Hungry Heart - Book 5 - Ch. 6 (Patreon)

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Chapter Six – The Nature of the Beast

The air was different, Varg noticed first thing, as his nostrils flared and filled his lungs with the scent of the vast expanse now stretching at their feet. It was a mix of sweet herbs and smoke, and it must have wafted, even to that height, from the many inns and their kitchens below. There was something else to it, too, a smell that Varg had always thought to be a sibling of wanderlust and the call of distant lands. But that wasn’t a scent he could put into words.

“I have never seen anything like it,” said Mako, bouncing excitedly by his side. “This view makes it worth the trip I made here. Wait till I tell everything to my folks back home. They’ll never believe it. They’ll think I’m making it all up.” The look on his face said that he wouldn’t be in the least disappointed if that happened.

Varg had to admit that he was just as impressed as the young lad. Everywhere, as far as their eyes could see, lay the immense stretch of the city. The enormity of its size could only be grasped by climbing up here, and it made sense that the merchants and other people in charge of the city had chosen this place to display the Heart of Tradeweaving. What made it all the more intriguing was how the sandy fog of the Aureate Sea appeared to surround the city like a belt that didn’t constrict its vastness but contained it so that it didn’t spill into the rest of the world. The fine mist of gold met the azure sky midway, creating the illusion of a bowl in which Coinvale rested, a small world existing on its own.

That was the illusion. Coinvale thrived on its connections with the rest of the continent. Visitors came here from all corners of Eawirith, and people who loved trade or made their livelihood from it had to know of it and traveled to the trading city in hope of turning a nice profit.

Varg had been so enraptured by the view that he had forgotten to look up at the strange contraption on which the so-called Heart of Tradeweaving was mounted. The same thing could not be said about Claw, who ignored the spectacular vista in favor of examining the thing for which they had climbed hundreds of stairs.

The bearshifter had his head tilted back, his inquisitive eyes searching for the power that made the carousel on which the large shard lay move slowly in a circle. It wasn’t the real shard, and it would have been strange if it was, as it was gigantic. It seemed unlikely that the small metal car holding the rhomboidal shard could support its weight, but the actual movement, happening before their very eyes, proved them wrong.

“What do you make of this, lad?” Varg asked Mako, pointing at the shard.

The young man had been so absorbed in the view in front of their eyes that he must have forgotten that they were there to see the pride and glory of Coinvale: its Heart of Tradeweaving. Mako moved closer, somewhat reluctant to step away from the bannister in favor of observing the mechanism powering the motion of the shard.

“Where do you reckon the part of the true heart is?” Varg continued.

All three of them circled the plinth supporting the machinery, but there seemed to be little they could do to look inside. It was too high.

“It must be in there somewhere,” Mako said. “Do you intend to become a mechanic, Master Varg?”

“It might have crossed my mind,” Varg said with a small smile.

“Come sit on my shoulders.” Claw gestured for him to climb on his back. “We’re here for this thing, so we’d better see it properly.”

Varg had no difficulty getting on his friend’s shoulders, but his nimbleness of movement must have taken Mako by surprise. Still, the lad said nothing, only watching them with unhidden curiosity.

He grabbed the upper edge of the large stone plinth and hiked himself up. The metal carousel on which the car holding the shard glided had a large hole in the middle, and there Varg noticed a small locket. He snuck closer, evading the moving car by getting on his belly. A system of wheels with jagged edges moved flawlessly, their teeth following the same path consistently. Still, Varg didn’t want his clothes to get caught in the mechanism by accident so he proceeded with extra caution.

A little farther and he would reach it, that tiny locket. His fingers brushed it, but maintaining that position appeared precarious. Steeling his entire body, forcing it into that unnatural position, he managed to stick his fingers into the small nook.

There was something there, and Varg tried to grab it. However, its smooth surface seemed impossible to seize and he struggled to push one fingernail underneath it to scoop it up. In his wolf shape, he would be better at this, he thought, but he didn’t want to shock Mako by shifting. Not that the lad could see much of him from below, but risks weren’t something Varg intended to take under the circumstances.

He felt the thing inside the locket move and he pushed his fingernail underneath it a little more. It finally gave, but just as he was about to voice his triumph, the contents of the locket slipped from his grasp, jumping out and then falling between two of the rotating wheels below.

The metal car stopped with a whiny screech.

“What’s going on?” Claw called out.

