A March of Woe (Overthrown Book 3)

by Aaron Bunce

  “Juna, where is Poe?” Luca asked, following her back around the trail.

  “He is on a very special errand,” the matrona responded, simply.

  * * * *

  Poe crept through the thick underbrush, his will blanketing the leaves and muffling the noise. He smelled the air, pausing to listen. He bounded forward suddenly, confident that he was alone.

  The forest thickened around him, the trees growing smaller the further he got from the city. Some would find the chokingly tight underbrush difficult to navigate, but not Poe. He felt at home in it, the wolf portion of his being reveling in nature’s wild purity.

  An odor wafted on the wind and Poe’s muscles coiled, his wolf body sliding closer to the ground. He stalked forward, the plants welcoming him, shielding his body, eager in their silence. The odor grew stronger, until he could hear the rustle of their bodies, the air moving in and out of their mouths.

  Poe passed them by, completely unaware, their idle conversation never straying from food and gossip. The cave entrance of the Sted à glemme was one of maybe a hundred entrances to the pits, but it was the only one large enough for anyone larger than a child to walk through. The guards, as with so many things in the dalan’s lives, were ceremonial – because no one would dare break into the Sted à glemme, willfully anyways, or risk ending up being thrown into the darkness themselves. No dalan dared do it, until now.

  Poe growled low and bounded through the grass, reveling in the wind through his fur and over his face. He would have never done anything this outlandish, but when Juna asks, Poe answers. If anyone else had requested it, he would have laughed at them, bitten them, or worse… He wasn’t always able to control how he reacted, sometimes it just sort of happened and he had to live with it afterwards.

  But it was Juna asking, and even if she had started acting strangely since talking with the boy, he owed her his unquestioning loyalty. She took him in, when no one else would, looking over his quirks and oddities, never judging, only supporting, as only she could. Juna was the best of them, even if the rest of his stuffy, pretentious people refused to see it.

  The forest thinned out, the trees abruptly ending, the ground cover dwindling until only a paltry bed of scraggly grasses remained. It was the Sted à glemme, the darkness leeching out of the many holes and fissures in the ground and either killing or polluting everything within reach. A massive, city-sized tree loomed above him, the skeletal branches stabbing like arthritic fingers into the sky.

  Poe leapt down a slope, following one of the dark roots down, the rocky soil crumbling and giving way under his weight, but his paws were wide and claws sharp. He landed and ducked through a curtain of black-brown weeds, slipping silently into the hole in the rock.

  Crouching low, Poe loped forward, his eyesight transitioning to the stuffy, smothering darkness. Indistinct shadows lifted, giving way to form, and finally, a dim bluish light cast over everything, his enhanced night sight kicking in. The tunnel branched into a larger passage, his nose guiding him left. Another fork sat ahead, his senses moving him into the right fork.

  Finally, after twisting and turning in the insufferable darkness, Poe dropped to the ground in the main passage. There were no torches or glinting stones to light the way, only the twisted, worming roots of the ancient tree above. Light in a place like the Sted à glemme would defeat the purpose, after all.

  The small dalan made his way down the cavern, pausing occasionally to test a scent. He knew they were close long before he saw the first cell dug out of the rock and dirt. It was the smell, the nose-tickling odor of life-starved flesh – a rot beyond death and decomposition. It was the worst punishment a dalan could inflict upon their own kind, to be bound within a personal hell of strangling darkness and perpetual starvation.

  Poe’s steps forward slowed as the passage curved like a snake. He passed each cell, stopping to consider the horrific sight inside. Bodies, all dalan, hung in the darkness of each hollow, their withered, shrunken bodies impossibly tangled in the parasitic roots worming down from above. The air filled with their stench and the gentle, crackling wheeze of their breath. Despite his thick fur, Poe shivered, the truth and reality of the Sted à glemme more horrifying than he’d ever imagined. To be suspended in darkness, your body slowly fed from the magic seeping up out of the land, only to have that life instantly stripped away by the life-starved tree.

