by Bob Gansler
# 12 - Aug 2001	There Can Be Only One Lord Of Vampires

The outside of Castle Dracula was silent save for the low moans of the viciously wounded vampires who were slowly regenerating their inhuman bodies. The first stage of the battle had concluded. Two invading armies, led by Varnae and Lilith respectively, had sought to take the castle and its master; they had failed. Now the final battle for the throne of the vampire kingdom would be fought in a much more limited scope. Personal combat would decide the true heir to the throne. Varnae, Varney, and Ruthven, entered on leathern wing into the castle; Lilith and Carmilla did the same.

Varnae and Varney landed within the castle first and quickly rounded a corner, hiding them momentarily from Ruthven, who entered a few moments later. As the nobleman looked upon the duo, they both seemed different somehow - the foppish Varney more confident, the dread Varnae more reserved.

"My lord?" Ruthven asked. Perhaps the damage that the forces of Dracula had inflicted was more serious than the Atlantean had let on.

"The pretender awaits," Varnae growled and led the long descent down the winding stone stairs. He paid no heed to Lilith and Carmilla as they arrived and took on their voluptuous humanoid forms.

"They turn their backs on us?" Carmilla hissed. "Let them feel the claw of the panther to show them their folly."

Lilith turned sharply and gave the Austrian a stern look before Carmilla could shift into that form. "They are not the enemy, at least not for now. Slaying Dracula is all that matters."

Varney seemed to be lost in thought as he followed Varnae down the darkened, twisting corridor. "Lilith is a different sort altogether. There is nary the scent of the Darkhold upon her."

Dracula waited for his "guests" to arrive. He sat upon the throne that had been his since the days when Wallachia stood strong. In this expansive room, he had held court. Dignitaries from many lands, Christian and Muslim alike, had come here to negotiate with Dracula. Many had lost in those negotiations, many had also lost their lives. There was no such thing as diplomatic immunity in Dracula's court.

The sword with which he had slain the insipid Hungarian lay shattered at his feet. Lajos Czucron had managed to be a thorn in his side for too many decades. It was a decided pleasure to finally be rid of the Hungarian. Dracula felt no sense of guilt for dispatching the foe with a weapon. This was war, and honor played no part in their mutual hatred. Lajos deserved whatever fate befell him in opposing Dracula. Death by any measure was acceptable. Dracula could not afford to waste his strength against underlings. He would need all of his power to overcome Varnae and whatever executioner his daughter sent at him. Amidst the carnage of the battlefield, it appeared that the Austrian temptress Carmilla was still at Lilith's side, just as his spies and beastly sentries had reported.

"If only her predilections were not for the fairer sex," Dracula mused. "She might have been a suitable queen to share in my rule."

The interlopers had found the interior of the castle deserted. Their inhuman senses detected no inkling of Dracula's minions lurking in shadows or hovering in insubstantial mist form. The castle was immense, and it would have been a daunting task to find the throne room, had not the route been indelibly pressed into Lilith's mind. She and Carmilla had managed to pass the trio in the labyrinth-like passages. Walking through these lifeless halls remained her of the how cruel and cold this place could be. Dracula had cast her mother out, a woman of noble blood treated as if she was a concubine, because she had bore him a daughter and not the son he craved. That cruel act had driven her to this time and place, the night when she exacted vengeance, with Carmilla being her weapon.

Varnae, Varney, and Ruthven followed close behind the two vampiresses. The ancient Atlantean seemed to be making no haste in finding Dracula before the women did. He had been unnaturally quiet as they made their way through the castle. There were no bold proclamations or boasts as to what he would do once he slew Dracula.

"Perhaps he is marshaling his power," Ruthven thought. "As the First of the First, his power and ability surpass us all."

Tense moments confronted them as they made each turn in the darkened hallways. They honed their senses in hope of warning themselves of any potential attack or trap, but no measures against them were forthcoming.

Lilith and Carmilla had just entered the throne room as Varnae and his two compatriots rounded the last corner to come into view of the entrance. Torchlight spilled out of the room into the dark hallway, forcing their vampiric eyes to adjust to the sudden influx of light. Their inhuman physiology made the transition faster than any human optical senses could ever have done.

Varnae strode proudly but not hurriedly into the throne room. Varney and Ruthven followed close behind. Carmilla and Lilith were standing a few feet from the throne, eyeing Dracula angrily. There was a small stream of water running through the small area that separated Dracula from them. Carmilla was stymied and Lilith glowered at her father.

"You expect to stay my vengeance with this simple ploy, father?" Lilith growled. She well knew that a true vampire could not cross running water.

