Ferene sought Telhrian out on the third day, still sore but no longer limping, and feeling more comfortable in the camp. She spent the morning collecting an armful of firewood, the first contribution she made. When she returned, she tossed it onto the massive bonfire. A repulsive smell of burnt flesh surrounded the pit where the creature she killed slowly turned to ash. Telhrian sat on a rock a distance away, his long knife in one hand and the upper half of the beast's skull wedged between his knees.
“What is that thing? You called it a Direag.”
Stopping his work, he looked up at her, then over towards the mountain wall. “Other side of that, you won't find any humans. Just things that look like them. Hatharen are only the first of what lives there. The farther north and east you go, the less human-like the creatures are. The Direag comes from very far north.”
Ferene frowned at the lack of explanation in his answer. “So what was it doing here?”
Flipping his knife to his other hand, he wiped his forehead, pushing his black hair back, out of his eyes. Those dark brown eyes locked onto Ferene's, staring at her unblinkingly. “There is a war going on beyond the mountains. The Hatharen are fighting and dying to keep this land safe. The Direag is a rare one, but there are many other, smaller, more numerous intelligent beasts there. They are constantly trying to push south, to kill the Hatharen, to get to this land, where the humans are. Humans that can't fight back. This one slipped past us during a battle, and our group was sent to hunt it down.”
Ferene paused, thinking. She thought far too much, these past days, with little else to do. It bothered her, drove her to ask questions, to consider things, rather than ignoring and accepting them. “Looking at it made me feel sick.”
After nodding back, Telhrian turned to look towards the fire pit. “If you were fully human, you would have fallen to your knees, if not entirely flat on your face, unable to even act. The intelligent beasts have that effect. That is why the Hatharen fight them instead. If we let them pass, they would quickly conquer the rest of the world, and have us surrounded.”
Pieces started to fall into place. “Aesuthal, Treventhal, the strongholds. You patrol the entire northern wall?”
“More than that. Treventhal is in the northwest. The mountains don't go all the way, and our border curves south to reach the ocean. Aesuthal is at the southeast end, next to the sea. Each stronghold has responsibility for their own part of the border. There are sixteen of them, lining the neck of the land. Those creatures attack us every so often, sometimes once a month, sometimes less often than that. We have constant patrols deep into the north, looking for any groups advancing on us. They are unorganized, luckily, only coming a few hundred at a time, but in total there are too many for us to mount an offensive. So we fight a defensive war.”
“How long?”
“Forever.”
Ferene stared at him, then looked around the camp. Filraehen and Ilraghen talked to each other while the woman stirred a pot over a much smaller fire. Alri sat on a tree stump, whittling wood into arrows. Telhrian told her that all of them were part of a never ending war. They just looked like people to Ferene. Very tall people, but people nonetheless. She could see the farmer and his wife, or Tullund, or any of Lana's mercenaries acting the same way.
A thought pushed to the front of her mind. All this time, she thought she was different. She thought her fight had a larger, more grander goal. Not money or fame or honor, but to change the world. An impossible task to kill every single evil person in the land, for revenge, for the safety of others, for her own peace of mind. That was an unending war, and she did all the things these people did. She was just like them.
“How long have you been fighting it?”
“Three hundred years.”
Or maybe she wasn't.
Letting out a deep sigh, he looked at her. “The Hatharen are timeless beings, Ferene. Our bodies do not age, our injuries do not heal, but are undone. It is our curse, to constantly move backwards, towards the one perfect moment when we stopped growing.”
“And me? You mentioned something about my healing, before.”
Telhrian grimaced. “I mean no offense by this, but...your body does not work properly.”
Again with only a partial explanation. Ferene simply stared at him expectantly.
“Filraehen could explain this better, but I will do my best. Hatharen are timeless, our bodies attempt to go back to a fixed state. Your body does this as well. Or rather, half of your body does. The other half is trying as hard as possible to destroy itself over time. The Hatharen part of you is working constantly to pull the human part of you back, to fix the damage time would do to you. Whenever you get injured, it works even harder. At some point, the two parts of you will run out of energy, and you will just stop.”
