Scarred Man

by Bevan McGuiness

  Keshik shook his head. ‘More than just a woman,’ he corrected. ‘She was taken from me by force. I owe a lot of people for that and after I find her, I will come back for them.’

  ‘Why?’

  Keshik glared, but did not answer. He was too tired and in too much pain to be bothered answering such a stupid question. All he wanted to do was leave here, alone, and start the long road to find Maida. All he could do, physically, was sleep. With a snarl, born more of frustration than any sort of anger, he rolled over and pulled the heavy blanket tightly around his shoulders. Sleep came easily and was untroubled by dreams.

  His body rebelled against its mistreatment, and Keshik found himself unable to move for several days. The man named Slave set up a rough shelter around them and fed him some of the most vile food imaginable. He explained, as if by way of apology, that he had been rushed and had taken whatever was to hand, but Keshik was too weak and hungry to pay his words much heed. He ate mechanically, drank melted snow and nursed his anger for the moment he could quit this strange, silent man who attended to him. After the first day or so, he stopped even trying to talk to him and they communicated by gesture, grunts and only occasionally by word. It became comfortable. There was no awkwardness, just very little talking. Slave, for his part, also seemed to need some time to heal. He certainly needed time to wash. Even Keshik, who had spent most of his adult life travelling the wildernesses, found him beyond merely fragrant. Finally, after enough days had passed for him to feel comfortable moving again, he burst out: ‘For the sake of all that is noble and fair, go and wash, Slave!’

  Slave looked up from his normal contemplation of the ground with a startled expression. For a moment, Keshik was concerned that he may have given offence and would have to test his slowly rebuilding strength, but after a moment, Slave gave a wry smile.

  ‘I wondered if you might notice.’

  ‘Notice? Notice! I’ve smelt better corpses.’

  ‘And this is a bad thing?’

  Keshik frowned. Did the idiot not know? ‘Yes, it is a bad thing.’

  Slave rose from his crouch and looked around. The vast, open plain stretched unbroken as far as the eye could see in every direction. Keshik guessed they were to the west of Leserlang.

  ‘Where should I wash, Keshik?’ Slave asked.

  Something in his tone made Keshik look up sharply. Was the man trying to be funny? Keshik took a gamble.

  ‘Wait until we get into Leserlang. Maybe they’ll be so keen to get you to wash, we’ll get free lodging,’ he said.

  Slave gave a chuckle. ‘I thought you had a sense of humour,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t,’ Keshik growled. ‘But you do.’

  Slave’s chuckle continued. ‘You are almost ready to travel, I think. A returning sense of humour is a good sign.’

  Keshik spat. ‘I am ready to travel. Are you?’

  Slave’s smile vanished. ‘Always,’ he said.

  16

  Tatya ran through the snow with the long, smooth strides of the predator. She was a magical creature, formed by magic, kept by magic, led by magic. And magic linked her to another, the one who called her south. Around her, rodents and others she would normally see as prey scurried away from her in fear. They needn’t have bothered. Her mind was on something else.

  Something that lived to the south.

  Something that drew her on relentlessly, mercilessly.

  Beyond hunger.

  Beyond pain.

  She paid no heed to the passage of time or the distance that her even pace was devouring.

  She only knew Maida. The link that had been formed led her south, to Maida.

  How could she have been so stupid, so selfish, so misguided as to have run when the link was being forged? What was she thinking? To have Maida in her life was a gift far beyond anything she could have imagined. The foolish dreams of independence, of freedom, were behind her now as she drove herself south, back into the welcoming warmth, away from this hateful cold.

  Her mind exulted at the knowledge that Maida drew closer with every pace, every bunch and release of her muscles. But it also dreaded the thought that Maida might already be in danger — danger caused by her selfish absence.

  The snow disappeared as she ran south, turning slowly into arid cold, into tundra. Beneath her torn and bleeding paws, the hard ground rejected her blood, unworthy a sacrifice as it was, leaving red stains. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the ugly city of Leserlang came closer. The perpetual smudge of brown smoke that hung above it touched the air, scenting it with the unmistakeable reek of humanity. Tatya did not slow her approach despite the grumbling of her empty stomach. Maida had been here — even through the stink, Tatya could sense her.

