Linhold

Wounded, Seraph fell in front of a man and his son who carry him into the local tavern.

As he gets closer, Seraph begins to see buildings surrounded by a wooden fence. He assumed it was a town due to the lights illuminating the place and the distant bickering heard.

Unexpectedly, Rolan barked and jumped out of Seraph’s arms darting ahead.

“Rolan, wait-“ but he stops as his mouth disobeys him, his lack of strength stopping him.

“It is okay, no need to fret.” From behind a tree, a man ten steps ahead walked out from behind a tree dressed in an appropriately temperature suited black fur outfit, most likely from a black bear, accompanied by a young boy standing next to him wearing the same attire, but with a brown hood covering most of his face.

“Wait, you are a Ryker! What you doing here, eh? Wait, blood! Come here, we are going to fix you up.”

 

Stars filled the sky shining down at the ground for all to see. All but a few were out in the open at this time of the night, they were either in their homes or at the local tavern. Noises from inside could be heard throughout the town, there was singing, yelling, and the occasional sound of something breaking.

The layout of the town was pretty simple. A tower surrounded the edges where some guards watched from, in the center was the main hall for the lord of the town with a tavern laying just to the right and a marketplace to its left with a bunch of homes and guild houses spread throughout. This place was not too different from many of the other towns that were quickly being founded in the region. The most notable thing though, was the amount of guards working. They filled the streets, walking back and forth in groups of three.

Walking by some guards was the man and his son helping Seraph walk. Each stood on a side keeping him steady as he looked like he would fall over if they let go. His face was much paler than normal, along with the blood covering most of the left side of it and much of his whole body. Numerous wounds from his battle were left exposed for all to see. Some people that walked by glanced over seeing him and quickly looked away, out of disgust and fear. Nobody knew what had happened or if he was dangerous to go near so they kept their distance.

Drawing closer to the tavern, Seraph started to move significantly slower, but the man spoke a few words, which made him begin to pick the pace up. They were close, enough so that they could begin to hear the yelling and bickering happening in the inn. The sound of a glass breaking shook Seraph and he looked up seeing the door along with a dark brown sign with the name “The Crooked Crown” written in deep red illuminated by two torches hanging from the plank above the entrance patio.

“Alright, I have a friend in there who will be able to help you, but he may be a bit antsy because you are a Ryker. I would usually be right with him, but you need serious assistance. Just ignore anything that may be said, got it in there, got it? It may a bit rough.” The man helping Seraph spoke as they stood outside the tavern about to walk in.

Unable to speak, Seraph weakly nodded, indicating that he understood. Seeing his response, the man opened the door and was immediately greeted by a few heads turned spectating the new folks. There were people playing cards at tables along with some women dancing on tables. Singing and clattering of drinks was making the place feel alive. Those that looked grew a face of horror and some laughed thinking Seraph’s injuries were amusing.

“Hey Ryker, you’re looking a bit rough there, ya get into a fight with or something, eh? Or was it just a mishap in your mutation that caused that?” Some gazer from a table a couple paces away jeered, mocking him.

“Nah man, it must have been a richter! There have been loads of those spotted around here. He must be too weak to take one on himself. What a weakling!” Another man at the table across from him responded. He took a swig from his drink and smacked it down onto his table shaking it. Wiping his mouth with his hand, he continued to laugh taking in the sigh of Seraph.

“You Rykers sure are pathetic, can’t even take on a richter alone. You guys could not fight alongside a human if you tried, no wonder you all left for this place. Except, now it is time for you all to move again unless you want to be wiped out.” The same who made the first comment said.

A couple men at the table in the corner overheard and began to laugh a bit and then turned back around continuing their conversation.

