Chapter 2: Weirkin

Ron and Bishop escaped the castle, but Bishop still says that they aren't safe. They must make their way to safety in hopes that Ron will soon find out the truth of the situation.

Chapter 2

      Ron stared with some wonderment at the creature before him. It was standing in a tree, it looked like a monkey but its fur was completely black, as were its beady, hollow eyes. “What is that thing?” asked Ron slowly.

      “That is the result of foolish attempts at dark magic,” Bishop replied, peering thoughtfully at the creature. “That's the only way anyone has ever used dark magic successfully: By sacrificing the soul of a creature.”

      “How common is the ability to do that?” Ron asked, unnerved by the possibility of that kind of power. It had been two days since they had left the castle and Bishop still hadn't told Ron all that he knew, stating that it was “too dangerous to talk here,” no matter where they were. Which only furthered Ron's hesitations, as he wasn't fond of secrecy especially when it was him, who was in the dark about something.

      “Nothing to worry about, its only been done once. The man who managed to call the forces needed was is essentially dead,” Bishop replied, with an air of confidence.

“What do you mean essentially,” asked Ron. He wasn't convinced. He had grown up in a Christian house, but he didn't often immerse himself in religion of any kind. However, the idea of losing his soul had a finality that he found unsettling. He thought about the man and the implications of the words, “essentially dead”. What if there were immortals in this world? Could he become immortal? His attention only diverted from the strange creature and the questions it had raised, when he realized that Bishop had begun walking again.

      “We do have to get going, they know that we've escaped now and we're still close enough to their base camp to be cautious,” Bishop said without turning his head.

      “I'm coming,” Ron mumbled unenthusiastically. He wasn't used to this type of travel, they slept on the ground in forest clearings, with only the embers of a fire and makeshift sleeping bags Bishop had managed to make, to keep the cold from overtaking them. He was used to having a bed, with covers and central heating to stave off the cold. Bishop had told him the discomfort was necessary, and that they couldn't have too much of a presence in the forest. When Ron asked about Magic and if it could be used to help their situation, Bishop said that it would still be leaving a presence and a trail.

      The other problem he found himself facing was the walking. So far walking was all they had done, apart from their nightly ritual of making camp to sleep and eat two bowls of soup Bishop made, though Ron couldn't figure out where the ingredients came from. When he had asked, his questions were met with a wave of Bishop's hand and a grumble, discouraging disturbing him while he was eating. Ron didn't think he had ever walked this much in his life.

      His calves began to burn after the first six miles or so. After that every step was a burden that he had to carry until they set up camp. Though, when they stopped it only got worse and the cramps in his calves only allowed him to fall asleep between episodes. They were so painful that he would have to stand up, lest he would find the them to grow unbearable.

      As they made their way through the forest Ron peered at the scenery, imagining all the things that could be different in this world. Magic. It existed and Ron was going to learn it, the idea would have seemed ludicrous to him, if the events at the castle hadn't presented themselves the way they did. He also noticed that he still felt the indescribable presence of whatever it was that Bishop had summoned. It was as if the world had been changed, in almost every aspect, even when he couldn't figure out what he thought was different or why. He wondered at the possible connection between this “presence” and Magic.

      It was as if everything was possible in here. Ron no longer had the sense that physics were the ruling laws regarding movement. The air filling his lungs was more fresh than he had ever thought possible, and when they drank water it tasted clean, crisp, and rejuvenating. He felt better than he had in years, his body felt lighter and healthier. In spite of everything that had happened since waking up in the dungeon, his head felt clear, concise, and almost, he thought, more intelligent. He had no real way to test that theory, but he couldn't disprove it either.

      The forest itself was breathtaking. The trees were so massive that Ron struggled to see the tops, but it was an effort spent in vain. He thought that if he laid down on the ground next to the smallest of them, then the trunks would easily extend past the length of his body. The sun was blocked slightly by the trees, yet they somehow let the perfect amount of indirect sunlight through, intensifying the visibility. The vines hung loosely from the treetops, but didn't seem to drip water or too over intrude past the canopy.

