It was starting to get irritating.
Tarrin turned and twisted the manacle on his wrist, trying to get it comfortable. It had been itching too much lately. The fetlocks that grew on his arms and legs had expanded a little since they'd grown, extending from his forearm down to the base of his wrist now, and that meant that they were now growing above, under, and below the manacle. They itched, from the manacles pressing against the fur growing underneath them.
He'd been mystified by those fetlocks for a while now. Whenever his mind wasn't on other matters, he often looked at them, or combed them out with his claws. They weren't overly long, not long enough to reach the base of his paw when his arms were down. The fur of them wasn't long, but it was noticable, and rather thick. It made him look… strange. Not like the other Were-cats. Sarraya said that only the males grew fetlocks, the Were-cat version of a beard, and only after they had aged quite a while. Thean, among the oldest of the males, didn't have fetlocks. They set him apart from his own kind, the only Were-cat with that rather unusual decoration, a symbol of an age that had been thrust upon him unnaturally, a sign that he was no longer the village farmboy that had once occupied his altered body. In mind and soul as well as body, that Tarrin was long gone, vanished into the mists of the deepest corners of his mind, forever replaced by the dichotomous being that Tarrin had become.
It wasn't that they made him look bad. Quite the opposite, he thought that they made him look rather striking. But he understood what they represented, and that knowledge made him feel old. The trials of the past year had truly aged his mind and his soul, making him feel like he really was the age that the fetlocks represented. He just didn't feel young anymore. The fact that he was only eighteen, approaching nineteen, didn't seem to be real to him anymore. He had lived an entire lifetime in the last year. His true age was a lie, it was the age that he felt inside that seemed more correct to him than a date on a calendar.
Here he was, a rather naive boy from Aldreth, who was in the middle of forging an alliance of several different races, and he hoped one more, to defend his patron goddess from banishment. Here he was, a youth from a forgotten corner of the world, who had travelled halfway across the Known World in little more than a year, pursuing a mission that belonged in the prose of epic poetry. He he was, a boy who had left chaos in his wake, destroying, killing, trailing behind him evil forces seeking to stop him. Here he was, the implacable, merciless Were-cat who had assassinated the Emperor of the largest kingdom in the world.
The titanic enormity of that act hadn't occurred to him until lately. He had thrown the largest empire in the world into chaos, all done in order to use that chaos to secure the Book of Ages. And now he had left Arak in the hands of the Succubus, Shiika. Turned over millions of lives to the rather dark designs of a Demon. And he had no remorse over it. In his mind, Shiika would probably be a better ruler than the last Emperors had been. For now she ruled openly, with full knowledge of her heritage known to the people, and it would be her they would revolt against, not a puppet, should she run Arak into the ground. The problems before were that the domination she used to control her Emperors left them incapable of running the empire. Now, at least, they had someone competent. She wouldn't be a compassionate ruler, but Shiika was smart enough to what to do to keep her Empire running smoothly. Given the raw size of Arak, perhaps a pragmatic ruler was better than a compassionate one anyway. An empire of that size would be utterly unable to clothe, feed, and house everyone. Shiika had the mentality to make the hard choices necessary when trying to operate a kingdom that stretched further than the West did. Shiika wouldn't give a bag of gold to every street urchin, but she would stabilize things so those street urchins could find work to clothe, feed, and house themselves.
No matter what good he felt was coming out of the act, he remembered that it had been an act of impulsive emotion at the time. He wanted Shiika out of the way, and the most practical way to go about it seemed to be to kill the Emperor, to deny her the boons of her station. That he would immediately resort to such drastic measures said much about his own personality.
But he had changed over the months in the desert. He could admit that now. He had come to accept two new friends, Var and Denai, had found the strength in himself to control his feral nature when it was necessary. He'd never truly conquer it, but at least he had proved to himself that when he needed to, he could keep a reign on that side of himself. He had shifted his balance from the Cat back to the Human, allowing his humanity to again control the majority of his actions, just as it had before Jula collared him and began the sequence of events that had turned him feral. He could never trust a stranger again, or even feel comfortable around one, but he found that he could tolerate them again, listen to them, allow them the chance to prove themselves to him.
The sound of clanking pulled him from his reverie, and he looked up to see Jegojah showing Denai some of the motions of the style of swordplay he used. The Selani amazed him hourly with their almost blind acceptance of the Revenant, an undead being whose appearance would send humans into a panic. But the Selani were a very calm people, calm and open, and hard to surprise. They didn't see Jegojah as a threat, so they didn't fear him. They accepted Jegojah for what he was, even applauded such a strong desire to set things right, as was the reason Jegojah hadn't passed on with Faalken. Jegojah remained behind to avenge the torture he had endured, the loss of his honor, against the ones who had imprisoned him. The Selani found vengeance to be an honorable pursuit, so they looked upon Jegojah as a respectable, honorable being. That he was Tarrin's guest also allowed them to accept his presence in the desert. Denai was in good hands. Jegojah was a formidable foe, a warrior of the highest caliber, even without the magical powers that had made him a Doomwalker. Denai would benefit from getting instruction from one as impressive as Tarrin's old adversary.
It wasn't the only thing that had gone on during their wait. Var had lit a fire at the top of a rise, and for the strangest reason, it billowed out a thick reddish smoke. Denai explained that it was a signal, a signal visible during the morning hours before the haze of the day obscured distance. Var was signalling the other Selani, and Denai said that it was just a matter of time before the other Selani relayed that message to where it was meant to go.
Var was out hunting at the moment, so Tarrin looked down again and stared at the fetlock on his forearm. They were waiting for Ariana and her king, waiting for them to arrive so Tarrin could talk to them. He already knew what he wanted of them. There were many Aeradalla, but he seriously doubted that he could convince them to join a war that had no meaning for them. But their ability to fly would be of invaluable use as scouts and messengers, scouting out enemy positions and sending secure messages between allied armies. So he meant to ask this King Andos for about fifty Aeradalla scouts to help his side in the upcoming battle. Tarrin felt that to be a reasonable request. Some kings were very grateful for acts of personal kindness, but were as hard as stone when it came to the welfare of their people, and Tarrin would respect Andos for that. The needs of the people should always come before the wishes of the ruler. So he had come up with the idea to use the Aeradalla as scouts, observers, and messengers. All they needed were magical devices that would allow them to talk to people on the ground, and their value to his side would be incalculable.
It had been two days, so they were expecting Andos and Ariana any time now. They were camped in an open area just outside the boundary of the city, where he said they would be, and he had no doubt that the Aeradalla wouldn't easily see them. He had passed that time in quiet recuperation, recovering his strength after exhausting himself in the battle with Jegojah and the conferences with his sisters. He felt fully recovered now, and what was more important, he realized that it was exactly as it had been before. He was still growing, still coming into the fruition of his ability, and that meant that his powers would grow stronger over time. He knew that he was stronger now than he had been before fighting Jegojah, because he had exercised the use of his powers. Just as his power of High Sorcery had grown stronger and stronger every time he used them, he realized that his powers as a Weavespinner would mature over time, until he reached his full powers. All he had to do was use his power, exercise it, study it and experiment with it, allow it to strengthen in him until it could strengthen no more.