The man helping Seraph led him through the tavern, danced people turned their heads as they walked by followed by some stares and others looking away acting as if they were not interested some looked away not interested while others muttered things under their breath. Seraph had never experienced being treated like this before, he had heard about it, but was not born to understand it. He was told that because they were “different,” they did not belong with them. They did not think rykers could stand alongside them, fight with them, or die with them.  Honestly, they were discriminated because we were a better version of them. Rykers move faster than humans due to their long legs react faster, and sensitive hearing. Appearance-wise, there is a bit of a difference, rykers have bright yellow eyes, which has never been seen on a human before.

“Hey, Aron, why are carrying a ryker, did you capture him? Are you bringing him to the Jarl?” Some man spoke out to Seraph’s guide, squirming around on his bench, obviously drunk.

“Actually, Berin, I found him walking toward the gate about to pass out. I couldn’t just leave him there, I am not like you lot, I actually give a damned about somebody’s life. No matter if they are a Ryker or if they ain’t one. You hear me, boy?” Aron replied, rather harshly, obviously ticked off. He did not particularly like that boy, Berin, he was always a spoilt brat who lived off of his father’s wealth, a knight for the jarl.

“Aye, no need to get so pissy. Just having a bit of a laugh, you know me!” Berin responded, sarcasm leaking from his mouth. A wide smirk spread across face almost covered by a scraggy beard covering half of his face. He wore only trousers and a ripped and dirty shirt. He practically lived in this tavern, hardly ever leaving. He was notoriously unpleasant as well, rumors of him abusing women and starting fights spread through the town. Most people stayed away from him for this very reason. There was something about Aron, though. He always had to talk to him whenever given the chance and it annoyed the living out of him. But Aron was a peaceful man, a farmer, so he did not partake in anything, trying to stay out of any hostility. People respected him and that was something he had to keep.

“Shut your mouth, Berin. Before you say something you will regret. Just get out of my way, I need to get this man some treatment.” Aron coyly said, wearing a fake smile.

Berin raised his hands up and smirked even wider.

“Go on ahead, no trouble here. Maybe later, though.” Responded the pesky man, quietly muttering the last part so nobody could hear.

Shaking his head, Aron walked by with Seraph. As they got to a door, he knocked. It only took a few moments for an answer and then they were dragged on in with the door closing shortly behind separating them from the chaos that is the tavern.

 

Outside of the building, a storm had begun to brew up, rather quickly.  Almost out of nowhere, a sharp wind was had entered the town along with large chunks of hail dropping from the sky. Unable to see, the people that were still out roaming the town immediately knew what was happening and booked it for shelter, not caring for what they were doing. This was only a warming for what was to come soon.

 

“What has gotten into you, Aron! A Ryker, in our town! You know it is forbidden ever since the last time! What is going on in that head of yours?” A man that resembled a much older version of Aron whisper-yelled.

Taken aback, Aron struggled for an answer taking notice that Seraph was passed out. They had sprawled him out on a table much like the ones in the room behind them, it only just had enough for him to fit leaving only a little spare space. The room was not too big, only enough leeway to fit a few more of those benches. Not much was in the room besides a few chairs and the table put in the corner where the man sat staring at Aron in disbelief.

“There is nothing to worry about, father. Nobody in their damned mind would care after drinking one of those drinks. There is enough alcohol to the point that I guarantee they will forget they even saw him by morning. Now, will you help me treat his wounds? He seems to be in a great deal of pain, he could be even dying, not sure.” Aron finally responded, surprised by his own tone. Usually, he would not talk that way to his father, but a life could be on the line.

“Alright, I will not ask anymore questions. Except for one. What do you expect to do with him after we help him?” His father questioned with a quizzical look.

Aron had expected this question, but had not thought of an answer until now.

“Honestly, I did not think that far in advance, I assume I could try sneaking him out or something. Should be an easy task at night.” He answered.

“That is where you are wrong, though. If you look outside, you know we are not going anywhere for a few days. We cannot hide him in here the entire time.”

“What? I was just out there, everything was-“ Aron stopped, he knew what was happening because of the look his father was giving him. He had that look of terror that showed up on his face every time it happened.

