Chapter 24: Destiny
D shoved open the door to the grand banquet hall, which was the last place he had seen his father before running off into the human world, all those years ago. But the vast room was empty. There was, however, a small fire burning in the fireplace behind the long table. D glanced up at the vaulted ceiling and carefully scanned the sculptures along the walls as he walked forward.
"Um, you know," snuffled a scratchy voice at D's side. "I'm getting awfully nervous for some reason. Are you sure you're ready for this?"
D made no reply.
"You're still pretty young, all things considered…" the voice muttered. "There's really no rush, if you think about it logically- you might as well wait a few centuries before you--"
"Don't try to talk me out of this," D said emotionlessly.
The demon twisted the flesh of D's palm into an anxious scowl. "I guess it'll only make you more reckless if I try to talk sense into you now… but I'll give it a shot anyway."
"I figured you might," D grumbled. The demon ignored him.
"You've been preparing for this for one year. In the grand scheme of things, that's like studying for ten seconds for the most important test of your life," the demon commented nervously. "…which is why you're going to fail, unless you cheat a little."
"Cheat," D repeated coldly.
"I really, really hate to get into such complicated business while you're at such a delicate age, but since I can't let you die…" the demon heaved a painful-sounding sigh. "I have no choice but to be prepared to help you. I just hope I'm strong enough."
"What are you talking about?" D muttered.
"Let's go check out that fire," his hand said, a certain note of apprehension in its rough voice.
Wordlessly, D walked the rest of the way to the fireplace, and with a slight frown, he extended his left hand towards the flames. "Yup, that's a good fire," the demon muttered. It looked like a normal, wood-burning fire to D. "Now stand still," his hand instructed, and suddenly the fire leapt towards him, forming an angry cyclone of orange and yellow flame. Instinctively D knew than in the next instant the small tornado of flame would engulf his hand. He flinched and tired to make a fist to pull his hand away, but the demon had expected that reaction, and was stubbornly holding his fingers apart—and in another instant, the fire vanished, leaving only smoking cinders scattered across the hearth.
Somehow, D's left hand had consumed the fire. "Ah ha," said the demon. "That wasn't half bad. This just might be worth the effort."
"What was that for?" D asked. "Are you going to spit that out later, like a flamethrower?"
"Don't be stupid," his hand admonished. "Anyway, aren't you supposed to be looking for someone? Come, on let's get going! Enough with the standing around! What are you, a tourist?"
D stepped into the fireplace. There was a narrow hidden passage there, which led to the courtyard below, and to the most direct route to the secretive depths of the castle.
Out in the courtyard, the twilit sky had already succumbed to the black-violet colors of a moonless night. D's hand sighed loudly. "Just taste that beautiful night air!" it exclaimed, and before D realized what was going on, the demon was swallowing the wind. D clamped his right hand down on his hat to keep it from being torn from his head in the sudden torrent of air. After a second or two he gritted his teeth and forced his left hand into a fist.
"Ouch!" the demon mumbled from inside the fist.
"What are you up to?" D asked quietly, his eyes narrowed. He didn't unclench his fist.
"Good grief! We're going underground in a few minutes, aren't we?" The voice was muffled. "What's wrong with taking one last breath of good clean air before plunging into the musty catacombs or whatever?"
"You've been quiet the past few days," D said. "And now you're chattering away. Tell me what's going on."
"For your information, I was taking a nap, hoping that this would all be over and done with by the time I woke up," the hand protested, its voice still muffled. "But the imminence of your doom really started to scare me, and so now I'm gonna try to do what I can to help you, if you need me to."
"Be more specific," D muttered.
"Would it kill you to say 'please' once in a while?"
Frowning, D unclenched his fist, but the demon's face had disappeared. D made his way across the innocent-seeming courtyard to the invisible one-way staircase which descended below the stone terrace. If you didn't know it was there, the stones which hid it were solid- but if you knew where the staircase was, and meant to walk down it, even a human could move though the enchanted stones- looking as if they were sinking further into the ground with each step. D found the first step and stepped down onto it, his feet disappearing into the stone. He proceeded down the stairs quickly, and as soon as his hat passed through the enchanted layer, a very real stone ceiling formed above his head. D was underground now, and the only way back up to the outside world lay far ahead of him- as did the three subterranean chapels, and the royal mausoleum.
