The following morning broke grey and soft rain misted the valley. Cailin had breakfast in one of the large kitchens before making his way to the stables, and the giant cat that had piqued his curiosity. He found Kuro sitting by the entrance to the shed, trying very unsuccessfully to keep out of the light rain.
A good morning, is it not? The cat’s voice sounded in Cailin’s mind. Cailin bowed, holding the cloak he threw on on his way out closed against a gentle gust of wind, and responded in kind. Indeed it is, great one. If you like wet feet, that is. Kuro bared his teeth, as long as Cailin’s hand from wrist to fingertip, and purr-laughed at his comment.
I enjoy your humor, Cailin; the huge animals voice had more than a touch of joviality as it floated through Cailin’s mind. He rumbled a few more laughs before settling down, and fixed the man with an intent stare. I promised you answers. I assume you are here to get them. Kuro settled himself under the awning before the sheds door, lying flat on his belly with his front paws curled under his chest.
Cailin nodded and settled himself in front of the cat, his legs folded under him and his cloak wrapped around him. The cat took its time, cleaning one of his paws and flexing his claws before he began speaking.
Where to begin…; the cat mused. He yawned, and Cailin was shocked at how immensely large his mouth was at full stretch. Kuro licked his lips after the yawn, then fixed the human with his glowing eyes. The birth and purpose of the stones, and the birth and purpose of us, the mountain cats, I think.
The giant cat licked his lips again, his eyes sliding half closed as he began. The stones, Cailin, were born from a great hunger. A hunger for power and domination. A hunger to corrupt and control others. The power they offered was the power that would consume and destroy the one wielding it, and for that reason, they were sealed away in that cave. Chance, it seems, is a fickle mistress. Kuro paused, flexing his paws, his great claws sliding out of their sheaths to dig into the soft ground before him.
The golden eyes focussed on Cailin again. Understand, Cailin. It is the power to destroy life, while making the suffering bound up in the dying unending. Immortality and oppression, until the last sun sets. He leaned back as the comprehension dawned in Cailin’s eyes. But thats monstrous, Kuro… Cailin’s voice was soft in Kuro’s mind.
Kuro nodded, crossing his wrists on the ground before him. Distant thunder rumbled over the cliffs, the cascade rolling over the cliff to fall on the forest below. The man and the cat looked at each other. Cailin’s expression, the cat noted, had become very determined. He has courage… Kuro thought to himself.
What is your place in this? Cailin’s voice was underscored by steel, a perfect match to his expression. I think I need to know, Kuro. The cat nodded. We were bred and transformed by magic, to guard artifacts like those stones. Yes, several such artifacts exist. For a moment Kuro fell silent, seemingly lost in thought, then continued; My pride had been guarding those caves for several decades. But, like the stones, they have been destroyed. He glanced at his mother, sleeping in the shed. We are all that remain…
Cailin gently laid a hand on one massive paw. I share your pain, my friend; he said to the giant cat. Kuro nodded, the gesture accepted, then said softly; It was Petram that destroyed them. A chill wind blew a light misting of rain under the awning, but neither man nor cat reacted. Cailin could see the pain of loss in the great golden eyes, and shared in that sorrow.
A moment more, the two sat in silence. Then Kuro shook his head, and yawned. Cailin was again struck by how truly massive the animals jaws and teeth were. What could stand against this creature, Cailin thought to himself. When Kuro had finished yawning, he continued.
That is how we ended up here in this valley, Cailin. We were tracking Petram, in order to return the stone, and most likely kill Petram if he did not give it up willingly. He surprised us… The cat’s tone was deliberately nonchalant, but Cailin could still see the pain in his eyes. And the caution. He immediately moved to reassure the animal, and said; Do not be afraid, Kuro. I will not bear a grudge against you and I’m sure that Kal won’t either. After all, his blood is on MY hands, not yours.
Kuro nodded his thanks, and they spoke for another hour as the rain waxed and waned, Kuro telling Cailin of the properties of the stones, how his pride was chosen specifically for the task of protecting the stones, and their immunity to its corrupting influence, how Petram had discovered the cave and how he had destroyed Kuro’s pride.
A million questions floated through Cailin’s mind, but they were cut short by the sudden tolling of a bell in the fortress. Cailin rose to his feet, his head cocked to the sound, listening to the chimes floating through the grey air. Three times the bell rang, then twice more after a short pause. Kal had called a meeting.
