Hungry Heart - Book #3 - Ch. 22

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 – Every Beating Heart

That must have been some sort of magical bath, Toru thought as he climbed higher and higher, while the patch of sky above him grew larger and larger. It was as if he only needed to look at that fragment of blue above and it gave him the power he needed to climb, which he did without looking back once. He felt more powerful than ever, and it had to be linked to the experience he had just had with the Sakka. So many things he didn’t know, so many about his past, and yet, he believed now in his fate more than at any time before. He was no longer like the leaves torn from the branches and carried by the wind wherever the whims of destiny decided. He now had a purpose, a noble one, even if something inside him told him that he wouldn’t do all those horrible things the other tigers before him had done. He wasn’t like any other tiger. He hadn’t been born and raised in a place with teachers, and unfathomable luxuries, and… parents of his own.

No, he was Toru, a tiger like no other, who carried the dust of the road with him, and a will to vanquish the evil the way he chose to. No one else in the world was allowed to tell him what to do.

Hekastfet, he whispered in his mind. That was a name he would never forget. He could still recall, in vivid colors and feelings, the pain Varg had suffered at losing most of his pack, and how Duril had wept at the destruction of Whitekeep, even if so many people had been mean to him there. They had saved a few, like Rory and the old witch Agatha, but had they always done their best? The question tormented him now and then, tempering some of the naiveté he had indulged in before when he had had no friends, no one to love, and no one to fight for.

Toru could feel a sweet breeze on his face. The air above was stirred by a small breeze. He wondered briefly how high he was already. From the distance, he had observed Scercendusa, marveled at its white walls rising as high as the sky. Soon, he would be there, at the top of the world, and he would look down and see everyone small as if they didn’t matter.

But they did. Of that simple thing, Toru was certain. He would defeat the evil that had taken Varg’s pack away from the valiant wolfshifter and avenge Duril’s tears, as well as all the people of Whitekeep that hadn’t deserved to meet a horrible end. And not only them. Behind him, sitting on his shoulders without being a burden, stood all the victims of Hekastfet, every beating heart that was forced to stop beating because of that evil. He whispered the name under his breath, trying it out on his tongue. He would look the evil in the face and let it know everything it deserved to meet its end for, all its bad deeds.

Armed with that righteous fury, Toru pushed himself up. The sky opened wide above him, and he found himself on a high wall, from which he could see far beyond The Dregs, over plains of green to the mountains in the distance. The sight took his breath away for a moment. After the darkness in which the Sakka carried out their noble duty, all that brightness was blinding. His eyes adjusted quickly, and he avidly began to observe his surroundings.

Guards were patrolling the wall, but at a leisurely pace, like they didn’t expect an attack at all. That had to be the pride and arrogance of a city like Scercendusa, distilled and instilled into its servants, as well. Toru tiptoed behind a group of guards, resisting the temptation to knock one’s helmet off just to see them jumping, all startled, not knowing where the enemy was.

He kept himself from doing that. He wasn’t there to play, and the importance of his duty strengthened in his mind. It was true what the Sakka had told him about being invisible to those with dark hearts, which meant that he could listen in without being noticed. He walked right behind the group, hoping they would say something that would be of use to him.

The guards were silent, much to his dismay, but, for the moment, he didn’t know what other path to take. His goal was to reach Ewart Kona’s palace. It should be hard to miss, and it had to be a tall building.

The group stopped in front of another. The guards exchanged a few words with the newcomers. It appeared that they were being replaced in their duty. Toru decided to stick with the relieved group who, now that they no longer had to patrol the walls, appeared a lot more lively. By what they were saying, they were heading over to a local inn for a pint and a slice of pie. Toru wondered briefly if he could snatch some from the table without being noticed. Seeing how he was invisible to them, it should be a walk in the park, but something kept him from putting his plan in motion. The Sakka had told him that he wouldn’t be seen by these blackened souls, but if he stole something, that meant that he wouldn’t be so pure, either, and what if that led to him being no longer invisible to the others?

It was enough to make him stave off his hunger for the moment. There would be a time for pies later. And Duril could make him the most delicious food once he was done with this quest of saving everyone from the hands of the evil these people didn’t even know existed.

The most challenging part of his disguise was that he had to step out of the way whenever people walked toward him. Since they couldn’t see him, they couldn’t be impressed by his stature, either, so they tried to walk right through him, instead of around him. Eventually, he decided to walk in the shadow of the biggest fellow of the guards, and this way, he didn’t have to dodge the other folk that happened to be roaming the streets at that hour.

