Belar the Mighty: The Lost Sister Ch. 03

I would like to thank my editor and those who provided me valuable feedback!

To the readers: Sorry for the extended delay since Chapter 2, this story took me in a direction I was not expecting and it is much different than the draft I wrote years ago (and was very unsatisfied with). I hope you all like it, and I promise Chapter 4 will be up in a reasonable timeframe. As always, please let me know what you think!

Chapter Three

Belar and Taria navigated the winding forest trail in silence for quite some time. Belar could sense the fear emanating from the small priestess beside him. She had seen him unchecked, had witnessed his blood rage in full force. This was typically the point at which most people stopped associating with him. For Taria, that was not an option. Unlucky for her, he thought.

Belar reached down and grabbed the waterskin hanging off the side of his saddle, noticing how the priestess jumped at the unexpected motion. He sighed, took a deep gulp of water, and scanned the forest around them. Very few strands of sunlight were piercing through the weave of treetops now, and the trail they followed was so overgrown that it was almost nonexistent. Belar still recognized the area, but they were approaching the point where even he usually turned back when hunting; and Belar did not know of anyone in Lanos who hunted Blackrock Forest as deep as he.

"Are you okay?" Belar asked, breaking the silence.

Taria turned towards him and stared for a second. Fear was evident in her features and Belar was surprised at how much that pained him.

"Yes," she said finally.

"I call it the blood rage." Belar replied, answering her unasked question.

"The blood what?"

"The blood rage," he said again. "You know how it feels when your blood rushes before a fight?"

The look on her face said she hadn't the faintest clue what he was talking about.

He realized he was not explaining this to someone with combat experience and decided to try different approach, "When the dire attacked us, did your heartbeat quicken?"

"Yes," she said with a nod.

"That is your fear making your blood rush," he explained, "It can make you run faster or swing your weapon harder. Seasoned warriors know this and use it to their advantage."

Her face twisted in confusion, "But I have never seen any other—"

"Let me finish," he said, cutting her off. "Seasoned warriors understand this rush. While the name changes depending on who you are talking to, they all are referring to the same thing."

Belar gave her a moment to take in what he was saying before continuing.

"Fear is not the only thing that causes the rush, anger can as well. The difference is that when anger causes the rush, your training often disappears as well," Belar explained. "Perhaps you have heard the saying, 'An angry soldier is a dead soldier?'"

The slight widening of her eyes indicated that she had.

"Well, that is the meaning behind that saying. Each time a soldier is foolish enough to let anger control him, he invites death."

"But, you wanted me to tell you my story. You wanted to get angry..." Taria replied, trailing off as she worked to put the pieces together.

"Aye, I did. It's different for me. For me, the rush caused by my rage seems to be greater than that of others. When it happens..." Belar paused searching for the right words, "It is as if everything slows down."

"Is it..." she began hesitantly, "Is it because you're Onekyh?"

"No, I don't think so," Belar responded thoughtfully, "I have not met many Onekyh, but those I have met do not share this similarity. Most are far more beast than I though."

"Have you met any others like you?" she asked, now genuinely curious.

"If there are others, I've never met them," Belar replied.

"So this, uh, blood rage, it makes you faster, stronger?"

"Aye, it pushes my body to the limit and dulls my pain," he explained, "It is a boon in battle, but a curse in everything else."

"Why would it be a curse?"

"You saw how I reacted to your touch," he said with a sigh, "When in a blood rage, I become blinded by my fury. I will attack anything that comes close." He noticed Taria shudder, "That is why I work alone."

Belar hated the sympathy that flooded her crystal blue eyes. He turned away; he did not want her pity. They rode in silence, reflecting on what was just said. The awkward silence was broken when his stomach grumbled angrily, reminding him that it was past time to eat. He heard Taria snicker at the sound and actually smiled a little himself. It was good to hear something cheerful.

"Sounds like something else is raging," Taria jested and Belar's smile morphed into a full-fledged chortle.

He turned to see Taria wearing a wide grin and marveled at how beautiful she was; even more so now that her frown had been replaced with a smile.