Kuro also rose, and turned towards the shed. I will return later, my friend. He said to the giant cat as he turned and made his way into the rain. Kuro nodded, and flowed into the shed with a flick of his tail. Cailin watched him curl up around the other cat, before pulling up his hood and heading inside. As he climbed the steps to the massive wooden doors, a flicker at the edge of his hood caught his attention.
He paused at the top of the steps, his hand but a breath away from the silver seal inlaid in the wood, and swept his eyes over the courtyard, from the stables from where he had come all the way around the massive yard to the armory at the other end. But he saw nothing but puddles of water rippling with raindrops and gardens of flowers, bending under the weight of the water. He shrugged, then laid his hand on the seal, willing the doors open and stepping inside.
Cailin headed up to Kal’s study after hanging his cloak to dry by the doors. His was not the only wet cloak there, and a small puddle had formed under them. Cailin felt a chill. Unless he missed his guess, several of the others who had gone out into the world, had returned. The masters often took trips out into the world out of the valley, for trading, for supplies. For information.
He climbed the long spiral staircases and corridors to Kal’s study, and stepped inside a quarter hour later. Kal’s study was a cavernous room with a long, tall window that let in plenty of light, even on a day as gray as this. The room was lined with bookshelves holding hundreds of volumes on every subject imaginable, from the arcane to the mundane. Cailin always felt small in this room. Today he felt even smaller.
Kal sat in one of the conversation circles, the largest, large enough to set twenty men. At least half of the seats were filled. He waved to Cailin to take a seat, and Cailin chose a spot in a relatively open section of the circle. The floor in the circle was carpeted, and the chairs all had high backs and armrests. One of the staff offered Cailin a mug of a hot, tangy brew made by one of the cooks, which he gratefully accepted.
Kal nodded to Cailin, then to the figure standing in the centre of the circle. The figure was cloaked and wore the hood up. The figure nodded, and continued in a voice like black silk. The cloaked figure was a woman, and a dangerous one judging by the tone of her voice, Cailin thought to himself as she spoke. She spoke only to Kal, but the others in the room was also silent, listening to her words.
“The capital has been… liberated, is the word being thrown around, I believe. Being drowned in lawlessness, is closer to the truth. The army camps outside the city, ‘maintaining order’.”; she snorted. Cailin saw her hands move under the cloak, gripping a weapon if he had to guess. “They have a puppet installed as the ruler, but true power comes from the shadows. The priest, Geros.”; she spat. “Whatever goes on in that palace, it doesn’t sound very religious.”
Kal nodded, stroking his beard as he listened attentively. He rose, bowing to the woman still hiding in her cloak. “Thank you, Liran. Please accept our hospitality before you return.” The woman, Liran, shook her head in polite decline. “Thank you, Kal. But my brother is waiting for me, and we must return to the capital. We all need to know more about this.” With that, she spun and strode out of the study, slamming the door behind her.
Kal sat quietly for several minutes, his fingers steepled before him, a look of deep thought on his face. Cailin took a sip of his brew, as did a few of the others as they waited for Kal to speak. Cailin glanced around at the group, several magicians, artisans and warriors sat in the circle. So much power in such a small group, Cailin mused to himself. Why are we all here?
Kal rose to his feet, looking at the group before him. Cailin could feel the anticipation in the air, the tension and the concern. Something was brewing out in the world and he had the feeling that it was about to spill over into the quiet peace of the valley he called home. Kal nodded to him, and folded his hands before him.
Before he could speak, the large windows behind him exploded inward. A wave of force powered through the study, carrying pieces of thick glass with it, driving them through the air like arrows. Cailin had a but a moment to throw his arms up before the wave of debris knocked him and his chair over, sending him tumbling over the floor.
Kal had even less time, a weak shield springing up behind him, but not before several shards had struck him, slicing into his flesh. Pandemonium reigned in the large room, the cloud of shards sending everyone diving to the floor. Cailin had curled into a ball by the wall where he and several others had fallen, and stole a glance through his crossed arms.
A shadow had appeared by the windows, black cloak flaring like wings as he appeared to curve into the room. A hand, clad in black fabric, rose from the shadow, arcs of lightning jumping between the spread fingertips. The arcs ran down to the dark palm, gathering there in a swirling mass of lightning. Cailin could only watch, the glass tornado roaring in the room, keeping everyone low on the floor. Cailin could see several puddles of blood starting to form.
