Hungry Heart - Book #3 - Ch. 29

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 / Chapter Twenty-Two / Chapter Twenty-Three / Chapter Twenty-Four / Chapter Twenty-Five / Chapter Twenty-Six / Chapter Twenty-Seven / Chapter Twenty-Eight 

Chapter Twenty-Nine – The End of a World

The first thing Toru sensed was warmth engulfing his hand, and it took him several long moments to realize that someone was holding it. Then, the scent of herbs, stronger than anything else, stronger than the one of ashes that his nose soon caught, overwhelmed him with its kindness. He wanted to call out for Duril, whom he recognized without even looking at him, but his throat and tongue didn’t listen to him. His entire body felt as if it was immobilized, and an overpowering feeling of helplessness washed over him. His mind struggled to remember, and it all came rushing back to him. The fight against Hekastfet, his father, his mother, his kin.

“We need to wet his lips with something,” he heard someone saying. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that it was Varg talking, his deep, sonorous voice having a soothing effect on his troubled spirit.

“I lost my water pouch,” Duril replied in a forlorn voice.

“Then we can help him in another way,” Claw suggested. “Duril, I believe you should be the one to do it. I have a feeling that our kitty might not be so keen on our beards scratching his lovely face.”

“What do you mean? Do what?” Duril asked.

“Go ahead and kiss him before we land,” Claw replied. “And don’t be shy. We’ve seen a lot more of you two busy with one another than just kissing.”

Toru could read the tension in his friends’ voices, as if they were struggling to hide something. It probably had to do with how he lay there, lifeless and unmoving. But what was Claw saying about landing somewhere?

Another sense, as keen as the earlier one, made him realize something. They were moving in a strange fashion. With Duril’s kiss, pressed shyly against his lips, a breeze caressed his face. It felt as if they were in mid-air. His mind drifted again.

***

“The entire city is burning,” Varg commented while looking down. In all honesty, he was a bit nervous about this flying thing, and tried to hide it by taking note of everything surrounding them. Indeed, the city that they had seen very little of seemed to be engulfed in an inferno of blasting flames.

“Toru would have wanted to save everyone,” Duril said in a pained voice. “Aren’t we letting him down by doing nothing?”

“There isn’t a lot for us to do right now,” Claw admitted grimly. “And first, we need to get him to safety. He doesn’t look so peachy.”

Varg knew that Claw, just like him, was trying to keep everyone’s fears at bay by using light words. After the amazing battle inside the belly of the domestikos’ palace, Toru’s golden skin had turned into an ashen gray, and Varg felt a jolt of fear each time he looked at him. The young tiger seemed lost to the world. Only the mere idea that they had traveled all this way across the world, and loved each other, only for them to end up split apart by the whims of fate, seemed so profoundly unjust that it made his heart ache until his entire body and mind threatened to surrender, too.

He pulled his eyes away from his fallen lover. “Moth,” he called out, “how long until we reach safety?”

“Not very long,” the strange, kind creature replied. “My wings will hold.”

Varg looked at the flapping wings and a small shiver of unease crept down his spine. It seemed like Moth had taken the brunt of the many licks of flame not quite reaching them, but still leaping wildly below. His wings were frayed and they were moving slowly, with great effort. Varg hoped they weren’t too heavy and that their friend would be able to carry them where they needed to get so they could save Toru.

“Look over there,” Moth told them, and Varg had to shield his eyes from a sudden light radiating from a point somewhere on the wall. “The Sakka are waiting, all of them. We’re taking Toru there.”

Claw surprised him by suddenly grabbing him when Moth began a rapid descent, diving toward the wall.

“What is it?” Varg asked, startled and unnerved as he was already by everything that had transpired over the past hours.

Claw’s wide eyes stared at him out of a face as white as wax. “Say what you may, puppy, but I don’t believe this sack of bones was made for flying.”

