The st thing you remember is falling asleep, so this must be a dream. You find yourself flying over an ancient and timeless forest whose trees tower like skyscrapers. Above two moons drift across a star filled sky, one rger than normal that is a silvery blue, a smaller one that is white as snow. The air is slightly crisp as if autumn approaches and you smell the scent of rain approaching.
Though you scan the ground you are only able to make out a few details through the canopy of the trees. Small clearings where strange lights in many colors dance. A wide river like a dark ribbon snaking through the trees. Shadows that release bell like ughter as they flit between the trees, like children at py.
The next thing that catches your eye is a single tree of titanic proportions, countless times the size of the rgest trees in the waking world. Dots of warm light shimmer from its trunk like randomly pced windows. You can’t find any door as you pass through the ancient bark like a ghost.
What awaits you on the other side is a library. It appears the entire tree lives yet is hallow. Stairs, balconies, and various floors fill your sight as you slowly drift down. While the pcement appears chaotic it still carries a warm and lived in feeling and nothing feels alien to the tree. All of it shaped from the living wood of the tree. What fills most of the space, however, are shelves and those shelves are filled with books. Books of all sizes, shapes, and colors. Like a dazzling and endless tide of colors. Hundreds of floors like this and no gaps can be found on the shelves, for what pces weren’t taken up by books held scrolls, strange interments of unknown origins.
When you finally reach the ground floor you notice it seems to be a living space. A rge firepce made from dark wood dominates the one wall, gentle fire flickers within, crackling softly. An iron hook holds a pot close to the left side. A bear hide of substantial size warms the floor as a rug, its color a golden brown flicked with silver. The walls are hung with various tapestries depicting many things, from battles, to tragedies, to simple farming scenes and more.
“I’m gd you find my home enjoyable.” The voice is that of an old man, warm and almost grandfatherly, tinged with amusement at your clear surprise. When you turn back toward the firepce you find an old man in a beautifully made rocking chair.
The cherry-like wood of the rocking chair seeming to glow in the firelight. The old man himself looks like a wizard from the stories, A full, long white beard, that nearly brushed the floor as he rocked slowly back and forth. He was dressed in a simple brown robe with a leather belt. His bare feet show intricate tattoos like the roots of a tree. His hands are unmarked, his nails showing clear care, his fingers long and thin. His face shows a kind smile under his mustache as your eyes finally reach it. His eyebrows are feathery and long almost reaching his elbows while he sits in his chair. His hair, just as long as his beard and matching it in color, emerges from the back of the chair. His skin while showing faint wrinkles from age, holds faint tan and still contains a youthful vigor. When you finally meet his eyes, they are mismatched, one a crystal blue, the other a deep forest green, they seem to glow with age, wisdom and maybe something else.
“It is considered rude to stare.” The old man says, chuckling softly. “Though it is also rude to go without introduction. My name is Mystagan Wanderer. I am the Keeper of Tales.” When you try to speak, to question or introduce yourself, you find you can’t speak. “Ah. You are a new Wanderer. You ck the strength to speak in this world for now. Fear not it will pass in time. You will grow stronger with each visit, should you choose to visit again.” Mystagan closes his eyes for a second. “It seems you are bound by time and can only return at dawn in your world. Since you are not yet strong enough to roam freely, I think it is best you remain here for now. How about a tale to pass the time?”
Mystagan waves his hand and the air shimmers for a moment before your favorite type of chair appears across from him. Between the chair and him appears a table dened with your preferred snacks and drinks. The old man ughs openly at your expression.
“This is simple magic Wanderer but going by the look on your face I guess you’ve never seen such things outside your stories.” Mystagan says. “I like to make my guests comfortable though I will admit your food and drink are strange to me.” You take your seat simply because there’s nothing else to do and the idea of angering this wizard isn’t appealing in the slightest. “Good, now the tale I’d pnned to read tonight is a real page turner. It contains love, devotion, betrayal, heartbreak, and redemption.”
