Castlevania: Genesis and Revelations

VII.

The battle proved to be swift and vicious.

The dissolving and flaming carcasses of all manner of unholy creation strewn over the basin was grim testament to that. Blood remained to soak the ground like a foul rain in a rainbow of colors. Night, over this time, had fallen and the unyielding sky at last broke; and the sanguine moon burned through the retreating clouds and cast its bloodstained light on the face of the battleground. Silence returned slowly to the violated place.

The only one left to disturb it was the Vampir hunter, Richter Belmont, as he crunched through the dry grass, lumbering from weariness and pain. He'd lost his armor. It had seen its last battle anyway, shredded, scorched and bloodied as it was. His shirt and breeches were just about ruined and torn to the point of uselessness, so that the only clothing left he wore that preserved his dignity was his mantle and cape. Aside from that, there was still the dangerous Vampir Killer whip in hand, smoldering and crackling with unspent alchemical energy. His mind was still trying to catch up to the blur of events which had just taken place, even trying to accept he was still alive. He'd never faced that many Geschöpfe in one place at one time. Without the holy water, he'd not have survived the onslaught...

Maria! What of her?

Richter somehow found the strength inside to break into a run, clambering blindly over the last of the remaining bodies.

"Maria!" he shouted hoarsely. He stopped, panting, hearing his echoing cry go unanswered. If he'd lost her today, too, he'd never forgive himself!

"Richter? Is that you?" at last came the unruffled reply from nearby. From underneath a tree which had been split in half, as if by lightning.

It was Maria's voice. Relief swept over him, almost dropping him to his knees. "Yes, I'm here..." He stumbled over to the tree and grabbed its branches for support, then let himself drop to the ground by her side. He absently kicked aside the dusty, crumbling shell of a demon's arm which was too close to him. Glancing over Maria, it was clear even in the dark she had fared well indeed. Few wounds to speak of, her clothes all but unbloodied, and even her hair seemed like it wasn't out of place. On closer inspection, he noticed she was tending to an injury of a bird in the cup of her hand.

"What are you doing?" he asked, momentarily distracted by this strange gesture of kindness in such a merciless place and time.

"Doing what I can to repair one of God's creatures," she replied, as she was bandaging the bird's wing. "I realize we haven't much time, but I feel I owe them especially for what they've done to help me just now. Did you see it? I'd prayed for help and a flock of them, these crows, attacked the demons alongside me. I was so blessed to have their aid." She looked out of the corner of her eye at Richter, blinked and raised an eyebrow. "I see I'll have to repair another one of God's creatures."

"Most of it's not my blood."

"Oh."

"And I didn't have the benefit of divine intervention, either," he added a little testily.

"Yes, you did. You lived, didn't you?"

"I suppose so," he said, suddenly feeling very old and tired. "I want to be finished with this. I'd as soon forego any care for my wounds if we could leave right now."

She shrugged slightly. "If you feel up to it."

"It doesn't matter whether I do or don't, I must."

"Very well." Maria rose to one knee and murmured to the crow, "Thank you for your help, little friend." It cawed once, spread its wings and flew from her hand. Then she whistled shrilly, and in answer their two horses melted into view -- no, actually three horses -- and galloped over to them.

It had slipped Richter's mind, that at least he had lost his mount when it had bucked him from its back and bolted away at the first sight of a skeleton warrior. Now, instead of being spooked, both returned and with another horse besides. Richter shook his head in grudging amazement. How was it she had always had such a gift with animals?

He slowly, achingly climbed into the saddle. "It's sad, really, my head told me these enemies were not as strong as they were when I last fought them years ago, but my body says it was a fight for my life."

"Perhaps part of what you said has to do with Castlevania not being here to provide them their true strength," Maria ventured. She ascended her mount. "Well, except for Shaft. I am certain he has returned to Earth to lead the way for his master."

"What of him?" He asked brusquely, impatient to leave yet curious. It was crucial to know as much about the enemy as possible.

"Dracula or the Devil would not have spent his strength sending demons from Hell to Earth without Castlevania to give them their greatest strength, unless there was a purpose. That purpose is Shaft. Or rather, what Shaft was ordered to do. That would be to take your son with some evil intent, and who else to do it but him? The Codex Diabolum states he is the most trusted, able and longest lived of all Dracula's servants. He is undead like a Vampir, but not one of their kind as far as I know, nor is he monstrous in appearance -- he looks human, so he can work his evil among us without suspicion. The Codex also says Shaft has always had a cult of followers who will serve him. Perfect, isn't it? Besides that, as I said, Shaft or someone who looked exactly like him was seen here in St. Wilhelm's with your son."

Richter considered the Codex Diabolum, the secret, safeguarded hard-bound tome which held all the known information about Dracula and his otherworldly servants, and it had supplemental records from his predecessors and himself. The body of knowledge had to be preserved and learned from, but only for those who needed it. The Codex was a book very few were aware of, much less allowed to read. He borrowed from his memory of the last time he read the book. "Yes, it makes perfect sense. Shaft...was an excommunicated Catholic priest. Ritual is his strength. He is a master of black magic, but his ordained purpose as a priest is ultimately to revive Dracula. By means of human sacrifice."

The Vampir hunter felt more than saw Maria's frown. "We both have seen it in our lifetimes that is what he does."

"Then let's not deceive ourselves. My son may already be dead." His voice was shaded with pregnant bitterness.

"No. I'm not certain Shaft has in mind what you're thinking he does. The preferred sacrifice has always been a young virgin woman. What bothers me, then, is what he might otherwise do with Gregor. After all, he didn't sacrifice you years ago when he could've; instead, he turned you into an unwitting pawn in Dracula's schemes."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure I'll want to put a stop to it as soon as I can," Richter asserted with the finality of an order.

