At the end of a long week, a man arrived. To look at, he was no different
to any of the other sots who frequented Belfield's tavern, but his arrival
engendered an odd sort of silence among the patrons. One by one, several
of the regulars rose, made their excuses, and left by the side door.
Shortly, Belfield called on Sarah to take charge of the bar, a situation I
had thought never to see. As he too was about to leave, he caught my eye
and jerked his head in the direction of the door. I accepted his unspoken
invitation, eager to find out what was afoot, and followed him outside to
the barn that stood behind the Eagle's Feather. Here I found those who had
left the pub seated on barrels or leaning against the wall, all talking in
low voices with a civility I found completely out-of-character after their
bawdy behaviour throughout the week.
My entrance provoked a sudden outcry.
"Oi! What's she doin' 'ere, Bel? This ain't none of 'er business!"
Belfield came to my defence. "Farsight himself sent her to meet us."
They looked at me now with a new respect. Obviously the man was held in high esteem by the rag-tag band that frequented the inn.
The new arrival now stood and approached me. He introduced himself as Derwen, and stated that he had just come from talking with Farsight. My heart gave a leap in my chest – he too had escaped – and moreover, he still lived!
"You are Althea, I take it?" I nodded mutely, my mind's eye fixed on a cloaked figure who skulked like a silken shadow through paths to which I was blind. Derwen turned to address those assembled.
"This woman escaped alive from the heart of the Turelim fortress!"
The crowd quietened, the murmur of conversation soon rising again as comments were passed. I did not miss the fact that a lot of them pertained to the colour of my hair, and that, apparently, made my escape a most unlikely circumstance.
One of the older men shook his greasy, graying head, his eyes belying a secret pain as he looked upon me.
"Lies. No woman of her . . . looks . . . would have been allowed to leave."
Derwen championed me, much to my chagrin, his enthusiasm making me grind my teeth in embarrassment. "She succeeded in stabbing the Lord of the Turelim himself!" He cried, raising my arm aloft. I felt the subsequent adulation quite out of place: after all, the attempt had failed.
"Turel is dead?" jabbered one of the men excitedly.
I shook my head. "He was unharmed." I replied, my curiosity bubbling up again at the man's comment about my looks, but I was uncertain how to query him without seeming vain.
The air of excitement that had coursed through the crowd at Derwen's exclamation began to die away, and one by one they retook their seats.
Derwen elaborated on my laconic reply. "The blade was dipped in Anarcrothe's Bane – but the tales we heard were false." There was a pregnant silence. "Vampires are immune."
There was a lot of swearing and cursing at this news, and I guessed that some of these men had lost comrades or relatives, judging by the sadness on their faces, in the obtaining of the toxin. I felt for them. Derwen, evidently accustomed to his work, turned to more positive matters.
"Farsight sends good news: he has located the Red Brothers. Their forces will come to join with ours in the next few days."
"The word is given then?" asked one, a lean, mustachioed man with a boxer's nose.
Derwen nodded. "We are going to war."
Much of the ensuing discussion was lost on me, as it pertained to people and places of which I had no knowledge, limited as my life had been to the confines of the slave pits, and more recently the Temple. I listened nonetheless, as their main intent seemed to be in storming the castle.
I asked Belfield in a quiet aside how these men, farmers and long-time drunkards to a man, could hope to take such a massive military target. Far from taking offence, he chuckled and motioned to one of the younger lads to draw aside a large sheet of dark-coloured cloth that bisected the barn. My eyes widened as the light played upon a veritable dragon's hoard. From one side of the wide building to the other, the floor and walls were decked with suits of armour: plate mail, chain mail, hauberks and breastplates - protection of every kind in steel and leather; weapons, too were scattered around in abundance, the more precious of which were wrapped in oilcloth to preserve them from the capricious elements.
"We weren't always farmers!" quipped Belfield, his face ruddied a little more than usual with the consumption of some of his finest wine. "And besides, the Red Brothers are legendary. They have been hunting and killing vampires for years. I can't wait to see Turel's face when they pull the rug from under him."
