The Ostyragor - Chapter 3 - The Beast

Chapter 3 – The Beast

“Who is that?” The young woman, a wealthy merchant's daughter, asked in awe. She watched as a massive man hammered in a fence post with a large mallet. Her mother nodded approvingly.

“Not sure. He's big though. Make a fine husband.” The matron, similarly attired in fine linen and cotton clothing, remarked. She couldn't understand why her lovely daughter was still not bonded to a man of means. She had a good bone structure, good health, obvious feminine charms, and came from a family of wealth. Every suitor who had ever come to call upon her quickly lost their interest.

Her father barked out a laugh, to which her mother narrowed her eyes. This time he didn't back down. His smile was almost malicious.

“That is Ta'rak.” He didn't explain what that meant, and to the daughter, it meant nothing particular.

“Ta'rak...Ta'rak, why does that name sound familiar?” His wife could remember something about that name, and his eyes remained gleeful while she tried to remember. His lovely daughter let her anger show, and her demeanor showed her father why she was still single. She was spoiled rotten.

“What do I care if you know who he is? He's strong, would make a good soldier, and could easily join the Soturi!” Her petulant whine gave way to a groan of exasperation. How could her parents not see that she wanted this man and it was their job to get him for her?

“You should know him, my dear. He was Haltija's first student.” His wife's eyes opened wide with recognition. Her daughter still had a look of boredom.

“Who's Haltija?” She rolled her eyes disrespectfully. Her mother turned her way, anger in her features, the first she's seen in a long time.

“Only the last Kalpa Mestari of Arouna Dell! You had better remember proper respect when saying his name! Do you know the trouble you could cause us should one of the Soturi hear you speak so disrespectfully?” Her daughter looked a bit confused.

“Our Kalpa Mestari? I thought Annikki was his student!” Her father nodded, a vicious smile still on his face.

“She was his last one, but she was never raised. Ta'rak was his first student, and although he could never be raised to Kalpa Mestari of Arouna Dell, he defeated Haltija.” He did not need to say what that resulted in, or the skill needed to pull off such a feat. His daughter's eyes became even more interested in the vision of muscle before her.

“Even more reason to have him as husband.” Her mother rolled her eyes while her father laughed evilly. “Why are you laughing at me?” Her whine was irritating, and most likely another one of the reasons she was not bonded.

“As a Sword Master, Kalpa Mestari, he is no doubt already bonded! Even if he wasn't, you aren't worthy!” Her mother patted her hand. “He is, my dear, above your station.” Her mother took her by the hand and pulled her away from the fence, though she turned back one last time to admire the strength the man obviously possessed.  “But you are right. He would have made a fine husband.” She said it sadly as she walked away.

“You could have been easier on her then that, Rudon.” Nongul appeared at the merchant's side, a slight smile on his lips.

“Nongul, you old goat! Ahh, you're right, but you don't know what I put up with just to please those two! I want to marry her off, but her attitude leaves a sour taste in every suitor's mouth.”

“You spoiled her too much. Told you that years ago.”

“I know, I know. What could I do? I made so much silver trading, and since my family had never seen so much coin, I ended up spoiling both of them. Now, I regret every silver spent making them happy because they never are!” Nongul chuckled. At least when he spoiled his wife, she appreciated it.

“Get the girl bonded to someone of at least average smarts, he might stick around long enough to get her out of your hair! A little reality might straighten her out.”

“Probably right. Real life has a habit of doing that. Is Ta'rak competing this year? Got some coins I wouldn't mind risking on his sword.”

“Not a chance. His wife would make him regret even trying to step into the Ring.” Rudon laughed.

“I feel for him, I really do. Too bad. He's almost a sure thing.” He looked at Ta'rak as he raised the mallet. “I think those posts regret getting in his way.” Nongul chuckled as the mallet landed and drove the post deeper into the hard packed soil.

“I feel bad for the mallet.”

* * * * *

Wild and angry eyes were burned into his mind as Ta'rak swung the mallet again and again. They always burned with passion and desire, but were quick to anger. The heat of the day, the work of setting up the Ring in its new location, and memories of her hands dancing across his chest last night drenched his back with sweat.

Ta'rak sighed and set the mallet down for a moment. He didn't want to leave his wife alone again this year, but the Hunt was a commitment he had to keep.

“Maybe next year, Nongul or A'ton will run it.” He picked up the mallet again, raised it over his shoulder, and hit the top of the post with one last strike.

