The Vorbing by Stewart Stafford Page A

watching everything happen in Nocturne, but not doing much. He saw Vrillium as an arrogant man who had nothing to be arrogant about and a symbol of everything wrong with his village. Vlad believed Vrillium kept Nocturne repressed and living in fear. As long as that council was in power with Vrillium Gladwish at its helm, there was no way to challenge the dominance of the vampires. Nocturne’s council did as little as possible, but if anyone else tried to do anything, it sprang into action with animated scaremongering. The council’s duty was to provoke debate and avoid making snap decisions. However, Vlad believed they were encouraging inertia and submission at a time when risking nothing was the greatest risk of all. He reasoned that it was perhaps their advanced age that made them overly cautious, but he still saw it as no excuse for inaction. Vrillium had fiercely resisted Vlad’s father at every turn. When Adam Ingisbohr perished at McLintock’s Spit, it seemed to prove Vrillium Gladwish right, and Nocturnians flocked to him in the power vacuum that followed.
    The council of elders was not a council of merit; it comprised the only older people left in Nocturne. There was an automatic presumption of wisdom being present with their advanced years, but that was not always the case. There were three types of elder on the council: the one that had ultimate power, the sycophants who supported the one with ultimate power, and envious rivals who wanted his power for themselves. Vlad had no time for cliques and was not old enough to infiltrate the particularly odious, power-hungry one before him. Vlad was a lone wolf in that way, like his father. The caveat to their freedom was that they were both isolated and had few allies to call on in times of danger. Outside of a vampire attack, becoming the focus of the council’s suspicion or anger was the most dangerous time for a Nocturnian. It made life extremely difficult for that villager; they faced being shunned and their life was put at risk if they pursued it far enough. Added to the vampire threat, it was an extremely dangerous situation for anyone to live in, but Vlad was a gambler like his father Adam. He was content to cast the runes and see where they fell. Vlad somehow knew that things would come out in his favour. He was not always correct in that belief, but he carried it with him.
    Vrillium raised his arms, and a hush descended on the place at once. He wore a large pearl ring on his right hand as a symbol of his status.
    “There will be order here!” he shouted. “There is a council meeting in progress. What is the meaning of this interruption?’
    “Vlad Ingisbohr has killed Necromus, sir,” the old man said.
                  Vlad stood before the council. He was nervous inside, but did not show it as he brushed the lingering dirt and rubbish from his clothing. Vrillium remained unimpressed at Vlad sullying his barn. Vlad felt wearing his father’s breastplate would remind the council of what Adam Ingisbohr had done for the village. It also was a shield that gave him moral courage and a modicum of physical protection against some of the opprobrium coming his way. The council sat on a wooden bench. Ordinary Nocturnians sat on piles of hay and watched.
                  “Is this true, Ingisbohr?” Vrillium asked.
                  “My name is Vlad, and, yes it is true,” Vlad said.
                  “Why are you covered in blood and filth?” Vrillium asked.
                  “The blood is from the vampires,” Vlad said. “The rest is from my fellow villagers.”
                  “I see,” Vrillium said. “This is most serious. While you are here, there is something else that you must answer for. It has come to our attention that you have not been attending the religious processions through Nocturne. Why is this?”
                  “Prayers have not defeated the vampires so