"Not yet, Highness, but he will be if he's not healed."
Keritanima only hesitated a second. "Throw him back over the rail, Binter," she said calmly.
"What?" Faalken gasped, as Dar stepped into Keritanima's face and declared "you can't treat him that way!"
"I'm not bringing a hostile priest aboard, Dar," Keritanima said bluntly. "He can bring the entire Wikuni fleet down on our necks. If we save his life, it'll certainly cost us our own."
"It's not right to abandon the injured, no matter how potentially dangerous they could be," Faalken said adamantly. "It's not right."
"I'm sure that the Knights can afford right and wrong, Faalken, but things work a bit differently out in the real world," she replied in a very authoritative voice, as Kern's men took the injured priest from Binter and laid him out on the deck. "The man is a liability, and a risk to our own safety. I won't let him bring more Wikuni onto our tail."
"To show no mercy to a defeated foe is dishonorable," Allia told her. "He should be at least allowed to heal, and then set adrift with supplies. That way he cannot bring harm to us, but we can show the mercy that honor demands."
Cries from Kern's sailors brought attention back to the priest, and all of them watched in not a little shock as Tarrin casually brought his foot down on the injured Wikuni's neck. The blow crushed his windpipe instantly, but the broken neck caused instantaneous death before he had a chance to asphyxiate. Tarrin reached down with his clawed paw and picked up the body, and then callously threw it over the rail. They all stared at him in surprise, and not a few faces had slightly horrified looks on them.
There was no emotion in it for Tarrin. He was an enemy, plain and simple. And enemies were there to be eliminated. He put his staff on his shoulder and regarded all of them with a serious face, devoid of any sign of guilt over his deed. "The problem is solved," he told them all in a calm voice, then he swept that emotionless gaze across the sitting or kneeling pirates. "And the same fate awaits anyone that causes trouble," he warned them in a cold voice, then he pointed to his friends with a clawed finger. "They believe in mercy. I do not. The first time any one of you causes trouble, I'll kill all of you. It's that simple. You're nothing but dead weight to me, and if I had my way, I'd throw all of you over the rail right now."
Without another word, Tarrin walked through them, knew they were watching, that they were surprised at what he did. But he didn't care. Dead weight, that's all those Wikuni were, and they'd be sure to cause grief.
Well, he meant it. The first time one of them caused trouble, he'd kill them all. After all, they were warned.
He walked through them calmly, almost serenely, then went below decks to check on Dolanna, to make sure she was alright.
They meant nothing to him.
"That was some cold-blooded--" Sheba began, but Keritanima cut her off.
"Now maybe you understand what you're dealing with," she warned Sheba. "I'm sure all of you know the kind of person that Royal politics produces. Don't think I'd even blink over having all of you killed. So that means that your behavior is a matter of life and death. Don't forget that."
But the worried look that passed between Keritanima and Allia, out of sight of the others, told the dark-skinned Selani that Keritanima was just as startled and dismayed over what they just watched their beloved brother do as she was.
Allia understood that the transition for Tarrin had been very difficult. She understood that much of what he did was actually the animal inside him reacting to the situation, and for many of his deeds, he could be forgiven. But she had never seen him do, never believed him capable, of what she had just witnessed. Those paws which were so gentle, which handled children with such painstaking care, whose very touch could transmit the warmth that flowed from his heart so freely, she had never before seen them as instruments of death, even when he used them to deliver mortal wounds. She couldn't believe that the sober young man, with such a capacity and compassion for others, was capable of such callous diregard, of such calculated evil.
Biting her lip, she gave Keritanima a very fearful look. He said he had changed. She still couldn't believe that he had changed that much.
It was something of a reversal of roles for him, and it felt strange.
Usually, it was Dolanna that seemed to be there when he awoke from whatever had tried to kill him this time. It felt strange to him to be the one sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Dolanna's hand gently in his paw and waiting for her to wake up. Faalken had assured him that it was nothing but simple exhaustion, and in that respect Tarrin agreed. Leading a circle was an effort, and to use such powerful Sorcery for such a long time had no doubt taken its toll on Dolanna's strength. Dolanna was very skilled, but even she admitted that as Sorcerers went, she was not among the strongest. Where she lacked in raw power, she more than made up for it in skill and experience. What Keritanima or Tarrin could have done without so much as a wave of the hand would put Dolanna on her knees.
