by K MacBurn
Just then, a trio of Sabres burst through the door. The Lioness leading them stopped short and surveyed the scene. There was a Weasel on the floor with a blade protruding from his chest, and the human was kneeling over him.
Confused, but unfazed, she started yelling out orders.
“You check to make sure that thing is dead. You, go get Ransidius; he’ll want to know they penetrated our defenses.”
She turned to Taylor.
“Are you injured?”
Taylor shook her head before she even registered the question. She scooted herself along the wall, so she was well away from the scene.
“He is still alive,” the male Sabre sneered, “want me to finish it?”
“No. Leave him for Ransidius.”
Taylor felt a pang of empathy for the Weasel. He had only been doing what he thought was right for the people of this land. Still, her life was hers; she wasn’t going let anyone take it without a fight.
The room felt very crowded when Ransidius entered
“What happened?” he demanded.
Taylor was listening from her spot on the floor when she all of a sudden felt very weak. Her side was on fire.
“Found Crux dead in the hall, saw the door open. We ran in here and found the Weasel like that with the girl over him,” explained the Lioness.
Taylor clutched her side and felt a warmth spread through her fingers.
Ransidius walked over to the Weasel and with minimal effort picked him up with one arm. He was nothing but a gruesome rag-doll in the Sabre’s hand.
“Rebellion scum,” Ransidius declared, not needing any confirmation.
With whatever breath and strength he had left, the Weasel spit in Ransidius’ face. The Sabre Lord wiped it away with the back of his hand, then reached out and snapped the Assassins neck before passing him off.
“Hang it on the gate for all to see,” said Ransidius. He turned and looked at Taylor, whatever he would have say was lost when he saw her pale face and her hands gripping her side.
She flinched as he squatted in front of her. With a gentle touch, he moved her hands.
Blood seeped steadily out of the large gash, soaking through her shirt and the top of her pants.
“I am taking you to Avis; magic might not work, but maybe she might have something that will help.”
He pushed the onlookers out of the way and tore a strip of cloth from the nearby bedding before pressing it firmly against the wound. Taylor knew enough to keep pressure on it as he scooped her off the floor and headed for the north tower in haste.
Her weight wasn’t much of a burden to him because he flew through the corridors and up steep steps without missing a beat.
She felt the need to talk and try to keep her mind off the panic threatening to creep in. Staying calm was the only option if she wanted to slow the bleeding and live to see the sun rise one more time.
“I’ve never killed anyone before,” said Taylor, “I didn’t think it would be so easy. To look someone in the eye, and know it was you or them.”
She didn’t much care if he responded, but she saw him glance down at her with those intense yellow eyes so she knew he was listening.
“I didn’t stand much of a chance, I even thought for a second I should just let him,” she mused, “Shameful, really.”
He was making the last leg in good time as his muscles pumped effortlessly.
Taylor thought of something she had read in one of her English classes. It was a passing interest at the time, but now it seemed fitting.
“Mark Twain once said, ‘The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.’ I guess I have not lived my life as fully as I should have.”
Ransidius was watching her with concern now. He kicked in Avis’ chamber door and roared for the Crow witch.
Taylor felt a coldness starting creep into her fingertips and toes.
Avis appeared across the room with a robe hastily pulled around her shoulders.
“She needs aid!” Ransidius growled. Glass and books scattered as he used the back of his arm to clear the table and laid Taylor down. “An assassin caught her with a blade.”
Taylor was talking to herself, trying to gain courage. Even with everything else going through her mind, she managed a scowl for the Crow when the witch drew near.
Ransidius reached down and peeled the makeshift dressing back. Taylor lifted her head enough to get a good look at the blood still seeping. Avis didn’t waste time; she grabbed items from around the room and hurriedly mixed them in a mortar.
No one noticed Riccem and another Sabre come to the door. Both looked on, concerned, but did not interrupt.
Avis chanted, and Taylor saw a blue light swirl around the Crow’s talons. As the light touched flesh, she felt a quick stabbing pain, then nothing.
The Crow stared for a minute, angry, then did the exact same thing again.
Taylor bit her bottom lip hard as the pain intensified.
The cold was spreading, and it hurt worse now.
“She is still bleeding,” Ransidius growled.
“My magic doesn’t work on her and my healing abilities are pretty strongly linked to my ability to add magic.” The Crow claimed panicked at the look Ransidius sent her way.
Taylor closed her eyes. She didn’t want to die, and she would be damned if it was going to happen on a table in the garbage eaters chamber. She picked the dressing back up and pressed it firmly to her side again.
“Jarden has treated my injuries before. Find a magic user that isn’t a Witch!”
The Crow scoffed at her.
“Crows are the only magic users around here, and this is what we use.”
Riccem had seen enough. With a growl, he pushed past the Crow. From his hunters belt he pulled out a leather pouch and rolled it out on the table. Inside was an array of herbs and dressings.
“Brother, without magic this will hurt so I need you to hold her down,” he then glanced at Taylor, “Try not to flinch all right?”
Taylor gave a weak nod. Ransidius’ hand pushed down on her upper chest. His paw reached across the width of her torso and was warm against her chilled skin.
