The Realms of Animar

by Owen Black

  “Of course Arodon, I am in your debt.”

  “I have a need for people of your kind, help with a task on land. If you survive this…war…you must promise to help my people in return.”

  “Anything,” Guderian replied. “Just tell me what needs to be done. You have my word.”

  “One of my men will explain when you get to shore.”

  Guderian nodded and then glanced down at the swords in Arodon’s hands.

  The Realmlord then raised the blades for Guderian to inspect. “Interesting, don’t you think?”

  “Quite,” Guderian said. “What material is that? Rock?”

  “Actually no but they look like they might be. Hold one.” Arodon handed one of the swords to Guderian.

  As he accepted the weapon, Guderian backed up a step and turned his hand over, whipping the curiously light blade through the air skillfully.

  “We call it coral,” Arodon explained. “A material that comes from the skeletons of some of our kind. It’s strong and can be formed and sharpened to create a devastating edge.”

  The significance of the material then shook Guderian. “No metal?”

  “Yes, they can be taken between forms. They were made for the Realmlord Dolias many years ago and passed down by my forefathers. The blade, the hilt and the guard are entirely shaped from coral. Not as hard as rock or metal but much lighter and easier to work. In the hands of the right person they can be truly deadly.”

  Guderian staggered when he considered the utility of the weapons. They were a powerful counter to the rule that was shared by all life on Animar and that determined the manner in which combat occurred. They would make an incredible asset.

  “They are certainly exquisite,” Guderian said. “We have nothing like this material on land.”

  “Take them,” Arodon said as he offered the other sword to Guderian. “They are a gift to you. May they protect your people as they have ours.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Guderian said, shaking his head. “Thank you Arodon, for everything.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Arodon replied. “There is much to be done.” The Aquan turned to walk away and added, “Travel safe.”

  A blur then caught Guderian’s eye, a quick movement from one of the black shadowy figures that stood among them. He felt a sting in his neck just before the room fell to darkness. His time in the world of the Aquans had come to an end.

  Chapter 27

  Although the snowfall had stopped, night had fallen upon the group bringing with it a sense of dread that threatened to snatch their lives at any moment. Traveling without torchlight for several hours, their world had been cast into utter darkness guided only by the faintest of moonlight when it somehow managed to break through the thick cloud-filled skies above.

  In hopes of avoiding the creatures that had made the footprints in the snow earlier that day they had elected to follow the cliff-lined ravine. Using one wall as a guide, they had traveled roughly west, taking several bends along the way, not entirely sure in what direction their now dedicated path would lead.

  The ground that they ventured on was topped with ice and powder although fortunately not as deep as had been encountered previously, likely shielded from the heaviest snowfall by the towering cliffs. The ravine itself had varied in width and at times the opposite wall had been hidden by the unsettling gloom although it currently fell just within sight - a giant gray wall covered in shadows touched in places by tiny fingers of light.

  The five companions were huddled along the wall, an unusual collection to be sure, and they shared in the fact that they were all shivering, cold and tired. Their eyes were focused on a yet unlit fire that had been recently erected. The collection of branches and twigs beckoned them like a temptress, seductively offering a respite from the elements that came with a rather frightening price.

  Caballus sat in a ball with his knees pulled to his chest and his coat wrapped around his body in a makeshift cocoon. Considering what they should do, he silently looked over his companions.

  Mordigal sat beside him, his back against the rocky wall with his eyes, as always, peering into the darkness around them. Caballus had been impressed with his toughness. Although not frail, the assassin was much thinner yet he rarely had complained about the weather or the challenges that they had encountered. He was courageous and driven by his love for the teacher and, so far, had been honest about his intentions. Yet for some reason, something he could not quite place, he could not bring himself to completely trust his lupine companion. Slightly ashamed, Caballus had decided that this uncertainty was only natural. He was, after all, traveling with an enemy to his own kind, the most unlikely of friends that could possibly be leading them into a trap. He would be watched closely.

  He shifted his attention to the three brothers. Although they were practically identical in appearance, Caballus had managed to tell them apart, using slight differences in their clothing and how they wore their packs. It impressed the brothers considerably each time he called them by name. Apparently one of the few who had been able to boast such an accomplishment, Caballus relished this tiny victory. The more they begged for his secret to telling them apart, the more anxious he had been to use their names even more. Caballus knew they enjoyed the confusion of their appearance. Triplets were rare but they added to the difficulty in telling them apart by making every effort to dress alike and mimic one another.

  The brothers were a strange bunch yet despite the weather and their obvious struggles, their spirits had remained strong and their wit equal to the task. They were men who never grew up, and it was part of their charm. His grin faded as he watched them huddled together, teeth rattling and hands clasped together. He knew it was unlikely that they would make it through the night without a fire.

  “We have to light it,” Caballus whispered quietly to Mordigal.

  The assassin looked up at his companion and followed his eyes to the brothers seated a few feet away. He sighed. “Death might come sooner if we do.”

  “They won’t make it. Look at them. We have made it this far without incident. I think we have to risk it.”

