by B C Penling
Amara had already changed into a wolf and appeared to be very dry despite being soaked when she was a cougar. The old man was petting her and scratching her behind the ears. Beside him was a wide-eyed, red-haired dwarf who looked just as surprised to see them as they were to see him. There was a black horse standing alongside the left side wall with one of its hind legs relaxed. Behind it in a corner was a shadowy figure that appeared to be asleep beneath a blanket. Leaning against the wall opposite of the horse was a huge red dragon that stared at them with striking amber eyes. He looked extremely unhappy and unwilling to be there.
“Come on in, don’t be shy,” Old Man said. He gave a round of quick introductions before motioning to a square boulder. “Have a seat by the fire and dry off. He won’t hurt you. He just hates the delay the storm brought.”
“And other delays," Zen grumbled.
Panthigra slid from Tigthero’s back and onto the firm, dry ground. She could feel the fire’s warmth from the drafty entryway. She walked over slowly, keeping her eyes on Zen who looked at her with intrigue. Tigthero shook off as much water as he could before following Panthigra to the fire. Silence followed.
The cave ceiling was blackened from the fire that was crackling lively in a dugout in the floor. The smoke was channeled out of the cave due to the way the ceiling sloped. At the mouth of the cave, the smoke swirled a little before getting sucked out with changing air pressure as the gusts came and went.
Tigthero was soon breathing deeply and well on his way to sleep. Panthigra closed her eyes and rested her head in her hands.
“It’s nice to be warm,” she said. “Thank you.”
“I’m sure Zen is happy to have supplied the flame,” the old man replied.
“I’ll be happier once the storm stops and we can leave this cave.” Zen rested his chin on the ground.
“At least we aren’t being blown all over the place,” Old Man said to Zen.
“I would’ve been fine alone,” Zen said. “It was my passenger who couldn’t stay on well.” He glared at the lump in the corner.
“Not my fault,” it said in a muffled retort.
Zen scowled. “It’s called ‘holding on’, you should try it sometime.”
Panthigra giggled quietly. Their little squabble reminded her of Tigthero and Ocher.
"The short one had the saddle."
"Tuko fiond," Arley grumbled.
“Since you’re awake, come meet our new companions. Don’t be rude,” Old Man said.
“They won’t want to see me,” he grumbled.
“Sure they do,” Kijo replied. “They’re going to see you sooner or later.”
The lump in the corner sighed and pulled the blanket off of him. Panthigra looked at him curiously. He had green scales, unusually small wings, strong arms and legs, and a tail. He had the posture of a man but was taller. He turned around and faced her. His face was surprisingly like a dragon’s, only uglier since it looked too human.
His light green eyes met hers. She stood and stared at him, unsure of what was going on. He appeared to be one of the beasts she heard Ourisians talk about. Was it indeed a Warisai?
“Is he a…” she trailed off.
“Warisai?” Kijo finished. “Yes.”
She took a deep breath and stepped backwards. Her heel landed on top of Tig’s tail and he awoke with a start.
“Sorry Tig,” Panthigra said demurely. “Um, Warisai surprised me a bit.”
Tig looked at the others sleepily until his gray eyes fixed on the green monster and Panthigra's words became palpable. He sprang up and snarled at him.
“Stand behind me, Pan.”
“Relax,” Zen said, rolling his eyes. “It’s with us.”
“Dooley is one of our companions,” the old man said. “His own kind tried to kill him.”
“I’m unworthy of the title of companion, but I am their ally,” Dooley said.
“So far, anyways,” Zen added. “He’ll die quickly if I discover otherwise.”
Panthigra took a few cautious steps towards Dooley.
“Careful, Pan,” Tig growled.
“She’ll be fine,” Zen said. “If he doesn’t behave, I’ll burn him to ash.”
Panthigra extended her hand. Dooley looked at her furry paw-like hand, then her face. He raised a brow, unsure of the gesture.
“It’s a handshake. You shake her hand to accept a greeting,” Kijo said. “It’s also to agreement on something or as a show of friendship.”
