the gold and jewel encrusted dagger stuck in the belt that was stretching to accommodate his expanded gut.
He betrayed his homeland, killed his own people, murdered a little girl, all for the riches that the Sultan offered him.
"I see…" was all I could say. I gave a somewhat benevolent smile to him.
"You were a great soldier in the days before you were corrupted by the Muslim infidels, Miklos; for that, I fell able to forgive you."
He burst into tears, tears of joy and relief.
"Unfortunately, I cannot speak for dear Constantia. What would you say, my dear?"
Miklos turned to see a red-eyed Constantia reach forward and pick him up by the throat. She grinned, showing long white fangs, which she promptly sank into Miklos's neck. I tapped my finger on my left elbow in annoyance until he finally stopped screaming.
Constantia now appeared about fifteen years old. She really was quite attractive…
But no. I had things to do. My vengeance would not be complete until I destroyed those who put my people against me. It would take time, money, and new developments…
In England, Henry VII had united the country. Already by this time, the English nobility had it's power slashed by the Royal Family as communication and education increased to such a level that the King could now rule his lands with confidence. In France, Louis XI tightened his grip on the French nobility and instituted absolute rule. Spain had driven out the Islamic Moors and had sent off Christopher Columbus with a small flotilla to explore the world to the west. New ideas were spreading. Architecture, painting, literature, science, government, all would be impacted by these new developments. Now, if I could find a way to influence these events, it would put an end to vampire hunts once and for all. Science, perhaps? That will take some gold to put into action…
"See the little dancing cats, without a care in the sky…"
I turned on my mount to look back at Constantia, who was looking over at the moon and softly singing to herself.
"Their eyes so blue like the sea. Their voices as soft as the meadow's rose…"
"I beg your pardon?"
She snapped back to me. She cleared her throat and looked down at the reins in her hands.
"Its…its just a song my mother used to sing."
My Rapidash stumbled a little. I reached down and patted it's neck when she began asking…
"Whatever happened to your mother?"
"She died giving birth to my brother."
"Oh, your brother? I didn't know…"
I turned back to her and snapped, "Enough! I do not wish to discuss my brother!"
There was a little silence before she asked, "What happened to your father?"
I sighed. "He was buried alive by the Boyars in Tirgoviste."
"Oh…I'm sorry."
"Why? It is not as if you could have done anything."
More silence.
"Did your mother ever sing?"
I turned back to her and smirked.
"I don't remember, or for that matter believe that she did. Mama and Papa were usually busy with affairs of state and besides," I looked forward again, "I had to train to be a soldier-no, to be a leader. I do not think that singing would be useful in times of war…unless it is to raise morale."
I turned back again, "And anyway, what is that song about?"
"Mews."