Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ A Matter Of Choice ❯ Lord Wirrnächte ( Chapter 2 )

Lord Wirrnächte

 

A thunderstorm bellowed and howled outside a very early castle. Somewhere in Bavaria, hidden in forests and surrounded by a small town and several villages the castle stood forbidding. It is not a castle like you and I would think of with turrets and portcullis, but much earlier in history before these feats were known. Think of a very large building, erected in thick walls of stone, grand only in its size. Inside there is a Lord, and his servants. He has no close family, as he has not yet decided to marry. Inside, there is an argument going on.

 

“But my Lord? This really isn't wise. I suggest…”

 

“You will suggest nothing! I am Lord here and you WILL obey my orders!”

 

“But this is…”

 

“But nothing! You will do as you are told and follow orders is that clear?”

 

“Yes my Lord.”

 

“I will take responsibility for all of this. You have nothing to worry about.”

 

“Yes my Lord.”

 

Lord Wirrnächte leant both hands on the heavy table sighing with exasperation. Why did he have to have control over a section of Western Europe that was involved in a war that he didn't believe in? It was 1370 AD and still the war was raging on in its inevitably barbaric way. He turned to see his servant still standing there.

 

“Well don't you have something to do?” He bellowed.

 

The servant scurried off closing the door behind him. Lord Wirrnächte sat down in a large chair sighing heavily. He closed his eyes, unaware that he was being watched. An observer concealed themselves in the shadows, scrutinising the Lord. There sat Lord Demetriov Wirrnächte, ruler of this land, and defector to the enemy. He was of a good build, and unusually tall for this period of history. It gave him a looming appearance over his staff. He opened his eyes and looked to the ceiling. Long lashes framed his soft pale blue eyes. His dark hair, normally tidily groomed fell in loose curls about his shoulders, dark and thick, framing his face. He kneaded his eyes with the palms of his hands. It was at this moment his observer decided to melt out of the shadows.

 

“You really are going to have to stop these secret missions Demetriov.” A soft, silky female voice purred.

 

Demetriov jumped out of his chair, his hand on his sword, startled by the appearance of this strange woman.

 

“Avéa, I have asked you on several occasions not to do that.”

 

“But I love your reaction.”

 

She turned her intense gaze upon him as she walked past him and sat in his recently vacated chair. She smiled at him. Not a pleasant smile, it gave the impression of a lioness that had spotted easy prey.

 

“I could free you from all this…stress.”

 

“So you keep telling me. And you know my answer. You have nothing that I want.”

 

“So you keep saying.” She replied turning her attention to the fire beside her.

 

He took a good look at her. She was a tall and slender woman with pale skin. She spoke the language with a lilting accent, obviously not native to this land. All that his servants had been told she was a foreign cousin visiting him, but even they were suspicious. They found it strange that she was only seen in the night hours since she had arrived. Her skin was a little too smooth and a little too pale to seem natural. She had long dark tresses that fell in smooth shiny curls to her waist. She always wore it down, never seeming to tangle, always appearing beautifully smooth and groomed. Her eyes shone with a strange brilliance, almost luminescent in the dark room. Only Demetriov knew the truth about this strange woman.

 

She smiled at him, revealing shimmering, beautifully white teeth. Their whiteness was strange, as were the elongated canines. They were terribly sharp, obviously meant for a carnivorous role. She was not all that she seemed. She had revealed to him some time ago that she was in fact a vampire. There seemed to be a vogue for them at the moment. Reports had been flooding in of strange deaths, and the people, although uneducated, were very knowledgeable in their folklore. There had been supposed sightings, but curiously enough none of the descriptions fitted Avéa. She had told him she wasn't alone here. Demetriov had heard a strange tale, something about a man who hunted them. He had mentioned this individual to her and she laughed at him. Some time ago pact had been made with this individual who had discovered their weaknesses.

