You know, I really wish this thing actually showed up in the Castlevania section. Does this sort of thing happen to a lot of people, I wonder? Huh...
The night was all but spent. Olrox sat in the snow watching as Vlad worked industriously at a particularly large, acceptably hidden snowdrift. He carefully formed the drift into an overhang, scooping out the middle so that when he was finished, it was not unlike a small cave. Dusting snow from his clothing, Vlad returned to Olrox and helped him stand. "Come; we mustn't travel by day."
Olrox allowed himself to be led by the elder vampire, willing movement with no small amount of protest from his body. His heart especially pained him, as though it was disgusted by being left with such little blood. When they stopped, Olrox looked up from the ground. "A bit old to be playing in the snow, aren't you?" Olrox's voice was hoarse, his throat too sore to speak comfortably.
"Winter trees provide no shelter, and you will need rest," Vlad replied patiently. Vlad felt a shudder run down Olrox's spine before the blood-caked vampire pulled away.
"In there?"
Vlad nodded slightly. Olrox kept his eyes locked on the snow cave, his voice trembling, "Please...I...I can't...I..." Vlad walked to him and put an arm around Olrox's shoulders, the smaller vampire still staring toward the drift in dread, shivering.
"It is only snow, Olrox. You cannot sleep in the open, or you will be burned, and that is not a pleasant experience. However," he drew Olrox's gaze upward with that word, "if you wish, you may fall asleep outside."
Olrox felt a tad patronized, but took the out that was offered. He nodded, "Thank you." Vlad eased Olrox down to the ground again, setting off for the huge bloodstain left not far away. Olrox was in too much pain and was too miserable to really care what Vlad did in his absence, though he assumed that any evidence of their being there was being dutifully erased. 'Poor Mihai, no one will believe him...'
The deep blue of the sky gradually turned to twilight as the stars were extinguished. Before the yellows and pinks of the new day had gathered in the east, Olrox felt a welcome drowsiness come over him. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and was pulled from sleep momentarily. Vlad stood, listening to the creaking of tree boughs and gazing at the growing dawn. Olrox shut his eyes against the light, hearing clumps of snow falling to the ground and early wisps of birdsong.
After the sunrise had ended, Vlad turned back to the silent young one. Olrox was fast asleep in the snow, his chest rising and falling seldom and shallowly. A fond smile passed briefly over his face as he looked on his child in repose. 'He is still so weak; he seems almost sickly.' On an impulse, he took a kerchief from his pocket and cleaned Olrox's face of the red tear tracks that marred it, and arranged the mussed, dark hair out of perfectionism. 'A seraph.... He bears such a strong likeness...' Lifting Olrox gently, trying not to wake him, Vlad set him at the back of the little enclosure of snow. He then slid inside himself, cautiously, lest their fragile roof become a blanket. There was barely space enough; Vlad managed to cover them both a bit with his cape, turned his back to the opening, and was soon asleep himself.
Olrox dreamed. That alone was unusual, but the dream itself was more so. He felt as though he had no body, simply hovering over two people. It was like watching a play. He realized, startled, that the people he saw were none other than the figures in the tapestry: the raven-haired Vlad, and the care-worn Olrox. They sat at a large table; from the looks of it they were stragglers after a large number of people had eaten and left. They appeared to be talking, and if Olrox thought about it, he found that he could hear them.
Vlad sighed as he sipped wine. How did Simu always manage to corner him like this? If that man's loyalty had not been tested a hundred times over, Vlad would have had him executed long ago for the questions he asked...
"You said that you would use corpses."
Another sigh. 'He doesn't understand. He is too soft for war...' "They were corpses."
"At the end!" Simu's glare wasn't met. "Vlad, why was it necessary? Corpses would have worked just as well!"
Vlad was tempted to say: They don't writhe or scream, do they? He decided the joke would not be appreciated. "Was it necessary, Simu? You saw their army. They all turned and fled, even the sultan himself. Turks would be sitting here drinking this wine and you and I would be dead, my friend, if I had not done what I did."
"Still, you have only bought us a little time, at the expense of twenty thousand of your own people."
For just a moment, Olrox saw a field of death. Acre upon acre of pikes stood upright in the ground, and men, women, and children lay dead or dying, impaled upon them. Those still alive gasped and jumped weakly, unable to speed or slow their end. Mothers and small children shared pikes, dead muscles twitching. Birds of prey and wolves picked apart the feast set before them, mercifully dispatching those they found alive. Then, after a second, the grisly vision faded, and Olrox was back in the hall, over the table and its occupants.