As he stared in helpless fury, movement at the corner of his eye drew his attention. Blake, the smith, had risen to one knee, his heavy hammer already tumbling through the air towards the shadow. A sickening crack sounded as the hammer hit the shadowy figure just above the wrist. The shadow screamed, and the glass shards exploded outward, translucent blades streaking in every direction.
Cailin covered himself, hearing and feeling the glass slam into the wall above him. When the screamed died away, Cailin uncurled himself enough to see the shadow spin towards the window and leap out into thin air. He didn't hesitate, but pushed himself off the wall and onto his feet, already sprinting towards the window.
As he dove out the window, he had a momentary glimpse of Blake stretching out his hand and his mouth forming words, but he was out of reach and heard nothing but a roaring in his ears. Cailin could see the shadow, already far below him, connected to a thin line running past Cailin towards the top of the fortress.
The air screamed past Cailin, diving with his hands outstretched towards his target, growing bigger in his sight. He also saw the ground approaching very rapidly. A moment later, he grabbed the shadow’s cloak, and the line. Pulling his legs in, Cailin turned in the air, putting his boots in the small of the assassins back and pulling down as hard as he could on the rope. The pain seared his palms and joints instantly, as the line snapped taut.
The sudden direction change was devastating. Where a moment before they had been travelling straight down, the momentum snapped sideways. With Cailin’s boots in the small if the shadows back, he could clearly feel bones break, even as his own arms were wrenched almost to their breaking point. He knew he wouldn't be working the sword for a while.
The shadow screamed again, a red cloud erupting from under its hood, somehow still in place after the fall. As they swung, Cailin bent his knees, the body below him also being pushed into the soles of his feet. Just before their arc passed halfway, Cailin kicked as hard as he could, sending the shadow slamming into the stones of the great courtyard with incredible force, the shadow bouncing once in a windmill of arms and legs, then sliding at least fifteen meters before coming to a stop.
When the line had swung back, as low to the ground as possible, Cailin let go, falling hard and rolling a few times to end up on his side next to the great steps. He lay still for a time, his body in roaring agony. Even opening his eyes hurt, and his vision was blurred, with a reddish tinge over everything. Great; he thought to himself; I’m bleeding again.
He slowly started to force himself to put the pain aside, as he had been trained, and started to get to his feet. He staggered over to the shadow lying a ways across the courtyard, every step bringing fire to his legs to match the hammering pain in his shoulders, elbows and wrists. When he finally reached the shadow, he fell to his knees beside it and pushed aside the hood.
The face looking up at him was so ordinary, so plain if somewhat pale and thin, blood running from his nose, eyes and ears, jaw visibly broken in several places and the right side of his face caved in. Probably hit the stones face first, Cailin thought. He groaned as he started searching the body.
He tried to open the shirt, but couldn’t. A silver glint at the assassins neck caught his eye, and Cailin pulled out a pendant, a golden disc marked with lines that was icy cold in his hand. He tried to undo the clasp, but again was unable to, so he took as firm a grip as he could and pulled until the chain snapped. He fell on his back, a grinding groan erupting from his mouth, followed by pained panting.
When he managed to control the pain again, and get back to his knees, he noticed the hilt of a knife peeking out from under the body. He slowly pushed the cloak aside, his hands not completely obeying him but managing to grip the handle. As the blade slid free from under the body, Cailin saw that it was a short, but broad bladed sword. The hilt also had the lines marking it, as did the blade itself.
He held it up before him, noting the pattern on the blade ran into the crossguard and onto the hilt, finally coming together on the pommel. The sword felt cold to Cailin’s touch, and he cast it aside, then leaned forward again to continue searching. As he worked, he noted an odd thing. For all the blood in the clothes, very little was on the stone beneath him. He glanced around at the path the body had made over the stones. A broad streak of blood marked it clearly.
The blood was moving. It was flowing towards the dead man. Cailin blinked a few times, wiping the blood from his eyes and looked again to make sure. The blood really was flowing towards the corpse before him. He watched, horrified, as the corpse’s face slowly reconstructed itself, accompanied by the sickening crack of broken bones fitting themselves back together.
Cailin staggered to his feet, as the chest of the dead man started to rise and fall, and his limbs started twitching. He staggered back a few steps as the body lifted off the ground, twitching in midair as the last of the damage was reversed. The blood made a crimson bridge between the assassins feet and the pool below it.
