Hungry Heart - Book #4 - Ch. 1 (Patreon)

Chapter One – Faces in the River

The world was changing. For as long as he had known himself he had been a drifter across the face of Eawirith, and yet he had never seen it with these eyes. It was like he was seeing it for the first time. Toru stole glances at his companions; did they feel the same? That the world from before was no more, leaving room for a new one to be born?

He would feel silly if he asked such questions. Duril was busy picking small flowers and herbs from the side of the dirt road, examining them with keen eyes and deciding which deserved to be kept and which didn’t. Varg and Claw had shifted into playful beasts and were running in front, scouting the road for them.

Toru enjoyed the feel of the muddy road under his naked feet. The summer would soon be gone, leaving autumn in its place, so leaves were leaving the branches, letting themselves be carried to their shallow graves from which the new plants would feed over the winter.

“You’re lost in thought again,” Duril said, taking him by surprise.

The healer was holding his hand over his bag, which, by now, had to be full of aromatic herbs for tea and poultices.

“Does the world seem changed to you?” Toru blurted out.

Duril didn’t appear taken aback by his sudden question. No, he just adjusted his hand on the bag and looked around. “Yes, for the better. It makes you think, doesn’t it?”

Toru felt relieved that he wasn’t the only one thinking that. “Why is that so? What do you think?”

“It could be that Hekastfet had infused the world with ugliness and hate, even in places such as this.” Duril made a vague gesture with his chin around. “And now, everything is clean again.”

Toru nodded. Unlike him, Duril could put into words complicated thoughts like that.

“Let’s take a break,” Duril suggested. “Over there, by the side of the river.”

“Varg and Claw are far out front.”

“They’ll come back for us. Especially when they start feeling hungry.”

Toru looked into the distance. He could see Varg’s dark fur and the silver blaze on his back, and Claw’s brown coat. Indeed, they could find their way back. He followed Duril through the tall grass that grew close to the water.

They found a place where they could sit and Toru felt calmness spreading through him when Duril rested his head against his shoulder. There was not a cloud in sight, he noticed, as he took in the vast expanse of blue above them. Yet, one could tell that the strength of the sun was waning, and instead of scorching heat, it gave off a pleasant warmth that made Toru sleepy and content.

Thus, he didn’t protest when Duril pressed him slightly and made him lie on his back. Duril adjusted his position so that he could remain close and caressed Toru’s belly, sneaking one hand under his shirt. Sleep took him fast.

***

He had no idea how much time had passed, but when he opened his eyes, the sun was already setting. Toru blinked and rubbed at his eyes with one hand, all the while trying not to disturb his companion. How was it possible to sleep so much? Maybe he should wake up Duril, too. And where were Varg and Claw?

A whisper from the river made his ears perk up. What was that? Were his friends trying to pull a prank on him?

Gently, he moved Duril and let him sleep while he went to see what was going on and who was whispering. Pushing apart the thick vegetation and letting his feet sink into the soft ground near the water, Toru looked right and left for any signs of a living person or a creature.

Toru.

“Who is it? Show yourself,” Toru commanded.

Look down. At your feet.

It could be some other magical creature such as Demophios or Amaranth, so Toru wasn’t surprised at the answer he got. He looked down and, at first, he saw the reflection of his face in a puddle of water.

“That’s me,” he said.

Yes, it is you and it is me. The mysterious voice whispering sounded like a child, and it was impossible to tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman, although Toru could only surmise that such things weren’t important when it came to beings like the ones he had met along the way.

Look further, into the river.

Toru stepped into the water. It was warm and pleasant, from all the hours under the naked sun.

To see me, sink lower. Let water take you.

Toru didn’t feel one trace of hesitation inside him. The world was changed now, and evil was no more. He could trust strange voices of the river. So, he swam toward the center, and then stopped, letting the undercurrent pull him down and the water close over his head.

Open your eyes. Can you see us?

Toru controlled his fight against the current by moving his arms and legs to keep himself in the same place. Strangely enough, he didn’t appear to need air in the least. He opened his eyes wide, as wide as he can, and then, he began to see.

Silver threads moving through the water. Long arms and legs, and shimmering garments.

What are you? He was also speaking now through mind whispers, without the need to open his mouth.

I am a memory, the voice replied. Look into my eyes.

Toru was about to ask how he was supposed to do so, when a face appeared close to him, startling him. It was an oval luminous face on which two huge eyes stood. The eyes were dark and shiny like marbles and looked nothing like those of the human. There was no white to speak of, and they seemed languid and watery, without being repulsive.

Do you remember my face?