"Perhaps not you, my 'dear daughter', but your Austrian friend, or is it lover, is another matter. To think that the blood of the Family Dracul could debase itself so."

"Carmilla and I are allies, nothing more than that," Lilith replied sharply as a look of disappointment formed on Carmilla's face. "Not that I have to justify myself to you. Any sway you held in my life ended the day that you cast my mother and me out."

"I might argue the point, since my existence has ruled yours nearly every day since I sent that cow of a woman away." Dracula smiled deviously. "However, our other guests have arrived." He looked towards the incoming trio. "My Lord Varnae." The emphasis on "Lord" was quite sarcastic. "Enter freely and of your own will."

"You'll not speak so impolitely, cur!" Varney rose up unexpectedly in defense. "The First of Vampires will be treated with respect."

"But of course," Dracula mocked. He rose from the throne and effected a dramatic bow. "I pay my respects to the one who grew too decrepit to lead the undead."

"Have a care, Voivode," Ruthven spoke. "We are not the mindless trash that you commanded for so long. We are all master vampires."

"Ah, Ruthven. Ever the one of diplomatic words," Dracula replied. "I have read the tale that Polidori wrote of you. His writing skills did not do you justice. Nor were they as effective at catching the public's fancy as my chronicler's words were. But enough of trading barbs with underlings. Does not the great Varnae have words of his own?"

Varnae fixed his vision on the running stream. He had a blank look in his eyes, but then the haze disappeared. "A very clever ploy, Wallachian."

"I am gratified. I learned much more of the nature of our kind when I held the Darkhold, albeit briefly, those few years ago. The magic was beyond my mastery and much of the knowledge was lost in the travails that I have suffered since the magician Strange cast the Montesi Formula. However, I did recall that running water would be proof against even a Firstborn vampire."

"So we have a stalemate while you cower behind your 'wall of water'," Varnae hissed.

"Not exactly," Dracula responded. He pointed towards Lilith. "My daughter could cross, although it would be of little use, since she cannot harm me. The stream was part of a larger plan, one that has unfolded quite well. For you see, while we have traded words, I have been orchestrating events. Look to from whence you came, look to all methods of egress from this place."

The intruders turned to see the doorways with monstrous, pike-wielding vampires. These were not the pathetic wretches who had engaged the invaders outside; these were the elite of Dracula's forces.

"You are, of course, surrounded. There is no possibility of escape. True, you might destroy a fair share of my finest, but you would not prevail. I could give the order, and the path to the crown would be mine to stride alone."

The invaders snarled at their predicament. They had been so intent on the goal that they neglected to watch for any of Dracula's forces encircling them once they arrived.. They were truly trapped.

"However," Dracula continued, "I will not order them to storm the room and obliterate you. Each of you can forestall that fate by swearing fealty to me as Lord of Vampires."

"I would never vow anything to you, father, except your destruction," Lilith hissed.

"My mistress speaks for me as well, Dracula," Carmilla added.

"Varnae has never, and will never, bow to any," the Atlantean declared.

"Very well then," Dracula answered as he strolled along the stream. "Let it not be said that Dracula cannot negotiate fairly."

Varnae looked to Lilith. "Cross the water and bring your father to me. I will slay him, and I will make you my Queen."

Lilith considered the ancient revenant's words. Gretchin's curse kept her from destroying her hated father with her own hands, but it would not inhibit her from delivering Dracula to his eventual doom.

"A tempting offer, to be sure," Dracula noted before Lilith could reply. "I have one of my own to proffer. Walk away, sow. Walk away with your woman, and you shall leave Castle Dracula unharmed. On that, you have my word, on the honor of the Family Dracul, whose blood flows, albeit weakly, in your veins."

"Your hour of vengeance is at hand," Varney spoke up suddenly. "Do as Lord Varnae instructs and your vengeance will be realized. You, the vampire unlike any other, shall be free from your curse and can rule uninhibited at Varnae's side."

Dracula shot a menacing look at Varney, somewhat surprised that the fop did not cringe at the glance. "Varnae and his lackey speak boldly, but how much truth can you place in their words? Whatever hatred boils inside of your heart for me, you know that my word is my bond. And if any of my intelligence was passed on to you, however hampered it might be mixed with your mother's blood, you know what decision you must make."

Lilith looked to Dracula, then to Varnae, then back to her father. Her hands balled up into fists and they shook from the pressure she was exerting. She spat at Dracula and turned away. Another look of disappointment came over Carmilla's face. She bared her fangs at Dracula, and then she turned to follow her mistress. The vampires at the doorway parted to allow her to leave unscathed. Once they were out of sight, the line of vampires reformed across the entryway.

