Dark Ages Clan Novel 1: Nosferatu Excerpt

 

 

The knight sneered. "Hospital? Are you heretics so foolish that you have carpenters for doctors, or so blasphemous that you worship in their wooden stalls?"

"Was our Christ not a carpenter?"

"I'll hear no more blasphemy!" And the knight raised his sword and struck.

Malachite watched the arc of the blow from above, unable to reach out and stop it--and in the speed and force of the blow, he recognized the inhuman strength of the wielder.

The heavy blade sliced cleanly through the arm the monk raised for protection and struck fiercely into his brain pan. The monk's body, wracked by spasms, tried to crumple, but steel lodged in bone held it aloft. Not until the knight kicked at the monk's face did the body jar loose and fall twitching to the ground.

"God of my fathers... no," Miriam said, hand covering her mouth, gaze ensnared by the bloodshed below.

Had she not been standing beside Malachite, he would not have heard her, because with the fall of the sword, true panic seized the crowd. Screams. A press of bodies, but in conflicting directions. Some of the fleeing dropped or knocked the injured to the ground. A few foolhardy souls flung themselves at the knights but were quickly struck down or trampled under hoof.

"There is a cellar," Miriam said. "We can hide."

Malachite shook his head as he saw the knights, several with torches, converging on the wooden building. "No." Perhaps they had wished at first to search the compound, but now their blood was up, and they were determined to cleanse the world with flame. And there were Cainites among them. The boy had said it, and Malachite had seen as much now with his own eyes. But these Cainites were of the West, or recently returned from the Levant, perhaps. They cared nothing for Malachite's authority under Michael, nor for Constantinople. To them the Dream was nothing more than a vision of gold to fill their coffers.

But they will stay back, Malachite thought, back from the flames. His nose twitched at the scent of smoke--not from within the city walls or the smoldering ash of the surrounding neighborhood this time, but from flames licking fresh timber at the base of the building. There are mortals among them as well, he suspected. To handle fire so brazenly, they would likely be mortals. He hoped as much, for it would increase his chances of escape--his, and the boy's, and...

"They're setting the building on fire!" Miriam realized, her mortal senses lagging behind Malachite's.

He grabbed her by the sleeve and dragged her stumbling to the far side of the roof. "Climb onto my back," he told her. "Hurry."

"But they're setting fire to the building!" she told him, as if somehow he did not understand that. "There are still people downstairs--some of them can't walk!"

Malachite understood that as well. "You can do nothing more."

"They can't walk! They can't get out!"

"Thousands are perishing in this city. Go down there, and you will be one of them. Are you so ready for death?"

She hesitated, unable to argue with his blunt assessment.

"Climb onto my back and hold tight. Now."

She did so, but Malachite could feel the weight of her guilt at saving herself while those she had cared for would die. He gave her no time to reconsider but jumped at once. The ground rushed to meet him. His bones and stringy muscles absorbed the jolt, aided by the strength and resilience of the blood. Miriam coughed and sputtered, the breath knocked from her.

"Hurry!" Malachite said, jerking her to her feet when she staggered. She had bitten her lip, and blood ran down her chin. "Can you carry the boy?" he asked, seeing that she could walk. "He is not heavy." She was confused for a moment but then nodded. Malachite handed her the frail body.

Taking her by the sleeve, Malachite began leading her away from the building. This was no orderly siege but rather an impulsive slaughter. The crusaders had formed no organized perimeter. Still, to remain near the building was to court disaster. Already the flames were whipping high on the other side.

Screams filled the night: terrified, pained, silenced by sword, tortured by fire.