“I think I might have broken the thing by accident,” Varg replied.

His hand reached for the obstruction now trapped between the wheels, but he had to pull it back. That was the same energy the shards of Hekastfet gave off. He couldn’t touch it. It would probably be no issue whatsoever for Toru, but the same did not apply to him.

Slowly, he pushed himself back and Claw helped him down.

“You broke the Heart of Tradeweaving?” Mako asked, his jaw slack, and his eyes wide and unbelieving.

“It’s not the real heart,” Varg replied and gave Claw a conspiratorial look.

The bearshifter frowned. If he understood the implications of what Varg had just witnessed, he was probably already making plans that involved getting them back to Toru and Duril so that they could share their findings.

“Do you think they’ll notice?” he asked, as he looked up at the now unmoving shard.

“They will,” Mako replied, and his voice seemed pained and conflicted. “Why did you do that, Master Varg?”

“It was an accident,” Varg said, trying to keep his voice soft so that he didn’t startle the lad. “You won’t say a word about it when we get down, will you, Mako?” He trained his intense gaze on the young man, using his power of persuasion as he had done on many other occasions.

The lad shook his head, but he still looked frightened. “They will know anyway, Master Varg. They will take you in front of a judge and if they find you guilty, they will throw you in prison.”

“Do they even have a prison here? In this magnificent city?” Varg asked somewhat mockingly.

“They do,” Mako said in a pleading voice. “Can’t you put it back the way it was?”

“That thing can’t be touched by mere mortals,” Varg said.

“But that’s not true,” Mako cried. “The miners unearthed it and the merchants brought it here. Are they not mortals?”

Varg exchanged a surprised look with Claw. That was a truth that put things into a new perspective. If he was unable to touch it, as he knew from his own experience, how had these people done it? That was one piece of a bigger puzzle that Coinvale presented.

“Help me get up there. I’ll put it back. Help me, please,” Mako said.

Varg put one arm up to stop him as he looked like he was about to climb right up the wall although such a thing was impossible. “You don’t understand the nature of the beast, my boy.”

“What’s there to understand?” Mako became frantic. “I was here with you, and they’ll know. And they’ll throw all of us in prison.”

“I will tell them it was all my fault. I’m sure the people of Coinvale will listen to reason,” Varg replied. “You will not be blamed.”

Mako shook his head and moved away. Varg turned toward Claw to consult with him about the sort of explanation they would have to give to avoid the imprisonment Mako was so scared of. The idea of being persecuted in such a manner for such a small thing seemed ridiculous to him, but, as always, caution was advised since they were strangers to these lands.

That single slip of attention was enough because the next thing they knew, Mako had climbed on Claw’s back with the dexterity of an alley cat, and in the blink of an eye was on top of the plinth on which the shard’s carousel rested.

“Get down from there, boy,” Varg shouted at him, but his command fell on deaf ears.

Mako disappeared and the following moment, a shriek pierced the air. Claw hiked Varg up, urging him to hurry.

Varg found the young lad stretched out on the wheels that began to rotate slowly. His right arm was twisted at what should have been an impossible angle, and all Varg could see of his eyes were their whites. The boy’s body shook uncontrollably and foam gathered at his mouth.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Varg grabbed him and hiked him up in his arms. He was about to climb down when the machinery began working again and the metal car hit him in the head, making him lose his balance.

Claw caught him and Mako just in time. “What’s going on?”

“I have no idea,” Varg said in a harsh whisper. “Where is that thing?” He noticed Mako’s clenched fist only then and unclasped the boy’s fingers. The small fragment of the shard, sharp as a needle was in his palm.

Claw tried to grab it from the lad’s hand, but he was forced to pull back as if burned. “It’s no use. We must find Duril and Toru. And quickly.”

“How are we going to get down without drawing unnecessary attention?” Varg wondered out loud.

“Give him to me.”

Varg watched as Claw unfastened the heavy cape he had been wearing lately, a gift from Duril he had been given last fall. The bearshifter made a bundle out of Mako and the cape and then set them around his shoulders.

“He’ll be able to breathe, but we must act quickly. There is no way of telling what the shard is doing to him. I can’t understand how others are able to handle the damn thing, even breaking it into pieces, if such a small part of it can cause whatever affliction this lad has fallen prey to.”

