The Gharzul

The sun was setting over the forest, and the city nestled beyond it in the folds of the river valley. I had picked up the trail of the Gharzul again. The scabbard at my side holds my wide-bladed falchion, and I grip the green warding stone tightly in my gloved fist, as the determination to find and kill my murderous quarry builds up inside me. My neck is stiff, my muscles sore, I feel as if I'd been stretched on the rack the night before, but all I had done was ride at my usual clip. I had been here before; more than once, I had found myself closing in on the beast, and each time, it had been a night that started out clear but quickly became covered in mist as thick as soup, the only hint of what laid waiting in the shadows was the oppressive feeling that seemed to accompany the fog. Each time, I had found myself weary, stretched, a small persistent pounding behind my eyes. Each time, I was just a step behind.

The city was eerily silent like a painting waiting to come alive. It had been the same in all the other towns and villages I tracked the Gharzul through. I felt the eyes of the inhabitants upon me as I rode, and the sounds of the horses' hooves seemed heavy with dread.

Weeks ago, I had been looking for a path to the ancient ruins of Karamesh and found a cave deep in the wooded hills beyond the last village in the province. The cave seemed to be the lair of some kind of beast or animal. Old bones covered the floor deeper into the cave. The walls had been carved with glyphs that had begun pulsing blue as I tried to decipher them. Most had been unintelligible to me, but one had transformed itself in my mind. "Zahrul", and as I had spoken it out loud, the cave had come alive with light. I had stumbled and fallen, but I awoke quickly to a cave with an enveloping darkness. As I left the lair, I had finally found the first clue to the beasts' location, a few large clawed prints in the ground, I followed them back to the village. When I came upon the village, the same scene greeted me then that greeted me now at the gates of Nasiraq. I had been lucky to find myself near the village when the terror struck for the first time. The village suffered several grisly murders from claws, teeth, slashing, and blunt force. I asked what the victims' families had seen, if anything, and most could not provide a description. There was a gnawing feeling in my mind as I interviewed people. I wondered if I had somehow released this beast myself when I had uttered its name in that lair, and I would not rest until the beast was found and slain. I had grown restless in the village and worried, a burning hunger filled me to move on, to track the beast, and try to prevent its next murder. So far, I have failed.

I would follow the road from beyond the forest edge, finding a few scattered clues along the way, only to finally arrive at the next village or town to find the same scene played out. Always just one step behind the monster. By the time I came upon the third bloody massacre, the patterns of the attacks and the few descriptions I could get from people had led me to believe I was following a Gharzul. I had heard the tales of these monsters, a creature that was bold enough to strike in the early evening but preferred the night, using the disorienting mists and fogs that always seemed to precede a Gharzul attack to snatch victims from their doorsteps. Leaving no trace until the body, or what remained of it was found later when the mists cleared, revealing streets covered in gore. But no one in all of the borderlands had reported a real Gharzul in centuries, they were supposed to be a myth. I had to hunt this creature and was prepared to do whatever it took to bring it to justice. If I was lucky, I could cover up what I was becoming more and more convinced was my role in releasing it onto the world.

I make my way through the winding streets, observing the buildings and inhabitants as I go. I see frightened glances and the empty, haunted faces of those who had lost someone to the beast's savagery. I pass by the shops and inns, their doors closed and windows barred. I see signs posted in the windows saying establishments are closed until morning. I hear the warning bells sounding, reverberating off the rooftops, signaling that all should remain indoors. For the first time in my 2 weeks since the cave, I finally arrived somewhere while the attack seemed to be ongoing. The fog isn't lifting like it usually does by the time I reach the site of the latest Gharzul attack.

I ignore the warnings, pressing on through the maze of winding streets, searching for any sign of the creature's presence. I move cautiously, my eyes ever alert despite the dull, aching pain behind them. I seem able to shake off the haziness of my mind, and my senses become attuned to the slightest hint of any danger. I dismount and hold my torch up high. Down the alley to my right, I catch a glimpse of crimson color splashed across the cobblestones. My warding stone feels warm now, and I hang it around my neck and pull the large falchion from my scabbard. I find the familiar trail of blood and viscera, evidence of the creature's path of destruction. The upper torso of a young woman becomes visible through the oppressive fog as I approach, and the torchlight reveals a bit more of the alley. I am sure she would have been quite striking if the woman weren't missing half her body and her face wasn't contorted into a look of abject fear.

