by CM Raymond
She grabbed his hand again and pulled him under the canopy. They walked for a time and found a small grove situated on top of a large hill.
“This,” she said, “is more like it. Doesn’t it just fill you with energy, all this life surrounding us?”
A branch snapped under Gregory’s foot, and he jumped a little. “That’s what I’m nervous about. Who knows what’s out here?”
“Relax,” she said. “Here, let me show you.”
She led him to a soft patch of dirt and moss, and they laid down together. “I think I get what you’re saying,” Gregory said smiling. He reached his hand up and ran it through her hair. But before they could go any further, another branch snapped.
This time Laurel was on her feet, rope blade in hand, before Gregory even had chance to gasp.
“I would kill for a moment alone!” she yelled, spinning the blade. “Now who’s there?”
As Gregory scrambled to get up, a low growl filled the air. A massive wolf stepped through the trees. But it wasn’t an animal like any Gregory had ever seen. It walked on two legs, and there was hatred in its eyes.
“Lycanthrope,” Laurel hissed. “Gregory, get the hell out of here.”
“I’m not leaving,” he said. He leaned down and picked up a long branch with short nubs running along its surface.
“Not the best time to play the hero, sweetie.” She cartwheeled away from Gregory and started shouting, drawing the lycanthrope’s attention toward herself.
It worked, and the thing bared its teeth in her direction.
“Time to teach the pup some manners,” she said. She whipped her blade forward, and it sunk into the thing’s shoulder. It howled, then grabbed the rope with its claws and pulled.
Laurel shouted as the rope was ripped out of her hands.
The lycanthrope lowered its head and charged, the rope flailing behind it like a tail.
Laurel dove out of its path, but it moved faster than she had expected. It swiped a claw forward, snagging her leg.
She landed hard with a curse on her lips.
The lycanthrope landed on top of her. It opened its mouth wide and bit.
She had raised her arms, so its teeth sank into the wooden bracers on her forearms instead of her flesh. Its teeth were razor sharp, but the magically infused wood held. As the beast latched onto her bracers, her eyes flashed green and she tried to call out to the plants around her.
Nothing.
Damn it, she thought. She had no familiarity with most of the wild world, had no connection. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t connect.
Gregory charged. He brought the branch down as hard as he could across the creature’s back. It acted like it didn’t feel anything.
Gregory hit it again and again, screaming at the top of his lungs.
He didn’t hurt it, but he did succeed in pissing it off.
The lycanthrope swiped its arm and backhanded Gregory. The young Arcadian tumbled onto his butt in the dirt.
“Son of a bitch,” Gregory yelled. He slowly rose to his feet, ignoring the pain coursing through his body as he watched the lycanthrope trying to maul his druid. He had to do something, but his strength wouldn’t be enough. He decided to use the power he did have—his mind.
He looked around, searching for anything he could use to his advantage. He quickly formed a plan.
Laurel’s blade was sunk deep into the lycanthrope, but the rope hung loosely behind it. Gregory grabbed the rope. Behind him was a dead tree—giant, but standing by only a sliver of bark.
Gregory wrapped the rope around it, then secured it in place. With a quick prayer to the Matriarch, he leaned into the dead tree with everything he had in him.
The tree slowly started to lean, and then, with a booming crack, the tree fell. It tumbled down the hill, and with a howl, the lycanthrope was pulled with it.
Gregory watched as the beast was crushed to pieces on the rocks as it plunged downward.
A gentle hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned to see a smiling Laurel.
“I take it back,” she said. “You can play the hero whenever you want.”
Before they could celebrate, however, two more howls pierced the air.
They turned as two more lycanthropes entered the clearing—each larger than the last.
“OK, Brainiac. Any more amazing ideas?”
Gregory looked around frantically. “Uh, yeah! Run!”
They turned to flee, but before they could put their plan into action, a mighty roar filled the clearing.
They watched as a giant bear charged in.
“Olaf!” they yelled in unison.
The bear slammed into the lighter-furred lycanthrope. Gregory could hear bones snap as it crashed into a giant oak.
The other lycanthrope slashed at Olaf’s back, ripping huge cuts deep into it. Olaf roared, then turned with a speed that couldn’t be believed. His large paws wrapped around the lycanthrope.
Olaf squeezed until the beast dropped to the ground, dead.
“Damn,” Laurel said. “That’s what I call a bear hug.”
****
Olaf insisted on burying the lycanthropes, so Laurel and Gregory offered to help. The Were ran back to New Romanov while Laurel patched up her own lacerations, returning with a spade and two shovels. Gregory’s assistance was more symbolic than anything—even in his human form, Olaf was as strong as an ox. And while he moved, the big man’s wounds slowly healed themselves.
They rolled the two lycanthropes Olaf had killed down the hill next to the one Gregory had defeated with physics. Then they climbed down after, retrieved Laurel’s rope blade, and proceeded to dig holes for the dead beasts.
“What are those things, really?” Gregory asked, taking a break from the digging.
Olaf continued cutting into the dirt, but eventually he spoke. “A long time ago, before magic came into this world, before the Madness, their ancestors were like me—Weres. They were humans who could change into wolf form; who lived two lives, so to speak. Many were hateful and violent creatures, but some were good. Like I said, humans.”
