Something Extra - Hungry Heart - Ch. 12 (Patreon)

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Chapter Twelve – A Mother’s Heart

“Should we try to find a path?”

Varg looked at Duril and nodded shortly. “We should, yes. But I’m not the only one thinking we’ve already tried walking through here, am I?”

The healer had followed him stoically so far, without saying a word of complaint or criticism. Varg knew that it couldn’t be all that easy for him since he wasn’t a fighter, but he was a dependable and enjoyable companion.

“I’m hesitant to say it, but it feels like it, indeed,” Duril confirmed his worries.

“The night is deep and not helping, either,” Varg commented. He searched for the vial given to him by the witch and raised it so that he could examine it. His eyes, accustomed to the dark, couldn’t see its murky water as he could in daylight, though. “What do you think we should do, Duril?”

“Me?”

Tenderness flooded Varg’s heart. It was still endearing how the healer didn’t think much of himself. Varg had a mind to change that, but he didn’t have the time needed to allow Duril to adjust to that idea. So, he needed to ask for his advice head on.

“Yes, you. You’re my equal companion, aren’t you?” Duril had informed him that he could see in the dark just fine, so he offered a smile with his words. “I truly hope you’re not going to suggest that we should go at it like a battering ram, because that’s the only thing crossing my mind right now.”

And subject them to unfathomable dangers. In his many years of life, Varg had learned a few things, such as how brute force was more seldom than expected the right answer. The forest didn’t yield in front of them and had its reasons. They would have to coax it, convince it of their good intentions.

“No, I wouldn’t suggest that,” Duril replied and chuckled.

It was heartwarming to see the healer opening up to him and being more himself. Varg regretted anew that he had never taken the time before to get to know Duril.

“I would say,” Duril added, “that this forest feels like a riddle.”

“Hmm,” Varg said, “but how are we supposed to offer an answer if no one tells us the riddle?”

Duril seemed to ponder. “Any bit of magic has always fascinated me. When I was little, the only thing I could dream of was how to become a wizard. I suppose we both know how that turned out,” he added with a small smile.

Varg returned it. “I’d say that it turned out well. It was because of you that we survived the attack on Whitekeep.” He put one hand up to stop the protests he expected from the kind half-orc. “Yes, that is the truth, and you will never be able to convince me otherwise.”

“All right, Sir … I mean, Varg,” Duril said and turned away, most probably to hide his embarrassment.

Varg came closer and placed one hand on Duril’s shoulder and gently squeezed. “Trust me, I would spend all night telling you how awesome you are, but I believe you would agree that there are more pressing matters we have to attend to.”

“Of course, of course,” Duril agreed hurriedly.

Varg shook his head and allowed another smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. They would have to deal with Duril’s lack of confidence in himself another time. “So, what do you make of it all? What should we do?”

Duril moved closer to one of the trees creating a barrier of toughened wooden bodies in front of them. He touched the bark slowly. “The little magic I gathered from here and there taught me one thing. That you need to listen very closely so that you can hear the voices from the other world.”

Varg followed the healer with his eyes. “We must be aware that these voices might not wish us any good.”

Duril nodded. “It’s true. But it’s the best idea I have at the moment.”

“Should we use the magic vial Agatha gave us?”

“Do you feel like we should? She told you that you would know.”

Varg sighed. “Frankly, I don’t get any feeling like that from it.”

“Then we must keep it for another time. Now, if you could bear with me, let me try something.”

“Please, go ahead. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

That earned a small laugh from Duril.

“What’s funny?” Varg teased.

“I could never picture you as a mouse.”

“That’s good, I suppose. I’m wondering, though, how you do picture me when I’m not around.” It was a bold move to talk about such things, but Varg was curious. The bond between them was growing stronger, and they had to be the strangest combination. A wolf, a kitty, and a half-orc. Toru would bristle at putting it like that, he was sure of it, but it remained true.

“Let that be another conversation for another time,” Duril said quickly.

It was fun to tease Duril and make him feel embarrassed, just as it was fun to provoke Toru. Varg couldn’t wait for the three of them to be reunited. For that, he hoped that the little knowledge of all things magical Duril had under his belt would help them continue their quest. He moved slightly away and fell silent, as promised.

