Hungry Heart - Book 5 - Ch. 17 (Patreon)

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine / Chapter Ten / Chapter Eleven / Chapter Twelve / Chapter Thirteen / Chapter Fourteen / Chapter Fifteen / Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen – We Are Also Heroes

Duril was all eyes and ears as the guardians dragged him away, along with Sogou’s unconscious form. He now regretted with all his heart that the young storyteller had gotten involved and had done so only because Duril had allowed him to join the quest for uncovering the dark secrets of Coinvale. Sogou would have remained unaware of the ugliness that bubbled beneath the surface – as Duril was convinced to be the case – if only he wasn’t so curious. For that, Duril was certain he would need to make amends later.

At the moment, all he could do was to pay attention to his surroundings. If they threw them in the same prison they had thrown Varg, there was a chance they would be reunited. With the valiant wolf by their side, they had a better fighting chance. Even now, as he was at the mercy of the guardians in their dark armor, Duril couldn’t help thinking of Toru. Where was he now? Was he away from danger, or had the guardians gotten to him, too?

He kept his head down to avoid drawing any attention to his person. The less interested the guardians were in him, the better. Even with his eyes cast down, he continued to observe all the places they went. It appeared that their jailers didn’t mind parading them all over the city, because after leaving the building of the Council they continued their march through the streets, clearly with a destination in mind. One that they didn’t care to share, obviously. The locals stared after them, a few women covering their mouths in unhidden shock. It was most likely that it didn’t often happen that the guardians of the city made an arrest and then flaunted the poor person all over Coinvale.

They reached a long narrow street away from the bustling crowd. Duril asked himself briefly if he would be able to retrace the path they had taken to the minutest detail of necessary, and the answer was a partial yes. The problem with the guardians’ strange route was that they had followed no rhyme or reason when they had taken their prisoners to this destination.

A large black door dominated the end of the path. What lay behind it was anyone’s guess. Duril didn’t want to be the one to get a close look at what that place could be. If it was a prison, that was a strange place for a jail where the enemies of the city could be thrown to await their trial. Would they even get a trial? Something told Duril that they would be lucky to be locked up in a jail like any other. But he didn’t think they were going to be lucky.

The guardian in front went to unlock the door, using a huge key that seemed to have been made for the hand of a giant. The hinges sighed from disuse, which told Duril exactly what he thought: that prison didn’t receive visitors often. On the contrary, he and Misar Sogou could very well be the first to be taken here in a long time. But if that were the case, where was Varg?

He didn’t have the time to ponder over such matters for long, because the guardians pushed him through the door, causing him to trip and stumble. After several seconds of grunts and hisses of pain as his back and joints met the sharp edges of a long flight of stairs, he found himself at the bottom. Sogou fell right on top of him, which was a small mercy because Duril knew himself to be sturdier than the lanky storyteller. Also, Sogou was still unconscious from the severe blow he had received from the guardian earlier.

With the same pathetic wail, the door closed above their heads, leaving them completely in the dark. It took Duril a couple of minutes to adjust his sight to their current surroundings. Slowly, the stairs took shape before him; as for the rest, the place looked like a part of the city’s sewer system, only there was no foul smell to justify this guess, nor pipes of any kind. Duril had the conviction that he would soon hear or see something that would make it clearer to him what nature this place had.

“Sogou,” he called out gently. There was no response from the young man, so Duril searched his bag of healing potions, which the guardians had no idea he had been wearing underneath the thick apron Sogou had found for him to help define his disguise as a blacksmith from Sheparon.

He held the young man with infinite care and wet his lips with one of the potions that could help him after taking such a blunt hit to the head. After a short wait that stretched to hours in Duril’s imagination, he heard a gasp from Sogou.

“Mr. Duril,” the storyteller asked groggily, “where do we happen to be?”

“The guardians threw us in here. Do you remember them? One of them hit you quite hard. I was hoping you would be able to open your eyes.”

“It’s all dark, I can’t see a thing,” Sogou complained. “And one of the guardians hit me, you say?”

“Yes. You were protesting, most likely too much for their taste. I shouldn’t have let you get involved,” Duril said with evident regret in his voice. “You wouldn’t be here. You would be at your desk, dreaming up stories.”

“Nonsense,” Sogou protested. “This is already the most adventurous thing that has ever happened to me. Let us see where we are. Hmm, what is that smell?”

