Hungry Heart - Book #4 - Ch. 3 (Patreon)

Chapter One / Chapter Two 

Chapter Three – Deep into the Well

Claw and Varg stood still and stared at the oracle, while the narrow slits that stood for her eyes continued to observe them. “No, no, your place isn’t there, not at The Scarlet Peaks, it’s not,” she chanted while she opened and closed her small bony hands. They made Varg think of a strange animal, struggling to survive.

“Can you tell us why?” Claw asked calmly. After all, he was the one who had faced such bizarre occurrences before, and Varg trusted him to conduct this peculiar conversation with this mystical oracle.

“Why, why, humans always want to know why.” The oracle brushed another of the tiny creatures from her garments like an old maid getting rid of the dust on her clothes.

“We are shifters,” Claw contradicted her.

That seemed to stop the oracle from her continuous fight against her minions. She gathered her robe about herself as if she had just been struck by a chill and eyed them carefully. “Shifters,” she spat from the tip of her lips. “You always think yourselves better.”

“Better than some,” Claw offered a vague half-apology.

She seemed to ponder over his words. “You are a wise bear,” she addressed Claw directly. “Why do you seek a path to The Scarlet Peaks?”

“We heard of a hermit that lives there,” Claw replied in the same calm manner as before. “He might have answers about a place we seek.”

Varg didn’t stop observing the oracle. Could it be that the old witch didn’t know about their search for Nelsikkar? And if she didn’t, was it a wise decision to let her know? He wished he could signal Claw somehow so that he didn’t divulge the reason they wanted to see the hermit, either.

“He doesn’t know everything,” the oracle pointed out in a petulant voice that seemed terribly at odds with her overall appearance.

“And you do?” Claw asked.

She huffed instead of answering. “I know many things,” she said after a short silence.

“So does the hermit.”

“He’s not to see,” she said in a categorical tone. “You’ll die before you get to him.”

“He has been seen. By people,” Claw argued without raising his voice for a moment. “So, not everyone who wants to see him dies.”

“Are you willing to take your chances? Your life will be worth nothing then.” The oracle seemed upset at the possibility. Varg wondered why; such a creature, living in a secret place, why would she care if some shifters die somewhere? Despite her repulsive demeanor, she didn’t seem evil to him.

“Our lives are for what we believe in. And what we want to ask the hermit is important for us.”

The oracle opened her toothless mouth a few times, munched on her own dry lips and then frowned. “It is because of the tiger that you’re going. That is his quest, not yours.”

“We’re all one,” Claw explained. “It doesn’t matter. Where he goes, we go.”

“No,” the oracle said sharply. “There are places where only he can walk.”

“What do you mean? The hermit will only receive him?” Claw asked.

Varg looked around, while his ears remained trained on the conversation. Everywhere his eyes lay, he saw a dark forest and not much else. Unlike the path they had taken, the light here was dim and dull.

“If he so wishes,” the oracle replied. “He’s a mean one, that hermit you keep talking about. He might just finish you on a whim.”

“From the stories I heard, he doesn’t seem to be that,” Claw countered. “Is there a particular reason why you don’t like him?”

The oracle gathered the clothes around herself a bit tighter and shuddered. “He’s a mean one,” she repeated.

“Usually, when I hear the call of this world,” Claw said, “the words I hear are much easier to understand. You are very mysterious, oracle.”

“You can call me Cha’da. I don’t tell my name to just anyone.” She looked at them with an unfathomable intent, first at Claw, then at Varg, and back at the bear again.

“We’re honored,” Claw said. “Please explain to us why you believe that the hermit would choose to kill us just because we want to ask him some questions.”

“Only you. He wouldn’t touch the tiger,” Cha’da explained. “But he’s a mean one, oh, so mean.”

“You said that to us already,” Claw reminded her. “Do you happen to know him well?”

She scoffed and fidgeted in her place. “His name is Te’cla. I’ve known him for three lives.”

