Something Extra - Hungry Heart - Ch. 18 (Patreon)

Chapter One  / Chapter Two  / Chapter Three  / Chapter Four  / Chapter Five  / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine / Chapter Ten  / Chapter Eleven / Chapter Twelve / Chapter Thirteen / Chapter Fourteen / Chapter Fifteen / Chapter Sixteen / Chapter Seventeen 

Chapter Eighteen – The Curse of Darkness

Varg turned to Ganon with fire in his eyes. The younger wolf cowered under his stare. “We had no chance against them.”

“Who were they? What are you speaking of? Leave nothing out,” Varg said with a growl. He didn’t wait for Ganon to start talking and began inspecting the state of his pack. “Where are the others?”

Ganon limped to reach him. “We are the only ones left.” His muzzle touched the ground. “Yesterday, that was when it happened. The day turned into night. Darkness rose, along with burning fire.”

“Darkness? From where?”

“Beneath our feet. I was in Whitekeep and witnessed everything.”

“In Whitekeep?” Varg felt his gut tightening. “But the pack should have been in the forest, away from the town.”

“And they were,” Ganon replied sharply. “As I escaped Whitekeep, I hurried to them. And I found them under attack.”

“Rocs?”

Ganon shook his head. “No. Creatures made of dirt and lava, like I’ve never seen before. We did our best, Varg, but if you think we are unworthy --”

“Don’t dare say one more word,” Varg warned him. “They need help.” He gestured toward the wolves on the ground. There were so few left. Varg steeled himself. “We need water and herbs.” He noticed an old bucket, leaning on one side.

“I use it to carry water,” Ganon explained. “But there’s not much I can do like this.”

Varg frowned. “What do you mean?”

Ganon’s eyes were shiny with unshed tears. “We cannot shift anymore.”

For a moment, everything stopped. Varg stared at the sky. It was cloudy, ready for rain, but still, water had yet to start pouring down. Could it be that the same evil from Fairside had struck here? But if that were so, how responsible was he for bringing this curse upon his brethren?

He didn’t dwell on such thoughts. What was done was done. He grabbed the bucket. “Come with me. We’ll make all the medicine we can, but then I’ll let you guard them while I search for help.”

“Help? From where? Whitekeep is no more. The smoke has been rising over the town since yesterday. They could all be dead for all we know. The closest place to here is Vilemoor, and that place --” Ganon stopped with a frightened gasp.

“Don’t ever lose hope,” Varg ordered. “And Vilemoor is no longer what you know.”

“What do you mean? Have you been there?”

“Yes. And when I say that, it’s because it has become Fairside again. I’ll take you all there.”

“Fairside? I thought that was a fairytale. And how are you going to take us there?”

Varg growled. “I’ll carry you all on my back if that’s what it takes.”

***

Duril kept it all inside as they moved slowly through the still burning ruins. Smoke covered everything and made it hard to breathe. He was thankful for his orc side making him able to fill his lungs with that foul smell without feeling the repercussions that would affect an average human. Toru remained in his tiger form, and still Duril could hear him sneezing and sniffling. The smoke was not as kind to him.

“Agatha’s home is no more,” he said in a whisper.

Duril climbed down from Toru’s back and walked inside what used to be the witch’s yard. Toru shifted and followed him closely.

“Let’s go inside,” Toru said grimly.

It would hurt to find the witch’s body, but it was necessary. Together, they began searching through the smoking ruins.

“Did you find anything?” Toru called, and Duril had to guide himself by the sound of the other’s voice, that thick the smoke and mist was.

“Nothing so far,” he shouted back.

There was broken glass, and old pans that looked like they had survived the fire, although in bad shape, but nothing that resembled Agatha’s body.

“Maybe she wasn’t at home when it happened,” Toru offered, his shouts carried by the wind.

“She wasn’t much in the habit of leaving on trips,” Duril replied.

Toru came to his side. “She’s nowhere around here. Could it be that she saved herself, because she’s a witch and all?”

“I’m not ruling out that possibility,” Duril agreed. “Anything is possible. We could use the smallest thing right now to give us hope.”

Toru nodded. “Let’s search for others.”

Duril stopped him by placing his hand on Toru’s cheek. “How tough is it to breathe?”

Toru’s gazed at him briefly through watery eyes. Then he looked away and sneezed again. “I’m fine.”