"Aye, and let me tell you, a food rage is no laughing matter!"

Taria joined him in laughter. What a sight they would have made right then, two travelers cracking jokes and laughing while winding through one of the most dangerous patches of forest this side of the Nariba River.

When Belar's laughter abated a bit, he reached into the pack at his side and pulled one of the cheese wedges free. Before taking a bite, he surprised himself and offered some to Taria.

"Thank you," she said as she broke a chunk free.

Belar nodded and devoured the remainder of the wedge in three enormous bites before reaching into the pack for another. The healing potion he used earlier only accelerated the body's natural healing capabilities and the result left the user famished. He was almost done with the second wedge when Taria spoke again.

"Uhm, what should I do if you go into one of these blood rages?"

"Stay back," Belar responded between bites, "Just stay away and let it run its course."

Taria nodded, she appeared to be growing accustomed to the idea, a reaction that both earned his respect and left him speechless. Nobody, not even Francis, treated Belar the same after seeing his rage. To most people he was one step above a wild animal, something that Belar had learned to accept. Yet, somehow, Taria was not treating him in such a manner.

Trying not dwell on it, he turned his attention back to their surroundings. The vibrant green canopy from earlier was now tainted with dead branches — a sure indication that they were nearing the most dangerous portion of the trail.

Belar had only trekked this deep into the forest once before, and that had been many, many years ago, during his reckless youth. Hunters in Lanos made a living off of Blackrock Forest, and the deeper a hunter went, the more valuable the quarry. The rarity of hunters willing to venture deep inside made it so. Belar, in his infinite, youthful wisdom had deduced that the most valuable quarry must reside in the forest's heart. It was only logical. If no hunters were willing to travel there, then whatever lived inside must be worth a fortune.

The memories flooded back to him as vividly as if they had occurred yesterday. He guessed that one does not forget a day like that. He had traveled the same path they were on now, but veered towards the deepest part of the woods at a junction he and Taria would soon reach. He remembered the dry, cracked brown trees which seemed to almost grasp at anything living. He remembered wondering why the deepest part of the forest would be dying. But, what he remembered most was the smell — if death had a smell, that would be it. That smell had unnerved even his youthful naivety and within minutes he had turned back. Belar was no longer a young man, a veteran of countless battles, bar brawls, and street fights, but at no point in his life had he ever come across a smell like that again. Hell, at no point could he remember feeling fear as he felt that day.

"Belar?" Taria asked at his side, "Are you alright?"

Her voice snapped him from his daydreaming, "Aye, just remembering the last time I went this far into Blackrock," he replied and immediately regretted it when her smile disappeared.

"Was it... bad?"

"Nothing we can't handle," he lied, "Plus, we are not going the way I went."

"Good," Taria replied with relief, "How much longer do we have?"

"About two hours to reach the North woods, then an hour or two until we reach the northern edge," Belar explained. "We should reach the entrance to the caverns that the Onekyh used to inhabit before nightfall.

"Used to inhabit?" Taria interjected, her voice rising a bit.

"Yes, used to. It's not like I visit often."

"What if—"

"Then we will figure out what to do then," Belar said, halting her question.

Taria opened her mouth as if to say more, but decided against it and turned away, pain showing once more. Just as before, Belar found himself confused at how much that bothered him. "What is wrong with you?" he asked himself silently.

He was about to distract himself with another cheese wedge when the smell hit him. The smell transported him back to his youthful excursion. He felt a rare sensation building once more... fear.

Belar frantically scoured the trees lining the forest trail for any indication that whatever carried that scent had found them. They were close to the junction he had taken years ago and further into the forest than he had come at any point since. He barely noticed Taria start sniffing the air beside him.

"Wh—" Taria began, but Belar slapped his hand over her mouth.

The look on his face silenced her. When the small stone in Belar's pocket sprang to life, he knew that whatever carried that stench had found them. Belar did not even bother loosening his hammer. His instincts, honed from decades of training and combat, told him to run.