Varg grinned despite the grimness of the situation and wrapped one arm around his companion’s waist to support him. “Now, now, it won’t be long until we land. And then, you can puke your belly inside out. Just keep it in until then,” he joked.

To everyone’s relief, the giant butterfly finally hovered in a circle and then put them all down on the top of the wall. Varg was surprised to see a large group of little creatures he soon identified as a bunch of people no taller than ten-year-olds, if not younger children. However, by how noisily they surrounded them and hurried to take Toru’s body from them, they were nothing like little pups, and their mission seemed to be the only thing that mattered. They quite unceremoniously pushed Duril, Varg, and Claw out of the way so they could reach Toru, lift his body on their shoulders and carry him down from Moth’s back.

“Do you think they’re happy to see us?” Varg asked.

“I know a couple of them,” Duril replied. “I mean, I know someone named Pie, besides Moth.”

“And we met Midnight,” Claw said. “He did quite a number on those disgusting merchants from Shroudharbor.”

Varg waited while the Sakka took Toru with them and then followed, along with his friends.

“Quick, quick,” someone who seemed to be their leader urged them. “That means you, as well, friends of our lord and master.”

The leader was barely a few feet tall, and at first glance, looked like a street urchin. But he was directing and commanding everyone with the hubris of an army general.

The entire procession moved down a long winding stair that appeared to be made from vines. Varg had to place each step carefully, the vines smelled fresh as if they had just grown. That strange stair taking them down inside the wall couldn’t have been there for a long time. Indeed, it seemed that the powers of these Sakka were astonishing.

***

It was a long and arduous way down, but Duril considered that it was a small price to pay, seeing how the Sakka appeared to be the only ones competent to help Toru in this dire situation. He hated being helpless, but at least he hoped that his presence would be soothing for the young tiger the moment he woke up. And if the Sakka needed any assistance, he would be there to help in any way he could. The only thing needed was for them to say the word, and nothing else. For the sake of everything that was worth saving in the world, Duril hoped with all his heart that Toru would open his lovely eyes again and ask again for a kiss, in that adorable petulant voice of his.

“Put him there, put him there,” the leader of the group demanded impatiently.

A single bed lay in the middle of a large room that had curved walls as if it was a dome. The bed was large and dressed in silk sheets the color of gold, and Duril took in every detail without saying a word. Toru was hiked up onto the bed, and the entire army of Sakka began mumbling among themselves, each one finding his place and mission. Duril watched as they began moving in rows, grabbing pots of water, herbs of different kinds, and those flowers he had seen before. The tiger flowers.

The Sakka started to rub Toru’s body with their concoctions which apparently were made from nothing but herbs and water. Duril leaned over them to watch closely without realizing he was doing so.

“Friends of our lord and master,” the leader spoke. “Come and tell us about how Hekastfet was defeated this time. We need to record it all in our history book.”

Duril hesitated. Varg and Claw tensed, as well. It looked like neither of them wanted to move from Toru’s side either.

“Come, come. He’s in good hands, the best hands,” the leader said. “You will do nothing here but breathe in his air.”

That seemed to be enough to convince them all to move and follow the little man. Duril wondered briefly where Pie was, but there were so many Sakka there, and all bent on their mission, that it was a difficult thing to identify one in the sea of heads.

They followed the leader of the Sakka into another room, a considerably smaller one. Varg and Claw leaned awkwardly against one of the walls. Their presence and height was usually enough to dominate any room, but in this case, they looked like giants trapped in a dwarf’s house. Even Duril had to admit that it wasn’t easy for him to stand comfortably.

The Sakka climbed a chair behind a desk and grabbed a long goose feather that must have been sharpened for the sake of serving as a writing instrument. Duril admired the intricate design of the ink bottle, something flowery patterned in gold.

“Well,” the Sakka began, “let me hear it.”

“Now, wait a little,” Varg intervened, “we don’t even know who you are.”

