The Questing Game f-2

by James Galloway

  And she was so intimidating! Her height was only part of it. It was those eyes. She would give someone that penetrating stare, and they would absolutely lose every ounce of their own willpower. That was all it took. Nobody challenged her, nobody objected to her bluntly ordered demands, and nobody dared sass her. She ruled the entire inn like an imperious queen, and nobody had the guts to gainsay her. That intimidation was why. It wasn't that she was powerful, or mean, it was that when she gave someone that look, it was like he could see his own inadequacy when compared to her towering ability. She made people feel that they didn't deserve to have the right to challenge her, and there could be no form of intimdation more effective than that.

  What Tarrin thought would be a battle of wills with his intimidating, newly declared bond-mother had lasted all of ten seconds, during one of his more lucid moments. That was all it took for her to utterly cow him with one of her stares. He'd never felt so wrong in his life to think he could dare question her orders, and after he got over it, the speed and thoroughness with which she overwhelmed him stung at his pride. But he wasn't about to try that again. He'd rather eat his own leg.

  Over the two days that Triana carefully helped him recover, he found that she wasn't harsh. She demanded others to do her bidding, but she didn't demand more of them than she felt they were willing to give, nor did she compromise their honor or self-esteem. She was a rather considerate and thoughtful woman, once the veneer of her emotionless stare had been stripped away. She was engaging, wise, and she was very adamant in everything she did. She would fold sheets with the same aggressive attempt at perfection as she would when helping Dolanna change the dressing on his wound. Tarrin couldn't help but be impressed by her.

  Two days had brought noticable progress. He was much stronger, strong enough to hold up his arms for short periods of time, but still not well enough to feed himself. The pain remained as a dull throb in him, and had not eased for the two days he had been conscious, but Allia's teachings about dealing with chronic pain allowed him to shunt it enough to be able to concentrate on his surroundings. He didn't drift in a sea of pain as Triana worried he would, but on the other hand, he couldn't put it completely out of his mind. What he got was a kind of semi-conscious lull, drifting in his own mind most of the time on the edge of consciousness, but being able to focus to where he could make conversation for reasonable periods of time. But both Triana and Dolanna frowned on him tiring himself with talk, and they kept him as inactive as possible.

  It was morning. Tarrin could tell that because the sun was shining into the window, and Allia was sitting by his bed. Triana, for once, wasn't in the room when he woke up, but did enter not seconds after Tarrin opened his eyes, focused himself into consciousness, and then smiled at his sister.

  And she wasn't alone. With her was another Were-cat. This one was about Tarrin's height, and she had fiery red hair just like Jesmind and the pattern green eyes that all Were-cats seemed to have. But her face was much sharper than Jesmind's, alot more angular, and her small mouth was a bit severe in its expression. She was still pretty, but her face lacked the delicate quality that made Jesmind and Triana so lovely. She had black fur, just like Tarrin, making her that much more apart from Jesmind. She was also a little more slender, not as wide-hipped, and her figure wasn't as enticing.

  "I see you're up, cub," Triana said with a nod and a slight smile, her stony mask cracking for just a moment. "Tarrin, this is Rahnee. Rahnee, this is Tarrin."

  "Well, I hope to see you up and about soon, cub," Rahnee said in a surprisingly husky voice. "I don't like seeing one of us on a sickbed."

  About all he could do was look at her and nod in response. He had no idea what to say to her.

  "I saw Shirazi about three days ago," Rahnee said to Triana. "She had Singer in tow. They should be here today. I also heard from Laren that Mist and Kimmie are also very close by. They should be here any time now."

  "That's good," Triana replied to her. "Shirazi and Mist alone would have been enough, but you and Singer just makes it that much better."

  "Mist should have left Kimmie behind," Rahnee snorted. "The girl is an embarassment."

  "She was turned, Rahnee, just like Tarrin. You know they're always a bit different from the rest of us."

  "Hmph," Rahnee snorted.

  "Was Laren coming this way?"

  "He probably will. With so many females gathered in one place, he'll probably decide to come see if he can't make us compete over him."