Mystagan waves his hand again, causing a thick book with a misty grey cover to drift down from a shelf on the other side of the room. Once it reaches his hands, he turns the cover to show you. It depicts the image of a bck hound like a shadow, head thrown back in a howl, the moon behind it giving it shape. A few sparce trees without leaves add a spooky touch to the image. At the top the title is written in a tight, sharp script as red as blood. Shieker, The Betrayed.
As you study the book Mystagan waves his hand again. This time a beautiful stein like gss appears. The surface depicted many strange and wonderful beasts. Another wave causes the teapot hanging over the fire to levitate above the cup before tilting to fill it. A dark amber liquid with traces of red poured forth, steaming gently. The aroma of this liquid, sweet, and slightly spicey. Seeing your look Mystagan speaks.
“Spiced tea from the Kingdom of Alcart. My preferred drink of such a chilly evening.” A final wave of his hand bringing forth small pies that would fit into the palm of one hand. They steam only slightly but smell strongly of various fruits, their golden crusts almost shimmering in the firelight. “My own snacks. You’re more than welcome to both should the mood take you. Now let us begin.” Mystagan opens the book and begins to read.
In the vilge of Mar the weather was often dreary and wet. Famers spent most days tending crops in the rain and digging channels to funnel excess water from away from the fields. Meals were often soups or simple broths. The homes are made of wood built with moss and other things to plug the gaps.
In one such house an elderly woman sat before a small fire watching her two grandchildren work. Brian, brown haired, tall and gangly with brown eyes sat not far away chopping wood into small kindling so he can make the fire st. He was twelve almost thirteen, on the verge of becoming a man. His expression was far more serious than any child should have at such an age. Next to the fire Anna, age nine, stirred their dinner slowly. She had light green eyes and long blond hair, her figure thin from not eating well. Both had been caring for their grandmother since they were small.
“Children, come and sit.” Their grandmother spoke in a thin, weak voice. She was sick but knew the disease wouldn’t take her. Something else, far older, far crueler would. As the children obeyed, she sighed. “My time is nearing.” She raised a hand to still the protests she knew were coming. “I won’t die from this sickness. The Shrieker will take me, he takes all those of our blood for a wrong our ancestor committed against him.” She saw Brian’s anger, Anna’s fear. “Do not hate him. The wrong against him was grave and it is natural he bears a grudge.”
Brian couldn’t hold back anymore. “The Shrieker, if he is real kills people who have done no wrong! It’s not our fault we are of the same blood as the person who hurt him! Why should we pay for that man’s sins?!” Anna nodded mutely, tears rolling down her pale cheeks.
The old woman sighed. “Let me tell you the story so you know the truth.” Both children settled down though Brian still showed signs of anger. Stories were rare tely as their grandmother lost strength so no matter how upset they were they would sit to listen. “Many generations ago, our ancestor, Rorry Sheen, lived alone in the woods not far from this very vilge. He was a cruel man, loved by none and hated by nearly all. He was known to be thin of frame, sallow of face, and seemed to fear both soap and water, leaving him unclean with stringy bck hair and a greasy beard. However, for all his fws, Rorry had one creature that loved him beyond any limit a human could endure. A great hound, the size of a bear, whose short fur was a swirled pattern of browns. Strong in both body and spirit the hound followed Rorry for years, helping him hunt and survive. Rorry wasn’t kind but the hound had never known any other life, so it loved the man all the same.”
Brian cut in unable to hold back. “I know you said the dog knew no other life but surely it realized that bastard didn’t even love it enough to give it a name!?” Anna nodded again and the older woman saw that the little girl felt sadness for the hound.
“Sometimes Brian, when one lives a certain way, it takes a long time to realize that way isn’t love.” His grandmother expined gently. “And the way this poor hound found out is truly sad so wait and listen.” Brian nodded but was clearly not happy.