He had also explored this strange ability to join with the Weave. For the last two days, he had entered the Weave for extended periods of time, and had explored the Heart. It was a place of utter vastness, yet it seemed to have defined boundaries. Finding those boundaries, he had discovered, was not as easy as it seemed. It was populated by the stars of all the living Sorcerers, both awakened and yet to be discovered, and he could float in that dark void and watch the stars awaken and fade away, representing the births of some and the deaths of others. The brightness of those stars denoted the raw potental of the Sorcerer in question, and the color of the star, he learned, was an indication of how experienced the Sorcerer was with his own power. The Sorcerers who hadn't awakened their power yet were reddish, while the progression from unawakened to fully experienced was a progression from red, through white, and into blue. After hours of watching, he came to understand that many more were appearing than were disappearing every day. It was the revigoration of the Weave, he realized, the return of the power of the Weave back to its former glory. As more and more Sorcerers were born, their hearts enriched the Weave, made it stronger and more able to carry powerful magic. The Goddess didn't speak to him while he was exploring, and he felt that she did that on purpose. She was letting him explore on his own, draw his own conclusions.
It was strangely peaceful within the Weave. He was separated from himself, and that gave him quiet time, time to ponder and reflect, time to get closer to the Weave by trying to fathom its vastness. But was lonely there. He was the only one, the only being in that empty sea, and that was a pretty frightening experience in a way. And it made him understand how the Goddess must feel. This was the Heart, where her Weavespinners would come to rejoice in her presence, and she had been alone here for a very long time. She had that Sha'Kar woman, but somehow Tarrin got the idea that she didn't come here very often. Now there was Tarrin, and Jenna. Three souls to give the Goddess company here in the Heart.
It was when he was there that he felt that the Goddess truly was a Goddess. Almost at all other times, she was little more than a voice that spoke to him, and spoke to him as a friend. She didn't seem like an all-powerful deity when she was like that. But here, when he could look into her eyes, could feel and sense and be enveloped by the awesome might of her power, a power that defied his ability to quantify it, he understood the true majesty of his rather unusual Goddess. It was there, in the Heart, that he worshipped the Goddess for what she was, his Goddess, and felt indescribable joy when she responded to that adoration with the power of her love. She had told him long ago that the worship relationship of mortal and god was a give-and-take operation, where the mortal received what he gave to the god. And she had been right. The love he felt from the Goddess more than made up for anything that he gave to her in worship, love, and friendship. Knowing he had a place with her was more contenting to him than nearly anything else in the world.
There were other reasons to visit the Heart. Sometimes, while he was there, memories and echoes of lost knowledge reached him, like distant calls. They were random, and most of them made no sense, but sometimes he heard something or caught a sight of some visual echo that did mean something to him. He saw Myriam Lar, the Keeper, as a young woman, accepting the sceptre of leadership of her station in some hasty ceremony. He never knew that the Keeper had assumed her office at such a very young age, for the schooling he had received there had little to do with the modern history of the Tower. He had seen images of the Sha'Kar as they had been back in the Age of Power, and they did look just like the Selani. Almost. Some had dark skin, some had very pale skin. Some had blond hair, some had blue hair, some had black hair. But what all of them shared was that thinness, that delicate bone structure, and those pointed ears and four-fingered hands. The Sha'Kar of the Age of Power were much shorter than the Selani, but he realized that that was because by then, they were two separate races. The history of the Selani went back five thousand years, at some division that had taken place back in the dimmest past that had led them down different paths. The Selani were the descendents of the Sha'Kar, and the desert had changed them.
Thinking of that made him recall what the Goddess had told him while he was there, something that had altered his view on the races of Sennadar considerably.
"Not quite, my kitten," the voice of the Goddess spoke to him from the Heart, directly from her presence there, when he had pondered the relationship between the Selani and the Sha'Kar. "The Selani and the Sha'Kar are related, but the Selani aren't descended from them. To put it in relative terms, they are siblings, not parent and child."
"Siblings? What do you mean?"
"Both races are descended from a parent race. Their relations stretch back through that parent race, not with each other. That's why Selani and Sha'Kar are similar, not exactly alike. Had the Selani been descended from the Sha'Kar, the similarities between their languages would have been much more prevelant."
That made a great deal of sense. He drifted closer to the Heart, looked up into the eyes of his Goddess, and felt her power and her love. He had to fight through the adoration of that to form his thoughts. "What caused the division, Mother?" he asked.
"Would you like to hear a story of ancient times, my kitten?" she asked. "It's been a very long time since I've told a story, and this one has always been one of my favorites."
"Of course I would," he replied, hovering closer to her.
An image appeared before him, an image of four beings. One was human, one looked Dwarven, and the other two were unknown to him. The first looked vaguely like a Bruga, with a wide nose and tusks, and the other was a very lithe form, much taller than a human, tall and thin and delicate, with pointed ears and long, four-fingered hands. He would call it Selani, but this being looked nothing like a Selani. "In the very beginning of this world, my kitten, the Elder Gods set forth on the land these four sentient races. The Humans, the Dwarves, the Goblins, and the fourth, whose name has been lost over the mists of time."
"You know what it is, don't you?"
"Of course I do, but until someone discovers it, I have to keep it a secret," she replied with a light voice. "They were placed in the world and allowed to go their own way, to build their own places in ways that pleased them, but they were only given a basic understanding of things like tools and society. Those prehistoric beings used rocks tied to sticks for weapons, and the ones that did wear clothing wore untanned skins. Such basic knowledge was not known to them.
"But as time went on, the four races evolved. They became smarter, more experienced, and began forming the basics of the society you know today. They also spread out and found new environments, new challenges. Those distant travellers were altered by their environment, adapting to it to survive, until they became so separate from the others that they became a race of their own. The Gnomes were descended from the Dwarves in this fashion, as were the many different branches of the Goblinoids you know today. The nameless race also began to diverge from its core, splitting into two separate groups. One became known as the Mishin, who grew progressively smaller and smaller and concentrated on happiness and joy. The other branch became known as the Urzani, who clung to the tenets of martial prowess and magical power. They were a dark-hearted branch, and it is said that their skin turned dark to mirror the darkness within their souls. They grew to hate the Mishin, hate them with a passion, hated them for the joy that was lacking from their own lives. So, being what they were, they gathered together and destroyed the Mishin.
The image changed, going from an image of those four races to a large army of dark-skinned warriors wearing gleaming armor. "After destroying their cousins, the Urzani began a great war with the other races. It was called the First War, and it was something unexpected for the Goblins and the Humans and the Dwarves. The war was fought and ended, with the Urzani controlling most of the Known World. The Dwarves retreated to the high mountains, where the Urzani could not defeat them in battle, and the remaining free humans fled across a vast desert to unexplored lands.
The image changed again, to a huge, impressive city that would rival Dala Yar Arak. "This began the Age of Dynasty. The Urzani ruled the world for nearly three thousand years, but so much time without enemies to fight or lands to conquer ate at the society like a cancer. They were warriors without anything to fight, conquerers with nothing left to conquer. So the culture of the Urzani slowly turned on itself, became decadent, until at last the mighty Urzani empire fell to the Humans, Dwarves, and Goblins who had once been in its thrall. After the destruction, the Urzani fled from their former slaves, and it caused the re-establishment of the humans, Dwarves, and Goblins in the world.
The image shifted to that city in ruins, and then it was rebuilt in another architectural style. "But the Urzani couldn't hide forever. After some centuries, they slowly re-emerged. Having no lands to call their own, they were forced to live with the other races in small groups. The lust for war had been bred out of the Urzani over the time of their rule, and the Urzani that remained were allowed to live with the other races in peace, for they were still strong and formidable warriors, and were also strong in magical power. The word Urzani came to mean Trusted over time, and came to be integral components of the societies in which they lived, respected and admired by all races. The Urzani bound the rest of the world together, giving all races a common ground on which to negotiate, through their native Urzani population.
