Crossing field after field, Ferene walked north, with no road to follow. This time, she did not stop at any farmsteads, choosing to rest in the shade of trees or large rocks whenever she could. The further north she went, the more sparse the trees became, and she found larger and larger rocks more frequently.
At some point, Ferene saw the mountains. She didn't know when she first saw them, because she did not recognize them as mountains. She realized something was strange about the clouds, but could not figure out what. Several days later the realization came to her that she did not see the sky under the clouds. The mountains reached all the way to the clouds, vanishing into them. An impossibly high wall of gray stone. Understanding the sight before her, she shivered. She'd never seen anything like that before.
Putting those thoughts aside, she broke out into a full run, her feet slamming against the ground. Her first proper run since leaving the mine, it felt amazing. Her heart pounded with excitement as she ran, her eyes looking upwards towards the hidden peaks.
The previous days of slow walking and healing suddenly felt not relaxing, but constraining. She could move like this, she was meant to move like this. Feeling the wind around her, the ground falling away under her. It did not last enough, as she came to a stop after an hour of running. She could have run another few hours, but she didn't need to. In front of her lay a dirt road, running parallel to the wall, beyond it the ground slowly, gently sloping upwards, until it reached an angle she would not be able to climb.
Reaching the road, Ferene paused. She needed to go to the mountains, but then what? Where in the mountains did she have to look? Turning west, she followed the road. Surely it would lead somewhere. She wanted answers. Answers about herself, about how she could learn to fight like Linara. But more than that, she wanted to be away from the humans. She could feel the anger inside herself. The hatred. She never killed someone she did not mean to before. The mistake still haunted her.
After some time, it appeared.
Ferene could see the dirt road she walked on stretch to the end of her vision. The fields to the sides lay empty, no farmers claiming this land so far from civilization. Turning her head, she looked at the mountains, a seemingly impassable wall reaching towards the sky. Featureless ground stretching from the road she walked on towards the end of the world. As far as she could see, no signs of life existed in this space.
Except That Thing. A creature on the road ahead slowly walked in Ferene's direction. She trusted her sense of distance, and That Thing was too tall for how far away it should be. Ferene suspected that it stood several heads above her. The two of them slowly approached each other for the last hour, the only living creatures. As she stepped closer, her sense of unease grew. Something about it was wrong. She drew her sword, and found her hands shaking. Something was very, very wrong. Ferene continued walking forward.
Getting close enough to make out details, the sense of unease changed, becoming unlike anything she ever felt before. Her stomach twisted and she felt ill just looking at the creature. Shaped like a human, but taller, taller than her, taller than any human should be. Its face was stretched forward, a beast-like nose covered in inhuman, pale blue skin. The entire head appeared upside down, with the jaw on top and the eyes underneath. She watched it shamble towards her, limping. It was injured, but in one hand it carried a club as long as her sword and as thick as her body. She swallowed, pushing the fear and her urge to vomit down, and raised her weapon.
Ferene specialized in running. She wondered how fast That Thing could react, if she could hit it before it could hit her, before it could defend itself. Something inside of her told her to kill the creature. A hatred not backed up by any memory or experience, but a base instinct. She wanted, needed to kill this sickening monster, to remove the wrongness from the world.
She ran. As fast as she could, Ferene charged forward, instincts taking over in the moment. A practiced movement, dashing forward, moving to the side at the last moment, swinging her sword at head level. A quick kill.
Instead, she found herself knocked down, tumbling to the dirt, her arms in pain. She looked up, seeing the creature reeling back, a bloody gash across its chest. It screamed. Ferene pulled herself to her feet, holding her sword in front of her again. The Thing stepped forward, swinging its club horizontally. Ferene swung, trying to counter the blow. Her sword collided with the wooden club, digging into the creature's weapon. A shock ran up her arms again as her weapon was ripped out of her grip. The creature screamed at her, tossing its club down and stepping forward, arms outstretched to grab her. Lowering her head, Ferene ran forward, bashing her shoulder into the beast's stomach.
