Evil from the Past
Author's Note: I have 29 reviews! Why not 30? Oh, but we must be content with what we have. Really? But I should like more reviews. Anyway.
Acknowledgements: I shall thank all my old reviewers, plus my new ones, namely KittyInStilettos, Sapphire Dragon, Flubberz, my old friend Codefun (hello, my naughty one), my classmate Zeggy and my Ainu Vanimelda. Angel dear, I shall write very soon, but I kept forgetting last week and they had performance tasks for RS. So very sorry.
Now, three things to say. Brace yourself for the last blast of crossovering next chapter (sorry, my skeptic reviewers). Join the French Revolution and die a martyr of France (especially you, Manveri). And read.
Welcome to Transylvania
Castle Dracula, Transylvania, 19th century
The Time Shuttle had landed on the edge of a forest clearing. But it wasn't the Transylvanian scenery that had captivated the rescuers. More accurately, it was the massive throng of people awaiting them before it. All of which were vampires.
"D'Arvit," said Root again, because he couldn't think of anything better.
While everyone else was frozen in horror, Imhotep took the chance to take hold of Foaly's neck and tow him out of the Shuttle. The Brides, catching his drift, seized Artemis and Hermione and followed. "Help!" yelled Foaly. "Hello? We're being dragged off, if you haven't noticed."
Holly shook herself out of her trauma and sped off after the escaping party. She dropped down in front of Imhotep and held his frigid gaze with her fiery one. "Let him go now," she ordered in the mesmer. "Release the centaur."
Imhotep brushed away the command like an invisible fly, unwavering behind the screen of his own dark magic. "I think not."
What happened next happened very fast. No one even had time to draw breath. Captain Short gave a small gasp and sank back to earth. Artemis's brain was adamantly refusing to believe his eyes, refusing to believe that Imhotep's sword blade was in Holly's abdomen and protruding through her back, and that fresh red blood was leaking out from around the wound. It couldn't be. Not Holly. Not the invincible Captain Holly Short.
"Holly..." gasped Foaly. Hermione let out a soft moan.
Root had absolutely no qualms about breaking the speechless-in-shock rule. "HOLLY!"
Imhotep tugged Foaly away. "Too late for her," he added callously. Aleera looked back longingly at the blood, then turned away too, yanking Hermione off her feet. "Enjoy yourselves," she called to the horde of undead as their subjects made way for them to pass through. The crowd closed behind them, inching forward.
Root knelt by his fallen officer. Holly's eyes fluttered open. "Commander... the prisoners?" She was struggling with the effort; each breath was a dreadful death-rattle. "Save them...I couldn't...you must..."
"Shut up, Holly!" snapped the commander, who was too worried to provide comfort. "I'm trying to save you, for Frond's sake!" He gave the wound a quick inspection. It was fatal.
Holly's breathing slowed and ground to a stop. D'Arvit, thought Root, praying that he had enough magic left in him. Trying to calm his frenzied breathing, he shut his eyes, positioned his hands and whispered: "Heal."
The magic scurried down his fingers and bloomed into blue fire over Holly's wound. Root forced it to go faster, faster. They hadn't got enough time.
Aragorn glanced at the advancing crowd, then at Holly. There was nothing they could do to help with the healing, but they could give Root some precious minutes. In unspoken agreement, he, Éowyn and Faramir launched themselves forward, striking the first row of vampires. The vampires fought back tooth and nail and fangs, the last which were extended and ravenous for mortal blood. One grabbed Éowyn and leaned in for a bite. Behind him, Faramir bashed his head in as Éowyn slashed off his arm in disgust. The arm fell to the ground and wriggled about. She kicked it away in revulsion and commenced hacking the next one to pieces as the corpse of the first ambled around, clawed arms outstretched, its head a mess of bloody yellowed flesh on its neck. It was a losing battle, but all three fought on grimly.
Harry pulled out his wand. So did Ron. After all, Holly had saved his life. "Impedimenta!" they yelled, aiming randomly into the mob. A group of vampires collapsed, immobilized for the moment. Harry wasted no time in looking after them. "Reducto!" More vampires were blasted.
Root's magic was ebbing, but through his half-closed eyelids, he thought he saw the flow of blood stemming. With barely enough left, he pulled his hands away. "Get ready to make a run for it," he grunted, not taking his eyes off Holly. Harry spared a glance, and nodded.
Holly's chest began to rise and fall at an accelerated rate. Shock waves rippled her slight frame. In her belly, the wound began to seal itself.