"They were criminals, traitors, and parasites, all of them. Rest assured, I saw that no innocents met with those poles. The sacrifice was well made if it has given the town and army a chance to retreat to safer ground." Vlad rubbed his temples. He could feel a headache coming on, starting behind his eyes and wrapping all the way around to the back of his head.
Simu's stern voice fell like hammers on Vlad's ears. "But it could have been done without such needless cruelty! You tried to keep them alive as you made that...atrocity in the fields. The Turks will not be put off for long, and when they do come, it will be all the more fiercely now that they bear that murderous scene in their minds!" Simu paused; Vlad prayed that he would say no more and let the matter go, but the words came again, encouraging the throbbing pain in Vlad's head. "And don't feed me that shit about criminals. I haven't seen a nursing babe yet who did anything warranting the punishment you gave them. Why, most of them were younger than your own children!"
"Or yours!" Vlad barked, meeting Simu's glare with a far colder one of his own. "What should I have done with the diseased wretches, Olrox?! They would not have seen next winter! I grow weary of your attitude of late; perhaps I should mete out a chastisement to match your own and put you in your place!"
Simu wilted under his prince's anger, nodding in understanding and heaving a shaky sigh. Vlad softened somewhat, turning his eyes to stare at the table, awkward at his outburst. "You try me, Simu," he said wearily, "but I don't think I could hurt you; even if you were a traitor, I would not impale you as I have lesser felons."
Simu smiled grimly, relaxing into his chair and looking up at the ceiling. Olrox felt as though he was looking right into his eyes. "No, Vlad, you would make sure I met with far worse dooms than a pale if you found me treacherous. Forget not that I know you."
Vlad gulped the rest of his wine, grinning roguishly. "Are you afraid of me, Simu?" he asked softly. It was a question and answer exchanged often between them, especially when Vlad sought to lighten the conversation or steer away from a sore subject. He awaited the answer: I fear you, but I am not afraid of you, my prince. Simu was silent at his side, swirling the wine in his own chalice, but not drinking. Finally, the answer came, and Vlad had to strain his ears to hear it.
"Yes, my prince."
A long silence followed. Finally, Vlad stood and started for the door at the end of the hall. His captain followed obediently, and Olrox hovered over his mirror image. Vlad laid a hand on the door handle and looked back at Simu. "How many men would you say are still here?"
Simu replied at once, "Not many; two or three hundred." Vlad nodded.
"They must be ready to march by tomorrow morning. At daybreak we make for the fortress at Poenari."
Simu bowed and turned to leave through a different door. "Da, domnule."
Olrox awoke to the feeling of being surrounded by...something. Opening his eyes in alarm he saw nothing. Something lay over him, but it had almost no weight to it, and was cold. Flicking his tongue out experimentally, he had his answer. 'Snow. How could I forget?' Sitting up, he shook his face free of the snow and glanced up at Vlad, already awake, who was combing snow out of his own hair with his fingers. Vlad's face was a slightly darker tint than usual; Olrox noticed that his own skin was tender and sore, darkened.
Vlad spoke. "The snow wasn't as wet as I thought; I'm afraid some sunlight managed to get through. You would have burned yourself sometime or another."
The bullet wounds in Olrox's side had fully healed over the day, but his body ached with hunger. He tried to ignore it as he pulled himself to his feet. Vlad studied him distantly for a moment and sighed. "I don't wish to tire you unnecessarily, so you are going to ride until we reach the village."
Olrox gazed at him in confusion. "We don't have a horse." Vlad shot him a cold look, then closed his eyes. At first, Olrox thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but no, Vlad was growing shorter, darker, his face lengthening into a dangerous muzzle. The changes accelerated, white fur pushing through fabric, replacing it. In less than a minute, Vlad was gone, and in his place stood a gigantic wolf. Realization followed on the heels of shock as Olrox saw the purpose of the animal. "...Oh." Carefully, a little fearful of the beast before him, Olrox climbed onto its back, folding his feet up under him so they wouldn't get in the way. This was almost unneeded; the wolf stood as high off the ground as a small pony. With fingers full of thick fur, Olrox held onto the wolf's scruff, leaning forward so that his weight was over Vlad's shoulders. The wolf took off at a brisk trot, avoiding most of the low growth and bushes for the sake of Olrox's hurting skin.