“Now Rorry’s time came as it does for all living things but being a coward the fool ran, and his faithful hound ran with him. Death would not be shaken though, sending out white hounds, like wolves made of solid mist, to hunt the coward until he could run no more. The hounds of Death gathered to cim Rorry’s soul, but the faithful hound charged them fearlessly, fought them with everything he had. For ten days and ten nights the great hound fought against a hundred of Deaths hunting dogs. Death, a hooded, bck robed figure atop a white horse watched as this hound fought for the life of his master driven by love and devotion. To Deaths surprise its hounds lost soundly. Rorry’s hound stood, bleeding, bruised but triumphant. Death could see the relief on Rorry’s face and felt disgust.”
“So human, my hounds have been bested.” Death spoke calmly, its voice carrying a chill. “However, your time has still come, and you must die.” Death paused. “Unless you can offer me something worthy of sparing your soul.”
Without any hesitation Rorry pointed to the hound that had earned him this chance. “Please great Death, take this worthless dog! It is the only thing I have of value and even then, it is not much!”
Death looked down at the faithful hound. It could see the dog’s world shatter at the betrayal. Feeling pity for its Death reached down with a pale hand, taking the hound by the scruff of the neck. Lifting it up to eye level, Death looked into its dark brown eyes. There it saw no more will to fight, no more desire to live.
Death spoke softly. “I’m sorry for your pain, that your loyalty and love was so betrayed but mourn not. I shall grant you, my blessing. With that you shall hunt those who betray, those who wrong, those who hurt others for their own pleasure.” Death breathed over the nameless hound coating in a pitch-bck mist. The hound doubled in size, his coat becoming bck as the mist that shaped him. The hounds once broken brown eyes become a hallow white now with color matching the color of Deaths own hand. Death released the hound allowing it to fall to the snowy ground. The beast rose to his feet, his form moving like a combination of shadow and water. The empty white eyes fixed on Rorry Sheen who now shook in fear.
“I name you Shrieker!” Death intoned in a powerful voice. “Now go! Hunt for me!” The Shrieker gred at his former master one st time before leaving. Just as Death had promised Rorry’s betrayal had spared his life for now.”
The old woman ended her story saying. “We carry the blood of that traitor and the Shrieker hunts us for it but do not bme him. Such a betrayal leaves a deep wound even time may not mend.”
“Still no excuse to treat us like that.” Brian muttered angrily. Anna cried openly, her soft heart aching for the innocent hound who was hurt so deeply.
“It’s not meant to be an excuse but to tell you the reason.” Their grandmother said, in a gentle and loving tone. “And to warn you that hating him won’t do anything but harm you.” Her tone became sterner. “Tomorrow you will both go to buy supplies.”
Brian and Anna nodded before the family ate their evening meal. It wasn’t much but it was all they had. Morning came quickly as it often did, and the children left as instructed. The old woman took her time arranging thing in the house for them. She then moved slowly to a stump in the yard. She knew today was the day. The day her life would end but she wasn’t afraid. Even when the Shriker emerged from the shadows of the nearby houses.
“I knew you’d come.” Her tone gentle, kind. “All I ask is that you make it quick.” The dark hound approached without giving any sign it had heard her request. The old woman just closed her eyes and welcomed the end.
When the children returned, what they saw shattered their world completely. Their grandmother y near the stump in front of their house, her neck clearly broken, a trail of massive doglike tracks leading to and away from her body. Anna cried, Brian contained his anger and tended to the body gently. Once that was done, he went to the coffin their grandmother had commissioned for this day to pce her body inside. Other men from the vilge helped him bury her under the shade of the rge tree next to the house.
Later that evening Brian and Anna were alone in their grandmother’s home. While the vilgers had offered them some food, no one wanted to take them in for fear of drawing the Shriekers attention to their family. The two weren’t surprised by this. The beast had always hung over their family’s head like a dark cloud. Brian cleaned the house as Anna cooked. His thoughts were darker than normal. He wanted revenge on the Shrieker. He was tired of the monster terrorizing the lives of his family and with only two left the odds were good it would go for Anna next. He couldn’t allow that.