The last of the blood flowed into the body hanging in front of Cailin, and the head tilted down and opened its eyes. A slight yellow haze drifted through the whites, and the assassin smiled down at Cailin. The smile put ice in Cailin’s veins, and he started rolling his shoulders and wrists, trying to get rid of as much pain as possible. Pure fear blossomed in his heart as the assassins lips pulled back to reveal long incisors, almost like fangs.
The assassin settled to the ground without a sound, and casually pulled his hood back up. “Brave warrior….”; his voice was like rotten flesh dragged over stone. “Brave of you to face one such as me….” The smell of the assassins breath made Cailin gag, but his eyes stayed on the thing before him. The assassin, curiously, was also rolling his shoulders, flashes of discomfort flitting across his face.
Cailin said nothing, feeling the pain drop to manageable levels in his shoulders. There was nothing to say, so he slowly slid down into a ready stance, rolling his left shoulder forward as his left foot slid forward. He clenched his fists for a moment, and shook his arms once to give his muscles and joints a last moment of rest before raising his hands one before his face, the other on his hip.
The assassin merely threw back his head and laughed. “You wish to face me unarmed? You wish death upon yourself.” The creature laughed, then struck with the speed of a viper. Cailin barely had a chance to roll his head away before claws flashed past his eyes. He took three steps back, circling left and away from the assassin, but the thing followed him, claws flashing with every step.
A whisper of doubt floated in the man’s mind. He couldn’t face something so fast. But as soon as the thought began, Cailin crushed it. Cailin drew on the single aspect of magic he was comfortable with, and felt power flow through his legs, his body and arms, and his eyes. He needed to SEE. And he needed to see everything.
As he kept circling, the assassin kept following, in a broadening spiral in the courtyard. Cailin watched, waited and finally saw his opening. He abruptly stepped forward, locking the assassins arm just below the elbow with his own.He yanked the thing towards him before it could react, and drove his knee up into it’s groin. It grunted, and Cailin smashed his forehead into the creatures face.
The assassin swung wildly with its other arm, trying to claw Cailins face, but Cailin caught its wrist. He slipped his front leg through the assassin’s, and with brute force started bending the assassin backwards. The thing hissed at him and Cailin forced himself not to notice the creatures inhuman stench. Further, Cailin pushed it, his knee in the small of the assassins back.
The hiss abruptly became a scream, as with a sickening crack, Cailin broke the assassins back. Cailin let the thing go, dropping the limp body as he stepped back. And watched and waited. He did not have to wait long, and within a few moment he saw the feet begin to twitch, as faint sounds could be heard, the sounds of bones moving and settling back into place. The yellowish eyes popped open and found Cailin’s face, and the sickening grin was back on its face.
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Cailin took a few steps back, a sudden breeze pulling at his clothes and his hair. He set himself again as the assassin shook itself once. Cailin blinked twice before he believed what he was seeing. The creature had begun blurring, and was slowly splitting into two distinct shapes. Two assassins now stood before Cailin, both grinning maliciously and flexing their claws.
He snatched a glance around the courtyard but saw nowhere that would give him an advantage, and no weapons aside from the sword he had thrown aside earlier. Unfortunately there were two creatures standing between him and the blade, with no way around them, as he saw things unfolding. He took a deep breath and pulled as much magical power into his limbs as he dared, pushing his body to its very limit.
When they came, they came in a rush. Cailin found himself being easily driven back across the courtyard, dodging claws and occasionally fangs that snapped at his forearms. No opening for retaliation showed itself, and he could sense that he was almost to the stables, where his available space would decrease in a heartbeat, and his heart would probably stop beating altogether.
Cailin ducked a wild swipe from one of the assassins and dove to his right, trying to get out of the corner the things were backing him into. Unfortunately, the other assassin had launched a kick that caught Cailin squarely on the chin, snapping his head back and turning his dive into a graceless tumble.
He rolled back to his feet as quickly as he could, but was bowled over as the two creatures slammed into him, hard enough to make his head bounce off the stone. As he watched, stunned, one got up and stood back with its arms folded, its yellowish eyes glinting from the shadows of its hood while the other, still on top of him, grabbed him by the throat and cocked its other arm with claws extended, preparing to drive them into Cailins eyes.
Cailin struggled, but the weight on his chest and arms effectively immobilised him, allowing only his head and legs to move. And he couldn’t move either far enough to gain any leverage. The thing’s weight was disproportionate to its size. He bared his teeth in a snarl at the creature pinning him down, glaring into the yellowish eyes as its claws began their descent.
