The Deviant of the Dark Ages Ch. 07

Chapter VII: Turning Tables and Burning Bulls

Anna ached from head to toe. She was forced into the full splits in mid-air, for goodness' sake. Her body may have been augmented with years of magical training, but she was still human, and it was not humanly possible to endure such a position for the time she had without feeling as thrashed as a stubborn mule. But these aches no longer bothered the sorceress, for she could now dismiss them with a word. So she did, flexing her bound limbs as new energy returned to them.

She didn't cut herself loose just yet, however. Instead she stayed just as she was, biding her time until that sorry vampire lord returned to meet his doom. She wanted to see his face when he realised his reign of despair was over.

She didn't have to wait long. A few minutes later she was joined by a small party: Count Griscard looking smug as his brute Ripper dragged in Anna's informant-turned-accomplice Fira. The vampiress didn't look too concerned, though, making Anna wonder if the Count had spent so long in the company of helpless mortal women that he underestimated the considerable strength of his kind.

Addressing Fira, he said, "You see, slave, no one escapes my wrath."

"Burn her," he commanded the sorceress, his eyes fierce with suppressed hatred.

Anna acquiesced, vocalising the ancient word for flames, but instead of directing the inferno at Fira, she engulfed Ripper's arms in fire. He released the vampiress with a yelp of pain, diving to the ground to pat out his scorching forearms. Fira pounced at the stunned Griscard as Anna uttered another spell to free herself, landing in a shaky crouch.

The sorceress burned with rage as she regarded her sadistic captor. She yelled at him in the ancient tongue, not really caring what destruction her spells wrought as long as he suffered the weight of his cruelty. Bricks came flying out of the cell walls, Fira ducking just in time as they rocketed into their target. Cracks appeared in the floor and ceiling while deep rumbles echoed through the earth. Ripper looked terrified, Fira was smug, and even Griscard's eyes widened in fear.

Soon a swirling storm of bricks and mortar filled the dungeon, suffused with occasional flashes of fire and ice, all of which were drawn to the Count like a magnet. It was becoming hazardous for all in range, so Fira grabbed the enraged sorceress and hurried to the corridor, keeping low to avoid stray debris.

Anna turned on her when they were clear of the storm, hissing, "Why did you drag me away? He needs to pay for what he's done!"

"You hear that?" snapped Fira, pausing to let the distant rumbling invade their argument. "You've started something big. This place is going to come down soon, and then we'll all pay. Is that what you want?" She breathed deeply and calmed down somewhat before continuing. "Believe me, Annabeth, I wish to see Griscard suffer as much as you do, but he's not worth your life."

Anna glared at her in silence for a moment before conceding. She appreciated Fira's concern—a cave-in probably wouldn't hurt the vampiress one bit, just make her somewhat dusty and rather annoyed when she eventually crawled free. But that meant Griscard would survive too. There was no longer time for a drawn-out scheme of revenge—she had to act fast if she wanted him to suffer at all.

Fira grabbed her arm as she turned to re-enter the perilous dungeon cell.

"Allow me."

The sorceress had half a mind to argue with her, but something about the glint of fury in Fira's bright green eyes held her back. A moment later Fira was rushing out of the cell with an angrily-struggling Griscard in her arms. She shouted for Anna's help, and the sorceress cast a spell of restraint upon him. For most beings this would result in full immobilisation, but for Griscard it would probably just feel like he was moving through treacle.

"You... escaped... the blood-bond," groaned Griscard, finally catching on. He turned slowly to look up at Fira, understanding dawning on his face. "Because there's... no more... blood left in her... Clever girl..."

"But tell me... Fira... How do you... feel?" Fira's eyes narrowed and her grip around his arms tightened. Then Anna understood. The vampiress had sucked all his blood out of her—which meant Griscard's blood was now in Fira. But surely it took more than a swig of second-hand blood to enthrall another vampire?

"Maybe... you feel like... draining that witch... for me?"

Fira looked at Anna, confused. Then her vampiric side emerged, her green eyes glowing red as small needle-sharp fangs grew in her mouth. Her eyes were apologetic now as Griscard slipped out of her grip and she took a step towards the sorceress.

"Fira..." Anna said cautiously, backing away. "You can fight this. I did. Don't let him control you!"

