Something Extra - Hungry Heart - Ch. 24 (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 / Chapter Twenty-One / Chapter Twenty-Two / Chapter Twenty-Three 

Chapter Twenty-Four – The Scent of Death

Toru paced the hallway, unwilling to sit around, twiddling his thumbs. Varg and Duril, unlike him, sat on one of the benches, and they spoke quietly between themselves. He knew that Varg had told him they would just have to wait and see, but that wasn’t who he was. Therefore, after stealing a short glance at his companions who seemed immersed in their conversation, he began walking and went around the corner where he had noticed the spindly man and Margrave disappear a short while ago.

The hallway was suddenly quiet, the sounds of people muffled and seemingly farther away than they actually were. Toru felt the need to tiptoe around so that he didn’t ruin the silence of the place. There was something ominous about that silence, as if it could absorb all signs of life and lock them in. The only sound he could clearly hear now was the pitch from the torches occasionally dripping on the floor.

Benches didn’t line the walls here, like in the hallway segment he had just left, which meant that visitors weren’t welcome to litter this area. The corridor appeared to be stretching forever, and the end of it was obscured, the light from the torches too bright and an obstacle that revealed only things nearby while blocking the view of what lay ahead.

No one would notice if he walked around a little, Toru thought, and convinced by that, he tiptoed down the hallway. Whenever he wanted, he could be as silent as a mouse, although that wasn’t maybe the most fortunate comparison. He was no mouse. His feline nature allowed him to move soundlessly and approach any prey without it noticing his presence until it was too late.

As he moved along, he began noticing things. In the hallway where Varg, Duril and the rest of the caravan still were, the air had been dry and pleasant. Although the smell of burning torches could be a bit overpowering, it was nothing human beings couldn’t live with. The same thing could not be said about the change in the surrounding air as he walked down the never-ending hallway.

Here, the walls were covered in a thin layer of stone sweat, and a slight smell of mold began to make its presence known. Toru raised his head and tried to catch and identify each scent. Underneath humidity and mildew, there was something else, fetid, the smell of a carcass left out in the open.

The house of merchants no longer seemed welcoming and this part of it seemed more in tune with the greyish-white façade that had reminded him just earlier of the cloth used to wrap the dead before sending them off on their final journey.

At one point, he noticed that there were no more torches. The light stopped abruptly, and now Toru understood why he couldn’t see the end of the hallway. This part was sunk in darkness, but for him it was no trouble seeing everything as if it were scalded by the light of day. How Margrave and his guide could have seen their way forward was beyond his understanding.

He reached a door and almost missed it because there were no distinguishable door jambs, and it appeared as if it was just a part of the wall. Toru moved closer and sniffed, while his hand searched for a knob or a lever of any sort to no avail. Thin light escaped through the narrow space between the door and the wall was the only thing betraying the presence of an entrance. That, and a powerful smell.

The scent of death.

Toru jumped back as soon as the potent smell hit his nostrils. What could the source of that smell be? And how was he supposed to get through that door? He examined it again, but this time he looked up. A strange feeling that there was no ceiling above his head possessed his mind. Tipping his head back, he stared up into the abyss yawning above him. Yet, there was no sky above, only darkness, a darkness so deep that not even his tiger eyes could penetrate it.

However, high above the door, he noticed another faint light. Whatever that was, it could perhaps offer a way in, one that wasn’t evident to the unaware visitor. Quickly, he began touching the wall, feeling for any protuberance or jutting out stones. At first glance, the surface was smooth, but at a closer inspection, there were irregularities and uneven parts that he could work with. For any human, trying to scale the wall in that manner would be an impossible task.

Toru was thankful, once more, for being more than a mere human. He touched the first protuberance that could serve as a handhold and a stepping stone and his fingers curled around it. It was a long way up, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t prevail. The curiosity about what lay beyond that door was fierce and would be enough to help him climb the wall.

***

“It looks like we have to wait for a while, indeed,” Duril commented while looking around at the other caravan members who sat around in either sullen silence, undisguised boredom or engaged in conversation with one another.

