Hungry Heart - Book #4 - Ch. 12 (Patreon)

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Chapter Twelve – The Well of No Return

Toru had to say that he had never seen a place like The Quiet Woods. The trees whispered to one another, their branches moving in a slow, undulating wave as they swayed and twisted, the leaves rustling like silk. They were large, tall things, standing high above the ground, with huge trunks that appeared so strong, so solid, like stone grown into living wood. Just looking at them, he understood how amazing and magical it had to be to have a gift like Duril’s, to be able to talk to those magnificent things like they were friends.

Of the many things he had encountered in his life, Toru had to say that he had never cared for magic much. Yet, because it was Duril who owned such magic, he felt a certain attraction to it, as if he, as well, was close to those monumental trees and their luxurious leaves.

“Isn’t it a bit strange?” he asked, as he touched the dark bark of one of the trees that seemed to be among the oldest in the place.

“What?” Duril asked.

They were alone, having taken a stroll by themselves while the others were busy recounting their adventures for all the ears at The Quiet Woods to hear.

“That the trees don’t know about the hidden well? I mean, have you tried asking them?”

Duril nodded thoughtfully and placed his hand on the dark bark, just by Toru’s. Watching his lover lighting up from within while using his magic was a fascinating thing in itself, and Toru was held in place as if vines had grown from the ground and wrapped around his feet and calves.

He continued to watch as Duril’s lips moved, while his eyes remained closed. Curious about the magic of talking to the trees, he leaned his head against the tree, to see if he was at least capable of catching a single whisper, a word that would reach his ears, too.

Nothing of the kind happened, but Toru didn’t feel one pang of envy.

“What is it like when they talk to you?” he asked curiously once Duril opened his eyes.

The healer smiled at him. “It’s both an easy and difficult thing to explain. They talk to me in low, whispery voices, but there is no mistaking what they are saying. It’s almost the same way the wind seems to speak when you stand on the edge of a cliff looking out over the sea, or hear the water whispering in your ears as you swim in a river.”

Toru smiled broadly. “When you talk, it’s like poetry. Not that I ever read poetry. Not that I ever read anything.”

Duril shook his head in mirth and placed his hand on Toru’s shoulder. “We could use this peaceful time to study the letters together. But, better yet, do you want to learn what they told me?”

Toru had been so lost in his lover’s beautiful smile that he had forgotten that he actually did want to know if the oldest trees knew about the existence of a secret well in the heart of the forest. “What did they tell you?”

“They say that they have some knowledge of it, but it is more likely nothing but a myth. I believe that says something important about the secret well.”

“That it’s really, really secret?” Toru offered.

Duril kissed his cheek sweetly. “That’s part of it. I must admit, however,” he added, and the expression on his face changed, “that something of what they said made me a little worried.”

“What?”

Duril hesitated for a moment. “They believe that there is a price to be paid. It takes a power like no other on the face of Eawirith to be able to transport someone to a distant land in such a fashion. I will tell you their words, and I would like to know what you make of them.”

“Go ahead,” Toru encouraged his lover. He was proud that Duril wanted to know what he thought of it all, especially since these were matters involving more head than brawn.

Duril closed his eyes for a moment to recall what the forest had told him. “All life must be sacrificed in order to sustain the forest’s growth. Every year at the end of autumn, the leaves fall to allow others to grow the following spring.”

Toru scrunched up his nose. “But I thought The Quiet Woods always stay like this.”

“Maybe that only happened while the spirit wind Shearah was resurrecting the forest each day. I believe that the trees want us to know that there’s always a sacrifice to be made, and they told us so in their own way.”

“Trees should talk like people if they want to be understood by people,” Toru replied, a bit miffed that he couldn’t understand what the meaning behind those words was.

“I suppose we will see what the well wants from us when we get there.”

Toru nodded. “We should be on our way, but it looks like Claw and Varg like the easy life here a bit too much. They are in love with all the good food.” It was safer to blame it on the other two shapeshifters, when, in all truth, it was he who liked having a bit more time to enjoy the beauty of life.

“Then I will make sure they understand the importance of our quest. For now, let’s join the others and see what Willow has prepared for lunch.”

It sounded like a great idea, and Toru accepted Duril’s hand. At least they would enjoy all the good things the forest had to offer for one more lunch.