“I’m Beanstalk,” the Sakka replied as if he couldn’t believe that such a thing wasn’t obvious already. “I lead the Sakka. Any other questions before we start?”

“Yes, we have a lot of bloody questions,” Varg replied in a determined voice.

That appeared to give Beanstalk pause for a moment. Then, his expression turned into a patient smile and he leaned back in his desk chair. “Very well, ask your questions.”

“Is Toru going to be fine?” he asked, at the same time as Duril.

“That’s what I’d like to know, as well,” Claw added in an aggressive voice.

“He fought a battle like no other, a battle for Eawirith,” Beanstalk said patiently. He appeared to hesitate for a moment. “Never before has a tiger needed our help in such an endeavor. Nor has one ever come with friends.”

“You talk like those people out in The Dregs,” Varg said. “They also showed no trust in us because things were happening differently than what they knew from old tales.

“Not tales, history,” Beanstalk pointed out. “It is quite unusual,” he muttered those last words to himself. “Nonetheless, we are prepared. We will pull Toru out of his stupor, worry not.”

Duril decided to speak up. “How could we not worry? There is no wound, no reason for him to be in such a state. We were all there, and none of us shares his condition. I’m a healer --” he started.

Beanstalk put one hand up. “We know.” He spoke for all the Sakka, it seemed. “But the wound he suffered is not one of the body. So, tell me now, what happened?”

Duril traded glances with Varg, and came to a decision as to who would be their mouthpiece. Varg towered, his impressive height casting a long shadow across the narrow room. “Then his wound might be one of the soul. To defeat Hekastfet, he had to kill his sire.”

“His father?” Beanstalk seemed taken aback by that information. “What does Toru’s father have to do with any of this?”

Varg set his feet wide apart and looked down at the Sakka. Beanstalk didn’t appear the least bit intimidated. Duril understood his friend; Toru lay there, silent and unmoving, while these little people worked busily around him, apparently knowing what to do to bring him back to life. They all shared the same concern. What if they didn’t succeed?

Duril sighed and pushed that dark thought away. So far, the Sakka had helped them, and showing a lack of trust in them could end up insulting them. Only Beanstalk contradicted him by speaking right away. “Master wolf, it’s an astonishing new tale Toru is weaving. We must know everything. We were born to help the tiger restore peace and order in the world. But never before have we met someone like Toru, and we have been serving the house of Olliandran for millennia.”

“We don’t know what this house you’re talking about is. And we don’t know if your friends are capable of curing our friend,” Varg said, emphasizing every word.

Beanstalk seemed to consider. “They will try their best. And we took a vow, master wolf. We will die trying, and we’re not the dying kind.”

That much Duril believed. This ancient tribe charged with helping the tiger fulfill his destiny was their best bet at the moment since they, Toru’s friends, felt so helpless right now.

Varg seemed to have decided to share the truth with the leader of the Sakka. “We found ourselves trapped by Hekastfet as we rushed to Toru’s aid. The evil intended to use us as leverage and force Toru’s hand. It didn’t work.”

Beanstalk nodded thoughtfully and then he dipped his goose feather in the ink. Duril wasn’t in the least surprised to see his hand moving across the page with incredible speed. After all, he had taken advantage of the same type of magic when Pie had sent him back to Granius and his tedious work.

“Hekastfet had a physical body,” Claw pointed out. “An old man with a beard, quite an imposing one.”

Beanstalk seemed well aware of what that meant. “So, he had taken over the domestikos’ body. We have suspected that was the case for quite some time, and now we know for sure. What happened then? What did you see?”

“We were inside a room with a strange altar,” Varg explained. “Later we learned that it was Toru’s father shackled to the altar. He was the one who asked Toru to end his life. It appears that his sacrifice was what brought the end of Hekastfet, or at least that is what we hope.” He stopped and waited.