Gregory looked down at the dead creature at his feet. It didn’t seem related to man, even a little.
“But the corruption of the Madness affected not only normal people, but members of the UnknownWorld as well. It turned humans into crazed killers, and it did much worse to the few remaining vampires.”
“Vampires!” Laurel said. “Bloodsucking monsters? I thought they were only legends.”
“All legends contain a kernel of truth,” Olaf said. “What did you think the Matriarch and Patriarch were?”
Gregory’s eyes went wide. He turned to look at Laurel, who was equally shocked.
Did he just say that the Matriarch and the Patriarch were vampires? he thought. That can’t be true!
But before Gregory could clarify, Olaf continued his story. His eyes held a far-off glow, like the ancient past he was remembering had happened only yesterday.
“For my people, the Weres, the Madness broke down their ability to change forms. As it progressed, shifting became harder and harder. Parts of their animal nature held on, even as they turned human, and vice versa. Eventually the disease reached its conclusion. Either you remained a human, forever abandoning your Were-self, or you remained an animal.”
“Holy shit,” Gregory said. “I can’t imagine. But why would anyone choose to stay a wolf?”
Olaf looked up into the stars, sadness on his face. “If you’ve never experienced it, you cannot know. There is a simplicity to being an animal. A purity of desire and purpose.”
“I think I understand,” Laurel said. “To be one with nature.” Devin had crawled out of her shirt and was sitting on the druid’s shoulder like she was listening to the story.
“Plus, you must understand,” Olaf continued, “that the Age of Madness was accurately named. Mankind had barely recovered from the Second Dark Ages before it was plunged into chaos again. Cities crumbled. Whole races perishe
d. To become an animal, to escape all of that...it was a choice many made.”
“If they were once human,” Laurel said, “it explains why my nature magic doesn’t work on them. But I still don’t understand. They don’t look like wolves.”
“It’s like I said.” The big man sighed. “The Madness made the transformation...difficult. The choice they made to become one with nature, it was never fully realized. Many never made it completely to their wolf form. And those that did tried for the rest of their lives to reclaim their humanity. It left them and their descendants like this,” he pointed to the animal. “A creature in-between. Cursed to roam Irth trapped between man and beast.”
He finished covering the last one with dirt. “You two must be quite strong, to have taken one down on your own. But I would recommend that you spend the rest of your time here inside the walls. New Romanov was once a place of peace, but now dangers of all kinds surround it.”
Olaf turned to go back to the city, and Laurel and Gregory followed. Gregory’s mind raced in a million directions, but it seemed like the big man was done talking. The young Arcadian decided to follow suit.
Laurel, however, didn’t share the young noble’s social graces.
“You talked about the Madness and the time before as if you saw it first hand,” she said.
Olaf looked back and smiled. “That’s because I did.”
“But,” Gregory sputtered, “that would make you—”
“Old,” Olaf agreed.
“But...the Madness. Why didn’t it affect you? You are still able to change form.”
Olaf grinned even wider. “That’s because I’m not alone in New Romanov. I might be strong, but there’s someone here with true power. And tomorrow you’ll meet her in the flesh.”
At that, the big man started laughing, and he didn’t stop until they were inside the walls.
CHAPTER NINE
Hannah slept like a rock through the night. The fight with the creature, the long trek east, the battle for freedom at the slave mines—all that was forgotten as she sank into her borrowed bed.
She had done it. Hannah had gotten her team to New Romanov in one piece. The first step of her quest was complete, and she finally had a blessed moment to relax.
The intensity of her sleep, however, disappeared with the morning. Before the sun peeked over the nearby mountains, Hannah began to stir.
And then she heard a whisper.
Hannah.
She shot up in bed, her knife in her hand.
The room was as she had left it. Sal was little more than a lump on the ground. Aysa had curled up as tightly as she could in her bed. Laurel was sleeping peacefully on her back, a strange smile on her face.
Hannah shook her head, assuming that she was hearing things. The long hours and numerous fights must have taken a greater toll than she realized. But before she could close her eyes, the voice sounded again.
Hannah. It is time.
It was like someone was talking to her telepathically, but unlike when she talked with Zeke or Hadley, there was no warmth or intimacy. When she used her mental magic, it was like she was sharing her thoughts. This was more like someone was speaking directly to her, only in her head.
The voice sounded tinny, almost metallic, but it was also crystal clear.
“Who’s there?” Hannah hissed, still looking around the room.
It is time you learned the truth. I will guide you. Go out into the hallway.
Hannah sighed, then climbed out of bed. She didn’t know what bullshit this was, but she figured she might as well deal with it.
It was unlikely that the phantom voice would let her fall back to sleep anyway.
She threw on her clothes and crept out the door.
The house was quiet, and she decided to keep it that way. For whatever reason, the voice called to her and not the others. No need to wake them over it.
Besides, if she was going crazy, the BBB were the last folks she’d tell.
Good. Now leave the house and head toward the caves.
“Great,” Hannah said under her breath. “Nothing creepy about that.”
