The Auric Insignia (2 page)

Come here pipsqueak!

Roarke was sitting outside his cottage mending a snare that had broken the night before. Being the second rate bowman that he was, he relied heavily on  his snares to catch his game. Even though they had an almost assured recurring success, the catches were meager  at best, seeing that it was hard to trap anything bigger than a hare or a boar piglet that had strayed too far from its mother. Anytime a beast of greater size found itself caught in the noose by some unlucky chance, it would snap the line, which had been the case this night. Even though mending the noose was meticulous work, he didn’t mind it, besides, he was excited to try out a new idea. The snares that day were going to be a bit different, in an attempt to minimize torn lines and maximize his catches, he had bought some brand new steel wires from the blacksmith. Brock, the blacksmith, had suggested them when Roarke had stopped by to restock his supplies. Sitting where he sat, on a stool bathed in flickering morning light that so tirelessly tried to pierce the dense foliage, he enjoyed the task in front of him. Even though it was lighter here, in the clearing he had made out for himself, the enormous Ymo trees that was scattered throughout the forest, with the largest samples reaching over threehundred feet tall, made it hard to get a open patch of sky worthy of the name. Unless one had a team of loggers at ones behest, cutting down the dark green giants was far too dangerous, not mentioning the effort it would take to haul away and process the timber.

     This was his place, here he could be alone with his thoughts, no noteworthy thoughts, but still, his. He could escape the pressures that human company brought with it, the social standards and expectations. The only thing that betrayed the presence of other life was the gentle thrums of the Codi birds that inhabited the surrounding woods. The ground within the clearing was covered with the green grass that had received a fighting chance once the trees, and the moss that followed, had been taken away. Pausing for a moment, Roarke looked up and saw movement in the tree line in front of him, something small and quick coming towards him, hopping across the open patch of land that separated them. It was a chipmunk, heading straight at him. Confounded by this unnatural and bold behavior, Roarke stopped mending his snare and observed the approaching rodent. When it came within ten feet of him, it stopped and looked at him, sniffing the air around it.

     - Well hello there, friend. What can I help you with?

     Being the animal that it was, it did not answer, instead, it just stood there, looking at him. The situation was growing more awkward by the second and Roarke’s bafflement grew.

     - If it’s nuts you want, I don-....

     As suddenly as it had come, the chipmunk turned around and started making it’s way back towards the trees and before Roarke could really understand what had happened, the chipmunk was gone. Thoroughly perplexed with the whole event, Roarke sat watching the place where it had disappeared into the trees, until he realized he couldn’t explain what had just happened and made a vow to himself to get enough sleep now on, and to stop day dreaming so much. That same evening, after setting the snares for the night, he made good on his promise and went to bed early, hoping the next day would prove chipmunk free.

     - Ouch!

     Roarke jolted up in bed holding his ear, struggling to light his oil lamp that he kept on his nightstand. After a minute of frantic fumbling, he managed to light the wick, painting his bedroom in warm light and long shadows. He looked at his hand, it was red, something had bitten it, something bigger than a bedbug. He scoured the room looking for the villain when the chitter of a rodent drew his attention. On his window sill sat a rodent, chattering frantically, it was the chipmunk from the day before. When the chipmunk saw he had gotten Roarke’s attention. it started jerking it’s head outside towards some unknown place, for some unknown reason. Not quite sure if he was awake or dreaming, Roarke shook his head vigorously, trying to rid himself of the unwanted dream. His attempt was futile as the panicked rodent remained. As he started to regain his senses and the fog of sleep cleared from his mind, he noticed barking echoing from the forest. Making eye contact with the animal once more, he could have sworn it was urging him on, nodding it’s head frantically. Without fully knowing why, he quickly put on his clothes and retrieved his bow, grabbing a torch as he was running out the door, heading towards the ruckus within the woods. His bedside visitor was running ahead of him, jumping over roots and stones with ease.