Shivers ran down Aron’s spine as he heard the three words he expected. He could not help but be filled with horror.

“The Great Haze.”

 

Opening his eyes a tad, Seraph looked around him and saw two men sitting to the right of him in chairs, speaking. In an effort to sit up, waves of pain travel throughout his body ranging from his arms, legs, and ankle.

“Do not move, you will make it worse. Rest.” Aron spoke up rather forcefully, stopping his conversation with his father.  

Ignoring him, Seraph attempted to get up again, but failed. There was no use.

“How long will I take to heal?” The Ryker questioned to the two men sitting beside him.

“Not too much longer, you have been asleep for two days. You �"“ Aron’s father started.

“Two days? What happened? Who even are you?” Seraph interrupted, alarmed.

“Yes, you had passed out the moment you stepped in here. Aron took you here in hope that I would help, which I did. You may not seem like you are in good shape, but you are fortunate. You heal quickly, due to being a Ryker. If only we humans had that regeneration ability. And I am Gale.” Now known as Gale answered.

“You were the one who helped me? Thanks, you too Aron.” Seraph spoke friendly.

The two of them nodded, accepting his appreciations.

“Just try to rest, alright? You will be back out sooner than you think.” Gale advised to Seraph with a concerned look on his face.

Seraph did not want to rest, but had no choice. Soon after, sleep followed.

 

“You know about the camp up north, right?” Gale questioned, looking quizzically at Aron, who was struggling to stay awake. They have been up almost non-stop ever since the Great Haze outside began. Every now and then, they would hear horrendous noises that could have been anything. It was nothing they had never heard before and it happened about twelve times.

Aron, slumped in his seat look up at his father and nodded. He had an angry look, like he could take on the world if he wanted to at that moment.

“Yeah, I need to go up there and check on her. Who knows if she is even alive? If she is, is she the same or changed?” He yelled, pacing around the little room picking things up as he went, fooling around with them.

“When it clears up, we can gather a group of men and search around for her, it will be fine. Trust me, Aron. Everything will be fine.” Gale softly spoke to his son, acknowledging the stress he must be going through.

“But nobody is going to risk their lives on searching for what may kill them! What the Great Haze can do to someone is awful and the last thing someone will want is the possibility of being taken by one.”

Awoken by the voices, Seraph glanced around Seraph seeing various supplies spread throughout the room, for medical purposes he assumed. To his left was another table with water and bread. After struggling to move his arms, Seraph gave up frustrated and sore.

“Will you give me a hand please?” He spoke up disrupting their conversation once again.

Aron walked over, relieved to have a change of subject. Helping him with the water, Seraph was filled with bliss as his parched throat was relieved; it had been so long since he had last had a drink. Aron then gave him some bread, which Seraph scarfed down, hungry as a wolf. Now functioning properly, Seraph felt significantly better, almost ordinary. Aron walked back and sat in his chair, slouching. It was silent for a few minutes, even the noise from the inn was trivial.

“I could help, by the way. With your lady, that is, and when healthy, of course.” Seraph said, out of nowhere.

Aron sprung up as soon as he heard those words knocking his chair down in the process.

“Why? What do you have to get out of this? If it is gold, then fine. Whatever it takes.” He said, clearly desperate.

Shaking his head, Seraph laughed a little, clearly finding this situation amusing and then looked seriously into Aron’s eyes.

“No, I could have died out there, but you helped me. You saved me and I owe you that. To pay you back, I could help retrieve your wife. No gold necessary. None at all.” Seraph was being totally honest; he owed this man his life and was intent on paying him back.

Not expecting that, Aron broke into a large grin, but then stopped.

“What makes you think you could help? What could a kid like you do? I saw your weapons, but seeing that you were so badly wounded, you must be pretty, no offense.” He said, curiously.

