~
Royce was getting tired of getting knocked out. Dull throbbing at the base of his skull told him, in no uncertain terms, that his body didn't much care for it either. He kept his eyes closed, instead focusing on only what he could hear. It was quiet, save for the soft crackling of a fire. The roar of the crashing waves was gone, replaced with the chirruping of crickets and the faint rustle of small animals moving through the underbrush. Wherever they'd been taken, it was a decent distance inland from the beach where they'd landed.
He opened his eyes and took stock of his predicament. Royce was in a cage that swung sedately about ten feet above and to one side of the fire. The cage was crafted of reeds about as thick as his wrist and lashed top, middle, and bottom with stout vines. With no blade, there was little chance of him getting free of his confinement. A glance across the clearing told him Torus was in the same kind of trouble. His huge frame was doubled over in the cage. Fortunately, he seemed to be still unconscious. When he awoke, Torus would be rather uncomfortable. If he lived that long.
Three huge shapes crashed into the clearing around the fire. Six eyes gleamed in the firelight, looking first at Royce's cage, then at Torus's. The feline creatures spoke amongst themselves, the conversation consisting of a series of mewls, spits, and hissing growls. It was impossible to guess what they were saying. From their statures and body language, Royce could only assume that the other two were angry with the orange and white behemoth that had attacked them on the beach. Royce wasn't too happy with it either.
A renewed bout of spitting and hissing shattered the stillness of the clearing. Black-and-yellow let out a low, menacing growl that even Royce would have known better than to argue with. Orange-and-white looked at White-and-gray as if pleading for support. Finding none, Orange-and-white's tail drooped. It laid its ears back along its skull and slunk away from the fire. Royce knew defeat when he saw it. Though he didn't know what they'd been arguing about, Orange-and-white had clearly lost the fight and had been driven out because of it.
An unpleasant sensation passed over him, like insects scurrying across his flesh. Four luminous eyes peered up at him from the edge of the clearing. They knew he was awake. Black-and-yellow moved under Royce's cage and disappeared from view. A growing sense of unease gnawed at him, roiling his stomach, but Royce forced it away. Fear served no purpose. He wasn't sure what was going to happen next, but he knew that he needed to keep a clear head to get Torus out of this in one piece.
The cage jerked, slamming Royce against the wall. He braced for excruciating pain from his legs and was surprised when it didn't hurt as badly as he'd expected. Far enough from the disrupting effects of the sea, his bond with the Quintessential Sphere had been re-established. The forces that were slowly draining him of life were also mending his bruises and broken bones. As the cage was lowered into the light of the fire, Royce saw that the worst of the contusions had faded to a pale yellow shadow of what they'd been. The minor cuts and scrapes were all but gone. He was thankful that Torus was still passed out in his cage. He wasn't looking forward to explaining his miraculous healing. He’d taken great care over the years to hide his special abilities from those he fought alongside. Even going so far as to using cosmetics to take on the appearance of normal healing. He had no such supplies to work with now.
He touched the ground and for a moment, nothing in the clearing moved. Black-and-yellow peered at him through the bars. White-and-gray stood just beyond, also looking toward the cage. Orange-and-white was still nowhere to be seen, and that made Royce more nervous than the two beasts that were peering at him with what seemed like a mixture of hunger and curiosity.
Black-and-yellow stepped up to the cage and fiddled with it, his long claws scraping against the thick bars and sending a shiver up Royce's spine. His captors were well armed with fangs and claws. He had nothing with which to defend himself except his wits. He'd have much preferred a sturdy blade or spear. A door in the side of the cage opened and Black-and-yellow stepped back. He waited, his luminous eyes dancing in the firelight.
Royce had sprung many traps in his career with the Army. He'd found himself landed in several more. This smelled of a trap. They were giving him just enough rope to hang himself with. If he bolted, they'd run him down. It was a predatory instinct, to chase fleeing prey. They were testing him, to see if he'd run.