It was then that he saw them, two blazing red eyes seeming to almost dance with excitement in the darkness that lived between the dying tree branches. Belar would later swear that the roar which followed caused the ground to tremble. Taria's scream barely registered in its wake. His instincts took over.

Belar dug his heels deep into the horseflesh beneath him and felt the animal surge forward. With inhuman quickness, he snatched the reins of Taria's horse. A jolt of pain surged through his shoulder as he forced her horse to follow suit. The action almost pulled him to the ground and he knew that most men would have been unhorsed. The cracking of dying branches behind him told him that whatever owned those eyes was in pursuit.

It took every ounce of Belar's ability to guide the horses as they blazed down the winding trail. He gave thanks to Francis for getting them trained warhorses. When the trail finally straightened, he spared a glance in Taria's direction. The look on her face and the uncanny shade of white that blanketed her features unnerved him.

"SNAP OUT OF IT WOMA—" Belar began to scream as he turned his gaze in the same direction as hers.

His words came to a screeching halt. If he had thought the eyes were bad, the rest of the Amur-forsaken creature was worse. The remnants of what appeared to be a mammoth creature was bounding down the trail behind them, snapping good sized trees as it barreled through. Most of the creature's skeleton lay bare, but a few splotches of dead or dying skin somehow clung to parts of the sickly yellow bones. Those blood red eyes still seemed to dance in the blackness of two gaping eye sockets that sat above a massive jawbone rich with jagged teeth. Belar had never even heard of any creature which fit the description of what he was seeing, and whatever it was, he knew that it should have died long ago. The deathly stench it carried made perfect sense.

Had Belar still been the naive, inexperienced hunter who had traveled to this area so many years ago, he doubted he would have lived to tell the tale. Instead, instincts cultivated over the years since guided him. Those instincts pulled him from his stupor, forced his gaze back to the front, and jerked the reins of his panicked horse in time to miss a tree which had invaded the forest trail. His mind awakened once more to the tiny stone shaking furiously in his pocket. Without considering the consequences, he pulled the stone from his pocket and hurled it at the forsaken creature.

Belar had received the stone as a gift, given by a wizard he saved during a battle long ago. "It will warn you of danger," the wizard had told him, "And should the situation be dire enough, it will disintegrate with a powerful flash." The stone had repaid Belar's service to the wizard many times over in the years since, and now in its' final act, saved their lives. A moment after he sent the stone flying over his shoulder, the air around him went bright white and a soundless explosion deafened his ears. It felt as if his head had been plunged underwater. When the sensation passed, the beast's roars shook his eardrums and caused his eyes to water. Blinking away the tears, Belar did his best to focus on the trail and ensure that neither horse slowed. In reality, he doubted he could have slowed either horse at that point anyways.

His horse was the first to break. He felt the telltale tremble and knew the beast's collapse was imminent. By that point, he had regained most of his faculties and the angry roars had dissipated some time ago. Belar dug his heels into the horse's flank and yanked on the reins. The horse's head pulled to the right as the animal's left front leg buckled. As the broken animal crashed to the ground, Belar sprang off its haunches and tucked into a ball before slamming into the ground. The impact rattled his bones and sent fiery surges of pain through his body, but as he rolled to a stop, he could tell that nothing was broken. Looking up quickly, he saw Taria's horse disappear down the trail. He hoped she came to her senses quickly or he would not be bringing both sisters back.

Ignoring the pain, he shot to his feet and dashed to his now shrieking horse. He pulled his massive war hammer free and sent it arcing into the horse's skull. The piercing shrieks ended with a crunch. Unsure of how far they had traveled, he stared a moment down the trail, listening for any indication that the beast still followed. Once satisfied, he turned back to the dead horse, closed his eyes for a brief moment, and gave thanks for the animal's sacrifice. The horse had rolled, crushing one of the saddlebags. Thankfully, it had not been the bag which contained the potions. Belar salvaged what he could of the contents and secured the potions in his hunting pouch before setting off in the direction Taria's horse had fled.

