A Picture of the Heart

Fighting against everything in him, screaming stop, he tried to coax more speed from his burning muscles, but despite his best efforts, his was slowing. Nasovey, unsurprisingly, had pulled ahead and had nearly reached the wall. Tom hazarded another peek, and to his dismay, blood-stained teeth were bearing down on him. As he turned back, a flash of light passed inches from his face, followed closely by an ear-piercing yelp and the smell of burnt fur. Putting his head down, he leaned into the wind and sprinted as his life was on the line, which it was.

Within forty feet of the giants, Dach motioned for him to get down. Without hesitation, Tom dove forward like he was trying to steal Homeplate and flipped onto his back in mid-air. As he hit the ground, his speed caused him to slide along what little grass remained on the plains. The two massive fur-covered Weurgen leaped. Tom watched as death, in the form of gaped maws and razor-sharp claws, bore down. Covering his ears and hoping he hadn’t misunderstood, Dach, he watched as an unseen force smashed into the two beasts mid-air. Their jowls flapped, sending slobber flying past their sharply pointed ears. With one last ditch effort to kill their prey, they swiped, but Dach and Tig had been one step ahead. The shock wave from the giant’s attack sent the Weurgen flying through the air as if someone had pulled an unseen parachute. A moment later, they smashed into the group behind them.

“Time to go,” Tig said, pulling Tom off the ground and practically carrying him to the wall, where he tossed Tom into Dach’s waiting hands. Nasovey leaped, caught hold of Tom’s leg, and scurried to his shoulder a moment before Dach launched them upward. Thankfully, the giant calculated perfectly, and they landed gently atop the wall.

Tom looked at this shoulder and then around the wall, but as expected, Nasovey was nowhere in sight. Turning his attention to the battlefield, he watched the smaller Weurgen scatter away from the archer’s fiery barrage. Unfortunately, the two massive beasts who’d nearly ended Tom’s journey were not so easily deterred. Even under a volley of flaming arrows, they pressed forward.

“Welcome back,” a voice from behind said, pulling Tom’s attention from the scene below.

“Joran,” Tom said. “I…,”

“No, need for explanations right now.”

“But there will be a time?” Tom asked cautiously.

“I want to hear the story, but we have bigger problems at the moment,” Joran said, motioning toward the battlefield.

“Friends of yours?” the young man beside Joran asked, pointing at the giants.

“Something like that,” Tom said. “The bigger one on the right—”

“Is Andacht, and the other is his brother Andachtig,” Joran interrupted.

Laine looked at this commander.

“Let’s just say this won’t be the first time they’d helped White Oak battle the Weurgen.”

“Joran, I know this will sound strange, but there is something I need to deal with, and I’ll need help.”

“You may have noticed we have plenty to deal with right here,” Joran said, turning and waving his arm in a gesture intended to point out the obvious battle taking place across the wall.

Weurgen were pouring into the city, their onslaught unyielding despite the archers’ steady stream of fiery arrows. The stench of singed fur permeated the air. Even the street below was a chaotic battleground, with defenders and Weurgen locked in fierce combat.

“Right. Still, what I need to do may change the entire course of this battle. I know you have no reason to trust me. I will go alone if I have to, but I’m not sure I can make it without help.”

“May,” Tom repeated.

Joran eyed him, and Tom did his best to keep eye contact with the man who was obviously weighing his story against the reality of White Oak's current situation. Finally, Joran broke the silence and said, “What do you need?”

“Commander,” the younger man exclaimed.

“Laine, there’s something strange happening,” Joran said.

“You mean other than an army of savage beasts strewn across the plains?”

“Laine, think about it. Our imbued arrows simply quit working, and we have traitors in our midst. None of those things happened overnight. The King knew something was happening behind the scenes in the city. Something so important that he refused to join us on the wall. There’s a much bigger picture here; this fight is only a piece of the puzzle. The King suggested Tom could be the key to fixing the hidden problems. I’m not saying I understand any of it, but I do trust the King.”

