Chapter 9: Chapter 8: Wards

They didn’t make the so-called Hero’s Glade that night. Sunset found them still trudging along the thus far empty road, exhausted again, or perhaps still. The only silver lining was that Tiarraluna’s mana had recovered sufficiently that she was able to heal the deeper sword wounds, along with both his cracked ribs and broken —yes, broken—ankle. The lesser cuts and bruises would have to abide. They were annoyances anyway as far as he was concerned. Pain was an old companion to Jack Grenell, after all.

The following day —day three of their two day adventure— found them leaving the road shortly before midday, and heading south into a deep forest.

“Is this seriously the way to this town of yours?” Jack wondered irritably as he slapped at another of the mosquitos that the animes never seemed to mention.

Tiarraluna smiled a not entirely humorous smile. “We are not heading into town at the moment, Jack san,” she told him. “We are going to the Hero’s Glade. Did you think the gods had placed it in the middle of the road? Or that the citizens of Ardia would build a road through it, even leaving aside the wishes of the gods?”

Okay, he’d grant her that. “So how did your grandmother happen across my most annoying near-corpse on her way to town,” he asked not entirely seriously. “If the place is so out of the way?”

She turned full face to him over her shoulder, frowning. “Do not jest about such things, Jack san,” she scolded. “You are very lucky Grandmother is as sensitive to that place as she is, or you would truly be a corpse.”

“Sensitive?” he ignored the rest.

“Obviously,” she said. “How could she be otherwise, given her history?”

“You mean the history I know nothing about?” he asked dryly.

She stopped full in the trail, turning around to block his passage and glare at him. Her expression changed only when it became clear that he wasn’t making a jest. “Are you trying to tell me that you did not know?” she was astonished.

“I know exactly jack, and—” he stopped himself. Clearing his throat, he started over. “Your grandmother told me almost nothing, Tiarraluna,” he said, not quite growling. “She threw maybe a few hundred words in total to me the whole time I was there, and a quarter of those were not complementary.”

“I am truly sorry, Jack san,” she frowned. “I... I did not know. I thought that she would at least— that she would....” she paused, putting hands to forehead, frowning deeply, wondering if it were within her right to speak of, given that Grandmother had apparently decided not to reveal the story herself.

“Did she tell you anything of the others?” she inquired without moving her hands.

Jack looked around, then back at the frowning girl. “Some,” he said. “But can we continue this as we walk? I’d like to reach this mythical town before we either run out of supplies and starve to death, or I’m completely drained of blood by these damned mosquitoes.”

“She told me that there had been eleven of them,” he said some time later, after they’d put some distance behind them. “And that the last of them had finally defeated the demon lord and become the king of Tandera not too long ago.”

“Only a little more than a year ago, she confirmed. “Nothing about the others?” she wondered then. “Nothing at all?”

“That they were all dead,” he shrugged. “Even that was hard to get out of her.”

“I see,” her frown deepened, along with her reticence to reveal what her grandmother had held back.

Another mile had passed beneath their feet before her decision formed itself within her mind. “The first hero to pass through the gate,” she began hesitantly, “was called Ishihara Kenjiro. He was, perhaps, the strongest of them. He perished battling the demon lord in its very hall.”

Another hundred paces passed in silence before, “he was also my great, great grandfather.”

That revelation punched Jack right in the guts. In a blur, his every interaction with the old woman zipped past his inner eye. Each and every grimace or frown, each long dried tear that could be seen by its track upon her face. Each of his corny comments, each of his unguarded ponderings. He felt his throat tighten. He felt like a total and complete ass.

“I’m sorry,” his voice trembled. “I didn’t know.”

She nodded, not slowing her pace. “Rosaluna is not so much my grandmother as my great, great grandmother,” she clarified. “She is far older than she appears.

“She called me, ” she continued slowly. “Because your presence at her cottage was causing her physical pain. The very notion that you were alive and he so long gone tore at her.” the old woman’s other opinions regarding him she forswore to mention.

“And yet she put everything else aside and helped me,” he lamented. “Saved me.”

“Do not punish yourself, Jack san,” she told him softly. “This is her way no less than battle is yours.”

