Tower of Sorcery

by Fel

  Tarrin swallowed that. Shapeshifting?

  "There are other powers," she told him. "Inhuman strength like yours is a gift of your magical nature. And if I remember, you can regenerate wounds received from magic, falls, acid, and fire at an accelerated rate, and that you can even regenerate lost limbs. Only the injuries made from silver counter the magic that gives you power.

  "But I digress. It is this inherent magic that causes the condition, Tarrin. The only thing missing from a human is that magical touch, that essense of magical energy and animal instincts. That is what is passed on through contact with body fluids. Once it is introduced into a human, he becomes a Were-creature of the same type that passed it to him. He gains all of the powers and vulnerabilities of the Were-kin, and he is Were in every aspect. He is as much Were as the one who bit him; there is no difference between a Were-kin who was born into it and one who was bitten."

  "What would happen if that magic was taken away?" he asked.

  "Nothing could take it away," she told him. "It is infused into every fiber of your being, and it is now as integral and necessary as your blood, or heart, or bones. If it truly was removed from you, you would die."

  "I've heard stories about Were-wolves," Tarrin said thoughtfully. "They all say that they change into beasts at the full moon, but father always scoffed at them. He said he'd met one or two in his life, and they were nothing like that."

  "He is correct. Were-wolves are urbane, polite fellows with a highly defined sense of propriety. Being part animal, Tarrin, Were-creatures tend to act much as their animal counterparts act, just in a human way. Were-rats are rapacious, greedy, and unreliable. Were-bears are methodical and careful, and Were-wolves are very organized and structured."

  "What about, the Were-cats?" he forced himself to say the word.

  "There is very little written or known about them," she said, pursing her lips. "They are the rarest of all the Were-kin, and I have never heard of a Sorcerer or scholar finding one to learn about them. The other Were-kin hold a rather low opinion of them, for some reason," she said, giving him a curious look. "Those that know of them at all, that is."

  "It seems like the hand of Karas was at work when you were chosen for this assignment," Faalken noted to Dolanna. "Blind luck put the boy in the hands of someone that could help him."

  "Yes, it does seem fortunate that I was sent," she mused. "To think that I nearly rejected the request. I am glad that I did not."

  "I am too," Tarrin said sincerely and fervently.

  Dolanna smiled and put a hand on the back of his. "With luck and hope, tonight will not be as bad," she told him. "You must still spend it alone, but as we travel, I will teach you ways to center your thinking so that you can put the instincts aside in your mind enough to rest. They are the same techniques we teach our novices in order to wield the power of Sorcery," she told him. "As you become accustomed to the cat inside your mind and as you become skilled with the centering and concentration skills I will teach you, let us hope that it solves your problem. And it will give you a head start in your studies at the Tower."

  "Dolanna, I've been meaning to ask," Faalken said, "what are we going to do about travelling? Tarrin kind of stands out now."

  "I have already taken that into account," she said. "I cannot create an illusion that will last all day, so I instructed Arren to have a robe made for Tarrin that will cover him. It will have a hood on it and oversized sleeves, so that he may hide his most striking features. I also had him alter Tarrin's saddle so that his feet will fit in the stirrups."

  "I'll get the young pups out of bed," Faalken said. "We have a long way to go today."

  Tarrin looked at his hand, more like a hand-paw than a hand, wondering at Dolanna's words. He could only really be hurt by fire, acid, magic, silver, or falling from a height. But that didn't make much sense. "Why can I be hurt from falling?" he asked.

  "There is a simple concept behind it, Tarrin, one that I should explain. Now that I think of it, it is something of which you should definitely be aware. To put it more specifically, you can only be harmed by magic, silver, or weapons of nature."

  "Weapons of nature?"

  "Is fire not a part of nature?" she asked.

  "Yes, but--"

  "Does it not injure?"

  "Yes."

  "Acid may be made by man, but it is still a natural compound, existing in nature. Does it not also burn when touched?"

  He started to understand. "So falling off a cliff results in a very natural impact with the ground," he concluded.

