FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 10

Report

Shade was trotting down the main street of Salmonstone Port, passing troves of merchants with every step. Hatchet had been to this city twice before, but he didn't recall getting nearly as much attention during previous visits. Sure, when you're an eight-foot-tall wolf with a body built for climbing on -like Hatchet was- you get used to constant looks of admiration… but what seemed different this time to the sell-sword was the noticeable concern behind so many of those glances. He looked down in his lap again, ensuring the summoned was still shrouded by the illusory cloak. He searched for the answer, coming up with nothing that seemed right.

“Excuse me… but are you alright, Sir?" A voice just ahead called, prompting Hatchet to pull on Shade's reins, stopping them.

Eyeing the wolf down in suspicion, Hatchet made note of the local guard uniform. He answered the young wolf flatly, “We are fine, thanks."

“Respectfully, I wasn't asking you, I was asking him." The young wolf pointed towards the summoned, dismissing Hatchet's reply.

The human pressed back into hatchet, not caring for how many master's eyes were already on him.

Hatchet lightly squeezed his human's arm, offering some comfort as he answered for him once again. “He can't talk."

“Isn't that convenient for you…. There have been many reports of slavers and bandits taking up cause in the outlying area. Your smaller 'friend' there seems awfully skittish. With all things considered, I'm sure you can understand why I'll need you both to dismount." The guard lowered his brows, placing a hand at his sword.

Hatchet was quickly realizing the position he was in. The summoned couldn't be exposed in public or his entire mission would be compromised. It was why he ensured the human rode in his lap around others; to avoid the chance of contact. He would not be losing the only lead he had to the slaver's operation, even if it meant rerouting his meetup and fighting his way through the town guard.

Hatchet dismounted, raising his hand over his shoulder, laying it on his sword as he stepped forward, “I am sorry, but I cannot oblige your request. He will not dismount here. We have matters far more important than you in this town, pup. My mission cannot wait, and I'm already two days behind schedule."

The young wolf drew his weapon, eyeing down the massive opponent with faltering nerves, yet admirable courage.

“Stop!" Another voice called out. Hatchet smirked the moment he saw the golden mutt approaching. Hatchet always did have a soft spot for Mortar.

“You are out of line, soldier. Leave him be. He is with me." The wolf-dog hybrid flashed his realm-renowned smile towards Hatchet; who had always been aware of Mortar's crush on him.

“And who are y—"

Mortar held his right hand up, silencing the guard by displaying the royal ring on his third finger.

Despite being uncertain and terrified of everything since the moment they stepped into the strange new town, the human couldn't help but be amused in that moment. It appeared the golden-white master was flipping off the younger one.

The guard hastily sheathed his weapon. “M-My apologies, Sir… I didn't realize one of the Seven Proxies was in town. I meant no disresp—"

“There's no need for apologies." Mortar cut him off, lowering his voice and leaning in towards the guard. A crowd was forming, and they didn't need any more unnecessary attention. “Thank you for taking the threat to our people seriously, but this wolf acts in service of the crown. I need him to remain anonymous. I assume you can keep this between us?"

“Y-yes Sir! I'll not utter a word." The guard turned to Hatchet, lowering his head. “Sorry again…."

“It's fine. Glad to know some of the young recruits still have some backbone." Hatchet shrugged it off before changing subject, pointing towards a poster plastered across town; one he had scoffed at on arrival. “However, I should probably tell you that you can take down that bounty now. I dispatched that brown wolf with the eyepatch two days ago."

“WHAT?" The young guard shouted, drawing even more attention, prompting Mortar to shush him before he continued in a much quieter tone, “You killed Ravage the Wrathful?"

“Why did he say it like that? Is it so unbelievable?" Hatchet questioned a beaming Mortar.

“They've been trying to catch him for months. Apparently, he's been a real menace around here as of late. Raping, pillaging, murdering; you name it. I was actually going to ask for your hand tracking them down after our report, but -as usual- it seems you have things handled. I'll be sure to add that bounty to your pay this job." Mortar had a tendency of talking Hatchet up.