Olrox lost himself in monotony for an hour or so, counting heartbeats, his breaths, the wolf's breaths, the wolf's steps, wondering how many miles they had covered in this way. Vlad moved as quickly as he dared without losing his rider. Olrox's mind kept moving in boring circles, but always it came to rest on his dream. He couldn't explain what had brought it on; it wasn't a normal dream at all. Dreams were supposed to be a bit nonsensical at least, but his had been so...ordinary. Two people talking. It could easily have happened. And then there was the field. It had only been for an instant, and yet it had been engraved in Olrox's mind, as a glaringly bright object remains on the eyelids after they are closed. As ghastly and terrible as that field of pales had been, it too was entirely possible. Olrox had never seen an impalement; it wasn't done anymore, so he couldn't base his vision on a troubled imagination. The whole thing was disquieting, and Olrox resolved to ask Vlad about the tapestry at the next opportunity.
The lights of the village broke into Olrox's thoughts, but Vlad veered off from it, circling around to a field some distance from the village's fringe and far from the road. Here he stopped, placing a small buckle in the ground between them and the village, and Olrox took that as a sign to dismount. The wolf began to change, reversing this time, until Vlad knelt in the snow again. He unhooked his cloak and laid it about Olrox's shoulders, making the younger vampire wince as the material rubbed against his burnt skin. "Stay here," he said in a low voice, his tone conveying that Olrox would be wise to obey. Vlad then headed toward the village, moving swiftly and cautiously. Olrox let Vlad go about his business and lay back on the snow, admiring the stars.
His mind was still reeling over the events of the past nights. A pain that was not hunger was added to his heart as he thought of his brother. He had been in sight of the house; he had been home, putting this nightmare behind him for a scant few seconds. 'That didn't last long, did it? Look what it's gotten me.' His hand drifted to his left side, the skin smooth, the muscle flawless, as though they had never heard of lead. He curled his lip in a snarl, glaring down at the unoffending area reproachfully. He should have lost a kidney and his life to a wound like that, but here he was, and no trace of the shot was left. He pushed that small matter aside, musing over Mihai (the scent of whom still clinging to Olrox's skin), and Vlad's change into the wolf, and the fact that it was now winter, despite Olrox being certain that it had been early autumn no more than a week ago. 'How long must I have slept, I wonder?'
A dull thud beside him announced Vlad's return. "Drink," the elder commanded blandly, and Olrox looked at the crumpled heap lying at Vlad's feet. He heard a strong heartbeat, maddening. Olrox turned the figure onto its back to discover that it was a man, not much older than himself. Placing a hand behind the man's head, Olrox felt the beginning of a lump: Vlad had made sure the human would make no betraying noises. For one who had been bludgeoned unconscious, the man's face was serene, and Olrox felt compelled by something, holding off his hunger. He laid his cheek against the man's, letting warm breath tickle his ear, replacing Mihai's fading scent with that of this human's. 'A bath wouldn't have been uncalled for with this one,' Olrox thought amusedly, but the smell didn't bother him in the least.
"Hurry up, copil," Vlad said impatiently. Olrox mentally balked at the interruption, but being reminded of the sharp pain coursing through him, Olrox moved down to the human's throat, his fangs piercing the artery effortlessly. He gasped as the hot blood poured out into his mouth, an ecstasy he would never grow accustomed to; he drank as one who was dying of thirst, gently cradling the human, the crunch of breaking ribs going unheeded. When the flood of emotion and blood had ceased and Olrox held a dead shell, Vlad grabbed the body away, ripping a gash along its throat with his fangs, and tossing it to the ground like a used rag. Olrox felt a twinge of anger at the disrespect shown to Nick's remains, but said nothing.
Olrox stood, stretching a bit, feeling worlds better. Vlad had already begun walking; Olrox wrapped the cloak about his shoulders carefully and followed. When Vlad saw that Olrox was more or less caught up with him, he sped up to a run. The younger followed suit, and thus they traveled, with few words, stopping to rest for one more day and reaching Castle Dracula the next night.
Olrox entered the castle rather sullenly, reluctant to enter his prison again after living out in the world for three nights. Vlad's slowed to a brisk walk, his face expressionless. They went by the main corridors of the castle now, rather than the hidden side hallways. Walking beside him on the twisting, turning path that led ever inward through the castle, Olrox became uneasy. Now that the crisis and danger were past, Vlad likely wasn't too pleased with Olrox's sudden disappearance. His thoughts proved true when, after several minute's silence, Vlad spoke.
"And what, pray tell, did you intend to accomplish with that little outing of yours?"
Olrox winced; when Elie was angry with him, his father had always raised his voice, and his face reflected his anger. His new 'father' was a calm sea, keeping his displeasure under careful control; it was an unsettling change. Olrox knew not how to answer; he had fled in panic, or madness, without knowing where he was going until over an hour had passed. He hardly saw how accurate his chosen reply was until long after he voiced it. "I just...wanted to leave. I am a prisoner here." No sooner had he said the words, than Vlad had spun in his tracks, gripping Olrox's sunburnt arms, making the younger gasp as pain coursed through the sore limbs.
