by Jim Galford
“What are you doing, girl?”
“You’re overconfident, so you’ll be the first one she takes down,” Oria explained. “I don’t want to get in the way when she throws you.”
The whole group laughed more nervously and one man tried to pat Oria on the head, like he would a child who was being foolish. She snarled and he pulled his hand away.
“If she gets angry, don’t try to block her swings,” Oria told the men, but they ignored her, watching Feanne instead. Still, she kept talking, as much to give them the information she had as to calm herself. “Whatever you do, stay away from her legs, or her kick could kill you, even if she’s trying to play nice. If she grabs you, just go limp and hope she changes targets.”
The men around Oria advanced slowly and one even stuffed his wooden sword into his belt. Oria stared in dismay at the weapon, wondering how these men could be so ignorant and unprepared. Only Phaesys appeared convinced of her warnings, staying at her side as they began to advance. Twice, he gave orders to the men to form up at his side, but they seemed oblivious.
When the group had gotten within ten feet of Feanne, she moved for the first time. With a spin that moved her around the spear of the first man, she grabbed him by the leather armor, hoisting him off the ground. The others attempted to attack her while she held the man, but Feanne danced among them, keeping her first target dangling in the air, sometimes using him as a shield.
Almost as an afterthought, Feanne slapped the backside of her claws across the man’s chest and then dropped him.
“Five left,” Feanne said calmly, turning in place as the remaining soldiers circled her. “Oria, be a dear and try to be the last one standing. That will be your test for the day.”
Another man lunged at Feanne, but she grabbed his sword cleanly out of his hand. She evaded another swing from behind her and tossed the sword back to the man she had taken it from.
Grabbing one of the remaining soldiers and dragging him back, Phaesys began to form the group up into formation. One man continued to ignore him and attack Feanne, but the other two fell in at Phaesys sides. They then attacked together, forcing Feanne on the defensive, though she managed to keep them from hitting her.
Focusing on giving orders, rather than attacking on his own, Phaesys called out suggestions to the men at his sides. Neither was fast enough to land a blow against Feanne, despite her having to avoid them, as well as the man on her far side.
“One target should not be this much trouble,” chided Feanne, leaning to one side as a spear glided close to her, swung by the man who was still trying to attack on his own. “If you are trying to tire me out, I will outlast all of you.”
With the three men struggling to hit Feanne and Phaesys barking orders that were mostly obeyed, Oria moved around the group, trying to get a clean angle on her mother. She was just moving too fast, keeping well out of reach.
“When will she use her magic?” asked one of the men, stumbling back to rub at thin cuts along his hand.
“She already is,” Oria explained, lunging into the middle of the fight, narrowly missing her mother with her claws. “Her magic makes her faster and stronger.”
At last, Feanne went fully on the offensive, apparently tiring of the overly-cautious group circling her. She gestured to the man who was ignoring Phaesys’ orders and vines snapped out of the ground, wrapping his ankles.
Oria saw a moment’s opportunity, leaping past Phaesys group as her mother finished her spell. Ducking in close, she reached for the middle of Feanne’s back. At the last moment, Feanne spun, using her elbow to knock Oria’s hand aside.
In dread, but unable to move fast enough, Oria watched as her mother brought her leg up in a kick. Despite Feanne pulling the blow to keep her claws from raking Oria, the impact alone was enough to send her tumbling, gasping for air.
Whirling through the last few soldiers, Feanne was a red blur as she sidestepped and blocked their weapons time and again. It took only another few swings and she found an opening to exploit, stepping close to another man and rapping her knuckles lightly against his neck to let him know that he was also dead. Before Phaesys and the remaining soldier could strike back, Feanne darted out of reach.
With only Oria, Phaesys, and another man remaining, Oria struggled back to her feet, unconcerned with whether the earlier kick would have killed her. This was her mother and she had to prove herself. She would fight until physically unable to do so.
Oria reached down and unfastened the clasp of the deadly-sharp knife at her side. That faint click was all it took for Feanne’s head to spin toward Oria, completely ignoring Phaesys and the other man for a moment.
Feanne smiled grimly as she gestured at Phaesys and the other man, knocking them back a short distance with her magic. Once they were no longer attacking, Feanne raised her muzzle to the sky to let out a howl that echoed off the desert. As the sound faded, she dropped to a knee, clutching at her stomach as she gritted her teeth in clear agony.
From the moment the howl began, Oria felt as though she were sweating under her fur and found herself unable to keep walking. Her hands trembled and she had to clutch her weapon in both hands to keep from dropping it. She had made a mistake and it was going to hurt her, as well as Phaesys and the remaining soldier. Oria had crossed a line by drawing a real weapon and now there was no going back.
The cry died away as Feanne collapsed to the sand ahead of them. She groaned as she curled into a ball.
“What’s wrong with her?” asked the other man, looking to Phaesys for guidance as he hesitated. Phaesys appeared to be just as terrified as Oria. “Neither of us hit her yet.”