Duril sniffed the air. There was no doubt about it. The smell of decay was growing slowly, as if someone was sending it to waft to them through the large corridor opening before them. Good thing he had his bag with him, as the thing was full of everything one needed, even a small torch and the fuel it needed to work.

“Are you sure you are all right? Doesn’t your head hurt at all?”

“Not really, I mean, a little. So I got hit by one of the guardians, you say? Too bad I lost consciousness so fast. I wish I would have fought a little!”

“I’m happy you didn’t,” Duril said with a shudder. “Who knows what they might have done to you, then?”

“Ah, I see. So you didn’t oppose them at all, Mr. Duril? You must have avoided doing so because of me,” Sogou said, sounding deflated by that possibility. “As a hero, you were probably burning with the desire to fight.”

“I’m afraid I’m not that sort of hero,” Duril replied. He managed to get the torch lit so it could throw some light around.

“Where are we?” Sogou asked and got to his feet by himself, which was a good sign.

“I suppose we have been thrown in jail for our misdeed,” Duril said. “I have no idea what this place is, but the guardians dragged us through several streets to get here. The citizens of Coinvale were given quite the show. I suppose our names will soon be widely known and we will be deemed enemies of your city. I’m terribly sorry, Sogou.”

“Don’t be, Mr. Duril. Is this a labyrinth? How exciting. It means that we need to use our wits, knowledge, and muscles to find a way out.”

The young man’s enthusiasm rubbed off on him a bit. Duril smiled and offered Sogou the small torch. “Can you hold on to this? I happen to see well enough in the dark, but you must watch your step.”

If only there were pieces of wood anywhere around to ask for advice. His hand twitched as if it understood what was required of it, just in case.

“How wonderful that you have such amazing abilities,” Sogou commented and accepted the torch. “I promise to hold on to it with all my might,” he promised.

The words had barely left his mouth when a tiny screech took them both by surprise. Sogou yelped and dropped the torch, making it fizzle out on the ground.

“It was only a rat, I suppose,” Duril said.

“Only a rat?” Sogou repeated, his voice meek and fading.

“Let me get that for you.” Duril retrieved the torch from the ground. Holding it under his arm, he managed to light it again. His fingers had developed a superior dexterity in the many years he’d had only that one hand.

It seemed that only then, his companion noticed the marks on the back of his hand under the flickering light of the torch.

“What strange markings,” Sogou murmured. “Do they stand for something? I believe they do.”

“Yes, you are correct. If only I could find a wooden door, or even a crate or the smallest piece of wood discarded or forgotten, I would be able to understand where we are a little more.”

“How would any of those things help?”

Duril smiled as he remembered the circumstances of receiving his gift. “These markings help me communicate with trees, but even wood that’s been dead for a long time can tell me many things.”

“That is incredible!” Sogou exclaimed.

Duril hushed him, glad for the dark, as his cheeks were already burning with delighted embarrassment. “Not as incredible as what my companions can do, especially Toru.”

“Do you believe that I will be able to witness his greatness, as well?” the young storyteller asked, keeping his hand wrapped tightly around the torch, the light wavering along the walls.

“I believe you will. All of us will.”

Sogou sighed. “So, if we find ourselves lost in here, will he come save us?”

“Let’s try to do that for ourselves first,” Duril said. “We are also heroes, remember?”

“Of course,” Sogou said loudly and then reprimanded himself in a murmur. “Of course, we are,” he added, his voice barely a whisper.

***

“If I release you gently, do you believe you could make a run for it?” Varg asked Vetor.

“No, please, don’t let go of me,” the curator pleaded. “I can shape myself a pair of arms, but I won’t be able to hold on to you, as I am weak.”

Varg heard a rumble, and there was no doubt in his mind that it was coming from the shard. “Well, esteemed curator,” he said, “it’s either that or I’ll have to fight one-handed.”

“Eek!”

Vetor could definitely say that twice, because a shadow pulled itself free from the shard and pounced on the floor.

“A wolfshifter?” Varg muttered, as the creature with eyes of fire staring him down from across the room seemed to have that shape precisely.

“Wolfshifter, don’t let go of me!” Vetor keened.

Varg thought on his feet. He opened his leather vest and stuffed Vetor inside, quickly fastening it back together. This way, he could use both hands to wield his heavy sword. What he couldn’t do was shift because then he would leave Vetor undefended.

“Hold on tight, any way you can,” he advised and lunged at his opponent.