Rearing upwards, it screamed at her again. Ferene pulled her short sword from the sheath at her waist and slashed upwards, aiming for its head properly this time. She couldn't see the result of her attack before it punched her, sending her tumbling backwards, her second sword flying out of her hand. She looked up at the Thing's face, blood leaking from its neck, as it took one step towards her, then another, then slumped to the ground.
Ferene struggled to stay awake. Her head spun, and her back hurt as she lay on the road. The sensation of wrongness from the dead thing beside her lingered, and she still struggled not to vomit. Her body ached from where it had hit her. She lay there - unable to get up, counting forwards, then backwards, then forwards again, anything to remain conscious – for an hour, maybe more. Then, they arrived.
She noticed a shadow looming over her – a face staring down. She heard sounds, a voice, but couldn't make out any words. Eventually she realized that she couldn't recognize the language. Ferene blinked, trying to get a better look at them.
The person looking back was Hatharen.
In that moment of recognition, the spinning of her head slowed, and she looked around. There were six of them, armed with spears, swords, and bows, wearing long cloaks over metal armor. Three of them were examining the body of the thing she had killed. Two were on lookout. The last was standing over her, looking down at her, face a mixture of curiosity and concern.
“Can't understand.”
The reaction was instant. The elf's frown deepened, their eyes moving away from hers, tracing the features of her face. Straightening, the woman turned, saying something towards one of the three examining the body. A short conversation followed, and one of them walked over to her and her new companion. A new Hatharen looked down at her. This one squatted beside her, lowering himself down closer to her.
“You are one surprise after another.” He said, smiling at her. He kept his voice low, almost a whisper.
“I'm hurt.” Ferene said.
“You fought a Direag alone. You should be happy you are alive at all.” He patted her on her shoulder. “Don't worry. You saved us a great deal of trouble. Filreahen here will get you back on your feet.” He said something to the first Hatharen, who shrugged at him, then pulled a bag out from under her cloak – an odd collection of pouches and pockets. She fished a glass vial out from one of them, pulled off the top, and thrust it under Ferene's nose.
The struggle to remain conscious suddenly became a fight Ferene wasn't able to win.
She couldn't feel her sword.
Ferene's hand slid over a blanket, grasping at nothing but cloth. She reached around, opening her eyes, looking around. A meager campsite surrounded her – two figures by a fire, a third looking at her, a fourth and fifth standing watch. Several other blankets were on the ground, on the other side of the fire from her. She didn't see her sword anywhere. Sitting up, she looked at the Hatharen staring at her – the same one that talked to her before.
“Sword.” She said, cutting him off as he opened his mouth to speak. He frowned at her.
“Don't worry about that, you're not in danger.”
“My sword.” She said again, taking another look at the campsite. Ferene didn't recognize the location, she couldn't see the road. Going back to find her weapons would be difficult if she didn't know which direction to go. She pushed the blanket off of her.
“Calm down.” The Hatharen said, reaching towards a pile of cloth at his feet. “All of your things are here.” He flipped the cloth over, revealing not only her swords, but also her gauntlets and knee plates. The anxiety left her body, and she weakly raised her arms, stretching her hands outwards towards him as he picked up her sword. “It's important to you, is it?” He asked, stepping towards her, holding it out in front of him, hilt-first. Ferene's hands wrapped around the familiar grip, pulling her weapon towards her and placing it at her side. She nodded, running a hand along the flat of the blade. Her fingers slid across the scarred, chipped steel of her sword, before looking back up at the Hatharen.
“I'm sure you have some questions about what happened yesterday.” He said, sitting back down, legs crossed. He waited, watching her. Ferene stared back. The creature, her sickness, the hatred she felt towards it...she considered the events, and remained silent. “Or, maybe you don't. Either way, you helped us out, and were hurt in the process, so we owe you some amount of gratitude.” He continued, frowning again. “My name is Telhrian. What's your name?”