“You shouldn’t.” Anna’s quiet but clear voice cut through his darkening thoughts. She had a way of doing that. “Revenge won’t hurt anyone but you. We should try something else.”
“What else is there?!” Brian snapped, his anger momentarily overriding any other emotion. “It won’t stop! It has no other emotion but hate!”
“You have no proof of that. He could have done much worse to Grandma. You remember what he did to father when Grandma found out he’d been with other women besides Mom.” Anna’s response was calm. She knew her brother well, knew his anger over the countless deaths of their family. “Not even the women were spared because they knew he was with Mom.”
Brian shuddered at the memory of finding his father in pieces, little more than mangled meat and shattered bone. The beast had clearly taken pleasure in what it had done. The expression on what remained of the man’s face had made that very clear. The partners in his betrayal had fared no better.
“That only proves my point.” Brian spoke more calmly now. His sisters’ words and reasoning had calmed him slightly. “It needs to be stopped.”
Anna sighed. “There are other ways besides violence brother.” She filled their bowls and served her brother before sitting at the table herself.
Brian nodded, eating quietly, he already had a pn in mind. It required him to break some rules but if it protected Anna he would do it. The priest in the vilge always said dark creature could be weakened in the presence of a holy item. There was a small one in the church. Brian knew of a cave in the woods, he would lure the monster there, using the relic to form a trap. He just needed something to seal the cave.
Several days passed before Brian found his answer. Old Tom, a retired alchemist that had moved to the vilge two decades ago, often tinkered with things. Brian found the old man had something called bsting gel. It was thick silver, grey material. A thin trail would only burn but put any amount of it in one pce and it would explode with terrifying force. Old Tom kept several jars of the stuff in his basement. Thankfully the old alchemist was struggling with his memory, so Brian was able to take a few.
Next, the minor holy relic from the church. It was some broken piece of wood from a holy weapon if the story was to be believed. Brian wasn’t even sure if it would be strong enough to disable the Shrieker but it was the best he could get. He was shocked at how easily he acquired that. The priest, Father Bentler, was young and full of fervor but clearly showed disdain for the small vilge and hadn’t even taken inventory of what y within the church. Brian just waited for him to leave for his daily preaching to the farmers in the fields before slipping into the church. He located his prize in the church’s basement. Now all that was left was set up the trap.
While Anna didn’t know exactly what he was pnning she talked to Brian constantly encouraging him not to let anger dictate his actions. She also persisted in her belief that the Shrieker wasn’t all bad. Brian assured her he just wanted to trap the dark hound not kill it. That didn’t soothe her much.
It took nearly a week for Brian to finish his set up in the forest cave. He had to be careful as to not alert the Shrieker to his actions. Once all was ready, he decided the best way to lure the monster was to piss it off and he knew just how to do that. He waited until it was dark out, standing near the cave entrance. Stories said the Shrieker could hear through the darkness.
“Hey monster! I know you can hear me! Rorry Sheen was right to get rid of you! Look what you turned into! Maybe he always knew you were like this inside and Death just made you look like it!” Brian had barely finished when the bnk white eyes appeared in the darkness radiating a blind fury. Even though he was afraid Brian continued his pn. “Yeah, you heard me! What are you going to do about it!?” That did it. The Shrieker changed and Brian bolted into the cave holding a torch high. Just as he’d hoped the beast was too angry to notice the trap. Once led to the back of the cave where the relic waited Brian goaded it to pounce.
Shrieker lunged for the foolish brat that had infuriated him, aiming to kill in a single bite but somehow the child dodged sliding under him and running toward the exit of the cave. Shrieker hit the wall and while unhurt he was stunned for a few seconds. It was then he noticed the piece of wood like weapons shaft and felt the holy aura. That’s it. The relic was slowing him down. Still, it wouldn’t be enough. Shrieker quickly rose and chased after the boy only for his prey to throw the torch toward the wall. That didn’t make any sense until the great dog smelled something burning. By the time he fully understood what was happening it was too te. There was a mighty boom that shook the cave and stones began to fall.
