Chapter Seven
Previously:
Tyruc searches for a missing child in a town under monstrous assault. He is gifted three boons along the way: magic, an enchanted sword, and a physical manifestation of his guide, Asena. He also meets Sareit, who at first is enamored by his apparently legendary status but becomes warier with each interaction with Tyruc. The search for the child continues.
Sareit led the way around the lane to an abandoned shop. “I’ll be right back.” She gave Tyruc a demure smile before stepping inside.
Tyruc’s stomach soured. In his former life, he had been highly skilled at making bad first impressions, and he relied on his stomach as an indicator for just how badly he had bungled things. It seemed that had not changed.
Do not fret, Asena assured Tyruc as her avatar stood guard in the lane.
Easy for you to say. My gut is in knots. That girl is going to hate me.
Trust Som more than your stomach. You have more important matters at hand.
Sareit returned from the store with a pair of boots. “For you, sir.”
“My thanks to you and the cobbler,” Tyruc said as he stuffed his sore feet in the boots. “I would offer to pay for them, but I don’t think I have any money.”
“I would imagine not,” Sareit agreed. “You’ve been sleeping at our inn for the last three years.”
“I was asleep for three years?” he questioned, his voice rising involuntarily.
A jackal loosed its chattering cry somewhere in the town in response.
The beasts grow restless. They must be dealt with if you are to rescue the citizens here.
How do you suggest doing that? … Asena?
With growing desperation, Volok asked, “Please, Sir Wolf Rider, can you find my sister?”
“Right, sorry, we shouldn’t be wasting time.”
Sareit opened her mouth to speak then clamped it shut.
“Not that these boots are a waste!” Tyruc quickly added.
“I understand,” she said stiffly. “Volok, where did you lose sight of Kinnio?”
His face contorted. “She got separated from me in the panic here in the lane, and the crowd pushed me along. She was gone when I came back to grab her.”
“The kid in the watchtower said she ran that way,” Tyruc said, pointing to the northwest part of town. He asked the avatar of Asena, “Can you track the girl?”
Asena chuffed, putting her nose to the ground and marching in a circle. She woofed at a tight alleyway leading to the outer lane. When she stopped short at the mouth, a low growl rumbled from her. The flames along her back curled upward like the hackles of a dog.
Tyruc motioned for Sareit and Volok to stay back as he stepped up alongside Asena.
A curtain of shadows draped over the alleyway, plunging it into darkness.
Tyruc turned his eye to the position of the sun. It was high in the air, marking just past midday. In response to Tyruc’s apprehension, flames enveloped his hands and sword.
“Sir Wolf Rider,” Sareit stage whispered while inching toward him, “may I suggest you conjure some light? I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that it would be the most effective against magical shadows.”
Tyruc scoffed. “I’m terrible at magic.”
That earned a look of incredulity, Sareit’s eyes flicking between his face and his flaming hands.
“At least, I used to be.”
Sareit gave a slow nod. “I will defer to your judgement.”
“Can we please hurry?” Volok asked, his desperation now tinged with an edge of annoyance.
“Can you light it up?” Tyruc whispered to his canine companion.
Asena whined, wagging her tails and stepping lightly in place.
Tyruc tilted his head, wondering if the idea occurring to him was a product of imagination or inspiration. “You need my help to do something like that?”
A short, definite huff answered him.
Tyruc concentrated on Asena, on the mental tether he felt between them, and with his consciousness pushed forward on that tether. His ears rumbled, and he commanded, “Asena, fire!”
Asena barked at the alleyway and lobbed a blue sphere of flames from her mouth into the darkness. The fire tore through the shadows to land on the back of a crouching jackal and splashed against the stonework of the buildings to either side.
The jackal shrieked and scampered away, its scabby hide still alight as it fled.
Sareit asked, “Did you just say ‘Asena?’” Her hands dove into the folds of her robe to produce a notebook and fountain pen.
Volok darted past them through the alleyway.
“Volok, wait!” Sareit called. “Let the Wolf Rider find her!”
“No need,” he said over his shoulder, a strained smile on his face. “She left a trail.”
Green and pink bloomed up from the tamped dirt midway down the alley and led away into the outer lane. Volok followed the verdant path with Sareit, Tyruc, and Asena following quickly.
The path wove through the lane, telling the story of its weaver. It rebounded from several closed doors, stuttered at one spot in the center of the lane where a small shoe sat abandoned, and finally led to a large tree at the corner of two houses.
Claw marks marred the trunk of the tree. A smattering of leaves littered the ground.
“Thank the Fel,” Volok breathed at the base of the tree.
