Night of The Vampire Wolves by Arthur Davis
Theron stepped out of the small trench he had dug in the middle of the broad expanse of the Morland Basking Plain. Dry and measured to perfection, a place for him to wait. The craftsmanship looked like it was created by the hand of God.
The year-old wolves would be coming up from the south. For generations, when the beasts grew into adulthood, they hungered for human flesh and would travel north attacking any tribe or settlement.
“We will train and armor you, and you will be prepared for the next generation.”
Theron remembered Tomlin’s gaze, now nearly ten years ago. The elders had selected the young man to take on the challenge to defend his people and many other tribes far beyond the crest of the endless Morland.
“I will honor the purpose of my destiny,” he said in return, as was the ancient response.
Segus, the Grandmaster of his tribe, before Theron was turned over to Tomlin, instructed, “You must learn the way of the wolves from their first attack of our forefathers,” he said, pointing to ancient cave paintings, “who wrote along this and many cave walls.”
As the morning grew into a sun-struck afternoon, the image of a charging horde of vampire wolves dissolved into the vision of Molly, the youngest daughter of an Elder of a remote tribe.
He had seen her days ago at a tribal gathering. He was stricken by her beauty, quickly doubting the stories of her powers.
& & &
Theron stood tall, at ease. As though there was no reason to fear. No regrets. Nothing that might compromise his inevitably. He had been waiting for days, as there was no way to predict when the wolves would gather, when they would be overcome with hunger and work themselves into a frenzy of rage and move north, first flooding into the narrow passage of the Morland Glen.
The northern vampire wolves ranged in the high mountains and were half again the size of the lower, less aggressive, grassland variety of the ancient species. The northern wolves possessed longer claws, heavy serrated fangs, and a thick grey-black coat of fur that could swallow a man’s hand. Their heads were enormous. Their countersunk eyes blazed red in the night.
Long ago, skilled hunters sought them out before the next generation bred. Over fifty of the bravest were chosen from all the tribes. A powerful force that took its cautious time. From the few that returned was learned that the vampire wolves, with the aid of great Mountain Hawks, were waiting. They attacked the hunters’ encampment in the blackest of night.
“There will be two hundred of them,” Tomlin said.
“Are we so sure of their number?” Theron asked, knowing and the answer.
“A year after they’re born, their mothers become weak. Too spent to live. The older males are left to themselves and over time disband and move south toward the forbidden seas, we believe, mourning for their loss.”
“A sad tale,” Theron said, returning to the moment he first sighted the young woman.
“Yes, sad, and yet they know what to do and where they can find fresh flesh, unless someone stops them.”
“And why one man?” he asked, having long ago accepted his role and the challenge he believed was his destiny.
“Because every generation we field have been consumed by their collective fears. It corrupts their collective purpose. We are, by nature, not warriors.”
“And when was the last time a single man stopped the onslaught of vampire wolves?”
“We’ll know the answer to that after you first see them breach the wall of the Morland Forest.”
& & &
“May the gods grant this young man the bravery and courage to overcome the beasts that threaten our future,” Tomlin said, his hands firmly set on the young man’s broad shoulders after walking him to the sacred center of the Morland.
A single raven appeared overhead as Tomlin left his side.
At the start of every spring the vast meadow surrounded by a deep forest possessed the essence of sweetness that drew animals from around the region. There was a scattering of elk, deer, wild dogs, a world of smaller creatures and birds that flew in unpredictable swarms overhead.
The Morland was so vast streams and small rivers cut through its borders. This land was sacred. A blessing to all those who lived off its bounty.
As Tomlin disappeared, the single raven spiraled down, briefly hung overhead, and finally landing next to Theron. The glow of its coal-black wings slowed to a standstill.
“Welcome my friend,” Theron said, already aware of the large bird’s role in the coming battle.
“Welcome,” the raven returned.
Theron looked down at the raven as if they had known each other forever. “I’m honored to have you at my side,” he said.
For an eternal moment there was nothing in the world except man and creature, as though they had become one. Theron sensed time passing, but only between him and the raven. No matter the outcome of the battle, they would be at each other’s side. It heartened Theron that he wasn’t alone.
The raven suddenly fluttered above Theron, pitched around, and squawked. “There.”
Theron focused on a distant breech in the forest wall. “I see it,” he said as the raven spread its wings and shot into the air.
He closed his eyes and watched from the raven’s gaze as the bird flew high and out of sight.
“I see them,” the bird said.
Theron saw them too.
Segus and Tomlin had warned, “Heed the ravens. They might well determine the outcome of the battle.”
Theron’s life had been building to this moment. His birth was a gift to his tribe and those far and wide where the vampire wolf preyed. One man and one axe and two hundred raging vampire wolves. Legend had it that if you were bitten, your remains would quickly rot, and you would be incarnated into one of the packs that killed you.
