Hungry Heart - Book #4 - Ch. 21 (Patreon)

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine / Chapter Ten / Chapter Eleven / Chapter Twelve / Chapter Thirteen / Chapter Fourteen / Chapter Fifteen / Chapter Sixteen / Chapter Seventeen / Chapter Eighteen / Chapter Nineteen / Chapter Twenty 

Chapter Twenty-One – The Son of the Moon

Toru stared at the newcomer with keen eyes. He was curious, as a rule, about other shapeshifters, and of Varg’s kind they had seen plenty on their travels. They were pack creatures, and Toru understood the power of a pack, as he now belonged to one, no matter how peculiar and unheard of it was.

To belong to a pack meant being part of a family, bound by blood and fate. Together with Varg, Claw, and Duril, he walked into the world, and they protected one another as if they were one. It was a bond that could never be broken.

Therefore, he was quite intrigued by Olivier and the little he had learned of the black wolf. Something about him was familiar, although he couldn't quite put his finger on exactly what it was. It wasn’t something related to his appearance, that was for sure. There couldn’t be two creatures more unlike one another if they stood side by side. For a wolf, and a young one at that, Olivier was quite tall in his human shape. He reminded him more of Zul, the rabbitshifter from Fairside, in both his mannerisms and his overall pleasant good looks. Yet, the fire in his eyes told a story of loneliness and longing. What could that story be?

Maybe that was the thing, Toru decided. He recognized in Olivier someone without a home, without a family, someone he had been before walking into Whitekeep and getting to know the ones who would become his dear friends and passionate lovers.

He hadn’t realized that he had been staring at the young wolf for a long time, without saying anything. Olivier was staring back, looking a bit surprised. “I know I’m a stranger, and you may not be too fond of having me here --”

“It’s nothing like that,” Toru said aggressively. Then, as he realized that Olivier’s eyes had gone wide at his tone, he backed up. “I mean, you’re welcome to join us while we figure out what’s happening and why you can’t leave this place.”

Varg and Claw were, as usual, frolicking through the snow, bent on finding easy prey for a later breakfast. Duril was trailing behind them, searching for small roots and other things beneath the blanket of snow. That was how he had found himself walking side by side with the wolfshifter, both of them silent and lost in a world of their own.

At least, Olivier must have been so until Toru had stared so keenly at him. “You see, you seem a bit familiar,” he explained.

“I don’t believe our paths have ever crossed, master tiger,” Olivier offered affably.

Toru felt his chest filling with pride at being called that. That wasn’t an address people used when talking to him, because he was still young and reckless. However, compared to this wolf, he must have looked older and wiser. “You remind me of myself,” he said directly. He wasn’t one to struggle with expressing his feelings, as long as they were as clear as that.

Olivier appeared taken aback. “In what way?” Something of the young wolf’s reaction could be seen as apprehensive, and Toru couldn’t understand why.

He sniffed discreetly, and his nostrils flared for a moment. For some reason, this wolfshifter was wary of him and appeared to be barely able to contain his fear, as well. That was strange. He liked to believe that he was impressive in height and whatnot, but even children liked him. Anyone who wasn’t evil liked him.

That didn’t seem to be the case with Olivier. He didn’t give away any hint of being on the side of darkness if one ignored his black fur. “You’re scared of me,” he said instead of replying to the other’s question.

“Your friend didn’t tell you… that I can sense a dark aura around you.”

Ah, that made sense. Without another word, Toru pulled his shirt over his shoulder and showed Olivier the shards embedded in his flesh. “It must be because of these, but I have them under control.”

Olivier pulled back and then he recollected himself, as he probably didn’t want to be seen as a coward by someone not that much older. “What are they?” he asked cautiously.

“They’re remnants of an evil that had long tortured the world before I put an end to it,” Toru said proudly. “I mean, we, my friends and I. We fought this evil called Hekastfet, but it appears that there were some parts of it spread around. I don’t know a lot more than that myself.”

