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

by James Galloway (aka Fel)

  There were only three left, and one was wounded. They looked around and suddenly began to make shrill barking sounds, and turned to flee. But the enraged Were-cat would not accept that. It rushed forward with blazing speed, taking the head off the injured one as it turned to run with a swipe of the sword, then the sword was cast aside as it grabbed the tail of one of the remaining two. The creature barked in alarm, but that bark turned into a squeal when Tarrin yanked it into his clutches, then broke its back with an overhead smash of his other paw. He put his claws into the wounded animal and heaved it over his head, then hurled it at the last one as it started to dash away. The two collided several paces from him, and the weight of the thrown inu drove the other one to the ground.

  He was on them before they could even move, and with clawed paws, he took their throats.

  He stood up slowly, taking in the situation. All the inu were dead. There was another figure, back to the wall, not far away, and in his enraged state, he could not identify the figure as friend or foe. He turned on that figure with a narrow-eyed hiss, then spread his paws and roared in challenge at it.

  "No! That's enough!" a voice shouted at him, and suddenly a little blue winged thing dropped into view, hands out to stop him. In his rage, he had trouble identifying this new interloper, but a part of him, somewhere deep inside, recognized this as a friend. This was not one to kill. He blinked as the rage drained away, as his conscious mind returned to full control, and he realized that Sarraya was before him.

  As always, he was a bit fuzzy after coming out of a rage. He couldn't remember exactly what happened, what he did--that would return with time, as it always did--but he did remember that he was attacking a pack of inu. He looked around, and realized that he'd killed all of them. They were laying all around him, or at least parts of them were. Some of them were more than dead. He was covered in blood, and had quite a few deep gouges in him, gouges that were already regenerating. He had one tooth sticking in his shoulder, lodged there by one of the inu, and he reached up and pulled it out absently as he realized that the figure was the Selani woman. He looked at her, and saw that she was staring at him in complete shock. And that her eyes were fixated on his shoulder. On his brands.

  "You should be more careful," he told her in Selani, in a cold tone. "Next time, I won't be standing on the rock over your head."

  "W-Who are you?" she demanded. "I don't know the clan-brand you carry."

  "I'm nobody," he told her, feeling his distrust of her rising up already. He looked at her face, and realized that she looked a little bit like Allia. She had the same cheekbones. But her jaw was a bit broader, and her eyes were golden instead of blue. Her hair was about the same color as his, and she was shorter than Allia, shorter and if the fall of her desert garb were any indication, not as endowed as his sister with feminine curves.

  "I'm Denai Shu'Dellin, of the Clan Dellinar," she introduced. "You saved my life. I have blood debt with you."

  "Save it," he grunted. "Consider your debt paid by leaving me be."

  "Debt is debt," she said sternly. He took a good look at her, then sifted through her scent. This one was very young, barely more than an adult. She didn't have the sense to leave things alone. She was so much shorter than him, so young, it caused him to look at her as a child, a little lost child far too away from her parents for her age, getting into more trouble than she was ready to handle.

  "Listen," he said in a sudden growl, a growl that made her put her back against the wall. "I don't care what you think. If you don't put it away and count your blessings, I'll leave you right here with the rest of this vulture food."

  "If that is how my debt is to be paid, then so be it," she said calmly, stepping forward. She reached down and picked up his sword, drenched in inu blood, and held it towards him hilt-first, holding it by the blade. "After what I just saw, I know better than to challenge you over your decision."

  Tarrin gave her a glance. She was serious! She'd let him lop off her head in a heartbeat, if that's what she felt that honor demanded. Damned Selani and their honor!

  "Just drop it," he sighed, glancing at Sarraya. But she only shrugged her shoulders. He felt a bit wary to get too close to her, so he reached out carefully and took his sword, then pulled away more quickly than he intended. The result was that he left two lines of blood on her palms, from where the lethally sharp weapon sliced into her as he recoiled. She didn't even flinch.

