I turned a corner and found myself standing in the same alleyway where first I had seen Jarek Mace leap from the balcony. It seemed as if centuries had passed since then … a different world. I sat down on the cobbles and wished that I had my harp. I could not even remember the name of the girl we had rescued. There were no more tears inside me at that time. Ilka was gone and I felt the emptiness that comes with the cleaving of shared memories. Part of the joy of life is to sit with a loved one and say, ‘Do you remember that day on the mountain?’ Or perhaps a walk by a stream, or a dance at Midsummer, when the rains came. Joys continually given the breath of life by the speaking of them.
We made love only nine times. And I recall every precious moment, every touch and kiss, the sweetness of her breath, the smell of her hair.
I sat alone, my mind floating back through the days in the forest. A door creaked and I looked up to see an elderly woman and a small child emerging into the night. The woman was skeletally ^hin, her shoulders bowed. The child was standing, clinging to her hand, her eyes wide and frightened.
‘It is safe,’ I said. ‘They are all dead.’I heard the singing,’ said the old woman. The . . . creatures did not sing.’I stood then and approached them, but the child shrank back against the woman’s skirts. ‘How did you escape them?’ I asked.
‘We hid in the attic,’ she told me. ‘We have been there for … the Lord knows how long.’I took her by the arm and led her back towards the palace. She was weak, as was the child. They had eaten nothing in all that
time, and had survived only on rain-water that flowed down through a crack in the roof. At first the child would not suffer me to carry her, but her tiny body had no strength in it and she began to cry. I lifted her then, hugging her to me, and her head fell to my shoulder and she slept.
As we made our slow way through the city other survivors crept out from their hiding-places, drawn by the songs and laughter from the palace. Man is a great survivor. Floods, famine, drought, war and pestilence – he will defeat them all. Even in Ziraccu, in a city of Vampyres, there were those who had found sanctuary, surviving against all odds.
But of the eighteen thousand original inhabitants, no more than six hundred remained.
By morning we had gathered them all. I walked among them, and will never forget their eyes. All had that haunted look. None would ever come close to forgetting the terror. For many had been hunted by their own loved ones, friends and brothers. Husbands had made prey of their wives, children their parents.
Oh, Cataplas, how great an evil you unleashed upon the world! And it was an evil of the mosj vile kind – men, women and children turned into Vampryes against their will, becoming creatures of vileness themselves. Men talk of the judgement of God. What did you say, Cataplas, when – if – you faced that inquisition? ‘It was not my fault? I didn’t know?’ Will that be considered a defence? I think not. What evil is greater than to force others to walk the path of darkness?
Of the six hundred survivors some seventeen died within the next three days, some because they were malnourished, others because they were old and frail. But most, I think, merely gave up, having nothing to live for.
Brackban organized teams of helpers and people from the surrounding areas moved into the city, taking over shops and stores, taverns and houses. I could not stay there. Neither could the Morningstar, and we walked together back into the forest.
But not before we had once more dealt with the skulls. Brackban took the first and hid it somewhere in the city. Wulf took the second and I the third. I buried mine beneath the roots of a huge oak. What Wulf did with his I never asked.