Return to Lynwood, Chapter 4

 Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Suhel hated getting sick. It was all just a big bother, having a scratchy throat and a stuffy nose and being weak and tired. She wanted to be at her best for Lord Isengrim and their pack, not dial back and have to recuperate. Although she kept herself in excellent condition so that she did not fall ill often, it still inevitably happened from time to time. That didn’t mean she had to like it, though.

But this illness felt different. She had never coughed so violently before—it shook her whole body and made her ribs hurt, and there were times when she struggled to breathe. And she felt so lethargic, like someone had put a heavy weight on her, making everything except sleep more difficult.

For the past few days, she had tried to ignore it, but the symptoms had been steadily worsening. Suhel only hoped Isengrim would find what he was looking for soon, and then they could go home and she could curl up on her bed of comfortable furs and sleep it off.

 

Things had been complicated somewhat, however, by Connor’s predicament. Suhel watched the pup as they tromped through the dusky woods on their way to Barrowmere. His tail was low and his ears sagged—he clearly did not want to be here. Suhel was not exactly finding him pleasant company, either.

But her conscience would not let her want to leave him to his own devices. Isengrim was right—they were all brothers and sisters, and they had to look out for each other. Suhel could not forget the fear in Connor’s eyes when they had first found him. They had to discuss his condition with his parents.

Suhel was dreading that, and she knew Isengrim was as well. There was no guarantee this would go nicely. But they had to at least try, for Connor’s sake.

The sun was below the horizon now, and underneath the treetops it got dark fast. The Werelupes could see well enough at night, but Pharazon’s Ganuthor was a daytime creature and needed some extra help. Pharazon reached into a saddlebag and pulled out a lantern. As he opened the shutters, a flickering orange glow bathed their party. “Could someone get me some fuel?” he asked.

“Sure thing,” Suhel said. Leaning close to a bush, she wrenched off a dead branch and passed it to the Draik.

“Thanks,” Pharazon said. Perched on Gwyneth’s back, he and Terra made themselves busy snapping twigs off the branch to feed to the firemote that rolled around lazily in the lantern. As it consumed its source of energy, the light steadied and brightened.

Terra slipped a few twigs into the lantern and watched the little elemental sprite for a moment, then grinned. “Hey—that’s our first fire mote, isn’t it? I can’t believe you brought that one!”

“How can you tell?” Pharazon asked.

“That one likes to roll in circles when it’s fed,” Terra said. “It was the fire mote Blynn and I bought when we were gearing up to go explore Neopia, right after I created her when I was a kid.”

Pharazon lifted the lantern to inspect the mote. “Really? Then that means it was the one you had when you met Hyren.”

Terra nodded. “And Isengrim.” Her gaze grew more distant.

The Werelupe King said, “I am sorry that first meeting was not a pleasant one for you.”

Terra glanced over at him and smiled, although it seemed a little forced. “Hey, everything’s okay now. I think that happened for a reason—even if it was just so we’d find each other again twelve years later. A lot of good came out of that reunion. I mean, you and Hyren and Blynn and Celice helped save Brightvale from a phantom army.”

“And Pharazon singlehandedly overpowered that traitor Skoll,” another Werelupe said.

Suhel cringed, feeling the panic run up and down her body at the memories of those dark days.  Malevolent magic had been everywhere—the only thing keeping her from falling to pieces was her duty to her king. Just thinking about it now made her sick to her stomach. So much force, so bent on decimating them, and her being helpless to stop it, was the stuff of nightmares.

“For the record,” Pharazon said, “I didn’t mean for him to get destroyed like that. When he tried to siphon my power from me, I resisted, and I think when he tried to put more energy into it, the unstable magic he’d built up in the area backfired and collapsed in on him.”

Suhel’s ears huddled against her skull. She didn’t want to hear any more about magic or how dangerous it could be. “I—I’m curious, Terra,” she said. “Do you remember those underground ruins you and Hyren and Blynn passed through, in the mountains between the Lost Desert and the Haunted Woods? Whatever happened to those?”

“Well, I didn’t do anything about them at first,” Terra said. “One part of me wanted to let them lie in peace and just be a memory the three of us shared. But another part of me realised that anyone else who stumbled upon them could get hurt, or damage and loot the incredible history there. So a few years later, after my family finished helping out Sakhmet with all that business about Qasala’s return, we told King Jazan and Queen Nabile about it, since we thought the ruins lay in their kingdom’s territory. The last I heard, their historians were organising expeditions to conserve and research the site.” She smiled. “So I’m excited to hear their results.”

“Me, too!” Pharazon said. “I’ll keep you posted if I see anything in the papers!”

“Ah… here’s Black Lake,” Isengrim said. He pointed ahead. Instead of more tree trunks stretching on for eternity, there was only a sudden shadow like a velvet curtain.

