The Hungering Saga Complete

by Heath Pfaff

  "How are you feeling?" Kyeia asked. Behind her words was a true concern that made me smile, despite myself.

  "I am doing well. Merrywin says I should be on my feet soon."

  "That is good." She replied, her face growing serious. "There is still much you need to learn. There is much to do. I..." She started, stopped, and then began again, as if changing her mind about what she should say. "We, Tempest and I, were most concerned about you. He believes there is great potential within you." She seemed to be gathering herself up for something, though I wasn't sure what. When she spoke again, the sadness I so often felt from her had returned. "I agree with him. You will be a person who achieves great things." I wanted to feel some sense of pride at the compliment, though I knew not what I had done to earn it, but I could feel nothing but that quiet sadness. Why did speaking a compliment seem to cost Kyeia so much?

  I tried to play it off, doing my best to cover up the inexplicable feeling that I was missing something that should have been obvious. "I'm nothing special, just a keeper of lore who can barely save himself from being defeated by a roll down the road"

  The girl in white shook her head vehemently, suddenly angry, though I couldn't guess why. "Don't you ever think so poorly of yourself, Lowin Fenly." She stamped her foot in agitation as she spoke, her self-composure as frayed as I'd ever seen it. "You will be great. You will do it for me or I will never, ever, forgive you, do you understand?" She didn't give me time to answer. She spun on her heels and stomped out the door, slamming it closed behind her. I was stunned. At that time I had no idea why my casual attempt at modesty had made her so angry. Thinking back, I often wish I could take back those words. I wish that I could replace them with, "I am the best, and I will always be the best." I don't know if those words are true, but they are the ones I should have spoken. The past, however, is something one cannot change, no matter how deeply one desires to do so. This monster knows that, now. Perhaps that knowledge indicates some last vestige of humanity within me.

  That evening, after Kyeia had left my room in a rage, I had a very peculiar dream. I will not write of all my dreams because not all of them are pertinent to the events of these writings, but this one stands out in my memory, and though it seemed irrelevant at the time I think those reading this story will be able to glean some relevance from this nocturnal conjuring if not now then in the later pages to follow. So, let me begin.

  I found myself amidst a wood of great pines. I stood upon a path that stretched out ahead, leading toward a hut in the distance, barely visible in the shadow of the green canopy above. I gazed over my shoulder to see from where I'd come, but the path did not extend behind me, so that it seemed my journey had begun where I stood. I was, then, at the beginning. I did what any man does at the beginning of a journey. I took a step, and that one was quickly followed by another, until the hut in the distance began to grow larger, closer.

  As I came within range of the structure I noticed that a trickle of smoke was issuing from its chimney, a sign that it was not merely a structure abandoned within the deep woods. I wondered who would build so far away from civilization, for though I didn't know where I was, I knew that it was a place far removed from the bustle of city life. I soon drew closer and was able to make out two figures standing outside of the hut beneath the canopy of green. Once I was close enough to clearly define the two figures, I may have stopped in my tracks with horror, had my feet not unconsciously kept carrying me forward.

  The first of the figures I was able to see clearly I had at first taken to be a human man, bare to the waist, wearing some form of animal-skin pants, but once I was close enough to fully grasp what I was seeing, I realized that I was actually witnessing a naked man with the upper body of a human and the lower body of a bear. He was the less disturbing of the two entities before me. The second man, though I use the term loosely, was chained about the neck to a great wood post. He had the upper torso of a bear, and the lower body of a naked human man. I wanted to turn and run but my legs, it seemed, once started on the journey down the path, could not be turned away.

  "What manner of monster are you?" I heard my own voice ask the man with the legs of the bear as I drew near.

  "Is that any question to ask those whose hospitality you are infringing upon?" He answered my question with his own, in a voice that was intelligent, and well mannered. "Besides," he continued, "I am no monster, simply a man like yourself."

  "What of him?" I heard myself ask, pointing to the creature with the top half of a bear. The bear eyed me with hungry eyes, great slavering jaws glistening and hungry.

  The man laughed. "He is indeed a beast, and he would kill us both if I but let him slip his chain for a second. He hates you and me."

  I didn't see the humor in his statement. "Why do you not kill him then, while he is chained and unable to harm you?" That seemed a logical course of action to me.

  The bear-legged man's eyes turned hard. "If I were to kill him, would that not make me a monster as great and terrible as he is? He and I are not so different, you see."

  I thought on this for a time, trying to find an answer. It seemed to me that letting such a beast live was akin to inviting death, but killing a creature, any creature, that was chained and helpless . . . was that the act of a man? There seemed some other question to this problem as well, something deeper that I wasn't grasping, but that I knew I should.

  "Why does he hate us so greatly?" I finally thought to ask.

  "Because you and I are both still part man, while he is lost to the beast." The man with the bear legs answered.

  "Part man? I am a man, whole." I answered, pounding my fist to my chest. "I am no half-beast as are you and he."

  "Aren't you?" The man with the bear legs asked.