“Do you have more than one life?” Varg asked, forgetting about his decision to stay back and let Claw talk to the oracle.

Cha’da let out a hoarse laugh. “Nine lives, like cats.”

“And how many have you lived?” Claw asked.

“Three,” Cha’da replied with emphasis. “I’m wiser than I was. That’s why I’m warning you about Te’cla and his cunning ways.”

So, there had to be some peculiar and personal history between the oracle and the hermit living atop of The Scarlet Peaks. Varg had to admit that his curiosity was piqued.

“Did he do anything to upset you? And how did you two meet?” Claw asked the questions swirling through Varg’s mind, as well.

“We were made the same way, the same day. We learned the ways and the answers together. Until he decided to become a hermit.”

Things were starting to become a bit clear, Varg thought. Could it be that the old oracle was nothing but a jilted woman? That would explain her impetuous and persistent demand that they not go to see Te’cla. Still, he was intrigued by the complicated motivations inside the oracle’s mind.

“Were you in love with him?” Claw asked.

“Bah!” Cha’da hissed at them and turned in her place. “A gobbler of knowledge, a cheapskate! All to himself, all of it!”

Oh, so they were wrong to think that there was some romantic reasoning behind Cha’da’s attitude toward the hermit. It was something more akin to competition. “You can’t be sure that he knows more than you do,” he tried to appease her. “Spending all that time, alone in the mountains, what knowledge could he amass under such conditions?”

That seemed to please the oracle, because her toothless mouth stretched in a smile. “That is true, but there are still things that he stole from the world. He chose to become a hermit only because of his thirst and miserly ways. So that no one else could have them.”

That reminded Varg of something strange Duril had mentioned after they had left Scercendusa. “Could he steal words from a book?”

“That would be easy for him,” Cha’da replied. “From books, from magic, from trees, from wind!” She lifted her gnarly arms into the air. Her sudden outburst made the leaves on the trees swish, echoing her words.

“Why would he do that?” Claw asked.

Cha’da let her arms drop and stared at them as if she had just now noticed that she had visitors. It seemed that it was common for her to do that from time to time. “To have them all to himself. To be the only one who knows those things. And yes, before you ask, he would be capable of killing anyone who got in his path when he is protecting his treasure.”

“That sounds like something only someone touched by evil would do,” Varg said, challenging her to say more about her old companion.

“Touched by evil?” Cha’da appeared to be surprised, despite the fact that only earlier she had accused the hermit of being mean. “No, he kept away from that. It’s just that his mind, something happened to his mind when he was young, during his first life. He learned things with a passion I’ve never witnessed in my whole three lives, to a point that he no longer understands that we aren’t keepers of knowledge for our own sakes, but for the sake of all Eawirith.”

“Was he ensnared? Enchanted maybe? Cursed?” Claw asked.

“Not that I know of. But day after day, he gradually succumbed to this passion, wild and ravishing his soul and mind. At first, no one noticed, but I did. Yes, I did. I saw what learning about everything did to him. Those teaching us were blind. They didn’t see that his eyes were turning inward, seeking to guard what he was learning. And then, he started stealing.”

“What did he steal?” Varg intervened. “Even if he stole books and whatnot, there were others knowing the things in those books, right?”

Cha’da shook her head impatiently. “That wasn’t the way he stole. No, he stole from others’ minds as much as he stole the words in books. He would stare at you with those frightening eyes, of which you could only see white,” she began raising her voice while her face pulled itself tight, “and that was when he stole what you knew, leaving nothing but empty rooms behind.”

“I can only assume that he was discovered,” Claw said.

“Yes, he was,” Cha’da said quietly. “He was discovered and banished. At first, they tried to bring him back to the right path, but nothing worked with him. The teachers, they worried because their methods seemed to be only torture for him. So, they couldn’t mend him. The only solution was to send him away. He became a hermit, up on top of those mountains.”

“Then it wasn’t his choice,” Varg remarked.

