Chapter 1 - Chapter I

Chapter I

It was a little over an hour later, and boy and wolf had settled themselves in the main drawing room of the castle. The boy had started up a roaring fire in the great, gothic fireplace, and was now sitting in the large high-backed armchair that had been his father’s. The wolf lay peacefully beside him on a tiger skin rug, enjoying the warmth emanating from the fire. Both boy and wolf remained silent in their own thoughts.
The boy felt angry and almost disappointed in himself for his earlier behaviour. He’d always been taught by his father that a vampire should never show any emotion. Any sentiment felt must never be exposed, no matter what the incident or tragedy. The only permitted emotions where anger, hatred, and others along that line. The boy was very proud to be a pure vampire, and was un-happy with his lack of restraint. Sensing his masters distain, the wolf lifted it’s head from it’s paws to speak.
“Despite everysing sat’s happened, I am glad to be home” said the wolf contentedly.
“I suppose so, but I‘m afraid I can‘t share your enthusiasm, Wulfric.”
“Not ensusiasm, no, but it does feel good to be back home after all sat time avay.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Don’t vorry Master Vlad. Sings vill seam better in time.”
“If you say so, Wulfric.”
Vlad sighed and sunk back down into the chair. He didn’t see how Wulfric could ever be right, at least, not at this points in time. But Wulfric was a wise old wolf, so maybe he was right. Time would tell.
“Hey, Wulfric?”
“Yes, Master Vlad?”
“Would you tell me one of those wolf stories of yours? Like you did when I was a kid.”
“As you vish, Master Vlad.”
Vlad leant back into the chair, closing his eyes so as to be able to imagine every word spoken by the wolf.
*“Long, long ago, in a time when the world was covered in snow and ice, man vas scarce, living in small packs in forest clearings. Wolves, on the other hand, where common in all of the northern forests, and their howls filled the forests far and wide.
There was one pack made up entirely of white wolves. All but one of them where she-wolves, each enchantingly beautiful. The male wolf, Yerik, often travelled far and wide by himself, only returning each winter to carry on the family line with the alpha female, Raine. For many years she had produced beautiful white pups, but that year, only one, tiny male pup was born, and it was black. The other wolves where outraged, and suspected Raine of courting one of the black wonderers. She was instantly made an outcast for blackening the family blood.
Life became very hard for Raine. She could only live on scraps, rodents and insects, and had to stay with her pup at all times when the pack was around or they’d kill him. Both Raine and her pup became progressively weaker and thinner, until one day Raine knew she had to leave the pack for good. She picked her pup up by the scruff of it’s neck, and set off. She travelled for many suns until one day she collapsed, unable to walk another step. The young pup whimpered and cried for food, but his mother had nothing to give. When the pup woke the next morning, Raine was stone cold.
For three days the pup cried out until he too became so weak that he had to stop and give up. It was purely by chance that a lone she-wolf happened to pass by that spot and notice the stricken cub. The she-wolf, named Taka, took pity on the cub. Only a few days back she had lost both her three cubs and her mate when hunters had slaughtered them all. She had been lucky to escape with her life. Now her mothering instinct took over and she gently picked up the cub and brought it back to her den under an old tree root.
At first the pup was scared of this unfamiliar wolf, but hunger soon got the better of him, and by morning he was comfortably suckling from his adopted mother.
The cub grew strong and fast, his shiny, black coat growing ever more magnificent with age. As Taka didn’t know the cubs name, she called him Dagma, and as he grew she taught him everything a young wolf should know. She taught him to hunt and to fight, but most of all she taught him about man. She told him what had happened to her family, and his birth-mother, whom she suspected of being driven to that state by man. She also recounted the many ancient wolf stories, emphasising the ones in which man was the enemy.
By the next spring, Dagma was fully-grown, and an outstanding specimen of his species. By this time, Dagma should have left home to find a mate of his own, but he vowed to stay for another year to care for his mother, who was now growing old.