He had shared some thoughts with Varg about the strangeness of their current quest and, in return, the wolfshifter hadn’t hesitated to mention his own doubts about the house of merchants and what could be happening within those walls.

Varg smiled. “Do I have to stress the importance of patience to you, too?”

“There’s no need for that, but I’m sure Toru is not happy about waiting around. Wait, where is he?” Duril looked around, stood, and began searching for his other companion among the others.

Varg stood, as well. “That kitty better not be putting his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Better not?” Duril allowed himself a small smile. “I’m afraid that, with him, it’s a given that he won’t stay still until he finds out what’s happening.”

“We have to look for him,” Varg said with determination.

Just as they were about to start looking, a rising clamor coming from outside startled them. Both stopped and stared at each other. The caravan people ceased their chattering and listened as intently as they did.

The clamor grew louder. The walls were thick and so were the doors that allowed entrance to the place, so Duril couldn’t understand what the voices outside were saying, as much as he struggled to discern anything. A thump followed, and now their companions reached for their weapons while taking a defensive stance.

The house of merchants wasn’t guarded, as far as Duril could tell, which he had found strange, especially in light of Margrave’s request for extra manpower to ensure his protection. Whoever was beyond the door wanted to gain entrance, and it looked like they were impatient to do so.

Varg stepped in front of everyone and walked to the large wooden doors. Duril could tell, by his tense stance, that he was trying to understand what was going on, just like he was, by picking up pieces of words from the other side.

To everyone’s surprise, Varg reached for the heavy iron latches keeping the doors closed and opened the doors.

Duril gasped and a murmur of stupefaction went through everyone present.

On the other side, the entire city population seemed to be gathered in front of the house of merchants, or at least a large part of it. With the opening of the doors, a cold wind rushed inside along with heavy rain drops that began to pelt the floor near the entrance. Duril gathered his vest close around himself.

“What is it, good people?” Varg’s sonorous voice tried to silence the clamor, the thunders above, and the sounds of heavy rain.

“The storm is getting stronger!”

“My husband’s still at sea!”

“How many sacrifices are still needed?”

Duril walked closer. The heavy rain put a curtain between them and the people outside, and it wasn’t possible to see their faces, only a grey mass that bellowed, screamed, and cried in a thousand voices.

“We’re here as guests,” Varg replied, shouting to make himself heard. “Why do you seek answers here? This is a place of trade.”

“We demand to see Master Blayves! He must answer!”

Varg’s impressive size and the iron and leather armor he wore were enough to keep the mob at bay for the moment, but Duril could tell that the city dwellers’ restlessness threatened to peak and a spark was the only thing needed to turn it into a blazing fire.

“My boy, my boy, where is my boy?” A female voice demanded through sobs and cries.

Duril thought he could recognize that voice. He walked closer to the crowd. “Naella, is that you?” he called.

The fisherman’s wife who had been so kind to them when they had first set foot in Shroudharbor that morning stepped to the front, helped by the people around her. Even in that rain, Duril could tell her face was in tears. “They took my Moony,” she cried, “and all he had was just a little cough! And he wasn’t even coughing anymore after he took the medicine you gave me! He wasn’t ill anymore like the rest, nor at the end of his life!”

“Your husband, where is he? And who took Moony?” Duril asked.

That made Naella burst into louder sobs. “Teutron left for the harbor, worried about his people! He’s been gone for hours! The knaves,” she put one fist up and threatened the skies, “they waited for me to be alone to grab Moony from me!”

“Who are these people you’re talking about?” Varg asked.

Naella lowered her arm but only so she could point it at the building. “Them!” she said in a shrill accusation. “The bloody merchants!”

“Let’s get them!” one man encouraged the others. “If they don’t come to us, we’ll go to them!”

Duril exchanged a worried look with Varg.

The wolfshifter put both hands up to stop the mob from pouring inside. “Pick a few representatives,” he suggested in the same booming voice. “Do you think the people here will see you if you just burst inside? All of you?”