***

Willow was already busy filling everyone’s plates when they arrived. Duril had to admit that, deep inside, a tiny bit of him was envious of the bearshifter’s flavorful dishes, but Varg, without his ever saying it out loud, had assured him that it had everything to do with how bountiful the forest was, and not with Willow’s possession of out of this world cooking skills. He half-knew his friend meant well, but that only went to assure him that there was still much for him to learn when it came to cooking, as well.

For now, he received the plate he was given gladly and took a seat by his friends’ side. Toru was already making all sorts of sounds of delight while gobbling down the stew Willow had prepared, and no one else had gone through even half their portion when he was already holding up his empty plate, with begging eyes.

The graceful bearshifter only laughed and happily filled Toru’s plate again. “So, you are all ready to go on another big adventure. There’s no rest for you.” He was examining each of them in turn, and Duril could tell that he was both worried and curious at the same time.

“So it would seem,” Claw offered. “When an oracle tells you about secret wells inside the heart of forests you should know like the back of your own hand, you cannot do anything else but listen.”

“You defeated that evil thing,” Willow said and shook his head, while pursing his lips in displeasure. “We were so happy to see you and hoped that you would call this place your home again, Claw. And that you had convinced your friends that there is no better place on the face of Eawirith.”

“We wished the same. Yet, it appears that Toru’s quest is not yet over. And, don’t you forget,” Claw reminded his friend, “we are looking for his place of birth, Nelsikkar.”

“Yes,” Willow agreed with a thoughtful look on his handsome face. “We cannot even fathom how it would feel to not know your home, not to know the way back. Since we have always been here and never left, like some of the more adventurous of us,” – at that, he gave Claw a pointed look, but one full of affection and nothing else – “we can only imagine that we will be here until the end of our days.”

“I remember about it now,” Toru said. “But it’s the place I knew as a young child. It may not look the same at all, especially without all the people. Yet, I hope that there is still someone there, and that we will find them.”

Duril knew all the things Toru didn’t say, the doubts, the fears, even, that Nelsikkar might not exist at all, crushed by the unforgiving hand of Hekastfet years and years ago.

They always had hope, and it was all that mattered. As sweet as life at The Quiet Woods was, they needed to move on and search for the well. Under the guidance of Varg and Claw, who had been marked by the oracle named Cha’da, they would surely find their way there and soon be on the other side of the mountains, in search for Niverborg and Toru’s kin.

***

“You don’t like long goodbyes,” Varg said matter-of-factly, as Claw fell in line with him.

They were walking in front, as the ones chosen to lead the way toward the well at the heart of the forest. So far, he couldn’t truly say that he felt particularly blessed with a sense of direction, as he supposed he should have, bearing the mark of the oracle, whatever that was.

“It is why we left at the fall of night. My friends tend to get a bit teary. Beast, most of all.”

Varg laughed at the idea of seeing that hirsute bearshifter breaking into tears over something or someone. It seemed unfathomable, and yet, maybe not so much. Claw was loved there, at The Quiet Woods, the place of his birth, his home. “Now, tell me, friend, do you truly feel anything akin to a calling toward the secret well, or is it just me who’s dense and doesn’t understand this type of magic?”

“In all honesty, I was expecting to feel a pull toward the place, but I cannot say that I am experiencing anything like that. However, I do know my way around The Quiet Woods, and I have an idea about what the heart of the forest means and where it is.”

They were so busy talking that Duril’s and Toru’s sudden shouts, urging them to caution took them by surprise. The path between the trees shone red like a river of blood, and there was something standing on it – an enormous spider with four hairy legs, each as thick as a tree trunk. Its body was twice the size of a man's, and its head was round and bulbous, surrounded by a fringe of fine hair. Varg pulled back, astonished by that apparition. “I didn’t know you were raising this kind of thing around here,” he joked, but his hand moved to the pommel of his sword without him even thinking about it.

The spider had eight eyes arranged in two rows of four, one above the other. It was dressed in a black leather jerkin that covered most of its body except for its mouthparts and part of its back. Something about it rang human to Varg; it was maybe that strange piece of clothing that had no place there on the creature’s body.

The spider’s legs were so long they reached all the way from the forest floor up into the branches where it stood. And then, all of a sudden, it launched its attack, its preferred target being Varg as it seemed. Varg twisted around, trying to avoid the sharp fangs that almost touched his cheek. The spider’s foul breath hit him in the face. His sword sliced through one of the hairy legs before it could get out of range, and the spider fell over backwards with such force that it crushed several trees beneath its weight.

The others were shouting around them, and Varg could tell that his friends were rushing to battle. The head-on crash with the spider had also pushed him a few feet back, but now, he was regaining his bearings, and, sword in hand, he prepared his next attack.

