Hungry Heart - Book 5 - Ch. 20 (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 / Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty – At the End of Time

Toru had to put down the drumstick he’d been devouring so he could gawk at Amimi Kota properly. “Other shifters? I thought it was only tigers who had to fight Hekastfet.”

“What do you know of time, Toru?”

“That it flies too fast?” Toru replied with a question. He shrugged. “I don’t bother myself with this sort of thing. They are for librarians like you, witches like Agatha, or old snakes who like talking in riddles like Demophios. I’m just a simple tiger.”

To his dismay, the Head Librarian burst into laughter again. “Such modesty has not been heard of among the others. But let’s not lose precious time with riddles, as you say. Toru,” Amimi Kota switched to a lecturing tone, raising one arm, “time is endless. Do you understand that?”

“I guess,” Toru said with another shrug.

“Hekastfet will only be defeated for good at the end of time.”

“That’s like saying never,” Toru said and this time, he quirked an eyebrow while staring at the old librarian. “Is this what you’re saying? But that would make my quest useless.”

“No, not useless, just different from what you believe it to be.”

Toru smacked one fist into his other open palm. “What I have to do is find all the shard fragments, get them together and then break them into fine dust.”

The librarian quirked an eyebrow back at him. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Toru searched his mind and then nodded. “You’re probably talking about Te’cla. But I don’t need him. You can tell me where Nelsikkar is.”

The way Amimi Kota shook his head didn’t sit right with him. “I can’t, Toru. But you don’t have to let yourself be caught in that dilemma right now. You must go to Te’cla once you have all the shard fragments. That is your destiny.”

“What’s he going to do with them?” Toru asked and reached half-heartedly for a piece of fruit. Duril would laugh if he saw him reluctantly putting such things in his mouth. But this one, red and juicy, seemed all right to eat.

“What you probably already suspect. He’s searching for absolute power.”

“Then I shouldn’t go to him with them. Maybe I should just forget about Nelsikkar,” Toru said slowly. “After all, I can build another home with my friends.”

“You can, but you can’t avoid this, Toru. You will have to do it.”

“But it doesn’t make any sense. I mean, if Te’cla becomes all powerful, I’ve fought for nothing. And not only me, Duril, and Varg, and Claw, too. How is that good?”

“It’s not, but it’s the way of the world and, most of all, of the endless time that carries us with it throughout our lives.”

“I thought you said that you would tell me everything without making my head hurt.” Toru enjoyed the way the fruit’s soothing taste lingered on his tongue. It made the bitter conversation he was having with Amimi Kota a bit easier to swallow.

“I did promise you that, of course.” The Head Librarian moved from one painting to another. “The battle between good and evil has always been. And shifters were chosen by the good gods of our world to hold steadfast against evil. And yet, evil returns. How is my explanation so far?”

“I understand everything,” Toru said with determination. “These shifters… what were they? Wolves? Bears?”

“All sorts. Wolves, too, of course, and bears, as well. But also foxes and rabbits and snakes.”

“Was Demophios one of the latter?” Toru asked, curious now about this old history Amimi Kota was offering to expand his knowledge.

“No. Demophios exists between the two worlds, the one here, and the one beyond. He is a speaker for the gods and a keeper of balance. He decided to help you, which means that you made quite an impression on him. In the past, he has never been so kind. It makes me wonder how you managed to make his heart of stone melt, Toru.”

“I killed him,” Toru said directly. “And it looked like that was necessary for him to become truly immortal. I know it sounds nutty, but that is exactly what he said.”

“I see. How truly incredible,” the librarian said under his breath as he appeared to ponder over something. “Don’t think that your quest is in vain, Toru. Hekastfet failed to understand his role, hence he is cursed to thirst for something that will never be his completely.”

“You talk about Hekastfet as if you know him.”

Amimi Kota nodded slowly. “We all do, Toru. Since he wants to become the ultimate evil and take over the world, he needs to be stopped.”

“But will I be able to kill him for good?” Toru asked.

“Your purpose is to take him to Te’cla, once you have all the shard fragments.”

“But Te’cla wants the same thing as Hekastfet, I think.”

“We’ll see about that. We may know a lot of things about the past,” the Head Librarian said while taking one last look at the paintings on the wall, “but none of us knows the future. Even if we might think we do.”

Toru followed Amimi Kota with his eyes. “Thank you for the luncheon. It was delicious.”

