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Ivaylis Silversun

The old fortress loomed overhead.

The old turrets and stone walls stood shrouded in a layer of snow, creating a contrasting collage of dark and light.

It stood on the Peak of Skeriss Mountain, overlooking the smaller rocky peaks that surrounded the lower city in the valley below.

There was a staleness to the air, a sense of abandonment. As if we were the first souls to venture there in many years.

I was surprised by the sheer size of the old city. The remoteness of it combined with the treacherous mountain road that lead up to the old halls gates made it seem unlikely an army could have caused its downfall.

“I never realized how large these ruins were.” I commented.

Hestross was walking past me through the massive crumbling snow-covered archway that once served as the main gate to the lower city.

“It was once the pinnacle of authority to the frost giants. A symbol of power, long ago.” He stated.

Making our way up the heavy road through thick snow, we passed the decaying structures of Old Manir.

Just beyond, the keep loomed overhead.

“Be wary. I can sense something here. Something wrong.” Hestross commented, gripping his spear at the ready.

I drew my single-edged elven bastard sword, scanning the ruins around us for any sign of movement.

“Do you think it that beast the giant spoke of?” I asked.

“It’s possible.” Hestross replied, moving forward cautiously.

We made our way through the city, jumping at every little sound, be it the rustle of the wind or the falling of sun-softened snow from a ruined structure.

My heart stood tense, my blade posed in a defensive angle, ready to parry or strike.

I kept turning about to check the path behind us, ensuring we would not be taken by surprise.

I would glance back forward occasionally, just in time to see the centaur’s large rear just as I was about to bump into it whenever he halted to scan the ruins.

Our travel was rather tough, due to the depth of the snow as the road steepened up the mountain trail, but Hestross made it easier with his larger size.

In some places, the snows had accumulated in deep banks from the wind gusting across the mountains face.

In such places, the poor stallion-man would be almost up to his human waist (about where a horses neck would have been) in the snow. I at least had the blessing of my armor and clothing, as well as my thick winter cloak.

I was surprised to see the centaur people had a distinct lack of clothing of any sort, including garments to fight off the bite of winter.

I attributed it to a strong, tough people, and the small shred of protection their horse coats may have provided.

Still, it couldn’t have been comfortable to completely submerge your entire genital region in the collected snows.

It was then that I realized I had been staring at his rump, admiring his powerful rear thighs as they flexed to propel his leaps and bounds through the snow.

His coarse fur was a dark brownish hue, an interesting contrast to the deep white of the snow about us.

He managed to crash through one such deep bank and stumble into the shallower snow on the other side, beyond a sheltering rock face that helped break the winds.

I noticed his massive dark scrotum as melting snow dripped down them.

He glanced back to see if I could follow in his path, snapping me back to the task at hand.

I really hoped he hadn’t caught me locked on his nethers!

The nude centaur reached out an arm, allowing me to take it, and crash through the shallow path he had made.

“Don’t suppose this route is travelled often anymore.” I stated, hoping he wouldn’t notice me blushing. Perhaps he would associate it with a cold-reddened face.

“I’m surprised the giants haven’t attempted to reclaim this city.” Hestross replied, pulling me through the snowbank, and down beside him.

With that, we began our progress, this time much easier. The road was easily large enough, even as it wound up the side of the mountain, for the two of us to walk side by side, however, Hestross insisted I walk behind him, so that he may break up the thick snow first.

As it made my going slightly easier, I obliged, though that meant I would be staring at his rump most of the trip, and I wasn’t certain my nerves could take it.

I mean, sure, he was attractive, as far as half-humanoid creatures went.

His upper half was quite exquisite, actually, in a wild sort of way. He was physically built, with the muscles of a warrior in the prime of his life, sun tanned skin that was heavily traced with scars from various battles.

He certainly didn’t have the refined and clean appearance of an elvish noble, but he held a certain dignity to him, nonetheless.

My eyes were on the back of his head as we moved, watching as he squinted against the sun-glare of the snow to scan ahead.

I followed his muscular back down to where human met horse, and shook my head.

Never before had I considered an animal attractive, especially not horses. Maybe in the way one appreciates a powerful, well-bred animal, sure.

But Hestross was no animal.

Maybe I had grown more open-minded in my travels with such strange creatures as Rekkdyr or Skempta since I’d left Rainhaven. The idea of Rekkdyr and Princess Vailadriel finding happiness together was almost a comforting one, now more than ever in fact.

When I had first been assigned to the gnoll in Rainhaven as a personal sentry, I was skeptical. I saw the way he was around the Princess, and I heard the tales of their time in that slaver arena. Perhaps it was preexisting racism that drove me, but I did not accept the idea then.

Now, I only wished it could have been.

My eyes settled once again on the horse rump in front of me, and the massive scrotum that was barely concealed by his tail.

That scrotum was attached, I knew, to a massive sheath that concealed quite a weapon. I hadn’t quite seen this other “spear” of his firsthand, but judging by the size of the sheath, it was impressive.

I shook my head again, trying to clear away the thoughts. I was an Officer of the Royal Guard of Rainhaven on a mission of dire importance at the request of a nature goddess. How could I act like a blushing child at a moment like this?