     Roarke wondered what was happening, first of all, it was the middle of the night and no matter how crazy you were, hunting at night was a sure way to get hurt, either by accident or by an animal. Secondly, nobody aside from himself hunted this far north because of the dangers, real or imagined, making the first statement even more mad. Running there, through the woods in pitch black darkness, besides the shroud of light that the torch brought with it, he suddenly realized, the barking wasn’t coming from one dog, but two, and not just any two ragged old mutts but from the Marceau Hounds, belonging to Marielle Marceau. Roarke’s mind was going a mile a minute, what was Marielle doing here, so far north and in the middle of the night no less. He kept running not knowing if he had a long way to go. Judging distance and the origin of sounds in the midst of the Brightwood forest was tricky business, especially since he gathered that the likelihood of the hounds remaining in one place for any period of time was next to nonexistent. Just as he was beginning to doubt his rather rash decision to follow a rodent out into the woods in the middle of the night, the chipmunk stopped, looking around him for recognizable landmarks, Roarke realized he was nearing one of his snares. Activity in the area was teeming, birds were chirping and he could hear something jumping above him in the branches.

     Approaching the trap he had laid out the evening before, his heart pounded faster and faster, egged on by the echoing barks, seemingly closer for every breath he took. As the light of the torch, creeping over rock and root, with ghoulish shadows dancing on every tree trunk, reached the place where his snare was, his heart skipped a beat. Sitting in the trap was something, unnatural, at first he thought it was a woman clad in fur but after looking closer, he realized this thing, though similar, wasn’t quite human. Rather than wearing a fur coat, Roarke realized that the fur was the creature’s own. Flaming rust colored hairs covered the body, with the black and white stripes reminiscent to those of a chipmunk flowed down the back, with length increasing on the extremities. The skin beneath, in the few places he could see it, was dyed in rich brown hue melting in with the titian of the fur. The legs didn’t end in shoe clad feet or even naked toes, but rather in feral paws. The same was true for the hands, where the nails of a human had been exchanged for the black claws of a beast. All this seemed normal compared to what he noticed next, a tail, evocative of that of squirrel, sprouted from the lower back and flowed like molten silver mixed with fire across the forest floor. Emerging from the bundles of hair on top of the head were two fuzzy ears, far larger than those of a human. Roarke recoiled as he noticed the snare which he had forgotten in his wonder of this mysterious creature. Having trapped the left leg, the metal wire had cut in to the flesh of the thigh, effectively severing the femoral artery. The woman, for despite all, he could see that it was a female, was unconscious, having passed out from the blood loss, but not before having fashioned a tourniquet from a vine. A vine that had probably saved her life.

     Roarke was awakened from his state of shock by the intense chatter of several squirrels standing by the feet of the passed out woman. Without really thinking about it, and without knowing why, he knew he had to save her from the gnashing jaws of the hounds of Marceau. He removed the snare from its hidden fastening point and hoisted the female on top of his right shoulder. To his surprise she seemed even lighter than she looked, as he turned and started to run back the way he had come. Despite the relatively light load, running through the forest at night, with a torch in one hand, and an unconscious woman on top the other, was no easy task. His eyes strained to spot the gnarled roots that littered the way and his muscles burned, trying to avoid them. His adrenaline was pumping, urging him not to stop even if his whole body demanded it. When he could make out the faint slivers of moonlight that graced the clearing through the trees, he let go a sigh of relief. Slowing down in order to catch his breath and let the stitch in his side fade away, a blood curdling snarl reached his ears, the hounds were going into a frenzy, they had found the site of the trap, the blood on the ground making them lose their facades of otherwise absolute equanimity. He picked up the pace once more and made it up to the cabin, bursting through the door, he halted, breath panting heavily. Marielle was going to come this way, he had to deceive her somehow, he tried to think, to calm himself but the blood pounding in his head made it impossible to think clearly.

     - Calm yourself, c’ mon you can do this... Urrhg! Think!

     Once more he was stirred by a chipmunk chirping by his feet, and it hit him.

     - Blood! Come here pipsqueak!

     The chipmunk seemed to know his intentions were benign, and did not struggle under his hold. He smeared the small rodent in blood from the snare cut and placed it back on the floor.

     - There is a small pool of water east of here, head there! You can shake them off your scent in the water and then round back here. Run! Go!

     The critter sprinted out the door and disappeared out of Roarke’s sight. He didn’t know if it had understood what he had said but considering the circumstances, he was prepared to try anything in what he still was not sure wasn’t a fever dream. He placed the limp body of the woman in his bed and hid her under the covers, the danger was not over and the hardest part was still in front of him. He hobbled out and closed the door just in time for when the hounds broke the treeline. In the faint moonlight, the large beasts looked even more fearsome than usual. Like demons on four legs, they bounded towards him, jaws frothing and eyes filled with what seemed like madness. Lost in their bloodlust and agitation, the dogs didn’t see him for the human he was, when they were hunting they only saw prey, and standing there with blood on his clothes, that meant Roarke. He was exposed, standing in the open, cursing himself for leaving the bow inside. Running was useless, at this distance they would catch him before he had even made it to the cabin. As he closed his eyes and imagined their cruel jaws closing around him, a voice split the silent night like a cleaver landing on the butcher’s block.

