The Hybrid: Chasing Destiny (Chp1:Ep1)

Chapter 1

Episode 1 - The Hunter and the Beast

Twelve days! Twelve days of endless searching and at last I have finally found it!

Ava carefully repositioned herself along the thick, gnarled branch high up in the barren tree, hoping the beast confined to her belly would remain silent. Her hybrid eyes readjusted to the shifting light.

It was high noon. She knew because it was the only time of day the sun could be seen through the thick mass of clouds that blanketed Spectermere’s grey sky. The small, white disk offered little light and even less heat. It had no power here, where frost, wind, and dark reigned over the land. A place where an easy death came to the weak and unwary.

She risked her life trekking through Draugr Forest for the miracle fountain. Minervin said every land on Archaicron had at least one, but even he doubted she would find one in this frozen wasteland. She knew better, though; there was no doubt in her mind that she would find one eventually if she went deep enough into the forest.

It did not have the exact look of the Panacean Fountains he described in his tales. The waters were a light turquoise instead of deep blue. And the surrounding rock formations, covered in the long-forgotten writings of The Ancients, were weathered and in ruin. But there was no denying its effect on the scant wilderness around it. The frost-bitten vegetation was thicker and had better colouring, as much as it could in a land like Spectermere. The nearest trees had a few blackened leaves blowing in the chill breeze.

It was a Panacean Fountain! It had to be! She was almost certain of it, far too desperate for those healing waters to nitpick on minor details.

Ava stared at the rippling waters that never froze and wondered idly if it would clear the stain of her birth. A thought she dismissed immediately. Still, Minervin needed them.

The ailing man was getting worse with each passing day. She needed to get back to him soon. Already, she had been away from him for far too long. Though all her efforts, all her time, and all her meticulous planning would be for nought if she could not eliminate the troll squatting at the fountain’s base, gnawing on a piece of fleshy bone from its latest kill. Sounds of bone cracking and lip-smacking filled the silence. Noise bred from the certainty that it was alone and safe in the area.

Wrapped in a thick coat of dark grey fur, the troll was largely fat, brawn, and hard bone, standing a full chest, shoulders, and head over her at full height. Normally, they would not have been a problem for Ava when she hid this high up in the trees, but an unusual beast migration to the northern forest had been taxing on the arrows she brought with her.

She only had one left, for one perfect shot to the eye. Hitting it in the dense muscle anywhere else would just enrage the beast, and Ava would rather freeze up here than engage an angry troll in melee combat. They were vicious beasts, ready to impale themselves on a sword just to kill a man with a swipe of their overlong arm. She had seen it happen to a fisherman at The Frozen Lake.

She had the element of surprise at least. The troll had not caught her scent yet, but it would soon. The cold winds of Spectermere changed in the blink of an eye. It just needed to turn toward her. Ava nocked her arrow.

A chill breeze blew at her back and rustled her tattered fur cloak. The troll snuffled as it whistled past. It turned and roared when it spotted her, dropping the flesh from its hand and stumbling to a stand. Ava pulled on her bow’s string and loosed. The troll howled and thrashed when the arrow met its mark, snapping her arrow in two with flailing arms and falling to the ground with a heavy thud. Curses, there goes my last arrow.

Ava waited until the troll’s body stopped convulsing, then sheathed her bow. She made her way down the tree with an agility and dexterity that awed Minervin when he had first seen her climb. He had told her that she reminded him of the Earth Elves. Ava beamed at his praise, quick to accept the comparison.

To the undiscerning eye, she might have passed as an elf, with her glimmering golden-brown eyes and long, pointy ears. But the fangs gave her orcish paternity away. Yet, some differences made these features her own. Her ears were shorter, ending just past the top of her head, and the fangs were tiny, fitting neatly inside her mouth. Minervin said she owed these differences to the human half of her heritage.

Her skin was another story. Minervin had never seen anything akin to it before. ‘A perfect combination of two races,’ he said. It was mostly the pale skin of humans, but at some places, it darkened into a purple dusting along the tips of her ears and ran across her hairline to arrow between her brows, deepening at the center of her forehead.

Ava had once hoped to find at least one of her parents at the Outpost. A purple orc ought to stand out, except Minervin told her that the orcish sub-group died out sometime in the First Era.

