Return to Lynwood, Chapter 12

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Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12

For the rest of that day and the first half of the next, they travelled further south, deeper into the ancient Woods. The rain continued off and on, which Isengrim appreciated as it drowned out any scent trail they might be leaving. Nevertheless, he did not see any more V’s slashed into trees. He guessed that Vakhtang probably operated more northward, where there were towns to raid. This increased their chances that the iron-hearted Werelupe hadn’t stumbled upon the artefact—but not enough for Isengrim to stop worrying.

If there was any upside to the situation, it was Connor becoming slightly more personable. Although still quiet and far from chatty, he no longer seemed so sulky, and by the twitching of his ears seemed to actually be listening to the others instead of outright ignoring them.

Isengrim was not sure if the pup had taken to heart his companions’ promise to protect him, but it looked as though Connor at least found them better company than Vakhtang. Although the dark-furred Werelupe could hardly consider that a compliment. He was fairly certain a mutant Kiko with the Sneezles would be better company than Vakhtang.

 

On the evening of the second day of that leg of the journey, after dinner when everyone was lounging on their cloaks, talking and laughing and singing as usual, Connor finally had a conversation with someone.

Isengrim and Terra were a bit removed from Lexora and the other Werelupes, taking a quiet moment to inspect their weapons and armour, when Isengrim noticed Connor sidling over to Pharazon. The Draik was checking the straps on Gwyneth’s saddlebags, making sure they weren’t chafing her, and had just reached into one of the bags when Connor folded his paws behind his back and cleared his throat.

“Um… Mister Pharazon, sir?” he asked quietly.

Pharazon lifted his snout back out of the bag. “What is it, Connor?” he asked.

Connor kicked at the dirt with one hind paw. “You’re a magic user, right?”

“Well—I’m not quite sure I can consider myself a magic user yet,” Pharazon said. He pulled a bristle brush out of the bag and started to run it across his Ganuthor’s fur. She let out a happy grunt and opened one wing to let him reach her ribs. “I think I’ll be ready to call myself a wizard once I find an implement.”

He paused and looked over at the Werelupe, whose ears drooped in disappointment. “But I do know a lot about magic, not that I’m bragging,” Pharazon said. “I’ve been doing my research. Is this about your curse?”

Connor looked away. “I was just wonderin’… have you heard of anythin’ at all that could break my curse? Is it really impossible?”

Pharazon took a breath. He looked over at Terra and Isengrim, and Isengrim realised his owner had stopped to listen to their conversation too. She gave Pharazon a grin and a thumbs-up, as did the Werelupe King.

The Draik’s blue eyes shifted back to Connor. “Well… with magic, ‘impossible’ is a slippery term,” Pharazon said. “Truth be told, there’s a new theory floating around in the world of magic academics… although it’s only a theory, and an obscure one. Several researchers have postulated the existence of rare individuals that they call cursebreakers.”

Connor’s eyes lit up. “What does that mean?”

“That they break curses,” Pharazon said. “More specifically, cursebreakers have the inherent ability to destroy curses. Somehow, they just unconsciously know what to do, or sometimes maybe just their presence is enough.” He shook his head. “The research is still spotty, so no one’s exactly sure of anything yet. But Queen Nabile might be a cursebreaker.”

“Because she saved Qasala?” Terra asked. “But she knew what she had to do to break that curse.”

Pharazon moved to groom Gwyneth’s thick neck, shooting a glance over his shoulder at his owner. “Yes, but the fact that she was in the right place, at the right time, and just so happened to be descended from Sakhmetian royalty… some scholars find that a little too uncanny.”

“Doesn’t sound like much to go on,” Connor grunted.

“Like I said, it’s an obscure theory,” Pharazon said. He scratched behind his Ganuthor’s ears and she let out a rumble of content, flexing her claws. “But… there may be something to it. I mean, these theorists have taken a long look at the history of notable curses and curse-breakings, and found some interesting correlations.”

He paused. “And I can’t help but feel there’s a lot it would explain.” He looked out into the darkness of the Woods for a moment, and then smiled and turned to Connor. “Want to pet her?” he asked, gesturing to his Petpet. “She loves having her nose rubbed.”

“She—she won’t bite me, will she?” Connor asked, raising a paw tentatively.

“No,” Pharazon said. “She’s very friendly. She might lick your face, though. I haven’t quite gotten her trained not to do that.”