There were many legends about giant vampire wolves. In Theron’s world there were legends about many things.
Theron tried to see himself as a vampire wolf. No matter how he tried to understand the beast, the vision of Molly wouldn’t relent. His heart pounded. Growing up, all he knew was training that consumed his days. Out here, in the center off the Morland, another reason to fight gave him an unexpected glow.
“In the blink of an eye I was taken by your beauty,” he said to the wind. “You bring me hope and fires my purpose.”
& & &
His hand axe was sharp and ready.
“A gift from of our people,” Tomlin explained that it was blessed by the gods of the heaven and earth.
Theron hefted the finely polished double blade axe in his right hand, an extension of his body, heart, and soul. It had been at his side since he was pledged. He knew it well. The axe knew as much of its master.
“Soon, my brother,” he said to the axe as the sun crested overhead. “Very soon we will learn if either of us is worthy of the Gods.”
The raven swept up into the clouds beyond the forest wall to the far edge of the range of snowcapped mountains that Theron’s people claimed gave birth to all mankind.
“Hundreds,” the raven said as he scanned the horizon.
Theron shared the raven’s vision and the roiling turmoil of the wolves as the mass heaved and howled, churning up the ground into an impregnable brown froth of dust and dirt. He knew what the raven knew. There would be a moment when the beasts paused, and their leader, the largest and most ferocious, would start a slow trot after passing through the confined Morland Glen and into the thicket of oak and cedar trees surrounding the Morland Plain.
The raven clung to the cloud bank, hovering a thousand feet in the sky. The bird screeched until another bird could be seen in the distance, followed by a small swarm of ravens that had been called to this moment. Theron was relieved to see the formation.
“I’m ready,” he said to himself, remembering of Molly’s flashing brown eyes and thick brown hair that tumbled effortlessly down her back.
In many ways Theron wanted to prove himself to his tribe. Each of the tribes was already preparing if Theron couldn’t fight off the attack.
& & &
A sweep of dark gray clouds formed at the far southern end of the meadow as the lead vampire wolf moved forward. Even from that distance the size of the beast was formidable. The formation behind the beast flanked out, preparing for the charge.
The ravens found a perch in the canopy of a high oak that had lived for generations. What they saw was shared with Theron until the formation of ravens exploded into a frenzied view. Theron strained to find his raven. What he finally caught sight of was a giant mountain hawk with its long talons clutching the throat of his raven. Then they disappeared over the southern horizon.
What advantage he had was lost. The wolf pack had a better plan than he did. Over the years he and the raven had become one. A brotherhood of courage and competence. Now he was alone.
Letting the double-edged axe slip to the ground, he spotted a break in the far western edge of the Morland. Another band of wolves broke through a distance from the lead pack.
“Two. There are two of you?”
Finally, off to his left a dozen wolves hundreds of feet away cracked into the open. He was surrounded.
“Three,” he said, half admiring a strategy that had all the markings of success.
The pack to his left was smaller, and closer. Not one of the wolves broke stride, as if they were in no rush to claim their prize. One man divided by two hundred wolves, he reasoned, made for a hardly a mouthful each.
“I will miss you,” he said to Molly and the wind.
There was no longer music from the creatures of the Morland. Their delight was silenced by the fear of the coming carnage.
The loss of the ravens was immediate and fearful. If he had any ally, it was the ability to see oncoming threats. There might be more than three hordes of vampire wolves waiting to pounce. But he couldn’t tell. He was forced into defending himself on three sides instead of one, as Segus and Tomlin advised.
The vampire wolves were more clever than all the years of mankind.
Theron felt himself losing hope while the wolves paused in frozen silence. He wasn’t expecting that either. Segus and Tomlin had detailed how the attack would go, and yet this was unexpected, eating away at his confidence. Theron didn’t want to die, especially without having given an account of himself.
He turned around several times in case there were other breeches in the forest wall.
When he swung back toward the south, he stepped back in shock. There was an image poised several times the height of a man hovering between himself and the main southern force. It glowed, infusing the entire Morland in a yellow haze.
“What?” was all he could muster.
The back of the apparition was cloaked in a golden cape head to foot. He couldn’t make out who or what it was from behind. Its cape fluttered in the gentle afternoon wind.
“Who are you?” Theron asked, certain the phantasm was too far away to hear. “Are you a god?”
The figure lifted its right arm from which a glow extended to the band of wolves on his right. When it struck, their snarling and barking was silenced. Their fury turned into a world of hollow whimpers of fear. Theron had been around enough dogs to understand that much. A few let out a last snarl and, head bowed, turned away. The rest of the pack slowly followed. By then the pack to his left was jumping and barking in a collective froth. When the apparition’s left hand was raised and the glow from that extension struck the pack, they growled fearlessly and jumped in a frenzy. Finally they turned and fled.