The evening descended into a scene of revelry, spiced with brash discussions on how they would wipe the Vampire scourge from the face of Nosgoth. I got caught up in it all, affected by their contagious enthusiasm, and before long, I began to believe once more that there might at last be hope for humanity.
*
Another week passed, and still there was no sign of the Red Brothers. The enthusiastic, decent men who had replaced the frequently drunken patrons of Belfield's inn vanished, and, by the end of the week, they had turned once more into inebriated farmers, hell bent on spending their evenings in their habitual merrymaking and carousing.
For my part, I was slowly becoming accustomed to life in the tavern. Sarah seemed to have adopted me as some kind of surrogate child, though I refrained from asking if she had ever had a daughter - the look in her eyes whenever children were mentioned was enough to warn me off the subject. Meanwhile, I willingly helped with the chores, especially when they involved anything that would take me outside the inn, for then I could watch the street for some sign of Farsight (though I knew how foolish it was to imagine he could approach in daylight), and for the coming of the Red Brothers.
'The Red Brothers'. The very name conjured images of a battalion of fearless knights - perhaps members of some ancient holy order - their armour, once a dazzling silver, now caked with the blood of vanquished undead. No sign of sloppiness was this, no hint that the knights did not care for their appearance; rather it served at once as a trophy, and a warning to any who would cross them. Handsome they would be, but humble, and kind; honourable and gentile to a man. I could envisage their arrival clearly, and I tortured myself with the imaginary scene for days as I waited for them to come. They would canter into the village in a flurry of horses' hooves and flying cloaks, the air ablaze with the red that signified their impending victory. Cherry-blossom would tumble from the trees and pave their way to the inn, where they would be warmly welcomed as brothers in arms. I watched the main street obsessively.
At the tail end of the week, they arrived. Three bedraggled figures in rusty brown armour who staggered hurriedly into the pub, one of them bearing a nasty flesh wound. When the excitement had died down, and the customers plied with free ale to keep bother to a minimum, Derwen approached and engaged he who looked least harried.
"You are of the Red Brotherhood?"
The man nodded, still trying to catch his breath. "Kel," he muttered, by way of introduction, clasping Derwen's hand in a bloody grip.
Belfield made his way through the crowding onlookers, pushing them firmly aside while using his considerable height to his advantage. He stopped at the front of the group and rocked on his heels, thumbs hooked into his belt, a stance which by now I recognised as his 'official' pose.
"Are the others following behind you?"
Kel turned from his supervision of the binding of his comrade's wounds to fix the inkeep with a morose glare.
"No."
It was the first time I had seen the verbose barman at a loss for words. Derwen stepped into the breach.
"Will they meet us at the Fortress then?"
Having satisfied himself that Sarah was doing a satisfactory job on his friend's arm, Kel finally gave the curious group his full attention. He seated himself on a rickety wooden chair and began to remove his slashed and dented gauntlets.
"They will not meet us anywhere now – unless at the gates to the Underworld."
There was a moment of shocked silence as the meaning filtered through.
"They are lost?" It took me a moment to realise it was I who had spoken.
Kel glowered at me from beneath his brows, his expression shortly softening as he shook his head and began to check the condition of his pauldrons. Even now, in this moment of respite, his professionalism was coming to the fore. Despite their wounds and the state of their armour, I had no doubt that these knights would be battle-ready again before too long.
"Two days ago, we engaged in a great battle at an outpost on the eastern border of Turel's lands. The attack was well-planned, and for a while we thought we had won." He paused and gazed introspectively at his fist, clenching it while lost in his own harrowing memories. "Farsight joined us in the thick of the fight – he fought like a lion – easily worth ten of my men – but yet it was not enough to win the day." I almost missed the rest of his speech, as I fell into a daydream that involved my odd friend fighting at the side of the Red Brothers, and single-handedly decimating an entire Turelim battalion.
"The Turelim brought out fresh troops, twice again the number we already faced, and we were forced to withdraw."
