by Lexy Wolfe
Tiwaz shook her head. “There is no debt, Marren. You needed protection and I was able to help. Aiding you in your time of need was only right for the kindness you have shown us both.” She looked at Doom. “We must be leaving. We have been here overlong.”
The old woman looked worried. “Are you sure? You are both welcome to stay here. For as long as you want! It would be no trouble at all.”
“I wish we could,” Doom apologized regretfully. “Thank you for the offer, but we cannot stay. You can keep the food we brought. I know it is not much, but—”
“Then wait long enough for me to make you something to eat while you get your things. You cannot be leaving without having a good meal.” Doom nodded, ushering Tiwaz out to get their gear together from the barn loft.
The gladiator did not speak while they packed their gear, not even looking at Doom the entire time. The gromek frowned in worry. “Ti,” he asked in a low voice. “What’s wrong?”
Eyes closing, she bit her lip. “I-I know you wanted to stay in Dragons Gate,” she said finally. “I am sorry.”
Doom sighed, shoulders sagging slightly. He hesitated responding. “You couldn’t help it. It wasn’t your fault.”
She shot a glare at him. “Wasn’t it? I was the one who forced us to leave. I didn’t try hard enough. I wasn’t in control.” She flung a handful of straw towards the loft’s back wall irritably before heading to the ladder. “You should have let me fall from that cliff,” she said bitterly. “A gladiator without discipline is worthless.”
His frown deepened. “Don’t talk like that. You are not a thing, you are my friend. My best friend. You are being too hard on yourself.”
She paused at the top of the ladder. “Then tell me honestly that you do not believe I am the reason you had to abandon something you wanted more than anything else in the world.” He could not meet her gaze. “I thought so.” She continued down the ladder to the ground and headed out of the barn.
“Ti, wait,” he called, climbing down quickly to catch up to her. “Blaming implies being angry. Yes, it was something I wanted. A lot. But I am not mad at you. It was…” His voice drifted off, not repeating what the emerald-eyed dragon told him about Alimar.
She would not meet his eyes. “And I took it away from you. A true friend does not do that.”
Growling at the self-deprecation in her voice, he grabbed her arm, pulling her back inside to face him. “I would rather never have a place to call home than lose you, Tiwaz. You remember that.” She winced, but said nothing. He sighed, releasing her when the house door opened.
Accepting the bundle from Marren, Tiwaz endured the woman’s embrace, bid her farewell, and turned to head down the road. Doom gritted his teeth at the pace she was keeping, but said nothing.
As the afternoon wore on, the two could hear the sounds of the city in the distance. The wall between the pair grew heavier as they walked in silence. They emerged from the trees to look into the valley below filled with buildings and roads. “This place is huge,” he commented. “I think if I keep my cowl far enough forward, no one will pay any attention to us.” He bit back words of exasperation at the woman’s noncommittal sound. As they entered the city, few people paid any attention to them, more concerned with their own business than the appearance of two more newcomers in the multitude of races filling the streets.
“Hey! Kiliana!” a familiar voice called out. Doom immediately seized Tiwaz’s wrist as she grabbed the hilt of her knife. Gareth Tavarius dodged a few people in the street, jogging to meet up with the pair. He smiled warmly to them, offering a gallant, exaggerated bow. “Or should I call you Tiwaz? And you, big fellow, must be the one she’s always known to be with. Doom, right?” The pair stiffened, both in shock and dismay.
Green eyes dilated then fixed angrily on Doom. “I remember now. He is the reason we went to Dragons Gate. You trusted him over me? And you fault me for having to leave?” The hurt was as clear as the rest of her raging emotions.
“You worry too much,” Doom tried to explain. “I didn’t want you stressing over things while you were recovering from—”
She stepped back when Doom tried to catch her hand. “I worry too much? Am I so much of a burden now you would heed a deceitful stranger over me?”
“Ti, please, you only just recovered from that fever. Calm down,” the gromek half begged, feeling the eyes of strangers on them. “I can explain—”
“Explain it to him,” she spat, glaring at Gareth. “Be friends with him. I am obviously more trouble than I’m worth. Here.” She snatched the pouch with her share of the gold she earned at Dramaden and threw it at Doom’s chest. “Enjoy your freedom.”