  "Exactly. You should also be wary of true weapons of nature. A falling tree will hurt you just as quickly as it would me, and if someone hit you with a rock picked up off the ground, then it would result in a real injury. But of these lesser forms, none can kill you. You regenerate too quickly for that to happen. The only weapons of nature that can kill you are fire, acid, falling...or maybe getting impaled on a tree branch., or getting caught in an avalanche or rockslide."

  "I'll remember that," he told her. "You said that I have magic inside me," he said, his mind starting to explore the possibilities.

  "Yes."

  "Doesn't that make me a magical weapon?" he asked, holding up his hand-paw and extending his claws. "I do have these, you know, and they are weapons."

  She smiled broadly at him. "You are most clever, Tarrin. Yes, it does. Being a magical creature, you have the power to injure those creatures like yourself that can only be harmed by magic. But, there is a drawback to that," she warned. "You are a magical creature, and that lends itself to certain...vulnerabilities concerning magic. The largest is that a ward set up to repel magic will not allow you to cross it," she told him. "You cannot very well just leave your magic on the other side."

  "That makes sense," he reasoned.

  "Well, we must be getting ready to leave," she told him. "We can continue our discussion on the road. Let me lower the ward protecting the room. You should go get your things together, and make sure that nothing was left behind."

  "Alright," Tarrin said.

  Walten was getting dressed when Tarrin came back into the room. He was sandy-eyed and bleary; Walten was not a morning person. Tarrin checked his packs, and realized that all of his trousers had been altered already, and also that his boots were not here. Just as well, he reasoned. He couldn't wear them now anyway. He took that opportunity to put on clean clothes and wash up a bit, fighting a bit with the trousers to get his fingers on that little button in the back that sealed his tail into that little hole made for it. This was the second time he'd done it, and it took less than half the time the second time around. He pulled a clean shirt over his head and laced it up, then packed all his things away as he made sure that he had it all. His bow and staff were in the corner. He picked up the bow, then looked at his hands. There was no way he could shoot it like this. The tips of his claws were right there, and they could hit and cut the bowstring. "Walten, I...I can't use this anymore," he said, holding up the bow. "Would you like to have it?"

  "I, guess," he said slowly. "I'll just keep it for you, in case you want it back, alright?"

  "Alright," Tarrin said.

  Tiella was sitting at the table when they left the room, and the door outside was open. Tarrin could see one guard standing at the door, but he could smell three others. Faalken's scent was still strong in the room, but it was obvious that he'd left. Dolanna was in the other room; he could hear her moving around. Not long after Walten came out of the room, three servents brought in large platters with breakfast, and that lured Dolanna and Tiella out of the bedroom. Tarrin had learned from yesterday how careful he had to be, else he would bite his tongue while he ate. And with teeth like his, that was not a pleasant experience. He managed to work through breakfast, then was handed a plain brown robe by Dolanna when he pushed his plate away. Although if fit, it was not comfortable. The hood pressed down on his ears in an irritating manner, and he had to keep his tail tucked in to keep it from bulging out the back of
the robe.

  "It won't look half as bad when you're on the horse," Faalken assured him.

  "I hope not. I look deformed like this."

  "Tuck your hands in," Dolanna told him, and he pushed his hands into the sleeves. They totally concealed them. "The only problem is your feet, but they will be partially in the stirrups. With the black fur on them, they will appear as boots. It will do." She sat back down at the desk, writing something on a piece of parchment. "I doubt that Duke Arren is awake, so I will write him a letter of gratitude, and when I am done, we will depart. I wish to reach Skeleton Rock by sunset, so we have a day of hard travel ahead of us."

  Outside for the first time since the change, Tarrin was assaulted on all sides by sounds and smells that almost overwhelmed him. What was merely unpleasant before was a powerful stench now, the smell of man, his waste, and his sweat assaulting Tarrin's nose like a hammer. He realized that it was the background from inside the castle magnified a thousand fold. He choked briefly after stepping out the door of the keep, then went into a fit of coughing and sneezing.

  "What's the matter?" Walten asked in sincere concern.

  "Do all cities smell like this?" he demanded indignantly. "I think I'm going to vomit!"