Brian barely made it out of the cave as the ceiling colpsed. He’d been hit a few times which would leave some nasty bruises, but he was fine with that. Once everything settled, he headed back into the cave to check if his pn had worked. Given he wasn’t dead he had high hopes it had. What Brian saw surprised him. The Shrieker had managed to move forward enough so that its head and shoulders were free of the colpse but aside from that it was completely trapped. He ughed and rushed home eager to tell Anna of his success, but he wasn’t expecting her to be mad at him and boy was she.
“You think this is good?” Anna yelled, so angry she started to cry. “All you did was make things worse! That won’t hold him forever and he’s going to be really angry when he gets out!”
“He can’t hurt us now.” Brian said, trying to stay calm and reassure her. It didn’t work.
“Not us no but what about those that come after?! Do you think he’ll show mercy to them after what you did!?” Anna smmed her small fist on the table to convey just how upset she was.
“What do you want to do then?” Brian sighed in frustration. He’d done a good thing or so he thought. Anna smiled and told him her pn.
The Shrieker grumbled unhappily. That boy had dropped the cave roof on him while that relic stolen from the church had been close enough to prevent him from using his ability to merge into the shadows. Now he couldn’t escape and was now pinned under the rock fall. Only his head and shoulders were free. He’d been trapped like this for three days now.
Every day the boy came with food and water, both of which the Shrieker refused, he wouldn’t take either from his enemy. The girl appeared rather dim witted. She would sit a little away from him and chatter endlessly about stupid things. This irritated him even more because she showed no fear of him. Shrieker had barked, snarled, growled and howled getting nothing but a smile and a polite request to stop. It was going to drive him mad! Even now she sat there chattering away! He wanted to bang his head on the floor of the cave, but he couldn’t reach it!
“You know Grandma talked about what you looked like before you got all bck and smokey.” Anna said happily. “She said your coat was a pretty, swirly pattern with lots of brown shades in it. It reminds me of a big ball of wood my brother found under the roots of a dead tree. What did he call it? A barble, a bable? No that’s not it!” Anna paused to think. “That’s it! He called it a bural so that’s what I’ll call you! From now on your Bural!” Her tone was excited and joyful. Shieker just snorted and looked away. He didn’t need any other name, least of all from his prey.
Days passed like this until the boy appeared well after dark holding a big stick. Shrieker snorted thinking the boy had come to hit him with the stick. It wouldn’t do anything, but it’d be fun to watch the kid struggle.
Brian looked into the bnk white eyes of the monster that had killed his grandma but after a few minutes he spoke. “You’re not dumb so listen up monster. I want to make a deal with you.” Shrieker cocked his head, amused and curious, he was sure the boy would bargain for his own life but when the brat spoke again it stunned the beast.
“I let you out, you leave Anna and her future family alone unless they actually do something for you to come after them. No hunting them just because of that bastard.” Brian paused seeing the monster’s obviously confused look. “Thought I’d bargain for myself, did you? Sorry to disappoint but my own life means far less to me than keeping her safe. I’ve already decided not to have a family. I won’t doom kids to you simply to make myself feel good becoming a dad.” Brian sighed running a hand over his face. “Honestly? I want to hate you; you’ve killed so many of my family.” Brian suddenly sat down as if he was tired. “But Grandma and Anna think that deep down under all the hurt and anger you’re still the same good dog you were before. You just haven’t found anything worth protecting, no one worth trusting. I’m not sure myself but I do know Anna would hate me if I did what I wanted and buried you here.”
Shrieker, so used to lies from his prey, couldn’t comprehend how none of this was a lie. The boy meant what he said. If he agreed to leave the girl and her future family alone the boy would free him and die without a fight. After several minutes Shrieker nodded slowly, and Brian stood.