No. I’ve never seen you before, Toru replied. What are you? Who are you?

You saw me a long time ago. I cannot tell you who or what I am if you don’t remember. I do not know it myself.

Toru thought. This creature of the river believed that he should remember it.

Why are you bringing a human here? This voice was harsher and seemed to belong to an older person.

Another face emerged from the underwater world. Toru looked at it carefully. It was more angular and the eyes, while the same as the other’s, were deep set and appeared to inspect him with the utmost interest, but also distrust.

He must be the one to remember me, the first voice insisted.

He’s from your past, the second voice concluded. Yet, he cannot remember. Is that true?

No, the first voice denied, fearful and anxious. What am I if I cannot remember, and he cannot remember, either?

Toru pitied the creature. It seemed to carry a weight with it, and pain. I am heading over to find a very wise man. Someone who knows all the answers. He didn’t know if that was true, but he felt compelled to do something to soothe the torment he could so easily guess behind the words of the river creature.

Will you ask him about me?

Yes, I see no reason not to.

The creature swirled through the water. Toru only then noticed that the hem of the long shimmering dress the creature was wearing was red with blood. His nostrils flared. It had to be blood. His nose never failed him.

***

Duril woke up to the sound of shouting, and it took him a bit to realize that Varg and Claw were calling for him and Toru. He patted the place by his side, only to find it empty. He shook off the remnants of his sleep from his eyelashes and struggled to his feet. He waved at his friends and called back to them.

“Ah, there you were,” Varg said cheerfully. “And where is our favorite hero? Don’t tell me he went fishing without us.”

“I don’t exactly know where he is.” Duril rubbed his eyes some more. “We fell asleep what feels like hours ago.”

Varg and Claw sat on the ground. “Let’s make a fire and prepare some food. As soon as he detects the smell of roasted meat, I’m sure he’ll come running,” Claw suggested.

Duril had to admit that they were right. Toru must have gotten bored by himself and gone fishing, just like Varg assumed.

Yet, there was something in the air, a whispering voice coming from the river, that made his skin crawl with apprehension.

It lasted but for a moment. He shook it off. Hadn’t he be the one to tell Toru that the world was a much better place now, free of evil?

***

What is that, on your clothes? Toru asked.

The creature stopped its swirling dance and it appeared to be just as surprised as he was at the sight of the stains coloring the hem of its garments in a sickly color of crimson and black.

That is not a question for you to ask, the second creature cut in.

Something in how it said those words rang ominously in Toru’s ears. Was there something these creatures were hiding? And if yes, what was it?

I didn’t ask you, he insisted. Are you this spirit’s keeper?

In fact, I am, the voice replied. We know who you are, Toru of Nelsikkar.

The mention of his birth place made his heart leap, in surprise and unconditionally. What do you know of that? Have you ever been there?

We, spirits of the water are one. The answer to your question may just as well be that I’ve been there countless times, and that I’ve never been.

Yet, you know of it. Toru liked to believe that his ability to speak to creatures with complicated tongues like Demophios had increased over time. There was a truth this creature knew, and albeit unable to speak it clearly, it had it in its possession.

I do,the confirmation came.

Then you may just as well tell me about it. Tell me everything you know.

More faces appeared around him. They were all the same, with luminous skin and deep dark eyes full of secrets.

We do not wish to speak of it. That night, the river ran red.

What night? Speak, Toru ordered. Since these creatures knew his name, they had to know a lot more.

If we told you, our kind might die.

Your kind? The spirits of the river? Toru asked.

No, not all of us. But this young one.

Toru understood well what they were talking about. The young spirit had to be the first who had called for him. The one with blood on its garments.

We tried to wash the clothes, the old voice continued. Nothing makes the blood disappear.

Toru pondered. It had to be one of those situations requiring him to use his wit, rather than his strength. Have you ever seen such a thing before?

No, never. The clothes should have been clean by now. This young one cannot remember but cannot forget, too.

What is it that you cannot forget? Toru turned his attention back to the one who had summoned him there, underwater.

Pain and blood, the spirit suddenly wailed. So much blood, and I can’t stop it.

Toru reached out. He didn’t know what he would be able to do to ease the pain that infused the water all around as the spirit whispered.

Don’t, the old spirit warned him. Humans cannot touch a mourning spirit. It will take from them the will to live.

I’m no human, Toru countered. I’m a tiger.

Don’t, the old spirit insisted again. The human part of you won’t be able to bear it.

***

The night was falling now over the side of the river. Duril didn’t want to admit that he was beginning to become worried that Toru wasn’t yet back from wherever he might have gone. It was a silly thought, but his eyes and ears were more and more drawn to the river, to those whispers he believed he was hearing.