“We’ll have to untangle this mystery, too, but for now let’s hurry, Claw.” The bearshifter rose to his full height, and Varg understood that if anyone found that strange shawl he was wearing weird, they’d be too intimidated by the shifter’s size to ask questions.

“It’s risky, but we’ll shift until we get to the lowest floor,” Claw advised. “And then, we’ll walk out of here and head straight for the meeting place chosen by the others.”

Varg nodded. From Claw’s cape, Mako’s cries of pain had turned into whimpers. If an innocent had gotten hurt in the course of their quest for the shard, it would only be their fault. His in particular since he had agreed to bring the lad with them up there, and that could have been prevented.

***

“What do you think Claw and Varg are doing?” Toru moved fast through the maze of streets, with Duril following closely. “Could they have seen the Heart of Tradeweaving already?”

“That is difficult to say,” Duril said and looked into the distance at the famous spire that was now in their line of sight. “Or,” he said slowly, “quite the opposite. I fear something has happened, Toru.”

“What do you mean?” Toru asked and his eyes following where Duril was looking. “That is the fake shard, right?”

“Yes, but doesn’t it look strange to you?”

Along with them, other people had stopped in the street and were looking at the same thing they were.

“It seems a little crooked,” Toru agreed. The thing appeared to lean to one side, but even with his good eyes, he couldn’t say if that wasn’t just some illusion, a trick.

The citizens of Coinvale, however, seemed to consider that it was no such thing. A woman in a fancy blue dress, with a fan of feathers to match, gasped in disbelief and pointed her elegant hand at the Heart of Tradeweaving.

“What is happening?” someone asked, not far from them.

A wave of whispers passed through the crowd, feeding the rumor mill at an incredible speed.

“It’s leaning over!” another exclaimed.

Duril touched Toru’s elbow. “We have no time to waste. If this is happening because of our friends’ actions, they must be rushing toward our meeting point as we speak.”

Toru agreed silently and wrapped one arm around Duril’s shoulders, pulling him along. Too bad he couldn’t shift in broad daylight. If the people of Coinvale began fainting left and right, the same way Misar Sogou had done only earlier, that would be a difficult problem. He doubted Duril had as many fainting spell remedies as that would require, even in his bottomless healer’s bag.

“It’s falling,” came cries from all sides. “The Heart… it’s falling!”

“But that’s not the real Heart, right?” Toru whispered in disbelief as they started to run.

“Nonetheless, it can’t be considered a good sign that it’s suddenly dropping out of the sky,” Duril pointed out. “I don’t know a lot just yet about the things people around here believe in, but if their staunchest faith is placed in the Heart of Tradeweaving, even its symbol being destroyed must be seen as a bad omen. I hope Claw and Varg are all right.”

“They are strong shapeshifters,” Toru assured his lover, holding him close to him, as their feet fell in synch. “Unless they’ve met an enemy that matches their strength, I don’t believe we should worry.”

“I’m thinking of the many fragments, scattered all over the city,” Duril whispered.

The tipping point must have been reached, because everyone froze with their hands to their mouths. Toru and Duril were forced to stop, too.

And then, they saw it. The large shard teetered for a moment on the edge of the abyss below it, and then began falling.

***

Duril was first to spot Claw and Varg, but Toru was faster to reach them.

“That thing, did you have anything to do with it?” Toru asked as soon as they were close enough to be heard.

“I’m afraid so,” Varg said through his teeth. “And we have even bigger problems. One bigger problem.”

Their meeting spot was empty, the back of an alley that must usually see some level of activity, now deserted. Every soul in Coinvale must have rushed to the location of the fallen shard. Duril was thankful for that as soon as Claw unwrapped the cape he was wearing in the strangest fashion and revealed the unmoving body of a young man that couldn’t be older than twenty.

Duril knelt by the boy immediately and took his wrist. His hand, however, jolted away.

“He has a fragment of shard in his hand,” Varg explained with a grim look on his face. “It seems that we cannot take it away from him.”

“So there was a fragment there, too,” Duril said.

“What do you mean?” Varg asked.

“There was one inside the printer at Misar Sogou’s house. And now it’s in Toru’s shoulder, with the others.”

“That means that I should do this,” Toru said and took the young man’s hand, opening it gently. He put his hand over the boy’s, but nothing happened.

Duril took in the scene in front of his eyes with a new sense of foreboding. “Toru?” he asked tentatively. “Can you feel the shard? Is it the same thing?”