He frowned more deeply, nearly a scowl. “What do you mean by that?” he asked. “Is it because these heroes of yours aren’t good for anything else?”

She glanced at him again, seeing that the tortured look was back. What sort of wound, she wondered, could be so deep that the merest breeze would suffice to so inflame it? Then she remembered the red eyes within the iron cage and forced herself to stop.

“I say that because of what Grandmother found while healing you,” she clarified. “Wounds and injuries years old, improperly healed. Bones and joints damaged far beyond anything reasonable for such a young man.” another few paces. “How long had it been before these past months that you were not in constant pain, Jack san?” she wondered.

Hmph. He had to think about that. Years, easily. Since well before his discharge. It was a common trait of vets in the modern era. Messed up backs, bad knees and hips. Chronic, they called it. Totally not duty related at all. “A long time,” he confessed.

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“And now?” she asked.

What? He looked over, but she was serious, “Little girl, I hurt like hell.”

She blushed at the name, but clarified. “In the same way? Or are you only feeling the pain of your most recent wounds? Remember those, what did you call them, wind sprints, you were running the day I met you? When was the last time you were able to do those before arriving on Mund?”

He thought about it and had to nod. She had him there. He hadn’t even realized at the time. “Your great—”

“Just grandmother will suffice, Jack san,”

“—grandmother did that as well?”

She nodded.

“I’ll be damned,” he muttered. Five years at the VA, and all they’d managed was pain pills and unproductive therapy. “Another thing I have to thank her for.”

“Jack san?” she asked after awhile.

“Hmm?”

“Why do you suppose whoever sent you through a hero’s gate did so?”

He started to answer, but hard against what they’d just been talking about, he paused. That was, come to think of it, a very good question. One he couldn’t answer.

It was growing dark beneath the trees when Tiarraluna alerted Jack that they were nearing the glade. Not a moment too soon, he thought. He was dragging, despite the healing she’d done, despite the time he’d been putting in to rebuild himself since the old woman had started allowing it. Obviously, stamina was something he’d need to work on. Funny how those guys in the stories could instantly go from office monkeys or shut-ins to Olympic grade trekkers with no transition. Another instance where the tropes had failed him.

He tensed suddenly, bringing FoeSmite up reflexively, unsure of what it was. He stopped, calling softly for Tiarraluna to do the same. She hadn’t quite begun to reassure him before the creature loomed out of the darkness. It was a wolf. Dark grey, golden eyed, and the size of a horse.

“No!” she hissed when he’d bring the staff to high guard.

His eyes went round at the command. What the hell was she thinking?

“They are Grandmother’s outer wards,” she hastened. “I had not expected them to be so far out, or I would have told you about them already.”

“Constructs?” he asked.

“Do not be ridiculous,” she shook her head. “They are dire wolves, obviously. They are merely friendly ones. Or,” she gave him a sly smile. “At least, they are friendly to Grandmother and to me.

“Now, she ordered. “Hold FoeSmite out before you parallel to the ground in open hands. Let Alshantar see that you are not a threat.”

Alshantar. He’d save that question for later. He held the staff out as indicated, feeling the hair stand up on the back of his neck as the huge beast padded forward and huffed at the weapon. It raised its massive head and looked him in the eye. He looked back, seeing far too much intelligence behind that amber gaze to suit him. It was dangerous, looking it in the eyes. This close, if it decided to take the exchange as a threat, he was a goner, even with a magical stick.

“Alshantar is the pack’s alpha,” Tiarraluna explained. “He is, for all intents and purposes, the king of the wood.”

“I see,” he answered, his gaze locked with the wolf’s.

“Alshantar,” she called lightly. “Come, your majesty. I have treats.”

With a last dismissive huff of breath into his face, the wolf turned and padded over to the girl, twisting his head to have his ear scritched before accepting something from her hand. Then he moved around behind and stood framing her, tail out and ears up as other wolves of varying size began to materialize from all directions out of the deepening shadows. Each of them received their scritches and offerings in turn before fading back into the darkness. Including a dozen pups who tumbled out of the undergrowth to receive their due. Each of them, despite the diligent application of puppy eyes, received only half a piece.

Once the ritual had been completed, she called Jack over.

