Something Extra - Hungry Heart - Ch. 10 (Patreon)

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Chapter Ten – Strangeness

“Are you going to be away? For how long?” Ganon, the wolf leading the pack in his absence, observed him with keen eyes.

“I can’t say. It will be a long journey.”

They were both perched on a cliff, looking down at the young pups learning to fight by learning to play first. “Things will be hard around here without you.”

Ganon and his pack were more wolves than humans, and some couldn’t even shift. Varg was well aware of what Ganon was saying, and he couldn’t lie about how wrenched he felt between the duty he had toward his pack and the pull he felt toward the tigershifter.

Agatha hadn’t needed to say it, and Varg hadn’t asked about it, either. Toru was destined for something great, and that meant that a lot weighed on his shoulders, even without his knowing it. Varg had felt a different sense of duty rising inside him, as he had stood inside Agatha’s hut and watched the map of the world partially unraveling in front of his eyes.

The place where Toru was headed was dangerous. Varg had trust in the tigershifter’s abilities to care for himself, but sometimes enemies were wicked and capable of disgusting misdeeds and deceptions. Toru needed all the help he could get, and Varg wouldn’t let him face that twisted world alone.

“I trust you, Ganon. You’ll take good care of everyone.”

“Will you ever come back?”

Varg fell silent. “I won’t tell you lies. But that’s what I want with all my heart, to be back here, where my home is.”

“Then I won’t ask anything else of you. I will take care of everyone for you.”

“No, not for me. For the pack.”

“For the pack,” Ganon repeated.

Varg threw one last look at the pups playing without a care in the world. Worries and hard work were for the adults, as childhood was too short for wolves and humans alike.

***

Duril hurried to the door, hoping that he would find Toru standing there, with a lopsided grin on his handsome face. But why would he knock? He yanked the door open so hard that it got almost pulled from its hinges.

His disappointment must have been clear on his face.

“Not happy to see me?” Varg smiled, but he didn’t seem entirely unaffected by Duril’s reaction.

“How could I not be? I was just expecting --”

“Toru. I know. I want to talk to you about him.”

“Please, come in.”

Duril couldn’t help but wonder at the wolfshifter’s impressive size. Given his orcish blood, he wasn’t a small person by any standards, but he still felt dwarfed by Varg’s presence.

“I found out from Agatha where he went,” Varg explained as soon as the door was closed.

“Where?” Duril chided himself internally. “Please forgive my impatience.”

“It’s understandable. He’s been away for days. What I will tell you must remain between us and these walls.” Varg stopped for a moment. “He’s headed to Vilemoor.”

“Vilemoor?” Duril placed his hand over his mouth, as if simply uttering that name was bound to bring misfortune on their heads. “Why would he go there?”

“Do you remember how we needed to call for the witch to cleanse his body of the poison inside him?”

Duril nodded. “It must have been magical. Agatha succeeded where we failed.”

“Yes. Toru is not an ordinary … man.”

The small hesitation in Varg’s voice wasn’t lost on Duril. “He surely isn’t. He saved us from certain death and asked for nothing in return.”

Varg moved slowly around the room. “A journey opened before him since he put foot in Whitekeep. He needed to heed its calling.”

“I see. And why didn’t he stop to say goodbye?”

Varg stopped and stared into Duril’s eyes. “The journey that calls for him must be stronger. He needs help to succeed.”

Duril nodded. He immediately began to pack potions, herbs, and all the food that could be taken along on the trip without risk of spoiling.

“What are you doing?” Varg asked.

“I’m coming with you. You’re going after Toru, right? And you dropped by because you wanted me to join you, isn’t that it?”

Varg rewarded him with a wide smile. “Of course.”

Duril stopped for a moment. It wasn’t like him to speak up, which was why it was hard, but necessary, nonetheless. “I hope you don’t think I will slow you down.”

“No,” Varg replied directly. “Where we’re going, we’ll need your healing, knowledge and strength. I was hoping you would come. And I’m glad I didn’t even have to ask.”

Varg offered his arm, and Duril grabbed it hard, above the elbow. “We’re going after him.”