  Growling wearily, Poe continued on, moving past liars, deceivers, thieves, and murderers, traveling to the tree’s black heart. The roots grew bigger and thicker, and he suddenly had to take great care to navigate between them.

  A dark pit appeared ahead of him, the dirt freshly dug. Poe circled the pit, even his night sight unable to pierce this darkness. He sniffed the air, working through the complicated and overwhelming mixture of earth, sickly rot, and the rank sap dripping like blood from above.

  They buried her in a pit! he thought, his stomach growing sour with the realization.

  Growling, Poe forced his change, the thick fur, whiskers, and claws giving way to soft flesh. He stooped down, hovering naked next to the pit, fighting a stab of panic as darkness washed everything else away. Out of wolf form, he didn’t have his night sight, so he was forced to move forward blindly. Retrieving the white fox from a hollow would have been easily done. Locate her, change, untangle her, and find a hole large enough to drag her out of. But now, her body was suspended in a muddy hole in the ground.

  “For Juna,” he whispered to himself, and groped the soft dirt before him as he dropped to his knees. He moved slowly, methodically, fully aware that if he slipped and fell into the hole no one would come to save him. They would consider him as guilty as the one he was trying to set free.

  Fingers dug into soft soil, found the edge of the pit, and then worked sideways until he found a cluster of sticky roots. He followed the roots over the edge, gained a solid grip, and pulled. Poe pulled with all of his strength, his feet sliding into the dirt, his weight driving him towards the pit. He released the grip and pushed away, just as a large clump of dirt fell into the darkness. It was no use.

  Think, Poe. Think.

  He sat back on his haunches, incessant droplets striking his back and shoulders. An idea formed, sending him around the pit, hands and fingers acting as eyes. His hands crawled over another bramble of roots running over the edge. They’d suspended her in the hole. Poe ripped and tore at the roots, but the sticky tubers were strong. Worse, he couldn’t get a solid grip and he hadn’t brought a knife.

  Standing, Poe turned, took a single step away from the pit in the soft earth, but turned again. He knew what he had to do, but he didn’t want to do it.

  “For Juna,” he repeated, and threw his body into the change. Muscles bunched, bones shifting and popping as he became the wolf. I will tell the white fox, and she will know that a debt lies between us, he thought, occupying his mind with creative ways the woman could repay the debt.

  Poe paced forward, chancing one quick glance at the pit, and then bit into the roots. Snapping angrily, Poe scored the largest of the vines with an angry bite, his mouth filling with the putrid tree’s sour blood sap. He gagged, coughed, and bit again and again. He bit and chewed until the largest tuber broke, misting a sticky, rotten spray into the darkness. Something creaked below him, the roots shifting to account for the change in weight.

  Methodically, Poe attacked the roots, taking a break to empty his stomach into the mud. A long while later, his face and neck covered in mud and stinking sap, the last root of the bundle broke. He heard the roots on the other side groan abruptly, the suspended body swinging and thumping hollowly against the opposite wall of the pit.

  He trod over to the other side, reluctantly forcing the change once again. This time when he heaved on the roots, the bundle rose. Poe fell back into the dirt, his heart hammering in his chest as he dragged the heavy ball of sodden roots and shrunken body over the muddy lip.

  Quickly and carefully, Poe began unraveling the woven cluster. He bro
ke the small ones, and unbraided the larger, until his hands brushed up against cool, clammy skin.

  He extricated Cassendyra from the roots with care, pulling her brittle body out a little at a time, cautious not to undo or break the roots that had already burrowed into her body. He needed her as light and small as possible, and if he broke those, her body would immediately start to change.

  Poe worked two squishy, rotten tubers apart and finally, she slid free. He hooked her under the arms, dragging her back down the passage, wanting only to be as far from the dark, stinking place as possible. They passed the hollows, the quiet, wheezing breaths of dalan prisoners sounding horribly like calls for help in his ears.

  “You will see the light again someday, my brothers and sisters,” he whispered, stopping to track his progress.

  His body shifted smoothly into the wolf once again, the comforting blue glow piercing the shadow. He eyed the passage on the wall, leading up into the darkness, and snorted. The easy part of his quest was over.