     - Stand down!

     The second the sound reached their ears the hounds dug their claws into the ground to halt their approach.

     - Sit.

     The hounds growled, obviously irritated over the fact that they had been robbed of their kill.

     - I said sit down......

     The coldness of her voice went like a jolt through their spine and woke the hounds from their rage induced trance. They folded their ears backwards and whined their submission. A final look from their master silenced them and made them sit still like if they had been made out of stone. Marielle turned her icy blue eyes towards Roarke, all traces of feigned politeness gone.

     - Where did it go?

     - Well I, uh, some beast attacked me, I heard noises so I ran out and before I knew it, it jumped me!

     - I gathered that much from the look of you. Now answer my question, where did it go?

     - I caught a glimpse of it vanishing between the trees over there.

     Roarke pointed towards the treeline and the direction of the pond where he had sent the chipmunk a few minutes earlier.

     - That way.

     Her crystal eyes locked in on his, seemingly boring their way in, searching the truth of his words.

     - Braise, Rugueux, go!

     As the hounds bounded off towards the eastern treeline, she released him from her frosty stare and without saying another word, bolted after the baying beasts. Feeling a wave of unease he couldn’t quite explain, he let go of a big sigh and dropped to his knees, shaking, trying to process what had just happened. What was that beast of a woman? And why were Marielle, the most skilled and efficient hunter within one hundred and fifty miles hunting it, this far north, in the black of night no less. His thoughts ran into one another, mixing and twisting, making him feel dizzy. The last thing he remembered was the ground coming up to smack him in the face.

***

Hence the question

Dirt......, he inhaled once more, grass..... He opened his eyes to see a green blur, he blinked, trying to focus on something dark amongst the blades of grass. As he began to regain his focus he saw a shiny green beetle taking flight from the ground in front of his face. Following the beetle’s flight he turned over on his back only to the see that the sun was shining, casting leaf filtered light down on him. Images from the night before was flashing in his mind, that thing caught in the snare, Marielle and her hounds, running through the forest. He wondered if any of it had been true or if he had just dreamt all of it. Lying there in the grass, watching the top layer of leaves rustle by a high breeze, he remembered.

     - The bed!

     He jumped to his feet only to be overcome with dizziness, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaled and staggered inside. He entered the bedroom only to see a lump residing under the covers, which had been stained by blood. He cursed himself for falling asleep before tending to the wound. He approached the bed carefully, not knowing what to expect, it could be dead or just waiting to pounce on him, for all he knew. He inched closer, extending his arm to grasp the blanket at the foot of the bed. He steeled himself and yanked away the covers, nothing happened, the creature appeared to be sleeping. To his surprise the wound looked far better than it had done the night before. It wasn’t fully healed but clotted blood and torn muscle fibers made whole, had pushed the metal wire out of the thigh.

     Astonished at the extraordinary progression made, Roarke found himself staring with wonder and awe at this mystical being. He noticed her face, though clearly not human it had, dulcet attributes. Petite features with an overall murine feel to them dominated the woman’s appearance. Her parted lips hinted at rodent like teeth, and, instead of the long ridge of a human nose. there was a small dark nose of an animal. On the head, the fur of the skin morphed into a short pixie cut, similar to that of a human, rusty bangs flowing down her forehead, tussled by a night of unruly sleep. Despite the terrors of the previous night she seemed peaceful at the moment which left Roarke unsure as to if he should wake her or just leave her be, truthfully beyond his common sense, Roarke had no healing training and if he tried to stir her now and interfere with the healing process, he could very well do more harm than good. Pacing at the foot of the bed, trying to make sense of the situation, he decided to do the most mature thing he could think of. He flipped a coin.

     - Okay, heads, I wake her, tails, I uhh, regroup and come back at a better time.

     The bronze coin traveled through the air and landed with the minting stamp up.

     - Tails it is then.

