Hungry Heart - Book 5 - Ch. 18 (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

Chapter Eighteen – The Secret of Coinvale

The gate remained silent at first. Toru had a mind to doubt Demophios’s judgment, although there could be no explanation why he was right here, in front of the Sungate, in his own body, waiting for an answer. No explanation other than the one offered by the old and wise snake. If he was here, he needed to have faith. This gate had gladly self-carved to portray Toru’s passing through, which meant that its spirits had a good idea why he was asking such a question.

A deep rumble vibrated through him as the symbols engraved on the gate moved.

“You are not going to give me a puzzle to solve now, right?” Toru asked. “I doubt there’s time for it.”

A low voice emerged from the now animated stone structure. “You are asking a lot of us, young tiger.”

“It’s a simple question. The shard is evil. Are you evil, too?”

“Such answers are not meant for this world to know.”

“If you think you can play with my mind to make me believe whatever you want, you better think again,” Toru warned. “Since I now have my tiger, I can pound you into dust.”

“Only because of that? Is that where your true power lies?”

“You’re trying to trick me,” Toru accused. “I will not fall for your silly traps. I am who I am, because of my heart, the one that beats inside my chest. That won’t ever get changed by appearances or whims of fate.”

“We’ve been told you’re a simple creature, and yet, you appear to have wisdom, too.”

Toru puffed his chest out but then stopped himself just in time from appearing too boastful. For all he knew, the Sungate and its spirits could very well be in cahoots with Hekastfet and the shard that had been brought here from the mines of Sheparon.

“Very well. Ask us again,” the voice from the gate encouraged him in what now seemed like a pleasant tone.

“Why are the people of Coinvale unaffected by having these shard fragments in their homes? How come they could touch such an embodiment of evil without suffering any of the repercussions others would be affected by?”

“What do you know of Hekastfet, Toru?”

The question took him by surprise. “It’s not fair that you’re asking me questions instead of replying to mine. I will answer, nonetheless. Hekastfet is the name of the evil that tries to destroy the world. My family fought him, as I did. But since evil has a hard time dying, he is trying to take over the world again. Broken into many shards, he infects the entire world we’re living in.”

“For you, Hekastfet is now in a shape that can’t be used by him to fight against you.”

Toru shrugged. “How is that important? Regardless of his shape, his powers are great, and the people of Coinvale should know better.  How come they don’t realize its dark power?”

“What’s for them to realize? They see only the good things that come of it.”

“There’s nothing good coming out of it,” Toru snapped. “Now answer my question. I am not here to listen to whatever reasons these people believe are good for using the power of evil to their benefit.”

“How many shard fragments are out there, Toru?”

“Nine-hundred-ninety-nine,” he replied promptly.

“One short of a whole.”

Toru frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“Do we have to spell it out for you? You are, it seems, a simple creature indeed.”

“I’m not simple.” Toru closed his fists. “I just don’t like the way ancient creatures and witches and whatever you are talk. Instead of saying things as they are, you prefer to go at it in such strange, roundabout ways. Spit it out. Is there another shard fragment hidden somewhere that I can’t see?”

“Not a fragment. A whole shard,” the gate replied. “It is hidden, yes. You can’t see it. But it is useless to gather all of the other fragments spread over Coinvale if you don’t go to the source that keeps this place alive.”

“Another shard? When did that have the time to get here? Or was it mined from Sheparon, as well?” Toru questioned.

“No, it wasn’t mined from Sheparon, and it has been here for a very long time.”

Toru frowned. “But how could that be? It wasn’t very long ago that I defeated Hekastfet, forcing him to take this shape.”

“That is quite the dilemma, isn’t it, young tiger? We have given you all the answers we can offer. To find out more, you will have to go to the one place in Coinvale that has never been touched by the power of a dark shard.”

“Is there even such a place? It looks to me like everyone in this city wanted to use Hekastfet to do their laundry faster,” Toru said with a snort.

“It is up to you to find it, young tiger.”

The words had barely drifted from the gate to him when his surroundings changed. It all happened in the blink of an eye, but he found himself on the streets of Coinvale and back in Mako’s body.