Duril shook his head. “You don’t have to play the hero with me, Toru. I have some bandages in my bag that you could use over your nose.” He fiddled with his bag and produced the strip of clean cloth as promised.

Toru bowed his head without making a fuss and allowed the healer to bind the cloth around his nose. “How come you’re not affected?”

“It must be because of my orc blood,” Duril explained. “I suppose their hordes are so used to setting fire to everything in their path that they’re quite immune to smoke.”

“That’s an awesome trait,” Toru said.

“Let’s go and search some more. Agatha could be alive, somewhere.”

Duril didn’t want to give voice to the nagging doubts in his mind. Nothing was ordinary about what had happened here. He wouldn’t be too surprised to learn that everyone vanished into thin air, their very essence destroyed by a malevolent hand.

“You fought in a big war, didn’t you?” Toru asked. “The same as Varg?”

“Rory must have told you many things while stuffing you with pork stew,” Duril observed.

“Yeah. He told me a lot of stuff,” Toru admitted. “He’s an awesome cook, Rory.”

They both chuckled at the thought, but then the good mood vanished almost instantly from their hearts. Rory could be under the rubble of his inn, the victim of who knew what evil forces.

“There is no way I’m never eating his pork stew again,” Toru said with determination and began moving quickly forward.

Duril felt the same, so he hurried to keepn pace with his companion. They stopped at the next house that appeared to have a couple of walls still standing. Here, their hearts sank. Seven bodies, in various degrees of decomposition, lay among the ruins.

“We should bury them,” Duril said and covered his mouth.

“No time,” Toru replied.

His voice was harsh, but vibrating with hurt. Duril hurried after him. In their path, nothing but destruction lay.

Toru stopped after they searched another dozen homes, where they found more burnt bodies. “This is where your shop used to be, Duril.”

The healer stopped and looked at what was left of his dream from another life. “It looks like I’ll have to build a new one.”

Toru shifted and took him by the shoulders. “I’m glad to see that there’s hope still in you.”

Duril took those words at face value. It meant that Toru’s hope was wavering, and they couldn’t have that now. He put his arm around the other’s waist and squeezed to reassure him. “There is still more ground to cover. If there is one person still alive, we will find them.”

“Let’s head over to the Tinker Inn,” Toru said brusquely.

Duril swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. But they had a duty to go there and search for the young innkeeper who had kept everyone fed and in good spirits ever since he had been capable of picking up a ladle.

They walked in silence, neither of them willing to voice the dark thoughts nesting in their minds.

As soon as they entered the town’s square, they stopped. The Tinker Inn was still standing. There was smoke coming from it, too, and the roof was nowhere in sight, but it looked to be in much better shape than the rest of the town.

Duril didn’t need to be told to hurry. They both rushed toward the large wooden doors.

The large dining hall was deserted, and all the tables and chairs looked like they had been blown away by a ghastly wind.

“I’m so not going to clean this,” Toru deadpanned.

Duril pursed his lips. It must have been a truly onerous task for Toru to be forced to wield a broom. “I think we should search the cellar,” he said and grabbed Toru by the arm.

The kitchen looked as dilapidated as the rest of the ground floor, but Duril didn’t stop to check in every corner. The Tinker Inn had a large cellar, and there was a chance that some people had hidden inside.

A thick wooden door was at the top of the stairs to the basement. Duril grabbed the metal handle and tried to open it, but nothing happened.

“Let me.” Toru followed his example, but pulled much more forcibly. The handle rattled, but the door didn’t budge. “I think we have to break it down.”

Duril stopped him because it looked as if Toru was about to hurl himself against the door. “It’s dangerous. If you manage to break it, you’ll find yourself flying down the stairs. And they’re pretty steep if I recall correctly.”

“They could be in there,” Toru pointed out. “I’ll be fine.”

Duril knew the tigershifter couldn’t stand the feeling of hopelessness that had threatened to overwhelm them ever since they had set foot back in Whitekeep.

“Wait, let me try something.”

He stared at his hand and the symbols given to him by Lady Amethyst. He placed it on the door and focused hard.

“I thought that only worked on trees or something,” Toru said.

“I know, but this door was made from the body of trees, too. Even if it was a long time ago, maybe --”

A small whoosh-like sound came from the door. Duril moved his ear to the wooden surface.

