By noon, Alex and Marsyas were well past the city, meandering down a shaded road that wended through the foothills of the looming mountains to the east ahead of them. According to their map, the road led up through the foothills and deep into the mountain peaks, where there was a city by an alpine lake.
“Coxholme.” Marsyas said. “The city is perched by the lake, high up in the mountains. But it’s a straight shot down to the Wastes on the other side. We can use the city as a base.”
“It’s not snowing this time of year, is it?” Alex asked, still not sure of the season.
“No, spring began a few moons ago; the water’s still damn cold from all the runoff though,” the faun stuffed the map back into his pouch.
“What else is out here?.”
Marsyas recalled the area. “Some minotaur tribes in the northern part of the mountain who are, of course, at war with the orc tribes who live in the south of the mountains. And then somewhere between us and Coxholme there’s this charming little logging town, but that place is still another few days away.” He replied.
They walked in silence for another few moments before Marsyas finally asked him the question Alex knew he had been waiting to ask since they left Pascal’s house.
“So, can you shapeshift for me?” he asked eagerly.
Alex laughed, “No, dude. I told you. It takes a lot out of me and we have a long ways to walk.”
“Oh, come on! You’d be a lot lighter on four legs than two.” He teased.
“You’re just trying to get me out of my clothes.”
“I can do that later,” the faun said with a sly grin. “But I want you to show me your new ability. Please?” he begged.
Alex stopped walking, “Fine, but don’t let some crazy hunter shoot me or something.”
“I promise to swiftly behead them should they even try,” Marsyas said, placing his hand over his heart.
Alex removed his pack and handed it to Marsyas, who stuffed it along with his kilt, his boots, and his new sword into one of his strange little pouch.
“Before I change, what’s up with that thing?” asked Alex, pointing at the pouch. His shame and fear at being naked in front of another man, out in the open, had all but totally eroded.
“What, this old thing?” he snapped it shut. “Sub-space magic; I’m kind of a hoarder.” Then he crossed his arms and looked at Alex expectantly.
“Weird. Okay,” Alex closed his eyes and tried to concentrate like he did before, only this time on his wolf form. He could see clearly in his mind the image of Roc fucking Raf as wolves in the forest clearing, the ferocity but also the beauty and strength of their forms. Alex felt the now familiar sensations of his change; his limbs warped and his bones shifted until finally, Alex fell to the ground on all fours. He examined his furry paws and his long, strong legs before looking up at Marsyas, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he panted.
Marsyas was nodding approvingly, “Nice choice, damn I always forget how big wolves are,” he said, circling Alex before kneeling beside him and scratching behind his ears. Alex’s eyes closed as he enjoyed the sensation.
“That feels good, but you can stop now,” Alex tried to say, but it only came out as a whine and a snort.
“Sorry, I don’t speak wolf,” said Marsyas, standing up and looking down the forest trail. “Hey, uh, you want to race? Break in those new long legs of yours?” he asked with a hopeful grin.
Alex looked down the trail and thought about it; he did want to see how fast he could run. His new wolf nose already felt overwhelmed by all the new smells around him.
Marsyas tightened his belt and then without warning, took off, sprinting faster than Alex could have imagined on his strong goat’s legs. Alex ran after him, his limbs flailing a little awkwardly at first until he found his stride. He caught up to Marsyas, surprised at how effortless the run was for him. Marsyas turned to see Alex quickly outstripping him and tried to increase his pace, but to no avail.
“Bastard,” he wheezed as he fell behind. Alex barked in laughter and continued sprinting down the road, Marsyas’s rapid hoofbeats signaling his hot pursuit. He rounded a corner and came upon a stretch of road that was covered in fallen leaves. He paid it no mind, feeling only the wind rushing against his muzzle and the hard earth under his paws, until, Snap!
Alex was suddenly vaulted up into the air in a flurry of dirt and leaves, coming to a rest some twenty feet above the ground, up in the trees. He was caught up in some kind of net; his arms and legs flailing through the holes uselessly. Alex panicked, mentally hitting himself over the head at the realization that he’d been snatched up in an actual net trap. He heard hoofbeats thunder down the road and the rustling of leaves as Marsyas rounded the corner.
“Gods, Alex! Hang on.” Marsyas called out. Alex heard Marsyas run closer before there was another snap and a surprised yell by Marsyas. His net prison spun around in time for Alex to see Marsyas also get swept up into a net and zipped up into the canopy. He whined as the faun came to a rest, struggling to free himself.
“Son of a whore!” he snarled, pulling at the ropes. “I can’t reach my axe. Alex, can you chew through the ropes or something? I’m trying to get your sword…”
Alex took one of the ropes in his jaw and began to chew; his teeth were sharp and his jaw was strong, Alex could tell, but the ropes were thick and woven from some kind of tough fiber that Alex couldn’t cut. He tried to focus on his human self and shift back, but the run was starting to catch up to him and he was feeling too exhausted. Alex started to whine as he tried to think of a way out of this.
