Chapter Four
Previously:
Tyruc is rescued from monsters in the trenches, but for a third and final time, he flees from an opportunity for selflessness. In his attempt to escape the trenches, he witnesses the two opposing powers desatroy each other in a devastating blast.
When Tyruc eventually broke through the loam, he coughed and spat out clumps of mud. The taste of iron stung his tongue, and he discovered that his nose was bleeding profusely. He tried to survey his surroundings, but the ringing in his ears and the blurriness of his vision warped the terrain into a surreal impression.
The trenches had collapsed, so it should have been relatively easy for Tyruc to step out of them and back onto the upper layer of ground. His legs were not moving properly, though. Each step was laborious, pain shooting up into his back and arresting his movement into a stuttering stagger.
Outside of the trenches, the blast had leveled the land of its rolling topography, erasing what little reminders were left of the once beautiful prairie that stretched there.
Two shattered aircrafts burned in the sky, hung there by some sort of magically induced suspension. Chunks of the ships slowly drifted, spun, and shattered, and when pieces collided, gravity reasserted itself and sent flaming debris falling like meteors to the ground.
The danger had not abated, just changed again to a new deadly game.
Exhaustion ate away at Tyruc as he trudged across the forsaken field. His trajectory was aimless, mindlessly dragging himself along the cataclysmic terrain with no goal, no plan. Shouts and snarls drifted to him, but everything was muted and sluggish, as though he was underwater with the surface miles from reach.
Movement ahead: soldiers of all shades and stripes rushing about, picking each other up from the ground, rescuing friend and foe from the brown, furred monsters still running amok and the fiery rain from above.
That could have been me, Tyruc lamented as he marched unsteadily through the chaos. I could have been better, done more to help others. But I just wanted to survive. I didn’t want to die here.
Neither did they, another part of his mind chided him. The stoic, red-haired Frostfolk woman; the skittish little Seafolk man; the Merrosian with a sharp tongue and a healing touch; the mysterious stranger full of sardonicism and bravery; and so many more.
None of them wanted to die here, but they fought for something more than themselves. What have you ever done that wasn’t for you?
Tyruc stopped. The answer to that was nothing. He could not think of a single selfless moment in his entire life, and that realization shattered the last of his will.
He sank to his knees in the middle of the battlefield and wept for the first time since he was a child.
Tyruc could not be sure where they came from or who they were for, but words tumbled from his lips in a torrent. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry; I know I’m not any good. I’m not anything.”
Searing debris fell from above him and struck his shoulder.
“I’ve never done anything in my life that wasn’t for myself. I don’t deserve a second chance, but please…”
Another fiery chunk hit him on the top of his head and knocked him forward to brace his hands against the ground. He nearly blacked out, but his consciousness hung on tenuously.
A terrible heat radiated from above him, and he knew. This was it. The death he had been so sure would come early and inconvenient was finally here, and he was not ready.
“Please, I don’t want to die a selfish coward. Even if it’s just one person, let me help someone. Pl—”
He did not finish his last plea before a portion of the broken ship crashed to the ground where he lay prostrate in supplication to something he could not begin to fathom.
Tyruc felt no pain. No fiery demise enveloped him. His eyes were squinted shut in a brace for the impact that he knew should, did crush him, but he felt fine.
He slowly cracked them open as he rose to a kneeling position.
Fire surrounded him as far as he could see, but the flames were bright blue. He knew they were hot enough to melt the flesh from his bones just from proximity, but that was purely intellectual knowledge. He felt no heat nor any discomfort. But he did feel a swell of fearful awe for what stood amid the inferno before him.
A towering wolf sat on her haunches, her myriad of flame-wreathed tails swishing back and forth. Crests of red and gold on her forehead and across her limbs clashed beautifully with her sky-blue fur. Her magnitude dwarfed him, not only physically, but in spirit and mind as well.
Tyruc had the thought that he had never met anything so alive as this creature.
What would you give? A voice, majestic and ethereal, came from the divine beast, but her elegant muzzle did not move. Instead, the ideas themselves coasted from her and swathed Tyruc in their meaning.
“For a second chance?” Tyruc asked with a quaver. It was his own voice, produced by his throat and mouth. The vibration of the words rumbling in his chest proved to him how real this was. “Anything.”
That is not enough. What would you give to rewrite your ending? To be more than just yourself, empty and unfulfilled as you are.
Tyruc knew the answer, and it broke his heart to admit it. “I would give everything. But even that wouldn’t be enough, would it?”
The blazing creature’s head tilted to the side. Such posturing from a mundane canine would mean curiosity or confusion, but this being scrutinized Tyruc in a way that cut to his soul.
Correct. You do not have enough.
Tyruc bowed his head, knowing it was true.
However, my Master is mercy. If you would but give yourself wholly to Him, you can start anew. Your past wiped clean; your present restored; your future given to the Will of my Master.
Tyruc dared to feel hope but had a question pressing to escape. Afraid he was pushing toward impertinence, he asked, “Who is your master?”
The wolf-being raised her mighty head in a howl that would have shaken entire worlds, but the sweet-sounding answer that embedded in Tyruc’s mind was:
Som.
It was a name. Tyruc recognized it, but the reason escaped him. In fact, thought was beginning to escape him entirely. Tyruc swooned, and alarm rose in him. I’m running out of time.
What is your decision? she asked with such patience, but Tyruc knew he could not dally.
Still, his head was suddenly filled with stories of capricious gods and treacherous monsters who made deals with mortals for devilish means. He had never put much stock in such fairytales. He now could not help but wonder.
“Is Som good? Can he make me good?”
Another howl shook the heavens, the answer to his question an affirmation that could not be quantified by words or even thoughts.
Tyruc’s vision narrowed to a tunnel. He knew he was on the verge of joining the void beyond death. The decision should have been easy, but a final splinter of pride stuck his throat.
Complete and total submission. Tyruc was utterly unworthy of this offer for a second chance at life. But could he really give himself to this unseen being to do with as it pleased? Could he trust this bizarre experience to inform a soul-altering decision?
But the alternative was to die as he lived, self-centered to a fault. Another chance at life under the ownership of this Som, or ignoble death as a selfish man who never once cared for another human being. When put that way, the answer was not easy, but it was quite simple.
“I accept.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than did his surroundings flare in radiance.
He was on his feet, robed in gleaming colors he could not name, the ravages of the battle on his body gone and replaced by warmth in his chest. He felt as though he was weeping again, but no tears came. Instead, just a flood of gratitude.
The wolf stood at eye level to him now, and around him were uncountable fantastical creatures and beatific men and women of every tribe, wordlessly congratulating and welcoming him.
We are pleased to have you join us, the wolf said. This is a glimpse of what awaits you when our Master brings you home. But it will be a long time yet before that happens. You and I have work to do.
The new man nodded, not entirely understanding but overcome by a strange peace. He knew her words were correct, but his mind could not grasp the meaning behind them.
“Who are you?” he asked the being.
Asena, The First Companion and the Great Mother of Wolves. The titles held such weight to them, but she stated them with humble matter-of-factness. I will be your guide and your guardian.
“And…” he paused, “who am I?”
You are Tyruc, Herald of Som.
And as his consciousness faded, Asena released a third howl to announce to all the realms the birth of a new story.
Coming up in Chapter Five:
Tyruc awakens anew in strange environs with a hazy memory and an unfamiliar feeling: bravery.