Dolanna. She was so much to him. She was a mother and protector, and a part of Tarrin's mind would always respect her, look up to her, seek her out for answers, and her presence always had a calming effect on him. Without Dolanna, he would feel lost, and just the slightest thought that someone would hurt her was enough to make him growl in suppressed rage. He loved her, loved her deeply, but it was a strong love of friendship and trust rather than a romantic interest. Much like the love he held for his sisters. Dolanna was a part of his family, and he would protect her.
"How is she?" Dar asked as he entered. The young Arkisian put his hand on Tarrin's shoulder and looked over him, down at Dolanna. His face was pale, sallow, and it almost looked as if his cheeks were sunken. The effort of the circle had worn on Dar as well, whose power was so new to him. But he still managed a bright smile when Tarrin looked into his eyes, albeit a weary one.
"Fine. And you should be in bed," he said gruffly.
"I'll be alright. I wanted to make sure Mistress Dolanna wasn't hurt."
"She's the same as you, Dar, tired," Tarrin told him. "Now go lay down before you fall over."
"Are you alright, Tarrin?" he asked in concern, the hand on his shoulder gripping slightly. "I saw that burn, and--"
"I'm fine, Dar," he said, cutting him off. "Keritanima healed what I couldn't regenerate."
"And what about the rest of you?" he asked in a compassionate voice. "What I saw you just do wasn't something that the Tarrin I know would have done."
"I do what I have to do," he said bluntly, brushing Dar's hand away. "What you don't understand is that the priest would have done everything Kerri said. This is the real world, my friend, and out here we have to play for keeps. I won't allow any of you to get hurt, Dar. I'll kill ten thousand Wikuni to keep just one of you safe."
"Well, it's nice to be appreciated," Dar told him in a tired voice. "I think I will go lay down. See you later."
Tarrin sat in silence, then was silently joined by Faalken, and they sat in quiet watch over the sleeping Sorceress. Faalken's eyes were calm, but there was just a hint of disapproval in them. Tarrin knew that Faalken disagreed with what he did, but he would live with it. Faalken was a realist, and in time, he'd understand.
After a time, Dolanna drew in a deeper breath, and they both leaned in as she opened her eyes. Those dark eyes were clear and lucid, but her face still looked drawn and exhausted. "What a welcome," she said with a gentle smile, squeezing Tarrin's paw fondly. "I am flattered, my dear one, that you would stand vigil."
"Of course I would, Dolanna," he told her gently. "How are you feeling?"
"I am tired," she announced. "But a night of sleep will correct that problem. Are we safe from the Wikuni?"
"Aye, Dolanna," Faalken said. "Tarrin's little stunt threw them into disorder, and after Sheba's priest whacked Tarrin with magic, Keritanima went nuts and blew up the pirate ship. We have the survivors on deck."
"Kerri did that?" Tarrin said in wonder.
Faalken nodded. "I guess she knew where and how
to hit it," he replied. "It took just one shot of Sorcery, and it went up in a fireball."
"Keritanima would know where the ship's stores of gunpowder are kept," Dolanna said in a tired voice. "What about our crew?"
"No casualties aside from those taken before you raised that barrier," he reported. "Kern's already repairing the damage, and he says we'll be under way by morning."
"Excellent. Make sure Captain Kern understands that haste is essential, Faalken. We must be in Dayisè before the carnival leaves port."
"I remind him about every hour, Dolanna," Faalken told her. "Would you like some tea?"
"Yes, please," she replied. "Tarrin, a word with you," she said as Faalken left to fetch her some tea.
"Yes, Dolanna?"
"Never do that again," she told him adamantly. "You scared a year from my life when you jumped out of the rigging."
"Well," he said sheepishly, scrubbing the back of his head with his claws, "it was the only thing I could think of to keep a whole bunch of our people from getting killed. I wasn't about to let them board the ship."