She left Olaf’s house and wove through the city streets. Several people from New Romanov were already up and milling about. They smiled, but gave her a wide berth. It was like they knew what was about to happen to her.
There were a dozen openings leading into the mountain, but the voice directed her toward the largest hole directly in the center. A ramp led from the entrance downward to a long, straight tunnel.
It was dimly lit; a few bulbs on the ceiling glowed pale yellow. They were nothing like the magitech lamps back in Arcadia, but they got the job done. Hannah didn’t need much light anyway. The tunnel was smooth and straight, far different than the meandering passageways she had seen in the Jannas Mines and the Heights.
Nevertheless, she twisted one hand in front of her and brought forth a small ball of fire. It helped illuminate the tunnel, and it made Hannah feel better to be armed if this was some sort of trap.
After walking for what felt like miles, Hannah came to a large room at the end. It glowed with the same yellow light as the hallway, and she could make out strange-looking objects of all shapes and sizes strewn around. There was a large table off to the side, and metal covering the walls.
In the center of the room was a giant black rectangle. Several lights blinked on and off across its surface.
When the voice sounded again, it was no longer in Hannah’s head but in her ears.
“Hello, Hannah. I’m very glad to meet you in person.”
She lifted the fireball above her, trying to add more light to the room. She looked around, but there was no one there.
“I’d like to say that the pleasure is all mine, but I still don’t feel like I know who I’m talking to. Where the hell are you? Show yourself before I get pissed.”
The voice laughed. Even out loud, it had that same metallic ring to it. But this time Hannah felt like it contained genuine happiness.
“Ezekiel told me you were tough. I’ll tell you where I am if you promise not to torch me.”
Hannah lowered her arm and extinguished the fire. “Fair enough. Now, no more games. Where are you?”
The rectangle in front of her began to glow brighter. Several of the lights blinked on and off in quick succession.
“I’m right here, Hannah. I know it’s not much to look at, but this device has been my home for the last thousand years.”
Hannah looked at the strange box, realization slowly dawning on her.
“Holy shit. You’re...you’re…”
“The Oracle.” The box blinked. “But you may call me Lilith. Welcome to my home. We have much to discuss.”
****
Karl rubbed an old rag across the head of his war hammer, dragging it through the crevices that stubbornly held traces of dried blood from fallen enemies. The morning sun caught its surface, and the thing gleamed.
He nodded and snorted to himself with satisfaction, glad to finally give her the attention she deserved. They’d been through a lifetime of battle together, and Karl knew they would see more.
Voices drew his gaze up, and he saw Olaf walking away from the building with another person. It was Mika, the battle mage who served as Olaf’s right hand. Like most of the women who’d remained in the city, she was tall and blond. The features of her face were drawn in perfect lines, strong and resolute, and Karl could tell by the way she handled herself that she was a terror in combat.
Sliding off his chair, the rearick hurried down the steps and walked double-time, trying to catch the pair striding effortlessly through the city streets.
“Hey!” he called. The two paused and turned.
Olaf grinned, watching the rearick walk in haste. The stout man looked so unnatural to him, even more so when he was walking briskly.
As Karl approached, he could see the smiles on their faces. It was a look he had come to expect from people.
"Never seen a reari
ck run before?"
Mika shook her head, her blonde locks washing across her shoulders. "Run? I've never seen a rearick before. In fact, I’ve never even heard of them. Are there a lot of you?"
Karl snorted. "Enough to make a damn difference."
Olaf nodded toward the edge of town. His eyes were fixed on the wall that stood in disrepair in the distance. "I can’t vouch for this one’s people, but Karl here knows his way around a hammer. We're heading out to assess what new damage the creature you killed caused. Care to join us, rearick?" He slapped Karl on the back and gave him a grin.
"Nothing I like more than talking about construction in the morning," Karl said, returning the smile.
The three of them set off, Olaf and Mika slowing their pace to allow Karl to catch his breath. On their way, the three exchanged stories of battles from their pasts. Karl told them all about his early experience with the remnant, and the way he had made his name while still young fighting them in the Madlands at the edge of the Arcadian Valley. The citizens of New Romanov listened intently, taking in every detail that Karl chose to share with them.
"Shite is, by the time we'd been in the Madlands for almost two years, it was hard to find one of them bastards. Now they seem to multiply like a bunch of damn rabbits in the field."
Mika looked at him, and her bright blue eyes gave him pause. "But the rearick, they still fight, right?"
Karl smoothed his beard as he shook his head. "After the first campaign, the rearick, my people, got comfortable. A moment of peace can lead to a damned lifetime of complacency. In those days, orders started to come in from Arcadia for more and more of the amphoralds. Our men and women both hit the mines. Filled their pockets with coins, and their hearts with nothin’ but lust for more. Most of ‘em are different now."
Olaf scowled. "But the Battle for Arcadia? They fought, didn't they?"
Karl spat. “Not as a people. Just me and a few others with some salt left in their veins. Damn cowards up there in the Heights, I’m sad to say."
Mika pushed strands of hair behind her ears and crinkled her nose. "Where I come from, there's an old saying."
"What's that?" Karl asked.