***

Toru had run for days and nights, or so it seemed. The surge of power he had felt after leaving Agatha’s hut and that strange world map behind was fading now. With no need of food or water, or even sleep, he had conquered vast spaces, the only thing in his heart and mind being to get as close to that place with high, crenelated walls as quickly as possible. Hungry for answers, he didn’t feel anything else.

But distances in real life were nothing like the ones on a map brought to life by the cleverness of a witch. The forests were growing thick before him, and while he knew where he was headed, it was impossible for him to reach it as quickly as his heart demanded.

Maybe there was something to eat in that dense forest. At this point, he would have been satisfied with a field rabbit or even a squirrel, although a wild boar would have been a better fit for his appetite. Hunger was slashing through his belly all of a sudden, unforgiving, and there were small icicles caught in his fur.

He stopped for a moment, his own breath misting in front of him. Suddenly, his acute sense of hearing caught something and his ears prickled. A sense of danger flooded him in the blink of an eye. His fur turned into bristles all along his spine and he opened his mouth. In the light of the moon, he hoped a glint from his fangs would warn his would-be enemy that he was no easy prey.

He caught movement from the corner of his eye and dodged just in time as a black shadow slid from the tall trees to his left, slashing through the air with a deadly swoosh. Letting out a menacing growl, he began walking backward, hoping to catch another glimpse of his invisible enemy.

Swoosh! The sound came from behind, and Toru turned quickly. Swoosh! From his right, and again his left.

“Where are you?” he growled. “Show yourself, and I’ll give you a piece of my mind.”

A sinister laugh came from somewhere above. Toru looked up and barely had time to break into a sprint to avoid the shadow falling down on him with a speed that belonged to no human or animal, or none that he knew of.

“Where are you heading, tiger?” a voice hissed at him.

“What’s it to you?” Toru shot back.

Another shadow fell, almost landing on him this time. So he would have to face more than one enemy, as things stood.

“It doesn’t matter. You won’t get there.” The same sinister laughter from before followed, and this time, it echoed against the trees.

Toru moved slowly in a small circle. His blood froze in his veins as the forest around him lit up with dozens of eyes, glowing red like blood in the dark. He tensed and let his head drop enough so that he could clearly see where the attack would come from next.

Burning pain slashed his back, across his spine. Toru jumped into the air. The eyes moved in unison, hurrying to gang up on him. His pupils widened, letting in all the light he could get, while his senses sharpened. For the moment, he ignored the burning stings as the shadows slashed across his skin. Their attack was surprising, but their claws or nails, whatever they were, had no effect on his tough hide after the initial surprise.

He stood still, only his eyes moving, capturing a shadow, and then his paws moved and slashed one time through the air. An inhuman shriek followed, and a shadow fell to the ground. As if eliminated by magic, the other shadows disappeared.

Toru pounced on the fallen shape on the ground, eliciting more growls and grunts of pain from his enemy. His claws were sharp and dug into something soft and clammy like mud.

“Mercy, young tiger,” a voice squealed, and it was no longer full of disdain like before.

“What are you?” Toru opened his mouth, letting his enemy see rows of sharp teeth.

“I’m just a humble messenger.”

Toru blinked one time. He had heard of messengers before; he was sure of it. But where? His mind was foggy. Now wasn’t the time to chase down things he couldn’t remember. “If you’re a messenger, why did you attack me?” he asked.

“I had to make sure that you were the right one.”

“And?” Toru asked. He lifted one paw, and the shadow tried to slither away. He caught it deftly and pushed it against the ground again.

“You are, you are, young tiger,” the shadow whined.

“Then what’s the message?”

“My master is waiting for you, young tiger.” The voice was now sycophantic and pleading.

“Who is your master?”

“He’s the lord of Vilemoor, the place where you are heading. He’s strong and just. He will be so happy to see you. For such a long time, he has been waiting for you.”

Toru had many questions, but now was he curious about the strange creature that had attacked him with that illusion. A softer heart would have given in. Whoever the head of Vilemoor was, he knew how to stage a ruse, that was for sure. Toru was not easy to fool, and he felt proud of it, too.