“I hate this,” Toru said through his teeth, looking around.

***

“Forgive me if I am the one to display his lack of knowledge on the topic the most, but is there a strategy to fight an evil shard?” Sogou asked breathlessly, while running after Duril and Vetor.

“We’ll think about it on our feet,” Duril shouted over his shoulder. “It’s impossible to know what we’re dealing with until we get there.”

“Just like in any adventure,” Sogou said cheerfully, although his ragged breath was enough of a sign to show that the young storyteller was getting exhausted and fast.

“Hurry, hurry, the shard likes to eat shapeshifters,” Vetor squealed.

“It’s good for us that we’re not that sort,” Duril joked, although he could feel his lungs starting to burn from their running. Varg was in trouble, and no effort would be spared to render him assistance.

Vetor took them down a long corridor, so they had to run single file to reach a door at its end. The curator stopped abruptly. “I can’t go any farther than here, because I’m a shapeshifter and the shard will eat me.”

“Is the shard in that room?” Duril asked, only slowing down. not stopping altogether.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sogou called from the back. “I don’t want to be the doubting one, but what if this is all a trap?”

“Are you accusing me of lying?” Vetor squealed.

Duril stopped. It hadn’t crossed his mind. He had just trusted Vetor because the ball of fur had said Varg’s name. And also, he couldn’t feel an ounce of evil coming from the curator, despite what his mind told him he ought to question.

Sogou crossed his arms. Even if, only earlier, he had shown an incredible trust in a stranger by questioning him about the nature of this place, he was now the one willing to doubt the same stranger’s goodwill.

“I’m telling the truth,” Vetor said, bouncing around. “How can I prove it to you? I can’t go in there!”

“Because you’re a shapeshifter?” Sogou shook his head. “No, this is the part in a story where the heroes are easily fooled into falling into a trap because of their good hearts and trustworthy nature.”

“This isn’t a story, Sogou,” Duril said kindly. “I’m not doubting your good judgment, but in this case, I’d rather go with what I feel inside. And I believe Vetor. If Varg is in trouble, every moment could be crucial for his survival. Even if it’s a trap waiting for us on the other side of this door, I will still go through it if it means I have the slightest chance to help my friend.”

“That sounds exactly like what a hero would say,” Sogou said, nodding gravely. “I will follow you, Mr. Duril, even if it means jeopardizing our lives.”

“I believe that it’s safer if you wait for me here. After all, if you have certain suspicions, it is ideal that you stay behind to keep an eye on our newfound friend,” Duril suggested.

“I am indeed a friend,” Vetor squealed.

“And a shapeshifter,” Sogou said in an ironic tone. “It’s hard for me to believe it.”

“Do you believe it now?” Vetor suddenly grew a pair of arms, white as milk, that reached for Sogou suddenly.

“Mr. Duril, wait for me, I’m coming,” the storyteller shouted and ran after Duril.

The door was closed, and Duril paused for a moment to collect himself. Whatever lay on the other side, he needed to be prepared. He couldn’t allow a bad thing to happen to anyone in their party if he could help it. Even if the others were stronger than he was, it didn’t mean that he could neglect his own responsibilities.

“I’m ready,” he encouraged himself and opened the door.

Sogou followed soon after and closed the door behind them. They were inside a circular room, with a pedestal in its center. There was no doubt about it. A shard lay on the pedestal, and Duril felt his life being sucked out through his nostrils for a moment. He experienced only a slight difficulty in breathing properly and nothing more. But it had been enough to let fear sneak inside him.

“That is an astonishing thing,” Sogou mumbled. “Why does my heart ache at the sight of it?”

“I believe we are in the presence of pure evil, my young friend,” Duril said. “If you’re scared, you can hold my hand.”

“Nonsense. This is the time for me to prove my mettle,” Sogou declared in a shaky voice that didn’t match his words. “How are we supposed to fight this thing? And Mr. Varg is inside it? The shard looks so… inert.”

Duril nodded. “And yet, we are both feeling its evil power.”