“What?” Doom could only stare uncomprehendingly as she turned on her heel and stalked into the crowd on the street. “No…wait…Ti!” He tried to follow her, but she quickly melted into the crowd and disappeared. With barely restrained fury, he turned back and stalked towards Gareth, grabbing the bard by the front of his clothing and lifting him a foot off the ground. While there was attention, it was more fascinated curiosity over the disagreement than any panic. “I should have let her kill you in Dramaden,” he snarled in the man’s face.
Glancing down with wide-eyes, his hands on Doom’s gloved fist, Gareth said, “Please, I was asked to find and help you.” He closed his eyes when Doom jerked him sharply, grunting. “I can prove it.” Desperately fishing inside his tunic, he pulled out a medallion on a chain bearing a dragon with a blue-diamond eye, a ruby, emerald, and onyx around its head.
Doom’s grip loosened in surprise, dropping the bard. Gareth stumbled back, rubbing his throat, shaking from the unexpected manhandling. He jerked upright as the thong the medallion hung on tightened against his throat when Doom grabbed the medallion to look at it closer. “I know this. You know what this symbol means?” he asked in disbelief.
Glancing at all the eyes turned towards them, Gareth put his hand on Doom’s elbow. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere with more privacy.” When Doom balked, he asked in exasperation, “Do you want to find Tiwaz or not?”
“You’re the reason she is gone. Why should I trust you?” Doom demanded.
Gareth’s expression was hard and he looked about to say something, but censored himself. Instead, he took a deep breath and exhaled first. “Because I have a better chance of locating her in Crossroads than you do.” Doom growled deep in his throat, unable to argue the point and followed him.
TIWAZ STALKED THROUGH the city streets like an angry storm. People consciously or unconsciously moved out of her way, pulling their children with them. Without any idea or care of where she was going, she knew only that she had to keep moving. With her self-control slipping from her grasp, she knew someone would be hurt if she lashed out.
She looked up at the sky sharply when an unwelcome but familiar sharp pain shot through her. The sun sank below the horizon, stars speckling the moonless sky. “New moon,” she whispered, arms wrapped around her middle. “No, I can’t change now. Not here,” she begged. “Focus. I need to focus.” Anxious, she ducked into an alley to hide. Running into the wall in the dead end, Tiwaz spun in dismay at the sound of heavy footsteps behind her. Several thugs blocked the exit of the alley, smirking to one another.
“Well, now, what have we here?” one of the men asked, leering at her. She doubled over when another stab of pain shot through her. “Pretty thing like you shouldn’t be wandering around all alone.”
“Yeah,” another man purred in an oily voice. “Something bad might happen to you. And out here, no one will do shit to help you if you scream. And you will scream,” he added ominously.
“Stay back,” she tried to command, but her voice sounded weak and desperate in her ears. Overwhelmed with fighting the change, she could not stop them from descending on her. She struggled weakly to push away their grabbing hands, her worn clothes ripping easily. With a howl of frustration, she gave into the urge to change, her body melting, black hair covering her nudity as she became the s
leek panther.
Panic set into the group of thugs when they saw her change shape, their thoughts of rape turning to killing a contagion bearing monster. Unused to fighting in her feline form, she managed to dodge only the first few attacks before their numbers and weapons overwhelmed her. A club connected with the back of her skull and she staggered, then collapsed. Her yowls of pain grew weaker as merciful blackness began clouding her vision and dulling the pain of their kicks and hits. In her fading sight, she saw a familiar shadow looming behind the gang. Knowing her death would be avenged, she allowed the darkness to claim her.
Doom bellowed in grief and rage when he caught a glimpse of the panther’s broken body. He swung his makeshift quarterstaff so hard, he felled three men and still crushed a brick in the wall. The gromek raged blindly, letting none escape. The fury drained away when no one remained standing, his gaze drawn to Tiwaz’s unmoving body. He flung the broken staff away as he dropped to his knees beside the panther.