Duril continued to examine the bark with both eyes and fingers, from what Varg could tell.

“Come out and tell us your story,” Duril said gently. “We’re here to listen.”

Stranger things than trying to speak to trees had happened before, Varg thought. Maybe it would work. Duril continued to talk to the unyielding tree in a soft, measured voice.

Well, it had been worth a try. Maybe trying to go at it and put the trees to the ground was the way to go, after all. He was about to tell Duril that when a cavernous voice made a chill travel down his spine.

“Who are you that you believe yourselves worthy of hearing our story?” the voice said.

Varg scouted the dark but saw nothing. Instinctively, his hand moved to the pommel of his sword. As much fighting as he did in wolf form, he preferred the comforting power of steel when he was his human self.

“Are you trying to threaten us?”

Varg moved his hand away from the sword. Whatever that voice was, it had eyes and ears, too.

“No,” he replied. “No threats. We only need to find our friend.”

“Your friend,” the voice spat.

Duril replied this time, “Yes, he’s a young man.”

“A young man? No one like that came through us,” the voice said.

Varg stilled. Toru’s stubbornness must have left Duril in the dark. The healer couldn’t know the true nature of the man he had housed under his roof. But it was not his secret to tell, and he had to make sure that there was no other way but to divulge it if they were to move forward in their quest.

“Tell us your story,” Duril said in a soothing voice.

“Aren’t you here for your friend? There is no friend. You may go now.”

Varg wanted to smack himself silly for a moment. He should have allowed Duril to smooth talk the dark forest and its trees.

“We want to hear your story,” Duril insisted. “You’ve been alone for so long, haven’t you?”

“What do you know of loneliness?” the voice demanded.

Varg focused on the changes in sound and tone but couldn’t tell if it sounded human or of any other nature.

“I know that it is hard to bear,” Duril offered.

He must have known it more than anyone else. Varg stared at Duril’s back, at his hunched shoulders. It was tough to be the only one of your kind. As much as he knew everyone depended on him for advice and protection, he was overly aware of how much he drew his strength from his pack. Even now, he depended on Duril and his knowledge because he knew how much the others’ abilities were important for everyone’s wellbeing.

“I smell orc in your blood,” the voice continued. “The wolf sits there, ready to pounce.”

“I promise I won’t do a thing,” Varg replied and put his hands up in surrender.

“You will have to.” Nothing followed after those words.

The chill from before returned. He needed to not let his guard down for a moment. Their trials were just beginning and, as he had told Duril before, they needed all their wit, muscle and every fiber in their hearts and bodies to plow through.

“I am an orc only after my father,” Duril explained. “My mother was human.”

“Half orc,” the voice said. “Your father must have been proud.”

Varg could swear there was something in that voice now that could be read as disdain. Maybe it was trying to rile up ugly emotions in Duril. The voice didn’t know that not many things would be able to do that to the gentle healer.

“I’ve never met my father,” Duril said simply.

“So, your mother was a whore.”

Varg froze. Duril had never said anything back to anyone in his entire life. But there was something jarring in that unpleasant voice. He wanted to say something, to protect the healer from the wounds the voice would cause, but there was too much at stake and they needed to tread carefully.

“That she was,” Duril confirmed, his voice as even as before.

“You’re a cripple,” the voice said with glee.

Varg ground his teeth hard. He didn’t have to worry about Duril lashing out at the annoying being behind that voice. He was the one in danger of being tempted to do that.

“Yes. I lost part of my arm in the war,” Duril explained.

“What good are you, then?” the voice asked, and this time, it was arrogant.

“I am a healer. If you let me, I could try heal your wounds.”

The voice fell silent. Varg followed the exchange with growing impatience. He didn’t like what was happening one bit, and his gut never lied.

“You could try. But what if you fail?”

“I will try not to,” Duril said matter-of-factly.

The voice howled with laughter. “You think yourself so clever, coming here, trying to enter. But no one ever gets through.”

Varg moved without thinking. From the tree, a wraith-like figure emerged and reached with skeletal hands for Duril. Varg smashed his sword against the blackened bones, shattering them to the ground.

