By Volk-Oboroten'
Lowenherz trudged down the dusty road to Caralore, feeling a strange sense of urgency. Somehow, he was certain that his Lady, the Goddess Akkala, wanted him to hurry, to reach the town before noon. Danger seemed to lurk in woods on either side of the path, where he was sure the gnarled trees hid the lairs of fell beasts, creatures of darkness who served evil masters.
A few days before, he'd visited the mining town of Lik, a place full of sinister sorcery. There, Lowenherz heard ominous tales about a feline demon who hid in a secret lair near the town, where he transformed unwary lutins into his karuvati slaves. Lowenherz had only seen a few of these tormented creatures, ruined beings who were now the mindless thralls of the Black Claw. Somehow, they seemed even worse than the beasts controlled by Lilith.
Perhaps that's why Akkala wanted him to go to Caralore, Lowenherz thought. He recalled that Valaric's army had "liberated" the town from Nasoj in the winter, only to expose it to new dangers. Maybe the goddess knew that some evil monster was threatening to attack, and only he could stop it.
But how? He wasn't like Valaric, a ferocious dire wolf who played at being a man. Lowenherz had always considered himself to be human, even when Nasoj's curse made him become a manticore at night. But that was all over.
After he rejected the Malachites, Akkala had revealed herself to him, presenting a boon for long his years of service. He was free of the manticore curse! But there was also a price. She wanted him to refrain from violence, for Akkala wished to promote healing in the Giantdowns now that Nasoj's power was broken. All violence.
For weeks, Lowenherz had been troubled by this rule. Wouldn't it have been better for him to fight Nasoj? Summer still had a few days left. Surely there was enough time to topple the wizard before winter came.
Also, what about Lilith's army? A mighty host, led by a fierce draconian with silver wings, lurked in the Forest of Darkness. They might seize Nasoj's Citadel and plunder it for whatever magical items the wizard had amassed. Shouldn't Akkala stop them?
But none of these arguments had persuaded the goddess. Why was she insisting on pacifism now? Hadn't she required him to seek out and destroy creatures of evil, like the lutins? But Akkala now ordered him not to perform any violent acts, particularly insisting that Lowenherz not harm any lutins. These strange commands were very hard to accept.
He could almost see the city gate now. At least Akkala had granted him leonine vision after his curse ended, giving him one advantage over normal humans. Or was it more of a reminder than a boon? Maybe the manticore curse would return if he resumed fighting. Perhaps the goddess had not entirely forgiven him for his dalliance with Beruthiel, the Malachite sorceress.
Peering ahead, he spotted a group of children, whom he quickly sensed were in danger. They were maybe ten minutes away from him, standing outside Caralore's wall near an old man. A man he suddenly recognized, feeling a twinge of horror.
Fortinbras! The foul Malachite mage! Lowenherz quickly recalled his last meeting with the evil priest of the Nameless One. Seeing the old man gesture towards the children and then point at the woods, Lowenherz assumed the worst. He started to run, fearing that something dreadful was about to happen.
His fears were confirmed moments later. Two huge beasts burst out of the trees, bearing directly down upon the children. Screaming youngsters scattered in panic, fleeing in every direction to get away from the ferocious monsters. But one child was too slow, as Lowenherz saw hooked claws grab his neck, just before vicious jaws clamped down.
"Bears! Bears!" Lowenherz heard the villagers yelling as they ran out the gate. "My baby!" screamed a woman, pointing down at one of the marauding bears. "It's trying to grab her!" Hearing the baby cry, as shaggy paws descended toward her basket, a villager picked up a large rock and hurled it at the menacing bruin.
If only he could fly! But even when he had the curse, Lowenherz could only glide on the black wings of a manticore at night. There was no way he could get to Caralore in time.
After the stone hit its muzzle, the dire bear snarled, but remained intent on its work, seizing something small in its huge paws. More stones followed, and the demonic beast abruptly bolted for the woods, dragging its prey off in its mouth. The other bear continued to chew on its mangled victim, huge incisors tearing flesh from bone.
Lowenherz wished that had a weapon, but remembered Akkala's new instructions: he was to be a healer, not a warrior. Still, even if he had been armed, Caralore was still too far away! A skilled archer would be unable to hit the beast from this range.
Running forward, Lowenherz tried to pull his eyes away from the gory scene in front of him. Why would Akkala let him see this horror when he couldn't do anything to help? If only he had normal eyesight! Then, he'd be blissfully unaware of what the bear was doing, but now, especially now, it was impossible to avert his gaze as he ran frantically toward the town.
More men poured out of Caralore's gate, eager to battle the remaining bear. Hearing their heavy boots and smelling their anger, the beast decided to withdraw. As swords flashed, the dire bear retreated toward the trees, leaving the mauled body of a child behind in a heap of blood.
Lowenherz briefly saw the bear's gory face glaring at him, bits of ripped flesh hanging from its sharp teeth. But this wasn't just a vicious animal. It was something far worse, for its eyes glowed with a golden, feline light, full of evil power and malice. Clearly, it was possessed by a foul spirit, a demon sent by the Black Claw or one of his spiteful servants.
The ursine monster only confronted Lowenherz for a few seconds before lunging into the trees, pursued by several men carrying long spears. Was this the work of Beruthiel, the wicked sorceress? Her twisted magic had aided Fortinbras before; perhaps she was now using supernatural bears to attack children.