“Well… it wasn't the most assured victory, but I left him and two of his pack a long-day's ride away from here. Just follow the road towards Cobalt village and you'll find them, unless some feral got to them first."

The young guard stood in awe as Mortar took the opportunity to tease his idol, “Your word is more than enough proof for me, old friend, but to hear you struggled to beat a wolf like that? Getting rusty in old age?"

“I'm only six years older than you, you'll soon be in the same position, merely shorter." Hatchet chuckled as Mortar flustered. The mutt always hated his height compared to most wolves. Little did he know that was exactly why Hatchet had stood up for him so many years ago.

“Well, if you're done being late to report… shall we go?" Mortar grumbled. He turned to the guard, adding, “Would you escort us back to the inn? I'd prefer no more trouble from the locals."

“Yes Sir!"

= = =

The human didn't like so many changes so quickly. He preferred it just be him and Master Hatchet, but he trusted the dark wolf to keep him safe. Luckily for the human, the Master seemed quite intent on keeping everyone else away.

The Master had been leading his horse with the human still on the saddle, apparently deep in conversation with the golden-white wolf. Occasionally, one of the two would cast a glance his way. For Master Hatchet he didn't mind; the eyes like rubies were safe to meet. However, when the other looked his way, the human found old habits returning. He would cast his eyes aside.

'Do not look them in the eye…' It felt strange to revisit the gospel. He thought he was rid of it.

'We do not shed the gospel. We could not forget it, even if we wanted to' Words from murky dreams festered like puss from a wound. His attention was drawn elsewhere. The Master had stopped.

They were in front of a building with multiple floors, one that appeared much larger than the last place he had slept inside of with the Master. The human watched his master turn and say something to the younger wolf from earlier, tossing the reins his way before turning back to the human and offering out a large hand to help him dismount. He was quickly ushered in, a large arm thrown protectively over him as he was snugged into the Master's side. He was grateful for that.

They followed the golden-white master inside, heading down a hallway before it branched off into another. A door was opened by their guide, and the Master moved them inside, closing the door behind them and casting the room into darkness.

The human didn't know when exactly he had started shuddering, but he was terrified of what all of this could mean….

A steady hand grazed against his own. He flinched, still blind in the recent dark.

'From their touch you do not shy.'

The larger hand took hold of his trembling one, wrapping it securely within the Master's unmistakable grasp. The human exhaled. The Master guided him forward, turning him after a few steps and coaxing him to sit beside the wolf.

A lamp was lit, and his sights were thankfully restored.

Hatchet chuckled at the human's relief while Mortar apologized, “Sorry about that. If I'm being honest though, I've never known a wolf that couldn't see in the dark. It's a little strange, Hatchet…. I mean, he already can't hear as it is."

“I know. It's a lot of story, though. A lot more than we expected. There's more at play here than anyone would've guessed, but first, we should probably fetch the Divined… You did bring one of the Divined, right?"

Mortar briefly glanced left; Hatchet had discovered the wolf-dog's tell years ago.

“Mortar." He pressed.

“I didn't forget…." He wouldn't even look Hatchet in the eye.

“Alright," Hatchet prodded; wary of the sudden wariness. “So where is he?"

“Umm…. She should be back any moment."

'Oh no.' Hatchet audibly sighed, his fingers coming up to massage his already-aching brow. The tone he replied in did little to hide his irritation, “Tell me it's River…."

Mortar flashed that realm-renowned smile, aiming to garner enough pity to spare himself. “It's Cypress."

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?"

“She was the only one free…."

“Absolutely not! And not for the reasons you're thinking, either, but because of how obsessed she is with—"

The door opened mid-sentence to interrupt the tirade. It was a gift from the gods in Mortar's opinion. It was surely an omen as far as Hatchet was concerned.

“Hatchet?" A brown wolf with a reddish tint to her fur stood in the doorway, narrowing her eyes. “My, it's been years… could've been a few more, honestly. Surprised you're still alive, let alone actively taking jobs."

