Beastly (13 page)

The sight would be precious forever.

Color, beautiful life-affirming color, had seeped back into the Gloom. Shade by shade, the wretched tree came alive, gorging on magic’s prismatic elixir. Several
reborn
branches reached for Polaris’s hand. The North Star clasped a spindly branch, pressed it to her forehead and then kissed the chestnut bark. “You are most welcome.”

For the second time since meeting, Lia stared agape at Polaris’s humble display of grace. The North Star merely smiled back at the little girl. “Life always begins with something small, but never insignificant.
Then love, more powerful than Breath and Blight, takes hold and nurtures the seedling. Shaping it, preparing it.”

Lia’s eyes sparkled. “Preparing it for what?” Polaris winked a flicker of stardust.

“Destiny, starshine.”

Chapter 15

The Beast propped his paws on his knees and marveled at the panorama. The journey from the Troll’s Breath had done little to strain his wind, but the view stole it away with ease. An endless ocean blue glittered in the setting sun shine, painting a canvas that made envious the coming stars. Fresh salt air wafted from the valley’s floor. The unusual smell rolled his snout in sniffs and scrunches. The Beast had never before laid eyes on the sea. On Sensheeri’s Lake Tamahl one could see the score of sister villages dotting the coastline. At Meridian’s border, faced with the vastness... he finally felt smaller than.

Nestled comfortably between the rolling woods and the ocean beyond was the sprawling expanse of Meridian: Home of the largest fleet of sailing vessels and several legendary families of sailors.
Pirates
.

The rolling tides stretched into forever, curving slightly upon the horizon’s blade. The Beast stared at the thin cerulean line, wondering if anyone had ever voyaged to its end. What had they found?
Treasure? Strange cities?

Home...

The sunset fell like a stage curtain, dropping a cascade of rusts and lavenders from the darkening sky. Beneath the magnificent mural, Meridian prepared for another night of lapping tides and the harmony of whale song. Heavy chains wrapped around the Beast’s chest, squeezing
breath from his lungs. The seaport’s sprawling network of cobbled stone and muddy roads looked like the scribbled handiwork of a mad man. Alleyways disappeared into dead ends, side streets emptied into two and three places on the same artery.
Total chaos...
The crowd’s scurrying buzz clamored to pick the market clean before the City Watch called an end to business.

Must I really go there?

The Beast had less than
an inkling how to navigate such a nightmare of crowded twists and turns. The tangled web of humanity would likely see him jailed by night’s end, or worse, find his head mounted on a wall.

The medallion spread a warm wave through the Beast’s chest, gently nudging him forward. His paw rose as if tugged by an over-excited child. To his dismay the amulet did not offer guidance on top of the welcomed encouragement. The whispering wind said Malachai had traveled to Meridian. A familiar tone caressed the wind’s words. He trusted them without understanding how or why. With no other leads, he had little choice.

Lia is down there.

The
leary Beast studied Meridian’s landmarks, hoping to gain some semblance of orientation, plotting his obligatory escape route. It was an old habit, but one that had served him well. The shipyard was a collection of open air warehouses filled with a mountain range of stacked wooden crates and barrels. Nearby a dry dock freed newly finished vessels into the sea, surrendering them to the pull of sister ships. Dozens of tiny shops dotted the outer edge of the district. Craftsmen and their apprentices hurried to shutter them for the night. Surrounding the merchant’s enclave was a sprawl of homes, some hovels and some much grander, puffing wisps of grey smoke into the evening air.

Ten barnacled piers jutted into the ocean blue for, what seemed to the Beast, no less than a mile. Scores of ships,
dinghies to schooners, had taken moorings for the night. Their crews disappeared into Meridian for the promise of adventure. Speckles of lantern light, like frozen fireflies, illuminated the wooden highways with an aura of mystery. Beyond the fishing vessels, the silhouettes of Meridian’s navy patrolled the harbor and sea lanes. The Beast had never seen such massive ships. He knew that their toy sized appearances on the horizon made for an impressive illusion.

