The Children of Arnborg: the Prophecy

by Rene Barry

Chapter 2

part 2 of 2

“You got caught?” Stuart asked excitedly. His face was lit up like a schoolboy’s buried in a comic book, lapping up its story.

“The year was 1579,” Emma answered him. “We had moved to the south of Hamburg by then. We emerged at night to feed and, by the unquestioned edict of Arnborg, we avoided churches and anything blessed or holy for fear that we would perish, but it was only a matter of time before our ghost-like appearance and strange habits caught the attention of a society trapped in the hysteria of witch-hunting. Sightings of us were reported, but the Inquisition balked at it and the provincial rulers were starting to grow weary of these superstitious peasants.

“So it fell to the village locals to rid themselves of the abomination in their midst. A local hunter named Wolgast, Liukardis Wolgast,” Emma spat the name in disgust, “donning the name of the Inquisition, recruited those only too anxious to ‘do the work of Christ’. From village to village his men grew in numbers, and they hunted us down like jackals, denouncing us, whatever we were: Demons, witches, the risen dead. In the name of Christ, they would purge us from their midst. And, as fledglings, young and desperate to survive, we clung to Arnborg’s every instruction.

“Then one night, it was the sound of her screams that startled Hrodrich and me. We were feeding on a peasant family when we heard her shrieking like a wounded animal. Hrodrich and I scrambled out of the family’s barn to see her engulfed in flames.

“It was useless to try to help her. She was already turning to ash. We darted through Wolgast’s men, killing and ripping them apart, even as their arrows pierced our limbs, and made for another village, leaving the sight of Arnborg’s burning body to slowly disappear behind the horizon.

“We know now that she perished, but for a long time we wondered if, by some miracle, she had survived. Hell-spawn or not, Mr. Morrow, she was our mother, and she had protected us for nearly five years. Of course, now, that would seem like a grain of sand in the long expanse of eternity, but we were young then, just babes, and no one across the harsh landscape of Germany had ever cared for us as she had, not even our parents.

“I remember once I had asked her why she made me. She never answered, but time and again she would tell Hrodrich and me, ‘Remember, you are children of Arnborg. You are indestructible, and so am I. You will see. You will see...’ And I believe her, Mr. Morrow. I do.”

“But you said she’s dead?” Stuart reminded Emma.

“I believe her, Mr. Morrow,” Emma stated, pointedly.

He bit his lip silently, not quite knowing what to make of Emma at the moment.

She continued. “Two nights later we were venturing near the edge of a village south of Bremen. As ill-advised as it was, we had to seek shelter. The hunt behind us was menacing closer, sure enough.

“Hrodrich spoke: ‘Our time has come, Albruga. Let us have our fill of these peasants and meet our judgment when the hunt arrives. I see no better way. Do you?’

“But I was not ready to give up hope just yet. I would not. Arnborg was gone, and now dear Hrodrich was looking to me, as he always had.

“’They’re hunting you,’ a voice startled us in the night. I spun around ready to attack anyone who would threaten. Instead, I saw her.”

“Saw who?” Stuart interjected.

“Gersuinda Kuhnle,” Emma replied, letting the name sink in, “standing at the threshold of the village, staring at us, untroubled by our presence. Rather, she seemed relieved. I will never forget her words to us,” Emma whispered. “’If you come now, I can give you shelter... and you... you can give me the means to die in peace! Come now. Come now!’

“We followed her, baffled by her offer, but we had nowhere else to turn. She hurried us down a back road, and everywhere we picked up the scent of death and illness till she brought us into her hut. There, her daughter lay ill, stretched out on the floor, stinking from sweat and the stench of regurgitated blood. A bowl lay beside the girl, filled with the staling blood. Despite the putridity of it, we had only one thing on our minds. Perhaps someone so naïvely willing to invite death should die.

“‘Not naïve, but willing yes,’ the woman answered us, or rather, our thoughts. Hrodrich and I stood taken aback. Gersuinda stood expressionless. ‘You save my daughter, you give her the strength to take revenge for my family and for me, she will give you a knowledge that you never knew existed.