The vampiress shook her head in resistance but continued to advance on Anna.

"Look! He's going to escape if you don't stop him!"

Indeed, Griscard was scrambling away, apparently content to leave the two females to fight it out. Fira let out a groan of torment which grew into an animalistic roar of anger. Both Anna and Griscard flinched with fear, but it was the vampire who had Fira's attention now. She grabbed him by the neck and plunged her fangs into it, her rage subsiding as she sucked away his ancient and powerful blood.

Anna didn't know if this was a good idea—if it was his blood commanding control over her, it would seem that more of it would only worsen that situation—but nothing about vampires made sense to her, so she hoped this was another case where logic flew out the window.

It was. Fira withdrew a moment later, perfectly composed. With a reassuring smile to Anna, she grabbed Griscard once more and rushed down the corridor as cracks appeared in the stone above. She took corners at lightning speed, challenging Anna's ability to keep up. But she clearly knew her way, for they soon burst into a familiar bedchamber.

Anna let out of sigh of revelation—she intended to lock the Count in his own wardrobe! There was surely no better punishment for all the crimes he'd committed. She remembered his words from what seemed like an age ago, as Anna herself had been trussed up on this very bed. There is no power on Earth that could open this door from within. She didn't doubt for a moment that the vampire spoke true—he was too proud to settle for anything less than the most inescapable of prisons for his immortal captives.

So that was where he was headed. Anna summoned the large gold key from his pocket and hefted open the bulky door for Fira to throw him inside. The enthralled girls were still bound there, but not all of them, Anna realised. There were only twelve remaining—the girl whom Griscard had rewarded was missing. Sara, her name had been. Fira seemed to notice this too, though Anna knew not how—she hadn't seen all of the captives that were here before. Nonetheless, Anna cut down the girls that were there, leaving them bound as she levitated their inverted forms out of the musty room. She didn't need another repeat of her last foiled rescue attempt.

"This won't hold me forever," croaked Griscard, but his fearful eyes spoke otherwise. If he was going to beg, now would be the time. "Don't you think... you're overreacting?"

"Overreacting!" exclaimed Fira, gesturing to her constrictive outfit. "You confined me to a corset for eternity! Without its support my waist is racked with constant pain. Not to mention the daily torture you put us through for years! How many others have you inflicted far worse horrors upon?"

"More than you will ever know," he retorted, a demented smirk on his face.

Fira and Anna stood in the doorway for a moment more, looking upon their old captor one last time. A nearby rumble shook them back to the urgency of their situation, and Fira slammed the door with relish, turning the key until a satisfying thud indicated the deadbolts had secured the undead creature inside. Anna took the key and, with a nod from Fira, conjured a molten flame to consume it, allowing the gold to splash to the floor below. The Count's fate was sealed: nothing would get in or out of that room ever again.

"There's a girl missing," remarked Anna as she looked over the pile of bound thralls. Fira nodded.

"Leave them. Their life was spent long ago—death is their only escape now."

"But you freed me from his control-"

"You were only recently enthralled. Most of these women have been captives for decades, even centuries. I could free them like I did with you, but most would simply crumble to ash, or at best live a few more years as a shadow of their former selves."

"Then free them. They deserve to be free of his tyranny after all this time," said Anna fiercely.

Fira's eyes were sad. "There is no time, Annabeth. We have to hurry from this place before it collapses." Another rumble shook the room, affirming her assertion.

"There's time enough. If you won't free them, I will."

The vampiress raised an eyebrow in query, then grimaced as a dagger flew into Anna's hand. "So be it. Grant them peace while I find the thirteenth girl."

Anna nodded and Fira sped from the room, straining her ears for human sounds as she scoured the dungeons. There was no sign of the Count's lackey—maybe he'd already escaped. She wasn't too concerned about him with his master locked away.

A faint wail caught her attention, and she ran towards it. In the deepest level of the dungeons she found a room with a single brazen bull in the centre. It was forged with intricate detail, the horned head lifted in a perpetual cry of agony. Frequent bellows of anguish echoed through it, like the cries of a great bull. A small fire crackled underneath, heating the bronze so it was too hot to touch.