“Go! Get to her now, or this is going to get ugly,” Oria insisted, but the soldier just stood there, watching Feanne as she writhed on the ground. Oria could not make herself move, but she hoped the others could. “Please go…”
Phaesys reacted to Oria’s words, rushing Feanne, but he was too far away after being knocked back once already. Oria knew he could not reach her in time. They had all been too slow to react.
Oria closed her eyes and winced at the sound of bones cracking and shifting and flesh ripping. This, coupled with the gasps of horror from the soldiers nearby, was exactly what she had expected. Her mother was shape-shifting and the fight was as good as over. Feanne was going to prove a point and Oria was the target.
If Oria was lucky, no one would die. If she was very unlucky, she would be the last to die and have to watch her mother butcher the others. Deep down, she felt guilty for drawing her knife and causing all of this. She prayed Phaesys would not be killed in the violence that was about to ensue.
A new howl made Oria’s ears ring and her tail droop. This one was not her mother’s throaty cry, but that of a massive beast. She had heard that call more than she cared to think about back home during the war. Any second, she reminded herself, she was going to be battered and possibly torn apart. That terrifying reality kept her muscles frozen, unable to run.
The elven man near Phaesys vanished abruptly as he was hoisted far overhead and thrown past where Phaesys stood. The man’s choked cry as he landed snapped Oria from her terror, allowing her to move again.
Opening her eyes as she rushed to get out of reach, Oria could not take her eyes off her mother’s now-massive foot as it came back down onto the ground after turning from the man. The paw was large enough that Oria was sure her mother could break every bone in her body by stepping on her. Each clawed toe was easily larger than Oria’s fist.
Oria barely ducked as her mother’s arm swept over her head, skimming her back. Even trying to avoid focusing on it, Oria found herself staring at her mother’s hulking form.
Feanne was still a fox in about the same sense that a wolf wildling was still a mundane dog. No onlooker would ever guess that the snarling giant was in any way related to the small fox girl who faced her.
Feanne towered over the elves, her eyes glowing faintly with magic as she surveyed those still on their feet. She turne
d her head slowly, taking in everything while ignoring the panicked chatter around the edge of the battlefield. Oria swore that the massively-fanged face appeared amused and she confirmed that belief when she noticed her mother’s bushy tail wagging slowly. It was all a game to her and she might well actually be in control of herself.
Breaking herself out of the initial shock, Oria rushed at her mother while she was gloating. She leapt between her mother’s legs, tumbling and coming up behind her.
With so few others left, Oria knew she had to act fast if she was to prove herself even remotely capable to her mother and the soldiers. For just that second, she forgot her panic and wanted nothing more than to show off for her mother, no matter the cost.
Oria ducked her mother’s tail—with the change in size, the tail could have easily knocked Oria off her feet—and moved as close as she dared to her mother’s leg before she could turn on Oria. Oria took a deep breath and then slashed her knife across the back of Feanne’s knee, where the skin was thin. With all her weight behind her blow, the wound would have torn apart a smaller creature’s knee, possibly even severed it, given how sharp the blade was.
As Oria had hoped, Feanne fell hard as her knee gave out. Almost before her knee touched the sand, the gashes had closed and Feanne rose to her full height again. With a roar, she spun on Oria, her breath coming in loud puffs like a bull, her nose inches from Oria’s.
“Sorry?” Oria pleaded, taking a step away. Feanne moved with her, advancing slowly. “Mom?”
Feanne hurled Oria to the ground. Then the breath was driven from her lungs as her mother’s massive foot came down on her. She was pinned, with a dagger-like claw on either side of her face, pinching at her neck. Try as she might, she was not strong enough to move Feanne’s paw and her ribs felt ready to break.
Suddenly, Phaesys reached Feanne and dove and weaved around her arms as he attacked, his sword a blur as he smacked at her arms and hands. He darted past her first few swings, almost connecting with her body as she tried to grab at him. Finally though, Feanne swept her arm across and caught him, sending him tumbling again.
Phaesys rolled back to his feet, keeping one hand to his side, as though his ribs were injured. Whistling loudly, he caught Feanne’s attention again, even as he backed away from her.
Taking her foot off Oria and taking several steps toward Phaesys, Feanne stopped abruptly and put a hand to her head. Looking around, she seemed to suddenly notice Oria still lying on the ground, panting for breath.
Growling softly, Feanne strode to where Atall was waiting with the other wizards—all of whom appeared just as horrified as the soldiers had been. Feanne gave one more snarling glance back at the soldiers and Oria, before flopping down into a seated position, facing Atall. Immediately, Atall went to her and waited at her side, putting one hand on her arm as she panted.
Oria sat up slowly, gasping for breath and trying to think what she could have done differently. She was only dimly aware of her mother’s rapid change back to normal nearby, with Atall at her side to watch over her. Every time Oria had seen Feanne change, it had taken a toll on her, so Oria had no doubt that Atall would be protecting her just in case.
“Are you all right?” asked Phaesys, appearing at Oria’s side. He knelt slowly, touching her face to draw her attention. When she did look up at him, she saw that his face and upper chest were bloodied by thin claw marks from Feanne’s blow. The wounds could have been far worse. “You’re hurt. Please say something.”