“Stop?”
He looked away from her, towards the mountain wall. “Your life will end. Without growing old, without slowing down, your body will simply stop working.”
“How long does it usually take?”
“Your kind is rare, but I believe only a few centuries.”
Ferene shrugged. “Sounds fine to me.”
A look of horror spread across his face as he turned back to her. “Fine? Your existence ends in a meager three hundred, possibly four hundred years, and this is fine to you?”
“Always figured I'd get killed long before that. Doesn't really change much.”
Every night the six of them sat in their circle, talking. After the first time, Ferene did not join them. Having Telhrian translate would only slow them down, and she didn't care enough to try to interject. She listened to them talk, back and forth, around and around, words she couldn't understand. From the bedroll they provided her, their words barely reached her, at least for the first three nights. On the fourth night, they spoke in raised voices, interrupting each other, and stopped their discussion early. Ferene watched with interest as the group split into two, Sathar and Ilraghen walking off in one direction, the other four walking off in the other. Things seemed to still be in her favor, but she saw Telhrian and Alri standing close to each. Alri, the shortest of the group, though still taller than Ferene, stood with her arms crossed. Telhrian reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder, then moved it towards her face. She pushed him away, walking over towards the other two. Telhrian straightened his back and turned away.
Perhaps things were not going well for her after all.
Ferene poked her ribs, gently, clenching her teeth against the pain. Her against at least three of them. If they were even half as good as Linara, Ferene stood no chance, even if she was in her best condition. She only had to run, though. She might outrun them but the pain would make it difficult to outlast them. Would the other three help her, or would running turn them against her?
She felt powerless. While not restrained, the feeling was worse than when Niffrem captured her. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. In the morning she could talk to Telhrian, and maybe find a way out of this.
When she woke up the next morning, Telhrian was gone. Growling to herself, she got to her feet, poking gently at her ribs again. Less pain than before. She swung her arm, stretched her legs, jumped a few times, then poked herself again. Perhaps Filraehen underestimated her ability to heal.
“Ferene!” She turned around to see Rilya walking towards her, a large piece of wood in her outstretched arms, and a smile on her face. Ferene reached out, grabbing the long, thin wooden plank. It had a lot more weight to it than she first guessed. It was around the same weight as her sword. It also had a similar length, width, and thickness. In fact, one end was carved into a familiarly shaped and sized handle.
“What's this?” She asked, knowing the uselessness of the question. Giving her a wide grin, Rilya stepped behind Ferene, placed her hands on her shoulders, aimed Ferene towards the river, and gave a slight push. “Alright, let's go over there.” As she started walking, Rilya stepped out in front of her, nearly hopping along in excitement, looking ridiculous given her size.
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At the riverside, Rilya bent down, picking up two thin wooden sticks off the ground. Turning towards Ferene, she brandished her 'swords' – one about two thirds the length of Ferene's, the other half the length, both entirely wood. Ferene had seen children playing with wooden swords from time to time, but never got the chance to do so herself – as a child herself, her training had always been with real weapons, any injury a bonus for the onlookers. Seeing a fully grown woman taller than she was taking up a combat stance with two sticks seemed even more ridiculous than her jumping with joy.
Still, the wooden weapon that Ferene held had the right weight. If it was entirely wood, it was a very special kind of wood. Grabbing the 'hilt' and holding it, the feeling was so familiar she would not believe she wasn't holding steel if it wasn't her in line of sight. Seeing her bring her weapon up, Rilya let out a yell and charged at Ferene.
Instincts took over. Ferene blocked the first attack, stepping to the side to dodge the shorter sword. Despite her size, Rilya moved incredibly fast, making a third swing as Ferene was still recovering. None of her human opponents moved like this. Ferene blocked again, and again, always just barely in time, finding herself being driven back by well timed strikes that gave her no opportunity to recover and mount her own offense.
