Frank Prisoner of blood and night

1. Auflage 2024
ISBN: 978-1-64268-483-4
Verlag: novum pro Verlag
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 320 Seiten

Jonathan, Johan and the other vampire hunters from the village of Vrain actually intended to rid the distant city of Lyria of vampires once and for all. However, they had no idea that they had been bewitched by a beautiful stranger and lured into a trap. Soon they would lose one of their own to the darkness. Could Jonathan himself have been turned into a creature of the night? Will the vampire hunters have the heart to save their friend from this fate? And might they even have to realize that vampires are not the monsters they had previously assumed, but that they are even capable of feeling love?

Autoren/Hrsg.

Frank, Lisa

Leseproben

Chapter 4

The valley of damnation

They crossed dark forests and deep ravines, at the bottom of which, as distant and small as a trickle, flowed a raging river. They rode through steppe-like valleys, where nothing far and wide indicated the presence of any civilization, and finally, when the sun had long since disappeared behind the horizon, they reached the edge of a small wood, where they set up camp for the night.

The area was rocky and uneven, a clear sign that the mountains surrounding Jonathan's home village of Vrain were not far away.

The hunters swung off their horses and stretched their aching legs, groaning.

"I wonder what Johan is trying to achieve with such a violent kick," Jonathan heard one of the men mutter into his beard. The others had to ask themselves similar questions, but none of them dared to criticize Johan directly.

He was already trudging around the perimeter of the makeshift camp and handing out tasks, such as collecting firewood or killing some game for dinner. Without resistance, the men set about their assigned work.

By the time Jonathan had finished tethering the horses safely in the shelter of some young birch trees, a small fire had been lit in the camp. That was all their leader would allow, as the heat and light could attract dangerous creatures.

A little later, when it was pitch dark and only the flickering orange-red light of the campfire illuminated the exhausted faces of the men, Hanok and Onan returned from the hunt. The two were experienced hunters and skilled trappers, which had earned them a high reputation in the village in the past. The rest of the group was glad to have them in their ranks, as not only did they always have fresh meat to enjoy, but their mastery of the bow and arrow had also proved very useful in the fight against the vampires.

Now they dragged a shot deer into the camp.

"Over in the forest, not five hundred paces from here, flows a small stream. The deer thought they were safe and were careless. It was easy for us to shoot this magnificent specimen," reported Onan, a note of self-satisfaction in his voice. Johan nodded with satisfaction and instructed the two of them to gut the game immediately. They carried it away from the camp, back into the forest, where they would skin it, gut it and finally bury the innards so as not to attract any hungry wild animals.

The fire covered Jonathan's bronze-colored skin, long dark hair and thick eyebrows with a golden glow, making the shadows dance wildly around his sharply cut face. He had stretched out his hands to warm them, but the pain was stronger than the cold. During the ride, his leather shirt had rubbed against his wrists, right where the vampire woman had dug her fingernails into his flesh. The skin around the wounds was stained blue and yellow, a result of the iron grip with which she had held him.

Ashamed, he tried to hide the wounds, for they bore witness to his defeat and reminded both him and the other men, and especially Johan, that he had almost let himself be killed by a vampire.

Hanok and Onan returned with the meat, which they rubbed with the spices they had brought with them and hung on a large spit over the fire to roast. The delicious smell of roasting meat soon caught Jonathan's nose and he tucked into his portion with a big appetite.

There was not much talk during the meal. The hunters were tired and wanted to get to sleep as quickly as possible before they would ride east again at dawn under Johan's strict command.

Soon the fire had burned down and one man after another had yawned and said goodbye until only Jonathan and one other were staring thoughtfully into the embers.

The dull light from the burning logs cast a blood-red glow on Johan's angular face and shrouded the rest of his body in deep black shadows. Jonathan watched him cautiously as he seemed to brood to himself.

He couldn't get what Johan had said in Sjörendur out of his head.

Anyone who doesn't know when something like this is appropriate will very soon meet their death. And who knows, maybe he will even deserve it.

Did he really mean it like that? Did he really think that he, Jonathan, deserved to die because of a stupid mistake?

Johan had been like a father to him since the death of his parents, even if he had never been interested in sentimentalism and the like. But he had taken good care of Jonathan and trained him to be a decent vampire hunter. How could such words come from his lips?