Olivier appeared to have conquered his fright at the sight of the shards and was now drawing near, bent on seeing them from up close. He didn’t touch Toru’s shoulder, but he hovered and stared for a while. “It is as if they absorb the light,” he murmured, seemingly puzzled by that discovery. “And how did they come to be part of you?”

Such curiosity was easier to address than a young wolf who was afraid of him. Toru couldn’t stand the mere thought that someone would fear him if they hadn’t done anything bad. And he very much believed that Olivier was not in the least guilty of such a thing. After all, he had been asleep throughout the times when the place had been cursed, along with the other creatures of the forest. On top of that, he was too young to have done much in his life to begin with, and Toru’s understanding so far had been that evil creatures tended to have long millennia weighing on their shoulders.

“I fought along with my friends to free the moon,” Toru explained and pointed at the first shard. “Then an old messenger gave it to me because he couldn’t purify it.”

Olivier nodded, although he didn’t seem to understand everything. “And the other?”

“This one I got here, fighting Drahlung and putting an end to his reign over these lands.”

“Drahlung,” Olivier said slowly and remained lost in thought for a few moments. “Do you mean that monster our parents used to frighten us with when we were little? Is he real?”

“Not anymore,” Toru assured him. “All that remains of him is this black shard and it’s in my care.”

Olivier appeared to be beyond impressed. “The stories our parents told us said that Drahlung was all-powerful. I can’t imagine that he was easy to beat.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Toru replied. “If anything, he was quite a pain to beat. For a while, he even inhabited my brother, Lakan.”

“The lord of the realm,” Olivier nodded slowly. “Are we going to meet with him?”

“No need. He’s resting. He was very brave, you know, as he didn’t let Drahlung take over him just like that. We will see to why you can’t leave Niverborg. We came here through a path through a well and underwater.”

“What an astonishing thing,” Olivier said and threw Toru another look of admiration.

He had to admit that being held in such high-esteem by the elegant youth made him feel very proud of himself and his friends. He would see that Olivier found his way out. As the wolfshifter had pointed out, he was in search of a mate, and that was the kind of endeavor Toru understood well. It was essential for every living being to have someone by their side. Even though he had been alone for so long, he understood that very well. Now, he couldn’t see himself traveling alone again.

Duril came up from behind them and showed his full bag, his eyes filled with joy. “You cannot believe how many wonderful things this forest has to offer. Even with everything covered by snow, just under it, there are amazing finds. I will have plenty of ingredients for my potions for a long time to come.”

Toru took him by the shoulders and kissed his cheek. “I’m glad. Now let’s see how we can help Olivier here.”

“We needed to look for a way out for ourselves anyway. We’re just going to find it earlier than planned,” Duril added and offered the young wolf one of his as big as the sun smiles.

***

They were by the riverside now, where the snow had not yet melted from the ice. It was a bright day and the ice glimmered like diamonds in the sunlight. The water lapped at its edges and there was a gentle breeze that blew across it. They stood on the bank, looking out over the ice, which appeared to stretch away for miles. Indeed, it was a strange river, if he thought about it. Varg stared over the vast expanse, wondering how come they hadn’t realized that the river didn’t seem to have another side. Crossing it would feel like crossing an ocean.

Toru had offered to dive and see if there were any signs that a path to the rest of the world existed. He emerged from the cold waters after a while, with an expression of dismay in his eyes. “I think Olivier is right. As much as I swim along, the moment I try to go further, strong currents push me back. And no secret path sucked me in to spit me out on the other side.”

Varg smiled. “We can see that very well.” The news, however, was unsettling. What could it mean? There were other borders to explore, the river being just one of them, but the Niverborg lands stretched so wide that it wasn’t easy to cover them all in just one day.