“Then take me to your master. And show yourself.”

“If the young tiger would be so kind to allow me to get up,” the shadow pleaded.

Toru removed his paws and let the creature stand. To his surprise, it was something between a rabbit and a human being. He stood on two legs and had a white belly. On his back, he wore a dark cloak which might have served to help him fly through the air like that. His face was lit up by intelligent eyes, but Toru could read in them fear and cunning, too.

“I am Zul, your humble servant.” The creature removed a tall hat from his head and made a deep bow.

Toru relaxed and sat back on his hind legs to examine Zul. “All right, Zul, who is your master?”

Zul cleared his throat and puffed out his chest. Then he began speaking in slow and measured tones. “My master is Onyx Zoroander, the lord of Vilemoor, our just and clever leader. He governs these lands and is now in dire need of your help, young tiger.”

“How does he even know of me?” Toru questioned and scrunched up his nose. Something about this entire situation didn’t smell good at all.

Zul coughed and then regained his composure. “My master has many riches and among them he has the eye of a titan that can see far and wide. He saw you coming and knew you had to be the one to help him with the, um, situation.”

“Situation?”

“My station doesn’t allow me to reveal more about the, um, situation.”

“Do you have a fur ball in your throat? Just spit it out already.”

“Would that I could,” Zul said with a sigh. “But let’s not dally, young tiger. My master must be getting impatient.”

“We could have been faster if you hadn’t decided to attack me out of the blue. It would have taken a lot less time if you had simply asked me to follow you to your master.”

Were his eyes playing tricks on him, or was the forest suddenly opening up in front of them? Zul walked before him, swaying on his back paws, as if he were drunk. Whatever challenges waited for him, Toru knew he didn’t have to worry about anything. A half-drunken rabbit who could speak couldn’t scare him.

Everything was just awfully strange.

***

The tall crenelated walls stood in front of him, and Toru took a moment to observe their craftsmanship. He had shifted into his human form, now that he was close to his destination, and Zul didn’t comment on it. Whoever Onyx Zoroander was, he had to know he was a shapeshifter.

A smell of rot and decay hit his nostrils as he approached. From up close, the proud walls were covered in slime and mold, and Toru scrunched his nose. “People around here are not that fond of housekeeping, are they?”

“Housekeeping,” Zul chanted, as if that single word delighted him. “We experience a shortage of servants, I’m afraid.”

Toru shrugged. The only thing he cared about was for the longing inside his heart to stop, and the emptiness to fill. If this place overcome by neglect was part of his quest, it didn’t bother him. A drawbridge lowered in front of them.

“Come, come, young tiger,” Zul hurried him, as he pitter-pattered across the bridge.

Who manned the heavy bridge? Toru squinted, but a grey fog engulfed everything, and the gates opening in front of them seemed to welcome him to a world that lived inside mist. There were two guards, he noticed. Their armor was rusty, and their faces were as good as invisible, hidden by full helmets. Toru stared at them as they walked in, but neither of them moved or spoke any greetings.

The same signs of decay were present everywhere. While the tall walls looked like they would guard a thriving city, wherever he looked, Toru saw nothing but dilapidated buildings that had to be only shadows of their former selves. Few faces appeared at the windows to stare at him, and they looked like they belonged more to ghosts than human beings.

“Come, come,” Zul hurried him again.

There were plenty of things Toru wanted to ask about, seeing the deplorable state of Onyx Zoroander’s domain, but he decided to keep his mouth shut for the moment.

At the end of the stone road, a proud keep stood. Its dark tower loomed over the ruined city with malevolence. Mist the color of mud billowed from it, as if its source was buried within, a twisted flower that no longer yearned for the sun.

“Are you coming?” Zul asked impatiently.

His heart was bold, but his legs didn’t want to follow. Toru stomped after the messenger, willing them to move. He had fought an army of rocs; he wasn’t going to be afraid of a bit of mist now, was he?