Dagma was a fine hunter, often bringing back deer and mountain hare. On occasions he would even raid the human village many miles away, bringing back sheep or goat.
As the next spring came around, Dagma felt the pull to leave home. However, before he left he went to speak to Dimitri the great bear. He asked the bear if he’d watch over his mother while he was away, and to send him a message if anything happened to her. The bear was impressed by the young wolf’s courage and bravery at coming to see him, and readily agreed to help.
Dagma travelled far and wide over the next few years. He did eventually manage to find a pretty she-wolf named Fay whom he raised five beautiful cubs with. But once they’d grown up, Dagma began to feel the pull back towards home and his mother. It was on his way back that a small chaffinch alighted beside him, asking if he knew of a wolf named Dagma.
’I am that wolf’ he said, wondering what the bird could possibly want.
‘I have a message from the great bear, Dimitri. He wanted to tell you that hunters came to the forest and slaughtered every wolf they could find, including your mother. Dimitri was away in the mountains at the time and didn’t find out until his return.’
A great anger rose in Dagma, and after a thank you to the bird, he raced home.
The bird had indeed been right, his mother was gone, and the smell of man clung to the den. In a fit of rage he ran down to the village, snarling madly as he leapt amongst the people. Panic ensued amongst the men, as Dagma proceeded to kill every man he could get his teeth into. Dagma was sure that one of humans he killed was wearing his mother’s pelt, which only served to fuel his rage.
Fifteen men and women lay slaughtered before Dagma was killed. The people of the village later called him a black demon, telling tales for many years to come of the evil spirit wolf who attacked them, always ending the tales by holding up the black pelt in triumph.”
“That was a good story, Wulfric”
“I’m glad you liked it, Master Vlad.”
Exhausted and tired, Vlad stared blankly into the fire, mesmerised by it’s movement. At points he could almost swear he saw images amongst the flames. Images of wolves and bears and men, and the eternal struggle between man and beast. Slowly his eyes began to close, and before he knew it, Vlad had fallen asleep.

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Vladimir Kovács was born and raised in the castle in Scotland. It was his family’s ancestral home, with countless generations of Kovács living there before him. Hidden away deep in the Scottish countryside, few people knew the castle even existed, and of those who did, even fewer dared to go anywhere near it. In the last hundred years, the castle had only ever had one visitor outside the family, a visitor who certainly wasn’t welcome, for Vlad, and his parents, and their parents, and theirs before, where all vampires, and being such, feared nothing more than the ruthless vampire slayer.
Despite their ancestral home being in Scotland, their true origin belonged back in Romania, in the region around Transylvania. This was the place where all pure-blood vampire families originated from, with many still having family ties there. Vlad’s family was no different, as his grandparents, on his mother’s side, still lived out in Romania, and Vlad’s mother, Petra, would often travel out to visit them.
When Vlad was only three years old, his mother went over there to introduce her newest son, six month old Markus, to them. After only a few days of being gone, a letter arrived at the castle from the Council of Vampires. It stated that Petra and Markus, as well as Vlad’s grandparents, had been killed by a slayer. It was simply misfortune that Petra had chosen to visit at that time, for the slayer in question had been planning a raid on the house for some time.
Vlad had been far to young to remember much about his mother, only the odd faded image in his head. There was, however, a portrait in oils of her above one of the downstairs fireplaces. It showed her dressed in the deepest of reds and her face pale, almost white, contrasting perfectly with her long, black hair. Vlad would sit for hours as a child staring up at it, trying to remember anything he could about her, and half pretending that she wasn’t even gone at all. Wulfric would often recount tales about her from before Vladimir was born, as well as the much loved ancient wolf stories.
Vlad also had an older sister, Magda. She was older by two years, and had many more memories of their mother. Sometimes Vlad would convince her to tell him some of these stories, but for the most part, especially as they grew older, Vlad and Magda rarely got on with each other. One of the reasons for this was that Magda was jealous that Vlad, as a boy, would inherit the castle.