Akeena was not going to make it easy for him to go this year though. When she said she would torture him, she meant it. There was no sense in fighting her pull either. Akeena curved her lips in a small smile and looked up at him from under her lashes, or swayed her hips while she walked, and he melted like snow in a frying pan over an open camp fire. Her pull was powerful, her will intense, and her desire smoked hotly whenever he was around. If Akeena deliberately set herself to force him to fall in love with her, she was well on her way to doing just that.

He needed to see her smile.

Ta'rak walked over to the table and looked at the plans again in an attempt to clear his mind of the clutter, and his wife's overpowering influence. The Ring had been pushed off the center of the village this year, off the market square, and against the wall. That didn't bother him much. They needed the room for the competitors to spread out and be able to circle each other comfortably.

New seating areas had been planned for the ones who organized the gambling. They grumbled a little, but Ta'rak reminded them that they would get to see the fighters as they entered the Ring and when they left, which gave them excellent views for the purpose of gauging who would win, and who was too injured to continue. They had to pay ten percent of what they made off the bets to Ta'rak, his personal cut, but he did no betting himself. His experience gave him an unfair advantage.

Most of the participants were already signed in, with only a few stragglers not yet present, most of whom were from Arouna Dell. Their travel held them up sometimes, so he granted them leave to show up the day the Ring's first match was scheduled for. He would hold the matches in the second half of the cycle, which allowed the markets to continue to do business with the fighters. That also allowed him to start the Hunt at the beginning of the new dark moon.

“Hitto.” He muttered a couple of times. He put down the plans and rolled the scroll back up. He had seen them dozens of times already, and the setup would not get any better.

It was time to take care of a little personal business that he had been avoiding. He walked towards the center of the square, and approached a stall he knew to be the silversmith.

“Smith, I have something for you.” The man looked up from his display case, several pieces were laid out behind the glass, showing off his skill.

“What can I do for you, this fine day?” Ta'rak placed an old parchment on the stall counter. He recognized the design after taking a quick look. The smith had been asked to create a pin for a man's wife, and paid well for the pattern. Once it had approval, he would make it for a generous fee and ship it.

“I remember this, even though it was years ago. I thought you changed your mind on it.” The silversmith squinted his eyes, and checked for any type of deception. Ta'rak shook his head.

“The Jakt Agor took my wife ten years passed. There is another who it would be perfect for, with a variation. Is the agreed upon fee still good for you?” The fee was more than generous back then, and then some today. Villagers were less likely to spend silver on jewelry, but preferred to spend it on arms for protection, or food and basic survival supplies.

“Of course. Two ounces of silver for the piece, up front,” More then enough silver for the setting and delicate work required, “a stone for the setting, and five for the work. The stone if you still have it, but if you don't, I will have to get another and that would be another five ounces.” Ta'rak nodded, put the seven ounces of silver on the counter of the stall, along with a green stone, the variation being the stone itself. His previous choice was a ruby. The jeweler whistled lightly. It was a little bit larger then he expected, but that should be easy enough to work around.

“I thought you would pay the rest when you picked up the piece, or I shipped it to you?” He wasn't likely to try and sell it on him, but that was still a large amount of trust he was placing in the smith.

“No need. I know enough people in your town that I should be able to get it shipped with little trouble. Some are here today for the competitions.” The smith looked up from the silver, his eyes showing the recognition of who he was speaking to. He nodded. There was no need for this man to fear theft from him. It was the smith who had to make sure this man got what he paid for.

“I'd say it should be ready in about a dark moon's time. That suit you?” Ta'rak nodded, pushed the silver and the stone across the counter and walked off. The smith quickly gathered up his pay and the stone to put it in his locking chest for security. Many people knew he had the chest, but what they didn't know was that he was able to drop the silver and stone into a small secret cubbyhole just beneath the chest. It was just in case the wrong person saw him with the silver. Money was hard to come by, and some people would just as soon take it from him then earn it themselves.

* * * * *

The Soturi shook his head. He was one of the most skilled fighters in his city, a relief guard to King Ky'ran himself, and that was what people tried to do. He looked at his adversary who was laid out unconscious on the ground, then looked at the body of the one who tried to put a knife in his ribs when his back was turned. He lifted his gaze to the Ring's organizer and pulled the big man's ax from the cutthroat's chest. He had heard of the man's prowess with an ax but he thought he might be able to see it in action in the Ring.

