| HOME | AUTHOR | NOVELS | BLOG | CONTACTS |
Freda Warrington - fantasy author Extract from A Dance in Blood Velvet, Book Two of the Blood Wine sequence... In my dreams I see a carnival of ice - Horslips,
"Ring-a-Rosey"
A vampire woke, not knowing where or who he
was. He was lying in a blazing white tomb. Yet
the tomb seemed infinite… an endless drift of snow roofed by the
heavens. A
gale lifted ice crystals, sweeping them in shimmering ribbons towards
the
blurred fringes of the plain. Arms of white mist enfolded him. The cold
was
absolute, but the vampire barely felt it. He was sure he’d been there
forever. Beneath a crust of ice, his body was a dark,
papery husk, burned black not by fire, but by the cold itself. Why was he suddenly aware? What was this
place? Panic. Something had disturbed him. A
command, a voice in his mind. “Wake, wake.” Must obey… The vampire feared that if he moved, he would
shatter into ash, but the demand was imperative. Someone was willing
him awake
with their last wisp of strength, their dying breath. And the voice said, “Wake. Take
revenge.
Don’t let them forget me. You are my children. I commanded you to sleep
and now
I command you to wake!” A shiver of terror went through the vampire.
Against his own judgment, he flexed his arms. Excruciating pain cracked
his
limbs. He convulsed with shock, bringing more pain. His whole body was
shattering… No. It was only the carapace of ice falling
away. The vampire examined his naked body in disbelief. Dusty black,
dragonfly-fragile, draped with false wings like torn cobwebs: he was a
scrap of
black lace on snow. The sun, a bleached coin, seared him with
its frigid light. The sky was a blue-black shell, pricked by fire. He
saw the
whorls of countless galaxies, huge ringed planets. The vampire opened
his mouth
and cried with awe. How did I come to be here? Help help help… Crystals scratched his skin like grit as he
began to crawl forwards. The pain of returning to life was unbearable.
An image
flashed in his mind… A dark-haired woman watched a man pacing around a
room in
agitation… the scene must have been significant but he couldn’t grasp
its
meaning. He sobbed and crawled on. No concept of time. His tortuous progress
across the snow was eternal. Nightmare… Help… I’m dead and in
hell… Then
another memory-fragment. A book of poetry lay open in front of him. A
large hand slammed down on the page and a portentous voice declaimed,
“Human
poetry? Worthless, Andreas. Look on the face of God!” Gone. But the vampire clung to the name. Andreas,
I’m Andreas… Then the snow crust gave way and he fell. Beneath him was… nothingness. An infinite
sky. He flailed in terror, but his torn-cobweb wings were useless. Tumbling through clouds of ice-flakes,
Andreas had the impression of other vampires around him. Faint
shadow-crosses
on the mist, spiralling along their own paths. llusion? Even if they
were real,
he couldn’t reach them. Each one was alone in this strange, dense ocean
of air. This isn’t the world… but where am I? Heaven
or hell, or… As he left the white plains far above, the
light dimmed to rich blue, then to stormy violet brushed with red
flame…
Andreas gasped, distracted from fear. The sky was full of gorgeous
colours.
Cloud-mountains sailed through the air below him. His descent slowed. A
current
took his weightless body, and he floated face down above peaks that
rolled like
slow ocean-waves. Their valleys were bottomless, painted crimson by
fire. Hell
lay below him. His skin – fossil-cold for an eternity – began to
prickle with
unbearable heat. Silent scream. Help help help… Another fragment, without context. A parlour, all fine furniture and oriental
rugs. The same two figures were dark against the firelight. Yet how
pale was
their skin, how radiant! Vampires. And he knew them, hated and loved
them… if
he could only remember who they were… “I can’t endure this!” said the man.