I obviously felt attracted to his human appearance, and clearly fascinated with the not so human bits as well.

Why, then, did I hesitate?

When I kissed him before, I was acting recklessly, with the belief we would not see the next sunrise.

Yet, had that been a subconscious expression of my feelings for him?

What were my feelings for him? Friendship? Lust?

I certainly did admire the centaur, both for his fighting prowess, and his wisdom.

But, could it really be…love?

“There.” Hestross said suddenly, pointing ahead without looking back at me.

Startled, I tore my gaze from his ass to see what he was pointing at.

Before us stood the second set of gates, the ones that led to the hall of the old giant kings.

We approached cautiously, weapons at the ready. Passing through the gate, we came into an ancient courtyard of stone. At one time, this hall would have been an impressive sight. Towering high enough to be seen for miles around, the roof had collapsed in some sections, and a large portion of the courtyard wall had crumbled to nothing.

This time, it was easier for me to focus on task, as our objective was in sight.

Large portions of wall stood about, easily capable of concealing creatures the size of an orc.

A chill seemed to cut through the courtyard, just as the sun was shrouded by heavy clouds.

At least, that is what I believed at first, until I noticed the presence of a thick cloud forming about us. It was dark, almost like a semi-solid manifestation of shadow.

“Hestross!” I called.

“I see it. Something approaches.” He replied, raising his spear.

The last time we encountered such unnatural darkness, we faced the Harbinger of Malmyrkris himself.

Trying to forget how that ended, I prepared a spell.

Light radiated about us, illuminating the courtyard, which was now dark enough to rival a moonless night.

The light seemed to hit a wall of shadows, immediately snuffing out just beyond our initial radius.

Suddenly, out of the darkness burst a large bear-like creature. It was massive, dwarfing a normal cave bear by no small amount. Though this was no normal bear.

Its hide was thick with what appeared to be living tendrils of shadows, reaching and twisting in gut wrenching directions.

Its face was clearly ursine in structure, with powerful jaws that could have crushed Hestross’ torso with one bite.

The beast considered the two of us for a moment, its eyes glowing a deep blood red, before suddenly roaring ferociously and charging.

Hestross raised his spear high, calling out with a spell.

“Kastator!” he roared, leveling his spear at the charging beast.

A bolt of lightning ripped through the air, crackling violently as it slammed into the beast with a flash.

The monster gave a berserk roar, slamming forward despite the gaping singed hole that was quickly being sealed by that shadow-stuff.

Hestross met his charge fearlessly, driving his spear into the beasts’ chest right where the lightning bolt had struck.

The animal roared again, slamming forward with a massive clawed paw, sending the centaur spinning into the snow.

“Aaravuur!” I roared as I leapt between the fallen centaur and the beast. I thrust my left hand out, spell energies glowing about the frantic somatic motions of my fingers.

Fire that raged with the intensity of sunlight leapt forth, consuming the animal in a blinding inferno. The beast wailed in agony, clearly taken by surprise.

I pressed the assault, moving in to drive my blade into the creatures flank.

As the blinding light dissipated, I managed to score a wicked hit on the side of the beasts’ neck, but it didn’t seem to slow him.

The next roar sounded more in my mind than in the physical world. I blinked, stunned, stumbling back as I was torn into a place of complete darkness.

All sensations seemed to be missing.

No, not missing.

All at once, the worst pain I had ever felt ripped its way through me, tearing my flesh to shreds.

My ears rang loudly and painfully as if they were bursting from intense pressure.

Daggers were being driven into my eyes, and the oxygen was ripped violently from my chest.

I tried to scream, but no noise escaped my lips. My tongue was shriveling and dry, a terrible thirst tearing its way through me, accompanied by a great hunger.

A wicked laughter suddenly drifted through that painful ringing, the only stimulation I experienced other than pain. It was the same laughter, the same voice, from the dungeons of Manir.

“The gnoll was lucky. You face a darker fate.” It whispered.

Then instantly, there was nothing.

I was drifting in a world of darkness, where time and space seemed meaningless.

I could hear my father, speaking of evocations. He was certainly a learned man, though not the best teacher.

He had taught me one of the first spells I’d learned, as simple fire spell. Seemed to be the go to for early mages when they first began their study of evocation magic.

I had been setting fires, or at least getting a log to smolder, all day, when he had returned to check my progress.

“Ivaylis, you certainly have much work to do.” His disapproving tone obvious in his voice.

My reply came with the voice of a child.

“I’ll try harder…”

“Ivaylis!” Hestross words ripped through the hallucination, tearing me painfully back into the world of the living.

I lay in the snow, drenched in cold sweat.

I blinked the light from my simple spell from my eyes, appearing as bright as the sun compared to the world I just left behind.

Sitting up, I felt the world spin, dizziness threatening to relieve me of my stomach contents.

“Ivaylis!” Hestross called again.

I groggily turned to see him gripping the axe he usually carried on his flank with leather straps, chopping ferociously at the beast and occasionally launching a bolt of electricity. His spear still protruded from the animals chest, though grasping shadows seemed to be entwining their way around its shaft.

The animal had many varied wounds that were quickly being swallowed up by those same shadows from his hide.

I stood on shaky legs, retrieving my sword from the snow.