An angry crowd gathered by Caralore's forest gate, aghast at the atrocity which had just occurred. Lowenherz moved forward, hoping desperately that he might be able to help the bear's victim. The villagers let him forward, recognizing Lowenherz from the battle with Nasoj's men.
"Get the black axe, Lowenherz!" yelled one man. "We need it! Kill the Malachite wizard! Kill him!"
"It has been returned to its rightful owner," said Lowenherz softly. "But I'm not here to fight. Perhaps something can be done to help the child?"
"Help? How? He's been torn apart!" shouted another man, standing next to the corpse of the boy, from which streams of blood poured onto the dry ground.
"It stole my baby!" sobbed a woman. "The accursed bear took her! Dragged her away into the woods!"
"By Akkala, this is dark magic," declared Lowenherz. "What did the evil mage do before the bears attacked? Perhaps I can counter his spell . . ."
Hearing his comment, the men looked at Lowenherz with sudden hope. Anyone who had wielded the magic axe was sure to be a mighty force for good, for its uncanny powers would destroy any evildoer who touched it. They were certain he would help Caralore again.
"We've been watching the Malachites for months," explained one man, "as we've often suspected they want to take over. This foul Fortin . . ."
The man spat on the ground rather than utter the hated name of the Malachite mage. "He wants to make himself a new Nasoj! No . . . something even worse than Nasoj!"
"What happened?" asked Lowenherz. "Why would he summon bears to attack children."
"It's like this," started another man. "They try to seduce the young, getting them to join their evil cult. We warn the locals, but some new folks have arrived from the Midlands who aren't wary. They didn't live here during the dark years, when Nasoj . . ."
"Mark was my son," cried a man wearing Midlander garb, standing next to the nearly decapitated corpse, which still dripped blood. "If only he'd listened to us!"
The others paused, while the father of the slaughtered child sobbed, overcome with grief. Lowenherz waited too, knowing that Akkala would not want him to intrude on such an emotional moment. But he must press on, for the child's death would be in vain unless he could find out more. Could this be part of a larger Malachite plot?
"What sort of words were used? Did anyone hear the spell?" asked Lowenherz.
"I was at the gate when I saw the evil one coming," replied a man. "Most of the children edged away, but Mark was exceptionally bold. You see, when the Malachites had tried to convert him, telling him their stupid story about the shepherd and the peacock, Mark had laughed at all of their tales."
"So, it was revenge?" asked Lowenherz. "The mage killed him because he wouldn't join? The Malachites can be very cruel to those who reject their offers."
"Here's what happened," continued the man. "The mage walked up to the gate, wearing an ugly cap covered with dried blood. He took it off to brush some flies away and Mark yelled, 'Hey, Baldy! All bare there?' That's when it all started. If only I'd acted . . ."
"This was only about hair?" asked Lowenherz incredulously. He knew some evil mages would kill out of spite, but this was simply awful. A child was doomed for saying a few words?
"The evil Malachite put his cap back on and muttered something in a strange tongue. He then glared at Mark, saying 'How dare you mock a servant of the Ancient Power, the Destroyer of Worlds. Bare? No one scoffs at a mage who wears the Shepherd's Cap! Bare? I'll give you two bears!' The beasts then appeared out of thin air, materializing by those trees."
"Could you hear any of the magic words?" asked Lowenherz, feeling rather dejected. "Did anyone grab the Malachite? He must pay for his evil deed."
"No, he ran into the gate once the dire bears appeared. Everyone was so distracted while the children were under attack . . . We've got men searching the city, but the Malachites have dark passages under Caralore, filled with foul creatures and protected . . ."
The man stopped talking as a group of villagers emerged from the trees carrying a motionless baby. Was she dead? Lowenherz hoped Akkala would let him help.
Laying the baby down in its torn basket, a burly man said, "She's still alive, but badly wounded. We caught up with the bear only a short distance from Caralore, because it started walking on two legs. It dropped her in the leaves and started growling at us, waving branches with its paws. I was about to plunge a spear into the beast when it suddenly disappeared."
"Into mist?" asked Lowenherz.
"Yes!" said the man. "Until it dissolved into smoke, I thought it might be one of Lilith's were-beasts. But now, I'm sure it's something worse. Far worse."
A hush fell over the crowd, for all had heard rumors about demonic forces loyal to the Nameless One. The Malachite's evil master was said to have the power to embody unclean spirits in animal forms for brief periods. Lowenherz himself was certain from the start that this attack had nothing to do with ordinary bears.
"Let me see the girl," requested Lowenherz. "I serve Akkala, the goddess of healing. Perhaps she will intervene, mending this supernatural injury."
Lowenherz prayed above the body of the child, sensing the deep tears furrowed in her flesh by the accursed bear's claws. If only Akkala would give him the power to bind her wounds! Surely, the goddess would not have sent him to Caralore only to see two children die.
The villagers moved closer, watching Lowenherz closely. The girl's mother held his hand, hoping for a miracle. Lowenherz focused on Akkala's image, imploring her to use him as an instrument to save this innocent victim.
A warm glow encircled Lowenherz, letting him know that Akkala was here. He saw the girl's eyes open, as her body was healed by the powerful magic of the benign deity. She would survive.
But he must concentrate! Lowenherz had never been trained as a healer, but knew he must use his strength to let Akkala's power flow. Even though it drained him. Why, he'd even be willing to die rather than let a child be lost to darkness, dying from Malachite evil.
Lowenherz smiled as he saw the child's wound close, as shredded skin magically closed. Then, all became dark as he lost consciousness, sapped of all strength. Everything was black, as black as night . . .