Dooley extended his hand and gripped her hand gently. Panthigra moved her hand up and down and then released. She withdrew her hand to her side, smiled slightly, and then took a seat on the rock.
Dooley looked at his hand and then to Panthigra. “It’s that simple to show friendship?”
“Not always. Many times you have to earn it,” Pan said. “Even if you’re nice, people will treat you different if you look different. Like me. No matter how nice I was, people treated me rudely. I don’t want to be like them and treat you different based upon your looks or history. If you’re nice to me, I’ll be nice to you.”
Dooley dropped his hand to his side. “I now understand why my father wanted to make the change in our lifestyle. There are many good things that we’ve taken from others. Despite that, there are still many more good things that we cannot take away. You’ve humbled me, hairy one.”
Panthigra doubled up with laughter. “Hairy one? I’ve been called many things but never have I ever been called that!”
Dooley looked around, furrowing his brow with confusion.
Arley began to chuckle. “You, hairy one. I, short one.” He thumbed his chest and chuckled more.
“He’s old one.” Zen pointed to Muzh U Kijo with a chortle.
“So I’ve been told,” Kijo laughed.
The laughter died down and the wind roared outside while the fire crackled happily.
“I’m ugly one,” Dooley added matter-of-fact.
They all erupted in laughter.
“I didn’t know Warisai had a sense of humor,” Zen laughed. “It might not be so bad having him around after all.”
Dooley smiled and sat down in between Zen and Kijo. “I think my father will like you all.”
“Hopefully not for dinner,” Zen mumbled.
“No, no. As company,” Dooley said. “We had long talks about our future and how we needed to make a drastic change. This here,” he motioned to everyone in the cave, “is a good start.”
“Let’s all hope it’s permanent,” Zen said.
“It will be as long as we have guidance,” Dooley replied.
“I’ll take that as a promise,” Kijo said.
Silenced engulfed the party. The only noises were the crackling fire, the wind whistling by the cave entry, and the rain thundering down in bucketfuls as it relentlessly assaulted the muddy earth.
CHAPTER 31
AN UNLIKELY ALLY, A MUTUAL FOE
The hunchback had brought her an assortment of vegetables and greens, many of which were wilted slightly or blighted. Although she was hungry, she ate slowly and cautiously inspected and smelled each piece that was in the grimy bowl. Quite a few pieces she deemed worthy enough to eat and thankfully they didn’t taste terrible. Beneath a leaf that was attached to a tomato was a large caterpillar that had taken refuge beneath it. She took the little green creature off of it and placed it on the musty straw. She watched as it undulated its way across her bedding and slowly began crawling up the wall.
The cell door creaked open noisily and the hunchback entered to retrieve the bowl. He sat down on the ground, just beyond her reach.
“You likes them, Pretty?” he asked.
He was slightly childish in his demeanor which appealed to Lana. His appearance and overall approach had softened and made him more likeable.
“Yes, I do. Thank you, Turtleback,” she replied.
He gave her a peculiar, curious look. “What?”
“I’m grateful for all this,” she said. “I appreci
ate you bringing all this to me.”
“I understands it, but,” he said, “I am the jailer. You not supposed to show thanks, Pretty.”
“I know it seems out of place,” Lana said. “I’m thankful for food and water. You also treat me decently which is more than Donovan would do, I think. I’d rather be in here with you than elsewhere among Warisai like him. I think you’re the best one and others should be more like you.”
He sat up as straight as his hunched back would allow him and grinned a crooked grin.
“You think so?”
“Yes. You bring me some peace in this horrid place. Where friends are nonexistent, I think I found one.”
That was the truth. He was the only kind Warisai she had met that wasn't a murderer. She wanted to stay on his good side since she couldn’t tell if any bad-natured habits lurked beneath his seemingly kind surface. She figured flattery couldn’t hurt her situation and perhaps it would work towards gaining an unlikely ally. At least any attempt could help establish her position with him.
“That true. I has no friends. Except my father and brother Dooley, they nice to me.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully.
