000
Und bis der Morgen erwacht,
Spür'n wir den Herzschlag dieser Stadt...
001
“City that never sleeps” – the phrase had become so cliché, it nearly hurts physically to say or write it. As human hives grew in size, what was once a testament to the sprawling life of the most populated ones turned into an empty boast. “Look, our city never sleeps!” can say anyone pointing at the only 24 hours store in their provincial town. Humans are just like that: taking something unique and fresh, declaring it “the most outstanding thing ever!” and then using it over and over until it exhausts itself of all uniqueness, until it completely runs out of freshness, until it becomes but an empty shell of what it once was.
Take for example the dragons. Once – a powerful symbol of combining the elements, of the unity of the earth and the sky, a legendary beast only the mightiest of heroes and saints could even hope to defeat… Now it is reduced to being the brand… To being the stock enemy in computer games, slaughtered by the dozen.
Its grandeur, its mystery – almost gone. As are the beasts themselves. The last of their kind hide and survive on the outskirts of human society – in-between those never sleeping hives humans built. They do not dare show themselves anymore, because now everyone knows they are vulnerable… everyone believes they can be killed – just like in those games.
"...Never sleeps, eh? That's worse than a vampire" thought an old vampire by the name of Krieger, standing near the window of the observation room of the TV Tower, leaning on his cane to get a better look at the city below. "We sleep during the day at least."
For even the most eagle-sighted oh humans the view from up where Krieger was standing would be nothing more than a dance of lights in the darkness of the night, but the eyes of the vampire could gather the light, process it and find amongst many sparkles the one that was of interest to him – a headlight of a motorbike, travelling northwest at full speed, and a figure of a man on a bike, carrying a large backpack on his back...
002
Ruprecht pushed his bike's engine to its limits. Night street was empty enough to allow for it. Not that he could lose his pursuers in this way – but now he was close to being able to.
In this chase speed wasn't all too important. When the chasers and the chased can disappear in one place and then almost instantly reappear in another – it doesn't matter much how fast your wheels spin.
But first he needed to leave the city.
To get out of the human sight.
Every pair of eyes, every glare cast at the biker passing by, were like a pair of anchors chaining him to the "real" world, binding him to obeying the "laws" of reality.
His pursuers didn't have this problem – travelling light and being on foot they always could use splashes of shadow or narrow unlit passages between buildings or building entrances to hop from place to place, removing themselves from existence when Ruprecht passed by them and blending into it again several city blocks along the road. He noticed them following in his tracks on the roadside, appearing out of the shadows to dart back again, tailing him with their unemotional heavy gazes. If normal humans’ eyes were like chains – the questioning look of an inquisitor was more akin to stone stocks, meant not to just press everyone into obeying the rules of “normal”, but to drag them down, drown them in reality born out of inquisitor’s own mind.
Of course they knew where he was going… No, if they did, they wouldn't bother with the chase. They either were able to somewhat predict his route through the city, or used their numbers to an advantage, checking several possibilities at once.
Ruprecht needed to clear the city as soon as possible. Time was on the short side. Heavy backpack on his back needed to be delivered to a certain pier at Warnemünde – before his pursuers' eyes could catch up with him.
…When he left the city lights behind, Ruprecht still could feel a gaze following him. But it wasn't human – it wasn't holding him down. Yet even knowing that old vampire somewhere out there was polite enough to turn away for a second.
Ruprecht and his bike melted into the shadows.
003
...To appear again on an out of the way pier more than a hundred kilometers away from the place he was a second ago, compressing a roughly three-hour drive into the blink of an eye. Hopefully the inquisitors pursuing him wouldn’t be able to predict his exact destination – for some time at least, but he knew, he didn’t have much before they would catch up.
Like the hunting dogs, they could follow the trail even if it went outside of the normal reality.
Ruprecht stopped his bike and looked around – he couldn’t feel any human eyes on him but that didn’t mean there weren’t non-human ones. Someone from somewhere was observing him with curiosity.
“Delivery from Berlin!” he announced – his deep growling voice rumbling around like a bag of stones, even if slightly muffled by the helmet he wore. “Who’s waiting?”
“I do” he heard a female voice from a motorboat docked slightly further by the pier. Small figure, completely obscured by the baggy cloak jumped onto the concrete from the boat.
Ruprecht, still sitting on the bike, unfastened the backpack. Then, holding it carefully, jumped off and carried it closer to the cloaked figure.
“Need me to carry it onto the boat? It’s heavy.”
“Don’t worry” the figure said. “I can lift. Should I check it first?”
She took the backpack as if it were weightless – even if it was almost the same size as her.
“You trust Krieger, don’t you?” Ruprecht shook his head. “And what’s worse – you don’t have the time. I was followed, they soon will be here… You should leave.”
“Suspicious…” the figure said, backing off to a boat. “But I guess the old vampire proved trustworthy for now… Thank you.”
She bowed at him – Ruprecht waved back – started the engine and pushed the boat away. Soon it was gaining speed, moving to the sea where, as far as Ruprecht knew, the ship was waiting. One of those ghost ships humans call “Flying Dutchman” – one that has the same ability to disappear without a trace and appear again miles and miles away.