 

They found him very amusing. Out of sport they had agreed that they would let him try to hunt and destroy them. They could of course kill him easily, but they had agreed to not hunting him for a set period of time. They could kill him in self-defence but not hunt. After his death, someone of kin to him would take over his mantle and this would go on for eternity. Avéa was at this meeting and had seen it as a great big joke. She said she had spent most of the meeting stifling giggles. A mortal slaying vampires, impossible.

 

A few weeks later Demetriov received a strange report from one of the villages. Apparently he had managed to kill one of these undead. He remembered taking the paper to her and her face when she had read it. She had sped out in a rage. She was outraged. No one had taken this man seriously. The next night he had seen she had been quiet and subdued. Reluctantly she had confirmed that he had been successful and had indeed destroyed one of their number.

 

“Get such thoughts out of your head!” She spat at him, angry that he had once seen her vulnerable. It was obvious that she could read his every thought. Sometimes, to his irritation, she would project her own into his head. “I do not want you thinking of that…thing!”

 

“You shouldn't pry into my thoughts then. Why does he bother you so?”

 

“He exceeded our expectations. We granted that pact as a joke, as sport. We never thought he had the abilities that he made claim to. Now one of us is gone. You expect me not to be concerned when a mortal has felled an immortal! I thought you had more insight Demetriov.”

 

“Oh I do. I just wanted to make a point.”

 

“Well you've made it. Anyway, enough about that, you know what I want to know.”

 

“Do we have to go through this every time?”

 

“You cannot hold out against me forever. You know you want it.”

 

“I don't, so I can.”

 

Demetriov felt exasperated. Ever since he had met Avéa she had been trying to persuade him to join her and become one of them. He was acutely afraid of his death and she had been playing on that. She appeared to be obsessed with his title and power.

 

“I am getting tired of your stubborn refusal.” Avéa told him testily.

 

“And I am tired of your incessant nagging woman!”

 

“Don't take that tone with me!” She snapped at him, rising slowly out of the chair. “I could kill you in a moment if I so wished!”

 

“Both you and I know that you won't. You want me alive. You cannot make me one of you if I'm dead. And you won't take me by force; you want me to give myself to you.”

 

She sat down, refusing to answer. She knew he spoke the truth.

 

“You want power over me and you want me to give it to you. You want a willing victim. That is why you are pestering me. You're not pestering any of the other Lords, no; they would give in too easily. Immortality, but at what price? I am a challenge to you that's all. Well I refuse to submit.”

 

“I could force you to give yourself to me.” There was distinct venom in her voice now.

 

Demetriov was determined. He leaned across the table and stared Avéa straight in the eyes.

 

“Never.” He said quietly. “I will always refuse you.”

 

“We shall see!” Demetriov could feel her anger. Still he was not to be put off.

 

“And what do you mean by that?”

 

Avéa rose out of the chair and stepped over to the roaring fire. She ran a long finger along the stones above the hearth. She spoke quietly but deliberately. “What do you think would happen if the King were to find out you were the informant?”

 

“You wouldn't!”

 

“I should think it would have very dire consequences for you.” She began to advance towards him, Demetriov backing across the room. “You would be tried and found guilty of high treason and sentenced to death. What would you do then Demetriov?”

 

“Get out! I will not hear of this!”

 

“One last chance. Give yourself to me!”

 

“Never!”

 

“Demetriov!” She bellowed; her face contorted in rage.

 

“GET OUT!”

 

“So be it!”

 

As suddenly as she had melted out of the shadows she was gone. It was so fast that it was as if she had vanished. He was finally alone to think. She wouldn't, she couldn't! Could she? Weary he left his study and headed across the castle to his private quarters. He was sick of all this. Tired he went to his bed, his mind filled with her words. No matter how he tried, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was in trouble.

 

* * * * *

 

He didn't see Avéa again. This both relieved and caused his anxiety. A few days later he was sat in his study looking over a communication he had received. It was from his contact that took his information to his King's enemies. He was deep in thought when there was a knock on the door. He hid the communication in his clothes.

 

“Enter.”

 

His servant entered keeping his head low.

 

“My Lord.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“The King's messenger is approaching.”