"You see the skill of Dracula, Atlantean," the lord of the castle boasted. "I have eliminated a threat without incurring any danger to myself. The ways of the world are lost upon you. You are a beast who had millennia to rule and accomplished nothing. The reign of Dracula begins again. Swear fealty to me, and I will show you how to rule the undead. Or you can walk into the sunrise once again, and you can rid the world of your foul presence."

"You dare much, Wallachian!" Varney exclaimed.

"Of course I dare, fop!" Dracula proclaimed. "I am Dracula!"

"If you want my fealty, you will have to force the words the mouth of my bodiless head," Varnae replied sharply. "By all of the ancient rites, I challenge you, Vlad Tepes. Come forth and face your doom."

"Ha! There is some fight in the ancient corpse yet," Dracula chuckled. "I had thought you incapable of such decisive action. I am surprised that you invoke the ancient rites. I was not sure that they would apply to a venerable Firstborn. You are the last of the First. Verdelet and Lamia are dead. Your destruction at my hands will secure my throne unquestioned for eternity."

"Stop the water and stop the prattling, Wallachian, and come forth," Varnae bellowed.

Dracula unclasped his cape and shouted to his minions. "Dam the stream. Your Lord would step forth into battle and ultimate victory."

Somewhere deep within the castle, Dracula's minions did as he bade. The flow of water through this artificial creek began to diminish. The stream waned in strength until all that was left puddled up in which the stream's bed had been cut. Dracula stepped over the now-dry bed and faced Varnae. "I present myself to you, 'sire'," he mocked. "Take me if you can."

Varnae moved with a speed that belied his lumbering form. His talon-like hands shot out, intent on tearing at Dracula's face. The Voivode was quick to avoid those slashing hands. He knew of the physical power that Varnae possessed. Having dissolved into mist form as a defensive maneuver, Dracula shifted to offense and solid form to dig his hands into Varnae's shoulders. Dracula's nails dug into Varnae's cold, clammy flesh. When he pulled his hands back, Dracula took along a good portion of that repulsive flesh as well as ichor.

Varnae responded with a fist to Dracula's face. The blow was only glancing but it did serve to dislocate Dracula's nose. The pain was minimal, however, and Dracula easily pushed the cartilage back into place.

Ichor streamed down Varnae's arms. It was spread into the air as Varnae began flailing at Dracula. The Wallachian stepped back to avoid each strike. Soon he had been backed up into a corner. Varnae grinned as he closed in on Dracula.

Varney and Ruthven watched anxiously as the battle unfolded. Ruthven noted that a different comportment had come over Varney. While the fop did seem concerned about the struggle in progress, it was not the anxious interest that Ruthven had come to know and detest in him. There was something different about the English vampire, something more confident.

Despite Varnae's advance, Dracula was no cornered animal. Then again, he was. Dracula transmuted into the form of a ravenous wolf. He scuttled between Varnae's hulking legs, turned quickly, and then leapt upon Varnae's back.

Before Varnae could dislodge him, Dracula's wolfen fangs were at the First Vampire's neck. Dracula clamped down and then turned his head with his powerful muscles. A good portion of Varnae's neck came away in Dracula's jaws. The Atlantean's hands immediately went to his savaged neck. Dracula dropped off of Varnae's back and resumed humanoid form, his face stained with Varnae's blood.

"Not as sweet as I remember it," Dracula snarled.

Varnae, his hands pressed against his neck, turned to face Dracula again. Blood flowed profusely from his massive wound and over his misshapen body. His mouth opened to say something, but no words came out. His eyes rolled and he collapsed, face-first, onto the stone floor.

Dracula pounced upon the still form of Varnae. He knelt over the Atlantean's back and curled his hand over the ancient vampire's left shoulder blade. With sudden speed, he plunged his hand through Varnae's back. Using his prodigious strength, he smashed through bone and tissue to reach the all-important cardiac muscle. His fingers curled around the heart and wrenched it free from the rest of Varnae's body. Dracula lifted the heart up as a trophy. "Behold!" he cried. "Dracula triumphs!"

"Your claims are premature, Wallachian!" Varney suddenly spoke up. "Let your eyes behold the truth." He pointed towards the savaged body that lay at Dracula's feet. Ichor continued to flow from the wounds, especially from the gaping hole through which Dracula had pulled the heart. The body was beginning to alter its shape. The massive form was diminishing, but it was not transforming into dust, as many vampires did upon being dispatched. The grotesque form of Varnae was being replaced by a far less fearful shape. The corpse was now that of the insipid Varney.