  She approached Leserlang just as the sun dipped to touch the horizon. A freezing wind screamed down across the open tundra from the wastes to the north, carrying with it the chance of clean air, but the miasma of brown hung stubbornly over the city. She paused at a house that stood defiantly outside the city walls and shifted into her human form. It was not difficult feigning weakness and suffering as she knocked on the door. The wind cut through her nakedness like a knife.

  The door swung open to reveal a man wearing the clothes of a peasant farmer. Behind him, a woman peered past his shoulder.

  ‘What do you …’ he snarled, his words fading as he took in the nude form standing shivering in his doorway.

  ‘Clothes,’ Tatya said. ‘And warmth.’

  The farmer leered at Tatya’s body. ‘I can provide you with all the warmth you want,’ he said.

  ‘Ice and wind!’ his wife snapped, slapping him on the shoulder. ‘You bastard, let her in!’ She dragged him out of the doorway and held out her hand to Tatya. ‘Come in here. You’re going blue out there.’

  Inside, the house was small, dark and redolent with the stink of unwashed human. It was as much as Tatya could do to not gag and retch at the assault on her senses. She staggered in, leaning heavily on the woman while the man laid his hand on her shoulder, ostensibly to help support her, but most likely just feeling her skin. A low growl formed in the back of her throat, but she kept it in.

  The woman led her to the rear of the single room and handed her a blanket. It was coarse and scratched at her skin. There were small creatures scurrying around on the fabric, but it was almost warm as she wrapped it around her.

  ‘Now, some clothes,’ the woman said. She rummaged around in a small pile on the floor, shifting tattered garments aside in her quest for something to give her unexpected guest. While she did, her husband stared openly at Tatya, scratching his stubbled cheek. Tatya felt anger rise inside as his small, glinting eyes roved over her. It was not her time for coupling, and she would not dally with this … this … human. It stank, it was small and dirty. It had rotten teeth and scabrous skin. It had already touched her.

  Its touch, its scent, reminded her of the Scarred Man. She could have played with him. He didn’t stink, not like this one. He would probably survive long enough if she played with him. This one would not survive long.

  Maida.

  The Scarred Man had touched Maida.

  She had smelt him on her.

  They had coupled.

  Coupled often.

  What was the word they used?

  Lovers. That was it. They were lovers.

  But not when she got there. No, Maida would not need a human male any more.

  Tatya would keep her safe.

  ‘Ah, this will be nice,’ the woman said. She held up a rag that might have once been a dress. ‘Try it on.’ She offered it to Tatya.

  With a glare at the man, Tatya dropped the blanket and pulled on the dress. It was coarser than the blanket and felt more like sacking than a dress, but it was covering and warmth. It would do for now.

  Tatya showed her teeth at the woman who showed hers in return.

  ‘Food?’ Tatya asked.

  The woman shook her head. ‘No, I am sorry. We have nothing.’

  ‘N
o food?’

  ‘None at all.’

  Tatya scowled. She needed food which these scrawny specimens could not offer, even if she ate them. Her scowl shifted into a snarl.

  ‘I need food,’ she growled.

  ‘We ain’t got none,’ the man snapped.

  Tatya looked around, feeling her control over her shape slip with the hunger. There must be something to eat in this wretched hovel! How could anyone live in something so vile? The open air with its cleansing winds and rains was preferable to being locked up inside such a stinking box. She felt a growl build deep within her chest. If she stayed any longer she would revert to form and react badly. For all their stench, poverty and foul lives, these people did not deserve to die and in her other form, she would kill them without compunction. With a shudder, she pushed past the man and left.

  Ahead, the stained walls of Leserlang rose towards the dirty sky. The stink was less out here, but still it made her eyes water. She jogged towards the northern gate, cursing her stupidity for not acquiring boots as well as this feeble dress that whipped around her body in the wind. At the gate, the guards stared at her with an expression she had seen too often before.

