Embracing a new life

Chapter 7: Brawls

(17th century)

In fact, it took him a little while until he found the blond again. For a few weeks, he tried to track him through his vampire senses and through investigating the old-fashioned way.

When he had not been able to find his kinsmen in town that very night, he had resolved to interrogate his willing victim. After all, no woman went to bed with a man she knew nothing about.

The minx was not easy gotten to talk. Even when he divulged that he was a blood sucker as well was she reluctant to even admit that she knew any tall, blond men. Yet eventually, when he let slip that he loved to play with kids – which of course he did not, since they smelled and tasted fowl, but of that she knew nothing – did she finally convey to him that the man called himself Andreji and visited her in irregular intervals.

“Tell me more,” he urged her, a threatening undertone in his voice, hungering for whatever information he could collect.

The woman shook her head, never taking her eyes off him. “I don’t know any more. He is the silent type. He comes, gets down to business quickly, usually leaves a coin or two – not much, he does not seem to be wealthy either, but I need whatever I can get.”

“Did he mention where he comes from? ‘Andreji’ is not a German name…”

Another negation. “He has an eastern accent, but that’s all I can say.”

He smirked. “There is more. How did you meet?”

“In a village, a day’s journey from here. I was there to help my sister who lay sick on childbed. The evening before I went home to my own children that stayed with my sister in law, meanwhile, I visited the local inn. There he approached me. Well, he was quite a sight to behold, and I liked that he was not as pushy as most men I meet. ‘You’re far away from home’, I thought, ‘Why not have a nice evening for once? No one will get to know about it.’”

“But surely you were horrified by his special appetite, were you not?” he asked interestedly.

“I didn’t notice it at first,” the woman said reluctantly. “We went up to a room in the inn – he paid for it – and when I woke up the next morning, he was gone. I found my arm bound in a bit of cloth, and when I took that off, there was a cut. However, I had no idea where it came from.

“Some time later, a month or two, there was a soft knock at my back door, and when I opened it, a knife in my hand since it was late already, he stood there, a few steps away from the door, asking me to let him in.”

Let him in… He smirked once more and eyed the woman lustily. “And you let him,” he prompted her to go on.

She merely nodded.

“What explanation did he give you?”

The woman shrugged. Despite their amicable little conversation, her whole body was still alert, and therefore this movement looked very forced. “He told me something about an illness. Of course I was still outraged when he admitted that he had drunken my blood! I asked him to leave – which he did.

“A week later, he knocked again. Said he was going to support me financially if I was interested in a bargain. I was way behind with some of my payments, so I agreed eventually.”

He chuckled inwardly. It seemed his kinsman liked the dirty game just as much as he did. Still, he was wondering why the man was going through all this trouble for a bit of blood. He was making him curious. There was a silly movement in his own tribe against killing, for taking only small portions of blood from their victims. Yet as far as he knew, this was an isolated occurrence. His people were far away. Vampires on the continent were as driven by their hunger as ever. Had he cared more about his people, he would have been ashamed of their weakness. Not that he killed every time he fed, but he felt no remorse when he did. He regarded himself as a predator who could be merciful if it suited his taste. And he was proud of what he was. It intrigued him to learn more about this man, about his motives.

However, the woman had no idea where this Andreji stayed, what he did when he was not with her. No one in this town seemed to know anything about him. In a nearby village, he at least found an inn whose keeper remembered the guy. He had visited it the previous evening.

After hours of scanning the whole place, he had to conclude that his ‘prey’ was already gone.

The following three weeks, he travelled through the villages and towns in the close proximity, assuming that the other man was roaming a certain territory he called his own. His chaser was not aware of any clans in the area – and he had a very deep knowledge about vampire society – but it was not unusual to encounter loners.

At the end of the third week, he found another woman who offered her blood up to the man and said this Andreji had mentioned that he was going to a town that was situated several day trips away (and would therefore not visit her for a while). He shook his head, torn between amusement and annoyance. That bastard posed him quite a task. If he turned out a bore after all the trouble his persecutor went through to catch up with him, said man was not sure he would remain nice.

Magdeburg it was then. It took him a week to get there since he still stuck to his principle of playing his little games the conventional way. The town was always worth a visit, and he had not been to it in a while. He searched the place for days and came up with nothing. Perhaps his object of interest had taken a detour and was yet to arrive?

He waited for two weeks; then he concluded that he had been fooled. This Andreji must have gotten wind of the fact that he was followed. He either had left in a different direction than he had told that woman or he had not left at all.

The one who followed him had enough. It was truly time for him to travel westwards and make sure his fledgling was not putting the finishing touches to the chaos he was constantly creating in his tribe. It was only a matter of time before Murtagh was going to pull out the dagger behind his master’s back. But before he went back into the snake pit, he wanted to know who he had been hunting.

