Beastly (21 page)

The firestone glinted from deep within its golden setting.

“Take it, it is yours after all.”

The Beast snatched the medallion, holding it to his eyes, stunned. It was like a piece of his soul had been returned. He looped the golden chain over his horns. Relief coursed through his veins when the treasure came to rest over his thumping heart. He hoisted Poogs to his feet by a fistful
of cloth. “Explain yourself. If I think for a second you’re lying you won’t witness another dawn.”

Poogs rubbed at his throat then primped his shirt, trying to reclaim his usual semblance of charismatic bluster. A quick shift of the Beast’s weight shattered any illusions and the
pirate plead his case. He regarded the door with the hint of a grin. “Malachai made the mistake of leaving his quarters unsecured.” The Beast’s skin crawled at the thought having shared a room with the black rider. He arched a wary eye brow, encouraging Poogs to continue.

“I don’t deny that I took the bounty on you. But it called for your detention only, to prevent you from following, I swear.” The words flowed from the condemned like a river un-damned. “The Wakeful scum altered the deal upon your capture.”

The Beast said nothing. A touch of sorrow in
Poogs’s eyes validated his words. There appeared no deceit, but he had wrong about the pirate before. He beckoned for more with an impatient gesture.

“Malachai demanded that I turn you over to him and bring the lot of you to the island.” The pirate stared down at his boots. “I saw the way you looked at the child in the cargo hold. She is your daughter, isn’t she?”

The Beast tensed slightly, but recovered. “I don’t remember having a child or her mother. Somehow I just know. How did you--”

“My friend, I have sailed the world’s seas from dusk till dawn. I have seen wonders to tantalize the passions and horrors to haunt the soul,”
Poogs said. His words softened to little more than whisper. “The emerald flames have razed more cities to the ground than I care to count and somehow you seized them in your very palms and tore them apart.”

Poogs, looked at his own hands, burying an old pain. “Only a father’s love... I could not abandon father and daughter to such a cruel fate.”

The Beast’s demand for vengeance grew silent. It was Poogs that had cut the creatures down in the crater, at risk to his own life. And the price of defying Malachai was no laughing matter. His tongue stumbled for a moment but eventually found footing. 

“You have my thanks for pulling me from that pit.”

“We can never be even, Beast of Briarburn, but one day I hope you can forgive me.” Poogs opened the door. “Come, there is much to be done.”

The Beast followed Poogs down a narrow hallway filled with brass accents. A thick door with a heavy ring marked the exit. A thin slice of golden light filled the space and then grew to a flood as Poogs pulled the door in. The Beast shielded his eyes from the sudden sting. The pirate’s tall silhouette chuckled in the sun. “Come on then, it’s only a bit of light.”

Wind whistled through the doorway as the Beast breached the light. He climbed onto the Reaper’s Song’s main deck, disbelieving every step as he followed Poogs to the helm. Poogs noted the Beast’s slackened jaw and reverently took the wheel. “Every time I take her helm my heart flutters like a school-boy with a secret crush.”  

The Beast felt a faint tinge of jealousy. He would gladly have given anything to feel as at home as the pirate did. It had taken him only a glance to see it: Poogs was truly lost in his moment. He was free.

The speeding seascape transitioned beneath the soaring Reaper’s Song into streaks of flowing greens and browns. The Beast felt a gentle roll in the balls of his feet, adding to his trepidation.

“That feeling shall pass soon enough.”

“It had better,” the Beast replied. The Beast tentatively grasped the handrail. “How is this possible? You built a flying ship?”

Laughter rolled as Poogs cut the wheel. The Reaper’s Song banked sharply and drifted to a silent halt. Only the Beast’s keen reflexes saved him. He shifted his weight into a low crouch and avoided being thrown to the deck. He flashed Poogs a knowing grin of his own.