Since he and Claw had hunted a few small creatures, they had had a rather hasty breakfast on their way to the river, but the sun was now up in the sky, and the people at the castle were probably wondering whether they would join them for lunch or not. He had to admit that he was getting a bit hungrier, part of his human side that needed food regularly unlike his wolf, who was capable of going without food for many days.

“We should let Lakan know of this. Maybe it is possible that some of this strange curse is explained in the many books he has,” Duril suggested, always the voice of reason.

“Then I shall leave you to it,” Olivier said politely.

Toru jumped out of the water and shook his fur. “Where are you going?”

“The forest is large enough for me to explore,” Olivier said with a small smile.

“You will come with us,” Toru decided and turned into his human. He took Olivier by the shoulders. “Don’t you want to have lunch with us at the castle? And I’m sure there will be a bed for you if we ask.”

“I don’t know. I do not wish to impose,” Olivier began apologizing.

Toru snorted. “You look like you eat very little. Even if you eat a lot, it doesn’t matter. They have a lot of food now.”

“But it’s the castle,” Olivier tried to argue. “I mean, the likes of me never set foot in there. And I’m a wolf.”

Varg sensed that it was time for him to intervene to convince the young wolf to come with them. “So am I. And Claw is a bear.”

“And I’m a half-orc,” Duril added. “You’re with us. Even if you know nobody else at the Niverborg castle, I suppose that our company is not so unpleasant as to consider it a burden.”

Varg smiled into his beard again. Of them all, Duril appeared to have the most power of convincing people to see things their way. As much as he had been involved in diplomacy of one sort or another while he had been in Whitekeep, he hadn’t kept the company of many lords and other highborn. Duril hadn’t been exposed to such rigors either, yet, still, he proved to be a natural when it came to navigating around the barriers imposed by customs from other places.

Olivier nodded, albeit hesitantly. “Thank you,” he said with a gracious inclination of the head.

Varg moved closer to him. “Who knows? Maybe the people at the castle will prove a lot more accepting than those wolves in the woods.” He expected that to be the case, but he didn’t want to pressure Olivier into thinking over his decision to leave. After all, the youth had told him that being a lone wolf came quite naturally to him.

***

Duril found himself taking counsel with Lakan, along with Toru, while Varg and Claw were helping Olivier settle in. As they had expected, the tigershifters had welcomed the young wolf without showing for one moment that they would be inconvenienced by his presence. Duril had found himself pleasantly surprised as he had watched the look of wonder in Olivier’s eyes as they crossed the large hallways.

Once returned to life, the castle seemed a lively place, unlike before. The sun was now rising over it, casting long shadows through its halls. It seemed like a different place entirely than it had been just days before when they had first arrived: the vast halls were filled with people moving about in the kitchens, some training in the yards, and overall a sense of happiness, the kind which Duril had felt enamored with, ever since his life had gained a higher purpose than mere existence.

And yet some things remained the same. There was still the rusty portcullis that barely allowed entrance to the people coming in. The castle itself needed a lot of tending. Now, the air was filled with the scent of fire, and food being cooked, and laughter everywhere. Even they, as newcomers and strangers to this place, felt more alive than ever before—as if this world was finally taking the shape it was meant to have.

All of that, seen through Olivier’s eyes, must have looked enthralling. He was in good hands, accompanied as he was by Varg, who was one of his own, and Claw, who appeared to entrust the matter of searching through old manuscripts to them, without a hint that he wanted to be locked indoors all day while perusing those ancient texts.

Lakan listened to them carefully, all the while looking into the jolly flames in the fireplace, and probably turning this new information in his head on all sides. “Does it mean that you are all stuck here with us, then?”

Toru was the first to reply. “Yes, it appears so.”

Lakan gave his brother a fond smile. “Would that be so bad?” At the expression of utter surprise on Toru’s face, he laughed. “I suppose you are the kind who needs to travel the world, unlike me. We will have to search through all the old texts for anything that could help us, then. And I will put the word out for parties that will go and test if there is any place, no matter how small, through which you can squeeze out of here.”