“Yes, it was and still is,” Cha’da contradicted him. “The teachers told him that he would be welcomed back whenever he believed in the good of sharing his knowledge again. But they couldn’t let him roam the world, stealing all he could and turning people into savages without wits or wisdom. Yes, there at The Scarlet Peaks, that is a prison of his own choice. He could open the door whenever he wanted, but he doesn’t.”

“Is that why people cannot reach him?” Claw asked. “What is this prison you are talking about?”

Cha’da shook her head brusquely. “It is a horrid place. No one goes there. Those who say that they were there, it is a miracle they are still alive. A miracle.” She shook her head with increased intensity.

“You are someone who knows a lot of things,” Claw pointed out. “Maybe you can help us, and we won’t have to go and see the hermit.”

“You can ask, but you won’t get an answer. Nelsikkar is lost,” Cha’da said. “No trace of it in any of the books I know.”

“But books are not the only way to keep things safe from forgetfulness,” Varg insisted. “People’s minds remember them, as well.”

“Yes, and Te’cla steals from those, too.”

“Did he steal from the minds of those living in Niverborg?”

Cha’da watched Varg intently after hearing his question. “Niverborg. Yes. Some might still be alive there. But how are you going to reach the place?”

“According to what we know, we must cross the mountains.”

“There is only one way there, and it is cursed,” Cha’da said. “Winterhelm.”

Varg looked at Claw, and Claw looked back at him. They had heard of the place from Toru and Duril. It was the pass that should have been crossed by Toru’s people while his parents had been marching on Scercendusa. The path where the evil had manifested and Toru had run for his life, as a child.

“But I would have thought that Nelsikkar is also on the same side of the mountain as Niverborg. Crossing by that path--” Varg began, trying to make sense of the things he knew.

“Bah!” Cha’da interrupted him and waved her hands repeatedly as if she wanted to get rid of some annoying insects. “You don’t understand. Winterhelm moves. You need to arrive there at the right time, and it will take you where you want to go. But there’s no use now, no use. The pass is cursed.”

“Can Te’cla lift the curse? Can he grant us access to the other side of the mountain?”

“It is not a matter of whether he can or not. It is a matter of whether he wants or not,” Cha’da explained. “He’ll do anything to protect what he knows, even the smallest things. He’s that much of a miser.”

“Is there another way we can reach the other side of the mountains? Or did you call me here only so that you tell me that the hermit is dangerous?” Claw questioned.

Cha’da stared at the bearshifter as if she had just been insulted. “No, no, what kind of oracle would I be then? I have my knowledge, too.”

“Then please share your wisdom and knowledge with us,” Claw suggested in a courteous tone. “We will be forever grateful.”

Cha’da sighed and adjusted her position. “It’s not an easy way. But it exists.”

“Tell us more,” Varg insisted, impatient to learn about any possible route for reaching Niverborg and learning about the lost place, Nelsikkar.

“You are heading to The Quiet Woods,” the oracle said matter-of-factly. “There, deep, deep inside the heart of the forest, there’s a well.”

“I don’t know about the existence of such a well,” Claw said. “And I lived there many years.”

“It doesn’t reveal itself to just anyone. Before you go, I’ll mark you so that you will see the path to it.”

“Very well. What does the well do?”

Cha’da stopped and looked at them so more. She appeared to weigh them to see if they were worthy of the knowledge she intended to share with them. “You will have to go deep into the well.”

“But isn’t it filled with water?” Varg asked.

“You will have to hold your breath for some time. But it will take you to the other side of the mountains.”

“So, it is a magical passage,” Claw concluded.

“Yes, it is,” Cha’da confirmed. “Now you have the knowledge. Don’t go see Te’cla. He’ll wish you bad things.”

Varg opened his mouth to ask about more things, but the forest drew close to the oracle and soon she was engulfed in it, while they were left there to stare at nothing.

“Claw,” he asked tentatively, “did she simply disappear?”

The bearshifter put a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Puppy, that was all, I’m afraid. We should take this knowledge with us to our friends.”