Déjà vu of Tiwaz laying near death in the sands at Shurakh Arln made his heart go cold. “No,” he begged. “Ti, please, don’t leave me. Please.” He bent over her, carefully gathering her broken body and holding her tightly against him, repeating his plea in litany. He sat up abruptly when he felt her body changing form again, instinctively returning to her more familiar human shape. Blood stained her pale flesh. Bruises darkened most of her body. But her chest rose and fell with shallow, wheezing breaths, reassuring she yet lived at least.
His relief turned to bewildered dismay. “I don’t understand. None of her injuries healed. They healed when she changed before.”
“She is too thin. She has nothing for her body to use to mend her wounds,” Gareth observed, his expression grim. “As much of a beating as she took, it will be several days before she’ll be able to simply stand, even with her accelerated healing.”
Doom shot a glare at the man. “What do you know of—?”
“Not everyone is ignorant about the differences between shape-shifters and lycanthropes,” Gareth replied with an edge to his voice. “I told you, I only want to help you. I did before I knew who you really were.” He took his cloak off, offering it to Doom to wrap Tiwaz in. The gromek grudgingly accepted the offered garment. His heart ached every time her expression twitched in pain.
He looked up at Gareth when the bard put a hand on his shoulder. “I know a place that will be safe for you both.” Doom looked down at the woman and nodded, drawing the cowl of his cloak forward to hide his face. He gathered her into his arms and turned to follow.
SUNLIGHT SHONE THROUGH the single, small window on the wall opposite the door of the small bedroom. Doom sat on the floor facing the bed, staring at Tiwaz. Wearily, he rubbed the side of his face, closing his eyes to try to get some rest.
The tiny, agonized sound of her voice brought him abruptly awake some hours later. He nearly fell over himself getting to her side, taking her hand in both of his. “Ti?” he called softly.
Green eyes opened, unfocused and dark with pain. “Doom?” she whispered in a roughened voice.
“I am here, Ti,” he assured quietly. Keeping her hand in one of his, he reached up to caress her hair soothingly. The action relaxed her minutely, her eyes closing again. “I am here. You are safe.”
“I thought…” She swallowed tightly. “You looked for me?” The surprise and guilt in her tones made his heart lurch. “You saved me?”
“Of course I did. No matter what comes between us, I would never turn my back on you. You are my friend.” He closed his eyes, shaking with emotion. “You scared me to death. When I saw you lying there, I thought… You weren’t moving. I made sure those who hurt you would never, ever hurt anyone ever again.” He chuckled weakly. “I’ll need to replace my staff again.” He opened his eyes at a tortured sound and quickly moved to reassure her. “Shhh. Don’t cry. You’ll hurt yourself worse. You had been shape-shifting in your sleep, but it has not been healing your wounds.”
“I’m so sorry, Doom,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. I hurt you. All I have done is hurt you. I didn’t want to hurt you but I keep—.” He touched her lips with one finger, stopping the flood of guilt-soaked words. Curling their clasped hands over her heart, she took a shuddering breath. “I feel so lost. I’m so afraid. I am ashamed for being so weak. You deserve better.”
“Shhh. Stop that, Ti,” he admonished gently. “You do not need to apologize. We are both new to this freedom thing. It is a lot to adjust to. And you have so much more to adjust to than I do.” He pressed his lips against her scarred wrist. “I should have been more patient with you. And more trusting of your instincts. They are not lesser to mine just because you were trained a gladiator and I was a woodsman.” He brushed his hand over her hair. “Go back to sleep and heal. I will be here to keep you safe.”
“Like you always have,” she whispered, closing her eyes again.
The door opened after several minutes, Gareth looking in. “How is she?” he asked in hushed, worried tones.
“Recovering,” Doom replied as he released her hand and covered her with the blanket. “That is all I can say. If there is still this much damage after two nights of shape shifting in her sleep, it makes me sick to imagine what it was before.”
