Hungry Heart - Book #3 - Ch. 24

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 – People and Beasts

A bell tolled loudly somewhere outside, rousing them from their stupor. Claw murmured something under his breath that had to be less than pleasant, while Varg was quicker to open his eyes and realize that something was happening. He nudged his friend in the ribs, first just a bit, then more forcefully when the bearshifter didn’t show any sign that he intended to wake up.

“Puppy, you better have a good reason for bruising my side.”

“Can you hear that? Something must be underway,” Varg said.

Claw finally opened his eyes and made a bit of a show by putting his fingers into his ears and releasing them with a pop. “I guess that’s our call for battle.”

“Why use a bell?” Varg asked. “It’s like they’re getting ready for a funeral.”

“That might be. Only those whose blood is to be shed in the arena tonight might not be considered deserving of even that.”

Varg pushed himself to his feet. Claw helped him up to look through the grated window without a word. His breath caught in his chest when he took in the place he had observed only hours earlier. The sun was descending across the blue canvas above, but it still cast shadows of orange and red over the arena.

Unlike before, when the place had appeared deserted, it was now teeming with life. The seats were heavy with people who seemed bent on watching a bloodthirsty show by the way they yelled and threw their fists in the air.

Varg wondered briefly why it hadn’t been the ruckus from the crowds rousing them from their sleep, but then he saw a giant bell he hadn’t noticed before. It hung in the middle of the arena, and it was a humongous thing. Slender men with dark skin, nude save for a loincloth draped around each one’s midsection, were pulling at a heavy rope, making the bell swing back and forth and cry its sepulchral song.

“I think it’s safe to say that this evening’s entertainment is not far from starting,” he told Claw.

“That means we will be called soon.”

“Called?”

“More like thrown in there,” Claw admitted. “Do you know what I think, Varg?”

“I’d like to.”

“Our purpose was to get into the city. It’s not like we’re on payroll here, right?”

“I believe that I’m liking where you’re going with your plan more and more. But, assuming that we can run--”

The door to their cell opened abruptly and four guards walked through it. They were heavily armored and carried spears, which they pointed at Claw and Varg right away. Varg traded a glance with his friend and partner. It appeared that they needed to bide their time to go for that grand exit they were seeking.

Without putting up a fight, they followed when one of the guards gestured for them to move. It looked like they were heading for at least one confrontation with the likes of those animals they had seen earlier.

They walked side by side, until they reached a narrow corridor. Varg let Claw take the lead, and it took him a moment more to realize that they had been pushed into a room full of people. They all looked miserable, dressed in drab clothes, some of them tightly holding a knife or a small spear.

The guards walked out and closed the door after them.

“What is this?” Varg asked of no one in particular. Then, when he saw that save for a few wary glances thrown his way, no one intended to pay them any mind, he grabbed one of the men close to them by his elbow. “Who are you, people?”

The man didn’t bother to shake off his touch, but looked at Varg’s hand like he was surprised that it was there. “We’re the doomed,” he said, “and so are you if you’re here.”

Claw appeared to be just as disconcerted as he was by the display of human frailty in front of their eyes. Varg realized without even trying, that the people there weren’t just poorly dressed and as good as unarmed. They seemed sick, underfed and, a couple of them, even close to dying.

“But the arena,” he started. “I thought it was a place for fights.”

“It is,” the man replied. “But first, the beasts need to be fed.”

Varg looked at Claw again. The bearshifter leaned near so that he could whisper in Varg’s ear without letting the others clearly hear what they were talking about. “I feel a bit insulted, puppy. Do we look like food?”

“Same here,” Varg whispered back. “And I thought we proved our mettle too well with that show we put on outside the gates to end up here.”

“Some beasts like food that’s still alive and kicking,” the man from before interrupted them. They must not have done that great a job of concealing their conversation.

“Still, we’re fighters,” Claw argued.

The man gave him a cursory look. Then, he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. The crowds are here to see the beasts feeding.”

“Aren’t they afraid that they might end up with some really powerful beasts on their hands?” Varg questioned.

“When the beasts are too full to move, then the fighters come in,” the man explained. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, we’re strangers to this place,” Varg confirmed.

The man nodded again. “The fighters are part of the domestikos’ guard. They get the glory, and they have the pleasure of cutting down overfed beasts while the crowds go wild.”

“You seem like you know a lot about what goes on here,” Varg pointed out. “Do I gather that you’ve been in this situation before and lived to tell the tale?”

