Hungry Heart - Book #4 - Ch. 17 (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 – Dark Power

The flames licked his skin, and Toru fought hard to endure the pain that flared through him with what seemed like the power of a thousand suns. To hold Lakan in his arms, he needed to go through it if it turned him mad, but the ring of fire wasn’t only hot like hell, but also strange in nature, not solid, not liquid, not steam, nor anything else he had known. It engulfed Toru and Lakan from all sides, moving and shifting and attacking them. The beautiful white mane caught on fire and Toru pulled back. He could endure the pain, but the fire could kill Lakan before he had a chance to take him to the other side.

He placed Lakan on the ground and took off his shirt. With moves he had seen Duril use before, he tore the fabric and wrapped the strips around Lakan’s shoulder to stave off the bleeding until he came up with a clever idea about how to save him before killing him first.

He stood to his feet and stared at Drahlung, who was still lording over them from above. “Come down here and fight me,” he bellowed. “I won’t forgive you and all your kind if my brother dies because of you.”

“You are the one to have spilled his blood,” Drahlung pointed out with what seemed like satisfaction.

Toru clenched his fists. It was true. Because of how reckless he was with his own power, he had wounded Lakan by mistake, and that meant that, indeed, his brother’s death would be on him, regardless of the other circumstances.

Still, he wouldn’t let some legendary creature play with his mind and soul like that. To snuff out the ring of fire, he only needed to defeat Drahlung, right? He intended to bring that creature down, no matter what it took.

“Do you believe you cannot be defeated?” Toru continued to shout. “You just don’t have the courage to face me.”

Drahlung continued to flap his wings and look down at him. “I understand your pain, Toru. Don’t think for a moment that I don’t.” The creature’s voice sounded genuine, but Toru didn’t believe a word. There was falseness in the world, too, and he would be wise to recognize it for what it was.

There had to be a way to get to that flying creature and bring him down by his neck. Drahlung had to be destroyed. Only this thought flared in his mind, like a beacon showing him the way.

***

“Why would I tell you anything? Drahlung belongs to the soul of this forest, just as much as I do, and all the trees around us,” the voice from the trunk replied.

Claw didn’t seem disturbed by the denial coming off in waves from the heart of the forest. “The way I see it, Toru would rather give his life than give up on a friend. All the more, when a true blood brother is concerned, he will prove his true worth. Are you willing to be responsible for the demise of a hero of the world?”

Duril examined his friend carefully. Claw had a face that didn’t give anything away. During these moments, his features appeared as if cut in stone, and he could make anyone believe every word he said while he looked like that.

Yet, it was true. Toru would never give up on his brother. All that talk, that Lakan was dying, if it was true, it had to be sending Toru into a frenzy right now. Duril felt the familiar ache of wanting to be close to his lover and soothe his pain and anger, both of which he shared. It was all because of the stubbornness of this forest, and, while he was a talker to the trees, the earlier fury rose inside him once more.

“Maybe Toru needs to destroy this forest and everything in it to save his father’s people, and, above all, his brother,” he said in a tone that was highly uncharacteristic of him. Even Varg stared at him in wonder. To melt a stone heart like that of the forest of Niverborg, they needed to play every trick in the book and use threats that would not fall on deaf ears.

“He cannot destroy the forest,” the voice from the old trunk replied, but there was a quiver in it that hadn’t been there before. Maybe threatening the forest with its demise was the only way for them to uncover the truth of what needed to be done to save Toru’s brother and the rest of the white tigers.

Claw intervened again, placing a sympathetic hand on Elpis’ frozen form. “Does this not tell you that there are forces high above us, more powerful than the ones you wield?” he asked.

“What do you mean by that?” the voice inquired.

“Love,” Claw said simply. “Elpis was just a simple fae, and yet her love for this place, both for the forest and its people, turned against fate, defied it, and won.”

“Won? Is that what you call it? My daughter here, she walked a dangerous path, and now she’s--” The last word was swallowed quickly, with no intention to be released into the open.

“And it should teach you not to mess with the strength of a heart,” Claw added immediately. “To save this place, Toru must defeat its spirit, isn’t that so?”

The voice remained silent, which was a confirmation nonetheless.

“So, aren’t you going to tell us how to do it? There is no other way out,” Claw insisted, his voice insinuating and almost hypnotic in nature. The bearshifter obviously knew what he was doing and how to deal with the hardened heart inside the old tree.

“Do you believe it is an easy path? There is always a price to pay,” the voice finally said. “Yes, Toru must defeat Drahlung if he’s so bent on not wanting to take his brother’s life. You don’t know what the trees are telling me, but it’s already too late. Lakan is taking his last breath. It’s too late to change fate.”