"Ungrateful, thankless wretch!" Vlad barked, his voice, all the more eerie when raised, echoing in the hallway. "I freed you! I took you away from a world of suffering and death! Who are you to throw such a gift back in my face?" Olrox flinched under Vlad's glare and harsh voice, trying to twist out of his grip. This only enraged the elder vampire further; he slammed Olrox against the wall, hitting the younger's head against the stones and digging his nails into the flesh of Olrox's arms. Olrox let out a short cry of pain before locking his gaze with Vlad's. The vampire's face was transformed in his fury, his wide eyes blazing and his teeth bared. He looked more beast than man. "Why do you shy away from me like a craven human?" he shouted, the echoes filling the enclosed hallway. "I shall give you a reason!"
Without further warning, Vlad punched Olrox hard in the stomach, making Olrox double over in pain, the wind knocked from him. Almost immediately after, Olrox received a vicious uppercut to his chin, snapping his head back into the wall again. Stars danced before his vision as he dodged the next punch Vlad threw. He broke away from the wall and ran, only taking a few steps. Vlad was faster, throwing Olrox off balance with his momentum while raking his nails down Olrox's arms. 'Ah, damn it, it hurts!' Olrox charged forward, trying to force his attacker back. Vlad crouched low, a well-aimed kick sweeping Olrox's legs out from under him; he hit the stones tailbone first. Olrox arched his back, screaming as an insistent pain shot up his spine. Vlad stomped on Olrox's chest, boxed his 'child's' ears once, then pinned him, kneeling on his aching chest and holding his wrists out of the way with crushing strength.
Everything hurt, and Olrox looked up at Vlad through a red haze that grew thicker and darker as his concussion caught up with him. A shudder ran through his body as he felt Vlad scrape his fangs ever so lightly along Olrox's throat. Olrox slid down into sleep, and terrified, fought to keep consciousness, though it was a lost battle already. He could barely make out the bleary, red-tinted shape above him as Vlad stared into his failing eyes. Vlad's voice assailed Olrox's bleeding ears, causing his head to spin even more. "Are you afraid of me, copil?"
"Yes..." Olrox croaked, the world darkening.
"Not enough."
Vlad felt Olrox go limp and stood, looking on the young vampire without pity. The wounds would heal; perhaps Vlad had knocked some sense into him. 'He is willful and rebellious; I will remedy that if it takes me a thousand years.' Lifting Olrox's prone form, he slung him over one shoulder and continued down the hallway to his audience room. He had important matters to discuss, and the hunt for his wayward child had cost valuable time. Finding a suitable servant on his way back to his section of the castle, Vlad stopped him and handed Olrox to the surprised creature. Sensing a question about to be voiced, Vlad spoke first.
"Take Sir Olrox to his chambers to recuperate; I've no time to deal with him."
The tengu watched, dumbstruck, as the vampire continued on his way without so much as waiting for an answer. After Lord Dracula was out of sight, Torio noticed that his passenger had been slowly sliding downwards and was on the verge of being dropped. He reestablished his hold on his superior in a rather novel fashion, albeit with such an amount of hopping on one foot and cursing he was thankful no one of rank was around to witness him. With Olrox cradled more or less securely, Torio started off for the vampire's rooms. The bird spirit didn't know much of vampires, but he had seen how fast one could heal. Though any open wounds were closed, the back of Olrox's head was sticky, and his hair matted with blood. His face, arms, and chest were one meandering bruise, an ugly black and purple expanse. 'He's taken a beating, and recently...'
Upon reaching his destination, Torio was spotted by a skeleton cleaning in the corridor. With a maternal instinct which even death had not snuffed out, she hovered constantly around the two, asking questions about which Torio hadn't the foggiest notion and generally getting in the way for a few minutes. Finally getting a good look at Olrox's injuries when he was laid out on his bed, she bustled off, returning shortly with a basin of hot water and a cloth. At her request, Torio lifted Olrox slightly to let her clean his head injuries. He watched as she made a quick check over the bruises that ran across his body, her gaze (if empty eye sockets could gaze) rested at last on a growing bruise on Olrox's right shin.
"I don't like the looks of that one," she said officiously, "but all in all, vampires doctor themselves; he'll be set to rights in a few days, the poor dear." She had considerately spoken French, her first attempts at communication having been met with a blank stare. The skeleton left the room to get back to her duties. Torio thought it would be a good idea for him to do the same, covering Olrox with a blanket before leaving.