Shaking the grogginess from my head, I moved forward, glancing about at the wall of semi-solid darkness kept at bay by my light spell.

I could hear voices, whispers coming from its depths.

Shaking, I turned, focusing on the beast.

Rushing forward, I brought my sword to bear, slashing at the back of the beasts’ thigh.

He whipped around, swinging a massive shadowy paw at my head, which I barely managed to duck.

Hestross dropped his axe into the creatures back, causing the same reaction in his directions, with a similar result.

I thrust forward, poking a couple new holes in the monsters back before being forced to retreat from his retaliation.

Hestross had drawn a simple oak branch, galloping forward to drop his axe on the creatures exposed flank again.

The beasts eyes started to glow an intense red, and a rumbling growl started sounding in my mind once again.

Hestross rushed forward, rearing back like a rampant horse, before dropping both his front hooves on the bear’s lower leg.

A terrible crack sounded throughout the courtyard.

I moved in, driving my blade deep to the hilt in the creatures’ ribs.

The blow should have been lethal, as the blade would have torn through heart and lung at this angle, so I didn’t immediately duck away.

The beast spun on me again, slamming me with a force I didn’t know could exist.

The world fell from beneath my feet, before I was violently cast back into the snow.

Dizzy and dazed, I fought to bring myself to my feet, seeing the massive monstrosity bearing down on me, an odd limp to his rear leg.

“Aaravurr!” I roared, launching the Dayfire spell into the beast once again.

It roared, shying away from the magical assault.

“DAGAN!” Hestross roared, and a mighty light exploded from the oaken rod he clutched in his off-hand, bursting forth well beyond the borders of my pathetic light spell.

It radiated pure daylight, casting away the shadows that fought to consume our circle.

A terrible roar escaped the beast, somewhere in front of me.

Eyes clenched shut from the light, I focused on another spell.

“Aaravuur!” I roared, blasting forward blindly.

The roar sounded in my mind once again, but I fought it, clenching my jaw against the pain.

I forced myself to maintain the magic, feeling my legs beginning to shake, the snow below me softening to slush, then mud.

And then, the light dissipated.

I stumbled forward, dropping to my knees into the slushy muck of the courtyard, the heat from spells and battle clearing away much of its presence.

The solid shadows had also dissipated about us, casting us once again in a natural daylight.

I glanced up, seeing the body of a regular bear, slumped before me.

It was brownish in color, and somehow appearing less ferocious than before.

“It was the Naettura guardian.” Hestross commented, cautiously picking his way across the courtyard to me.

“I fear the horrors he suffered at the hands of the Harbinger.”

He lowered an arm, helping pull me out of the muck.

“Is he dead?” I asked.

“Yes. Though I fear the corruption that drove him still remains. We should leave. This seal has been broken, surely, and I fear what other horrors we may face if we linger here.”

I nodded, trying to clean the mud from my hands and armor best I could.

Hours later found us at the same place we had camped the night before. It was a small clearing on the side of a mountain stream that fed into a greater river that split the entire island down the middle. The area was relatively sheltered from the wind and rain by juniper trees and rocky outcroppings, making it easy to overlook.

Still, I now felt we were far too close to the old ruin, especially if some creature from the Shadowlands still lurked about.

The sun had yet to set fully, casting us in a gloomy twilight, and I shivered against my mud soaked armor and clothing.

“We cannot have a fire tonight.” Hestross commented. “We are still close to danger, I fear.

“Laukuura.” I whispered, casting the warming spell.

The sensation slowly spread through my limbs, fighting off the chill of the night and the collected moisture on my skin.

“Please forgive my lack of modesty. I must clean my armor, so that it does not rust.” I stated as I began to undue the straps of my bracers.

The centaur raised an eyebrow.

“Modesty? You realized what you speak too?” He grinned, sidestepping to highlight his own blatant nudity.

“Of course, I was merely being polite.” I said, laying out the armor in the snow before me while trying to avoid glancing at his sleek flank.

My gambeson had been heavily caked with mud, and would also require care.

I began to unfasten it, hoping the warmth spell would be enough keep the cold of winter at bay.

Shrugging out of the wet padded shirt, I stood in the twilight winter air in nothing more than an under tunic and trousers.

I set to work trying to scrub mud from the rings and plates with handfuls of snow.

Luckily, I knew a spell that would instantly dry an item, though I wished to remove as much of the soiling as I could.

I glanced back at Hestross, who had moved off to sit by one of the large junipers. His eyes were closed, and he faced off into the darkness.

I stopped my work for a moment.

“Is everything alright?” I asked.

His eyes opened, and he had a grin on his face.

“The Naettura has sought me out.” He replied, turning to me.

“He lives?” I asked, surprised.

“No. He has passed on to the spirits. Though, now he is free.” The centaur returned to where I was, a strange look of comfort on his face.

“You spoke to him?” I asked, confused.

“The same way the earth speaks, so do spirits.” He replied cryptically.

“Oh.” I said, not understanding at all. Surprisingly, I was not a very religious elf.

“He wished to thank us for ending his suffering.” He said, somberly.

I glanced down at the work in front of me, feeling a tightness in my chest. That world of darkness I experienced for what couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. Was that the suffering he knew?