Toru was already at the creature’s head, biting it with his tiger’s fangs, a sickly ripping sound following soon after. The abnormally large spider fell to the ground, but the moment it touched it, its carcass metamorphosed into a myriad of tiny creatures on eight legs, and they all assaulted Toru at the same time, covering his striped fur in a matter of moments.

The young tiger flailed his paws, in an attempt to get rid of his strange attackers, and Varg let out a growl as he shifted and charged into Toru. The force of the collision sent them both tumbling to the ground, shaking most of the spiders off of the golden striped fur and causing them to fall back into the red undergrowth.

They felt nothing but leaves under their feet now. What had seemed like a river of blood before was nothing but dry leaves, fallen from the trees under the winds of autumn.

“What was that thing?” Varg murmured and got to his feet. He helped Toru up. They had both shifted back into their humans without even thinking.

“I don’t remember ever having had anything to do with this type of insect,” Claw intervened. He, too, seemed to be beyond bewildered about it. “And it looked like a messenger of sorts.”

***

Duril felt his feet glued in place, so, instead of rushing to his friends to see if they were all right, he found himself incapable of speaking or moving. The worst part of it all was that he couldn’t even alert them of his current predicament and watched Toru, Varg, and Claw engage in tense conversation as if he was looking at them through a piece of stained glass.

Either the well didn’t want to be found or there were secrets of the forest that no one was aware of.

His entire body turned without him being the one to command it. The movement stopped once he was facing in a different direction. What startled him the most, however, was seeing someone standing in the middle of the path. It seemed to be a young woman, her long hair flowing down her back; her white dress floating around her, just as much an apparition as the rest of her.

He couldn’t help thinking that she looked familiar. She turned her head slightly and spoke, although her lips didn’t appear to move at all. Healer, you must be warned.

Warned of what? Even if his mouth couldn’t help him, he believed himself capable of communicating with her the same way he did with the trees and the whispers in the wind.

You must know something about the place you’re heading toward. But you don’t know everything about it.

What should we know? And who are you?

You don’t remember me? How fickle are the minds of mortals.

Duril searched his mind, while his eyes moved over the apparition’s face. That wasn’t where the familiarity came from. He could swear that he had never seen her in his entire life.

You witnessed my banishment.

Shearah? But how can you—

Spirits cannot be contained. That is not, however, the reason I’m here. The well in the heart of the forest will take you where you want to go. Yet, you will never be able to return if you choose to use its power. You will remain locked out of this place forever.

Forever? But—

I can’t stay any longer. Your companions are not allowed to see me. Farewell.

The young woman disappeared. It was almost impossible to believe that only moments ago she had been standing there beside him. Duril felt his heart weighing heavy inside his chest; it seemed like an eternity since she had uttered those ominous words.

His feet that had been rooted in place before were now free to move. “Duril, did you see where all those spiders disappeared to?” Varg asked him. “I’m afraid we were too busy being startled by it all to see that well.”

Duril shook his head. “That was just a distraction, I believe.”

“A distraction?” Claw asked, observing him keenly.

“Yes. Just now, while you were getting up after that strange attack, I found myself rooted in place. As I was thinking that it was some dark magic holding me in its clutches, Shearah appeared to me.”

“The young witch?” Toru questioned. “What was she doing?”

“No, it was the other Shearah, the wind spirit,” Duril explained.

“I thought the Silverlight took her with them,” Varg said with a frown.

“As did I,” Duril replied. “She didn’t seem to have time to explain why she was free to appear to me in such a fashion. However, she warned me of something quite peculiar.”

“What was it?” Toru asked impatiently. “And was it she who sent that ugly spider?”

“She wanted you preoccupied with something else, I believe. It must have been her doing. Spiders, some people say, are messengers.”

They all nodded quietly, while looking at him in wonder. How was it that the spirits chose to speak only to him in such a manner and put such a heavy burden upon his shoulders? Duril didn’t know how to begin or how to convey the wind spirit’s message, without burdening his friends just the same.

“What did she warn you about?” Varg’s dark eyes searched his, and Duril felt naked under that stare.

He found himself incapable of lying, although taking such an easy way out was not his way of doing things anyway. “The well we’re heading toward, it is a well of no return,” he said slowly, trying to measure his every word so that the truth of what he was saying would be less difficult to believe.

“How is that?” Toru intervened.

Duril couldn’t help but look at Claw, as realization appeared to dawn on the bearshifter’s face.

