There was no precedent for a human capturing a member of the Nobility—a vampire. Battles between the two species were normally a matter of kill or be killed. It went without saying that one side ended up dead more often than not. Particularly when doing battle at night, in the Nobility’s element, the respective weapons and abilities of the combatants made the outcome painfully obvious.
“With this.” The elderly physician produced a small glass bottle from his faithful medical bag. It was filled to its corked neck with yellowish granules.
“What in the world is that?” Doris’ tone was a jumble of expectation and misgivings.
Dr. Ferringo didn’t answer, but rather pulled a battered envelope from the same bag and unfolded the letter it contained. He held it out to Doris.
The second she laid eyes on the characters scrawled in sap-based ink on the yellowed paper, Doris turned to the physician with a perplexed expression. “This handwriting ... My father wrote this ...”
His hoary head bobbed in agreement. “Your dear father used to send me these while he was out on the road honing his fighting skills, back before your brother and you were born. But this was the last of them. If you read it, you’ll see that it relates an encounter between your father and a vampire.”
“My father and a vampire?” Doris forgot everything else and began poring over the letter. The first sentence or two informed the reader he’d arrived at his lodging. Then, the very characters themselves became jumbled with excitement and fear.
I’ve found it. The bastard’s weakness is a t ...
That was all there was. After the last character, the rest of the sheet was just a lonely expanse of rough, yellowed paper. Doris fixed a confused gaze on the elderly physician. “Why didn’t my father finish what he was writing? Was there anything in any of his other letters?”
The physician shook his head. “While your father was writing that letter in his lodgings, he was attacked by a vampire, but he fended it off. There can be no doubt your father somehow discovered some weakness of theirs. That much he stated plainly in another letter. The point is, he fought off the fiend, put his mind to order, and had just taken up a pen to record his discovery when he realized he’d completely forgotten what that discovery was.”
“Are you serious? How could that happen?”
“I’ll address that later. At any rate, less than five minutes after the danger had passed, your father found himself standing like a zombie with a pen in his hand. Like a man possessed, he sifted through his memories, wracked his brain, and eventually even tried to reenact his own half of the engagement, but all his efforts were for naught. The vampire appeared and they scuffled. Then, when all hope seemed lost, he narrowly managed to make his foe take flight—that much he could clearly recall, but the form of that decisive attack and manner in which he’d learned it were completely expunged from his memory.”
“But why? How did that happen?”
Ignoring the same question from Doris a second time, the physician went on. “We had that last little ‘t’ as a hint, but your father never did figure out what that was supposed to stand for. He wrote again about how the situation developed in another letter and sent it along to me, entrusting me to make something out of it. Unfortunately, I failed to live up to his expectations ...”
“Well if that’s the case,” Doris said, completely forgetting the danger creeping steadily closer and whipping herself into a frenzy, “all we have to do is solve the mystery of the little ‘t’ to find out what the Nobility’s weakness is, right?” Her voice trembled with expectation, but it quickly withered. She recognized that the shadow clinging to the face of the elderly physician said that the situation was not merely grave, but close to hopeless.
In the past, attempts to learn a definitive way to protect themselves from vampires had been tried time and again, but all of them had proved fruitless. Though humans must have had ample opportunity to learn that secret in the countless conflicts that raged ever since their species lost the right to rule the world, not one such method had been passed down to posterity. Now, ages had passed since anyone had even tried to discover them.
“The Nobility is going to beat us after all, aren’t they? I mean, if they don’t have any weaknesses ... ”
As Dr. Ferringo heard Doris’ words crawling across the floor like a beaten dog, he shook his head and stated firmly, “No. If that were the case, we wouldn’t have these rumors being passed down all these years that there are things that can hurt them. Didn’t your own father state he managed to drive a vampire off in some manner or other? Your father wouldn’t have lied to save his own life. I’ve heard tell of knights and travelers who’ve had experiences similar to his, and I’ve even spoken to a few in person.”
“And did you find out anything?”
“No, all of them had the same thing happen that your father did. They escaped the loathsome fangs of the fiend by some means … or rather, they forced the fiend to escape. And yet, despite that, not one of them could recall anything at all about what they’d done.”