"Tarrin," she said in exasperation, "I know you mean well, but you must start doing what I tell you to do. Your constant rushing off to complete your own plans is eventually going to cost us."
"Well, you never told me not to board their vessel, Dolanna."
"Stop splitting hairs with me, young one," she said in a commanding tone. "I will have your word that you will not do such a crazy thing again without at least warning me first. Had I thought to have Keritanima tell me how to strike the ship with Sorcery, you would now be on the bottom of the sea."
"Alright," he told her. "No more crazy stunts."
"That sounded suitably evasive to me, young one," she warned in a frosty tone. "I will have your word not to strike out on your own without warning me first."
He gave her a penetrating look, but there was no way he could match wills against Dolanna. "Alright, alright, I promise," he said. "I'll tell you what I intend to do."
Faalken returned with a steaming cup of tea. "Here we are," Faalken said, sitting down and handing the cup and saucer to Dolanna after she sat up and leaned against the back wall bracing the bunk in which she was laying.
"Thank you, Faalken," Dolanna said. "Now then, young one, I think you should go above and help with the repairs. They could use someone with your advantages in their task."
"Yes, Dolanna," he said automatically, and he stood up. She smiled patted his paw, and that made him feel much better for some reason. "I'll make sure we're under way by sunrise."
Tarrin leaned down and allowed her to kiss him on the cheek, then he left her. Now that he knew she would be fine, he felt alot better.
The Star of Jerod was underway again by morning. The sterncastle was only partially repaired, with planking laid over the wide hole caused by the attack, and a couple of the ship's sails had to be replaced. A new wheel had been hastily built, which looked almost comically slapdash, but it worked. The ropes that tied the wheel to the rudder had been repaired. Tarrin, Binter, and Sisska had a great deal to do with the speed of the repairs. Their inhuman strength, combined with their clawed appendages, allowed them to scurry up and down the masts and pull up booms, spars, and sails. Tarrin was totally at home and at ease in the rigging, scampering from boom to boom and mast to mast with total disregard for gravity, focusing on the job at hand. Direction from the sailors told him where to take what, and that allowed them to get the galleon back to where it could get them into port.
The captured Wikuni had nowhere to be other than the deck because of a full hold, and that was where they stayed the night. Tarrin watched them half the night, unable to sleep himself, watched them sulking and giving the men Kern put to guarding them dirty looks. Tarrin had the feeling that his presence in the rigging was a very healthy deterrent to a possible attempt to escape their irons and try to take over the ship. In all, they were defiant and abrasive, but he could smell their fear. They knew what the shore held in store for them. Sheba was listless and sluggish, and the other Wikuni seemed to be demoralized from their commander's lack of desire to try to escape.
The morning was bright and sunny, surprisingly warm, and a strong wind pushed the Star of Jerod steadily to the southeast, to the island city of Dayisè. Tarrin lounged in Miranda's lap as she worked her needlepoint with steady, smooth strokes, and nearby were Faalken, Azakar, Binter and Sisska undergoing their daily practice sessions. Azakar hadn't really tried to bully him since he cut him, and Tarrin rather preferred it that way. He didn't need a nursemaid. He was sorry that he scratched the Mahuut, but he did like the way things turned out. The captive Wikuni watched the four warriors practice with steady, emotionless expressions, seemingly understanding that they would be facing some serious adversaries if they tried to rebel. Dolanna was recovered, and had the others below so she could instruct them in Sorcery without the presence of the Wikuni upsetting her students. Dolanna was still unhappy that he didn't take part in her sessions, but she didn't understand things.
If he did go to her instruction, he'd want to use Sorcery. He'd already found out what kind of danger that possessed. He wanted to learn about it, but not when it made him yearn to reach out for the Weave. Before the power of High Sorcery found him, the feeling of the Weave was...sweet. Almost a physical sensation of pleasure. He liked touching the Weave, he liked using Sorcery. But when it could cost him his life to do it, he couldn't afford any temptations. He needed to talk to her about it, to explain it. Maybe she would have an idea if he told her the same way he thought about it. But when he talked to her, more often than not, his true feelings or ideas didn't seem to want to come out. He didn't know why they did that, but they did. Only Allia, who knew him so intimately, could manage to see to the heart of things where he was concerned, though Keritanima had gotten better and better at it lately. He thought it was yet another aspect of the Cat rising up in him, making him want to be secretive, as cats tended to be.