The lake was immense, easily one of the largest in the Haunted Woods. It stretched nearly to the horizon, and on the other side, Suhel could make out the lights of a town—Barrowmere. The surface of the water was still and dark like obsidian, although small waves lapped gently at the shore.

“I shouldn’t expect anything in the Haunted Woods to have a cheerful name,” Pharazon said. “Go to Roo Island if you want that.”

Isengrim laughed. “It is called Black Lake because of its depth—no one has ever found the bottom, I am told. But there are all manner of stories about what lurks there.”

“Comforting,” Pharazon said.

“Such a cheerful name,” Terra said, leaning over Pharazon to get a better look.

“I hope that was sarcasm,” the Draik said.

“Just a little,” Terra said.

Isengrim laughed. “Aye, only a Draconian would find ‘Black Lake’ a merry sort of name.”

Connor was at the forefront of the group now, staring at the lights with his ears forward and nose twitching, as though he strained to pick out any sounds from the town. “Home,” he whispered.

“There is no way to cross the lake,” Isengrim said to the others, “and swimming across is… not advisable. We will go around.” He pointed down the shore, into the night. The cloud cover meant that no moonlight or starlight made it to the ground, leaving only shadows.

As they began to move again, Terra sighed. “I feel like I wasn’t any help in everything that happened with Skoll,” she said. “I was kind of out cold under a curse the whole time.”

“Terra.” Isengrim put a paw on her head. “If it were not for you, we never would have prevailed against him. You caused me to rethink my views on the world around me. Your wish for peace and friendship helped Hyren and me to work together to save you and everyone else. And that curse was aimed at me, and by taking it you saved my life. You laid the groundwork for it all. You are an invaluable part of my life. Please, never think you are not any help. You do far more than you realise, even though your methods are not flashy.”

The human smiled. “Thank you. I’m just so glad it all turned to good.”

“Me too,” Isengrim said. “But it still does not excuse my actions. I am forever indebted to you.”

“You can make it up to me by being your best self,” Terra said. “I just want you to be happy.”

Suhel sighed, coughed a bit, popped another lozenge in her mouth, and looked out at the deep darkness of Black Lake. She did not really understand why Isengrim had felt the need for an owner so badly, not when he was surrounded by his loyal pack. He explained to her once that he had been created by a human owner, and there was a certain special bond between owners and their Neopets that he missed keenly. It wasn’t really something Suhel got, but she respected his needs and supported him in his endeavours, and it did seem to all work out in the end.

They circled the lake, picking their way through undergrowth several metres from the shore. The lights of Barrowmere flicked in and out from behind tree trunks. Suhel noticed that Isengrim was purposely leading them along at a distance from the water’s edge. Eventually she realised why. Every so often, her sensitive Werelupe ears picked out noises from the water—a splash here, a ripple of movement there. She guessed it was probably not wise to spend much time close to the lake, for the same reasons it was not wise to swim in it.

Eventually the old trees thinned and then petered out completely, although the travellers were still some distance from the town. Pharazon’s lantern provided more than enough light for Suhel to see that before them stretched a strange landscape made of small hills, little more than bumps in the ground about the height of a bipedal Werelupe. They looked far too regular to be natural.

“What are those?” Pharazon asked, stretching the light over Gwyneth’s head.

“The reason Barrowmere got its name,” Isengrim said. “Those barrows are very, very old. I have discussed history with King Skarl, and he tells me that long ago, before the Meridell-Darigan conflict and that odd time travel mess, Neopets from the Meridell region began to settle in the Haunted Woods. They retained the customs of their homeland, including the manner in which they buried their deceased.”

He waved a paw to motion everyone to follow him. “Come along. We’ll pass right through the barrows—it’s much faster than going round.”

“I don’t supposed they’re haunted, are they?” Pharazon asked, leaning close to Terra. Hesitantly, he urged Gwyneth on, although the Ganuthor’s nose flared and her wings sagged.

“Oh, of course they are,” Isengrim said. “This is the Haunted Woods, after all. But these ghosts are harmless. We should have no problem with them.”

“Very comforting,” Pharazon said. “It’s okay, Gwyn. Be calm.” He rubbed his Petpet’s head, and she whimpered, but kept steadfastly plodding on beside Isengrim.

They had only passed the first two mounds before Suhel’s fur began to bristle. Patches of air around them shimmered and moved, half-resolving into the shape of Neopets that wandered silently among their resting place. They wore clothes reminiscent of Meridellian garb, long tunics and dresses, some with swords at their sides or quivers on their backs.

Suhel kept her steps steady and her jaw tight. Ghosts were as commonplace as Slorgs in the Haunted Woods—they were something Suhel had long learned to live with, and they would not send her or the other Werelupes into a panic. Still, something about them seemed to tug at the fear instincts of every Neopet, no matter how well-disciplined.

“Faeries preserve us,” Connor breathed as a Buzz in a fur-lined cape glided past him. “Us kids were always told not to go near the barrows, and there were all sorts of rumours floatin’ around…”

“I am sorry about your Ganuthor,” Isengrim said to Pharazon. “Will this spook her?”

