Moonlight bay, p.23
Moonlight Bay, page 23
“What is the struggle Petro, who is endangering the tribe?”
“I will worry about that. Right now I need you to trust Lazareth and only him.”
“What about Uncle Dorin.”
“No.” Petro abruptly interrupted him. “He has never been the same since his son died years ago. Only trust Lazareth.”
“All right Petro, I will,” he said giving his grandfather a hug.
Bartholomew felt his kiss on top of his head.
“You are a good boy. Remember, listen to Lazareth and protect Adolfo. Now go get me your brother.”
Lazareth was entertaining Adolfo with a few magic tricks when Bartholomew approached and informed his brother that their grandfather needed to speak with him. Bartholomew continued to walk by Lazareth’s side, knowing a lecture was coming.
“I cannot believe you bit me. You actually bit me.”
“I am sorry Lazareth, but you would not let me see my father.”
Lazareth’s grimacing expression gradually morphed into a smile. He found it impossible to stay angry with either boy. His dearest friend Fane had named him their guardian when they were born. He would be their father’s proxy now that he was gone. Now, it had become a full time responsibility.
“So, if you bite me now, what are you going to be like when you become a lycan?”
Bartholomew looked up at the towering man with a devilish grin.
“That is what I thought.” He laughed, wrapping a long limb around the boys shoulder.
“So, you spoke with Petro.” Lazareth’s tone had now turned solemn and serious.
“Yes, but I do not understand why we have to go?”
“Your grandfather knows of the dangers. You and your brother need to get to safety and I will take you there.”
“But where will we go? This is our home.”
“There is a ship leaving in three days time at Constanta. We will break from the pack and make our way there as soon as your brother finishes his farewells with your grandfather.”
Petro handed an item to Adolfo. It was a medallion with a ball of red liquid embedded in the center and bound on a golden chain. Petro instructed Adolfo about some intricacies of the object.
Bartholomew’s confusion heightened. He tried to understand why Petro had directed him to watch over his brother then confided in Adolfo in the keeping of this mysterious object. Petro leaned over to embrace his grandson and increased his pace to meet up with the others.
“Well then, are you ready to go?”
“Yes my king.” Lazareth assured him with a bow of his head.
“Thank you Lazareth.” Petro grabbed each of Lazareth’s shoulders, looking him in the eye.
“Remember, get them to the boat. No stops, no returning no matter what.”
“Yes sire.”
“Good, teach them everything about our ways. It is up to you,” Petro whispered. “Adolfo has the talisman, teach him about it. Keep it safe. It has to be used at the right time for the right purpose. This is a great responsibility. Bartholomew is strong, he will look after his brother, but Adolfo will also need your guidance. He is the one who would be more likely to stray from our ways.”
“Yes sire.”
Petro hugged his grandsons one last time.
“All right, off with you. Lazareth, watch them close.”
Petro stood atop a hill in the deep and dark section of the forest. He looked down upon the three as they descended and disappeared into the black night.
They ran through the forest to distance themselves from the hunted clan. Bartholomew led, followed by Adolfo. Lazareth took the rear, lugging a heavy sack made of deer hide to carry supplies.
Adolfo had just hurdled a fallen tree after his brother when he noticed the shiny reflection under a bush beside the path. The boy ventured off as Bartholomew moved ahead into the distance. There, a large silver sword rested at the trunk of a berry bush. Lazareth hurdled over the trunk and quickly approached him.
“Careful Adolfo,” Lazareth cautioned.
“This is the sword of your grandfather.” Adolfo clutched the weapon by its silver handle.
“No, do not...,” Lazareth shouted, forgetting that the boy could touch silver, since he had not yet begun his transformation process.
“What is it?” He admired the blade.
“Never mind Adolfo, place it in here.”
Lazareth open the deerskin sack, expecting Adolfo to deposit his find for safekeeping.
“But we should return to Petro. It is his.”