The figure turned into ash at their feet. Duril pivoted and tried to say something, but then the entire forest howled and wraiths descended on them from everywhere.

***

“We need to stop somewhere,” Toru said, all his limbs weighted as if by lead.

“We can’t,” Zul replied, although his voice was weary, too. “I should just get off your back.”

“I can barely feel you. It’s not that. We’re not getting anywhere. We’re lost, and we need our strength.”

“But if we fall asleep, the night will never end,” Zul repeated the same ominous words as before.

“What choice do we have?” Toru released one long howl.

“What are you doing?” Zul asked, completely taken by surprise and grabbing Toru’s fur to steady himself.

“This enemy is hiding,” Toru said with another, low-rumbling growl. “We need to make him face us.”

“This enemy cannot be beaten,” Zul said with finality.

“He has yet to meet me,” Toru replied in kind.

“Hundreds of years, and I don’t know his face,” Zul said quietly. “Don’t you think he would have shown himself by now?”

“So you do know there’s an enemy in this forest.”

“The evil that was unleashed upon Fairside, it hasn’t ended. It’s here, everywhere. So he is not a person, or an animal, or a creature of any kind.”

“We’re being watched, so he must have eyes,” Toru said. “And if he has eyes, I can gouge them out and feed on them.”

Zul shivered. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to rile him up? Don’t forget who your sole companion and ally is. I’m nothing but a useless rabbit.”

Toru wanted to give Zul a verbal lashing for talking like that, but his ears caught something. “What was that?”

Zul seemed to listen, too. “A soft move. To the right.”

Toru turned and sniffed the air. “Come on, show yourself,” he growled as loudly as he could. “We need to get back home, to Onyx.”

The ground rose in front on them, and it took Toru all his willpower not to jump back. The dirt shaped into a human-like form, but without any of the traits of one. “You know Onyx?”

“He rules this land,” Toru replied, keeping his voice steady.

“He is our just and kind leader,” Zul obliged, following his example.

Toru had half-expected the rabbit to make a run for it, but it looked like Zul was much braver than he had ever believed himself to be in his entire life.

“He is? He’s but a child. He needs protection.”

Toru pulled back a few inches. A heavy odor, hard to bear, came from the shaped dirt, along with a chill reaching into the marrow of his bones. “Zul, does this strange apparition sound like anyone you know?” he whispered.

The rabbit was silent. And then, all of a sudden, he jumped off Toru’s back and hurried forward. “Lord Opal, master,” he cried out and threw himself in front of the dirt creature.

Toru had suspected as much the moment he had heard the creature talk about Onyx like that. But Zul was too rash and he hurried to pull him back.

Just in time, as the creature lunged over Zul’s prostrate body. But Toru was quicker, and he grabbed Zul by the soft fur on the back of his neck as he would a kitten and jumped to one side, high on a tree branch.

“Young tiger, please, what are you doing? That is my master,” Zul protested, all his paws scrabbling in the air in a futile attempt to pull himself free.

Toru couldn’t talk while he held Zul like that, and there was no time to explain. He began jumping from one tree branch to another. The earth moved in waves, trying to reach him. He had to keep on switching from one tree to another as the branches obeyed the evil moving beneath the soil and leaned toward the ground as soon as he stepped on them.

“How could you leave him alone?” the earth howled at them. “You should have stayed at the castle, to protect him!”

“But master, Onyx is dying,” Zul shouted, as he swung from one side to the other like a toy. “There’s nothing left for us to eat!”

Toru had a hunch the master wasn’t willing to listen to Zul and his explanations.

“You should have never let a stranger walk our lands! You will be punished for this, along with this fool!”

Ah, if only he could face underground creatures and undead, Toru thought. But he had no means to fight against them, and now the only thing he could do was to run.

“Toru, stop running,” Zul begged. “I’m the one who deserves to be punished. If you drop me, I won’t mind. I deserve it!”

Unbelievable. What a glutton for punishment. Just what he needed right now, Toru thought and continued to run.

