Dracula's wagon thundered wildly down the road without Klove to control the horses. At the foot of the bridge, the beasts came to a rocky stop, and Dracula's coffin slid out of the back and down onto the frozen stream. The box containing the captive Diana Kent jerked and thudded painfully but remained inside.
As the sun began to sink behind the mountain, Father Sandor and Charles Kent followed close behind on horseback. They stopped by the wagon, and, leaping from his saddle, Kent dashed down the hillside onto the stream, stake and hammer in hand.
"It's too late! Get away from there, Kent!" Father bellowed, as he helped Diana out of the wagon. "It's too late!"
Kent ignored him and advanced on the coffin.
His wife called after him, "Charles!"
He hesitated. Then the coffin sprang open, and Dracula seized Kent by the throat.
Diana shrieked.
The ice unsteadied Dracula enough that when he flung Charles against the castle wall, it was not fatal.
It was still clear that the count would win any fight, though.
"Shoot him," Diana begged the priest.
He shook his head. "It won't do any good, my dear."
Undaunted, she snatched the rifle from his saddle, took aim, and fired at Dracula.
It was a bad shot, and she missed by several feet. Her next shot was better, but still short. However, the two bullet holes opened a gash in the ice, causing a splash of icy water to spray up.
Count Dracula hissed in alarm.
"Running water," Father Sandor realized, and held out his arms for the rifle.
Kent, meanwhile, took advantage of Dracula's momentary distraction to try and put some distance between them. He was only somewhat successful, as the ice was now very slick. The vampire, too, stumbled but held his balance.
The priest took aim, and a third bullet struck the ice inches from Dracula's foot. The ice cracked threateningly, but held, and the vampire snarled his fury.
Growling to himself, Father Sandor fired once more, and was rewarded with a spray of frigid water and broken ice. With another snarl, the count abandoned both victim and coffin and tried to run to the castle walls.
Kent, meanwhile, was completely thrown off his feet as the fast-moving water surged into the break. His fall worsened it, sending up another splash, and widening the crack.
Dracula howled like a frightened animal as he struggled to keep his balance on the fracturing ice. The water lapped at the hem of his cape, unbalancing him further.
Diana ran to the bank of the stream as her husband struggled across the freezing surface to take her hands.
Another howl made them both look back to the vampire, who had finally fallen in, and clung to a section of the ice with all his strength.
For a moment, Count Dracula had hope, but only for a moment. Quickly, his clothes became soaked and pulled him under, despite his frantic clawing at the edge of the ice. The purity of fast-moving water tore at his flesh, ripping it away in scarlet cloud, until only the skeleton of the fearsome count remained, pulled on by the current and the cape that trapped it.
Watching from above, Father Sandor lowered his rifle and crossed himself solemnly, before descending the bank to help the two English travelers once more.