The keep was as deserted as the rest of the city, but ghosts slithered along the walls, on which tall torches threw their little light into a losing fight against the darkness. Toru couldn’t recall ever seeing a place so dark. His eyes adjusted, but even so, there were impenetrable corners that seemed to come alive with critters from the underground. He could hear them, but he couldn’t see them.

The place was overcome by something evil. Zul hummed as he walked in front, and it was only because of his out of tune humming that Toru was able to follow. Up and up they went, on a staircase slippery with something foul that gave off an odor that could make any living being’s stomach turn.

Hunger was forgotten. “What happened here?” Toru asked.

Zul ignored him and continued to climb and hum.

It didn’t matter. Toru would see the master of Vilemoor soon enough, hopefully, and then he would ask his questions. Finally, they arrived on a landing, and Zul walked faster. He stopped in front of a pair of tall wooden doors on which mold grew in patterns that took the shape of mystic creatures. Toru looked closer; no, his eyes were playing tricks on him. The mold didn’t come alive in threatening forms; it was just the same neglect he had noticed everywhere.

“We are here,” Zul said as if that was a revelation of sorts.

“Where is here?” Toru asked.

Zul snickered. “Good question.”

The rabbit had to be at least half mad, Toru considered. “Are we going in or not?”

“Just give me a moment.”

Toru could swear he heard Zul spit into his paws and then use them to arrange the fur on his head. If the master of the place cared about appearance, he would have a surprise coming when he saw Toru. His clothes were threadbare. Like everything around, it appeared as if they had started to rot, too, the moment he had set foot in this place.

Zul cleared his throat, an experience accompanied by vocalizing random sounds, and then pushed open the doors. He had been fast so far, but now he broke into a sprint, leaving Toru behind and stopping only at the end of the room where, on top of a dais, a throne stood.

“Master, master, I found him,” Zul squealed in delight, as he made bow after bow in front of the throne.

Torches burned on the walls, and Toru looked around. Statues with their heads close to the ceiling guarded the throne room, but they were lifeless, and he moved past them without paying them any more attention than what one would give inanimate objects.

He was, anyway, much more curious about the master Zul had spoken so highly of; if he sat on that throne, he had to be awfully small. Maybe the throne room had been designed to compensate for the master’s tiny stature.

“He is so happy,” Zul said and turned toward him.

Toru blinked as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. On the throne, curled in on itself, sat a grey shape. When he moved closer, the shape moved and snarled.

“Your master is a mutt?” he asked out loud.

For a moment, Zul looked like he was about to have a conniption. The snarl grew louder. “Please, young tiger, apologize,” Zul said in a hurried tone. “My master doesn’t appreciate rudeness.”

Toru ignored the rabbit and climbed the dais. From his height, he stared down at the pitiful shape on the throne. He had called Varg a mutt, but it had been in jest. The wolfshifter was majestic, tall and strong, and Toru had gone head to head with him because he thought him a worthy opponent.

The master of Vilemoor, however, was a scrawny mutt; if he had ever been a wolf, it must have been a long time ago. Maybe he was just very old. His grey fur was gone in places, and his long muzzle was thin. Still, the bared fangs looked menacing enough.

Toru reconsidered. Honoring old people, shifters even, was important. “I apologize, Your Highness,” he said, stifling the laughter bubbling inside his chest when the poor mutt in front of him caught his own leg and bit it, only to yelp in surprise one moment later.

“That’s better,” Zul said primly.

“Can he talk?” Toru asked, pointing at the mutt.

“I do talk, tiger,” a hiss came from the pathetic looking wolf.

“Ah, that’s good,” Toru said. “I thought you folks around here were all cuckoo.”

“Young tiger!” Zul seemed troubled over his directness of speech.

“I apologize,” Toru added quickly. Now he was more and more convinced that the witch’s map had lied. His destiny wasn’t here, in Cuckooland.

“Zul,” Onyx straightened on his throne, something that appeared to take all his strength, but he did it nonetheless. “Our guest must be hungry. Bring a fruit plate.”