The image turned gray, and then refocused on a scene of two armies, their numbers in the hundreds of thousands, clashing on a vast, flat plain. "But then came the Blood War. The Urzani rose up along with the Humans and the Dwarves, the Goblins and the Gnomes, to fight the Demonspawn for their very survival. I won't go into the specifics of all that, for you know what eventually happened. The Demonspawn were exiled from the world, but it came at a cost too staggering to describe.
"The effect of the Blood War on the Urzani was horrific. They had survived, but the entire race had been traumatized by what had transpired." The image faded, then reformed to show four robed Urzani, beaten and bloody and bruised, with horrified expressions. "They were traumatized to the point where the entire race began to divide again, separating into distinct groups who had reacted to the Blood War in different fashions. One branch had been horrified by the tremendous destruction, and they devoted themselves to ensuring that such an event never happened again. They also threw down their weapons, knowing that they had been no use against the Demons, and exclusively studied the myriad forms of magic. These, over time, came to be known as the Sha'Kar, the Beings of Light, a race of powerful magicians, pacifistic in nature but ever watchful should the Demons return.
"The second group of the Urzani had placed the blame for the Blood War on the humans. The thousands of years of living with other races had been wiped away by the Blood War, reverting them to a xenophobic group that wanted nothing to do with any other race. They gathered together and searched long and hard for a place devoid of any other race. The beginnings of what is now the Desert of Swirling Sands called to them, called them to a place where no other race could survive, and they found it to their liking. They became known as the Selani, the Wanderers.
"A third group hadn't been greatly affected by the war, but they were affected by the destruction left behind. They didn't want to rebuild the world. They argued that it would be best if everyone left the shattered lands of Sennadar, left for those unknown lands far beyond the sea, which hadn't been damaged during the war. They argued that it would be best to live there until nature restored the damage done during the war, instead of trying to live in the destruction. The Humans and Goblinoids refused to leave their homes, so those Urzani built many ships and sailed into the western sea and disappeared, and were eventually forgotten.
"The Urzani that remained were far too few to maintain the society that they had built before the war. Over time, they became fewer and fewer, until their society was absorbed by their Sha'Kar descendants. And that is how the Urzani as they were known at that time came to be no more.
The image faded away completely. "So you see, my kitten, the Selani and the Sha'Kar are indeed related, but the bonds of that relationship are much older than you first expected."
Tarrin mulled over her story. It explained why the Goblinoids were called Goblinoids. It made sense, seeing as how there were no Goblinoids called Goblins. He hadn't known that the Gnomes were descended from the Dwarves, but the little he knew of the two races reinforced the idea. Both races were reputed to be short beings with tremendous skills in stonework and architecture. But she had left some races out.
"But what about the Vendari? What about the Wikuni, and the Aeradalla, and the beings of Fae-da'Nar? If there were only four races of sentient beings, where did we come from?"
"The Vendari were created after the Blood War, by what was left of the Valkari empire," she replied. "They were magically engineered by the wizards there, who were trying to create a race of slave warriors that could protect them from the Mahuut natives, who had revolted against them. They succeeded in creating a powerful race, but hadn't counted on the fact that that creation had made the Vendari as intelligent as their creators. What was even worse was that their magical creations displayed a powerful resistance to magic, and could breed to increase their numbers. The Vendari rose up along with the Mahuut and helped crush the Valkari empire, overthrew their creators and established the Vendari homelands, that remain there to this day."
"I've never heard that before."
"I'd be surprised if you had," she replied winsomely.
"What about us? And what about the Wikuni?"
"The beings of Fae-da'Nar were created over time, by the magic of the world," she replied. "Magic had a hand in all of your creations, often altering existing animals in magical ways to produce a sentient result. Would it offend you to know that your race evolved from common housecats, Tarrin?"
"No, not really, Mother," he replied. "It would explain everything, actually."
"It does, doesn't it?" she agreed. "The Aeradalla are also magical beings, but they evolved from humans, not animals."
"But what about the Wikuni? You didn't say where they came from."
"As a matter of fact, I did. You weren't listening."
Tarrin blinked. She never mentioned the Wikuni. All she said was what happened to the Urzani after-
– -Some Urzani built ships, then sailed into the Western Sea and disappeared!
"No!" Tarrin said in disbelief. "The Wikuni are descendents of the Urzani?" he gasped.
"That's right, my kitten," the Goddess chuckled. "The gods of the Wikuni drew the then-Urzani to them, and once they arrived in their new homeland, the gods there worked their power on them to change them. They altered their appearance and scoured the memory of the Urzani language and customs out of them, literally forming an entirely new race, with its own culture. Since those Urzani had been adventurous people, and happened to be mainly the upper stock of Urzani society, they evolved into a race of intelligent merchants with an almost obsessive bent for intrigue. The Wikuni have absolutely no idea that they are direct descendents of the Urzani, and that they're related to the Selani."
Tarrin was shocked. He never dreamed that the Wikuni had such an unusual beginning! They were originally the same race as Allia, and that Sha'Kar woman!
No, not Sha'Kar. Urzani!
Now he remembered her! He'd heard of her in stories. That Urzani woman who had goaded him into claiming his full power was Spyder!
"Correct again," the Goddess smiled down on him. "She is my oldest, most loyal servant."
"She has to be at least five thousand years old!" Tarrin gasped.
"Actually, she's closer to ten thousand," the Goddess replied dryly. "Spyder was alive during the Age of Dynasty. In fact, she was once the Empress." the Goddess laughed. "She wasn't a very good Empress, however."
That revelation boggled his mind so completely that he had to simply stop thinking about it.
"Now you may understand why Keritanima and Allia can use Sorcery. The ability has been suppressed in the other two branches of the Urzani line, but in Allia and Keritanima that ability has been reborn. In the beginning, only the Humans and that nameless parent race had the spark to be Sorcerers. All of their children retain that spark. And now that you are Were, the spark of Sorcery has been introduced into the Were-cat line. All of your children have the potential to be Sorcerers, just like their father."
Tarrin had to drastically realign his concept of the world. So many races, and they were all related in some way to some other race. It made the world seem much smaller than before.
It had been an eye-opening tale. The Goddess had never shared such obscure knowledge with him before, and in a way he felt privileged to hover there in her presence and hear the story of the origins of his sisters. It was strange to know that his own kind hadn't been one of the beginning sentient races, and neither were the Vendari.
It made him wonder at it, wonder why the Goblins faded away, and why their progeny were so violent and less technologically advanced. It made him wonder if all the Dwarves really were gone; after all, what if some of them fled across the sea, like the ancestors of the Wikuni? What if there were still Dwarven clans hiding in the mountains, as they had done after the Urzani conquered the world? And what of the Sha'Kar? Were they all truly gone, or were some of them hiding in some distant land, maybe the Utter East, or one of the dark continents beyond the Known World? The Humans and the Wikuni couldn't have been the only ones to set off for unknown places, to seek out new places to live. The Dwarves and Gnomes, the Sha'Kar and maybe even some of the original Urzani, maybe they too had had ancestors set out for some distant frontier and lose contact with the rest of the world. They could still be there, living their lives, unaware of the happenings in the Known World, or perhaps not wishing to know.
