20 miles north of Rakhiv, Ukraine
Randolph was in full beast form, running upon four legs, his barrel chest drawing in crisp clean air that smelled of wood smoke and spilt blood. The world had been sent back to the days of his youth when predators clawed their way to supremacy by sheer force and cunning. Machines were still plentiful but were not reliable so long as the humans controlling them were vulnerable. And they were vulnerable. That condition was made even worse due to the humans’ shortsightedness and dependency on their own mechanical crutches.
As he crossed Europe, Randolph encountered plenty of wretches. He even caught the scent of some leeches hiding as the leeches so often did. Gargoyles hung in the trees, gathering their numbers until they needed to hunt. What were not so easy to find, however, were Full Bloods. This did not surprise Randolph. It was still a time of building, and the world’s new masters were most likely rearranging territories, clearing their lands and planting the seeds for future dominion.
It was a time for caution. More than anyone else, Randolph knew he had to tread lightly. Since he’d chosen to hibernate while most of his kind fought to prove themselves by ripping each other apart, he would be seen as an outsider. As soon as the other Full Bloods realized he carried one of the last remaining pieces of pure Torva’ox, they would renew their interest in him. Some would court his favor. Others wouldn’t take such a gentle approach. Now that he’d gotten a feel for the lay of this changed land, Randolph had to take steps to ensure his survival within it. To that end, he would need an army.
Randolph came to a stop by digging his claws deep into the hard-packed earth and tearing trenches in the soil. His tongue lolled from the side of his mouth, and his panting breaths rolled through the air like distant thunder. Cool, blue-gray eyes took in the sight of the barren landscape. Here and there, he spotted wandering beasts scavenging for their next meal. There weren’t many humans to be found in this part of the world. Not anymore. Randolph’s keen senses could pick out only a few small groups of them hidden behind layers of rock, brick and steel. All of those who’d survived the packs were dug in deep and, for the moment, Randolph was content to let them stay there.
The beast within him, fueled by energy that had been stored during Randolph’s slumber and further energized by his long run, paced back and forth. It shook its mighty head and snapped its jaws just to feel the raw power as his teeth clamped together. He was hungry, but there would be time for feeding later. So much time. So many upon which to feed. With civility no longer a necessity, he could indulge a hunger that he’d repressed for centuries. There would be time to run as well. Such restraint proved Randolph was gaining control over the beast entrenched in his soul. His Balance was restored, and soon the beast allowed its head to hang.
Slowly, Randolph’s bones began to creak, and the frame of his body expanded. Paws stretched into hands and feet. Muscles that were piled upon his neck and back flowed out to cover him more equally or dissolve altogether. When he was shrunken down to a human form, the pearl he’d taken from Icanchu dropped to the ground near his left hand. He pulled himself up from all fours and stooped down to retrieve the glimmering jewel.
No matter how many times he gazed at it or how close it had been to him, Randolph never tired of the prize he’d taken. With it, not only could he purify himself, but he could also gain a bond with any other species descended from the pure Torva’ox. Now that the Torva’ox had been corrupted, he was one of a precious few not of the Mist Born who could accomplish such a thing. Perhaps the Mist Born had also been corrupted. There would be time to learn that as well.
After savoring the touch of the pearl against his palm, Randolph placed it reverently upon the ground before him. Then he straightened up, lifted his head to a sky smeared with the purple and red hues of dawn, and stomped his foot down upon the pearl. The transformation rolled through Randolph’s body, snapping his head back and splaying his arms out to either side as he grew into a thing that stood eight feet tall upon two legs. Drawing from the Torva’ox, Randolph grew even bigger. His body swelled with muscle upon muscle. The claws stretching from his hands were longer than they’d ever been; thick bases white and bloody.
A bellowing roar exploded from his throat with enough force to shred mortal vocal cords. It rolled across the barren landscape and, thanks to the pearl beneath his foot, through the ground itself. Not only was this howl heard by anyone or anything for miles in all directions, but was felt by any creatures that shared some minor part of Randolph’s bloodline.
Half Breeds at the periphery of his influence perked their ears.
The closer wretches barked excitedly.
Even the beasts wise enough to hide in the presence of their better slunk out from their dens to answer his call.
The wretches came to him in droves. Their muscles were corded knots around broken bones, giving them speed fueled by the pain of their terrible existence. Soon, the land that had been so desolate a moment ago was teeming with the same rampaging horde that had decimated so many human cities in the region. Half Breeds that had torn through unsuspecting populations on the day of Esteban’s hateful strike against humanity ran side by side with wretches that had been turned only a few weeks ago. Some were members of packs that had hunted in the nearby woods for generations, feeding and replenishing their numbers by turning the men or children unlucky enough to survive an attack.
They came to Randolph because they had no choice. As they gathered around him, the Half Breeds paced and howled and barked, desperate to lend their voices to the one that had summoned them. Although the wretches were angry and restless by nature, they were linked by a common thread. They were shapeshifters, and the Full Bloods would always be their masters.
Pressing his foot down even harder against the pearl, Randolph kept it secure while also using it to mine the shallow trenches of the wretches’ minds. Without the pearl, he would still be able to sense the influence of another Full Blood on the closest Half Breeds. With the pearl, he could sense how all of them had been influenced. They did not know why they had been pushed one way or another, for it wasn’t a wild thing’s desire to question its instinct. Adding that knowledge to what he’d pieced together during the long run from his homeland, Randolph figured out a great many things.
“Very clever of you, Esteban,” Randolph said as he stooped down to retrieve the pearl. He willed the muscles in his left shoulder to recede until that part of him was eroded almost down to the bone. Placing the pearl there, Randolph held it in place and willed his body to regain its form. Muscle, sinew, veins and a few scraps of fat flowed over the pearl, burying it inside of him where it would be safe from anyone but those mighty enough to dig for it.
When the Full Blood swept his hungry gaze back and forth, the baying wretches quieted and bared their throats to him. Like a wave moving through the sea of twisted flesh, Half Breeds lowered themselves into submission by pressing their chests and bellies to the ground. As Randolph walked, they cleared a path for him.
In a matter of minutes, he’d asserted his dominance upon every last Half Breed that had responded to his cry. He savored the quiet which hung in the air like smoky fog. When he closed his eyes, Randolph could feel all those lives huddled around him…waiting.
All it took was a single, huffing breath from the depths of Randolph’s lungs to disperse the Half Breeds. Most turned and scampered to more familiar grounds. Some backed away until they were out of sight. The younger ones bolted like dogs that had just pulled free from a leash.
Others would be just as easy to sway.
They would all return when called.
Randolph had his army.