His sword cut the phantasm in two, but it was that easy only because the shadow remade itself. Now it was baring its teeth, long fangs dripping with venom. Varg doubted anything of that creature of mist was anything but evil. His gut told him that he needed to ensure that the dripping fangs didn’t graze his skin, not even by accident. He jumped left and right, getting closer to the shard.

It didn’t seem to matter to the shadow wolfshifter if it got to get a claw or fang into Varg or not. It looked like its plan was to push him toward the shard.

Which meant that it was the one thing he had to avoid. He stepped aside, letting the shade swish past him. It was most likely a figment of his imagination, but the long fangs seemed to cut through the air as if through a shimmering veil.

Carefully, Varg moved toward the walls. They had gotten in there through an entrance, which could also serve as the exit. At his chest, Vetor was frantic.

“It’s going to get us,” the curator squealed.

“Don’t look!” Varg shouted at him. “I’ll keep dodging, but once we’re at the door, I’ll throw you down the corridor as far as I can. I must shift to fight this beast.”

“No, no, please, don’t throw me!”

“Do you want the shard to get you? Even I will grow tired after a while. You’re just postponing the inevitable this way.”

He wouldn’t let Vetor choose, because there was no choice to make. He sensed that the long hallway through which they had traveled opened behind him. He made a quick turn and, holding his sword with only one hand, he used the other to grab Vetor. He launched the ball of fur as far as his muscles would allow him. He didn’t have time to see if the curator had gone far enough to be safe because the growl of the creature behind him had him running for his life along the wall in the circular room.

The ghost’s jaws snapped at the side of his head, too close for comfort. In human shape, Varg was an excellent swordsman, but then he didn’t have the agility of his wolf by his side. That was his cue to use the best of himself to vanquish the beast hunting him.

He growled as his paws slid over the smooth floor as he turned to face the shadow. It took him a moment to realize that the pull of the shard had just increased ten-fold if not more. Was it because he had shifted? With all the strength that existed in his wolf he tried to pull away, but he was caught between the dark ghost and the shard.

Quickly, he had to shift back into his human! But in the midst of the transformation, the shard sucked him in. He knew it had happened because when he opened his eyes all he could see was a smooth wall made of black diamond.

***

Toru scrubbed at his eyes furiously. Demophios kept asking him who else he had to question about the locals’ ability to handle the fragments of the shard, which meant that he was as far from the answer as he could be.

“The only thing I didn’t ask about it is all this sand,” he said in frustration.

Demophios chuckled.

“Stop laughing,” Toru said morosely. “You know, while you’re here busy making my head big, who knows what’s happening to my friends? Claw is there, fighting the messengers, who are really unpleasant because they took my body. Varg is in a prison somewhere, and Duril--” He swallowed the ball stuck in his throat.

“Young tiger,” Demophios said in a kind voice, “the answer is inside you. And yes, you’re getting closer by asking about the sand. Your question must reach what it is that allows everything and everyone to be here.”

Toru snapped his head upward. “The Sungate?”

“I am proud of you, Toru.” Demophios’s voice was growing fainter. The snake in the sky was slowly paling, too.

“Hey, where are you going?” Toru shouted. “I still need you, Demophios!” He grabbed a handful of sand and threw it at the sky above as if such a futile act would keep the wise snake around.

“I will always watch over you, young tiger,” Demophios promised before he disappeared.

He had a goal now, to reach the Sungate. But how was he supposed to get out of this place? Would he be able to keep his body, the real one?

***

“It feels like we’ve been walking for a long time,” Sogou said at one point.

Duril had to remind himself that the young storyteller was nothing like his usual companions. His feet weren’t made for walking for hours, which they must have done by now. The walls were made of stone and granite, and not even the tiniest piece of timber could be found along their path. They were in a labyrinth of sorts, only the hallways they traveled were very long and seldom turned left or right.

Their trip was aimless, Duril thought, but then he remembered Claw and his imprisonment. The bearshifter had survived in that place for centuries.

Of course, it was preferable that they didn’t end up relying on the small rodents squealing about them now and then as their source of food. Also, Sogou wasn’t made for any of this.

“Let’s rest.”

Sogou didn’t need to be told twice. He sat by Duril’s side, and it took him little time to start snoring softly. His naïveté made Duril chuckle. Although their situation appeared troublesome, nothing would deter the young storyteller from believing this was a big adventure in which good would prevail, as it always did in fairytales.

