Lorn carefully picked his way up the mountainside, sidestepping small stones that could tumble downhill and give him away. Behind him, the trail was indisinguishable from the rest of the boulder-strewn landscape, slanting back down the mountain toward
Keeping his eyes open for any small lizards or mice - hunting had been scarce this deep into the mountains - Lorn continued his trek into the forboding range. The sounds of small birds and the faint hum of Stindoon miners had finally been left behind in the last valley and Lorn was more than happy to realize that only the occasional scream of a crag hawk broke the tense silence, now. The people of Stindoon were a hardy bunch, living this deep in the mountains, but considering how much noise they produced, with their digging and brawling and carving, Lorn wouldn't be surprised if the only reason they lived in the mountains was because the other species couldn't stand them being around and sent them to live here.
I wouldn't be surprised if that's what did happen, Lorn thought. Little surprised him anymore.
As he rounded the jutting boulder formation that he had been edging around as he thought, Lorn took in the view again. He doubted that he'd ever see another as grand, and he had stood on the roof of Tarcanhall and watched as the sun slid into the hills to the west of Charlindrini, painting the waving grasses surrounding the city for miles in a million shades of crimson and gold. Here, it looked as if he was standing in the largest of all caverns, bright blue lichen shining in an azure sea above and an immense forest of stalagmites reaching to pierce that perfection from below.
A tiny stone, no more then a claw length long skittered down the slope, knocked loose while Lorn was staring at the grand view. His breath froze in his chest as the rock skipped from one boulder to another, before coming to rest 40 tails* below on a small plateau. Tail held rigid above the rocks, Lorn ran his eyes slowly over the folded rocks of the mountainside, not daring to move his head, hoping the browns and greys of his belly clothe blended well enough into the rocky landscape.
Worry over keeping his frayed nerves intact was not the only reason Lorn had been glad to leave behind the good-naturedly loud Stindoonin folk. Something new roamed the mountains now, he had been told; a perversion of the tarcans, if not in physique but in essence had been loosed. The one who told him of the not-quite tarcans had said that they seemed to flow through shadows as if the shadow itself had pulled them through, reaching to embrace an old friend. They supposedly only showed themselves at dawn or dusk, but he had also heard rumors of other Stindoonin controlled mountain towns being overrun in the night.
Maybe the mountain-kin have a reason for being so loud, he quickly pondered, maybe they think it'll keep them away.
Not seeing any movement among the rocks, Lorn slowly let out the breath he had been holding and warily hurried on, making sure to leave no claw holes in the dirt or any other sign of his passing for that matter.
Hours passed, and the sun reached its zenith and slowly began to move toward the west as Lorn worked his way around the western slope of another craggy mountain peak. He glanced into the sky as he rounded the bend, squinting, and watched as the peak itself hid the sun from view. With the baking sun off of his back, Lorn decided to cool his scales for a time and rest on the shady side of the mountain for once. He lay down with his head resting on his hands at the edge of the path, looking out over the range and wondering where the Shrine was.
Who had Gruenist been? Lorn thought as he yawned, pointed teeth snapping together as he slowly closed his rounded snout. The mountain-kin talk of him as if he had been some great hero. The children even spoke as if they looked up to him as a father, despite having fathers of their own. Lorn pulled the water bag from his shoulder and took a drink as he thought. He must've had something to do with the Tear, though.
Slinging the water bag back onto his shoulder, Lorn froze again, ears straining. Yes, there it was again. The sound of stone sliding down the mountainside brought him back to the present and he concluded that the Stindoonin were just strange folk and could be mulled over later. When he was safe. Lorn thought to himself as he looked to the sky and sun obscured by the mountain itself. He said that they don't come out during the day! This is the last time I worry about being hot, Lorn vowed as he stood and tried to move on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. If I can get around the peak, maybe I can shake them off my trail before sunset.