“So, do you, ah, require aid?” he asked, glancing down at the armor spread out.

“If you’d like. I’m just trying to clean them.” I replied, pushing the thoughts from my head.

The centaur picked up my breastplate, examining it for a moment.

“Seems too restrictive. I’m surprised you can flow as gracefully as you do when you fight so encumbered.” He commented.

I blushed at the compliment, hoping the fading light would conceal it.

“Well, I suppose I would be much quicker and less confined if I were to go without, but this armor has saved my life many times. It’s made the difference between a sword being turned aside and a sword being driven into my heart. Besides, it’s mithril, perhaps one of the lightest metals around. It’s very strong. Makes excellent armor.” I explained.

“So, you bear few battle scars?” he asked, setting to work on the armor.

His horse half had slumped into the snow, laying on its flank, though he supported himself with one of his forelegs in a lazy sort of way. I couldn’t help but appreciate the sleek power in his posture.

“Not necessarily. Many blades have found weaknesses. Joints or openings between the plates. It certainly is not the end all for surviving a fight.”

“What happened today?” he asked suddenly. I realized then what he meant by “battle scars.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“When we faced the corrupt Naettura, you collapsed, screaming.” He replied. “It was unnerving.”

“I didn’t know I was screaming. I tried to, but I couldn’t hear anything. Couldn’t breathe…” I stated.

“The beast did something?” He asked.

“I fell into shadows. Tendrils ripped at my flesh. It seemed as if all senses were rended, broken. And then I heard him. The harbinger. He recognized me. Spoke of Rekkdyr.” I shivered at the memory, the memory I had been trying to force from my head since our departure from the ruins.

“A vision of the shadowlands.” Hestross stated.

“He said my fate would be darker than the gnolls.” My armor lay before me forgotten now.

“An attempt at intimidation, nothing more.” The centaur assured, placing my breastplate down.

“I’ve encountered many mages in my time. None of them have been true well rounded warriors capable of weaving spell and blade as seamlessly as you.” He continued.

I felt redness returning to my cheeks.

“You said it was a vision of the Shadowlands. Is that the fate Rekkdyr is damned too?” I asked.

The centaur looked off to the western peak, just as the last rays of light disappeared beyond.

At last he spoke.

“I’m afraid so.”

I inhaled a deep breath. I had only experienced a vision of such torment. How long had he endured such pain? There was no dying in the land of the dead, so even death couldn’t spare him such suffering. Perhaps Skempta was correct in her fury with the Lords.

“There is more. I heard my father. A memory from when I was a child.”

“What sort of man was your father?” Hestross asked.

“He had always been a stern elf. Pushed hard for me to study magic. Ambitious, I suppose you could say. It lead to his downfall. He was cast out as a traitor.” I replied.

“His crime?”

“He delved too deeply in forbidden arts. When my mother died, he changed. He fought to return my mother from the dead. Many believe he succeeded. What he brought back was not my mother, but I fear he couldn’t see that.”

I shivered, though it wasn’t from the cold.

Hestross cautiously shifted closer to me.

He reached down to wipe tears from my cheek. I hadn’t realized I was crying.

Gazing up into his face, I inhaled a quivering breath.

My heart was racing, seeing his deep brown eyes that perfectly matched the close kept beard.

Unexpectedly, he pulled me up into a kiss.

I deepened it, placing my arms around him to help support my weight.

After a few moments, we broke the kiss.

His blush matched mine.

“I’m sorry.” He chuckled shyly. I had never seen him behaving so strangely.

“I suppose it’s only fair. We’re even now.” I replied.

It was then that I noticed a slight erection growing beneath his lower body.

He stood, side-stepping quickly to hide it.

My heart was racing.

He obviously felt something for me. Whether that was love or lust, I didn’t really care at that moment.

I had made up my mind.

I began to unlace my under tunic, watching his eyes for a reaction.

When he didn’t move to stop me, I pulled it off, revealing my bare chest.

I could see his face redden deeper as I slowly slithered out of my trousers.

Standing fully nude now, I moved around him, slowly brushing his flank with my fingertips as I moved to his side. He made no move to stop me.

Reaching down, I slowly brushed his quickly hardening erection.

I could feel his thick calloused fingers reach down from behind me, slowly worming their way gently between my legs.

My breath caught as he slowly slipped one inside me.

My fingers closed about the hardening shaft, gently caressing and stroking until it reached its full length, completely free of his sheath.

A jolt of pleasure shot through me as his fingers found my clit, drawing a moan from my lips

I directed the flared head of his cock toward me, where I cautiously gave the head a gentle lick.

It wasn’t quite as bad as I had expected.

I opened my mouth, taking the head of his cock between my lips with great difficulty, due to his sheer girth.

His exploring fingers became more frantic, rubbing and sliding deeper into me, drawing quivers of ecstasy from my loins.

I began to massage and pump at his massive shaft, feeling every vein along the silky flesh.

Where his hands were rough and calloused, and his chest heavily scarred from battle, his cock was silky and tender, even as firm as it was.

I could feel a pulse through his thick veins along the shaft. His heart was racing with anticipation and pleasure.

I continued to suckle at his massive member, feeling the building sensation of climax between my legs.