  Triana glanced at Tarrin, who was staring at the pair of female Were-cats. "Anyone else coming that you know about?"

  "Not that I know about, but there's bound to be some stragglers as word gets deeper into the Heartwood," she replied. "It's not often we can gather and welcome a new male. That's worth the travelling time."

  "I hope they get here faster. Come on, I'll get the innkeeper to give you some food, and we'll discuss what needs to be done."

  "How do you feel?" Allia asked gently after the two left, patting the back of his paw.

  "A little better," he replied. "When did she get here?"

  "I guess just now," she replied. "I haven't seen her before."

  "What did Triana mean about needing done?"

  "Triana is very upset with the Wikuni," Allia said in a stiff voice. "She's decided to chase them out of these two cities, by any means necessary. She's calling in your kin to take care of that."

  "Huh," he said. "She meant it. Well, I hope it doesn't backfire on her."

  "She doesn't seem the kind of woman that gives up on avenging the wronged," Allia said speculatively. "She's very, willful, and the Wikuni really made her mad." Allia leaned back a bit in the chair. "I think I'm glad she's decided to be mad at someone else."

  Tarrin looked at her and almost laughed, but he caught himself. With a hole in his chest, laughing would be excruciating.

  "She's ruthless, my brother," Allia told him. "She fully intends to kill any Wikuni stupid enough to remain in the city, but she's already declared all those that took part in the attack on us dead. Any Wikuni in a military uniform is marked." She looked at him. "Anyone with a silver sword is dead, as is anyone in his company. She knows about those men, my brother, and that they hire local cutthroats to aid them. And since she doesn't know which cutthroats are working for our enemies and which aren't, she's ordered all of them killed or chased out."

  "Wow," he breathed after a moment. Triana didn't play around. "She's, thorough."

  "Systematic," Allia agreed. "My people could take lessons from her on the proper way to exact revenge."

  The door opened again, and Triana entered with Dar and Dolanna. Faalken stood outside the door, nodding to them as they passed, serving them as a protector of the vulnerable Were-cat in his private sanctum. Tarrin appreciated the long hours Faalken must have spent standing at the door, staring at a wall and keeping him safe. Dolanna was carrying an armful of white cloth, the bandages they used around his chest. "Things are looking up, cub," Triana said. "Rahnee just arrived, and if we're lucky, Mist and Kimmie will be here by sunset. I'll feel better with some kin around you to help protect you."

  "You don't have to go out of your way for me, Triana," he said mildly.

  "Perhaps, but it's a mother's privilege to go out of her way," she said with a direct stare at him.

  "I'm not really your child."

  "As far as I'm concerned you are," she said flatly, challenging him with her gaze. "I say you're my cub, and that makes you my cub. Do you want to argue about it?"

  "N-No," he said meekly.

  "Good. I hate beating sense into people when I can avoid it. Now, we're going to change your bandages. Dar here is going to see how we do it, so he can help in case Dolanna isn't here to do it with me."

  "Why do you need Dar?"

  "I use Sorcery to ensure the wound does not open while we remove the bandages, dear one," Dolanna explained. "With luck, it will not be needed in a few days. Your injury has already showed marked signs of heali
ng."

  "We heal fast, Dolanna," Triana told her. "Even silver wounds heal faster than a human would heal from a similar injury. A wound like that would put a human in bed for a month. Tarrin should be out of it in ten days."

  "Let us prepare," Dolanna said.

  The changing of his bandages was a remarkably quick affair. It was the first time he'd been awake for it. Dolanna used Sorcery to affect the bandages, to peel the dried blood in them off of the wound in such a way that didn't make it begin bleeding again. She used a weave of water, strangely enough, infusing the dried blood with water to soften the scabs that held the bandage against the wound, then separating them gently with another weave of air. After it was pulled away, he got his first look at the wound. It didn't look that bad. It was nothing but a scabbed hole on the left side of his chest, through the pectoral muscle, that oozed tiny amounts of blood around its edges. But what made it bad was the fact that it reached deeply inside him. Triana put her paw behind his neck, on his upper back, and then he felt Dolanna weave together another weave consisting mainly of air, felt it wrap around him gently, yet preventing him from moving his back. Triana then pulled gently against his neck and upper back, lifting his chest and torso off the bed. The move caused the wound to shiver with pain, but it wasn't anything that he couldn't endure. While she held him up, Dar and Dolanna quickly and carefully wrapped the bandages around his chest, then tied it. When that was done, Triana laid him back down. The sharp pains from being moved subsided, leaving him feeling strangely weak and tired.