“Do you believe her?” Around them, it was night, and the forest bore no traces of a place with an oracle speaking to strangers about secret passages to distant worlds.

“The voices speaking to me before and giving me insight never lied to me. And I sensed no ill will coming from her. Did you?”

“I didn’t, but when it comes to magic and the like, I must say that I don’t exactly dare assume anything.”

Claw seemed a lot more convinced than he was, though. “I think she told us the truth. And as long as there’s a path to take us where we need to be, why not take it? After all, there has to be a reason why the hermit doesn’t meet anyone.”

“That’s true. Something is not quite right with the hermit. If he is a keeper of so much knowledge, he shouldn’t hoard it all to himself. It’s just wrong.”

“Yes, I believe so, as well,” Claw said. “In case the well in which we should go as deep as we can is not where the oracle told us it would be, then we still have the possibility to pay the hermit a visit.”

“And that thing she said about Winterhelm,” Varg added. “That it changes. Isn’t it strange?”

“As strange as all of our adventures,” Claw reminded him. “Hekastfet must have cursed the place while trying to get to Toru at that time. That is something we must remember, always.”

Varg agreed with a nod. All that they were learning lately had to be still linked somehow with the evil they had left behind. Toru had defeated it, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t still traces of it in the world around them. A curse from such a powerful evil couldn’t be easy to lift. In other words, they had a long and treacherous path ahead of them.

***

From behind them, cheerful voices called. Toru patted Duril on the shoulder and smiled. “There are Varg and Claw!”

“Go to them,” Duril encouraged him.

It was early in the morning, and they had woken up with a strong desire to cover as much of their road as they could. And now, Varg and Claw were back, and Toru felt grateful. He shifted and ran toward them.

Varg laughed as he jumped into his arms and toppled him over. “Kitty, are you going to lick my face like a dog now? Are you that happy to see me?”

Toru stopped close to Varg’s weather-beaten face and appeared to behave, but only for a moment. Then, he licked Varg’s entire face in one swipe of the tongue. “Where have you two been?” he asked, ignoring Varg’s protests on purpose. “Duril made stew. It was delicious and there’s nothing left.”

Varg pushed himself up to his feet, as soon as Toru allowed him. “Let’s reach Duril first. This way, we don’t have to tell the same story twice.”

Now, that made Toru curious. What could it be that Varg and Claw had such serious faces? He kept his silence and enjoyed Claw rubbing his head as they walked toward Duril, who had stopped and waved at them happily.

“You two weren’t gone for that long,” Duril said as soon as they were within earshot.

“We weren’t, indeed. We learned of things that you should know, as well,” Claw replied. “We met an oracle, and she warned us not to go to The Scarlet Peaks.”

Toru’s ears perked up. “Why shouldn’t we go there? The hermit knows where my birthplace is.”

“She is convinced that the hermit would very much like to kill us instead of telling us anything.”

“That’s a mean hermit,” Toru remarked.

“Those were her precise words if you believe us,” Varg said.

“Why is he mean?”

“The oracle says he is mad about keeping his knowledge away from everyone else. That it was something that happened to him when he was young. He might be the one who stole the words from those books the Sakka keep.” That was Claw, who looked pointedly at Toru, and then at Duril.

“Now that would explain why the Sakka didn’t know that those words were gone,” Toru said. “Do we have to beat the hermit to have him tell us what he knows? I will beat him.”

“Maybe that’s not the wisest approach,” Claw suggested. “According to the oracle, he might let you visit him, but not the rest of us.”

“Do you say that he might try to hurt you, but not me? Then I don’t want to see this hermit, either. There must be another way to reach the other side of the mountains, where Niverborg is. There, we will find some people that can tell us about Nelsikkar. We don’t need the mean hermit,” Toru concluded. The last thing he wanted was to put his companions at risk. As long as he could help it, he would protect them, and getting in harm’s way for the sake of a sullen hermit didn’t seem like a good idea.

