The Realms of Animar (17 page)

Mordigal then reached out his hand to Avryn. Trussil noticed her husband flinch a bit, as if he had acted out of habit, not necessarily intent. He was an outsider to these people and to many he was still a cold-blooded killer. She waited anxiously for a reply from Avryn but then, after a slight hesitation, he smiled and grasped Mordigal’s hand and they shook. Trussil was relieved.

Mordigal opened the door and was struck by a strong gust of cold air along with a few flakes of snow.

Trussil looked to Thane’s room. “Alia!” she yelled.

The door to the bedroom opened and the girl poked her head out. “Yes?”

“Come on, we are taking you home.”

A frown appeared on the girl’s face. She looked over her shoulder into Thane’s room then returned her attention to Trussil. She decided not to argue. With a sigh, Alia pulled the blanket around her shoulders tighter then joined Mordigal and Trussil as they left the house.

Avryn closed the door and walked back to Thane’s room where he and his mother were waiting. Thane was sitting on the floor with his back pressed into a corner of the room and Felia was sitting on the bed, her hands clasped around a small lantern that held a burning candle. Avryn walked over and sat down beside her on the bed.

“Well, I suppose this explains a few things, but you sir…you are not off the hook for wandering off again,” Avryn stated.

Thane looked up at his father but knew better than to reply.

“Obviously this is a strange time for you. It is for all of us. We need to try not to make something too big out of this, you are just like your mother and I in that you have horns, well a horn - it just developed later in life.” Avryn paused a moment, then continued, “You know the village will be in an uproar tomorrow. I don’t know about Alia, but the other Hoppensey children will tell everyone what they saw. I’m pulling you out of school, it’s almost time any way, but you need to start training and working on your latest abilities.”

Thane eyes bolted to life.

Avryn’s face remained solemn while he carefully pondered his words. He then said, “Mordigal was sent here by an evil man - a carnivore - who wants to destroy our village. There is reason now to believe that he might be after you. I don’t want to alarm either one of you, but I need you to know how important it is that you develop your fighting skills. He is likely sending more trouble this way and we need to be ready.”

“After me?” Thane asked. “Why? What if we…what if I…go away? Will he leave the village alone?”

Avryn smiled at his and shook his head. “No. That is noble of you but this man would destroy this place either way. Our only hope is to get help and fight them off here. We don’t have the numbers to fight a war. The council voted down my request to send for help once before, but I think now, with what has happened tonight, perhaps they will at last see how dire our situation really is.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. In a matter of a few hours, everything had changed. None of them knew what the future would hold.

“So I wonder if this explains the headaches, the horn I mean?” Felia asked.

“I hope so,” Avryn replied. “It would make sense.” He peered inquisitively at Thane and asked, “So do you have any more tricks we should know about?”

“I don’t know,” his son replied. “I’m not even sure how this one works, well, not completely. I will work on it.”

Avryn stared at Thane and sharpened his tone. “Listen, now this is important. I don’t want you abusing your power. I don’t want you popping, or whatever it is you do, from place to place unless you are training or working on developing your ability, ok? I need your word on this. Now is a critical time for you. And no more disappearing at night and worrying us to death. You are old enough to know better. Harness your strengths and become a man or you will struggle to find your place in the world. The choice is yours.”

Felia shifted a bit. “We don’t want to overwhelm you Thane, it’s just you wont be in school now and this is a big change. We will do everything we can to help and we can talk about it any time – please know that.”

Thane signed. “I know, I know and I’m sorry. I really don’t know why I left tonight. It just felt like something I needed to do. Alia probably thinks I am crazy. Any way, just tell me where to go tomorrow.”

Felia stood up to leave. “I doubt she thinks you’re crazy silly boy. You have a lot to learn about women.” She smiled and added, “You got that from your father.”

Chapter 18

V
ulpo Whiptail was a fox. Quite literally, he was a canine of the red fox variety. The oldest of his kind under Fatalis’ rule, he was a leader of sorts, although it was not a role he cherished. As a human he was a small, thin man with a pointed face, long nose and a mound of reddish hair than had begun to turn grey sitting atop his head. Although by no means decrepit, he was ready to put his hunting days behind him. Unfortunately, being the obedient follower that he at least attempted to be, that was not his decision.