Ruprecht nodded and turned away. It was time to meet the expected inquisition.
004
...There were three of them – three figures in long closely-tailored coats with high collars embroidered with the symbols of the cross. Just your typical inquisitorial hunt-and-destroy squad. Silent and reserved in their movements, they seemed almost inhuman in their appearance, exacerbated by them constantly sniffing the air, as if trying to smell the odd, the magic, the heretical.
Ruprecht, standing on the concrete of the pier leaning at his bike, seemed unimpressed.
"I'd ask you if you know your prayers" he growled at the inquisitors. "But it would seem obvious you do. Let's cut the talk and get on with a stick."
He reached back and pulled from under the jacket a telescoping baton, extending it with a sharp move of the hand.
Inquisitors were skilled fighters, trained to work as a team and take on the opponents greatly exceeding their individual strength. They worked as a single body, not getting in the way of each other’s blows and attacks, moving forward or retreating back to open the way for other members of the team. For some time it seemed like Ruprecht could hold his ground against them – to his advantage the pier was narrow enough so they couldn’t encircle him, but the pier wasn’t long enough and ended with a sharp drop into the sea, which became increasingly relevant the moment Ruprecht took first step back under the pressure of inquisitors’ blows.
No matter how firmly his resistance was, he'd soon run out of space to fall back. But in his mind it was an unfortunate detail, yet just a detail still: his main task here was to keep the inquisitors occupied until the woman on a boat reached the ship and departed the harbour, so that the church couldn't possibly track them. Yes, the "Flying Dutchman" was supposed to be untraceable – but better not to take unnecessary risks when dealing with the cargo as precious, as the one he delivered.
And so Ruprecht fought back harder, trying if not injure then at least tire out his assailants.
It didn't have any noticeable effect on them, though. Past some mild irritation, the inquisitors kept their pattern of attack-and-switch unchanged. One in the centre swung high, Ruprecht dodged at the same time getting ready to block the kick from one on the left – they did this several times already – and swung with his baton at the inquisitor on the right, just as that tried to move forward…
He should've moved forward?
Pattern broke?
No, one of the inquisitors fell down on a pier and now lay there in a puddle of his own blood.
How come?
Other two inquisitors looked at each other, lifted the body of the third and jumped back and into the air – disappearing in the ripples of spatial transportation spell.
Ruprecht found himself in strange spot where on the one hand someone or something had just neutralised one of his enemies – and so could be considered a possible ally, – but on the other hand that someone haven't shown themselves or made their intentions clear and so Ruprecht thought better to dive behind a bike, for what little protection that might've given him.
"Hey! Biker helmet guy!" someone called out – a man's voice, a bit raspy and hard, but not to the extent of Ruprecht's own. "You work for Krieger, right? Come out! I'm a friend!"
"What kind of friend?"
"One that will shoot anyone who tries to hit you. Come on, old vampire promised you'd take me to his castle."
Ruprecht peeked out from behind the bike and saw a rugged figure of a man dressed in some sort of military uniform – or, at least some sort of clothing covered in camouflage pattern, resembling a uniform.
"Who are you?" he said rising up.
"As I've said – a friend" man shrugged, then straightened the long rifle hanging on his shoulder. "Not an enemy – that's for sure."
"You know Krieger?"
"Well, 'know' would be an overstatement… though I hope to change that. Let's say, vampire invited me to work with you guys. Consider me a mercenary for now if you want."
"How did you know to show here?"
"Krieger asked me to send those guys a message" man said gesturing at a place where inquisitors had vanished. "And you know what's good at sending messages? SVD rifle. If message had been delivered – you know it was received."
"Hm…"
"Oh, don't be like that, helmet guy! Admit it – I've saved whatever's under that helmet today."
"You did… and my name is Ruprecht."
"Nice! But what's with that voice? Are you eating nails for breakfast or something? Maybe try adding some oil…"
"Smartass" Ruprecht saddled a bike. "Get on – just do something with that boomstick of yours so it's less glaringly noticeable."
"Oh, right" man took the magazine out of the rifle and threw it into the sea, racked the charging handle to eject the last cartridge, then fiddled with the rifle to take out the bolt – and everything went into the water.
"So professional…" Ruprecht said mockingly.
"Let’s say I’m just paranoidly cautious” he jumped on a bike behind Ruprecht and gave him a slap on the helmet. “Let's go."
"You haven't told me your name."
"Because I don't have one. If you really want, just call me Traveller – cause that's what I am. And everyone calls me that anyway."
"Traveller, huh…"
"Start the engine – I'm dying to meet the big guy."
005
On board of the ship, in a large space that once were a cargo hold but now was converted into the living quarters for a creature of an enormous size, the small figure in a baggy cloak put down the large backpack in the centre of a room and took off the hood. Underneath it was a young woman with long silver hair and a pair of striking bright red eyes. Slithering sound came from around her, shadows danced and jumped around before revealing itself in the form of a blue dragon.
"Is that what was promised, Silver Child?" the dragon asked in an ancient language unknown to humans.
"Yes, brother. She's sleeping" the woman answered in the same tongue.
She unzipped the backpack wide open, so her older brother could see for himself – inside there, curled into a circle, the last baby of European dragons was wheezing in her sleep.