Once he caught up, Tyruc could hear the muffled sounds of sniffling. “Where…?”
“Just watch,” Sareit said, her face eased with relief.
Volok set his pitchfork aside, then rapped his knuckles on the bark of the tree. “Everbloom? It’s Guardall. You can come out now.”
A beat of silence stretched until, with a cracking noise, the trunk of the tree split open. A contrast of bright red hair, green eyes set against ashen skin, and a pale pink smock revealed the little girl hiding inside. Her silent tears turned to sobbing as she launched herself into her brother’s waiting arms.
As Volok hoisted the girl into his arms, Sareit asked, “Kinnio, did a jackal chase you here?”
Between her heaving sobs, the little girl squeaked, “I-I-I was so scared.”
“I know, sweetheart, but you were so brave. What happened?”
“I asked the tree for help,” Kinnio said and then burrowed her face into the crook of Volok’s neck.
Volok gently shushed her, and Tyruc watched the lane for signs of trouble. Asena sat on her haunches at the base of the tree, staring up into the branches. Tyruc followed her gaze.
“Um,” Tyruc hummed, “I think I found the jackal.”
The monster was lodged in the branches of the tree. Vines with pink flowers constricted it, covering nearly every inch of its body. The bundle did not move.
“How in blazes did a little lady like you do that?” Tyruc asked.
Kinnio mumbled, “Trees are my friends.”
Sareit’s pen flew across the pages of her notebook again. “Let’s get back to the inn. Sir Wolf Rider, will you lead the way?”
Tyruc set out front with Asena alongside, but the unease in his stomach persisted.
What unsettles you? the true Asena asked.
Plenty of things. Magic, monsters, strange people, you talking in my head. Tyruc led the party to the alleyway. And that girl looks at me like she’s studying an exhibit.
Sareit followed closely. Her pen still scribbled but her feet did not falter. Once she finished, she recapped her pen and stowed the items in her robe. “Volok, take Kinnio back to the inn. The Wolf Rider and I will deal with expelling the jackals from town.”
“I really think you ought to return with them,” Tyruc advised.
Sareit sniffed. “Let me assure you again, sir, that I am not incapable.”
Tyruc opened his mouth to argue but was cut off.
A bellowing howl droned through the town, far more robust than any of the sounds they had heard from the pack up to now.
Tyruc peered out from their alleyway toward the inner lane.
A shadow like a great, billowing sheet descended upon the inn’s hill in a dome of night. Cackling jackals gathered from around town, disappearing into the darkness.
“There’s an experienced monster hunter in our militia,” Sareit whispered. “He’s done us a great service by tracking the jackal’s movements and keeping the farmers in the region relatively safe. But he warned us that the pack was getting bolder. He theorized one of them had… transformed.”
“A barghest,” Tyruc supplied. “Story goes that if a pack of jackals kills one of their own, the slayed monster’s shadow will rise to lead the pack. Not sure what that means, but it can’t be good.”
Kinnio whimpered. Though Volok murmured assurances to her, the young man’s face had blanched. Sareit clenched her jaw and her fists, but her stance was undermined by the look in her eyes.
Tyruc stared at the three them, innocents caught in a nightmare. Memories surfaced of a youth spent parentless, unprotected, scarred by a cruel world which malformed him into that selfish man who died three years ago.
This Som of yours sent you to rescue me, he directed to Asena. But what about these people?
Why do you think you are here? Defend them, Herald of Som, that they may know the power and mercy of our Master.
The avatar of Asena panted by Tyruc’s side.
“‘Wolf Rider,’ eh?” Tyruc pondered.
Asena’s blazing tales wagged.
The looks of fear on Sareit and the Frostfolk’s faces morphed into wonder as the fire enveloping Tyruc’s hands traveled across his frame, outlining him and Asena in bright blue.
“Let’s get you three to the inn.”
Tyruc burst from the alleyway astride the fiery hound’s back. The blaze surrounding them burned away portions of the darkness, lighting a path behind them toward the inn.
A half dozen jackals sprang from the darkness, but the trap was reversed upon them. They hurtled into the furnace of heat surrounding the rider and his mount. Those that made it past the initial blaze were struck down by sword, fang, and claw.
Asena ran circles around the monsters and left a trail of flames in her path. She and Tyruc were of one mind, moving as a single creature bent on brutal justice, ensuring that the jackals could flee no longer.
At the first opening, Volok ran into the lane with Kinnio held close to him.
“Hurry!” Tyruc beckoned them, spotting a pair of jackals emerge from the darkness on Volok’s flank. They’re not going to make it. That idea propelled him and Asena forward.