I bit down on my immediate question. Flippant queries as to the vampire's survival seemed tactless in the face of such loss. Almost as though he had sensed my thoughts, Kel stood and approached me.
"Before we were separated, Farsight told us we would find a woman named Althea in the village at the foot of the Turelim fortress, and that she would know of a secret route into the castle."
My jaw dropped. "I'm not going back in there – you can't ask me to do that!"
No one said anything, but their looks implied much. They had taken in an escaped concubine – at no small risk to themselves - given her a place to live, and food to eat, and now she refused to aid them in their plan to destroy a common enemy. I felt like dirt.
The other of the Red Brothers who was not injured approached me, a strange look on his face, and he spoke two words, whose tone and intonation suggested that they had been rehearsed.
"For humanity."
I hung my head. I could not refuse their request. Without me, it was highly dubious that they would find the sewer outlet that led back into the nightmare domain of the Turelim.
"I will lead you to the entrance of the tunnel." I conceded.
The man named Kel stepped up close in front of me, so close in fact that I could see the caked blood and rust that decorated his dented armour.
"You will need to lead us directly to the throne room by the route Farsight showed you – we are to rendezvous with him there."
My spirits sank again – I would not be able to do this by half-measures. I was going to have to face my fears and return by the foul water chute to the very source of my terrors. However, Kel's comment about Farsight meeting us there did much to dispel my worries, and the very thought of seeing him again gave me new resolve. I could do it – no, I must. I owed him.
Nodding to me to confirm that I would comply, the Brother turned to address the gathered men.
"We attack at midday on the Sabbath – the keep will be at its quietest. Farsight has told us that the forces he has mustered from the four corners of the land will congregate there at that specific time – humankind will unite and take down the Vampire Lord and all his hell-spawned minions."
The men were with him by now, cheering at every pause in his speech.
"And when Turel has fallen, our warriors will take the fight to the next of Kain's sons – and the next, until all have fallen to our might!"
The noise in the room was bordering on uproar by now, the promise of deeds valiant and true whipping up a frenzy amongst the thrill-hungry farmers.
"We will take back our land, free our kin from bondage and reinstate ourselves as masters of our rightful land. Nosgoth will be ours again!"
Every man there was set ablaze with the power of his words, and proved it by making as much noise as possible. There was none now present who did not think the deed not only accomplishable, but preordained.
None save one.
My entrance provoked a sudden outcry.
"Oi! What's she doin' 'ere, Bel? This ain't none of 'er business!"
Belfield came to my defence. "Farsight himself sent her to meet us."
They looked at me now with a new respect. Obviously the man was held in high esteem by the rag-tag band that frequented the inn.
The new arrival now stood and approached me. He introduced himself as Derwen, and stated that he had just come from talking with Farsight. My heart gave a leap in my chest – he too had escaped – and moreover, he still lived!
"You are Althea, I take it?" I nodded mutely, my mind's eye fixed on a cloaked figure who skulked like a silken shadow through paths to which I was blind. Derwen turned to address those assembled.
"This woman escaped alive from the heart of the Turelim fortress!"
The crowd quietened, the murmur of conversation soon rising again as comments were passed. I did not miss the fact that a lot of them pertained to the colour of my hair, and that, apparently, made my escape a most unlikely circumstance.
One of the older men shook his greasy, graying head, his eyes belying a secret pain as he looked upon me.
"Lies. No woman of her . . . looks . . . would have been allowed to leave."
Derwen championed me, much to my chagrin, his enthusiasm making me grind my teeth in embarrassment. "She succeeded in stabbing the Lord of the Turelim himself!" He cried, raising my arm aloft. I felt the subsequent adulation quite out of place: after all, the attempt had failed.
"Turel is dead?" jabbered one of the men excitedly.
I shook my head. "He was unharmed." I replied, my curiosity bubbling up again at the man's comment about my looks, but I was uncertain how to query him without seeming vain.
The air of excitement that had coursed through the crowd at Derwen's exclamation began to die away, and one by one they retook their seats.