“‘Trust me, Albruga... Hrodrich,’ she said, speaking our names deliberately for we had not introduced ourselves at all. ‘You are not half of what you can be. Give me what I ask for, and let me be, and you will have power beyond your imaginings’.”

“What was she talking about?” Stuart inquired.

“Exactly what was the most feared thing in Europe in those days. She was a real witch. This was one time the witch hunters had gotten it right, and they had wasted no time in wiping out those members of her family they could find. She had taken her daughter and run from her village near Kiel, lying low near the river, but the plague had caught up with them, and while her magicks could guarantee power, it did not guarantee immortality. That’s where we come in.” Emma grinned. “By the time she had tried to save her daughter, it was too late.

“‘They will come, the hunters,’ Gersuinda told us. ‘They will burn my daughter even though she is already dying, burn her to make sure her wickedness dies with her and cannot return. Make her into what you are, give her a strength that no other witch has had before, and she will protect you. I offer you survival. Will you take it?’

“And that is exactly what we did, Mr. Morrow. Frouuina Kuhnle was her name, and she was beautiful, just sixteen when Hrodrich and I turned her, but the wisdom she carried made her appear much older.

“Just hours after her daughter’s rebirth, Gersuinda pulled an athame, or a witch’s knife, from beneath her skirt, stripped naked and cut what looked like a cross in her abdomen. She came to me with the knife and, without a word, cut my wrist, then moved swiftly to Hrodrich and did the same. We watched her mingle the blood with the wound in her groin.

“‘From one birth to the next,’ she whispered, going toward Frouuina, the blood dripping down her legs. ‘Come, daughter. I will not die, but live in you. Let me nourish what my womb once brought forth.’

“She pulled Frouuina’s face to her belly, the both of them sinking down onto the floor. Hrodrich and I stood and watched Frouuina feed on Gersuinda till the light went out of the woman’s eyes.”

Emma glanced at Stuart who sat stunned, his eyes blank. “I guess the good D.A. has not seen it all, after all,” she chuckled. “Nights later we were nearing the Ems River. For the first time since our birth — Hrodrich’s and mine — someone else outside the threesome we once knew led the way.

“Frouuina had not parted with the athame Gersuinda had crudely torn up her belly with. The girl insisted the thing was charged and had refused to let Hrodrich or me lay a hand on it.

“We settled in a village near the Ems, keeping to ourselves. Time passed there, and we determined, eventually, that the hunt had lost us in our travels and that we need no longer fear for our survival as much. It was at this time that Frouuina suggested the unimaginable, that we enter into the House of God!”

“A church?” Stuart whispered in disbelief.

“Ja. Believe me, Hrodrich and I had half a mind to dispatch the crazy bitch right then and there. If she were that adamant to do away with herself, well, we could at least feast on her blood instead of letting the damned thing go up in flames at the altar.”

“But you touched that Bible tonight at The Coven. We all saw you,” Stuart interrupted.

“Indeed, Mr. Morrow, and trust me,” Emma winked, “we can do much more! Arnborg had led us to think that judgment waited at the foot of The Cross. Frouuina led us out of our ignorance into the truth: that the only judgment there was... was the one we inflicted upon ourselves.

“Can you guess where Hrodrich and I hid, where we lived and danced and learned the witching arts for the next several hundred years?” Emma’s fangs shone at the D.A. The sparkle in her eye seemed to grow brighter. “Within the very walls of churches scattered across Germany, France, Poland and the whole of the frickin’ Netherlands we practiced our art and literally bewitched our enemies.

“But back to my story... Frouuina had taken time as a fledging vamp to gain strength and wiles to survive her new life, but once the novelty and enchantment wore away, we hunted down the peasants who had killed her family and gorged ourselves on their blood. Years passed, and human and vampire alike fell to our spells, and the glorious night was ours! All ours! Until Liukardis Wolgast appeared...”