Fruit plate? Toru grimaced. What kind of wolves ate fruits? He had definitely hoped for some meat. His human shape could tolerate vegetables and fruits, too, but that didn’t mean that he was crazy about them.

“Please take a seat,” Onyx encouraged him.

Toru looked around, but there were no chairs, no benches, or anything similar for him to sit on. He chose to sit directly on the dais, in a position from which he could study his so-called host.

“I saw you with my titan’s eye,” Onyx said, his voice filled with self-importance.

“So Zul told me,” Toru explained. “What happened here? Zul said something about a situation --”

“A situation?” Onyx barked. “Zul is stupid.”

Toru wondered how old Onyx was. The last remark had been said in a petulant tone, like that of a child.

“It’s just that mom and dad left for a long time and didn’t come back,” Onyx added.

Mom and dad? “How old are you, Your Highness?”

“What’s it to you?”

All right, so despite the appearances, Onyx Zoroander was either so old that his mind had become that of a child, or very young, which explained most things, such as the neglect spreading everywhere, and the disarray that seemed to be at home in Vilemoor.

“I was just wondering.” Toru knew well that he was no diplomat. Still, just remembering how dismayed Zul had looked when he had been too direct in his impertinences stopped him from continuing.

“They left a long time ago,” Onyx repeated. “And there’s no more meat.”

Ah, that explained the fruit plate. “Why is there no more meat?” Toru asked, this time with more caution than usual.

“Because there’s none left,” Onyx explained as if Toru was too dumb to understand.

“So, go and hunt some,” Toru said.

“Mom and dad left to hunt, and they didn’t come back. The forest ate them,” Onyx concluded.

“Are you a wolfshifter?” Toru asked.

“What’s it to you?”

So that was the way to avoid answering troubling questions. Toru had no idea what to do with a pup, or an old geezer who had obviously lost his mind. He studied Onyx as well as he could. It could be that he was very young, but his coat was in such an awful state that he could be mistaken for a wolf at the end of his life.

“So, you don’t hunt, and you don’t shift,” Toru concluded for himself.

“What do you know?” Onyx spat, the venom in his voice all too clear.

Fear oozed from him. Zul was afraid, too, Toru had read that in him, but this was different. The rabbit hid his with cunning and pretense, but this young wolf had neither of those.

“Zul only knows how to bring fruits and vegetables. I don’t want to eat cabbage anymore.”

Toru could sympathize with Onyx on that one. He stood up, just as Zul tumbled back in, balancing a tray half-filled with oddly shaped fruits. He offered the tray to Toru, only to be met with a wave of the hand.

“You keep that for the two of you,” Toru said. “I’m going to hunt.”

A bit of meat might turn that place around a little. Toru had no idea what he would be able to find in those woods, but he was hungry, too. Just a look at those weird looking fruits was enough to convince him that he needed to gather all of his strength and find something to eat.

“Just like that?” Onyx stood on all fours on the throne and began pacing it, gripped by excitement. “You don’t want anything? I could give you --”

“I can be of assistance,” Zul interrupted his master. “By nature, I am an herbivore, so I won’t be able to help you hunt, but I can climb trees fast and look around to give you hints on where you can find creatures with some meat on their bones.”

“When did mom and dad leave?” Toru asked him.

“Mom and dad.” Zul snorted like he had just heard a silly joke. “Master Onyx likes to throw off his guests with things like that. Then shall we go?”

Toru smelled something fishy, and it wasn’t the decay all around them. Zul was in an awful hurry. He placed the fruit plate carefully on the dais, patted down his belly, sucked it in, and then gestured for Toru to follow him.

All it took was one look at the master of the place for Toru to understand the source of all of Zul’s anxieties. Onyx opened his muzzle, and his fangs glinted in the poorly lit room. For him, his humble servant probably represented a filling meal if the need became too great. And poor Zul could only provide fruits and vegetables.

Toru shook his head. He would hunt for now, but Onyx had to get down from that ill-fitting throne and learn to do that himself.

What could have happened with mom and dad?