  Now he felt foolish. Before he realized what he was doing, he was in front of her, looming over her, her slender four-fingered hands caught up between his paws. She looked like a child, a little girl, so close to her, and her small size compared to his own only reinforced that conception. She looked up at him without fear, her amber gaze unwavering as he reached within, through the Cat and into the All, and then did what Sarraya had done for him so many times. The will and intent within manifested without, and it caused the Selani's body to accelerate its healing process to such a degree that all her clawed gouges and her sliced palms healed over in mere seconds. His intimate understanding and knowledge of the Selani made it very easy for him to accomplish, and so the Druidic magic did not tire him in any way.

  "You healed me!" she said in surprise, looking at her hands. "You're a shaman."

  Shaman was a Selani term for magician, someone with the power to use magic.

  "Among other things," he said gruffly. Where did that concern come from? Just that close to her made his fear of her return, and it was all he could do to back away quickly. It was almost as instinctual as his fear, he realized. He saw her, thought of her as a little girl, and it incited a protective response in him. Were-cat instinctual urges to protect children were powerful, even in the males. He looked at her again, and again he looked at how small she was, how young she was. That was it. Looking at her and thinking that way caused the fear in him to ease, caused other, equally strong impulses to protect to rise up. "What are you doing out here alone?" he demanded. "This is not the place for a child!"

  "I'm not a child any longer," she flared. "I wear my brands as proudly as you. I was trying to catch those sukk, but the inu had the same idea. After I killed a few of them, they decided to hunt me instead."

  This little slip of a girl, killing inu? It seemed ludicrous, but he'd seen Selani fight. This little slip of a girl had probably been trained in the Dance since she could walk. He had no doubt that she had done exactly what she said she did.

  "I saw them bite you, but you have no wounds," she noted. "Did you heal yourself too? And what is that little winged thing?"

  "That is Sarraya, my friend," he told her. "She can't understand what you say."

  "How about if I use the Western tongue?" she asked in Sulasian, which served as something of a common language throughough the West. Most outside Sulasia could speak it who commonly dealt with travellers or traders. It was heavily accented, but understandable.

  "Where did you learn that?" he asked in shock.

  "My father taught me the human tongues of both east and west. I am training to be my tribe's obe."

  An obe was the tribe diplomat, of a sort. They often advised tribal or clan chiefs in dealings with other tribes, clans, and humans. They served as translators when necessary. It was a very prestigious position, affording high honor, and only the brightest and most clever were trained for it.

  "Wow, a Selani that speaks Sulasian," Sarraya said in surprise. "I thought Allia was one of the rare few."

  "I knew that obe worked as translators, but I never expected that they learned Sulasian this far east," Tarrin told the Faerie. "We're still a thousand leagues from the Sandshield."

  "We are trained to serve, and serve in all ways," Denai told him. "I would be of little use to my chief if I could not speak the Western tongue."

  "I'll give you that one," Tarrin told her.

  "Well, what are we going to do with her?" Sarraya asked.

  "Send her on her way, I guess," Tarrin told her. "She can't be far from her tribe."


  "I have blood debt to you. I will serve until that debt is paid."

  "I won't allow it," he told her ominously. "I'm moving on, and I'll be long gone from here by tomorrow."

  "Honor is honor," she said pugnaciously. "I know this region. If you are moving west, as it sounds you are, then I can help guide you around the desert's dangers."

  "No," he said flatly. "I don't like strangers."

  "I am not a stranger anymore," she told him calmly. Then she smiled. "I have told you my name. That makes us more than strangers, does it not?"

  This little one was almost charming with that smile of hers. He looked at Sarraya, but the Faerie only laughed.

  "Don't look at me. I don't have the backbone to argue with her. You do it."

  "How do you know I'm moving west?" he asked curiously.

  "You said you were still a thousand leagues from the Sandshield," she replied. "The sandshield is west, and it sounds to me that it's your destination."

