Last Vampire 6(35)

The knife has been removed from my spine and thatwound has healed. But there is no relief for me.



Crucifixion brings death by slow suffocation, and the position of my arms and legs mimics that of the Roman style of execution. My feet are also bound to the wall, but they are slightly above the floor so that all the pressure of the metal anklets is on my calf bones. Remnants ofL andulfs poisons continue to percolate in my system. I have to wonder if he siphoned off large amounts of my blood while I was unconscious.



Yet I do not think so.



How long I have been hanging there, I do not know. But steadily my pain grows so great that I begin to cry quietly to myself. Yes, even I, ancient Sita, who has faced the trials of four thousand years of life and survived, feel as if I have at last been defeated. Each breath is an exercise in cruel labor; the air burns my chest as it is forced in, and each time I exhale, I wonder if I will have the strength to squeeze in another lungful. My cries turn to feeble screams, then moans that reverberate deep in my soul, like the solemn laminations of the dammed already sealed in hell. I feel I have been forced beneath the earth, into a place of unceasing punishment. Landulf s face swims in my mind and I wonder if I see a vision of Satan.



Yet in my suffering, on the verge of final uncon­sciousness, something remarkable happens. My mind begins to clear, and I remember Alanda and Suzama, Seymour and the child. I see the stars and recall how I floated high above the Earth, and swore to do every­thing I could to protect my mother world. I am five thousand years old, not four thousand. I am from the future and I have returned in time to defeat Landulf. And I will defeat him, I tell myself. He will come for me, I remember he did before. I just have to hang on a little while longer.



I remember other things as well.



The Spear ofLo nginus.



I remember it from twentieth century Europe.



In Austria, in the year 1927, in the capital city of Vienna, I saw Richard Wagner's opera Parsival, which portrayed the adventures of King Arthur's knights in search of the Holy Grail, in a mythological setting. Historians claimed at that time that there was no historical basis for the events in the opera. Still, Richard Wagner's masterpiece was very moving, the powerful music, the tragic plot of how the knights struggled against the evil Klingsor, who obstructed them at every step from behind the scenes. Most of all, I was intrigued by Wagner's use of the Spear of Longinus—which I had seen in my past—as a magic wand in the hands of the evil Klingsor.



It made me realize, then, that Klingsor might have been Landulf.



There could be historical accuracy in the opera, after all.



After leaving the theater, I researched Wagner's source material and read Wolfram von Eschenbach's Parsival, upon which the opera was based. I was intrigued to see that the spear played an even more central role in the actual tale, and was stunned to team that Eschenbach had lived eleven generations after the time of Arthur and Parsival, and yet had managed to write a thrilling story even though he wassupposedlyan illiterate imbecile. From what could begleanedfrom the old texts, it seemed that Eschenbachhadsimply cognized—out of the thin air—the mysticaltale.



Even then, in the twentieth century in Austria, that fact had made me wonder if perhaps Eschenbach's story was symbolic of deeper truths. Becauseby the twentieth century, history had all but forgottenL andulf. Yet even Eschenbach, a wandering Homer of little reputation, a minnesinger, had named him the most evil man who had ever lived. Who knew better than I why Eschenbach should condemn the duke so? Chilled by my own memories, I became convinced thatKl ingsor wasindeed Landulf.



In the story, Klingsor had been an archbishop who lived atK alot Enbolot, in southwest Sicily, where he summoned demons and sent them forth to torment the world. But most important, Eschenbach had de­scribed Klingsor'smost important identifying mark and the basis of his evil.



Yet, in Landulf s dark prison, I cannot remember that mark.



From far away, as I become more delirious, I hear a sound.Knights and lords approaching from above, slowly winding down to my black cell. My torment is unbearable—for it to end, it seems, is all I can hope for. Yet I force in a shuddering breath and steel myself to fulfill my promise to those who sent me back in time. I recall Krishna's promise to me, that his grace shall always be with me. But I do not ask God to save me, only to give me the strength to save myself.



The door opens and in strides Landulf.



Alone. His men wait outside.



He brings a clean damp towel and wipes at the blood that has dried on my face. Then he touches my cheek, and before I can react, leans forwardand plants a kiss on my cracked lips. I try to spit in his face, but there is not enough moisture in my mouth.