She looked at Telhrian. His face, framed by black hair hanging down to his shoulders. Ears jutting out from the sides of his head, pushing through his hair. A Hatharen, full blooded, not a half-human like her. She stared into his eyes. Her father would have looked like this, possibly. Did her father have brown eyes? Did her father have black hair? Did Telhrian know who her father was? “Ferene.” She said, watching his expression grow more and more concerned. “My name is Ferene.”
“Ferene...” His frown seemed to deepen. “We suspect that you are a half-breed. Is that true? Ferene is an...odd name.”
Her jaw clenched. “It's my name.”
“If you were human we would have to kill you, since you've seen a Direag. You aren't human. If you were Hatharen, we would let you return to your own stronghold, and apologize for the inconvenience we've caused you. Since you don't speak the language, we've come to the conclusion that you do not have a stronghold to go back to. You are either a Hatharen raised by humans, or a half-breed raised by humans. Which puts us in a very odd situation.”
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Her eyes fell from his face to the pieces of her armor at his feet. Metal gauntlets and knee plates, and the metal-lined leather of her chest piece. Under the blanket Ferene wore only her clothes. Her fingers slide down the length of her sword, wrapping around the hilt. “I am half human. Will you kill me?” She asked, meeting his gaze again.
“My comrades and I are divided on that.” He said, his eyes going towards her hand, then back to her face. His recognition of her hostility didn't change his tone or demeanor. “I would offer you a place in our village, if you want it, and let you go on your way if you do not. However in order to let you go we would need your word that you do not talk about the creature that you encountered. Humans cannot know such things exist. Some of the others believe that you should be treated no differently than a human, and that you should be executed. Others think that to do that would violate our most sacred law, and that we should take you back to our village and hold you there, even if it is against your will.”
Ferene relaxed her grip, but kept her fingers wrapped around the hilt. “Am I your prisoner?” She asked, looking him in the eye.
Telhrian's mouth twitched. His eyes went from hers, to her hand on the sword, then back to her eyes. He leaned forward. “It may be that way, yes, while we figure out what to do with you. Some of us are very opposed to hurting you, but others are not. If you force a conflict before a decision is made, I do not know how things will play out.”
Holding her sword made her feel better, but she couldn't attack him from this position, and even trying to move sent pain shooting through her limbs. She clenched her jaw, pressing her lips together. She was hopeless. “I guess I'll just wait, then.”
Oddly, he smiled at her. “We'll have you back on your feet soon enough, don't worry about that part. I promised you that before. Filreahen is very good at what she does.”
“She knocked me out.”
“Sometimes you have to go down in order to go up.”
“Yeah, sometimes you do.” She relaxed, taking a deep breath. The fear from waking up, the anger, the confusion, it all seemed to wash away. As soon as she shut her eyes, she felt incredibly tired.
Once more, she woke up, finding herself still in the campsite. She tried to sit up, and succeeded, though with a lot of pain. One of the Hatharen women came over - Filreahen, the one with the medicine - and frowned at her, poking Ferene in the ribs as she said something. It hurt enough to make her vision blur. Ferene almost fell back to the ground but the woman caught her. Telhrian noticed as well, and walked over to her.
“She examined you while you were sleeping. You broke a few ribs in your fight, so take it easy for the next few days.”
Ferene looked up at him, frowning. “You know how fast I heal?”
“You've forgotten who you are talking to, Ferene.”
She stopped. “I...I don't know anything about you.”
“The flesh heals quickly. Bones take longer. We can heal in hours what takes them days, and we can recover in a few days from something that would take them weeks. You, however, should be respectful to your body.”
“What do you mean?”
