Chapter 9: Stranger Hound
The moist of dew tickles my nose. It is morning and the bed of leaves and mud feels surprisingly soft. I am looking at the foot of a shrub when I realize I am not myself. My ears perk to a sudden rustle of leaves. Someone's coming. I get up noiselessly noticing an extra pair of legs attached below my rib cage. I gasp, but a whimper comes out of my mouth. Am I in Bog's body?
I blink to check my vision. No five-eyes. Just normally functioning, like usual. I glance around, suspicious of my surroundings. The air is cool under the shade and the sun is blazing above the palm leaves. I start lolling my tongue out.
Bog's ears –my ears- start to itch. He scratches – lifting my hind leg up to scratch my ear. How humiliating. I need an explanation and this dog is not helping. I feel my tail wag at the people approaching. I urge myself to retreat with the use of magic but Bog is being stubborn. He doesn't move, so I don't move. My spell casting diffuses inside the dog's body, like a dead matchstick unable to cooperate at every strike.
I try to speak but I only hear barks coming from my voice chamber. "Bog, what is this? Why am I a dog? What have you-?" His barking gets louder as I struggle to make words. Bog fights me to stop. He shakes his head, making me get a headache. He starts to growl and I can feel the low crawl of sound through my lungs.
"You've come to join us!" A familiar voice resonates from the approaching figures. Bog's eyes turn to them so I can see the newcomers enter the clearing. It surprises me to see the elf boy from the previous night stage into the clearing.
"Ah, there you are." His eyes sparkle at the sight of Bog. I prepare to lunge and maybe use Bog's claws to attack but the dog does not move. The hound is treating me like a marionette and he's the puppet master. I quit trying to bite the elf's hand patting me. Bog's tongue lolls out and I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. At least I'm inside the hound unseen.
"Roan," another elf boy appears. "I thought you told Bog to stay where he was. You now he's not suppose to-"
"To tag along with us, I know Dragonfly," says the one I met last night. "You should give him a break after all that service at the inn." I suppose his name is Roan while the curious one is named Dragonfly. By their appearance these guys must be drows, the eastern elves of the mountains.
The two of them wear the same sort of armour, stealthy leather, belt across and dark boots and gloves. Each of them has dull greyish skin, sleek white hair and purple eyes. Roan wears a red scarf around his neck familiarly from my dream which I now believe actually happened.
Another drow joins them, the stocky elf calls for their attention about an airship moving northward. They follow the third drow across the forest. It seems like we're at Sandsea, travelling in a dry forest near the oasis.
Bog trails beside Roan. The smell of fresh sharp metal catches my nose. Roan is armed with sword and dagger and I see the glint of a purple shaped dragon jewel attached to each end of their hilts. This dagger is so similar to the one I have.
"Roan, you're endangering the mission by taking that dog." Dragonfly exclaims, halting his friend to stop in his tracks. "I'm serious," he adds, boldly. "First you plan to fly us to ChiralValley and now you're taking a kalestri with you?"
Dragonfly does not have the same stature as Roan. He has a meek look on his scarred face. Unlike his friend, he has shaggy white hair and paler grey skin. Dragonfly looks so innocent, compared to Roan the mysterious, that I almost feel sorry for him.
We stop in the patch of green farther from the desert city. Roan casts Dragonfly a questioning stare - a look that would question the most absolute masterminds. "The dog's not going to jump on you," says the drow firmly. Bog licks his hand and I can feel my dignity drop. "See? Nothing but a bright eyed hound, he is. And he doesn't bite, which is a bonus. He must be escorting us out of here."
"It's not that, Roan and you know it." Dragonfly stands his ground. "Kalestris are mysterious creatures with magic. I hear they have a bark that echoes. People never have kalestris as pets. They go mental. Look at him! I thought he only opens one pair of eyes, now two? Don't you find that creepy? Suspicious, at least? I reckon, he's trying to mesmerize us. Maybe his mind might merge to ours in our sleep."
Roan shakes his head. "I've heard of those stories, Drag, and come on. Telepathic dogs? What next, flying pigs? Pretty soon you'll have robot chickens around here."
Dragonfly tiredly drops the argument.