“The oracle told us about a way,” Claw said. “It is far inside The Quiet Woods, so it is good that we are heading there anyway. She says that a deep well is there, and she gave me the gift of insight so that I can find it. All we need is a leap of faith, as we will have to go inside the well and hold our breath while it takes us to the other side.”

“That seems like a dangerous endeavor,” Duril expressed his point of view. “Are you sure we can trust this oracle?”

“Claw believes in her. The voices that have always talked to him during his forays into their strange world never lie to him,” Varg explained.

“But what about you?” The healer turned toward the wolfshifter.

Toru observed his companions as they talked, with increased curiosity. Claw was so amazing, with his gift of insight. But Varg was wise, and he could smell danger from many miles away. Duril was cautious and wanted to learn about all the risks that awaited them, no matter the path they embarked on.

“I think we should explore all the possibilities we have,” Varg replied. “It doesn’t hurt to see if the well is where the oracle says it is. It will surely save us quite the trip, since it’s a long road from The Quiet Woods to The Scarlet Peaks.”

“It is, indeed,” Duril agreed. “Did you know about the existence of this well firsthand, Claw?”

“No. It is only because she marked me with special insight that I will be able to find it.”

“How did she mark you?” Toru asked, searching the bear’s face for any magical signs.

“I think she did so just by looking at me. It is not something I can easily explain. But I do feel it.”

“Then you will be our guide,” Duril suggested. “We trust you, and if you believe that the oracle is telling the truth, we believe in you as well.”

So, they might not have to travel to the top of The Scarlet Peaks, after all. In a way, Toru felt disappointed. As much as he disliked snow and cold, he felt as if there was something important slipping through his fingers, and that was a feeling he didn’t know what to do with.

***

Duril could tell that there was something on the young tiger’s mind. Ever since Varg and Claw had returned with news of a new path that would take them to where they needed to be, he had fallen unusually quiet. Even during their dinner, he had been silent, just taking in Varg and Claw and listening attentively to what they were saying.

He moved closer to him and embraced him from behind. “Toru, is there something on your mind? Ever since you heard about the oracle and her words, you haven’t seemed quite like yourself?”

“It is strange,” Toru began. “On one hand, I don’t think that the oracle told any lies. And Varg and Claw are very wise, right? They couldn’t have been fooled by this oracle.”

“I am inclined to say the same thing,” Duril admitted. “But there’s something else, isn’t there?”

Toru squirmed a little, but then he took Duril’s arm and wrapped it around himself. Duril could feel his heartbeat as his palm was on top of the tiger’s chest. “Yes, but it is not something I know how to tell. Just like Claw cannot explain how the gift of insight feels to him.”

“Just say it the way it comes to you. I will do my best to understand it,” Duril promised.

“I feel like we should go to see the hermit. But I cannot say why. He must be old and sullen. The oracle says that he would kill people if they got too close. He doesn’t want to share what he knows, either. So, by all means, we should think of every possible way of avoiding him. And the oracle gave us one, right?”

“Those are all the things we know,” Duril confirmed. “And yet, inside your heart, you believe that the hermit is the one with the answers.”

“Yes. Isn’t it strange? Why should I be convinced of such a thing? I don’t know the hermit. He doesn’t know me.”

“And yet, the oracle also told Varg and Claw that the hermit would see you. That means that he might have a secret link to you. He might know you more than you imagine.”

“I don’t think that the oracle is bad or that she said things to our friends only so that she would lead us astray from our path. Yet, my heart longs to take the most difficult path. I love heat and good food!” Toru exclaimed.

Duril squeezed him tightly. “There has to be a good reason why you would want to take that path. But look, there’s no need to fret so much. We will see about this well, in which we must go deep, deep, deep. If it doesn’t work and we don’t arrive on the other side of the mountains, then we will still have to go see the hermit.”

“That well can be dangerous,” Toru pointed out. “The oracle says we need to go into the water and hold our breath. But what if it’s not what it’s supposed to be? I can hold my breath for a long time. What about the rest of you?”