& & &
“You’re mine now,” Theron growled with confidence as he moved on the massive southern pack.
While first unsettled, the pack stood its ground. Half the wolves of the force, many of the largest and most fierce, clawed against the ground with their forepaws and snarled, exposing their fangs.
There was no fear of what had scattered their two other packs. Nothing was going to deter their claim on mankind.
Before breaking into a charge Theron turned back to see who or what had come to his rescue, but the visage had vanished along with his recall of a gold chain clinging to the back of its neck. No matter, he thought, now thundering toward the deafening howl of hungry vampire wolves.
The clash of warrior and wolves could be heard beyond the Morland Basking Plain. Tribes paused in their tracks, understanding it had begun. Many dropped to their knees, praying for their safety. None expected the young man to survive.
Time blazed into an incandescent haze as the forest creatures watched the fury in their kingdom. They witnessed a single human swarmed by a legion of massive animals. The slashing silver axe was at once everywhere and anywhere. It was grinding its way through the convulsion of battle. Wolves surrounded the human on all sides, but it didn’t matter. As one lunged, they were cut, most in half, by the silver axe that slashed through the air, flesh, and bone.
Many were flung aside as the young man plowed forward.
Time passed, and flesh, fur, bone, and blood flew. The walls of the Morland forest were choked with small creatures understanding that whoever won there was a lifetime of food for the taking. Then it was over. A splatter of red decorated the land. A scene of shattered and dying animals. Many limped away, their bodies cut and broken. Their heads lowered, spent in whimpering defeat.
& & &
Theron woke as if he had just come out of a dream and rolled away from the dead wolf which had fallen at his side. It wasn’t breathing. Its once red eyes were open but faded to black.
Speechless and in shock, he scanned the Morland.
“I, ah, don’t,” he stammered in disbelief, unable to grasp what had happened. He was alive, if just barely.
He worked through the pain that consumed his body and heaved himself upright.
His axe was soaked in red as was the earth underfoot. Dead and shattered wolves littered the land. There were terrible howls of pain that Theron extinguished as he moved among them. Much of his right arm and shoulder were covered in harsh bleeding wounds. A searing pain scorched his back. His left leg was badly cut, but it held.
He turned but the phantasm wasn’t there. The Morland was silent.
“So, I’m alive,” Theron admitted, shaking his head in disbelief.
That night he slept against the base of a giant oak on the fringe of the Morland. He knew he was badly injured but had no energy left to save himself. He would never get back to Segus and Tomlin and had no fabric or ointments to treat his wounds.
He also knew that there might be wolves returning to the Morland. It didn’t matter.
He knew he would never see Molly again. He had reluctantly confessed his love for the young girl to Segus, as Tomlin would have considered it a distraction.
“You love the girl?” Segus asked.
“I do.”
“I know of her,” Segus said as they walked together days before he left for the Morland.
Theron was surprised. “How?”
Segus paused, thoughtful. “I know her family. And I know the gold chain you saw her first wearing is a sign of a soulspirit.”
“She is beautiful,” was all Theron could manage, expecting to be cautioned of her powers.
He’d heard of soulspirits. Even in the brief time he noticed her, those who walked past her nodded thankfully. Soulspirits were said to have miraculous powers to heal. But here was a limit to their powers, and as those powers were consumed, so were their days.
The phantasm was Molly, recalling what Segus had said about the gold chain and amulet. He was certain. She had saved his life but never turned her powers on the large southern pack. Had she spent her life to save his?
He took a last look around the Morland and up at the sky, anticipating an attack from Mountain Hawks, when a small squirrel jumped from a thicket and stared up at him.
“Do you know where my name comes from, little friend? No? It means ‘hunter,’” Theron said so softly he could hardly hear his own words. “Hunter. I once was one anyway.”
The small fluffy creature looked over at the red-stained axe, back at the stranger, and scampered back into the forest.
Theron knew he had been bitten several times in the struggle. He considered that when he died, he would rot and be incarnated into one of the pack that killed him. Theron pondered about what remained of his short future.
It was late afternoon of the second day before Theron caught sight of a group of men approaching on foot. He grasped his axe and squinted, trying to make out if they were friend or foe. What did it matter? He couldn’t defend himself, and his wounds were already too great to overcome.
Still, he was unable to release the axe shank from his grip and managed a slight smile. “I have done all that was asked of me,” he said several times before giving in to darkness as Segus, Tomlin, and other elders rushed tearfully to his side.
* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Arthur Davis 2026
Image Source: Dey from Fictom.com