Tarrin Kael Firestaff Collection Book 3 - Honor and Blood by Fel ©

by James Galloway (aka Fel)

  They were semi-nomadic people with some permanent settlements where the water would support it. They mainly herded animals for a living, subsisting off large, flightless desert birds and animals that sounded to him like goats. They grew plants where it was possible. Wandering tribes of a clan often stopped in at these permanent settlements to restock supplies, get more water, trade information, and renew kinships. The denizens of these permanent settlements often didn't stay there more than five years, as they joined a wandering tribe and someone from the tribe took their place. The Selani didn't like living in one place like that, so it was seen more as a chore than a privilege. Clans were rivals, so it was rare that a tribe of one clan paid a visit to a tribe of another. Clan chiefs did communicate with one another, and once every five years all the clan chiefs and many clan members met at some place called Cloud Spire for what Allia called kiswisa, or the Gathering. From what he remembered, there was a Gathering to take place this year. Last year she said it would be next year, so that made it this year. She never said exactly when this Gathering took place, however. He hoped it wasn't now. If it was, then large numbers of Selani would be on the move all at the same time, and it would make crossing the desert more dangerous for him.

  That, more or less, was the life of the Selani. They spent their free time training in the Dance and perfecting the skills that allowed them to survive in such a harsh environment. A place like the desert demanded constant training, constant vigilance. He already learned that lesson. If he lived in a place where reptiles that weighed enough to shake the ground with a step could move with such stealth and speed that it could even sneak up on him, he'd be on guard all the time too.

  And kajats were only one of the types of giant desert reptiles. Allia had talked about inus, smaller versions of kajats that were faster, smarter, travelled in packs, and were about ten times more vicious. There were also anuka, monstrous four-legged animals with huge sail-like fins on their backs, who were also carnivores. Those were the most dangerous ones. There were smaller animals in the desert that were less dangerous, but most of them were poisonous.

  He wondered for a moment just how these animals survived. A beast the size of a kajat must need huge amounts of water to survive, and that wasn't available here. There wasn't very much in the way of hunting either, unless they preyed upon one another, and that violated his Cat-based concept of nature. An ecosystem consisting of nothing but carnivores wouldn't last long, because there was no infusion of fresh energy, no beginning of the food chain. But it was apparent that they did somehow find a way to survive out here. He'd just have to figure out how they did it.

  Thirst returned him to reality, and he pulled up. The sun was beating down on him, and without the cloak, he could feel it on his back. His blond hair helped keep it off his head, but his ears were noticably hot. But it wasn't as bad as it had been yesterday. Even now, his body was quickly adapting to this new climate of extremes. He pulled up his waterskin, but found it empty.

  Empty. He needed water, but Sarraya wasn't here. He could fill it himself with Druidic Conjuring, but Sarraya made him promise not to use his abilities without her unless it was an emergency. She was still off somewhere in a tiff.

  Dropping down into a squat, nearly sitting on all fours like a cat, Tarrin debated with himself just what to do. He was thirsty. Very thirsty. It wasn't a dire need, but his thirst was immediate and wasn't about to go away. Without Sarraya, it meant that he would be using his very dangerous powers unaided, something she had drilled into him not to do. But he was thirsty.

  Foolishness. Tarrin stood up again, taking an aggressive posture as he decided that he didn't need Sarraya's approval. She'd taught him how to Conjure, and it was something that he knew he could do. He fully intended to be careful about it.

  Sitting down cross-legged, Tarrin held the waterskin before him. The trick of it was to Conjure the water into the skin. He considered what had to be done carefully. The image would have to be water, but water inside the skin. Envision a full skin, with the intent that clean water be inside it. Yes, that would be the methodology for conjuring a liquid. The liquid inside its container, where the intent was more important than the image. Sarraya had told him that some Druidic magic used intent over image, and some used image over intent. The key to a successful Conjuration would be to match up the right image with the right intent.