I look up the sides of the buildings that are close around me. The timber frames and white plaster sidings are splattered with gore. Then I see a glint of something just down the alley a bit further, shards of glass on the cobblestones, chunks of plaster missing from the wall, and huge gashes taken out of the timber. It seems the Gharzul had entered the building just ahead of me through a now badly damaged window. I kneel down next to the corpse of the woman, placing the torch on the ground, and I tug my glove off with my teeth, unwilling to release my grip on my sword's hilt. I reach toward her. I am a bit shocked by how dirty my fingernails are; one is even a bit torn and broken, and another looks like it might have been bleeding recently. I must be far more weary and dirty from tracking this monster relentlessly for days on end. No wonder people were staring at me so cautiously, and even with a bit of fear, as I came into Nasiraq today. I probably look terrible.

I touch the young woman's bare shoulder. While not warm, her body is nowhere near cold enough to have been here long. The Gharzul must still be close by. I pick up my torch and walk towards the broken window. The entire opening has been ripped open further, large enough for a man to step through easily.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I might find inside. With my falchion in hand and my torch held aloft, I step closer to the shattered window. I can feel the warding stone growing warmer through my tunic. I attempt to calm my mind and focus some of my will through the stone, but it resists. I haven't been able to use the stone correctly ever since the cave. Usually, I can use it to help protect myself and even use it to sense what's around me, but all it does now is warn me of danger by the heat it gives off. The stench of blood and death fills my nostrils, making me gag. My eyes adjust to the dim light inside and the glare of the torch. I can make out the shape of a large body lying on the floor.

I approach cautiously, ready to strike at the first sign of movement. As I get closer, I can see that it's the body of a man. His throat has been torn open, and his chest has been ripped apart as if something was desperately searching his abdomen. I grimace and turn away, my stomach churning. I resist retching onto the floor.

Suddenly, a low growl echoes through the room. I spin around, my falchion held at the ready. The warding stone is hot now against my chest. It's an uncomfortable burning sensation, even through the cloth of my tunic. In the shadows, I catch a glimpse of a pair of glowing yellow-red eyes. The Gharzul is still here. I have caught up with it at last, but terror threatens to take hold of me. I try to touch the aetheric power of my warding stone one last time, and I feel it pop. I hear an audible crack, and the heat of it is gone. An icy chill fills me.

I move towards the eyes, my torch held up, the falchion in front of me in a defensive posture. Then I see it, the Gharzul framed in a rectangular gilded doorway. The Gharzul is massive. If I were standing next to it, it would tower over me. It has razor-sharp teeth and large ears tucked under curved jet-black horns. Its dark grey fur is matted with blood, and its claws drip with gore. Its shape is both human and inhuman. A face that's not entirely unfamiliar stares back at me. It smiles at me, and a low, rumbling growl resonates deep in its chest.

I charge forward, my falchion slicing through the air. It catches on the top of the gilded doorway, turning my right shoulder, causing me to stumble towards the Gharzul off balance. "I'm dead" is all I can think. Then my shoulder slams into something hard, and I catch my balance, jumping backward, sweeping out with my sword in a desperate attempt to shield myself from the attack of advantage I know must be coming from the Gharzul, but I catch only open space. My heart is pounding in fear and desperation. "Fool!" I think as I spin around, certain my quarry has somehow worked its way behind me. I lash out with the torch, hoping to hit the monster or illuminate it. But again, there's nothing there.

A low, wet, gurgling laughter rebounds off the walls of the disheveled living room. I turn and see the Gharzul exactly where it had been, framed in the doorway. Except. The doorway is rocking back and forth slightly, and so is the image of the Gharzul. "What?" I breathe out as my mind finally registers that the rectangular gilded doorway isn't a doorway at all. It's a mirror.