“I’ll take that as a yes and trust you to keep your word.” With that the boy started using the big stick to move the rubble from around the deathly hound. Once Shrieker was free Brian stepped back. “Alright, get it over with.” Casting aside his stick. To his surprise though the Shrieker ignored him and left the cave. “Guess that’s your way of saying you decide when I die.” Shrugging Brian returned home.
Months passed. The two children now lived alone in their grandmother’s house. Anna insisted they make enough food for Shrieker as well, even though they didn’t have much themselves. Brian didn’t argue. There was no point once Anna made up her mind. At first, the creature didn’t eat anything they left but over time that changed. Brian still waited for it to take his life but that didn’t happen either. It wasn’t employing its usual tactics of causing fear before the kill, so he just let it go. Not like he could stop it anymore.
Instead, things were improving for them. Old Tom had been angry over the theft of the bsting gel. However, the old man had insisted Brian work for him to pay off the debt and started teaching the boy alchemy. Anna was getting cooking lessons from some other vilge women. Her health was improving too, which made both of them happy. Unfortunately, not everything was good news. A newly promoted archbishop had come to the vilge wanting to make a name for himself by sying a powerful dark beast and Shrieker fit what he wanted.
The man was revolting in every way humanly possible. The vilgers hadn’t hesitated to reveal the children’s ties to the beast and now he was after them every moment he could locate them. He badgered them to summon Shrieker so he could sy it.
Brian tried to expin they couldn’t just summon the death hound, but the fat man hadn’t believed him. One evening he even barged into their home to demand once again.
“All you must do is summon the beast! You needn’t fear it retaliation!” Archbishop Michael Varium shook with rage. He’d been trying to persuade these brats for months, but they refused every time.
“As I’ve said,” Brian nearly snarled, his anger boiling over. “, we can’t just summon him! He’s like a curse on our family! He shows up to kill us when he damn well pleases!”
The archbishop suddenly seemed to calm, giving off a slow sinister smile. “So, the monster considers you prey?” He waves a stubby hand, two holy knights under his command blocked the door. “I wonder how it will feel when someone else aim for his prey?”
Shrieker paced his ir, agitated, confused and angry. He’d tried so many times in the months since he’d been freed to kill the brats, but something always stopped him. He couldn’t figure it out and it angered him to no end.
The beast looked over to a corner of his ir and only became more frustrated. A massive bone y next to an equally massive basket and cushion. The bone was made by the boy, who was learning alchemy. He had used a brew meant for mending broken bones to fuse all the bones of a massive Gate Boar together. Gate Boars were minor magical beasts known for their ability to destroy barriers. Shrieker had hesitated to take it but felt nothing negative about it. Only a tentative hope and a trace of weariness. There was no hate. The bone was incredibly tasty and Sheirker often found himself chewing it on lonely nights. There were a lot of those.
His gaze moved to the basket. The basket itself was made from long strips of soft wood woven together tightly. The cushion was made from many soft rabbit furs and stuffed with sweet grasses. Shrieker found himself sleeping there every night, it was strangely warm and comfortable. It had been a gift from the girl taking her nearly two months to make but she had never stopped. Every step had been taken with such care. At first Shrieker had thought of destroying it in front of her as a sign of disdain but when he’d shown up to do so, the hopeful look in her eyes had made it impossible. It was the same thing that stopped him from killing them.
Suddenly, Shrieker stilled in his pacing. Something was wrong. He could always sense those that carried the blood of the traitor and the brats’ lives were fading. No! They were his prey! Merging with the shadows of the night he moved with speed no mortal could match. In an instant he was outside the house and smelled blood. Too much blood for ones so small.
The monster rushed into the house and froze. Anna y against the wall. Her small body was covered in countless cuts, burns and bruises. Her limbs were broken and twisted. It was as if there was no torture that wasn’t applied to her. The anger came from nowhere, turning Shriekers vision red. He turned his gaze to Brian. His torture was less evident, but scent told the beast the damage simply wasn’t as obvious.