“What does it say?” Toru asked excitedly.

“It doesn’t quite work that way,” Duril tried to explain.

There were murmurs coming from the door, which he knew only he could hear.

“I beg you,” he started, “if there are still people alive --”

He jumped back as the door opened by itself, revealing the steep stairs behind it.

“You can open any door!” Toru exclaimed happily. “That will really come in handy when we need to raid pantries for food.”

Duril shook his head, but he was flattered. “I don’t know how it opened. It looks to me like it chose to do so.”

“You convinced it or something. Now let’s get down there. I’ll shift since my human eyes are not quite as good at seeing in the dark. Let me go first.”

It wasn’t like he could stop him, anyway, so Duril allowed Toru to go down the stairs.

“You can grab my tail,” Toru whispered. “So that we don’t lose each other.”

Duril knew cats weren’t normally pleased with having their tails grabbed, but Toru had a good point. He felt the tail twitching a bit in his hand, but then it grew slack, a sign that the tigershifter trusted his handler.

It was dark downstairs, but their eyes adjusted quickly, and they could observe the various foods neatly stored on shelves.

“It looks like this place didn’t get destroyed,” Toru whispered.

“Indeed,” Duril whispered back.

“Have you ever been in here?”

“No, but I think that there are several rooms, separated by doors.”

They didn’t pay attention to the stacked pantry and the wine bottles as they searched the place and found themselves in front of a small door. “We need to search here, too,” Toru whispered.

Duril tried the door first this time. He heard Toru shifting from one paw to another and knew that he was preparing to find something foul behind that door.

There was rustling coming from somewhere inside, and Duril tensed. Could it be that some of the attackers were in there? They couldn’t ignore that possibility, so he braced himself too. He placed his hand on the wood again, hoping that his ability would work once more.

The door moved with a loud screech, and Duril was met by the pointed end of a spear on the other side.

***

Varg knelt by one of the injured wolves. He only had a basic knowledge of medicine, but, for now, what he knew had to do. He had taken off his undershirt and torn it into bandages to bind the wounds, and had used branches as splints to immobilize broken bones.

However, Ganon had a point about carrying them out of there. He could saddle his only able-bodied companion with maybe one of them, but he could carry only three at best. There were ten wolves lying scattered on the ground, some of them with glassy eyes, struggling between the world of the living and darkness.

Varg wished they had been more.

Ganon came by his side. “Varg, I can guard them. You go search for help as you said.”

Varg looked down and frowned. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I know. But if we are to survive, you had better get that help.”

It wasn’t like Ganon to order him around, but these weren’t ordinary times. Varg nodded. “You’re right.”

“Are you going as far as Fairside? That could take days.”

“Just one if I run as fast as I can.”

Ganon fell silent, and Varg realized what he had let slip out.

“But I’m not going there just yet,” he added quickly. “First, I’ll head over to Whitekeep. With a little luck, I’ll find some friends there.”

“That could be a waste of time,” Ganon pointed out. “I told you --”

“I’m not talking about the townsfolk. I’m talking about my companions with whom I have been traveling. They were heading there when we parted ways.”

Ganon nodded. “You know best, Varg. And don’t worry; your secret is safe with me. Although many of us have guessed it for quite some time.”

“What secret are you talking about?” Varg asked.

“You’re no ordinary wolf. We’re a lucky pack to have you as our leader.”

Varg smiled wryly, in spite of the dire situation. “I suppose I couldn’t hide it forever. I’ll head over to Whitekeep and come back with help as fast as I can.”

“Whitekeep was almost razed to the ground, Varg.”

“You told me that already.”

“I know. It’s just that I know how attached you were to all of those humans.”

Varg understood what Ganon meant by that. But his heart was steel now; he had his pack to save. Now, he needed to find Duril and Toru and enlist their help.

***

“We come in peace!” Duril shouted.

Whoever aimed that spear at him trembled in their boots, so they had to be townsfolk, and not trained soldiers.

“Duril, is that you?”

He let out a short gasp of relief. “Rory?”

“Rory?” Toru shouted from behind him.

The tigershifter passed by him and jumped on the unaware innkeeper.

“Beast!” someone else inside the small room cried out.

Duril didn’t know he could move that fast. In the blink of an eye, he put his body between Toru and what looked like about a dozen sharp objects. “He’s not a beast!”