Beanstalk appeared to ponder. “Hekastfet must have built the altar since the confrontation with the tiger before Toru. It is not unusual that he chose to nestle inside the domestikos’ palace and create this abomination.”

“Can we truly tell if Toru succeeded in his quest?” Claw asked.

“We no longer feel the evil,” Beanstalk replied. “It appears to have disappeared, but in such a manner as never before.”

“What do you mean?” Varg inquired.

Beanstalk rose from his chair and began pacing the room. “Outside, the city is still burning.”

“Yes, we saw some of it,” Varg said. “I know that Toru will suffer from a broken heart once he hears that the city was destroyed. We should be out there, chasing away the fires.”

Beanstalk put his hands behind his back and looked at the floor, lost deeply in his own thoughts. “Scercendusa always dies with the evil that helped it spawn.”

“That cannot be the truth,” Duril protested. “There must be many good people in the city, and even those that might not always do the right thing, they cannot be bad enough to deserve such a fate.”

“And how about the people in The Dregs? Are they going to die now? All of them?” Claw asked, his voice filled with unhidden hurt.

Duril had known the bearshifter as someone determined at times, easygoing at times, but not as emotional as he could hear him being right now. Something about the fate of those poor people serving Scercendusa outside its majestic walls must have struck a nerve in him. Duril understood. Something of their harsh demeanor and sense of duty reminded him of a few people from Whitekeep, the ones who never wasted time with useless gossip. If they could be helped –

“Toru might be lying on that bed, unfit to tell you what he thinks, but we are here in his stead,” he said as he clenched his hand into a fist. “And he would want us to go out there and save as many lives as we can.”

“Why would you do that?” Beanstalk asked.

Duril sensed his frustration growing. “Varg, Claw, should we go? At least, I believe we are leaving Toru in good hands.”

Not that his heart didn’t tear at the thought of leaving Toru there, but there were other important things at stake. The city was burning, yes, but even fires could be put out, couldn’t they?

Beanstalk was about to say something when someone walked into the room after a short knock. “What is it?” he asked.

Duril recognized Moth from the first time they had met. His face was covered in soot and he looked like he needed to rest for three days straight, but his eyes told a different story. “I listened in,” he admitted. “I would like to go out there and help them.”

“To what end? Don’t we all know our history?” Beanstalk asked.

“Our history,” Moth said forcefully, “is being rewritten. Yes, Toru is like no one else. Yes, he came here with friends. And yes, he wouldn’t want the city to perish.”

Someone else emerged from behind Moth, another Sakka that Duril didn’t know by face. However, he saw the glint of recognition in Varg’s eyes.

“Midnight,” the wolf asked out loud, “will you help us, too?”

Midnight nodded solemnly. “In the short time Toru spent with us, I came to know him a little. He wouldn’t want to leave destruction in his wake. We must at least try.”

Beanstalk threw his arms into the air. “How can we ignore everything we’ve learned over millennia?”

“Those are old things. Now it’s time for us to learn of new things.”

Duril was sure the Sakka named Midnight couldn’t have put it better. And trying to save some of the people was better than staying there, waiting for Toru to recover when that could take who knew how long. Toru wouldn’t have wanted them to sit idly by when there were lives to save.

“We should get going. Do you know of safe places where we can bring the people? And where are there water sources?”

“That is something I’m in charge of knowing,” someone else interjected into their conversation.

Duril recognized Pie right away. The Sakka had his hands in the pockets of his overalls and looked like a street child ready to raise havoc, but his intentions were noble through and through.

“All right,” Beanstalk admitted with a grumble. “Take others with you, anyone that can be spared from the noblest task of all.” He looked at everyone sharply. “We will take care of Toru while you see about others, out there.” While he didn’t appear to believe in the rightness of their cause, he didn’t stand in the way, either.

And Duril believed that they could use all the help they could get to save Scercendusa from its fate. Nothing was set in stone, he thought to himself.