“They fought hard you know.” A nasally, greasy voice reached Shriekers ears as holy aura wrapped around the house rapidly draining his strength. Unable to stand the hound fell onto his side looking at the source of the voice. This revealed a short fat man dressed in golden robes and far too much jewelry. A thin string-like mustache drooped from under his short round nose. The folds of fat and his bald head made him look like an oversized baby. The gaudy man baby put a short-fingered hand with painted nails in front of his mouth and ughed too loudly. “They didn’t break even when I did my worst. All they had to do was summon you. They refused.”
Shrieker gred at the man baby with pure hate in his eyes.
“Oh, so scary!” The man baby mocked in a shrill voice. “You can’t even get up. What do you pn to do against the great archbishop Michael Varium!” The priest circled the downed monster becoming bold enough to even kick the beast several times. Not that the blows did any real damage. It just made Shrieker more enraged. The priest eventually gave up the game after he broke a toe against the muscles of the beasts back. Like kicking steel.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. They’ve served their purpose.” Michael moved over and grabbed Anna by the hair. He pulled a small knife from his belt and pressed the bde to Anna’s thin neck. “Say bye bye monster. Not that you care, right? You hate them, don’t you?” The priests’ tone mocking.
Something inside Shrieker broke then. His mind flooded with a rage he’d never known, even when he protected the traitor. This thing would not take his little ones! Never! That thought became the only one in his mind a dark mist rolled off his body. Slowly he stood, the holy aura faltering under his rage. He would rip this animal apart! Drag his corpse to hell and devour his soul!
The archbishop recoiled in horror as darkness filled the house. The only thing visible were the monsters’ empty white eyes promising a slow, painful death that would make hell seem like a paradise.
“Stay back!” The priest screamed. He tried to pull Anna in front of him, but the girl was gone. He tried casting a holy spell, but the light flickered and faded in devouring darkness. The beasts’ eyes came closer, slowly, methodically. Before the man baby could cast another spell Shrieker lunged, his powerful jaws snapping closed on the man’s throat like an iron trap. Using his great strength the dark hound shook his head savagely to end the man baby’s life.
Dropping the body Shrieker moved outside where he’d pced the little ones using his link with the shadows. He approached Brian first and checked the boy. There were deep dark bruises on the boys’ skin covering the majority of his body. Shrieker wasn’t sure if he would live. After a complete check of Brian the hound headed toward Anna.
Shrieker moved closer to the body of Anna. He didn’t understand why he cared. She was just like his former master yet seeing her like this he felt his heart breaking. Lowering his head the great hound nosed her hand. Even though he knew he didn’t want to accept it. He wouldn’t! He felt Death’s hounds gathering to take her soul and for the first time in centuries Shrieker whirled to face them, his posture aggressive, teeth bared. They wouldn’t take her! He refused to allow it! When the packs alpha approached Shieker howled his defiance causing the smaller dog to freeze. When the great hound lowered his head again Death was among the pack seated atop its white horse.
“So, you would fight my hounds again?” Death’s tone carried no emotion. Shriekers answering snarl made the rider sigh. “Very well but you may not keep my blessing in that case. You will fight as you once did. If you win, I will spare the girl.” Receiving Shieker’s nod of acceptance Death raised a hand reciming the bck mist that granted the Shiekers form and might, leaving him once again a nameless mortal dog.
As the hound prepared to charge into the pack the sound of something dragging caught his attention. He felt Brian walk up to stand next to him and couldn’t understand. The boy was barely alive, armed with a simple branch.
“Wrong you wizard wannabe.” Brian spoke; his voice was weak but clear. “Things are different from st time. He’s not alone and he has a name!” Brian turned his gaze to the hound. “Did you forget? Anna would be sad if you forgot the name she gave you. She put her heart into it.”