The night was all but spent. Olrox sat in the snow watching as Vlad worked industriously at a particularly large, acceptably hidden snowdrift. He carefully formed the drift into an overhang, scooping out the middle so that when he was finished, it was not unlike a small cave. Dusting snow from his clothing, Vlad returned to Olrox and helped him stand. "Come; we mustn't travel by day."
Olrox allowed himself to be led by the elder vampire, willing movement with no small amount of protest from his body. His heart especially pained him, as though it was disgusted by being left with such little blood. When they stopped, Olrox looked up from the ground. "A bit old to be playing in the snow, aren't you?" Olrox's voice was hoarse, his throat too sore to speak comfortably.
"Winter trees provide no shelter, and you will need rest," Vlad replied patiently. Vlad felt a shudder run down Olrox's spine before the blood-caked vampire pulled away.
"In there?"
Vlad nodded slightly. Olrox kept his eyes locked on the snow cave, his voice trembling, "Please...I...I can't...I..." Vlad walked to him and put an arm around Olrox's shoulders, the smaller vampire still staring toward the drift in dread, shivering.
"It is only snow, Olrox. You cannot sleep in the open, or you will be burned, and that is not a pleasant experience. However," he drew Olrox's gaze upward with that word, "if you wish, you may fall asleep outside."
Olrox felt a tad patronized, but took the out that was offered. He nodded, "Thank you." Vlad eased Olrox down to the ground again, setting off for the huge bloodstain left not far away. Olrox was in too much pain and was too miserable to really care what Vlad did in his absence, though he assumed that any evidence of their being there was being dutifully erased. 'Poor Mihai, no one will believe him...'
The deep blue of the sky gradually turned to twilight as the stars were extinguished. Before the yellows and pinks of the new day had gathered in the east, Olrox felt a welcome drowsiness come over him. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and was pulled from sleep momentarily. Vlad stood, listening to the creaking of tree boughs and gazing at the growing dawn. Olrox shut his eyes against the light, hearing clumps of snow falling to the ground and early wisps of birdsong.
After the sunrise had ended, Vlad turned back to the silent young one. Olrox was fast asleep in the snow, his chest rising and falling seldom and shallowly. A fond smile passed briefly over his face as he looked on his child in repose. 'He is still so weak; he seems almost sickly.' On an impulse, he took a kerchief from his pocket and cleaned Olrox's face of the red tear tracks that marred it, and arranged the mussed, dark hair out of perfectionism. 'A seraph.... He bears such a strong likeness...' Lifting Olrox gently, trying not to wake him, Vlad set him at the back of the little enclosure of snow. He then slid inside himself, cautiously, lest their fragile roof become a blanket. There was barely space enough; Vlad managed to cover them both a bit with his cape, turned his back to the opening, and was soon asleep himself.
Olrox dreamed. That alone was unusual, but the dream itself was more so. He felt as though he had no body, simply hovering over two people. It was like watching a play. He realized, startled, that the people he saw were none other than the figures in the tapestry: the raven-haired Vlad, and the care-worn Olrox. They sat at a large table; from the looks of it they were stragglers after a large number of people had eaten and left. They appeared to be talking, and if Olrox thought about it, he found that he could hear them.
Vlad sighed as he sipped wine. How did Simu always manage to corner him like this? If that man's loyalty had not been tested a hundred times over, Vlad would have had him executed long ago for the questions he asked...
"You said that you would use corpses."
Another sigh. 'He doesn't understand. He is too soft for war...' "They were corpses."
"At the end!" Simu's glare wasn't met. "Vlad, why was it necessary? Corpses would have worked just as well!"
Vlad was tempted to say: They don't writhe or scream, do they? He decided the joke would not be appreciated. "Was it necessary, Simu? You saw their army. They all turned and fled, even the sultan himself. Turks would be sitting here drinking this wine and you and I would be dead, my friend, if I had not done what I did."
"Still, you have only bought us a little time, at the expense of twenty thousand of your own people."
For just a moment, Olrox saw a field of death. Acre upon acre of pikes stood upright in the ground, and men, women, and children lay dead or dying, impaled upon them. Those still alive gasped and jumped weakly, unable to speed or slow their end. Mothers and small children shared pikes, dead muscles twitching. Birds of prey and wolves picked apart the feast set before them, mercifully dispatching those they found alive. Then, after a second, the grisly vision faded, and Olrox was back in the hall, over the table and its occupants.