Lorn moved down the trail he picked for himself, muscles tensed, waiting for something to show itself. Around his neck, he felt the crystal beginning to grow warmer against his scales as he readied himself for the possible eventuality of a fight. Another small, skittering trail of stones rushed by his feet down the mountain. Lorn's sure footing made him certain that he had not shaken those rocks loose. The warmth from the crystal seemed to have glided into him, filling him with a fire that he needed - wanted - to release. Control, Lorn. Control. Master it, or it masters you.
As the first black shape hurtled down the peak at him, a blaze bloomed in Lorn's being.
He spun to face his attackers as the inferno inside of him took form on the outside. Fire bloomed around the last foot or so of his tail, crackling streamers of red and yellow flame disappearing into the air as his tail whipped out behind him, now pointing down the mountainside. Flames crackled up Lorn's legs from his ankles and from just behind were his eyes were position on his head, a mane of fire flowed down his neck, licking the small spikes lining the ridge of his back. Taking as firm a stance as he could manage on such loose, unstable terrain, Lorn finally got his first good look at the perversions of tarcankind; a fiery beast waiting for fuel to feed its flames.
The old one was right, they look just like any other tarcans...in form, at least.
The first shape haphazardly leaping from stone to stone down the mountain towards Lorn was as a night with no moon, twin crimson orbs - their eyes - resting amid a sea of dimly shining black scales. It had the same small ridge spikes down its back as well as the four clawed front and back feet that Lorn himself possessed. As he watched, it opened its mouth and gnashed its pointed teeth, flecks of spittle sliding back the dark cheek of the creature's head.
Lorn dug his hindfeet into the loose stones and drove himself upward towards the onrushing beast, his fiery details making him seem a comet streaking up the side of the peak. Anger at being attacked as well as fear at what may happen if they bested him warred for his attention as he felt himself willing the fire raging inside of him to come out. He could feel a roiling lump or heat rising up his throat as if he had not been able to keep his lunch down. Lorn knew what he was doing and had done it before.
As the creature pounced from its last perch atop a boulder two tails uphill from Lorn, he released the fire from inside himself that had been pushing between his teeth, fighting to be used. A deep red pillar of flame erupted from Lorn's throat as he opened his maw wide, facing the leaping perversion. His forward momentum ended abruptly as the rolling gout of fire hit the creature's chest in mid-leap. The creature's momentum fared no better against such an onslaught and its head and tail snapped forward eliciting a sharp crack from its whipping tail and disturbing snap when its neck broke from the force of the blow.
The limp body fell to the mountainside in a heap, charred chest and legs giving off a sickly smell of burnt flesh, as Lorn released the flow of fire from his mouth and slowly closed his jaws, the air around him waving to and fro in the heat. He cautiously turned to the right, looking for any more of the creatures. There were too many stones rolling past me earlier for there to be just one, Lorn thought as he whipped his head in the other direction, the fire wreathing his face whooshing as he did so. Not seeing any dark shapes moving amongst the jumble of boulders and sparse shrubs, he began slowly backpedalling down to where he had first noticed the skittering stones that alerted him of the attack. His own now careless steps knocked loose their own volley of rocks and they tumbled downward until disappearing from sight over a small cliff not far away.
Lorn barely had enough warning as the slight noise of stones being scraped across on another anounced the prescence of the second dark shape he knew would be around. Fires flaring in surprise, Lorn tried to turn to face his attacker but wasn't fast enough as the beast plowed into his side using the top, flat part of its head. The small spikes protruding from its scales along the crest of its nose pierced Lorn's scales and it was only sheer luck that he collided with a well-placed boulder instead of rolling down the mountainside in a fiery ball.
I've been keeping my fires burning too strongly for too long, he thought as he tried to collect his senses, it's beginning to wane. They're not responding to the heat! Lorn propped himself up from the boulder and looked around, readying a final gout of fire to finish this beast. The other didn't fare too well against it, maybe this one won't either. He looked in the direction he was hit from, but saw only rolling trails of stones and so followed them to their source. The dark creature had circled around him so that it was looking downhill at Lorn who, for a split second, seemed unsure of his predicament. When he saw the creature begin to run toward him again, he released the pillar of fire again, but as soon as the flicking flames passed his snout they withered and he felt his internal furnace diminish. The heat was still there, but there would be no more attempts at fire-breathing until he found some way to regain his power.