Riccem cleaned the area with water and some sort of soap, then he applied a herbal paste. He hesitated a moment before pushing the concoction straight into the wound. Taylor let out a yelp and withered as his fingers probed the damaged skin. He took the needle, made of a long thorn, and thread made of sinew ,and began to stitch.
Taylor gritted her teeth and gripped the Sabre Lord’s wrist. The world blurred around the edges and threatened to black out on her a few times. She managed to stay coherent a little longer as Riccem put a fresh dressing over the wound.
There was a look of concern on his face as he looked down at all the blood dripping from the table and pooling on the floor.
Ransidius seemed to share her concern.
“That is a lot of blood from one her size,” he said to Avis, “Is there anything you can do to help with regeneration?”
The crow had several suggestions, but Taylor snorted at her thoughts.
“Good thing you are not in charge of my welfare,” Taylor sneered at her weakly, “You don’t know the first thing about human biology, do you?
“I have done my fair share of human experimentation.” Avis replied with a sneer, “If you are not careful, I will make you my next practice dummy, and I will start with that tongue!”
The threat was hollow, especially with Ransidius standing right there.
“Find a monk or Ranger; if their elemental magics, work then I want something done.” Ransidius said cutting off the witch. “And Avis, be quick about it.”
The witch said nothing; she turned and strode from the room.
“Her chamber: It is not safe till we determine how the weasel got in. She shouldn’t be left alone, especially in her condition. If the bleeding starts again, she could be dead before morning.” Riccem said.
Ransidi
us seemed to agree.
Taylor didn’t hear his suggestion, though. A flash of pain seared through her body, followed by a coldness that reached to her bones. She had no control over the shivering.
They were still talking, but it sounded like mumbles. Taylor tried to focus on their faces, but, when another wave of pain hit, she could do nothing but whimper and curl into herself.
The adrenaline was all gone now, and the actual pain was overwhelming her brain. It was enough; she passed out before hearing anything else.
Chapter 14
When she came back around, she recognized the room as Ransidius’ chamber. Pain laced through her body with every breath, but she was alive, and that was what mattered. Her movement brought Ransidius to her side.
“We didn’t think you would make it through the night,” he admitted.
“I don’t feel like I should have.”
“I guess that stubbornness has its advantages.”
Taylor couldn’t help but agree. Like a good nurse, the battle scarred mountain of a Sabre brought a cup of water to the bed and assisted her to sit up just enough to take a sip.
“Did you really hang the Weasels body on your gate?” Taylor asked out of the blue. She wasn’t sure what was real and what she had imagined during the whole situation.
“Of course. They sent an assassin, so I sent a message.”
Taylor sighed and looked over at the wall.
“What bothers you about that?”
“It’s not just that. You have done horrible things; the stories I have heard! And I do not believe in your campaign to put the rest of this land under your rule. Prey being treated like slaves or playthings, and other Predators as challenges.” The pain made her pause for a moment. “And yet, you are the one sitting here after the supposed good guys assassin stabbed me.”
“The world is not black and white; there is no good and bad. I have seen the holiest of priests do the bloodiest deeds, and the lowest of murders perform random acts of kindness.” He sat back in his chair, his eyes half lidded as he regarded her solemnly
She sighed and closed her eyes. Tarak came to her mind.
“Is there anything your regret?”
There was a moment she thought the Sabre would say something redeeming, but he did not.
“No. Everything, I have done has been for a purpose. I am building something bigger and better than anything that has been attempted before and that takes blood and sacrifice.”
“I prefer to think great things can be done while building others up.”
“You sound like Jarden.”
“That’s not a bad thing.” She looked over at him.
They sat in silence for a moment, before the Sabre finally spoke.
“I am leaving shortly to meet with the monk. You will stay here until I return. If you need anything, Riccem will be around and his men will be at your door.” As he stood up, he smirked. “Don’t die on me.”
“Don’t kill anybody.”
He chuckled as he left. Taylor went back to sleep.
Jarden sat at the makeshift table in the clearing center, with Larris to his right.
The Croc’s suggestion that the two sides come alone seemed to have been ignored by everyone; The Cougar sat with no less than five wolves at his back.
Ransidius entered the clearing with a handful of Sabres and General Godwin.
Jarden sighed; this was a last-ditch effort to save lives, but it was far too familiar a scene to the Monk. The last time he had tried to reason with Ransidius, the Sabre had slaughtered his own father.
Tarak, at least, had taken his suggestion and stayed hidden behind his long black cloak, leaning against a tree not too far away.
The Croc was glad for this, but feared his role as the Tiger’s protector was drawing to a close. He could not keep the fates from bringing the two large Cats to their destinies.
The guardian had scoffed at the idea that the two were destined to kill each other, but agreed he would do whatever it took to save Taylor; vengeance would not be his reason to reveal himself.
The air was tense as the Sabres approached.
Jarden got to his feet to greet the Sabre lord.
“Ransidius,” He said, “it has been a long time.”
“Indeed, it has old Monk. And you have been an annoyance ever since, though how much was unbeknownst to me.”