Duril wondered what was going on in Varg’s mind. He was their leader, a natural born one, forged in the fire of battle, so his thoughts had to be concerned for the wellbeing of all those people.

Grumbling, the city dwellers began to talk among themselves, and in a short while, three men walked to the front. Naella joined them right away. “I must ask about Moony,” she said with determination, and no one dared to stand in her way.

“We will escort you,” Varg offered. “We’d like to hear what Master Blayves has to say about his people kidnapping children from their mothers’ arms.”

Duril fell in step with him right away. “Is it wise to leave all of them outside like this?” he whispered.

Varg’s face appeared as if it was cut in stone. “What do you see, Duril, when looking at these people? A mob ready to lynch some merchants?”

“No, nothing like that. I believe they deserve answers.”

“They do,” Varg admitted, “but when I look at them, I also see innocents that the immoral people that might inhabit these walls would have no trouble sacrificing for their own ends if need be.”

Duril’s mouth turned dry like sand. “Do you think…” he let his voice trail off, afraid of saying out loud what both he and Varg were thinking.

“Yes, I’m starting to think that I know what the shroud needs to feed on.”

“The ill? The dying?” Duril whispered.

A short nod from Varg was the only answer.

***

Toru’s right hand grabbed a ledge, and he pushed himself up. He now straddled the crown of the wall and looked down. He noticed Margrave sitting at a table with a group of merchants. The spindly guide was nowhere in sight.

Numerous candles burned on the large table, but they couldn’t be the source of the light Toru had noticed. The room below him was split in two and another perpendicular wall was projecting from it. On one side, Margrave and the other merchants were discussing, without a doubt, the details of their transaction. Their voices were loud, punctured by short, sly laughs, now and then.

Toru focused his attention on the room on the other side of the perpendicular wall, for which he had to move a bit farther along the wall. He leaned over as much as he could, not understanding what he was seeing. He stopped when he saw the giant object in the middle of the second room.

Supported upon an unseen frame, a large shroud poured down from the heights of the invisible ceiling down to the floor. Behind it, a large fire burned, and Toru had to keep the crest of the wall between his thighs tightly so that he didn’t lose his balance.

He needed to find a way to get down and inspect that strange room. The smell of death was even more powerful here, and he needed to find its source. The shroud obscured most of the view, and Toru’s ears picked up soft sounds coming from below, without being able to tell who or what was making them.

***

Varg exchanged a curt look with Duril. Together with Naella and the other city dwellers, they were now walking down a long corridor. It struck him as odd that no doors could be seen anywhere. Nothing but the endless hallway stretched in front of them. The others were mute, not daring to ask questions, but he could tell from their body language and how they walked cautiously as if stepping on eggshells that they had never been there before and were as surprised by the inside of the house of merchants as he was.

“This is quite strange,” Duril murmured, the only one brave enough to break the silence. “There was no other corner, right?”

Varg nodded in agreement.

“Then Toru must have walked down this hallway, too,” the healer concluded.

That was a positive thought amidst all that strangeness that surrounded them, carrying with it a deep sense of foreboding. If the tigershifter was ahead of them, then maybe they had a fighting chance against whatever lay ahead.

For Varg, there was no doubt. The quest they had pledged to follow wouldn’t be an easy one. It meant that with all their sinews, bones, and muscles, they had to be prepared to face unknown evil. This never-ending hallway appeared as good a place as any for evil to lurk in.

“Is this leading anywhere at all?” Naella asked in a whisper. “I feel like we’ve been walking forever.”

She had quieted after Varg had offered to escort her and the others to see the merchants in charge. However, the strain and worry in her voice remained.

“And I cannot see the way back,” she added after turning her head to look over her shoulder.

Varg stopped, and the entire group followed his example. He looked behind them, the sense of foreboding from before stronger than ever. An overwhelming feeling of dread washed over him, leaving cold chills down his back, as he stared at what looked like a wall, not far behind them. The corner they had turned to enter the hallway was nowhere in sight.

It felt as if they were trapped.