The charging creature of darkness seemed to be passing behind a screen to Lorn's eyes. Deepening shadows on this side of the peak were playing across the scales of the creature in fits and starts, beginning to blur where he thought it was. His weakened blast of flame barely slowed it down and Lorn scrambled to all four feet and tried another tactic. When the beast was within a tail of him, Lorn gathered what roiling heat he had left inside him and released it from his body in every direction at once; a wall of heat meant to turn the flickering creature to the side. As the heat left his body, Lorn felt the last significant surges of heat die down in his chest. Only the barest flicker of warmth inside him kept the fires covering his head, feet, and tail burning feebly.
A wall of heat strong enough to melt most ice in the blink of an eye only forced the creature to turn its head away as it let out a deep cry from its throat. While its eyes were closed and its steps faltered, the beast failed to wrap a clawed foot around a foothold and instead jammed its claws into the ground, dropping the beast like a blow to the head. Lorn's eyes widened when he realized what was going to happen and began churning his legs in the loose stones, clawing for a foothold.
Now even further disoriented, the creature tumbled into the frantic Lorn and took both of them down the mountainside, Lorn scrambling for any kind of clawhold to stop his sliding. Opening its eyes again, the creature tried to lunge at Lorn again from mid-tumble. It collided with Lorn, speeding up their fall dramatically. Boulders were flashing by, looking like ragged-edged cylinders flying past on either side of them. Lorn was all too aware of the small cliff he had seen not moments before. They would be reaching it soon.
Jerking his head to the left, Lorn avoided having the beast's teeth plunge into his neck and curled back a lip before he struck back at the violent creature. His teeth raked across the left side of its face, making the beast cry out again - this time in a piercing squeal - and close an eye now dribbling blood from beneath the lid. The creature pulled back its head and their tumbling slowed enough to start them sliding down the incline, inky darkness atop flickering fire. Lashing out blindly, the creature's deadly front claws bit into Lorn's shoulder and chest, cutting ragged red lines into his scales and forcing the frightened tarcan to stifle his own cry of pain.
Just as Lorn saw the beast begin to wildly shake its head as if to clear the blood from its eye and rear back for another strike, something hard slammed into Lorn's back and forcing the breath and remaining heat from his chest, extinguishing his fires. The impact sent his opponents head and neck hurtling over Lorn's shoulder as his head crashed back and darkness overtook him.
Some time later, Lorn slowly and painstakingly opened his eyes, growling quietly as he did so. At first, he didn’t know where he was. The sky seemed to have turned into a grey, pebbled surface and the ground beneath him was as blue as the sky used to be! For a moment he felt his insides lurch as if he were falling towards the ground, but stopped their unease when he brought his forelegs up beneath him and felt the dried crust of blood over his claw wounds break open and fresh blood start running down his scales towards his back.
My back? He thought groggily as he brought a clawed hand up to his head and rubbed his dust-covered snout, trying to organize his thoughts. He lifted his head – it felt like he was lifting it toward the ground, which confused him even more – and slowly came to the realization that he was lying on his back, covered in small pebbles and dust. His head throbbed and Lorn was glad for the mountain peak blocking the lowering sun’s rays. Looking back up the incline, Lorn could see the clear path he and the dark tarcan had made as they slid down the slope. A swathe of freshly churned dirt from where he was ambushed to where he lay announced his presence for anything smart enough to pay attention to the ground. Small stones littered the flat rock he was laying on, arranged haphazardly around his body as if they had fallen on him after he hit the rock and rolled to the ground from his stomach.
Still holding his head, Lorn rolled onto his stomach and waited as his equilibrium returned. Where did that…thing go? He wondered as he bunched the muscles in his haunches and slowly pushed himself towards the edge of the ledge he was on and looked over.