Time seemed to slow as Cailin snarled at his approaching death. The creature's fetid breath washed over Cailin’s face, the rotten teeth clearly visible in the shadow of its hood. He tried to roll his head aside but the claws shifted in their path to follow. He opened his mouth to scream at the assassin about to take his life.
A black-gray blur shot past, and the assassin was torn off of Cailan's chest. He rolled over a few times, the pain erupting from his arms making him pant as he started to force himself to his feet. He glanced around as an inhuman shriek filled the air, just in time to see the great jaws of the giant cat closing over the assassins head and rip it off.
Blood fountained from the body as Kuro hissed at the other assassin, his tail swinging and his ears laid back. The cat lowered his belly close to the ground, his hind paws tucked under him. In a smooth motion, he launched himself at the assassin, jaws open and claws fully extended.
At the last moment, the assassin slipped away from Kuro’s claws and bloodied teeth, its own claws raking the giant cats flank. Kuro roared in pain, swinging one massive paw at the assassins head but missing by a wide margin. The assassin spun around to face the cat, his cloak flaring like huge black wings.
Cailin! Kuro’s voice snapped through his mind, sharp and urgent. The head, or the heart. It is the only way to kill them! Rip its heart out or tear its head off! The cat had spun around to face the creature again, blood matting its fur on one side. He roared again and charged at the assassin, and the assassin responded with a hiss of its own as it leapt towards the cat.
The two came together in a storm of fur and claws, tumbling and slashing their way across the paving stones. Cailin, unsteady but on his feet, pressed his palms together before his chest and drew deeply on his magic, pouring it into his burning body, forcing the pain aside and took off towards the fray. As he ran he leaned down and grabbed the assassin’s blade, ignoring the icy cold that emanated from it.
Three steps later he spun into the battle, driving a shoulder into Kuro’s flank and throwing him wide of a slash from the assassin’s claws. In his sprint he had laid the blade along his forearm, and used it to catch the creatures claws and turn them aside. The assassin hissed at Cailin, snapping a kick into his stomach and driving him back several steps. As he recovered, Kuro flowed past him, taking the assassin head on in a fury of claws and teeth.
Cailin was gulping for breath, and he could sense that his body was nearing its fatal limit. He needed to end this battle quickly. The fall from the fortress window, the injuries and the constant use of magic to sustain and strengthen him were all taking its toll. He held one hand up before his face, seeing the terrible tremors shaking him like a leaf in the wind.
Kuro roared again, landing a blow that sent the assassin flying and rolling across the stone. Cailin glanced at the assassin’s other body, and saw that a fine red mist was rising from the corpse. He grit his teeth and turned his attention back to the battle. Kuro had pounced on the assassin and was furiously trying to dig a hole in its chest while simultaneously trying to clamp his jaws around its head or neck.
The assassin, now fighting for survival, was stabbing and slashing at the giant feline on top of it. Several of its attacks made contact, and Kuro’s fur was again being rent and torn, and matted with his blood. Cailin got a firmer grip on the blade, and ran towards the combatants. The creature had pulled its feet up to its middle, managing to get them wedged into Kuro’s midsection and with a mighty thrust, threw the cat off, before staggering to its feet.
Cailin closed the distance as the monster turned toward him, its wounds already closing and that vicious grin on its face. The assassin faced Cailin, its feet spread and its claws open and ready. It hissed again, taking a step forward with its claws extended. Cailin darted in, grabbing the assassins’ right wrist, then pivoted on his leg, pulling the creature off balance and swinging the blade with as much magically enhanced force as he could muster.
He felt a slight tug on the blade, but it was not enough to stop his momentum. He finished the spin on one knee, the blade held straight out to his side. The air grew still, and Cailin could hear a slight gurgling coming from the assassin. The creature had both hands up around his neck, and slowly turned to face the man on one knee. Dusty yellow eyes met cold blue ones as the two stared at each other.
A slight red mist began to lift from the creature, and its skin began to dry out at a rapid pace, pulling its eyes into its sockets before crumbling to dust and being lifted away by the mist. Cailin dropped the blade, holding on to the magic flooding into him for dear life, as this was the only thing that kept him able to stand. He watched, stone faced, as the creature before him turned to dust and collapsed into a pile in the flagstones, there to swirl and be blown away by a sudden wind that raced down from the face of the fortress.
When the dust was scattered to the last grain, then only did Cailin release his magic. The agony that burned through his body in an instant dropped him to his knees, then onto his side, his breath a raspy gasp in his throat. He reached out to Kuro, who was limping over to him, but darkness closed around him, and sucked him down into a dark void.