He gave a slight gasp, his cock giving a mighty spasm, before a torrent of cum erupted into my mouth, forcing me back in surprise.

The flavor wasn’t entirely unpleasant, and I swallowed some of it, but the sheer quantity made it impossible to keep up.

I coughed, letting his head slip free from my lips. He was still spraying, dowsing me in floods of semen.

I felt his fingers slide deep, bringing me to a climax of my own.

I gasped as waves of pleasure brought moisture to my lower slit.

My muscles tensed as he extracted his fingers from my gripping hole, much to my displeasure.

“I-I’m sorry.” He muttered sidestepping away from me so he may better face me.

I looked up at him, realizing the awkward angle he must have been in to pleasure me as I was half under him.

My face and chest was covered in his seed, and I could see the mixed look of guilt and relief on his face.

“Wasn’t that the desired outcome?” I asked shyly.

He smiled, reaching down to caress my cum-covered cheek.

“That was a short courting, but I fear you may have already won my heart.” He replied.

I don’t think the scene could have been any less romantic, really. I stood nude before the centaur, both of us filthy from wilderness travel, I covered in cum, his cock still flared and massive bobbing below him.

And yet, his words seemed to make all of that drift away. The sincerity of his eyes, and the way he smiled sheepishly.

I leaned up to kiss him again, forgetting about the semen that coated my lips.

If he was hesitant to taste of his own juice, he didn’t show, deepening the kiss instantly.

He pulled me in, his powerful arms embracing me with the gentle caress of a lover.

My armor long forgotten, he slowly lowered us to the snow, him lying on his side, me hugged close to him with his human arms.

Night had fully fallen upon us now, and with it, a light snow had begun to fall. It was a gentle thing, bringing with it a slight reprieve from the stagnant cold.

I could feel my warming spell slowly beginning to fade, and pulled myself closer to my centaur, reaching out for his heat.

“Villieldr.” He said.

A warming glow began to spread between us, reinforcing my spell as if he had read my thoughts.

I slowly drifted into a semi-conscious state, feeling the occasional chill of a melting snowflake on my bare skin.

Aatu

“You are certain he saw us?” I asked once again as we made our way up the road towards the barracks in the early morning hours.

“Yes. I’m sure of it.” Ciara replied.

“Think he will cause trouble?” I asked.

The night before, we had been foolishly speaking in the bar. We hoped the commotion of the rowdy bar would conceal the peculiar halfling and her giant hound in the corner, but one individual appeared to notice us.

“If he doesn’t attribute it to the alcohol, he may.” She replied.

“I’m not fond of these men here. This entire village stinks of death.” I complained after inhaling a lungful of the frosty morning air.

“I may not have such keen senses myself, but I think I know what you mean. It stinks of shit worse than Drifa, even, and that’s impressive.” She replied with a grin.

We eventually approached the courtyard of the barracks, where I could already smell the scent of coals as the smiths forge was heating up for whatever work awaited him.

Without the distraction of the crowd from the execution drawing my attention, I noticed a large hastily constructed wooden structure that was heavily patrolled by guardsmen just outside the barracks. The scent of death seemed to carry strongly from that direction, as well as an odd assortment of other scents.

“What do you suppose they have there?” I asked, nodding to the compound.

“No clue. After last night, I’m not sure I want to know, either.”

We entered through the open standing gate into the barracks courtyard. I decided it best from here on out to remain silent, and pretend to be the faithful hound.

The thought gave me a slight shiver. Oh, if my father could see me now.

“They didn’t do much with the blood.” Ciara commented as we walked through the courtyard, avoiding the large dark spot in the snow where a man had just been killed the night prior.

“Hail, halfling.” A man said, approaching. He was clad in a hauberk coat, and had an axe through a ring on his belt. He had a look of amusement on his face as he considered Ciara.

“Well met, friend. I hoped to speak with the commander of this garrison this morn? I was informed that he would have information on the wolf attacks from the Frostbogs.” Ciara explained.

“Aye, word has reached him. He is in the main hall there, sitting down to a breakfast with the Lady Kala. He insisted that we send you in to join them when you arrived.” The man replied.

“Thank you sir.” Ciara bowed.

“No Sir, halfling. I’m but a man-at-arms.” He replied with a grin.

“My apologies.” She replied, moving to step around him. I immediately moved to follow, but found the man stepping between me and the door.

“I’m sorry miss, but the hound is to remain outside, on the orders of the Captain.” The man said.

Ciara turned, eyes falling on mine for a moment.

“He’s well behaved. He won’t be any trouble.” She said.

“Be that as it may, my lady, I fear Captain Illska was insistent, and I have no intentions of drawing his ire.”

Ciara frowned, glancing back at me.

I gave a slight nod of approval, trying to do so subtly.

Just then, I heard footsteps behind us, and turned to see the large bearded smith coming up behind us.

“How’s the dog about horses, my lady?” he asked with a grin.

“He’s excellent with horses and livestock of all kinds, sir.” She replied.

“I know the stablemaid could make arrangements to find him some breakfast.” He grinned in response.

Ciara gave one last sad quizzical look at me. I gave another slight nod.

If this meeting would narrow down our search for leads, than it was worth being treated like a subservient hound. No matter how much it tasted wrong in my mouth.