He explained that the sudden re-emergence of her purple skin was a result of her spirit grabbing at certain unused traits from both her parents when she was conceived. An abnormal spirit grabbing at abnormal traits is what she understood of his daft explanation. But he always insisted she had a strange sort of beauty, and she believed him most times, except when she went to the Outpost. There, she could not delude herself, because the denizens would not let her. There, she was always reminded as to why she was left out in the frozen wilderness to die.

Though relations between the races were not unheard of, especially at the Outpost, their hybrid offspring were taboo and murdered at birth, while both parents were branded and shamed for the rest of their lives. Ava supposed there was a small mercy in being left out in the cold rather than being murdered at birth. It was, after all, where Minervin found her, took her in, and raised her despite the outrage he received from many at the Outpost. For that, Ava owed him her life, and finding a cure for his illness was the least she could do to repay him.

She shoved all thoughts of her parentage back to the recesses of her mind, dwelling on it would only make her angry and miserable, and she focused her mind on filling her waterskin.

The liquid had a strange, calming coolness, at odds with the harsh, needle-prick chill of the weather around it. Its feel almost static and energised, satiating a parched need deep within her chest. The relief took her aback. She had been unaware of bearing such a thirst in the first place. Whatever doubts she had of this fountain had been assuaged, if just a mere touch could heal.

She filled a second waterskin and emptied her third to fill that one, too. She will return to The Outpost following the stream and take what she needs from there.

The waters rippled from her ministrations, and in their tiny movements, she saw a new reflection take form next to her. Ava squinted at the figure.

 A peculiar man shifted into focus, taller and broader but unusually lean for his stature. A small set of tan horns curled up from his forehead. A similar dusting to what she had arrowed down between them. Only his was green and surrounded by black flecks. They shared the same golden-brown eyes, but his held such unbridled rage that Ava’s heart dropped.

The reflection reached for her, and she curled her hand around the dagger at her waist. Unsheathing it, she spun around to slice at the hand grasping for her. The beast’s claws dug into her belly.

She swiped at nothing but frosty air. There was no one behind her, and the reflection was gone. The only sounds heard were the panicked drumming of her heart and the barest of whispers in a tongue she did not recognise. Dizziness overwhelmed her, and she retched. Nothing came out. Thankfully, she had not eaten much but a few leftovers that morning.

Ava sank to the ground and waited for the wretched feeling to abate. I have most definitely been in this accursed forest far too long if I am starting to see visions now.

A strong, icy wind blew past her, its cold tendrils finding their way through her layers of wool and fur. The beast whimpered and curled into a tighter ball. She shivered and pulled her wool scarf over her mouth and nose, gazing at the whirlwind that twisted far in the distance.

Even at this far end of Spectermere, the upper half was still visible. It was a menacing sight, a swirling mix of violent wind, frost, and cloud that no one dared go near.

‘It is the spirit of this land,’ Minervin told her. ‘As much a part of it as the Wraith Mountains to the west and Draugr Forest to the east. Maybe even more so.’

It was the reason she and the rest of Spectermere’s denizens went about their business, barely giving the whirlwind a second thought, despite suffering miserably from the frosty winds and blinding fog it blew about in heavy waves.

She often had odd dreams of limping into the roaring vortex, clutching her frozen shoulder, seeking out what lay at its center, and waking before she would reach it. It astounded Minervin whenever she spoke of it, and he always warned her against attempting it.

‘A spirit’s mood is an unpredictable thing, Ava. It will tolerate man’s intrusion only so much before removing the threat completely,’ he told her.

Feeling better, Ava turned from the sight and stood, walking over to the troll’s carcass. She picked up its legs and dragged it along the frozen ground in search of Bluebeard and Longhorn. It was an arduous journey. The troll was full-grown and heavier than the one she had killed two days before. She had to let the beast out eventually to make it easier for herself, hoping it would not get into trouble while she was on the ground and out of arrows.

But instead of following along beside her, the beast hopped onto the troll's carcass and proceeded to lounge on it while she struggled to pull it along.

“Troublesome beast!” she sneered over her shoulder. “I do not need your added weight on it right now.”

She should have left it out in the cold to die seven days ago. Already, she was using too much of her food stores just to feed it.