He could see just fine in the dark, but the room was also lit by a couple of torches. He stared into the faces of their attackers and recognized them right away. “Mr. Mayor… And, you’re Karl, right? And Wanda… Are you the only people who remain?”

“Duril?” the mayor asked in disbelief. “We all thought you and Varg left on a big adventure! But what is that beast?”

***

Toru laid his ears flat on his head and cowered behind Duril. He had managed to push Rory to the ground in his happiness to see him, without remembering that he was still in his tiger shape. Now he had done it, and it was up to Duril to appease the remaining survivors and convince them not to lynch him.

“He’s not a beast,” Duril explained holding his hand up in a calming gesture. “He’s Toru. He’s a tigershifter… and, well, it’s a long story.”

“A tiger?” That was Rory who had gotten to his feet. Without hesitation, the innkeeper placed his hand on Toru’s head and began petting him between his ears. “You’re huge, Toru!”

The mayor intervened. “He’s still a beast!”

“Oh, Mr. Mayor, just cut the crap already.”

Toru knew that voice. “Old witch!” he exclaimed and turned into human, making everyone gasp. “What, have you people never seen somebody shifting?” Now he had the courage to talk like that since he had Duril, Rory and Agatha taking his side.

“It was because he’s a tigershifter that he defeated those rocs,” Agatha explained. She made room for herself by hitting everyone in her path with a gnarled cane.

“You knew?” the mayor asked in disbelief.

“I know a lot of things,” Agatha said matter-of-factly. “Come here, tiger.”

Toru approached the witch cautiously. She gestured for him impatiently to bend down to reach her level. She looked into his eyes. “Is the evil in Vilemoor gone?”

“Yes, old witch,” Toru replied solemnly.

“Good, good. We’ll go there, then.”

“Vilemoor?” the mayor yelled in a high pitch. “Are you out of your mind, old wi… I mean, esteemed Agatha?”

“Stop it with that esteemed Agatha,” the old witch replied. “Vilemoor is no more.”

Toru stared back into Agatha’s eyes. “How do you know all that?”

She waved. “The wind speaks to me.”

“But what about what happened here?”

Agatha’s face wrinkled more and, for the first time since Toru had met her, it looked like sadness swallowed her face. “The curse of darkness came.”

“But why?”

Agatha placed her dry hand on his cheek. “I’ll tell you more, young tiger. But first, take us out of here. Get us to Fairside.”

“Fairside?” the mayor squeaked again. “That’s nothing but a legend!”

“Not anymore,” Agatha declared.

“About Fairside,” Toru said and straightened up. “The people there have no food.”

“Ha!” Agatha interjected. “But we have. Good thing Rory is a hoarder.”

Duril intervened. “They don’t have seeds to grow new crops. The situation is quite dire. We don’t want to lie to you.”

“Mr. Mayor,” Rory interjected in the conversation, “we should search everywhere for all that’s left. I have some seeds here, but I don’t know if they’re enough.”

“How is it above?” the mayor asked while he pulled at his mustache with a pensive look on his face.

“A lot of smoke,” Duril explained. “And a lot of people… dead. What happened?”

Agatha’s deep voice resonated between the walls. “The day turned into night. The dirt rose, taking shape. But it was streaked with lava and burned everything in its path.”

“How did you manage to survive?” Toru asked.

The old witch moved and placed one hand on the stone wall. “It could not get through here. Rory’s quick wits saved us.”

“How come you weren’t at your place?” Toru asked again.

Agatha seemed to ponder. “As a witch, I take pride in knowing a lot of things. But I didn’t see this coming. The wind carried the news from Vilemoor, but nothing of the attack that would destroy Whitekeep. It just happened that I needed a bit of flour and only because of that I walked to Tinker Inn to ask Rory for some. I was here when it happened. It might be just a whim of fate that I survived,” she added. “For what purpose, I may wonder.”

“I’m not wondering,” Toru said without a shadow of doubt. “You have to help us against this curse of darkness you’re speaking of.”

Agatha pondered and let her eyes wander toward the low ceiling. “You might be right, young tiger.”

“What about the rest of you?” Duril asked. “Were you all here, at the inn, when the enemy struck?”

“We were,” the mayor explained. “We were just a few people having a late breakfast… or a long one.” He patted his belly in an unconscious gesture. “I cannot believe that we were the lucky ones… by what you two are saying --” his voice broke.

