Something growled below him, like the snarl of a mountain lion who hadn’t eaten for days and finally found worthy prey to take down. Tor Lir ducked as something leaped into the hall, slamming the door shut and knocking him over with a padded swat to his back. A rending sound filled the air, and a strong smell of musk made him wrinkle his nose as he fell, tucking his feet and hunching his shoulders. He rolled into a ball and sprang up on his feet, spinning around to face whoever had hit him. Amber eyes glared at him, and Tor Lir looked up into the eyes of a mighty beast.
The beast had four legs, although it stood upright on two while the others hung from its sides like arms. Instead of feet and hands, it had hooves twice the size of a horse’s. Two short white horns curved out of its bull-like head, but its wide amber eyes were intelligent, like a mortal. Black hair covered its face and body. It threw back its head and let out a roar, thumping its chest with its massive hooves.
Tor Lir’s eyebrows shot up and he backed away in dismay, astonished to find an intelligent beast in the realm of mortals. He momentarily wondered if Citrine could tame it, but it was clear that was neither here nor there. Tor Lir glanced toward a stone staircase without railings, climbing up into the tower. He inched toward it, fully prepared for the beast to charge at him. Instead, when the roar faded away, the beast spoke in a deep gravel tone. “Who are you to dare enter the watch tower of the warden?”
Surprised, Tor Lir fought to find his tongue, swallowing hard. It was not unusual for talking beasts to pepper the South World, and yet he rarely saw mythical beasts like the one that stood before him, glowering and demanding an answer. He drew himself up to his full height, lifted his chin, and squared his shoulders. Warnings faded away as his hostile confidence billowed out, serving both to remind himself and tell the beast who he was. “I am the Nameless One. I’ve come to keep the balance between good and evil. Although I don’t have a name, many call me Tor Lir. And who are you? Guard of the warden’s tower?”
A huff came out of the beast’s chest, and it took a step back, recoiling from the words Tor Lir spoke. A glint of triumph rushed through Tor Lir, aware that his words held power and with the right combination, he and the beast might be able to come to some agreement without violence.
“You bring balance to good and evil?” the beast asked, its tone deep as if to hide the lilt of surprise in its voice.
“Aye,” Tor Lir gave a quick nod, watching the creature for sudden movement.
“Then you might be able to assist me,” the beast said, crossing its hooved arms over its hairy chest. “Tell me, Nameless One, why have you come here?”
Tor Lir scratched his head, turning his expression cold as ice. He hesitated a moment before letting truth spill from his lips, wondering if he should trust the beast or resort to his own methods of extracting knowledge. A shiver rushed through him as the words left his tongue. “A few days ago, a temple friar was murdered by a strange beast that disappeared into the night. When I went into the temple, I discovered the beast was searching for treasure. A crystal formed into the shape of a winged-horse. As I dug into the mystery, I discovered two of my acquaintances also searching for the same thing. I do not know what it is, nor what power it gives, but if it sways the balance, I must interfere.”
“Sways the balance?” the beast asked and then grunted. “Why? Is there something wrong with the balance?”
Tor Lir cleared his throat, making each word menacing. “Yes. After the war between the mortals and immortals, too much good abounds in this world and runs free. One must remember, the Four Worlds were not meant to be paradise. There is both good and evil, and an overabundance of either one will cause the world to end.”
“Too much good? Do you realize your words go against the Creator and everything this city stands for?”
“I have seen more than you know,” Tor Lir countered. “I have seen paradise fall because the balance was off. The balance is swayed here. A bit more chaos and this city will fall.”
The beast growled. “There are many who would disagree with your words. Evil should be banished so good can abound.”
Tor Lir took a step toward the beast as he spit out his words. “I do not live my life based on what others think and say. I think and say for myself, and I know what my purpose is here.”
“Ah. Then if you are such an impartial member of the city, you might be able to help me. But I will need something from you, some truth you swear to.”
