Castlevania: Genesis and Revelations

VI.

It quickly became apparent to Richter that he'd have been better served if he'd planned for this excursion, although time was a luxury he could ill afford. All the same, he didn't know for certain where the abductor took Gregor. The understanding was mutual and unspoken between him and Maria that the direction to go was towards the established place of Castlevania's return, northerly toward the Tepes' estate where Gallows Hill, as it was commonly called, and its singular jutting precipice commanded the landscape. Arriving there would take at least the rest of the day. It was where Count Dracula would return and it was where Shaft would have to be to resurrect him, and if Shaft had been the one who took Gregor, it was where Gregor would be.

Richter only hoped his reasoning was true. Maria had asked soldiers nervously keeping watch at the edge of Veros if they had seen anyone leaving the town on horseback in a hurry. The soldiers shrugged. Certainly, if this was Dracula or Shaft's work, the soldiers wouldn't have seen them.

Yet the two erstwhile Vampir hunters galloped down the road toward the north as if life itself depended on it -- which it did.

Richter recognized an old feeling creeping up from the depths. Fear. As if it were his first and last time to face Count Dracula or his servants. He hadn't felt fear despite everything that had happened last night or even this morning. Such encounters with the undead were nothing he hadn't faced before. It only came when he realized the stakes were no less than when Dracula had taken Annette and Maria and other villagers from Veros, and so the fear was no less. That made this hunt stomach-twistingly familiar. He tightened his grip on the reins. Still, nothing had changed. The sky remained unbroken in its oppressive cloudiness, as if it were on the verge of bringing rain or night. As the ambiance of the day had not changed, neither had the feeling of being closely watched. This time Richter was more than suspicious of it, he was sure of it. Fresh experience told him so -- and that a temporary night, or at least a twilight, had been installed by means of black magic to continue to shield the undead from the harm of the sun. He didn't have to tell Maria what he sensed, either. It showed in the jumpiness of her eyes, vigilantly patrolling the boulder-strewn side of the road and the forest beyond.

Every so often, he was sure he saw the glint of an eye or a flash of movement. It didn't matter yet. If the demons and beasts were intending to attack, they'd do so at their pleasure and he and Maria would be waiting for them. They were not going to be lured into attacking them first, which would cost them time.

Something else that had nagged at his attention at once came to the fore of his mind: a train of horse tracks in the dust that had continued onward after the sea of indiscernible tracks near Veros. He jerked hard on the reigns, pulling his mount to a wheeling stop. Maria did the same. Breaking the silence, he bleakly said, "In this instance, I'm glad some things don't change."

"What?" Maria asked.

"There." He pointed out what he'd noticed.

"Then we are on the right path?" she asked quickly, as if the thought had been weighing on her mind.

"We are. Our path would eventually have to lead where Castlevania has always appeared, anyway. The direct route is best."

"Yes, it is," she agreed, then she seemed to look right through him. A frown creased her tense face. "Wait...I see something. Behind you."

Richter craned his neck over his shoulder to see, then turned the horse around to get a better look. Maria had directed her mount toward a lofty, wind-gnarled and leafless tree they'd just passed. Maria carefully picked something from a clawed hand of a branch, and rode back to his side. "I saw blood and this." She handed him a golden neck chain affixed with a small medallion.

"This is Gregor's, I believe."

"It is," he slowly answered her. He turned the chain over in his hand, thoughtful. The family crest was engraved on the front and the Belmont name on the back. Indeed, it was Gregor's. He'd given it to his son a year ago. "Blood, you say? Around the tree?"

"Yes, a considerable amount on and near the tree."

He scrutinized the tree from where he sat, and little more was revealed to him. There was no point trying to determine if the blood was his son's or anyone else's. It would all look the same.

"Let's get going," he said at length. "We're losing time."

The countryside became hillier and rockier, and the trees fewer, as the Southern Carpathian Mountains rose upon the horizon. Soon, Richter noticed, their enemies were going to be without cover with which to hide themselves, and their standoff would have to come to a head. Actually, it was difficult to be sure how near they were to the mountain range and Gallows Hill, when their height had been clipped by the gray skies. Richter relied on old memories to measure their progress -- though his mind was distracted by what they'd just come across on the road. He tried to piece together what he saw into a persuasive explanation: Gregor must've fought his captors to leave a sign of his presence for him or anyone who'd try to find him, and in so doing, a violent confrontation broke out around the tree. Blood was spilled. Then Shaft, or someone else capable of impressive sorcery, cast a spell to conceal their tracks. Yet, certainly Shaft had to expect he'd try to follow them, so why go to the trouble of hiding the tracks if the abductors were heading to Dracula's traditional home on Earth for Castlevania? --unless they weren't headed there. It was a disturbing possibility he hadn't dared consider before that turned his blood to ice. Still, what alternative was there but to continue on? Neither knew where any of the sanctuaries of Shaft's cultists were. Yes, all there was to do was to hope the tradition of Castlevania was their best guess to have followed. And to pray to God they were right.