"We, Richter."

"And the castle isn't here yet?" He hoped not. Once it was, Shaft would then certainly be free to proceed with whatever plans he saw fit.

"The last I'd heard, no. When we left Veros, the Church had just had men sent out to scout the countryside for any signs of the castle. I'd have insisted they look for Gregor as well if the scouting parties hadn't left before he was abducted."

"It wouldn't make any difference, anyway. They wouldn't be able to find him... That's why I must."

"It's we, Richter. We," she reminded him again, brushing a golden lock of hair from her gentle eyes.

He nodded heavily, weary of having those he loved and cared about in harm's way. "Let's be on our way, then. We're at the edge of Dracula's traditional territory, and I don't want to be a sitting target for any vengeful Geschöpfe. Or Habsburg soldiers wanting an explanation."

They both found their way to the road but did not hurry. Haste had quickly became impossible. They'd entered a thick forest where midnight reigned absolute, the darkness held in the embrace of the canopy of tree branches overhead. The air, unmoving and silent, was nauseatingly rich in the sweet odor of damp fallen leaves. Light from the sanguine moon penetrated the branches here and there and lanced to the ground like crimson razors. What visibility they had was needed, too, since the road itself seemed to in alliance with Dracula's purposes. It snaked into blind turns where ambushes might be waiting, and its surface was violently rough, rocky and pitted with treacherous drops. Experience taught him to exercise cautions for whatever the situation called for in Dracula's domains. In this circumstance, silence was needed, so that they'd not be heard and so that any rustle in the underbrush around them might be heard -- though they might as well have been an invading army of Turks by being the only ones on the road traveling through the forest this cursed night.

As it turned out, it was not the usual army of Dracula who harried them now but nature itself. Bats and other birds swooped down on them from out of the darkness of the forest. Frogs hopped out of the stagnant water in the roadside ditches and attacked the horses' legs. They were venomous now and had to be dispatched with holy water or a quick snap of the whip. A few animals did not attack but were stricken all the same. A fawn was thrashing about and foaming at the mouth in the middle of the road. It was like a plague not quite of biblical proportions. Richter recognized all of this for what it was: the closer they came to the heart of chaos on earth, the more corrupting its effects were on their surroundings. The corruption and perversion would not improve at all with Castlevania's return to Earth. However, a ray of blood-red light flickered the pain that was evident on Maria's face, having to see how the animals were already changed for the worse.

Nor, he thought, would nearly all birds and other animals be of potential service to her, being confused as they were by this supernatural force. He struck the whip at a raven which had dived out of a branch for his horse's neck. --unless they were trained, perhaps, like carrier pigeons or the owls she used to raise for precisely this duty when she was younger. Maria was simply less well-armed than she was before.

The unbroken darkness of the forest at last began to thin. The trees became less of a web of woven branches and, so, the repellent light of the moon once again bathed the world. With just a glance Richter knew at once where they were. They had arrived at their destination.

The two were upon the foot of a bridge over Arges River, which glittered redly under the moonlight. As if it had been transformed into blood...indeed, like a plague in the Bible, he imagined, an Egyptian plague from the book of Exodus. Richter tested the stone bridge with his foot. He dismounted and leaned, than stamped, on the block of solid-seeming granite. He heard a groan within the bridge and the sound of splashing in the water far below him.

"The horses are far too heavy for the bridge, Maria. We'll have to let them go," he said, looking at the nun but she wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were glazed and fixed upon the horizon.

"Richter..."

"What?"

"Look up."

By force of will he did, a queasy certainty weighing on him. On the horizon was that unwelcome but expected sight, Castlevania. A chill rippled through him, but now that the castle was in his sight, his ice-blue eyes coldly held the gaze. He was not going to flinch before one of his great enemies. Little had seemed to change since he last saw the castle, though appearances were deceiving. The castle was still a dark and menacing presence, much of it veiled in grey mist, its grotesquely formed spires and minarets jutting up into the night sky. A cascade of angry lightning danced through the mist, as if Castlevania itself knew who had arrived. Or Count Dracula.

His eyes only left the castle when he caught sight of something out of the corner of them.

"Maria, perhaps you should see this..."

"What?" She blinked and frowned, as if a deep reverie had been broken. She dismounted from her horse. "Shouldn't we keep going now? Cross on foot, like you said?"

"On the water."

There, three wooden crosses stood up from Arges River, as if they were suspended on the face of the water. Bloodied people were hung from them. Her face went slack and she covered her hands to her mouth. "My God," she whispered. She crossed herself. "Those were....were some of the men dispatched to find Castlevania."

"That's what I was thinking. It's too late for them, though. Let's get moving for the sake of the living." His foot rested on the first block of stone of the bridge. "Run across. This bridge was meant to collapse when we try to cross it.

"Go. Now."

Richter forced his weariness and exhaustion to the side. He drew in a deep breath and sprinted across, Maria running alongside him. To his spent body, the length of the bridge might as well have been forever. But he and Maria did make it across -- and the bridge had not collapsed. He was doubled over, his lungs afire and fighting for breath. Only once he found the strength to stand, the bridge groaned mightily and collapsed, a great slab of stone at a time, raising towering and noisy splashes in the river.

"If it wasn't known before that we were here, it is now," Maria remarked.

"Yes. I guess that even when everything doesn't go their way, things still go their way," he said sourly, silently cursing the chunks of the bridge in the river.

"Hush, Richter! God is with us."

"He didn't seem to be with those crucified men on the river." He shook his head. "No, wait, forgive me. My faith is being tested right now. It will pass."

Maria gripped his hand tightly. He once again found the strength, painfully, to arise. He turned around to get his bearings and saw...

Shaft!