That earned him a hoarse laugh from the man. “No, this is the first time I’m food for the beasts. But I was out there,” he pointed through the door opposite to that through which Varg and Claw had been pushed inside. From behind it, the noise of the crowd could be heard, and the bell bellowed louder. “Countless times.”

Varg wasn’t sure he understood what the man meant. “You watched?” he asked.

The man spat at his feet and coughed for a while. “I watched. Like everyone else. I suppose it’s everyone’s turn, sooner or later. In my case, it looks like it’s sooner. And so in your case too.” He struggled to laugh again, but this time a bout of coughing shook his entire body until it made him double over and collapse on the ground. Varg hurried to help him, but the man pushed his hand away. “Don’t bother. Let them feast on my corpse. That means I won’t have to suffer.”

Varg pulled Claw aside. “Does this look like something we’ve seen before?”

“The weak, the ill, and the dying,” Claw said and nodded slowly. “Two places so far away from one another, and yet, here we are, witnessing similar customs, or at least there is some resemblance. I am willing to bet the fur off my back that Scercendusa is not known for its many cemeteries, either.”

“So, what are we going to do?” Varg asked. “This is not exactly the kind of welcome I prefer.”

“Me neither.” Claw looked around. “There’s not much we can do for these people, but… what do you say we ruin the show a little?”

“I’m all for it.” Varg considered for a while, and then still helped the collapsed man up, only to aid him in finding a more comfortable sitting position. “Are there many arenas like this one in Scercendusa?” he asked him.

“This is a small one,” the man told him. “But they have many beasts, and they make a good living, because people growing old and falling sick are sent to the asylums here.”

That gave them a slight idea about where they were, but Varg insisted. “How close are we to the center of the city?”

The man threw him a look as if he couldn’t understand the question. Eventually, his dry lips moved. “Why? Do you plan on visiting the domestikos’ palace?” He tried to laugh again, but the dry cough that attacked him decided otherwise.

“As a matter of fact, we wouldn’t mind that,” Varg said.

“His palace is close to the walls, not in the center,” the man explained. “He likes to look over the entire city on one side, but to keep an eye on The Dregs, on the other. Our domestikos is the kind who doesn’t mind a bit of ash in his quail soup.” All those explanations seemed to amuse him to no end.

Varg was intrigued. Claw seemed keen on listening to every word, as well. They had come here quite unprepared, but they were notorious for their ability to figure things out quickly. “Is it a long way from here?” he asked.

“Just follow the walls to the north. You’ll get there,” the man replied. “Too bad you won’t get to do so. You two look big and strong, but there are too many famished beasts. Just too damn many.”

Varg didn’t torture the poor man with more talking. He just patted him on the shoulder and moved close to Claw again. “At least, we got something,” he said. “Once we’re through with this barbaric place, all we need to do is to see where the walls take us.”

“That sounds like the perfect plan,” Claw agreed. “But first, we need to get ready, right?”

“Yes.”

Claw nodded and puffed out his chest. Then, he shouted, “Listen here, everyone!”

The men turned to look at him.

“That door will open,” he pointed at the one through which they could hear the roar of the impatient crowd. “You all step back and let the two of us go first.”

“Are you that keen to die? Too bad since you two look strong and young compared to our lot,” the man said.

“It’s not like they can escape. Maybe they just want to get it over with quickly. That will let us enjoy the moments we still have for a little while longer. I, for one, want that,” another said.

Murmurs of agreement could be heard from all corners of the room. What made Varg wonder about these people the most was how resigned they all appeared to be to their fate. He didn’t know how to ask about the reasons for such a thing.

“How come you’re not scared?” Claw asked in his stead. “Behind that door, you will be met by bloodthirsty beasts that will devour you alive.”

“Ah,” the same man said. “You weren’t given the mercy potion, were you?”

“What mercy potion?”

The man waved like it wasn’t a thing he could easily explain. “It dulls the senses and brings peace to the mind.”

“Is that why you look like you’re one moment away from collapsing? Does this potion make you fall asleep?”

“Not quite. There’s something unsettling about looking death in the face, isn’t there?” the man murmured softly.

“Maybe it’s not going to be today,” Varg offered.

“There’s little comfort in that.”

“Maybe it’s not going to be tomorrow, either.”

This time, the man looked up at him. There was uncertainty in his watery eyes, as if he couldn’t decide whether Varg was telling him an unfathomable truth or if he was losing his mind.

The sound of inhuman growls made them all fall silent. Then, the door rattled on its hinges and opened in front of them.

***

Duril moved around cautiously so as not to wake his employer, but judging by the way Granius snored so loudly, his precautions weren’t necessary. However, it took him a while to get used to moving about without taking extra care, and any sound that could be interpreted as his master waking up set him on edge.