The drows take Bog through the forest, bounding through the palms. They are running to a particular direction. Bog looks up to see a familiar vessel drift northward. The drows dash across the desert vegetation keeping an eye on the speck above them. The airship looks awfully familiar. I shriek at the sight of the Sagra Leon leaving without me. Bog whimpers and Roan catches the noise.
"Shush, kalestri," the drow orders, "let's not get that lady chasing after you." He must be talking about Tess, the innkeeper. "Keep quiet Bog and…" his voice lowers to a whisper as he slows down to run by the dog's side. "Quit thinking about her. Your eyes are a giveaway all ready." What does he mean by that? Dragonfly's words pound in my head, his mind might merge to ours in our sleep?
I suddenly rearrange a timeline in my mind. So if Bog took off, after he saw me board Sagra Leon that morning, he followed these three drows to chase after the airship. He took me here to show me the unexplained events that occurred during the time I was aboard Sagra and before one of Roan's daggers flew across the ship. Kalestri hounds are known for abilities like this and Bog must have heightened this particular telepathic communication for his master. Something must have happened during this time period that he has bought me to this moment to witness and Roan knows about me inside Bog.
The group push forward, zooming through the thinning forest of the desert. Bog follows closely behind, at least I don't have to expel out a serious amount of air. Riding inside Bog has its advantages.
"Halt!" cries the big drow in the group and I still don't know his name. "I suggest we take a different route, Roan. There is barely any cover from here and onward."
They stop at the ends of the desert vegetation. Further at a distance the tundra starts with little shade cover. I guess they're trying to be hidden from the eyes of the ship above. Another shadow looms over us. The drows disappear in the blink of an eye. Bog sniffs the air and finds Roan and his friends behind bushes. They're fast, sneaky devils, I muse.
The new aircraft lands before us and this one looks peculiar. Bog looks pass the ship's ink black sails and I can see cloud cover high above. Cumulous clouds. This must be the strange ship beneath the tree-looking cloud, Croup and I saw. The vessel is not from Skygaurd but the design is similar, only painted in black.
The drows are completely hidden among the vegetation, while they watch the ship land. Sand and dust fly in every direction as the black vessel's engines fume out ballast. The belly gently touches the sandy surface. Bog settles beside Roan, silently panting after the sprint. Roan caresses the dog's ears and lowers his head. Dragonfly gestures him to retreat back. But Roan ignores, anxiously gazing at the opening hull of the airship.
A tall man in a god-like cloak emerge from the ship and with him a band of soldiers in silver and purple. Great, more drows, I say to myself seeing the man's pointed ears and greyish skin and fine white hair. The tall drow is armed. His guards empty the ship with sheathed sabres. The guards line up along the perimeter of the ship and their leader studies the surrounding land.
Roan stirs, ignoring Dragonfly's silent protests, he comes into view. "Lord Kurreon," he says, pacing to the guarded party. The guards automatically point their sabres at Roan who puts his hands up, a motion to talk peacefully.
The tall drow called Lord Kurreon hesitates. "Aren't you supposed to be busy looking for a mythical creature?" His eyes lower to half slits.
"Aren't you supposed to be at ChiralValley, my Lord?" The guards lower their weapons as Roan enters the circle.
Lord Kurreon strides back to his ship. "I am well aware that I have trespassed neutral ground," he says. "But I have a good excuse for it." He raises a hand, signalling the guards to go back inside. The drows in an organized line re-enter their vessel, sheathing their sabres. "My mind slipped," says the lord, animated.
Roan is not easily fooled. "You're planning an invasion," the young drow claims, just as the lord's boot steps into the open entrance of his ship. The lord abruptly turns and walks up to Roan, scattering dust as he moves.
Lord Kurreon explodes with demand. "Where is your rogue party?" he snarls.
Roan does not move.
"You tell your little friends, to say nothing of this. As for your purposeless mission -" the lord swings, like a lightning flash his sword hits another blade. Lord Kurreon's eyes widen at the sight of a dagger intersecting his blade to Roan's throat.
Their eyes lock ready to battle. Lord Kurreon hastily shoves Roan aside with a bone-cracking kick, throwing the young drow to the ground. Roan hits the sand like a broken toy, his fists and teeth clenched from the squeezing pain in his stomach.
The lord spits, "your potential is wasted, Roan du Torqué. I should pity you. Why keep looking for something that does not exist?" The man leaves, sending more dust to Roan's direction with the whip of his robe. He climbs to his ship, sheathing his sword.
