‘Thibor, I know you’re there. It’s your loss, old devil, if you choose to ignore me.’
Again the wind soughed in the high branches, and with it a whisper crept into the necromancer’s mind:
Dragosaaaniiii? Is it you? Ahhhh!
‘It’s me, yes’, he eagerly answered. ‘I’ve come to bring you life, old devil – or rather, to renew your undeath.’
Too late, Dragosani, too late. My time is come and I must answer the call of the dark earth. Even I, Thibor Ferenczy of the Wamphyri. My privations have been many and my spark has been allowed to burn too low. Now it merely flickers. What can you do for me now, my son? Nothing, I fear. It is finished . . .
‘No, I can’t believe that! I’ve brought life for you, fresh blood. Tomorrow there’ll be more. In a few days you’ll be strong again. Why didn’t you tell me things were at such a pass? I was sure you cried wolf! How could you expect me to believe when all you’ve ever done is lie to me?’
. . . Perhaps in that I was mistaken after all, the Thing in the ground answered in a little while. But when even my own father and brother hated me . . . why should I trust a son? And a son by proxy, at that. There is no real flesh between us, Dragosani. Oh, we made promises, you and I, but too much to believe that anything could come of them. Still, you have prospered a little – through your knowledge of necromancy – and at least I tasted blood again, however vile. So let it be peace between us. 1 am too weak now to care . . .
Dragosani took a step forward. ‘No!’ he said again. “There are still things you can teach me, show me. Wamphyri secrets . . .’ (Did the ground tremble just a little beneath his feet? Did the unseen presence’s creep closer?) He moved back against the tree.
The voice in his mind sighed. It was the sigh of one who wearies of all earthly things, of one impatient for oblivion. And Dragosani forgot that it was the lying sigh of a vampire. Ah, Dragosani! Dragosani! – you’ve learned nothing. Did I not tell you that the lore of the Wamphyri is forbidden to mortals? Did I not say that to become is to know and that there is no other way? Begone, my son, and leave me to my fate. What? And should I give you the power to rule a world, while I lie here and turn to dust? What is that for justice? Where is the fairness in that?
Dragosani was desperate. ‘Then accept the blood I’ve brought you, the sweet meat. Grow strong again. I will accept your terms. If I must become one of the Wamphyri to learn all of their secrets – then so be it!’ he lied. ‘But without you I cannot!’
The Thing in the ground was silent for long moments while Dragosani breathlessly waited. He fancied that the earth trembled again, however minutely, beneath his feet, but that could only be his imagination – the knowledge that something ancient and evil, rotten and undead lay buried here. Behind his back the tree stood seemingly solid as a rock, so that Dragosani hardly suspected it was eaten away at its heart. But indeed it was hollow; and now something gradually eased its way up through the earth and into the dry, worm-eaten wood.
Perhaps in another moment Dragosani might have sensed movement, but in that precise instant of time Thibor spoke to him again and his attention was distracted:
Did you say you had . . . a gift for me?
There was interest in the vampire’s mental voice now, and Dragosani saw a ray of hope. ‘Yes, yes! Here at my feet. Fresh meat, blood.’ He snatched up one of the birds and squeezed its throat so that its squawking ceased at once. And in another moment he had taken a sickle of bright steel from his pocket and sliced the chicken’s gizzard. Red blood spurted and the carcass flopped a little where he tossed it, while feathers fluttered silently to the black earth.