“No boy, we cannot. I promised Petro we would not return, for any reason. Now throw it in the sack and be done with this. We need to catch up to your brother. It is not safe for him to be alone.”
Reluctantly, the boy placed the sword in the sack as Lazareth had ordered. After all, he was just following their king’s orders. Lazareth tied the sack, hauled it over his shoulder and encouraged the boy to lead the way and catch up to Bartholomew.
The sun rose on the morning of the third day. Each took a turn at lookout when it was an appropriate time to rest. The breaks were not long since they had a great distance to cover in a short time frame. They could see the coastline in the distance. Their hearts raced with excitement, although the mood had become solemn. Every step they had taken brought the realization that they were leaving their homeland.
The bush snapped with the branch’s movement. They had discussed during the previous days that they had sensed a presence lurking. There were several sounds of footsteps and breaking of branches, but Lazareth followed Petro’s orders and kept the expedition moving. Besides, he figured if they were being followed, they would be impossible to conceal themselves once they broke the tree line and headed into port.
The village streets were lined with varying wooden and brick homes. The structures closer to the harbor had taller upper story additions, supporting the pacing area of a widow’s walk where a weary wife could wait for the safe return of her sailor.
Lazareth and the Cel Menaes found an earthen footpath so that could safely maneuver through the steep decline of the hill and into the town below. Some smaller fishing vessels were docked in the harbor. Bartholomew’s eyes caught sight of a colossal wooden ship set alone to the eastern peninsula in the port.
“Lazareth, is that the ship we are taking?” Bartholomew glanced back and noticed the shadow of a figure on the hill, outside the tree line behind them.
When Lazareth spun and transformed in one fluid motion, the boys watched the figure disappear into the forest. Lazareth dove in after it in his wolfish form.
Adolfo and Bartholomew’s nerves froze through their skin. It was the first time they had witnessed a transformation. Their father had divulged their curses, but they had never expected the transforming capability could be done so swiftly. A few minutes passed while watching for movement in the bushes. An opening in some tall grasses separated, when the human form of Lazareth appeared with a familiar gypsy by his side. Dorin’s daughter, Oleanna walked on the path almost leading Lazareth back to the boys. Adolfo could not help but notice the disapproving expression molding his guardian’s face.
“What is she doing here?” Adolfo asked the snide question with a finger point for added insult.
“Apparently, Oleanna here has been that ghost of ours over the past few nights and wanted to know what we are doing,” Lazareth said with open palms, displaying her like the main course to the teens.
“No she cannot stay, she must go back,” Bartholomew added,
“Why are you leaving? I turned and you were all gone in the night.”
“Oleanna, it is not safe for us. We do not have time to explain, but Uncle Dorin will be looking for you. You need to head back.”
“Bartholomew, I have been following you for three days. I could not possibly find them if I wanted to.”
“Lazareth, we need to take her back. Forget the ship; she needs to return to Petro and Dorin.”
Lazareth stood over the teens, shaking his head in disapproval.
“I am sorry Master Bartholomew, but your dear cousin is going to have to come with us. I promised your grandfather I would not turn back for any reason, including this. My dear you can stay here and try to find your way back, but I really think it wisest if you join our party.”
“Oleanna please.” Bartholomew’s emotions split between his obvious fondness for his cousin and her safety.
“Bartholomew, if they are my only choices then I would rather stay with you,” she said cupping his hand between hers.
A disgusted sigh sounded from Adolfo, as he left the pack and continued the journey towards the village.
“Fine, that is settled,” Lazareth commented.
“Now we must board the ship before it leaves. Otherwise, all this would have been for nothing.”
Lazareth led them down side streets and they made their way to the gigantic wooden vessel. As they moved closer, they could see the large black and green lettering on the side that spelled the ship’s name, “Atharia”.
Sailors with striped shirts helped families cross a long wooden plank to board the ship. One of the men collected vouchers from the flock hoping to board through the human turnstile. Lazareth led the group closer. The fleeing families hoped to escape any threat of battles and start fresh in the New Land overseas. He ordered them to remain on the pier, while he marched up the plank to have a discussion with the sailor.