It took Toru some time to realize that he hadn’t needed to descend as many stairs as he had climbed to get there, in that open square that appeared to connect with dozens of streets that ran from it like streams down a mountain. They were still quite high up, which made him wonder how Scercendusa was built, and why when Duril had passed through, no stairs of any kind had been in view.

His curiosity would be satisfied soon enough. He followed the guards closely, in the hope they would say something about where he could find Ewart Kona’s palace. It had to be an impressive place, and one not easy to miss, he imagined. The guards stopped at the end of one of the many streets, and only then did Toru realize that they ran down quite abruptly, and the people teeming on the next level already seemed little from there.

He stopped and considered his options. Forced to jump to one side so that the flow of human beings didn’t end up bottlenecking behind him, he realized that he had gone about this the wrong way. Cautious not to get in the path of the other city folk, he climbed on a bench and looked around.

When he saw it, he understood that there was only one explanation why he had missed it in the first place. As busy as he had been not being noticed, he had kept his eyes only in front of him, without lifting them up once.

Stairs of granite that seemed to run to infinity allowed those courageous enough to undertake the trip and access a majestic construction that stood even higher than the walls and towers of Scercendusa. Its highest peak seemed to pierce the sky, and Toru had to admit to himself that he had never seen such a grandiose sight in his life. The Sakka must have known that his path up the hidden ladder would take him close to the home of Scercendusa’s domestikos.

At first glance, the palace where the ruler of the city resided appeared to cover the sky. One had to tip his or her head back quite awkwardly at an uncomfortable angle to understand the greatness of the building. As impressive as its height and width were, the façade appeared to aim for the completely opposite effect. While the walls and towers were of a stark white, painted like pure columns against the clear summer sky, the palace was carved from dark grey granite, carrying with it a solemn air that the other buildings around it didn’t share. It also stood alone, perched at the top of the stairs. From that vantage point, it appeared to float above the city, an ominous presence dominating and ruling it. Toru didn’t need anyone to tell him that he had found Ewart Kona’s home.

The Sakka had told him that gaining access to the palace would be easy, as the domestikos liked to appear a kind ruler in the eyes and minds of his subjects. It was for that reason that the rulers of Scercendusa had preferred the titles of domestikoi instead of that of kings. They were servants of the city, of the people living within its walls, and therefore their power was lent to them by the heart and soul of Scercendusa.

It sounded quite untrue to Toru’s ears, that story of kind rulers. The angles of the palace were cut sharp, and the many towers were pointing toward the sky like spears. A frightened stare at the building could easily transform it into a monster with many limbs, armed to the teeth, ready to exact punishment on the unknowing people living at its feet.

He jumped off the bench and headed toward the flight of stairs. To make his trip shorter, he quickly shifted and began to eat up the climb with grace and ease. It was easy to notice, even from the corner of one eye, that there were few people willing to take the demanding path to the top only so that they could see the palace from up close.

The sun was merciless at that hour. Toru felt his tongue turning as dry as sandpaper in his mouth, as he climbed and climbed. Beanstalk and Midnight hadn’t told him if the others could hear him, as his breathing was getting heavier. By how the sparse climbers didn’t appear to pay him any attention when he flew past them, he could tell that he was, indeed, invisible to them, and that they couldn’t hear him, either.

The solemnity of the palace standing proud at the top of the climb seemed to have an effect on its visitors even before they could reach their destination. Their clothes were dark and ran from their shoulders to their feet like shapeless aprons, as if any speck of uncovered skin was considered an offense to the powers that be. Toru observed briefly the veils wrapped around their heads that barely allowed them to breathe, and how even their hands were obscured from view by long sleeves and gloves.

Were such clothes mandatory for those who dared to visit the ruler of the city? Toru had never been to a place as grand as Scercendusa, but so far, he couldn’t say that he liked what he saw.

His quest wasn’t to figure out why men and women swathed themselves in layers and layers of clothing only so that they could get a glimpse of the domestikos. No, his purpose was to get inside the palace, and sneak inside the room where Hekastfet was held in high esteem by a human who didn’t understand the foolishness of his actions.

Guards in black armor stood at the tall doors that allowed visitors to enter the palace. They were wide open at this hour, and the people moved silently over the polished floors, easily being swallowed by the dark maw reaching out to them from the inside.