The order to strafe right had been barked out at him while he was fighting. His own training compelled him to follow the order and the ax flew past him, through the spot he occupied just a second before.

“That was quite the risk you took, firing that where I was standing. I thought you used the sword.” Ta'rak smiled only slightly. The Soturi knew who trained him. Teuvo was slightly put off by the fact that his life had just been saved and he hadn't known the attacker was there.

“Not really. I knew you were Soturi. You follow orders.” Ta'rak wiped the blood off his ax with a piece of leather before returning it to its sheath. “I tell everyone who climbs into the Ring that if they plan to cheat, plan to die. That one will be hung outside the village, unless you would prefer to do the deed yourself?” The soldier shook his head.

“He didn't show me one bit of respect in the Ring. He would have been executed in the city as well anyway, so what does it matter which method is used?” Ta'rak nodded, grabbed the man by the ankle and dragged him out of the ring. He motioned for the matches to start again, the crowds still betting on the outcomes, and the competitors lining up on each side of the venue. He turned the man over to a guard who had him taken outside the village into the forest. He would be cut down in a few hours and the body thrown deeper back into the forest. Good people were sent to their Final Rest. The rest were to be considered manure on the ground.

Ta'rak saw the soldier wandering around the village later, looking at the various stalls, sometimes stopping to admire one of the pieces, other times just walking passed. He caught sight of Ta'rak and made his way over.

“I see you are still undefeated, Soturi. How does the day find you?” The soldier grunted.

“It was a good day for fighters. Some good ones, some bad ones. The bad ones I taught them a lesson or two, the good ones I told them to make their way down to the city to enlist if they wanted to be paid for their skills.” Ta'rak smiled. The soldier in the man rarely did anything that did not benefit his King, even if it was considered free time.

“Back to the city after the competitions?” The soldier shook his head.

“No, I will be going on the Hunt this year.” The soldier did not relax against the railing, but seemed to be ready to switch into a defensive stance in the blink of an eye.

“I don't remember seeing your name on the list going out with me this year.” Ta'rak leaned against the closest rail, and even though it bent under his weight, it still held.

“I'm going as an aide to a merchant.” If there was a sneer in his tone, there was none upon his face.

“Its always good to have a skilled arm in the group. Some folks down south don't realize just how close we come to the bridge, or how close we hunt to the border.” The soldier grunted. He would keep his peace, his reputation for tight lips in Arouna Dell had been well earned. He was a man of action, not words.

Ta'rak took his leave of the soldier, noted the fact that he did not respond, and walked back to the ring to check the area for any weapons left lying around before going home. He felt jumpy for the last couple of days and couldn't put it down to any one thing, so he was exercising more caution then normal. He didn't like these feelings as it normally meant trouble.

* * * * *

Ta'rak walked around the courtyard, and found his wife just inside the doorway with a perturbed look on her face.

“You're late!” Akeena had been tempted to try and find out where her husband had gone, but she hadn't left the house alone since he took her home the night of Furlon's Final Rest. He encouraged her to go out into the village, or at least out on the steps and get some sunshine. She always just shied away from the door, and only stepped out when he was there.

“Supper is ready!” Her face cleared of her anger. She smiled seductively. “And so am I.” Her hands came out, reached around behind his neck, and pulled his face down for a kiss that turned up the temperature. When she told him she wanted him to suffer and miss her terribly while he was on the Hunt, she meant it. He hated the sense of loneliness he felt while she was not by his side, and he couldn't think straight while she was looking at him in that way. It felt like she had sewed herself to him and that to be separate from her would be painful.

Akeena walked away, looked back over her shoulder at the top of the stairs, and slipped an arm out of her dress. He heard the fabric hit the floor after she disappeared into the bathroom. For the first time since their bonding, he didn't feel guilty about his close relationship with Akeena. He didn't think of Jaana, his long dead wife, or Furlon, his best friend. He thought of his wife, and how she rubbed her skin with warm wet sand, and how the water rolled off her skin when she poured a bucket of hot water over her freshly scrubbed skin.

The groan was audible.

* * * * *

Akeena slid beneath the sleeping furs a few hours later. There was a sultry look in her eyes, and her lips had this pout that made his knees go weak. She held up the vial of rose scented oil he had just given to her as a gift. Akeena pulled the fur blanket off her back, her light brown flesh called to him. She smiled and laughed.