“I should search for Toru,” he announced.

Varg and Claw were about to doze off, but they perked up at the sound of his voice.

“You prepared food for everyone. I will go,” the wolfshifter said.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one who felt a little worry creeping in after not hearing from Toru for so many hours.

“Do you hear it?” Duril decided to share with his friends what had been bothering him, ever since he had woken up alone. “It’s like the river is whispering.”

Claw gave him a long stare. “And here I was, thinking that I was giving in to frights only young maidens and old fools would give in to. Yes, I do believe that I’m hearing something. I cannot tell what it is, though. They don’t make any sense, and they don’t speak clearly enough.”

Claw was famous for his keen sense of hearing, so Duril felt relieved, but only for a moment. That meant that there was something out there, and it wasn’t necessarily benign.

“That begs for seeing what it is all about,” Varg said in a decisive tone. “You can search for Toru here, on land, if you want. Call for him, as he might not be far away. I hope he’s not having a laugh somewhere, while we imagine that magical creatures put their hooks in him.”

***

Varg had sensed something like a presence ever since they had gotten close to the river, but it had been something he had decided to keep to himself. He had no intention to ruin everyone’s good mood by being suspicious of everything. Toru had eliminated a big evil from the world, and that was easy to see in how beautiful everything around them looked. Such a world would no longer harbor evil, so Varg thought that only his old habits of seeing dangers everywhere would be to blame for such thoughts.

However, once Duril mentioned it, and Claw confirmed that there were strange whispers wafting to their ears from the river, his senses had become alert. He sniffed the air and decided that the best course of action would be to follow that thread. If Toru was somewhere else, he’d feel relieved, but when was kitty away when trouble was afoot?

***

You cannot tell me what I can and cannot do, Toru said. That spirit with bloody garments had a secret inside it, and he needed to discover it, take it apart with his own two hands if need be. The intensity of that desire took him by surprise. In his mind and in his heart, he knew that it was wrong, and yet, he couldn’t stop himself. He wanted to put his hands on the young spirit and shake it until it spilled everything it knew about Nelsikkar.

His sympathy for the suffering the young spirit was going through was slipping from his mind. He growled low, in his chest, and shaped into his tiger. The spirits around him began to fret, making the water muddy, by disturbing the bottom with their transparent feet.

They all made a wall in front of the young spirit that was now holding its head between its hands, murmuring something and wailing.

Out of my way, he ordered.

We cannot do such a thing, Toru of Nelsikkar, the old spirit replied. We are bound not to hurt you, and we will not allow you to hurt yourself, either.

Toru didn’t know what was happening before it was too late. The group of spirits tightened like a ring of iron around him, while the old spirit took the young one away. They sank hooks into him that pained him only slightly and began to carry him toward the surface, no matter how much he struggled.

He thrashed against that hold, but in the water, all his moves were slow and ineffective. Not the same thing could be said about the spirits of the river who had no trouble carrying him with them up, up, up.

Stronger hands grabbed him and pulled him out of the water, all of a sudden.

“Put me down, let me go down,” he growled and thrashed.

“Kitty, do you have a dying wish? What were you doing here?”

Varg’s voice reached his mind, having an immediate calming effect. Toru stopped struggling and let himself be carried toward the shore by his friend. “Where are the spirits?” he asked.

“What spirits?” Varg asked. “You were floating underwater when I found you.”

Toru stared back at the river, but its surface was calm now and the spirits must have gone already. A strange feeling of dissatisfaction grew inside him. “You should have left me to battle with them,” he said.

“I can hear that you have quite the story to tell,” Varg said. “Well, if that’s how it is, then you must tell us all about it. But first, let’s dry ourselves. What do you say? And aren’t you hungry?”

Toru mellowed at that. Yes, he was hungry. And yes, it would be good to have others to share his strange story with.

***

Duril had to say that he was beyond relieved to see Varg emerging from the water with Toru under one arm. He hurried toward them. “What happened?”

Claw was right behind him. “You might be a bit too old for a smacked bottom, but I wouldn’t mind giving you some proper punishment, kitty.”

“Why are you all so frightened? I was barely gone for--” Toru stopped. “Is it night already?”

“We fell asleep,” Duril explained, “and when I woke up, you were gone. Varg and Claw came, and we had dinner and were even about to go to sleep, and you were yet to come back. Have you been in the river all this time?”

Toru nodded. “Yes. I saw faces in the river.”

