Before she knew it, Delarn had drawn ahead of Talem. She could not so much as see the bird, as feel it. That wasn't quite right. She could hear it, and she could sometimes make out its scent in places where it and many other birds landed. She hid her poor eyesight well. She didn't need it here. Everything was clean and precise here. There were very few things that she needed her sight to reveal to her.
She crouched down as a red bird landed in front of her. It was more of a blur, a crackling flame in her view as its wings fluttered slowly as if deciding if it was safe as if trying to guess whether or not there was a wolf nearby. Or a man. She felt almost hypnotized.
She heard a sound to her right and immediately identified this as Talem. It took her a moment to evaluate and reason out that this sound did not have a scent to it and that her Talem did not have the same instincts that would keep this bird settled in front of her like soft static on the ground. She immediately pushed herself backward, trying to shuffle away from where she was open and seen. She paused. Maybe it really was nothing. Maybe she had imagined it after all.
Her fur was so red. Maybe the bird found kinship in her vibrant red coat, and that's why it didn't fly away, but to the eyes of her watcher, it was far more telling and far more revealing than the bird would have admitted.
It spread its wings and took flight at the sound of a steel twang to her right, and Delarn knew she had been slow and careless. She sprang forward as if she intended to catch the bird as if she had no knowledge of the man in the brush, but really she was avoiding the dart that was aimed for her side. She knew it was not for the bird.
Even so, it grazed her, and she could feel its poison seep into the wound with a sense of dread. She expected something dramatic. She expected to drop dead then and there, but instead, everything turned into static, and then glass. The world felt like crystal around her, too bright, colorful and sharp. She felt confused, but she felt scared as well, so she didn't wait to take a guess at what was happening. The motion of running usually felt natural, discreet, automatic, but now it felt strange. Each time her paws stretched forward to take up more ground it felt like she was an infant, reaching for a father or mother. Or uncle. Each time she felt afraid that she wouldn't be able to reach the ground with her paws and it would just float away from her.
She could hear screaming behind her, and the sound of dogs baying. The sound seemed to magnify in her ears until it echoed all around her. Maybe it was. She felt like she was running faster than any living creature before her despite the great pains in making motion, but she was also aware that maybe she was crawling.
She felt fangs dig into her shoulder and stopped, twisting about and screaming in anger. Her body ached with effort, and this made her angrier as she felt another dog bite into her back leg. With rage for her mortality and its inconsistencies, she tore into the nearest dog clinging to her shoulder, biting in deep and ripping it from her. She tossed it to the side like an empty sack and turned to twist around to get at the dog clinging to her leg, but it had already let go and was already running away. She felt satisfied, feeling that it was her doing, but the next moment the earth seemed to shatter beneath her feet as a boulder landed incredibly close to where she stood.
She could hear a man cursing and yelling, but he was far, far away and so was she. Despite how the entire world seemed to be destroyed to her addled, drug brain, with a towering and hulking figure battling with an imp, she didn't seem to mind or care. She stood and began walking.
Figures and creatures began walking with her before long. She didn't recognize them, but many of them felt familiar. Some of them looked like wolves like her and others were boys with cloven hooves, and others were colorful birds that swooped and bickered around her, some having more delicate wings than others.
The world behind her was cataclysmic with shouting and cursing, and she felt none of it.
She reached the end of the land and stared out at the sea where a dragon waited. It was long and sleek and watched her with a strange smile that showed all its teeth. "I didn't expect you to come this way, but this will do."
"I can't imagine why you brought me here or what you expect me to do," she answered.
"I expect you to light a great fire. That's what you're known for, and it's what you're good at. You're good at lighting fires and heading away, and that's fine," he said.
"It's not fine," Delarn answered. "What if I don't want to go? What if I want to feel content for once?"
"We aren't all so lucky," the dragon laughed, though there was sympathy in his eyes as it flew closer and stood in front of her as a young man. It felt as if the change should have been dramatic, twisting, a show of lightning, but it simply was. Ronvile touched the top of her head, and she felt she might weep aloud. Though she was a wolf now, there were few feelings that she felt were wolf-like at that moment. "I cannot say you will not have what you want one day, but it won't be here, and it won't be now. Wolves are known for traveling great distances. I'm sure you'll make it there unscathed one day."
"That's not fair," she shot back, feeling anger rising in her. "I don't understand why I'm expected to suffer like this. I don't understand why I was brought to this place and shown kindness just to have it taken away from me again."
Ronvile gripped either side of her face, clutching the fur in his hands and shaking her back and forth gently. It felt like an admonishment as well as comforting. "Don't you know everyone expects you to be a hero? What do you want then if not that?"
"Why can't I be both a hero and—whatever this is? Whatever I've gained here?" She asked, her fur standing on end as he continued to grip her and sway her slowly.