  Mordigal shook his head, “Those tracks have me worried. They are the first we have seen since we left Avryndale, which is quite fortunate.” He paused and looked up into the moon as it slipped into view overhead. “At least the clouds are letting up a bit. We need to keep a watch though. That is the only way I will agree to it.”

  Caballus nodded, “Agreed. I will take the first stint.”

  Mordigal whistled to grab the attention of the brothers who were busy nibbling on cold rations. “Whichever of you has the tinder box light it up.”

  The pale faces of the three men became awash with excitement.

  “Yes!” Splotch proclaimed.

  “About time! My nuts are frozen!” Clotch added.

  Caballus grinned widely and watched as Clotch held up a small bag from which he had been eating.

  On queue Blotch quickly dug through his backpack and pulled out a small metal box. He made his way to the gathered branches and began to prepare the fire.

  “Thanks Blotch” Caballus said. “You all get some sleep. I will take the first watch.”

  ***

  As if mesmerized, Splotch stared into the fire as it crackled and spat yellowish flames that devoured the cold air and reached for the starry sky above. He was seated with his back against the rock and his legs pulled to his chest, trying to preserve heat as best possible. His eyes momentarily drifted closed, lulled by the dancing embers. Seconds later, he jerked his head up and looked around the campsite.

  “Stay awake Splotch,” he grumbled quietly to himself as he watched his words be transformed into fog by the frigid air around him.

  His shift had been third, following Caballus and Mordigal. Although he had gotten a brief stint of sleep, the night was still dark and ominous. With clear skies overhead, he could see the far side of the ravine fairly well although the passage east and west was cloa
ked in a blanket of blackness penetrated by light only a hundred feet or so in either direction.

  Splotch took a deep breath, momentarily filling his lungs with cold air before exhaling. Mordigal had recommended such activity if he or his brothers had to fight off sleep but after he coughed a few times Splotch questioned the sanity of such torture.

  He looked over at his brothers who were sound asleep, lying together beneath a pile of blankets. He wondered what his mother would think of them had she heard what they were doing. Would she be proud of them? Surely she would. He knew what his father would say. He would tell them they were foolish for thinking they were strong enough. He would say they were not cut out to be warriors or heroes. They would show him. If their father got word of their feats even his thick heart would be filled with pride, wherever he was.

  A noise in the distance captured his attention. He couldn’t place it, but he thought it came from the east, back the way they came. He peered into the darkness and focused his ears. Nothing. Perhaps he had imagined it.

  Seconds later it was back. A bit louder now, kind of a rhythmic thumping, light and steady, still distant. His heart began to pound. Should he wake the others? Not yet, his brothers would never let him hear the end of it.

  Splotch looked over at them, still asleep. He then glanced at Caballus who was lying on the other side of the fire also asleep although his massive hands still gripped his staff.

  Shifting his eyes, he then noticed that Mordigal was nowhere to be found. Where he had been lying just moments before only a bundle of blankets remained. His pulse quickened. Where had he gone? Surely he hadn’t abandoned them or betrayed them. Surely not.

  Like a soft, distant rolling thunder the noise grew. It was constant now, yet still he could not identify the source. Then, abruptly, as if silenced by an unspoken command, it stopped.

  Splotch stared into the blackness. No movement could be found. The night was still. His heart raced.

  A crack broke the silence. It was soft but fairly close, like a branch being snapped. His breath quickened.

  Then a movement caught his eye and something small landed at his feet. He looked down and watched as a tiny pebble come to rest. Alarmed, he glanced up and saw a shadowy figure tucked behind a rocky outcropping in the opposite wall about fifty feet away.

  Splotch squinted as the figure slowly leaned forward, allowing moonlight to briefly illuminate his otherwise concealed face. It was Mordigal and although this briefly calmed his nerves, he then quickly realized that the sounds he had heard before had been made by someone, or something, else.

  Before he could sound an alarm, Splotch watched as Mordigal slowly raised a finger to his lips to silence him. The assassin then pulled back into the shadow of the rock and disappeared from view. Strange noises began to creep out of the darkness. They were unlike anything he had ever heard. A mixture of howls and whimpers, they bounced off of the walls and echoed around the campsite. Standing in packed snow, breathing in the coldest air he could ever have imagined, Splotch was startled by the severity of the fear-laced chill that then shot down his spine. It was time to wake the others.

  ***

  Caballus jumped to his feet when the touch startled him to wake, nearly knocking Splotch onto his rear.

  “Something is out there,” Splotch said as he pointed into the blackness with the blade of his small sword. Caballus then saw that the other brothers stood beside him, staring up at their large companion for guidance.

  Remaining calm, Caballus perked his ears and listened. The night was quiet, they appeared alone. He returned his attention to the brothers who were clearly rattled. He then noticed someone was missing.

  “Where’s Mordigal?” he asked.

  “We don’t know,” Splotch proclaimed. “I thought I spotted him across the way but…”

  “I got up and he was gone,” Clotch added.

  “I should have known,” Caballus said as he glared into the darkness and a scowl appeared on his brow.