Lord Kurreon's black vessel disappears to the skies heading east. Dragonfly runs to his companion's side the moment the ship vanished. He calls the third drow named Berthyur to help him pull Roan to the cool shade of trees.
"You wise-crackin', git!" shouts Dragonfly pulling Roan up to a sitting position to a palm tree. "Could've gotten yourself killed! I mean - EVERYONE KILLED."
"I just wanted to know what he's up to," groans Roan, hands clutching his stomach, silver hair shadowing his face. "I keep forgetting the fact that we have no healer."
Dragonfly rolls his eyes then he claims a shrub in the center and starts rubbing two stones beside it to light it on fire.
Bog comfortably crawls to Roan's side and leans his head to his chest. I can hear the drow's beating heart. Roan takes in a ragged breath and closes his eyes. Bog bends his head to sniff the weary drow, maybe to drain away the suffering. Something inside me wants to heal the boy, but I cannot conjure magic in Bog's body. I can't control the dog either. I sit back powerless. Contained in the dog's mentality I start thinking about an object called a fire hydrant - whatever that is.
"Hey! Kalestri, get off him!" Dragonfly almost kicks the dog aside.
"He's fine, Drag," huffs Berthyur. "Leave Roan and the mutt alone." The bigger drow throws in more sticks at the burning shrub. He sits near the fire and takes out the backpack he's been carrying.
Dragonfly grunts then yields to exhaustion. The evening has settled and chilly winds brush the desert surface.
The fire embers spark out of the pile of branches and leaves before them. Berthyur passes stale bread to Dragonfly who finishes it in mere seconds. He throws a piece to Bog who almost licks the sand clean. The drow offers half his bread to Roan. Roan's expression is incomprehensible and he refuses the snack. Bog is about to curl up beside his master when the expressionless drow gets up.
Roan stretches his limbs, yawning. He reaches for Berthyur's bag and starts to rummage through it.
"Ro?" asks the muscular giant. "Feelin' better already?"
Roan takes out a piece of pie and a genuine smile lights his face.
"Hey, that's for later!" whines Dragonfly. "If you're going to have some, give me some!"
"You did not steal it, I did!" claims Berthyur.
"Come and get it, gents." Roan holds up the bag and on one hand starts eating the slice of pie.
"That is technically not yours, Ro!" For a stocky fellow, Berthyur's bulk did not match his speed. He swings to one side of the agile drow and then swings again however he manages to clutch air at every attempt. "I-stole-it-from-that-kitchen!" At every tackle Roan gets the upper hand over their bulkiest comrade.
"I'm tellin' you to share!" Dragonfly leaps on Berthyur, thinking he's got the upper hand. The shorter drow jumps off of the bigger one and seizes what he thought was the pie at one instant, only rolling to the dust hugging air. Roan is much faster than them combined. I think it is rather amusing to watch trained elf warriors fight over pie.
"Are you two even trying?" says Roan, with one foot on a rock. His friends give up and slump back to their places, cursing.
"Forget it. I ain't fightin' for a piece of pie." Dragonfly indignantly crouches by the fire and warms his hands. "Nothing's worth my strength anymore."
Everyone goes quiet until only the crackle of fire is heard. The evening stars start to appear on the sky. An eerie howl sounds from a far distance and then it fades into silence again. I can hear myself – more like Bog - panting.
Roan interrupts the night with a question, "What do you mean, nothing's worth your strength anymore?" He tosses a small crumb of pie in the air and expertly catches it with his mouth.
"I don't know Roan," groans the shorter drow, tiredly, "it's this mission. We were sent to find someone that I'm not even sure exists. This morning you told us you saw her, but she did not have the scar. I bet all the lords are laughing at us. Are you still certain that this person exist? And if he or she does exist and we're on the right track then why are we following him or her like glow worms following the light? Why can't we show ourselves?"
"The thing you seek is right in front of you. All you have to do is look for it," replies Roan, looking at his last piece of pie.
"Doesn't answer my question," grumbles Dragonfly. "Sounds like you've been listening to too many songs from Mythsong."
Roan disregards his comment, "I don't know. I guess I'm not too sure why we haven't properly introduced ourselves to her. I wasn't too convinced that she was the half-blood until her eyes started glowing right when she saw me."