Liran left the fortress,and took a fresh horse from the stables, strapped on her saddlebags, and rode out through the massive gates. Though she feared nothing in the forest, she still rode with her cloak thrown back, the two long knives on her left hip balanced by the heavy short sword on her right. She rode easy, until she reached the lake shore, where she turned to follow it up towards the waterfall that fed it.
Her brother, Lerin, should be waiting for her at the top of the waterfall, and they had a very long way to go before they could camp for the night. And she needed time to think and to plan their next move in the capital city. She pursed her lips as she thought back to when she was leaving the fortress. It sounded like glass was breaking and she thought she heard a scream, but she ignored it at the time. Now she was not so sure she should have.
But no sign of panic had reached her by the time she had ridden into the cavernous tunnel that lead out of the fortress, so she left and didn't look back. She shrugged as she walked her horse into the rocks at the base of the waterfall. Whatever it was, it wasn't her problem to deal with. Of those, she had more than enough.
As she let the horse plod along the trail that ran past the waterfall and up the cliff face on the other side of the waterfall, she abruptly found herself thinking of the young man she had seen in Kal’s study. He looked like he could be useful in a fight, she decided, with his broad shoulders and an overall predatory look about him. And he was intelligent, she mused, that much was obvious by his inclusion in the council.
Her horse finally reached the top of the cliff, and she turned due west and urged her horse into a distance eating canter. Before long, a horseman rode up and fell in beside her. The newcomer pushed back the hood of his cloak and smiled at Liran, and she pushed back the hood of hers and smiled back at him.
No one would mistake them for anything other than twins. They had the same hazel yes and vibrant mahogany colored hair, honey skin tone, height and very similar builds. Both were slim and long limbed, and both were visibly strong. They were dressed alike, woodlands garb in green and brown, with light leather armour worn over it.
Where Liran wore a shortsword and two knives, Leran had a long sword strapped across his back with a heavy shield over the swords scabbard. He also had a crossbow hanging from the pommel of his saddle, and a full quiver hanging on the opposite side. They were both young, in their early twenties, and well trained in the use of their weapons.
“So how did they take the news?”, Leran asked, his voice belying his age, coming out light and airy, as he idly chewed on a stalk of grass. Liran recounted the meeting, leaving out nothing. She held no secrets from her brother, and he held none from her. He stared ahead into the distance for a few moments before asking, “Do you think they will send aid?” She thought for a few moments before answering, “It doesn't impact them directly, yet. But I don't know. I don't see a reason why they shouldn’t.”
Leran grunted, spitting out the stalk. He nodded to his sister, then put heels to his horse, breaking into a trot. Liran followed his lead, and the pair soon rode down into a valley lush with new growth. The planting season had just begun, but this area of the world was uninhabited for the time being.
Liran looked over at the mountain rising to the east. It was a brutal stone sentinel, watching over the land around it. From time to time, rumblings could be felt in its vicinity, and those who dared to go to it either came back with tales of smoke rising from the summit and from cracks in the stone or did not come back at all. The rumours abounded, of caves filled with treasure, fantastic beasts, the dead walking and much more. Liran, for one, had no desire to test the rumours.
They rode for hours, as the sun crossed the heavens above them and finally fell to the horizon in the west. Leran found them a campsite in a copse of trees, away from the trail they had followed. After they had pitched their small tents and disguised them with a few freshly cut branches, they sat by their small fire and shared a quick meal of stew and bread.
Leran decided to take first watch, though in this area, the only thing he expected to watch for were wolves and maybe a bear or two. This uninhabited part of the world was peaceful and quiet, and the skies were clear. He picked a sturdy tree and quickly climbed up to about midway, and found a relatively comfortable spot to sit and watch from. Liran had doused the fire and crept into her bedroll.
The young man stared out into the darkness, softly lit by a quarter moon, and mused on the events happening in the capital city. It had all started about a year and a half ago. He had still been a scout in the army of the capital, and a damned good one. He had been given command of his own unit comprised of scouts and archers, and his unit was considered one of the best.
Then, from out of the blue, the strangest orders had come down from the high command. His unit had been sent to scout cave locations, scattered across the country. They were ordered not to go into the caves, just to find the entrances. A different “special” unit, with a priest, was sent in to explore the caves. Those special units always sent a chill down Leran’s spine.