The hound blinked as the memory came back to him. He’d ignored it at the time. She meant what she said even then? He was so confused. He felt Brian rest a hand on his back. A gesture of support and comfort.
“Of course she meant it big guy. You’re Bural, a member of our family and family fights alongside each other. Now let’s kick these mangy mutts’ asses and get Anna back!” With that boy and dog charged into the pack driven to make their family whole again.
Death watched the battle unmoving; it’s face hidden completely by its hood as always. Ture to the boy’s word things were different now. It could see that. The hound, no Bural, seemed even stronger than he had so long ago, his deep brown eyes burning with an intensity they’d cked. As the sun sank Death raised its hand recalling the hounds. The battle had sted a full day but both boy and dog showed no signs of slowing down.
“I can see the outcome will be the same as it was so long ago.” Death pointed to Anna and the little girl drew a shuttering breath. “True to the bargain she is spared but I have a final test for you Bural.” The big dog grunted slowly backing toward Anna with Brian by his side. “If you pass this test, you will be free and I will no longer bother you, should you fail however you will become the Shrieker again and remain so forever more.”
Brian got between Bural and the rider. “No. You don’t get to test him! He’s fought hard enough!”
Death’s answering chuckle was like the dry rattle of bones against each other. “This will not be combat child. I merely wish to see if Bural has truly overcome the hate that darkened his heart. If not, then he may stray from this new path he wishes to walk.”
Brian looked at Bural. “It’s up to you buddy. If you decide to take this stupid test, I’m with you. If not, we can tell tall, dark and creepy to shove his test.” Bural was silent for a moment then stepped forward, showing he would take Death’s final test.
Death nodded in acknowledgement and raised its hand. The mist around it gathered forming a simple white door but what emerged both shocked and enraged Bural. It was none other than the soul of his former master, the betrayer, Rorry Sheen! For Rorry’s part he screamed in terror seeing Bural again, a high-pitched keening scream, like a bde scraping stone.
Bural couldn’t think of anything but vengeance! The one he hated with all his blood and soul stood before him again after so long. The great hound charged snarling, fully intent on tearing his former master apart in the most brutal manner he could image. Just as Bural was about to leap upon the spirit of the betrayer, a soft sound sliced through his rage like a hot knife, making him freeze. Had he misheard? But no, there it was again, so faint Bural could barely hear it but hear it he did.
“Bural.” Anna spoke, so quietly, so weakly, her words were little more than shallow breaths. “Don’t go.”
Bural jolted as if struck. That’s right. He had a name; he had a family. He’d fought to make his family whole again, he’d won! Looking at Rorry Sheen again, a realization hit Bural. His former master was dead already. Hating him was about to coast Bural everything he’d ever wanted! Hearing Anna call his name again, Bural decisively turned around and went back to her. His new family needed him. The past could stay the past. Reaching Anna Bural y down beside her so Brian could put her on his broad back, then all three went home.
Death watched as it would watch the years that came after. It would watch as the children grew, had children of their own. As Bural aged, he was both overjoyed and exhausted by his own growing family. When the time came for Death to meet the hound again it approached him gently.
“I think you’ve had a much better life then you ever would have as my hunter.” Death spoke gently to Bural as it reached down and gently lifted his soul from his body. “Come, it’s time to rest. Brian, Anna and everyone are waiting for you.” Saying this, Death mounted its white horse cradling Burals soul to its chest and rode away into the dark night.
Mystagan closed the book in a gentle rustle of pages. Sending the book back to its pce he took a drink of his tea and sighed happily.
“A good tale if I do say so myself.” He smiles at you. “Sadly though, our time is up. It is nearly dawn in your world and you must return Wanderer. I hope to see you again, though if I don’t I look forward to reading your tale in the future. Perhaps you’ll be strong enough to speak when we see one another again.”
A force draws you up and through the wall of the great tree and back across the forest until you awaken in your bed. The memory of Mystagan and the forest seems hazy, like a dream but maybe you’ll see both again, just maybe.