“We’ll just walk forward until we find someone,” he said out loud, not letting his own feelings be known. Too often, people mistook fear for bravery, and Varg knew the difference all too well. But in the face of something that threatened one’s life, the only thing left to do was to march forward.

The city dwellers murmured among themselves.

“Quiet,” Varg ordered. “We’ve come this far.”

He would never allow his companions to voice their fears. It was the surest way to lose hope and lose that thread that guided them toward what waited. Whatever that was, Varg was prepared.

And part of his confidence lay in the fact that he knew that having Toru walk before them down that path meant that they had the best ally they could hope for in that place.

***

Toru searched around the wall with his fingers, but unlike the way he had come, this time, the surface he touched was slippery and smooth, with no discernable knobs and cracks that could be used for a safe descent.

He could feel the usual restlessness growing inside him. Giving into it now wasn’t what he truly wanted. It was as if he could hear Varg’s words in his ears, telling him he was too impatient.

Albeit disappointed, he decided to move back to the first room and see if he could use something there to climb down. Most probably, the merchants didn’t want anyone crashing their meeting, let alone a tigershifter, but if there was a way from that room to the one with the shroud, he needed to find it.

And he would be so quiet that no one would be able to tell he was even there.

Walking the crest of the wall was easy, but now he truly hoped he would be luckier about the possibility to descend in the first room. Impatiently, he began to feel the wall with his fingers. His perked up ears began catching pieces of the conversation below.

“I’ve always wondered,” Margrave said, “about the source of all these treasures, Master Blayves.”

Toru stopped his search and listened closely.

“We do not keep it a secret,” the one who had to be the head of the house of merchants replied.

It wasn’t easy to spot who was who from that height, but Toru could tell Margrave’s large girth even from there. The other merchants around the table appeared much thinner, at least from where he perched.

“Oh, yes, yes, that old-time legend,” Margrave said. “A giant pearl in a giant clam… is that how that story goes?”

“It is more than just a legend,” Master Blayves corrected him in a sour voice.

Toru let out one breath as his fingers finally found a small protrusion. He would take a leap of faith now, not knowing if the way down would be as uneventful as his way up had been. Nonetheless, he moved his entire weight over the wall, holding himself up by the ledge.

“Really? I’ve always thought it was nothing but old wives’ tales,” Margrave insisted.

“Our offer is more than generous,” Master Blayves said curtly. “Are you not happy with it?”

“I would be happier if I saw the pearls first,” Margrave said back.

Despite himself, Toru grinned. The caravan master was cunning and didn’t care about Master Blayves’ disdainful tone.

“You will, soon.”

“How? I mean, there’s a storm raging outside. Are your pearl gatherers still out at sea?”

There was a moment of silence, and the adorned hats below moved as if their owners were consulting about something. Maybe, how to get rid of Margrave and his sharp tongue. Slowly, Toru curled his naked toes around another small rock jutting out of the wall.

“No,” Master Blayves replied.

“Then what’s the hold up? And where did the pencil-like man go?”

Toru snickered. So Margrave thought that guide was too thin for his own good, too.

“What was that noise?” Master Blayves suddenly asked.

Toru froze. Could it be that they had heard him? He looked down and noticed how the merchants were slowly moving their heads as they scanned the room. It would be hard for them to spot him up on the wall, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Margrave said loudly and made everyone stop. “Now, let’s get back to my pearls.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Master Blayves replied. “Your pearls, Master Margrave, are on their way. Our butler, Mr. Geruf, went to get them.”

“Where? In the other room?”

Toru stopped his descent and listened without letting out one single breath.

“That is where he disappeared,” Margrave added.

“Yes.” It appeared as if Master Blayves felt great pain when replying to the caravan master’s questions.

“Wouldn’t be a laborious task for him? Your Mr. Geruf doesn’t look like a strong fellow, with all due respect. His complexion, in particular, betrays a sickness. Does he suffer from some liver ailment?”

“No,” Master Blayves replied in a tone that betrayed annoyance, “he doesn’t.”

“Are you a doctor, too?” Margrave asked. “Maybe he just keeps it to himself.”