The trees disappeared abruptly, and he found himself lurching through the air, with nothing under his paws to land on. His limbs swung helplessly as he began to fall through a large crevice in the ground. Somewhere, below, dark embers glowed.

***

Was this really how things were supposed to end? Duril used his only hand to swat at the wraiths swooping down on them, knowing how useless he was at this point. Varg was the only one doing something, sending the night creatures to the ground only for others to take their place in throngs.

It was only a matter of time before they would be overrun completely. No, this time he wouldn’t think of himself as someone to be helped, Duril decided. He would be someone Varg and Toru could depend on, so he focused all his attention on the spot where the wraiths were coming from.

He understood quickly why Varg didn’t seem able to make a dent in their numbers. As soon as they turned to ash on the ground, their remains were pulled mysteriously back toward the tree Duril had spoken to earlier. He left Varg’s side and moved closer, ignoring the wraiths, and their bone chilling howls. As for the wounds they tried to inflict on him, he could ignore them, too. After all, he had tough skin and being half orc helped.

“Duril, what are you doing?” Varg shouted. “Stay back so that I can protect you!”

“I think I know how to stop this!” Duril shouted back, their voices soft like a breeze in the chaos caused by the creatures flying all around them.

There was no reply from Varg, or maybe he couldn’t hear him. He could barely see him, as the wraiths flailed their tattered cloaks. Duril touched the tree, and using his only hand, he searched for the place he suspected that had to be there. His fingers finally met something soft, pulsing inside the wood. Without hesitation, he pushed his hand inside and grabbed at the insides of the tree.

The wraiths fell from the air, turning into dust on the ground. Varg was the only one to remain standing, still gripping the pommel of his sword with both hands, a wild look on his face. An inhuman howl rose from the tree, but Duril didn’t waver. He steadied his grip.

“What are you doing to me?” the voice lamented. “You’re squeezing my heart in your hand!”

“I’m sorry,” Duril replied in an apologetic voice, “but you’re trying to kill us.”

“Release me, cripple!” the voice demanded.

Varg put away his sword and came near. Duril had his arm stuck into the wood now, but his fingers curled around the soft tissue they held.

“He might be a cripple,” Varg said, “but he only needs one good hand to make you behave, you abhorrent creature!”

There was a small exchange between them, and Duril knew what he had to do. It went against everything he believed in to cause pain and suffering, but there was no other choice. He squeezed just a little bit more tightly. The wood around his arm tightened, too. Blood pounded in his ears. The only hope he had was that the creature inside the tree would give in before he fainted.

“Do you think you can kill me?” the voice rose again.

“It looks like my friend here holds your life in his hand,” Varg replied. “Stop attacking us. We’re not here to harm you.”

“We’re here to help you,” Duril added and this time, he decreased the pressure of his fingers.

The wood around his arm gave a little, as well.

“Duril, we cannot trust it, whatever this thing is. Don’t release it,” Varg warned.

“It’s okay. It won’t hurt us,” Duril replied. “Please, we mean you no harm.” He silently begged Varg to understand what he was doing. Slowly, he removed his hand from the tree. The sharp inhalation from the wolfshifter let him know that his actions weren’t condoned.

“Who are you?” Duril asked, using the same measured voice as before.

“You let me live,” the voice replied, and this time it sounded astonished.

“Yes. I’m a healer. It’s not my duty to hurt anyone. Quite the contrary. And I think you need our help. If you let us give it to you, of course.”

“I am Amethyst’s heart,” the voice replied. “She is the lady of these lands.”

“You mean, she used to be,” Varg intervened. Quickly, he pursed his lips and offered Duril a small apologetic grimace.

“I am a mother’s heart,” the voice continued. “I cannot let anyone enter. You see, my boy, he’s sickly. And proud, too.”

“Where is he?” Duril asked cautiously. “Does he live in the trees, like you do?”

“I cannot tell you where he is,” the reply came, after some hesitation. “Nobody is allowed to know, or it will hurt him.”

“Who is it?” Duril asked again.

The voice made the sound of someone shuddering with dread. “It enslaved us all. We do not know its name, we never did.”

“Where can we find it?” Varg intervened.