Doris was speechless.
“More recently, I’ve been tempted to view these rumors of a weakness in the Nobility as legends born of wishful thinking, but I plowed through a mountain of records, and based on the actual cases I could assemble, I’m positive that a weakness does in fact exist. People simply can’t remember what it is. In my view, it’s a kind of manipulation of our memories.”
“Manipulation of our memories?” Doris knit her brow.
“To be more precise, perhaps we could call it a selective and automatic editing of our memories. To wit, our minds have been programmed to automatically erase all memories of a certain kind.”
“You mean, memories of their weaknesses? Of weapons that can drive them off?” Unconsciously, Doris was trying to peek inside the old man’s head. Was that what the powder in the bottle really was?
Watched by eyes that were a battlefield between hope and uncertainty, the physician went on undeterred. “Remember, we’re talking about the bastards who ruled the world for ten thousand years. I’m sure it would be mere child’s play for them to alter human DNA and reprogram our minds to selectively weed out any memories of those sorts. That’s a theory that’s been around for quite some time, and based on my own research, I’ve taken up with that camp. I’m not usually the type to go along with theories when I don’t know the folks behind them, but what’s right is right. That being the case, the rest is simple.”
“The rest being?”
“All we have to do is bring those memories back.”
Doris gasped. “Can you really do that?”
The physician looked very pleased with himself as he rolled the bottle in question in the palm of his hand. “Here we have the fruit of that very endeavor. I hypnotized a dozen of the men and women I interviewed, and tried to regress them with the help of reenactment-stimulating drugs I procured from the Capital. What I have here is something two of them mentioned. You see, even with all their science, the creatures of the night couldn’t completely erase our memories.”
Doris noticed that the physician seemed to hesitate at the last sentence, but couldn’t fathom why. She pursued a different matter instead. “But if what you say is true, Doc, won’t the two of us lose all memory of that powder soon?”
“No, I’ve been fine so far. Again, this is purely a hypothesis, but the loss of memory only occurs when the subconscious mind has actual proof that we’ve discovered a weakness of the damned Nobility. In our heart of hearts, neither you nor I completely believe in the efficacy of this powder. As a result, the enemies’ programming hasn’t gone into action, either.”
“Then why don’t we just write it down somewhere?”
“That wouldn’t do any good. On reading it, even the person who wrote it would take it as the deluded ravings of a madman.”
A somewhat deflated Doris changed her tack. “So is that powder the same little ‘t’ thing that was in my father’s letter?”
Once again the physician shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I’ve given the matter much consideration, but I simply can’t connect the powder with that initial. Some might say your father, overwhelmed by the excitement of this great discovery, miswrote it, but I don’t believe that’s the case. The reason I don’t is because most of the other interviewees failed to mention the powder as well. I think it’s safe to assume the letter ‘t’ refers to something else entirely.”
“But if some of them could remember the powder, why didn’t they remember the other thing?”
Dr. Ferringo faltered. And then he began to speak in the gravest tone Doris had ever heard. “I’ve always felt there was something somewhat ironic about human/Nobility relations—in the Nobility’s view of humanity, to be specific. In your present circumstances, I can’t expect you to appreciate this, but they may well feel a kind of affection toward us.”
“What the hell! The Nobles think they’re our friends? That’s ridiculous!”
Rougher than her tone was the way Doris’ hand tugged at the scarf around her neck. For the first time in her life, she glared at the elderly physician. “I don’t care who you are, Doc, that’s ... I just don’t have the words ... ”
“Don’t pull such a face.” The physician waved his hands in an attempt at placating her. “By no means is that to say all of the Nobility feel that way. Any examination of the historical facts will show that, in the preponderance of cases, they don’t demonstrate affection, but rather act as if human beings were lower than machines. Emotionally speaking—if we assume for a moment that they indeed have emotions—as much as ninety-nine percent of them are no different from the lord who attacked you. But it’s very difficult to discount the possibility that the other one percent exists. I’ll have to relate all the facts I’ve unearthed to you another day …”
Am I gonna see another day?