Duril looked at Varg and Claw. So, after all, being a bit apprehensive about their surroundings wasn’t a consequence of their active imagination. “We thought that we heard whispers.”

Toru gestured for them to sit. Duril hurried up with a plate he had kept only for him, while Varg fiddled with a cup. Claw had made some mulberry wine, his specialty. As warm as the night was, Toru would need a bit of fire in his bones to melt away the cold he must have gotten inside while succumbing to the voices and faces in the river.

“I heard them, calling for me. It was more like a single voice. It belonged to the one they called ‘the young one’,” Toru explained. “I believe that it was the spirit of the river that washed over the shores of Nelsikkar.”

Duril nodded. “Did the spirit say anything about the location of Nelsikkar?”

“No, it cannot remember. But it cannot forget, too,” Toru replied.

“It sounds like a complicated affair,” Claw commented. “All these spirits, they live for so long, and they see so many things, and yet, when they’re supposed to help you, they end up not being helpful at all.”

“Yes, that’s just what I think, too,” Toru added. “I think something very bad must have happened at Nelsikkar. The spirit’s dress was stained with blood.”

Duril felt a small chill coursing through him. He looked toward the river. “It must have been during those times.”

“It must have,” Toru agreed. “The spirit was scared. It wanted me to remember who it was. I couldn’t. I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to a spirit of the river before tonight. Because of that, it cannot remember anything. And I wished I could hear more about the place where I was born. The other spirits were mean. They pulled the young one away and they forced me back to the surface.”

“They might not have wanted to cause you any harm, kitty,” Claw said. “I’d say they could have hurt you more, such as making you drown.”

“They kept saying that if I touched the wailing spirit, my human would have lost his will to live,” Toru continued.

Duril looked at his friend and lover. Toru seemed upset that he had been forced by the spirits to let go. As much as he could understand that feeling, he was also very aware that the spirits’ warning couldn’t have been without a reason. That also explained why he had experienced such an ominous feeling as the whispers from the river had moved toward them.

“Then I am glad that they delivered you back to us safe and sound,” he said out loud.

Toru caught his head in his hands. “But what if I missed my chance of learning where Nelsikkar is? They could have been lying about my human. They don’t know how strong I am.”

“Let’s not dwell on it,” Claw suggested. “If they wanted to cause you harm, they could have done so. You were gone for a long time, sunken to the bottom of the river. And yet, not once did you come back to the surface for a gulp of air. I believe that only happened because they allowed it.”

“That young spirit,” Toru said, clenching his fist, “I know it had so much to tell me. If only I could remember who it was.”

“It is possible that, as a child, you played close to the river,” Varg offered. “Maybe you were so young that it’s not possible for you to remember it easily.”

Toru stood to his feet. “I know that I should have remembered,” he said in a heavy voice and turned on his heels. “I need to be alone for a while.”

“Don’t go back to the river,” Varg called after him.

Toru just waved. Duril traded a look filled with understanding and worry with their other two companions. Toru was hurting now in a way that was deep and different.

***

He didn’t say a thing as Duril sat down by his side. “You can tell Varg and Claw that they can go to sleep without worrying any more about me,” he said morosely.

“Varg pulled you from under the water only a little while ago. Claw heard the spirits whispering. In a way, I did, too. Although you defeated Hekastfet, Toru, I’m not entirely sure if we can say that there won’t be any dangers ahead. And I know that I told you otherwise.”

“I wasn’t in any danger,” Toru insisted. “Maybe only if I overcame those spirits and touched the wailing one. So, maybe I was only fighting with myself back there.”

“I agree,” Duril said.

Toru pouted. “And I thought you’d always be by my side.”

“I am,” Duril retorted. “However, I must tell you that it could have been a foolish thing to go against the will of those spirits. I have a feeling that they knew better, at least on this occasion. What was the young one like?”

“They all have these big faces,” Toru started to explain. “And eyes that run deep, like water. But this one was suffering, I could tell. And it wanted so much for me to tell it who it was. I couldn’t.”

Duril patted his back. “Maybe we’ll find the young spirit of the river again. We already know that the shores of Nelsikkar were washed by two arms of the same river.”

“Jade and Gold,” Toru said and nodded. “It was all written in that big book of places.”

“It’s still better than nothing. And we’re heading for The Scarlet Peaks, anyway. The hermit might know who the young one is. And then, you’ll be able to help it, just like you want to.”

“Yes, I promised it that,” Toru admitted. “But what if my words were empty? We all are counting on the words of someone who might be mad, out of his mind. Who goes to live on a mountain where there is never summer and it’s always cold?”

