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Science Fiction and Fantasy
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| Blood-Red Skies | |
| By Mr_E_Writer | ||||||||||
| 04 August 2008 | ||||||||||
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Whatever happened to the vampire fanclub?
In his dreams, he had torn fresh meat from soft, white bones and danced naked in the flames of a Bealtaine fire.
Valspar stirred in twilight's gloom. Upon opening his eyes, he was surprised to discover himself in the library of St Mark's church. Glowing redly, an oil lamp hung in the solitary window, spitting and hissing like a feral tomcat; its flame a tiny creature which danced its farewell before an audience of one. Dawn advanced. Beyond an archway was a dimly lit hallway aligned with several doors that led to the childrens' bedrooms; one of which was currently occupied by his young brother, Vostok. Judging by the rows of heads on spikes; only faintly visible in the flickering light, they had had a busy night. Had they chosen this place for its essence of the dramatic? Quite the contrary, thought Valspar, mayhap we chose it for its sense of melancholy. Beyond the stained-glass window, through breaks in the leafy branches of an ancient oak, the flickering lights from the burning village reflected in the clouds that hung in sombre swathes akin to bandages wrapped around a blood-red sky. Valspar bathed slowly and patiently in the clear water of the font and dressed himself in his silk shirt, a pair of black double-pleated tousers, black buckle-boots and his burgundy greatcoat. He could smell soup cooking, the freshly-slaughtered chicken bubbling in the cauldron of the farmer's wife. By water and broth, his memories returned; slowly retrieved images from their last night riding the rocky mountain pass. He had not once had the presence of mind to use the medications from the silver and ebony box, thus his thoughts had been mislaid as he twisted and turned beneath the fresh clean sheets. Two days out of Adamstown, Valspar's brother had pulled up his mare and turned, ashen-faced, to address his elder sibling. "We should start back," Vostok had urged as dawn's light came creeping upon the woodland, the darkness quickly dissolving around them. "The villagers are dead." "And do the dead frighten you, my brother?" Valspar had asked, his features displaying the hint of a smile. Vostok had not risen to the bait. "Dead is dead, whilst undead is as undead does. No, my brother, there is naught I fear, naught but the daylight, for the daylight brings with it death for ones such as we. Before us lies an arduous journey. Five days we might sit in the saddle, possibly six, before we reach the fortress of Mardyke, within whose walls await the seven vestal virgins."
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