Lowering his hands to his legs, he pressed on the skin above and below his knees. Pain blossomed, which was reassuring in its own way. At least pain was a known commodity. Though he was no healer, he knew the bones weren't fully mended yet. He could feel it. A subtle strangeness around him. The Quintessential Sphere telling him that he wasn't in peak form. Royce snorted softly. As if he needed the Eternals to tell him that. Even so, his legs felt as if they'd support his weight, if he moved carefully. Slowly.
With thick fingers calloused by years of abuse, Royce picked apart the expertly tied knots Torus had used to lash the splints to his legs. His captor's eyes tracked each movement, no matter how minute or innocent. He laid the bindings aside and moved the driftwood splints to the far wall. Though he'd like to have kept one as a weapon, no matter how primitive, it wouldn't do him any good to provoke the feline beasts. Even with his power returning, their claws were far better weapons. If only he'd had more time.
Royce grabbed the bars of his prison and pulled himself up onto protesting legs. He ground his teeth against the pain, and despite his best efforts, a little groan whooshed out of him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Black-and-yellow's whiskers twitch. He mewled something softly to White-and-gray, who turned with graceful fluidity and disappeared into the jungle.
Though one-to-one were odds that Royce much preferred, he had no delusions about being able to escape the muscular beast just outside his cage. He hated being at a disadvantage, but he couldn't see any way to turn the tables. Nor could he think of a way to keep stalling, to keep the bars of the cage between himself and those deadly claws.
With a sigh of resignation, Royce took a step sideways, toward the door. He put his weight down gingerly at first, feeling for the telltale buckle of a limb that wouldn't support his weight. Though there was a considerable amount of pain, it didn't feel as if he was in danger of collapsing. One hurdle down. How many to go?
Royce's progress was slow, both due to his injury and to the fact that he really didn't want to be standing face to face with Black-and-yellow, who made Torus look tiny in comparison. At over six feet tall and almost three hundred pounds, Torus was a mountain of a man who left most cowering in his shadow. By comparison, Black-and-yellow stood about a foot taller and was graced with another fifty pounds of muscle, at least.
Standing outside the cage filled Royce with a feeling of vulnerability that both repulsed and fascinated him. As the Captain of the Great Army of the Imperium, he'd faced countless foes, leading his men into battle against them with the singular purpose of preserving the realm and protecting the One True King. In each of those battles, he'd been surrounded by men he knew and trusted. Men who, he knew, would sacrifice themselves to save him if the need arose. The same as he would sacrifice himself for them. It was a different feeling now, standing across from this impressive predator, to know that he was utterly alone.
Torus, of course, was still in his cage, swinging slowly above the fire, but even if he were awake, what could he do to prevent whatever was about to happen? Even with his best friend and most trusted adviser no more than thirty feet away, he felt abandoned, adrift and isolated in a way that he'd never felt before. He faced Black-and-yellow, tilting his head back slightly so he could look the taller beast in the eyes.
"Ish ash beeen lawng sime since shuumans shas sheffiled Shyraan lansh."
It took Royce a moment to realize that the hissing, spitting sound he was hearing was Black-and-yellow's speech. Longer still to realize that it was a badly slurred form of the common tongue. He guessed that with fangs that large dominating most of the oral real estate, things got lost in the tra
nslation. Now that he knew what he was listening for, it would be easier to understand.
"Our arrival wasn't intentional, I assure you. Our ship broke up out to sea. When my friend and I woke up, we were on your beach. We had no intention of trespassing. I am Royce MacDungren, Captain of..."
He trailed off. Royce wasn't sure that identifying himself as the commanding officer of a foreign army was the smartest thing he could do, considering the circumstances.
"Captain of the sailing ship Warhorse," he finished quickly, filling in the gap he'd left.
"You may call me Shreth. Of the Shyraan. My mate is Faarsh. My brother, Hsaan."
Shreth's speech was much easier to understand now that Royce knew what he was listening for.
White-and-gray was a female. That explained her slighter stature and the grace with which she moved. The female of any race, in Royce's experience, was imbued with an ability to move in a certain way that just defied male understanding. Orange-and-white then, was the brother. The spat between him and Shreth took on an entirely new light now, and Royce made an educated guess.