“It travels everywhere here, but we contain it,” the voice explained. “So that it doesn’t reach Onyx, or the world outside.”

“You know this forest, Lady Amethyst,” Duril said softly. “You must have seen the roots of this evil.”

The voice fell silent. “I sense goodness in you, and kindness,” it spoke at last, “But he’s my only child, and I must protect him.”

“He must be lonely now, after so many years,” Varg said. “We mean him no harm, and we mean no harm to you, either.”

“We left him with a servant, a gentle soul. He must be taking good care of him.”

Duril and Varg exchanged looks again.

“And yet, don’t you believe that he must be a grownup by now? He should be free to see the world,” Varg said. “And what is a wolf without his pack?”

The voice began sobbing quietly.

Varg insisted. “I am a wolfshifter myself, as you sensed right away. Allow me to help your son. Lead us to him.”

Duril was fascinated by Varg’s calm and warm voice. In front of him stood a leader who knew how to make others listen not only by strength of will and authority. His words found their way into others’ hearts.

“Will you help him?” the voice wavered. “Will you show him what it means to be a wolf? We never had the chance to teach him, not enough time.” The words were filled with longing and tenderness.

“It is my solemn oath to you, Lady Amethyst,” Varg said. “Your son will be in my care. I will lead him to my pack and he’ll be strong and happy.”

“He cannot leave these lands,” the voice replied, this time suspicious and fearful.

“Then I will have wolves from my pack come here and become his friends,” Varg said patiently.

“He never had any friends, my Onyx,” the voice said. “Except for Zul, his servant. He will be so happy.”

“I’m sure he will be,” Varg replied courteously. “Now lead us to him.”

The trees moved out of the way. “I will repay you.”

“There is no need for that,” Duril said for them both. “We will be happy to help your son. We only want to learn of our friend’s whereabouts in return.”

“I cannot see or sense him now.”

“So he came through here?” Varg asked.

“Yes.”

“But how come you let him pass?”

“I couldn’t stop him. Onyx sent his servant Zul to accompany him to the keep. It’s not in my power to stop anyone summoned by my son. He’s the one true lord of these lands, now.”

“How are we going to find Toru if you, the forest, cannot see him?” Duril asked. He didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but now he worried double after hearing Lady Amethyst saying that she couldn’t sense Toru.

“You’ll find Onyx at the keep. He has a titan’s eye, left to him by his father. It must have enabled him to see your friend trying to enter the forest. Ask him about it when you see him. You’ll be able to use it to find your friend if he’s anywhere on these lands.” After a small pause, the voice added, “Just walk down this path and you’ll find the keep. I promise you that nothing will stand in your way. But please remember that you shouldn’t stop, either. Healer?”

“Yes, Lady Amethyst?” Duril asked.

“Please forgive me.”

“No harm done. Please don’t think about it.”

“But I did hurt you. Once you leave these lands, and my Onyx is safe because of you, you’ll discover a small gift from me to you.”

Duril didn’t ask what it could be. He would be happy only to find Toru safe and sound and help Lady Amethyst’s son, should they find him still alive. His heart squeezed painfully at the dark possibilities that could prevent either of these things but decided to keep such thoughts to himself.

***

“Do you think Onyx is still alive?” Duril asked.

“His servant is, and Lady Amethyst said that Onyx sent him to bring Toru. So he must be.”

“Maybe I’m not asking the right questions,” Duril said after a short hesitation. “What sort of alive is he? That’s what worries me.”

Varg nodded. He understood well what Duril meant by that. Lady Amethyst or whatever was left of her was no longer what she had used to be. They hadn’t asked about the former lord of the land or the rest of the pack, and grim foreboding gripped his heart. They were twisted, wrenched between their duty toward the young wolf now standing in for them as the lord of the land, and the evil that was pulling them down. Varg wondered briefly if the worst had already happened and they weren’t just walking into a trap.

But there was no other way but forward, which meant that he had no time to ponder the possibilities.

“This place,” Duril whispered, as they stood in front of the dark gates guarding the sleeping town inside. “It doesn’t seem alive.”