“Don't worry Cypress, I didn't miss you either." There was something about nobles that always smelled off to Hatchet. He figured it was the inbreeding further back in their bloodlines.

Cypress scoffed. “Well, I might have missed that boldness, if nothing else. It's nice to have someone speak their mind to me. Most are too afraid to." She closed her eyes, huffing lightly. Despite their many disagreements in the past, they both always put their duty first. “This isn't going to be anything like Greygold Keep, is it?"

“I sure in fuck hope not." They could at least agree on that.

Mortar let his stifled laughter crack for a moment, earning a pointed stare from both wolves. He rushed to explain himself, “Sorry… but as much as Greygold was a catastrophe, it was pretty fun at the end."

“We burned down half the keep…." Cypress felt her brow twitch.

“You mean you burned down half the keep." Hatchet muttered.

Cypress glared for a moment before turning back to Mortar. “Why am I here?"

“Hatchet and I had a crown mission involving the slavers around here. We need to report."

“I see… and I assume it has something to do with the one whose stench is giving me a headache?" She pointed towards the disguised human, jumping right to business. “Seriously, how many enchantments does one wolf need? Could you drop those? My magical sense is sensitive, and your spells are distracting."

Hatchet's ears perked. “Wait, enchantments? I thought it was just the one illusion?"

“Illusion?" Mortar questioned.

Hatchet sighed, shaking his head. “We're all getting ahead of ourselves… let me show you what you should see first, and then I'll tell you everything else from the beginning."

The large wolf turned to his human -who had been staring at the ground for a while now- and gently brought a hand to his chin. He lifted that sullen face, making eye-contact before smiling. The summoned returned a smile, but it seemed forced to the wolf. Hatchet still appreciated the effort.

Hatchet turned towards Cypress as he lingered for a moment. “Before you see this, I need you to promise me you'll stay calm. He can't hear, and he seems uncertain around you two, so I don't want you scaring him."

“Since when were you so thoughtful?" Cypress chastised the black wolf, but saw Hatchet was being sincere… surprisingly. “Fine, I promise I'll stay calm. Honestly, I find it a little unfair that you're expecting me to lose my composure but not Mor—"

The hood came down, and so did the illusion. Both wolves stared in pure astonishment.

It was Cypress to recover first, her eyes alit with glee. “EEEEEEEEE! A SUMMONED?!? TRULY!?! AFTER ALL THESE YEARS, I finally get to meet a summoned! THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!"

Hatchet groaned as Cypress “Eeeeeee'd" her way through another bout of excitement, bolting forward to inspect the human. This was exactly why he didn't want it to be Cypress… the crazy mage was OBSESSED with the summoned heroes of the past, and she was going to overwhelm the poor human with questions he had no means to hear, let alone answer.

The human shied away from the quickly approaching wolf, pressing himself into his Master's side before he even realized he was begging for cover.

Hatchet threw that large arm over his human, drawing him in protectively as he barked towards Cypress, “KNOCK IT OFF! I TOLD YOU NOT TO SCARE HIM!"

Cypress took a step back, still absolutely giddy as she apologized, “Sorry! It's just that I can't believe it finally happened! I thought I'd never get the chance since the law…." Her words faded as quickly as her smile. She peered down at the summoned in new light; appalling realization overtaking excited thoughts. “Oh… so you mean…."

“…The slavers are summoning humans." Mortar finished in a whisper.

~ ~ ~

Hours had gone by as the masters spoke amongst themselves. Occasionally, Master Hatchet would point to the human as he explained some matter or another, leading him to realize that the Master was retelling their journey together. He waited patiently. The Master had ways of checking on him throughout: A flash of fangs bore his way, a squeeze of the hand, a sign asking if he was hungry. The wolf didn't exclude him by any means, but the human just couldn't shake the sense that Master Hatchet was sad about something….

The wolves all stood, the Master guiding him once more. The human was walked to the center of the room before the hood of his cloak was pulled back up. The golden-white master drew the sword from his hip and placed the point to the ground before facing the wall to kneel.