Meridian’s main gate waited impatiently, covered by murky shadows. The giant grid of wrought iron fit snugly into a fifteen foot high, equally thick, sun bleached stone wall. Braziers were ignited by the City’s Watch as the sun plunged into its watery cradle. The Beast favored caution on approach, hoping to avoid a nervous arrow from one of the many watchmen patrolling the battlements. Meridian’s City Watch was a collection of venerable soldiers and gruff men who had seen their share of the world’s dangers. They would not hesitate to answer any threat.

The patrolling guards were clad in tanned leather armor, armed with
parings of bow and short blades. It was the armament of peace time, but the Beast harbored no illusion that these men were anything less than capable. It was showcased by the precise pattern and timing of their movements, down to the subtle shift of their positioning. Every few moments, a watchman leaned between crenellations, inspecting a shadow or imagined movement. A brief flash of hand code in the brazier light signaled a silent ‘all’s well’ soon after.

Twenty paces from the gate the Beast halted. Experience preached caution when dealing with members of a usually frightened constabulary. Gaining entrance typically required the cursory attention of someone in charge. He hailed the nearest watchman, ready to issue a formal declaration. The guard waved a torch in the Beast’s direction and waved him through the open gate. Disappointment mixed with surprise. Surely Meridian, despite its magnificence, had never before seen his like?

The Beast offered a parting salute and marched through Meridian’s fluttering blue-grey banners. The doors were heavy, nearly as thick as the wall. The sharp points of a portcullis caught his eye, each tip thick as a man’s thigh. He flipped up his hood, saddened by a fresh tear in the battered garment. He eased through the thinning crowd, taking great care to avoid any unwanted attention. The movement came easier than he expected.

Meridian’s promenade failed to notice its giant newcomer and he preferred to keep it so. He scanned dozens of banners and chipped
wooden signs hanging from closed shops and rowdy taverns, hoping to pick up Malachai’s wretched scent. The streets remained alive with risqué catcalls of the nocturnal. Vendors pushed rickety wagons into shadowy side streets, emptying the marketplace. The changing energy prickled at the Beast’s skin. He sensed a growing danger lurking unseen.

Meridian after dark...

Lamp posts, hidden by day, breached the surface with a grinding vibration that rattled the Beast’s spine. They flashed to life, filling the dark spaces, coloring the city in the grey-blues and gold of Meridian’s banner. The Beast scanned the crowd. No one seemed to notice the sudden intrusion. Parings of men and women, arms interlocked, threaded their way through companies of pirates and peddlers, seeking their entertainment in Meridian’s score of taverns. More than once, they brushed the flap of his cloak. The Beast held his breath, anticipating the inevitable scream.

But none came. Men and women alike passed by, paying no mind to the horned gargoyle newly affixed to the shop’s wall. He did not understand this Meridian at all. How could he possibly find his way?

A shard of glass cut through the Beast’s memory.
Patience. Discipline
. He was on his back, propped onto an elbow. A man with a blurry face and silvery hair, wearing polished armor loomed over. The man’s blade hovered just beneath his chin. An armored hand appeared, deflecting the blade away. The man extended his hand and jerked the Beast to his feet. The man clasped his shoulder
Patience, Discipline...

The memory vanished and the Beast shook free the temporary trance. Remnants of magical current prickled beneath his thick fur, tracing to the amulet. The Beast kept moving, one foot in front of the other, certain a member of the City Watch would soon stop for a friendly word. He looked over each shoulder in turn, searching for their approach. Once more, confusion reigned.

Such a strange place
, he thought. He had entered without incident. He was twice the size of Meridian’s most robust inhabitant. And now he had almost assuredly created a spectacle with his magical delusion. And no one had bothered batting an eye.

Perhaps here I am invisible.

A fat man, beard soaked of suds, stumbled out of a tavern, stabbing a sweaty shirt into his trousers. He stumbled a few steps, careening between harsh stares and stiff shoves. After a few slurred apologies, the man tugged on his shirt a second time and broke into a pub song. The drunkard staggered face first into the Beast’s chest, falling away like he had walked into a wall. He looked up, glossy eyed, face
ruddied.