"You'll forget everything," he answered. "You're destined to forget. No, I don't think that's fair, but it's what you should expect. You should expect to be disappointed and if you aren't it will a pleasant surprise, won't it?"
"I suppose," she answered. The ocean was like crystal glass to her, but a moment later it seemed to shatter. The sheer volume and sight of the sea shattering like that startled her, and she pulled back and found herself slipping out of Ronvile's grip as if he wasn't holding onto her at all. His hands continued to hold where she had been.
"You have company," he warned with a sort of grin, though he already knew she was aware after such a disruption. She turned and standing there were two pinholes of dark blue that seemed to swallow the world around them and framing them was a being with orange fur that seemed to shimmer and shake like fire in her drugged mind. The living flame seemed so familiar to her, and at that moment his anger towards her made all the sense in the world, though even then she didn't make the connection.
"Help me," she whimpered. "I can't defeat him alone. I can't stop him on my own."
"Shouldn't you take responsibility for what was done?" Ronvile answered, once more a dragon, his tone low and precise, though it still held deep sympathy for her.
"I wasn't responsible for this. I had nothing to do with this," she murmured back pitifully.
"Don't you recognize that hair?" Ronvile prompted. "Haven't you ever seen those eyes staring back at you in the mirror?"
"My eyes were born of many hard years," she answered breathlessly even as the beast stalked forward slowly as if in slow motion. Her heart beat quicker and quicker, whimpers escaping her.
"I would love to help you," Ronvile said finally, "but we're not in the same world. You're going to have to handle this on your own, but I promise you that there will be a day you'll see for yourself in which handmaidens will protect you. You'll have to simply come to terms with this in the waking world."
Delarn didn't have time to guess at what that might or might not mean. The moment the creature hit her it was suddenly a reality. The pain was real as sharp claws cut into her skin, but she was a wolf now. Her father had always told her not to fight as a wolf as it often put Lyalltines into a disadvantage they wouldn't have as humans. She launched herself at the orange beast's throat and clamped down.
It didn't feel like she was biting onto flesh, but more like stone and her mouth ached, and it felt like her gums were starting to bleed as the creature grumbled, a low rumbling moan. It tossed its head back and forth a few times as if she was inconveniencing it even as her paws scrambled and slid against his chest.
She felt claws digging into her back, and she cried out in pain as she was dragged off and tossed against the ground. The beast darted up to her, fangs hanging over her shoulder as he hissed like water boiling over, "Father."
Decari changed back to her human form, twisting about to be on her back, just barely able to avoid those snapping teeth. Her fist slammed into the side of the beast's face, and hot tears slid down her face. "What are you? What have I done?" The world still swirled around her in vivid colors and shapes, the drug not out of her system. The air around her felt like it was rapidly heating up and the next moment the creature was no longer there in front of her. Just a dark ceiling that seemed to be made of stone. She blinked briefly before realizing that she must have blacked out.
"Talem?" She said as she noticed a figure standing nearby, working on something. She felt like her nose was filled with smoke so she couldn't make out who they were with her poor vision.
"You're awake?" The person replied, and she immediately recognized their voice.
"Telago?" She muttered. "I thought you were—"
"You've killed a lot of people, haven't you?" He replied. "Not least of all your Lady Corivan."
Her heart sunk for a moment and she opened her mouth to justify herself, but even now her memory was twisted of what had happened, and she felt nothing greater than shame, grief, and intense guilt. And then fear. She started to say, "I'm sorry. Please don't—"
"I haven't brought you here to punish you. I've already made something beautiful out of what you and her have shared that will be more than sufficient," he replied in his usual monotone. "I've brought you here because I need a rival dead, and I know you're good at making it so."
"What she and I have made?" She answered, feeling lightheaded. "Is that what that is? What did you do?"
"I could tell you, but I don't think I will. I think you already know what Furlish is. That's his name. Did you think to name him yourself yet?" Telago answered nonchalantly. "It was only fair that someone was there to name him in birth. But will you do it?"
"Name him?" She answered quietly.
"Kill my rival for me," he replied. "Then you won't have to see or hear of him again."
"Your rival?" Delarn answered.
"Your—yes, kill my rival and you won't have to worry about it for a moment longer," he answered.
"You'll fix it?" She replied.
"What's left to fix?" He answered.
"You'll fix it if I kill your rival. You'll correct what was done," she answered.
"If you kill my rival? Yes, I suppose you could say that," Telago replied.
"Who is he?" Delarn asked fervently, desperately. "I'll do it, but tell me who he is."
"Oztraz," Telago answered.
"We've been trying to find him, but we can't seem to figure it out. It sounds familiar, but I can't place the name. Was he from Ardougne?" Delarn asked, eager to know what he knew.
"He goes by another name," Telago answered, "so he isn't as easily recognized by the tower as they have threatened to take him off their lists many times."
What did you name him?