Tarrin twisted the manacle on his wrist absently, wincing as a burr on the underside pulled at the shaggy fetlock. He really had to do something about that.
"I think I see someone coming," Var announced as he returned from his hunt. Tarrin stood up, towering over the Selani Scout, looking in the direction he pointed, up into the sky. The light was bright, too bright to see clearly, so he bent down and donned the sun-dimming visor he kept near to him at all times. Var had an umuni hanging from a spear that Sarraya had Conjured for him, that night's dinner, and the smell of it made Tarrin's stomach growl. Var's incredible eyesight had indeed scouted out the two flying figures, two Aeradalla, some longspans away but flying in their direction.
It was about time.
"That's them," Tarrin agreed, taking off the violet visor and setting it on the ground beside him.
"Then the camp, we break it tomorrow, yes?" Jegojah asked from where he was training Denai.
Tarrin nodded. "This is all I was waiting for. We move tomorrow, and we're not going slow."
"Then the morning, we will part then, yes," the Revenant said. "Jegojah, he has his own mission now, yes. Kravon's blood sings to Jegojah, yes, and Jegojah must go and spill it."
"May all the gods bless you in your endeavor, Jegojah," Tarrin said seriously. "Remember to stick him a few times for me."
"Jegojah, he will cut off the vile Wizard's hands, just for ye," the Revenant cackled.
It was about sunset when the two Aeradalla landed. Ariana looked much better now, in a pair of clean breeches, soft leather boots, and a haltar embroidered with a drake hanging from her shoulders. She also wore a golden circlet over her head, entwined into her blue hair. The male Aeradalla looked much as Tarrin remembered, ruggedly handsome and much healthier now that he had been freed from the Crown's hypnotic allure. His skin was healthy, his muscles again strong and defined, and the pasty gauntness had been replaced by a healthy bronzed glow common for beings who lived their lives under the sun. His white-gold hair was tied back in a tail, clean and healthy now, framing a handsome face that filled out to show a young man with promising potential. Calm green eyes stared up at Tarrin, the eyes of a man of power.
But Tarrin was not put off by such men. He stared down at the smaller Aeradalla without expression, sizing the man up. A strong man, strong-willed. Ariana was right. This was a king that could retake his power from the men who had stripped it from him while he was ill.
The two of them looked around, and both stared quite a while at Jegojah. But the Revenant said nothing, simply standing off to the side with Denai, both of their weapons drawn. But they shook that off eventually, coming up to Tarrin.
"Tarrin," Ariana smiled, "may I present Andos, King of the Aeradalla. Your Majesty, this is Tarrin, the man who saved your life."
"He's alot taller than you said, Ari," Andos said, craning his neck to look up into Tarrin's eyes.
"I told you he was tall, Andy," Ariana laughed. "You just didn't want to believe me."
"Andy?" Tarrin asked curiously.
"Ari and I grew up together," Andos said with a grin. "I've never been able to get her to stop calling me that."
Tarrin looked at Ariana, and the woman blushed slightly.
So that was what this was about.
"What did you need to talk to us about?" Ariana asked quickly.
"I want to borrow about fifty of you for a while," Tarrin said bluntly. "An army is threatening the city of Suld, and a group of Aeradalla scouts would help keep the city out of their hands."
"That's what this is about?" Andos asked. "We don't get involved in the affairs of the humans, Were-cat. I appreciate you healing me, but I have to think about my people."
"This is about your people," Tarrin told him. "If that army takes Suld, they'll destroy the Tower of Six Spires. That will banish the Goddess of the Sorcerers from the world, and if that happens, the Weave will tear. That means that the magic that sustains your city will be disrupted," he said with a casual bluntness that made the Aeradalla flinch. "I'm not asking for an army. I only need fifty, and I don't expect any of them to fight. All they have to do is scout."
"You get to the point," the king of the Aeradalla said, a bit wanly. "No casual smalltalk, not even a hello. Right to the point."
"It saves time," Tarrin told him.
"How can I be sure of what you say?" he asked. "You're out here, alone, in the desert. How do you know all of this?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"If you're going to get any help out of me, you'd better make me understand," he challenged. "I won't even put fifty of my people in danger for no reason."
Tarrin could respect his morality, but his stubbornness was getting on his nerves, and he found himself mightily offended that the Aeradalla would think he was lying. He had become like Triana in that regard. Triana expected to be obeyed, if only because she was who she was. Tarrin found himself being irritated by this Aeradalla for exactly the same reason. Tarrin was the stronger. He was larger, and he knew he was right. He had fully expected the Aeradalla to submit out of hand, and it had been a bit of a surprise when he hadn't. And the sense that the Aeradalla seemed to think that Tarrin was lying made it even worse. Were-cats did not lie, and to even be accused of it was reason to fight to the death. Tarrin felt his dominance to be under challenge, and that provoked him to respond.
He drew himself up to his full, imposing height, then stared down at the much smaller Aeradalla like a parent scolding a child with his eyes. "I'm not used to being second-guessed by anyone, so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt that your intentions are good," Tarrin told him in a strong voice.
"What does that mean?" Andos asked, his own hackles starting to rise.
"It means that you just avoided getting killed," Denai said lightly.
"You're not serious!" Andos gasped.
"Quite serious," Var agreed.
"I don't play, Andos," Tarrin said in a flat voice. "I'm not used to being ordered around. I'll give you lattitude because I don't think you're used to it either, but don't question my honesty. If I even think you're accusing me of lying, I'll rip your wings off right here and now."
The Aeradalla paled slightly and almost took a step back. But he held his ground.
"I know because Jegojah over there-" he announced, pointing to the Revenant- "has personal knowledge of what's going on. He told me, I asked my Goddess to confirm it, and she did. What's going on in the West is very real, very serious, and if we don't put a stop to it, it's going to cause another Breaking. And what's worse, it will put the Firestaff in the hands of those that would use it to bring destruction to the entire world."
Tarrin saw that he had the man's attention now, so he patiently sketched out the basics of the enemy's plan. He watched Andos' eyes shift from surprise, to comprehension, then to horror when the ultimate goal of that plan became apparent. "I'm not asking you to fight this war. All I want is fifty Aeradalla to help scout out the enemy army and deliver messages too vital to be sent any other way. Once the fighting starts, they can leave. After all, they'll have done everything they'd been asked to do, and they wouldn't be needed anymore."
"You give a very convincing argument," Andos said, his eyes thoughtful, traces of his fear diminishing with his comprehension of the situation. "In fact, convincing enough for me to agree with your need. But I'm not going to order anyone into that kind of danger. I'll put a call out among my people for volunteers. Anyone wishing to help can do so, but I'll not make anyone go. Is that satisfactory?"
"That's good enough," Tarrin agreed.
"Well, you have one volunteer, Tarrin," Ariana broke in. "It's the least I can do for everything you've done for me."
Tarrin nodded in her direction. "It's too dark for you to go back now. You can leave in the morning."
And then he turned and walked away from them. He wasn't entirely sure he could be civil to Andos so long as he felt that the Aeradalla was challenging him.
Tarrin left them to stew over him on their own, sitting by the fire and staring into its depths, absently twisting the manacle on his wrist. He had said what he needed to say to Andos, and he didn't want to cause a scene by disemboweling a man he'd just asked for help. That seemed slightly counter-productive. He hadn't been quite as nice as he wanted to be, and things hadn't gone very well. It was more reasons to be a little aggravated with himself with the way he handled his request, but there was little he could do about it now. The moment was over, the damage was done. All he could do now was hope that Andos was too intimidated to go back on his promise to ask for volunteers.