The two drows around the campfire sit paralyzed by Roan's words. Suddenly they burst into laughter. I feel myself shrink further inside Bog's body, heat flushes my cheeks. Roan does not look too pleased at his friends' behaviour.
It takes moments for them to finally calm down. "But are you sure she's the one?" asks Dragonfly, wiping a tear. "Does she fit the description?"
Roan tosses the bag to Berthyur's open palms. "Our mission is to find the girl with the zebra stripes, right Bert?"
"Right," gruff the big drow. Remembering the pie, Berthyur's shoulders fall holding the bag loosely.
Roan smirks. "Even if she had no scar her distinctive look helps us find her, right Drag?"
"Your point? Hurry up before I grow old here," complains Dragonfly.
Roan lies down under a palm tree, his back to the fire and his friends. "Bert, there's still some leftover pie in there."
Berthyur opens the bag and fishes out the pie but in between his fingers stuck a feather weight zebra extension.
"Well, blimey," Dragonfly sits up and takes the tuft of hair and examines it with all his senses.
"I know," scowls Berthyur, "it got on the pie, didn't it?" he engulfs the entire pastry before anyone answers.
"I meant the girl, big buddy," snaps Dragonfly, "we're so close to finishing what we've started! I honestly doubted you Roan…" The drow starts fiddling with the tuft of hair.
Bog whimpers. He suddenly stops panting and his alertness startles me. The kalestri hound trots up to Dragonfly.
"What's up, Bog?" chuckles the drow like the statement reminded him of a rabbit.
The kalestri starts barking at the drow like he was carrying a poisonous snake. Dragonfly scoots away from the frantic Bog who started to chase his own tail. "What in blazes?"
The dog is not making sense and that's coming from a person inside his brain. The hound stops his tail-tag then suddenly bites near the drow's fingers. "Holy jeebus!" swears the drow stumbling back. But the hound was not interested in Dragonfly's fingers. I can feel zebra extensions along Bog's jaws.
The dog chews it lightly and spits it out covering it with drool and slime. "I didn't know you want it that badly, stupid -" Before Dragonfly can finish Roan's gloved hand covers his mouth. Berthyur is suddenly in a fighting stance with an axe and Roan's other free hand unsheathes a dagger from his belt.
The three drows look to where the footsteps are getting louder until the darkness in the forest reveal a woman in bright red robes. Bog agitated, slinks behind Roan's legs. His paw buries the drool covered zebra extension, hiding it.
The woman walks up to us with a wide-eyed stare, extended fabric flutter behind her high-heeled footsteps. Her face is covered in hard core makeup, her eye shadows and lipstick makes her look beautiful and menacing at the same time. She gracefully walks up to the campfire, arms extended as if she is waiting for an embrace. No one moves. Her beautiful purple eyes and silvery white hair reveals to me her elfin blood. Another drow.
"Is this a way to welcome me boys, hm?" The woman's powdered face flinches to a smile. She starts laughing with high pitched giggles that makes Bog pull back his ears. The woman adjusts her glowing headdress of sun rays and swirls, as her laughter fades the drows shuffle with uneasiness.
"Hm…I hear you met Lord Kurreon just moments ago." She tilts her nose up and bats her eyelashes, her voice lowers. "So you have little excursions here and there, hm? And you bought a new pet, I see."
"The dog is a stray, my Lady." Roan controls the rising tension. "Let us part in peace."
One of the words makes the woman twitch with revulsion. She disappears from where she stood then with a blink of an eye she's on top of Roan, clutching one of his own daggers to his throat. He struggles to get up, but the woman holds him down to the sand with his blades.
Her high pitch voice squeaks again, "don't make a move, little friends." The drows break their charge. The woman leers. "Hm…I'd like to welcome our guest. Chip, chip!"
A deep growling noise sound through the shrubs and a pair of red eye balls dart across the thicket. Hair bristling, I feel Bog respond with his own growl though compared to the beast hiding beyond the forest, the new foe is larger. Bog freezes at the sight of the animal. The beast emerges, baring canines in a wolfish grin. I recognize the stature; it is one of the werewolf warriors from Darkovia. The werewolf brandishes a lycan blade and takes a step forward, eyeing the kalestri with scorn. Bog's eyes don't blink and inside I feel myself shrivel.