  "And that is that," Triana announced as she pulled the covers back up over his torso. "Do you feel alright?"

  "It hurt some, but I'm alright," he assured her in a tired voice.

  "Let's get you some broth, and then you can rest a while," Triana announced. "And get ready. Tomorrow, we're going to start your education. You'll be strong enough to pay attention then."

  "I can do it now."

  "You're not ready yet," she told him. "I can see right through you, cub. It's all you can do to keep your eyes open, and you haven't been awake more than ten minutes. You'd last about five minutes if I started droning on about obscure laws. You may think you're resting, but in your condition, thinking rationally and talking take alot of effort."

  He couldn't refute that. He was tiring himself out, and them changing the bandages hadn't helped. Fighting against the pain was strangely exhausting, and it was exacerbated by his attempts to remain coherent.

  "You'll have some broth, then you'll sleep. If you're feeling better tonight, I'll read for you." She looked at Allia. "Go get us some broth, Allia. And make sure the innkeeper understands that it annoys me when he doesn't keep it hot."

  "Yes, Triana," she said obediently, squeezing Tarrin's paw in farewell before scurrying off to do the elder Were-cat's bidding.

  "Dolanna, you can take care of Tarrin for a while. I have to talk to Rahnee. I'll be back in a while, cub. You take it easy, and do what Dolanna tells you to do."

  "I will make sure of that," Dolanna told her, sitting down by Tarrin's head and laying a gentle hand on his forearm. Tarrin noticed for the first time that the manacles were not on his wrists. He didn't have the energy to worry about it, though. He'd find out what happened to them later. Triana walked out without another word, and Faalken silently closed the door after giving Tarrin a quirky grin.

  "She shouldn't talk to you like that," Tarrin said weakly. "It's disrespectful."

  "Dear one, that she will trust me with you is saying a great deal for what she thinks of me," Dolanna said with a warm smile. "Triana is fiercely protective of you. That is why she has had Faalken guard the door. Today is the first time she has left the room since we brought you here."

  "I know, but still-"

  "Hush, dear one," she said quietly, patting his arm. "Do not waste energy on things you cannot change."

  He leaned his head back against the pillow a bit more, feeling his cat ears bend against the pillow. He really didn't have any energy to waste. He had never been wounded so badly before, and he decided that, even if there wasn't any pain involved, it still was nothing he ever wanted to go through again. When it exhausted him just to speak, it told him how weak he really was.

  Allia returned with the broth, and Dolanna carefully fed it to him. It chafed at him that they had to treat him like a baby, but he wouldn't be able to hold onto the spoon. The broth was still rich and very tasty, and it managed to satisfy his hunger. It also had that same pain-easing effect, and made him distinctly sleepy.

  It was a combination that his weaked body just couldn't ignore. He drifted off to sleep mere moments after Dolanna set the empty bowl on the table.

  For some reason, Tarrin was worried about this.

  Triana turned a wooden chair around and then sat down on it, folding her arms on the chair's back and leaning against it. Her tail slid back and forth behind her rhythmically, and she looked right at him with one of those stares, her expression sober and assessing.

  That morning, she and Dolanna had propped him up into a semi-upright position with several thick, soft pillows. Strangely enough, the change in position had eased the pain a bit, though getting into that position was something that he didn't exactly enjoy. He did like being able to look at people from a viewpoint other than below, and he had gotten very tired of looking up at the beamed ceiling. He felt much stronger than he had the day before, both stronger and in less pain. He found that he could move his arms relatively well, and could shift himself without jagged lances of pain lashing at him. It still hurt, but the pain was duller than before. Just as Triana predicted, he was healing much more quickly than he expected. Triana just kept staring at him. He had no idea what she wanted, and it was making him uneasy. Almost afraid.

