The Count of Wolf Blood Castle

by Laurelle Lewis

  ‘We’re here!’ Dashiell cried, almost leaping out the window. Annika grabbed his sleeve. ‘Sit down, Count! If you kill yourself by falling out the window, I won’t have a guide!’

  They arrived at their destination just before lunch, as the sun was beaming warmly overhead. Snow was dripping from the trees, and fresh puddles of water lay amidst the dirt and grassy mounds. Although in this part of the valley, the weather wasn’t as chilly, there were still caps of snow shielding nature’s beautiful delicacies.

  The carriage pulled up alongside a large rock. Annika poked her head out of the window to breathe in the fresh air. ‘It’s divine!’ she breathed. They departed the carriage, as Dashiell helped Annika along the uncertain terrain. The drivers took the supplies, walking several paces behind the duo.

  As they walked, Dashiell held his arm out for her to hold in case she suddenly slipped. Annika was relieved to have made things up with the Count, and she hoped that perhaps they might at least enjoy a respectful working relationship together.

  ‘Where would you like to sit, Miss Acklin?’ He smiled.

  ‘Perhaps, down there?’ Annika suggested, pointing to a small cove at the bottom of the hill, right in the heart of the valley.

  ‘Good choice. I‘ve heard that’s where the fairies live,’ he said and winked. Annika laughed. ‘Oh, really?’

  ‘Well, you’d better take my hand then?’ Dashiell offered, his eyes locking on Annika’s. She felt herself blush, looking away quickly. As they made their way down the rocky terrain, they had to tread carefully. Annika suddenly felt her feet go from under her, Dashiell grabbed her, but he lost his balance, they both tumbled down the hill, landing at the bottom with a thud.

  ‘Are you alright, Annika?’ Dashiell enquired, sweeping her hair out of her face to check for any cuts. His eyes gazed downwards, over her peachy décolletage, to her plump breast. She was beautiful in her innocence, and he longed to touch her, if only for a moment.

  Annika couldn’t help but catch her breath, as she noticed his hungry gaze, was he about to kiss her? He clumsily, picked himself up, and held out his hand for her. Ever the gentleman, he would never dream of trying to take advantage of a woman in such a situation. Although he couldn’t help but admire her beauty, as she had fallen, her dress had revealed the silky soft skin beneath it. Dashiell could feel himself blushing, as he helped Annika to her feet.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she puffed, dusting herself off. Suddenly, she broke into a fit of laughter. ‘That’s the most excitement I’ve had all month!’

  Dashiell murmured, ‘That’s the most excitement I’ve had all my life.’ Annika smiled, as Dashiell handed her a slice of cake. ‘I asked them to make this especially for you; the top layer is Pixie Dust Jelly.’

  Annika was thrilled, not only was Dashiell being kind and such a gentleman, he had even remembered about the Pixie Dust Jelly. They had recovered from their tumble down the hill and had nestled into a small patch of greenery on the valley floor. They were surrounded by the romance of wildflowers that were almost as tall as them, when they sat. The drivers had gone for a walk around the area, so they had been left alone. The warmth of the sun made Annika’s skin feel so cosy, that she decided to lie down on the picnic rug. Lying on her back, she looked up at the sky; it was a strange aqua colour in this part of the country. Not a cloud in sight, it was a perfect day.

  ‘You don’t get out much, do you?’ Annika asked after a thoughtful moment of silence.

  ‘No, indeed I don’t.’

  ‘You should.’

  ‘Yes, I would if I could—’

  Before Dashiell could finish his sentence, bright lights began to flicker all around them. A strange, yet harmonic humming noise was ringing in their ears. Small wings fluttered like a hummingbird’s heartbeat, as the fairies of the valley revealed themselves.

  ‘It’s true!’ Annika cried. ‘They’re beautiful! Like small beams of sunshine and moonshine, all rolled into one!’

  One of the fairies ducked under Annika’s hair, and began to flit around, ‘Ouch!’ Annika screamed. Another fairy did the same. ‘Get off her!’ Dashiell laughed, swatting at the creatures with little care. ‘Pests!’