He didn’t know what he should search for. The building only served for keeping records of the transactions taking place at the market right outside, so the chances of finding anything that could help him with his quest were small.

Still, he thought as he examined the shelves, one thing he wouldn’t mind having was a map of Scercendusa. Then he could go outside and see if he was any good at orienting himself, using his common sense and, of course, the kind of help only a good map could give him.

Pie and Moth wanted him to meet them the next day, but Duril didn’t think he would be able to sleep without worrying through the night, at least not until he had done some scouting around. The Sakka were so mysterious, and it was their role to be like that, but Duril truly wanted to find something that would allow him to be helpful one way or another.

He searched the shelves without wasting time, and then his eyes fell on the wall behind them. There it was, he thought with satisfaction and moved closer. By the looks of it, indeed, it was a map of the city, so Duril removed the thumbtacks keeping it in place with extra care, as the paper on which the map had been drawn appeared to be quite fragile. He had a hunch that Granius wouldn’t miss the map, even in the unlikely event he squeezed his large frame through the rows of shelves to reach the wall.

He took the precious map to the desk and examined it carefully. After some time had passed in minute inspection, he could tell where Granius’ office was located, and that would help him travel through the city at nightfall. Of course, it would be best for him to memorize as much of the map as he could, since he didn’t believe that a stranger with a map roaming through Scercendusa at midnight would make the guards in charge of protecting the city feel too kindly toward him.

However, he did need to take the map with him, so he rolled it carefully and put it inside his satchel. Thus armed, he decided that he was as prepared as he ever would be to explore Scercendusa on his own.

Where was Toru right now? Together with Varg and Claw, they had been left behind, and it looked like the guards of Scercendusa weren’t keen on letting everybody in. If anything, they were highly selective, and Duril was relieved that at least his writing skills had been deemed good enough to grant him access to the citadel.

However, he knew that his friends were highly resourceful and that they would find a way to get into the city themselves. Still, Duril couldn’t quite suppress the intense feeling of longing he experienced the moment he thought of Toru’s beautiful golden eyes, Varg’s mischievous grin, and Claw’s powerful arms. They couldn’t have been brought together only as a whim of fate.

Scercendusa was, without a doubt, the vastest human settlement he had ever set foot in. And even for well-traveled people, like Varg and Claw, the place had to be overwhelming in its immensity.

How would they find each other again? Duril decided that he had no time to feel pity for himself nor for how lonely he felt at the moment. He clutched his satchel tightly and walked through the front door, taking care to make as little noise as possible.

The balmy air of evening caressed his face the moment he set foot outside. Scercendusa had been built in a blessed place, weather-wise at least. For a few moments, Duril inhaled deeply and enjoyed the smell of spices wafting from the tardiest merchants still packing up their wares for the night.

What he needed to find, he was sure of it, had to be the domestikos’ palace. According to the map he had hidden in his satchel, the building was located close to the northern walls, which made it possible for the ruler of the city to look out over The Dregs whenever he wanted. Duril puzzled over the oddity of that choice for the location of such an important official building. Didn’t the domestikos want to feast his eyes upon the most beautiful parts of his city? Indeed, Ewart Kona had to be quite a peculiar man, and Shearah, as much as she had wanted to help them, hadn’t been able to tell them a lot about the man in charge of the city.

The Sakka were convinced Ewart Kona was manipulated by evil. Hekastfet, Duril remembered and stopped himself in time from murmuring it aloud under his breath. He didn’t fear as much for himself as he did for others, innocents that would be exposed to that evil by the mere accident of hearing its name.

Maybe this was where their adventure would reach its end. Duril allowed himself a small sigh. They hadn’t truly talked about what would follow after, but he hoped that he would continue to live with Toru, Varg, and Claw.

A life of settling down and leading pleasant predictable days one after the other didn’t sound so bad. That thought put a spring in his step, and he began walking away from Granius’ office, heading straight into the maze of streets. He was lucky that he could see well in the dark, which meant that he wouldn’t draw unnecessary attention to himself by needing a candle or stumbling upon roaming guards by accident.

In the evening, Scercendusa filled with a new type of life. The working people now migrated from the places where they had toiled since morning or where they sold their wares, to the many inns, beerhouses, and taverns that seemed to be numerous in the area of the city Duril traveled through now.

He hadn’t had anything to eat since lunch, but he didn’t feel any hunger. However, the sight of all those people enjoying a drink with friends, as well as a warm meal, made his yearning from before return, this time with a craving for cold beer and some good food.