“I’m sure he would enjoy that.” She replied at length. “I should warn you, though. If he should come to harm, you’ll have me to deal with.” She added, in a not so joking chuckle.

I gave a strange grin I quickly tried to conceal.

It was a strange friendship I’d formed with the halfling, a creature I would have probably viewed as prey not all that long ago.

Sure, humanoid creatures were dangerous prey, and should be avoided for pack survival, but the halfling would barely feed a single full grown wolf, let alone a pack.

An unknowing wolf would probably go for an easy kill, only to find the fire-headed halfling more than they can swallow.

So, her words of threat on my behalf was somewhat comforting.

“Have no worries, miss. He’s in good hands. What’s his name?” the smith asked.

“Aatu.” She replied.

“Aatu. Bit of an odd name, but I guess not the oddest I’ve heard.” He chuckled.

“Come along, pup.” The smith said, reaching a heavily calloused hand out for me. I gazed at it, than back at him.

If he assumed I was going to smell his fingers, he was mistaken. I could scent the coal and smoke from here.

I slowly trotted up beside him, heading back for the entrance to the courtyard.

“Ha, smart hound you got there. Almost looked like he rolled his eyes at me sarcastically.” The man laughed, turning to follow.

“Well, it takes a special hound to hunt the game we do.” She called after us.

As we walked from the gate, I caught a strong scent coming from that encampment. I glanced back at the burly man who walked behind me, and decided to investigate, just as the door to the main hall closed behind my halfling companion.

I bolted forward, darting toward the wooden structure.

“Hey, friend.” One of the men said, crouching to hold out his hand for me.

I expelled air from my nose in a huff.

“Aatu!” the man behind me called.

I ignored him, peering through the slats in the wooden wall. Beyond I could see armed men walking about, as well as strange creatures, all confined to what appeared to be a makeshift settlement, though the wooden buildings within were rough and poorly constructed. The scent was almost unbearable, and I was certain there were many slain or long dead bodies within.

I recognized certain creatures I’d only seen in Manir, like an orc-warg hybrid. These had to be the result of the experiments there.

“Weylin, you get a new dog?” the man who had confronted me asked of the smith.

“No, he belongs to that halfling huntress who arrived yesterday. Promised the lass I’d see him fed and cared for at the stables.” He replied.

“Look at the size of him!” the man marveled. “She’s probably only successful because she sets this beast on her game. Bet he could take on a dragon!”

I had to catch myself from telling the man off in Ciara’s defense. Luckily, the smith did it for me.

“I don’t know about that. He’s quite the specimen, sure, but have you seen the bow of hers? Doubt you’d be able to find anything quite that fine in a human craftsman’s wares.”

“Could have stolen it. You know how halfings are.” The man replied.

“Naw, I don’t take her as the type.” Weylin said.

Afraid I may bite this man if I weren’t carful, I began to zone out their conversation, returning to the slat in the wall.

These creatures seemed to be held prisoner here, judging by the walled compound and armed security. Something just didn’t seem right.

I took a deep breath, focusing on the magic. Trying not to draw attention to myself, I exhaled, whispering the spell.

“Forvitnask.”

I knew it worked immediately, but glanced back at the two men who conversed behind me. They hadn’t noticed, so I turned back, peering through the slat.

I could see a slight glow to most of the guardsmen’s eyes when I focused, though it was minor.

Turning back, I saw that same glow in the eyes of the two men behind me.

“Well, Aatu, are you ready for some food?” Weylin asked with a grin.

I had to stop myself from nodding or vocally responding.

“C’mon.” he said, roughly patting my head.

I glared at the man, though I don’t think he noticed.

We set off once again toward the stables, where we came to a younger human, the stablemaid.

“Hello, Idona.” Weylin greeted as we approached. “Don’t suppose you have a spare moment to get this guy some food?”

“Hello, Weylin. Not at the moment, though I could in a little while, once I’m done.” She replied.

“Well, I’m afraid I must get back to the barracks and set to work filling a new order of arrowheads. Don’t suppose I could leave him here with you?” He asked.

“How is he with horses?”

“I was assured he was exceptionally well behaved.”

“Could you place him in the stall next to Lady Kala’s horse? I’d rather he wasn’t roaming free.” She replied.

I didn’t like the idea of being confined, though I doubted it would be tough to break out if need be.

I allowed the smith to lead me into the stables, where he walked me down the row of horses.

The farthest horse caught my attention immediately, as he set my magic detection spell off.

I noticed a not so small glow about him, which seemed to be lacking in the other horses.

He was, of course, the horse the maid referred too, as the smith closed me in the stall.

“Alright, now, Aatu. Be good for Idona, you hear?” he told me in a mocking stern voice, which was for his benefit more than mine.

I waited for him to leave, before turning to examine the horse in the stall next to me.

It was a large, dark horse.

I glanced about, to ensure I would not be overheard, then I turned back to the animal.

“You are not a horse.” I accused it.

The animal turned to me knowingly, before obviously gazing about as well.

“I’m going to go ahead and assume you are not a dog?” it asked, amusement in its tone.