  "It should lessen after a while," Dolanna told him.

  "I hope so," he said, putting the back of his hand over his nose and letting the smell of his fur cover the stink of the city.

  Hands brought the horses around, and Tarrin realized that they may have a problem. Horses could smell too, and he wasn't sure if they'd take him as a predator or not. His scent was not the same as a human.

  He approached his horse slowly and gently, letting it get his scent a little at a time. The horse began to whinny slightly and started to fidget. Reaching out one hand, Tarrin placed it on the bridge of the horse's nose, stroking it reassuringly. The horse looked at him curiously, realizing that he was the one that had the strange smell, but Tarrin's careful gentle touch had eased the horse's primary fear. "Yes, it's me," he told the horse with a smile as it suddenly nuzzled him.

  "I see that that will not be a problem," Dolanna said.

  "Not with this horse," he corrected. "They don't know my smell, so how they see me depends on how I act when I come up to them." Tarrin packed his saddle with his gear, sliding his staff into the saddleskirt, then carefully mounted the horse. The horse was still a bit nervous, and the other horses were beginning to get skittish, but a gentle pat on the neck and a few soothing words calmed the horse down again.

  "Put up your hood, Tarrin," Dolanna ordered as she climbed into the saddle. Walten was ordered to take the pack horses, and Tiella pulled herself up with Faalken's assistance.

  "Have a safe journey, milady," one of the hands said, letting go of her horse's bridle.

  "May the Goddess make it so," she said quietly.

  Torrian didn't seem any different when they had arrived, when Tarrin was human, but it smelled differently. The powerful smell of the city was indeed starting to dull, and Tarrin could begin to make out other scents, those of horses and wood and metal, out on the streets. The streets were sparsely populated, mainly merchants and shopkeepers and their servants beginning the ritual of opening their businesses for the day's custom. He could also catch faint odors drifting out of open doors, those of leather, spices, and the smell of baking bread of roasting meat. He looked around actively, trying to put a name or sight to a particular smell, for there were many that he couldn't readily identify. The ones that he knew were simply the smells he'd known when he was human, only sharper, but there were a myriad of other smells out there that he'd never smelled before.

  They crossed the White River at the Old Bridge, and then left Torrian through the eastern gate, on what was known as Skeleton Road

  , because of the natural formation called Skeleton Rock that was visible from the road. Once they were outside the walls, the powerful smell of the city ebbed with every step, until there was nothing left but the smells of the forest.

  It was just as powerful, but for different reasons. The Cat seemed to roar up in his mind at the smells and sounds and sights of the wilderness, reacting to the scents of the forest. His ears began to search and seek out every little sound, his nose testing the air for every possible scent. The smells of man and horses were still strong along the road, but the smell of trees and earth and animals washed away that unnatural intrusion. Tarrin pulled down his hood and breathed deeply as the smells of the forest, letting them clear his nose of the city-smell and clear his mind of his worries.

  There was one other smell, faint, but he could just barely make it out. A familiar smell, though he'd never smelled it before. Familiar because it was close to his own. "The other one was here," he told Dolanna. "The one that bit me. I can still smell her."

  "How long ago?"

  "Probably yesterday," he told her. "I'm not sure, though. I'm still getting used to this." He pointed to the woods. "Her smell goes that way. I think she went for the trees almost right after she cleared the hill that hid her from the city wall."

  "Just let her go, Tarrin," Dolanna warned. "You will not find her."

  "I don't want to," he grunted. "I know that this wasn't her fault, but she's still the one that did it to me."

  "I understand," she said. "Let us pick up the pace. Skeleton Rock is quite a distance from here."

  They rode hard throughout the entire morning, stopping only to rest the horses. The morning was warm and sunny, and the weather pleasant enough to make the ride almost enjoyable, as Tarrin experienced such a sensation of freedom and pleasure that it made him wonder at himself. He knew it was coming from the Cat, but that didn't change how he felt. The Cat considered the trackless winderness to be home, but he could also sense that it didn't mind the cities, either. It was a creature of adaptability, capable of making it almost anywhere its paws were touching the ground.

