Book I of III: The Swords of the Sultan (49 page)

Despite the fact that he was still severely
outnumbered, he saw the remaining caravan members fleeing into the
dark desert night in all directions.

Once the last of them was gone, he took one
last cautious look around, and once satisfied they were indeed
gone, he looked back to the cage, so as to try and locate his
wife.

However, due to the blood that drenched his
body and his sword, he became exceedingly hungry from all the
intoxicating smells, and he knew that the beast needed to
feast.

No longer able to hold the cravings back, he
immediately hopped onto Grasha, and pursued one of the fleeing
members.

After leaping off the horse, perhaps a minute
later, he slammed into that man which caused the two of them to
plummet hard into the ground, with Baltor on top.

As soon as he sank his vampire fangs into the
man, who in turn screamed out his agonizing pains, his body
instantly transformed to the beastly vompareus, as he ravenously
feasted! He soon came to learn that this man’s name was Ciaro, yet
another piece of vermin—a whole hell of a lot of vermin around this
world, Baltor sadly realized near the end of his feasting.

Fifteen minutes later, when he had ridden
back to the camp completely quenched, extremely powerful, and again
in his human form, he happily discovered that none of the other
caravan members had returned either.

A little more than a minute later, he then
opened up the cage and watched as all the young, attractive, yet
dirty women poured out. Already they had begun to congratulate,
hug, and even to kiss him, despite all the blood that soaked and
caked his entire body from the earlier battle.

From amongst the voices, one voice stood out
from the rest—Brishava’s most beautiful voice!

She fought her way through, gingerly pushing
off the young women who either clung on to or kissed Baltor, and
then squealed out as she hugged him tightly, “Baltor—Baltor—Baltor!
You rescued me!”

As he hugged her just as tightly back, he
first chuckled for a couple of moments before he replied, “Yes, I
did! But it was because of my love for you that I was able to find
you, my wife.”

At that comment, the rest of the girls
immediately realized whom he had come to rescue, and many of them
began to look disappointed.

One particularly attractive woman, a brunette
with sea-blue eyes, soon asked, “Now what are we going to do?”

Without looking away from his wife for one
second, he replied, “Go back home. You’re all free!”

This brunette looked all around as she
replied, “I have no clue where I’m at now—originally, I came from
Pawshen. Do you know where my town’s from here?”

Looking over for the very first time, he
sighed, “No, I don’t. Actually, to be honest with you, I’ve never
even heard of that place before.”

Not even Brishava had heard the name of
Pawshen, so she could give no directions.

A few moments later, the brunette asked, “So
what in the world are we supposed to do?”

He thought for a minute, until suddenly, a
good idea hit him! He said his idea aloud: “I have a good friend of
mine named Yaush who lives in a town not too far away to the east,
called Valakan. Unfortunately, I can speak very little of his
language or he mine, but I am in high hopes that he will be able to
help us all find accommodations there; that is, until you girls
decide what you’re going to do, okay?”

Other than Brishava, the girls talked amongst
one another for a minute, and then they all said at the same time,
“Okay.”

Over the course of the next ten minutes, they
had quickly thrown almost everything they could find into the
covered wagon, goods, supplies, parsecs, and other valuables.
Specifically they made sure including seven two-person tents.

By the time they were done packing everything
into the wagon, which even included two of the water bags that
originally had been on his horse, the wagon was three-quarters
full.

Two of the girls elected to drive and/or sit
upon the wagon—both had previous experience. The nine others, not
including Brishava, would ride upon their own individual horse. The
rest of the horses, except for Grasha, were left at the oasis, as
there was plenty of water and shrubbery for them to eat.

The newly formed caravan began to ride east
toward the mountains—sitting on his warhorse, he led the way with
Brishava sitting right on his lap. Nearly right away they began
kissing…

Another hour or so passed as they continued
in their journey at a trot, but he was so obliviously happy to have
his wife back, and vice-versa, neither of them had been paying
attention to anything else—both had been kissing each other with
eyes closed nearly the whole time.