“Forgive me if I’m a bit defensive, but I’m not certain I trust a magical beast I just met in a stable in a village such as this.” I replied.

“Coming from the talking dog.” The horse chuckled.

“Are you a druid?” I asked.

The horse burst out in a whinnying laughter at the thought.

“No, I am no druid.”

“Keep your voice down!” I growled.

His eyes widened, and he glanced around quickly.

“Sorry. Sorry, I’ve just grown rather bored. My mates here don’t typically make great conversation anymore.” He said gazing about at the horses around us.

“Who, or what, are you?” I asked.

The horse chuckled.

“Why should I tell you? You just accused me of potential treachery by withholding your trust.” He replied.

I realized then how absurd this must appear to an outside observer. A large hound talking to a horse through the slats of a stall.

“You’ll understand, given the current atmosphere of this village, that I am reluctant to trust anyone.” I explained. “But, you have a point. So I shall divulge my name in exchange for yours.”

“A reasonable compromise.” He agreed.

“My name is Aatu. I am a winter wolf from the Ulvengeist Tundra east of Drifa.”

“A winter wolf? Ha, am I to believe that?” he laughed.

“Believe what you wish, it is the truth.” I glared.

“Well, I suppose I shall give you a name, since you granted me one. Fyrsil. Fyrsil the phooka.” He said, giving an exaggerated bow as best his equine form would permit.

“What is a phooka?” I asked.

The horse feigned offense.

“Well, I’d expect a great wolf such as yourself to know what a phooka is!”

I wasn’t certain my patience could handle this creature, not at this moment.

He noted my glare.

“Not the joking type I see. Well, I am a fey from the Avaltiss Reach.”

Fornvarr had spoken of the fey in our many fireside conversations, though never mentioned any by name or type. He just told me they tend to be a strange, carefree people. Some more cruel than others.

“What brings a fey to a human settlement so far from home, in the guise of a horse, no less?” I asked.

“What brings a frost dog to a human settlement so far from home, in the guise of a…different…dog? He replied sarcastically. I was beginning to dislike this horse.

“I am no dog.” I reminded, careful to keep the growl from my voice.

“Ah, same shaped cock.” He shot back, as if that somehow made it the same thing.

“I’m here to find information on some potential kin that may be in this region.” I told him.

“You mean the wolves attacking from the Frostbogs? Heard they are the newest plaything of the Troll Witch.” He said, no joke in his tone this time.

“Troll Witch?” I asked.

“If they are indeed your siblings, you will likely not recognize them when you find them. If you find them. She is a wicked enchantress. As bad as they come. And Trust me, I know a thing or two about enchanters.”

“Where could I find this witch?” I asked.

“You don’t want to find her, wolf. Besides, you don’t find her. She finds you, if she has reason too. I’m sure a shapeshifting winter wolf may be reason enough, however.” The horse looked almost worried now.

“Why is she so frightening?” I asked.

“Placing you under an enchantment not enough? She is called the troll witch, not because she is a troll, but because she controls the troll clan in the Frostbogs. She has an army of them at her command, and now a couple of winter wolves.”

“You think she will come to me, if I travel into the marsh?”

“I’m certain of it.” The phooka replied.

“Thank you for the information.” I told him.

“A word of advice, wolf. I highly suggest you don’t go looking for that witch. It will not end well for you, and I couldn’t possibly bear the thought of losing another handsome and well endowed shapeshifter.”

Just then, the door to the stables opened, and the young maid entered carrying a large bucket of what smelled like long dead pork, likely spoiled.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” She grinned at me, tossing an armful in.

I gave my best impersonation of a friendly dog eager for rotten scraps, wagging my tail and rushing to grab the nearest bit.

She left after checking the trough in my stall had water.

“You are absolutely adorable!” The horse stated.

I gave him a dirty look, leaving the scraps of meat primarily untouched after that first bite.

“Hey, don’t get mad at me! I’m not sure I want to be on the receiving end of a winter wolf’s bite.” He laughed. “Besides, I actually do mean that. Real handsome beast. ‘course, that’s not your real form, is it? I’d really like to see your real form, in all of its…splendor.”

“You never answered my question.” I said, trying to ignore the uncomfortable way he emphasized the word “splendor.”

“Oh, the whole, why am I here question?” he asked.

I gave him another look.

“Well, you’re just a grouchy pooch, aren’t you? Fine. I am here, because my friend has this vendetta against these humans. He feels this weird kinship to the beasts they have imprisoned, and despite the major differences, he insists that he do something to make life easier for them. Me, I’m just along for the ride. Make sure I don’t miss out on any opportunity for a good prank. And, of course, to keep Tokala out of trouble.”

“Why not just release the hybrids, then? If they are being held?” I asked.

“How did you know they were hybrids?” Fyrsil asked, eyes widening.

“Well, they certainly aren’t natural beasts.” I replied.

“Suppose that makes sense. You’d be able to tell, after all, Mr. Wolf. Well, the wall is rather defended, and by not a small amount of soldiers. The two of us are not capable of staging an assault, nor would Tokala wish too. He is a bit of a pacifist, I’m afraid.”

“Tokala is the fox?” I asked as much as stated.

“You’ve seen him?”

“I was able to see through his illusion. My companion could not, however. Perhaps it is just something in my blood?” I speculated.