  I looked down at myself and, sure enough, there were the legs of a great beast beneath me. Those feet that had carried me down the path, uncontrollable on their course, were those of a monster. My eyes shifted up so that I might rage against the man with bear legs, and demand to know what he had done to me, but when they came to where he should have been, I found myself staring eye to eye with the top half of the bear, its chain dangling loose behind it. It jumped at me; forepaws swinging in a vicious arc that I knew would end me.

  I awoke, covered in sweat and with the terrors of the night still weighing heavily on my chest and lingering in my mind. I was hardly one to look for meaning in my dreams, but I rarely had such clear visions in my sleep. What it meant was beyond me. I stretched my body, trying to expel the last of my sleep, and decided to put off thinking about my strange dream for some other time. On my desk sat a basin of water and a cloth to clean myself. I didn't know when it had been delivered, but the water was still warm. I was happy to have it. I got up from my bed, mindful of my right side, and stood over the basin, looking at the face I saw reflected within. It had been a long while since I'd really looked at myself, but I did so then. Vibrant blue eyes looked out from beneath hair that was too dark to be called blond but not as dark as was common in those parts. It was cut short, at least in relation to the longer hair styles that were popular among the men of the city, though it was long enough to hang and cover most of my face if I didn't sweep it aside. My face was soft featured, covered in the light hair of a man who was still too young to need regular shaving. I was tall for my age, but not so much so that I stood out amidst a crowd. I was not well muscled and had never been called graceful or quick by anyone. I was an apprentice of lore and such physical attributes had been unnecessary throughout the course of my life. I ran my hand through my reflected image in the basin, remembering the heated words of Kyeia the night before. Ripples broke apart the surface of the water until all that remained in the basin was the wavering light from the window.

  "I am nothing special," I repeated to myself, disappointed in the face that had looked out from the water. Only those blue eyes, clear and bright, marked me as different from any number of other boys you would find in any number of towns and cities of the w
orld. Yet, despite my plain nature, I found myself in an unusual situation, still unsure of what my future might hold. Kyeia had been so certain that I was destined for great things, but what those might be was still beyond my imagining.

  Merrywin came into my room not long after I washed. She had her normal bright smile and went about her work with diligence, only departing after changing my bandages and providing me with a tray of breakfast and a clean set of clothes. I asked about my own clothing and was informed that there had not been enough left to bother repairing. It was depressing to know I would not see my apprentice loremaster clothing again, mostly because it was the last vestige I had of everything I'd left behind, and I still couldn't get over the feeling that I would not be returning to my life in the city.

  My life had been nothing worth recording in the histories, but it had been pleasant enough. I'd had a good job and within the year my parents would have arranged for me to be married to a nice girl, probably one who worked in the field of book binding or scribe craft, so that our two skills would complement each other. I had also looked forward to the prospect of marriage simply because the male side of me had grown quite lonely through my long years of study. At that age, nearly seventeen years, most of my friends had, if not married, at least experienced the secrets of men and women. They had often chided me regarding my naiveté in such regards, but honestly none of it had bothered me. For me romance, or at least the semblance of romance to be had from an arranged marriage, was simply another part of my life that would unravel in its own time. My family had been wealthy enough that it was never a question of me finding someone whom I loved, but always a matter of waiting for my parents to determine who would be a profitable match for me. I was sure they would have made a choice in my best interest. In truth, I probably would have done no better myself. It wasn't that I couldn't speak to women, just that I had no idea what it would take to impress one.

  I shrugged my shoulders, as if in doing so I could simply shrug off the thoughts that troubled me. It wasn't so, but it acted as a physical symbol of my readiness to move on. Having finished cleaning, I picked up the clothes that had been brought in for me to wear. The shirt was deep green, like the leaf of a tree at the height of its summer bloom, and the accompanying pants were a rich black. The quality of both was superior and had the stiff feeling of clothing that had been freshly tailored. I was surprised to receive such a nice outfit for free and I slipped into it quickly, finding the fit quite to my liking. The sleeves of the shirt were long but the shoulders and elbow were spacious enough not to bind as I moved. The pants were of a tough material I was not familiar with but was flexible and breathed enough to be comfortable. There were no shoes or boots, which I assumed would be rectified eventually. I looked at myself in the wash basin again, though I could see little more than my collar and a piece of my face in the water that remained.

  "Good enough," I said to no one, and sat down to eat my meal. My breakfast was porridge, another small loaf of bread, and water again. Some would have complained about the lack of variety in the beverage, but I had always found cool water to be very refreshing. I ate my food in silence, wondering what I should do once I was finished. My side still ached considerably but it felt well enough that I wanted to be up and doing something. I knew nothing of where I was and the small room I was staying in offered me little in the way of anything to do. I made up my mind as I ate that I would go out and have a look around after my meal. I had not been forbidden to leave my quarters and I couldn't see where there would be any harm in at least familiarizing myself with my immediate surroundings. I harbored a nagging suspicion that someone might be upset with my choice to do some exploring but quieted my worries by again telling myself that no one had said I shouldn't get out and about. Even Merrywin had indicated that I was well enough to be up and about when she brought my food, and if that wasn't the same as saying I should go for a walk then the rules could be damned.