Brishava was the first to open her eyes,
notice that the skies had long ago been lightening up ahead of
them, break the lip-lock, and then exclaim, “Baltor—the sun is
about rise!”

That statement brought him back to
reality!

Quickly he looked around all across the sandy
dunes, and even with his binocular-eyesight, he saw no oases or
caves, or anything else whatsoever to protect him from the sun,
except for the desert sand itself.

He also realized that if he dug himself a
hole in the sand and completely buried himself under it, it would
seem very odd and maybe even obvious to everyone that he was
actually a vampire, especially his wife.

He got quite upset, especially after having
gone so far and through so much just to get her back, but he tried
not to let it show. He looked back at his wife, while grimly
saying, “There’s nothing to protect me from the sun’s furious
rays—it’s soon going to be over for me.”

She asked with hope to her voice, “Can’t we
at least wrap some clothes over you? Maybe that would help. We
could also fit you into the wagon too.”

He believed that he had to be underground,
and that the clothes would do absolutely nothing to protect him. He
finally sighed, “I doubt it. In only a few minutes, my love, I may
no longer be alive.”

“No!” Brishava cried out, “I will not let
Death tear us apart after having overcome such incredible struggles
and adversaries, especially now that we have been reunited, my
husband!”

Tears began to pour down from her eyes as she
gripped onto him desperately.

Several of the other women behind them
wondered what the problem was, and why Brishava was crying instead
of squealing in delight, as she had been doing almost the whole
time since being rescued. And so they rode up on their horses to
find out why.

After having seen the tears, a young woman
with wavy blonde hair asked, “What’s the matter?”

From that little question, Brishava began to
bawl yet again. She could see that within a minute or two, the sun
would rise over the eastern horizon.

A bloody tear began to pour down his face as
well, but no one saw it as he quickly wiped it away.

Even though his heart ached painfully, he
also began to wonder what lay on the other side of life, even
though he was an undead creature.

Strangely enough, probably due to all the
intense emotions, he realized that he did not feel tired in the
least bit.

Brishava somehow regained her senses, and
through her tears, she yelled, “Do any of you girls have some extra
clothes that we could throw on top of my husband? We need to
hurry—he has an unusual illness that prevents him from tolerating
the sun!”

He and his wife hopped off the now-stopped
horse, and onto the ground. The rest of the caravan had stopped
upon seeing their leader stop, though the brunette with the
sea-blue eyes immediately asked from near the rear of the caravan,
“What’s going on up there?”

“Ladies,” the blonde yelled out, “we need as
many clothes as possible! Can one of you please check in the wagon
to see if there are any more clothes, and bring them up here?”

Meanwhile, Brishava had already opened her
backpack, pulled out the two extra outfits that she had stuffed
back in there while packing the night prior, and then she began to
try and wrap them around her husband’s face and neck.

Even though he was completely covered by the
time she had wrapped both outfits around him, it didn’t seem as if
the wrappings would be secure at all. Any bump, and they could
easily and fatally fall right off.

Moments passed as the women passed along any
extra clothing that they were wearing though there wasn’t much! A
couple of them had even begun to think about going in the buff.

But the redheaded passenger riding in the
wagon had just discovered a sack within the wagon that contained
something quite useful—a large roll of a black, silky material.

While trying to drag the heavy sack out of
the wagon, the redhead yelled out to the front of the caravan with
an unusual twang, “I’ve found some black silks for Baltor—someone
quickly get over here and help me get this sack to him,
please!”

The driver of the wagon, a woman with
jet-black hair and piercing brown eyes, volunteered—the two women
drug the bag of silks up halfway to the front of the caravan, which
nearly took a minute, as the sack weighed about seventy
pounds—there was indeed a lot of silk.

Meanwhile, he had already taken off the extra
clothes, and then he and Brishava met the two women in the middle
of the caravan, as they had heard the redhead yell out that
information.

