Part 3 (1/2)
I use it to tie the top of the bundle. Then the wolf has me carry it to the courtyard of the castle.
The great gateway and the high frowning walls sway across my sight. I am terrified; ghosts and dead leaves blow about the courtyard, black pa.s.sages yawn into crypts. Surely the stone towers will come tumbling down and bury me. My companion shows me a niche in which to hide the bundle. Then I run away down the long, hard path.
Of the journey home I remember little. My feet were sore, and I was delirious from exhaustion and lack of food. The wolf must have led me safely back to the farm; my strongest impression was of the force of his will, which seemed loyal, single-minded, yet wholly pitiless.
It was afternoon when I reached the farm. I looked around for my friend but he was gone. I had not eaten for two days, and I was all in filthy rags. The shock of my father and the farmers when they saw me! They had been searching for me! And I could not explain where I had been, or why, for I don't know!
Somewhere I stepped out of reality and entered a nightmare.
When I could not and would not explain, my father dragged me to my room, closed the door and beat me with his belt. I deserved it, I know. Now I am locked in the room alone, without food, writing my journal to keep me from crying with pain.
I can hear my father arguing furiously with the farmer and his wife through the door. Oh G.o.d, they are telling us to leave! They say that their youngest son saw me feeding a great white wolf by the well, that the shepherd saw me walking through the forest with my pale companion. They say I am a witch, in league with the Devil, I will bring a curse upon them if I stay!
Because of me, my father will lose his good friends and be unable to complete his paintings. He will never forgive me.
Tomorrow, they say, we must go. Oh G.o.d, help me. Soon it will all be over.
Chapter Three.
PROFESSOR KOVACS'S JOURNAL.
(Our Search for the Scholomance -A Record)
10 August I begin my record by noting that it is not only for my eyes, but for those of my good friend Abraham Van Helsing -a.s.suming that I have anything of value to record! (If not, my friend, one of us shall consign it to the fire!) All there is to note so far is that Miklos and I have cheerfully endured a slow journey from Pesth to Hermannstadt, and that we have checked through our equipment; bedrolls, provisions, lamp and candles, and so on - the minimum we need to survive for two weeks.
It is strange to think that my brother and my dear niece are also somewhere within these mountains, albeit many miles to the east and north. I have heard nothing from them, but then did not expect to. They will come home, I dare say, as soon as the weather turns cooler. No doubt Emil's paintings will be admired for generations to come, while my dry studies are long consigned to a forgotten corner of some museum archive! Tonight we camp on a scrubby slope brightened by patches of dandelion and wood violet. Between the cultivated land and the mountains there is no hilliness -the mountains make a dramatic barrier beyond which it is easy to believe that a place such as the Scholomance, where Count Dracula learned his dark wisdom, exists - indeed, from which the Four Hors.e.m.e.n might come riding down to announce the Apocalypse.
11 August All day we have walked through the mountains, and the country grows ever wilder and more magnificent around us. The weather is fine, making hot work of our walk, and we are both suffering blisters despite our stout boots. A minor annoyance.
Nature in its raw state lends us vigour! Miklos and I imagine ourselves a pair of intrepid explorers, in search of some fabled land; and the grim nature of our goal seems to add fascination rather than fear to the expedition. When we make camp I must check our provisions. We have such tremendous appet.i.tes from walking, I fear I may have underestimated our need. There is no habitation for miles around.
I find our map to be vague, unhelpful and inaccurate. I am adding my own corrections and notes to it as we go. My compa.s.s and instinct prove to be better guides!
Evening Disappointment! Despite my careful researches as to the most likely location of the Scholomance - the region of Lake Hermannstadt - we have found nothing. All day we scoured the area for evidence; a man-made path, remains or foundations, the tell-tale patterning of the ground that might indicate a building once stood there.
I am being impatient, of course. I knew this search might take days, weeks, even months! I need only the tiniest seed of evidence to justify a bigger, more organized expedition. I am, of course, very much out on a limb. It is generally accepted that the place is a myth, simply a part of the rich folklore of this land. It is more than likely that there is nothing to find. I am prepared for that possibility.
There is also a chance, however, that the school lay near some other, unknown, lake, and that the two have become confused in folk memory ...
12 August, morning The mountainscape in the dawn is breathtaking. Great peaks surge up through the mist, the lower slopes painted dark violet by shadow. Long tongues of forest run down into the valleys, but the naked rock of the peaks is drenched by the sun's first rays to the most wondrous hues of rose and silver. I wish I could have captured the moment before sunrise, when sky and mountains turned as ruby-red as blood.
We are very high up now, and seem to be beyond civilization, on the roof of the world. All along the way I have been looking for the smallest sign - and have asked Miklos to do the same - that human beings once pa.s.sed this way. A horseshoe nail, a b.u.t.ton!
So far, nothing. Time now for a meagre breakfast, and onwards.
13 August Another fruitless day. We have climbed steep, rugged slopes, wound our way through thick forests until we are both exhausted and disorientated. My usually infallible sense of direction seems constantly to disagree with the compa.s.s! It will be restored by sleep. We are camped in the lee of a cliff, and it seems very dark tonight. The fire burns low and Miklos is in a deep sleep. The weather has turned cold and the howling of wolves sounds unutterably eerie. These mountains are so vast and wild, it would indeed be possible to wander in circles and never find our way home. It is all too easy, in a state of extreme tiredness, to allow all kinds of imaginings to intrude on the mind. No wonder superst.i.tions take such a hold on the peasant brain. Away with these thoughts!