 

“Leave me.”

 

The servant left hurriedly. Quickly Demetriov grabbed the parchment from his clothes. He ripped it to shreds and threw the pieces into the fire. He stood back and watched it burn. He sat at his desk and set out his papers and matters of state that needed to be attended to. A few minutes later there was another knock on the door.

 

“Enter.”

 

The servant opened the heavy double doors and announced his visitors.

 

“His honour the King's messenger and his honour the King's Sheriff.”

 

The two men entered followed by an entourage of four soldiers. Demetriov's heart sank when he saw the sheriff and his men. Still he rose from his chair smiling, cordially greeting his guests.

 

“Gentlemen, won't you take a seat?” He gestured to empty chairs in front of him.

 

“We'll stand if you don't mind.” The sheriff replied sharply. “This won't take a moment.”

 

“That is fortunate.” Demetriov replied sitting back down. “I have some rather important matters to attend to. The townsfolk are worried about vampire attacks…”

 

“Our matter needs immediate attention.”

 

“Then we have something in common. So how can I oblige you gentlemen?”

 

Demetriov smiled inwardly. The sheriff was an arrogant man, and was displaying his disgust that Demetriov was practically brushing him off as an annoyance. Demetriov was using his rank to try and contain the situation. His heart was pounding uncontrollably, adrenaline soaring through his veins, heightening his senses. He was all too aware that this was Avéa's doing. He was doing his best to control the confrontation. This could be the end for him. He knew deep down that from this moment on things were unlikely to go well.

 

Finally the messenger spoke. “The King requests your immediate presence at court Lord Wirrnächte.”

 

Demetriov took this in and took a moment to draw breath. With a sigh he answered the messenger.

 

“I would like to oblige His Royal Highness, but I am afraid that my business is somewhat urgent. I can follow in a couple of days. Do express my thanks for the honour guard.”

 

He could see this had put his visitors off guard. Both men looked at each other, Demetriov trying to read where the situation was going to next. After some hesitation the sheriff stepped forward.

 

“Let me put this another way Lord Wirrnächte. You are under arrest for High Treason to the Crown.” He motioned the guards to flank Demetriov. “Your business will have to wait. I suggest that you have your horse saddled my Lord.” He said with a snide smile.

 

Demetriov couldn't stand the snide tone of voice but there was nothing he could do now to amend the situation. It was out of his control. The best he could hope for would be the death penalty. The worst, Avéa would be waiting for him.

 

“Yes of course.” He replied. “Though I assure you that these accusations are completely unfounded.”

 

“We shall see.” The sheriff replied with a smile.

 

“You!” He shouted to the servant stood by the doors. He had evidently never left. “See that my horse is saddled.”

 

“We shall need to search the castle for evidence my Lord.”

 

“Of course. Be my guest.”

 

Demetriov was fuming, but determined not to show it. Avéa had fulfilled her promise to the letter. At least there would be no evidence found in the castle. Still, he knew it wouldn't stop her. She would find it from somewhere.

 

* * * * *

 

His journey to the King's castle was a silent and forced affair. No one wanted to speak to a suspected traitor, and Demetriov had nothing to say to the arrogant sheriff anyway. When they reached the city evidence of Avéa's handiwork was everywhere around him. The townsfolk stopped and stared, forming an escort as they followed, curious of the strange parade. They all knew the allegations against him. They followed the party all the way to the castle gates. They stood and watched as he dismounted from his horse, and was escorted into the castle. Looking up at the forbidding walls and already felt the weight of the death sentence on him. He felt sure that it was only a matter of time before they were building a gallows in the courtyard. He walked briskly inside, flanked by his escort. They paused in the entrance hall, away from prying eyes.

 

“If you will follow me Lord Wirrnächte.” The sheriff addressed him stiffly. “We shall take you to your quarters where you will be confined until further notice.”