Once more, Rilya swung her longer pretend weapon at Ferene's head, and this time Ferene ducked, twisting to the side at the same time to dodge the shorter weapon's following swipe. The double miss put Rilya slightly off balance, and Ferene pushed her shoulder into the larger woman's side, sending her stumbling backwards.
Suddenly, Ferene had space. Bringing her sword up, she swung horizontally, putting all her strength into the strike. Her wooden weapon did not sing as it sliced through the air, instead producing a different, deeper sound as it pushed the air aside. Rilya brought both of her weapons around to block the attack with a sharp clack of wood striking wood. Stepping backwards after deflecting the swing, Rilya flipped her swords over in her hands, slowly circling Ferene. The smile on her face no longer filled with joy, but instead excitement, perhaps even bloodlust.
The two of them stared each other down, each wearing the same simple white shirt and brown leggings, no armor or protection to be seen. If a single blow landed with the force they put into it, bones would break. Ferene tightened her grip, raised the block of wood above her head, and charged again.
Rilya did not block the attack properly, instead intercepting it at an angle, sliding her weapon along the length of Ferene's, stepping closer to her. Completely off-balance, Ferene took her left hand off her sword and reached to grab Rilya's free wrist. Right before she closed in on it, something happened. Rilya dropped her sword and with a snake-like motion grabbed Ferene's hand instead, intertwining their fingers.
Confusion spread across Ferene's face as she tried to pull away, but found Rilya's grip tight. The larger woman dropped her other weapon and grabbed Ferene's right wrist, twisting gently until she found herself equally disarmed. Rilya grinned at her, the predatory smile turning once again into one of joy. With a giggle, she pushed Ferene down onto her back.
Ferene watched in confusion as Rilya knelt down, sitting on top of Ferene's legs. Leaning forward, she bumped her lips against Ferene's, not even touching long enough to be called a kiss. Ferene looked up at her as the other woman said something in her language, her gray eyes staring into Ferene's for a moment. They both waited like that, silent, until Rilya smiled. She leaned towards Ferene again, and Ferene parted her lips ever so slightly, expecting a kiss.
Rilya did not bring her mouth to Ferene's, instead her head drifted off to the side. Before Ferene could say or do anything, she gasped sharply as she felt something hard touch the upper edge of her ear. Her legs twitched, twisting under the two of them as Rilya gently bit down. She moved outwards, up the length of Ferene's ear as Ferene found herself breathing hard, every tiny poke of teeth against flesh sending hot fire into her head and down her body.
Finding it hard to stay upright, Ferene wrapped her arms around Rilya and fell backwards onto the ground, pulling the larger woman down on top of her. The motion didn't disrupt Rilya at all, as she kept gently nibbling on Ferene's ear, moving further outwards, towards the tip. The sensation was maddening, and Ferene wanted desperately to fight back against it. In this position, Rilya's ear was in front of her. Taking one hand off her back, Ferene reached out, grabbed it, and bent it into her mouth, holding it delicately between her teeth, biting down just enough that it didn't pull away from her.
The result was immediate. She could feel Rilya shake on top of her, a shiver that went through the Hatharen's entire body. Rilya released Ferene's ear to whisper another word into it, then bit the bottom. Ferene gasped again, losing her grip on Rilya's ear. Every sensation felt like a tiny pebble hitting the surface of water, sending small ripples outward. Ripples that reached far further than a tiny stone looked like it could, but small ripples weren't enough for Ferene.
She grabbed Rilya's head, gently pulling her away from her ear. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment, Ferene panting, Rilya just smiling smugly. Ferene's eyes were drawn to that smile, focusing on it. She pulled Rilya down into her, kissing her. Ferene hadn't kissed anyone before, so she clumsily pressed her lips to her partner's, pushing them apart. Then she felt Rilya's tongue, and did her best to match those movements as she squeezed her arms around her, pressing their bodies together.
