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    Master (Drac Ula Book 3)
    Master (Drac Ula Book 3)
    Master (Drac Ula Book 3)
    Ebook181 pages2 hours

    Master (Drac Ula Book 3)

    By Kenneth Guthrie

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    About this ebook

    The war has taken its toll. His sanity nearly lost and his mind addled by the effects of the kill weed that has become his sole addiction, Drac Ula sets out on one final mission to make his vision of a world free of harm and hurt come true. Five generals stand in his way: Each is strong and capable. With everything he has ever wanted on the line, can he truly make his vision of the future a reality?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLunatic Ink Publishing
    Release dateJan 17, 2015
    ISBN9781310889035
    Master (Drac Ula Book 3)
    Author

    Kenneth Guthrie

    Kenneth Guthrie is a writer of sci-fi, fantasy and crime novels.Profile image credit: Vincent Gerbouin at Pexels.com

    Read more from Kenneth Guthrie

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      Book preview

      Master (Drac Ula Book 3) - Kenneth Guthrie

      INTRODUCTION

      So much confidence for a fool. I thought that the world was mine after the death of Vlad The Impaler. I thought that the voices would leave me and the ghost of my dead friend would disappear. How wrong I was.

      My future had been set in those days after the Impaler and the sultan's deaths. I was so abundant with pride, so fearless, so addicted to blood and kill weed and I didn't even know it. The sins of those days were many, but the greatest of them all was my belief that I – the blood drinker you have so misunderstood through the years – was immortal; that I would never die nor face the scythe of death in his long robes. It was my greatest sin and the over-confidence that sprung from it was what ended me. I thought I could not die. I – the great Dracula, the world destroyer, the traitor, a human monster – was wrong.

      ONE

      The land burns with the fires of war. Drac Ula stands over the burning township on the small rise that affords him a decent view of the death of the Turks that refused to bow to him and pay tribute to him.

      More fire. Smoke them out, he orders.

      Men and women run from buildings to be killed by The Black, the greatest of the late sultan's fighting forces, murder them in the streets outside their homes.

      It was a pretty town, one of his commanders says.

      Drac Ula's eyes crinkle around the edges. They are blood red set in a face so pale that it seems sickly. The faintest hint of a satisfied smile touches his young lips – only 20 years of age, although he no longer looks it. There is blood on them. It is not his own.

      Beauty burns just as well as anything else, he points out.

      Gar, the leader of The Black, smiles next to him. His heart is as dark as the man standing beside him. He rubs a dagger on the leather sling that fits around his waist and watches on in pleasure as men, women, children and younger die in front of their eyes in the dozens.

      I have seen enough, Drac announces after some time. He turns towards his horse and starts to walk that way. Gar, have you found where those fools are meeting yet?

      Striding along beside his slightly taller leader, Gar gives him an unpleasant look.

      They have been hard to find. It is no accident that they are the greatest commanders of the dead one's armies.

      True, but I must secure my hold on this country. It is falling apart at the seams and needs proper leadership to grow and prosper.

      The screams from the town behind mark the moment of silence that follows.

      Then, sir, can I suggest that we move on one of their armies? If we eliminate one...

      Drac turns as he reaches his horse.

      It would mean nothing. We play a game of cups here. When we attack one, another will attack us in our moment of weakness after the battle. The commanders are the key.

      Gar rubs his neck a little and shifts about.

      I will find them, sir. They will die at the hands of my men before they can take the field.

      See that they do. If they come together then it will be us that meets our end.

      Drac gets on his horse and slowly ambles the black beast towards where his army is looting the fields of the town below. His pitch black armor and his two swords – one black as night and one shining bright like the stars – sparkle in the light of the town's burning end. So much is risked in his every move. Death follows this one. If only he knew how close it really was.

      TWO

      It is Den's first time on a ship. He can see the light of the moon playing off the jet black of the ocean outside the porthole that he has been inspecting for the time it is taking for his 'comrades' to arrive.

      The ship creaks as he fingers the daggers at his belt. He considers the letter that sits in the pouch just a short distance from those weapons. If that man is really willing to offer...

      I see there are rats about, a voice growls in the darkness of the room behind him.

      Den shakes himself from his thoughts.

      Yalk. I had prayed you were dead.

      Your prayers were not answered, rat. I live on.

      The man standing near the window glances back. A small candle on the desk illuminates the hideous hulk of Yalk The Unbeautiful. His whole body is pock marked from disease and he wears the skin of some unknown but very large animal over his body with only a pair of leather leggings and his huge broadsword as his other garments.

      You have taken to not wearing shoes, Den notes. Is that to scare your enemies off with the smell of your deformed feet?

      It happens in an instant. The huge man charges from the darkness, his face warped in anger, teeth flared and eyes wide with rage.

      Today you die--!

      An arrow pounds into the floor at his feet from somewhere outside the doorway.

      You will refrain from fighting, the sharp cultured voice comes from down the hallway.

      Yalk spins, looking shocked. Den just raises an eyebrow. Senta, the leader of the Blood Warriors, is from other lands and none of them are foolish enough to ask the women where, her response to most questions in the area being to kill those that asked.

      We were only talking, Den says, fingering his daggers again.