  He realized a snag. When Sarraya did it, the skin didn't just go poof and was full. It visibly filled. If he tried to Conjure the skin full when the skin wasn't expanded to accept the volume of it, something unpredictable might happen. He remembered Sarraya's warning's clearly: Exotic is bad.

  So. That meant that he had to somehow sustain the Druidic spell, make it progress to where he wanted it, then cut it off. So, perhaps the image would be of water, and the intent was to have it appear within the skin at a set rate of appearance. Like water pouring from a jug. Yes, that would work. Envision water, and the intent would be for it to pour from wherever it came from like water pouring from a jug.

  Fretting a bit, Tarrin put his chin in his palm and mulled it over. He was starting to understand why Sarraya was so serious about this. Since he wasn't sure of the exact way to imagine what he wanted, of what kind of intent he needed, he wasn't sure if it was going to work or not. And in Druidic magic, if you didn't know, you didn't try.

  But he needed water. And it was starting to get serious. He was really thirsty.

  Steeling himself, he decided to do it. He wasn't going to suffer because Sarraya was mad at him. He closed his eyes and used his training to sweep all irrelevant thoughts out of his mind. He held up the waterskin and formed the image of water. Pure, clean water, fresh and safe. That image fully formed, he decided on his intent. For water to appear inside his waterskin at the same rate that his mother's old battered pewter pitcher poured out water when it was used. It would stop when the skin was full, just like filling a glass. He blew out his breath, and then reached into himself, into and through the Cat, reached within and found that place where the gentle warmth of the All resided inside him. He reached into it, touched it, felt it suddenly infuse him. He felt it wash over his mind, see his image, sense his intent, and then he felt its power flow through him.

  From out of nowhere, the face of the girl struck him, like a hammer. Her visage suddenly laid over the image of water, her eyeless gaze boring into him, the totality of his guilt and shame burned into his mind. He recoiled from that image, from himself, and that seemed to suddenly twist and distort the energy flowing through him.

  The waterskin in his hand suddenly exploded!

  Water, a geysering torrent of it, suddenly exploded from the skin, and its direction was directly back into his face! He inhaled a good lungful of it as he gasped when the power changed inside him, and then the force of it sent him flying backwards, tumbling along the ground. He could feel the power still flowing through him, but it had taken up a life of its own, and it no longer depended on him to manifest in the real world.

  It was out of control!

  Control! Get control! he thought to himself as he was pushed out of the stream of water erupting from thin air, saturating the ground. He rose up onto knees and elbows and coughed out the water from his lungs, and quickly formed the intent that the water geysering from nowhere stop. His reaching within was frenetic, hurried, but the All again responded to him, finding no image but sensing an intent, and then the power flowing through him increased considerably. It rose up against the other power already moving through him, blocking it, restricting it, quickly and efficiently strangling it until it flowed no more.

  The intense geyser of water stopped as if an unseen hand had simply turned a valve. The power flowing through him, all of if, simply stopped. Unlike Sorcery, there was no pain, no sense of lessening from the experience. It simply stopped.

  Coughing again, Tarrin rose up onto his knees. He was soaked all the way to the skin, and was kneeling in a column of sandy mud caused by the geyser. Most of the wat
er created by it had already seeped into the dry ground, leaving a dark, muddy splotch behind, and a shallow gouge had been dug out by the water as it hit the ground forcefully, piled up into a little wet sandbar at the far end of the muddy streak. A pool of muddy water quickly disappeared where it pooled up before the sandy barrier. He shook his head, snapping his wet braid to and fro to get the water off his face, stop it from dripping into his eyes, making his ears twitch reflexively.

  Then he laughed.

  That wasn't quite what he had in mind, but he had to admit, he wasn't thirsty anymore. The water had cooled him off, and the dry air and hot sun were already starting to dry him out.

  The little adventure showed him that Druidic magic could be a continuous process rather than the simple manifestation of power. It had kept going within him, and he had the feeling that it would have kept going until he actively stopped it. After all, the power wasn't coming from him, it was simply moving through him. And when he opened the door, it would stay open until he closed it again.

  "Ande no adu bai!" came an amused voice.