Toru frowned, his lips pinched in frustration. “Why doesn’t it come out? Doesn’t it want to be with its brothers? Come out already!”

The tigershifter began to scratch at the inside of the unmoving palm, but that appeared to make it worse. The shard began embedding itself in the boy’s skin.

“Toru, stop!” Duril cried out. “I’m afraid that--”

“What a horrible thing,” Varg murmured. “I should never have allowed Mako to come with us.”

“Duril,” Toru said, “can’t you heal him? He’s sick, just like any other person you’ve ever healed.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” Duril said and quickly added, “but it doesn’t mean that I won’t try. I can’t get near his hand, but I can check him otherwise.”

Mako, as that was the lad’s name, seemed to have fallen into a deep slumber, but his lips sometimes moved, whispering something.

“What is he saying?” Toru asked, as they all leaned over Hekastfet’s latest victim. “I can’t understand any of his words.”

“Could it be that he’s talking in the language his people back home use?” Duril wondered.

“That’s not it,” Claw intervened. “He’s speaking an ancient language. They used to speak it in Scercendusa, when the city was just being built.”

They all turned to look at the bearshifter in disbelief.

“And why is that happening?” Duril asked. “Is the boy from there?”

Claw shook his head. “I’m afraid, as Varg mentioned before, that we are not wholly aware of the nature of the beast.”

***

Feeling helpless was not something Toru was accustomed to. Helplessness could give life to other dark feelings, and he didn’t wish to contemplate such a thing right now. He was at a loss as to why the shard in Mako’s palm hadn’t reacted to being in close proximity with the other fragments. The soul of Hekastfet was as evil and twisted as ever.

Was it trying to claim this innocent’s life? But for what gain? Or was it trying to manifest through the lad’s physical body, grasping at straws in its blind search for power?

Neither of those outcomes was something he was willing to live with. And then, there was Varg’s pain. The wolfshifter appeared to be blaming himself for getting Mako involved, even though none of his friends thought that he was to blame. Soothing words only appeared to anger him, and even Duril had to give up on comforting him presently.

They had such an incredible issue on their hands. Mako appeared to be breathing, and according to Duril and his knowledge of human health, he wasn’t at death’s door, nor was he suffering from any particular affliction. Save for being in that deep slumber and murmuring words in the ancient language of Scercendusa, a language Hekastfet must have known well, he didn’t appear to be suffering.

That didn’t mean that they could forget about helping him. But what were they supposed to do now?

“A city like Coinvale must have its fair share of wise men and women,” Duril began. Their current plan was to take Mako to the inn where they had their room.

“With the ruckus caused by the falling of the symbol,” Claw pointed out, “I tend to believe that everyone in this city will be on high alert. Can we truly just march in to meet one of these wise people and ask for help?”

“That is true,” Duril said, “and we cannot avoid addressing the fact that we’re strangers to this place. Even people as welcoming as the denizens of Coinvale might feel suspicious over one of their precious fragments of the Heart of Tradeweaving suddenly burying itself in the palm of a visitor like Mako. We can’t know how they’ll react. But that doesn’t mean that we won’t try.”

“I have another idea,” Claw said. “We’re close to the way we came, since the inn is right at the outskirts of the city.”

Toru followed his friends’ exchange with avid eyes. He was so lucky to have them as his companions! Without them, his strength was useless. In times like these, the wisdom of his lovers came to the rescue. He didn’t even have Demophios hanging on the lapel of his coat anymore. The strange old snake would have known a thing or two about what Hekastfet or that fragment of his dark soul was up to now. He might not have explained it clearly enough for everyone to understand, but he would have known.

“What are you thinking, Claw?” Varg demanded to know.

“I’m thinking of the boat guides,” Claw said calmly. “They are not a direct part of the city. And they stem from a place of magic, if our encounter with the guardians of the Sungate is any indication. Look around and tell me if this place, although amazing in its own right is not a far cry from that.”

Claw’s wise words could suffer no argument.

“Will a boat guide know what to do about this?” Toru asked.

“It doesn’t hurt to try,” Claw said with a small nod. “I will speak in the name of our group. And if this fails, we will search for someone in the city that could help us.”

“But no word of us causing the Heart of Tradeweaving to fall down from the sky,” Toru said.

Varg growled, low in his chest. “That’s not on you, Toru.”

“No, it’s on all of us,” Toru said as he stared directly at his friend.

TBC

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