Dracula looked down at the transmuting body below him. His eyes squinted and his lips curled in frustration as he beheld the scene. He slowly turned his head to where the Varney who had had addressed him stood. The fop was laughing hideously, much to the astonishment of Ruthven.

"What trickery is this?" Dracula demanded.

"No trickery but vampire power of the sort you will never possess," the still-living Varney cackled. His appearance began to shimmer, becoming larger and more hideous. "Lo those centuries ago, I gave to you all that you know, but I did not pass on to you all that I knew." He assumed his true shape - Varnae, First Lord of Vampires!

Dracula snarled. Apparently the Atlantean had used some ancient vampiric power to transform Varney into a simulacrum of himself and vice versa. Dracula had vanquished the fop, not the First. That victory would come soon enough, Dracula thought. "Your ploy is to no avail, 'sire'. Your power has fallen and Dracula still stands. Will you send your English dog," he stared at Ruthven, "against me now?"

Varnae licked his lips in eager anticipation. "Varney was a necessary sacrifice in order to gain your measure. Now that I have seen your prowess in action, I find it lacking. You may submit now to the inevitable, and I shall grant you a quick dissolution."

Dracula shook his head and laughed. "Many times did I brook insult in these halls, whether it be Hungarian, Romanian, Serb, Croat or Turk, but never has anyone spoke with such audacity in my palace." His pallid face turned red with rage. "You will die and you will be impaled, as a testament to my victory and my ascension!"

Varnae lumbered towards Dracula, as the Wallachian troops gathered inside cheered their lord on. The Atlantean paid no mind to the cheering masses. They would soon be exclaiming his name once he destroyed the Voivode. His eyes narrowed and his claws seemed to lengthen as he came within striking distance of Dracula.

"Any more petty tricks?" Dracula mocked. "Shrouding your troops from my eyes gained you nothing, offering up Varney in your place meant nothing. These simple sorceries are more the matter for the magician Strange than for one who would be the Lord of Vampires."

Varnae slashed at Dracula but the Wallachian evaded the razor-sharp talons. "Your entire history is known to me, but mine is apparently unknown to you. Else you would have realized in the days of ancient Atlantis I was a wizard of the Darkhold who could have become Sorcerer Supreme had destiny not dictated otherwise."

Dracula dispersed into mist, leaving Varnae wondering from what flank the Wallachian would attack. The First's preternatural senses focused in on the slightest details while blocking out the cheering throng of Dracula's minions. He heard a crack of air behind him. Whirling with a speed that belied his bulk, he lashed out. His forearm smacked into Dracula, who had shifted into bat form and had sought to pounce upon Varnae from the rear.

Dracula tumbled through the air. As he went through a series of aerial somersaults, his shape began to grow, so that when he landed twenty feet away from Varnae, it was on the two feet of his humanoid form.

"Well met," Dracula said as he wiped some ichor from his lip. "Your battle senses are finely tuned for an aged artifact."

"Your praise or mockery is meaningless to me." Varnae advanced again, now taking the shape of a ravenous wolf. "All that matters is your destruction."

Dracula was momentarily take aback by the immensity of Varnae's new form. While he himself could transform into a wolf of fearsome proportions, it was puny compared to Varnae's size. He decided to remain in humanoid form to face Varnae's attack. It came quickly as the monstrous wolf pounced upon him. Dracula forced his forearm into Varnae's gaping maw to keep the sharp teeth from tearing at the rest of him. Varnae pressed down with unrelenting pressure, hoping to snap Dracula's bone.

Before Varnae could bring his lupine forearms into play, Dracula unleashed a powerful blow with his free arm to the Atlantean's throat. The impact made Varnae gasp as well as to release the pressure that his jaws had been exerting. Dracula now leapt forward with his arms spread wide. As he came into range, he slashed across with both arms. Both of his hands came away with fur-covered flesh. Varnae roared in pain and then shifted back to his normal grotesque form.

Dracula tossed away the clumps of Varnae's flesh and closed with the First vampire once again. Their hands grappled. Neither could break free of the other's grip. Varnae and then Dracula tried darting their heads forward in hopes of latching on to the opponent with vampiric teeth, but neither could accomplish it.

Neither combatant uttered a word at this stage of the battle, all their energy was focused on triumphing in this test of strength. Varnae's might was measurably stronger. Tissue and bone began to be crushed under his efforts. His trademark disgusting smile began to form as he felt Dracula's flesh and bone give way.