Derwen elaborated on my laconic reply. "The blade was dipped in Anarcrothe's Bane – but the tales we heard were false." There was a pregnant silence. "Vampires are immune."
There was a lot of swearing and cursing at this news, and I guessed that some of these men had lost comrades or relatives, judging by the sadness on their faces, in the obtaining of the toxin. I felt for them. Derwen, evidently accustomed to his work, turned to more positive matters.
"Farsight sends good news: he has located the Red Brothers. Their forces will come to join with ours in the next few days."
"The word is given then?" asked one, a lean, mustachioed man with a boxer's nose.
Derwen nodded. "We are going to war."
Much of the ensuing discussion was lost on me, as it pertained to people and places of which I had no knowledge, limited as my life had been to the confines of the slave pits, and more recently the Temple. I listened nonetheless, as their main intent seemed to be in storming the castle.
I asked Belfield in a quiet aside how these men, farmers and long-time drunkards to a man, could hope to take such a massive military target. Far from taking offence, he chuckled and motioned to one of the younger lads to draw aside a large sheet of dark-coloured cloth that bisected the barn. My eyes widened as the light played upon a veritable dragon's hoard. From one side of the wide building to the other, the floor and walls were decked with suits of armour: plate mail, chain mail, hauberks and breastplates - protection of every kind in steel and leather; weapons, too were scattered around in abundance, the more precious of which were wrapped in oilcloth to preserve them from the capricious elements.
"We weren't always farmers!" quipped Belfield, his face ruddied a little more than usual with the consumption of some of his finest wine. "And besides, the Red Brothers are legendary. They have been hunting and killing vampires for years. I can't wait to see Turel's face when they pull the rug from under him."
The evening descended into a scene of revelry, spiced with brash discussions on how they would wipe the Vampire scourge from the face of Nosgoth. I got caught up in it all, affected by their contagious enthusiasm, and before long, I began to believe once more that there might at last be hope for humanity.
*
Another week passed, and still there was no sign of the Red Brothers. The enthusiastic, decent men who had replaced the frequently drunken patrons of Belfield's inn vanished, and, by the end of the week, they had turned once more into inebriated farmers, hell bent on spending their evenings in their habitual merrymaking and carousing.
For my part, I was slowly becoming accustomed to life in the tavern. Sarah seemed to have adopted me as some kind of surrogate child, though I refrained from asking if she had ever had a daughter - the look in her eyes whenever children were mentioned was enough to warn me off the subject. Meanwhile, I willingly helped with the chores, especially when they involved anything that would take me outside the inn, for then I could watch the street for some sign of Farsight (though I knew how foolish it was to imagine he could approach in daylight), and for the coming of the Red Brothers.
'The Red Brothers'. The very name conjured images of a battalion of fearless knights - perhaps members of some ancient holy order - their armour, once a dazzling silver, now caked with the blood of vanquished undead. No sign of sloppiness was this, no hint that the knights did not care for their appearance; rather it served at once as a trophy, and a warning to any who would cross them. Handsome they would be, but humble, and kind; honourable and gentile to a man. I could envisage their arrival clearly, and I tortured myself with the imaginary scene for days as I waited for them to come. They would canter into the village in a flurry of horses' hooves and flying cloaks, the air ablaze with the red that signified their impending victory. Cherry-blossom would tumble from the trees and pave their way to the inn, where they would be warmly welcomed as brothers in arms. I watched the main street obsessively.
At the tail end of the week, they arrived. Three bedraggled figures in rusty brown armour who staggered hurriedly into the pub, one of them bearing a nasty flesh wound. When the excitement had died down, and the customers plied with free ale to keep bother to a minimum, Derwen approached and engaged he who looked least harried.
"You are of the Red Brotherhood?"
The man nodded, still trying to catch his breath. "Kel," he muttered, by way of introduction, clasping Derwen's hand in a bloody grip.
Belfield made his way through the crowding onlookers, pushing them firmly aside while using his considerable height to his advantage. He stopped at the front of the group and rocked on his heels, thumbs hooked into his belt, a stance which by now I recognised as his 'official' pose.