In under a minute, the women had thoroughly
wrapped the silks around Baltor’s hands, arms, legs, torso, and
even head, and with that dagger they had plucked out of the
red-turbaned man, they then cut the rest of the roll off. Even
though he could still walk and move his arms around, he couldn’t
see a thing—he looked just like a mummy wearing black attire.

Once done, they then guided him to the back
of the wagon, where several of the other women had already cleared
a spot that was just big enough for both he and Brishava to either
lie or sit down.

They then assisted him into the cleared spot
in the wagon, and Brishava joined her husband in the wagon, a
moment later.

The woman with the jet black hair, the one
who had been the driver of the wagon, said, “Baltor, my name is
Poila, and if you like, I could ride your horse today, while my new
friend Chelsea drives the wagon. Is that okay with you?”

“No problem…thanks!” he muffled through his
silks, unsure of whom Chelsea was.

As the caravan began to move forward again a
minute later, Brishava then held onto her husband as tightly as she
could, ready to fight Death himself if he should come.

Even though he could no longer see, he still
knew that the first rays of the sun had risen over the eastern
horizon, for he had become very sleepy. He turned to face his
beloved, and muffled through the silks, “This may not
work—
yawn
… Just remember, I shall love you for all eternity,
my Brishava!”

In the next moment, the sun’s rays hit the
wagon and continued to rise up. Meanwhile, Brishava held tight her
husband, and whispered, “I shall love you for all eternity, my
Baltor!”

Despite all of the layers that included his
clothes and boots, the silks, and even the covered top of the
wagon, he could still feel the sun’s heat penetrate first over his
legs, his thighs, his abdomen, his chest, and finally his face and
head. As he lost consciousness a moment later, he doubted that he
would ever return….

When Baltor did return to the state of
consciousness the second after the sun had set, he was quite
surprised and relieved that his body had not turned into a pile of
ashes, though he could not see a thing even after he opened his
eyes.

Still, despite his temporary blindness, he
knew that he was alive and well because he could feel the soft and
silky wrappings throughout his entire body and head; he
simultaneously felt the ground beneath him continuously shifting
around him, most likely the wagon in motion. Finally yet
importantly, he felt somebody’s warm-and-soft arms tightly wrapped
around his waist, most likely Brishava’s arms.

Just to make sure he was alive, he asked in a
muffled voice, “Am I alive?”

“Yes, you are, my beloved,” she sighed from
behind, as she nuzzled her face into the side of his neck for a
moment.

In the next moment, she released her grip on
her husband, sat up in the wagon, and then added, “Yes you
are.”

A moment later, he sat up—he next allowed his
wife to begin removing first the clothes, and then the silks that
covered his head, face and neck.

Once done, nearly four minutes later, he saw
that she was the only one sitting in the back of the wagon with
him.

He also saw that the last of the sun’s rays
had left the sky, as was revealed through the sole opening to the
covered wagon that looked west across the sandy dunes.

About ten seconds later, he called out to the
driver of the wagon, “Hey—I’m both alive and awake now. Can you
please call out to the rest of the girls that we need to stop, so
that we can set up camp for the night?”

He heard that woman with the unusual twang to
her voice yell out, “Hey, girls—stop the caravan! Guess what? Our
hero Baltor’s alive, awake, and well!”

As soon as he heard the accent, he strongly
suspected that the driver was Chelsea, unless someone else with a
twang voice had volunteered to drive the wagon during the course of
his sleep.

While the caravan slowly brought their horses
to a halt, including the driver of the wagon, the girls all whooped
out their sighs of exhilaration and relief at all the great news,
which relieving news included stopping the caravan because of their
sore bottoms from riding horseback all day.

Once everyone had come to a complete stop,
the girls dismounted their horses, and the driver of the wagon
climbed down to the ground—they then began to stretch and walk
around, while trying to look around in the night skies.