Dracula knew that he must break this clench or he would fall. If he dissolved into mist, Varnae would crush his hands in the transition. He had to achieve it in some fashion. He looked deep into Varnae's eyes, probing with his mind into that of the ancient Atlantean. Varnae knew instantly what Dracula was trying to accomplish and pushed back with his own mental force.

The though of Dracula trying to hypnotize him rankled Varnae. It was an insult to his vastly superior mental prowess. He steeled his thoughts and resisted Dracula's mental assault.

Dracula had no real intention of dominating Varnae's mind. It was only a diversionary tactic. He could not hope to overwhelm the Atlantean hypnotically. However, it did serve to split Varnae's attention between the physical and psychic attacks. The First Vampire's grip slackened and Dracula was able to pull away free.

There was a slight ringing in the head for both combatants as they recovered from the mental exchange. Dracula was the first to attack anew, striking out with closed fists this time. His blows hit with supernatural strength. Although they drew forth no ichor, the damage was felt inside of Varnae's hideous frame.

Dracula struck well and precisely. Varnae could offer little defense. He had never bothered to learn the finer arts of combat during the millennia of existence. He had always overwhelmed by sheer power. That power was now waning in the face of Dracula's onslaught.

Dracula now uncurled his hands and slashed at Varnae's bulky flesh. The wound he had scored upon the Atlantean while in wolf form was now joined with numerous new tears. Varnae staggered and reeled, much to the enjoyment of Dracula's eager audience.

Varnae had never felt such pain. The only occasion that compared was when he relinquished his existence the first time by walking out into the day. That was when he had turned over the reins of the vampire kingdom to Dracula. He feared he might be doing it again.

Flailing out with his fists, Varnae tried to buy himself enough of a respite to enact a final ploy. His blows were sloppy and ill-timed but his prodigious strength did give Dracula some pause. Varnae now drew deep from his undead lungs and exhaled the most fetid breath imaginable. A vampire's breath is supernaturally unpleasant. Varnae's was nigh poisonous. A human would have collapsed instantly from its foul odor. As it was, Dracula was staggered by its horrific smell. A vampire's keen senses could not help but be overwhelmed.

Varnae saw this as his opportunity and lumbered towards the reeling Dracula. His gaping mouth opened grotesquely wide as he sought to literally bite off the Wallachian's head. Dracula was still stumbling backwards as Varnae approached. When Varnae lunged, Dracula's hands darted out with blinding speed and his fingers wrapped around the Atlantean's upper canines. With a tremendous exertion of pressure, Dracula snapped off the teeth,

Varnae roared in agony. He took a few stumbling steps backward and then collapsed onto his back. Dracula shook off the last of the effects of Varnae's foul breath and came to stand over the monstrous writhing form.

"I have overseen scenes of carnage and depravity unparalleled. The stench of death cannot overcome me! I am death, I am your death," Dracula then knelt down, but not to offer obeisance. He did it to claim his triumph. He leaned over and plunged his teeth into the folds of Varnae's neck. He slurped at the ichor as it freely flowed from the Atlantean's artery. Vampire blood could not sate a vampire's hunger, but nourishment was not the issue here; power was. The power that was Varnae began to flow from the First to Dracula. The Wallachian reveled in the taste. It was like none other.

Nearly five centuries before, Varnae had given freely of his blood and power to make Dracula the Lord of Vampires. Now that blood and power were not offered but forcibly taken. Varnae could not hold anything back. Dracula drank deep and heartily. He could feel his power increasing, he could feel his awareness expanding. Varnae withered as his supernatural essence flowed out with his blood.

Nature seemed to respond to this climactic transfer of power. The night sky became filled with dark clouds which unleashed their elemental fury over the countryside. Booming thunder, jagged lightning, and torrential rain buffeted the area. The creatures of the night joined in bestial son as if in unison to commemorate the coronation.

All the while, Dracula drank deeply of that which was Varnae. The once bloated body of the Atlantean was now a shriveled husk. Dracula slowly rose to his feet and wiped the last few drops of Varnae's blood from his mouth. His eyes were closed. When he opened them, they burned with an infernal fire that frightened even the staunchest of his minions gathered there.

He lifted his arms in victory and threw his head back, proclaiming "Now and forevermore, Dracula is Lord of Vampires! Let the living and unliving beware!"

A cry rang out among his troops now. The sound echoed around the castle and permeated the ether. Anyone around the world with even the slightest mystic sensitivity could hear the chorus - "Dracula, Dracula, Dracula ...."