His tone was light, and Jarden got the impression the Sabre lord was amused by this meeting.
“You know Larris, though I don’t believe you have officially met in the flesh.”
The Sabre eyed the smaller Cat. Larris remained seated and stared back, but the Monk saw a twitch in his muscles that gave away the nervousness.
“If we had met, he would be dead, so no we have not had the pleasure yet.” Ransidius laughed. He sat down with grace to spare in the offered chair across from his rival. His eyes darted to the wolves behind Larris, but he seemed to dismiss them as non-threats. His eyes also lingered on Tarak’s silent silhouette, showing more interest in him than the others, but eventually he grew bored.
Jarden sat in the third chair and decided that they were done with the pleasantries, so they needed to get to the point.
“I have asked you both here in a last attempt to stop the blood shed before there is full out war on our soil. So many lives have been lost already; I do not see a reason to continue if we can draft a treaty that both parties can agree too.”
“Very well Monk, I would hear what the rebellion thinks is a fair agreement,” Ransidius said, still smiling, though anyone present could tell he was toying with them.
“Nothing short of the total withdrawal of all Sabres from the rebellion territories, apart from the surround area of the northern expanse; This can remain Sabre lands.”
Ransidius hadn’t stopped smiling.
“That seems a little one-sided Larris,” he began, “I worked hard to secure those lands. I also feel I made a very generous offer to the local Predators so they could maintain small territories of their own. That’s a lot, seeing as, without me, they couldn’t have procured any land on their own.”
“That is great for the Predators, but what about the Prey? You have forced them to serve you in your encampments and stronghold. You have murdered hundreds and stolen from them. Entire towns have disappeared because they would not give you what you wanted. You are self serving, and a tyrant!”
Ransidius leaned forward.
“You say tyrant, I say visionary. It took years to unite the Sabre prides. A lot of blood shed. But it all worked out in the end. Just look at us now; we are more than surviving, we are thriving. Nexus can do the same. It’s just going to need a push to get there.”
“The end doesn’t always justify the means, Ransidius. I believe a council can do the same thing. Nominated representatives from Predator and Prey tribes.” Jarden tried to be diplomatic, but he could see Ransidius was not buying it.
“Why would I do that? There is no one that can stand before our forces, anyway. The rebellion might have numbers, but, unlike my warriors, they are not trained for war. And to top it off I have a human at my disposal.” Ransidius gave Larris a pointed glare, “Your assassin was unsuccessful. If you want his body back, it is hanging on my gate.”
Larris tensed and his hands tightened into fists.
The monk glanced at him with uncertainty. The rebellion had tried several times before to assassinate Ransidius to no avail, sending another would-be assassin seemed desperate.
Ransidius leaned back, locking his fingers behind his head and looked on in amusement.
“You worked so hard to keep her safe and out of my grasp ,Jarden; I am surprised you let them send someone to kill her.”
This time it was Jarden that looked surprised. He was staring at Larris, and, with the Cougar avoiding his gaze, it confirmed Ransidius was telling the truth.
“He neglected to inform me, though the fool should have.” Jarden snapped. He well aware that Tarak had moved, ever so minutely
. “I would have strongly advised against it.”
“It was a very skillful Weasel. Managed to get past the defenses, and even made it to the human’s room.” Ransidius recalled, “My guess is, he thought it would be easy after that, mere human as she is. But let me tell you, Larris, that little thing is a fighter. Fended off his attack, and in the end, he was impaled by his own blade.”
This news did not impress Larris, and to receive it while Jarden sat right there made the situation even more volatile.
“One life to save hundreds,” Larris defended his actions.
Jarden shook his head at the two Cats.
“Both of you, so quick to kill.” He sighed, “I suppose this meeting was just a wishful thought of an old Monk.”
Ransidius gave a laugh.
“You are right about that Jarden, but there is a little hope. I would not have come if I didn’t have at least a counter offer to Larris’ ridiculous demands.”
Jarden stared back at the Sabre, aware he would not like this. Ransidius leaned forward and spoke to Larris.
“I offer you one chance to save the lives of your men,” he began, “If you planned on meeting me on the battlefield anyway, I propose a one-on-one bout right here, right now. You said one life to save hundreds. Now is the time to see if that is your true conviction! If you win, and I die, my forces will remain in the northern Expanse. If I win, your rebellion disbands and the Sabres take immediate control over the southern territories.”
The Cougar didn’t stand a chance against the Sabre, and everyone sitting at the table knew it.
“No. Our demands are fair; I will not risk them on my skills as a warrior alone.” Larris snapped.
Ransidius became restless.
“Fine. I am done with this, Jarden. Your champion is lacking in spirit.” Ransidius got up from the table and stretched before roaring at the silent Wolves. “If your leader is unwilling to fight me one on one, what do you plan on doing when I take the battlefield and destroy your ranks? There will be nowhere to run.”
At that comment Ransidius received a reply, but not from Larris.
“I believe that’s where the rebellion will be stepping aside,” Tarak said, the deep natural rumble in his chest pointing towards a big Cat beneath the cloak.