Duril didn’t have to ask to know what Toru was suggesting. He was, supposedly, the weakest of the group. “I will go with you, no matter where you go. Even if I need to hold my breath way beyond everything I believe myself capable of. Or if I have to face the wrath of a hermit that might have stolen words from the Sakka’s books. No matter what, I’ll be by your side.”

“But I don’t want to put you in harm’s way.”

Duril kissed Toru’s neck. “I don’t think I’m that easy to get rid of. Plus, if we have to go against the hermit, what is that he loves most?”

“That oracle says that he loves knowledge.”

“What a coincidence,” Duril joked. “The same as me. Maybe I’ll find a way to reason with him, you know, like between scholars with an equal thirst for knowledge.”

Toru didn’t seem entirely convinced. “I don’t want Varg and Claw to know that I’m doubting the path they came up with. They will be disappointed in me.”

“I honestly don’t believe that such a thing would even be possible,” Duril pointed out. “For now, we will travel the path that appears to be opening in front of us. And, when it’s all over, if you still want to see the hermit, I’ll come with you. Even if it’s just for the sake of getting to know him. All those years spent alone in the mountains, maybe he’ll want some company.”

“You always have such good things to say to me,” Toru said. “I’m glad you’re here, with us.”

“Same here, as you know, Toru. There is something I believe you should share with Varg and Claw, too. You should tell them that your gut tells you that the road to the hermit, as dangerous as it might be, is the one you feel that should be taken by us. We’re friends. We’re honest with each other.” Toru nodded. Duril kissed him again. “But it can wait until morning.”

***

The following day, they woke up surrounded by a deep fog. Varg had to yell for the others to establish where they were, although he could swear that he had fallen asleep the night before with them nearby.

Their shouts back assured him that he hadn’t been snatched by some magical creature and taken to a different land. Soon, they were all next to each other, as tight a group as ever.

“Would you believe this fog?” Claw commented. “And just yesterday, the weather was so fine.”

“We’re close to your lands. Is this something that often happens in fall?” Duril asked.

“Fog is common, yes, in these parts,” Claw confirmed. “But nothing as thick as this. I smell foul play.”

The bearshifter had barely managed to finish his words when something swished through the air. Varg felt a sting cross over his left temple and brought his hand up. When he stared at it, it had blood on it.

Claw growled, and he could hear Toru’s low warning. They had shifted already. It was his turn, but when he tried to do the thing he had been doing with so much ease since he was a puppy, his members froze in place and he couldn’t move.

He looked around, trying to ask for help from his companions, but there was no one anywhere near anymore. As soon as he opened his mouth, something covered it. It was damp and smelling of earth. “Don’t say a word, mutt,” someone growled in his ear.

Like it was possible, to start with. Varg felt his eyes closing. He couldn’t even struggle because a strange sleep took him, and soon he could feel nothing.

***

Toru used his claws and fangs, but they were useless in that fog. By the sounds around him, he could tell that his companions were struggling against an invisible enemy, just as much as he was. “Show your faces, cowards!” he growled at the top of his lungs.

He lunged forward, as he thought that he had just seen something. And suddenly, the air cleared, as if he had somehow managed to jump through the fog to the clear side.

He looked around, and immediately he saw Claw and Duril. That was a relief. No enemy was in sight, and the fog was completely gone. “What happened?” he asked, still alert for an impending attack.

“I have no idea, kitty,” Claw offered. He looked around just as confused as he was.

Duril hurried to them. “Thank heavens you’re all right. But, where is Varg?”

They all swiveled around at the same time, looking for their companion. But the wolfshifter was nowhere to be seen.

Toru hurried left and looked as far as he could into the distance. Then, he hurried right. Claw crouched and picked something up from the ground. He rushed to him. “What is that?”

Claw opened his palm and showed him the sharp head of a spear. “I don’t know. But I do know that I have to find out. Someone took Varg.” He smelled the object. “It has Varg’s blood on it.”

TBC

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