Toru took a deep breath and proceeded to examine the guards. They were taller than many other humans he had encountered in his life, and they could even rival shapeshifters. Toru had to wonder if they weren’t humans, after all, and began sniffing around. No, there was no scent of shifters to worry about, so eventually, he decided to walk inside and follow the example of all the others who were there to see Ewart Kona.

The tall doors opened into a large room, at the end of which stood an altar. Toru moved quickly, ignoring the others who advanced across the floor at the same pace they had used to get there. Everything had the air of a procession, and the light from the candles burning lent the entire room a sinister appeal.

He shifted back into his human shape and climbed the few stairs to the altar in the blink of an eye. Curious of what he was about to see, he leaned over the altar.

Only then he realized that it wasn’t an altar as he had imagined. No, it was a small fountain, buried inside tight tall walls, and petals swirled around in the water. The sight made Toru frown. He recognized those colors; after all, he had just seen the likes of them only earlier today. What was a fountain strewn with petals of tiger flowers doing at the heart of Ewart Kona’s palace?

He did not allow his mind to wonder at that oddity too long. Firm steps came quickly at him from behind the altar. When Toru raised his eyes to see who was there, daring to make noise, when everyone else was silent, he realized that he was looking at the man he had been searching for. There was no doubt in his mind.

Ewart Kona appeared tall in dark garments that echoed the style of dress of those coming there in search of an audience. He held his hands hidden under a fold of the long robe that ran from his shoulders to the floor. Toru couldn’t determine whether he also wore gloves, but it was clear that he kept his face bare, unlike the others.

His face was creased with wrinkles, but he still had plenty of gray hair on his head. Toru was quite surprised at that full head of hair. Ewart Kona had thick eyebrows that knit together as his dark intelligent eyes observed the newcomers. His thin colorless lips were curled into a benevolent smile that, at a closer look, didn’t reach his eyes. Not that his eyes were malevolent; no, they were just searching as if he expected something to be gleaned from scrutinizing the people who walked in there, hoping for something that was as intangible as it was impossible. Toru could only guess what those humans were after; by their prostrate demeanor as soon as they were inside, he assumed that they sought salvation. He doubted that Ewart Kona was capable of giving them that.

“Come closer, good people,” the domestikos urged those already inside. His hands hovered over the tiny fountain, and Toru found himself taking a few steps back. A keen sense of danger told him that it wasn’t wise of him to stay so close to Ewart Kona. Slowly, he moved backward until he reached one of the tall colonnades and hid behind a column. From there, he only peeked out so that he could watch what would come next. Beanstalk would probably tell him that he was silly to stay out of sight like that when he was as good as invisible.

Ewart Kona dipped his hands into the small fountain and then raised them, gesturing for people to come near. No, he didn’t cover his hands, either. One of the people stepped forward and began speaking in a subdued voice. Toru had to strain his hearing to catch what was said. The petitioner was a woman whose only child was suffering from a fever that hadn’t gone down for days now. The domestikos listened patiently and, when the woman finished, he took her gloved hands into his and pressed them together for a moment. “I will send my personal physician to your house by tonight. I wish your son the best of health and a long life.”

The woman thanked him profusely and walked backward while making feverish bows. Ewart Kona raised a hand in blessing and smiled, the same smile as before. Toru forgot to stay completely obscured from view and, for a moment, when the domestikos looked over, he appeared to be looking straight at him. Toru withdrew into the shadow of the colonnade, his heart beating wildly. It was impossible for Ewart Kona to see him, right?

The next person was a man who had a quarrel with a neighbor about a shared property. Ewart Kona promised him that an expert from the palace would arrive later to settle the situation and enforce the law.

It went like that for a while, and Toru could feel himself becoming restless. Anything the petitioners came up with, the domestikos appeared to have the solution for at his fingertips. From time to time, Ewart Kona dipped his hands in the fountain water and held his subjects’ hands. They all left, thanking him profusely.

If he was such a great ruler, how come so few people came to see him? Toru let his mind turn the possibilities on all sides while Ewart Kona ministered to his petitioners. He moved around, chasing the shadows at each corner, eager to scout the place and find its weaknesses. What the domestikos did to ensure that his subjects loved him was of little to no interest to him.

There were two doors leading out of the main room, and Toru was itching to see where they lead. The belly of the palace had to be enormous if he were to take into account the outside appearance of the majestic building. Still, while Ewart Kona let his agile eyes roam around, he couldn’t just disappear through one of the doors. In the solemn atmosphere surrounding the domestikos’ reception of his subjects, surely a door opening and closing was bound to draw attention.

