Explorers
Myra opened the door and stopped in her tracks. Zack was not the only one waiting for her at the Headquarters. Other Resistance members and Sissi were also there, all silent and looking at her.
“Good afternoon, Captain Andersen,” Zack said solemnly. “We have summoned you here to discuss our upcoming negations with Prince Vladimir. As previously agreed, you will go together with Andre and Lidia.”
Myra liked the arrangement—she was happy with the company, and she was certain Vlad would find a way to talk to her in private anyway. “And I’m glad to accept.”
Zack’s face softened. “Myra… I’m not asking this of you if you’re not up to it. You are free to let someone else take your place. I said I’d only send volunteers, and this includes you.”
Myra shook her head. “This was my plan. I started it. I’d like to see it through the end.”
Zack nodded. “Good. You will travel to the Palace tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll compose a letter with the terms. They are simple—we demand that the Prince destroy the WeatherWizard and release all humans. If he meets our terms, we release our prisoner and give him enough time to return to the Palace. After that, there is no further agreement between us, and each side will be free to attack the other. If he refuses, we kill the prisoner. Slowly. We sent body parts to the Prince regularly, giving him the chance to reconsider.” He stood up from his chair. “Thank you all for attending. You are dismissed for now.”
The gathered Warriors left the hall, and Myra tried to hide her eagerness to get out. She hoped Lidia would be done with Tristan by now, and he would be alone and able to share his story. Once the distance between her and the Headquarters was large enough, her steps quickened, but a light touch on her elbow made her stop.
“I need to speak to you,” Sissi whispered, and the two girls sneaked into a small, unoccupied cell.
Sissi waited for a moment, making sure there no one else was around. “I’ve been trying to learn more about the Prince,” she said breathlessly. “I went to your library—you do have a wonderful collection, do you know that? And your history encyclopedias are brilliant. Anyway, I found a very extensive encyclopedia on world religions. I think the key to unveiling his past is to find out his beliefs.”
Myra suppressed a smile. Their collection was wonderful? What would Sissi say if she could see the Palace’s libraries? “I agree,” she said. “Unfortunately, we have no systematic way to search. We would need to read about each religion one by one, and I imagine there are many.”
“Still, we already know some key points we could look for. You mentioned you believe his religion is pagan, with animal sacrifices to predict the future, but also monotheistic. You also said the Prince has a tattoo, but we don’t know if it was a tribal custom or done later. Anything else that might be relevant?”
“Tristan mentioned something about a sky god,” said Myra. “‘God of the blue sky’ were his exact words, I believe.”
Sissi’s eyes brightened. “Brilliant! I’ll look through the book and see if there are any matches. Any idea what continent the Prince originally comes from? That would narrow it down.”
“Hard to say for sure,” Myra mused. “We know he was turned by a Greek vampire around the ninth century, which rules out quite a few places. Combined with his appearance, I’d say Southern Europe, or western or central Asia.”
“That’s a start,” said Sissi. “At the time lots of tribes were moving around and mixing. I think we should look for religions that originated anywhere in Eurasia.”
“Yes, we should look into that,” Myra agreed. “But first, I must go to Tristan.” She hesitated. “Do you want to join me? He promised to tell me the story of his human days.”
“Oh, so tempting,” Sissi said. “But we’ll raise suspicions if we both spend too much time in his cell. At least, we shouldn’t go together. Once he escapes, Zack will investigate, and then we could confirm each other’s alibis. We shouldn’t give him any reason to believe that we might be conspiring together.”
“Yes, of course,” Myra said. Sissi’s self-restraint surprised her; perhaps she had to learn it herself. “I’ll go alone, then, but I’ll tell you all about it,” Myra promised and left the small cell.
Her feet moved fast over the stones, and she fought hard to restrain her pace. Finally. After more than two months, she would learn how Tristan had become the monster he was today.
Myra entered Tristan’s cell and grinned, seeing a trace of blood smeared on his cheek. “So, you did drink the rats after all?”
“I did,” Tristan grumbled. He was once again standing up, with his back to the wall, his arms stretched upwards and chained. A hint of color had returned to his face—the rat blood had done some good. “But I only did it for you, so that you would stop making those brainless offers to serve as my breakfast. I hope you appreciate my selfless sacrifice.”
She laughed. “Thanks. I do.”
“Good. And you can start showing your appreciation by not breathing a word about the rats to anyone.” He grimaced. “Definitely not to the Prince. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Speaking of,” Myra said, “I’m leaving for the Palace tomorrow.”
Tristan looked up, his grey eyes bright, but his voice was casual and disinterested as he spoke. “I see. In case he asks about me, make sure you skip the part about the whipping. It is nothing, really, but he tends to overreact. Must be the savage blood.”
“Of course,” Myra said. “I wasn’t planning to tell him anyway. But now, unless you’re tired, would you tell me the story you promised? I can’t wait to hear how you became a vampire, and how the stag skin from your peasant hut ended up in your study in the Palace.”
He frowned. “How did you know it’s the same one?”
“I noticed the white spot on its neck, and I took a guess. You kept it all these centuries?”
“Of course,” he said. “It is a precious memento.”
She smiled. “I didn’t know you were so sentimental.”
He moved his chained arms and threw his head back against the wall. “You always seem awfully surprised every time you discover I have any kind of feelings,” he said, his voice bored. “You must have learned by now that I am a deeply sensitive and emotional vampire.”
“Yes, remarkably sensitive and emotional,” she said with a snort. “So, would you tell me the story? Though I admit the ending is predictable.”
“Oh, is it?” Tristan raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps I should let you tell it instead.”
“I can only make a guess,” said Myra. “You were afraid the Prince wouldn’t be interested in you once you lost your ability to write. Still, in the end, he turned you, and you couldn’t write anymore, and yet you two are still inseparable. You claim that my case would be the same—I think he wouldn’t talk to me if I couldn’t write, but in truth he would.”
“In a nutshell, yes,” the vampire said. “But it was a bit more complicated than that, and I still suffer the consequences of my fear.”
Myra sat cross-legged on the dirty floor, resting her hands in her lap. “Then I’d like to hear all the messy details.”