“I don’t understand, why not?”
“Too ugly. Worthless, too, they says, since I won’t fight.” He shrugged his shoulders, his face sad.
“Don’t listen to them. They may not appreciate you, but I do. I appreciate your friendship.”
“Friendship? I is your friend?”
“Sure, why not?” she asked.
“How? You’re prisoner. Jailer cannot be friend with prisoner.”
“That, you’re right about,” she said, leaning against the filthy wall. “I wish things were different.”
“You’s only things ever nice to me that not family,” he said. “I not tell you my friend if you not tell I your friend?”
She smiled at him. “I won’t say a word. I’ll even pretend to hate you whenever they’re around.”
He grinned again. “And I pretend meanness on you.”
She smiled at him. “It’s a deal.”
Despite his hideous exterior, there was a possibility that he was good inside. He acted nice enough and, unlike other Warisai she’s seen, looked honest.
She picked up a curved root and bit into it. The flavor was spectacularly sweet and she chewed it slowly, savoring each bite.
“This is good,” she said, holding it aloft.
“Magnen’s claw,” Turtleback said, excitedly. “Grows way upon mountains where mighty dragons slept.”
“Do you eat it?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, I only eats meats.”
“Why not? It’s really good. Very sweet.”
He shook his head. “No Warisai eat that. Be mean to me if I do.”
“You might like,” she said. “Try it. I won't tell anyone.”
Turtleback looked at the bowl uncertainly. Lana picked one that she hadn’t eaten from yet and held it out to him. He eyed it for a moment before reluctantly taking it. Lana took another bite of hers and encouraged him to take a bite. After a few minutes of examining it, he finally put it in his mouth and snapped off a piece.
He cringed. One of his eyes was squinted closed and the other was wide open. He shuddered as he chewed but also managed a forced smiled. He swallowed and licked his lips. He took another bite, this time without the agony across his face. He took the last bite and swallowed it with a smile.
“Is not grossest,” he said. “I likes it enough.”
“Here, have another one.” She held out another Magnen’s claw.
He reached out to take it but recoiled when the dungeon door creaked. He rose and grabbed the bowl quickly. In the short time it took him to turn around, the cell door swung open sharply and slammed against the wall. There stood Donovan.
“Mingling with the prisoner?” he barked.
“Just fetching bowl, sir.” He pointed to the bowl in his hand before shrinking to a pitiful bow. Lana watched his self-esteem dwindle to a wisp as he cowered before Donovan.
“That means that you were just leaving,” he sneered.
“Yessir, as always, sir.” The hunchback slowly walked around him. His crippled movement was an object of ridicule and Donovan took the chance to torment his small, ugly brother. He put out his foot and lifted as Turtleback walked past. His small, stunted legs were of no use. The hunchback sprawled to the floor, sending the heavy metal bowl clanking across the stone floor and the vegetables scattering. He landed hard, the wind knocked out of him. Lana tried hard not to cry out. She focused on how much she hated Donovan to override her concern for Turtleback.
“Watch your step,” Donovan snapped.
“Yessir. Sorries, sir,” Turtleback mumbled, climbing to his feet and leaving the room.
“Wretched creature,” Donovan scowled, turning his attention on her.
Lana’s heart leapt into her throat as she gazed upon his sadistic face. She watched him slowly walk closer, almost intentionally dragging it. The way his steps echoed around the quiet cell was miserable.
“Are you enjoying your stay here?” Donovan asked scathingly.
Lana didn’t say anything. She stared at the door.
“Is the food suiting?”
She kept her mouth shut.
“I hear no complaints. I suppose the hunchback is feeding you enough. Tsk, tsk, but not clothing you adequately, for shame.”
He either sneered or that was his normal face, Lana couldn’t be certain.
“Not his fault,” Lana said softly.
Donovan tossed his head back and laughed loudly. His stunted wings bounced hideously on his shoulders.
“What makes you say that?” he boomed.
“You’re the leader around here. Doesn’t that make you responsible for supplying items?” She glared at him, unblinkingly.