  Annika felt several of them tugging at her hair and a small clump fell away.

  ‘Got it!’ they cried in unison. Then, as quickly as they had come, they formed a giant ray of sparkly orbs and fluttered off into the distance.

  ‘That was weird,’ Dashiell noted, feeling rather disconcerted. Why would the fairies want a lock of Annika’s hair? What kind of spells or trickery were they planning to cast upon her with it? ‘We should go’ he cautioned, standing abruptly, as he began to pack up.

  ‘Is everything alright?’

  ‘Of course,’ he lied. ‘I’m just feeling rather tired—too much sunshine.’

  ‘Dashiell, we literally just got here! I am not leaving! They are gone now.’

  Dashiell nodded, conceding to her words. ‘True.’ He knew there was little point arguing with Annika.

  ***

  Later that day, as Dashiell and Annika returned home, they laughed and joked about their lives as they rumbled over the bouncy, dirt road. Dashiell had not felt this alive in a long time. He had made such a point to avoid women that he had forgotten how lovely it could feel to be in the presence of one, especially a woman who seemed to radiate happiness and warmth. He felt rather awkward as he tried to relax and laugh at Annika’s jokes, but at the same time he was beginning to realize how much he had been longing for this attention!

  He had never been in love and had convinced himself he didn’t want it; after seeing his brother struggle to keep his secret from his wife. Dashiell had decided it was easier to be alone, but here was this woman forcing her way into his life. He wasn’t sure how he felt about her, but he knew he didn’t want her to leave. When they arrived back at the castle, Dashiell decided to show Annika around the grounds.

  ‘I’d love to see it again.’ She beamed at him.

  ***

  Dashiell smiled that night as he sat in his study. He had found a renewed strength to read through some more of his uncle’s diaries. He had found one in the library, that contained an interesting page—it seemed to be in code, and Dashiell had a feeling it must be of some importance. He had ripped the page from the book with the intention of having it examined. Looking into the flames of the fire, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t even want a drink. His heart felt light and he realized it was Annika that was making him feel this way. Suddenly, he became angry with himself. How could he ever love a woman? He was a monster! Look what the Baertschi men’s legacy was to womankind? Fall in love with a devil in disguise—and pay the ultimate price!

  He looked down at his hands, how they longed to touch a woman’s body, to feel what it was like to love and be loved! But what woman would want hairy paws with thick, yellowing claws digging into her tender flesh? He picked up his bottle of drink and downed it until it was all gone, then he threw it into the fire. Would there ever be any end to his torment?

  Chapter Thirteen: A History Lesson

  A few weeks had passed since his trip out with Annika, and Dashiell was feeling more relaxed since that day. It was as if something in him had awoken, and he had felt a sense of wonderment and peace. They had spent each morning together since that day, sitting upon the green hilltop in the castle grounds-basking in the beauty of nature, instead of always walled up inside the castle. He realised he had felt free that day, even if only for a moment.

  He knew though, he couldn’t just play in the sun, pretending to be prince charming. If he had any chance of ever feeling free, he must try and solve the riddle his uncle had left for him. Dashiell had spent the past several days just reading his poetry to Annika in the light of the sunset, as she smiled at him sweetly, and he had remembered what it was to laugh—they had gotten very little work done. But Dashiell could have cared less, he would much rather stare into her beautiful eyes, than worry about the curse. But of cou
rse, it never left him, it lingered in his subconscious, always taunting him when he was alone.

  Dashiell had even begun to crack a few jokes at dinner, much to the disapproval of his mother. The girls would laugh, and Ellowyn and Annika had become fast friends.

  As much as Dashiell and Annika had been enjoying their time together, they both knew the time had come to be serious. Annika had been asking constantly about what work was to be done. She had been here for over a month now, yet she still had very little idea of why she was here—and she had very little work. She had told Dashiell she felt the holiday was over, and it was time to do what she was being paid for.