Ava had watched its mother, a massive beast with terrifyingly long upper fangs, engage a male of her kind in battle. Both beasts were the size of large cattle, but the male was slightly larger. It had seemed a hopeless fight from the start.

One of her cubs had lain in pieces at the base of a tree, its blood a frozen smear on the ground. It had been the first sign that something was amiss with the male. She had seen predators kill their young from hunger. But the level of violence was – odd. The carcass lay strewn all over, a wasteful way to kill, as if eating it was not its main motivation.

The battle had been the second sign; the female fought tactically, aiming for the jugular, belly, and hindquarters, while the male snapped at anything that came close to his jaws. He had a mad look in his eyes. His attacks were ferocious, relentless, and reckless.

The female had used this, finding an opening between his snapping to go for the jugular, but her victory had been short-lived. She had turned to go to her last remaining cub, hiding behind her in the tall, straw grass, and keeled over.

Her sudden death had been a shock, and Ava did not come down from her perch until the mother had not moved at all for a time. She had inspected the frozen carcasses warily and had been puzzled by what she had found. Apart from its frenzied fighting, the male had not had any of the typical signs of the foaming rages. The blood freezing from his grievous wound was especially peculiar and dark as night. Whether the ailment was due to poison or disease, she could not tell.

The female, on the other hand, had had no serious wounds. Was it possible that her heart had stalled? Either way, Ava did not like the look of the entire thing. Even the remaining cub, who had abandoned its grassy cover to watch her curiously, did not go near its fallen kin.

Ava had left their bodies there, which was a pity since she had not seen their like in all her years. Their pelts would have fetched a great price at The Outpost. She would have left this cub there, too, but it followed her and got itself and her into more trouble than it was worth.

She had considered killing it after it woke the first troll she encountered from its burrow and then led it straight to her while she searched the ground for rabbit holes. It took a great deal of running away and cost her four broken arrows before she killed it. All the while, the beast hid from view in the roots nearby. Ava could not say why she did not end up doing so. Over time, the creature just grew on her.

“Looks like I am stuck with you for the near future,” she sighed. Ava had to admit the beast was pretty. It was grey, like most creatures in this land, but it had a beautiful patterning of black, white, and tan stripes around its front and spots around the backside. It was not a dog or a wolf. Its tail was different and moved like a serpent, and its muzzle was squashed closer to its face, not long and sharp.

“You would not happen to know why more creatures are migrating suddenly, would you?”

The beast just grunted and licked its nose.

“Fine, keep it to yourself,” she huffed, struggling to get the carcass over a small hill, her breath clouding from her efforts.

She made it to her campsite with the half-frozen troll a few hours before sundown. The cattle were grazing nearby, never inclined to wander too far from the wagon or her tent. Both cattle were large and burly, covered in a long, thick, livid coat. They lifted their heads and followed her progress as she moved to the wagon, Minervin’s protective wood charms dangling from their horns.

Only then did the beast decide to get off to wander the area. She removed the troll’s innards and attempted to heave the carcass onto the wagon. The beast leapt onto it and helped her by pulling on an arm while she lifted and pushed. It was intelligent. But not quite clever enough to know not to disturb a sleeping troll in its burrow.

When they accomplished the great feat, Ava set about rekindling her fire. Once she had the blaze going, she skewered one of her rabbits over it and then set about righting the tent for another cold night. The beast amused itself by disturbing the cattle as they grazed and eventually wandered off deeper into the forest. It was almost dark when the beast came loping back into camp, a dead bird between its jaws. Ava ate her meat with cheese and hard rusk as she watched it rip the feathers out and devour it before her fire.

It was the first time it had hunted successfully. Maybe it will not be such a drain on my stores anymore.

The fog became so dense when dusk fell that sight was a trial. The barren trees faded into dark shadows, becoming the menacing specters this land was named for. Ava called Longhorn and Bluebeard and opened the flap of her tent as they herded inside with the beast. She secured the ties on the flap, pushed the beast off her furs, unstrung her bow and covered the cattle with blankets, then snuggled down in her own. She waited for the forest to wake.

It did not. Not even the wind howled or beat against her tent, and the silence made her feel more ill at ease than a fully enraged troll charging at her from out of nowhere.

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