When he turned sixteen, Vlad made the choice to visit Transylvania for himself. It was often custom for young vampires to visit Romania for up to a year after their eighteenth birthday, but Vlad simply didn’t have the patience to wait that long. Vlad’s father was concerned for him after what had happened to Petra, but Vlad remained adamant he was going, after all, Magda had gone the year before at seventeen. After much debate, Vlad’s father agreed to allow him to go, but only if he took Wulfric with him for protection.
Wulfric was the family’s guardian. For almost a thousand years, it had been his duty to protect the family, in particular, every first-born son.
Back when Wulfric was just an ordinary wolf in Romania, his species was rapidly being hunted to extinction across Europe and the British Isles. When Wulfric’s own pack was targeted, Wulfric was one of the only survivors. Desperate for somewhere safe to hide, he dug under a castle gate where he knew the human’s couldn’t get to him. At then time, some of Vlad's ancestors where holidaying at the castle. It was then that Wulfric was discovered by one of the children at the time. Their father, Viktor Kovács, sympathised with the wolf’s plight, for vampires where also subject to human persecution. As a wolf, Wulfric was one of the few animals that vampires have the power to communicate with, so Viktor was happy to allow Wulfric to stay, but only in return for protecting his family for as long as Kovács blood existed within the castle walls. Only when the very last member of this blood line had died out, would Wulfric die himself. After much thought, Wulfric agreed to this, and had been protecting the family ever since.
Because of this, Vlad was happy to have Wulfric with him, and the pair where very close. Unfortunately, no one could ever have predicted just how badly Wulfric would have been needed back at the castle during Vlad’s time away.

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Wulfric woke early the next morning, so early that the dawn chorus had barely begun. He stretched and yawned before turning to see if Vlad was awake. He wasn’t, so Wulfric decided to go off by himself for a while. He quietly left the drawing room and headed outside via one of the many hidden passageways which crisscrossed through the castle. Outside, the world was still dull and cold as the sun had yet to rise and cast it’s warmth over the land. Wulfric was unable to feel this chill through his thick fur, and set off at a brisk trot across the dew-covered lawn. He was hungry and intended to catch something to eat himself. He stopped underneath the crab apple tree, and raised his nose to the air, scenting for any potential prey. The sweet scent of wild flowers drifted over from the open fields beyond the castle grounds, as did the smell of sheep and horses from the farms nearby. Picking through these odours, he detected the scent of rabbits not to far off. Exited by the prospect of fresh rabbits, he set off once again, this time being much more cautious as he approached the warren. He followed the line of trees so as not to be spotted by them. Like the wolves in his stories, Wulfric was a skilled hunter, and had always been a good provider of food for his vampire family.
Slowly he inched closer and closer to the rabbits, his eyes trained on one of them in particular. Swift as lightning, Wulfric ran at his prey, and scarcely had the rabbit started to run before it was hanging limp in Wulfric’s jaws. Satisfied with his catch, he headed back towards the castle.
Vlad himself didn’t wake up until much later that morning. He got up to find himself alone and extremely stiff after a night spent sleeping hunched in the armchair. He stretched, before straitening out his clothes which seamed to have miraculously become very wrinkled during the night. He slipped off his black cloak, and lay it carefully over the back of the chair. Else ware in the castle, Wulfric’s keen senses detected his master’s waking, and he returned immediately to the drawing room to greet him.
“Did you have a good sleep, Master Vlad?” he asked.
“Not too bad I suppose.”
“I am sinking sat now vould be a good time to be having breakfast, yes?”
“To be honest, Wulfric, I don’t feel much like eating right now. Plus, I doubt there’s anything to eat hear in the castle” sighed Vlad.
“I alveady took sa liberty of catching a vabbit for breakfast. If you are not vanting it I could make use of it” said the wolf coyly.
