We've lost the shape-shifters pursuing us. The mountain decides to stop over a small fishing village to replenish our supply, take some rest and repeat before sunrise. He sent his scout ahead to prepare for a place to stay. We ride for three days and two nights to the capital. Through river cascades, steep hills, forests, ravines and village settlements. This long journey that is both exhausting and perilous seems to have no end in sight. By now we have travelled miles away from the edge of the wall. All hopes of going back home diminishes the further we go.
The fisher folks are restless. I cannot blame their repulsiveness as there is a growing resentment against the crown in all the villages across the kingdom. King Ragnar's tyrant ways and hefty tributes are not popular among his people. Still, no village can refuse the king's royal soldiers.
A village chieftain in the twilight of his years greet us by the gate.
"Greetings, friends," said the old chieftain cordially, he flashes a huge grin exposing his serrated teeth, like edges of a saw. Fisher folks worship the shark god Kamohoali, a practice of sharpening the edges of their teeth to resemble that of sharks is common among them. "I am but the king's humble servant Doắlii, may his reign last a thousand years, come join us for a feast, this is a great honor indeed for the kingdom's greatest warrior is among us. Come, come. Let's have a feast," invites the old man.
"We're not here to be merry old friend for there is no reason to be had," the mountain declares. "Ahh, sad news from the south of the breach so I heard. The culling is upon us indeed, may the great Kamohoali save us all from the fate that befalls our southern brothers," the chieftain retorts.
"My village is south of the wall. What happened to the southern lands sir?" I inquire worriedly. Doắlii stares at me with disgust. I can't blame him, the dark king is said to have been born from the southern lands, hence we were secluded from the rest of the kingdom so that when the wall falls, we are the first ones to die. People call it justice; I call it apathy.
"You haven't heard of the breach young one?" "That's enough!" The mountain says furiously. "My men and our horses are beyond exhausted Doắlii, please see us through our quarters and tend to the beasts," he continues. "At once my lord," replies Doắli. "No, tell me what happened to my village. Tell me about the breach, I beg of you," I jump from the horse and nearly lose my balance." "Sorry, young one. Pretend you haven't heard anything for your own sake," Doalii leaves, his voice echoes empathy despite his previous dislike of my whereabouts for when the culling begins, race, kin, blood will be irrelevant only survival matters.
Doalii leads us to the living quarters that nestles in the heart of the weather-beaten fishing village. The old quarters appear like a stubborn relic of a bygone era, its wooden facade etched with the scars of countless storms which is a sign of good fortune for the worshippers of Kamohoali. The structure leans slightly to one side, as if bowing under the weight of its own history. Shutters hung askew, the scent of brine and aged timber fills the air.
Beneath the quarters, a bar pulses with a raw, untamed energy. The flicker of oil lamps cast a dim glow upon the rough-hewn beams and uneven floorboards, their light dancing with the shadows of a motley crowd. Raucous laughter and conversations lace with the rough tones of countless dialects, swirl together in a chaotic symphony. Pirates, their faces hardened with salt and sunlight, exchange tales of daring adventures in the unknown world far from reach even for the dark king himself, their mugs clash in reckless toasts and unbridled happiness.
Among them, the prostitutes work their trade, sitting on the laps of their customers, their painted faces a mask of resilience and rehearsed allure. They navigate the room with an elegance born of necessity, their voices low and enticing, weaving promises that dissolve with the dawn.
Above, the quarters provided a stark contrast to the chaos below. The narrow staircase leading up to the rooms creaks underfoot with each step. Inside, the chambers are spare but sufficient, furnished with rough beds covered in well-worn mattress. The small windows offer a glimpse of the restless sea, the village's lifeblood. The walls, though thin, hold the muffled sounds of the revelry below.
Sleep doesn't come easy for me. My thoughts are with our village, mom, Tom, baba and my friends. I look at the mountain he sits eyes closed, hugging his sword, guarding the door. If I have to escape him, my only chance is through the window. I pretend to fall asleep, waiting for the perfect timing. When I am sure he's fast asleep, I tiptoed towards the window and to the freedom that waits for me outside.
My heart pounds as I make my way to the stables, intent on finding a horse to carry me home. Yet, fate has other plans. The village chieftain from earlier take notice. "You're alone young one in the middle of the night in a strange village far away from home, you should know better," said he. "I was just uhm, strolling…to uhm, clear my head," I am not a good liar, I had never been. I wish I am as strong and as resolute as my brother Tom. "Hmm, I know you're a captive of the king, like we all are…his prisoners inside the wall, subjects to his tyranny and corruption. And for what? For his promises of salvation from the dark king beyond the wall. Look at what happened to the southern lands, your tiny little village had fallen into the hands of the dark king's legion. Lies, all lies!!!" He hisses. "So, it is true? That the wall had been breached?" I cry. "Yes, young one…first the southern lands and then the neighboring villages, and where's our king? Cowers in the safety of the walls in his palace, and leaves us all to die!" He grunts.
"Don't worry young one, I am here to help you," his stern features soften, and with a voice that carries the weight of years, he assures me that he knows the whereabouts of my mom and my brother. He promises that he would lead me to them. What relief!
We set out, the chieftain and I, leaving the village behind. But as we reach the outskirts, my relief turns to horror. The chieftain's kind facade dissolves, revealing his true intentions. He delivers me into the clutches of the dark king's allies, the shape-shifters pursuing us, half-human, half wolves.
They loom over me, towering on two muscular legs, their bodies cloaked in coarse, matted fur. Their limbs end in claws that gleam menacingly in the dim light. Their faces—elongated snouts filled with razor-sharp teeth, eyes aglow with a predatory intent.
A snarl rises from deep within their throats, their ears lie flat against their skulls, and their lips peel back in a horrifying grimace to reveal glistening fangs.
The weight of their gaze bears malice and cunning. These are no mere beasts; there is a chilling intelligence in their eyes, a dreadful awareness that they are not just mindless beasts, but cunning like the lord they serve.
"The gatekeeperrr," the grey werewolf with a scar across his right eye snarls and sniffs my body, "I can smell the blood of the old king," he sneers. My blood run cold as I realize the chieftain has allied with the forces of the dark king.
"I have kept the other end of the bargain, now let me see my family," Doalii demands. "Aye, you shall join them soon…inside our belly old mannn…"
The ship-shifters hungrily tear into the old chieftain's body, their sharp teeth ripping through flesh and bone. The chieftain's screams are mercifully brief. As the wolves finish their gruesome feast, they turn their blood-streaked muzzles toward me. Their eyes gleams with ravenous hunger, and low, menacing growls rumble from their throats. Their appetites are far from sated.
"Stinking old man, pwe…" the red-eyed black wolf spits some parts of the old chieftain's flesh on the ground. "Patience my friend, when the dark king rises, we shall eat to our heart's content. But for now, we deliver the zodiac prince to our master," briefs the grey one. "Perhaps, we can severe a limb or two, it has been a long time since I tasted the blood of the old king's kin," the black wolf edges close to me, fangs on full display. "No, we deliver the zodiac prince whole, and when the night king is done with him, we shall have our fill."