     After quietly closing the door behind him, Roarke ventured out into the morning sun, searching for something to occupy his mind with. His gaze explored the clearing until it found a suitable distraction, the chopping block. “Not that I need it for cooking the abundance of meat” he thought to himself before reprimanding himself for letting his mind wander down bitter paths. Despite feeling stiff and weary, the task, in all its mindless repetition, felt comforting, a familiar ritual that let him escape the outside world and enter a place where only he, the axe and the wood that needed splitting were allowed. He raised the axe on routine, and let it fall, putting all his strength behind it.

     - Why are you doing that?

     The perturbation made Roarke twitch, causing the axe shoot off course, firmly implanting itself a mere inch from his left foot. Sudden anger fueled by fear and surprise made him jerk around.

     - What the fuck are you doing!? I could have lost my foot!

     Behind him stood the animal woman, eyes widened by her own shock from his angry outburst.

     - I uhh, I just, I didn’t mean to...

     Ashamed of his flare-up and the apparent effect it was having, the anger ran off him, leaving him with guilt in its stead.

     - Sorry I didn’t mean to shout, okay, I just, you scared me, that’s all. Fuck, I’m really sorry.

     The shock of talking with what appeared to be something similar to a half human, half chipmunk, was nullified by the situation they found themselves in. In an attempt to ease the tension, Roarke extended his hand.

     - I’m Roarke, my name is Roarke, okay. Do you understand?

     Apparently amused by the phrasing, the woman relaxed and extended her clawed hand, grasping his.

     - Of course I understand, why wouldn’t I!? I’m Korri by the way.

     - I, I don’t even know, pshaw!

     - What’s there to know? I just told you, my name is Korri.

     - That’s not what I... I mean.... what are you?

     - I’m the Kappa of chipmunks.

     Roarke furrowed his brow, as this statement deepened his confusion rather than lift it.

     - What do you mean? You can’t just say something weird like that and then offer no explanation.

     - What are you, stupid? Chipmunks are those little furry things that sit in the trees and have teeth like this.

     She smiled, showing front teeth that did indeed have a murine appearance.

     - I know what a chipmunk is, woman! What is a Kappa?

     - Whoa, man, you need to put a lid on that rag-..... Wait, what did you say?

     - A Kappa, what’s a Kappa?

     - You don’t know?

     - Hence the question......

     This realization seemed to perplex her, leaving them both thoroughly baffled. She bit her lip and muttered to herself under her breath.

     -This isn’t right, that’s not what we’ thought. Unless he’s lying. Are you lying!?

     - Why would I lie about something like that!? That doesn’t make any sense! Who’s we, anyway!?

     - Yes, why would you......? Oh, we, us, that’s me and the other Kappas.

     - There’s more of you!?

     - Of course.

     Her black sclera eyes, like two pits of tar, honed in on his, as if she was looking for any signs of falsity. After a moment of inspection, her confusion didn’t ease.

     - You don’t seem to be lying.....

     - That’s what I said! No wait, Roarke, what are you doing? You’re better than this. I mean you dream about weird stuff but this, this is like from a fairytale.

     - Oh, I can assure you, you’re not dreaming.

     - I’m not so sure, how would I know?

     With inhuman speed, she reached up a smacked him on the head. Before he could realize, Roarke’s forehead was burning.

     - Ouch! What good did that shit do!? You can get slapped in a dream, you know!

     - Oh, stop being such a bonehead! You’re not dreaming, okay!

     - How did you do that!? You were like a blur, you moved so fast.

     - Well thank you, but I’m nothing out of the ordinary.

     - Why do I get the sense our comparatives differ?

     - Right, of course, I’m talking compared to other Kappa.

     - Do I even have to ask?

     - Don’t you know anything?

     - Humor me....

     Rubbing his forehead, he motioned towards the house.

     - I don’t know about you but I got a feeling I should sit down for this.

     Roarke started making his way back to the house, but as he reached the door he remembered he only had one chair. Living alone as he did, he had no reason for either purchasing or taking the time to fashion a second one since he normally never got visitors. Manners concerning how to treat a lady floated to the surface in the waters of his mind, muddied by the absurdity of the situation.

     - I only have one chair, you can have it.

     The expression on her face led Roarke to believe she didn’t know what he was talking about.

     - And
I
don’t know anything.... A chair, something sit on?

     - Why would I want your chair thingie, I can sit just fine by myself.

     And with that said, she gracefully lowered herself down onto the grass outside the log cabin.

     - More chair for me then.....

     He pulled up the chair and sat down with an audible suspiration. Rubbing his face in one last attempt at waking up, he took a deep breath and forced himself to face reality.