  "She's quick," Sarraya said in praise.

  "She wouldn't be obe if she wasn't," Tarrin told her absently. Part of him absolutely could not believe what the rest of him was thinking. It would be good to have her show him where the Selani were in the region, as well as the more dangerous areas. It would save him time and potential danger. Part of him didn't trust her...but part of him wanted to trust her. She was Selani. That gave her a measure of trustworthiness right there. She wouldn't lie or connive. She'd say her mind and be confident in what she said. Besides, he was pretty sure that this determined young lady wasn't about to take no for an answer. She had honor to repay, and he wasn't going to be able to stop her until she felt that honor was satisfied. If he rebuffed her, she'd probably follow him. And she was so young, having her tag along behind him wouldn't sit as well as putting her where he could see her and keep her out of trouble.

  Besides, travelling with her would be a challenge to the feral animal within, a decree to it that he would not be ruled by it forever. Just like the girl in that Saranam city, the one that gave him the scarf, he was receiving something of a positive feeling from this little Selani. If he was ever going to break his feral chains, he had to start somewhere, just like Mist did. Mist reached out to him. Maybe he could start by seeing how well he could tolerate this Selani. If he could conquer his fear of her, perhaps there was hope he could conquer his fear of all strangers.

  "What do you think, Sarraya?"

  "She'll be better conversation than you," Sarraya shot back with a grin. "Besides, a little guiding through this region may not be a bad thing. She'll keep us from going into any box canyons."

  "I only did that once," he protested as he started to clean the blood off of him. His clothes were pretty well torn, but that would have to wait. He didn't want to linger near so many dead carcasses. They would probably attract scavengers, scavengers not afraid to add a Selani and a Were-cat to the menu.

  "Once was all I'm going to give you," Sarraya winked. "But the choice is yours. She'll cause you more problems than me."

  "Cause problems? How will I do that?" the Selani demanded.

  "By being here," Sarraya told her. "My large friend here isn't too comfortable around people he doesn't know. Your presence may upset him."

  "I see the truth of it," Denai said. "He turned on me after killing the inu as if I were his next foe."

  "He's like that, but don't let it confuse you. He's really a little pussycat, once you get to know him."

  "Sarraya!"

  "Well, it's true," she grinned. "You may be better off walking away, Selani. Travelling with the likes of us won't be a very fun experience, and honor will be satisfied because you'll do it with his blessing."

  "Honor does not come to us without sacrifice," she said, quoting an old Selani saying. "It is paid for in sweat and blood."

  "You'll earn it, girl," Sarraya said soberly. "Believe me, you'll earn it."

  "I don't run away from my responsibilities."

  "Give it a few days, and then say that again," Sarraya said with a grin, then she laughed. "I take it you're willing to give this a try?" she asked Tarrin.

  "May as well. She may cut some time off our journey. I'll risk a little anxiety for that."

  "Well, then," Sarraya said, then she laughed. "This should be fun."

  "Only for you," Tarrin said, cleaning his sword. Then he sheathed it. His tail was slashing back and forth, and like almost everyone who first met him, her eyes were drawn to it almost immediately the first time he looked away from her.

  "I need to tell my chief and my tribe what I do," Denai said. "They're only a short run to the north, and we should go that way to avoid the Great Canyon. So it's not out of our way."

  "Great Canyon?" Tarrin asked.

  "A canyon so vast and so deep that nobody can cross it," she replied. "We have to go around it. If you're going to the Sandshield, you'll need to go northwest anyway. You can't cross in the south during this time of year."

  "Does every Selani know that?" Sarraya asked, just a bit tersely. "Var said the exact same thing! How do Selani living on this side of the desert know about how to travel on that side of the desert?"

  "Common knowledge," Denai shrugged. "It pays to know the paths of the desert, even the parts of the desert you rarely visit."

  "Makes sense, on what I know of the Selani," Tarrin told Sarraya absently. "If we're going to go, let's go. But one word, Denai. I don't slow down. If you get left behind, then go back home. I won't wait for you."