“It’s never too late,” Duril shouted. “Just tell us already. Tell us what you think would be a price too high.”

Short, hoarse laughter followed. “To defeat Drahlung,” the voice said slyly, “Toru must surrender to the dark inside him.”

“You’re telling lies,” Duril shot back. “There is no darkness in Toru, and that purity of his soul makes him invincible.”

“No darkness, you say? But I can feel it, like a faint beating heart, hiding inside him. It was the first thing I noticed from the moment Toru walked into Niverborg.”

The shard, of course! Duril kept his mouth shut, but a quick look at Varg and Claw confirmed what he feared the worst. The shard that lived under Toru’s skin, on his shoulder, was a force in itself. Toru had told him before that it felt like power was coming out of it. Claw and Varg both feared that such power was not to be wielded. And this heart of the forest was telling them that the only way for Toru to emerge victorious was to tap into that power that didn’t truly belong to him, a power born from the very soul of darkness?

“Go back. I do not wish to speak to you anymore,” the voice spat at them in disdain. “What is done is done. And, unwilling as he might have been, Toru did the right thing by coming here and killing his brother.”

***

On their way back, no one spoke. Varg knew what kind of weight each of them carried in their hearts. They were running, not walking, and Duril was riding on his back. Was it truly too late? Had the life all poured out of Lakan already, as the heart of the forest had told them it had? But it couldn’t be true. Toru would never allow such a thing to happen.

That damned shard, Varg thought, a wave of dark feelings rising inside him. That messenger, he had given them all a burden to bear that might just be too much. Toru would be tainted by the dark power nestling inside him. That was what the heart of the forest hadn’t mentioned, but there was no need for it to do so. It was a truth they all understood.

A resolution found its way inside his soul, one he didn’t recognize as the kind of thing a wolf like him would ordinarily come up with. If Lakan was dead, there was no point for Niverborg to exist. Toru would tear it apart, and he would be within his rights to do so. A thirst for vengeance came with the thought, so powerful that Varg felt it like a claw wrapping around his throat and preventing him from breathing normally. Could it be that they were destined to succumb to the evil of Hekastfet in the aftermath? He shook both the emotion and the thought away. No, Toru wouldn’t destroy this part of the world because of how unjust it had been to his brother.

Varg shook his head and tried to clear his mind. Duril’s hand squeezed a patch of fur as if the healer could very well understand what thoughts tormented him that very moment. And then, Duril leaned over him and, while squeezing his back between his thighs for balance, the same gentle hand came to caress his muzzle. “It’s not too late,” the healer whispered to him, and Varg blamed himself momentarily for losing hope, when hope was all they had.

***

Toru stared at the flying creature above that showed no intention whatsoever of landing and facing him in just battle. There was no ladder to climb there, no trees within the circle of fire, so Toru couldn’t reach him and drag him down to snuff the life out of him.

Nothing would stop him. He didn’t need to look at his brother’s motionless body to draw more power for his conviction. Bringing his arms up, he uttered the words, addressed to no one in particular. “Let me have wings to tear down Drahlung.”

It served as more than a means to intimidate the legendary creature hovering overhead, but his shoulder, the one with the shard, pulsed violently, and there was a voice, speaking to his blood, not his ears, assuring him that he was right to crave that much power.

He let out a loud groan as abrupt pain shot through his shoulderblades. It felt as if his flesh was being ripped apart and the bones beneath rearranged by no other force then their own selves. And then, a flutter or a breeze by both sides, and Toru saw and felt at the same time, the pair of wings erupting from his back like he had been born with them, but never before used them.

With them, a feeling of overwhelming power embraced him. He willed his wings to move, and in a moment, he was lifting himself up in the air like that time in the Great Barren when, together with Demophios, they had risen up so high that they could have touched the sun.

“What is this?” Drahlung croaked as he witnessed the whole thing.

“You will pay for hurting my brother,” Toru bellowed, and to his ears, his voice wasn’t his own, but a deeper, persuasive chant that claimed his mind with a madness he didn’t recognize as his own.

Drahlung shot his breath of fire at him, but Toru dodged, his newfound pair of wings strong and nimble and capable of flying him through the air like no bird could. Soon, he was behind Drahlung, and it took him nothing but a moment to land on the scaly back and wrap his hands around the thick throat.

***

“What’s happening?” Duril asked, as they were close to the clearing now, and the sounds of a terrible battle reached them.

The people of Niverborg, those few left, scattered about, crying in fear, as shots of blazing fire decapitated the crowns of the trees left and right. The one wreaking all that damage was Drahlung, but he didn’t do it in what seemed to be a fit of rage. No, he was struggling against an unseen force, and it took moments for the truth to be revealed.