Everyone fell silent. Someone, one of the young women, sobbed and covered her face.

Toru could sense their pain and felt helpless. Creatures of dirt streaked with lava? That sounded familiar, and he didn’t like it. He searched for Duril, and their eyes met. It was clear as day that the healer was thinking the same thing as him.

“We will give our people places to rest,” the mayor’s voice rose over the quiet sobs. “We will honor them as they should be honored once we have secured our future. Whitekeep doesn’t die with this treacherous attack. We will prevail.”

Unlike others of the mayor’s speeches, this one was short. The people murmured in agreement.

“We will help you bury the dead,” Duril said. “And then, we will gather everything we can and head over to Fairside. The castle keep sits strong, and the people have houses. There will be enough room for you.”

Toru threw a look around. Everyone looked down, their faces drawn.

Weeks ago, the people here lived in peace. And then, as soon as he had come, one danger after another had befallen them.

He couldn’t help feeling responsible. It was as if he had been the one to bring that curse of darkness over their heads.

Agatha dug her gnarled fingers into his arm. “I know what you must be thinking, young tiger. But don’t fill your heart with lies. Keep your eyes open. This is your destiny.”

He wanted to ask her more about what she meant, but the small group began moving. They had so many things to do.

***

Agatha had assumed the role of priest since all of the members of the local clergy slept the endless sleep, buried in shallow graves, like most of the townsfolk. Tirelessly, she found it in herself to say kind words about the dead, remembering the others as they had used to be while still alive.

They were barely finished with those sad proceedings, when Toru’s ears caught something. It just could be the wind, but it sounded like a wolf’s howl.

“Could it be Varg?” Duril was standing by his side, as aware as he was of the sound coming from afar.

“He should be looking for his pack, shouldn’t he?”

“Maybe he found them already,” Duril offered.

Toru walked in the direction of the faint sound. He climbed up a small hill and scouted the surroundings. The hills rolled into a large valley before the eyes could reach the forests around Whitekeep. He stood tall and let out a loud roar.

Then he waited until his ears again picked up the howl from the distance. “It has to be him,” Toru said and turned toward Duril.

“Then he must have found his pack,” the healer replied. “That would help us a lot. We need to assemble carts so that we can carry everything. But there are no more oxen or horses, so even if we could manage to find some intact wagons, we wouldn’t be able to pull them.”

Toru remained silent. He couldn’t let the healer know what else he had heard in Varg’s howl. There was sadness and longing in it, and he didn’t dare to think about what could make the strong wolfshifter feel like that.

***

The loud roar made Varg’s limbs move faster. That was Toru. He knew it in his heart. That meant that at least he was all right. Whatever evil had destroyed Whitekeep, it wasn’t there anymore.

He hurried as fast as his joints and muscles allowed him to. The burning ruins of the town sowed doubt in his heart, but he didn’t let it overcome him. Everyone he cared about and was still alive depended on him.

***

“I’ll head out to meet him half way,” Toru said.

The healer took his hand. “What’s troubling you, Toru?”

He shrugged and looked away. “It’s just all this death.”

“There’s something more. I can tell. Whether you like it or not, I’m starting to get to know you. You’re sad for all the people who passed away, but not only because of them.”

Toru shook his head. “It’s nothing else.”

“You promised you wouldn’t keep things from me,” Duril reminded him gently.

That was true. But how could he confide in the healer if he couldn’t dare to let the thoughts form inside his head?

“I know I promised. The old witch tells me not to believe anything because they’re all lies. And she says something about my destiny. But I don’t know what to think.”

Duril squeezed his arm in sympathy. “Then we’ll talk about it once we reach Fairside and have a little breather. Pay heed to Agatha’s advice. She’s yet to be wrong and she’s, indeed, very old.”

Toru snickered. “She likes to be called ‘old’. I think she might be just as nutty as Zul.”

Duril slapped his arm, but not hard. “Just go meet Varg and bring him here. We need all the able-bodied people we can get.”

“Will there be enough food?” Toru gestured toward the townsfolk busy gathering supplies in the middle of the square.

“There will be some, at least. Which is still better than nothing.”

“That’s true,” Toru agreed. “I’ll bring the mutt here. He must know what to do.”