“Yes. I’m afraid to breathe, as the air carries with it a stench that could be deemed poisonous,” Sogou said. “Although I am breathing, as I am sure to fall dead if I try to go on without doing so.”

Duril smiled at the storyteller’s frankness. He moved closer to the shard to inspect it. Its surface was as smooth as glass, but there was no reflection to be found when someone looked directly at it. As he had noticed when examining the other shards they had encountered, this one also seemed to suck the light out of any place it occupied, be it a room or somewhere under the open sky.

It only hit him after looking at the thing from all angles.

“This isn’t an ordinary shard,” he murmured. “This seems to be as big as the thing it was supposed to have been broken from.”

“The Heart of Tradeweaving was definitely smaller than this,” Sogou said. “If the council of merchants learn of the existence of this huge stone, they would love to divide it into small pieces and cause Coinvale to become even more productive than the city already is.”

Duril took a step back. Was it the realization of this thing being another shape of the evil they had been fighting for so long making him dizzy? Or was the shard doing something to him? His missing arm hurt with the sort of ghost-like pain that hadn’t visited him in years. He looked down and gasped when he realized that he had both hands. He lifted his arm, the one that wasn’t supposed to be there.

“Is this a dream?” he asked out loud.

“If it’s your wish, I can grant it.”

Duril turned on his heel. Gone was the room with the shard. He was in a field under the naked sky, at noon. Several feet away, a tall man dressed in black studied him carefully.

“I do not wish it. I’ve been tempted before,” Duril said, aware of the nature of that apparition. If Hekastfet, or that part of him that had chosen to manifest like this, hoped to sway his belief, he’d better think again.

“There is a big difference between what mere witches can do and what I can,” the man in black said. His head was covered with thin hair, easily stirred by the wind. Even from that distance, Duril could clearly see the deep wrinkles set at the corners of his eyes. However, it was difficult to say whether he was young or old.

“I’m not interested. Whatever you think you can achieve with this phantasm, you should reconsider. I am here to fight you.”

“You may do as you wish, but first you will listen to my offer.” The man stopped as if he needed to hear a confirmation from Duril that he could continue. Receiving no reply nor confirmation of any sort from the other, he opened his mouth again. “All I need is a powerful shapeshifter. A wolf may not be as good as a tiger, but he has his uses. You can return to the world above along with your beloved tigershifter and live happily ever after with him. Leave us, and I will make it happen.”

“I don’t understand how you can possibly believe that proposing such a thing would make me abandon my friend. I shall earn my quiet and peaceful life with my beloved tiger without your help.”

“As expected,” the man said as if suddenly bored by their conversation. “But I managed to keep your attention long enough.”

“What?”

“Mr. Duril!”

Sogou’s piercing cry made his heart jump in his throat. He was back in the shard room, and what he saw before his eyes made his hair stand on end. The young storyteller’s back was plastered against the shard and it looked like the thing was devouring him slowly. Black tendrils already covered his face like gnarled fingers grasping at him to drag him inside.

The young storyteller’s eyes shone with tears. “This is all part of a big adventure, right, Mr. Duril? We’re going to laugh about this later. Right?”

Duril hurried to his friend and tried to grab him by the front of his shirt. He jerked his hand back as if it had been burned because Sogou’s clothes were as hot as if they had been made from lava.

“I’ll save you,” he promised.

Sogou gasped when Duril brought his fist back and smacked it against the smooth surface, close to the young man’s head. The storyteller fell forward, dropping to the ground.

“Mr. Duril,” he cried out, “you really saved me!”

He barely had the time to say that; a dark shape materialized from the shard, turning into a hand and grabbing at Sogou’s ankle. Duril didn’t hesitate and brought his heel down upon it. The shape disappeared; the surface of the shard remained as glassy as ever.

“How did you know that would work, Mr. Duril?” Sogou asked, his voice full of amazement.

“I didn’t,” Duril admitted. “It was just the first thing I felt I should do to save you. Since I’m rather a man of letters and potions, I have to say that I am just as surprised as you are that it worked.”

“I’m grateful, thank you for saving me.”