Laine nodded, although he didn’t appear particularly happy about it.

“Tom, what do you need?” Joran asked.

“A sword and help getting into the throne room.”

“The throne room?” Joran asked.

“The King isn’t there. A usurper is. I saw it all happen. It’s crazy, but I think I might be the only one who can stop him.”

“Okay, but before you go, we need to help Andac—” Joran started to say but never finished the word.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Tom watched as Laine’s lips formed the words watch out, but he was too late. A black arrow sliced through the night and struck Joran, exploding into black vines that coiled around the man’s body like a snake. In that instant, Tom was jerked away from reality and into the woods near a signpost, where he knelt in front of a bush with bright green fruit. Reaching out, he grabbed the fruit. Vines shot out from the bush and wrapped around his body. He struggled as the vines dragged him into the bush and closed around him. He tried to cry out for help, but a vine wrapped around his face and mouth.

“Tom,” a faint voice called.

“Fire,” another voice screeched, distant and faint like the first.

Shrugging off his jacket, Tom reached into his pocket, where he kept his lighter. Flipping the lid, he spun the wheel. A little flame leaped to life. He held the flame against the vine, and eventually, it caught fire, burning away like a fuse.

Suddenly, a strong hand thrust into the bush and clasped him on the shoulder. Tom opened his eyes to find Laine and several defenders surrounding him.

“Fire,” Tom said.

“What?” Laine asked, obviously confused.

Ignoring Laine, Tom retrieved his lighter and moved toward Joran. Or rather, he tried, but two less-than-friendly defenders, obviously assigned to guard their Commander, blocked him.

“Laine, I know this sounds crazy, but I think I can help the Commander.”

“How?” Laine asked, looking at Joran.

“When I saw the vines wrap around Joran, it triggered a memory. I was at a signpost and grabbed some kind of bright green fruit hanging from a bush.”

“Dragonfruit,” Laine supplied.

“When I tugged on the fruit, vines shot out and wrapped around me. I used my lighter, and the vines burned away like a fuse.”

“I don’t know,” Laine said.

“What do you have to lose?” Tom said. “If it doesn’t work, you haven’t lost anything.”

“Try it!” Joran exclaimed.

Laine nodded, and the defenders stepped aside.

Kneeling beside Joran and suddenly praying the vision was more than his imagination, he flicked the wheel and placed the flame against the vine. Nothing happened. Come on! This has to work. If he was wrong, and what he’d seen wasn’t a memory but only his imagination, it would likely hurt any credibility he’d gained with Joran. He started worrying that perhaps he’d imagined the scene when the vine sizzled and caught fire.

Joran inhaled sharply as the vines burned away from his chest. Without hesitation, he ordered two defenders to get to the infirmary and alert JeAnna that they’d found a solution.

“You may have just won the battle, Tom,” Joran said, reaching out to Laine, who pulled the Commander to his feet.

“Perhaps, but I still need to get to the throne room,” Tom said.

“And we’re going to make sure that happens, but before we do, we’re helping Andacht and Tig,” Joran said, leaving no room for discussion.

Tom watched Laine sprint westward along the wall and disappear amidst the defenders and Weurgen. A few minutes later, he returned with a rope, fashioned into a makeshift harness, and handed it to Joran.

“I expect one of the Weurgen to leap and the other to go low,” Joran said as he watched the scene below from the edge of the wall. “They’ll probably crisscross to cause confusion. Once they attack, I jump.”

“Get ready,” Laine said to Tom.

Joran looked at the men who held his lifeline, smiled, sprinted across the wall, and jumped as he reached the rope’s end. The sudden force of his weight pulled the two men close together and dragged them forward.

“Hold on,” Laine yelled as he teetered precariously on the edge of the wall.

“What’s happening?” Tom asked through gritted teeth.

“Joran’s running horizontally along the wall with his sword in his hand. He just slashed the closest Weurgen across the back. The second beast knocked one of the giants to the ground, turned, and swiped at Joran, who brought his shin guard up and deflected the blow, but he’s spinning out of control.”