Healing Wounds in Arabarb
By Charles Matthias
The armory was guarded by a quartet of Lutins from the Blood Harrow
tribe and two of Calephas's human soldiers. As soon as Khilaj
approached with the six Lutins that had once stood guard at the
eastern gate, he nodded his head and grinned sadistically. As the two
humans pondered this, their Lutin companions drove spears through the
back of their chests and grabbed their mouths so they couldn't scream
their final breath.
The Resistance followed close behind, and after Brigsne and Khilaj
opened the heavy doors banded with iron, they streamed into the
armory. Within were racks of weapons, swords, spears, axes, with
blades of steel and wriought iron kept polished and sharp. Suits of
armor and shields lined one wall, while strong bows and hundreds of
arrows were stored along the middle racks. The men of Arabarb stared
at the treasure trove and their eyes glittered with fire.
"Take what you need," Brigsne said as the eight men and nine Lutins
fanned through the armory. It was sectioned into three aisles with a
break in the middle featuring more ornate suits of armor that must
have come from the Midlands; no man of Arabarb would ever be wearing
full plate. Brigsne shoved a hand-ax through his belt and then hefted
a sword to test its weight and balance before adding, "Don't take too much."
"Don't take anything at all," a refined yet guttural voice echoed
from the doorway. All eyes turned in horror to see one of the pups
standing there with arms outstretched, clawed hands curling through
the air as if he were stroking lace, bright blue eyes capturing them
all in a single glance, while a furless tail wagged through coats of
once fine fur. "We have traitors in our midst."
"Kill him!" Brigsne shouted, throwing the hand-ax before ducking into
the nearest aisle. The pup grinned as a snout swelled out of his face
to reveal long fangs and a bright red tongue. He dodged the hand-ax
and curled his fingers in the air, drawing out strange blue light.
Luvig threw two of the little jars at the ground near the pup's paws,
but the curls of light exploded in a shower of scintillating sparks
that transformed into a gust of wind, propelling the yellow and
shining powder backward into the faces of the men and Lutins. One of
the Lutins screamed and clawed at his face as the powder fled into his eyes.
The pup spread his arms wide as he stood in the doorway, the wind
he'd created pressing them back. The weapons tilted in their stands,
arrow head snapped off as they bent like reeds beneath the gale.
Luvig lost his footing and crashed into the ground, shattering
several more jars, whose contents streamed out of his pack like sand
in an hourglass.
The pup's savage grin widened as fur spread across his bare chest,
arms and legs.
----------
Gmork's youngest had never been to the laboratory, but it was not
difficult to find. Calephas had walked there almost every day for so
long now that the path through the corridors was festooned brightly
with the baron's musky and salty fragrance. He loped down each
passage, pausing only at the few intersections to make sure he took
the proper fork. His path led him down almost as far as the dungeons,
though now on the northernmost portion of the southern wing.From
there he followed the scent into a narrow hall with a single iron
door on the right. The hall continued to a twisting staircase but
there was nothing else visible.
There were several scents mingled with the baron's rank aroma. He
could smell his father's musk, as well as that of his other two
brothers. There were a few Lutins as well, and more recently, a pair
of humans that he recognized. And as he recognized them, he saw them.
From out of the wall to his left which looked perfectly solid to his
eyes, stepped the two apprentices, their eyes wild and anxious. He
marveled briefly at the illusion concealing their hiding spots, but
then listened as they both tried to tell him as quickly as possible
of Calephas.
He stopped a dozen paces from the iron door and held up his paws.
"One at a time. What is it?"
He pointed to the black haired apprentice and the man who had once
been so contemptuous now prostrated himself at the youngest's legs,
tears streaming down his cheeks. "Oh! The Baron and the tiger fled
down the corridor! We wanted to stop him, but our Master told us not
to leave. Please forgive us for moving. We had to warn you. We had to!"
He took the man under the shoulder and hoisted him back to his feet
before gently licking his face of tears. "You have done well. My
father will be proud of you. Now go to the armory and help my brother
fight the Resistance. Go!"
