Hi everyone.
I'm new to the list and I'd like to share my first
piece of fanfic with you. I wrote it last year.

Disclaimer: The characters of FK do not belong to me,
they belong to Sony/Tristar and TPTB. The song belongs
to CDB (lyrics at the end of part 2)

Note: English is not my first language, so be gentle

The Traveler (inspired by the song by Chris De Burgh)
by Luc 2002

England 1799

The horse thundered through the night. And not for the
first time its rider wondered why he didn’t choose to
fly.
You know perfectly well why not, Nicholas, the man
chided himself as he pressed his spurs a little deeper
into the horse’s flanks.
He would have to feed much more often if he spent a
lot of energy on flying. And if there was one thing he
didn’t need it was the additional trouble of hiding
corpses. That would be costing him way too much time
and time he didn’t have.
He had been on the run for two weeks, zigzagging
across the country, trying to hide his traces as best
as he could. And that included not leaving drained
bodies in his wake.
Instead he had turned to animal blood. A sad
substitute to the rich essence of human blood but it
fulfilled its purpose of keeping him alive.
Thinking about it, he felt a slight pang of hunger. He
bridled the horse. The large animal stood panting,
froth dripping from its muzzle. He had been going at a
fierce pace all night and he knew the animal wouldn’t
be able  to keep it up much longer without rest.
Besides, sunrise was only about two hours away. Time
to find shelter for the day.

A little further up the road he spotted a ramshackle
wooden shed. Probably a stable. Good, if he was lucky
he would find nourishment for both himself and the
horse as well as a dark corner to sleep through the
day.

A couple of minutes later he dismounted and led the
steed around to the rear of the building. It was
indeed a stable and luckily for him it didn’t seem to
have any windows. He tied the horse to one of the
posts of the broken fence that surrounded the hut. He
cautiously approached the door and listened.
There was no obvious sign of life. Certainly not of
human life. There were a couple of heartbeats audible
from inside but from their pitch and frequency he knew
they belonged to animals, very small animals. He
winced. So it seemed his horse would be the luckier of
the two tonight. He pried the door open and looked
inside. With his perfect vampire eyes he could see
that the place held indeed neither danger nor a
noticeable source of sustenance. He sighed. As he had
feared, the tiny heartbeats stemmed from rats which
scurried all around the place. He absolutely detested
drinking rat’s blood. After all he wasn’t carouche.
He went back to his steed, untied the reins and led
the tired animal inside. There he relieved the animal
of the saddle and started to wipe it down with a
handful of straw. The smell inside the stable left him
in no doubt that not long before it had housed a flock
of sheep. He shrugged his shoulders and patted the
horse’s neck. “Well, Merlin, sheep wouldn’t have been
of use anyway.” Sheep’s blood was the only one
hazardous for his kind.
Agnus Dei.*
“I guess I’ll have to take advantage of you again, old
boy.” The horse raised its head and looked at him with
soft brown eyes that seemed to understand that its
master wouldn’t do it any serious harm. Nicholas
started to murmur soothingly and the animal kept
perfectly still. It only flinched a bit as the vampire
sank his fangs into the throbbing vein of its neck.
Nicholas drew deeply of the crimson liquid and felt
his strength return. After a few moments he withdrew
his teeth. He couldn’t take too much if he wanted
Merlin to remain strong enough for the rest of the
journey even though the horse could easily spare a
pint or two. Tomorrow he would have to find another
source to satisfy his hunger.

He searched the stable and found some turnips and
carrots. He collected a few and put them down in front
of Merlin. “Here, enjoy.” He patted the horse’s hind
as he turned to prepare the stable for a good day’s
sleep.

In one corner there were several bales of fresh straw
and a large pile of hay. He stacked the straw so as to
form a little wall that would shield him from the
light, should anyone open the door. Then he crawled
deep into the hay until he was completely covered. It
was one of the advantages of his vampire nature that
he needn’t breathe.

***

He awoke when something walked over his face. His eyes
flew open and he stared into a pair of black, beady
ones. With a sound of disgust he jumped up and the rat
vanished, squealing in protest. He stretched and
yawned. His internal clock told him that the sun had
just begun its slow descent into evening.
Nicholas combed his fingers through his unruly long
hair disentangling stalks of straw and hay before
tying it up again. After that he went over to Merlin
who chewed contentedly on some of the leftover turnips
from the night before. Nicholas examined the tiny
wounds his bite had caused. They had already started
to heal.
He saddled the steed and as soon as the sun had
vanished behind the horizon he mounted and forced
Merlin to the same fierce pace as the nights before.