“I don’t know how I can help you,” Toru said. “I only know some letters.”

Lakan waved. “We should start with the strange tome in the old language that I found. Something tells me that we should decide in favor of wasting our time poring through everything else I have here only if we cannot gain anything from it.”

Duril followed closely, as they all gathered around the large desk on which an old tome was wide open. It had to be the one on which the name of Toru’s and Lakan’s father had been etched by an unknown hand.

“Can you believe it? When I searched for the old prophecy again, I couldn’t find it anymore. This book has the ability to change what it contains.”

Duril hoped Toru was not particularly embarrassed by his lack of knowledge as far as letters were concerned, especially since he was just as much at a loss, seeing how that ancient tome had been written in a language only Lakan could understand of the three of them.

He stared at the yellowed pages. There was some text, scribbled, as it seemed, by a steady hand that had somehow managed to draw each letter at the exact same height with the next. The elegant calligraphy and the flowing lines of the letters made him feel like it would be easy to read, even if the language used was completely unknown to him.

It made no sense whatsoever, but it made him think that it would so easy to know the person who had written those words, aligning them on the page with such rigor and passion for order. He could make out, with the eyes of his mind, an old man bending over the manuscript, stretching his arm to dip his quill into a bottle of dark ink at the exact same interval, again and again.

He must have been lost in his own musings because he felt Toru’s warm hand on his shoulder. “What do you make of all this, Duril?”

“I apologize. For a moment, I didn’t pay attention to what you two were talking about. This beautiful writing calls to me in ways I can’t explain.”

“Can you understand it?” Lakan asked, seemingly intrigued.

“No.” Duril shook his head. “But I feel at such a loss that I cannot. Whoever wrote this manuscript must have had a lot of love for the written word. The calligraphy is beyond impeccable. It is just so beautiful.”

Lakan nodded in understanding. “I have to admit that sometimes I have the same feelings as you describe when a tome like this happens to be in front of my eyes. But now, let me tell you what the new words say. I call them new because they seem to have appeared overnight.”

“It must be a magical book,” Toru said and nodded.

“You’re not wrong about that, brother,” Lakan agreed. “I haven’t held such a book in my hands before. And now, I don't know what to make of it. Good thing you came to me, or I would have called for you anyway. Let’s see if we can unfold the mystery that seems to keep this place isolated from the rest of the world still.”

Lakan moved his finger across the page. “Unfortunately,” he said, his voice full of dismay, “it appears that I have lost some of the gift of understanding the language once Drahlung was forced to leave my body.”

“You don’t know the language anymore?” Toru asked.

Lakan pinched the bridge of his nose and then rubbed his forehead. “It’s quite strange to explain. Actually, I do understand the words, but together, they don’t mean anything. It is just utter gibberish.”

“Just turn the page,” Toru suggested.

The next page was absolutely empty, nothing written on it whatsoever.

“This is a very strange magical book. It doesn’t seem to want to give us any answers.” He took the book from his brother’s hand and began to turn page after page. “It doesn’t have anything in it anymore,” he concluded. “It’s quite disappointing.”

Lakan sighed. “Then we should search for our answers in other places. That is if what we are looking for is written in a book. We might have to consider less scholarly ways to uncover the truth.”

Toru seemed frustrated if the way he pursed his lips was any indication. “What kind of book are you?” He shook the tome as if that was a good way to get answers.

Duril watched as Toru’s face transformed, from frustration to surprise. “What is it, Toru?” he asked.

Toru showed him and Lakan the book. “Something just appeared.”

Lakan moved quickly and grabbed the tome. “Indeed! And… it looks like it just replied to your question, Toru.”

They looked at each other, none of them hiding their amazement. Toru moved to his brother’s side, his eyebrows knit together. “I still don’t understand what it says,” he said, the corners of his mouth tugged downward.

“It doesn’t matter, because I do,” Lakan said. “It tells us that it is a book that will offer us all the answers it contains.”

