Episode CXXI - Rocks and Hard Places

They managed to clear out of the old hideout in less than twenty minutes, with no sign of any attack imminent.  All the loose supplies were packed into their crates and stacked onto handcarts, whilst the crew quickly packed their possessions back into their knapsacks.  After her conversation, if it could be called that, with Ellis, Siren had taken the reins back from Harker and had ensured that everything was done as efficiently as possible, although Harker had been doing a fine job as he was.  As for Franck's small crew, they managed admirably well at not getting in the way and the Former Baron himself, along with the revitalised Miss. Barkcastle, even managed to improve the workings of some of the handcarts whilst they were being loaded.  Gulliver and Rockspark helped to carry things, with the former doing his best even whilst conspicuously avoiding eye contact with his brother, meanwhile Ember looked after Ellis.  His considerable powers might have helped speed their escape, but, equally, it would have accelerated their detection.  Ember was, and as long as Lakhma remained above, always would remain a last resort.

Once they were into the tunnels beneath the harbour they made an orderly line, with Siren taking the lead beside Harker, Annabella and Ember, along with Franck and Miss Barkcastle and the others just behind and the crew trailing after.  The atmosphere was surprisingly light, with half-whispered conversations echoing along the corridor.  Even Gulliver seemed to chat with one or two crewmembers he knew from the old days.  As long as they were moving, Siren didn't mind, in fact she soon found herself resorting to conversation too.  There were, after all, many things she wanted to know about the last few months, not least how Miss Barkcastle had affected her now infamous escape from Fracture.

"Oh, it was nothing, really," she had replied demurely when Siren finally asked her, "I just reverse engineered the locking mechanisms on my apartment, disguised myself as a housemaid, jury-rigged the elevator controls down to the submersible pen and hijacked M. Marveille's vessel before he could finish his breakfast crumpets."  She gave a smile which just might have been sly, although it still seemed so sweet.  "I was speeding towards Shalereef before anyone even knew that I'd left."

Siren had even tried conversing with Ellis.  They had found the medallion before they left the old hideout and had reunited him with it, but, if there had been any effect at all, it had not brought him out of his dreamlike stupor.  He moved a little quicker perhaps, his eyes flicking about the bleak scenery with a little more fervour, but he neither answered any questions, nor really paid any attention to anything that was said to him at all.  Siren tried not to worry.

They arrived at the gates of the Vampire Crypt about an hour after they had left the hideout, with no incidents worth reporting, not even the distant sounds of pursuit.  Only Ember's stern warnings kept Siren from thinking that they had moved on for no reason.  She knew, though there was no evidence for it, that Lakhma's Knights would be tearing their old hideout apart even now and their barrowhounds would be hunting for their scent.  Fortunately the catacombs they travelled through were damp and their path was frequently washed by, or even followed the course of small underground streams, so it would be difficult for even the best trained beast to track them very far.

And so they stood before the great Vampiric gates, the stone doors just slightly ajar, and prepared to enter.

"Hold on, hold on!"  Franck rushed forward to bar the way, not even noticing that his hat now sat askew upon his head, "We are not committing ourselves into the cold embrace of a Vampiric crypt before I am certain it is safe!"

"We don't have any choice, Franck," Siren said, exasperated that he should get in the way just when they were about to enter sanctuary, "there's nowhere else to go."

"My dear, if this place is still haunted by some Vampire Lordling, or a gaggle of his thralls, or even the smallest remnant of his chittering Nightflock, then you will find yourself wishing - nay, dreaming, in all probability - dreaming from your deathless, walking slumber, that you had chosen some other refuge than this!  Let me check it out first," he said more softly, "and then we may enter."

Harker stared at the Former Baron in disbelief.  "There haven't been any Vampires for thousands of years!  We shouldn't waste any time hanging around out here when we could be safely inside!"

"There haven't been any Vampires around on the surface, that we know of, for hundreds of years and I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve been blasé about Vampires in the past, but that does not mean there are none left at all on Shadow, nor does it mean we should stride boldly, nay blithely, into the unknown!  I won't budge on this!  We’re at the doors of an ancient crypt and what you or I may or may not have believed in the past has absolutely no relevance here."

Siren raised her hands, wanting to argue again, but then shrugged, "Whatever, Franck, but don't take too long about it."

"Well, to start with there will almost certainly be ancient Sanguiform script carved across the doors.  That will tell us who the crypt belonged to, as well as other pertinent historical points.  Vampires loved to brag, after all, and to intimidate their guests."

"How do we find Sanguiform script?" Siren asked, "What does it look like?"