He glanced at Maria, to seek her unspoken assurance. Instead he found someone who'd become distant. Her dulled, pale blue eyes seemed as though they gazed through the mountains and locks of her blonde hair danced unnoticed across her face.

Ah, Alucard. Richter'd seen her become far away like that whenever she thought of Dracula's son, the dhampir. She'd never admit to it now for any number of reasons, of course, especially since she was a nun. Even so, it was clear she missed him. He couldn't blame her. If there was any time to wish for his presence and his aid, he supposed, now was the time. However, wishing wasn't going to be of any use to them. The dhampir was gone or in deep sleep, Gregor was abducted, and Castlevania was returning or was already here.

To his surprise, she broke her own reverie, perhaps to escape her thoughts as he'd hoped he'd be able to do, saying, "Richter, why that strange look?"

"Was I that obvious? I'm sorry." He fidgeted in the saddle. What was the point in lying to a nun? "I was concerned about you."

"Never mind me!" she exclaimed. "You're the one who needs comforting now."

"No, I need my son back."

"Yes, you do. And we will do it."

"I shouldn't have drawn you into this, Maria." Seeing a fierce crimson come into her face, he spoke quickly. "No, I know you'll say it was your choice, and that Dracula is your problem, too. That may be, but if I had arrived at Veros sooner, I wouldn't have failed him and Annette and Veros."

"Listen!" Maria snapped. "Now is not the time to feel sorry for yourself. Gregor is a strong, intelligent young man. He's learned what you've taught him very well and can take care of himself if he has to. In fact he's very much like you were at his age. I remember. As you were able to take care of yourself, so can he. Annette? She loves you as much as she ever has, and she's always known what marriage to a Belmont means."

"Thank you," he answered her quietly. "I realize what you say is meant to make me feel better, yet--" He struggled for the words. "--I believe that if I can't even protect my own son from Dracula how can I or my son protect Transylvania and beyond from that devil?"

"That is a feeling, I imagine, only a Vampir hunter and a father could understand. I am possibly the former no longer and I will never be the latter."

"Perhaps not," was his reply," but you must remember what it was like when your sister was abducted by Dracula. The helplessness, the fear, the anger."

"Oh yes. I do," she replied, with emotion. "I was abducted as well."

"You fought back, however."

"Yes," she said with a slight, warm smile. "So had you, when Shaft's spell was lifted. So will we when we find the blackguards who took your son. It is our nature to fight against evil, and even more so when the sin is against the ones we love.

"This is not your fault."

She was right, he had to reluctantly admit. The pain visited against him and the ones he loved and Transylvania was from pure, soulless evil acting out its inherent nature. Still, wasn't there a way to subvert Count Dracula and his evil without so much accompanying suffering? Again, his obstinate heart was forced to accept a disagreeable truth he'd had to accept before: If there was a better way to deal with Dracula, his ancestors would have discovered it before him. He at last steeled himself in the mind of a warrior.

"Richter!"

He jerked his head up at Maria's urgent-sounding voice. It was an attack. In the coming darkness of the day's end, the undead apparently determined as one to make their stand. The Vampir hunter quickly surveyed the surroundings, borrowing from his long-ago education in military tactics. The two were in the midst of a large and shallow basin, not quite a valley, the rim bare of any foliage. There were no places for them to hide. Nor for the undead, though they clearly held the numerical advantage, he noted, as he watched their ranks swell as they swarmed atop the rim. Their fearsome cries echoed across the basin. This time their purpose was doubtless to kill them.

"They will be here shortly," Richter murmured. His hand reflexively grabbed for the whip. He had expected this to happen sooner or later. "I trust you've taken care to arm yourself?"

"Yes," Maria replied, crossing herself. Then she reached into a bag strapped to her waist and withdrew a sizable sealed leather canteen. "Holy water. This will work better for a Belmont than for me. Don't worry, I won't need it."

He took it from her. "Thank you. Will you be all right on your own?"

"I'll be fine."

"Deus vobiscum, Sister."

She smiled. "God be with you, too, Richter."

Richter wheeled his steed about and charged into the approaching ranks of the undead.