  With my breakfast finished I went to the door of my room, half expecting it to be locked when I tried to turn the handle. It wasn't. I pushed the door open and stepped out into a long hallway. The corridor was broken by doors on either side, four beyond me on each side of the hall to my left and two on each side of the corridor to my right. I guessed, from the uniform appearance of the doors, that I was in some sort of medical ward. Briefly I considered seeing if anyone inhabited the rooms around mine, but decided at the last moment that it would be rude to disturb others who might be resting and trying recover from wounds. Instead I turned to my right and walked to the end of the corridor where there was a door. I grabbed the handle and attempted to turn it, but it was locked.

  "Ahhh," I said aloud. My room wasn't locked and I hadn't been forbidden from leaving it because they knew I couldn't go far if I did. I walked back along the hallway to the far end, seeing if there was anything there that I might entertain myself with, but the end furthest from my room contained nothing but more rooms with closed doors and a stone wall with no window. Suddenly the sick ward I'd been in felt more like a prison than a place of healing. I realized that perhaps this was why the window was so high and narrow in my room. I was given the illusion of freedom, but nothing more. I could, I thought, wait beside the door at the end of the hall until someone came through and then try to make a break for it, but that would accomplish little. Whoever it was that had gone to the trouble of having me fetched would not let me go so easily and at least for the moment I was being treated with some level of accommodation. If I tried to run, things might get much worse for me. I walked forlornly back to my room, closed the door, and sat down on my bed. I wished I hadn't gotten up to look around. Before I knew I was locked in, I had felt better about my situation.

  There was nothing for me to do, and so I sat and waited. I don't know how long it was, but after a time I heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and then my door opened and Kyeia stepped in. I noticed, as she came in, that there was a figure in a shifting cloak still standing in the hallway beyond my room. It was obviously a guard, there most likely to ensure that I didn't try to make a run for it while I had visitors. I wondered if Merrywin was also accompanied when she did her rounds. It wasn't that I had any intention of trying to run, for I was certain I would be caught before I could even leave the building, but I was interested in understanding just how thoroughly I was being watched.

  Kyeia spoke, but I almost missed her words as I was still deep in thought, "...for yesterday. I didn't intend to get so angry. There is much you still don't understand, but I can answer some of your questions now." I only caught part of what she said, peripherally, until the last few words. At the prospect of finally getting some answers, my attention perked. She noticed my jump in attentiveness and held up a hand, indicating that I should wait before jumping into the litany of questions she knew I had. She reached up and pulled back the white hood that had hidden her face from our very first meeting. I jumped at what I saw, unintentionally, but I knew that she'd seen it. She wasn't disfigured at all: if she had been, I would have not been as surprised. I was prepared to handle something like a missing eye, or terrible burn scar, but I wasn't prepared for the truth. Beneath her hood was a beautiful girl, apparently near my age but perhaps a little younger, with hair as white and fine as any I had ever seen. The lines of her face were so gracefully crafted that the word "perfection" slipped into my mind unbidden, but the tranquility of her features only proved to make her most outstanding feature all the more intense. Her eyes were like those of Tempest, though not the same shade of dead black. Instead, they were the deepest violet I'd ever seen, broken only by the white ring in the center, and the streaking, ever shifting, lines of lightening.

  My words bubbled free from my mouth before I could stop them. "You're not human... like Tempest, you're..." She put a finger over my lips, the touch cool and electrifying.

  "I am of the race known as Uliona, and though my eyes are like those of Tempest, Tempest is not of my people. My people serve your king by way of sacre
d Pact and I am a servant of that Pact. Tempest is a Knight of Ethan, and holds a far superior place in the chain of command."

  As she spoke, I remembered Merrywin calling Kyeia a "Bound One" the day before, and now I thought about that further. Was Kyeia bound by her people's pact to serve Tempest? They traveled together constantly, and though I had not suspected anything other than a girl and her bodyguard before, now I wondered if there wasn't more to it. The two seemed to have a deep secret understanding of which I wasn't part. I had felt it during our travels together, brief though they were. I held my tongue, wanting to know the answer but I found myself unable, or unwilling, to phrase the question.

  She continued, "You have been brought here to receive a very rare type of training. As I explained to you before, you have been selected, through the crystals, because you possess traits that will enable you to succeed in this training where others would fail. I am still not at liberty to discuss the exact nature of the training, the outcome of the training, or the nature of my people's Pact with the king, but I can answer other questions that you might have." Her tone of voice was professional, almost dispassionate, as though she were trying to keep her distance from me. I felt a brief pang of jealousy at Tempest, feeling that something had been lost between Kyeia and me since we'd traveled together. Possibly, I realized, because I had misspoken the day before.