“What?” Stuart blurted out. “I thought you lost him?”

“So did we,” Emma murmured. “The son of a bitch found us!”

“How did he find—?”

“Well, when you suck a man’s son dry and leave the bastard bloating on the river bank, I guess the daddy tends to become a little obsessed with revenge. It happens,” Emma shrugged, keeping her eyes on the road.

Stuart swallowed uncomfortably.

“Twenty years later, the bastard found us. In Lithuania, to be precise, not too far from Birzia, near the border of Latvia. We had taken shelter in the tombs of a church graveyard. The sun was high above us, and our bodies slept unawares and unsuspecting.

“Frouuina was the first to startle us with us her screams just as years before with Arnborg. Hrodrich and I flew up in panic out of our day sleep, hauling the blazing tomb doors aside and staggering out into the brutal fire of the sun.

“On instinct, we scrambled for the church doors. Frouuina dragged herself into the aisle, her skin blistered and charred with burned blood sizzling off of her. The scent caught Hrodrich and me, and we had to restrain ourselves from devouring her then and there.

“We had startled a small group of worshippers, who fled screaming into the yard. We waited, cornering the priests, who had stood their ground armed with crosses and their litanies of denunciations. But oddly enough, our attacker had not advanced into the church. He stood outside, waiting. It was at this moment that we realized who the bastard was. Liukardis Wolgast! The priests continued their splurge of rebukes, their voices grating into our ears till we could stand them no longer. We dispatched the lot of them, sucking them dry and tossing their bodies upon the altar.

“Liukardis rushed in at the sound of this uproar. He stood in shock at the sight of us. ‘You... you must burn!’ he cried in disbelief. ‘Demons! You must burn! You cannot defy the judgment of the Cross! You cannot!’

“‘Apparently we can,’ I mocked him with a smile. Yes, I remember that smile,” Emma mused. “Scared the bastard stiff. ‘Hrodrich,’ I commanded, ‘see to our little one,’ as I would call Frouuina on occasion. She still lay on the floor, wounded. Hrodrich tore his wrist and fed her.

“She recovered quickly enough, but I stood, a barricade between them and Wolgast, looking into the aged man’s eyes. Time and circumstance and grief had surely worn away years from him.

“‘Albruga! Kill him! Why do you stare? Kill him! Albruga!’ Hrodrich’s voice was barking at me from another realm. I heard him, but I would not move, and neither would Wolgast.

‘Why do you not burn?’ Wolgast whispered harshly through welling tears. His hands trembled. I could see no weapon on him.

“‘I killed your son. This I know,’ I whispered.

“‘Albruga!’ Hrodrich screamed, but I would not move. Wolgast would not advance.

“‘It is our way,’ I reasoned. ‘I cannot change it...’

“‘Albruga!’ Hrodrich shrieked. ‘Sister, kill him!’

“My body stood frigid.

“Hrodrich raced at me before I could get my bearings. He pushed me aside, and I tumbled into the pews, bashing my head onto the back of the wooden seat. The blood poured into my eyes and the world spun, but in the midst of my shattered vision I saw Wolgast’s hand reach behind his back. Hrodrich was descending upon him, and a silver-plated arrow in Wolgast’s hand tore through Hrodrich’s throat as he landed on Wolgast.

“In the flash of a second another arrow ripped through my brother’s heart and the blood gushed upon Wolgast. He kicked Hrodrich aside and took stock of Frouuina, but she lingered in the back, measuring Wolgast in panic.

“He advanced on me and grabbed me by my hair, slamming me, face first, into the altar. ‘You should not have hesitated!’ he hissed. ‘My Fridurih is dead! And so am I! I have no heart!’ He pulled another arrow from his back and, before I could think, drove the damned thing into the wound in my head. I felt the point sink in, ripping through my brain.

“The last thing I remember was the faint growling of Wolgast at Frouuina, ‘Get back! Stay back!’, and he was menacingly waving another arrow at our little one; it seemed just one of many .”

* * *

To be continued...

To Challenge 425...