“Why? Are you afraid I might take the chance to escape, or harm you?”
The beast grunted. “I tell you now. There is no escape from the tower of the warden.”
“And why is that?” Tor Lir demanded.
“Because the beast of shadows you saw kill the friar dwells here, and if you try to leave or double cross me, I shall command it to slay you.”
Tor Lir’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth went dry, but questions pressed on his lips, begging to be let forth. “And how did you come to control such a creature?”
The beast laughed. “Not all secrets should be revealed. Now. Follow me. Nameless One.”
The beast marched to a stone staircase and ascended. Tor Lir followed, his eyes roving over the beautiful stonework, noting the dust and dirt that covered the carved arches. If it were the house of Novor Tur-Woodberry, each stair would sparkle, and their way would be lit by creatures of flame. As it was, sunlight flowed in from arched windows, too far from the staircase to provide escape, but allowing light as they twisted through the cool shadows of the tower. The beast’s hooves made distinct clicks, echoing through the silence. Tor Lir shuddered with each echo, the nosie making him feel uneasy, yet he wanted to know who dwelt in the castle. Why this beast? Was there really a city warden or were the rumors true? There was nothing there, just a desolate presence after the war between the mortals and immortals.
On they climbed, and the silence grew dense like the thickening of clouds on a stormy day. In some places, Tor Lir thought he could reach out his fingers and stroke the air, feeling the unsaid words twirling in oblivion. When at last they reached the top, his legs shook from effort, and the wind blew in, hard through the arched windows at the top. He glanced out in surprise at how far he could see. The brown tented roofs of homes marched like a staircase down to the port, where he saw white sails, grand ships, and sparkling waves rushing up to the shore like an eager beast ready to greet its master. Small spots moving back and forth had to be people, and he saw the large square for the marketplace, starkly empty next to the bustle of the rest of the city. The wind whipped up harder, pulling tears from his eyes. He turned from the arched window and faced the room.
The beast strode in and moved to a round chamber, a cove where the winds from the window could not reach but where the light penetrated all the same. The beast marched around to a waist-high table, covered with heavy books and parchments with objects drawn on them. Tor Lir drew near, his eyes going to the drawings. Some had horns, swords, arrows, bows, knives, and the other objects he could not name. Warnings pressed on him and an obscure sensation, dark and delicious, swayed around his mind as he recalled the things he did not want to know. Yet something compelled him, pulling him toward the source. The beast set a box on the table and opened it, gesturing with his hooves at what lay within.
Tor Lir leaned over to get a better look, coming too close to the black hairy body. The musky smell of an animal hung in the air, and yet Tor Lir sensed something else hidden in the beast’s aura. He avoided looking up as a realization swept through him, leaving cold wisps of knowledge behind. This wasn’t simply an intelligent beast. There was another mystery shrouded behind the disguise. It was up to him to unravel the mystery and stay the cause of imbalance. If he had to open his mind to knowledge, so be it.
The box was full of wiry golden hay, bunches of it overflowing out of the chest. Tor Lir almost laughed until he saw the crystal winged horse. Understanding flashed through his mind, and a lump formed in his throat. The crystal looked as delicate as an egg,
and he wondered if reaching out a finger and stroking its curves would cause it to shatter. The horse’s wings were spread and one of its legs bent, as if it were about to fly away. The detailing on the horse’s mane and tail seemed lifelike, like it had been frozen in place.
“What is it?” Tor Lir breathed, knowing he looked on the treasure the friars had attempted to hide from him. The treasure that Citrine, in all her secrecy, was searching for. He wanted to know, and yet again he did not want to know at all.
“Pick it up,” the beast instructed.
Tor Lir lifted his head, his emerald eyes flashing up to meet the beast’s. The amber eyes regarded him with impassive coolness. Ignoring his misgivings, Tor Lir reached out both hands, barely daring to breathe as he dipped into the box. The hay scratched at him, a final warning to stay away from what he knew not, but life in the realm of mortals was hum drum without excitement.