Toru scratched his head and then decided that it would be a good idea to go round the fountain and see where the domestikos had emerged from earlier. It didn’t seem like he had used either of the two doors, which could only mean that there was a third. Much to his dismay, the walls behind Ewart Kona were smooth as marble, and there was no sign of a door. He moved his hands over the even surface, in search of a secret lever that would take him to a passage leading inside the palace.

The sparse crowd continued to grow thinner, and Toru realized that the day of receiving guests was getting closer to its end for the domestikos. That meant that his wait was also getting close to its end, so he stopped his searching, determined to wait for Ewart Kona to move through the secret entrance. He wouldn’t know that he had someone following him closely.

The guards closed the doors behind the last visitors with a loud screech. Toru tensed as he waited for the domestikos to move away from the fountain. The room was veiled in silence like a blanket.

He stared at Ewart Kona’s back as he dried his hands by swinging them a few times.

“I am glad to finally see you here,” the domestikos began without turning, “Toru.”

***

Varg took a tumble and then propelled himself back to his feet, just as Claw rolled toward him with a growl. The crowd broke into a roar of awe and surprise. So far, Claw’s plan had worked like a charm. Their fame was bound to reach the gates, just as news of all sorts always traveled. Sure thing, they had drawn quite the crowd in the meantime, and they were getting a bit frayed around the edges, but he only had to remind himself that Toru must be facing real dangers right now, and the thought gave him renewed strength to dodge Claw’s ruthless, even if feigned, attacks.

The crowd suddenly parted, and a group of guards shoved through the sea of people. “Fighting is not allowed outside the gates,” the head of the guard bellowed, walking toward them with a spear in his hand.

Varg immediately put his hands up, and Claw did the same. The guard must have expected resistance from them, because he swung the spear indecisively for a few moments. “You two,” he barked, “where are you from?”

Claw had warned him that their plan might not work as planned to the letter, and there was a chance that they would be thrown in a dungeon, somewhere, but Varg had told him that waiting to go through the gates like everyone else, with a slim chance of being allowed inside, was not a possible route for them.

“We’re from an old place called Whitekeep,” Varg said, counting on the guard’s ignorance. “We’re a breed of warriors. There’s nothing else we know to do but fight.”

The guard observed him with suspicious eyes and began circling them like he needed to evaluate their strength and their value. Varg was counting on it, after Claw had explained the plan to him. Now, it all hung by a thread and on the guard’s willingness to offer them a chance of proving their claims in one of the many fighting pits Scercendusa was known for. Even if Claw had never been there, his knowledge of the place came from travelers of long times past supplemented well by what Shearah had shared with them.

“Any hidden wounds? Diseases?” the guard asked, while poking them with the tip of his spear.

Varg tensed, ready to snap the guard’s head off if he insisted too much with that spear. “We’re healthy like oxen,” he said. “We’ve been through many battles, but we’ve also been lucky so far. Not counting a few scratches here and there,” he added for good measure.

The guard didn’t appear to appreciate his sense of humor too much. He knocked Varg on the back of the head with a hand wrapped in chainmail, not too hard, but as if to draw the attention of an animal that still needed taming.

“You two are coming with us,” the guard decided and gestured at his subordinates who quickly surrounded them and tied their arms behind their backs with thick rope.

He turned his head just enough to notice Claw’s satisfied grin. They were tied up, but all appeared to be going according to their plans.

***

“Was this what you had in mind?” Varg asked and walked over to one of the tall, grated openings that served as windows. The sun was still high in the sky, which meant that dusk was yet to come.

They had been thrown into an enclosure that looked half like a prison cell, and half like a place for keeping animals before slaughter. Varg thought that it was something in-between the two by the unpleasant smell of urine that wafted to them from the corners. He couldn’t quite reach the grates so that he could stare outside, so he looked at Claw and gestured with his chin. “Do you think you could lift me up?”

Claw didn’t hesitate for a moment, and Varg laughed as he was invited to climb on the broad shoulders and was then lifted through the air like he weighed nothing. “Let me know what you see, and I’ll tell you if it’s what I had in mind or not.”

Varg peered through the grates. “Well, it looks like an old arena. Do you think we’re going to be tonight’s entertainment?”

“Or food for tonight’s entertainment. Take your pick,” Claw replied. “Can you see anyone?”