A gasp left Duril’s mouth. Toru was on Drahlung’s back, his arms now fully wrapped around the creature’s throat, and he was squeezing at it with the power of a snake. That, however, was not the most astonishing thing about the whole scene. No, something rose behind Toru, a pair of dark wings, so black against the night sky that the breath of fire shooting from Drahlung did nothing to illuminate them, as any object or living thing would have been.

“The darkness,” he whispered, feeling helpless and overwhelmed by sudden sadness, so deep that it threatened to pull his heart out of his chest.

He jumped from Varg’s back, and the wolf returned to his human form, as they all dashed toward the ring of fire.

“Return my brother to me,” Toru bellowed while he fought the giant creature. “You will die for it.”

“Toru, stop,” Duril shouted, but he couldn’t be sure that his voice was carried by the wind. They were fighting so high that it was a wonder they could hear Toru so clearly.

He didn’t appear to hear them, although Varg and Claw added their voices to his to urge Toru to stop the darkness from taking over. All the while, the ring of fire burned, and behind the flames, Duril did see a lifeless body. When he brought his hand to his cheek, his fingers came away crimson, as if he was crying tears of blood.

Drahlung thrashed in Toru’s hold, but it was obvious that he was losing power, and soon, they descended toward the ground, the creature helpless in the young tiger’s formidable grip.

As they did so, they appeared to be going down in flames, and Duril cried out, not wanting to believe that fate would be so cruel, after all.

***

The flames licked his skin again, as Drahlung appeared to set himself ablaze. But the pain didn’t come, and Toru laughed, the sound of his own laughter maddening even to his own ears.

“Is this your wish?” Drahlung’s voice spoke to his mind. “To have your brother live?”

“It is. And you must die,” Toru said, a hunger deep like bloodlust rooting in his soul.

“Then let your wish come true, but don’t ever say I didn’t warn you beforehand. It is wrong and against nature. You’ll regret it deeply, but it will be too late.”

Toru felt the strong body he had been holding slipping from his arms and fall, while he himself had to make use of his wings again to float to the ground. He witnessed as what remained of Drahlung diminished in a blaze and fell over Lakan’s body like a golden rain.

The ring of fire waned around them. Toru knelt by Lakan’s side and took his hand. His entire body seemed made of gold, even his hair the same color, golden spun silk. “Lakan,” he called out, “can you hear me? I defeated Drahlung. You must live now.” His voice had lost all its harshness from before, and now it carried with it only pain and barely there hope.

Lakan remained motionless despite his calls, but just as he was about to wallow in despair, Toru witnessed a sharp lift of his chest and a gasp. The closed eyelids blinked slowly, and soon, Lakan opened his eyes. “Toru?” he called in a hoarse voice, “is that you? Why do you have wings?”

Toru pulled his brother into his arms. “Because it was the only way to defeat Drahlung and save you.”

His back bones were rearranging themselves again, and Toru could tell what was going on. He didn’t mind losing those wings. They had served their purpose, and now he didn’t want them anymore. Tigers didn’t fly like birds.

Shouting could be heard from all sides, and soon they were surrounded. The tigers of Niverborg were eager to see if their ruler was still alive, and voiced their wonderment by touching Lakan with hesitant hands.

Toru let go of his brother so that his people could have him. At the same time, someone embraced him from behind and pulled him away. He turned and Duril kissed him hard and hugged him tightly.

Varg and Claw circled them with their strong arms. The day was won. The hero had prevailed.

***

“Where is my mother?” was one of Lakan’s first questions once he found himself strong enough to get to his feet and walk by himself.

Varg tightened his lips, unwilling to tell the white tigershifter that his beloved mother had turned into a weeping statue for all eternity. There was no time for that now. Lakan would have to find out, of course.

“She returned to her mother, the forest,” Duril intervened, with half a lie that could just as well be the truth.

“Forever?” Lakan asked while he leaned on Toru, who was helping him walk, while denying everyone else the honor.

“I’m afraid so,” Duril replied apologetically.

“I see,” Lakan said in a tight voice.

A lot had happened for the white tiger to take in over such a short time. He had discovered that his mother was a fae of the forest, that he had a brother who was the most powerful tiger in the world, and that his death should have occurred in order to save this place.

“Do you hear that?” one of the young tigers asked out loud.

They all stopped. They were trudging through the thick snow at the pace at which Lakan could walk, and not even Toru had offered to carry the proud ruler of Niverborg on his back, only so they could walk faster.

