The Questing Game

by James Galloway

  "Now then, these are the four rules that we all live by, cub," she said seriously.

  "Four? That's all?"

  "That's all," she said with a smile.

  "Why didn't Jesmind just tell them to me so this would never have happened?"

  "Just knowing them isn't enough, cub. You have to be accepted into Fae-da'Nar. That's what takes time. They prefer to watch and observe over a long period of time, so they're sure of the hopeful's stability. Especially when it comes to turned Were-kin. For those born into it, it's generally an automatic thing, coming about on the official age of adulthood. But special cases, like you, require careful observation before they consent. But we're drifting off the point here, cub, so listen up.

  "The First Law is the most important. Simply put, we never give the humans reason to fear us. That means we don't go on rampages, we don't kill unless in self defense or defense of life, we don't terrorize villages and steal children, and we don't brutalize people. It's a broad law, but it sums up the very essence of our objective. And that objective is to co-exist with the humans peacefully. They live in their cities, we live in what they call the Frontier, and everyone's happy. But when we do come out, it's important that we leave a good impression, when they know what they're dealing with at all. Since you're from Aldreth, you probably have an understanding of what that means."

  Tarrin nodded. Sometimes, people would just walk out of the Frontier, and they would trade with the villagers for supplies. They were always quiet, polite, and they bargained fairly. They never made trouble. Because of that, the village welcomed them despite the fact that they were so mysterious. Villagers always whispered about them after they left, and there were a few wild stories that always circulated, but on the whole, those mysterious strangers were well received. Tarrin had tried to follow them several times as they disappeared back into the Frontier, which was against village law, but he could never stay on their trails for more than a couple of longspans.

  Triana chuckled. "Some of them remember you, cub," she winked. "From what I understand, you used to try to follow them back into the forest after they left Aldreth. They would watch you and see what you did."

  Tarrin was a bit startled that she would know that. "Well, I guess I used to do that," he admitted. "I was just curious. I was only a kid."

  "They knew that. I think that's what made them watch you." She leaned forward a bit more. "I heard that you used to wander around the Frontier by yourself too. That's pretty brave for a kid. They used to watch you then, too, and make sure you didn't wander into trouble. I think that may be the only reason some of them aren't pushing me to kill you as much as others. I think they're the ones that have been to Aldreth, and may remember you and the Kaels. Since your farm was in Frontier land, they would watch you from time to time. Parents would bring cubs there so they could observe humans in their natural surroundings."

  It sounded bizarre to hear her talk about humans like animals. But then again, Fae-da'Nar probably did see humans as the inhabitants of that other wilderness.

  "Anyway, the Second Law is also simple and to the point. We don't interfere in human society. Some of us live in human lands, but they don't meddle. They just live there. We don't take positions of importance, we don't get involved in human politics, and we don't draw attention to ourselves. Think of Haley. He lives in Dayisè. Alot of people know him, but to them, he's just an innkeeper. He keeps to himself, doesn't meddle with city politics, and he keeps what he is a secret. Because of that, they accept him, even though they don't know what he is.

  "The Third Law deals with what we call the Shunned Races. Those are Woodkin and magical races, what some call 'monsters', who prey on humankind. Who don't follow the laws of Fae-da'Nar. Simply put, we oppose them, but we don't actively hunt them down. If they start preying on humans, we put a stop to it, because it damages our reputation. But until they do that, we leave them alone."

  "Then why would they hunt me down?" he asked quietly. "I'd be Shunned if I didn't accept Fae-da'Nar."

  "No. If you were a Lamia or a Vampire, then you'd be Shunned. But you're a Were-cat, and Were-cats are part of Fae-da'Nar. If you are not part of Fae-da'Nar and you're one of the races that obey our laws, that makes you a Rogue. There's a difference."

  "Oh."