He left the town, and sought a place where he could be alone. It was not necessary, but he preferred it that way. His contact with them was a sacred thing for him; he wanted to keep it pristine, undisturbed by anything worldly. He felt isolated, cut off from the world when he sought their advice. At times, the longing for someone to share this, for someone he could pass his knowledge on to was overwhelming. He had, after the early demise of his Maker who had taught him the basics, long sought in vain for a worthy fledgling. Eventually, he had asked the spirits to show him to the most worthy human. They had led him to Murtagh. Either he had listened to the wrong spirit – spirits could, if they so desired, play their tricks on you, lead you astray – or there had been no one roaming the world who was gifted with the skills that were required to hear the spirits and be heard by them. It was a talent you were born with, nothing to be learned. You only had to develop it, to train it. There had been nothing in Murtagh that his master could have worked with. His first fledgling was the greatest – and perhaps the only – grave failure in his life.

Tonight, he only called one of the lower spirits that he regularly conversed with and were easily controlled. He had no need for any special services; all he wanted was a location. The information where this Andreji dwelled at this moment.

He entered a small, smoke-filled country inn. People stared at him, the stranger, as he stood close to the door and took in the scene. Two tables were occupied by locals, two others were empty. At the fifth, in a far, badly lit corner, sat the man he sought and that fixed him coldly.

He smirked and stepped up to ‘Andreji’. There was an untouched beer on the table, and next to it stood a mug of water.

“What do you want from me?” an unwelcoming voice greeted him.

“Well,” he commenced and took a seat, “that is yet to be seen.”

He was scrutinised distrustfully.

“You’ve caught my eye; I want to know who you are. Tell me about you,” the presumably older man prompted the tall blond that he had hunted for over a month to speak.

A joyless snort. “Are you insane? I am hardly accountable to you! Leave me alone.”

“Come on, stranger, satisfy my curiosity and I will leave you in peace. Who is your master, and where do you come from? I can tell by your accent that you are no local… My guess would be that your mother tongue is Polish?” the dark-haired, bearded man insisted. He quite enjoyed the idea of meeting someone who had no idea of who he was. Had he known, this Andreji would not have dared talking to him like that.

“I will be damned before I give another man satisfaction, and I am mastered by no one. Get the hell out of my way,” was the lowly growled answer that he received, accompanied by a cold stare out of ice-grey eyes. Andreji rose and made to walk to the door.

His persecutor seized his forearm. It was more muscular than he had expected at first sight of the lean body; and the man made use of those muscles quickly to rid himself of the grip and hurry out of the inn.

Well, at least he had the sense not to pick a fight. Not that that would help. The guy had asked for it nonetheless. The dark-haired man hurried after him. As he stepped out of the door, he stopped in his tracks. He had to acknowledge, this Andreji was fast. He sniffed and sprinted off into a certain direction.

It had been around midnight when they had left the inn, now it was past four in the morning, and he still had not been successful in his pursuit. He did not have much more time, but the other man was still on the move, unperturbed by the coming sunrise. That was the one disadvantage of age – tolerance of sunlight dropped to zero. This one must be young.

The one who followed him, chose a different tactic. He continued his pursuit for another while, then found an abandoned house he could use as hideout. His spirit whispered to him that his kinsman went on for over four hours before he sought refuge in a church which told him that the blond was still a very young bloodsucker that could even still bear morning sunlight. Well, he was doing well, considering. A freshly created fledgling without his master was indeed well advised to flee from other vampires.

When the older man rose the next evening, Andreji was already on the move again. His persecutor chose the only way in which he would be able to gain on him this night. He called Sten, the spirit he entrusted with higher services. With its help, he fastly travelled to the house that Andreji had meanwhile stopped at.

He heard loud hammering as he approached it. In front of the workspace that opened up to the night sat an old man and smoked his pipe. Some illness seemed to have bound him to the chair. In the background, there stood Andreji, a proud, affronted look upon his features, big metallic tongs in one hand with which he held a horseshoe, a large hammer in the other.

“What to hell do you want from me?” he bit out once more.

His older kinsman smirked. “Is this your father?” He eyed the aged one.

The blond smirked darkly. “Hardly. Answer.”

“Pardon? –Oh, you had enquired what the purpose of my visit was,” the dark haired recalled smugly. “But I gave you an answer to that question during our first conversation already. I am curious about you. What makes one so young as yourself, young enough even to still visit his parents, wander the world alone? Freshly turned fledglings are so vulnerable… -Who is your master, and where is he?”

Before the blond could even commence another snide retard, the old man raised his voice. “What nonsense is this man speaking? Did I tell you to invite anyone? We had a bargain to keep this secret, hadn’t we?”

“I have told no one. I do not know this man; he follows me. I am sure he does not care about our agreement,” Andreji replied annoyed. His ice grey eyes bore into his persecutor.