“That doesn’t sound very encouraging,” Toru concluded, crossing his arms over his chest. “Seeing how all the other pages are empty, and the only other things in it are gibberish, as you put it.”

“I guess we should just continue to ask it things,” Lakan said patiently. “Why is Niverborg still separated from the world?” he asked, leaning over the empty pages.

Nothing happened.

“Could it be that it prefers Toru to be the one asking?” Duril offered.

Lakan handed Toru back the tome. “Everything so far tells us so. Go ahead, Toru, ask the question in my stead.”

Toru repeated his brother’s question, but he yelled at the empty book, instead of using Lakan’s gentle voice. “Look,” he said and pointed at the pages, “it’s doing that again!”

Lakan moved by his side and looked into the tome from one side. “It is separated,” he said slowly, “because the thread has yet to be used.” He frowned for a moment. “What thread?” Then, he realized that he wasn’t supposed to ask the others. “Toru, ask the book, what thread is it talking about?”

Dutifully, Toru asked the question. Lakan recited the answer out loud. “The thread that keeps the worlds together. The keeper travels with you.”

Toru groaned. “Why is every magical being, or mystical anything or something else like that, and even a book, so hard to understand? Do I have to ask it everything?”

Lakan proved to be a lot more patient than his brother. That had to be his mother’s side talking through him, the ancient rhythms of an old forest dictating his ways in equal parts. “I believe that it is all about asking the right questions. We don’t have to hurry. After all, if this book knows the answers, we only have to ask and wait for its replies.”

Toru nodded in agreement. “Who is this keeper?” he asked in the same thunderous voice.

“The son of the moon,” Lakan translated for all of them.

“Varg,” Duril said right away. “It must be him the book is talking about.”

“Is the moon Varg’s mother?” Toru inquired.

“In the same way she is for all wolves,” Duril explained. “At least, that is what I believe. Now, Toru, ask the book about this thread. What is it, exactly? How do we use it?”

Toru leaned over the book as if he needed to be close to make sure that the inanimate object would hear him loud and clear. “Tell us about this thread, book. What is it? What does it look like? And how should Varg use it to lift the curse?”

Lakan was quick to read. “The thread cannot be seen with the naked eye. It sits on his shoulder. He must follow the path and the thread will do its work.”

“Not very clear,” Toru said and seemed disappointed still. “If no one can see this thread, how do we even know that it’s real? And does Varg need to swim in that river?”

It appeared that the book still considered that Toru was talking to it because Lakan continued, “The thread is as real as you are. The son of the moon must follow the path.”

“Are there any other questions we should ask it?” Duril wondered. “It appears that the book has told us everything it knows.”

Toru brought the page close to his face. “Do you know anything else about this thread, book?” Then, he passed the tome to his brother.

Lakan read, “No, this is all I can tell you.”

“I can’t say that surprises me,” Toru concluded and shook his head. “Now, we need to go to Varg and tell him that he needs to swim in that cold water.” He shivered exaggeratedly.

Duril knew very well that cold was not that much of a bother for Toru, but he appeared to prefer the warmth of a fire a lot more.

“This is great news,” Lakan said. “Whatever this thread is, I am sure Varg will use it properly and get you back to the world outside.”

“But what if I can’t travel back here to see you again?” Toru suddenly asked. He took the book again. “Book,” he said energetically, “if we leave, can we come back?” There was just one word that appeared on the page. “What does it say?” He pushed the book under his brother’s nose.

Lakan smiled. “It says ‘yes’. Once this thread is used, I believe that the curse will be lifted completely. Who knows? Maybe we will be the ones to travel to see you.”

Toru seemed a little puzzled. “But we don’t really have a home. How will you know how to find us?”

“When you settle down somewhere, or when your longing for us to find each other becomes too strong, just send word, because I will be here with the rest of your Niverborg tribe,” Lakan assured him.