Doris wondered. Beyond the window, something evil was on its way, tearing through the pleasantly sweet air of the spring-like evening.
Dr. Ferringo wasn’t looking at Doris any longer. His eyes seemed nailed to a spot on the floor as he continued to expound on long-held suspicions. “For example, why would they make distinctions between their weaknesses and the weapons that exploit them? Why did some memory of this powder remain when it could’ve been erased as completely as whatever the ‘t’ stands for? My guess is that compared to this ‘t’ thing, the powder is a minor hindrance, at best. Could it be the bastards are just teasing us? Is this our masters saying, ‘Let them have a minor weakness like this,’ as they throw us a bone? If that’s the case, then why not make it common knowledge from the start?” Here Dr. Ferringo’s words trailed off. Pausing a beat, he added, “This is the conclusion I’ve come to after a humble little investigation that’s occupied half this old fool’s sixty years—I take this as a challenge from a race that reached the pinnacle and now slides toward extinction. It’s a challenge being offered to us humans, a race that can’t even begin to be measured against them. But we may eventually rise to their level, or perhaps even surpass them. And I believe this is what they say: ‘If you humans want to inherit our throne, then try to beat us into submission by your own power. If you have the powder, then try to solve the mystery of the ‘t’ thing. And when you’ve solved it, try to prevent it from being shrouded again in the mists of forgetfulness.’”
“That’s impossible ...” To Doris, the words spilling from her own lips sounded a million miles away. “That’d make them just like an instructor breaking in a Hunter trainee ...”
Though he gave a slight nod, it was unclear if the elderly physician truly fathomed Doris’ words. His gaze didn’t deviate in the least as he said, “This isn’t something the Lesser Nobility would be capable of. It may well be ...”
“It may well be what?”
“Him. All the true Nobility in the world were united under the thousand Greater Nobility, the seven Kings, and the legendary dark lord who ruled them all—the great vampire, the king of kings, Dra—”
At that moment, a wave of tension swept into Doris’ countenance. “Doc!” she shouted, but it sounded more like a cry for help than a warning. Snapping back to reality, the physician turned his head to follow Doris as she made for the living room window.
The light of the moon on the cool plains showed no signs of anything on the move, but the ears of both caught the sounds of wagon wheels and hooves pounding distant terrain.
“Looks like he’s coming.”
“I’ve got a hell of a welcome party set up for him.” Though she’d reclaimed the stalwart mien of an Amazon, in her heart of hearts the girl let a plaintive cry escape.
You didn’t make it back in time after all, D.
.
The black cyborgs seemed to run on unearthly clouds, and, when their hoofbeats echoed so close that it was impossible Doris was mistaken, she went to the other side of the living room and twisted one of the silver ceremonial masks adorning the wall to the right.
With a dim sound, part of the floor and wall rotated and pulled out of sight. In a matter of seconds, a wooden control-console and armchair appeared. Though the control console itself was wood, the switch- and lever-dotted top was iron, with a riot of colored lamps and gauges adding to the confusion. This was a combat control center—Doris’ father had summoned a craftsman all the way from the Capital to install it. Every weapon on the farm could be controlled from here. As far as being prepared for the attacks by the creatures that ran rampant in the wild, this was about as good as money could buy. A full-field prismatic scope lowered from the ceiling.
“Ha! Back in those days, I asked your father what kind of work he was having done, and he told me he was having a new solar converter put in. Your father was a sly one to even keep this from me.”
There wasn’t time to respond to the recollections of the still-easygoing physician. The prismatic lens of the view scope showed a black carriage drawn by a team of four horses coming down the road to the farm at full speed. Doris’ hand reached for one of the levers. The view scope doubled as a targeting system.
“Steady,” Dr. Ferringo told her as he peered out the window, the little bottle in his hand. “You’ve still got the electromagnetic barrier.” Before he had finished speaking, the triple-barred, wooden gate opened without a whisper. As the black carriage was about to sprint through the gate with a gust of wind, it was enveloped by a blinding flash of light.