Jegojah clanked to a halt and sat down by the fire beside him. "Abrupt, ye were, yes," he told him bluntly. Jegojah wasn't one to mince words, and Tarrin rather liked him for that.
"He offended me," Tarrin replied. "It was all I could do to be that civil."
Jegojah cackled. "A king, ye remind me of one, yes," he said. "Always expecting obedience. And power, ye give it off like heat from the fire, yes."
"Call it a racial quirk," he said calmly.
"Were-cats, they are all like ye?"
"Not all," he replied. "But we're all of a similar mindset. Any Were-cat would have stripped Andos of his skin if they thought he was accusing them of lying."
"That, it isn't the point, no," Jegojah elaborated. "A king, ye are, Were-cat, but a king in mind only. The regal command, it emanates from ye."
Tarrin looked at him, then chuckled ruefully. "If you're asking if all Were-cats are arrogant, I'd have to say yes," Tarrin told him with a dry smile.
"Jegojah, he meant no offense, no."
"None taken. I guess we are a pretty arrogant lot. Though I wouldn't call them that to their faces."
Jegojah cackled. "Jegojah, he thinks that that would be a bad idea, yes." He looked up at the setting sun, setting over the abandoned ruins of the city. "Jegojah, he thinks ye go about asking help the wrong way."
"Probably, but I really don't want an army from the Aeradalla. Just some scouts, to ferret out the opposition when they start to march."
"A good plan, that is, yes. But Jegojah, he thinks the Were-cat, he underestimates the worth of airborne troops, yes."
"Probably, but I'm not going to ask for more than they're willing to give."
"The key, it is to make them willing to give what ye want of them ," Jegojah said. "Politics, it is a part of being a general, yes. A general, he must know how to say what. As important, it is, as telling which unit to go where, yes."
Tarrin looked at Jegojah. Out of circulation for fifteen hundred years, and his insight seemed as valuable now as it would have been so long ago. "I'm no general, Jegojah. If anyone does the generalling, it's going to be Keritanima."
"Generalling? Jegojah, he think there's no such word," the Revenant cackled. "And Jegojah, he thinks that the Were-cat is being too modest. All alone, ye thought to bring together the Wikuni and the Arakites, yes. Alone, the Were-cat thought of the value of airborne scouts, yes, and already solved many problems, ye did, with the Ungardt and the Selani. Jegojah, he thinks the Were-cat would be as good a general as the Wikuni, yes."
Tarrin was slightly embarassed. "I'm no thinker, Jegojah. I can barely control myself. I don't need to be controlling other people."
"Do that, ye already do," Jegojah grinned that ugly grin. "Jegojah, he thinks there's quite a mind hiding under that fur. No confidence, ye have in it, no. Intimidated, ye are, by the Wikuni, intimidated to where ye believe she can do anything better than ye."
"It's not that easy," Tarrin told him. "I have a little problem called impulsiveness, Jegojah. I tend to fly off on the first idea that seems good, without thinking it all the way through, and I often end up going by the seat of my pants once that good idea pans out on me halfway into it. It's a racial quirk, but it makes me completely incompetent to lead an army. I'd have them charging off at the first notion that it's the best thing to do, and that would get them all killed. I'll leave the strategic planning for those that have the mind for it. I'm just not suited."
Jegojah cackled. "Knowing one's limitations, that's also a sign of a good general, yes," he said. "Jegojah, he would march under the Were-cat's command without hesitation, yes."
"You have nothing to lose."
Jegojah cackled even louder. "True, true, yes," he admitted. "Death, she has already claimed Jegojah."
"Is there a point here, or are you just trying to flatter me?"
The Revenant grinned. "Only this. Tread lightly, yes. Kings, they have egos to match their stations. Treating Andos like a child, it will harden him to ye, yes, and ye may need him later."
"I realized that after I walked away from him," Tarrin answered. "Sometimes it's hard for that side of me to realize that there are other kinds of power than what you can pack behind a fist."
"The Cat, he lives not in that world, no, so it is hard for him to understand," Jegojah said sagely. "But the Human, he knows. The Human, he should be guiding the Cat in this unknown territory. Yes."
And with that, Jegojah got up and wandered off into the night. The Revenant didn't sleep, so he amused himself at night by chasing the Sandmen around, and keeping an informal watch on the camp. They couldn't hurt him, and he rather enjoyed letting them try. The Revenant, Tarrin observed, had a rather strange sense of humor sometimes. But Tarrin had to agree with Jegojah's warning. Andos was a king, and that meant that he had some measure of ego. Tarrin had done more than step on it during their brief exchange, he had ripped it out of the Aeradalla, thrown it on the ground, then stomped on it repeatedly. But Tarrin's Were-cat pride and concept of the world wouldn't allow him to apologize, or even acknowledge that what he had done was wrong. In Tarrin's mind, he was still the dominant, so he could do anything he bloody well pleased. If they didn't like it, they could fight him over it. It was just that simple. The trick was at least getting the Cat to acknowledge that Andos was a powerful man, a man worthy of respect. The Cat didn't have to like him, but it had to respect the power that Andos could bring to bear. It was a different kind of power than the Cat usually acknowledged, an intangible power, but a viable one nonetheless.
He mulled that over for quite a while, until Ariana strode over and sat down beside him. He was curious, so he looked behind her, and saw that she had had to open her wings slightly so she could sit. A good amount of her white plumage was pressed against the sandy ground. Sitting on the ground like that wasn't easy for a being that had a wingspan of some twenty spans.
"It took me a while to calm Andy down," she told him. "What possessed you to talk to him like that?"
"Simplicity," Tarrin replied calmly. "He offended me, and I don't react well to being offended. Laying things out quickly kept him from getting in serious trouble."
"How did he offend you?"
"He questioned my words, and demanded I prove what I was saying. That's as good as accusing me of lying."
"Ah. I'll tell him about that, and warn him to choose his phrases more carefully next time."
"That would be a good idea. It would be a shame for you to lose your king so soon after getting him back."
Ariana laughed. "You certainly don't play around, don't you?"
"I'm too old to play," he grunted.
"Well, I don't know about that. Since we're talking about something related, I just have to know. What happened to you? You weren't this tall the last time we met."
"I came out second best in a fight with a Succubus," he answered honestly. "She drained me, but her power couldn't kill me. It aged me instead. My kind keep growing all their lives, so my body grew to reflect the years the Succubus drained out of me."
"Wow. I didn't know that."
"Very few people do."
"I guess it really is about age, isn't it?"
Tarrin glanced at her. "I guess so."
"Well, I think you look much more handsome now than you did then. Before, you looked like a boy. Now you look like a man."
"I'm thrilled you find me handsome, Ariana," he drawled. "It has drawbacks."
"What?"
Tarrin twisted a manacle. "The fetlocks, for one," he grunted. "They keep itching because of the manacles."
"Then take off those ugly things. Really, why do you wear them?"
"Because they remind me of the price I paid when I trusted someone," he said pointedly, intensely, staring at Ariana with an unwavering gaze. "They're there to make sure that I never make that mistake again."
"Wow, it must have been something pretty bad."
"You have no idea," he shuddered. "And it's something I don't want to talk about."
"Alright, but I think it must be pretty lonely."
"Lonely is far better," he said shortly.
She delicately let the matter drop. "If your city is so much danger, why don't I fly you there?"