Jonathan involuntarily wondered whether Johan perhaps regretted having turned him into a hunter. He couldn't think of any logical reason why this should be the case, but he couldn't explain Johan's outburst any other way. Jonathan desperately poked around in the embers with a twig.

Then Johan stirred and shifted visibly uncomfortable in his seat. He let out an abysmal sigh, as if all the misery in the world was on his shoulders, and turned his beady eyes to Jonathan. He ducked his head, expecting another lecture on courage and how boldness is not always the right path. Surprisingly, Johan coughed and fumbled around for a while before he finally began to speak.

"I know you quite well by now, and I think that what I said to you, or rather to Björn, in that house in Sjörendur has been and perhaps still is on your mind." He bore his gaze deep into Jonathan's. The latter, however, closed his expression to any feelings and returned his gaze expressionlessly.

Johan continued. "In the ten years you've lived and learned with me, we've become a family. I ... when I saw you like that, at the mercy of that beast, that's when I really realized this fact and ..." He broke off. Some time passed, but Johan did not continue. But Jonathan thought he understood what his mentor was trying to tell him. Namely that he wouldn't have been able to bear it if something had happened to Jonathan and that he was very worried about him. A faint smile crept onto his face as he finally nodded slowly, looking at Johan.

Relieved, Johan stood up from his place by the campfire. "You should lie down slowly too, boy. We've got a tough ride ahead of us tomorrow." With that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows. Jonathan remained seated for a while, staring into the dwindling embers.

At dawn, Jonathan could hardly bring himself to get up and roll up the blanket he had been sleeping in on the hard floor. The sun had not yet risen and the world was nothing but pale shades of gray. It was also bitterly cold.

Shivering, the men packed their things and stowed them on the horses' backs, which pawed impatiently. They were all far too tired to have much of a conversation. So they mounted in silence and rode after their leader Johan, a little way into the grove to the stream Onan had told them about to water the horses.

Then they continued along the course of the stream between the relatively widely spaced deciduous trees, none of which were thicker than a beam. The path went steadily uphill and now and again rocks and stones protruded from the ground. Autumn-colored leaves lay on the forest floor with little undergrowth and muffled the horses' steps.

After a while, the group reached the eastern edge of the forest and found themselves on the edge of a deep ravine. At the bottom, they could make out a raging mountain river, an icy blue line carving its way through the gravelly riverbed. It was framed by steep cliffs in various shades of gray, which supported evergreen coniferous forests further up.

The mountains rose majestically behind the forests, their snow-covered peaks bathed in the orange fire of the rising sun. Individual wispy clouds drifted past in the sky and were also illuminated, glowing fiery red, orange, purple and pink. It was a gigantic sight that left Jonathan open-mouthed in amazement.

Between the mountains lay a gorge that ran right through the mountain range and behind which lay the village of Vrain. The men had come this way and they would take it back again. Jonathan had heard at some point that the gorge was called Ilendahl by the people who lived nearby, which meant Valley of Doom in the stubborn dialect of the surrounding villages. And indeed, the descent to the bottom of the gorge was extremely dangerous, as many travelers and traders had fallen to their deaths here.

Johan ordered the group to dismount. "You've conquered this path before and you know how damn dangerous it is. One false step and you'll fall out of the nest like a baby bird. I didn't lose any of my men on the outward journey and I'll damn well keep it that way. Now follow me and watch your step. There are many loose stones that can quickly spell your doom."

The hunters set off, one behind the other. They led the horses behind them on a lead.

The path, which led in steep serpentines all the way down to the river, was so narrow that no two people could walk side by side. Every now and then clumps of plants grew on the rocks beside and on the path, which didn't mind the rugged conditions and the lack of daylight - the gorge was so deep that the sun only reached most places for a few minutes a day. Otherwise, there was just a barren rock face on one side and a precipice on the other that made you feel dizzy when you looked down.

Jonathan concentrated as best he could on his feet, which were in thick leather boots and deliberately took one cautious step after another. In front of him, Hanok's black horse made its way down, behind him and his own animal, Björn tried not to fall into the depths. Only the footsteps of the men and horses and their strained panting permeated the silence.

...