  Tarrin turned to look, and found himself staring at two Selani. Both were male, tall, thin, sleek, wearing the sand-colored baggy clothing for which they were well known. It took him a second to translate that. Ande no adu bai...You funny are. He thinks it was some kind of joke!

  "Ande no doro na quiste dai, ne?" the second seemed to say to the first. You think dangerous is? Since Selani didn't employ pronouns when referring to an object, the context of the sentence made it clear he was referring to Tarrin. "Sume no natta abuda-ko bakaida, suja." Water from somewhere want-to-come, as-you-know...That water had to come from somewhere, you know.

  Shaking his head slightly to ready himself for whatever was about to happen, he sized up these two. Thin, sleek, tall, standard Selani. They moved like Allia, so they were quick, and they were old enough to be dangerous. Both of them carried longswords in scabbards on their backs, but the shorter of the two, the one that spoke first, also carried a wooden spear tipped with a steel point. But they had no idea what he was, or how to deal with him. Against two, Tarrin had the advantage.

  And they had no idea he could understand what they were saying.

  "Well, he may be a magician," the first said, and now that Tarrin was paying attention, he didn't mull over translating. "He's certainly no human. Want to roll for the honor?"

  "I'll give you this honor, Var," the second said with a wicked little smile. "You're the one looking to impress Suji. Maybe a story of your skill and bravery against an unnatural invader will enhance you in her eyes."

  "Chuko," Var said, the Selani word for "come", waving Tarrin to stand up as he lowered his spear. "Chuko."

  He wanted to fight. A test of skill, a challenge to the invader. It was the Selani way. If an invader could best a Selani, he earned a day's reprieve from all other challenges, as a tribute to the honor and skill of the invader. Of course, in actuality, it was win and die a day later, because the next day the entire tribe would come after the target. So in this case, it was die, or win another day of life.

  Best get it started with some intimidation, he realized. Against one, he had all the advantages. He let the Selani approach him, spear levelled, get closer and closer. Once he was just at the range of his own spear, he stopped, and Tarrin looked up at him calmly. He wasn't afraid of a single Selani.

  Now that he was close, Tarrin got to his feet. Slowly. Rising up to the Selani's eye level, then over it. And over it, and over it, and over it, until he absolutely towered over his smaller opponent. He looked down at the Selani with an emotionless expression, standing fully erect and in a powerful posture that emanated strength and confidence. Just like he'd seen Triana do it so many times, a stance that intimidated everyone around her.

  He could see it in this Var's expression. He literally wilted under Tarrin's penetrating stare, taking a step back and clutching his spear in white-knuckled intensity.

  The other Selani laughed. "Aren't you glad I didn't roll with you?" he called. "You may have lost!"

  "There is no honor in showing your back," Var said under his breath, then he brought the spear up to a ready position. But Tarrin seemed to confuse him, because he did not move. He didn't move, barely breathed, kept his eyes locked on this Var in a way that unsettled the smaller opponent. This Var didn't quite seem to know how to take that. The usual reaction to being threatened with a spear was either retreat or preparation. Var could see the sword on Tarrin's back, but he didn't go for it.

  "Just stick him, Var! He knows he's in a fight, so there's no dishonor in it!" his companion called.

  Var moved to do just that, stabbing at Tarrin's middle with the spear. But Tarrin's paw blurred as it moved to intercept the weapon, and he grabbed the wooden shaft in a crushing grip, and the muscles in his arm and shoulder locked. Tarrin's inhuman power caused the spear to instantly stop, and it nearly dislodged Var from his grip as he staggered along the shaft of the suddenly immovable weapon. With a quick snap of the wrist, Tarrin ripped the weapon out of the Selani's hands, and he jumped back in shock and surprise and drew his sword as Tarrin pulled the weapon away from him.

  He pulled it in and took it with both hands, looking it over. It was a very nice spear. Good weight, nice balance, and its steel tip was well shaped and very sharp. It was a bit oversized for the Selani, but it was also a bit too short for him. He looked from the spear to this Var with his eyes only, and raised an eyebrow as he saw the Selani bring his sword up into a ready position. It was a position Tarrin recognized, one Allia used when she wielded a longsword.