Connor chuckled. “No worries. That’s a greetin’ Lupes can understand, too.” He moved his paw to Gwyneth’s broad pink nose, thumbing the velvety fur on her muzzle. “She is quite soft,” he said.  Gwyneth let out a whuff and pressed her snout further into his hand. The boy started, but grinned and continued to pet her.

Pharazon, Terra, and Isengrim shared a smile before the Draik looked back to Connor. “Anyway,” Pharazon said, “I’m sorry I don’t have much else to tell you about cursebreakers. It’s a phenomenon that’s so difficult to quantify and collect data for that the theorists don’t have much to share with the public yet.”

“That’s all right,” Connor said, watching as Gwyneth began to lick his hand with her massive floppy tongue. “It may not be much to go on… but it is somethin’. Thank you, Mister Pharazon.” His golden eyes flicked down to the Draik. “If you ever meet a cursebreaker… could you let me know?”

For a moment Pharazon didn’t respond, catching his breath as he seemed deep in thought about something. Finally, he smiled and nodded. “Of course. You never know, one might pop up sooner than you think.” He cleaned the fur out of Gwyneth’s brush and put it back in her saddlebag. “I guess we should get some sleep now,” he said. “We’ll reach the ruins of the keep tomorrow.”

“Right,” Connor said with a nod. “Thank you, sir.” He patted Gwyneth’s head and she left him with a parting slobbery lick across his cheek. “I hope cursebreakers are real. I could really use one right about now.”

“I hope they’re real, too,” Pharazon said.

Connor returned to his spot by the fire, and Pharazon wandered over to his owner and brother, dusting off his hands. He caught Terra’s eyes and smiled at her.

“Do you think cursebreakers are real?” she asked, sliding her sword back into its scabbard.

“I think I’ve seen some interesting things that would count as evidence for their existence,” Pharazon said. “But it’s too early to tell yet.” He studied her face. “What do you think, Terra?”

She grinned. “It makes sense to me. It sounds like the sort of thing that would happen with magic.”

“I, for one, hope there aren’t any cursebreakers around here,” Isengrim said, angling his long knife so it caught the firelight. The blade was still sharp and free of nicks and rust, and he nodded in approval. “I’d hate for a few of my thanes to suddenly find themselves normal Lupes again. They rather enjoy being Werelupes.”

“Ooh, I hadn’t thought of that,” Terra said. “That wouldn’t be good.”

“Well, who knows how it works,” Pharazon said. “Or if it works at all,” he quickly added.

Isengrim slid his knife back into its sheath. “I just don’t see the use in getting Connor’s spirits up over something that might not even exist,” he said quietly, so the boy wouldn’t hear. “He’s best off coming to terms with his new reality, not spending all his time chasing after a vague dream.”

“I was just trying to give him a little bit of hope,” Pharazon said. “There’s nothing the matter with that. I’m glad your pack enjoys being Werelupes, but not everybody feels that way.”

Isengrim took a deep breath to try to expel his rising frustration. “I suppose we’ll do what we can to get him through this journey,” he said.

“There’s nothing wrong with both,” Terra said, interlacing her fingers. She looked up at the two. “He needs to accept his situation. It’s not healthy for him to be in denial about it. But he also needs to feel like things can get better. It’s also not healthy for him to give in to something that doesn’t feel right for him.”

Pharazon sighed. “You’re right. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“Agreed,” Isengrim said. “My apologies, Terra.” He smiled. “Thank you for being our voice of reason.”

“Just trying to help,” Terra said. “There’s no need to argue about this. You’re both looking at it from different perspectives and you’re both right about a lot. Those two views can harmonise, instead of clashing.”

“I wasn’t meaning to argue with you, Isengrim,” Pharazon said. He stuck out a hand. “I’m sorry.”

“I apologise as well,” Isengrim said, taking his brother’s hand and giving it a firm squeeze. “Let’s work together on this.”

Pharazon nodded. “Yes, let’s.”

The three of them looked over at Connor, who was curled up by the fire, watching Lexora and Suhel spar. Isengrim didn’t know if cursebreakers were real, or if Connor would ever find one. The Werelupe King was still struggling to comprehend how anyone could not want to be a Werelupe anymore. But he would not force his views on Connor. That was what Vakhtang tried to do, and meeting Vakhtang made Isengrim strive to be as little like the rust-furred Werelupe as possible.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7
Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12