They wore strange armour, segmented like the body of insects, and moved in a peculiar way. They also wore full masks to a man, plain burnished steel, with narrow slits for their eyes. Their weapons, also, left his entire unit feeling cold. Inhumanly cruel looking knives, swords and axes adorned with spikes and sporting serrated blades were the norm for the special soldiers.
Leran shifted on the branch he was sitting on, the thoughts of the strange soldiers making him uncomfortable. More and more of those units had started showing up, sometimes replacing entire companies at a time. And they all lived in barracks separated from the rest of the standing forces, and contact with them was forbidden.
Rumours swirled around them. Disappearances in the capital went up since they arrived and were attributed to them. Death sentences increased for every crime, from murder to petty theft. But the special soldiers were but a symptom, an indication of something changing in the city. That change had started filtering out to the surrounding countryside, starting in the smaller towns and eventually reaching the furthest reaches of the capitals influence.
Public beatings became the norm, along with public executions. The king, once loved by the people, became a recluse, only appearing in public under heavy guard which consisted of the special troops. Fear began to drift through the city, and spread to the outlying towns and villages. Patrols consisting of the special troops became a common sight. Brutality and oppression of the populace became common spectacles.
The breaking point for Leran came when he saw a street urchin, barely into his teens, publicly beheaded in one of the markets by one of the special soldiers. No outcry came from the throngs of people. No one said a word as the child died in plain view, no one was anxious to share his fate.
He had returned to his barracks later that morning, packed his things and deserted. His second in command, a stalwart man named Briggs, watched him go and said nothing. He left a note for Liran in the house they shared and then left the city, travelling to a cottage their family had owned for several generations. She joined him there later that week, and shared what she knew with him.
She had been an lieutenant, overseeing logistics for several infantry companies and reporting to General Wier, the supreme commander of the standing forces. Her position and responsibilities had given her access to tons of useful information, which she readily shared with her brother after joining him in desertion. The twins then debated what to do from there, and eventually Liran convinced her brother that they must form a resistance, which they then did.
When Liran relieved him, he was still brooding on those early days, and when Liran asked him what he was thinking, he was slow to answer. “I don't know where to go from here, Liran. We have several bands out there in the countryside, true enough, but how do we find out what is really going on? We have both heard the rumours, seen the brutality. What we need to know is why is it happening.”, he spoke softly, but firmly.
Liran laid her hand on her brother’s shoulder. “We will find a way, brother. One way or the other.” There was steel under the velvet of her voice. She bade him good night, then chose a tree of her own to keep watch from. She had been trained, in part, by her brother, and his ways were her ways. She settled into a fork of the tree she had chosen, where she could see most of the surrounding country, rolling hills washing into plains on the southern side, the foothills of mountains marching to the north. The land dropped away into a series of valleys and plains to the east, and the west was a massive plain which eventually led to the western deserts.
She sat quietly, enjoying the stillness of the world after Leran’s rustling had silenced. She heard a wolf in the foothills, singing its song to an indifferent moon, soon joined in a chorus by others who beseeched the sky for something she would never know or understand. She thought about what her brother had said, and tried to envisage the city she grew up in. But her memories of a happy childhood was clouded by the memories of growing oppression and misery.
She drew one of her knives and sat , idly turning it in her fingers. Her thoughts turned again to the happenings in the city, and the pockets of resistance within and outside the city walls. The change had been gradual, to be sure, but now, when she had left to report to Kel at the hidden fortress, things had begun boiling in the city.
A riot had broken out in one of the markets, and the special soldiers had massacred everyone involved. A part of the market was burning and rivulets of blood had started to flow in the gutters when she had slipped away from the fray. The populace had attempted to fight back but they were no match for the soldiers. The common man on the street rarely stands a chance against an armed and armored soldier.
But these soldiers’ brutality knows no bounds and it sickened her. Men, women and children died that day, split open or torn in half, heads smashed in, children thrown against walls. She felt a tear slide down her cheek, again seeing images of people being systematically slaughtered. She had climbed onto one of the roofs and and looked back into the market below her to see a phalanx of troops pouring in through one gate, with the other gates into the market being blocked by more soldiers.
She had managed to get away that day, but the memories of the market massacre will follow her all her life, as the screams and the smell of blood had followed her across the rooftops that day. She blinked away a few tears as she sat in the tree, watching the empty world around their small camp.