There would be time to enjoy all that once they defeated the evil whose roots grew from this place. But it couldn’t mean absolute destruction; that would be a terrible pity, Duril thought, and Toru would be against it, anyway. These people would continue to have their pints and enjoy their roasted chicken long after Toru was done punishing the evil bent on destroying the world.

Duril steeled his heart and belly at the sight of the wondrous dishes carried on trays by deft innkeepers and their helpers and brought to tables filled with hungry and joyous customers. Toru would like to taste everything, without a doubt. And for once, although they weren’t together right now, Duril agreed. There was no place like Scercendusa, and even if just for the sake of all those marvelous foods and the people who enjoyed them, it needed to be saved.

His steps became hurried. If Granius woke up in the middle of the night and wanted him to fill the tomes with transactions he imagined in his sleep and he couldn’t find him, it would not bode well for his employment in the man’s office. Duril doubted that it was possible for his master and employer to rouse from his sleep except for emptying his bladder, and that meant that he was safe. But he didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks.

All he wanted was to find the shortest way he could reach Ewart Kona’s palace. In case Toru and the others had managed to get inside the city, it was there that they would go. If the domestikos harbored the evil within his very walls, it would be easy for Toru to find it.

Only it might not be so easy to defeat it, and Toru would need all his friends by his side. Not that Duril didn’t have all the faith he was capable of that the young tigershifter would prevail in the direst of circumstances, but he wanted to protect him if he could, even if there was very little that he could do.

***

Toru stretched out on the fluffy bed and the need to doze off grew strong in him. His bones were getting heavy, and his muscles were getting so relaxed, not to mention that his overstuffed belly wanted him to take a good nap. Maybe he could do it only a little. His eyelids drooped and he couldn’t stop a satisfied smile from spreading across his face. It had been some time since he had felt so pleased with a meal. Not that he didn’t love whatever Duril cooked, or that he didn’t remember all the effort the people at The Quiet Woods had put into their farewell feast, but Scercendusa was truly an astonishing place when it came to food.

He was about to doze off when a sound, something cavernous and menacing, made his eyes snap open. His ears perked up in search of the clear source of that unpleasant noise. It was as if the din was drifting around inside the room, filling it. Without a doubt, it appeared to be a song of sorts, one sung under the breath of a murmuring choir.

Was there some kind of procession going on? At that hour? It was true that it was only evening, and maybe not everyone around the palace was already asleep, but wasn’t it inconsiderate toward guests to have a bunch of monks or whatever those people were mumbling their strange hymn in the hallway while others tried to sleep?

Toru pursed his lips in annoyance for a moment, but then he reconsidered. After all, he didn’t intend to sleep too long anyway, as he needed to search the palace for any signs of Hekastfet. Since Ewart Kona seemed so completely oblivious to the menace that he was harboring under his roof, it was his duty to get to work, and fast.

With that decision in mind, he swung himself over the edge of the bed and got to his feet. Too bad that his golden protection was no more. He would have been able to walk past those mumbling monks or whatever they were in the hallway without drawing unwanted attention to himself.

The noise only became louder as he walked to the door of his bedchamber. He pressed his ear to the wood and listened closely. There was something about the mumbling that sparked his memory. The chant was familiar and in a way that roused unpleasant feelings that began to roil in his gut. Where had he heard that wailing before? It was a frightening melody, but also one that seemed to belong to frightened souls that were trying to save themselves.

There was one way to find out what it was about. Toru opened the door and stepped into the hallway. To his right, marching toward the end of the hallway, a cohort of dark figures could be seen. They had their backs turned to him, so he couldn’t see their faces, but their dark clothes roused his memory again.

Toru set his jaw hard. He knew where he had heard that wailing song before, and where he had seen those figures. He shifted into his tiger so that his paws made no sound on the polished floor and began stalking the procession from the shadows. While the hallway was lit by torches here and there, Toru changed sides frequently, chasing the cones of shadow that concealed his presence.

Those figures looked just the same as the merchants from Shroudharbor, and it had been right before they’d died that Toru had heard the same chant. It was safe to think that the strange procession would lead him to Hekastfet, as they had to be bred by that evil and were brought into the world by it.

He remembered very well how Blayves, the head of the merchants in Shroudharbor, had been dragged away by Geruf, his loyal servant. While, at the time, they had all thought that the danger had been eliminated by destroying the shroud, it looked like the same kind of evil had emerged here, in the heart of Scercendusa.