The Draik shook his head. “No, she should be fine as long as I keep her calm. She’s seen Ghost-coloured Neopets before. At any rate, I’d rather get to town sooner than later. It’s probably not the best idea to be out in these woods the later at night it gets.”

“This is true,” Isengrim said. “You will be all right. I would not have taken this path if it was not safe.”

Pharazon looked over his shoulder at his owner. “Terra, how are you holding up—oh, come on.”

The human’s fists were clenched in excitement as she watched the ghosts, an enormous grin on her face. “This is so awesome!” she said. “What a fascinating place! I wonder who these Neopets were, what their stories are… Look, that Elephante has a sword, so she must have been a knight! Back in Meridell in those days, by law only knights and nobles could own swords.”

Pharazon sighed and shook his head. “Isengrim, you have the perfect owner.”

“I know,” Isengrim said with a smile.

Terra waved at a Peophin nobleman whose long mane was done up in an elaborate braid. “Hello!” she said. “Thanks for letting us pass through! Don’t worry, we won’t disturb you!” The ghost blinked in surprise, and then waved a hoof back at her.

“I must admit, milord, everything you’ve shown us today is impressive,” Suhel said. “I didn’t know there were such places here in the Woods.”

Pharazon turned to look at her. “Suhel, I thought you and the other Werelupes had been all over the Woods.”

She shook her head. “Truth be told, I’m more of a homebody. When we lived here, I stayed further south and closer to our keep. Isengrim’s far more adventuresome.”

“Not to mention,” another Werelupe said, “we generally try to stay away from civilisation. We… do not get the best reception in towns, to put it lightly.”

Connor grimaced and looked down at his paws. “You should just drop me off at the edge of town,” he said. “I could… sneak back to me parents’ house from there.”

“No,” Isengrim said. “That would not be safe for you. We may be stigmatised, but I am willing to bear that to get you back to your family.”

The younger Werelupe was silent for a moment. “Why are you doin’ this?” he asked quietly. “You’ve got no reason to help me. What do you want in return? Money?”

The Werelupe King gave him a penetrating stare, stopped, and then put a large paw on Connor’s shoulder. “I want you to understand something. A few years ago, if you had asked me this, I would have told you it is because the world is not kind to Werelupes, so I must step in to fill the void. I have seen far too many of my brothers and sisters persecuted, cast away and treated as monsters, with no one to offer them kindness or sanctuary. Long ago, I decided I wanted to be that sanctuary for them.”

Connor turned away. “I’m not a Werelupe,” he whimpered.

Isengrim sighed and looked over at Terra. She gave him an encouraging smile, and he returned it. “But,” he said, “these days I would also say it is because I cannot leave anyone in need, Werelupe or no. We all need each other, and if I do not help, who will?”

Connor avoided his gaze and shrugged his paw away. “I guess. Let’s just get home. I want to see me mum and dad and check on the workshop.” He walked through a few of the ghosts who had gathered around the small party, wearing hazy looks of worry on their ethereal faces.

“He’ll be all right,” Terra said to the spectres. “Thanks for your concern. He’s just trying to figure out some things.”

Isengrim nodded. “Aye, thank you for letting us pass through. We’ll be on our way, now. Take care.” His face fell, and he glanced up at his owner, who offered him a sympathetic look.

The ghosts slowly dispersed back to their barrows, some bowing politely before they left, others simply fading away. Terra waved at them as they departed.

Pharazon grimaced. “You know normal people are supposed to be more freaked out by this.”

“Mmmmm, yeah, I don’t care,” Terra said. “I don’t get what all the fuss is about. They’re just dead people.”

As Isengrim moved his pack to catch up with Connor, one of the Werelupes said, “Don’t you wonder what sort of treasure they were buried with?”

“Oh, yes,” Isengrim said. “Wonderful things, I’m sure.” He looked up at the human and the Draik riding a Ganuthor beside him. “But I find I’m not so interested in treasure recently. I think I’ve accrued enough of it for now.” He paused. “And my true treasures lie not in gold or jewels.”

“Don’t get too sentimental on us, milord,” Suhel said. “You know we don’t go in for that sort of stuff.” She turned aside to let out a few coughs.

Isengrim laughed. “Well, it’s true no matter how sentimental it is. You can tough it out.”

When they reached the end of the barrows and the forest rose back up around them, Suhel began to smell the town. The heavy odour of burning coal and oil mingled unpleasantly with scents of old paper and stale food and quite a few species of Neopet and Petpet. She snorted to try to dispel the scents for just a while longer. Civilisation was crowded and grimy and, for her, full of memories of loneliness and frustration. Glancing around, the other Werelupes’ body language showed that they would also much rather be deeper in the woods than this.

But Isengrim was their king, and they were determined to follow him on any quest, even one as harrowing as going to town.

 Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4