"The script is traditionally carved into stone bathed in the hypostatickally charged blood of a virgin during a full moon, although sources differ on whether or not this ritual was strictly necessary, or if any hypostatickally charged fluid would do.  Regardless, it only reappears with the correct hypostatick charge applied to it." He turned to face Ellis, "if I could have the medallion, please?"

Ellis did not respond, of course, so Miss Barkcastle slipped the medallion back over his head and handed it to Franck, who then pressed it against the stone of the door.  For a moment the entire black stone rock face of the door shone a dark red, then the light faded and only the inscribed runes upon its surface, previously completely invisible, still shone.

"Oh my," Franck said in a small voice as he scanned the harsh symbols, "oh my, oh my, oh my..."

“What is it?” Miss Barkcastle asked in as soothing a manner as possible, stepping up behind Franck and peering around his shoulder.  It was Rockspark who answered, however.

“This is Varokh Vehr, isn’t it?” he said and everyone turned his way.  “Varokh Vehr, the Blood Forts.”

            Franck nodded somewhat sheepishly.

            “They are the focus of much Vampire mythology, being the seat of princes, kings, emperors and pontiffs.  The stories of the end of the Vampire dynasty’s at the hands of the privileged Dhampyr class tell of the last battle taking place on this very spot – at the gates of Varokh Vehr, until the Dhampyr Dayriders were able to force their way in and eradicate all the Vampires within.”

            “Well then,” Harker said confidently, “that settles it then.  This is proof that there are no more Vampires and we can go in.”

            “On the contrary, Harker,” the Former Baron said, still sounding so much smaller and weaker than usual, “these doors tell a very different story indeed.”

            “What do they say, Franck?” Siren asked.

            “Well, once the ritual of the script is complete, the doors are capable of recording the history of the bloodline who created them.  They’ve probably been re-consecrated a thousand times, but always the lines added will speak favourably of those who reside within.  The story should end with the charge of the Dhampyr, because, after that, so the the stories say, there were no Vampire lords to write history about.  They do not.”

            Every eye was on Franck now.

            “They go one for quite a bit after that.  The last entry is about…. Let’s see… Magnash Sharkhany-Vehr… Lord Blood Dragon.  Apparently he murdered his father.”

            “And… there’s nothing about how he died, or left or…?” Harker asked, suddenly uncertain.

            “Quite noticably not.”

            “Oh.”

            “So we have to find somewhere else, then?” Siren asked.

            “That would be wisest.”

            They turned away from the Vampiric gates, dejected, and that was when they heard the first sign of danger, the distant baying of a Barrowhound.

            “That ain’t good,” Gulliver said, taking a step back towards the gates, “that ain’t good at all.”

            Siren turned to Ember and asked the only question that seemed to matter right then, “How long?”

            “A few minutes,” the Fallen replied sadly.

            The baying grew louder.

            “There’s nowhere to run now,” Harker said, “we’re caught between a rock and a hard place!”

            “Technically, my piratical friend, we’re caught between a Vampire Lord and the infinite forces of an Elder God.”

            “Thanks for that, Franck,” Siren replied pointedly, “that made us all feel so much better.”

            “Actually,” Gulliver said, gulping loudly, “I think it made thin’s very simple.  I’m runnin’ inside!”

            True to form, Gulliver did as he said, dashing through the gap in the gigantic doors to disappear from sight.  The howls of the Barrowhounds could be heard growing louder and louder still.

            “All right,” Siren decided, “everyone into the crypt.  It’s our only hope now!”

            She stepped aside and ushered everyone through the doors, with Harker standing by her side.  Miss Barkcastle led the way, with Franck keeping her company.  Ember guided Ellis in next and then  Rockspark led Annabella and the rest of the crew in behind them.  Soon only Siren and Harker remained.

            “This is the stupidest thing we’ve done in a long time,” Harker said as they turned to enter the Blood Forts.

            “It was your idea to begin with!”

            “Yeah, and don’t I regret it.”

            There came a bark from behind and Siren looked over her shoulder just in time to see the first of the Barrowhounds careering around the corner, all three sets of paws pounding as hard as they could, four eyes glinting furiously, multiple rows of teeth razor sharp and dripping with acidic saliva.

She pushed Harker ahead of her, ducked in through the gap and then immediately lent on the massive stone doors to push them shut.  Everyone else was already there, but it took them a moment to realise they needed to push.  It was enough of a gap for the hound to poke it’s monstrous head through.

“Push, everyone!” she yelled as the head tried to squirm around to her and a strand of saliva flew loose to catch her on the wrist.  She gasped from the burning pain and pulled her hand away, forcing all her weight into her shoulder instead.

The doors began to move, there was a horrible crunching noise and then the Barrowhound yelped and pulled its head back to disappear as stone met stone in seamless, Vampiric design.

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