Fira had never seen such a contraption, so it was a few seconds before she found a way open up the side. And inside... Fira choked back tears... Inside was her sister, Sara, curled up in a ball with her eyes clenched shut. Her naked flesh was raw and bloody, scorched from prolonged exposure to the blistering bronze. So this was the reward Griscard gave to those who pleased him, then. Any mortal would have succumbed to the pain long ago, but his immortal thralls had the accursed constitution to survive such a plight indefinitely, albeit at the cost of unimaginable torment.

Her eyes bloodshot with grief and anger, Fira reached in and lifted her sister out of the bull, setting her safely on the cold stone floor. Sara remained as she was, curled up and oblivious to her surroundings, so Fira gently leaned down and kissed her neck, drawing Griscard's blood from her veins and spitting it out on the ground.

When she was done Sara opened her eyes wide, noticing Fira for the first time.

"Hey, sis..." she croaked. "You escaped, then. I hope you'll forgive my methods... I only wanted you to be free of that horrible monster..."

"I know," Fira reassured her, smiling sadly at her older sister, albeit with a flash of discomfort as she was reminded of the excruciating final hours of her human life. "And it worked. He won't be hurting any girls ever again."

"Better watch out for the men then..." she joked, wincing as she moved her scorched arms.

"Lie still now... It's all over."

"I feel... old," mused Sara. Then her eyes widened. "Stay strong," she whispered, and crumbled away to ashes.

A single tear trembled on Fira's cheek. She stood up and brushed it away with a cold, pale finger. She hadn't believed a vampire was capable of tears—it served as a reminder that she was not the heartless creature her sire had been. Perhaps she could turn this curse into a blessing yet.

Barely a minute later she rejoined Anna as she was just covering the last body.

"Did you find her? The thirteenth girl?"

Fira shook her head sadly. "Let's get out of here," she declared, and the two of them turned and hurried from the scene of death, beginning their journey up and out of the labyrinth of twisted dungeons hidden beneath Gormwall Manor.

***

It was almost dusk by the time the two heroines surfaced into the grand foyer. Except now it could scarcely be described as serviceable, let alone grand. Everything was a wreck: the wallpaper was stripped, the marble cracked, the chandeliers fallen, and the staircase missing half its steps. It appeared to have been in a state of disrepair for decades—but that was impossible, because Anna had passed through here barely a week ago.

"What the..." she muttered, ever the one for eloquence.

Fira chuckled. "From the moment you touched his hands, you were seduced by his illusions," she explained. "Vampires are an ancient and powerful race, evolved to ensnare even the sharpest of wits. Our insidious wiles wouldn't compare to your own impressive abilities, mind you, but to the unprepared there is little we couldn't fool them into believing."

The sorceress glanced over at the vampiress, mistrust plain in her features. Fira shrugged off her suspicion, adding, "Have no fear, I've no desire to enthrall or beguile you, Annabeth."

"Your kind must have a weakness," prompted Anna, changing the subject. Fira's eyes narrowed.

"We do. And I will tell it to you, not out of charity, but on the condition you will exploit that weakness should there ever come a time when I follow in Count Griscard's footsteps, treating the world and its inhabitants as my personal playground to take from and destroy at will."

If Anna was surprised by Fira's candid reply, she hid it well. Instead she merely nodded and affirmed, "You have my word."

"First of all, you needn't worry about being attacked while you sleep, for vampires can only enter a home by an explicit invitation. But if you really must face one, sunlight will kill a vampire as surely as a sword will kill a mortal man. Of course, that's a great reassurance when you're locked in an underground dungeon, so you should know that the only other way of ensuring a vampire's demise is this: a wooden stake through the heart. Or a wooden spear. Or even a chair leg, I suppose—just put some solid wood through the heart, and you'll make the world a better place," she finished bitterly.

Anna had doubted the vampiress's sincerity before, but now her reservations were put to rest. Here was a creature who considered herself a blight upon the world, that much was clear. The sorceress found herself affected by sympathy for the girl who'd unwillingly been turned into a feared creature of the night.

"I'm going to burn this place to the ground," she said. It wasn't a question, but she waited for Fira's response all the same. If anyone would appreciate the spectacle of Gormwall Manor going up in flames, it was the vampiress beside her.

"I'd be honoured to watch," Fira smiled as they headed for the entrance, where the large double doors now hung askew in their frame.

