5

While Bernhard retired alone to the room the Maestro had paid for them both, Beethoven himself fell for the entreaties of the fair maidens at his side. After half-an-hour, or so, Bernhard heard the Maestro's loud voice nearing the room and then passing by, the giggles and laughter of the two women mixing with Beethoven's tales of his recitals in far off lands. Bernhard doubted he would see the Maestro until the morning.

Laid upon one of the beds, Bernhard held his sabre in his hand and wondered about the great man's words. That a symbol of faith need not entail a religious significance. His fingers traced over the grip, smoothed by years of use. Truth told, he did have faith in that sabre. It represented the years he had fought for Austria. The people who had fought alongside him and those that had died. Through it all, that sabre had remained the only steadfast thing he could rely upon.

He placed the scabbarded sabre, point down, at the side of the bed, leaning against a chair that held his clothing, and lay back, hands behind his head. Things had moved so fast, he had had little time to make much sense of it all. Vampires! Real vampires. Days before, he would have scoffed at the idea, but the Maestro had spoken true. In the back of his mind, he had always believed that they existed, out there.

The roof above his head began to flicker as he fought to keep his eyes open. Fatigue had crept up on him and, with the addition of the large amounts of beer the Maestro almost forced down his throat, Bernhard could remain awake no longer. He allowed his eyes to close, forgetting to blow out the nearby lamp, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

His eyes snapped open. He didn't know how long he had slept, but he could tell he had not slept until morning. The darkness pressed upon him and, wide awake in an instant, he wondered whether Beethoven had returned to the room after all. The lamp no longer glowed, away to the side, and the darkness was almost absolute.

Something, however, did not feel right. He felt something. A presence within the room and, somehow, he knew it was not the Maestro that occupied the room with him. It was something else. Something foul and malodorous that smelled of dank cellars or tombs. Musty and fetid. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his hand moved, with interminable slowness, towards his sabre.

Before he could reach the sword, he saw a flash of red. Two flashes of red. Eyes that burned with hellfire, staring at him from the foot of the bed, cloaked in shadow. He shot upright, reaching out for the sabre, but catching it with his knuckles instead, sending it toppling to the wooden floorboards with a clatter. Then the two eyes sprang towards him, a hissing sound reaching Bernhard's ears.

"Where is the Scourge, mortal?" Breath that stank of rotting corpses fell upon Bernhard's face. "Where?"

Fingers like claws reached out for Bernhard's throat, but Bernhard grabbed the wrists, holding the shadowed creature back. Pointed, animalistic teeth snapped towards Bernhard's face, dripping spittle that stank worse than the creature's breath, and, this close, Bernhard recognised his attacker. The cloaked figure that had watched him and the Maestro, earlier.

Bernhard lifted his knee to his chest, placed his foot against what he hoped was the creature's body, and pushed with all his might. The beast flew backwards, slamming into the shutters upon the window and shattering one, allowing the light of the Moon to tumble into the room. The creature clung to the wall like a spider, hissing, stretching and straining its neck towards Bernhard. Bernhard could tell what it was, now.

So similar to the creatures that had surrounded him. Pale-skinned, gaunt, with those burning red eyes that were not of this Earth. A vampire. And not alone. To the side, Bernhard could see two more cloaked figures. More vampires and Bernhard felt his chest tighten in fear. The fear came unnaturally. He could tell.

He had faced more than his fair share of fear inducing events. Cannon fire ripping the horse from beneath him. Explosions raining down upon him and his fellow soldiers in the dead of night. Facing entire companies of the enemy with only a handful of souls by his side. War bred fear into soldiers and then ripped that fear from them. Bernhard had known fear and had embraced it.

This, however, felt different to anything he had experienced. The fear emanated from the creatures, pressing down upon him with the whispered tales of things in the dark. This fear felt primal, but artificial. Fear forced upon him and, if nothing else, Bernhard allowed no-one and nothing to force anything upon him. For a split second, he chanced a look to the side for his sabre.

In that fraction of a second, the creatures flew towards him, cloaks trailing behind them as they pounced from the other side of the room. Bernhard had expected something of the like and, gripping the covers of the bed, he tossed them into the air before him, the vampires crashing into the covers as Bernhard rolled to the side. The covers did not slow the vampires down for long, but now Bernhard had his own opportunity.