“You’re welcome, young tiger. Now it is time for you to go.”

“But where? I thought this was my destination.”

“Just close your eyes. And think of what truly matters to you in this big world.”

That was easy. What mattered to him were his friends. All it took was for him to think of them, and his heart became lighter.

***

Dressing the wolf’s wound while keeping him tied up like that was no easy feat, but Varg did his best. Wolfshifters had excellent healing abilities, but they were a lot less powerful when they were wounded by one of their own.

It looked like he had to wait now. To keep himself busy, he began digging holes in the ground to give those bodies as proper a burial as he could under the circumstances. Even if he didn’t know them, they were all wolves and they didn’t deserve to rot like that under a merciless sun. Varg looked up, wondering how this phantasm could present itself so vividly. It could all be happening in his head, but the exertion in his muscles was real as he took another dead wolf and placed him carefully in his resting place. He tried not to think so much about why he was doing this. But it felt right.

A growl diverted his attention from his chore.

“Are you awake?” Varg asked. “Do you still feel like fighting?”

“You fool,” the wolf grunted, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“The thing you should have thought of and done, even though you were the one to cause the death of these wolves. Now, you must tell me why you fought against them. What madness took you?”

Another rumbling sound coming from the wolf’s chest let him know that it would take time and effort to get through to such a foe. “Madness is what you’re doing right now. All these wolves were tainted.”

“How so?” Varg asked, continuing to dig another hole in the ground. “It looks to me like you’re the one who’s tainted. Don’t try to fool me. Such tricks don’t work on me.”

Since he was securely tied, the wolf stopped fighting. It was most likely dawning on him that he wouldn’t be able to break through his bonds and attack Varg again right now. Soon enough, as his body regained its vigor, the wolf would free himself, but until then, Varg counted on his ability to convince his opponent of the truth of his words.

He abandoned his task and crouched by the wolf’s side. The amber eyes were staring at him with unhidden hatred. Varg didn’t waver for a moment.

“Why did you fight your own kind?” he asked.

Even wolves could not resist his unusual ability of reaching for their souls.

“I told you that,” the wolf spat. “They were tainted. I must be the only one left standing.”

“For glory? That was what you said earlier.”

“Of course. All wolves must die so that new wolves can rise.”

“If you are the only one left, how can that happen?” Varg asked and poked at the wolf’s wound, making him squirm. He hadn’t done that out of cruelty but to assure himself that he still had time before he had to start fighting this wolf again.

“Gah, you’re such an ignorant fool,” the wolf replied. “They will be born anew. And then the time for me to leave this earth will come, as well. You’re the only one standing between me and that noble goal.”

“You call this noble?” Varg gestured at the field of corpses around them.

“Yes,” the wolf shot back. “It is the only way to cleanse the well.”

Varg shook his head. “Who told you all this?”

“The one behind it all. The one you shouldn’t name like the fool you are.”

Varg pursed his lips. “If you’re talking about Hekastfet, I think I earned my place to say his name any time I want.”

The surprise etched in the wolf’s eyes was the only answer he needed. “What do you know of it?” he grunted.

“I can only guess that this is his handiwork. How did you fall prey to his dark schemes?”

“You’re lying.” The wolf’s confidence in his own truth seemed to shake. “Why would Hekastfet talk to you?”

“Why indeed. I don’t need him to talk to me. I was part of his downfall, though, in my own time.”

“What time is that?” the wolf asked as he began to tense against his ties.

“One that doesn’t seem to be yours,” Varg said.

“Look out!” the wolf shouted.

A spear flew by Varg’s ear and he dodged it just in time. On the ground, his prisoner was struggling to get free.

“Release me now, you fool!” the wolf demanded.

Varg stared at the macabre battlefield as ghosts rose from the abandoned corpses. The ones resting in their graves seemed to be the only ones still asleep. He didn’t have time to ponder over what that could mean as the army of dead wolves began marching toward him. Reaching for his sword and shield, he rose against them.

“You can’t fight them all by yourself,” the wolf shouted at him.

That could very well be true, but Varg didn’t plan on having to deal with two problems instead of one. All in good time, he decided as he pushed his first attacker back. The ghosts turned into mist only to reform themselves and launch another attack at him.

“Are you a wolf or a madman?”