“You’re not by chance part fey, are you?” Fyrsil asked, eyes narrowing.

“No.” I replied shortly.

“Are you certain? My kind do tend to sleep around. One of your parents a big black wolf? Very unusual color amongst your kind I hear…” he rambled on.

I glanced back at the door to the stables, the image of my mother swimming in my mind’s eye. Her beautiful silver coat of fur reflecting the light of the full moon.

I closed my eyes.

“…could certainly be where you get your shapeshifting abilities from. Doesn’t explain your lack of a personality, though. Probably the overly serious wolf in you. Wonder how that would feel, having a wolf in me?”

“For a beast trying to remain hidden from humans, you do seem to talk a dangerous amount.” I growled.

He looked hurt. It was probably just a show.

“I’m—I’m sorry. I’ve just been so lonesome, with nobody to talk to, but these other horses here…”

“My father was a natural winter wolf. My mother was not.” I interrupted, just to keep him from rambling.

“So you’re a hybrid, too, eh? Tokala will like you, even if you are a grumpy pooch.”

With a sigh of exasperation, I turned for the corner of the stall to await Ciara’s return.

“Wolf? Aatu?” his voice called from behind me. I didn’t respond.

“You know, I can actually tell when someone is not having a great time about it. I must’ve touched on a nerve, and I apologize.” He continued.

“It’s nothing, phooka.” I replied. “Just a sore subject.”

“You’re parents?” he asked.

“My entire pack.” I replied. I was unsure why I allowed this strange creature to extract so much from me.

“Family can be tough. Why I’m here, after all.” He stated.

“The fox?” I asked, skeptical.

“Well, not necessarily blood kin, but he may as well be. My father raised the two of us as brothers.” The horse replied.

“You spoke of the fox as if he shared some form of kinship with the hybrids here. Was he the result of the experiments in Manir?” I asked.

The horse snorted.

“Yes. My father managed to escape, and he took Tokala with him. How about you?”

“I wasn’t a result of the experiments in Manir. I was born in a valley west of the Ulvengeist Tundra.” I replied.

The horse looked confused.

“You’re a hybrid, are you not?”

“I suppose, though of a much different union. My mother was a druid shapeshifter.” I replied.

The horses face lit up with a huge grin.

“Oh! My kind of woman!” he chuckled, before noting the cold look on my face and adding a quick “Sorry!”

“She was a dignified wolf, and powerful druidess.” I growled.

“I’m sure. I meant no disrespect, of course. I’ve known some truly powerful and lovely dryads that are also quite a storm when it comes to the mating thing. I don’t suppose that it’s quite the same, though.”

I huffed, turning again for the stall entrance.

“So…any lovely she-wolf back home?” he asked.

“No.”

“Well, that’s surprising. I know it’s difficult to tell now, but I’m sure you are quite the specimen. I mean, I bet you’re only half your normal size in this form, and still, you are huge!” He said, eyes dropping uncomfortably low.

Mating among wolves was typically done for no other reason than ensuring the future of the pack. Siring offspring. What this creature kept hinting at was well beyond any laid out plans for survival. Blatant mating for pleasures sake.

Furthermore, when it was done with another male wolf, mounting would typically only be done to assert dominance, which this fey seemed completely unconcerned with asserting. In fact, he almost seemed too eager to enter the role of a submissive wolf.

I shook my head. This wasn’t the packlands. Their ways were not my own.

My own? Did I even really know what that meant anymore? Few things had ever been certain in my life. At the foundation of it all, the only thing that’s seemed to be consistent had been the alliances I’d made outside of the pack. Outside of my kin…

“Look, phooka, I know you are attempting to be friendly, but I don’t prefer this topic. My pack was taken from me long ago, and whatever attempt at rebuilding I do, I know it will never be the same. I know I do not behave as a normal wolf should, and any outside wolf would not follow me as alpha, because of this. Besides, I have no desire to lead as alpha anyways. I’m not even certain I have a place amongst my kind.”

His eyes immediately shot back to my face.

“Well, then don’t.” he replied seriously.

“What?” I asked, turning to get a better look at the shapeshifted fey.

“Don’t try to fit in amongst your kind. You clearly have links to the world outside of the pack. Are such ties worth investing in further? Must we only condemn ourselves to experiencing the world from the point of view of our own people, or can we bury ourselves in those of others to a similar, perhaps even greater, fulfillment? By the gods, you even have splendid shapeshifting powers. Makes it that much easier for you. I say cast off the confines of your own beliefs. See what the world has to offer.” His words almost sounded like Fornvarr’s.

The comparison made me shudder, realizing this creature, appearing flirtatious and foolish up front, was perhaps much wiser than he led on.

“Such thoughts have been on my mind of late.” I replied, absentmindedly.

“I know I sure like burying myself in other peoples…” he said with a wink, instantly casting away any semblance of wisdom.

I shook my head.

“You sure are a serious pooch. But hey, that can be fun too. Endearing in a rough ‘please don’t bite too hard’ sort of way.”

I ignored him, laying with my unfamiliar dog muzzle between my forepaws to wait for Ciara’s return.

I suspect Fyrsil took the hint finally, because he left me to my thoughts.