Once safe in Resicabanya, surrounded by his garrison, Emeric allowed his panic to subside a little and fury to take hold. The coward must have surrendered. He'd even talked of doing so! Well, he, Emeric, still had control over Irongate. And while winter would make major troop movements difficult to impossible in the mountains, what did Vlad really hold? A strip of worthless mountains, and adjacent towns. They could be given similar treatment to Irongate. Or did that require them to be surrounded by water.
Emeric settled down to pen a message to Elizabeth. She had never refused to help him, when matters had really got out of hand. The letter was carefully worded-he certainly did not want her to take offence, and, on the other hand he did not want his message to fall into the wrong hands-Vlad had either taken cities and towns while travelling down to the southwest or had bypassed them. Of course Elizabeth would be able to hold off invading armies, single-handed if need be. The messenger was a tried and trusted one, and Emeric knew all he had to do was to wait.
And he did.
It was nine days before the messenger returned. With the message, undelivered.
The messenger-who had taken messages to Elizabeth's castle before-was a troubled man. "Your Majesty, the castle has gone."
Emerich stared at him. The man was surely mad. "Gone? It can't be gone,"
The messenger sweated and was pale as death. "It's a ruin, Your Majesty. A burned out ruin. I went to Caedonia to try and find out what happened. The town has fallen to Vlad… and I didn't have to ask. I was told by everyone who had a tongue. They have some of the children that were held prisoner in her castle. They say the countess was in league with Satan himself. Some of the local dignitaries were taken there by Vlad's troops. They saw for themselves evidence of the devil worship in her castle. They were very full of it. And the countess Elizabeth Bartholdy is dead."
Emeric had to sit down. The room was full of roaring sound. He knew it was just in his head. "Definitely?" he said weakly.
"Definitely," the messenger said. He paused. "Your Majesty. It is well known in Caedonia that you were a guest at her castle. There is much suspicion about you."
Emeric stood up. "I am going back to Buda. There are people I need to consult."
He did not know what to do. He had hated her, but relied on her also. And now he was alone. Suddenly he was aware of just how desperately he needed her. Vlad must have found a far, far more potent magic worker. Emeric was afraid. Someone who could defeat her? That was almost unthinkable. And it meant that he was exposed too, to other enemies. He knew full well that she'd murdered many threats to his throne. He was less than confident about dealing with them alone. And then there was the enemy to the north. Elizabeth had told him what Jagiellon really was: the Black Brain, Chernobog.
The answer came to him, on the journey back to his castle: He would obtain the services of her servant Mindaug himself. For all that Elizabeth had made some disparaging remarks about the count's timidity and bookishness, there had been no mistaking her genuine respect for Mindaug's knowledge.
That was all Emeric really needed, after all. Simply the knowledge. He could provide the boldness the count himself lacked.
In Orsova the survivors of the Irongate were very glad to tell their new prince about their ordeal.
Vlad and Dana had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. Fortunately the king of the wolves was better informed.
"Vila. They have always stood outside the compact. The Queen of the River does not rule them. They are creatures of both bank and water, spending time among the willows and in the slow backwaters of rivers and in lakes and ponds, and they breath air. Strictly speaking her sprites stay within the confines of the water, and can breath water. The Vila are an ancient evil. They seduce young men. They're said to be unfortunate girls who drowned themselves after getting pregnant… but they like to kill. I think they like desperation, and will take the young girls as they take the young men."
"If the river queen can't deal with them, what can?" asked Dana.
"I think it is more a case of 'won't' than can't," answered the wolf-king. "But they could." he looked at the two wyverns, peering doubtfully at the island fortress.
The two wyverns looked at the water.
"It's wet,"
"And cold.
"And runs too fast."
"On the bank it would be a different matter."
"You are a pair of babes," said Dana. "You fly."
"Not over running water. Not if we can help it."
"All forms of magic have their natural limitations, and it is likewise with magical creatures," explained the wolf-king
"Then we'll just have to deal with it ourselves," said Vlad. "What are the Vila's limitations then?"
"Iron. Fire. And they need to breathe air."
"We could drown the island. Block the river with an earthquake."
"That's not something used lightly," said Angelo. "Earth ties to earth. Move one piece and another must move too."
"We could take the knights in boats…"
"They'd sink the boat."
Dana spoke up. "I am able to affect the flow of the water. Let us stop it."
"And then?" asked Vlad
Dana smiled at the Wyverns. "You two don't mind still water do you? "
They exchanged one of those speaking glances, first with her, then with each other. "Not fond of it. But we can fly over that, yes."
Vlad stood up. "I will go and see the priests."
"Priests?"
"As the wolves have explained by their desire to appear gypsies: people fear the unknown. They do not trust real dragons here. With reason, they are wary of the old powers. They were strong here once. So let us give them something else to believe responsible. I will have the priests on the shore exorcize it. During the night you two can fly over and deal with our green-haired naked women. Then in the morning we can go over and find that prayer worked. And who knows: It may even do so."
Dana liked the idea. "I think we should get the townspeople to sing hymns across the water from the island too."
Vlad nodded. "The more involved they are, the more they will believe."
In the dark of the night two batwinged shapes flew across the still water. The Vila, sitting combing her long, greenish tinged blond hair on the battlements did not see them come. She was too taken up with her narcissistic admiration of herself.
"Fshhh." The wyvern said, taking the end of the blond hair in a taloned forepaw and a slashing another claw across the rest, with a movement more like scalping than cutting. The Vila, shorn, screamed. First in outrage, then in horror, realising what she was facing, as the wyvern shifted colors. She tensed to run.
"Where are you going to run to?" asked the wyvern. "The water won't hide you. And the forest will not give you shelter. You've traded one off against the other for too long."
"And anyway, you will run straight into me," said the other wyvern.
By the next day, when Dana and a small delegation of priests and knights went across, the island was a peaceful place, and very empty.
The only sign of the terrifying women was a large hank of wet, greenish blond hair, next to the battlements.
Dana was close to being considered a local saint. It seemed some measure of fear was a prerequisite for the Drac, but his little sister… she could be a lot better than she actually was.
"The land on the other side of the river-it seems sparsely populated," said Erik.
"Yes. It's Slav land. Nominally ruled by King Emeric too," said Vlad.
"I wonder…" said Erik, tentatively. "Is there ny chance of getting a messenger across it, down into north Eastern Illyria? It can't be more than five or six leagues… to the village of Gorlac."
"Dangerous for a man," said Angelo. "Easy enough for a wolf. We can do it one night."
"Would you please?" Erik asked politely
The King of the wolves nodded. "From what I hear we owe you for saving the girl."
So, at long last, Manfred was able to send a detailed report of his whereabouts and the situation in the lands of the Golden Horde. It included a statement from Tulkun, and Bortai, in Mongol script, destined for the Ilkhan.
Erik was willing to bet few sword strokes could wreak as much havoc as those sheets of paper would. Of course it might take until next spring to get them to where they might do some good.