“Will you rub this into my back?” Her voice dripped sweetly like honey, the look in her eyes more then telling him what her intentions were.

He felt the chains that bound him to her as surely as any prisoner would. As soon as she smiled at him, touched his hand, or kissed him lightly, the burdens he carried would be as light as a feather, but when out of his reach, the chains pulled him back into that pit of loneliness that he hated.

He groaned as he took the oil. She laughed lightly again. He still did not know how anyone could make love so enjoyable, and so horrible at the same time. It took willpower to crawl out of bed in the morning, to pull himself away from her, and take his eyes off of hers. Ta'rak knew that this Hunt would be his worst one yet. Akeena promised him that.

* * * * *

Ta'rak rode high in the saddle, without a slouch and no off balance movements that would make the ride harder on himself, or the horse. His face revealed only one thing, a lack of patience. Akeena's plan had worked to perfection, and he ached with longing for his wife. He missed her scent, her smile, and her touch at night. The party had only been riding for just over two days, but it already felt like too much to bear.

The road they traveled on was not a well used one, but in spite of the lack of use, it was not overgrown with weeds. The stones were as smooth and unbroken since the time they were laid over two thousand years ago. The most gifted scholars and artisans have tried to figure out how the Fallen paved the road, and what methods their builders used but with no success. Whatever they did to the stones themselves, they could not be pried up from the area they were placed, they could not be dug out, nor could they be marked or damaged.

Ta'rak's level of patience was being tried on all sides. The merchants and nobles grumbled about the distance to the camp, and their pampered behaviors only highlighted his desire to not be on this trip. The Soturi closed up on his right, apparently with instructions.

“I have been instructed to inquire as to when we would arrive at our destination.” Ta'rak didn't hear anything in the soldier's tone, or a hint in his face of the tension that he knew was there. The soldier's white knuckled grip on his sword gave it away.

“We will be stopping in another half a day. This will be a half moon long camp, and once we're there, no one will be permitted to return to the village without permission. This close to the border is not the place for anyone to be in a small group. Remind him of that.” The soldier's grip on his sword eased and he returned to his post with no hint of a smile. His eyes did betray his amusement at giving the merchant the instructions.

Polkkypaa! No clue about where we are going and where we'll be camping! There's no inn out here, and the only one's likely to kiss their backsides will be the riivaaja before they tear a chunk of meat out of it! Patience was a commodity he wished he could buy at a market stall. He was almost out of it.

Ta'rak's thoughts continued to follow dark paths, and if not for the hardships his village would suffer should he just turn around and cancel the event, he would have done just that.

He missed having those dark eyes follow him around, and see those lips turn up in a pout. Ta'rak finally admitted it to himself.

He loved his wife.

* * * * *

“When I said to hit me, if my guard is open, you better well hit me!” Herra Kai was angry. The soldier held his jaw, a surprised look on his face.

“But sir....” He had to duck another swing.

“How am I going to learn anything if you take it easy on me? Do you spar this way with your fellow guards?”

“No sir! They'd hit me too!” The guard had to back away from the angered Herra. Ta'rak smiled as Nongul sat down beside him.

“What's he doing?” Nongul couldn't see why the noble would want to be hit.

“Learning. Watch.” The guard had to duck a few times, but as his defenses were overwhelmed by a man who didn't behave as a noble should, he went from defensive and started to attack. Lord Kai smiled as his hand was rapped with the end of the practice sword. Kai circled, tried the maneuver again, got rapped again, and lifted his sword.

“What did I do wrong? I don't think I am seeing where I'm leaving my defense open.” Ta'rak decided to help the man.

“Remember how his sword came in and flicked sideways? Watch to see where the tip of his sword ends up. If your sword grip is higher then his tip, he can flick in like that. Either step back and reset your defense, lower the angle of your sword, or lower the position. Move with him. Your job is to turn his work against him. Find his weakness.” There was a substantial improvement in his defense, but he still had weaknesses that could be exploited. The guard smiled as Kai managed to deflect his next few incoming attacks.

“You didn't let me block you, did you?” he asked. The guard backed off with a smile.

“Not a chance, Herra. If I could have rapped your hand again, I would have. You need more practice, but its better.” Kai continued to practice with the guards, earned a few more bruises, but several soldiers saluted him respectfully. He had earned that respect.