  "Nice try anyway," she grinned. "The Fourth Law states that we obey the Druids. In our society, Druids are something like the nobility, though they never abuse their position. Druids keep us in communication with one another, they are our healers, our protectors, and our pillars of support. They are the ones we turn to when we need help, and they are the ones that all of Fae-da'Nar will trust explicitely. An extension of that law is that a Druid's chosen ground is holy, and the law of peace is paramount. That means that even though the Woodkin do occasionally fight amongst themselves, nobody fights on a Druid's chosen ground."

  "What is chosen ground?"

  "Where the Druid lives," she answered. "His home. Since all types of Woodkin will visit a Druid, even enemies, that law exists to prevent fighting on the Druid's front doorstep. It's also the main reason you're going to learn the customs all of your cousins. We use those customs when we encounter each other on Druid's ground."

  "Oh. So they have to obey you? You're a Druid."

  "They obey me, but it's not because I'm a Druid," she said with a wink. "Non-human Druids don't count, because some of us have Druidic talent. Out here, I'm not a Druid, I'm a Were-cat. But on my home range, it's another story. When I'm on my chosen ground, then the law of peace is still in effect. Because I'm a Druid on chosen ground."

  "I guess that makes sense."

  "I'm so glad you understand it. Anyway, that's it. That's the law we live by. It may sound simple, but once you get some exposure to our society, you'll understand that they were kept simple to deal with a very wide range of different races. If they got complicated, they wouldn't work. The rest of what I'll teach you is custom and practice," she said. "How to know when you're in someone else's territory, the marks and symbols we use out in the forest, the customs and society of the other Woodkin races. Things like that. You can get by just by knowing the law, but you can't function if you know what's going on. But that can wait for later," she said with a slight smile. "Right now, you need some food. Real food this time. I think you're ready for something solid. I had the innkeeper track down some veal. It should be soft enough for you to manage, and easy enough on your system to keep you from getting sick."

  The idea of solid food did make his mouth water, but on the other hand, the broth she'd been giving him itself wasn't all that bad, and it had been filling him up. He would enjoy some meat, but the broth hadn't been a disappointment.

  "Allia's relieving Faalken at the door, so I'll send in Dar to keep you company," she said. "I have to talk to Rahnee."

  "Are you still going to punish the Wikuni?"

  "Going to? I've already started," she said harshly, standing up. "Shirazi and Singer got here while you were asleep. I'll introduce you to them when they come back. Shirazi is perfect for something like this. The woman thinks of nothing other than the hunt. She'll hunt down anyone even remotely connected to the attack on you, and then punish them for it." She set the chair against the wall with quick and precise movements. "Mist should be here soon too. She's someone I definitely want you to meet."

  "Why?"

  She looked right at him, giving him that stare. "Because she is what you might become," she said seriously. "You're feral, cub. All of us are a little feral, it's part of what makes us what we are, but you're very feral. Mist...well, Mist is truly feral. I want you to see what being truly feral means. I want you to see it, and decide if that's how you want to live the rest of your life."

  The way she said it worried him. He didn't respond, mainly because he couldn't think of anything to say to her. She still intimidated him. It made him wonder at this Mist. He remembered Haley mention her, so she had to be rather notorious. Or infamous. In his own way, he did want to see h
er, to talk to her. He wanted to see if she was really as bad as they hinted, or if she was simply misunderstood.

  "Now, you lay there and think about the laws. If you can't recite them back to me when I bring your dinner, you'll have to sit there and stare at it for an hour before I give it to you. I'll also have Dar come in and keep you company after you eat, so I can tend to business." She leaned over him, lowered down and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "I'll be back soon," she promised, giving him a warm smile.

  "I'll be here," he said lightly. "Unless I decide to go dancing, that is."

  Triana chuckled. "At least you're keeping your sense of humor," she noticed as she opened the door.

  He got his chance to meet Mist that afternoon.