      His pondering and marveling was interrupted when Bishop stopped walking and put a hand up, motioning for Ron to stop walking and to stay quiet. He seemed to be sniffing the air as if he was a dog, catching a scent that it attributed to danger. Ron instinctively crouched and sniffed the air himself, noticing a very faint scent that smelled, to him, of some combination of soured milk and barnyard animals.

      Bishop quickly pulled Ron to the side of the path, against the huge trunk of one of the trees. He put his palm on the tree and pulled his hand away to an inch away from where Ron's foot was on the ground. The air around them began to shimmer slightly and Ron shot him a questioning look. In answer, he only put one finger vertically over his lips and pursed them in a shushing motion.

      For a time nothing happened: There was only the scenery and sounds of the forest. After about a minute of waiting anxiously, Ron began to hear several thudding sounds as if a heard of heavy animals was rushing their way. It was slowly getting louder, growing from small light thuds to monstrous clamor, that only grew in it's noise. It became unbearably loud, as if a massive thunderstorm was throwing its unrelenting crashes all at once, in their direction. Then, he saw the what was making this brutal cacophony: Large black creatures, reminiscent of wolves. Their pack had at least thirty of the beasts. As they got closer, he had to struggle to keep his breathing as calm and quiet as possible.

      The front runners of the pack had just reached the area where Bishop and Ron were hiding, when he noticed one of the creatures from the back had begun to run in their direction, specifically towards Ron. He felt Bishop's hand on his chest, but when he tried to look over and realized that he couldn't move. He struggled in vain, it felt as if he was surrounded by solid concrete. Thoughts were speeding through his head, had Bishop just brought him out here to kill him? What were these creatures? And what the hell was going on in this damned place.

      He looked the creature in what he thought were its eye sockets, but he now noticed they were empty and covered with fur, like the rest of their bodies. It ran towards him with bloody intent, and it was closing in. As it ran, muscles tensed and relaxed all throughout the long limbs of the creature. It was massive, Ron thought that if it stood on its hind legs it would easily be eight feet tall. It's jaws snapped together and released as it panted from the extended excursion, leaving trails of spittle connecting its upper and lower jaws.

       It kept getting closer, thirty yards. Twenty yards. Ten yards. Ron watched as it crouched, before jumping into the air, and spilling blood. It snatched the rabbit from the bushes directly in front of them, inches away from the two men, hiding in plain sight. The rabbit screamed only briefly, then the beast clenched its jaws harder, silencing it, then bounded off with the last of its pack. Again there was a silence and the thundering march of the strange wolf-like creatures, though it was going away from them this time.

      A mix of emotions took him overtook him then: First, shock. The creature had him so completely terrified, that he hadn't even noticed the rabbit in front of them. Then, grief. He didn't wish that kind of a death upon any creature, especially when it was something so horrifying carrying out he deed. Finally, he felt a massive surge of anger and confusion all at once. Who the hell did Bishop think he was to immobilize him?

       He fell forward as Bishop removed his hand, he hadn't even realized that he was still struggling against his invisible bonds. He felt all the anger and frustration that he had yet to let out at the world for his predicament surge out, and it felt good. “WHAT THE F**K JUST HAPPENED?!” Ron was asking a question and yelling at the same time. “If you ever pull something like that again, I'm f*****g out of here! Don't forget you called me here, I'm perfectly content to let someone else deal with this bullshit, Bishop! And what the f**k were those things? F*****g Werewolves? Are you f*****g kidding me?”

      “Calm down Ron,” Bishop's response was calm and measured, which only served to increase Ron's anger.

      “Calm? You want calm then give me some damn answers, I'm not a god-damned child and I'm not moving till I get some answers!” Ron yelled.

      “I'll give you the answers if you'll shut up for a second and let me,” Bishop retorted. He looked at Ron to make sure that he had no intention of interrupting, then continued, “No, those weren’t 'werewolves', they were Weirkin. Werewolf, carries the implication that they are part or once were part human, that is not the case with these creatures. They are wolves that were effected in a similar way to that monkey that you saw earlier.

      “As for what I did, holding you in place, that saved your life. You would have run or moved when it got close, and that would've broken the dampening spell I placed on us. I knew it was going for the rabbit, and it would've taken more than just me to fend them off, unless you learned magic without me knowing you would've been useless, not to mention dead in seconds.”