  They did not stop for lunch, they ate in the saddle during a walking period to rest the horses, a meal consisting of dried fruit, cheese, and bread, then they were off again at a brisk canter. The shape of the land was slowly changing, becoming less hilly but just as forested, and there were more and more small streams and brooks to traverse as they continued in the south-of-east direction in which they were moving. There were no villages or settlements in the region, which Tarrin considered to be curious. "Why aren't there any villages?" he called to Dolanna as they rode.

  "Because this region is considered to be bad luck," she replied. "Skeleton Rock breeds such tales. You will understand when you see it."

  Tarrin considered that, then decided to wait until he saw this Skeleton Rock before he made any judgements.

  About an hour after eating, they slowed to a walk to rest the horses. The wind shifted into Tarrin's face, and that brought to him the smell of man. Several of them, just up ahead. Faalken was at the rear, riding up from a scout of their trail and possibly moving on up ahead to scout the front. "Dolanna, there are men and horses in front of us," he warned her.

  "How many?"

  He sniffed at the air. "I can make out at least six different men," he told her, "but it seems like there are more than that." Up ahead, the road turned sharply to the left to avoid a deep streambed.

  Dolanna called for them to stop by raising her hand and reining in. "This road is known for bandits, because of the lack of population along it," she told Tarrin. "Let us make sure it is a trade caravan before rounding the corner. Put up your hood, young one. Walten, Tiella, come closer."

  He lifted the hood in place as Faalken reached them. "What is it?" he asked.

  "Tarrin smells men up ahead," Dolanna told him. "We will wait to see if they show themselves."

  "That's not all of it," he said. "There are several men riding up from behind, hard," he told her. "I could just make out their dust. They'll be up to here in just a little while."

  Tarrin scented a change in the attitude of the scents, getting stronger. They were moving, and it wasn't up the road. "Dolanna,
the men are moving, but they're not coming up the road."

  "Which direction?" Faalken asked.

  "Towards us," he replied.

  "That tears it," Faalken said grimly, clapping down the visor of his helmet. "Caravans don't sneak through the woods."

  Walten drew out Tarrin's bow and nocked an arrow. Surprisingly, Tiella drew out a sling from her belt pouch and slipped a stone into the cup. "No, take the pack horses," Walten told her. "I need both my hands. You can still get off one shot holding the horse's reins."

  "Tiella, take the pack horses off the road," Faalken told her.

  Tarrin could hear them now, rustling the brush ahead of them, near the curve. He could make out a startled oath of disappointment, then there was the sound of swords sliding out of scabbards. Tarrin laid back his ears and snarled wordlessly as the Cat in him prepared to beat back the attackers. "They're coming," Tarrin said, pulling his staff out from the saddleskirt. Now that they were closer, more and more scents were becoming clear to him. "Dolanna, I can smell at least fifteen now, maybe more."

  "Listen!" Dolanna said sharply. "Stay together, and do not advance past me," she warned. "I will have to use sorcery, and I do not want to hurt one of you by accident. Faalken, with me. Tarrin, stay with Walten and Tiella and defend our pack animals."

  In a rush, at least ten men erupted from the brush ahead, shouting and brandishing weapons. Five men on horses rounded the corner ahead and charged, and a single man stood back by the brush. Tarrin could hear him shouting in oddly discordant, unintelligible words that made Dolanna's eyes widen like saucers. He could feel her do her magic, then he felt a sensation of enclosure. The shouting man pointed his hands at them, and Tarrin almost jumped when a ball of fire erupted from his hands and streaked right at them. It struck something in front of them, something invisible, and exploded. Tiella screamed and Tarrin had to supress the sudden urge to run away when an inferno of angry fire surrounded them, licking at the invisible something that prevented it from reaching them. Dolanna's magic had created some sort of shield that was defending them from the enemy's magical attack. "Walten, take out that mage!" Faalken demanded instantly. Walten raised the longbow instinctively, pulled back, aimed, and fired. Tarrin could see from the instant it left the bow that it would hit the mark. It arced over the small field separating them, homing in on the chanting man, then simply bounced away harmlessly.