The monster's laughter grows louder, and it smiles a smile that is far too human... Our eyes lock. "Fool." The voice of the Gharzul is rumbling, thick with phlegm, guttural. Primal.

"What is this... some trick of aether magic?" I am guarded but also at a loss for what I am seeing.

The Gharzul laughs his deep, bellowing laugh again. "It's not a trick. I am right here. Zahrul is here."

I take a tentative step toward the mirror, still confused by what I am seeing and hearing. "Enough tricks, monster, come face me."

"I am facing you."

What an infuriating, pedantic answer from this monster. "I mean, fight me, end this trickery, and fight me."

"Why would I harm myself when I am so close to fully restored? Now, with that silly trinket around your neck destroyed and your body and mind sufficiently weakened... Zahrul is here." The deep, menacing tones of Zahrul's voice continue to bounce around the room, resonating.

"I would harm you. You would not be harming yourself. Enough riddles! Enough tricks! I don't need the power of aetheric magic to kill you!" I am bellowing at the mirror now. Even if I lose, I will face Zahrul. I must try to stop what I unleashed.

The monster just keeps smiling. "You really haven't worked out what is happening, have you? Tell me, how did someone with such a simple mind manage to break the seal on my prison and yet fail to understand that I am you now, and you are Zahrul?"

This can't be. I look around frantically, then move toward the mirror. Zahrul chuckles softly, an irritating, grating sound. I take my eyes off Zahrul. So close to the mirror, I expect a trap, but I must know, and I peer around the mirror. There's nothing but the wall of the house. I jump back quickly. This can't be true. Such a fool, why did I read those runes!? Why didn't I leave when they began to pulse with magic?

"Fool," Zahrul growls out. "Fool..." Zahrul drags out the word long and slow.

"I don't believe you. This is just some trick! I am not a monster."

The monster in the mirror lets out a sigh, "You are becoming tiresome to speak to. You're far too daft, but I will try to educate you despite the fact I think you're too dim to get it." The insults seem even worse as they come from a monster in harsh guttural tones.

"You have always been one step behind, so perhaps your mind being so slow shouldn't be quite the surprise." Zahrul gives a small chuckle and picks a piece of red meat from his teeth with a long, semi-broken claw. He continues in his heavy, phlegm-filled tone. "Has your body been aching you? Is your head pounding and painful behind your eyes? How about that mind of yours, a bit forgetful perhaps? Is it a little... foggy?"

"I..." it can't be. He can't know this for sure. "I am fine."

"Indeed, fine. Is it fine to find that your memory begins just in time to find yourself in terrible shape to try and pursue the monster that's just one step ahead? Tired and sore as if you'd... gone on a hunt?" There's a slyness to his tone as he continues, "How about that broken nail of yours? Do you remember how that happened?"

"Liar! I am not a murderer like you!" I won't believe what the monster is saying. It's a trick, "This is all just part of your tricks and games, monster. I name you Gharzul; show yourself and face punishment!"

Zahrul laughs harder than ever. "Liar!? ME!? You wouldn't even recognize the truth if it were in front of you. Tell me, who are you?"

"I'm..." I can't think. My mind seems slow.

"Can you tell me where you are from? How did you get that sword you're holding? What's the name of that poor, miserable, smelly beast you rode into the city on? Are you married? Do you have any delightfully delicious children?"

"I... I..." I can't answer.

"Do you even know," the smile on the monster's face disappears, and he bears his sharp teeth, "your own name?"

"No... NO!" I drop the falchion and pull my knife from the back of my belt. It flashes toward my throat. I will not be possessed by this. I will not. But the knife stops short, and I can't will it to go further. Fool, I think again, why did you read the runes!

"Yes," Zahrul opens his arms wide, beckoning me in, "fool."

I scream, but the scream turns to a triumphant growl in my throat. I taste blood and bile. I feel free. Free to hunt, to kill, to rend flesh. I feel a hunger, an insatiable hunger. The growl turns to deep, primal laughter as I turn out into the darkening night. Zahrul is here.