“It means,” the bear said in his stead, “that once we go through it, we will never find our way back here. Isn’t that so?” he asked Duril directly.

Duril nodded. “I’m afraid that is exactly what she meant. We must make this choice, of whether going forward as planned or avoiding it and finding another way.”

“The other way is going to see the hermit,” Toru said. “And he’s very mean. Why should there be so many obstacles in our path?” Something akin to desperation could be heard in his young voice.

Duril felt for him. “I believe it is a choice each of us should speak up about. I will go down the well of no return if that is what you want, Toru.”

“And I, as well.”

Toru cast his eyes down. “I would ask you to come with me, as I long to find the place my father came from. By that, I mean you, Duril, and you, Varg. But how can I ask Claw to come with me, too? This is his home.”

It was the same thing that had preyed on Duril’s mind like a plague from the moment he had heard the warning given by Shearah. All three of them looked at Claw, expecting him, without a doubt, to feel saddened and conflicted.

Much to their astonishment, however, Claw didn’t appear to feel anything like those emotions. If anything, his demeanor could only be described as calm and ready to face new challenges. “Why are you all looking at me like you’re about to cry?” he teased them.

“I don’t understand,” Toru said, speaking what was on Duril’s mind, and probably, Varg’s, too. “Wouldn’t you want to stay here? I mean… you probably made up your mind and we will have to leave you behind.”

Claw shook his head slowly. Then, he inhaled deeply and looked around. “This forest has its rightful place in my heart, and I belong to it, too. But I chose to leave it before, and yet, against all odds, I came back. Shearah, as much a wind spirit as she is, might be wrong. If it is a curse that will bind us to never return to The Quiet Woods once we slip through that portal to the other side of the mountains, there will be means to undo it, I’m sure.”

Duril let out a sigh of relief. “Are you truly convinced? Deep in your heart?”

Claw nodded solemnly. “I promise you. We will find our way back, because once our quest is over, you will have to come with me.”

“How can you be so sure that the well won’t lock us there for good?” Toru asked. “And I didn’t think of it before, but what if we get trapped there, on the other side of the mountains and we cannot go anywhere else at all?”

Varg put a hand on the young tiger’s shoulder to soothe his worries. “Spirits might not express themselves very clearly, but I tend to believe that the warning Duril heard from Shearah is related to The Quiet Woods alone. How the well could keep us away from here is a mystery to me but, as an adventurer at heart, I’m more than willing to see where this new path takes us and what we can make of it.”

“The oracle wouldn’t have spoken to me, unless she wanted me to fulfill a noble purpose,” Claw explained. “To back away from my part of the adventure would be very much like cowardice. And, let’s not forget, shapeshifters live long lives. If I need to spend an eternity finding my way back, I will. Such a prospect doesn’t scare me in the least. Now, are any of you afraid to go down that well? Let’s hear your concerns, and I’ll make sure to put your minds at ease.”

Claw finished his little speech on a playful note as his eyes moved from one of his companions to another. Duril wanted to hug him for having such a giant, gentle heart. “I think we’re ready.”

Toru and Varg murmured in agreement. Duril fell in line with the young tiger and wrapped his arm around his waist. “We will find your home, Toru. Everyone here is with you.”

***

Varg couldn’t get it out of his mind how that spider had appeared out of nowhere. Duril seemed convinced that it must have been Shearah’s doing, but was there anything else, apart from the two events happening at the same time, to confirm it? When the tiny spiders had crawled all over Toru, all his instincts had flared up, warning him of a danger like no other.

“Is there something the matter, puppy?” Claw asked him, whispering in his ear, and stealing a glance backward at Toru and the healer.

“Call me what you want, flea bag,” Varg teased him in turn, “but I didn’t like that bit with the spider at all. It seemed so easy for it to attack us, and can you tell me if your bear senses had noticed anything before its so sudden appearance?”

“That is where you are right, puppy. I don’t like enemies that are so silent they can sneak up on us. It puts us to shame, really.”

“Is there a possibility that Shearah’s warning was not all truthful?”

“Who knows?” Claw shrugged. “You said it yourself. We are adventurers, and we go where the road takes us. In this case, we’ll use a well, but that’s just more of the same thing.”

Varg felt something crawling up his arm and shook it, startled. Whatever it was, it fell to the ground, and he could swear that the thing scurried through the undergrowth, as if chased by fire.

“What happened?” Claw asked him.

“One of those pesky critters must have clung to the inside of my sleeve,” Varg explained. “I hate spiders.”