A crunching of debris behind them drew their attention, and they spun around to see Ripper emerging from the basement, brushing rubble off his mammoth body. Evidently he hadn't been as successful in escaping the earthquake as they had.

Anna immediately raised her palms in preparation for a spell, but Ripper's words stopped her. For the first time since she'd known him, he spoke lucidly and without hesitation.

"Just a moment please, lady magician. I wish to extend my undying gratitude to the woman beside you."

Fira raised an eyebrow.

"You consumed the blood of my former master, did you not? From his veins, I might clarify. His blood held me enthralled these past two centuries, warping my mind beyond hope until you just now prevailed against him."

"Two centuries..." breathed Anna. "What were you doing two centuries ago that caused you to cross paths?"

"In truth, a foolish land dispute. I was the lord of a neighbouring estate—I can't imagine it has fared well in my absence—and I was enraged that his choice of prey included some of my subjects. He broke our agreement, you see. I was just a slave who'd inherited a small fortune when he offered me immortality, promising the world if I but tithed a few workers to him on occasion. I must have been a fool to believe a man—nay, creature—such as him wouldn't lust for more. Soon enough the tithes got out of hand, and I elected to confront him in his own home."

"No," interrupted Anna, as his story was beginning to tug at her sympathy. His words may be more confident, but his voice was the same gravelly bass that had cheered for torture so frequently in his time as Griscard's manservant—his very name was testament to that. It took Anna every ounce of self-control not to smite him where he stood. "I saw you in there—you were torturing those poor girls with a grin on your face. You can't tell me that was all Griscard's doing."

"Begging your pardon, magic-lady. It pains me to think how many more innocents might have suffered at my hands, but alas, my memory of these past years is scattered at best."

"How convenient."

"I assure you there is nothing convenient about losing two centuries of your life to a ruthless maniac," said Ripper softly.

"Annabeth," murmured Fira, "Give him leave on this occasion—his actions will soon declare the truth of his words."

Anna glanced at Fira. For all her self-pity, she still displayed an unnerving lack of respect for human life. "And if he proves dishonest? Am I to have the blood of his first victims on my hands?"

"Not your hands. Mine. I will take responsibility for his actions—and for meting out justice if the need arises."

"Fira... You didn't know him before, did you? It's not a risk I would take."

"I did know him," she said, looking back at Ripper. "I was half-dead at the time, but I remember the wounds inflicted on Griscard's body, and how Ripper here—though that was not his name at the time—appeared as the Count's servant shortly afterwards. Trust me, he was not in league with Griscard then, and I don't believe he is any longer now."

Anna sighed, wondering how victory could be so complicated. "Fine," she conceded. "It's your lucky day, Ripper. You're free to return to whatever ruins have become of your former estate. But for goodness' sake, if you're starting a new life, think of a better name..."

"Thank you, my lady," he said, inclining his head. Then he was off, running swiftly into the night. Anna shook her head at the whole scene. She had an unshakeable feeling she'd regret this sometime in the future.

A minute later, Anna and Fira were standing outside Gormwall Manor, ready for the fireworks.

"I don't remember it looking so... decrepit," Anna remarked as she summoned a flame in her palm. "It's not what I would have expected of a wealthy vampire."

"Illusions are always most effective when they pander to your expectations," replied Fira. "But who's to say his wealth wasn't all an illusion too?"

"Hmm. You're right—this manor is probably the only thing of value he owned," Anna said, happily hurling fireballs through the doorway and windows. Everything the fire touched immediately went up in a blaze, for the interior was rife with dry dust from years of neglect. Soon the entire lower floor had flames licking the windows. A loud crack split the night as one corner began to collapse from its weakened supports. The two spectators jumped back hastily to avoid any potential debris. A horse whinnied nearby and two black stallions galloped from the manor's stables, racing off into the night together. Fira chuckled.

"That'll do it," whistled Anna, lobbing a final fireball into the foyer. "Soon there will be nothing but a pile of charred rubble."

"A vast improvement, I've got to say," smiled Fira.

"What will you do now?" asked Anna, turning to the vampiress.

"Find a place to settle in and develop an unjust reputation steeped in superstition, I'd imagine," she grimaced. Smiling again, she continued, "But don't worry, I won't cause too much havoc."