“Kristian killed my wife and expects me to love him for it!” Andreas was present, part of the scene. He
heard himself say, “Karl, take the easy way. Pretend you love him, as
we do.” “You’re frightened of him,” Karl said darkly
– that’s it, this was Karl, beloved Karl… “No,” lied Andreas. “I’m lazy.” Then the woman spoke. Dear God, what
was
her name, this chestnut-haired enchantress? “If you disobey Kristian, he’ll put you in
the Weisskalt.” Weisskalt… a place of hideous winter and everlasting
sleep. She went to Karl and touched his arm. “Karl,
if Andrei and I defy Kristian and stay with you, he’s sure to find out.” “Well?” said Karl. “What will you do? You
could reject me, as Ilona has. Make Kristian believe you hate me. I’d
rather
you and Andrei saved yourselves, Katti, than –” “Never.” The woman embraced Karl, holding
him tight. “Never.” That was her name! Katerina. The vampire clutched at the scene but it
vanished, leaving the merest shimmer of understanding. Kristian had found them out, and punished
them. That was the last Andreas could recall… Kristian’s huge
silhouette. Kristian,
who gave me immortality then took it away – twice, because I wrote no
more
poetry after the transformation. Took me away and imprisoned me in the Weisskalt. He remembered Katti’s screams. Helpless
despair. Strangely, the pain of the Weisskalt
had not lasted long. Once the cold bit into his brain, Andreas felt
nothing…
only faintly aware as he lay beneath the pitiless Eye of God for years… Years. His teeth chattered with horror. He almost
laughed. Kristian put me to sleep, so it follows that
Kristian woke me… Again, the
voice vibrated in Andreas’s head. “Wake! I send you as the
envoys of
Almighty God to avenge me!” Andreas drifted on through the firmament.
Panic remained a dull whine within him. He wished to die, but his
consciousness
persisted. The call came like a butterfly-shiver of the
ether. It wasn’t Kristian’s harsh tone but a different pull, tentative
yet
insistent. Andreas felt the vibration catch him and draw him downwards
towards
the ruby fires of hell. Although the summons was weak, he had no
strength to
resist. Cloud-mountains swallowed him. Grim twilight
rushed up. He strained his tormented eyes, but all was as dense as
soot. Then,
with a wrench, he felt the very world turn inside out. Oh God, Katti, where are you? Help, help… He became aware of a ghastly change in his
body. No longer weightless, he felt heavy, cumbersome, malformed inside
his
skin. Darts of memory pierced the chaos. Something
pale twitched in the darkness. His own hands! No longer black and
ethereal,
they were corpse-white and heavy. God. Human hands! Andreas was lying on a hard surface in
thick, hot darkness. His eyelids flickered as he strained to see,
discovering
that this place made no more sense than the realm from which he’d
materialised.
Corridors of mirrors stretched in every direction, endlessly reflecting
a
purple splash of light. Pungent smoke shocked his senses. But through the incense wove a richer scent
that set his frozen form burning with need…. He had to reach the source
of the
aroma, had to seize and bite and drink… “It worked!” hissed a stupefied male voice.
“Great God Almighty, I don’t believe it! Holly–” Two figures in hooded lavender robes stood
before him. Their reflections stretched away through the limbo of
mirrors. The
smaller figure craned forwards, staring down at Andreas through the
eyeholes of
a mask. “It looks dead.” The woman’s voice was thick
with revulsion. “Get rid of it, Ben.” “Not yet.” The man sounded both horrified
and madly excited. “We did it! We brought something through.” “But this isn’t what we wanted!” Ignoring her, the man took a step towards
Andreas. The blood-scent became unbearable. A thin dry groan filled the
air…
the vampire wished it would stop, not realising it came from his own
throat. “Can you hear me?” said the man. “I am
Benedict. Do you understand? Can you speak?” The vampire was confused. The man had an
incredible
aura of power… yet he was only a mortal, the source of the delicious
salty
heat. With effort, Andreas pushed himself up onto his hands. The man
and woman
both gasped, caught between fascination and fear. The vampire did not see them as people,
full of passions and hopes; he saw them only as swollen vessels of
blood. They
drew him with an urgent promise of warmth, nourishment, everything he
craved… “Banish it, Ben!” the woman cried. “Now!” Propelled by unnatural strength, the vampire
leapt. The man raised his hands in self-defence –
and vanished. Another realm rushed in, throwing Andreas through
dizzying
tunnels. At last he came to rest, paralysed, his mind blank within a
screaming
tornado of thirst. Dull shapes leaned over him like a nightmare
forest. He was in the other-world again, while the world of humans
hovered a
breath away, just out of his reach. That man Benedict did
this to me, he
thought. Tortured me with the scent of his blood, then pushed
me back into
this half-death! Katerina, Karl, help me… There was no one to hear him. No one to care if he lay on the edge of death forever. But now his fear had two companions. Burning thirst, and rage. Copyright (C) Freda Warrington
|
| HOME | AUTHOR | NOVELS | BLOG | CONTACTS |