"I can't do that," he told her. "My goddess told me I have to get to Suld on my own. I won't disobey her."
"Surely she didn't mean you couldn't get help from me."
"She made it very clear. I have to get there on my own."
"Well, then, that's what you'll have to do," she declared. "You should never disobey your god. It's a very stupid thing to do."
He nodded eloquently. "How did things turn out in the city?"
"Pretty well," she replied. "All that money you gave me ended up being for nothing, because Andy had the Palace Guard reassembled by the time I got back. By sunset the next day, he had full control of the city again, and the Council was in serious trouble. They got arrested for their crimes, and all the property they took was given back. I got my house back," she said triumphantly. "And I hope you don't mind, but I used the money you gave me to restart my trading business."
"I don't mind. We wouldn't have given it to you if we didn't want you to use it."
"Where is the Faerie, anyway?"
"Around here somewhere, but she should know better than to stay out after dark," he said, realizing that Sarraya still hadn't come back from her exploration of the ruins. "Jegojah, has Sarraya come back?" he shouted.
"Not yet. Jegojah, he will go get her," the Revenant called from the edge of camp. "The Faerie, she probably lost track of time again!"
"Most likely," Tarrin said in a quiet tone, agreeing with the undead warrior. "So, how long do you intend to string him along?"
Ariana blushed deeply. "I'm not-"
"Don't lie to me, Ariana," he said with a faint smile. "I'm not human or Aeradalla. I can smell it all over you. You can't hide it from me."
Ariana turned a deep shade of purple.
"It's nothing to be ashamed about," he told her calmly. "But lying to yourself is never a way to honor your feelings. If you want him, go get him. He's not going to fall into your lap. Well, unless you plan it out pretty well."
"I would, but I think he still thinks of me as the little girl he grew up with," she sighed. "I've done everything but throw myself at him, and all he does is laugh and call me silly."
"He doesn't think you're a little girl. Just as your scent can't hide your interest in him, his can't hide his interest in you. I can smell it on him. If you chase him, he won't run away from you."
"Are you serious?"
"Would I lie about something like that?" he said bluntly. "Sometimes I think it's a miracle other races manage to reproduce. You're all so incredibly silly about that kind of thing."
Ariana laughed nervously, blushing again. "I guess it's cultural," she said. "Little girls in our society aren't raised by their mothers to go chasing after the first boy that catches their fancy."
"Human girls are meant to be hard to get," Tarrin told her. "It's instinct."
"I'm not human."
"No, but you're probably related to them," he said evasively. "So that means that the instincts of humans are probably hiding inside you somewhere. One of them is 'women play hard to get'."
"I wonder why that is."
"Simple. A human male is looking for a loyal mate, who won't stray. If he has to work to get her, he's assured that she's not going to go running off after the first male that shows interest in her."
Ariana laughed. "I guess that makes sense."
"You other races wouldn't have half as screwed up a society as you have if you'd just listen to your instincts," he said accusingly.
"What's the custom of your people about marriage?"
"We don't marry," he replied. "There are seven females for every male, so marrying wouldn't work. Besides, Were-cats don't have the temperment to spend eternity with the same mate. We're transient beings. We take mates when the interest is there, and drift apart when the interest wanes. We don't form lasting attachments the way humans do."
"It sounds lonely. And what happens if you love your mate?"
"Love has nothing to do with being mates, Ariana," he said patiently. "I could love one Were-cat female, yet be mates with another. The love would have nothing to do with me being mates with the second."
"That sounds unnatural."
"Only to you," he replied. "Besides, you forget, we're a transient people. The love would fade over time, just as the interest does. At least the Were-cats don't try to fool themselves into thinking that love is eternal."
"You have a very cynical people, Tarrin," Ariana laughed. "Where's the romance and the poetry and the beauty?"
"Those aren't very common concepts among my people."
"It must be unbearable!"
"Not really. Were-cat females have as little patience about things like that as males. Females don't play games. They simply go after what they want."
"Without courting?"
"Courting among Were-cats begins and ends with 'do you want to sleep with me?'"
Ariana laughed. "Well, the poets among the Were-cats must have a hard time paying the bills."
"Probably. If there were any romantic poets."
"Well, have you ever loved someone?"
"Once," he sighed, thinking of Jesmind.
"What happened?"
"We tried to kill each other."
Ariana gave him a wild look, then burst out into gales of uncontrollable laughter. Tarrin didn't find it to be very funny, but if he were human, he had to admit that he probably would have. Not for what he said, but in the offhanded manner in which he said it. It almost did sound like a joke.
Jegojah strode into the campsite about then, carrying Sarraya by her wings, as the Faerie thrashed and hissed and threatened the Revenant with all manner of vile, ugly ways to die for a second time. Jegojah seemed thoroughly unimpressed by the Faerie's warnings, finally dropping her near the fire. Sarraya just barely managed to get her wings going before hitting the sandy ground. "Jegojah, he found the Faerie in one of the old buildings," he replied, "surrounded by Sandmen."
"They couldn't hurt me, you blockhead!" Sarraya screamed at him. "I was doing something important!"
"And what would that be?" Ariana asked.
"Oh, I see you're here," she said. "Well, I found a temple, and I was studying it. I was trying to find the names of the old Dwarven gods. I think that's some pretty important information."
"Important enough, it is not, to die over, no," Jegojah said. "One Sandmen, he was nearly inside the temple, yes."
"They can't enter it," Sarraya told him waspishly. "I know they can't, because they tried long before you got there. They won't come inside the temple's walls. And I have no idea why."
"Spirits, they can't enter ground consecrated to a god, no," Jegojah told her. "The power of the god, it repels them, yes."
"You mean all we had to do to get away from you was hide in a church?" Tarrin asked. "And how did you get on the Tower grounds? That's holy ground for my Goddess."
"Holy, yes, consecrated, no," the Revenant answered. "A difference, there is, yes."
The connection instantly clicked together in his mind. He remembered his talks with the Goddess about other gods, and the differences between Elder and Younger gods. "Wait a minute," Tarrin said quickly. "You said that the church repelled the Sandmen?"
Sarraya nodded.
"And that's an effect of consecrated ground?"
"It is," Jegojah affirmed.
"Then I think that the Dwarves aren't as extinct as people think," he announced quickly. "The gods of the Dwarves are Younger Gods. Their existence depends on worshippers. If that church's power is still in effect, then the god to whom it's consecrated still has to be alive. And that means that he has to have worshippers."
"That makes sense," Sarraya agreed. "I couldn't find a name anywhere in the temple. Or more to the point, I couldn't read anything. It's all in Dwarven."
"I doubt they'd be gracious enough to write things in a language you could understand, Sarraya," Tarrin said bluntly.
"You mean that there may be Dwarves still alive somewhere?" Ariana asked.
"I'm pretty sure of it," Tarrin replied. "They're probably living on some distant continent, far away from here, but there are still Dwarves. There have to be, if their god still has power in the world."
"Well, wonders never cease," Ariana smiled.
It made no difference to him one way or the other, but it seemed odd that they would discover that the Dwarves weren't really extinct. But that was a subject for another time. Tarrin was sleepy, and now that Sarraya was returned safely, he had no reason not to go to sleep. So he stood up long enough to shapeshift into cat form, then curled up into a comfortable ball by the fire.
"Jegojah, he will go," the Revenant said. "Jegojah, he wishes ye good night, yes."