Ta'rak examined Lord Kai once again from his side of the fire. He was thinner this year, more muscled, and he noticed some bruises still fresh on his arms. He earned those sparring with his local guards. It was said that the Hunt from last year woke him up to the dangers of the wilds and he wanted to be in better shape to deal with them as he got older. It looked like he was well on his way to doing good things with his time.

The rest of the rabble just set his teeth on edge. It was not normally the word you would use to describe the wealthier members of society, but he couldn't see any good qualities, so rabble was what they were to him.

They stank of perfumes, wore linen and cotton clothes, finer furs were used to line their robes, and silver adorned just about every part of their clothes in the form of buttons and tassels. If they weren't mostly fat and balding, they would have been dressed prettier then most of the women of Harm's End.

They also made too much noise for the time of night, and drank too much wine. Not far from where they were set up, Ta'rak had downed a bear with an arrow straight through the eye. It reminded him of just how dangerous this forest could be.

“Ta'rak, there is no activity around the campsite, but I don't want to risk it around here. How many guards do you think we need for the night?” The Kantava Soturi, second in command of Arouna Dell, was as pure an example of a soldier he had come across, and he didn't see any reason to sit down yet. He wasn't asking the question because he didn't know a good number to use. It wasn't his command.

"Four guards in shifts of two hours each are the standard. One at each corner of the camp, with torches, bows and blades. They should be able to wake everyone in case something goes wrong. Assign who ever you think will do the job well.” Ta'rak closed his eyes. “Their lives may count on it." One of the herras caught his last statement and looked up.

“What do you mean that their lives may count on it?” A sneer was in his voice, as though someone would dare to say something to him. He was a herra, a leader, a ruler by birthright, albeit of a poor insignificant village, but a noble nonetheless. Ta'rak opened his eyes, and the intense expression on his face made the noble sit back a bit.

“Should any of them fall asleep in this area of the forest, a bear or wild cat could easily slip into camp and kill before the rest of the guards were awake enough to stop it. Not to mention what can creep across the bridge.” He paled at the mention of the bridge into the Jakt Agor.

“Do what you see fit then. I would like to see the morning sun, thank you.” The herra tried to make it seem like an order that he issued for their safety. Ta'rak didn't crack a smile.

"No need to warn them. They don't do their duty, they die. Same as in Arouna Dell." The Soturi didn't wonder if Ta'rak would indeed kill someone asleep at their post. He was aware that he had no problem executing someone if it became necessary.

Ta'rak sat with his back to a large tree, looked around the fire, and sighed when his eyes rested on Rodan and Nongul. They were enjoying a good mug of wine, and listening intently to Lord Kai's tale of his first Hunt. Everyone seemed to have a good time, everyone but him. He still worried about his wife.

As though he had requested the event by thinking about Akeena, an incredibly powerful wave of energy, black as coal, highlighted in blue at the edges, swept through the camp like a tidal wave. Everyone, except for Ta'rak, threw up violently, and felt as wretched as though they had a hangover. The feeling passed as quickly as it came.

Ta'rak was the only one not to vomit. He felt immense hunger as the wave passed through him.

“I think your wine has gone bad.” One of the soldiers joked after he wiped his mouth.

By mutual agreement, everyone laid off the wine for the rest of the night, just in case they had gotten into a bad barrel. Amid the cursing and swearing, the assorted nobility brushed the vomit off their clothes, and changed their soiled garments. One thing was apparent with the event though. Ta'rak was the only one to see the energy wave.

* * * * *

“Rough night?” Nongul asked. He sat down on the log next to Ta'rak. The big man looked like he hadn't slept at all during the night, even though he did not have any of the watches.

“Feels like I just closed my eyes. When she said she would make me suffer, she wasn't kidding.” Ta'rak stood up to stretch and warm up his muscles.

“My wife does the same thing to me. Get used to it. Wait until you get home! You think you're suffering now!” Nongul chuckled heartily at Ta'rak's groan. He hadn't thought about just how his wife might make his life worse, at least until now. When he returned home, he would need to spend a large amount of time catering to her, and make her feel loved again.

"The Soturi has sent out some scouts to see if they can find any tracks for the hunters to follow."

“Not what I'd have done. I wanted these soft men to learn some lessons. But.... it is a bit better method, to know where the tracks are, and allow the nobles to follow them. Never know. Might be able to cut this session short and get home earlier then expected.” That seemed to brighten Ta'rak's outlook, and he gulped his hot tea, grateful for the sweet taste he couldn't do without. Ta'rak shivered, a chill ran over his skin in spite of the warmth of the sun.