  ‘What do you want?’ one of them snapped.

  ‘Food, shelter.’ Tatya shivered.

  ‘And some better clothes,’ another guard added. His tone was different. Tatya regarded him curiously.

  ‘Come in, visitor,’ he said. ‘I know a place.’ To his fellow guards he said, ‘I’m due to be relieved anyway. I’ll take her.’

  The other guards gave various noises of assent and he took Tatya’s arm in a grip that was firm but not too firm. She resisted briefly but followed as he led her away from the gate and into the city. The stench of a human city assailed her nostrils with renewed vigour as she passed under the gates. Her mouth tasted vile and her stomach growled as she tried to focus on the sense of Maida’s presence.

  She had been here, but not for a long time.

  She had left.

  But which way?

  Tatya needed to search, to hunt through the stink, to seek out the traces that would lead her to where Maida had gone. But for the moment, she needed food. This human who held her arm with — what was that scent? Was it fear? — was leading her to a place where she might eat. She turned to look at the man. He looked away sharply at her gaze, again with fear.

  He knew what she was! The pieces dropped into place. The way he had looked at her, spoken to her, led her so carefully. This man knew of her breed.

  ‘How do you know what I am?’ she asked.

  The man’s fear grew. He licked his lips, swallowed hard.

  ‘I have studied your … kind,’ he said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Your … kind is rare in these times, and I have studied the ancient times, before the Eleven Kingdoms.’

  ‘Have you ever met one of us before?’

  He gave a short, jerky nod. ‘A few,’ he said.

  ‘What were their forms?’

  ‘A barin, a wolf, a silver-sided whale and a crested hawk.’

  ‘More than I have met,’ Tatya said. ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘To the Ruthia.’

  Instinct surged within her human form, causing her to flicker slightly into her major form. At the sudden feeling of fur beneath his fingers, the man snatched his hand back and took a rapid step away. He stared at her with still-increasing fear.

  ‘No,’ Tatya growled, her voice also shifting slightly away from human. ‘I will not go there.’

  ‘But my Reader …’

  ‘Can come and see me if he wants to,’ Tatya completed the sentence.

  The man finally met her eye. ‘I will go and fetch him,’ he said. ‘If you would like to stay here and wait for him.’ He gestured at a doorway in the façade to his right. ‘It is a quiet inn. No one will bother you in there.’

  Tatya frowned, wondering how much she could trust this human. It, he, whatever, had not been honest at the start, but his fear had overcome his lies eventually. He seemed to misunderstand her hesitation.

  ‘Here,’ he said, pulling his cloak from his shoulders. ‘That dress, or whatever it is, is hardly appropriate. Wrap this around you. And take this,’ he offered her a small pouch of coin, ‘and buy yourself something to eat.’

  Tatya allowed the man to wrap the cloak around her shoulders, she even allowed him to touch her skin as fumbling fingers tied the cord at her neck. She was more interested in the weight and smell of the pouch. Silver. She could exchange it for food, a bed. From the weight, maybe even some clothes.

  Tatya turned from the man and walked to the door. Even through the thick wood, the scent of food was strong. Human food, obviously, cooked and mixed, but rich and plentiful. The door opened easily to reveal a dimly lit, warm room redolent with human scent and human conversation. The talk fell silent when she walked in as every eye fixed on her. Tatya fought back the desire to change form and rend limbs from bodies in her sudden surge of anger. She walked across to the bar and dropped the pouch of coin in front of the man holding a cup.

  ‘Food,’ she said. ‘And a bed.’

  The man sniffed and looked her up and down. He hefted the pouch, opened it and then raised his eyes to hers. ‘And some clothes and a bath, I would think.’

  Tatya grunted in assent.

  The man raised a finger and gestured towards a female who stood by a door. ‘Gerlinde,’ he said. ‘Take our guest up to the …’ he looked down at the pouch again, ‘second floor. She needs food, clothes and a bath. See to it.’