He’d seen the change that came over the mortals as they went about their daily lives, fighting to make enough food to feed their family, earn enough silver to buy land, farm the land so they would have food through the winter, plant enough food so they could feed their families, and store up wealth for the younger generation. The endless cycle started once again. Babies were born, the old died, while the young struggled for life, influence, power, and more. It was no way to live. There had to be more, much more.
Since the war, people were content with their lives. They took what they could get and moved on without striving for too much. They liked the balance of work and the limited hours of play time given to them. They enjoyed their struggles and rejoiced in what small joys they earned, whether it was drinking at the tavern, enjoying the warmth of another body, or relaxing over a meal with their families. The way of mortals was not the way for him. Something within him shifted like a door long shut and ignored finally swinging over. He picked up the treasure.
The moment his fingers touched it, something old and arcane gripped him. The crystal horse turned its radiant head and its dark eyes looked directly into his. Silver wings beat, and the horse tossed its head causing prisms of rainbow light to shoot out, exploding across the gray chamber, imbuing it with colors.
Light poured into Tor Lir’s eye sockets, shutting out the grime and a roaring poured into his ears, as if the voice of wind blew directly into him instead of around him. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, and yet the intense light shifted, and he saw beyond what he had ever seen before.
He rose like a spirit, looking down on the physical world while sensing a thin fabric separating him from the In Between. He saw the physical room he stood in, gray and dirty, while his physical form stood on one side of the table, and a male stood on the other. The male was dark and hairy, but the vision flickered. The male became a beast and yet a male again, revealing his true identity.
Tor Lir could not react or reflect on it, for the light shifted again, showing him another realm beyond the physical realm in which the mortals lived. He saw shadows—black, white, and gray—and a shimmering within as creatures with sharp teeth and pointed ears peeked out at him. And then he was descending, his vision taking him down to the ground, shooting past great roots of trees into the middle of nothingness. And that was when he saw.
He stood in the In Between, the realm beneath the Four Worlds, or between it, he was unsure. White beings with tentacles shooting out of their heads stood there, and he saw black shadows with red eyes rise and fall. The white beings turned, exclaiming as they pointed at him, their cold eyes narrowing and their teeth forming horrible grimaces. Tor Lir’s breath became shallow as he saw a Green Person turn, and he thought for a moment he looked on the green giantess who had raised him. His breath rose to a crescendo, rising and falling like a song. He opened his mouth, and a scream tore out of his lips.
26
Hook Line Sinker
“What is that thing?” Tor Lir demanded, pointing a shaking finger at the crystal winged horse he’d dropped back into the box of hay. It lay on its side, its nose against the wood of the box, miraculously unbroken. “What are you?”
The beast regarded him, eyes still cool as if the echoes of Tor Lir’s scream were not reverberating through the room. The wind howled and sweat poured down Tor Lir’s head. He wiped it away as he eyed the beast, his hand raised, fingers clenched into a fist. Anger cool as ice formed in the core of his being. His eyes sought out the amber ones of the beast, and he let his cold gaze penetrate. “You will tell me,” he ordered.
The beast placed its hooves on the table, bowed its head, and a shadow rippled over it. A moment later, a lean male with a shock of dark hair and amber eyes appeared. His face was hard as he stared at Tor Lir. “I am Lord Nodin of one of the clans of the Therian.”
Tor Lir waited, unsure what Therian meant, but sure it held a key to the strange male. He wasn’t an average mortal, and perhaps Lord Nodin’s presence was why the balance was swaying.
Lord Nodin pointed to the crystal winged horse. “This object is a Clyear. Surely you have heard of them?”
“Tell me,” Tor Lir prompted. The word Clyear rang a bell, but he could not place it nor the explanation. It was probably in the wisdom kept by the Iaen. The wisdom he ignored. A sing-song voice echoed in his mind. If you want to know who you are and where you came from, go to Daygone. He brushed the memory away. The words of the green giantess taunted him.