“Something feels....wrong.” He just couldn't shake the feeling he's had lately, the one of some impending disaster. The sensation was similar to an ant walking on your skin and one that he remembered well. He felt this way every time he went into battle.

"Sir!" A guard stumbled into the camp, visibly shaken, his face pale. Ta'rak could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Report soldier." The Soturi's eyes narrowed, and stared straight at the soldier until he drew himself up from his slouched stance and snapped a quick salute.

"Sir, there are tracks! Unlike anything I've ever seen! Huge, deep, like a boar, but ... I don't think it's a boar!" The soldier tried to tell them about the tracks, but he fumbled over his words until Ta'rak stepped up.

"Where are they?" The soldier pointed behind him.

"About two hundred yards in that direction sir! Take your weapons! The beast that made those tracks has to be absolutely monstrous!" Ta'rak picked up his ax, left behind his bow, and ran through the woods. His long strides allowed him to jump over fallen logs as sure footed as a deer running from a predator. The Soturi reached him barely winded, but nowhere near as fast.

"By the Fallen! What could have made that?" The Soturi had never had the misfortune to meet one of these creatures, but Ta'rak was all too aware of what it was. The sheer size and depth of the hoof print showed him that it was abnormally large and heavy. The tracks also seemed to amble along from the direction of the bridge, and barely missed their camp.

“Its Kirosi! From the Jakt Agor!” His face paled. Ta'rak had never fought a riivaaja from the Jakt Agor, but he knew of their destructive tendencies. Teuvo pulled his sword from its sheathe, swept his gaze back and forth, a search for movements that might give the beast away.

“Which way did it head?” Ta'rak followed the tracks for a few dozen feet. They headed south east, along the road that would eventually turn southwards, right along the front of the village of Harm's End.

“Its following the road!” He ran back to his horse as fast as he could manage. He cursed his fingers as they struggled to put the tack on his horse. He barked out orders to the guards, and told them to break camp. They were to head back to the village.

“Ta'rak, what is it?” Nongul walked up to his friend who was frantically doing up the girth strap on his horse.

“Kirosi! It might be heading to the village! I have to track it!”

“Hitto!” Nongul ran off towards Rodan to tell him the news, and cursed Mia for his treachery. “If anyone dies, I'll kill him myself!” He said under his breath. His stout legs carried him fast across the camp.

Amid the chaos, the guards tried to get everyone in some sort of order and the camp broken down. Ta'rak heard nothing. His mind played out the dance of fears and regrets.

I have to get home!

Ta'rak pulled himself up into the saddle and galloped off towards the area where he found the tracks. He slowed to a trot, kept an eye for the telltale signs of the beast, which slowed him down enough for Rodan and Nongul to catch up. They arrived at the turn in the road where Ta'rak had to dismount.

“Where is it heading?” He followed the tracks until he was certain.

“It follows the road! Its heading home!” Rodan cursed loudly. Ta'rak swung back up into the saddle of the large brown sorrel, and galloped off at a frightful pace. His fear and urgency seemed to infect the horse as it ran on.

Rodan could only stare as Ta'rak pulled away as though they stood still.

“What is that around him? Black fire?” Rodan asked.

“If you don't know, how can I? You're the Raaka!” If Rodan did not understand what was happening to Ta'rak, who did?

Ta'rak's eyes turned black, blackened pools of power flowed out of him, and surrounded the horse. The beat of the horse's hooves as it galloped echoed Ta'rak's thoughts.

Faster. Faster. FASTER!

* * * * *

The beast continued its easy lope along the road, oblivious to anything other then its hunger. It couldn't hear the normal creatures that crashed through the woods on its side of the bridge. It couldn't smell any fresh kills that told the pig it was time to fight for food. It would have to search for food, but trails often led to food. This wide trail would lead the pig to food.

Its tongue lolled about in its maw, multiple tusks stuck out from several different angles, ready to skewer and kill its victims. It was hungry.

* * * * *

“I am a councilor! If you don't want to be shoveling manure in the barns for the winter, you'll do as your told! Open the gates, and allow any visitors to come in as they please!” The guard looked uncertainly at the councilor in front of him.

“We are not to keep the gates open, sir. What if there was an attack? The Elder specifically said to keep the gates shut.” He couldn't believe this polkkypaa would open the gates like this. It was an open invitation to come in and steal or kill whoever you wanted.