  Then she reached over to the nightstand and pulled back an object. It was one of the heavy steel manacles he wore. She looked at it, studying the deep scratches and pits on it, where he had used them like shields to parry weapons. "For some reason," she finally said, "I think these sum up everything there is about you, cub."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that you've been abused," she said bluntly. "I've taken the time while you were asleep to have Dolanna tell me about you. Between what I've heard and what I've felt myself, I'm shocked that you're still sane."

  "Felt?"

  "I have your bond, cub," she said bluntly. "I took it from Jesmind when I decided to come get you. It lets me know it when you're in pain, and it lets me feel it when you experience powerful emotion. It's the only reason I gave you another chance. If I hadn't had an idea of what you were feeling, I'd have killed you in Dayise." She lowered the manacle and stared at him. "What you are now makes alot more sense now that I know how you got here. If I'd have known, I'd have approached you differently in Den Gauche."

  He had no idea what to say to that. He just stared at her uncertainly, a paw delicately over the wound in his chest.

  "But that's water under the bridge now," she said. "This," she started, holding the manacle up again, "is what they made of you. It's not what you were meant to be."

  "I don't understand."

  "Probably not," she agreed. "All that you really need to understand is that I know what's happened to you. I'm not very happy about it," she said with a low growl. "But it's time to start working on the future." She tossed the manacle back onto the nightstand absently. He didn't see it land, but he heard it clink a couple of times as it bounced to a stop. " Fae-da'Nar is an ancient society, cub," she began in a resonant voice, putting her chin on her clasped paws and staring at him as she spoke. "It goes back thousands of years. We've survived this long so close to the humans because we have laws. Those are the laws that you have to learn, and what's more important, they're laws that you have to obey. There's no room for breaking these laws. If you break them once, you are warned. If you break them twice, you are dead. Because of what you've already done, there will be no warnings," she said ominously. "If you show any sign that you're not capable o
f adhering to our law, they will kill you without hesitation. And there's nothing I can do about it. The laws we have protect all of us, and if sacrificing you keeps the rest of us alive, then so be it.

  "I'm going to teach you two things, cub," she continued. "The laws of Fae-da'Nar, and the customs of the other woodland races, what some of us call Woodkin. The laws you will learn today. The customs will take much longer. But in their own way, the customs I'm going to teach you are much more important than the laws. We all obey the laws, but you'll find that those laws don't protect us from one another. They only deal with keeping our kind from ending up on the ends of human pitchforks. If you anger too many other Woodkin, they'll come after you, and you'll have to fend them off by yourself. So it's very important that you understand the customs of the others, so you don't offend them too much." She snorted. "They accuse us of being short-tempered, but you've never seen a Centaur when you come into his range unannounced. They're the ones you have to be the most careful around, cub. Centaurs can't stand Were-cats, and they're more than willing to try to kill us over even the most minor or accidental insult."

  She scratched her neck absently, then leaned on her paws again. "You're entering a much different society, cub, one that you're probably not going to like," she warned. "The rest of Fae-da'Nar doesn't like us. Some, like the Centaurs, at least have the guts to be open about it. You're going to face slights and insults, scorn and aggravation. But in the interests of Woodkin harmony, I suggest you let them pass. Especially you. You're a wild card, cub, ferocious, unpredictable, and very feral. Some of the Woodkin object to my taking you in. They'd rather have you killed. And I suppose if what happened at Den Gauche was pinned on you, I'd be doing it. But since nobody knows what really happened but us, I'm willing to let that slide."

  "Why do you put up with it?"

  "I don't," she said flatly. "I'm too old to be talked down to. You, on the other hand, had better be ready to either take it, or show them that you're not about to take it. How you decide to handle it is up to you." She gave him a slight smile. "I know you, cub. You'll cram the first insult you hear down the throat of whoever said it. I won't object if you do, but understand that that's how you make enemies. If you don't mind enemies, then be my guest. You'll be a grown cub after I release you, mature enough to make your own decisions.