“Not right now. The place looks as good as deserted.” The words died on his tongue as a sound like hooves hitting against closed gates echoed from one side. Varg held on to the grate with the strength of his arms so he could get as close as possible. His eyes searched for the source of the noise, and it didn’t take him long to find it. “I think I might take both picks,” he said grimly, as a small herd of hoofed creatures rushed into the arena, making the yellow dust rise.

“I had a hunch you might say that,” Claw replied in the same fashion. “Tell me what you see.”

“For starters, I see some really ugly animals,” Varg began. “I cannot say that I’ve seen their like before. There’s one tough horn growing right above their maws, and they really have teeth.” There was a possibility that the frightening looking creatures ate nothing but grass, but that thought was dashed from his mind, when one of them, overcome by a sudden fit of rage, turned toward one of the other beasts and sank its teeth in the side of its neck. “And it looks like they have no qualms about eating each other when hungry.”

“How many are there?”

Varg counted six. “Six, no, five,” he replied. “One is down, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to get up. Definitely not.” The other beasts joined the initial attacker, and they were now tearing the weakest of them to bits. The blood soaked the yellow dust covering the arena, and when the herd finished its ghastly meal, nothing but bones, fur and brown stains were left on the ground.

“The good news is,” he told Claw, “that for now, they appear to be fed.”

Claw helped him down. Then, they looked at each other, both strategizing, without a doubt. “A staged carnage,” the bearshifter said slowly.

“You think?” Varg asked with a snort. “But it’s not like we haven’t been in this kind of situation before. We fought the orcs of Zukh Kalegh.”

“Indeed,” Claw agreed. “But these strange cows you saw out there are not what worries me.”

“What worries you?” Varg asked bluntly.

Claw leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “A traveler once told me about what a staged carnage looked like in Scercendusa. Everyone at the inn at that moment stared at him wide-eyed as he told us about this kind of entertainment. I thought he was making things up, or at least some of them. You see, dear friend, a city like this has the means to gather wild beasts from all over the world. And, in exchange for a pittance, the crowds of Scercendusa can enjoy watching a fight to the death, as wild beasts are thrown into the pit in waves.”

Varg nodded. He thought as much. The sight of those bloodthirsty creatures was enough to send the fear of all that was holy into any man. Good thing they weren’t simple men; they were shapeshifters, but they couldn’t use all their powers without putting themselves at an even greater risk. And it was always a good idea to know beforehand what to wait for.

“And who’s the winner? The wild beasts that last the longest in the arena?” he asked.

“We need to make sure that those mighty beasts are us, and not some other creatures,” Claw confirmed.

Varg stretched, yawned, and then slid down the wall until he was in a seated position. “Then taking a nap would serve us just right.”

“Good thinking,” Claw agreed. He sat down by his side and wrapped one arm around his shoulders. “Sleep tight, puppy, and don’t let any of them crawling bugs around bite you. We should save every drop of blood and patch of skin for what awaits us.”

***

Master Granius stumbled into the old building a while after Duril was back at his desk, as if he had never left it to go on such a strange adventure; travelling without moving and meeting strange people who knew about Toru’s secret quest.

His master and employer appeared to have imbibed strong spirits as well as enormous amounts of food, and while he wasn’t squeamish by nature, Duril had to scrunch up his nose at the overpowering smell coming from Granius. His robe was stained in front, and it looked like he hadn’t bothered with table manners at all while indulging in his long lunch.

“Hard at work, Decottieri?” Granius asked, slurring his words.

“I am almost finished,” Duril replied. He opened the tome in front of the other man, but didn’t push it close to the edge of the desk, for fear Granius might get sick all over his work. The man leaned over the scribbled pages and pretended to examine them closely.

“Great work on your first day. It looks like you’re a fast scribe. Make sure to keep it up. And tomorrow, I’ll find more things to keep you busy.” Granius swayed on his feet, and Duril worried about his balance for a moment.

However, his worries appeared to be unfounded because Granius found his footing with surprising nimbleness and headed to his quarters without saying as much as ‘see you later’. After the door closed behind him, Duril soon heard the unmistakable sounds of snoring and he was all the more grateful for Pie’s invitation to lunch. It seemed that his employer couldn’t care less if he got any food throughout the entire day of work.

He sighed and closed the thick tome. Thanks to Pie’s little gift, he had been quick to finish his work. But what about tomorrow?

He’d worry about that tomorrow. Until then, he had the entire place to himself and would be able to search in every corner, at least for as long as Master Granius’ roaring snores shook the walls of the old building.

TBC

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