Cailin rose to the light of consciousness slowly, feeling like he was swimming through honey towards the light. His eyes opened slowly, and found himself staring at a familiar ceiling. He slowly turned his head, acutely aware of the pain surging through his entire body. An anguished groan slipped through his clenched teeth. Blake and his wife, the head of the communities healers, sat next to his bed.
The pair sat close to each other on a bench next to the infirmary bed Cailin was lying in. Hazel was stroking Blakes leg as she was paging through a book, and he was idly carving a piece of wood. Cailin’s groan drew their attention, and Hazel smoothly rose to her feet, laying a cool hand on his forehead, as Blake put his wood and carving knife on the floor under the bench.
Hazel held a cup to Cailin’s lips, urging him to drink. Judging by the pain in his throat and the general feeling of dehydration, he didn't think that he had much to drink the last while. After a few swallows, Hazel moved away, humming to herself, as Blake leaned over the younger man.
“You brave but insane fool. What were you thinking, jumping out of the study window like that?” Blake’s rough voice was soft, and Cailin felt shame for a brief moment. Blake smiled as Cailin tried to answer, but all that came out of his throat was a series of cracking croaks. Blake eld the cup for Cailin to drink again, and when he finished he was finally able to speak, if softly.
“How bad was it? Is Kal all right? How long have I been sleeping?” of the thousand questions milling in his head, Cailin managed to choose the three most important ones. Blake’s face fell, and the answers came slowly. “We lost a few good people. Hazel and Revin have been working day and night to save the rest of the group that was in the study. Kal is fine, just needed to be stitched up in a few places. He’s a tough one, despite his age.” Cailin caught a haunted look in Blake’s eyes, before he smiled again and put his hand on Cailin’s shoulder.
“You, my flying friend, have been asleep for almost three weeks.” Blake told him, leaning over to a low table to refill Cailin’s cup. He drank woodenly when Blake held the cup up to his lips. Three weeks. The season would have turned by now, the blazing sunshine of late summer giving way to the slow settling of autumn, and he has been asleep through all of it. He suddenly realized how much he must have missed. He tried to sit up, ignoring the pain screaming through his body. “Blake, what about the mountain cat? What happened to Kuro?”, he groaned, still trying to sit up.
I am here, my friend. The massive head floated into Cailin’s view, and he breathed a sigh of relief, falling back onto the bed, which evicted another pain groan from him. When the pain subsided somewhat, Cailin looked at the giant cat, casually lying next to his bed. The animal’s back rose at least two hands above the level of the mattress he was lying on, and he saw several scars forming with a thin layer of fur only beginning to cover them. Kuro had a scar over one of his eyes as well, a deep cut that ran straight down from his forehead to his lip. Thankfully, the slash that caused it missed the eye itself.
Cailin reached up and put his hand to the side of Kuro’s face and smiled. I am glad that you are all right, my friend. I would have been most unhappy to have lost you. Cailin smiled again as the giant cat huff-laughed. It was a close thing, but the sprite got to me in time, though I'll admit it's an experience I would prefer to avoid in future. Cailin agreed as he struggled to sit up again, and the two laughed. As they spoke, Cailin could feel wisps of magic flowing from him, and into him, but he was not concerned. The exchange of power felt natural and completely normal, and it felt like it was out of his control in any event.
Blake cleared his throat as he sat down on the bench and carried on carving as the man and the cat bonded. He knew of such Bonds, and their special nature, though he had never experienced it himself. He was without magic, and prefered it that way, and the Bond was a magical thing, borne only between two beings who both had the ability to command the most elemental of forces.
He glanced out the window across from Cailin’s bed, looking out over the wall of the fortress, as an errant wind came down from the top of the cliffs to crash into the trees, setting the leaves, that had begun to turn, to dancing on the branches. Dark grey clouds were skimming across the sky from the south, and the inhabitants of the fortress could expect one of the first true autumn storms that day.
He smiled when Hazel came to sit next to him again, engulfing her tiny hand in his paw, stroking his thumb along hers as they watched the man and the giant cat. Kuro had laid his massive head on the side of the bed and Cailin was inspecting the scar on the cats face. Thunder cracked and rumbled in the far distance, the storm riding on the back of the wind. Hazel went to close the window, but before she could lightning marched across the sky and the thunder in its wake shook the fortress.
The two by the bed were staring out of the window, completely silent, as were the smith and his wife, frozen with her hand on one of the window panes. They all saw the same thing in the brief flash of light. A pair of green eyes, gone in a heartbeat and with its passing, the storm broke.