Apart from his duties as a leader, Vulpo was also a rather skilled metal-worker. This was a rare profession on Animar, likely due to the dread that many felt toward the material that could prevent transformation between man and beast. This, however, was not a concern of Vulpo’s. Metal was a fascination. Gold, copper, iron or silver - given the proper flame and tools, he could bend and shape metal as if he were a magician, and some even thought he was. Although reasonably honest, he was not about to dispel that myth, lest his value diminish with the legend.

His most precious creation to date had been a golden goblet that he had created for Fatalis long ago when he had been ‘welcomed’ into the legions of his new master. Putting his talents to the test, he had toiled over fire for days turning and carving, pounding and crafting until he at long last had presented it to Fatalis as a gift. It was well received and, at least to its maker, the goblet was a symbol of their kinship.

Vulpo was thus terribly disappointed as he watched his finest creation tumble through the air. With a heart filled with sadness, time slowed to a crawl as he watched the magnificent cup arc high above and then begin its decent, spewing forth an unknown reddish liquid onto the cavern floor. If there was any consolation to the travesty that he witnessed was that the beloved treasure struck Critias, a vulture scout who had just returned and given his report, squarely in the head.

The wiry man stumbled backwards clutching his scalp as the cup landed on the cave floor with a loud clank. In his fright, the victim of the tossed relic nearly stumbled into one of the torches that lined the walls of the chamber. For a brief moment Vulpo’s heart leapt; he was excited at the possibility of determining the flammability of a vulture. Alas, he was disappointed by the near miss.

Apart from Vulpo and the two guards flanking either side of Fatalis, there were five other men in the room with Critias. Their faces were concealed in darkness as they stood along the outer perimeter of the room, tucked away from the light and wisely away from their leader’s rage. Like Vulpo, they had recently been named generals of a newly formed army and they were anxious to prove their worth.

With characteristic fury, Fatalis smashed his hands on the armrests of his throne. His muscles flexed and his deep voice echoed around the room. “You are gone for nearly two weeks and you expect me to believe this rubbish? I should skin you and feed you to the dogs!”

The scout sank to his knees and pleaded with hissed words that sounded more serpent-like than those made by a man. “Please Master, I beg you. I speak the truth. The wolves are dead, they failed.”

Fatalis looked to his right, in the direction of one of the figures standing in the darkness. He paused, and then returned his glare to Critias. “Go back to Mordigal...tell me
exactly
what you saw.”

“An alarm had been sounded and the village was in an uproar. People were running everywhere. Then I spotted Mordigal and he was being chased. I followed him and then all of the sudden he jumped through a window and when I landed I saw him kill Ellyn. Drove a dagger through her neck did he – to save some village woman and then…then he kissed her! A group of men came in and saw them embrace but just stood there. They did not attack him, just watched! He must have been in allegiance with them, clearly so. I was fortunate to get away before they spotted me. Very fortunate!”

Fatalis leaned forward in his throne. His icy stare pierced Critias like a sharpened blade. “So tell me, fine scout, what of the others? Could you not help any of them escape?”

“Oh no it was too late. It was a trap! I waited and waited outside the village but nobody made it out. Perhaps they were part of his scheme? Yes – that has to be it! Well, all but Ellyn of course, surely not her.” The scout lowered his head in reverence, an obvious touch of dramatic flair to emphasize his closing point. “Clearly the wolves are not as loyal as I master.”

In his years, Vulpo had rarely experienced a sensation quite like this. The mere thought of an urge to both vomit and laugh was something he had yet endured and as such he was forced to cover the smile that had formed on his lips with his hand. Unquestionably, however, he was anxious to see what would happen next.

Fatalis peered inquisitively at a dark figure to his right and beckoned the man forward with a wave of his hand. Slowly, he emerged from the blackness and walked toward the center of the room where his face became illuminated by the crackling torchlight and the scar upon his left cheek quickly revealed his identity.