Quite a way down the slope Lorn could see a black spot sprawled over the top of another one of the numerous boulders scattered about the mountains. Nodding his head slightly, Lorn struggled to his feet, grimacing again as more bloody crust broke apart on his chest. As best he could, Lorn twisted his head down and licked the wounds. During his days in the Charlindrini Peace Militia, he would have been reprimanded for such behavior.
“A soldier does not lick his wounds after battle! They are tended by a medic – it’s what they’re there for!” Lorn mumbled to himself as he finished his ministrations, chuckling softly as he finished. If the method works, why go to a medic? I guess the CPM never did make much sense.
After tending to his wounds as best he could, Lorn found that his legs had regained strength enough to try and continue down the mountain. He wanted to check on that dark body. “Always make sure that what you intended to kill is dead, or you may find its teeth in your back,” Lorn muttered. Even if the Peace Militia made no sense, at least it was useful.
With a sigh, Lorn stumbled exhaustedly from his ledge and carefully worked his way downhill making sure of each foothold before putting his weight down. He was in no hurry to take another plunge down the mountain. A faint wrinkle in his lip was the only sign that Lorn gave of his annoyance at not being strong enough to walk quietly without sending small rocks careening away from his tired feet.
Upon reaching the dark tarcan’s final perch, Lorn immediately noticed that he would not have to fear this creature’s teeth in his back. It was on its back on top of the boulder, back bent at an impossible angle and head twisted in an impossible direction. The impact on the ledge above must have twisted its head that way while landing on this boulder must be what broke its back, Lorn decided.
This close, Lorn was even more disgusted by the similarities between himself and this abomination. Apart from their coloring and demeanor, these tarcans could have passed for any other normal tarcan. He found it hard to believe that any tarcan could be so twisted inside to have served the Great Darkness in the past or even now. The reminder of what he had seen back in the Sular Mines forced an involuntary shudder to course through his body and he glanced around, suddenly feeling vulnerable so out in the open and injured. It was also getting closer to dusk, and he had no urge to face a larger group of the perversions, especially not in their own element. The way the creatures he had killed seemed to blur in the shade of the mountain made him shudder again as he thought of it. In full dark, they’d be near invisible but for their eyes.
Lorn finished inspecting the body and moved on, eventually reaching the bottom of the valley he had been trying to reach when attacked. Here a greater number of trees grew; a few sparse oaks and stands of tall hemlocks kept the small stream supplied with water year round. Decades of hemlock needles absorbed the stream’s water and kept it from ever running dry, even in the worst of summer’s heat. Boulders were still abound in every direction, some looking to have crashed into the sides of trees after rolling down off of the mountains. To his left, a landslide had forced the stream into a u-shaped bend around a jumble of dirt, stone, and fallen trees.
Relaxing a bit now that he was under the trees and out of plain sight, Lorn knelt to get a drink of water, submerging his nose in the cool stream and enjoying the feel of the liquid on his parched throat. The fire transformation always left him feeling dry and thirsty. At least it had after the only other three times he had used the essence before. He didn’t know whether or not the after-effects began to go away the longer you used the essence, but he hoped so.
After finishing his drink, Lorn sat back on his haunches and looked around, tail curling away from him on the ground. He had to find a cave, or some kind of shelter, to stay out of site during the night. Hopefully any other dark tarcans that find their dead kin will only think they slipped and fell, though the charred remains of the one might confuse them. All the better, to Lorn’s thinking. Either way, he wanted to be out of sight. He needed to heal.
Finally, Lorn decided that he’d move down the streambed and hope a winter avalanche or another landslide had made any convenient hiding holes that he could use. Hiding holes that were unoccupied, of course. His first night in the mountains he had been chased from a small cave by a family of pebble tossers. The small, bipedal lizards weren’t a major threat, but the tiny stones they pick up and throw with their tails pack quite a sting and an entire family of them pitching stones at him had been enough to set him running.
In an effort to make his trail harder to follow, Lorn waded into the stream and followed its course for a time before exiting on the other bank. He had only an hour or so of sunlight left, so he began trotting down the valley beside the streambed, keeping his eyes open for any other landfalls. The only scenery he came across was more of the same; pine trees and scattered oaks making a small forest with boulders intermittently tossed in the mix. At one point he even came across a small pond form by a mass of fallen hemlocks where he thought he saw a splash and a finned tail disappear beneath the glossy surface.