***

“What did Agatha say about Toru?”  Duril questioned as they walked the sinuous path that took them away from Whitekeep and deep into the mist territory. He had heard plenty of stories about Vilemoor, but no one had ever gone there and come back to tell how things truly were. The mist was impenetrable, the stories said. Duril hoped that Toru was all right.

“She didn’t say an awful lot. Witches,” Varg said with a shrug. “they speak their own language, and the rest of us mortals are left guessing. It was impossible to tell whether she said something clever or she just wanted to pull someone’s leg.”

“She wouldn’t set Toru on such a dangerous road after she saved him.”

“Not without a reason. Agatha is a good witch.” The way Varg relented convinced Duril that his words were true. Many feared witches, and Duril had an irrational fear of them, too, but he knew Agatha was of the good kind. Maybe it was their knowledge of things great and small that no one could rival. As a healer, Duril would have liked to learn from her but had never gathered the courage to ask.

“He didn’t come to Whitekeep by accident. He said something about a scent --”

Varg half-turned and gave him a curious look. “A scent?”

“Yes. But he didn’t say much.” Duril blushed as he remembered how and why Toru had changed the subject.

Varg sniffed the air and shifted. It always gave Duril a rush of excitement to see a shapeshifter doing that in front of him. In human shape, Varg was impressive, and no one could even come close to his prowess, except for Toru, of course. As a wolf, he was majestic, his coat thick and luscious, making Duril want to do something childish, like running his hand through it just to experience what it felt like.

“I don’t sense anything peculiar,” Varg said and fell in line with Duril.

“Could it be that he had imagined it all?”

“Even so, why would Agatha show him a path if it weren’t for him?”

“I guess that makes sense. Would you like to stop for lunch? I packed some cured meat which I think you would like.”

“Let’s not waste precious food. Once we get near Vilemoor, who knows if we will still be able to hunt? I’ll find something and we can make a fire. Keep the food you brought with you for times of greater need.”

Duril appreciated Varg’s taking the time to say all of those things to him. Thinking like that made Varg such an important leader of their community. He was just and kind, harsh when needed, but always ready to explain his actions. It sneaked its way into Duril’s heart, the idea that the wolfshifter truly saw him as an equal.

Or maybe something more. No, he shook his head. Now wasn’t the time for losing himself in beautiful daydreams. Not when they were on an urgent mission and Toru might need their help.

***

Later, they were eating in silence over a fire which Varg had managed to build without a fuss. Duril found everything new in this situation. Varg had taken care of everything, not even allowing him to skin the deer he had hunted.

And he had been served with a tasty chunk of meat that melted in his mouth. “I had no idea you would be such an excellent cook,” Duril praised him, while addressing his thanks for the meal.

“Need is the one that teaches you the best,” Varg replied and smiled.

Duril was well aware of how Varg’s dark eyes rested on him from time to time. It unnerved him, too, because he couldn’t make sense of what they wanted. He could ask but asking could tear the delicate veil of magic that seemed to stretch between them. Duril didn’t want that to happen.

“We’re going to Vilemoor,” he said, to break the silence comfortably falling between them again. There was a dangerous quest waiting for them ahead, and they needed to be prepared.

“That’s what we want. How we will get inside, that is another question,” Varg replied. He played with a long stick, poking the fire and making sparks rise into the air and die.

“Were they kin to you?” Duril asked. Old rumors never died, and he had heard plenty of them, but he wanted to hear more from Varg now. Maybe he knew what had happened to cause that place to descend into a vile mist.

“As kin as humans all around the world could be. No, I cannot say that they were.”

“The place must be deserted. All dead --”

“That’s something we cannot know for sure,” Varg said and his eyes grew hard as he stared into the fire. “No evil can lurk for so long without stoking itself on something. Or someone.”

“I suppose that could be true,” Duril agreed. “Is the evil there calling for Toru? But why?”

Varg shrugged. “We don’t know. But what I do know,” he added, “is that not even evil can last forever. Whatever bad deeds those wolves did, they shouldn’t stretch into the future without end.”

“So you think someone of their pack is still there, alive?”

Varg looked into the distance and his eyes clouded. “Yes, that’s what I think.”

TBC

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