      Ron was still fuming, but decided it was better to end it with, “I'm not going to thank you for it, just remember I expect the full truth when we get to a safe place.”

      “Yes, yes I know, boy. A man is only as good as his word on matters such as these,” Bishop said, returning to the path.

      Ron thought it best to follow, just when he thought he had come to terms with his situation, something like this had happened, shaking the very foundations of what he though he knew. They walked for the rest of the day only conversing when it was necessary for chore assignment while making camp for the night.

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      Ron's job ended up being to collect firewood, a task that he had always assumed was easy, but when he tried he realized that he had no idea what constituted as proper firewood. He figured he would take whatever large pieces of wood he saw, that looked dry. That way chances were, that he would find some type of suitable wood, one way or another.

      He used this alone time to gather his thoughts, or at least try. He made his way through the labyrinth of trees, tall grasses, and hollow logs that seemed to be home to all manner of insects, some he recognized and some he didn't. He once again found himself reveling in the calm atmosphere that this place provided, though somewhere, deep down, he was weary of it. The effect had a downside: It left him feeling safe and kept him from being as prepared for the danger that seemed so prevalent.

      His thoughts turned to the events at the castle and the lightning that had brought him to this Realm. When he closed his eyes he still saw the form of the figure that looked like the air was being electrified, converging on the two Grey clad men, horror etched onto their faces and into Ron's memory. Then there was Bishop. Who the hell was this guy, and how can one man cause so much destruction, let alone doing it without breaking a sweat. He felt confident that he should be frightened by the man, or at least very watchful of him.

      Though he was deep in thought, he noticed that it was progressively getting darker, the sun was beginning to set, but there were also thick gray clouds making their way toward him. Once he had two armfuls of assorted firewood, some of which he figured was bound to be acceptable firewood, he decided that it was time to head back to the camp.

      When he had arrived, Bishop had already set up the two makeshift sleeping bags and a tarp over them. Though they weren’t ideal Ron had to admit that they weren’t as bad as they looked. The soup Bishop made was consistently the best part of their trip, it always made the camp smell of countless herbs and spices, and it kept hunger at bay for several hours after consumption.

      They sat and ate in silence, Ron had to admit he was slightly curious what Bishop was thinking. Through all the sarcasm and jokes, the man seemed to look pensive and mysterious when he didn't think anyone's eyes were upon him. Though, his interest soon abated when he came to a sudden realization: He had been so busy thinking about himself, that he had completely neglected to wonder what his parents were doing.

      It had been a few days since he was supposed to be home and he realized that they must be worried that he hadn't shown. He thought about all the Christmases that he had spent with them, warm, drinking hot chocolate and exchanging gifts. He did think it made an interesting comparison with two days ago when he had totally forgotten it was Christmas, and spent the day walking through a forest, the highlight of which was the end, when he fell asleep, exhausted.

      If what Bishop said was true he would see them again, and his friends. He wasn't sure which scenario he hoped for: Bishop telling the truth, him being evil and having a secret agenda, Ron having a psychotic break, or the black lightning symbolized him being struck by lightning and he was dead and this was hell. The last two he felt were the most likely, mainly because the more he thought certain things, the less they made sense.

      For instance, why would black lightning take him in to another Realm? Or why is it summer here, when as he just realized it was December back home, and after all this was supposed to be the same planet, just a different version. Also, why did Magic only come into being after a certain point? Most of all, why were they speaking the same language, if everything else was so effected by magic? He wasn't positive he wanted to know everything, but he promised himself he would try to learn as much as he could, as in situations like this, he felt ignorance was dangerous.

      He looked over at Bishop, who had just begun setting his empty bowl, spoon inside, on the ground, and began to wipe his mouth using the back side of his forearm. Ron was about to barrage him with questions, in an attempt to overwhelm his seemingly impenetrable defense, but was interrupted when he put a hand up. “Kid, I cant answer questions on the road,” he said without looking away from his empty bowl, “we just need to get to where we are going then you and I can have this conversation.”

      Ron was desperate, he was so lost in what was happening, that he just wanted anything that could help him gleam even a fraction understanding. “Fine,” he paused, lifting his index finger, for emphasis, “but, you haven't even told me where it is that we're going.”