“I cannot argue,” Duril said. “However, there’s never smoke without fire. The hermit might help us find answers, even if they might not be all the answers there are to find. After all, we will be heading to Niverborg after that. Your father’s people might know things that the hermit might not be able to tell us.”

“What do you think they are like? My father’s people?” Toru asked.

“If they are anything like him, which they must be, they are also like you. Maybe not entirely, but you’ll find yourself among them.”

“I wish that to be true,” Toru said quietly.

Duril caressed his hair. “It is true. And if they prove to be the kind that don’t like meat as much as you--”

“Then we’ll make sure to leave the place quickly.”

Duril laughed and nuzzled his ear. “It sounds like a plan. Nelsikkar is still out there, Toru. At least, its spirit is still alive, because you are alive. We will find it if we have to travel to the end of the world for it. Consider it my promise.”

Toru sighed. This time, it was contentment making him do so. Duril understood him. And even if Claw wanted to give him a red bottom, and Varg worried that he could drown like he wasn’t the strongest tiger in the world, those were just signs that they cared.

***

Varg fell in line with Duril while observing Toru from the corner of one eye. “I can see that you talked some sense into our unruly friend.”

“Don’t let him hear you say such a thing. He believes himself to be in the right,” Duril said with a chuckle. “However, I did have him promise that he wouldn’t go wandering about and meeting spirits without our knowledge.”

“That’s good to know. It wouldn’t sit well with me or Claw to remain without a quest to follow. He knows that, right?” Varg joked.

“We’re all behaving like doting parents. Maybe we should let him make his own mistakes,” Duril suggested.

“Well, I agree with that. As long as those mistakes don’t end up with him losing one hair off his coat,” Varg replied.

Duril laughed and shook his head. “Don’t tell me you’ve never let the pups in your pack make mistakes.”

“I did. What can I tell you? The pups in my pack were never in any danger to fall prey to spirits of the river and whatnot.”

“That is just Toru’s luck, and let’s leave it at that, shall we?” Duril suggested.

“I agree with you completely, my friend,” Varg said. “Now, let me go and bite his ears. I bet he’ll like that a lot better than getting scolded.”

***

Varg didn’t waste any time catching up to Toru who was already far in front, scouting the lands they would travel through. He had to put some work and effort into it. “Slow down, kitty,” he growled. “I’m getting a bit old to keep up with you.”

“That’s not true,” Toru contradicted him but stopped.

“I wanted to talk to you about those faces in the river you saw.”

“They weren’t scary. I told you and Duril and Claw everything.”

“And yet, all three of us felt as if there was something ominous about them.” Varg waited for Toru’s reaction patiently.

“I didn’t think of them like that,” Toru said simply. “The young one was troubled. The old one wanted to protect it. I don’t think any of them were evil.”

Varg chose his next words carefully. “We don’t know for sure if there aren’t any traces of Hekastfet left in the world. For all we know, he might still have acolytes here and there.”

Toru nodded thoughtfully. “That is true. But I told you, I didn’t sense evil in them. I think they weren’t good or bad. And I intend to ask the hermit about them when we reach his home at The Scarlet Peaks. Varg, does Claw know? Where the name comes from?”

“It appears that the peaks are so close to the sun that when it shines right above them, it makes them shine red. That is the legend.”

“If the sun was so close, it should be hot there, not cold.”

Varg didn’t know how to explain such an odd thing, as it seemed to Toru. “It’s always cold in the mountains. I doubt something like that is possible. That’s how things are.”

“And many of the things we witnessed on our path are not,” Toru pointed out.

“That’s true.” Varg couldn’t argue with that. The normal order of things didn’t apply to mystical or magical creatures and the like. For all they knew, The Scarlet Peaks could just as well be as hot as a furnace, and unlike any other mountains in existence.

“I want to know the world,” Toru announced. “Even if I don’t find Nelsikkar and the road takes me long years to get there or it never happens, I want to learn as much as I can about everything.”

“That’s a noble wish, Toru. But my heart tells me that we will find your place of birth, and you will be able to claim the throne of it.”

“If there is one left. But I’m not doing this to claim a throne. I want to find and meet these people that are of my own flesh and blood. There’s this longing in my heart that I cannot explain. Have you ever felt like that, Varg?”

“I have,” Varg admitted. He put one arm around Toru’s shoulders. “It is a natural instinct. It is a part of us.”

“It doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, or Duril, or Claw. Even after I find Nelsikkar, you will still be my people.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Toru,” Varg said and kissed his temple affectionately. “You three are my pack, as much as I still love the one I left behind in Fairside.”

TBC