***

He was in a warm place, filled with light. At first, he didn’t recognize it, but little by little, it began to come back to him. With a smile, he jumped from his cradle and landed on the floor on all paws. Toru looked around the large room that was his own, although his mother also slept there. He stole a cautious glance at her. The red hair which had been the first thing he had seen when opening his eyes upon the world cascaded over the pillows, and the way her chest rose and fell let him know she was deeply asleep.

Toru made sure not to make a sound as he crept toward the large doors. He stopped in front of them, his tail swinging to and fro, as he debated about the best way to open them without waking half the palace. While he could jump on the handle and push it down, his clumsiness would end up rousing Raine from her well-deserved slumber. The night before, he had wailed over a growing fang, and she had stayed up with him throughout the ordeal. It was better to let her sleep.

As much as he disliked it, there was only one way to sneak outside with no one else noticing. He grunted under his breath, the sounds he was making like soft whines in his ear, but soon, he was standing on two feet, although he was swaying to ensure his balance.

What was so good about having this kind of body, anyway? It was not as fast and nimble as a tiger’s. Yet, his parents kept on insisting that he needed to govern his human just as well as he made use of his tiger’s body.

Toru grabbed the handle and dragged it down. Despite his best efforts, it made some noise, but when he stole another glance at his mother’s sleeping form, nothing had changed. The sounds were only loud in his own ears. He snuck outside, still swaying on his feet, just the same as he had seen other children his age doing. Only that they didn’t have a mighty tiger inside to turn into when trying to get by as a human became too rough.

Carefully, he closed the door behind him, and from that point on, the world was his. Toru didn’t hesitate to change out of the smooth human skin that offered so little protection against the cold or bruises when you fell like his wonderful soft coat did. He was a tiger, and mother and father had to understand that.

Now that he was out of the bedroom he shared with his doting mother, freedom was waiting for him. He rushed toward the balcony at the end of the hallway. As he had learned quickly, a big apple tree bent its branches to the left side of it, and that was the quickest and best ladder he had found so that he could reach the garden, where all the wonderful things happened.

Out on the balcony, he jumped on the railing and sniffed the air. Someone, somewhere, was cooking a big steak. Toru gulped at the thought of that juicy piece of meat, searing on the grill. He didn’t mind eating it raw, but something of how humans did it just made it impossible to resist.

He clucked his tongue in an effort to stop the drooling. Father always said that it was wrong to steal, but when you were really hungry, was it that bad?

For a moment, he looked over the landscape opening in front of him. One day, he would know all those fields and hills by heart. Mother was very strict about never going too far. But one day, he would go even further than that, even up those mountains in the distance. That was where father came from. He didn’t quite understand what that meant. When had he come and why? But those mountains looked like they could be conquered, although Toru had to admit that he wasn’t that fond of the cold. The only memory he had of those places far away was of a single snowflake landing on his nose, and him sneezing. His mother said that his father had taken him there once to show him to his people. That must have been a long, long time ago, because Toru didn’t remember anything beyond that cold snowflake landing on his nose.

He jumped into the apple tree, the branch dipping under his paws, and quite dangerously, but he was quick and soon he was dashing from one branch to the next, until he reached the ground. The last leap was always quite a feat, but Toru knew that he was growing fast. That was what mother said, that there were no other children of his age who grew from one day to the next like he did. That single thing made his heart fill with pride, and he could forgive mother and father for not letting him play as much as he wanted, and trying to quench his thirst for adventure.

Now, he was in the garden, and all he had to do was follow the scent of that delicious steak. Sometimes, he didn’t even need to steal. The people around the castle knew him well, and they were happy to feed him. They also often told him that mother and father shouldn’t learn of it, while sneaking him another tasty morsel that made his mouth drool and his tongue hang out. They didn’t need to say another word. His lips were sealed.