“The Elder is not here. I am. Open the gates!” The guard shrugged his shoulders and obeyed, as he was supposed to. Mia walked away, and congratulated himself on the victory he had scored against the Elder. He would promote the village's openness to traders and possibly get some more silver to flow through this village. He might then be able to convince the rest of the council to throw Rodan out of the village and place him in his rightful position as his father's heir.

Ta'rak had rightly called him a polkkypaa, an old word for fool, and whatever else a person might call one whose ability to reason was questionable.

* * * * *

“I can do this. I've lived here my whole life! There's nothing to fear with our walls to protect us, is there?” The question was not meant for anyone to answer, but meant to steady her nerves.

Fear dogged her relentlessly as she stepped down off the stairs. This was the first time, since Furlon's Final Rest, that she left her new home without Ta'rak present. It made her feel exposed and frightened.

Akeena looked around the corners of the porch, took note of the pathways, the walks her husband used, then squared her shoulders and stepped into the lane. Ta'rak had encouraged her to do as she pleased, but he also pushed her to find herself again, to find her inner strength, instead of using his. He wasn't mean about it, but he was worried that she would just fall into herself and be fearful of everything for the rest of her life.

“You will be proud of me, my husband. When you come home, we will go to the inn and have a meal. That should please you.” She said it almost in a whisper, uncertain, yet hopeful. She did truly love her new husband, enjoyed his company, and the way he made her feel loved and protected. She smiled.

“I hope you miss me as much as I miss you. Oh, how I am going to enjoy tormenting you when you come home.” She smiled an evil little smile. At the same time, she knew her own hunger for Ta'rak had increased, and that would not make it easy for her to deny him for very long. Probably not much longer then it took him to get out of his clothes and into a bath.

“I miss you so much, Ta'rak! Please come home safe!” She remembered watching him practice the sword in the backyard when he didn't know she was looking. His skill astounded her, in how he moved and flowed like water, and how he relied on his speed and skill, not his strength.

He was still far away, and so close to the Jakt Agor that he would not be home for a couple of cycles yet. She missed him so much that it scared her!

* * * * *

“Its too hot out here!” The heat of the day made the guard feel like he would wilt in his bronze plate armor. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and stained his tunic. It was unseasonably warm for this time of year. Heiketa was the time of decline, when the trees began to sleep, and the local harvests were brought in. He stayed under the shade of the wall, within sight of the gate, and mourned the stupidity of those in power.

A powerful rotten stench assaulted his senses.

“Ugh, what is that smell?” The guard's face lost almost all color when he turned to face the gate.

“Ancient preserve us.” His voice barely came above a whisper. The massive boar was hideous in its ugliness, a monster with hairs so thick that they looked wooden, bony plates lined its spine for protection, huge tusks that jutted outwards at many angles, and red malicious eyes with no trace of mercy in them. It was larger then any boar he's ever laid eyes upon, and more massive then their local bears. It was a few thousand pounds of destructive force, with murder and mayhem on its mind.

The guard barely felt the tusk skewer him as it rammed through his bronze armor. He died quickly in the face of such power.

* * * * *

The blood of the guard dripped into the beast's mouth, out of his wound and down its tusks. The beast shook its head, shredded bronze plate, and opened the wound further. This was only the first of many things to kill here. Its next target walked into sight. The beast threw its kill aside to be eaten later, and pushed forward on powerful legs.

Now, its eyes were on the soft morsel coming around a corner.

* * * * *

Ta'rak rounded the corner of the road, the walls came into sight, and almost felt relief to see the walls still intact. His relief was short lived as he heard the screams from within. His heart beat faster in his chest. He reined the horse in and slid from the saddle.

He stopped dead in his tracks outside of what should be a closed gate.

“Why is this open!” He pulled his ax from the saddle. The wooden gate was undamaged, just left open and free. His eyes regained their color. His horse felt fear for the first time since the insane ride began, galloped away from the gate, and headed for anywhere but there.

Ta'rak walked through the open gate. There was blood splattered on everything in sight. He saw the guard's body, a huge hole in the middle, his armor broken through like it was cloth, and his face devoid of life.

Instincts for battle warred with his panic for Akeena's safety. His grip tightened on the ax, and his eyes darted from place to place. The path of destruction was obvious and easily followed. Wooden posts from the courtyard and the market were splintered off at the base, while the stalls were destroyed as though they were only tinder for a fire.