      A huge shape in a equally large cloak strides through the doorway towards the single large desk on the far side. The man's beard reaches half way down his chest and his heavy sea boots pound the planks of the ship as if he wishes to test them with every step.

      You might be talking, but I allow no violence on my ship.

      The archer steps through the door and stands there with her bronzed petite yet strong arms across her chest. The bow that she used to send the arrow that sticks out of the floor in the middle of the room is on her back and the two silver swords that she uses with such grace and skill as to make Den fearful sit at her sides.

      I have called you here for a reason.

      Og leans back in to his wooden chair. His eyes are the color of pitch. Den feels the usual sense of fear he always experiences when meeting the man. It is an odd thing considering that they are brothers by blood.

      Your leadership is not needed, Yalk spits out. We are better served with someone stronger in such a role.

      Such as you? Og asks.

      Such as him.

      Everyone in the room looks a little uncomfortable.

      He has refused my invitation. I do not know why.

      That makes everyone even more concerned. The one that is not here is the strongest of them all by far. He would be the ideal choice to lead the group against the new threat to the Ottoman Empire.

      Then are we in his grace or not? Den asks quietly.

      Not a word is spoken. It is clear that no one is sure of the mind of the dead sultan's strongest commander.

      Let us not worry about that, Og says. The threat that Dracula presents after his victory over the Impaler cannot be ignored.

      He is of no consequence, Yalk states. What is more important is deciding how the empire shall be handled. We will need a new God to sit on the throne.

      Den puts his hand over his mouth to cover the smile that forms there. All know who Yalk would consider best and it is not any in this room. No doubt one of his toys would suit the job. He has a preference for men of noble birth. It would not surprise Den if he had been grooming someone to take the sultan's role for quite some time now. He may be stupider than most, but he has an uncanny instinct for self preservation that often leads to the kind of surprises one does not want to experience on the field of war.

      A new sultan can be chosen later. Have you heard that Dracula has taken the plains and a lot of the townships around it?

      He tries to starve us? Senta asks.

      Not so much starve as burn us from the inside out. I am not sure if he wishes to rule or if he only wants to destroy us. Having come from the Impaler's forces, it is hard to tell if he hates his people or not.

      Truly it is, Yalk starts. Then we should...

      Og puts up a hand. He stares at the huge monster in the corner and shakes his head.

      As I have said that issue is not for discussion.

      He reaches into a drawer and pulls a map out from it. Someone has marked the plains with a colored dye. When looked on like this, the threat that Dracula presents becomes more apparent.

      Where will he go next? Senta asks.

      Possibly into the deeper regions or perhaps he will fortify his position, Og says.

      Den shakes his head.

      He will go after one of us, the man states.

      He rubs a hand through his ear length brown hair and watches his fellow commanders evenly.

      But that would require attacking one of our armies, Yalk says. He would not dare to expose himself like that.

      I would not be so sure that he will use an army to do his dirty work. Chances are he will try to take us through assassination. It is what I would do.

      They look to the map.

      What is your suggestion then, little brother? Og asks.

      Den grimaces at the word 'brother'. It is not a sentiment that he shares with the man.

      We play a game of cat and mouse.

      And we are the cat?

      No, the mouse.

      He explains his plan. The others listen on. He can tell that he has their interest.

      It is good. I will do this, Og says.

      As will I, Senta says.

      Yalk groans and itches a sore on his face.

      If I must, he finally concedes.

      Den smiles and fingers his pouch. It is exactly as that man said it would be. He wonders how the others would feel if they knew he was about to betray them to become a puppet of a one much stronger.

      We will need Mistoff, Den says. Everyone must be involved.

      His older brother sighs and pulls out some parchment. Den smiles all the wider. It looks like all is going to plan. Four of the greatest generals of the sultan's army will fall. The remaining one will take the throne. The world will be his.

      THREE

      Vlad wishes that he had actually died that day. The streets are full with people. Turks – his least favorite race – surround him in a massive variety of colors that he had forgotten until this day and his return to the sultan's city where he spent most of his boyhood as a slave to the leader of these men.

      A small boy runs into him and knocks him from his thoughts of discomfort and disgust. He pushes him away only to see that the child has red eyes. The man cringes and spits at the child's feet. The boy looks up at him strangely and pushes his way through the crowd continuing whatever errand that he was on.

      Vlad stands there shaking. His hand comes to his stomach. There is a scar there under the black cloth that he is wearing. It is huge and in the shape of the stake that was rammed through his body by the men that hoisted him up in front of Dracula after his defeat. He suspects that the witch left it to remind him of the one that nearly killed him.

      Tensing a fist, he steels himself and tries to put away the nagging fear that has become a part of his daily life. Vlad strides on through the crowds that fill the street of brightly decorated palaces, not so far from the huge home of the sultan in the middle of the city. He hasn't been here for quite some time, so it takes him awhile to find the building that he wants to visit. It just happens to be seven palaces down from the late Abdul Hamid's home, now the house of his enemy, Dracula.

      Vlad comes to the side of the building and walks around it without pause. There are no guards on the outside – mainly because no one is stupid enough to rob or attack its owner. He comes to a outer balcony with a

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