  ‘Dashiell?’ she asked one day, cornering him in his study. ‘What work would you like me to do today?’

  ‘Oh, um...’ Dashiell looked around, desperately looking for anything that she could do, that wouldn’t result in her asking too many questions. ‘Oh...those books over there...’

  ‘Let me guess? Need reading?’ she asked raising her eyebrow. ‘Honestly, I read them last week....and the ones over there in that pile?’ She motioned towards a stack under the window. ‘I read those, the week before...’

  Dashiell blushed. She was onto him. ‘Annika...I—’

  ‘Dash.’ She smiled, as she said the nickname, she had come to affectionately call him. ‘I’m here to do a job—and for me to do that job—you need to trust me.’

  Dashiell breathed a heavy sigh. After what he’d discovered about his uncle, he wanted more than ever to solve this riddle, but he didn’t want Annika to be too involved. How could he tell her the truth? He couldn’t.

  ‘Annika...I am sorry. Trust does not come easy to a broken man.’

  ‘Try,’ she whispered. Dashiell shifted his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot- he was uncomfortable with the vulnerability Annika was asking him to display. Breathing deeply, he knew he had to tell her something.

  ‘As my uncle was dying—he uttered a word. The word Claudius. I don’t know who that is or what it means to be honest. I believe that finding this man will give us our answers...but my uncle left so much work and so many diaries...I don’t even know where to start. Nothing has turned up...nothing.’

  ‘Where could we look, Dash? Have you been to the local libraries, the local specialty shops, you know the ones that sell old parchments and spells, that sort of thing? Sometimes they also get old books thrown out by relatives when people die? There must be a way to find this man.’

  Dashiell smiled. ‘The ever-positive Annika Acklin,’ he said and laughed.

  ***

  Later that evening, Dashiell decided to venture out into the world. There was a traveling exhibition down at the local museum, which had been built by his uncle Eduard some years before. He had read in the paper, that the exhibition was about the Brotherhood of the Unified Heart, a religious group Eduard had been affiliated with. So, to Dashiell, to at least investigate this exhibition made sense.

  The village air was cool, but not crisp and brutal like the winds up on the mountainside. Dashiell breathed it in and felt alive to be free of the castle and its stuffy air. It had become his prison over the years, and today he was a free man. He wore a scarf and hat, that covered most of his face. Today, he was just a curious villager.

  The museum was a sight for sore eyes. Its open doors invited him in; what secrets would be revealed to him within its walls? Dashiell remembered back to his teenage years when it had been built. His uncle, of course, had been responsible, wanting to create a place where history and the arts could be brought to the local village. Spyro, he had said, was a pioneer of science, but he had done little for other more philanthropic endeavours.

  Dashiell had last set eyes upon it when the museum had been opened, and he had been too busy studying. He had a degree in literature—his passion. He dreamed of having his novels published someday in the libraries of Epp…a dream he had let die with the rest of his life’s ambitions.

  Dashiell entered the quaint little building; the exhibition was a pre-show—the tickets were supposed to be pre-purchased. He had not even stopped to think of that-groaning, he approached anyway.

  There were two museum attendees, one, a plump, dark-haired lady, who was making her way over to him, a large smile upon her face. The other, a man in his late fifties, his hair grey and thinning. He was dressed in a security guard uniform.

  ‘That will be five oppa, thank you, sir,’ the lady informed him.

  Dashiell froze. Oppa were a kind of currency in the land. It was the melted down product of a kind of rock found in the caves of Cel’ Bre’Ire, just beyond the forest that bordered the country. There was little need for money when most of one’s time was spent indoors.

  ‘I’m afraid, Madame, that I have none. I don’t leave my cas—house much, and I have not had a chance to visit the bank.’

  The kind smile on the lady’s face became a downturned grimace. ‘You mean to say sir, that you expect to be let in for free?’

  Dashiell rolled his eyes, his family had built this museum, really if anyone should be let in for free, it should be him!