It went without saying, in that community. Varg had used to be their protector for a long time. His presence there would give them hope and something to look up to. His leadership would help them move beyond grieving.

Toru knew it to be true. Secretly, he hoped the same. He couldn’t wait to see Varg and seek reassurance in his eyes and his embrace. With all the banter and teasing between them, Toru knew he could count on the wolfshifter.

***

Varg stopped for a moment and looked ahead. Something, or better said, someone was streaking across the field, straight at him.

He would recognize that golden fur with dark stripes anywhere. That was Toru, but why was he alone?

His heart small in his chest, he hurried toward the moving shape. He turned into his human, and Toru followed his example when he was just a few feet away.

“You’re alone?” Varg asked.

Toru took him by surprise as he rushed into his arms.

Varg felt his heart sinking deeper. “Duril? Where is he?” he asked as he held Toru close.

“He’s fine, but the people there… in Whitekeep --”

The tigershifter sniffled and hid his head into the crook of Varg’s neck.

“I heard. Is there anyone still alive?”

“A few,” Toru replied. “The mayor, and the old witch, and Rory, and a few other people I don’t know by name.”

Varg sighed. It was wrong to feel relief when so many had perished, but his heart was now set on saving everyone who was still breathing.

“What is it?” he asked as gently as he could. It didn’t take a wise man to realize that something was troubling Toru to his core.

“The thing that killed everyone… it’s like that thing in Vilemoor. What if I sent it here?” Toru asked.

Varg pursed his lips. Guilt gnawed at the young tiger’s heart, and he wasn’t the only one tormented by it. “You didn’t. If you’re guilty of it, then I’m just as guilty. We were there together.”

Toru seemed a bit comforted by that reasoning, and he let go of Varg. Embarrassed, he wiped his tears with his forearm, leaving streaks of ash on his face. “How are your brothers and sisters?”

Varg looked down. The truth these days was so painful. “They were attacked, too.”

Toru stopped and looked at him. “Also by creatures made of dirt and fire?”

Varg nodded. “Only a few of mine are left. And they’re in bad shape.”

“How bad?”

“Injured. Broken bones. I did some mending, as much as I could, but I was hoping to bring Duril back. Also, I need to take them to Fairside. There is no way they can survive out there.”

“Then I should bring Duril fast.” Toru began walking away.

“Wait. I’m coming with you. What I have to say should come from me.”

“You don’t trust me as a messenger, mutt?”

Varg smiled around his grief. “Still up to no good, kitty?”

“Let’s move already. Can you keep up?”

***

Duril looked out for the umpteenth time. He couldn’t wait for Varg and Toru to be there. He worried while they were apart. The townsfolk were a despondent group, going through the motions, with hope vanished from their eyes.

There had been enough death for all of them in this one day to last more than a lifetime. They needed a bit of hope.

He was busy carrying a bushel of grain when he saw Varg and Toru walking into the town square. Both had drawn faces, and Duril’s heart stopped for a moment. Was there more to the townsfolk’s glum fate?

“You’re all right,” he whispered as he looked at the wolfshifter.

A short nod was the answer. “My pack… what’s left of it, is in dire need of a healer.”

Duril didn’t wait to be given more explanations. He grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder. “Then let’s go.”

Varg looked around, at the despondent group. “So few left.”

“Yes,” Duril said quietly. “Let’s focus on the living. How badly are they hurt?”

“Enough so that they cannot move on their own.”

Rory had approached their group. “Sir Varg,” he said politely. “How are your people?”

Varg’s expression must have been enough of a reply, because the young innkeeper’s face fell. “They were attacked, too,” he said matter-of-factly.

“We need to find a way to transport them,” Duril said thoughtfully. “How many are we talking about?”

“Eleven,” Varg said. “Ten are in dire shape. Ganon survived with fewer injuries, but he cannot help much.”

“How are we going to move with everyone and the supplies?” Toru asked.

Duril knew what they were saying. There was a long road ahead of them.

“I have an idea,” Rory intervened. “But I’m not sure Sir Varg and Toru will like it at all.”

Varg crossed his arms over his chest. “Out with it.”

Rory gestured for Varg and Toru to come closer and whispered something to them.

Toru made a face as if he had just been offered lemons with cabbage as the main dish. “I’m supposed to be a beast of burden now?”

TBC

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