Free Beastly by Matt Khourie Page B

bodies shoulder to shoulder, hands clasped over hearts. He closed the old man’s fingers around the song worn lute. The Beast was unsure if the ritual called for words. Truth be told, he was glad no one was around to hear his fumbling attempt.
    “Be at peace amongst the stars.”
    He struck the pyre’s base stone with a claw. A trail of fire spread swiftly around the wooden rings, then consumed waiting men. He hoped the two friends would meet the afterlife together. Taking solace in the sentiment, the Beast started for the cairns.
    “That was a very courageous thing you did,” a man’s voice said softly.
    The Beast spun and greeted a silvery silhouette stepping down from the pyre. The ghostly figure clapped Jack’s shoulder and bowed. It raised the lute and forced a breath over the blackened instrument. Charred scales fell away, leaving behind only earthy brown wood. “Ah, much better. Though I shall miss playing it. Do you play, stranger?”
    The Beast had witnessed much of the bizarre since re-awakening. Nothing had prepared him for such an encounter. He scanned for a weapon, settling on a length of splintered wood that burned of emerald. The fire’s emanations settled in his stomach like a lead weight. The spectre gestured for the Beast’s calm. “I assure you that won’t be necessary. I am Cedrik, and I mean you no harm.”
    The Beast was not convinced. Common knowledge dictated fire would repel the undead. He hoped that rule included the evil magical type of flame in his possession.
    “I mean to thank you for the kindness you’ve extended. You could have just as easily turned a blind eye.”
    Cedrik’s words coaxed the Beast’s guard down. He felt a familiarity in them. The old man reminded him of Urda. And someone else. Someone he could not quite recall. “Old man-”
    “Cedrik.”
    “Apologies. It was the least I could do.” The Beast dropped the torch. Wisps of steam twisted around his ankle. He shrugged and gathered his pack.
    “Wait!” Cedrik shouted. The ethereal vapor of his legs melted away and the spectre rushed forward, clamping a hand onto the Beast’s shoulder.
    A cold chill swept over his chest. He gasped and fell to a knee. Cedrik gingerly lifted the Beast back to his feet.
    “I am truly sorry. That was... unexpected.”
    The Beast pawed at his chest, thankful the chilling grip had fled.
    “There was a little girl, Lia. By my side she was, when I... She brought me back, stopped me before I could reach the World After.”
    “Gone. Taken by the Wakeful. By Malachai.” The words haunted him. There was no telling to what dark end the black rider with the burning eyes carried her off to. The Beast thought the apparition’s heart would beat once more simply to burst. “I am truly sorry for what the Wakeful have done here.” He reached for the firestone. Her eyes, gleaming amber orbs...
    “That amulet, I’ve seen it before. How came you by it?” Cedrik asked, drifting closer.
    The Beast closed his fist around the medallion. “I don’t know. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember.” The Beast’s pulse quickened.
    “You know what this is? Can you translate the words? Please, you must help me.”
    Cedrik’s ghostly fire shimmered. “I know it well. I was there when the firestone was set to its golden cradle. It belonged to a loving, loyal friend who said the pieces came from the stars themselves.”
    The Beast’s ears perked and he felt a prickle at his chest. His imagination reeled. Maybe it was enchanted after all. Maybe it could send me home . A dark thought crept into his head. What of the little boy in the dark dungeon? Should I want to go back ?
    “I raised Lia as my own,” Cedrik hesitated, as if nervous to reveal more, “but her blood is of noble birth. The touch of the Breath is ever upon her lips. The very starlight swaddled her like a warm blanket.”
    The Beast cocked an eye brow. What did he care for noble blood and starlight?
    Cedrik rambled on, hands