The Beast said nothing.
Waited.

The man flashed a toothless grin,
then staggered away, picking up the tuneless song where he had left it. A trio of City Watchmen approached, hands resting on their swords. The middle watchman took the lead. “Stay where you are.”

The Beast froze. This was the moment he had expected. Tension surged to his shoulders. His eyes darted for the best escape route. The watchmen closed to an arm’s length. The Beast shifted his weight, readying to explode into an alley.

“Mermaid’s bollocks, it’s just Tram, drunk as usual,” said a wiry watchman.

His comrades chuckled, relaxed their readied weapons, and broke into a trot. The City Watch caught up to the drunk, hoisting him upright. The lead watchman patted Tram on the back, dusting him off. “Gone off and found the bottle’s end again, have you?”

“No worries, old boy. We’ll see you home to the missus.”

Tram stuttered his gratitude. His body slackened soon after. The watchmen gathered him up, laughing
alongside the inebriated fool while leading him off.

How odd that the man, an obvious miscreant, was treated with such kindness. The Beast quickly chided himself for the notion, knowing his own callous philosophy was responsible for such a thought. Perhaps in Meridian, full of light and shadow, room for mercy existed.

“He’ll be fine. They’ll even feed the lucky bastard,” said a man with a square jaw shaded by a day’s stubble. He pulled a shop’s door closed behind him and stepped down into the street. The Beast looked down at him, stunned that someone finally acknowledged his existence.

The man brushed wavy dark hair behind his ears. A fine cutlass with a
twisting hand guard was pinned behind a thick leather belt. At his other hip, a dagger with a grip carved in the image of a grim reaper, resided in easy reach. The man’s wrists were adorned by the traditional bracers worn by the freest of the free.

Pirate
.

“You can see me?” the Beast asked.

The man snickered. He donned a thin cloak, concealing his armaments. “Of course I can see you, you dolt. Did you really think something as big and, well, as fuzzy as you would go unnoticed?”

The Beast’s muscles tensed and he loosed a low growl. Locking a penetrating gaze onto the soon-to-be-
pummeled man, he balled two fists of iron and squared off.

More laughter. The pirate dared to even slap at a knee. He wiped away a phony tear and rubbed a spasm in his side. “My friend, I meant no offense. An off-colored joke, in poor taste at your expense. Come, let us share stories of adventure and glory! What is your name?”

The tension in the Beast’s shoulders twitched. “I do not have one.”

“Ah, no worries. We shall find one for you by night’s end!” The pirate brushed at his cloak and made for the adjacent tavern. The Beast had never before met a man so free with his tongue. The urge to flatten the pirate’s rudeness was undeniable, but his gruff honesty stayed the Beast’s hand. “What are you called, pirate?”

The man shoved the Rusty Rudder’s door open, inviting the Beast in
with a sweeping bow. A devilish grin painted his face from ear to ear.

“Captain Poogs, at your service.”

Chapter 16

Malachai’s fiery wrath threatened to consume all of creation. How the little abomination had managed to do it was unclear. Such a thing was impossible. He had been guaranteed as much. Yet the evidence to the contrary, though beyond belief, was equally beyond reproach.

The girl had breathed life into the Gloom
.

That was hours ago. Malachai had slung his prisoner like baggage over the saddle, taking the road to Meridian in a fury. Now, returned from the Gloom, the mocking obsession of ‘how’ remained. Malachai glared at the door across the room.

“The Gloom is my realm. Mine,” Malachai spat, anger steadily rising with each breath, like a volcano. The words crashed inside his skull like falling rocks, so deafening the black rider struggled to keep focus on the road. His jaw clenched. “I will have my answers.”

He stormed to the door, knocking aside the table and chairs. The two officers of the City Watch wisely stepped aside. Malachai obliterated the door with a savage kick, leaving little more than a pair of rusted hinges. He stepped through the splintery wreckage, quaking like a rabid dog with bared teeth. The armored plates of his gauntlets screeched as black steel awakened at his side.