Varg felt his ears prickling. There were sounds, faint but there, coming from everywhere. And then, he realized. The forest was coming back to life, not so still and quiet as before. What they heard was the chirping of birds, flying from one tree to another. Not even crows had seemed keen on living in that forest only hours before. And now, there were trills in different voices, to show that the forest was now far from its doomed fate.

A low howl announced the presence of animals, too. Varg recognized it for what it was. He tipped his head back and let out a howl of his own. Wolves were back, and, without a doubt, with them there had to be other creatures of the forest, too.

Everyone broke into happy chatter at that realization. Hope was back in Niverborg, and Varg was glad to witness it.

He stole a glance at Toru. The young tiger’s shirt was still wrapped around Lakan’s healing wound, which gave Varg an unhindered sight of the shard buried inside Toru’s shoulder. It seemed inert, without a glint to hint at its state of being alive, but Varg didn’t intend to let himself be fooled. When they had rushed toward the scene of the battle between Drahlung and the young tiger, the sight that had appeared in front of their eyes had chilled him to the bone.

Black wings had somehow sprung from Toru’s back, dark like a raven’s feathers, and his eyes had been burning red while taking down Drahlung. Varg had never seen his friend and lover look like that, consumed by dark fury. And that transformation had to be because of the shard of darkness stuck into his shoulder.

The heart of the forest had warned them. Varg didn’t want to believe that Toru would ever let himself be guided by darkness, but it appeared that the loss of his brother had moved him in strange ways, and he had not been himself anymore, at least for the time it took him to defeat that creature and save Lakan.

Now, he seemed to be back to his usual self. He was holding Lakan, supporting him as he walked, and his face was lit by affection and reverence. That was Toru, as he knew him, full of love and kindness.

The heart of the forest had to be wrong. Toru would never allow the darkness of the shard to consume him. He had wielded it as some sort of weapon when the situation had required it of him. That was how Varg intended to think about the whole deal.

Still, ignoring foreboding words as those that had been spoken by the heart of the Niverborg forest seemed unwise. They needed to learn more about the shard and its power. And, once alone, he would ask Toru about what had truly happened while fighting Drahlung and dragging that creature down from the sky with the power of dark wings.

***

The young ones had left to hunt, and Lakan had been allowed to rest in his quarters, guarded by a few white tigers who immediately had taken it upon themselves to nurse their ruler back to health. Therefore, they were now together in a large room, sitting on the floor, on a thick fur, in a circle, and waiting to share what had happened and try to make sense of it.

Duril knew what was on his friends’ minds. The way Toru had defeated Drahlung and saved his brother had been tainted by the use of something dark they couldn’t even begin to understand. It seemed like everyone was waiting for someone else to begin, save for Toru, who appeared oblivious to what troubled his friends and just looked at them with a big smile on his face.

“I have a brother,” Toru said. “Can you believe it? And he was here all the time.”

“Quite an astonishing thing,” Varg admitted.

“What happened to Elpis? Why did you say that she went to her mother never to come back?”

Duril knew that these questions were directed at him. He sighed from the depths of his heart. “We didn’t want to upset Lakan by telling him the whole truth before he was truly back on his feet. While you were trapped within that ring of fire to fight your brother, we convinced Elpis to take us to the heart of the forest.”

Toru looked at them with curious eyes. “What does a heart of the forest look like?”

“It’s just a voice inside an old trunk,” Duril explained.

“Like Amaranth,” Toru said and nodded in understanding.

“Unfortunately, this old trunk was nothing like Amaranth,” Duril said. “She told us Lakan was already dying, that you had already done your duty to kill him.”

Toru looked guiltily away. “He came at me fast. I didn’t want to hurt him so badly, but he began bleeding and fell.”

Duril touched his lover’s shoulder in sympathy. “We know you’d never hurt anyone you love, Toru. Not on purpose, anyway.”

“What happened there?” Toru asked. “Did you convince the heart of the forest that it was wrong to have Lakan die? She should be grateful. The forest seems to be alive again all around.”

Duril nodded. “You’re right, of course. But she didn’t care about anything we told her. She didn’t even care about Elpis’ tears. And Elpis,” he paused for a moment to stop a tear from falling, “she cried and begged, and as she did so, tears began pouring out of her eyes, until they turned into a rivulet of ice, and with it, she became a statue of ice, as well.”

“She’s dead?” Toru whispered.

“I don’t think a fae can truly die. But she is now there, at the heart of the forest, a testament to her mother’s harsh ways. Claw asked if the key to save Lakan was to defeat Drahlung. And the old trunk did confirm it, although she warned us that, for you to do so, you must surrender to the darkness inside you.”