"Your brother," Royce said slowly. "Hsaan. He wanted to kill us as soon as he found us."
"Yes."
"And again here at the clearing."
"Yes."
Royce rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. "Why did you stop him?"
Shreth's whiskers twitched and one ear flicked forward. It was hard reading the Shyraan. He had no frame of reference, other than what he'd observed in other predators. He didn't know if that twitch was a sign of amusement or agitation.
"My brother is a glutton," Shreth rumbled finally. "Why kill two when one would go to waste?"
"Kill only what you need to survive," Royce said with a nod. He understood the premise. It was a common premise among the elves of Aldstock. One that humans tried to adhere to with mixed success. Humans had a tendency to horde. It was an offshoot of their versatility and adaptability. You never knew what you might need, or when.
"You think we mean to devour you?" Shreth's ears flicked back and his face drew into a mask that Royce easily identified as disgust. He'd missed the mark altogether. "How repugnant. Shyraan would not debase themselves by feeding on man's flesh. We will kill one of you as a message and free the other to deliver the message."
Now Royce understood what the Shyraan had meant when he's said that one would go to waste. Killing both of them meant that there would be no one left alive to deliver their warning. He sighed. There were probably thousands of places to wash ashore in the vastness of the Ebon Sea. Why did they have to wash up on the one that was inhabited by the Shyraan?
"You could let both of us go," Royce said, without much hope that the idea would hold any merit with the great feline beast.
No, beast wasn't the right word. Shreth and Hsaan wore loincloths, and Faarsh a crude jerkin and short breeches. They understood modesty. They used language. They certainly had a firm grasp of tactics. Beast was a misnomer, and a dangerously derogatory one at that.
"Release me from this cage, you filthy animals!" Torus roared from above the fire. Shreth's claws, which had mostly retracted during his conversation with Royce, flashed into view. Royce sighed.
Torus was a good man and more open-minded than most, but he had a tendency to speak without thinking. It had landed him in the city jail more times than Royce could count, particularly after an evening in the tavern. At least in Dragonfell, among his own people, the worst that would happen to Torus as a result of his big mouth was landing in a cell overnight to sleep off the rest of the ale. Here, it could get them both killed.
"Watch your language, Lieutenant," Royce said in a soft, almost conversational voice. Though he didn't raise his voice much, his command carried well. Torus let out a startled yelp.
"Captain?"
"Lieutenant. We find ourselves in a precarious position, Torus. It would do us a great service if you didn't offend our captors again."
"Offend them? I'm surprised they even--"
"Torus!"
"Sorry, Sir." A pause. "Captain! You're standing up!"
"A very astute observation, Lieutenant."
"What sorcery is this?" Torus called.
The effect Torus's statement had on Shreth was dramatic and immediate. The Shyraan's claws came to full extension, and his ears laid flat against his head. Shreth's tail, which had been languidly oscillating behind him drew up against his spine and puffed out to twice its original size.
"Sorcery!" Shreth hissed, his fangs gleaming in the firelight. "Wizard!"
Oh Torus, Royce thought to himself, you have fantastically poor timing and an even more dire choice of words.
"I'm not a wizard," Royce said, holding up his hands, palms outward in a gesture of supplication. "Our people call them Quintessentialists, but I'm not one."
It wasn't a lie. Not really. Quintessentialists were trained to draw power from the Ethereal Realm and focus it, using it to create effects beyond the laws of nature. Quintessentialists could summon elementals from the earth, balls of flame, or lightning from clear skies. Royce couldn't do any of that. His magic was the energy of battle. Tapping into the Quintessential Sphere allowed him to move faster, swing stronger, and heal more rapidly. That was all. There was no real act of sorcery involved.
Shreth's nose flared and the whiskers drew back. It was getting easier for Royce to read the Shyraan. Of course, distrust wasn't a very long leap from disgust.
"You smell of wizardry, human."
"The Captain? Ha!" Torus chuckled from the cage above. "And I'm the Queen of Pheen."