The night was deep and cloudy. There wasn’t even the light of the moon to guide a weary traveler. Varg was thankful for his good eyesight, as well as for Duril being capable of seeing in the dark. Who knew what waited for them behind those gates?

This was no time to dally. Varg pushed against the heavy gates, causing them to move with a loud screech. Behind them, a pair of guards stood, their spears crossed.

“We come in peace,” Varg said loudly.

There was no sound from the guards and no movement, either. Duril surprised him by walking forward and touching one of them on the shoulder. Nothing happened. Varg touched the pommel of his sword, for reassurance. He mimicked Duril’s action, but he shook the guard as well.

Only the armor on him rattled. Varg reached for the helmet so that he could see the guard, but Duril stopped him. “Let’s find Onyx. Lady Amethyst advised us not to stop.”

Varg nodded. Yes, they needed to heed the lady’s words. But they had barely set foot in the town when a bone-chilling lament rose from the dilapidated buildings on the left and right.

“Someone’s crying,” Duril said. “Maybe we should check?”

Varg knew what those cries must have felt like to a gentle heart like the healer’s. He put one hand on Duril’s shoulder and made him keep walking forward. “We need to move on. I have a feeling that we will be helping the people here a lot more if you just find Onyx.”

They proceeded in silence. By the tension in Duril’s shoulder, Varg could tell that the cries for help pouring into their ears now with increased frequency from all the houses were making the healer fight against himself with all his strength.

The keep finally rose in front of them. Varg took Duril’s hand and used the other to push open the wooden door. The smell of rot hit his nostrils, but he steadied his breathing and continued.

No one stopped them on their way to what had to be the room occupied by the lord of the land. There appeared to be no sleeping quarters of any kind, and the broken doors welcoming them everywhere swung sadly from their hinges, weeping as they passed.

Varg exchanged one look with Duril before entering the large room where he expected to find the young wolfshifter. They stood in the door, taking in the torches on the walls. Varg would have spent more time examining the place, but Duril touched his elbow. “Look, over there.”

On a high chair that must have looked like a throne of sorts during better days, a small shape lay. Whoever that was, he didn’t look like any wolf Varg knew. They walked forward, moving cautiously.

Varg climbed the dais first, with Duril close behind. He stared down at the sleeping wolf on the throne. He was scrawny, fur missing in places, and his ribs showed as his breathing made them rise and fall.

“Oh, poor him,” Duril said gently.

Varg had no time to express his compassion, though. “Hey,” he said loudly.

The wolf didn’t seem to hear him. Varg sighed. “Lord Onyx,” he insisted.

Duril shrugged when Varg looked at him for direction. As irreverent as that had to be, he poked Onyx in the ribs.

Finally, the wolfshifter seemed to come to his senses. He opened his eyes, turned his head, stared at them for a moment, and then jumped to all four feet whining in distress. “Who are you?” he snarled, getting a grip on himself. “Zul, who are these people? Zul!” Despite the poor state he was in, Onyx assumed a fighting stance and showed his teeth.

Zul had to be the servant. Varg stared Onyx in the eyes and snarled, too. The young wolfshifter flattened his ears, but didn’t back down. Duril’s gentle voice broke their trance. “Lord Onyx, we are here to offer our help.”

“Who are you? Where is Zul? And the tiger? Where is he?”

“The tiger?” Duril asked, visibly surprised.

Varg cleared his throat. “We spoke to your mother, Lord Onyx.”

“My mother?” The snarling wolf was gone. Instead, there was now only a young pup. “Where is she? Has she come with you?” He tried to look past Varg.

“Lord Onyx,” Duril intervened in the same warm tone, “we have a lot of things to tell you, so can you please forgive us barging in here in the middle of the night?”

“Are you asking for an appointment?”

Varg pitied the poor wolfshifter, but now wanted to bite his ears and make him behave.

“Yes, we are asking for an appointment,” Duril intervened before he had a chance to let his feelings be known.

“Very well. Your request is granted,” Onyx said pompously and assumed a dignified position on the throne.

For now, he would play along, Varg decided. He had a feeling that much time wouldn’t pass before they had to deal with a torrent of tears and a broken heart, so he would just overlook Onyx’s behavior.

TBC

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