Lord Nodin folded his arms across his chest. He wore a plain white tunic, deep cut in the middle, revealing his hairy chest. A robe hung from his shoulders, but Tor Lir was too distracted to wonder how clothes worked with the shift from male into beast.
Lord Nodin paced, walking back and forth as he talked, occasionally waving one hand in the air to emphasize a point. “Clyears. Old legends tell of the gifts from the Creator—six Clyears, each with a unique talent, controlled only by the one who holds the Clyear, its Keeper. However, although six were given, there is a seventh Clyear which supersedes them all. You may have heard of the Great Clyear of Power, and its Keeper, Alaireia the Ezinck. When one hears talk of the Heroes of Old, they were able to complete impossible feats because of the Clyear. In the Western World, the Five Warriors rose up and took down Sarhorr the Ruler. In the Eastern World, Pharengon of the Jeweled Sword quashed a civil war and took the crown.
“When a Clyear appears, it is a warning that the time is coming when countries and brethren will turn, one on another. Friends will become enemies, and lovers will slay each other with no regard to blood ties. When a Clyear appears, it is because calamity and doom are coming. This one here is the Clyear of Revelation. There are few stories about it. However, when it came to me, I understood the rule. Doom was coming to my people, and so I took it and ran, assuming the curse would follow me instead of the Therian. I roamed as a nomad for fifteen years, and at last, thinking my clan was safe, I left the Clyear behind and returned. It is worse than I thought. There is a great imbalance, and my clan is dying out. I saw I had been wrong. The Clyear appeared as a warning, and I should have used it to help my people instead of running. The Clyear of Revelation grants visions of the future and so I returned here for its wisdom. When I touched it, I saw you and understood. You are the key, the Nameless One. The one who keeps the balance between good and evil. You must come with me, back to my clan in the mountains, and restore the great powers of the Therian.”
Tor Lir’s mind spun with the knowledge, especially of the Clyear, and a great many questions rose to his lips. He kept his tone cold as he asked: “Why do you think I can help you?”
Lord Nodin paused, turning his amber eyes on Tor Lir’s impassive face. He arched an eyebrow, a bit of mirth coming to his lean face. “I don’t think. I know. Because unlike you, I seek out knowledge because it is the center of all power. And do you know who I appeal to for knowledge? The Disciples of Ithar. They have taken it upon themselves to become the keepers of stories. The Storyteller told me a certain tale of the legendary land of Novor Tur-Woodberry.”
Tor Lir froze. A ringi
ng sounded in his ears at the words Disciples of Ithar. He recalled a dire warning of death and destruction. He narrowed his eyes, reminded of Citrine’s spell of protection, and her adamant request he tell no one she was the Enchantress. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He gaped like a fool. How could he think he was safe in the realm of mortals? How silly of him to assume he could blend in and become one of them. His power sought him out, as did the mortals. Their words spread like a poison, telling others of heroic deeds.
Tor Lir spoke quickly. “You must know, I did not act alone.”
“Nay.” A glimmer came to Lord Nodin’s eyes. “You had a companion, with beasts. Where is she? She must come with us too.”
“She has her own agenda,” Tor Lir shook his head to discourage Lord Nodin, unsure why he felt the urge to protect Citrine.
Lord Nodin folded his hands and then Tor Lir saw that dark glimmer again. “I can be very persuasive when I need to be.”
“You mean your beast of shadows,” Tor Lir countered.
“Aye. I see you have your wits about you.”
Tor Lir expected him to smile, but there was nothing malicious in Lord Nodin’s actions, aside from the dark glimmer in his eyes. “If your friend does not come, she may find the death of one of her beasts becomes imminent.”
“I will find her and request her presence,” Tor Lir said. While he sought Citrine, he would tell her to take her beasts and run while she had the chance. “Before I go, I have one question. What evil have you brought to this city?”
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