Telhrian opened his mouth, then closed it, setting his jaw. He stared at her for a moment, then started talking to Filraehen about something. Their conversation lasted a few moments, and they both stood up and walked away, leaving Ferene alone. Filraehen had placed a rolled up blanket behind Ferene, allowing her to lean back against it, but not lie down completely.
The two of them walked back to a circle with the other four. Ferene strained her ears, but they weren't talking in her language. Giving up on that, she looked around the campsite. Bedrolls littered the ground, placed seemingly at random. To the side Ferene saw a pair of horses, idly grazing at the grass. A fire pit sat in the center, surrounded by six figures. Ferene pushed herself to her feet, against the pain, and started walking towards them.
After a few steps, her walk turned into a limp, the pain becoming worse. It was nowhere near as bad as being stabbed, nowhere near bad enough to keep her off her feet. She didn't even need to prop herself up with her sword.
One of them stood up, turning to face her. A woman she hadn't seen before. A realization came to Ferene. Something sitting in that back of her head suddenly moved to the front, a barely noticed mystery resolving itself before her eyes.
The Hatharen were huge.
The one standing was not the tallest in the group, yet Ferene's eye level was in line with her collarbone. Lying down, her perspective didn't let her see just how big they all were. Standing face to chest, it all came together.
The Hatharen said something to her, grabbing her arm and guiding her to a place in their circle, Sitting down and gesturing for Ferene to sit beside her. As she lowered herself to the ground, Ferene suddenly felt out of place. One of them looked at her and frowned, while another started speaking loudly, pointing at Ferene. Telhrian said something, cutting the protest off.
“Why don't you introduce yourself.” He said, turning to her, then said something else without looking away. All of them turned to look directly at her.
“Ferene.” She said, loudly and clearly.
“Ferene.” They all repeated in unison. Telhrian, Filraehen, and the one beside her all bowed while seated. One of the others tilted his head. The last two stayed still.
The one beside her said something else, and Ferene heard her name mentioned. Telhrian responded, then looked at Ferene again.
“Do you know why you have that name?”
“My mother – my human mother – gave it to me.”
“It is an interesting name.” He said, smiling at her. “In our language, it is the name of a kind of plant. We...do not name ourselves as plants. It is very telling about your background.”
Ferene nodded. Her mother never told her anything about why she picked the name. That was just her name. “I have never met my father. I want to find him. I want to learn about...what I am. I never met any of your people before, and it was only a few weeks ago that I first met someone like myself.”
“You met another half-breed?” He asked, leaning forward, his eyes wide.
“Her name was Linara. She said she was from...” Ferene paused, trying to remember. “Aesuthal.”
Telhrian quickly spoke in his language again, and the others nodded. There was another short conversation. Ferene heard “Linara” and “Aesuthal.” The woman beside her put a hand on Ferene's shoulder, squeezing it slightly. When she looked up at the woman, she was met with a warm smile. Ferene simply stared back, not sure what else to do.
“We know about Linara. She is...she is known. Our people traveling human lands is not unheard of. Now, since you've been introduced, let us move on to business.” He sighed, looking around the circle. Two of the other three Hatharen were looking at Ferene, while the last was glaring angrily at the Hatharen beside her. “Rilya and I believe that because of your assistance in ending our hunt, you should be treated as an honorary member of our stronghold, and invited to return with us or go on your way, whichever you choose. Filraehen wants to take you back to the stronghold and examine you before making further judgment, but has overall positive feelings towards you. Alri is thankful for your assistance but believes your interactions with us should go no further than this, and we should turn you away. Sathar and Ilraghen believe we should kill you, as you know too much. They are very much outvoted, making you relatively safe for now, but there is no full decision on what to do with you.” He said this to her, then said something else to the group.
The Hatharen beside Ferene gave her a light squeeze on the shoulder, drawing her attention. Ferene turned to look at her. “Rilya.” She said, smiling. Ferene nodded, then turned back to Telhrian.
“Could they convince the others that I need to die?”