Root wasted no time. He strapped his own Moonbelt around his waist, then clipped his captain on. "We better move!" he yelled, rising into the air.
Harry picked his Cloak and Firebolt off the Shuttle floor, beckoning to Ron. "What about you?" he shouted to the other three.
"Never mind us," replied Aragorn. "Just go. Go!" They extricated themselves from the mass of vampires and began to run for the forest. Root rose into the air, Holly dangling beneath him, and trailed the three Mud People as they ran. The Firebolt followed, and then disappeared underneath the Cloak.
It was a desperate race. Aragorn could hear the crunching sound of undead feet on the forest floor, their dry, rattling breathing around them. They were gaining unbelievably fast. Éowyn glanced back as one reached out clutching fingers towards her, winced and sawed them off.
"There's a village further up!" yelled Root from overhead. "We might find shelter there!"
Aragorn did not answer, saving his breath for running. If they made it, it would be a miracle.
Vaseria, Transylvania, 19th century
They made a dismal sight, the silent group in the shadows of Valerious Manor, upon the freshly-turned earth of its garden. The crew of the Black Pearl was helping to dig Velkan's grave, Captain Jack Sparrow in the lead. After all, he had been the one to kill Velkan. Van Helsing was also digging, although every blow of the shovel made agony tear through his chest.
Anna stood by Velkan's body, which was on a crude last-minute-constructed bier. She wiped the dirt and blood off his face, which was already growing cold. "Goodbye, Velkan." Her tears had dried, and she was filled instead with a freezing, icy anger. She would avenge him, if it was the last thing she did.
They lowered Velkan into the shallow grave. Anna threw the first handful of earth onto him, never taking her eyes off his beloved face as it disappeared beneath the brown earth. When the grave was covered, she walked off and sat down in a clump of tall grass, head cradled in her arms. No one went after her, not even Van Helsing.
The full moon, resplendent in selenite magnificence, bathed the garden and the grave in a pale glow. Van Helsing found himself strangely drawn to the moonlight. His senses had also been magnified tremendously. He could hear the night wind among the restless clouds, and the people around him breathing. Dead leaves crunched; feet pounded earth. Van Helsing spun around and breathed in. Among the other smells, a stench rose upon the night air. Undead flesh.
Anamaria sucked in her breath and spat a word that was Carribean, vehement and too vulgar to be reproduced.
The vampire horde spilled out from among the trees like a stream of black ants. Before them sprinted three figures. Van Helsing saw that they would be overwhelmed any moment now.
Captain Jack Sparrow leapt into action. "Cannons!" he bellowed. The crew hurried to ready a portable cannon. Gibbs jammed a cannonball into the barrel as the captain struck a match on the heel of his boot and applied it to the fuse. The rest scurried from the cannon's vicinity.
Anna waved desperately to get the pursued trio's attention. "Get down!" she screamed.
The two men did not take the hint, but the woman did. Eyes widening in shock, she yanked both her companions down onto the ground as a cannonball whizzed over their heads. Behind them, a large explosion sent undead flesh spurting into the sky. Harry swerved the Firebolt sharply to avoid a bloody chunk.
"Look out!" yelled Ron.
They ducked just as another cannonball flew at them, for all the world like a large explosive Bludger. It missed them by a few feet and blew up another lot of vampires. The stench was overpowering. Gasping for fresh air, the three on the ground stumbled across the last stretch of ground and collapsed in the village of Vaseria.
A few more cannonballs finished off the remaining vampires. The forest by now was a stinking putrid mess. Blood dripped off branches impaled with flesh. Harry averted his eyes from the sight and landed next to Aragorn, throwing off the Invisibility Cloak.
Anna ran out of the garden gate and flipped Faramir off the ground. "Why were so many of them after you? Who are you, anyway?"
Faramir could not speak, being occupied by the effort taken to regain his breath. Harry answered for him. "We were trying to rescue friends who had been captured by the vampires. We came from the future in a time machine and the vampires – well –attacked us."
Captain Jack Sparrow leaned over the hedge. "The future? Who are you trying to kid, mate?"
"We can do the explaining later," grunted Root, landing beside Harry. He laid the prostrate Holly out on the ground. "We've got more important business to attend to here."
They set up camp in the main hall of Valerious Manor: the only place large enough to hold all them rabble. Holly was still unconscious, but her condition was stabilized. Root was monitoring her and keeping an eye – or ear – on the discussion.
"The vampire babies," said Anna. "It must be. Only lightning and human energy can bring them to life. Why else would he need a machine like that?"