 

Demetriov nodded stiffly. He followed the escort of guards still flanking him. Did they expect him to run? That would only confirm his guilt. When he was trying to convince them of his innocence it would not be a good idea. He was smarter than that, and besides, where had he to run? Wherever he went Avéa was sure to find him. He stopped in the corridor. The sheriff turned annoyed at the disturbance.

 

“Lord Wirrnächte?”

 

“Do I really need the mercenaries? I will follow of my own free will. I have nothing to hide.”

 

The sheriff scrutinised him for a moment, then nodded. The guards fell away. Demetriov smiled. His authority still counted for something at least. The sheriff gestured for him to continue. Demetriov smiled gracefully and followed. He was led up a large set of winding stairs and to a room on the right of the landing.

 

“You will be confined here until the King sends for you.”

 

Demetriov stepped inside and waited as the sheriff closed the door and locked it behind him. He surveyed the room. It was his normal guestroom when he attended court. Demetriov walked to a chair and collapsed his head in his hands. He kneaded his face and eyes in despair. What was he going to do now? He sat there deep in thought as the hours passed until nightfall. He started to doze in the chair, the quietness in the castle deceptively peaceful. He shot out of his chair, his sword drawn and ready, a hand on his shoulder shocking him awake. His heart sank as he looked into Avéa's gloating visage.

 

“How did you…?”

 

“Locks cannot hold me Demetriov. They don't even know I am here. They think I am elsewhere. If you try the door you will find it locked.”

 

He turned his back on her, trying to control the rage.

 

“It would have been so much easier if you had given yourself to me back home.” She cooed.

 

“I will not give into you even now!”

 

“Maybe not yet, but you will.”

 

“Never!” He spat. “I'm not sure what you think you are doing. They haven't found any evidence.”

 

“Ah, but you don't know that. You have no idea what I am capable of do you?”

 

“Maybe not, but I know that I have left no evidence of what I am doing!”

 

“Is that so Lord Wirrnächte?” She spat the title, using it as a weapon. “You have no idea how naïve you are being right now do you?”

 

Demetriov turned away once more, thinking about what she had said. What could she possibly do? He dreaded to think. His life was in danger if she had half the ability he thought she had. A real fear for his life was starting to set in. A cold fear gripping his heart, terror ripping through him. Scared of death, of not knowing what came after the end of life. He turned to her again. She stood there smiling smugly. It was obvious she was reading his thoughts, and his emotional responses to them.

 

“Demetriov.” She coaxed. “You can avoid that fate, all you have to do…”

 

“NO!” He screamed at her. “No! I've said no all along and I always will!”

 

“Even if it means you will die.”

 

“Yes!” He hoped that it was a promise he could keep.

 

“We shall see.”

 

And with that she was gone. He didn't care where; simply glad she was gone. He still looked around him, wondering how she could manage such a feat. He bowed his head and sighed. He sank back into his chair. He thought about her words. Could he really hold out against her? Against that promise of never dying, never having to face what came after death? He must, or face an eternity of damnation.

 

* * * * *

 

The next day came and went. Demetriov waited and waited. His nerves threatened to consume him. He continued in cycles of anxiousness and calm. He mustn't do anything rash, anything incriminating. He also had far too much time to contemplate what Avéa might have up her sleeve. Is ideas ranged from rational to ridiculous. He continued like this until night fell on the second day. He was looking out of the window at the darkness when the sheriff came. He heard the lock in the door but did not turn.

 

“It is time Lord Wirrnächte.”

 

Demetriov took a deep breath, rose slowly from his chair, and walked out of the door. He was led down the stairs and through the hall to the throne room. There was the King and the council of Lords, his own seat empty. Avéa stood to one side, smiling snidely. Demetriov's heart was pounding, adrenaline heightening his awareness. This was his trial, and he had a suspicion that it wasn't going to go well. There was chair in the middle of the room waiting for him. He walked up to it and bowed to the King.

 

“Sit.” The King intoned in a deep bass voice.

 

Everyone took his or her seat, Avéa next to the King. One of the Lords stood obviously the appointed spokesman for this trial. He addressed Demetriov.