“Go ahead” said Vlad, shrugging his shoulders in indifference.
With a bow of thanks, Wulfric bounded away to enjoy his well earned meal.
Alone again, Vlad proceeded to explore the downstairs area of the castle by daylight, to see what, if anything, had changed while he’d been away. As he went around, everything seamed pretty much as he’d left things. If anything it looked neater than before he went away, although the slight covering of dust and the customary cobwebs still remained. This was rather strange as his father was far from house proud. Not that the castle was ever in a terrible state, but Vlad had never known it to be quite as tidy as it now was, and considering the circumstances, it made Vlad feel very uneasy.
At that moment, Wulfric came bounding over from the kitchen, specs of blood still clinging to his muzzle.
Unwilling to remain downstairs any longer, Vlad climbed the stone staircase up to his own room. He’d had more than enough for the day, and just wanted to sleep the hours away, leaving reality far behind. Wulfric bounded effortlessly up the steep, stone steps after him. At times, Vlad almost envied the strength and agility of his furry friend. He tried to imagine what it would be like to be a wild wolf, like the black-coated Dagma in Wulfric’s story. Except he’d be free of any family ties and free of emotion. He’d run for hours through snowy forests, hunting down his prey of deer or elk, pulling them down and ripping flesh from bone, his superior strength making it no effort at all. Then he’d curl up in the snow, his thick black pelt keeping him warm. When he’d wake, the night’s snowflakes and ice would cling to every hair on his body. And the whole routine would begin again. He’d be free. Free from his responsibilities, free from his problems, and most importantly, free from the pain they created.
His room was exactly as he’d left it seven months ago. Nothing at all had been moved or changed. Vlad expected this as he’d asked that no one go in his room while he was away.
“Wulfric, don’t you find it strange how everything is so neat and in it’s place?” asked Vlad, turning to the wolf.
“It’s almost like no vone has been living hear for many years” replied the wolf.
“Exactly. It’s very un-settling.”
“Maybe, but sen maybe sat’s just sa vay castles are vhen everyone is gone. Castles can be very good at looking after semselves. Alsough I doubt sa Master vould have left sings so neat. Especially after everysing shat happened.”
“That’s what’s gets me, Wulfric” sighed Vlad. “It just doesn’t make any sense.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. I vouldn’t vorry about it.” reassured Wulfric.
“I hope your right, Wulfric.”
Vlad wondered over to one of the arched windows in his room, and stared out wistfully over the castle grounds and beyond. It was late August and summer was still very much in the air and the earth, and the hearts of every living beast. By now the sun was up and had melted away all the dew and warmed the day. A male blackbird sung merrily from it’s tree-top perch, while a myriad of finches and songbirds, from the plump bullfinch to the humble house sparrow, flitted in small flocks amongst the Scot’s pine. A fox, returning home, barked in a nearby field, and a pheasant gave it’s distinctive alarm call in fright. A pair of hooded crows hunted for beetles on the front lawn, whilst the inhabitants of the local rabbit warren grazed peacefully nearby after their brush with Wulfric. They where now disturbed only by the odd fight breaking out between the noisy crows. Although autumn, and close behind it, winter, where waiting in the wings, it was hard to imagine such hardships at that moment, and every creature was determined to enjoy the long summer days, and warm summer evenings whilst they still could.
Vlad didn’t care for the summer months, nor any of the ones in-between. Vlad favoured the cold, grey days of Winter, when the trees where stripped back to their black skeletons, and every creature was united by hardship and hunger. Vlad almost enjoyed this suffering, and he certainly preferred the cold weather to the unbearable summer heat.
Vlad turned away from the sickeningly joyful world outside, and returned once more to the bleakness of the castle. Once again bored and tired of the day, Vlad retired to his coffin, the archetypal vampire sleeping quarters, to rest. The faithful Wulfric lay down beside him on the stone floor, ever alert, even in sleep.

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