  The female opened the door and invited Tatya to precede her up the stairs that lay beyond. With a sigh, Tatya left the bar and went upstairs. Gerlinde showed her to another door which she unlocked before handing Tatya the key and waving her inside.

  Inside, the room was larger than Tatya had expected, with a large bath standing to one side, a wardrobe on the opposite wall and a bed directly across from the door. There was a window, presently covered with thick drapes, which looked out over the street.

  ‘Would you like me to prepare you a bath, visitor?’ Gerlinde asked.

  Tatya looked at the deep tub. This human obsession for washing often mystified her, but tonight, she was cold and uncomfortable. In her major form, she hated water and would never consider wallowing in a big bowl of it. As a human, she would take a bath occasionally. Other humans seemed to appreciate it when she did. It also played a part in some aspects of the ridiculously involved mating rituals they practised.

  ‘Yes,’ she told Gerlinde.

  ‘And clothes, visitor?’

  Tatya looked down at the rag she wore underneath her cloak. ‘Do I need some?’

  Gerlinde almost smiled as she nodded. She was a delicate little thing with wide eyes and a small mouth. Her long brown hair was pulled back and tied at the nape of her neck with a blue ribbon. Dressed in a shapeless brown dress that hung almost to the floor, she might have been anything from a child to a crone, but Tatya did not care. Her mating rituals did not involve other females.

  ‘There are clothes in there.’ Gerlinde indicated the wardrobe. ‘You may take whatever you like.’

  Tatya opened the wardrobe and looked at the collection of clothes. As she sorted through them, she heard Gerlinde leave quietly, returning shortly to pour water into the tub. Her selection of new clothes took a long time, during which Gerlinde was busy carrying buckets of warm water, and when she was finished, the tub was full and Gerlinde was standing beside it.

  ‘Do you need me any further, visitor?’ she asked.

  ‘No. Bring me food later.’ Gerlinde gave a short bow and left Tatya alone with her bath.

  After ripping the cloak and dress from her body, Tatya eased herself into the warm water. After the cold, the blood returning to her extremities was almost painful. She relaxed back and allowed herself to slide beneath the surface. Her hair floated out around her, drifting slowly in the currents formed by her movements. Some of the dirt and accumulated detritus
that had lodged in her hair and crusted on her body floated free into the water, but much of the filth would take scrubbing.

  She returned to the surface of the water, reached out and grabbed one of the bars of soap and started to scrub. The water quickly became dark and before she was done scrubbing, she rose from the water and stepped out.

  ‘Gerlinde,’ she called.

  The door opened quickly. Gerlinde stepped in.

  ‘I need another bath,’ Tatya said, indicating the brownish water in the tub. Gerlinde walked across to the wardrobe and pulled out a large towel. She handed it to Tatya and left the room, returning with four big men, each carrying a full bucket of warm water and an empty bucket. They refreshed Tatya’s bath and departed.

  By the time Tatya had finished washing and was dressed in clean new clothes, Gerlinde had returned with a tray from which emanated the scent of cooked food. Her stomach growled in anticipation. She sat as Gerlinde placed the tray before her and attacked the food. At some stage, Gerlinde left her to eat alone, but she hardly noticed.

  When she finished, weariness stole over her. The exhaustion that had built up over the previous long days and nights, from the running, the hunger and the anger, finally took her. She fell on the bed and slept.

  Some time later, when the night was black, Tatya’s eyes snapped open, abruptly wide awake. The door was being unlocked. The handle turned and the door eased open. There was no stealth, just slowness. She rolled out of bed and slipped into her major form. When the door was fully open and a man stood, silhouetted against the flickering light, she allowed herself to give the low growl that so disturbed prey. As expected, the scent of fear washed over her.

  ‘You are beautiful,’ the man murmured. ‘He said you would be.’

  The words were as unexpected as was his control. Despite his fear, he stayed motionless as she approached him, her mane erect and threatening. With a sense of playfulness, Tatya reared up on her hind legs and placed her paws on his shoulders, displaying her teeth. The man almost faltered, but kept control.