“Our most sacred law is that we do not harm our own people. It is core to our society, in every stronghold. The other four of us, for now, believe that this protection extends to you. They have been arguing against it, unsuccessfully. For now, we have decided to wait here while you heal. We will have more discussions in the meantime, and also deal with the remains of the Direag.”
Ferene suffered through the next few days, limping around the campsite, not understanding a word of what was being said, and being generally unhelpful and unhappy. She had a few conversations with Telhrian, and those were the highlights of her day, but he did not spend his entire time with her, instead coming and going or sitting in the circle having long conversations with the others. Three of the six were always in the camp, the rest on unknown activities. The area nearby provided her with everything she needed, if she limped far enough to get to it. Trees huddled against the side of the mountain face, not dense or numerous enough to be called a forest, but providing shade and a source of firewood. To the other side of the camp, water spilled from a hole in the cliffs above, falling down to form a pool before running south. The water looked clear but tasted heavily of minerals.
On the first night, Alri brought back several birds, killed with arrows. Filraehen got to work stripping them to cook, Ferene watching with interest. Telhrian was out at the time, but arrived before the meal was ready. She limped towards him as soon as she recognized him approaching the campsite.
“They are cooking birds.” She said, looking at him expectantly.
He nodded. “Alri has been going further and further afield, trying to find food. Things are sparse this close to the south side of the mountains. Not much wildlife in these trees.”
Ferene frowned. “I get sick whenever I eat meat.”
His eyebrows went up, and he said something in his own language, then nodded to her. “Those from Treventhal, the last stronghold to the west, cannot stomach the flesh of creatures. For the rest of us, it is not an issue. Perhaps this is a hint at your father's identity?”
Ferene stood completely still, her hands balled into fists. Several seconds later she remembered to breathe. She never once considered finding her father. Thoughts raced through her head. If she found him, what would she do? Kill him? Demand answers? Introduce herself as his daughter? Scream at him in anger? Possibilities and emotions swirled together, anger and sorrow and regret and hate all building towards -
“I'll have Filraehen prepare something that you can eat.” Telhrian's words cut through her thoughts, and she suddenly relaxed. The moment mattered, the here and the now. She could worry about other things later.
The second day, Rilya followed her around the camp. Whenever Ferene looked at her, she would smile back. Her entire face lit up every time, and she looked down at Ferene with a completely unfamiliar fondness.
It bothered her.
She quickly found Telhrian as he was tending to the horses. She waited patiently a short distance away, not wanting to interrupt him, with Rilya standing beside her. Ferene glanced up at her and was met with that same wide, inviting smile.
Telhrian eventually noticed the two of them, stopped what he was doing, and walked over. “What can I do for you?”
“She is following me around, smiling at me, and I don't know why.”
He frowned, looking at Rilya. He said something, she responded, he said something else, she put her hand on Ferene's shoulder, and Ferene shrugged her off, stepping away. Rilya's smile faltered, and she spoke at length to Telrian. Without responding to her, he turned to Ferene.
“Rilya is our best fighter, and she is very impressed that you managed to defeat the Direag alone. All of us are, really, but she is...thrilled by the idea that someone did it at all. She wants to make sure you recover as fast as possible, as she is interested in sparring with you. She apologizes if she has made you uncomfortable in any way.”
Ferene looked from him, to the woman, then back to him. “I...see.” She fought back a frown. “I want to spar with her as well. Tell her that." This was an opportunity, of sorts. Linara refused to teach her, but perhaps one of them could. The idea of trying to learn from someone she couldn't understand was imposing, but if she just fought them repeatedly, she would surely learn something regardless of the language barrier.
After Telhrian translated her words, Rilya put her hand on Ferene's shoulder again, squeezing and giving her another smile, taking her hand away before Ferene had a chance to shake her off again. Then she turned and ran off, her feet thumping loudly against the ground.
“Where is she going?”
“No idea.”