  "That sounds like a challenge," Denai said with a smile.

  "It's a warning," he told her. "Nothing more, nothing less. You should also know that I'm not human. I'm nothing like you've ever encountered before. I have impulses you don't understand, and I'll do things that make no sense to you. Don't let your guard down around me, girl. I tell you right now that if you surprise me or come to me when I'm not ready to deal with you, or if I'm very angry for some reason, I might attack you without warning."

  "That's no concern for me."

  "Just so you know. Consider yourself warned."

  "Fine, I understand your warning. If I'm to travel with you, may I know your name?"

  "Tarrin," he answered as he started at a strong pace towards the north.

  "Better move, girl," Sarraya said as he left them. "He wasn't joking. He'll leave you where you stand."

  "Nobody in my tribe runs faster or further than me," Denai called. "I'll show you. I'll be stride for stride with you once I find my sword."

  "Whatever," he said noncommitaly.

  It was insanity. He knew it was. Taking on this Selani was a bad mistake. She was a stranger, and being around her made him anxious. But another part of him wanted to feel that way, wanted to face his feral fear and conquer it. The only way to do that was to have someone there to fear. Besides, she reminded him of a child in many ways, and something in him wanted to protect her. She could help them, if she was as well versed in the region as she led him to believe. All he had to do was tolerate her presence long enough to take advantage of it. He was both drawn to her and repelled by her at the same time. He hoped it stayed that way. And he hoped fervently that she kept up her guard around him. She'd been warned.

  Denai proved to be a woman of her word. She could not only keep up with him, she could outpace him on flat ground. She ran with him for most of the rest of the day, leading him to the north, towards her tribe. Ran in silence while Tarrin continued to teach Sarraya the Sha'Kar language. The thought of entering a Selani group didn't sit well with him, did not sit well at all. He understood the Selani, but such a group invited disaster. There could be one or more within the tribe that didn't care for him, and may challenge him over his presence in the desert. Among the Selani, that meant a fight. Since he wasn't Selani, that made it a fight to the death. He didn't much relish the idea of killing any headstrong Selani in duels of honor, because that would incite the others to side against him, and could provoke even more challenges. He would take this Selani girl back to her tribe, bu
t his intent was to hold back, let her go and get what she wanted, then move on after a little while. She was a strong runner, she could catch up to him.

  They reached the encampment of the tribe just before sunset, and they had to come through a large flock of sukk and a small herd of goats to reach it. The animals, sensing Tarrin's predatory nature, bleated and gave shrieking cries and shied away from him as Denai led him through their groups, clearing a wide path around the two as they moved towards an encampment of about fifty large tan tents. Denai's tribe was very large, maybe the tribe that carried the Clan-chief within it. A tribe was part of its clan, but the Clan-chief was known to stay with the tribe from which he came after winning the position. He saw the first of them as he moved through the flocks, young boys and girls with long staves, herding and minding the animals. Tarrin's presence sent most of them scurrying towards the camp quickly, and those that did not leave the flocks stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment. He was already anxious over Denai, but now he was going to be absolutely surrounded by strangers if he didn't come up short of the camp. It was what he intended to do in the first place.

  Now that he was closer, he could see the goings on within the camp. He could see well over two hundred Selani in the camp, and they all had their hoods and veils off in the waning heat of the late afternoon. They were bent to a variety of tasks, from making pottery jars to weaving ropes to tanning leather, to practicing their fighting forms and training with weapons. A small group of Selani youths were on the near side of the camp, casting javelins at a gnarled stump protruding from the sandy soil. The Selani disdained projectile weapons like bows or crossbows, favoring hand-thrown objects like javelins, axes, and daggers or knives. The superior Selani foot speed and agility meant that they could easily get within that range when it was necessary. But their preferred method of fighting was hand to hand, and it was here where they earned their reputation as some of the finest fighters in the entire world.