Sareit emerged from the alleyway, winding her arms in an incantation. A crackling sound and a pungent smell split the air as an electric line leapt from her hands to arc between the two jackals, paralyzing them in place.
With a mighty leap, Tyruc and Asena soared over Volok’s head to intercept the stalled beasts. Tyruc fell from Asena’s back to skewer downward into one jackal while Asena tackled the other. A few brutal moments later, both jackals lay dead with the others in their pack.
Tyruc breathed hard. He gave Sareit a nod, receiving an earnest smile in return.
His companion padded back to his side and whined.
“Atta girl,” he praised her with a pat along her neck.
Asena whined again insistently.
“What’s wrong?”
She barked toward a pocket of darkness, the flames she left along the ground dying out to blanket them in night once more. A presence shifted just out of sight, a black shadow skulking closer.
“Asena…” Tyruc prepared, pushing forcefully on their tether, “fire!”
The wolf coughed a fireball into the shadows, which burst apart into nothingness.
Tyruc let out a half chuckle. “Was that it?” he asked before a red-hot sensation pierced through his right shoulder. His sword fell from his spasming hand, but when he reached up with his left to feel for the wound, his skin was intact.
Tyruc turned around to find a huge jackal looming behind him.
A barghest.
Its slavering mouth hung open. Darkness spread from the fiend’s shadow as a living extension. Its tail was not simply barbed; it was spiked like a mace.
The only thing separating Tyruc from the wicked thing was the avatar of Asena, barking and staggering. She had intercepted a swipe of the monster’s tail for Tyruc, but he felt her pain as though it were his own.
The beast flung itself at Tyruc with a rake of its massive claws. Tyruc threw his arms up in defense, but Asena intercepted again. She took the blow across her side, and in turn, pain burst within Tyruc’s torso, knocking him to his knees.
Tyruc, command her! Concentrate and fight!
He tried to focus, but another burst of pain scoured his back. Tyruc strained to look up. Asena was pinned to the ground by one of the jackal’s claws. She fought to stand, but neither of them could muster the strength.
Tyruc’s vision swam, blurring the sight before him. In the haze, he saw Sareit fling bolts of lightning. Volok charged in with a pitchfork. Somewhere, Kinnio was screaming. Other voices joined in, shouting, calling for help.
Will you not end this? the voice of Asena demanded.
What can I do?
On your own, nothing. With Som, anything. Finish this.
The barghest bore down on Asena, even while swiping its tail at Sareit and snapping its jaws at Volok. Its shadow extended, swallowing Tyruc’s senses. It cackled like a jabbering madman, taking pleasure in the suffering it inflicted, in the panic of the townsfolk.
Please, Tyruc reached out, eyes on the avatar, pleading once again with something beyond his ken. Please help us.
The avatar of Asena glowed brighter. The encroaching shadows evaporated, and the barghest’s clawed foot dug into Asena’s back began to burn.
It yelped and pulled away.
Asena rose to her feet. She burned brighter and brighter as she marched toward the monster.
It turned to run.
Cut it off.
Asena unleashed an unearthly howl, beckoning a wall of flames to block the monster’s path.
The monster snarled. Its sadistic intelligence shattered, reducing it to the same as any cornered animal. It tried to lash at Sareit and Volok, but the avatar blocked every attempt. A swing of its tail. A slash of its claws. A vicious bite. Asena weathered each blow and repaid them with searing burns on the barghest.
When all else had failed, the monster finally targeted the still-prone Tyruc. Hatred filled its glower. It charged at him.
“Asena!” Tyruc called.
The avatar leapt on the barghest’s back and bit into the bony ridge of its shoulders. It howled in pain, emitting smoky darkness from its wounds as though it bled shadows. The haze could not overcome the brightness of Asena’s sky-blue flames, which flared into blinding radiance, building and building, until it all ended in a detonating flash.
Then all was calm. The clear heavens soared above them, no shadow in sight. No howl in the air. No struggle for survival.
A scorch marked the lane where the barghest had stood, Asena laying in its epicenter, as silent and still as the sky. She had dimmed, glowing as softly as the final cinders of a dying flame.
Tyruc crawled toward the wolf, a new fear now clutching him. “You didn’t have to do that,” he croaked. “Not for me.”
But we always will.
Asena’s flames went out, and Tyruc buried his face in the dirt.
Coming up in Chapter Eight:
Tyruc contends with his reputation as the Legendary Wolf Rider and the Savior of Bodra, but his hosts prove helpful in filling in some gaps in his memory.