  Caballus looked down at the fire that had died considerably, yet it still cast the immediate area in a dull orange glow that he knew put them at a disadvantage. Although their enemies lurked in the dark, his party remained engulfed in light, visible and susceptible to attack. The grip on his staff tightened.

  A dreadful howl then pierced the quiet of night. It was low and strong, and disturbingly close, possibly from a dog or a coyote. As Caballus pondered the origin, a series of barks and yelps then followed as if answering the first, or perhaps worse, signaling an attack.

  Caballus motioned for the brothers to move to his side of the fire, opposite the direction from where the sounds had emanated. “Put the fire between us and them,” he said calmly. “It will give us a few seconds to react at least.”

  Unusually speechless the brothers did as instructed and, standing side by side with their swords drawn, they braced for the worst while the terrifying howls grew louder.

  Staring through the glowing flame, Caballus searched the blackness with his eyes. He spotted movement, several dark shapes that crept low to the ground and mingled with the night. The creatures stayed hidden in shadow, pulling back each time the firelight threatened to reveal their nature. An idea sprung into his head. He needed to act.

  Pointing into the night boldly he yelled, “Keep your distance beasts unless you want Fatalis to come for your heads!”

  Holding his breath, Caballus offered a defiant glare. Then, as if quieted by death itself, the howling stopped.

  The brothers looked up at Caballus, surprised by his words. His eyes remained focused ahead, searching for their unseen visitors.

  A response came in the form of a raspy voice, deep and strong and it boomed into the night, “If they are heading to join Fatalis, perhaps we should rethink our destination boys.” Laughter spilled forth, accompanied by a chorus of howls and cackles from a variety of unseen creatures.

  Caballus was stunned but tried to remain unfazed. He knew their lives hung in the balance.

  “So I take it you too are joining the army?” Caballus bluffed, adding a slight smile for effect. “We are friends then! Perhaps we can travel together.”

  Even as he spoke the words, he knew this was an enormous gamble. His only hope was that he could draw them into the light to better assess their strength. In his animal form, Caballus could outrun most carnivores, but the brothers, he knew without a doubt, could not.

  A man slowly emerged from the darkness, his legs first and then the rest of his body. Of medium height and build, he looked like a typical scavenger. His hair was long and ratty, his face had not been shaved in weeks and his clothes were disheveled and filthy. As he drew near, the crackling fire momentarily reflected in the man’s eyes, briefly turning them into red saucers that seemed to divulge the wild hunger that drove him.

  Behind the man, shadowy figures crept close but remained just out of view. Caballus guessed that there were seven or eight, but perhaps more lingered behind.

  “So you head to join the army do you?” the stranger asked. He then pointed to the triplets and continued, “And these three…are they to fight alongside us in this war? If so, I wonder why so many have been called to battle? I’m sure our enemies would surrender at the sight of such mighty warriors!” The man chuckled heartily at his own jest and was joined by snickers from his hidden companions.

  “Come on then. We’ll show you how mighty we are!” Clotch blurted, lifting his sword to the air in reaction to the insult. His brothers remained silent, less eager to fight.

  Caballus’ heart skipped but he resisted reaction. A sudden movement behind the stranger caught his eye. It moved across the ravine in the distance before fading back into the night. He wondered just what lurked in the shadowy depths, waiting anxiously for a chance to feast on their bones.

  The stranger then turned his head slightly and spoke over his shoulder, “Now look what I have done, I have angered the little fellow.” He then returned his attention to Caballus and the brothers. “So
where is the wolf? I can’t picture any of you with fangs.” Once more the man laughed at his own words.

  Caballus quickly replied, “He is hunting actually. Night is the best time as you know.”

  The look of amusement then fell from the man’s face. “Good. All the better.” He looked back over his shoulder while his hands clinched shut then opened. His eyes met Caballus. “Amusing as this is I am tired of the games. I don’t know why you travel with a wolf but your nature is obvious.” He raised his voice, directing it towards the rest of his party hiding in the darkness. “Alright boys, dinner is served!”

  As the call to battle was sounded, Caballus couldn’t help but wonder why Mordigal had abandoned them. If he was aligned with the enemy then the outcome was already decided. Anxious to learn his fate, he braced for attack, holding the staff to his side, ready to strike.

  Triggered by their leader, several shapes leapt from the shadow. They were dogs as he had suspected - their stink had given them away - and he counted five, much less than he had expected. As they churned toward him and entered the firelight, he could see their fang-lined jaws barking with rage.

  Standing behind the attackers, the leader, remaining in his human form, seemed perplexed. He looked into the darkness behind them, confused for reasons unknown. His attention was not on the battle but something to his rear. Caballus grew worried when the man called into the night, perhaps ushering forth a second wave of attack.

  The brothers backed up with swords drawn as the dogs approached. Caballus knew this would be their first battle and he hoped not the last.

  Caballus swung as the first dog jumped for his throat. It was a large brown and white disheveled beast with ratty hair and heart fueled by hunger. His powerful swing struck true and resulted in a loud crack when his staff struck the dog’s head, sending it spinning to the ground where it landed in a heap.