At first, the man showed disgust and hesitancy towards Lazareth. He declined any passage aboard the ship. Lazareth reached inside a satchel and handed the sailor a roll of inked paper. Finally, the man called down to them and waved them aboard. They quickly ascended the wooden ramp. Lazareth gave them a slight push on board and thanked the man.
“Where did you get all that money?”
“I told you Bartholomew, Petro wanted me to keep you safe. He was prepared for this.”
Woman and children were scattered about on the main deck. Some men saw to getting rations for each family, while others assisted the crew in preparing the ship for departure. Lazareth descended to the deck below where there were small cabins. He continued down the hall, grabbing some linen that was made from an old ripped sail. He reached a cabin with an X above the door.
“You stay here,” Lazareth ordered, entering the room alone.
The three rested with their backs along the wall. The silence from the other side of the door was shattered by a man’s scream. A pound on the wall vibrated against their backs and was followed by a familiar growl. The commotion lasted for only a few seconds and there were no other bystanders. The door opened and Lazareth appeared, carrying a bulky bundle wrapped in a blood stained linen sack.
“Go right in kids, the rooms is ours.”
Lazareth lugged the bundle to the deck below, where an occasional drip of blood bread leaked from the mysterious package. Bartholomew entered first, keeping Oleanna between him and his brother. Oleanna promptly exited after seeing the red stain that soaked into the wooden walls and drips leading to a puddle of blood in the corner. Moments later, she returned with a pail of water and sponge only to take to her knees and scrub away any evidence of Lazareth’s massacre. She knew what they were and would do her part to conceal it. Bartholomew and Adolfo rested in a haystack when Oleanna handed Bartholomew the pail of bloody water to dispose of. He left the room with the pail in hand. Minutes later the door opened and Lazareth entered.
“Is everyone settled in?” Lazareth asked, noticing one of the party was missing.
“Where is Bartholomew?”
“Who was the previous tenant?” Bartholomew asked, standing behind him.
“He was a drunken soul who was member of the crew. The man owed an unpaid debt to the sailor who granted us. I just helped the sailor collect the debt. He had no cabin space to grant us and this was the only way.”
Over the next week, the group remained hidden in the room with only Lazareth venturing out to steal rations to feed them. Everything continued to follow the plan until the day of Bartholomew’s hot sweats and racing heartbeats began. Lazareth had known this moment might come. There were times the others were asked to leave the cabin as Lazareth worked with his breathing and to keep concentration to control his inner beast. Lazareth was amazed how Bartholomew mastered the turning with ease. This benefited Lazareth, since the following week was Oleanna’s turn. This time only Adolfo was asked to leave the room and Bartholomew remained with Oleanna to assist in Lazareth’s lesson on controlling the beast.
Having no desire to wander the ship like a shunned outcast, Adolfo’s ear pressed against the door, listening to the sounds of grunts and growls. He cracked open the door, when he tripped and Adolfo fell to the cabin’s floor. Lazareth and Bartholomew were attempting to hold back the red haired beast. Its jaws snapped into the air towards Adolfo, when its hind legs kicked back knocking Lazareth against the wall. The beast lunged toward Adolfo about to strike, but Bartholomew tackled the beast to the deck. Adolfo kicked himself away, staring at his brother’s blackened eyes and the pulsating muscles in his face.
“Stay away from me,” Adolfo pleaded to his brother lying on top of the beast’s head.
“Adolfo get out of here, run,” Bartholomew commanded in a low gargled voice.
Adolfo rose to his feet, dancing over one last snap of the jaws of Oleanna. The transforming Bartholomew embraced Oleanna’s neck to allow his brother to escape safely.