Critias turned and looked into the eyes of Ash, brother of Mordigal and one of the last survivors of his pack. The kneeling scout stared in shock, obviously surprised that the wolf had survived. He had fled for his life, leaving the others to whatever fate had befallen them, somehow even arriving back after the wolves who traveled by ground.

The look of astonishment was obvious on his face. He then quickly stood up and walked towards the assassin. “Master Ash! How splendid! I thought you were lost with the others! I looked for you, I-“

With an astonishingly quick and highly unexpected motion, Ash replied. Critias fell to his knees as he grasped for air while his hands clutched at his throat in a feeble attempt to hold back the flow of blood.

Expressionless, Ash wiped the bloodied blade on his leg and then sheathed the once-again glistening dagger. He stood over Critias as the fallen scout struggled desperately to hold onto life. Silently, Ash waited until the final breath had dwindled forth from his victim and, serving as confirmation that his task had been completed, the fallen man morphed into a vulture, wings crumpled at its sides.

The assassin turned to Fatalis, “He lies no more.”

A maniacal grin formed on Fatalis’ lips. He stood up from his throne and boomed, “Well boys it looks like a change of plans for supper tonight!”

Laughter erupted from around the room. Vulpo joined in, more out of respect than amusement. He had lost his appetite.

Chapter 19

F
atalis clutched the crackling torch as he quickly followed a dark winding passage, his frantic footsteps reflecting the anger that pulsed through his veins. The mission had failed and the boy might still be alive. He was furious.

Misshapen shadows, evoked forth by the dancing flame, challenged from all sides as he navigated the cramped, cavernous passageway, ducking and twisting as he progressed toward his highly anticipated destination.

The scowl that showed on his face was reflective of the conflicted thoughts that raced through his mind. The vulture had been a valuable resource, but his purpose had been filled, as was his master’s stomach. It seemed a fitting end for one who dared spill forth lies while in his service.

But what if some of what he had said was true? Could Mordigal have turned on his own kind? Impossible! His loyalty was without question. No man would dare betray him. There had to be another explanation. He needed answers.

Fatalis smiled when a yell, more of a scream actually, penetrated the silence around him. The sound of pain always seemed to lift his spirits. Judging by the depth of the agony, this shriek had come from an older man, and he briefly challenged himself to identify the prisoner that had been the source.

The rocky passage eventually opened into a large square chamber that was lit by a number of wall sconces that were currently ablaze. The room was lined with nearly a dozen thick, wooden doors on all sides and in the center of the floor was a large oaken table, atop which sat various instruments of pain - blades and hooks, branding irons and shackles.

A large hulking beast of a man stood behind the table. He stood, head down, mumbling in some incomprehensible language, as one by one he picked up the ominous devices, briefly examined each and returned it to the table. His long, unkempt patchwork brown hair, abnormally thick, wooly arms and tattered clothes were unfortunately his best features. Of more consequence was the fact that atop his shoulders sat a badly scarred and misshapen head that lacked a right eye and, where a nose might normally be expected, a pair of scarred holes were all that remained, evidence of a tragic event that had robbed the man of whatever remote attempt at a human appearance he might have once had.

Apparently content with his condition, the creature smiled evilly when he noticed Fatalis. Perhaps it would be more accurately described as a grin, given that only three teeth remained attached to his otherwise delightful gums. A moan spilled forth from his crackled lips and, in a deep muffled voice, accompanied by an exhale of air through his visible nasal cavity, he spoke, “Maaassstttaaa! Maaassstttaaaa!”

As if reunited with a long-lost pet, Fatalis greeted the colossal man warmly and, as he drew near, patted him gently on the back. This rare act of kindness was not without merit, Ogg was a long-time acquaintance, but more importantly, he was the best torturer that Fatalis had ever known. This was perhaps due to his lack of cognition for he operated with the mental capacity of a small child and thus it was possible that he simply did not understand the suffering that he inflicted on those under his watch. It was for these reasons, coupled with the smallest sliver of pity that Fatalis would surely never admit, that he had proudly taken care of dear Ogg and helped shape him into the useful specimen he had become.

“Checking your tools I see,” Fatalis said. “Good, good Ogg. Have you had a pleasant day today?”