***

About three hours later he reached a little country
inn that lay by the wayside. He felt hungry again. The
little blood he’d taken from Merlin hadn’t lasted
long. They would certainly have cows there, he
thought. Silently he dismounted, tied Merlin to the
fence and walked over to the stable. Yes, two cows and
a bull were tied to the wall.
Nicholas opted for one of the cows. The bull’s blood
would taste better, if only slightly, but the cows
could be soothed more easily. This time he took a
considerable larger amount. The animal would be a
little weak for two or three days but it would
survive. With animals Nicholas didn’t have any
difficulties to stop in time. But then, drinking from
a human source was so much more than just feeding.
He wiped his mouth and checked his clothing for any
visible traces of blood. Then he returned to Merlin
and led him to the stable. This time he made no
attempt at concealing his arrival. “Hey, ho,
landlord,” he called. A heavy middle-aged man appeared
in the door.
“That would be me, sir.”
“Is it possible to have a hot bath for me and some
water and oats for the horse?”
“O’course, sir. This way.” The landlord tried to take
Merlin’s reins from Nicholas’s hands. He saw the
greedy look in the man’s eyes and shook his head. “One
o’ the stable hands can take care o’ the horse for
you, sir.” “No, I’d rather do it myself, just get that
bath ready, will you?”
The landlord shot an unfriendly glance back at him and
Nicholas knew he had to be careful, that one wasn’t to
be trusted.
“Old boy, I think we better leave here as soon as
possible.” The horse only snorted.

He took care of Merlin and then wearily walked over to
the bathhouse where two young women were preparing a
large tub of hot water for him. They were only
scantily dressed in the steaming heat of the room, and
their flushed faces and ruddy cheeks locked very
appetizing to Nicholas. “I wouldn’t mind sharing the
tub with one of these,” he thought, a wicked smile
playing around his mouth. “Alas, no time for play
tonight.” With a little sigh he shed his clothes and
stepped into the bath.
He closed his eyes and just enjoyed the hot water
caressing his body. He turned to call to the wench for
more hot water when all of a sudden a blinding bolt of
pain exploded behind his eyes. Then everything went
black. Slowly his body slid back into the water and
submerged.

***
The landlord threw the large wooden club aside and
leaned over the tub. The water was already turning
red. The blow had surely killed the stranger, but he
had never been one to take risks. He reached into his
pocket and pulled out a razor. With one hand he
grabbed the wet hair of the submerged form and pulled
the head out of the water. His blow had caused a deep
gash in the other one’s scalp but the bleeding had
already stopped. Better make sure, he thought. With
one fluid motion he drew the razor across the blond
man’s throat and, a satisfied smile on his lips,
watched as the water turned a deep crimson.
He gave the tub a shove and it tipped over releasing
both the stained water and the limp form of the
stranger to the ground. The water would seep into the
ground and by morning not a trace would be left. The
naked corpse was an entirely different matter, though.
He picked up an old horseblanket from a pile of dirty
laundry in a corner.
He rolled the body onto the blanket, wrapped him up
and tied the bundle with some rope. Then he hauled it
on his shoulder and made for the woods.
Some minutes later he’d reached his destination: the
bank of a fast-running stream. He flung the corpse
into the water and watched as it relieved him of the
remainder of his crime. Whistling softly he walked
back to the stable. The large black steed was a
magnificent animal. It had truly been worth the
effort.

***

Something hit him, something sharp and hard. He opened
his eyes but around him was only darkness. He tried to
move but he couldn’t. Was he tied up?  God, he was so
cold. Why did he feel so awfully cold?
Nicholas again drifted off into blessed oblivion. He
was barely aware that two strong hands grabbed him and
he was cradled in someone’s arms and flown to safety
from the approaching dawn.
<End of part 1>

comments to : dorisweiss_2000@yahoo.de




The Traveler 2/2
by Doris Weiss 2002
***

A few miles down the road a carriage was making steady
progress towards the inn. Inside were two figures. One
a tall and imposing man, the other a very beautiful
lady. The driver had at once been smitten by her
radiant appearance but his instinct told him that he
shouldn’t anger the man.
He pulled the reins and the carriage came to a halt.
“We’re near a tavern, sir,” he called to the two
inhabitants of the compartment below, “ Would you like
to get some rest?”
The deep voice of the man replied angrily: “No, keep
driving. I’m not paying for stops.”
Then he heard the lady whisper urgently to her
companion, but no matter how hard he tried, he
couldn’t make out the words.