     -So okay, I feel like I jumped in into the middle of a drunken campfire story here so some context would be highly appreciated.

     -Well if it’s like you said and you don’t know anything, I’m not sure where to start.

     -At the beginning would be nice.

     She bit her lip and wrinkled her nose making her whiskers dance on her face, contemplating what to say. Her fingers running through the thick rusty fur of her tail.

     - Like I said before, my name is Korri and I am a Kappa, a member of the Kappian decree. A Kappa is a leader of sorts, or rather a champion of their respective kind and every race has one, or had.

     Roarke had always been a man of the world, who believed in hard work and the simple things in life, things he could see, touch and subsequently ignore for the preference of his own mind. Had it not been for the woman sitting in front of him, he would have cried liar. Slow conscious breaths embodied his ambivalent state of mind.

     - Okay, go on.

     - Well our role is to act as keepers, caretakers if you will, of the balance.

     - What balance?

     - The only balance, between the light and the dark, between chaos and doldrums, between life and death.

     - Lets say this is true.

     - It is true!

     - Okay fine, fine. You have to understand my skepticism. I mean first I find out woodfolk are real and there are overgrown rodents running around. Then you tell me there is a secret group of animal puppeteers controlling life from the shadows.

     - First of all. you’re as much an animal as I am so don’t act so high and mighty. Secondly, We’re teachers, guardians, not clandestine overlords. At least we’re not supposed to be.....

     - What do you mean?

     - Forget I said anything okay, it’s not my place to say, that wasn’t what I was sent to do.

     - Do what?

     Her hands flew up to her face in an attempt to stop the words from sounding but it was too late, Roarke’s interest was peaked.

     - You had a mission to do here?

     She jolted unto her feet and started to make her way towards the treeline.

     -Me and my stupid mouth. I wasn’t supposed to say anything, Korri you stupid pig nut, you don’t even know if you can trust him....

     - Hey, where are you going!?

     When he noticed that she wasn’t stopping, he set out after her.

     - Hello wait!

     When she noticed he was pursuing her, she picked up the pace.

     - Stop, you shouldn’t run, your leg was hurt badly!

     - I’m fine, I’m going t.....

     Her injured leg gave way beneath her and she collapsed on the ground. Roarke sped up, curiosity suddenly replaced with concern. As he reached her, he noticed her wound had been torn open, blood pouring out. He ripped of his shirt and stemmed the flow whilst removing his belt to fashion a tourniquet. By pain or by chock, Korri seemed to travel in and out of consciousness. With both hands on the wound, he bit down on his belt and jerked his head sideways. She screamed as the noose tightened around her leg and then seemed to fall back into oblivion.

     - Okay hang in there......

     He lifted her into the air and started running as fast he could, back towards the house. His mind was racing, looking for a way to deal with the situation. Mixed with his adrenaline was confusion, granted, she had exerted herself and torn the wound but it had healed extremely fast just over night but now she was bleeding profusely. As he placed her back into his bed, a sliver of hopelessness had inserted itself into his mind, steadily growing. Roarke had been given a reasonable amount of common sense but that only went so far, and a cold sweat had began running down his face as realization hit him. She was dying and he didn’t know what to do. His shirt, which had been grey, was now completely dyed in an ominous dark red, the injury showing no signs of improvement.

     - Come on Roarke! Keep it together, it’s not over yet!

     He squatted next to the bed, racking his brain for a solution, but as he closed his eyes, his mind failing him, he heard a faint voice.

     - Fire....

     His eyes shot open to see Korri’s tired eyes looking at him. She grasped his hand and mustered what energy and self control she had left, as she uttered two words before going limp.

     - Burn it.

     Roarke scrambled to his feet and rushed outside to collect the firewood he had been cutting before. The next minutes went by in a haze, his mind focused solely on one task as he struck his fire steel and subsequently waited for the fire to catch on. His hands were shaking as he pulled out the red hot poker from the fire, heat radiating from it, warming his face. He steeled himself as he approached the bed and removed the tourniquet. Before the blood flow could increase, he lowered the metal rod  to cauterize the open wound. It was greeted by the hissing of burning flesh and fur. Relief mixed with worry grasped Roarke as he realized she was too far gone to react to the procedure, her mind deep in an uneasy slumber. Finishing up his makeshift operation, and after he had bandaged the wound, the tension broke. A tension that had fueled him, and like a bird who had lost its wings, he came crashing down.