“I am not a doctor, but here, at the house of merchants,” Master Blayves said with self-importance, “we are all blessed with good health and long lives.”

“Long, indeed,” Margrave remarked. “Some would say you’re as old as the pearl tale, Master Blayves.”

“I am not sure if you intend to compliment me, Master Margrave, or tell a joke. That wouldn’t be possible. There have been other Blayves merchants before me, all my ancestors. We were the first to understand the astonishing wealth that had washed up on these shores by accident. As is the case with all my companions.”

Toru continued his quiet descent. His progress was slow, so he hoped that Margrave would chat up the others long enough to allow him to reach the floor.

“Forgive my nosiness,” Margrave said gallantly. “I just find the story of Shroudharbor fascinating, to say the least. At the same time, I do understand your reluctance to share too much about the source of your wealth. It is any merchant’s prerogative, and not even his closest brethren should question it.”

The apologetic words seemed to have found their target. “Oh, but it is I who should apologize,” Master Blayves said. “We are not at all against answering your questions. We have done so before.”

“You did? Then how come no one knows anything else beyond that tale?” Margrave questioned.

Toru looked down; he was halfway there, and it wouldn’t serve to hurry now.

“It is quite simple. No one remembers,” Master Blayves said airily.

“No one remembers?” Margrave echoed his words, but in astonishment.

“Yes, because we always do this.”

Toru watched as Master Blayves lifted a candle and blew into the flame. It was impossible to tell what was going on, but Margrave let out a small sound of surprise, only to fall silent a moment later.

The tigershifter’s entire body tensed. Were they going to kill the caravan master? But that would be bad for their business! And he also – sort of – liked Margrave.

“What a strange smell,” Margrave’s voice rose again. “Are these scented candles?”

Phew, the fat merchant was alive. Nonetheless, Toru continued, this time more hurriedly, his way down.

“That’s not what you wanted to ask, is it?” Master Blayves said cunningly. “Ask away.”

“Master, is it safe?” a weak voice asked. It had to belong to one of the other merchants who hadn’t yet taken an active part in the conversation until now.

“Do you doubt our power? I can say anything to this corpulent idiot, and he wouldn’t remember it a moment after.”

Toru stopped again. Was Margrave truly all right with being called that to his face? But the caravan master was silent.

“What was it that you asked me, Master Blayves?” Margrave sounded as cheerful as before.

“About what you wanted to know. Please, ask us anything.”

“Oh, right,” Margrave said, this time slightly confused. “The source of your wealth… the pearls that come from sea…”

“They do not exactly come from the sea,” Master Blayves replied, his voice falsely ingratiating. “Whenever someone in Shroudharbor falls sick or ends up on their dying bed, we bring them here.”

“To cure them?” Margrave asked.

That was something Toru very much wanted to know as well.

***

The hallway continued to stretch in front of them. With each step they took, a heavy scent was irritating his nostrils. He had smelled it before, and when added to the uncanny nature of the corridor they were walking on, it only led to one conclusion. Varg had to admit that continuing to march forward made no sense, so he stopped. He turned toward the people from the city. “This place,” he began, “reeks of dark magic.”

Everyone gasped.

Varg ignored them. “We’re strangers to this place, so we don’t know of your ways. What was it that you said outside, about sacrifices? Are you talking about human sacrifices?”

No one said anything. They looked down, but Naella stepped forward, with her head high. “We call them sacrifices,” she said. “The merchants calls them a tribute.”

“A tribute to what?” Varg questioned.

“To the wealth and wellbeing of Shroudharbor,” one of the men replied.

“It’s only when someone falls sick with no hope of recovery or they’re about to die,” another said. “The merchants bring them here, to die in peace, they say.”

“You also mentioned the storm,” Varg reminded them. “What’s got that to do with the tribute you are speaking of?”

The men fell silent again, and Naella spoke for all of them. “When the tribute is not enough, more souls are claimed,” she said in a quivering voice.

“Is that what the merchants tell you?” Varg asked.

Naella shook her head. “No. They tell us it’s blasphemy to think this way. But we know better. People talk, they see even when there’s a shroud pulled over their eyes.”