14 August We have cast the search wider and are making for a westerly chain of peaks that looks promising; great limestone obelisks towering from the forested steeps like a voivode's fortress. But the way is proving difficult. Our path has taken us down into a deep, narrow gorge and it is hard to find a route up the precipitous ridge of rock that rims the far side - especially with the weight of our knapsacks on our shoulders. We have attempted several deer tracks that look easy enough from below but are impa.s.sible, forcing us back to the gorge floor. The map is of no help. Miklos is tiring, but I cannot give up. I have a strong feeling that we must cross the ridge, that on the far side we will find nestling some extraordinary ancient edifice on which human eyes have not alighted for centuries! The more it defies us, the stronger the feeling grows.
I am worried about Miklos. His usual stoical good temper is failing him. He is very quiet. If I catch him unawares, I see an expression of extreme distress on his face, as if he were in pain or terror. When challenged he insists there is nothing wrong, but I fear the journey is proving too much for him. He may well have strained a muscle and be in pain, but it's the Devil's own job to make him admit it! I hear him muttering behind me as we walk. I cannot make out the words, except for, 'The dragon, the dragon.'
I must confess it becomes very trying. But if I turn round and challenge him, he denies that he ever spoke.
15 August We crossed the ridge today. Dear G.o.d, my hands are shaking so that I can barely hold the pen. I hope you are able to read it, my friend Abraham. No matter, I must set it all down.
At dawn we moved higher up the gorge and at last found a tortuous way over the great, frowning brow of rock. On the crest there was no more to see than a circle of fanged rocks cupping a sea of forest. Not the gleaming spires of the Scholomance, after all. Not that I actually expected to see a spectacle that I suspect exists only in legend, but I was disappointed, all the same. Still, there was such an air of mystery on the place that I was eager to descend. I turned to Miklos, only to see an expression of intense dread on his face. 'Must we go down there?' he said.
'But of course,' I replied. 'Miklos, whatever is wrong?''Nothing, sir.' His stoic look returned.
'You're exhausted. If you would prefer to camp here on the ridge and wait for me while I explore the valley, I will understand.'
'No, sir,' he said quickly. 'I cannot let you go into it alone!' And there was such fear in his voice it quite affected me for several minutes. Angered at myself as well as him, I led the way down the ridge in silence.
The dense spruce forest enveloped us. All was deathly quiet. Presently I saw a gleam between the tree-trunks, a glint of dark, gla.s.sy water. I hurried forward until we came out on to the bank of a small lake. I can hardly describe my emotions as we stood there. The water was darkest blue-green and although the lake was only a hundred feet in diameter it gave an impression of immeasurable depth. All around, the trees stood dense and silent, and beyond them the circle of jagged limestone. The air was thick with the scents of pine resin and stagnant water, motionless and brooding. The only movement was in the mist that drifted in sluggish layers over the obsidian surface; it seemed almost to writhe, as if sentient. I felt on the brink of revelation and terror.
'This must be the place!' I whispered, gripping Miklos's arm. I felt it necessary to keep my voice low, not to disturb anything.
'This is the lake we sought, the Cauldron of the Dragon, and this is Yadu Drakuluj, the Devil's Abyss. We've found it. If the Scholomance exists at all, it is nearby!'
Miklos's eyes swung from side to side, as if he were terrified. I grew annoyed with him, I am ashamed to confess - especially in the light of what transpired. 'The peasants say that the lake goes to the earth's core, and a dragon sleeps at the bottom. If you throw in a stone you wake the dragon and cause a storm to shake the very world to its roots.' I picked up a stone and made to throw it in.
Miklos grabbed my wrist to stop me, crying, 'No!'
His voice echoed off the walls. His nervous state was so acute that I felt ashamed of my childish behaviour. 'Miklos,' I said, 'our expedition is almost over. I fear I've driven you too hard, for which I ask your forgiveness. Today we explore this valley, and whatever we discover, which may well be nothing, tomorrow we start for home.'
He nodded in relief. 'Forgive me, sir. I don't know what is wrong with me. I feel such a dread of this place ...' He shook himself, and was again the brave, good-natured man I know.
All day we searched the valley and the slopes around it, finding not one sc.r.a.p of evidence dial a building of any kind had ever existed here. In the evening, as the dusk gathered and the first stars came out, we sat disconsolately on the bank of the lake. Miklos toyed with a large pebble he'd picked up. We were both tired and dispirited.
'Of course, the idea that there ever was a school run by the Devil is a fable,' I said, 'but there surely must have been something that gave rise to the fable. Behind all these myths and superst.i.tions is a seed of truth.'
Miklos exclaimed with a savagery that startled me, 'But it is all so much nonsense! There's no Devil, no dragon! I won't let these phantoms terrify me!' And he flung the pebble into the lake.
The surface swallowed the missile with A plop so unnaturally deep and sonorous that it startled us both. Ripples spread out in perfect circles. It seemed to me that I heard a dull rumbling from a great distance. We looked at each other and laughed, very uneasy. 'Come, let us make our camp for the night,' I said.