Duril offered the young man his hand to help him to his feet. Sogou stared at the shard, barely keeping his fear in check. It was natural to feel so, especially for someone who had never been in the clutches of evil before.

“Now what are we supposed to do to fight this thing?”

***

The shard must have had some plan to torment him if it was allowing him to see Duril and Sogou as if through a looking glass, their puzzlement, fear and astonishment evident while trying to get the thing to break. It was too bad that he was immobilized here, without even the possibility of shouting at his friends to let them know that he was inside.

Vetor, Varg thought. He must have guided Duril here. But why was Sogou, the young storyteller of Coinvale, there as well? They must have committed a crime and been condemned by the obscure Rules for Harmony. No matter the reason, they were there, which meant that he had allies.

If only there was something for him to do to allow him to make his contribution. Varg tried in vain to move his limbs or use his voice. Such things must have been taken away from him by the evil shard. However, there was one domain in which this shape of Hekastfet – which the shard had to be – had no power, and that was Varg’s mind.

He closed his eyes. Apparently, the shard wanted a shapeshifter for whatever plans it had. At the same time, it had to be afraid of shapeshifters as it had to know that Toru had defeated its master. A thought kept running round and round in his head. Why was this shard so large? It would be impossible to fit into Toru’s shoulder, and it couldn’t possibly be part of the Hekastfet the young tiger had defeated.

An unpleasant thought began taking shape in his mind. What if Hekastfet had siblings? Other evildoers spread across the face of Eawirith, meant to create ruin and suffering everywhere they went? The presence of this shard, buried here for who knew how long, would then make sense. A sense that Varg would have rather preferred not be the truth.

Such choices were a luxury, of course. Varg sensed another thought coming to him. An image rather taking shape in his mind, a long row of wolfshifters coming forward as if they wanted him to bear witness to what was about to happen.

***

“Demophios, you must be laughing at me so much right now,” Toru mumbled as he walked through the streets of Coinvale. Claw was fighting the boat riders, Varg was imprisoned, and Duril had to hide. And while all these things were happening, he had to walk around aimlessly because everywhere he looked there was a shard fragment taunting him, or at least the ghost of one. He could safely assume that the place he was looking for wasn’t one of the houses not rich enough to benefit from a shard fragment. The way he saw it, the presence of those shard fragments had poisoned every neighborhood, and what he was looking for was…

Purity. He didn’t need to look for shard fragments. He needed to look for places where not even a shadow of such a thing was present. His weak legs could still carry him.

“Think, Toru, think,” he encouraged himself. “It must be an important place. It can’t be an inn or anything of the sort. They use shard fragments to prepare delicious steaks.” His mouth watered, and his stomach growled, reminding him of how he had skipped at least a meal or two. “And soups. Yes, watery soups that you must eat with tasteless bread,” he told himself to prevent his hunger from taking over his mind. “No, such places cannot be what I’m looking for.”

He was again in one of the affluent parts of the city, but here, the lavish houses and buildings reveled in their shard fragments which Toru could see as wounds carved into the foundations of the beautiful structures that were unaware of the rot consuming them from inside their own bowels.

He was about to turn on his heel and make himself scarce in search of other areas, when he rather sensed than saw that what he was looking for had to be there, close by.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” he told himself when he stopped in front of a tall grey building that looked nothing like the beautifully adorned places he had seen so far.

The frontispiece was easy to read, even for someone with as little knowledge of letters as he had.

“Library,” he said slowly while he made out each letter and each sound. “Some wacky old people like the sort Elidias and Agatha are must live here. They don’t need evil shards to boil an egg, I’m sure.”

With that last encouragement he gave himself, he climbed the stairs and stopped in front of the large doors. He shrugged. “Let’s hope that they won’t be as cryptic as Demophios.”

The doors opened before he could knock. Two pairs of intelligent eyes stared at him. The two men looked more like monks than librarians.

“Welcome, stranger. We have been waiting for you,” they said at the same time as if they’d shared the same womb.

It definitely felt like walking into one when he stepped over the threshold. There was no sign of a shard fragment here. That gave him hope.

TBC

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