Clawed, dirt-packed fingernails tore the bed covers to shreds and the vampires hissed their fury, showing their teeth and claws. Showing their weapons. But Bernhard understood weapons. Standing, now, he pulled the sabre from its scabbard and showed them his own weapon. His weapon of faith. Once again, the vampires hissed, this time in a hacking, stuttering sound that Bernhard could almost call laughter.

"You threaten us with mortal instruments." Bernhard couldn't tell if the first vampire spoke, or one of the others. "Fool! Tell us where the scourge is and we will only turn you into one of us. Defy us ... and we feed."

"You shall gain neither answers, nor sustenance from me, godless abomination!" He raised the sabre, its gentle curve leading to the sharp point that he now aimed towards the vampires on the bed. "But my 'mortal instrument' will take your heads and send you to eternal damnation."

Bernhard had taken stock of his surroundings, by now, taking the time the vampires had given him by talking. He could see that the placing of the bed and furniture played more to his hands. The room was small and tight. Difficult for more than one of the creatures to attack at once. He needed that advantage.

After his first encounter with the vampires, he had noticed their greater speed. This time he noted their greater agility and strength. He had bare managed to throw the one from atop him, earlier. He had to use tactics and strategy, and those he had in abundance. Long years of war had taught him many things. Among them, that anything could become a weapon if wielded by a keen mind.

The vampires had waited long enough for an answer and two pounced forward, trying to catch Bernhard off guard, but Bernhard had anticipated the attack. With his scabbard, he smashed the face of one vampire, catching it mid-air and sending it tumbling into the wall behind Bernhard. The second, he caught with the blade of his sabre, severing the creature's hand at the wrist.

No blood emerged from that wound, but Bernhard could not take the time to wonder about the nature of these creatures. That second vampire did not howl in pain, nor did it halt its attack. Instead, with its remaining hand, it slashed its clawed fingers towards Bernhard, but he had skipped away. Using the first vampire as a springboard, he bounded to the other side of the bed, surprising the third creature.

With a shove of his boot, timed to perfection, he pushed the heavy bed. The vampire on the bed had crouched, preparing to jump towards Bernhard, but the movement of the bed caught it by surprise. As it pushed with its bent legs, the bed moved and it fell forward, almost toppling from the bed to the floorboards. Bernhard almost found it comical, but he didn't laugh.

The blade of his sabre arced through the air, catching the prone vampire at the back of the neck and passing through the desiccated flesh and bone, decapitating the beast in one, smooth movement. In an instant, the creature almost exploded in a cloud of dust, sending particles of itself to the far corners of the room. Bernhard could not begin to say how good that felt. In part, he had brought revenge upon this vampire for the loss of his beloved. But it was not enough. Not nearly enough.

The other two vampires exchanged guarded looks. They had not expected such a fight, not least of which a blade that could cut them down. Bernhard could see questions arising within those flaring red eyes. The one whose hand he had removed glanced towards the damaged window shutters and a chance of escape. The other took it upon itself to continue the fight.

Like a wild animal, the beast reared up, clambering over the bed and roaring as it made for Bernhard. It's clawed fingers slashing at Bernhard so fast, he had bare enough time to avoid them, stepping back and trying to defend himself with his sabre. His back fell against the door with a thud and he tried to judge his next move.

His hand fell upon the handle and, as the creature raced forward, Bernhard opened the door, allowing the vampire to fly out, into the corridor. He slammed the door closed and jumped across the moved bed, catching the other one before it could escape through the window, digging his sabre into its back until it burst through the creature's chest. That did not kill it.

It still writhed upon Bernhard's blade, clutching at the steel with its remaining hand. Bernhard removed the sabre, swept it around and separated the creature's head from its body. Again, the creature fell into dust, leaving a pile of remains at Bernhard's feet.

"Impressive, eh?" Gasping for breath, Bernhard turned to see Beethoven, naked but for the scarf around his throat, leaning against the door frame. "You missed one."

With a hazel baton twirling in his fingers, the Maestro tilted his head to the floor behind him, a pile of dust all that remained of the third vampire. They had triumphed.