That one in turn was entirely unfazed by the other man’s predicament and took a seat on a gnarly old stool. He waved a hand. “Finish your work; I can wait.”

The look he received for this patronising behaviour was no more amicable. Andreji pondered over his alternatives for a moment; then he went back to work. He manufactured about a dozen horseshoes and repaired an iron gate. When he was done with that, the aged man took the wares and bid a grumpy good night.

Yet, had the older vampire thought they would get to the interesting part of the night, now, he was mistaken. From a rug bundle, Andreji drew some old blades and started working them. He seemed quite adept at what he was doing.

“Did the old man teach you this?”

Andreji snorted snidely. “He is glad if he manages to crawl out of bed at midday. His eldest daughter fits the horseshoes to the hooves and fixes them, but she is not very skilled at forging, so they let me use their workspace in exchange for something they can sell as the old man’s work. I learned the basics of the craft from my father; the bit about weapon forging that I know I have learned from a blacksmith during the war.” The young one seemed to have realised that it was better to indulge his ‘guest’.

“Did you also learn how to use what you have forged? Can you wield a sword?” the older vampire asked interestedly.

Andreji threw a measuring glance at him. “I prefer different means, but I can stand my ground.”

“Let me see-,” the man sprung up and grasped one of the short swords.

Andreji straightened up and folded his arms. “What is this about? I am sure you have someone else to live out your urges with… Why do you bother a stranger?”

An appreciative smile. It was refreshing to have someone talk openly back to him for once. The young one was right – he was expecting that people hurried to obey him, surrounded as he usually was by boot lickers, but from the perspective of the other man this attitude must seem quite ridiculous. He did not know whom he was facing, and something told the older vampire that Andreji would not even act any differently if he had introduced himself properly. From his few observations, he concluded that the man did not care for social conventions. In other people, this attitude would have bothered him, but… -He could not say why, but he was intrigued, even fascinated by this young fledgling with his rough-and-ready stubbornness. But the blond definitely needed a lesson.

Why he bothered with Andreji? “Because it pleases me. If your master had fulfilled his duty properly, you would not even dare pose such an impertinent question. As a member of the council and leader of a clan, I have every right to interrogate the sudden appearance of a ‘masterless’ – as you claim – fledgling.” He dropped his mask of good will and took up a more resolute pose.

He could see that Andreji’s mind was working, now. “I know nothing of a council, and there is no reason for you or anyone to waste your time on me. I just want my peace. Leave me be.”

“Why are you so cold? Do you not want to get to know your own kind? Are you not curious to learn what we are like?” After all, he was still new to this life, this much was obvious. What he had not done out of a hunger for life at Andreji’s age!

In answer, he received a cynical sneer. Andreji packed his things, although he was not finished with his work. “Curious?! I am a grown up man, not an infant! Why is every blood drinker I meet so awfully intrusive?!”

“Why? Who else have you met?” he was asked in the dim hope of catching him off guard for once.

“Not your business; how often do I have to tell you?” Andreji dismissed his enquiry easily. He shouldered his bundle and took a few steps towards the road. “Just leave me alone, can you not? I think you have had enough opportunity to see that I am merely going my own miserable ways without bothering anyone.”

His persecutor indeed had half a mind to let the blond go since he was not quite as entertaining as he had promised to be at first glance. Another letdown; nothing new there. Yet his mind was turned full circle instantaneously.

“…And keep those things off me. I prefer beings made of flesh and blood,” Andreji added while he was already stepping into the neighbouring field.

“What things?” the older man asked, his senses sharpened. It could not be…

Andreji turned, giving him a look of contempt. “Do not play the innocent with me. They are yours, these demons - or whatever they are - that follow me every waking hour and even watch my sleep. If you think you can intimidate me this way, you are mistaken.” With that, he turned around once more, and disappeared from view in the highly grown plants.

The other man’s heart suddenly beat fiercely. “You can see them?!” he asked with a voice that commanded an answer.

No reply.

No. The young one was not going to get away like this. Not when… He called for Sten again, in a different tune this time; one that he had not used in a while. The spirit seemed pleased. It rose in a strong whirl of wind. The green field was parted, and through the opening, Andreji was carried back.

“Bastard,” Andreji clenched out through gritted teeth when he had landed unceremoniously on the floor. He started to get up.

With one short word, his opponent had nailed him down on the floor again. “You can see it?”

“So what?” the man on the floor hissed.

“What exactly do you see?” his interrogator pressed on.

Andreji furrowed his brows and narrowed his eyes whilst he tried to get onto his elbows despite the pressure that was exerted on him. “I see a man that is way over his head thinking he can bend me to his will.”

An anticipatory, unsettling smirk. “You have no idea what I am capable of.”