Ta'rak was a fighter. He took it slow, step after step, followed his instincts, and trusted in his experience to help him. His eyes fell on something behind some unbroken crates, near to the baker's shop.

“No!” Barely a whisper passed his lips, but the sight tore open the wound that would not heal, the pain that never seemed to end. Barely hidden behind the crates, he caught sight of Akeena's dress, one he knew she wore. There was blood all over the crates. He slowly moved closer, that wound now open wide, his misery there for all to see.

The monster that killed her stalked around a corner.

* * * * *

The boar walked towards the courtyard again, its belly no longer empty, and its appetite for food temporarily sated. What it desired now was more death and destruction.

The boar seemed to enjoy the screams of fear around it. The beasts of the Jakt Agor killed for pleasure as much as for food or self preservation. This boar relished the kill as much as any of its brethren.

A much larger target came into sight. It snorted, lowered its head and began to charge.

* * * * *

Ta'rak saw the beast come around the corner. A massive creature with blood stained tusks, and its red eyes fixed on him. There was no fear in him at the sight of the Kirosi beast.

There was only anger.

Ta'rak couldn't remember lifting his ax. He couldn't remember anything but the hatred in his heart for this creature, one of those that stole his love from him, his first wife, his father, and now Akeena, his new wife. He boiled over, anger at the injustice of his losses, and an insane rage at how this thing dared to kill another of his loved ones.

Power he didn't know he had began to bubble up inside him, a spring filled with energy that seethed like a hurricane. It flooded his limbs, and powered his muscles with a strength that had not been seen in over two thousand years, not since the time of the Fallen.

His eyes turned black, swirled with static in uncontrolled bursts of energy, the black aura around him grew larger and more wild by the second.

Energy poured out of him like a river that burst a dam, varied and out of control. Static discharged throughout his aura, flashed like lightning within a thundercloud, flames randomly swept out from side to side, while the wind howled around his feet and roared in anger at the beast as it charged.

* * * * *

A'ton came around the corner, the sword his friend had given him in his hands. He knew that Akeena had left the house only a few minutes earlier, but he heard the screams. Without hesitation, he picked up the sword and headed outside, all the while, Colli yelled at him to come back, tears streamed down her face.

The houseman walked with his sword at the ready, tried to keep his head while he surveyed the level of destruction he found outside the manor. A'ton tore his eyes away from the bodies, pushed himself forward, and refused to allow any level of fear to penetrate his resolve. He remembered the hours Ta'rak spent with him, how he drilled him, practiced the blade. He taught him lessons that came second nature to Ta'rak, but were a struggle for everyone else.

He needed to protect Akeena. He needed to make sure Ta'rak's last chance at happiness didn't die today. What he witnessed chilled him to the bone.

* * * * *

The power he wielded was not disciplined, and it lacked the rigid control that a Raaka exerted over his elemental abilities. If anything could be called Hajjakar, random  divine chaos, this was it.

The wind that howled at his feet picked up in strength the closer the boar got to him. Within only a brief second, it went from sweeping the dust into a focused pillar of wind and flame that rose several dozen feet into the air. Ta'rak remained with his feet planted, static flashed, and the sound was like the clap of thunder.

Everything he had, all of the energy he could grab, was focused around him. The winds caught the boar off guard, and caused it to stumble as it approached.

The boar was pushed off course. It could no longer hit its intended target with its first attack. It had to run passed.

In the brief second the Kirosi took to recognize that it could not kill its target, it felt something else. This creature felt familiar. To the denizens of the Jakt Agor, familiarity also meant danger.

With its neck exposed as it ran by, Ta'rak swung the ax with all his strength. The blade never touched flesh.

In his mind, Ta'rak pictured a blade passing through the neck of the beast. Just before the ax connected with the boar's flesh, a pure white light sheered through the beast ahead of his ax. The boar's head flew off, sliced from its body as though a razor's edge had done the job.

As clean and straight a cut a butcher would not find anywhere.

The ax continued its journey downwards, struck the flagstones in a shower of sparks and light. It was embedded up to its handle, and did not crack the stone.

* * * * *

A'ton's jaw dropped. He tried understand what he had just witnessed. Nothing in his life had prepared him for that.

The winds dissipated, the static died away, and the flames ebbed until they too disappeared.

Ta'rak caught sight of his friend, and felt relief to know that A'ton was still alive. The black aura bled away as though it was fog burned away by the sun. As soon as it was gone, Ta'rak crumpled to the ground.