"Are the others following behind you?"
Kel turned from his supervision of the binding of his comrade's wounds to fix the inkeep with a morose glare.
"No."
It was the first time I had seen the verbose barman at a loss for words. Derwen stepped into the breach.
"Will they meet us at the Fortress then?"
Having satisfied himself that Sarah was doing a satisfactory job on his friend's arm, Kel finally gave the curious group his full attention. He seated himself on a rickety wooden chair and began to remove his slashed and dented gauntlets.
"They will not meet us anywhere now – unless at the gates to the Underworld."
There was a moment of shocked silence as the meaning filtered through.
"They are lost?" It took me a moment to realise it was I who had spoken.
Kel glowered at me from beneath his brows, his expression shortly softening as he shook his head and began to check the condition of his pauldrons. Even now, in this moment of respite, his professionalism was coming to the fore. Despite their wounds and the state of their armour, I had no doubt that these knights would be battle-ready again before too long.
"Two days ago, we engaged in a great battle at an outpost on the eastern border of Turel's lands. The attack was well-planned, and for a while we thought we had won." He paused and gazed introspectively at his fist, clenching it while lost in his own harrowing memories. "Farsight joined us in the thick of the fight – he fought like a lion – easily worth ten of my men – but yet it was not enough to win the day." I almost missed the rest of his speech, as I fell into a daydream that involved my odd friend fighting at the side of the Red Brothers, and single-handedly decimating an entire Turelim battalion.
"The Turelim brought out fresh troops, twice again the number we already faced, and we were forced to withdraw."
I bit down on my immediate question. Flippant queries as to the vampire's survival seemed tactless in the face of such loss. Almost as though he had sensed my thoughts, Kel stood and approached me.
"Before we were separated, Farsight told us we would find a woman named Althea in the village at the foot of the Turelim fortress, and that she would know of a secret route into the castle."
My jaw dropped. "I'm not going back in there – you can't ask me to do that!"
No one said anything, but their looks implied much. They had taken in an escaped concubine – at no small risk to themselves - given her a place to live, and food to eat, and now she refused to aid them in their plan to destroy a common enemy. I felt like dirt.
The other of the Red Brothers who was not injured approached me, a strange look on his face, and he spoke two words, whose tone and intonation suggested that they had been rehearsed.
"For humanity."
I hung my head. I could not refuse their request. Without me, it was highly dubious that they would find the sewer outlet that led back into the nightmare domain of the Turelim.
"I will lead you to the entrance of the tunnel." I conceded.
The man named Kel stepped up close in front of me, so close in fact that I could see the caked blood and rust that decorated his dented armour.
"You will need to lead us directly to the throne room by the route Farsight showed you – we are to rendezvous with him there."
My spirits sank again – I would not be able to do this by half-measures. I was going to have to face my fears and return by the foul water chute to the very source of my terrors. However, Kel's comment about Farsight meeting us there did much to dispel my worries, and the very thought of seeing him again gave me new resolve. I could do it – no, I must. I owed him.
Nodding to me to confirm that I would comply, the Brother turned to address the gathered men.
"We attack at midday on the Sabbath – the keep will be at its quietest. Farsight has told us that the forces he has mustered from the four corners of the land will congregate there at that specific time – humankind will unite and take down the Vampire Lord and all his hell-spawned minions."
The men were with him by now, cheering at every pause in his speech.
"And when Turel has fallen, our warriors will take the fight to the next of Kain's sons – and the next, until all have fallen to our might!"
The noise in the room was bordering on uproar by now, the promise of deeds valiant and true whipping up a frenzy amongst the thrill-hungry farmers.
"We will take back our land, free our kin from bondage and reinstate ourselves as masters of our rightful land. Nosgoth will be ours again!"
Every man there was set ablaze with the power of his words, and proved it by making as much noise as possible. There was none now present who did not think the deed not only accomplishable, but preordained.
None save one.
