The Vorbing by Stewart Stafford

Author:Stewart Stafford [Stafford, Stewart]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B0162713PU
Goodreads: 27386093
Publisher: Stewart Stafford
Published: 2015-10-28T16:00:00+00:00

Mortis was a port town. The peddlers sold spices and silk from faraway lands. The pelts of exotic creatures hung from racks, and locals stared in wonderment at their mysterious appearance and prohibitive cost. Merchants landed daily with produce to barter and sell. Mortis was also a haven for criminals and drunken sailors waiting for their ship to sail. With so much money changing hands all the time, trouble was never far away. It was not a place for the faint of heart. Women with painted faces thrust themselves suggestively at Vlad. It reminded Vlad a little of the lasciviousness of the vampires.

Vlad entered the town square. It was immense compared to the one in Nocturne. There were people who were just blurs in the distance. Vlad had never seen so many in one place, and it overwhelmed him. Tiredness waylaid Vlad. All he wanted to do was sleep, but there was no time for that. He had a mission in Mortis, and he had to achieve it. A gallows in the middle of the town square caught Vlad’s eye. It was the highest point around and the best place to be seen by the crowd, so Vlad made his way towards it. He clambered up onto the gallows and cleared his throat. The enormity of what he had to do dawned on him, and he felt a little nauseous. If the load he was bearing was going to pass from him, then the time had come. Vlad cleared his throat. “Citizens of Mortis!” Vlad said, trying to sound dramatic.

Nobody took any notice of him and resumed what they had been doing. Vlad’s heart sank.

“CITIZENS OF MORTIS!” Vlad shouted with surprise at the roar that came out of him.

Some looked at Vlad for a moment and then ignored him again. Vlad only had seconds to keep their attention. “I am Vlad Ingisbohr from the village of Nocturne, and I seek your help,” Vlad said.

A fat merchant in a turban looked shocked. “NOCTURNE?!” he boomed. “They say that place is under an evil hand. Spirits roam the land drinking the blood of children.”

There were grunts of agreement from the crowd. A ragged man with one tooth piped up. “What may we do for a yokel such as you?”

Vlad looked down from the gallows with fear in his eyes. He was careful not to mention the vampires in case it incited the mob to execute him on the very gallows on which he stood. While vampires were not witches, they provoked similar hysteria in those unused to dealing with them, like the pampered Mortisians before him.

“Nocturne is not cursed,” Vlad bluffed. “We have a problem with another village.”

“What does that have to do with us?” the ragged man asked.

The crowd murmured agreement.

“Yeah, go home!” a buxom woman shouted. “We have our own problems.”

“There is a reward,” Vlad said.

“Reward?” the woman asked, her interest and bust perking up considerably. “Oh, tell us about this reward!”

The crowd got rowdier at the mention of possible remuneration.

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