Something about that tickled at Tarrin as he lay there, drifting off to sleep, listening to the Revenant's boots fade into the night. Just as he was about to slide into slumber, he realized that the Revenant probably wasn't going to come back. That didn't offend Tarrin, for Jegojah wasn't the kind to wax emotional. He was a pretty simple being, and he probably didn't want to get drowned in questions and farewells. He'd said his farewell, and that was that.
Tarrin sent a silent prayer to the Goddess that she watch over the Revenant, and get him to within sword's reach of their hated common enemy. And then he went to sleep.
The next morning dawned strangely calm for the desert. Tarrin, Sarraya, Var, and Denai were up with the sun, preparing to leave, as the two Aeradalla continued to sleep. He'd heard what he wanted to hear from Andos, so he saw no reason to remain for extended conversation. He'd wake them up right before he left, to tell them where to send the volunteers, and that would be that. Andos' attitude was dangerous to Tarrin, who found that he couldn't hold his annoyance at not being unconditionally obeyed in check. So the best thing to do was to simply cut their interaction as short as possible. Tarrin and Sarraya didn't travel with very much, and Selani were experts at packing a camp for the day's travel, so it only took a few moments to gather everything together, fill waterskins, eat breakfast, and be ready to leave. Jegojah had yet to return, and Tarrin knew that the odds that he would return were very slim. The Revenant could find them, and if he did intend to travel with Tarrin, he'd catch up. If not, Tarrin understood. Jegojah had a year and a day to hunt down and exact his vengeance on Kravon, and that meant that he couldn't just lay around and waste time. He'd already wasted two days staying with Tarrin, and those two days could possibly matter. Getting at Kravon wouldn't be as easy as walking into his study. Jegojah had to go through quite a few defenses, both magical and mundane, to get within sword's point of his hated tormentor. Jegojah had already decided to leave, last night, and Tarrin wished him good luck and good hunting.
Ariana came out of the tent she'd shared with Andos just as the Selani shrugged their packs into place. Her blue hair was dishevelled and her halter was skewed, making it apparent that Ariana was not a morning person. She yawned widely, but her eyes came alert when she saw the five of them getting ready to leave. "You're leaving now? Without waking us up?" she demanded.
"We were going to wake you before we left," Tarrin told her. "Actually, since I can talk to you and not Andos, it's probably for the best."
"Why is that?"
"Your king annoys me," he replied bluntly. "If you do have any other volunteers, tell Andos to have them fly to Suld. The Sorcerers there will be expecting them, and they'll be working out of the Tower."
"I can do that, but I was hoping we could at least eat breakfast together."
"I have a long way to go, Ariana, and I don't have much time to get there. I have to get to Suld before the ki'zadun's army does. I'll be running Var and Denai so hard they may have to stay behind."
"I told you before, you can't outrun a Selani, Tarrin," Denai challenged. "Especially me."
"We'll see about that, Denai," he said calmly.
"If they may slow you down, why are you taking them?" Ariana asked.
"Because they know the desert," he replied. "Right now, I need the fastest route to the closest pass through the Sandshield. Var and Denai can give me that route."
Var nodded. "We are about a tenday and a half from the North Pass, but the weather is going to make it a dangerous journey across."
"Danger isn't an issue now, Var," Tarrin told him bluntly. "Just get me to that pass. I'll worry about how I'm going to cross it."
"Denai is going to have to get you to that pass, Tarrin," Var said mildly. "I have to go back."
"Why?" Sarraya asked.
"My clan should be moving in this direction by now," he replied. "I have to meet them and tell them what's going on. Don't worry, we'll probably be in Suld before you will, Tarrin," Var smiled lightly. "Few can match the speed of a Selani clan on the march."
"I'll miss your company, Var," Tarrin said honestly.
"It won't be for long," Var smiled. "It will only take my clan about ten days to cross what took you a month. You weren't really moving very fast. We'll only be about ten days behind you."
"I want you to make sure your people understand that I'm not asking this of them, Var," Tarrin said.
"We know. That is why we'll be there."
"Good enough, then," Tarrin said. Var extended his hand, and Tarrin clasped it in his paw, swallowing it up. "Safe journey. May you find cool shade and sweet water."
"May the winds ever be at your back, Tarrin," Var told him.
Denai hovered around Var as Sarraya said her goodbyes, then pulled him off behind a tent for some personal farewells, that would probably best be conducted outside the eyes of the others.
Tarrin saw no reason to linger. Everything was ready. Denai could catch up, as could Jegojah, if he chose to do so. He had no reason to stay.
"Be there for me, Ariana," he said calmly. "I'll see you in Suld."
"You're leaving right now? Stupid question," she laughed. "I'll be there waiting for you, Tarrin. You may even see us fly overhead while you're on your way."
She stepped up and hugged him, which took Tarrin off guard. He wasn't used to such intimate contact with someone he still considered a stranger. But he kept his fear and his surprise in check, though the claws on his paws did reflexively extend before he got himself under control Ariana had no idea how close she came to getting hurt.
Tarrin pushed her away, looking down at her with his emotionless expression. "I'll see you in Suld," he repeated, then without another word, he turned and started walking out of camp.
"Tarrin, you clod, at least let me say goodbye!" Sarraya fumed at him.
"You can catch up," he called over his shoulder.
And so, Tarrin walked slowly away from the unnamed ruin of the Dwarven city, alone. He didn't really know why he was so intent on leaving, so much so that he wasn't willing to wait for the others, but it was something strong enough to do.
Sarraya caught up with him a few moments later, and she didn't look very happy. "Do you know that you are the rudest person I've ever known?" she demanded hotly. "Why I ever accepted you into Fae-da'Nar is beyond me!"
"Live with it," Tarrin said in a cool voice.
That effectively shut Sarraya up. She flew along with him in sulky silence until Denai trotted up to them some time later, after they had ascended the shallow valley that held the ruin and found themselves looking out over a barren expanse of windswept desert, with very little vegetation, but many rocks of various sizes to cover the desert floor in their place. "You're mean, Tarrin," Denai accused. "I didn't have half as much time with Var as I wanted."
"You can undress Var later," Tarrin told her, in a manner that even made the Selani blush. "Which way do we go?"
"We want the fastest route to the Sandshield? Does danger matter?"
"No."
"My, you're curt today," Denai huffed, pointing northwest. "Then we want to go that way. It will bring us close to an oasis we'd be better off avoiding, but you said danger is no concern."
"What's wrong with that oasis?" Sarraya asked curiously.
"Nothing, it's a lush place that actually has a small forest, but that means that it's infested with kajat and inu. The trees give them cover, so they can get too close to you before you know they're there."
"The Selani aren't used to that kind of terrain, Denai. I am," Tarrin told her calmly. "I know how to kill kajat and inu."
"We noticed. Were you going out of your way, or did that many actually come after you?"
"Both," Sarraya laughed. "Whever Tarrin felt testy, he'd hunt down a playmate."
Denai chuckled. "Well, are you ready to get left behind?" she said in a swaggering tone to Tarrin.
Tarrin snorted shortly, then picked up into a loping pace.
Denai was a true Selani, and that meant that she knew how to run. She could run at high speeds for long periods of time, and there were only a handful of non-Selani that could keep up with her. Even fewer of them could overtake her, and fewer than that could run her into the ground. Tarrin proved that he was one of those few. The uncertainty with what was going on in Suld had him worried, and he was intent to get there as quickly as possible, now that he had nothing holding him in place. So the pace he set leaving the Dwarven city could only be called murderous, so demanding that even Tarrin had begun to feel the effects of it after a half a day. Tarrin's inhuman endurance, bolstered by his regenerative powers, was put to the test with the pace he set for himself, a pace that left him weak and exhausted by sunset.