Ferene's focus shifted, her lips against Rilya's lips, her tongue sliding across Rilya's tongue, one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist, she wasn't thinking of what Rilya was doing with her hands until she felt her pinch both of her ears at the same time. It was a maddening sensation. Ferene squirmed underneath her, her entire body shifting from side to side like a snake. She squeezed Rilya tighter in her arms, trying to force her even closer than she already was. Even with her mouth and both of her ears, and the feeling of Rilya's body pressed against hers, it wasn't enough. Ferene wanted more. She was desperate for more.
After a moment, Rilya let go and pushed herself upwards, straddling Ferene, looking down at her. Now they were both breathing heavily, Rilya taking deep breaths through parted lips, Ferene panting, fast and short. Rilya took one more deep breath and smiled, saying another few words in her language. Ferene couldn't understand, but smiled back. She didn't bother saying anything – not only did she not know the words to express herself now, but Rilya wouldn't be able to understand them anyway.
Later, they washed themselves in the stream. Ferene looked over at Rilya's naked body, admiring it from a distance this time, all at once, rather than up close. Pale skin and well toned muscles, long black hair. Rilya must have noticed Ferene watching, as she turned to her, striking a pose and smiling. Ferene couldn't help but smile back. She had smiled at the child back at the farm, too, hadn't she? She couldn't remember smiling like that before then. Before she met Linara.
A following thought pushed into her head. This same situation, with her looking at a naked body. Linara's naked body, and how her reactions didn't make sense to Ferene.
Ferene looked away from Rilya, getting out of the water. She was an idiot. Linara acted oddly because she thought that Ferene wanted to do all of that with her. Everything she had just done with Rilya. She pulled on her borrowed shirt and leggings and turned back to see Rilya doing the same, the Hatharen still smiling at her. Ferene nodded at her once, then pointing back towards the camp, barely visible some distance away.
When they arrived, Ilraghen stood, arms crossed, glaring at Rilya. He gave Ferene a single glance, his eyes filled with fury, then looked at Rilya once more, and started shouting at her. Placing a hand on Ferene's shoulder, she shouted back at him. Ferene looked from one Hatharen to the other, unsure of what she should be doing, but fairly sure this was about her and moderately sure it was about what Rilya and her had done to each other.
Telhrian came over, apparently having returned to camp during Ferene's sparring session, and listened for a moment before cutting in, silencing both Rilya and Ilraghen. He spoke first to Ilraghen, then to Rilya, then to Ilraghen again. The two seemed to agree on something, as Ilraghen turned and walked away, but only after another glare at Ferene. Rilya waited until he was on the other side of the camp before she started talking again, but stopped when Telhrian held up a hand, then pointed at Ferene.
“You are causing a great deal of trouble for us.”
Ferene simply stared up at him, aware of Rilya's hand still on her shoulder. She wrapped her own arm around the Hatharen's waist, causing Telhrian to look down at her hand and frown.
“Come, sit down, and let me tell you what is going on here, as much as I can.” He then said something to Rilya, who let go of Ferene after giving her shoulder a squeeze. Ferene watched her walk away, then followed Telhrian over to a stump and a rock.'
“I cannot give you all of the details, as some of them are not things we tell outsiders, ever. The basics of what I can tell you, however, is that our group of six is equally divided between males and females for a reason, and each of us has an arranged partner. This is not always a romantic pairing. Rilya and Ilraghen get along decently well, as friends and teammates. It stops there, despite them being arranged partners. Rilya's...preferences were made clear to Ilraghen before now, and he accepted them among our own people. He does not see you as one of our people and is...very upset with both you and Rilya.” Telhrian paused multiple times to consider his words, his frown growing deeper as he talked, reaching all the way up and creasing his forehead.
Ferene shrugged. “It's not my fault he's mad.”