Janette leaned over to Lacroix. “Maybe they know
something about Nicolas in that tavern. I can sense
that he isn’t far away. Please, Lacroix.”
Lacroix nodded gravely. Nicholas wasn’t far, he sensed
him too. Silently he congratulated himself once more
on the wise decision not to teach his son how to shut
off the link completely. He was just about to call to
the driver to go on, when he felt agony coming from
Nicholas’s link. Janette was feeling it too. A harsh
gasp had escaped her lips. “Oh, my, Nicolas! Lacroix,
something terrible must have happened to him. We must
find him now!” Lacroix pried her fingers from the
lapels of his morning coat. He rapped his walking
stick on the roof of the carriage. The coachman took
the hint and drove the horses to a steady gallop.

With an infernal clatter the coach stopped in front of
the inn that lay dark and silent. Stealthily the
landlord opened the door. Sensing a good deal could be
made with someone traveling in style, he hurried over
to them.
The cold stare of the gentleman peering out of the
coach’s window made him shiver. “Tell me, good man,
have you , by any chance, seen a traveler tonight. A
tall blond man, with a black steed?”
The landlord gulped. He hurriedly answered, almost
choking on the words: “Nay, sir. There’s no one been
coming along looking like this.”
The gentleman disappeared into the darkness of the
coach again.

Janette leaned over to Lacroix. “He’s lying, mon père,
will you accept this?” she hissed, her voice too low
for human ears. Lacroix responded equally low, “I know
he’s lying. Nicholas has been here and this man did
something to him. I could smell Nicholas’s blood on
his clothing.”
Lacroix beckoned to the driver, who instantly climbed
down, lowered the stairs and opened the door. Lacroix
got out but motioned to Janette to wait for him in the
coach.
He approached the landlord and with a velvety voice
asked him for some refreshments. The landlord,
obviously relieved, hurried away. Lacroix slowly
sauntered over to the rear of the building. The smell
of Nicholas’s blood hung heavy in the air. He traced
the source of the smell when he saw the wet stain on
the floor of the bathhouse. For a tiny moment his eyes
turned a fiery red, but he regained his control at
once.

“Sir? Where are you?” The landlord’s voice sounded
frightened.
There he came, shuffling around the corner. “Ah, here
you are. I’ve given the wine to your dr…” The rest of
the sentence was cut off by Lacroix’s hand on his
neck. Only a choked gurgle escaped the man’s throat.
“Where is he and what have you done with him?” The
stranger’s voice was a bestial growl and his eyes, my
God, his eyes…
The man squealed in terror. But then his body relaxed
in the death grip and his blood pounded in his ears.
“You will tell me everything…”, the voice demanded and
he felt compelled to answer.
When the man had told him everything, Lacroix told him
to forget he’d ever seen two strangers in a coach.
Then he let go of him.

***

Lacroix had remained silent for a couple of moments
after he’d climbed back into the coach.
Janette leaned close, “Why didn’t you kill him,
Lacroix? If he’s hurt, Nicholas, I’ll tear him to
shreds myself!” Lacroix’s iron grip kept her from
going after the landlord. He looked at her with that
stoic expression that could drive her to the brink of
madness. “You know perfectly well, ma fille, that
Nicholas has suffered no permanent damage else we
would have sensed it. Therefore I’ll leave the revenge
to him.” Then he tapped the roof of the carriage with
his cane and the coach slowly disappeared down the
road. After a few minutes, Lacroix signaled the driver
to stop. He got out of the coach and told the man to
wait. Then he vanished into the dark shadows of the
forest. He couldn’t take to the air, they were still
too close to human habitation, so he let his senses
guide him through the undergrowth. The signals from
Nicholas were weak but steady, he couldn’t be far.
Silently he called out for his son. There, a soft
moan. He could just make out a pale shape half emerged
in the icy waters of the river. Lacroix knelt down
beside Nicholas and almost tenderly wiped the wet hair
from his eyes. “My, my, Nicholas, why are you so apt
at getting yourself into trouble?” He sighed, cradled
his son in his arms and slowly took to the air. He
landed on a small clearing and walked the rest of the
way back to the waiting carriage. Janette flung the
door open and a horrified gasp escaped her. “Nicolas,
mon cœur, what has this brute done to you?” She helped
Lacroix lay Nicholas down on the seat, then wrapped
her long cloak around him. Lacroix signaled and the
coach took off at neck-breaking speed.