And Ewart Kona still wanted him to believe that he didn’t know a thing about such horrendous things taking place in his palace? Toru supposed there was a chance that the domestikos was deep in his dreams at that hour and didn’t even begin to suspect that there were creatures beyond his human understanding roaming the hallways of the ancient palace.

He would see how involved the domestikos was with these phantoms from another place, but it would have to wait. Right now, Toru was convinced that the strange procession would take him right to Hekastfet, which had been his purpose all along.

***

Varg and Claw rushed into the arena.

“Six heads!” Varg bellowed. “Three for me, and three for you, my friend!”

The horrible creatures they were facing now were the same they had observed before, and Varg thought grimly that the ones in charge of the arena had had time to replace the dead beast that had been devoured by its brethren. An endless supply of bloodthirsty wild animals that couldn’t be tamed didn’t sound like a good thing.

Tonight, he and Claw would make sure that the creatures, no matter how hungry, would be left to rot in the dust, while the ones supposed to end up in their bellies would live another day. But tomorrow might not bring change, and although they had spoken words of encouragement to those men, it was not like they could turn the entirety of Scercendusa into ashes on their own. To save everyone, it would take a lot more, or at least, a different type of person.

Varg thought briefly of Toru, as one of the hooved animals noticed his presence and began barreling toward him in a fit of rage. He didn’t have a sword and he couldn’t shift into his wolf, but that didn’t mean that he was defenseless. Even more, he had very clear ideas about how to execute a real attack on those mindless animals. He waited for the creature to get close and tensed his entire body. Then, he jumped out of the way at the last minute. The crowd erupted into enthusiastic cheers when the beast couldn’t stop and smashed into the wall behind the wolfshifter, making the planks of wood rattle.

If the real wall had been nothing more than that, the crowds would have been in peril of being trampled and killed by the murderous beasts, but Varg had noticed that the wood planks were just for show; most likely they were used for protecting the stone behind them from blood stains, nicks and scratches.

The beast growled and fell on one side, but got back on its feet with little effort, angered by the failure of its earlier attack. Varg was counting on its rage, and was keeping track of the other beasts surrounding them.

Claw was as quick thinking as he was strong, and at that moment he was pitting two beasts against one another, baiting them by placing himself in the middle. When the hoofed animals rushed toward him from afar, ending up smacking their heads together, the crowd cheered more.

It was easy to sway the hearts of many, and also difficult to keep their fickle feelings for more than a moment. Varg grinned at Claw when their eyes met briefly. These people had come to be entertained, and that was what they would get.

This wasn’t going to be an easy task, it seemed, he thought as he observed how the two beasts that had fallen at Claw’s feet were getting up already. At least, three of them were weakened, but that still left them with three others that were eager to trample them, making them one with the dust of the arena.

And those three were careening toward them, throwing the sand into the air with their hooves while blood flowed from their maddened eyes. He didn’t need to look at Claw to know what they had to do. They moved backward until their backs were at the wall. Then they jumped away to let the mindless beasts crash into the hard stone.

This time, one of them remained on the ground, and the other five rushed to tear it apart. It appeared that the crowds were more than pleased with the bloody display before their eyes. Varg clenched his fists. Sometimes, people like that were worthy of punishment, too. Without a doubt, they would have cheered and shouted deliriously if the ones in the arena had been the frail men he and Claw had met inside the holding pen. Only those men would have fallen as easy prey to the strong beasts, with no choice but to let themselves be devoured.

“Do they look fully fed already?” Claw shouted at him.

The sound of growling and teeth breaking through bones was the only one they could hear from the beasts gathered round their fallen sibling.

“I don’t think it’s that easy to feed these creatures until they’re full,” Varg replied.

A horn bellowed suddenly, and the crowds went silent. Everyone turned their heads and began whispering.

“Ah, it looks like we have displeased some fellows,” Varg said.

“You could say that,” Claw agreed, as a group of about a dozen guards in full armor marched into the arena.

Varg looked around in search of the fastest escape route. While they could put all their effort into defeating the guards, news of what was happening in the arena at the moment was bound to pour into the streets of Scercendusa. They didn’t have the time to indulge in taking on half the city once the situation spiraled into an orgy of destruction.

“Do you see what I see?” he asked Claw.

The bearshifter was already running toward one of the many doors carved into the circling wall. What had that sick man said? Too many beasts… famished and ready to feast on human flesh. Varg followed his friend’s example and moved to the first door that must be keeping another batch of hungry animals inside.

Tonight, the famous champions of the arena would truly have the chance to prove their worth against fair, hungry opponents.

TBC

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