Master Hatchet nudged the human, holding out not a sign, but a familiar hand signal. A single digit was extended; he was also to kneel.

The human sucked in a breath, shocked at the sudden command. Still he obeyed. He knelt before the large wolf, his gut churning as he anticipated the worst. Something was definitely not right. He didn't know what it was, but he was certain he had done something wrong.

The Master knelt beside him; a development more ominous than the last. 'Why would the Master kneel? Does he serve the red wolf?'

The reddish wolf stepped forward, facing the same wall as the other three were. She held her hands out, speaking something that the human couldn't hear; as expected. What he didn't expect, however, was to feel it so clearly. There was a presence to the air, a weight growing in that room. Still, she continued as that smothering force grew ever more prominent.

It was getting hard to breathe for the summoned. It felt like he needed to push back against the threat, but he had no means to. He may as well hold his hands up to block the wind for all the good it would do. This wasn't something he could actually defend against, but he still felt the strong urge to. Then suddenly, the presence lifted as an image appeared on the wall; one that he was too shaken to focus on.

He hung his head, sweat forming on his brow as he panted, trying to discern what that strangling sensation could have been. The Master's hand found his once more. He turned to peer at the dark wolf wearing such clear concern for him and nodded. He would be alright.

Hatchet stared at his companion a while longer, the wolf's thoughts anything but calm. Cypress and Mortar had heard him out as he told his story. He had expected some doubt, but they seemed to have believed every word. Hatchet spared no detail aside from their two most intimate moments. Those just felt a little too personal for the other wolves. They belonged to only the summoned and himself. He could keep that much, if nothing else….

He cast his eyes forward as Cypress began with a bow, “King Brandish, always an honor."

The king appeared annoyed by the interruption. He bypassed the pleasantries and focused his attention to his kneeling proxy, “Mortar… you're late."

“Apologies, my king. It appears there was trouble on the road."

King Brandish huffed, leaning into his chair as he waved the knight on. “Just get on with it."

“My king, I must request you clear the room. This report requires the utmost secrecy to be maintained"

With a roll of his eyes, the monarch clapped his hands, dismissing his staff. He gestured for Mortar to hurry up and report when the deed was done.

“Through use of a crown mercenary, we have managed to infiltrate the slaver operation in Cobalt village. During this process, the purchase of a slave was made; both to gain further information about the operation, and to serve as undeniable proof to the crime. However, the situation was more dire than we anticipated."

“Selling pups? If so, just go ahead and march on the slavers, no need to wait." This was not the first such report, or so the king thought.

“I'm afraid this is something else entirely… the slavers are summoning humans."

“There are summoned? In this age?" The king bellowed in disbelief. “Cypress, how is this possible?"

“I'm afraid the implications are rather dire." She replied. “But we have proof that cannot be ignored."

“Explain yourself." King Brandish sat up a little straighter, his curiosity piqued.

Cypress turned back to Hatchet, nodding towards the larger wolf.

The sell-sword stood from his kneel, lifting his human up with him. Hatchet gazed into the eyes of the summoned, bringing his hands to the sides of the human's face. He found himself wanting to stay there a bit longer.

The summoned raised one of his own hands, lightly touching the back of Hatchet's; as if giving permission. Eyes that had survived such sorrow peered into eyes like rubies. The hood was lowered.

As King Brandish gasped in awe, Hatchet explained the basics. “He cannot hear and he cannot speak that I know of, he can communicate through other means, however. He was purchased in very rough shape, and he has undoubtedly suffered great abuse since being summoned to this world four years ago. I know he appears healthy now, but that is only his power at work. He was covered in scars and filth in the beginning, but it appears with adequate rest and food, he can restore any damage to his body."

“And you say he cannot speak? How else can he communicate?" The king pressed Hatchet for answers.

“He has been teaching me some of his hand movements. He has different ones with different meaning, but I must admit that it is not a fast process. With the three days I've been learning, I have only learned around twenty."