They all stopped and studied Toru in silence. The young tiger just stared back at them, present before them with the same pure heart as always. “What darkness?” he asked.

Duril mustered up his courage to speak. “That shard, Toru. Did it help you sprout those wings on your back?”

Toru looked over his shoulder as if he still expected the wings to be there. He shrugged. “All I know is that I demanded to have wings so that I could reach Drahlung and punish him for wanting my brother’s death. For making me…” Toru didn’t continue and cast his eyes down.

“Toru, it is important that we understand. There was a darkness growing, and I felt it, too. I threatened the heart of the forest as we spoke to her. I told her that you should destroy the forest down to its last root for the death of your brother.”

“That’s not like you,” Toru said and now looked at Duril in surprise.

It was Duril’s turn to cast his eyes down. “It’s not, I know. But I felt such a deep dark satisfaction saying those words, to cause her pain just like you had to be feeling while watching your brother die. She told us that Lakan was as good as dead, you see? That’s why Elpis turned into a statue.”

Toru observed them carefully.

Varg intervened. “Duril wasn’t the only one to have such unsettling thoughts. I was thinking of the shard on our way back, of how it must be the only culprit for any darkness in you that the heart of the forest was speaking of. I found myself enraged at the messenger for casting such a burden upon your shoulders. And then, I thought, just like Duril: if your brother was dead, was there any reason for Niverborg to exist at all? My heart was engulfed by rage and the thirst for revenge. I was afraid I couldn’t rein it in.”

They all remained silent for a moment.

Claw was the one to speak now. “Whatever that shard is, it must be trying to take us over. I, too, went through feelings of hopelessness and maddening rage as we ran back to you, Toru.”

“I felt angry,” Toru said slowly. “I wanted to do anything in my power to save my brother, and even more. I asked, and it was given to me. But I didn’t feel like someone else. Just really mad. Do you think the shard took me over?”

“Only you can answer that question,” Duril said gently. “That is why we wanted to ask you about what happened while you were fighting Drahlung.”

Toru shrugged. “I was glad to have wings to reach him. I didn’t think a lot about it. I only wanted to save Lakan. My brother.” He smiled as he said that. “And Drahlung wasn’t all that powerful once I got up there, where he was hovering over us. Do you think it was wrong of me to kill Drahlung? I’d do the same, if it means that’s the only way to save my brother.”

Varg patted Toru on the back. “It was a nasty creature, that one. We don’t think it was wrong. We just fear that it was the power of the shard in your shoulder manifesting and trying to take over.”

“Maybe I should go see that hermit and have him remove it.” Toru touched his shoulder where the shard was. “I don’t care for darkness. I don’t want it in my life.”

“You must be right about the hermit. And those damned messengers,” Varg said and pursed his lips. “I believe they pushed something upon you that should have been their duty.”

“That old man was barely able to hold the shard,” Toru pointed out. “They cannot purify it. Maybe that means that only I can.”

Duril let out a sigh of relief. “Do you know what I think, friends?” All heads turned toward him. “I think that Toru is too pure for the shard to take over, just like that. Everything Toru did, he did out of love for his brother. I doubt he would sprout those wings just to reach a high cliff and delight himself in the eggs of a vulture.”

Toru looked at him like that had just given him some ideas.

Duril looked back in feigned reproach. “Don’t tell me you’d use those wings for something like that.”

Toru snickered. “No, I wouldn’t. And I’d eat vulture eggs only if there was really nothing else, and I was very hungry, like two weeks without any food hungry. No, Duril, I won’t need those wings ever again. Tigers don’t fly.” He began laughing out loud, all good-naturedly. “Imagine how a flock of tigers would look. Very silly.”

They all laughed, following the young tiger’s example. Duril felt his heart getting lighter. Indeed, they had all been almost conquered by their thoughts of revenge. But it looked like Toru hadn’t been engulfed by the same dark feelings as they had.

***

Toru felt his shoulder, his fingers tracing the edges of the shard he could sense through the skin. His friends worried, and maybe they were right to do so. But he only felt the power growing inside him as if it belonged to him. When they had asked, he hadn’t known how to explain it. It hadn’t come with the doubts they talked about when they were speaking of the feelings they experienced, of all the dark and helpless anger.

They would be back on the road soon, now that Lakan was on the mend, and Toru knew that Niverborg was saved. With the rebirth of the true life of the forest, the path to the outside world must have reopened once more.

As much as he disliked the thought, he would have to find the hermit. Niverborg hadn’t had the answers he sought of Nelsikkar. That left him with nothing but Te’cla, the trickster hermit. He’d know what to do about that shard, too. Toru was sure of it.

TBC

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