The horse's path would have been easy for a novice hunter to follow. He cursed his ineptness more than once as he followed the stream of broken branches and hoof prints. "Why did I let go of her horse?" he asked himself. At every turn, he wondered if he would stumble upon the priestess' lying broken beside her dead horse. It would be his fault. The thought frightened him immensely and he did not know why. Of course he didn't want the woman to die, but he had seen plenty of death in his life. Why was it so important that he find her alive? Belar's step unconsciously quickened.

When he finally heard a horse's whinny, he breathed a sigh of relief—the horse was alive! Belar broke into a sprint. He rounded a corner in the trail and saw Taria's horse lying on its side near a tree that had grown into the trail. The bloody red mark on the tree's trunk told him much of what happened. Yet, unlike how he had imagined it, the priestess was nowhere in sight. Belar's hammer was halfway from its holster when he paused; the horse's whines were not grave enough given the circumstances. Sliding the hammer back into its holster, he knelt beside the horse and ran his hands along the beast's neck. It wasn't broken? He noticed that the horse's front leg was limp, which explained why the animal was still on the ground.

"What happened here big fella?" Belar asked with a gentle pat.

The horse snorted in response and Belar stood, scanning the area with keen eyes. The horse's tracks ended at the tree. The animal had definitely crashed into it, and yet, it was still alive? By all rights, this horse should be either dead or dying. Was it the priestess' work? There were no visible footprints on the trail beyond the tree. She had not gone that way... why? He noticed a twig hanging loosely off to his left and immediately shifted his attention to the area. The moss on the ground was also depressed. She wandered off the path and into the forest?

Belar had only taken two steps in that direction when he noticed the notch in a nearby tree bleeding sap. It looked eerily similar to what one would expect to see after pulling a dagger free. Belar's gaze swung in the opposite direction and took stock of the way the tree branches on that side of the trail were bunched closely together, far too close to be natural... an ambush? Had they already reached the northern woods? He guessed it was possible. He was not entirely sure how far they had traveled while escaping that creature. Belar was still piecing the puzzle together when he heard Taria's scream.

Perhaps it was his Onekyh blood or perhaps it was decades of hunting, but Belar could weave through the forest with unnatural quickness for a man of his size. He closed the distance between Taria's horse and her scream in less than half the time it had taken her to run it. When he reached the small clearing, he was greeted by the sight of the priestess standing with her back against a rather large tree trunk and her arms weaving quickly before her. Three men dressed in dark greens were slowly encircling her, cautious of the faint aura that was forming around her hands. A fourth man was writhing on the ground, clutching at the dagger handle protruding from his stomach. I guess the dagger did come in handy, Belar thought.

"Now, now, pretty," he heard the man in the center say, "We just want to play a little."

Belar was still taking stock of the situation when the man on the left moved. His hand snapped forward and Belar's eyes were barely able to pick out the tiny blade before it plunged into Taria's right thigh. The glow around her hands flickered out as the weaving ceased immediately, replaced by a shriek of pain. Belar watched aghast as the priestess crumpled to the ground.

The anger that swept through his body sent him into a blood rage greater than anything he had experienced in his tumultuous past. In the moment before rational thought ceased, Belar registered shock at how furious the sight of Taria falling made him. The roar he unleashed did not cause the ground to tremble, but it did stop all three men in their tracks.

The first man had not even fully turned to the new threat when his head disappeared, leaving a red mist in the massive war hammer's wake. The headless body actually kept turning for a moment before dropping to the ground, but the blur that was Belar had already passed. The second man caught a glimpse of the giant that was crashing down on him before the hammer found his chest. The last thought of his life was to wonder why he was flying backwards. The third man, to his credit, got his short sword pointed in the right direction and had started to fall into a somewhat seasoned stance when the war hammer came arcing in his direction. His mistake was his natural reaction to try and parry the blow. The war hammer slammed through the blade and then through his head, finally coming to rest at his ribcage.

The beast of a man that turned on the last highwayman, still lying on the ground, would have given even the holy knights of Lanos pause. The bandit was no longer writhing, but instead stared in wide-eyed horror at the giant methodically marching in his direction.