The scent led him close to the wall at the back of the garden. Toru stopped before it and his tail began tapping the ground as he pondered over what to do next. The wall was tall here, so tall that he couldn’t just pounce over it or even reach the top. Curiosity about what lay beyond that wall gnawed at him, but father always said that he was too young to climb it. Of course, that only infuriated him further, because there should be no walls standing in the way of his adventuring. His dreams were always filled with sights of distant lands, and new friends, and plenty of steak. How could mother and father not understand that only climbing the wall and exploring the world outside would make him happy? That and being scratched behind the ears.

Maybe if he looked at the wall long enough, he would find its weakness. Now, after he did stare a lot, he could see there was a stone jutting out and he could reach it if he lunged toward it the right way. Without a moment of hesitation, Toru tensed his entire body and jumped. His front right paw caught the jutting stone, but he felt awkward about how the rest of him remained hanging in the air. Forced to go back to the ground, he only felt frustration.

Wait, he thought, those stones jutting from the wall, they could be used better… if he used his human, his clumsy heavy human. Toru thought really hard about it. Shifting didn’t come so easy to him, not when it came to becoming human, or so he had heard his parents saying. The tiger was strong in him, they also said.

But this wall needed him to use his human, too, and as little as he liked to balance on only two feet instead of four, he was willing to try. From his height, he reached the jutting stone with one clammy hand. It was, indeed, more suitable for grabbing the stones and pulling himself up. He let out a small cry of triumph when he managed to pull himself up and grab another stone sticking out of the wall, this time with his left hand.

Up and up, he could go like this until the wall ended, and the world of adventuring outside would start. So, without looking down, he aimed for the next stone, then the next. It felt like he had been climbing for a long time. That was when he risked a look down. His heart grew small. His tiger never feared heights, but all of a sudden he was overly conscious of his clammy hands that could slip from these stones…

One of those, the one on which he had rested his left foot for the time being, gave way, and he cried out in distress. At the same moment, his right hand began to slip, and Toru barely had time to realize that he was falling. He closed his eyes tightly and called for his tiger, but shifting that way didn’t come so fast to him either.

He tensed in anticipation of crashing against the ground, but his fall was broken suddenly.

“What do we have here?” His father’s deep voice made him open his eyes.

He was in one piece, and nothing hurt. Toru giggled.

Father frowned, looking down at him. He was so tall. He could probably climb the wall or even jump over it when he was in his tiger’s skin. Toru liked nothing and no one better in the whole world than seeing his father’s tiger. He was so majestic and so different! He was a white tiger, and everyone saying that said so with admiration. There weren’t many like him, or maybe there, at the edge of the mountains, there were. Toru didn’t really know.

“Where were you going, little climber?” His father asked and laughed, bouncing him in his arms, and making him giggle more.

“Up,” Toru explained. Father was only stern about his climbing habits when mother was around. When they were by themselves, like now, he never scolded him.

“And why would you want that?”

Toru licked his lips. “Steak,” he explained while scrunching his nose. It was more difficult to discern the good smells when he was human.

“We had steak yesterday,” his father reminded him.

“I can eat steak every day,” Toru said.

His father hiked him up on his shoulders and lifted them both up to the top of the wall with ease. From there, Toru could see an entire different landscape, one with marshes and small fires. In the distance, thunder rolled and lighting blazed through the sky.

“What’s there?” he asked.

“A different world than ours.”

Toru leaned forward, making his parent hurry to catch him. “Why is it burning?”

“It’s on its last leg. It’s ending,” his father explained.

“Ending? But why?”

“You’ll understand when you’re older. There are evil worlds on the face of Eawirith. It is our duty to destroy them.”

“Duty?” Toru questioned. “Can’t we just let them be?”

“If we did, they’d taint and tarnish the rest of the places, where good people live.”

“Is everyone evil there?” Toru asked, after some consideration.

His father didn’t answer. Maybe he hadn’t heard the question. “No, maybe not everyone,” he said quietly at last.

TBC

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