  The lady was now becoming agitated. ’Don’t roll your eyes at me…’she began, a glint in her eye, ready to lavish her pent-up anger upon him. Dashiell pulled his cap and scarf off, and roared at her, ‘I might eat you for dinner if you do not let me in!’

  Upon realising who she was addressing, she pulled back. ‘Oh, I am so sorry Count…’

  ‘Forget it,’ Dashiell groaned, walking away, he had not meant to play into rumour and suspicion, but he had to admit sometimes it came in handy.

  Dashiell walked around the museum, soaking in its sights. Art works from days gone by, gadgets created by Spyro when he first came to Talir Faye, from another world, and he brought his scientific knowledge with him.

  Spyro the Great had lived through the last five hundred years of history. Dashiell wondered what amazing things such a renowned wizard might know. He remembered when he was a child, Eduard had come back from one of his many journeys, he had thrown his bags down upon the floor, and presented Dashiell with a gadget from Epp. It was a musical box that played a lullaby Eduard always sang to him. Dashiell had been amazed at the intricate workings of it and hoped to one day be an amazing man like Spyro.

  ‘Why did you go to Epp?’ he had asked his uncle.

  ‘To seek life’s answers,’ Eduard had breathed, a sadness tinged his words.

  ‘Did you find your magic potion?’ Vivien had quipped entering the room.

  Eduard had only looked away, his eyes welled with anger.

  ‘Come now, Dashiell my boy!’ he had suddenly changed back to the fun-loving uncle he knew, as he led him outside for a game of catch. It was only now that he realised Eduard must have gone to consult Spyro on his plight and had come back empty handed.

  Dashiell looked closely at the paintings of the monks; he recognised their faces from his history lessons as a child, but there was one he didn’t recognise. A strange, hunched over little figure that hobbled behind the others in their crusades, his cloak was different. In his hand he held something, but it was unclear to make out, as time is cruel, and it had not shown mercy to this artwork.

  The lady who had been rude to the count, had decided it may not be in her best interest to be in his bad books. ‘May I help you, Count Dashiell?’ she chimed, her smile as forced as her sincerity. Dashiell enquired about the monk in the painting. The lady shook her head. ‘It’s strange isn’t it? The legend tells of Prince Samuel and his followers making their crusade across the land, to fight Queen Raffi and her evil army, but the old texts specifically mention only nine monks. The tenth is a mystery. Even the artist who created this painting, and many of the paintings of the early crusades is a mystery.’

  Dashiell sighed, everything was always a mystery or out of reach. ‘You might be able to help me with something.’ he said, pulling the two pages he had ripped from a book out of his pocket.

  The lady examined it. ‘This type of cipher was used
quite commonly in the old days, those very monks would have used the same type of cipher to send messages to each other. You will need the key to solve it. Do you have any more information where this parchment came from, sometimes, clues were left if the key was hidden so the wrong people could not decipher the messages?’

  ‘What about in the book itself? You can see I’ve torn it out.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps, but perhaps not. Sometimes hiding the key in the book, or in the same object was too risky. The key to this could be anywhere.’

  Dashiell sighed again. ‘Thank you.’ He nodded, as he left the woman to continue about the museum alone.

  Dashiell knew the key wouldn’t be in the book. It would be something where there were no answers, every turn a dead end. If the key had of been in the book surely Eduard would have found it. Dashiell felt overwhelmed by the task his uncle had left him. Eduard was one of the smartest people Dashiell had ever known; he had three college degrees and was a professor on language and history. If he could not find a cure for this awful curse during his long and colourful life, then how would he be able to?

  As Dashiell continued through the sections of the museum, he noticed that a lot of the paintings had the same technique, and the strange little fellow kept appearing in many of the paintings. Dashiell found a section of old manuscripts, he skimmed over them, there was nothing much of interest, until he came to the word that stood out amongst all others! Claudius! The manuscript read:

  It has been a bitter Ever Frost in the monastery. Many of our crops have withered and died, and yet there is hope and good spirits among us. Prince Samuel has not given up hope for his quest, but he wishes to see his sister Princess Miranda again.