Varg ignored the bound wolf’s cries, but when he stole a look at his prisoner, blood froze in his veins. The ghosts didn’t care about him, it seemed. They only wanted to reach their real prey, who lay helpless on the ground since he was restrained.

Even though the ghosts were entitled to their revenge, Varg couldn’t allow them to feast on the wolf’s body. His purpose was to make sense of this macabre revelation and letting them kill the only one that could speak to him about Hekastfet’s evil plans was not his goal.

He rushed to the other’s side and cut his ties in one go. The wolf jumped to his feet and immediately grabbed the first weapon that he could get his hands on. Right and left, he was cutting through ghosts, and Varg had to admit that the wolf was an exceptional fighter. For now, they were fighting on the same side, so that Varg could hope that he would soon understand both the wolf’s reasoning and his fate.

“So many,” he said as he swung his sword, cutting through the creatures of mist to no avail.

Not the same could be said about his now ally. The wolf finally reached for his battleax, and once he did so, his attacks no longer met the elusive bodies of ghosts. Once he hit one, the phantasm disappeared with a wail, leaving nothing in its stead.

Varg continued to fight only to give the other enough time to cut through dozens and dozens of enemies. The battlefield was cleared again, the ghosts returning to the mortal remains they had risen from.

When he at last turned to face the wolf, he barely had time to dodge the battleax aiming for his head.

“You must also die,” the wolf grunted. “There is nowhere you can run.”

***

Duril studied the peg in his hand, thinking hard. Could a small piece of wood like this give him something to work with, given that Varg was still trapped inside the shard? He inclined his head and brought the peg to his ear.

“Mr. Duril, the markings on your hand,” Sogou exclaimed. “They’re glowing!”

Duril didn’t have time to tell the young storyteller that it was a sign his gift was working because a tiny voice floated from the peg.

What do you wish to know?

What is this shard? What is its weakness?

There was no way of telling how much time Varg had left or what was happening to him right now.

It is pure evil. Its weakness is light.

Light? What do you mean? A torch?

That would be too weak. You need pure light to fight pure evil.

Duril pondered over the meaning of those words. How was he supposed to find pure light underground, in a place like this, tainted as it seemed to be by the same thing they had to fight now?

“Curator,” he addressed Vetor for lack of ideas, “do you happen to have pure light here?”

“Pure light?” Obviously, the question was absurd. “I think I have it around here somewhere, but I need to consult my ledger.”

“You do?” Duril asked, unable to hide his astonishment. He stared at Vetor, who was staring back at him with a knowing look on his wizened face.

“Yes. Ha, I remember now. It was supposed to be a key of sorts. Yes, yes,” the curator began talking to himself, “I know very well that it is supposed to be used for locking and unlocking something.”

“We need that key,” Duril said hurriedly. “Sogou, go with our esteemed curator and retrieve that key, please. I must keep an eye on the shard in case anything happens in your absence.”

“Right away, Mr. Duril,” Sogou replied, seeming grateful to be given something to do. “Lead the way, Mr. Vetor. We must have this key.”

Duril listened to the peg again. It was already telling him something else, whispering right into his ear.

The pure light is not enough. Someone must wield it.

Who?

Someone just as pure of heart.

Duril sighed. He wished he had Toru by his side now. There was no other purer of heart than he was.

You must not risk it. Don’t try to use the key. The warning drifted from the peg, and then the insignificant item fell silent.

What to do? Duril moved closer to the shard in an effort to detect the slightest sign that Varg could be trying to break free. He started when he realized that he could hear the clamor of a battle coming from inside.

***

Varg pushed the shield against the battleax aimed at his head. This time, his guard held, but he couldn’t hope that it would last forever. “Can’t you see that I have no intention of fighting you?”

“And why should I care? I’m the one who wants to fight you. You either defeat me or you accept your fate.”

“If we’re talking about fates,” Varg said while skillfully dodging yet another vicious attack, “we should be talking about yours. What sort of twisted dream did Hekastfet sell to you?”

“You know nothing about such things, wolf,” his opponent spat at him. “I am the last wolf, and our sacrifice is necessary for the world to be saved.”

“That sounds convenient, doesn’t it?” Varg danced around his attacker, landing behind him and pushing him to make him lose his balance. He didn’t want the wolf hurt, only incapacitated so that he could subdue him as before. Where he was going with that plan, he couldn’t be sure, but he needed to make this wolf see the truth. Whatever this hallucination was trying to make him do, he wouldn’t lose his head.