Not far beyond the pond, Lorn found what he had been looking for. Another landslide had toppled a handful of trees and brought tons of boulders crashing down the mountain. When everything had stopped moving, the trees formed a natural roof beside one of the boulders while the other debris went over the trees, effectively forming a small cave. Seeing that this was a recent slide, some of the dirt was still dark with moisture, Lorn figured that nothing had the chance to have made its home here, yet and so went to investigate closer.
What he found was pretty much what he expected. The trees and interwoven pine branches made a fine ceiling and would have been more or less waterproof even had there not been a ton or more of rubble on top of it. With a little work, Lorn managed to break off some of the heftier pine branches from inside and used them to make a curtain over the entrance to his temporary home. Any dark tarcans that pass by in the night would only see a pile of rubble and broken branches.
By now, the sun was beginning to cast the red-gold light of sunset as it lowered itself into the embrace of the mountains to the west, playing on the oak leaves and pine needles so that Lorn had to continually blink as he looked towards the source of the beautiful colors. Before going inside his shelter for the night, Lorn walked down to the stream and topped off his water bag and grabbed another drink. His throat was finally feeling back to normal. He surveyed the area one last time, taking in the deepening shadows beneath the trees and the soft gurgling of the stream over the fallen hemlocks that had formed the dam. All he could see was stillness. The only movement was the wind through the needles and leaves on the trees and the occasion leaf that was lifted from the ground, twirling through the air, only to fall to earth a few feet away from where it started. Satisfied that nothing was around, Lorn returned to his cave and put his makeshift curtain in place behind him.
He gently set his water bag on the ground, leaning against the boulder, and unfastened his belly clothe from his back ridge spikes. The cloth had definitely seen better days – the trip down the mountainside earlier had torn two of the spike straps and it would have to be washed the next time he found himself in civilization. Lorn was just glad that the cloth was made from sturdy fabric and did not rip during his fall. After tallying up the damages to his belly cloth and poking at his wounds again and grimacing, he tossed the cloth on the ground where he would be sleeping. Very few tarcans’ bellies were tough enough to withstand a night rubbing against the hard ground. Lorn had one last task before going to sleep, though.
Concentrating, Lorn felt what seemed like his being extending to all of the natural things around him. He knew just how long ago the trees above his head and been knocked down and how old they were. He could feel just how tough and unyielding the boulders near him were yet could not even begin to guess at how long they had been around. As his senses seemed to extend to all things natural, green protrusions began to grow from Lorn’s tail as well as the sides of his snout and what looked and felt like tree bark seemed to bubble to the surface from under his skin to take up residence on the top of his head, shoulders and back. As the transformation subsided, the glow of the green crystal around his neck faded until it emitted only a dim shine. Already he thought he could feel his wounds being purified.
With a pleasant sigh, Lorn lay down on his belly cloth and rest his tail against the ground, long green vines splayed in a semicircle behind him, already beginning to burrow into the ground with Lorn’s urging. Once he was satisfied with their depth, Lorn concentrated again and felt what little life that the mountainous trees imbued the land with seep into his body. Now he really could feel his wounds being purified as well as starting to close. After a short period of time, Lorn ran a claw across where the gashes had been on his chest and shoulder but felt only smooth, unbroken scales. Lorn let out a pleased grunt and released his concentration on the essence, the vines extending from his tail and snout sucked back into his body like wet noodles and the bark melted back into his scales leaving only Lorn as he had been before being attacked on the mountainside.
Still feeling exhausted, for the transformation healed only physical hurts – at least as far as Lorn knew – not physical exhaustion, the tired tarcan rested his head on the dirty belly cloth and closed his eyes. Tomorrow he would try harder to find the Shrine. And the Tear. I do wonder why they call it Gruenist’s tooth, was his last wavering thought before drifting off to sleep.
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