Knowing exactly where to go, D made his way through the many twisting corridors. Some of the passageways were illuminated by eerie blue spheres of light, and others were pitch black. Soon D found himself inside the smallest of the underground chapels, which had become nothing more than a storage room for beautiful white-marble coffins- dozens of them, each one a magnificent work of art, were simply piled atop one another on either side of the small alter. A white candle burned in the alcove behind the alter, and the glow of its flame illuminated a white marble statue that D didn't care to look at.
The first line of a beautiful poem was scrawled above the alcove in an ancient script, and the answering line was chiseled elegantly across the stones of the alter, but D didn't spare it so much as glance- he was already moving towards the door on the other side of the small sanctuary.
"Hold it!" said the possessed hand. "What's in all these pretty sarcophaguses?"
"Dirt, most likely," D replied quietly.
"Well, we better make sure," the demon said. Without a sound, D moved to the nearest of the beautiful white marble caskets, and lifted the heavy lid. The thick smell of earth instantly unfurled in the room. Silently D stretched his left hand forward into the coffin, and pressed his palm against the firmly-packed soil- which the demon began to eat voraciously. At last it seemed to be finished with its strange meal, and for a few seconds D imagined he could hear the demon actually chewing. "Thanks," came the scratchy voice a minute later. "I guess you've figured me out after all, huh?"
D blinked. "You've just eaten three of the four Empedoclean Elements," he said. "But I don't know why. What are you planning to do?"
The hand chuckled. "I'm hoping I won't have to do anything," it said, a little anxiously. "But is there any water down here, by chance? Because it's been so long since I've had to do it, I couldn't even attempt it in this state without all four elements, so…"
"Attempt what?" D asked, his voice like ice.
"Look. If all goes well, you won't need to know what I've got in mind, ok? Let's leave it at that. I'd hate to tell you something and get your confidence up, and then not find any water and not be able to go through with it."
"Then I guess the subject's closed," D muttered. "There's no water down here."
With a troubled "hmm", the demon fell silent.
D continued on this way further and further into the depths of the castle, drawn by instinct to the place where he knew his father was waiting for him.
The royal mausoleum. The actual tomb of the Vampire King. D had always known where it was, but had never dared to venture inside it. The only path that led to it was a narrow pitch-black tunnel, coarsely hewn into the heart of the mountain. Compared to the symmetry, spaciousness and artistic architecture of all the other passageways beneath the castle, this tunnel seemed like it had been hastily gnawed into the stone by a monstrous rodent. D made his way down the tunnel. Even the floor of the tunnel was nothing but jagged edges and awkward angles of stone, like huge broken teeth.
Before long, faint wisps of vapor began to writhe their way over and around the stones, some of them hissing faintly as they passed. Although it was difficult to say what they might have been, what they were doing was obvious: they were getting out of the way.
The heavy sole of D's boot landed firmly on top of one of the smoke-like wisps, and it burst apart into a hundred misty tendrils, curling up and dissipating into the dank air.
A few yards further down, D encountered the first hint of the wet, metallic scent of blood. And with every step after that, the smell became more pungent, more stifling, until it was so strong, it began to give him a headache. But he was almost to his destination now: although it was far too dark for any human to see, D could distinguish the flat surface of a door at the abrupt end of the tunnel- and he could tell that it was made of badly rusted iron, and that the coppery red odor was coming from behind it. D raised his hand towards the door, preparing to push against it- but the door moved before his fingers reached it- and swung inwards with a shrieking scrape of metal against stone.
The reek of blood assaulted him. He hunched his shoulders and let out a single coughing gasp, gritting his teeth and resolving not to be overwhelmed. With a firm, determined stride, he pushed his way through incipient dizziness and stepped into the cavernous room. The iron door slammed shut behind him, and D scrambled forward to avoid a warm waterfall of blood that fell like a thin silk curtain over the door as soon as it was shut.
D looked around in disbelief. The ceiling of the spherical cavern loomed fifty feet above his head. The entire room, and the solitary tomb it contained, had been carved from one uniform deposit of stone. Indeed, it was the only hollow pocket in a solid layer of stone that was nearly a thousand feet thick. This 'mausoleum' was no resting place for the dead. It was a fortress. Even if the world above were laid to ruin, neither flood nor fire would ever touch this indestructible sanctuary.