His mouth twisted into a snarl and his eyes narrowed. Perhaps she made him a little angry. If she did, it would bring her joy later.
“Hunchback!” he roared.
“Yessir,” he answered, waddling through the room as quickly as he could.
“Take our guest to the chief’s hall and wait there. I have quick business elsewhere first, then I’ll deal with her.” Donovan turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, shoving Turtleback to the ground as he went.
The dungeon door slammed. Turtleback got to his feet and chuckled. “You defied him,” he said in awe. “You is so small to him.”
“He deserves it.”
“You’s brave.” His bright orange eyes twinkled in adoration.
He was different than the rest of them. In spite of his horrid breath and equally horrid appearance, he had a much kinder demeanor within.
“I wish I could’ve defended you,” she said. “It’s not right for him to treat you that way.”
He looked down at her straw bed and then into her eyes. “I sorries, Pretty, but I haves to be mean to you whiles walking you ups there,” he said sincerely. He pointed up to the ceiling.
“I understand, Turtle. I’ll never mention anything of your kindness to them. It’s safer for you if I deny it.”
The hunchback smiled crookedly and fetched an iron belt and chains from the wall. He dropped the chain at her feet.
“Stands ups, Pretty,” he said. “Needs to puts it on.”
Lana stood. Her height over him was saddening. She looked down at his horridly twisted spine as he worked to fasten the chain to the belt.
“Hands now, Pretty. Holds them on sides here.”
He shackled her wrists to her sides and said. “Nows don’t you gives me any troubles,” he said lightly, almost pleadingly.
“You, Turtle, I would never give any troubles. Others, though, I’d spit on and kick.”
“That’s good sights,” he mused. “I likes to see that.”
He led her out of the cell and into a larger room. Its walls were covered in many restraints and torture devices. The only lively thing within the room was the fireplace cracklin
g loudly. Next to the fireplace was a lumpy pile of animal hides that she believed to be his bed. With his disfigured body, she felt it must’ve been painful to sleep on such a shoddy bed. On another wall was a collection of jars with various insects crawling on leaves and twigs. Next to them was an easel, paint supplies, and a spindly-legged stool.
“You like to paint?” she asked.
“Never you mind,” he said quickly, clearly embarrassed.
“I love painting. I used to paint all the animals that lived in the forest around my home.”
“You paints animals?” The hunchback’s eyes widened.
“Yes, I used to.”
“Animals lives where you lives?”
“Yes.”
“Forests are deads round heres. No animals to paints. Just bugs I finds in mountains.” He pointed to the jars.
“I paint them and dragons. Them other Warisai teases me bouts it. If I have time to hides me stuff, I do. But most of the times thems comes in unexpectedly. Ruins my paints and pictures sometimes.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Yes. Come. You have to go up quickly.”
He unlatched the door and pushed it open. He shook the chain lightly and Lana proceeded into a long hall. The air seemed stuffier than back in her cell and the floor beneath her was stained brown and smelled of old blood. A shiver ran down her spine and the hair on her neck stood on end.
“Be calm, Pretty,” Turtleback whispered. “We can smells your nerves. He hasn’t killed yous yet. Everyone says you is a living trophy or a pet like me bugs.”
Lana took a deep breath and settled a bit. He was right. She couldn’t afford to get nervous now. She needed an unclouded mind for whatever situation she found herself in next. Thinking sharply could help her obtain an upper hand. She had to be witty. Witty enough to gain more time to conceive an escape plan and find her way to refuge, perhaps with the men to the north.
They walked a long way through many passages until they came to a long, spiraling staircase. Lana climbed reluctantly as many Warisai descended, casting her hungry glances as they passed. Their malodorous cloud stuffed the stairway nauseously. Lana held her breath as long as possible. Lana hoped for an open window she could shove her head out. It wasn’t granted until they reached the top of the stairs and an open corridor. Two wrought iron doors stood at the far end of the hall and were guarded by two Warisai that were leaning on javelins. They were easily thrice Turtleback’s strength and height.