  She even looked wild. She was rather short for a Were-cat, but her body was powerfully developed. Where the female Were-cats he'd seen were lithe and feminine in form, Mist had powerful muscle. Her shoulders had a definite wideness to them, and her body was more stocky than slender. But she had a feminine figure, with a rather busty chest and wide hips, though she was holding herself very stiffly. Her fur was jet black, like his, but her hair was also black. And for the first time, he saw a Were-cat with short hair. Mist's hair was wild and unkempt, like other Were-cat females, but it didn't extend much past her shoulders. It trailed down the back of every other Were-cat he'd seen, including himself. Her clothes added to her wild demeanor, an old shirt that had more holes in it than continuous material, missing its left sleeve and the collar torn, leaving her left shoulder and a good deal of her left breast bare, and a pair of leather leggings that showed more skin than leather. But it wasn't her shape, or form, or appearance that made her look so untamed. It was her face.

  She was very attractive, he decided. A wide-cheeked face with a strong, slightly squared jaw, but a very tight expression marred her appearance somewhat. More handsome than beautiful, but still attractive. It was her eyes. They were Were-cat eyes, green with vertically slitted pupils, but inside them was a frightening animalistic quality. When she looked at someone, it was like she was looking at a mouse. Her eyes were fierce, they were powerful, and they seemed to define her entire being.

  His first real understanding of her came when she entered the room with Triana. Dar and Allia were with him, playing King's Crown, but that didn't last long. She looked at the pair, and she growled at them. Everything in her stance screamed her wariness, almost her fear, of the pair. She absolutely would not tolerate them being in her presence. Her eyes ignited from within with that greenish aura that marked an angry Were-cat, and it only took one look from Triana to have both of them quickly and quietly leave the room. Tarrin didn't trust strangers. Mist couldn't stand them. Triana put a paw on Mist's shoulder, and the wild Were-cat shuddered at it visibly. But when she looked back, that reflexive aversion to the touch abated, and she settled beneath Triana's palm.

  "Tarrin, I'd like you to meet Mist. Mist, this is my new cub, Tarrin."

  Her entire attitude shifted, like water pouring from a glass. Her stiff posture relaxed once Allia and Dar were out of the door, and the fierce look on her face softened considerably. But that look in her eyes did not fade away. Even Tarrin, one of her own kind, was still partially suspect. He realized with some surprise that Mist didn't really trust anyone. She tolerated him because he was her kind, the same way that he tolerated strangers. "Tarrin," she said in a contralto voice, a voice that was harsh and controlled. Tarrin looked over her shoulder, to Triana, and he saw that she was staring at him very deliberately. She knew that he had seen the truth in Mist, and she was watching his reaction to it.

  His reaction was almost horrified. She mistrusted almost everyone. To her, being in the middle of the city was like being surrounded by potential enemies, and she could not bring herself to relax. She was very much like an animal, a caged animal that had been beaten once too often, and now shied away from everyone who approached it. Tarrin had felt alone from time to time before, but Mist was truly alone, because she could not bring herself to trust another. His heart went out for her. It must have been horrible to be so alone, even when surrounded by people who wanted to befriend her.

  But he managed to keep his reaction to her out of his eyes, out of his scent. He gave her a steady, calm look, just a hint of a smile, as if she were no different than any other Were-cat. "It's nice to meet you, Mist," he said with warmth in his voice.

  "I appreciate your help, Mist," Triana said behind her. "I know how hard it is for you to come into civilization."

  "Thank Kimmie for that," she said brusquely to Triana. "I didn't want to come."

  "All the same, I still appreciate it," she maintained. She opened the door again. "Kimmie!" she barked into the hallway.

  After a few seconds, another Were-cat appeared, and this one was the most unusual of all. She was wearing a dress. A brown peasant dress of sturdy wool, with a white blouse under the bodice that extended linen sleeves down to hide everything but her paws. Kimmie was about half a head shorter than Tarrin, about halfway between Tarrin and Mist in height. She had brown hair and reddish fur with brown stripes in it. Tabby fur. She was rather pretty, in a youthful way, and she didn't look much more than seventeen. But what made Kimmie different from all the others was the fact that she had blue eyes. Those blue eyes looked at Tarrin, and she gave him a brilliant smile. The fangs marred it, reminded him that she wasn't human.