“Did you hear nothing I said in the tavern?”
Poogs’s voice carried a note of disappointment. “I won my lady from the Death’s own agent in a game of chance. She was none too pleased, I assure you. But fair was fair and the ship was her wager.” He laughed at the memory and the Beast thought it bizarre that one could be so cavalier at having bested the Grim Reaper. The pirate was either fearless or the most reckless man alive. Probably both.

“You stole Death’s ship?”

“Won Death’s ship.
Won
!” Poogs replied, “She truly is a remarkable vessel; fast as falling darkness, nigh unsinkable, terror inspiring.” He joyfully counted off the ship’s finer points on his fingers. “And upon her deadly wings, we shall see your daughter to safety. And end Malachai’s treachery.”

The Beast clenched a fist until his arm trembled. “Malachai will pay with his life a thousand times over if he has but drawn a single tear. I will see to it with my last breath.”

A feminine voice spoke from amidships. “You shall need more than pomposity to survive the Nekropolis.” An iridescent blue sphere floated down from the center mast, landing on the deck between the startled onlookers. A grand light flashed and a woman clad in a flowing dress of the same iridescent blue appeared in the orb’s lingering glow. She bowed formally, but before she could introduce herself Poogs fell to a knee. The pirate covered his heart with a trembling hand and stammered.

“May the North Star always brighten the darkest night,” he said quickly as though he may forget the greeting. “
Lady Polaris
, welcome to my humble vessel.”

Polaris brushed her platinum blond hair over her shoulder. She smiled at the Beast and rested a hand on the pirate’s bowed head.

“Thank you, captain. May the light always see you
home.”

Polaris invited the awestruck pirate to rise and then regarded the Beast. She stretched to the tips of her toes and stroked a slender hand from an ear to the tip of his snout. She levitated until their eyes met and gave him a quick peck on the forehead. A trail of sparkling light fell away from her
lips. She wrapped her delicate arms around the Beast’s waist and buried a warm cheek into his chest. A tear fell from a crystal blue eye. Voice wavering, the North Star spoke. “It’s been too long, Donovan.”

The Beast’s arms hung over Polaris like a pair of oaken branches. He looked uncomfortably to Poogs. “I, err--,” the Beast stammered. He knew he looked like an awkward fool holding his arms up, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t the faintest idea who was clutching at his waist. He twisted his mind, trying to force free the memory he wanted more than anything to believe was buried in inside. It had to be there. The woman’s obvious gentle affection indicated as much.

Polaris pulled away from the mountain of muscle and fur and stroked the Beast’s face a second time. All the while her eyes were misted.

“My sweet, sweet, boy,” Polaris sighed, “you do not remember.” She closed her eyes and whispered into the wind that was sweeping through the flapping sails. She swung her arms high, stretching a wavy dome of starlight between her fingertips. The waves climbed high over the Reaper’s Song, painting the sky in dark shades of violet. The enchantment blotted away the sun, leaving behind a tapestry of shimmering ripples.

“I will help you remember.”

The Beast grasped for a handhold, uneasy at being unable to see the deck. Moving too far in any given direction would send him plummeting to the World After. He heard only the thump of his heart beating. The whistling wind, the flapping sound of the sails... gone. His unseen footing
lurched. He threw up a paw as he began to fall.

And found the rough texture of cool, hewed stone that should not have been there. In between eye-blinks the world had filled
itself back in. It was a world he hadn’t expected.  

The Beast stood alone in a wide corridor that stretched fifty yards in both directions. A pair of tall wooden doors stood guard at each end. Poogs and the woman in sapphire were nowhere to be found. Along the walls, incensed torches lit the dark with traces of myrrh.

“Follow my voice, Donovan,” Polaris called. “Remember...”

The Beast roared into the darkness. “That is not my name!” His head sunk. 

“I have no name.”

Polaris’s voice charmed him forward. “Walk the path. Be so named once more.”

The weight of too many lonely winters haunted his footsteps. Had his entire life since reawakening truly been no more than a cruel trick of fate? No. There had been no deception. Someone had stolen his name. Someone had stolen a father from an innocent child who needed him. Someone had stolen his life. He would see them returned.

Now
.