  Poe snapped forward, his teeth sinking into the papery flesh of Cassendyra’s shoulder, long canines finding hold under her collarbone. He wrenched backward, his hindquarters moving into the passage, strong muscles flexing and pulling the body in after him.

  He kicked and pushed, fighting for every step back. Poe released his grip on Cassendyra’s body, only to have her slide down the steep passage before he could regain his hold. It took an impossible amount of time, his jaw cramping and body shaking from the effort, but he finally managed to drag her up the narrow passage and into the larger tunnel.

  After a short rest, Poe dragged Cassendyra through the labyrinth of twisting turns, following his own paw prints. He stuffed his head into the steep passage, open air and daylight hovering tantalizingly beyond the darkness. It was tight, barely big enough for him to fit through, and Cassendyra was a bit wider in the shoulder.

  Poe regained his hold on the woman’s shoulder, trying not to inflict any unnecessary damage, and wedged his body into the tunnel. His paws slipped, claws raking through squishy mud, finding purchase on the rain-smoothed rock beneath only to slip again, tearing his pads.

  He snarled, tapping into every ounce of primal strength left in his body, wedging and wiggling her slowly along. Her shoulders scraped against the sides, bound up, and then let go, allowing her to slid forward again. Poe tired quickly, doubt bubbling up inside. Should he have tried to find a larger vent? Should he have torn off the whole bramble of roots below and allowed her to crawl out on her own?

  No, grrrr. Fool, she would never fit. Only way out for her would be to walk out past the guards. Then we would both be in stinking, rotting darkness, he thought, taking a break as her body got stuck again.

  Poe struggled, wrenching and pulling, his strength starting to fail him. What if he couldn’t get her out? What if they both became stuck there in the passage? Then it would only be a matter of time before they were discovered. He knew what Altair would do. The angry blood would fill in the hole around them, burying them forever.

  A shiver ran through his body at the thought of being forever stuck, crushing dirt pressing in around him and the tree slowly worming its fingers towards them to feed.

  No! he thought, snapping his jaws back into Cassendyra’s body and pulling. He would have to leave his home behind, now that he was defying the Matron Assembly. He would do that for Juna, and the boy. He would give his life to them, souls he believed in. But he would not give it to the darkness. Never that.

  Cassendyra refused to budge, the tunnel and weight of his decisions closing in around him. His back paws slipped and skidded, a clump of dirt falling free from above. The tunnel was collapsing.

  I am sorry, white fox, Poe thought, desperation driving him. He gave a vicious tug, shaking his head. Flesh and muscle ripped, bones shifting and giving way under his bite, but her body broke free.

  Snarling and growling, Poe pulled and scrabbled, the darkness and the promise of its eternal embrace driving him. Thick, sap-like blood covered his teeth and tongue, waking the animal hunger inside him. He became manic in the climb, the pain in his paws and back disappearing in a red haze. Cassendyra’s body felt like a fresh kill between his jaws – a heavy, cold slab of meat.

  Poe gave one frantic tug and his hindquarters dropped. He gave another and the tunnel flipped, his body abruptly tumbling backwards. Fibrous stalks whipped against him, lashing his sides and face, until finally, panting and growling in pain, he came to rest in a small valley. He opened his eyes, the sky impossibly bright above him, the massive, vampiric tree looming like a withered corpse.

  The change happened on its own, his exhausted body no longer strong enough to hold the form. Poe crawled forward naked and shivering, his hands and feet torn and bloodied from the frenzied climb out of the darkness. He found Cassendyra a short distance away, her desiccated body face down in the long grass.

  Poe rolled her over and pried his fingers under the root bramble, the fibrous strand pulling free from her flesh. He lifted and twisted, feeling the greasy fibers flex, then twisted it back and forth until it broke. Pulling the roots free, Poe tossed it into a small vent by his legs.

  He crawled up, positioning himself by her head, her skin already crackling in the cool air. Her wheezing breath, almost indiscernible amidst the breeze, grew louder. Color slowly returned to her flesh, her muscles and breasts swelling.

