Pardon for the lack of disclaimer last chapter. I was in a hurry to get it uploaded. Neither Vampire Hunter D nor The Little Vampire belong to me. I am making no money from this fanfiction, and all recognizable characters, events, and locations belong to their respective copyright holders. All original characters, etc. belong to ISJ, and are not to be used without my permission.
Happy reading!
ISJ
Chapter 8
The Adrietti Pass was a long, treacherous gorge-like valley torn eons ago between two mountains in the Alps. Nearly constantly icy and in places crumbling away over sheer mountainside, the Pass was a death trap but the fastest way for travelers to make their way across northern Italy. The alternative was a long and winding course either north into the Balkan Wasteland or very far south, through the heart of werewolf territory.
Faster the Pass may have been, but the local infestation of dangerous creatures and rabble vampires had long ago earned the Adrietti Pass the nickname Bloodrain Gorge. The old highway had fallen into deep disrepair, for few who entered the Pass ever made it back out alive. Wolves and their hideous werewolf half-cousins prowled the lower regions that remained unoccupied by vamps and Barbarois, and nameless, unspeakable beasts guarded the upper peaks.
It was into this fray that only the bravest, maddest, or most desperate of people flung themselves. Dangers lurked in the Gorge that none but their victims ever knew. And one of these dangers was on the lookout for Dragos and his gang.
Sharp dhampire eyes watched the mouth of the Gorge in impatient silence, waiting. Their owners were tired of waiting, itching for action, fingering their weapons in gleeful anticipation of a bloodbath. Little had been spoken for the past three days; silence was preserved, for stealth was of utmost concern. Surprise was a vital element to this ambush, though most of those watching and waiting did not know why it was so important. They knew they could take out those do-good traitors without breaking a sweat.
Their leader was not so sure. He'd known Dragos and Lissandra long enough to have learned not to underestimate them, had been beaten by them enough times that he knew to be cautious. This was the chance for which he'd been waiting for years, and he was not about to blow it now by taking unnecessary risks.
So he'd made sure his men were in place long before Dragos' team would arrive, he'd prohibited all noise except that which was absolutely required, and he'd ensured their victory over every eventuality he could come up with. He had carefully considered all of Lissandra's favorite tricks, all of Donder's military expertise, even taken into account the added skills of the team's new hunter, the famous vampire-killer, D. When he'd received the report from his spies on that traitor's having joined up with Dragos, he'd quickly had to compensate for the extra strength that now weighed against him. It had not been easy, even though his men were the best warriors in the world, and he'd had to recruit some extra muscle just to make sure.
But now, all was ready, and Dread, leader of Europe's fiercest band of bloodthirsty dhampires, was more than ready to have his revenge.
--------
The two towering peaks marking the mouth of the Adrietti Pass loomed over the knot of wandering dhampires as they trudged along the old highway into the Gorge. The mountains' shadows fell over them like a deadly pall, stifling all conversation and killing any thought of anything besides imminent danger. Even Left Hand had mustered the decency to be silent, and D slumped slightly in the saddle, his eyes narrowed as they watched for unfriendly movement.
Up ahead, Lissandra sat her horse rigidly, her body tensed and ready for a fight, her hands clenching and unclenching the reins. Toiracsi, who did not know how to ride a horse, clung pathetically to Donder's shirt as she sat limply in the saddle behind the man, whimpering slightly and casting nervous glances side-to-side. Donder looked about constantly, his right hand always on the machete at his hip. Even the horses were nervous, champing their bits as their sensors detected lurking presences just outside their fields of vision.
Only Dragos, it seemed, was unaffected by the lingering threat that charged the air. Apparently, he could not be bothered to be on alert; he sat his horse comfortably, taking in the snowy landscape as if he were sightseeing and murmuring comfortingly to his mount when the cyborg nickered worriedly. His scarred face was untroubled and D saw that he was unprepared for a sudden attack, sitting in such a way that he inadvertently pinned his sword and battle-axe behind him.
D had been watching Dragos for an hour now, as had Lissandra, who had once sidled her horse up to the man and whispered something in his ear. Dragos had just laughed a little and waved the woman off, returning to his unconcerned survey of the area.
Lissandra now looked quite beside herself, shooting death-glares at Dragos every now and again and glancing back to D occasionally as if to say, What does he think he's playing at?
D had no idea and though it extremely foolish for Dragos to be so lax in his observation and readiness. But, as everyone else in the company apparently realized the danger and were prepared for the worst, D decided it was not worth arguing with Dragos over; if they were attacked and the man got himself killed, that was his problem.
The wind kicked up and blew gusts of old snow across their path, the cold biting any exposed skin. D tugged up the scarves about his neck, protecting his pallid face and leaving only his sharp eyes uncovered. He saw Lissandra hunker in her cloak and shift uncomfortably, watching the high peaks carefully. The wind began to shiver as it carried more than just snow: the eerie, blood-curdling cries of wolves descended upon the dhampires' keen ears and spooked the horses badly. Donder's and Toiracsi's mount nearly bolted, whinnying in terror and half-rearing before Donder could get the beast back under control.
As the wind started to die again, the silence that fell seemed somehow more tense than before and far more horrible than the wolf-howls. At least the calls of wolves gave away the animals' positions; now there was nothing to reveal where the creatures might be.
Suddenly, Dragos halted his horse, stopping dead and absolutely still right in the middle of the highway. The man, for all his former ease, was now sitting straight up, completely motionless. The rest of the company drew up abruptly, and soon the only sound to be heard was the distant mournful whistle of wind in the mountain peaks.
For a few tense seconds, no one dared move, and Dragos remained stiff and on alert. Presently, Lissandra broke the silence, saying in a voice barely above a whisper, "What is it, Dragos?"
The leader did not respond, and D stretched his senses as far as he could to try to pick up the danger Dragos must have perceived. Just on the outskirts of his awareness, he could feel a niggling dread gnawing into his consciousness. But it was very difficult for the hunter to discern whether this were a close and present threat or simply the atmosphere of the deadly Gorge getting to him.
Lissandra seemed to think the situation was under control, though she did not raise her voice at all from its previous level. "Dragos, I can feel nothing." She glanced back at D, who shook his head fractionally. The woman turned back to her colleague. "What do you sense? There is nothing here."
D carefully watched the high, rocky mountain outcroppings above the highway. It was a perfect terrain for hiding; with all those loose boulders and darkened recesses in the stone, any number of bandits or worse could easily conceal themselves. And up ahead, the roadway narrowed into a natural bottle-neck. If their group were to be assailed from the back, they could be driven onto waiting weapons ahead without offering much of a challenge at all.
Luckily (or, D suddenly thought, perhaps luck had nothing to do with it), Dragos had stopped in a slightly raised portion of the road, so that any enemies coming from either behind or before would be forced to fight uphill. It was, D realized, the most advantageous position available to them here, in the event of an ambush.
The hunter wondered if it was actual danger or just precaution that had made Dragos stop here.
That question was answered a second later, when Dragos lifted his gruff voice, deep and calm but edged with steel, and said flatly, "Whoever is lurking above us, you may show yourselves. If you mean us no harm, we shall leave you in peace. If you mean otherwise, meet us like civilized warriors and cease your cowardly hiding."