That seemed to please Toru because his face smoothed like he had not even entertained one sad thought before. He was like the weather, but he mostly was a sunny day. Duril couldn’t help loving him for it.

***

“We know what we have to do,” Toru announced.

Varg and Claw turned toward their companion, who had burst the door open, making his presence known in his usual fashion. They had been busy talking with Olivier and finding out more about Niverborg as it had been before. The young wolf proved to be a great conversationalist, and Varg couldn’t figure out why anyone, let alone wolves, wouldn’t want to have this young man as a mate.

“And what is that?” Varg asked.

“You,” Toru pointed at him, “must go into the river and take a cold bath.”

Varg grinned. “Is this your idea of a joke? I thought you were determined to find a way that would lead us out of Niverborg sooner rather than later. I hope that doesn’t sound disappointing for you to hear, Lakan,” he added, looking over at the lord of the castle, who had also accompanied Duril and Toru into the room.

“There is no joke,” Lakan assured him. “Toru is right. We asked a book, a magical one, as my brother would describe it, and it told us that you are the keeper of a certain thread that would make Niverborg part of the world as a whole again.”

“A thread? Just as you heard from that ancient tree,” Varg said, addressing Duril this time.

“Yes. It all appears to make perfect sense.”

“And did the book say my name?” Varg inquired further. That feeling of restlessness from before was coming back, and he couldn’t identify it as either pleasant or unpleasant.

“Not exactly,” Duril explained, “but it didn’t leave much room for doubt. It said that the keeper of the thread travels with us and that he is the son of the moon.”

“Is the moon your mother?” Toru asked right away.

Varg frowned for a moment. “We belong to the moon, all wolves do, but--” He turned to look at Olivier for no explainable reason. The young wolf was staring at him, wide-eyed. “But I don’t think it’s me,” he said, now intrigued, and somewhat relieved.

“Why are you looking at Olivier?” Toru asked, sounding puzzled. “Oh, wait, he’s also a wolf, isn’t he? Which one of you was the book talking about? Ah, I so don’t like it when magic tries to mess with my head like this.” The last complaint was spoken from his heart.

“I am not… the son of the moon,” Olivier said cautiously.

“But Varg says that you are,” Toru pointed out promptly.

The young wolf appeared to be prey to conflicting emotions. Varg looked at the way his hands gripped one another, gathered in his lap. Then, a vague sensation made a frisson course through him.

Olivier stood to his feet and paced the floor. “Can I trust you?” he asked plaintively.

“Of course you can,” Varg replied, knowing that he was talking for all of them equally while saying those words.

Olivier stopped by the mullioned window and looked outside, although Varg could tell that it was just a way for the young wolf to collect himself and he wasn’t looking for any help out there. The deep sense of loneliness pouring out from him seeped right into Varg’s soul. For a moment, no longer than that, he felt all the years spent by the youth being shunned and avoided by his peers. But why was it so? If he was, indeed, a son of the moon, that would be a great honor, not something to be avoided. He couldn’t understand it.

“When I told you I cannot leave this place, it wasn’t because I had traveled to the edge of the woods and tried to walk out of here on foot. I tried to soar, as I was meant to, but I couldn’t.”

“But all that talk about wanting a mate…” Varg didn’t complete the sentence.

“It is all true. And my mate can only be somewhere up there.” Olivier pointed at the sky through the window. It was clear and sunny and not the sky the young wolf was talking about, but they all understood.

“Amazing,” Toru whispered. “It doesn’t matter. The path we came through is hidden somewhere in that river. So, instead of Varg, it is you who must take a cold bath.”

“Could it be so simple?” Olivier wondered aloud, although he appeared to address that question mostly to himself.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Toru said with a shrug. “The book said that it was all it knew about this, so we will just have to see if it was right. If not, I will tell it a few things about what I think about mystical creatures and magical books and whatnot. Yes, it will hear from me.”

Varg looked at everyone in the room. They all seemed to be in an accord. They had to try.

TBC

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