“So. If he cannot communicate with us, how is he to help us stop the slavers who summoned him?" King Brandish raised a brow.

“I may actually have an answer there." Cypress cut in.

“You do?" Hatchet, Mortar, and the King all answered in unison.

“We have some texts written by the summoned of the past. We also have direct translations for those texts, courtesy of those same summoned reading them to a scribe. It is not a lot of words to build on, but…."

“It may be enough for what we need!" Mortar's excitement got the better of him. “You're a genius, Cypress!"

The red wolf beamed in pride. “I know."

“Excellent!" King Brandish decreed, “Bring the summoned here, we have the best scholars in the palace."

“I can start the spell as soon we finish…." Cypress began her answer. Hatchet never heard her.

Hatchet had been bloodied and bruised many times in his life. He had been beaten, broken, and burned by magical fire. He had now even died once. Despite it all, the pain of every hit the beast had ever walked away from was nothing compared to the blow those words dealt his tightening chest. They angered the mercenary, almost as much as his feelings surprised him. He clenched his maw, scrunching his brows as his gaze was cast to the floor. His fists balled, trembling in disgust at the reality he was failing to accept.

'I cannot… I cannot lose him. I cannot say goodbye. I cannot let him be taken from me.'

The lightest touch against his shaking fists made Hatchet turn back to his human; who was staring up with those uncertain eyes as he held the wolf's hand.

The human didn't know what could have the Master so upset, but he would do what he could, even if his comforting notion was all he had to offer. The Master had eased his worries countless times. This was the least he could do.

Hatchet smiled at the affection, exhaling as the weight lightened for a moment. The beast turned his fist, opening it, taking the hand of the summoned within his own. He mused to himself at last, finding it easy to confess such feelings now. At least, to himself, anyway. 'I do not know how you've so ensnared me… but it is I who is leashed to you now.'

Mortar stared over his shoulder, looking back at the exchange between the dark wolf and the human. As Cypress told the king the specifics of her plan, the golden-white wolf-dog couldn't help but notice every reaction the sell-sword had. Mortar had known Hatchet for many years, going all the way back to when Mortar was just a rowdy pup getting picked on for being a half breed. In all the years Mortar had spent gazing up at his idol, he had never once seen Hatchet act anything like the way he had been since finding that slave.

He had never seen the sell-sword smile so much. Realization after realization fell upon the golden-white mutt like rain.

Mortar refocused on the conversation, preparing himself. The Third Proxy of the crown was nothing if not a good debater. “If I may, your majesty…"

Cypress stopped mid-elaboration, turning with a scowl for once more being interrupted by the mutt.

“What is it?" King Brandish quipped.

“It's just that I can't help but wonder if this is an error?" The wolf-dog was coy in his answer.

The king noticed, “Explain what you mean?"

Mortar leapt at his opening, turning to Cypress with a question, “Tell me, how did this summoned get here."

Cypress stared, certain this was one of the mutt's trick questions. “One would presume he was summoned…." She answered after the silence.

“And who could have summoned him."

“Any of the seven Divined." She answered, knowing where he was taking this. They had already discussed as much before reporting.

She sighed, realizing she'd have to explain that to the king also. “The summoning spell is sacred; an ancient magic that nobody knows the true origins behind. Some say it was a gift of the gods centuries ago. Some argue it was magic forged between wolves and humans of old. Some believe it was brought by a stranger of both worlds. Regardless of such debate, the spell is undeniably real, and it requires an immense magical presence."

“So only my mages could pull it off?" The king inquired.

“Yes, but not for the reasons you're thinking. It isn't that only we seven have the magical capacity to handle the spell, it's that we seven are the only ones that know it. Each of the seven Divined receive this spell the day of our mentor's succession ceremony; when we are chosen as the next Divined. When the knowledge of the spell is transferred, the old bearer forgets everything about it."

“So they could just tell someone?" The King was not as well-versed on his magic as his forefathers were…. Or as well-versed on anything for that matter.