Over the next month, Oleanna slowly learned to control the Lycanthrope. During this time, Adolfo grew jealous and malevolent towards his brother and cousin, because he had not yet turned. He wandered the ship. He was disgusted by the people, with their soiled clothing and hoarded scraps. Many days he strolled along the deck wondering why he was the outcast in the party as his brother and cousin grew closer together. There were days Lazareth attempted to comfort Adolfo, but he told them he did not seek their charity. He yearned to belong and needed the powers the others had obtained. Then the day finally came.
Bartholomew had whispered a joke into Oleanna’s ear, while Adolfo looked on and rested in the haystack. He had originally thought it was his envy, which drew the sweats. Moments later came the accelerated heartbeats and the visible throbbing that pulsated through his muscles.
“Bartholomew, restrain him,” Lazareth shouted.
Bartholomew held his brother down in the haystack, when Adolfo’s transformation accelerated. His eyes blackened and faded to yellow while a snout protruded in one fluid motion.
“Bartholomew, watch out.” It was too late. The beast pierced its teeth into Bartholomew’s shoulder.
Bartholomew rolled off his brother, holding his shoulder as the beast lunged for Oleanna. Lazareth intercepted Adolfo, pinning him against the cabin wall. A growl rumbled behind him, turning to Oleanna who was trying to coach Bartholomew’s breathing. Bartholomew’s eyes melted into white and a speck of yellow began to form at the center.
“Bartholomew, listen to my voice. Breathe. Take deep breaths, and control your breathing. You can do this.”
Lazareth shouted, trying to keep one beast at bay while preventing another from turning. His arm shifted off the beast’s throat slipping into Adolfo’s jaw. His focus was occupied with preventing Bartholomew’s transformation. The creature gnawed to the bone of Lazareth’s arm. Lazareth launched a blow to the side of the beast’s head. His arm was released, but the lycan tossed him back on top of Bartholomew and Oleanna.
The beast roared at the party and exploded through the wooden door, shattering splinters upon the hall floor. The beast had vanished, unleashed upon the ship. Lazareth sat up holding his bloody arm, worried that his tumble into Bartholomew completed his transformation.
“Lazareth, we need to stop him. He is going to expose us all.”
Bartholomew stood as himself, helping Lazareth and Oleanna to their feet.
“Are you all right?” Bartholomew took his guardian’s arm, watching his flesh melt into the bite and bond the skin until the wound was healed.
“Come on. I will need your help to return Adolfo safely.”
Lazareth led them into the empty hall but there were no sign of Adolfo.
“He must be on the upper deck.”
“Lazareth what happened?”
“He turned too quickly. Your brother just gave in to the beast. He had no control. He must have wanted it so badly. It will be quite a task to teach him to control it.”
“Lazareth, why would he want this?” Oleanna asked.
“Jealousy, he watched you and his brother turn. Some think of our bloodline as a curse, others think of it as pure power. Let us hope your cousin is not one who thinks the latter.”
The top deck immediately displayed the path of the beast. Two men had skin flaps ripped from their throats and a woman with deep lacerations across her face was sitting in a pool of blood.
“This is awful, a massacre,” Oleanna said.
“No my dear, this is freedom for the dead. It would be much worse if he had wounded them and did not complete the task.”
Lazareth grabbed the woman’s hair and tilted her head for assurance that she was dead.
“What do you mean, Lazareth?” Bartholomew looked carefully around the corner for his brother.
“If your brother bit anyone and did not kill them, they would become something much more cursed than a lycan.”
“What could possibly be worse?” Oleanna asked.
“Imagine if you had no capability of controlling or restraining your powers. You just acted on the urge to kill and nothing else. It was pure tunnel vision and nothing else mattered. That is what they would become. Some sort of lycan hybrid.”
“So we will have to kill anyone who has been bitten.”
“Your grandfather was right about you Bartholomew, you are the strong one.”
They entered the deck where people ran amok towards them. They needed to step aside to avoid getting trampled as the crowd siphoned into the hallway towards the decks below. Bartholomew watched as a few people jumped overboard while some of the crew carried torches towards the cabins at the opposite end of the deck.