 

“Lord Wirrnächte, do you know the charges against you?”

 

“Yes. High Treason to the Crown.”

 

“Good. What do you say to the charges?”

 

“Your Majesty,” he began, addressing his judge and jury. The Lords were only there for show. “I really must protest my innocence. I cannot see how these charges have been brought against me. As I am sure you know; the sheriff found no evidence to substantiate treason in any form.”

 

“Indeed.” The King replied. “That fact does surprise me, but it is of no matter. There is other evidence.”

 

Demetriov's heart sank. Avéa had managed something. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, aware of the staring eyes.

 

“Before I ask you any questions Lord Wirrnächte, I will say how much I respect you as a man. What has come to my attention worries me. I thought we were friends. So before you embarrass yourself I would request the presence of a certain gentleman who has recently made my acquaintance, courtesy of Lady Avéa.

 

The King nodded to a guard. A side door opened and a man in shackles was lead into the hall. Demetriov was almost out of his seat at the sight of the bloodied and bruised figure. He was both a friend and contact with his compatriot in the invading army. The battered man backed away from Avéa, terror in his eyes. She laughed quietly, Demetriov glaring at her in return.

 

“This man ferries information to my enemies, which is why he is here. Though I am guessing you knew this long before we did. In light of this I would ask you to answer truthfully, do you know this man?”

 

Demetriov hung his head. He could feel himself shaking. He had lost and he could not lie now, not with his friend in shackles. That would only condemn him to further torture. All he could do now was to tell the truth and hope honesty still counted for something.

 

“I do your Majesty.” He replied quietly.

 

“How do you know him?”

 

“He is a friend who carries information for me. Information to your enemies.”

 

“I had hoped that what I had been told was untrue. Now I find that you are not the man I thought you were.”

 

“Your Majesty, I am still that man. You have known me for some time and you know I am a man of peace. You knew how strongly I objected to this conflict.”

 

“I do not see your point.”

 

Demetriov rose to his feet. He knew his life was over but he wanted everyone to know why. He wasn't any traitor trying to overthrow the King. He wanted peace.

 

“My point is the motive behind my actions. How goes the war?”

 

“We are almost in a stalemate.” Came the answer from one of the Lords behind him.

 

“Precisely. A stalemate in which talks would have to be made. Peace could be reached. We could put an end to this long and bloody war.”

 

“That is your explanation!” Came an indignant cry to his left.

 

“More than that, it is the truth. I have intimate knowledge of our forces and their movements. With that knowledge we could have been defeated ten times over. I want this war to end, for peace. People downtrodden by an invading army are bitter and twisted. That leads to civil war. So many deaths, all of which can be avoided. That is what I am trying to achieve. Everyone free under their own leaders, co-operation and mingling of our two cultures without bloodshed. Was I so wrong?”

 

“It is still treason.”

 

“My reasons were just.”

 

The room fell silent. All eyes were on the King. His decision would be final. Demetriov sat down and closed his eyes. He prayed.

 

“Lord Wirrnächte.” The King intoned. “No matter how just your reasons treason cannot be tolerated.” He stood and his deep voice filled the room. “You are guilty of treason and will be punished accordingly. In three days time you will be taken from here to a place of execution. There you will be put to death by beheading, as is our custom. Guards, remove the prisoners.”

 

Demetriov stood as an escort of guards drew alongside him. He bowed his head and allowed himself to be led away. He avoided Avéa's gaze, he knew she would be smiling. He was led deep down into the bowels of the castle and into the dungeons. He stepped into his cell in a daze, not hearing the door slam behind him. He sat down on the cot and held his head in his hands. It was all over.

 

 

Author's notes:

So there we are a cliff hanger. That is the longest chapter you will get I think, some will be as short as the prologue and the others all lengths in between

 

Okay so a lot of scene setting, but trust me it really is necessary! Anyways, please R&R. I will reply personally so you won't see huge author's notes. It will be seriously appreciated. You guys are going to help me make this story better. It's already gone on a long journey and I am hoping you will help me take it further.