“If I tried to tell you the specifics of this spell in any way; by writing, speaking, or even memory magic, the spell itself would kill me. The only way to obtain it is by being named a successor. This has always been the true duty of the seven Divined. We were to retain this knowledge for if our world ever needed the heroes again, but -as the crown has decreed for the last few decades- none of us have ever actually used it."

Cypress looked back to the human as she corrected herself, “Well, up until at least four years ago."

She turned back to the king as he finally grasped the situation. “We have a traitor and a slaver amongst the seven most-powerful mages on our continent."

“WAIT! What if one of you are killed before you pass it on? Would we lose a Divined?" King Brandish didn't care for the possibility of anything that would weaken his stature.

“One of the remaining Divined could choose a successor for them. It has happened before, and it appears the magic allows for such." Cypress was many things, but a trove of knowledge was always the most prominent.

“So, I will summon all seven Divined to find out for myself who is responsible!" The King grinned, feeling accomplished for finding the solution with ease.

“I would advise against that, my king." Mortar cutting in finally came as a relief to Cypress. “I think the best course of action is to keep the knowledge of what we have accomplished and discovered here hidden. If our crown mercenary can continue his contact undiscovered, we may be able to find out many of the more important details to the slaver's operation; including which of the Divined is at fault. They have been doing this for four years -if not longer- so we can assume there are other summoned already here."

“How many do you expect?" Brandish asked.

“Well, if this human was the first, then up to seven others. The summoning spell can only be used once each solstice." Cypress was thankful for that safeguard, given recent circumstance.

Mortar ended his pitch on a strong note, “So, we can assume they intend to summon the next in the summer. Our mercenary purchased a slave already summoned instead of securing the one they plan to bring over, so we have a chance to secure that buy ahead of time also, given all other measures fail before then."

“I see… so, bringing that summoned here would tip off the guilty Divined to our knowledge of their operation." Brandish walked right where Mortar had led him.

“Good point, your majesty. Perhaps it's best we keep this summoned hidden for the time being. As long as he isn't known by the public, our mercenary's story will stand with the slavers." Mortar agreed vigorously, ensuring the king believed it was his own idea.

“Then it's settled. None of us will speak of this outside of us four, and the crown mercenary is to continue his infiltration. Now, where are you suggesting we keep the human?" King Brandish was yawning again. Mortar had to wrap this up.

“Well, our mercenary was granted an abode not too far from the palace, but far enough away from unwarranted company. Why not keep the summoned there? That way, they can continue learning to communicate with one another, and maybe offer us some more valuable input on the inner-workings of the syndicate." Mortar had a smug smile crawling over his maw. His handiwork impressed even himself sometimes.

“A wise idea, my proxy. Go, make it be… however." The king looked back to Hatchet, staring down the mercenary as he spoke, “I do plan on visiting the summoned eventually. Do try to gain some ground with your hand motions. I'd like to speak with him the next I see him."

Hatchet bowed, hiding his massive grin with the act. He could kiss that mutt!

“Is there anything else for now?" King Brandish asked the question, but all three wolves knew he wanted to hear nothing else. When silence answered him, the king adjourned the report.

Cypress dropped the spell, the image of the monarch fading from the wall.

Hatchet exhaled audibly; a slow and deliberate action. He looked to his human and felt himself bubbling over with relief. They got to stay together.

The sell-sword turned to the knight, nodding towards his old friend, “Thank you."

Mortar flashed that realm-renowned smile as he dismissed the need for praise. “Don't worry about it. Though, I do have to ask… what next?"

“I'll tell you what's next…." Cypress cut in this time, a deviant look crossing her face as she mused at the summoned with eyes glinting. “He is going to my house, I'm going to run some tests, and we are going to get some answers!"

Hatchet and Mortar stared, both admittedly afraid of what she meant by 'tests'.

Cypress didn't care. She had waited a lifetime for this opportunity, and learning what they could about the abilities of the summoned would be worth any strain on her magic. She finished with a mad grin, holding her hand over her head as she prepared the jump. “But first, we will have to take care of those pesky enchantments. That collar is coming off!"