“Some bounty hunter I am,” muttered Marsyas from his rope-bound prison. It had been a few hours now that they had been hanging there. With Alex unable to speak and reply, Marsyas had spent the time mostly complaining about his boredom, his thirst, the cramping sensation in his legs. Alex was sympathetic but tried to ignore him, focusing his efforts on changing back. He knew it was working when he began to feel the ropes chafe on his bare skin. He winced as his cramped muscles shifted and warped, his bones snapping and adjusting as they resumed their human shape. Alex’s face pushed back into place and he let out a gasp as the shift completed.
“Wow, that really takes a lot out of you,” he said, breathing heavy.
“Alex! You changed back!” Marsyas shouted. “I can’t get my damned knife or anything.”
“Well, I gave all my stuff to you, so” Alex smacked his lips, trying to ignore his powerful dry mouth. “Who laid these traps?” he wondered aloud.
“I suspect we’ll find out soon. We’ve been here a few hours now; whoever laid them is going to check his traps sooner or later.
They hung there in silence for another moment, but as Alex ruminated quietly to himself he remembered his strange dream from the night before.
“Hey, Marsyas? There’s something I need to tell you.” Alex called out.
“What is it?”
“I had a weird dream last night. I…I think I met that lust-god you and Pascal mentioned. Meljin?” he continued. Marsyas didn’t say anything for a moment.
“You saw Meljin, in your dream?” he sounded aghast. “I’ve heard stories, but…What did he say to you?”
“He told me he’s the one who brought me to this world,” said Alex as the conversation slowly came back to him. “He said the wizards are lying about their true intentions with the seal. And I think also there’s someone I’m supposed to meet, or whom we’re going to meet. I don’t know.”
“Meljin is as capricious as he is clever. I knew he had something to do with you being in our world.” Said the faun.
“What do you think? If he’s right about the wizard’s plan then maybe we should rethink this journey…” he trailed off.
“And you waited until we were stuck in net traps to tell me this?” said Marsyas, and Alex heard frustration for the first time in his normal cheerful tone. “You still have to honor the agreement you made with Pascal. There’s no breaking that.”
“Well, you say that, but,” and Alex told him.
“This complicates everything.” Marsyas said in an exasperated tone. “We need to get out of here before…” but Marsyas didn’t finish his sentence, because the two men noticed the sound of footsteps and rustling underbrush.
A trio of large, hulking men stepped out of the brush. Alex was shocked to see their skin were varying shades of green, and covered in thick mats of tangled black hair. Their bodies were swollen with brutish muscle and covered in strange tattoos and fearsome battle scars. They wore only knotted loin-cloths, each carrying a formidable looking crude weapon. They’re orcs, Alex realized.
The three orcs sauntered over to the two captured travelers, exchanging words in a guttural language and chuckling at each other. Alex noticed that all of the orc men had long tusks jutting out from their lower lips. The biggest one among them stepped forward to address the two captives.
“Looks like our lucky day, boys,” the big orc spoke, his voice deep and menacing. “A faun, and a juicy little human.” He licked his tusks.
“I haven’t had goat in ages,” one of the smaller orcs sneered, looking up at Marsyas hungrily.
“Not a lot of meat between them.” Commented the other, smaller orc.
“Maybe we can peel the meat and make jerky!”
“Silence, you nags,” snarled the big orc. “We take ‘em to camp and skin them like the rest. Now cut them down.” He ordered.
The two smaller orcs disappeared behind the trees for a moment before Alex and Marsyas came crashing back down to the ground. Alex landed in a heap of himself, but Marsyas landed nimbly on his feet before lunging forward and delivering a powerful kick in between one of the smaller orcs legs. The orc went down with a howling wail while Marsyas dove for his axe, only to be caught and slammed to the ground so hard by the big orc that the wind was knocked out of him.
The orcs were too distracted by Marsyas’s struggle that they didn’t notice him getting to his feet a few yards away. Marsyas was curled up on the ground as the orcs dealt him more kicks and blows. Alex instinctively rushed forward to help, but Marsyas flung his hand out.
“No, Alex! Run!” he shouted before the big orc knocked him unconscious. The other orcs turned to see Alex standing naked and unarmed in the middle of the trail. Marsyas’ words echoed in his head; the tattoo band on his arm burned and suddenly Alex found himself sprinting away as hard and as fast as he could. He heard thundering footfalls behind him, and he didn’t need to look back to know that the orcs were chasing him. He was strong in this body, but those orcs were almost eight feet tall and powerfully built; they would catch up to him soon. Alex continued to sprint, his mind concentrating on the narrow path as he ducked under tree branches and leapt over logs. A clear sense of calm settled over his mind, his muscles began to ache and burn, and when Alex took his next leap over a fallen tree, he landed on all fours. The sudden transformation shocked him, but not enough to break his stride. He was a wolf again, now one of the fastest and deadliest things in this forest.