The effect it had on Denai was much, much worse. The Selani refused to be left behind, refused to admit that she couldn't keep up, so she pushed herself beyond her limits. Denai's intensely competitive nature had made keeping up with Tarrin a holy crusade, something which would not end in failure. To her credit, she had managed to keep up with him for a majority of the day, but then the effects of the heat and the exercise had begun to take their toll, and she started lagging behind more and more. Tarrin slowed up from time to time during the afternoon to make sure that she was still following, but those were the only repreieves he granted himself. Denai had no chance to rest, no chance to slow down, pushing herself to keep up with Tarrin. By the time they stopped, near sunset, Tarrin and Sarraya already had camp made by the time Denai staggered into camp. And all she did was wobble over to the fire, panting heavily, then collapse in the soft sand. Only her labored breathing assured them that she was still alive.
"Poor thing," Sarraya crooned. "You pushed her too hard, Tarrin."
"She pushed herself. All she had to do was tell me to slow down."
"She'd die before doing something like that, you know. Her honor wouldn't allow it."
"I'll slow down a little tomorrow," he promised.
"You did that just to prove to her that she was wrong, didn't you?"
Tarrin only gave her a slight smile, then his expression melted back into that emotionless, stony mask.
"And they think you don't have a sense of humor," Sarraya laughed. "Jegojah hasn't caught up yet."
"I don't think he's going to. I think he's started out after Kravon. Jegojah said his goodbye last night, but I don't think anyone except me noticed. And I think that's the way he wanted it."
"Well, I hope he has good luck," Sarraya chuckled.
Tarrin did slow down to a less murderous pace the next day, and the days thereafter, but it was still a pace that gave Denai serious problems. To her credit, she refused to be left behind, keeping up with them, but the effort left her all but incapacitated during the nightly camps. She would splay herself on the ground, trying to recover after they pulled in and the others made camp. Then she would eat what was offered to her, drink enough to restore her body's water, and then immediately go to sleep, wherever she happened to be at that moment. Tarrin had to carry her into her tent every night and tuck her in, a chore which he didn't mind all that much. He warned Denai that he wasn't going to dawdle, not with such an important reason to return to Suld, but he was starting to get concerned that the exertion was going to be bad for her. Denai had seemed like a little girl to him, a child, and that gave him reservations about what his pace was doing to her.
Six days after they started out, the terrain began to change. Rock spires began to appear again in the landscape, and the vegetation began to thicken considerably. Tarrin decided that it was time to start stopping during the midday heat in the shade of one of those spires to give Denai a little rest. She was just fine until the noonday, when the blistering heat of the desert sucked all the strength out of her and left her struggling for the afternoon. Denai didn't say much about the stop, but the relief and gratitude was written all over her face as they pulled in. Denai even built a fire and hunted down a handful of good-sized rabbits to serve as a noontime meal.
"I wonder why we haven't seen the Aeradalla," Denai mused. "They should have reached us by now."
"We won't see them, Denai," Sarraya told her. "They'll fly south of us. For them, Suld is reached faster by a more southerly route. They don't have to go to a pass to get over the mountains."
"I didn't think of that. It must be wonderful to fly," she said in a dreamy tone.
"I thought it was pretty nice," Tarrin said absently.
"You flew?"
"Ariana brought us down from the top of the Cloud Spire," he told her.
"Sometimes I dream about having wings too," she admitted in a distant tone. "But I guess it's just a silly daydream. The Holy Mother never meant for us to fly, or she'd have given us wings too."
"Daydreams are never silly," Sarraya told her.
"How far are we away from this forest?"
"We'll reach it tomorrow," Denai replied. "We should be able to skirt around its edge. We're about seven days from the Sandshield. Maybe five, if we keep running like we have."
"Six," Tarrin told her. "We're keeping the pace, but we'll stop during the midday from now on."
"Thank the Holy Mother," Denai said with an explosive sigh. "How do you stand running in the heat?"
"I told you before, Denai, heat doesn't bother me," he told her. "This-" he said, holding out his arms- "means nothing to me."
"You should have been born Selani," Denai grinned.
Tarrin twisted the manacle on his arm in irritation, wincing when it pulled out a few strands of fur.
"You should take them off, Tarrin," Denai told him. "I know they mean something to you, but if they're bothering you that much, you should take them off."
"It wouldn't be the same."
"Would it? Just carry them around with you. That way they're always there for whatever reason you keep them, but they're not tearing the fur out of your arms in the process."
Tarrin looked at Denai, and he could find no logical argument to deny her suggestion. He looked at Sarraya, who only laughed and winked at him, saying "don't look at me. I'd rather see you without them myself. I'm not going to give you a reason to refute Denai."
It may have been logical, but the illogical reasons were strong. It just wouldn't seem right to not wear the manacles. What they represented was more important than getting the fur pulled out of his arms. They were a reminder of the price of trust.
But what did that mean to him now? He had become more trusting, despite the manacles. He had accepted Sarraya and Phandebrass and Camara Tal. He had accepted Var and Denai, had found it in himself to resist his paranoid fear of strangers when necessary. The manacles reminded him of the price of putting his trust in strangers. Var and Denai, Camara Tal and Phandebrass, and especially Sarraya, they had proven their worth to him. They weren't strangers anymore. He still suspected and feared strangers. Did he need the manacles to remind him of that now?
"I'm going to get some rest," Denai said. "I'm going to need it."
Denai laid down by the extinguished fire, and Tarrin laid back and looked up at the sky. The Skybands were widening slowly as they moved northwest, and now they were the same width as he remembered them from Aldreth, his home. Aldreth. He hoped the village was alright. He'd come out into Arkis far to the north. and he'd be using the Skydancer mountains as a reference while he crossed the Frontier. He'd come very close to Aldreth. If he set his course right, he'd come out in Aldreth. Part of him wanted to do that. With all the stories over what happened when the Dals invaded, he wanted to go there, to his old home, go there and make sure everything was alright. And it would be nice to go back, back to the farm, look around and remember his past before being turned. It seemed so distant to him now, going there would be like a reminder of a life long lost, a reinforcement of who he was and where he had come from. No matter who or what he was now, he had started as Tarrin Kael, a young villager from Aldreth, who had lived on an isolated farmstead just far enough away from the others to make it feel like his family had the whole world to themselves. Those were good times, and he'd like to go back there and relive them again, if only for a day. To remember what he often refused to allow himself to remember, afraid of the nostalgia and bitterness it may bring in him. He was who he was. The villager boy he had been was long gone, and there was no going back. But it would still be nice to go home.
Aldreth was the only home he had ever known, and even now, with everything that had happened, it was still the only place he thought of when someone mentioned home. It was the place he imagined when someone talked about family. It was where he was meant to be, despite all the craziness that had sent him halfway across the world.
It was home.
Tarrin held up an arm, looked at the manacle there. Maybe. He might take them off, someday. His attitudes had changed since he had decided to leave them on, changed greatly. But not enough. Just as his fur and tail and claws and ears were, the manacles were a part of him, defined a part of himself, and he wouldn't abandon that just because of a little discomfort. Good or bad, they were a part of him, and they would remain.
For a while longer.
To: Title EoF