  Tossing the spear aside, Tarrin adjusted the heavy steel manacles on his wrists, doing little more than making this Var take notice of them. Then he widened his stance and lowered into the wide-armed slouch he used when fighting. He held out his paws and extended his claws slowly and deliberately, letting the Selani see what was waiting for him, and then he suddenly roared out in challenge, his eyes exploding from within with the greenish radiance that marked an angry Were-cat.

  Or in this case, was merely an exotic display of threat meant to intimidate the opponent.

  It worked. Var took a quick step back, surprise showing on his face, and it was clear from his expression that he was now very uncertain as to what he'd just gotten himself into. But, to his credit, his resolve was firm, and he shook of his surprise quickly. He even smiled!

  "It looks like he'll be a challenge, Var! I envy you!" the other Selani called.

  "A great challenge," Var said respectfully.

  Of course. The Selani feared nothing. They would battle with anything, anyone, and the more dangerous it was, the better. It was a matter of honor to battle stronger foes, and even a loss to a greater foe was still a increase in honor. The Selani gained honor in the fact that he did not back down, that he was willing to battle a stronger foe.

  Extending a paw, Tarrin crooked it at Var, urging him to come on.

  As was usual for seasoned warriors, the first blows were tentative, light, a feeling out to gain an understanding of the strengths and weaknesses of the opponent. Those first quick slashes of the sword showed him that Var was an apt pupil of the Dance, and that he was very quick, strong for his size, and had excellent control of his weapon. Tarrin recognized the forms he was using, basic forms of the Dance meant to test an opponent's defenses. Tarrin responded with sheer agility, using the bracers on his wrists as shields, turning the blade of the sword aside time and time again. He was careful not to let elements of the Dance creep into his style. He didn't want to give away the fact that he knew about the Selani, that he knew what to expect from his foe.

  When Var came, it was all out. A sudden explosion of furious slashes assaulted Tarrin from every side at once. Var was a bit more aggressive than what Tarrin would have expected, but not everyone fought the same way. Tarrin deflected each and every blow expertly, causing a staccato chiming of steel on steel to emanate from between them as manacle blocked sword again and again. Tarrin began
to give ground as Var advanced, keeping up his furious assault, trying to overwhelm Tarrin quickly with blazing speed and careful control. Tarrin moved to block another sword slash, but Var pulled it back and turned it into a quick stab, forcing Tarrin to twist aside or get steel in his belly. The Selani's attack came so fast that Tarrin nearly missed it. He had been intentionally going slower than he could actually go, to bait him into expecting a certain speed!

  This Selani was good.

  A feint inside a feint. Clever!

  He realized that he shouldn't be playing with this Selani. Selani were dangerous adversaries, and Var had just proved to him that it would be stupid to spar with him when the Selani was trying to kill him.

  That decided, Tarrin did what had served him so well against every other opponent he had faced. It was time to use his Were-cat gifts.

  He fell into blocking again, waiting for an opportunity to put this Var down quickly, but not kill him. Tarrin already knew that killing Selani would upset Fara'Nae, and he wouldn't offend a goddess when he stood upon her land. He already knew what he wanted to do, he was just waiting for his chance to deploy it.

  What he got was another abrupt change in direction from Var's sword, suddenly jerking high and coming in over his bracer. Tarrin felt the slip, turned away from the weapon so it couldn't bite deeply, but it still managed to hit him just above the elbow, slicing his shirt and sending a thin line of blood away from the sword's edge as it went whistling by.

  "First blood!" the other one called. "He's good, but you can take him, Var!"

  Tarrin stepped back, and that confused this Var. He dropped his guard and looked at his shirt. There was some blood there, but not much, since the sword the Selani was using couldn't do him any permanent harm. But it had cut the shirt, and that irritated him. His face suddenly slightly perturbed, Tarrin backed up again when Var stepped forward, and started rolling up his sleeves.