With a sigh, Telhrian rubbed his eyes and then looked at her intently. “You have to understand that while it is not your fault he is upset, it is very much your problem. The problem with what to do with you is turning us against each other, and none of us like that. Things like this make it worse. Our discussions were getting more...upsetting, to everyone, and I do not look forward to it tonight. Trying to convince Ilraghen to accept you has become a lot harder.”
He stood up, leaving her with that. Walking over to her bedroll, Ferene put her mock sword down next to her collection of real weapons. She picked up her greatsword, then picked up the wooden copy. The weight was very, very similar. Upon closer inspection, the wooden sword seemed to be made up of several different pieces of different kinds of wood. Despite the rough surface and uneven shape, it seemed like a complex piece of work to be made in just two days, with seemingly no tools around. Ferene shook her head and put it back down. If she tried to uncover the mysteries of the Hatharen by thinking about them, she would probably go insane.
That night, she sat on her bedroll, watching the discussion. Alri stayed silent. Rilya stood up as she spoke, gesturing rapidly. Sathar added a few words here and there, but mostly left the talking to Ilraghen. Telhrian spent more time rubbing his head than talking. Filraehen seemed to assume some sort of leadership role, several times bringing the arguments to a stop when Rilya and Ilraghen were yelling at each other.
It seemed that it all ended with no real progress, as both groups of three went off in opposite directions. Rilya walked over to Ferene and sat down beside her, looking dejected at first but turning to give Ferene a smile. Smiling back, Ferene put a hand on her shoulder. After a deep breath, Rilya pulled her into a tight embrace. It felt different than how they touched earlier in the day. No fast breathing, no quickened heartbeat, but rather a sense of sadness and loneliness, like Rilya held on to her because she was the only thing the woman had left to hold on to. Ferene wrapped her arms around her in return, but her own emotions swirled, uncertain. Fighting with Rilya gave her respect, but beyond that she did not truly know the person. An idea of her, from her open emotions, her enthusiasm, joy, and anger, lingered in Ferene's head, but Ferene did not know how to act here. She could not walk away in order to avoid facing her lack of ability to interact. All she could do was mimic Rilya's actions and hope it worked. She squeezed harder.
The next day, her fifth in the camp, was mostly uneventful. Rilya once more took her down to the side of the stream, and they had another short sparring session, which ended much the same way as the first. Upon their return to camp, Ilraghen glared at the two of them, but did not start an argument this time. Ferene went about trying her best to help, gathering firewood for the camp and edible plants for herself. On this second task, Alri showed up, silently presenting a handful of blackberries. Ferene stopped to look more closely at the shortest member of the team. Thick cloth armor with metal studs wrapped the woman's body, colored with the swirl of green and brown dyes. If not for her pale, nearly white hair, she would have blended into the trees. The bow on her back, along with a quiver of arrows, was her only weapon, aside from the long knife at her waist. All six of the Hatharen wore one of them, when fully geared. The same kind of knife that Linara had been so proficient at throwing.
Taking the berries, Ferene bowed in thanks. She knew that Alri might be against letting her live, so she wanted to avoid making herself look any worse. The Hatharen nodded back at her, then faded into the trees again, heading further east, where the outcrop joined with a larger forest spreading southward. Looking around, Ferene could not see the dirt path where she fought the Direag. She went back to the camp, dropping her food next to her bedroll, and then set off to the southwest. After an hour of walking – she tried running, but was immediately met with pain in her chest – she could not find it, and instead turned back to the camp.
That night, the meeting started mostly the same, Rilya and Ilraghen yelling at each other. Eventually, Alri broke her silence, standing up and facing Ilraghen, talking at length in a calm voice. He stared at her, then said a single word, turning away. Sathar then said something as well, and the meeting ended. The split of the group was very different this time. Sathar sat with Filraehen, tending to the cooking pot. Alri approached Telhrian, saying something to him. The two embraced. Rilya walked over to Ferene and sat next to her, smiling and patting her on the back.
It seemed that things were looking up for Ferene.