The Shyraan's eyes flicked toward the suspended cage, and Royce wished that Torus weren't feeling so helpful. He was in for a surprise, especially if Shreth forced him into a demonstration of his power.
"The Quintessentialists move freely among our people, Shreth." Royce hoped that explanation would be sufficient. He didn't know how keen the Shyraan sense of smell was, nor if they could identify a wizard merely by odor. "Perhaps that accounts for the smell of sorcery upon me."
Shreth's reaction to the word was something ancient and powerful, Royce decided. It was an ancestral instinct so powerful that the use of the word might be considered an insult. Having used it to confirm his suspicion, he wouldn't use it again. The last thing he wanted to do was to provoke the Shyraan into killing them. He still had hopes of both of them making it out alive.
The black claws began to retract and Shreth's ears pitched forward again. His tail, however, remained erect and puffed out. The Shyraan wasn't as relaxed as he wanted Royce to believe. Perhaps there was a certain amount of deception on both sides. Royce decided to try a different tactic.
"Do you fear wizards, or hate them?"
Shreth's whiskers twitched in surprise. The slits of his eyes narrowed slightly, an unnerving response that sent a chill up Royce's spine. He regretted asking the question.
"Both, human. The ancient Shyraan, my ancestors' ancestors, were created by the Sirens, then enslaved and forced to do their bidding."
A soft sigh escaped from Royce as he put the pieces together. He almost chuckled, but then stopped himself. There was no way to know how the Shyraan would respond to being laughed around. Not that Royce would be laughing at Shreth, but he didn't want to take the chance.
"Hsaan saw the wreck of the Warhorse," Royce said. "Then he found us on the beach. He thought we were sent by the Sirens to attack you. He came and alerted you. You're the leader of your family, so he had to come to you. He wanted to kill us outright, but you wanted to keep one of us hostage and send a message to the Sirens that you were capable of defending yourselves."
Royce heard Torus snort. "Of all the rid--"
"Silence, Lieutenant."
There was a long pause. Torus was a good solider, but he also had a fair amount of pride. He wouldn't care for being spoken to that way in front of what he clearly still thought of as an inferior.
The stiffness left Shreth's tail and it dropped to the floor of the
clearing, jumping back and forth.
"You are not emissaries of the Sirens?"
Now Royce did laugh, but it was a mirthless laugh, with no humor behind it.
"No. We're not. I daresay the Sirens have killed as many of my people, if not more, as they have yours."
"Your people were not enslaved to them," Shreth spat.
"No," Royce agreed. "We were not. We share a common enemy, but not your suffering."
"Even if this is true, why should we not kill you both? If you die, there will be no evidence that you were ever here. You will be assumed to have been lost at sea, with the destruction of your vessel."
Royce nodded.
"That's probably true. But if you kill us, we can't help you. Perhaps we share common enemies. We both oppose the Sirens. Maybe there are others."
Whatever reply Shreth might have made was preempted by the arrival of his brother and his mate. Hsaan's absence hadn't improved his mood any. The large feline's eyes were narrow slits, his ears and tail displaying the same tells of agitation that Shreth had shown only moments before.
"What treachery is this?" he spat, bounding into the clearing. "Why have you freed one of the prisoners?"
"We spoke of common enemies, nothing more," Shreth's voice was a low rumble. "Remember your place, Brother."
Hsaan jerked upright, as if he'd been struck. His lips pulled back from his long fangs in a low, threatening hiss.
"Common enemies? The human seeks to deceive you, Shreth. They are sent by the Sirens to destroy us. Look! See what we've found in the wreckage of their ship."
Royce noticed for the first time that Faarsh was carrying a bundle in the crook of her arm. He didn't know what they'd found in the wreckage of the Warhorse, but it probably wasn't going to bring him or Torus any luck. The ship had been carrying weapons and supplies to the Pearlwatch Estuary, the first human settlement on Solorest, the southeastern continent across the Siren’s Sea from Mizdan, where the Human Imperium had continued to grow and expand for thousands of years.
Quintessential Tales: A Magic of Solendrea Anthology Page 2