The Beast dropped one paw in front of the other and trundled for doors emblazoned with a six-point star of solid gold. The Beast immediately recognized the icon: he had seen it dangling from
Poogs’s neck. But how could that be?

Between the flickering torches, framed portraits of a hundred sizes came to life as he passed by.
They seem so real
. He could not help himself. He reached a curious claw to a canvas. A swirl of memory coursed from the painting, up his arm and straight into his deepest of hearts.

A young man with messy, chocolate hair proudly stood in a castle’s courtyard. He was clad head to toe in armor of polished chain. A magnificent sun effortlessly lit a perfect spring afternoon. Hushed murmurs circulated through an excited crowd. Atop a sprawling dais of white oak, a distinguished looking older man in formal military garb held a glistening sabre. He spoke in words the Beast could not, at first, decipher.

The Beast walked through the crowd and approached the dais. He passed through the spectral image of commoners and nobility, reaching the stairs at the same moment as the young knight. The young man climbed three short stairs and knelt in front of his commander. The sabre flashed in the sun and then touched the knight’s shoulder.

“Donovan, you have served your queen as a beacon of honor and defended justice throughout the distant reaches of the Once Kingdom. Rise, and join your brothers…
Captain.”

The Beast shook his head. The commander’s words had become crystal clear. He looked behind the grizzled veteran and saw a formation of knights extending from the flanks of a modest throne. The Beast
blinked hard in disbelief when he saw the throne’s occupant. Polaris rose from the throne and invited Donovan to join her Guard. The Beast finally realized the truth. He rose and solemnly walked to the Queen he had forgotten, the Queen stolen from him, and took his place by her side.  

The Beast snapped out of the memory to a warming glow radiating from within. It felt like an eternity since Urda’s crystalline orbs had begun chipping away the prison of his memory. This was more potent. He could feel the elixir of memory seeping back into his blood.  

It would never be stolen from him again.

The glow of the star-adorned door brightened. The Beast took anxious steps towards it, thoughts racing at the truth aligning in his mind’s eye. The portraits spoke in whispers, begging him to stop and listen. The door’s magnetic pull was too strong, allowing for only furtive glances as he neared the hall’s end. Each portrait told a story like a miniaturized theatre, chronicling his stolen life: a triumphant return from bloody battle, a muddy prank played on an old headmaster, the first time he took up a blade.

The star now blazed in the dark hallway, illuminating all of the portraits at once. A storm of memories flooded the Beast all at once; the dam was finally broken and swept away.

A daring jump on horseback over a burning, broken bridge...

C
elebration with his Knight brothers at autumn festival...

A beautiful girl with shining obsidian hair. A secret kiss under a droopy willow...

Out of habit, the Beast raised a meaty fist to knock on the door. Before he could strike, his eye caught one last portrait. He let his hand fall gently to his side, leaving the star temporarily undisturbed.

The picture was framed in twisted vines of silvery ivy. The dark haired
lass was of age now and featured prominently in the center. She was dressed in frilly white linens and sitting up in a luxurious poster bed, covered in thick emerald drapes. Though her hair was matted, tussled, her tears rang joyous. She was cradling something close to her breast. 

Someone
.

He did not need to touch the gleaming portrait of silver. The memory exploded all on its own.

The Beast remembered that day, its traces now a solid stream of emotion. Warm globs swelled at his eyes. He had just walked into the sprawling bed chamber the first time he had heard the sound. In the corner, a fireplace crackled behind frantically scurrying hand maidens. One woman alone maintained her composure at the bedside. She was much older than the others and had presided over many such occasions.

“Patience, Pandora, patience,” Urda said as she stroked the princess’s forehead. “Only moments and she will be back.” The gypsy delivered the hidden bundle to a hand maiden.

Urda’s eyes twinkled. “Have you decided on a name?”

“Lia,” Pandora replied, “Lia, after Donovan’s mother.” The princess
stretched her hands to the midwives swaddling the infant. Her perfect smile warmed the room more sweetly than any fire could ever hope.