"It doesn't matter what it's for," exclaimed Ron. "We want Hermione back. That's all."
"No one can get to the castle."
"No one knows where it is."
"Then we'll find it."
"You don't know. My father spent years gazing at that picture." Anna pointed. "It's the only clue we have on where Dracula's castle is – and no one has been able to find out how it works."
Captain Jack Sparrow strolled up to the painting and ran a finger down the frame. "Welded. No hope there." He began examining the painting.
A commotion broke out on the other side of the hall. Holly had regained consciousness.
"Hold still, Captain," barked Root as he shoved a spoon of brandy towards Holly's mouth. Holly instinctively drew back. "That's an order."
"Only brandy," snapped Anamaria. "Whatcha afraid of?"
Holly eventually swallowed the brandy. "Sit still," ordered Root. "No sudden movements. You need to heal."
"I need the Ritual," croaked Holly. It was the loudest her voice could go.
"So do I." Root turned around, addressing Anna. "Is there an oak tree in your garden?"
Anna thought. "I think so. Beside the little stream. Mind the vampires," she called after the two elves as they made for the door. Holly swayed as she stepped out and had to cling onto the doorpost for a moment to regain her breath.
Faramir tested out his new sword, which was borrowed from Anna's armoury, by swinging it and barely missing Van Helsing's hat. "And you say we need to prevent this machine from bringing the – vampire – babies to life. Because they will feed upon mankind. Is that so?"
"You know nothing about vampires?" said Van Helsing incredulously. "Nothing about their bloodsucking habits, their undead needs, their curse and malady? Yes, they will feed upon mankind, and when they are brought to life there is no one who can stop them. That answer your question?"
Captain Jack Sparrow discovered an inscription at a corner of the painting. "Wait." He ran a finger along the words. "It's in Latin. Hey. I can read Latin!"
"Indeed," drawled Van Helsing in a bored voice. "I had thought that you weren't even literate."
The crew of the Black Pearl gave Van Helsing several dirty glares. Their captain appeared not to have noticed the comment. "Let's see. Deum lacessat ac inuam...Drat. There's a bit missing."
Van Helsing looked up, suddenly interested. Reaching beneath his cloak, he pulled out a piece of painted cloth. "I was given this at the beginning of my mission." He handed it to Jack. "Finish it."
The piece fitted perfectly into the hole in the map. Captain Jack Sparrow clapped his hands. "Aha! Deum lacessat ac inaum imbeat aperiri!"
"In the name of God," translated Van Helsing, "open this door."
"Bloody hell," whispered Ron.
The painting seemed to melt into a crystalline frost, which shimmered icily and slowly settled into a glassy surface.
Root and Holly returned from the Ritual and stopped in astonishment. "What's that...mirror...doing there?" Holly wanted to know.
"Dracula has no reflection in a mirror," spoke Anna.
Captain Jack Sparrow cocked his head, adjusted his hat slightly and admired himself in the mirror. He reached out and stuck his hand into – and through – the looking glass.
"Hm," muttered Jack, eyeing his wrist with the hand that had gone somewhere else. "In-teresting."
"How'd you do that?" breathed Anna.
"Yes, pray tell," put in Aragorn.
Holly trotted up and stuck her hand in too. She inhaled sharply, and not merely from the shock. "It's cold!" She drew her hand back swiftly. Snowflakes from another part of the world tumbled off her frozen fingers and drifted to the floor of the manor, where they melted. Holly stared at the little puddles, at her fingers, and at the mirror. Then she took a deep breath and stepped in.
Éowyn gasped. Holly had entirely disappeared.
"D'Arvit!" swore Root. "That girl will be the death of me!" He rushed up and went through as well. Captain Jack Sparrow raised his eyebrows, tipped his hat to his crew and stepped in. "Mind you bring the cannons, mates," were his last words as he disappeared into the icy glass.
Van Helsing looked sidelong at Anna, and they both entered it simultaneously. Aragorn did not hesitate. He followed them, sword drawn and at the ready. Éowyn gave Faramir a small smile, and the couple stepped in after their king.
With Gibbs in the lead, the Black Pearl crew dragged the portable cannon up to the mirror and heaved it through. Anamaria went last, carrying an armful of cannon balls. Harry and Ron were left in the empty hall.
Harry turned to Ron and shrugged. "For Hermione," he said, and they followed the rest – into the mirror.
End of Chapter
Next chapter coming...The Return to Egypt
In which Imhotep returns to his homeland, digs up an old consort and does a bit of kidnapping of his own.