"They were criminals, traitors, and parasites, all of them. Rest assured, I saw that no innocents met with those poles. The sacrifice was well made if it has given the town and army a chance to retreat to safer ground." Vlad rubbed his temples. He could feel a headache coming on, starting behind his eyes and wrapping all the way around to the back of his head.
Simu's stern voice fell like hammers on Vlad's ears. "But it could have been done without such needless cruelty! You tried to keep them alive as you made that...atrocity in the fields. The Turks will not be put off for long, and when they do come, it will be all the more fiercely now that they bear that murderous scene in their minds!" Simu paused; Vlad prayed that he would say no more and let the matter go, but the words came again, encouraging the throbbing pain in Vlad's head. "And don't feed me that shit about criminals. I haven't seen a nursing babe yet who did anything warranting the punishment you gave them. Why, most of them were younger than your own children!"
"Or yours!" Vlad barked, meeting Simu's glare with a far colder one of his own. "What should I have done with the diseased wretches, Olrox?! They would not have seen next winter! I grow weary of your attitude of late; perhaps I should mete out a chastisement to match your own and put you in your place!"
Simu wilted under his prince's anger, nodding in understanding and heaving a shaky sigh. Vlad softened somewhat, turning his eyes to stare at the table, awkward at his outburst. "You try me, Simu," he said wearily, "but I don't think I could hurt you; even if you were a traitor, I would not impale you as I have lesser felons."
Simu smiled grimly, relaxing into his chair and looking up at the ceiling. Olrox felt as though he was looking right into his eyes. "No, Vlad, you would make sure I met with far worse dooms than a pale if you found me treacherous. Forget not that I know you."
Vlad gulped the rest of his wine, grinning roguishly. "Are you afraid of me, Simu?" he asked softly. It was a question and answer exchanged often between them, especially when Vlad sought to lighten the conversation or steer away from a sore subject. He awaited the answer: I fear you, but I am not afraid of you, my prince. Simu was silent at his side, swirling the wine in his own chalice, but not drinking. Finally, the answer came, and Vlad had to strain his ears to hear it.
"Yes, my prince."
A long silence followed. Finally, Vlad stood and started for the door at the end of the hall. His captain followed obediently, and Olrox hovered over his mirror image. Vlad laid a hand on the door handle and looked back at Simu. "How many men would you say are still here?"
Simu replied at once, "Not many; two or three hundred." Vlad nodded.
"They must be ready to march by tomorrow morning. At daybreak we make for the fortress at Poenari."
Simu bowed and turned to leave through a different door. "Da, domnule."
Olrox awoke to the feeling of being surrounded by...something. Opening his eyes in alarm he saw nothing. Something lay over him, but it had almost no weight to it, and was cold. Flicking his tongue out experimentally, he had his answer. 'Snow. How could I forget?' Sitting up, he shook his face free of the snow and glanced up at Vlad, already awake, who was combing snow out of his own hair with his fingers. Vlad's face was a slightly darker tint than usual; Olrox noticed that his own skin was tender and sore, darkened.
Vlad spoke. "The snow wasn't as wet as I thought; I'm afraid some sunlight managed to get through. You would have burned yourself sometime or another."
The bullet wounds in Olrox's side had fully healed over the day, but his body ached with hunger. He tried to ignore it as he pulled himself to his feet. Vlad studied him distantly for a moment and sighed. "I don't wish to tire you unnecessarily, so you are going to ride until we reach the village."
Olrox gazed at him in confusion. "We don't have a horse." Vlad shot him a cold look, then closed his eyes. At first, Olrox thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but no, Vlad was growing shorter, darker, his face lengthening into a dangerous muzzle. The changes accelerated, white fur pushing through fabric, replacing it. In less than a minute, Vlad was gone, and in his place stood a gigantic wolf. Realization followed on the heels of shock as Olrox saw the purpose of the animal. "...Oh." Carefully, a little fearful of the beast before him, Olrox climbed onto its back, folding his feet up under him so they wouldn't get in the way. This was almost unneeded; the wolf stood as high off the ground as a small pony. With fingers full of thick fur, Olrox held onto the wolf's scruff, leaning forward so that his weight was over Vlad's shoulders. The wolf took off at a brisk trot, avoiding most of the low growth and bushes for the sake of Olrox's hurting skin.