Claw laughed good-naturedly. “I believe we’re getting close to the heart of the forest. Can you feel it? The air here is the sweetest you’ll ever breathe in your life.”

“Does that mean that we’re also getting closer to our destination? I still cannot feel--” The words died on his lips as his eyes snagged on a sight that seemed not to have been there before. “Am I the only one seeing this?” he asked out loud.

Duril and Toru had caught up with them and they were all now staring at the magical well, a large eye of mystical water at the center of a grassy patch. It glittered like a precious jewel in the middle of a clearing. It seemed as though some great power was flowing through its water, which glowed with an intense blue light. The blue-colored water flowed into the ancient well as if it was drawn there by unknown forces, finally disappearing underground, never to be seen again.

“Is that the magic well?” Toru whispered. “It looks so beautiful.”

Varg moved closer to the edge and looked inside. The moon above was reflected in its water, a clear smooth surface disturbed only here and there by a blade of grass or a leaf blown in by the wind. The wolves’ goddess’ image shivered for a moment and then settled itself, beckoning Varg to enter.

“Should I be the one to go first?” Toru asked. “It is the well you and Claw were marked for, isn’t it?”

“I will go first,” Claw announced. “Since I was the one to hear the oracle’s calling. Toru should come last. Just in case we need someone to save us from drowning,” he joked.

Varg shook his head in mirth and watched his friend dive into the water, expecting him to come back to the surface in a matter of moments. But the water seemed to have swallowed Claw whole, and there were no signs that anyone had just passed through. Without a second thought, he plunged in.

***

Toru held Duril’s hand. “It really is a magic well,” he said. “I will come right after you. It looks like it swallowed Claw and Varg already.”

The healer squeezed his hand and then let go. Toru followed him with his eyes, as Duril hit the water, and the same thing happened. No one had come back to the surface, so Toru waited only just a few moments longer before he threw himself in.

At first, the most astonishing thing he sensed was that the water wasn’t cold. It was warm, in the same way a person’s skin was when you touched it, and it made it feel like he was falling through a pleasant grass of sorts. It tickled his skin here and there, and he didn’t have to make any effort to move through. Even beyond that, an unknown force was dragging him down, away from the surface. Toru turned his body so that he could look up and saw the moon above turning small and small, until he couldn’t see it any longer.

He used his arms to push himself through faster, to reach the others, whom he couldn’t see in that dark, but it appeared that all his efforts were destined to remain fruitless. In the end, he surrendered himself to the power of the magic well that drew him deeper and deeper.

It also seemed that he could breathe just fine, even though his other senses told him that he had to be underwater. Something rushed by him, so quickly that he thought it must have been only his imagination, but then, the same sensation was repeated, and he caught a reflection of silver in the water.

The next thing he knew, he was in the middle of a school of fish and, if he reached out, they would shy away from him, causing the creation of new swirls in their roundabout movement.

The water was no longer as warm as it had been, and Toru realized that it had gotten gradually colder, to the point where it was starting to get to him. He moved his arms tentatively to see if he could swim, and this time, his own strength pushed him upward.

He was welcomed by laughter when his head broke the surface. Varg offered him one hand and pulled him out of the water, as all three of his companions were already on the shore.

Toru shook the water from his hair and clothes and looked around. His breath caught in his chest. Everywhere he looked, the moon shone over a landscape of white shapes. Behind him, the magic well was no longer what it had been, but was now a river full of fish. Tall trees, heavy with snow, rose in the distance, and everything he could see said they had to be in the mountains. It was still night, which could only mean that their travels mustn’t have taken more than mere moments.

“We’re on the other side of the mountains!” he called out victoriously.

Varg patted his shoulder. “So it would seem. The oracle guided us well.”

“Where to, now?” Claw asked. He seemed invigorated by the cold air, and Duril was playing with a small ball of snow in his hand. “Do you remember ever visiting your father’s tribe, Toru?”

“No. I don’t think there was any time before they tried to send me to Niverborg,” Toru explained. “I would have remembered so much snow and this cold.” He trembled for show and made the others laugh. “Your guess is as good as mine. But I’d say that maybe we should first find some shelter and continue our adventure in the morning.”

He had barely said those words when the trees shook in the distance, and a dozen or so shapes came moving through them at an incredible speed. “White tigers,” he exclaimed just as one of them toppled him and aimed a swipe at his face.

Toru shifted and evaded the attack with ease, causing the white tiger trying to rip open his face to stop. “Who are you, intruder?”

TBC

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