***
Five years later

The dark-clad man slowly approached the door of the
tavern, drawing his hat a little deeper over his eyes.
Yes, this was the same place, nothing had changed. He
could hear laughter coming from the inside. A merry
crowd was spending their week’s pay on ale and cheap
wine.
He opened the door and entered. Almost immediately a
hushed silence fell over the room. Eyes turned his
direction and some of the guests started whispering
with one another. A stranger was always dangerous,
especially someone looking like this. The man was tall
and in his early thirties. His hat was drawn deep into
his face so it remained hidden. He sat down at a table
in the darkest corner of the room and motioned to one
of the bar maids. “Bring me a bottle of Whisky and
tell the landlord to join me. I’d like to have a talk
with him.” The maid made no attempt to argue and
hurried of to notify her master.

Shortly after the landlord brought the bottle over to
the table and poured the man a glass. He was in no
mood to talk and he didn’t have the faintest idea what
the stranger wanted from him. But then, maybe there
was some money to be earned here. He slid onto the
wooden bench in front of the stranger. The man was
turning the filled glass between his fingers, never
making an attempt to raise it to his lips. He still
kept his head low so the landlord could practically
only see his hat.
“Don’t you like the Whisky, sir? I could send for
another bottle.” “No!” The stranger’s voice was a low
whisper. Then he slowly looked up and stared deep into
the landlord’s eyes. The man’s hair stood on end. He’d
seen those eyes before, although then they weren’t
filled with the burning hatred he could see in them
now. “I see you remember me,” the stranger said. “Why
don’t we go outside and have a little chat about the
past?” The piercing stare made the landlord squirm. He
gulped hard and nodded. The dark figure stood up and
left the bar. The landlord wiped a shaky hand across
his forehead. How was that possible? That man couldn’t
be alive, he’d slashed his throat with his own hands,
felt the blood gushing over them.
He motioned to one of the girls. “Tell Dickon to
saddle the Black for me. I need to go out.” The girl
hurried off, a puzzled look on her face. The master
never left this late at night. But who was she to
question him.

A couple of minutes later the large black steed stood
ready in front of the stable. He mounted it and turned
it towards the hills. There, a short distance in front
of him, he could make out the dark silhouette of the
stranger on his horse. There would be no escape, he
knew that. This time the past had come back to haunt
him.

Nicholas watched the landlord ride towards him on his
horse. How long had he waited for this moment? Five
long years. Years he had to spend traveling with
Lacroix, suffering the taunts for his foolishness and
the constant cruelties because he had tried to run
away from them again.
Lacroix knew perfectly well how to fuel that longing
for revenge in him.
Now that moment was here at last. An evil smile
crossed his features.
This would be so good.

His eyes turned to flaming red and he felt his fangs
descend. In a whoosh of cold air he pulled the other
from Merlin’s back, roughly tilted his head to the
side and sank his teeth into the screaming man’s neck.
He took his time, this was going to be no quick kill.
He wanted the man to suffer, wanted him to feel his
life being drained away slowly. He reveled in the
horror he tasted in the other’s blood. Then the form
in his arms went limp and he let it slide to the
ground. The last shiver of excitement subsided and his
eyes changed back to their normal blue.
He took up Merlin’s reins, mounted the steed and
turned towards the woods. He had reclaimed what was
his and he had had his vengeance. He nodded to the
other dark figure waiting for him in the shadows of
the forest.

The older man nodded back and smiled.

Fin

* Lamb of God (see ‘Sons of Belial’)

The Traveler

In from the coast
Riding like the wind and racing the moon
Shadows on the road
Dancing and waving like a crazy fool
A horseman is coming
Death in his heart for a rendezvous
And where the traveler goes
Nobody knows
A candle in the night
Fear on every face when he goes inside
Get back from the bar
A stranger in town is a dangerous sight
“Bring a bottle of Whisky, landlord, I wanna talk for
a while.”
And where the traveler goes
A cold wind blows

There is something in his eyes
Something in his hands
You can almost smell his revenge
And whoever he is after
It will be disaster
This man is gonna take him to the very end

Well, the landlord he trembled
Staring at a face he’d seen somewhere before
Suddenly remembered
A killing, yes, a murder many years before
He said to a boy:
“Saddle me the Black, I’ll meet you down below.
With this man I must talk, with this traveler I’ll go

There is something in his eyes
Something in his hands
I can almost smell his revenge
And it’s me that he’s after
It will be disaster
This man is gonna take me to the very end.”

And they were never seen again…

all comments to: cousinlucilla@freenet.de