“What about it tells you that?” The wolf reacted by jumping to one side with the same grace as Varg. He was, without a doubt, a seasoned fighter, and that meant their fight would continue like this for a long time, unless Varg used his cunning skills again.

“You will be the last wolf standing. The sacrifice belongs to the ones you killed. You’ll live.”

A flash of hurt appeared and faded just as quickly in the amber eyes. “I will save the world, but then I’ll have to die, too.”

“And you believe this lie? That ending your life is needed for the world to be saved? How did you believe Hekastfet so easily?”

“He showed me the end,” the wolf said with a grunt, swinging his terrible weapon and missing Varg’s shoulder by a hair’s breadth. “We, shifters, must all die, for the world to be spared. We’re the only ones left.”

“What you say is madness! Stop and think. Use that melon on your shoulders.”

“Your insults don’t matter. Nor does your so-called truth.”

The other wolf was younger and more agile by a smidge, but it mattered. Varg found himself thrown on his back and his assailant didn’t miss the chance to jump on his chest, holding him down. His arms raised, and Varg stared fascinated at the glint bouncing off the blade of the battleax, while his mind understood that, phantasm or not, it was very possible that this was the end for him.

“You are a brave fighter, and I take no pleasure from doing this,” the wolf with the amber eyes said. “Do not make me despise you by pleading for your life.”

“Like I’d ever do such a thing,” Varg said and looked the wolf square in the eye. He would never give his opponent the satisfaction of knowing that someone like him could be brought to his knees.

***

At first, there was nothing but confusion as all the objects around him seemed to change, stretch and then reduce themselves to dots. But his body was pulled toward a certain destination, and he couldn’t fight it. He had always assumed that librarians and witches were working with things beyond his understanding, but this was even more than he’d ever suspected them of being capable of.

“Toru?”

He knew that voice. Someone was helping him to his feet, and his face broke into a huge smile when he saw who it was.

“Duril!” he exclaimed and threw his arms around his lover’s shoulders. He was still in Mako’s body, so it was silly how small he seemed compared to the healer, but that didn’t mean that his love was any smaller.

“Toru, how did you get here?” Duril asked, helping him to his feet.

“It is hard to explain, and most likely magic,” he replied promptly. “I’m supposed to be here for my quest, but no one told me more than that.”

Duril laughed, sounding like he was relieved Toru was so unknowledgeable on the matter.

“I believe you couldn’t have arrived at a better time. Varg is imprisoned in there,” Duril said, pointing at the large black shard sitting on a pedestal in the middle of the room.

Toru knew by instinct what that was. “The thousandth shard fragment,” he whispered.

“Fragment? It looks like an entire shard,” Duril said. “What do you mean, the thousandth?”

But Toru was no longer listening to his friend, not because he didn’t care, but because there was a strange pull coming from inside the deepest black of the shard. He moved toward it of his own accord and placed both hands on it. Through its dark waters, he thought he could catch a glimpse of… something moving.

“Varg!” he exclaimed.

The much smaller version of his friend trapped in there seemed to be in quite the pickle, as someone was trying to hit him with a large ax. Even though he appeared to be a phantasm and nothing else, Varg seemed to have heard his voice.

“Can you see him?” Duril asked, rushing to his side.

“Yes. I must save him,” Toru said with determination. “I will break this thing.” He stared at his hands, so small and thin, the hands of a young man like many others. How would he do that?

“Sogou and Vetor went after the key,” Duril explained.

“Huh? Who? What key?”

A flurry of steps behind them made Toru turn on his heel. The young storyteller he had made faint by turning into his tiger entered the room, followed by an old man who couldn’t measure more than one foot or so in height.

They stopped, staring at him, just as dumbfounded as he was.

“Who is this young man?” Sogou asked politely. “And how did he get here?”

“This is Toru,” Duril said quickly, “as incredible as that may sound. Did you find the key? Only Toru, who is pure of heart, can wield it. And we must save Varg now!”

The key wasn’t a key. It was a long wooden stick, and Toru grabbed it without asking any other questions. Its end lit up at that very moment, as if it understood its purpose. Toru winced at the sudden pain in his shoulder and kept from wobbling with great difficulty as he raised the lit stick to reflect its light against the dark surface of the shard.

TBC

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