  Was this why Rahnee thought she was an embarassment? Because she liked to wear dresses?

  "Kimmie, this is Tarrin. Tarrin, this is Kimmie."

  "Hi," she said sweetly from the doorway, in a Torian accent. "It's good to see you're alright. How do you feel?"

  "I'm alright," he replied. "Triana says I'll be able to get out of bed soon."

  "That's good." She looked at Mist. "Mist, Shirazi wants to talk to you. Probably about where to look next."

  "Alright," Mist said in her tightly controlled voice. Then she walked out without another word. Kimmie just gave him another smile, then rushed off after her. Triana closed the door, then turned around and leaned against it, staring at him intently.

  "Is Kimmie Mist's daughter?"

  "She used to be," she replied. "Kimmie was turned, but nobody knows who did it to her. Mist accepted her as a bond-child. That was about a hundred years ago or so." That startled him. Kimmie barely looked like an adult, let alone be over a hundred years old. "Kimmie is the only one that Mist comes close to trusting, and that's not saying very much. She doesn't even completely trust her own bond-child."

  "It's awful. What did that to her?"

  "Humans," she replied. "She was attacked by a Were hunter in what's now the Free Duchy of Shara. He wounded her very badly, and the human villagers there tortured her after he left her for dead, because they thought she was a witch. She literally pulled herself out of a bonfire when they tried to burn her at the stake. It took her months to recover. We weren't sure if she was going to make it or not, and after she healed, she didn't speak to anyone. She didn't speak for over fifty years. To anyone. What little ground she's regained since then is due in large part to Kimmie."

  Tarrin was shocked. How could people be so cruel? The ordeal had scarred the diminutive Were-cat, scarred her deeply. It was no wonder she was feral! But her plight made him recall his own trials, his own ordeals. He hadn't suffered something quite that severe, but looking back over what he had went through over the last months, he too couldn't be all that surprised that he too had turned hard. Had become feral.

  And that was how he could be. Distrustful of absolutely everyone, even his own family. Living out his entire life in fear of others, to live isolated from the world by his own distrust. It was a horrifying thought.

  Triana came over and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking his paw. "That's what could happen to you, my cub," she said in a gentle voice. "I know you've been through a great deal, but you can't let it consume you like it has Mist. You have to find a balance within yourself and cling to it. I don't expect yo
u to just lose your feral nature. That would be silly of me. You've suffered too much to ever be able to let it go. I just don't want you to slip any further. As you just saw, you can sink deeper."

  He looked at the door, his heart filled with compassion for the forlorn Were-cat. He had to do something to help her. It was horrible for her to live such a lonely life, and he couldn't stand the idea of leaving her be without at least trying.

  "I'll go find Allia and Dar," she said. "I have to go make sure our kin are doing things the way I want them done. Just rest, my cub. And don't worry at it too much. I'll see you in a while."

  She left him, and he stared at the door for a long moment, stared at it in the silence of his room. He had alot to think about.

  Chapter 10

  Triana had been right about one thing. The customs were alot more complicated than the laws.

  Tarrin sat in his bed and listened to Triana prattle on about the customs of the Were-boars, his mind drifting a bit. He had been sitting there listening to her for six days, listening and reciting as his body mended itself. The pain had reduced greatly, to the point where he no longer needed the pain-reducing medicines to go to sleep. But it was still there. It had went from a sharp chronic pain that could not be ignored to a dull ache that had taken up residence in his chest. It no longer jabbed him with pain when he moved his arms, and he even had a little motion in his shoulders. He could sit up on his own, for he had regained a good portion of his strength. But Triana did not allow him out of bed for anything other than to relieve himself. He still got tired very fast. But the hole in his chest had gotten to the point where it no longer seeped blood, and it didn't take Dolanna to change the bandages anymore.