“No offense taken, I was outmatched, simple as that. Do not dare to question my skill level, though. You know nothing of me. I have roamed these lands since I could walk, hunting, surviving, and learning. For about two years now, I have been on my own, out in the wilderness. Whatever you may come across out there, I will know its weaknesses and am fully capable, despite my appearance. Just let me know what happened and I will think of something.” Seraph replied, defending himself.

Gale listened, intently. He had started to recognize this guy, but had not said anything to his son yet. Gale was among the first wave of humans to come upon Aurora three years ago and almost immediately upon arriving, he would see the Rykers when searching for a place to settle. They would be up in the trees, jumping form tree to tree as if they were animals. Whenever it looked like they would fall or stumble, somehow they would recover and continue. Gale had not said anything to the others of what he saw because he knew nothing good would come. He had sworn, though, that if he saw any hostile behavior from them, he would immediately do something about it. However, nothing happened. As they started to build up a town, he would see less of them around. However, the one he would always see was the smallest, he assumed to be the youngest of them all. It was Seraph, the guy who lay in front of him, injured. They had made never eye contact, as Seraph was intent on being discreet that he was there. However, Gale would always find him. Not on purpose, but he would see him and he would watch him, curious as to what the young Ryker was doing. Unfortunately, he never got close enough to attempt to interact with him. He was always too high, and whenever Gale got close, he would be gone. The closest he got was when he tried to yell something to him after figuring out getting near him was not working. Seraph had heard him and looked at him very briefly, but fled before he could say anything else. That was also the last time he had seen him.

Looking over at Seraph, he saw very little different. He was definitely older as he was taller and stronger compared to three years ago. The addition of a beard was different as well as the blonde hair that now traveled past his shoulders compared to a Mohawk. Of course, the biggest change was his state. He only had seen him when he was running swiftly in the trees. Now, he was stuck on a bed, lying down, too wounded to move. Besides all he knew, the real reason as to why he had not told his son he recognized him was simply because he did not trust him. The few Rykers he had come across were all angry and hostile, for good reason. Their land was taken by his kind, the humans after losing the war.

“I think you should let him help you, Aron.” Gale spoke up, before his son could say anything.

Aron, surprised by his response, never did he recall his father deciding on something that quickly.

“You sure?” He responded, making sure.

Gale made a little motion with his eyes that he knew all too well. They would talk later.

“Alright, you can help, Seraph. I know some people at the tables outside that may be able to assist.” Aron finally answered.

“Before we go, where are we?”

 “Linhold, a town in the heart of this forest. You all call it the Mistran Woods, correct?” Aron asked.

The Ryker, surprised by this knowledge, nodded. Not many outsiders knew the names of this land.

         Bark!

         Lying on the wooden floor, Seraph’s direwolf cub gazed up at him.

“I cannot believe I forgot about you, Rolan! Has he been here the entire time?” Seraph questioned looking at the two of them.

“In fact, he has. We were not sure what to do with him when we noticed him, but he was surprisingly calm and did not cause any problems. How long have you had him because he sure is attached to you if he was so composed when you were out.” Gale spoke up, looking at the cub with a hint of awe in his eyes.

“It has only been a few days actually. I found him in a cave alone after killing its parents for food. I always admired them and could not leave it behind, especially after leaving it alone.” Seraph answered with a look of content.

“That is interesting, usually it takes months to gain a bond strong enough for it to trust you like that. That is beside the point, though. Let’s go see those folks are out there. And leave Rolan, anything could happen.” Gale responded, walking over to Seraph.

Grabbing both of his arms, he helped ease him up so that he was sitting up.

“Here, drink this, it will help ease the pain.” Aron said, offering a cup of ale.

It smelled horrendous, but Seraph grabbed it and brought to his lips with slight pain. Surprisingly, the drink was not bad; it was bitter, but sweet at the same time. It had a slight kick, but nothing he could not handle. 

With help from Aron and Gale, Seraph swung his legs off the table and had both feet under him for what felt like forever.

Gale handed his fur coat to him and they then walked through the door and back into the chaotic tavern.