“Skinwalker!” he heard one of them shout.
He effortlessly picked up his stride and tore down a narrow game trail; glancing behind him, he saw only one orc pursuing him. The big mama-jama; the smaller orcs must have gotten winded. Alex leapt from the trail and barreled through the underbrush. The groundcover was dense; Alex nearly ran into a tree a few times. Eventually he no longer heard the footsteps and came to a slow trot in a forest clearing. Alex was panting heavily; his body felt hot and his paws ached. His ears tucked behind his head and his tail bowed when he remembered Marsyas, still in the hands of the orcs. He was overcome by guilt: how could he have just left Marsyas like that? He remembered Marsyas shouting at him, telling him to run away, and how his thoughts seemed to have evaporated as escape became his singular focus. He shook his head, but then his ears flicked at the sound of a noise behind him.
Alex turned to see the big orc crashing into the clearing, an angry snarl on his face and a dull-looking battle axe hefted in his hands. Alex lowered his head and let loose a low, menacing growl, barring his teeth at the giant orc. He had never been in a fight before, but at this moment, Alex was prepared to bite, scratch, pull hair, or pluck eyes out if that meant him coming out alive. The orc laughed mirthlessly.
“I’ve killed more fearsome things than you, skin-walker,” he growled, “I’ll enjoy wearing your pelt as my new loincloth.” The orc hefted his axe, but then stopped and sniffed the air, as if he smelled something offensive. Alex realized he could smell it too, something dank and woody and powerful. Then, without warning, the big orc was tackled to the ground by an immense, black furred creature. Alex watched in awe as the two beasts wrestled and thrashed about the clearing, not sure if he should keep watching or take his chance and book it. The creature was as big and broad as the orc, its body covered in a thick pelt of shaggy brown fur. It raised its head up to roar and bare its teeth, and Alex saw by the furry, round ears and the long snout full of ferociously sharp teeth that it was a bear. The man-bear pinned the orcs arms to the ground before finally lunging forward and clamping its powerful jaws around the orc’s neck. The orc gave one last guttural groan before the bear yanked its head back and tore out the orcs throat in a flurry of dark red blood. Alex was taken aback, his ears folded against his head and his tail between his legs. Of all the strange things he’d seen in this world, in his life, he’d never witnessed anything like that.
The bear was taking deep, heaving breaths as he loomed over his skill. He spat out the remains of the Orc’s throat and stood up on his hind legs to let loose a fearsome roar that sent the birds from the trees. The towering bear fell to the ground on all fours and began to groan and whine. Alex heard the familiar sounds of bones popping and muscles straining as the fur over the creature’s body began to slowly recede, though not by much. The creature’s back straightened, his sharp talons receded into his thick fingers, and the creature’s face began to affect a more human shape.
When the process was over, a behemoth of a man knelt on the grass before him, catching his breath. He looked up at Alex, still cowering uncertainly at the edge of the clearing. The man’s face was rugged, his hair and beard thick and dark black with strands of gray emerging hear and there. The man was impressively muscled; his chest and stomach, his arms, and his back all showing the results of years of hard and rugged living. The man stood up, a large and heavy cock dangling from between his legs over a heavy set of balls; they looked bigger than Pascal, Alex noted. The man wiped the blood from his face and beard on the back of his hand and approached Alex, who was still not sure he could even move.
“Don’t be afraid, brother. You can shift back now, if you have the energy.” He said, lowering his imposing stature by coming to a knee. “I will not hurt you.” He held out his hand.
Alex concentrated and after a short minute of bodily discomfort, he was human again, on his hands and knees on the forest floor. The big man chuckled and helped him stand up.
“Sorry for the bloodshed,” his voice was deep and even-toned. “I’ve been following this orc clan for months now, trying to keep them from harrying passerby on the roads. I’m glad I reached you in time.”
Trying to get over himself, Alex blurted, “My friend, he’s still in trouble back on the road!”
The were-bear nodded. “Yes, they’re taking the faun back to their camp. We’ll have to act quickly if you want to save him.” The bear turned around and began to stride from the clearing. “Let’s go.”
“Wait!” shouted Alex, remembering what the wizard Pascal had told him about a fellow traveler. “What’s your name?”
The were-bear stopped and turned around. “My name is Cal. Now do you want to save your friend or not?” he growled. Alex hurried after him and together they left the clearing and began making their way back to the road.