Read Online Kardinal by Thomas Emson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Thomas Emson
Tags: Fiction - Fantasy, Vampires
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lifting the spear. He had been right: her touch felt cold and ancient.
She said, “ Vorbi cu mine .”
“What… what did you say?”
“Vorbi cu mine.”
“What are you saying… saying to me?”
“I say to you, ‘Speak to me,’ and you do, and I have your language. I know it. I have waited 500 years for you, prince.”
PART THREE. POWER.
CHAPTER 17. BEAUTIFUL MONSTER
Poienari Castle, Wallachia, Romania – December 1476
SIMEON of Tălmaciu nervously opened the door to Vlad’s bedchamber.
He peeked inside, and what he saw almost made him faint. He had to sit on the trunk he’d only moments before dragged out of the room.
He had been told to take the trunk to Bucharest, seventy-five miles away, where his Nebuchadnezzar brother, Prince Mehmed, waited for him with the Ottoman army. Mehmed would return the chest’s contents to the East, to Constantinople. The prince was not really an Ottoman. No more than Simeon was truly Christian and European. They were both descended from King Nebuchadnezzar. They both strove to bring Babylon back. Babylon and her vampires. Mehmed had once told him, “We are not Christian, we are not Jews, we are not Mussulmen.”
They weren’t. They were none of those religions. They were of an older religion. A religion born in the bowels of Babylon thousands of years before Christ. The most powerful faith in history.
“Go,” Simeon’s mistress had told him. “Go and find Mehmed, and keep the chest safe.”
And then his mistress had faced Vlad the Impaler, enemy of all vampires, killer of the living and the dead. The voivode had murdered Simeon’s father months earlier. Impaled him as he’d impaled the vampires. Left him alive with a post driven into his bowels. Left him alive to rot and have his eyes plucked out by the crows. It took days for his father to die, and every second was agony. Simeon craved revenge, and his mistress would be his sword.
His mistress Ereshkigal.
The ancient witch.
One of Nimrod’s hundred brides.
The oldest vampire in the world.
Five thousand years old.
A beautiful monster.
Simeon’s father, whose cover was as priest of Tălmaciu, had been so close to resurrecting the trinity.
But Vlad, the Wallachian prince, had been at war with the Nebuchadnezzars and their vampires allies for decades. He had harried them and murdered them. He was a dangerous man who showed very little fear and no mercy.
Forests of stakes had dotted Wallachia.
Screams filled the mountains.
Death saturated the air.
Vlad would impale the vampires, but not through the heart. They would be alive and pinned to the tall, wooden poles through their bellies. They could not escape. They writhed in agony and terror, waiting for dawn to come. Waiting for the sun to fry them alive. The Wallachian mass murderer had done the same to Simeon’s father. Driven a sharpened post up into him. Simeon could still hear his father’s dreadful shriek as the stake pierced him.
After a moment sitting on the trunk, he now stepped into Vlad’s bedchamber.
The voivode lay dead, an arrow wound in his chest.
Ereshkigal’s remains were scattered on the stone floor.
She was dust.
Simeon cried out.
He raced to the window and stared out. Down in the valley near the River Arges, Vlad’s army was camped.
A man with a longbow strapped across his back trudged down the gorge towards the camp.
Simeon looked at Vlad’s body.
The archer walking down to the valley must have fired, aiming to kill Ereshkigal. But he’d also struck his own master.
Simeon wanted to laugh at the archer, wanted to mock him.
But he needed to stay alive and not draw attention to himself.
He needed to gather his mistress’s remains.
Hurriedly, he found a clay jar. He tossed out the contents. They were trinkets – rings, bracelets, necklaces.
Simeon carefully swept up Ereshkigal’s ashes. She was dirt now. But he knew she could be resurrected. The trinity had only been fragments. However, the right
She said, “ Vorbi cu mine .”
“What… what did you say?”
“Vorbi cu mine.”
“What are you saying… saying to me?”
“I say to you, ‘Speak to me,’ and you do, and I have your language. I know it. I have waited 500 years for you, prince.”
PART THREE. POWER.
CHAPTER 17. BEAUTIFUL MONSTER
Poienari Castle, Wallachia, Romania – December 1476
SIMEON of Tălmaciu nervously opened the door to Vlad’s bedchamber.
He peeked inside, and what he saw almost made him faint. He had to sit on the trunk he’d only moments before dragged out of the room.
He had been told to take the trunk to Bucharest, seventy-five miles away, where his Nebuchadnezzar brother, Prince Mehmed, waited for him with the Ottoman army. Mehmed would return the chest’s contents to the East, to Constantinople. The prince was not really an Ottoman. No more than Simeon was truly Christian and European. They were both descended from King Nebuchadnezzar. They both strove to bring Babylon back. Babylon and her vampires. Mehmed had once told him, “We are not Christian, we are not Jews, we are not Mussulmen.”
They weren’t. They were none of those religions. They were of an older religion. A religion born in the bowels of Babylon thousands of years before Christ. The most powerful faith in history.
“Go,” Simeon’s mistress had told him. “Go and find Mehmed, and keep the chest safe.”
And then his mistress had faced Vlad the Impaler, enemy of all vampires, killer of the living and the dead. The voivode had murdered Simeon’s father months earlier. Impaled him as he’d impaled the vampires. Left him alive with a post driven into his bowels. Left him alive to rot and have his eyes plucked out by the crows. It took days for his father to die, and every second was agony. Simeon craved revenge, and his mistress would be his sword.
His mistress Ereshkigal.
The ancient witch.
One of Nimrod’s hundred brides.
The oldest vampire in the world.
Five thousand years old.
A beautiful monster.
Simeon’s father, whose cover was as priest of Tălmaciu, had been so close to resurrecting the trinity.
But Vlad, the Wallachian prince, had been at war with the Nebuchadnezzars and their vampires allies for decades. He had harried them and murdered them. He was a dangerous man who showed very little fear and no mercy.
Forests of stakes had dotted Wallachia.
Screams filled the mountains.
Death saturated the air.
Vlad would impale the vampires, but not through the heart. They would be alive and pinned to the tall, wooden poles through their bellies. They could not escape. They writhed in agony and terror, waiting for dawn to come. Waiting for the sun to fry them alive. The Wallachian mass murderer had done the same to Simeon’s father. Driven a sharpened post up into him. Simeon could still hear his father’s dreadful shriek as the stake pierced him.
After a moment sitting on the trunk, he now stepped into Vlad’s bedchamber.
The voivode lay dead, an arrow wound in his chest.
Ereshkigal’s remains were scattered on the stone floor.
She was dust.
Simeon cried out.
He raced to the window and stared out. Down in the valley near the River Arges, Vlad’s army was camped.
A man with a longbow strapped across his back trudged down the gorge towards the camp.
Simeon looked at Vlad’s body.
The archer walking down to the valley must have fired, aiming to kill Ereshkigal. But he’d also struck his own master.
Simeon wanted to laugh at the archer, wanted to mock him.
But he needed to stay alive and not draw attention to himself.
He needed to gather his mistress’s remains.
Hurriedly, he found a clay jar. He tossed out the contents. They were trinkets – rings, bracelets, necklaces.
Simeon carefully swept up Ereshkigal’s ashes. She was dirt now. But he knew she could be resurrected. The trinity had only been fragments. However, the right
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