Olrox lost himself in monotony for an hour or so, counting heartbeats, his breaths, the wolf's breaths, the wolf's steps, wondering how many miles they had covered in this way. Vlad moved as quickly as he dared without losing his rider. Olrox's mind kept moving in boring circles, but always it came to rest on his dream. He couldn't explain what had brought it on; it wasn't a normal dream at all. Dreams were supposed to be a bit nonsensical at least, but his had been so...ordinary. Two people talking. It could easily have happened. And then there was the field. It had only been for an instant, and yet it had been engraved in Olrox's mind, as a glaringly bright object remains on the eyelids after they are closed. As ghastly and terrible as that field of pales had been, it too was entirely possible. Olrox had never seen an impalement; it wasn't done anymore, so he couldn't base his vision on a troubled imagination. The whole thing was disquieting, and Olrox resolved to ask Vlad about the tapestry at the next opportunity.
The lights of the village broke into Olrox's thoughts, but Vlad veered off from it, circling around to a field some distance from the village's fringe and far from the road. Here he stopped, placing a small buckle in the ground between them and the village, and Olrox took that as a sign to dismount. The wolf began to change, reversing this time, until Vlad knelt in the snow again. He unhooked his cloak and laid it about Olrox's shoulders, making the younger vampire wince as the material rubbed against his burnt skin. "Stay here," he said in a low voice, his tone conveying that Olrox would be wise to obey. Vlad then headed toward the village, moving swiftly and cautiously. Olrox let Vlad go about his business and lay back on the snow, admiring the stars.
His mind was still reeling over the events of the past nights. A pain that was not hunger was added to his heart as he thought of his brother. He had been in sight of the house; he had been home, putting this nightmare behind him for a scant few seconds. 'That didn't last long, did it? Look what it's gotten me.' His hand drifted to his left side, the skin smooth, the muscle flawless, as though they had never heard of lead. He curled his lip in a snarl, glaring down at the unoffending area reproachfully. He should have lost a kidney and his life to a wound like that, but here he was, and no trace of the shot was left. He pushed that small matter aside, musing over Mihai (the scent of whom still clinging to Olrox's skin), and Vlad's change into the wolf, and the fact that it was now winter, despite Olrox being certain that it had been early autumn no more than a week ago. 'How long must I have slept, I wonder?'
A dull thud beside him announced Vlad's return. "Drink," the elder commanded blandly, and Olrox looked at the crumpled heap lying at Vlad's feet. He heard a strong heartbeat, maddening. Olrox turned the figure onto its back to discover that it was a man, not much older than himself. Placing a hand behind the man's head, Olrox felt the beginning of a lump: Vlad had made sure the human would make no betraying noises. For one who had been bludgeoned unconscious, the man's face was serene, and Olrox felt compelled by something, holding off his hunger. He laid his cheek against the man's, letting warm breath tickle his ear, replacing Mihai's fading scent with that of this human's. 'A bath wouldn't have been uncalled for with this one,' Olrox thought amusedly, but the smell didn't bother him in the least.
"Hurry up, copil," Vlad said impatiently. Olrox mentally balked at the interruption, but being reminded of the sharp pain coursing through him, Olrox moved down to the human's throat, his fangs piercing the artery effortlessly. He gasped as the hot blood poured out into his mouth, an ecstasy he would never grow accustomed to; he drank as one who was dying of thirst, gently cradling the human, the crunch of breaking ribs going unheeded. When the flood of emotion and blood had ceased and Olrox held a dead shell, Vlad grabbed the body away, ripping a gash along its throat with his fangs, and tossing it to the ground like a used rag. Olrox felt a twinge of anger at the disrespect shown to Nick's remains, but said nothing.
Olrox stood, stretching a bit, feeling worlds better. Vlad had already begun walking; Olrox wrapped the cloak about his shoulders carefully and followed. When Vlad saw that Olrox was more or less caught up with him, he sped up to a run. The younger followed suit, and thus they traveled, with few words, stopping to rest for one more day and reaching Castle Dracula the next night.
Olrox entered the castle rather sullenly, reluctant to enter his prison again after living out in the world for three nights. Vlad's slowed to a brisk walk, his face expressionless. They went by the main corridors of the castle now, rather than the hidden side hallways. Walking beside him on the twisting, turning path that led ever inward through the castle, Olrox became uneasy. Now that the crisis and danger were past, Vlad likely wasn't too pleased with Olrox's sudden disappearance. His thoughts proved true when, after several minute's silence, Vlad spoke.
"And what, pray tell, did you intend to accomplish with that little outing of yours?"
Olrox winced; when Elie was angry with him, his father had always raised his voice, and his face reflected his anger. His new 'father' was a calm sea, keeping his displeasure under careful control; it was an unsettling change. Olrox knew not how to answer; he had fled in panic, or madness, without knowing where he was going until over an hour had passed. He hardly saw how accurate his chosen reply was until long after he voiced it. "I just...wanted to leave. I am a prisoner here." No sooner had he said the words, than Vlad had spun in his tracks, gripping Olrox's sunburnt arms, making the younger gasp as pain coursed through the sore limbs.