Varg turned his head slightly to exchange a look with Duril. The healer touched Naella’s shoulder gently. “We’ve heard that the shroud has to be fed,” he said slowly. “What does it feed on?”

“The souls that leave the bodies,” one of the men replied.

“I would bet an arm that the merchants help with that,” another added sullenly.

“Do people fall ill often here?” Duril asked.

“Sometimes,” Naella reply. “There are sicknesses that go through, leaving plenty of dead in their wake. But it has never been like it has recently. And my Moony wasn’t even that sick!”

“It wasn’t just your boy, Naella,” the first man spoke. “We didn’t rise up for no reason, travelers,” he addressed Varg. “You say this reeks of dark magic? I say you must be right, and if there’s anything you can do to help us, we beg you on our knees to do so.”

Varg stopped the man as he tried to kneel. “There’s no need for that. We’ll help you with everything we have.”

That was easier said than done. He searched Duril’s eyes, not for answers, which none of them had, but for reassurance. The healer appeared as worried as he was.

***

“To cure them?” Master Blayves let out a short, raspy laugh. “No, I cannot say we bring them here for that.”

“Then, what for?” Margrave asked.

“The correct question, you’ve asked before. What is the source of our wealth?” Master Blayves spoke in a haughty tone.

“Yes, yes,” Margrave said hurriedly, “now I remember that was what I asked.”

“It was the correct question. You’ve asked, as well, about your pearls, and what takes so long for our butler to bring them here.”

“Yes, yes,” Margrave admitted again. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company, gentlemen, but there’s a warm bed waiting for me back at the inn.”

Toru had made good progress while the merchants chatted away. Now, there wasn’t much distance left until he would touch the floor.

“Then let’s not have you leave here without hearing the truth. Although, of course, you will forget it once I tell it to you. The truth, Master Margrave,” the head of the house of merchants said with glee, “is that we need the ill and the dying because we split them open while they are still breathing, to find all the pearls and gemstones we need to make our city thrive.”

“What?”

That was Margrave’s voice, but, Toru realized much to his horror that he had asked the same question out loud. Now all the heads snapped in his direction. The merchants stood, causing their chairs to fall to the ground with a loud clatter, and they began shouting, all at the same time.

“Who are you, intruder?” Master Blayves lifted one of the candles and stared in Toru’s direction.

The time for descending cautiously was over. Toru shifted in midair and landed on all paws. “Your worst nightmare,” he said and lunged toward Master Blayves while letting out his most bone-chilling roar.

***

Duril understood Varg’s eyes and what they were saying. They were trapped in there, and the heavy scent of dark magic wasn’t lost on him, either. It didn’t help that the entire place was made from stone, and there was no trace of wood he could use to ask about a way out.

Nonetheless, he touched the wall tentatively, repressing a small shudder of disgust at the thin film covering it.

“How are we going to find the merchants?” Naella asked, giving voice to what everyone was thinking.

“How are we going to get out of here?” One of the men followed with a question of his own.

He could tell that all eyes were on Varg who had acted as their leader to this point.

“I believe we must first find a door,” Varg said. “Preferably, one made of wood,” he added and threw a look at Duril.

He nodded in acquiescence. Varg was thinking much as he was. They needed a way in, and for that, help from inside was invaluable. “I would so much like to touch a piece of wood right now,” he said.

“Why?” Naella asked.

“Duril can talk to wood,” Varg said, waving his hand impatiently. “Long story.”

The city dwellers murmured, but they were now staring in admiration at the healer. Duril didn’t meet their eyes, looking down instead and feeling embarrassed. “I do, but I don’t see how that would help us now, in this place made solely from stone.”

To their surprise, Naella walked to the wall and grabbed one of the torches. “Can it be just any wood?” She handed the torch to Duril.

Varg grinned, and Duril smiled, too. “Naella, I truly believe you are the most nimble-witted person I’ve met in a while.”

Without another word, he took the torch from the flustered woman and held it tightly. If he listened closely, he could hear a faint hum coming from it.

TBC

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