That left him as the guardian of both of them for now. He listened closely, as he stretched all his senses to understand the place around them. The stones underneath weren’t as cold as he expected them to be. It made Duril wonder about their nature, because any cave dug underground should have been cold.

He was about to doze off despite his better judgement when a low hiss startled him wide awake. Without moving so that he didn’t disturb the still sleeping Sogou, he focused all of his attention on what his ears could catch. Yes, a noise was present, and it was coming closer.

At the end of the long hallway they had been moving through a light flickered. Duril watched it without blinking.

Yes, the sound and the light both were drawing near. Since his hearing wasn’t half-bad, he was surprised to realize that he was catching fragments of a… conversation? No, it was most likely a monologue. Someone was there, talking to themselves. Another convict thrown into this underground prison?

It was impossible to tell whether they were friend or foe. Still, it was the first sign of life they had met since their imprisonment. Duril patted Sogou’s shoulder and hushed him from the moment the young storyteller showed signs that he was awake.

“Someone is here,” he whispered.

“Who?” Sogou craned his neck, trying to see without moving as he quickly understood the importance of remaining undetected, at least for now.

“I don’t know. I doubt they’re one of the guardians,” Duril offered his opinion. “They sound… troubled, I think.”

Sogou surprised him by getting to his feet. He straightened his clothes, even as Duril tried to get him to sit down. “Let me not be so useless, Mr. Duril. If it is an inhabitant of Coinvale, I should greet them properly and strike up a conversation.”

“They could be a criminal for all we know.” Duril caught Sogou’s sleeve, trying to stop him but without drawing unnecessary attention to them.

“And we’ve just been treated as criminals, too,” Sogou reminded him. “Hey there! Hello!” he began shouting in a friendly voice. “We’d be thankful if you could tell us about this place.”

The light flickered, and the noise stopped. Then, whatever or whoever it was barreled toward them.

“Watch out!” Duril jumped to his feet and pushed Sogou behind him with a sweep of his arm. He had proven himself in the Great Barren, and the blood of his sire coursed through his veins. If that someone turned violent, he would do his best to protect Sogou and himself.

All worries went out of his mind only to be replaced by curiosity as his eyes made out the source of the light. It was a very small person who had reached a height of no more than fifteen inches above the ground from his estimation.

And it could hardly be called a person, because it didn’t have the shape of a being, be it human or creature.

It was… round, for lack of a better word to explain its shape.

“Hello,” Sogou said in the same solicitous voice as before, as he stepped out from behind Duril. “We seem to be lost. We’re wondering if you might have some information that could be helpful to us.”

“Information?” the dark round shape asked in a clear voice. “Information is a very vast term. Information about what?”

Duril watched Sogou from the corner of one eye. The young storyteller didn’t seem in the least intrigued by the fact that he was talking to a dark ball. However, he was rubbing his hands together nervously, which meant that he was keeping his wits about himself with difficulty.

“What is this place?”

“This place is where criminals are sent,” the ball said slowly. “Who are you?” Then, suddenly, as if it remembered something important, it began wailing, “What am I doing, making conversation, when the shard ate the wolfshifter?”

“Wolfshifter?” Duril stepped forward, making the round shape roll back in what seemed to be fear. “What wolfshifter? Is he here? What is his name?”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Duril, I travel with a wolfshifter.”

“Are you a shapeshifter, as well?”

“No, unfortunately I’m not,” Duril replied.

“Not unfortunately! Come quickly, we must fight the shard!”

“What shard? What sort of shard?” Sogou asked, sounding quite troubled by the possibility they would have to engage in a fight of any type.

“We’ll see when we get there,” Duril replied. “Follow me, Sogou! Shout if you fall behind! We must save Varg!”

“Varg, Varg, yes, that is the name of the shapeshifter,” the dark ball squealed in excitement. “We must save him!”

“I’m coming!” Sogou announced as he began running right behind Duril, clutching the torch in his hand. “What an amazing adventure! By the way, can you tell us your name, esteemed guide?”

“I am Vetor, the curator of the Market of the Damned,” the ball replied. “Come, come, time’s a wasting!”

***

It looked like he didn’t have to wonder about how to get across the Aureate Sea, because he only needed to blink once and he found himself right in front of the Sungate, where the story of his – and his friends’ – passage through was set in stone.

“I have a question for you,” he asked without a trace of hesitation.

TBC

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