Gareth winced, taking the chair by the door, turning it around and sitting in it backwards, his arms crossed over the back. “Look, Doom. I’m really sorry for what happened. I didn’t mean to cause any problems between the two of you. I had no idea—”
Doom sighed, shaking his head as he turned to sit with his back against the side of the bed. “It wasn’t your fault entirely. I think things had been building for a while. I wasn’t patient with her. She was too ashamed to admit to things she considered weakness. And frankly, she doesn’t trust anyone.”
“I’ve noticed that,” Gareth said drolly. “Except for you. You’re probably the only one she does, from the looks of it.”
Doom sighed. “Yes. She has always trusted me. Sometimes, I recognize how much she does and it’s unsettling. And could hardly think when I thought I lost it.” He closed his eyes. “But so long as she is still willing to trust me, I won’t risk losing it. Not again.”
Gareth looked at her pale, bruised countenance. “Does she have a real name? Tiwaz is fine for an arena name, but surely she’s something more…feminine.”
The gromek shook his head. “When Alimar captured us, she had lost her memories of her entire life. Including her name. If she has ever remembered anything, she has not told me. She refuses to acknowledge anything as a name. She accepts me calling her Tiwaz because of its meaning to me.”
The bard blinked aghast. “So she had no idea she was a shape-shifter until recently?” Doom shook his head. “Gods, poor thing. I cannot imagine how traumatic her first change was for her.” He considered the gromek. “For you both.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Doom stated in clipped tones.
Holding both hands up defensively, Gareth assured, “It is fine. I don’t need to know the details. I can extrapolate from others’ experiences with sudden discoveries of their own natures they were unaware of possessing.” Resting his chin on his arms, he studied her. “Her spirit must be as strong as she is beautiful,” he observed wistfully.
“You really do think she’s beautiful?”
Gareth blinked. “Of course I do. Granted, she is not a beauty in the traditional sense. But then again, I have never liked traditional women. Soft bodies are nice once in a while, but soft minds I can do without and the two seem to go hand in hand.” He wrinkled his nose. “Or at least, that’s the façade they put forward, though some actually are that vapid, gods take pity on us all.”
Doom looked at her, brushing his hand across her hair. “She believes men prefer those kind of women. The soft, timid sorts.”
Gareth snorted softly. “It does seem to be the case. But they rarely respect them. The men use and abuse them, because they can’t or won’t fight back. I have been to lands where t
he females of the race are held equal to their male folk. You would be surprised how much more vital the society is when all are considered equal.” He rested his cheek in one palm, watching her. “I prefer women capable of thinking and doing for themselves. And attractive to boot?” He sighed wistfully. “She is a rare treasure.”
“Well, then her poor reaction to you was probably your own fault, Gareth Tavarius.”
He sat up. “What? My fault?! I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Nothing wrong, no. But you told her the truth of what you thought of her, and it conflicted with what she believed to be the absolute truth. You are probably the first man who was a stranger to her to tell her something kind and be honest about it. Even her fellow gladiators never called her beautiful. They admired her for her skill and determination to abide by every arena law as her honor dictated, but they never considered her a beauty. It is not something she is accustomed to. She doesn’t even believe me when I say she is beautiful.” When the bard arched an eyebrow, he explained, “She believes because I am gromek, I can’t possibly consider her beautiful because I should consider my own kind attractive and all others ugly. Physically.”
Gareth looked over at the sleeping woman, his face inscrutable. “That is a crime in itself.”
“Just don’t do it again,” Doom suggested. “Not until she trusts you more.” He sighed, caressing her hair gently. “She will not be pleased when she finds out this is your home.”
“My family’s home, thank you. I usually sleep in this guest room when I return to Crossroads, but I’m happy with the couch in the sun room. And don’t worry if anyone sees you for what you are. They’re rather used to it.”
“'Used to it’? Used to what? My people? I thought no gromeks ever came to Crossroads.”
Gareth laughed loudly, and quickly hushed when Tiwaz stirred in her sleep. She quieted when Doom put his hand on her bare shoulder. “Not exactly. No gromeks have ever been to Crossroads. Before you, anyway. But denizens of three of the four lands that border Crossroads frequent this city. You are not as strange as some.” Doom pressed, but received no clearer explanation.