It did seem to fit.
Closing his eyes the instant Miranda's fingers touched the back of his head, he submitted to her as she scratched him behind the ears. "I'm almost finished with this," she told him, taking her hand away. He looked up at it, and saw that it was a rather pretty embroidered representation of a shaeram, done on the breast of one of Keritanima's silk dresses. Miranda's work was exacting, precise, and very elegant, much as the mink Wikuni's personality tended to be. Miranda was a perfectionist, he'd learned, and she was good enough never to be too far off that lofty mark. "I guess I have enough time to put some roses on the cuffs. Binter, how far are we from Dayisè?" she called.
"By this speed, we should make it in three days, Lady Miranda," he replied calmly, even as he used his heavy tail to bludgeon Azakar to the deck. Binter and Sisska manhandled the oversized human youth in ways that Faalken never could, but it was good for him. A good student was one that could be overmatched by his instructor. That gave the student the respect he needed to accept training from the instructor, because an instructor that could be defeated by his student wouldn't be taken seriously by the student once he realized that. "Keep your guard up, Azakar," Binter chided. "Expect attack from any direction."
"I'm still not used to the tail," he complained.
"Then adjust," Sisska told him in a voice remarkably similar to her lifemate's. "There is no room for error in battle, young one. There is life and death, and death brings little honor."
"And never underestimate the opponent," Binter told him again. That was something that Binter preached. "Treat any foe as if it were capable of killing you, because it can. Give honor to your foe, as is only proper for one willing to gamble its life against yours."
"I already learned that lesson," Azakar grunted, and Faalken laughed.
"That he did. Tarrin almost broke him over his knee," the Knight laughed.
"Now, guard stance," Sisska ordered, taking her lifemate's place as Azakar's opponent.
Tarrin watched Sisska maul Azakar for severa
l moments, giving the young man a very pointed reminder that, though he was competent and well trained, he was still just a baby compared to grizzled veterans like Sisska, Binter, and Faalken. But that was only entertaining for so long. He felt the sudden urge to see if he could find that last rat that had managed to elude him down in the hold, so he jumped down from Miranda's lap and padded across the deck, heading for the stairs going below. He passed in front of the seated, chained Wikuni without fear, ignoring their looks of fear and hate.
But he had gotten just a little bit too close. He glanced one of the Wikuni suddenly drop down, and then something hit him in the back. He felt his back snap as something crushed him into the deck, and only air and blood escaped from his mouth as he was crushed under a great weight. But the attacking object was neither silver nor magical, and his body mended itself almost as quickly as it had been injured. Blind rage flew into his mind in a fleeting instant, and he quickly shapeshifted back into his humanoid form. That move incited several gasps and cries of shock from the Wikuni, who had never seen him do that and probably hadn't realized that the witch-cat and the cat-like man were the same being. But his attention, and his sudden anger, was directed at the large hyena Wikuni that had brought the heel of his boot down on his back, trying to kill him. That Wikuni's eyes were bulging in confusion and fear, which turned to horror when Tarrin grabbed that foot by the ankle before he could draw it away.
Tarrin's method of punishment was as final as it was direct. Holding the Wikuni by the ankle, he dragged the hyena, who was now shrieking in terror, close enough to grab him. Claws plunged into the Wikuni's chest, tearing a scream of agony from the hyena, which escalated into a ragged shriek when Tarrin's claws hooked into him and picked him up off the deck. With that bloody hold on the body, the Were-cat reared back with a clenched fist and punched the Wikuni dead in the mouth, with enough force to snap the head back unnaturally far to the accompanying sound of breaking bone, and make the entire body shudder. The impact was enough to rip his claws from the chest as the body recoiled from the power of the blow, pulling out a section of rib with it as the dead Wikuni dropped to the deck. Tarrin relaxed his claws, dropping the length of pink bone absently, and glared at the remaining Wikuni with death burning in his eyes.
The Questing Game Page 14