Berthyur and Dragonfly stand aside, knees bent as if their poses can help. Dragonfly gulps, his sabre shaking. "My Lady, we are not seeking trouble. Please, let us go?" pleads the younger drow his voice trembling, panic visible in his eyes.
"Bad soldiers," she whispers. The woman's face turn to her hostage under the two daggers held at his neck. "My, my. Hm." She brushes a truft of hair from his sweating forehead. "I can barely see fear in those eyes. Hm? A pity such a fine face is going to be scarred. Hm…" Roan tries to knee her off him but the woman presses his blades closer to his neck, choking him. Bog remains where he stands crouching and keeping an eye on the werewolf and his master.
"Hush, hush," says the woman, she leans closer to Roan's face and insidiously murmurs. "Du Torqué, any news of the person you're looking for, hm?" Her finger brushes his cheek, making him wince in pain. "Well? No news, hm? No? I know. The person does not exist, see? Hm?" Her cat-like eyes enlarge. "Oh…I see…" Her head leisurely turns to Bog.
She crawls to the motionless kalestri, like a cobra slithering to a suicidal mouse.
"You've got beautiful eyes don't you…hm? Four eyes. Yes…" Her words slur as she takes Bog's muzzle to observe him. "Yes…interesting…hm…" I feel my jaw warp in her skinny fingers. Needle-like nails pinching my skin, my connection with Bog's muzzle is making my chin bleed.
I can clearly see her stunning makeup glitter with gold and flare with beautiful intricate eyeliner that illustrated webs and small delicate flowers across her face. She looks like she is heading to a fancy One Eye Doll circus. Her powdered face is so pale, anyone can be fooled and claim her as a vampire, but her hands shine navy blue under the moonlight revealing her drow bloodline.
She inspects Bog's muzzle carefully like how a jewellery man would inspect a fake diamond. The dog tries hard to keep his growling to a minimum and his unsheathed paws tense to the ground.
"Silly, silly kalestri..." She gets up making tsk tsk noise in her mouth, a hysterical laughter of high pitch giggles follow.
Roan gets up, breathing hard; maybe her weight almost suffocated him. Or her intoxicating breath of pungent roses and blood did most of the suffocating, I think. Roan reassembles, closing his fists around his dagger hilts. One side of his head is bleeding. The woman has dug one of her nails along his cheek.
"The kalestri is a stray, my Lady," he repeats to her, like she did not get the message in the beginning.
The woman laughs tilting her head back for dramatic emphasis. "Oh du Torqué, my drow, you make me laugh! Do you think I came here to make fun of you boys? No...hm." She devilishly smiles. "No. Hm...I came..." She points her fang-like fingers at me. "For this one!" I jump back, feeling Bog's side lurch. The dog remains still, tensing his muscles to make a run for it. The werewolf stalks toward us with blade in hand. "The one from the stories..." The woman finishes.
At that instant Bog's legs scramble to the nearest cover of shrubs, missing the swing of the great werewolf. Bog is gnarling; inside I feel trapped and helpless. I hear Roan's voice call for his friends to wrestle the lycan. He orders Bog to leave quickly, the dog hesitates and looks back at the scene in time to see one of Roan's daggers drive through the werewolf's flesh.
The woman's shriek nips my ears and her words ring in the air. "SILLY DROW! You are going to lose your little toy through me! Silly boy! Silly, silly boy!"
Bog turns to run while the werewolf is distracted by Dragonfly and Berthyur. The entire world starts to gloom. But voices ring in my ear.
"Where did you take it?" shouts Roan.
"To a silly human from your memory…Let's see if it hits her pulse!"
The dog hurtles through the sandy desert, sprinting to the direction of the oasis not turning back. "Go back! They're going to get killed!" I yell, but Bog howls. Across the horizon I see the town but Bog completely shuts his eyes, making me fall to an antique rug.
I touch my forehead discovering a bruise. My mother wakes up from behind the bed curtains. She casts a spell to illuminate the room with a soothing light and runs to me. I realize I fell off the bed where I was sleeping. I feel my muscles sorely aching, like I ran a hundred miles. I hear myself cry out for air. Mother places a hand on my head to heal my face, covered in small needle cuts and a swelling bruise.
Fatigued, I randomly scratch the back of my neck. I find pieces of candle wax fall to the floor.