      Bishop sighed and said, slowly, “Fine, we're going to my house. It's the best place to contact some of my old allies. Now, I gave you that much, if you ask any more questions, I'm going to surround your head with sound-dampening magic, and give myself some peace and quite in the process.”

      “Fine,” Ron said, “are we at least almost there?”

      “Father of Magic, you whine more than a hungry dog with a steak just out of it's reach,” Bishop cursed, “Yes we're about two days journey from my house, and by the end of the day tomorrow we should have passed into Ruilenth where will be out of Grey One territory and we can sleep indoors, but more importantly in beds.”

      “Well, I suppose everything can't be terrible, all at once,” Ron mused, mostly to himself.

      “Keep that in mind, that mentality might just save your life some day,” Bishop said, standing up. “It's time for me to go to bed. An abundance of sleep never hurt anyone.”

      “For once, I think I agree with you,” Ron said, stretching with a yawn.

      From there they put out the fire and began preparing for bed. Ron sat, staring up at the sky, wondering at the beauty that emanated from it's dark and starry embrace. It was the first time he had been clear headed enough to appreciate it: The night sky was dotted with the brightest, most visible, stars and the blackest space between them, as if it had been made as black as possible, simply to contrast and add to the beauty of their shining counterparts.

      His mind began to fog slightly as he drifted to the space between dreams and the waking world. His thoughts turned back to his family and friends, one last time before he would allow himself to drift into sleep. A though suddenly brought him closer to alertness, everything would change regardless of what he did. From what little he knew of his task, he was terrified. Bishop was powerful if nothing else, and he seemed to think that Ron was important.

      What if Ron failed, and The Darkness took over his world, or what if he went back and did everything he was supposed to, but still got people killed? He didn't want this kind of responsibility, why would he be able to do any of this? He made himself two promises in those moments of reflection: That he would punish whoever picked him for this, and that he would do whatever he had to, to go home and ensure the safety of those he loved.

      At that moment, several of the stars began to move. Ron looked in awe, and some skepticism, as he was dead tired and this was probably not happening. They continued to shift, leaving slight tracks of light behind them. They began to slow and stop: One by one. Ron looked as they formed what looked like the shape of an owl in the night sky, looking down at him. He blinked, to make sure that it wasn't a trick of the light: When he opened his eyes, it was gone, and he sighed. It had just been a sleep deprived illusion, after all.

      He readjusted himself, and closed his eyes, ready to fall asleep completely. After several minutes his thoughts, once again began to slow, and his muscles began to relax themselves. Right before he gladly surrendered his consciousness to a dreamless, sleep-state, he heard Bishop say, in a low whisper, “remember that moment, it was the moment when you glimpsed Magic.”

Author's Note

Not the final product, but its furthers the story. Any opinions welcome.

Reviews

[Acropolix]

I believe this chapter helps identify the reader with Ron, like a better understanding of his character. Apart from the confrontation with the wolves you leave the reader hungry for answers as Bishop doesn't answer many of the questions brought forth from chapter 1, which is good of course! The continious flow of Ron's thoughts makes for a good moment to learn the perspective of Ron on the situation, though I believe you could work out some more in this chapter. This chapter is very different from the previous one in terms of tension, thrill or adventure. If the travel to the village isn't as important, you could shorten this piece and focus on the important conversation they will have at the house of Bishop. At least, I sense you are making a lengthy chapter here of a less important part in the story.

Don't forget I really like the ideas you put into the story as the new experiences are certainly very interesting and add to the awesome setting of the story. I especially like the last paragraph where you combine so many elements in just one sentence. You are doing a good job!

[NoblePariah]

With this one I was going for developing his character a bit more, as the pace in the first chapter was slightly less forgiving. As for shortening the trip to Bishop's house, that's a bit complicated. The village actually contains a largely important plot point and with regards to pace it's going to pick up quite drastically there as well. I do agree that this chapter needs more work, this one is still in its first draft phase. (It's also probably my least favorite chapter, but I felt it was a necessary inclusion to the story.) Once again thanks for the review and for reading, It's gratifying to hear that you've enjoyed the story so far and the ending, (I wanted to have him slowly catch glimpses of magic to emphasize the amazing unpredictability of magic.