Had there been any light, D knew that every inch of room would be that luscious, liquid color red- for the entire cavern had been painted with wet blood, enchanted so that it would never dry out and crumble away- instead, for all eternity, it would ripple outwards from the tomb in a liquid sheet, eventually splitting into narrower, vein-like trails and running in warm rivulets up the concave walls and across the domed ceiling, accumulating in a gravity-defying puddle until, drop by drop, it fell from the very center of the ceiling down to the tomb.
The tomb itself was a roughly rectangular stone vault. It was twelve feet high, and there were no ornaments, no inscriptions or engravings anywhere on it- it was just black, immortal, immutable stone. The sharp plink of the dripping blood was the only sound to be heard.
Until his father spoke.
"It's good to see you again, D."
The smooth, dignified voice seemed out of place in the horrific setting. On top of the tomb a dark form began to take shape, condensing from the space around it much as the three beautiful women had done- but this shape wasn't that of human. Soon a giant wolf was sitting on its haunches atop the bloody tomb, with its thick, bristling fur as black as midnight, and the twin circles of its eyes glowing scarlet.
The wolf stared evenly at D, its expression utterly unassuming. Though D knew the creature was ancient, an almost childlike air of curiosity cloaked the wizened beast. "I knew that you'd return someday," the wolf said in that rolling voice. "What do you think of my mausoleum? It has served me well through countless catastrophes. The Huns, the Mongols, the Turks- none of their invasions breached the security of this special place. I made this sanctuary to protect and sustain myself forever."
"It's disgusting," D said softly, taking a step forward. "And a fitting place for you to die."
A gleam of amusement flickered across the wolf's eyes. "So this is it," the beast said, its tone almost reverent. "This is the destiny you have created, to replace the one I offered you, the one you refused." The wolf lowered its nose towards its broad chest, its ears turning back as its glowing eyes narrowed. "I wonder… are the gods pitying you, or punishing you, by allowing you to pursue your chosen fate? For until your spirit, your body, or your mind finally breaks, you will be a prisoner of despair and relentless misery."
"That doesn't matter," D said. "As long as you're dead."
The wolf laughed. "Ah, D. I'm appalled at how short-sighted you're being. You'll never kill me. You may hunt me for all eternity, and fight me with all your strength- but as the epochs rise and fall, and civilizations bloom and wither- I will always exist. I will not be destroyed."
"We'll see about that," D replied flatly, unimpressed. The wolf slowly shook its head side to side, but it seemed to be smiling, and there was unmistakable pride gleaming in its garnet eyes.
"You know, the prodigal son in the old story came home after the world had weakened him. But you've done well for yourself in the human world. Your experiences have strengthened you. And, now that you've grown up, I see you've finally decided to follow your father's advice."
D frowned slightly.
"Don't you remember?" the wolf asked, its smile more pronounced. "The last time I saw you, I told you that you had better bring a sword with you if you ever came back." The wolf shifted its gaze to the weapon in D's hand, and suddenly the red eyes flashed. "I recognize that blade," the creature breathed. "You must have met Raban."
D nodded once.
"I haven't spoken to him since he tried to conscript my people to the Turks in the 1400s," the wolf muttered. "Tell me. Does he still cling to that human pet name given him by one of his human pets?"
"Yes," D answered evenly, nodding again. His father chuckled.
"Ah, Hraban- those were the days, D. The dark days of the Wolf and the Raven. Together we wove fear into the fabric of humanity. We created their fear of darkness; cultivated their terror. It's a shame that his lust for our craft turned into a lust for answers," the wolf scoffed, long teeth revealed by its sneer. "His interminable questioning, and his futile obsession with that… religion… brought about his downfall."
D narrowed his eyes a bit. "Didn't you ever wonder…" he asked quietly.
"Oh yes, D. When the sun surrenders at the last gasp of day, and power rises within me like a tide, I wonder… and when that same tide recedes at the first innocent whisper of dawn, I question- and I do not remember a time when it was not so."
"But you just accept that you'll never understand?" D asked.
"No. Because someday, I will understand. Haven't you been paying attention to the latest half-century? Science is the way of the future. I will find the answer to the riddle of my own existence. I will identify and isolate the source of my power. And then the possibilities will be… well, you'll see. Someday, the technology will exist –I'll create it myself if necessary-- to solve all the mysteries."