"Ungrateful, thankless wretch!" Vlad barked, his voice, all the more eerie when raised, echoing in the hallway. "I freed you! I took you away from a world of suffering and death! Who are you to throw such a gift back in my face?" Olrox flinched under Vlad's glare and harsh voice, trying to twist out of his grip. This only enraged the elder vampire further; he slammed Olrox against the wall, hitting the younger's head against the stones and digging his nails into the flesh of Olrox's arms. Olrox let out a short cry of pain before locking his gaze with Vlad's. The vampire's face was transformed in his fury, his wide eyes blazing and his teeth bared. He looked more beast than man. "Why do you shy away from me like a craven human?" he shouted, the echoes filling the enclosed hallway. "I shall give you a reason!"
Without further warning, Vlad punched Olrox hard in the stomach, making Olrox double over in pain, the wind knocked from him. Almost immediately after, Olrox received a vicious uppercut to his chin, snapping his head back into the wall again. Stars danced before his vision as he dodged the next punch Vlad threw. He broke away from the wall and ran, only taking a few steps. Vlad was faster, throwing Olrox off balance with his momentum while raking his nails down Olrox's arms. 'Ah, damn it, it hurts!' Olrox charged forward, trying to force his attacker back. Vlad crouched low, a well-aimed kick sweeping Olrox's legs out from under him; he hit the stones tailbone first. Olrox arched his back, screaming as an insistent pain shot up his spine. Vlad stomped on Olrox's chest, boxed his 'child's' ears once, then pinned him, kneeling on his aching chest and holding his wrists out of the way with crushing strength.
Everything hurt, and Olrox looked up at Vlad through a red haze that grew thicker and darker as his concussion caught up with him. A shudder ran through his body as he felt Vlad scrape his fangs ever so lightly along Olrox's throat. Olrox slid down into sleep, and terrified, fought to keep consciousness, though it was a lost battle already. He could barely make out the bleary, red-tinted shape above him as Vlad stared into his failing eyes. Vlad's voice assailed Olrox's bleeding ears, causing his head to spin even more. "Are you afraid of me, copil?"
"Yes..." Olrox croaked, the world darkening.
"Not enough."
Vlad felt Olrox go limp and stood, looking on the young vampire without pity. The wounds would heal; perhaps Vlad had knocked some sense into him. 'He is willful and rebellious; I will remedy that if it takes me a thousand years.' Lifting Olrox's prone form, he slung him over one shoulder and continued down the hallway to his audience room. He had important matters to discuss, and the hunt for his wayward child had cost valuable time. Finding a suitable servant on his way back to his section of the castle, Vlad stopped him and handed Olrox to the surprised creature. Sensing a question about to be voiced, Vlad spoke first.
"Take Sir Olrox to his chambers to recuperate; I've no time to deal with him."
The tengu watched, dumbstruck, as the vampire continued on his way without so much as waiting for an answer. After Lord Dracula was out of sight, Torio noticed that his passenger had been slowly sliding downwards and was on the verge of being dropped. He reestablished his hold on his superior in a rather novel fashion, albeit with such an amount of hopping on one foot and cursing he was thankful no one of rank was around to witness him. With Olrox cradled more or less securely, Torio started off for the vampire's rooms. The bird spirit didn't know much of vampires, but he had seen how fast one could heal. Though any open wounds were closed, the back of Olrox's head was sticky, and his hair matted with blood. His face, arms, and chest were one meandering bruise, an ugly black and purple expanse. 'He's taken a beating, and recently...'
Upon reaching his destination, Torio was spotted by a skeleton cleaning in the corridor. With a maternal instinct which even death had not snuffed out, she hovered constantly around the two, asking questions about which Torio hadn't the foggiest notion and generally getting in the way for a few minutes. Finally getting a good look at Olrox's injuries when he was laid out on his bed, she bustled off, returning shortly with a basin of hot water and a cloth. At her request, Torio lifted Olrox slightly to let her clean his head injuries. He watched as she made a quick check over the bruises that ran across his body, her gaze (if empty eye sockets could gaze) rested at last on a growing bruise on Olrox's right shin.
"I don't like the looks of that one," she said officiously, "but all in all, vampires doctor themselves; he'll be set to rights in a few days, the poor dear." She had considerately spoken French, her first attempts at communication having been met with a blank stare. The skeleton left the room to get back to her duties. Torio thought it would be a good idea for him to do the same, covering Olrox with a blanket before leaving.