  Cassendyra gasped suddenly, Poe’s bloody hand twitching up to clamp over her mouth. Her hands shot up to his, fighting to pull it free, before falling to the mangled wound on her shoulder. He fought against the guilt. That wound would take time to heal.

  Her eyes fluttered open, colors shifting from red, to blue, to green as she tried to make sense of her surroundings and the almost intolerable pain. Poe knew all too intimately what she was feeling.

  “Shhh,” he hissed into her ear, “the pain will end, but you must be silent!”

  Cassendyra moaned and cried into his palm, but her breathing slowed, and after a moment, she quieted. Slowly, Poe pulled his hand away from her mouth and moved back a bit.

  The woman pushed off from the ground, her colorless eyes sweeping down his body, and then hers. She wrapped an arm around her breasts, turning away, suddenly aware that she was naked. A number of jagged, red punctures covered her shoulder, the flesh badly bruised as blood ran freely down her back. She favored that side of her body. Perhaps he had broken bones in the climb.

  “What happened?” she asked, half-turning.

  Poe didn’t turn away. He’d come to accept his bare body long ago, just another consequence of the wolf.

  “You arrived here with two children of Denoril. Altair captured you and buried you in the Sted à glemme. The children need you now, Juna needs you, so I set you free,” Poe said, quietly, leaning out from behind a tree to check on the guards.

  Cassendyra sat quietly, her gaze shifting from him, to the skeletal tree. “You pulled me out?’ she asked, her voice hoarse, looking down at the savage bite marks on her shoulder.

  Poe nodded, looking down at the ground. He knew she understood the weight of what he did, the sacrifice associated with her freedom.

  “Luca?” she asked, “…needs me.”

  Poe nodded, relieved. He could only hope that she regained her strength quickly.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Reunited

  Arancid odor filled the air, hovering like a cloud around Tanea’s head.

  “What’s that smell?” one of the cleric’s yelled in front of her, the group slowing indecisively in the darkness.

  “Don’t ye dare stop! Keep moving!” Nirnan bellowed, retreating a step. A wave of gnarls pressed in, the beasts surging and tumbling over each other, their claws scrabbling and teeth sinking into anything close, even each other.

  Nirnan lunged forward, impaling a creature through the chest, but he barely pulled away before another surged from behind, taking its place. Banner and Asofel worked together to cut down another gnarl, the beast dis
appearing beneath the throng of churning bodies. The choking nature of the passage worked in their favor, keeping the undisciplined beasts from flanking them, but Tanea knew they were fighting an unwinnable battle of attrition. She watched the swarm of glinting eyes, and when they surged forward she struck, sweeping the burning torch before her.

  The gnarls hissed and screeched, repelling from the fire, but their fear of it was waning. They were running out of time.

  “White Lady, heal your warriors, my protectors, imbue them with your will and strength,” Tanea pleaded, jumping back and holding her hands up towards the three men as they reformed their line. They stabbed and cut, fighting heroically.

  She swore Nirnan stood a little taller, and just managed to skip to the side before a gnarl landed at his feet. But Asofel fell against the cavern wall, a gnarl leaping over the others and crashing into his legs, biting and clawing with fervor. Banner drove his sword into the beast’s head and hoisted the younger man back, but Asofel lost his sword in the process. Tanea waved the torch at a beast, just as it moved to strike at the two, the torch striking it cleanly in the face.

  “Some of your fire would do the trick. Fill the cavern and burn the beasts…” Nirnan yelled, swinging his sword sideways, bouncing the blade off multiple creatures, but the frothing beasts swarmed forward, raking his exposed arms and knocking him back.

  Tanea caught the big man, his weight almost crushing her to the ground. Blood ran from dozens of pockmarks on his arms and hands, and a jagged cut stretched across his nose and both cheeks. She stabbed out with the torch, driving the group back, claws raking at the fire as she tried to give Nirnan a moment to catch his breath. The fire was dying, growing dimmer by the heartbeat.

  “I tried,” she cried, swinging the torch back again, this time a gnarl almost batting it out of her hand. “I could barely summon enough strength to light this torch. And it’s dying. Nirnan, it’s dying!”