D could hardly believe what he was hearing. Was his father actually suggesting that there might be scientific answers to the world of superstitions, horrors, and nightmares? A scientific explanation for ever-thirsting immortal beings without reflections, repelled by crucifixes, who could be set aflame by the sun? Science was the trajectory of an artillery shell, the shape of an airfoil, the torque of an engine. Science was even the power of a single bomb that could destroy an entire city… but surely there were limits to science. Surely science had nothing to do with the King of the Vampires, who was currently sitting in his own ancient sanctuary, in the form of a great shaggy wolf…
"Perhaps I've told you too much," the wolf conceded, as D said nothing. "I only want you to know that the destiny you've shouldered directly conflicts with my interests. So if you've seriously come here to kill me, I hope you're prepared to be disappointed."
D decided he'd had enough of the conversation. Leaping forward, he slashed at the wolf, aiming to cut it in half, but instantly the wolf disappeared- sinking down through the solid stone surface of the vault. D heard a low chuckle coming from within the tomb. Without hesitating for a single second, and without any expression on his face at all, D projected an explosion of dark energy at the sacred vault. There was a sound like a sonic boom, and the liquid blood covering the vault instantly dissolved into millions of tiny pellets and scattered in all directions-- and in the same instant the age-old stone rippled and buckled and crumbled.
A shadowy form, darker than the surrounding darkness, fled from the rubble. D followed it with his eyes, and saw that it was still the wolf- and now it was running lithely up the wall to the ceiling, as naturally as any lizard might have done- and without waiting another minute D focused on the wolf and sent another blast of dark power arching towards it. The corresponding explosion shook the entire cavern, and the pool of blood in the center of the ceiling came raining down around D in a furious shower, in droplets as fine as a mist, but traveling with such velocity that D felt like he was being battered in a sandstorm- but he didn't even flinch-- his gaze was locked on the wolf.
The beast seemed unharmed. It still clung to the stone of the ceiling, and it turned its shaggy head to stare down at D, its round red eyes glowing with fascination. D tightened his grip on his sword. He couldn't walk up the wall but he could jump… although the vertical distance was considerable, and he had just destroyed what could have been a very convenient twelve-foot high stepstool. The rubble of the tomb was still several feet high, and D decided to try it. He sprinted at the pile of broken stone, used its highest point as a springboard, and shot into the air, directly towards the wolf. In midair, D saw the wolf smirk at him and slink out of his way- but D didn't adjust the aim of his sword, and a split second later the blade stabbed into the ceiling, sinking at least a foot into the stone and becoming an anchor- so that another second later, D had his feet pressed against the ceiling and was keeping himself in place by holding onto his sword-- a difficult feat for the strongest athlete, but it didn't seem to require much effort for D.
The wolf was laughing at him. As it laughed, it leaned back into the air until it was standing on its hind legs- and its torso seemed to stretch, its outline blurring- it was obviously transitioning to human form, and D didn't want to miss an opportunity- he reached for a makeshift holster at his side, pulled out a wooden stake, and hurled it at the creature's heart—
And his father caught it easily in his hand.
"Please," Dracula said, releasing the stake so that it fell fifty feet to the floor of the cavern below. "If you're going to try that trick, you'll have to learn to throw a good deal faster than that."
D didn't reply. They were both upside down, standing on the ceiling- of course, D was only managing to stay there because his sword was stuck deep into the stone. D was mustering his strength, preparing for the next attack- and his father sensed that, and narrowed his eyes, making his own preparations.
At once, they both projected black masses of power, and two identical spheres of surging, condensed darkness collided and consumed each other, instantly filling the cavern with a violent maelstrom of energy.
And then the indestructible stone sanctuary shattered as if it were as fragile as a hollow globe of glass.
The world became eerily quiet, and D felt himself begin to fall…
Author's note: thanks again for all the reviews, you guys make me so happy!
Insane history buffs will note that the 'real' Dracula really did have a brother who tried to sell his people to the Turks in the 1400s… Dracula mentions that briefly to poor Johnny Harker during his big 'history lesson' spiel, and that's where I got the idea for the character of ol' Aldrich Raban.
Now there's only two chapters left! The next one's the best! Heheheh…