“That some sort of control animals concoction your grandmother mixed up?” he asked as he drew near.”

“Absolutely!” she smiled, popping a piece into her own mouth, giggling at his shocked response. “Dire wolves will do almost anything for chocolate.”

“Choc–?”

“Want some?” she asked, holding out what, at close range appeared to be a chocolate brownie.

“Seriously,” she insisted. “Take it, but do not eat it.”

He narrowed his eyes, but took the offered confection.

Turning to the giant alpha, Tiarraluna closed her eyes for a moment, her expression going still.

The dire wolf lowered his head, but did not otherwise initially move. When he did, it was only to raise his head and issue a series of yips and growls in the direction of the trees. A few moments later, another, slightly smaller wolf appeared, head lowered.

“Well,” Tiarraluna sighed. “Not ideal, but still better than I should have expected, I suppose. That is Belthasat. He is the beta. The prince, if you will.”

Jack was still trying to decide what that meant when the creature arrived before him and stopped expectantly.

“Offer him the brownie, Jack san,” Tiarraluna ordered.

He held out the treat and the great maw moved to his outstretched hand. He felt the dagger teeth scrape his palm as the brownie disappeared. Without thinking, he reached up to scratch behind the beast’s ear, quickly bracing against the pressure when the dire wolf twisted his head and leaned into the ministrations.

“Very good, Jack san,” Tiarraluna laughed. “You have defeated his caution.”

“Yeah,” he smiled despite himself. “Twenty years of having dogs gives you the touch, I suppose.” he had to shift his feet to brace against the not inconsiderable weight that was pressing against his hand threatening to bowl him over.

Another yip from the alpha and Belthasat withdrew his head and turned for the darkness. In another moment, Alshantar also faded into the night.

“Belthasat will be your guardian within the wood, now,” Tiarraluna told Jack after she’d given the wolves time to achieve some distance. “If you are in need,” she continued. “Anywhere within the confines of this forest, you may call, and he will come if he can. But I caution you, Jack san,” and her eyes went stern. “Do not call him to aid you against those teufel things.”

He snorted. “There is no way in creation I’d ever call anything that relied on tooth and claw to confront poisonous constructs,” he said. “Not even to save my own life. I’m kind of hurt you’d even think it necessary to warn me.”

The Glade of Heroes was something of a letdown. It bore no remarkable attributes. No more than an area of about a quarter acre and surrounded by trees, in which there were no trees. There wasn’t even a path. No quaint little pond or bubbling brook. Even the grass cover was spotty. In fact, other than the still cart at its near edge, the only vaguely interesting feature of the place was a suspiciously Jack-shaped gouge in the loam, indicating that his entry had been less than graceful.

“Seems....”

“Yes?” Tiarraluna wondered when he didn’t finish.

“I dunno,” he mumbled half aloud. “I was kind of expecting something more...”

“Grand?” she asked. “Something with marble columns, perhaps? Befitting a true hero?”

He gave her the eye, wondering if she was back to being snarky for its own sake.

Instead, she was hauling things out of her bag and arranging them about the cart. “Many people expect many things to be more grand than they are, Jack san,” she said distractedly as she readied herself to release the final wards on the cart. “This glade is no more than a location. Its import lies not in itself, but in where things come from to arrive here, and where they go once they leave.”

“Things,” he said. “Heroes, you mean.”

She looked up at that. “In this place, yes,” she agreed. “But understand you, Jack san, there are more gates on Mund than this one. There are gates to the underworld, and from the underworld. There are places where monsters or spirits spawn, seemingly from the very air. Many, if not most of them no more remarkable than this small open place in the wood.”

“I see,” he said. And he was beginning to. Looked at as no more than a spawn point, what really had he expected?

The undoing of the wards took quite some time, or so it seemed to Jack. He was dead on his feet and wanted desperately to find someplace to curl up and sleep for the next three or four days. Tiarraluna seemed to notice as he was putting Jelia between the traces and she was busy stowing magical gear into her amazingly capacious bag. “We cannot camp here, Jack san,” she warned. “Not only because it is a portal area. We will encamp nearer the road, but still within the wood. We will be safe with the wolves guarding us.”