Both of them nodded eagerly and dashed back up the hallway and the
stairs, eager to please. They loved his father too. If only the
others in the city could know him and love him as they did.
Gmork's youngest wasted no more time pondering. He dropped back to
all fours and loped down the hallway past the iron door that hid the
laboratory. He could smell the baron and the pungent scent of the
tiger as he almost leaped down the stairs, his claws digging and
catching on the slick stone. At the bottom he saw a long passage at
the end of which was another iron door, this one reinforced and
banded. He panted and checked the latch but the door was barred on
the other side.
He grinned, jowls stretching across his fangs as he felt power course
through his arms and chest. With a lightning thrust, he jabbed his
hand forward, the flat of the palm striking the door in the middle.
The stone gave way an inch even as the middle of the iron door
buckled, the imprint of a beastly hand visible in the flickering
light of the single torch at the bottom of the stairs.
The magical core of energy inside of him swirled tighter and tighter,
feeding into his arms, pressing even more silvery black fur out
across his skin and making his claws thick and strong. He grinned
again and struck the iron door. It creaked and bent further, the
hinges tearing through the stone on either side. Another blow and the
door buckled inward and spinning across the stone steps just beyond.
He blinked for a moment as bright light spread across the wet dock
and yawl only a dozen feet in front of him. The water glittered with
each reflected ray of sunlight and his felt even more sensitive than
he knew they once had.
But Gmork's youngest was not going to allow the elements to balk him.
He leaped over the twisted hunk of metal that had once been the door
and jumped onto the yawl. It was large enough that it did not sway
when his claws gripped the wood of the aft deck. He could smell the
baron and the tiger, but neither of them were here, nor was there any
place for another ship to dock. The river current was too strong even
here to risk swimming, and there was no purchase to climb along the
side of the castle toward the shore.
He thanked his father for providing him a nose far superior to his
eyes as he smelled the blood before he saw it. Nearby a strange pool
of scentless purple fluid that was slowly eating its way through the
wood near the bow were several splatters of fresh blood. And next to
them he saw the chain for the anchor wrapped about the gunwale; the
wood had splintered where the chain had been draped over the top.
He grabbed the chain with his paws and hauled it up one link at a
time. His prodigious strength made it a simple matter, and when he
saw what was in the chain his lupine grin spread to encompass his
face; his tail wagged at the delicious irony. Tangled in the chain
was the already pallid body of Calephas and the tiger. The tiger's
fangs were pressed into the baron's neck, while the baron still
gripped a sword driven through the tiger's gullet.
With one last heave he deposited their bodies on deck and checked
them for any signs of life. But both of them were truly locked
together in death. Even squeezing their flesh provided no more blood
to spill. Gmork's youngest sat down on his haunches, tipped back his
head, and howled in triumph. The disgusting baron was dead at long
last. All of Arabarb could sleep peacefully now.
At least once his father's enemies were defeated.
He tossed both bodies back into the water and they quickly sank out
of sight. There was only one more thing that he needed to do before
he could join his brother. There was the boy that his father wanted
dead, the boy that Calephas had been performing experiments on.
Judging from what little he knew of them, surely death would be a
preferable thing than to anything that the baron had done. Still,
while he didn't like the idea of killing a boy, if his father asked
it of him, it must be necessary.
He shifted back into a mostly human guise as he made his way back
inside the castle, through the long corridor, and then up the stairs.
His sense of urgency was still present, but he didn't need to smell
his way back. His beastly legs carried him up the long flight of
stairs and back to the laboratory doorway.
This iron door however was not locked. Gmork's youngest lifted the
latch and swung the heavy door inward. He could see before him a long
table of beakers and flasks containing unguents of every hue. Beyond
them propped in a corner was a sledgehammer with blood stains along
the metal. And chained to the far wall was a naked boy pale from illness.
He stepped into the room, mostly human face frowning as he looked
down at the helpless child. Gmork's youngest swallowed and pondered
how he could disappoint his father when the boy looked up at him and
with wide-eyed wonder shouted a single word.
His name.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
!DSPAM:4ddbd44288721804284693!
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