Phaesys grabbed at her shoulder without waiting for a reply, wrapping a cloth around her arm. That was when Oria first felt the cuts on her shoulders and neck from where her mother’s toes had torn through fur and skin alike.
Oria could see blood on the cloth Phaesys used to cover the wounds, though not a lot. She had gotten cut worse climbing in the mountains back near Altis, but she was in no place to argue about having the wounds tended to, nor did she have the energy to do so.
“Thank you,” she said weakly, putting a hand on Phaesys’.
Phaesys froze, quickly pulling his hand away. He stood up, but remained in front of her, looking uncomfortable. His whiskers twitched, as though he were trying to find something to say.
“Bring all the wounded over here,” called out Feanne, sitting on the ground with Atall watching her carefully. She looked to Oria to be sleepy, but otherwise fine as she wrapped herself in her cloak. “We have a healer among these fine men and women.”
Oria tested her strength and stood, flexing her arms and rolling her head around to make sure nothing was hurt worse than she had initially thought. Finding nothing more than aches and the thin cuts, mostly on her left shoulder, she went to her mother.
“Why would you do that?” Oria hissed at Feanne, ignoring Atall’s glare. “You could have killed everyone out there!”
“I do what I must to teach them…and you,” reasoned Feanne, patting Atall on the back as he offered her a jug of water. “If they do not know enough fear of their opponents, they will die. Besides, I was in control. You were in no danger this time.”
“You did that to prove yourself, not teach them. You could have killed me or Phaesys by accident.”
Feanne’s humor vanished instantly. “They asked me to show them the worst that could happen. I did so to the best of my ability. Do not question my intent or my tactics, unless you wish to educate these men. They need to understand that there are things far greater than themselves out there, including the Turessian in the city. The only way they will understand his strength is to fight me like this. He may even be stronger than that.”
Oria tried to find something to say, but her mother’s stare sent chills down her spine. Growling in frustration, she turned and walked from the clearing, barely noticing she was being followed. It was not until she was out of the valley and out onto the flatter sands that she realized someone was several steps behind her, keeping pace.
“Atall, how many times…” she snapped, turning, but froze as she stared at Phaesys’ chest. Oria looked up, finding Phaesys watching her with fear in his eyes.
“You’re bleeding badly,” he said, his brows furrowing slightly. “We need to tend your wounds.”
Lifting her arm, Oria saw that the cuts near her elbow had soaked through the cloth Phaesys had tied there and blood continued to run down along her fur. Her hand was throbbing, but she clenched it into a fist and ignored the pain, flicking the hand away from her body to shake off the blood in her fur.
“Leave me alone.”
Phaesys’ eyes stayed on her arm, the concern in them growing steadily. He made no effort to leave. “Where are you going?” he asked.
Oria started walking again, not honestly sure where she was going. She half-hoped her wounds would continue bleeding, if only to teach Feanne something. She continued on for ten minutes or so then realized Phaesys was still silently following. Anger flaring, she spun on him, grabbing a handful of his chest fur with her good hand.
“Why are you still following me?” she demanded.
Undaunted, Phaesys eyed her hand on his chest and then the wound on her shoulder. Without a word, he grabbed her wrist, twisted, and threw her hard to the ground.
Before Oria could move, Phaesys’ knee came down on her back, pinning her face-first in the sand. The impact drove the air from her chest and made her choke on sand that filled her mouth as she gasped for breath.
“I am learning what is required to deal with the women of your lands,” Phaesys told her as he loosened the cloth over her shoulder, shifting his weight down to the small of her back, allowing her to breathe easier. “Never did I think I would be required to assault a woman to properly protect her.”
“I don’t need protection,” hissed Oria, trying to free herself. He had her trapped, making her begin to panic. She attempted to get her arms out to her sides, but Phaesys hooked them behind his knees, pinning them securely. “What are you doing? Get off me!”
“No,” he answered, leaning to put his face
near the back of her head.
Oria struggled, trying to get her claws on him in any way she could. Flashbacks of the wildling male that had tried to force himself on her in the slave camps as a child came unbidden to mind and she became frantic. Whimpering and thrashing, she tried anything she could to get away, but Phaesys put his hand on the back of her neck and held her down.
“You’re making the bleeding worse,” Phaesys warned her, his nose near her ear. “Everything about this is indecent to observers, so I would wish it over with quickly. Let me tend to you, or we will both be stuck like this until you pass out. One way or another, I will tend to your wounds.”
Forcing herself to relax slightly, Oria tilted a little to watch Phaesys cautiously. Once she had stopped fighting, he released her arms and began digging through the small pouches at his belt. Even doing that, he kept his weight on her, preventing her from escaping.
“If you touch me…” Oria growled, trying to think of what she would—or could—do to him if he did. “I will kill you and everyone you hold dear. Maybe not today, but I’ll never stop hunting you if you do anything…”
“You still do not understand my people or me in particular,” mused Phaesys as he pulled a round flat container from his pouch. To Oria, it looked like the kind she had seen the human women back in the mountains carry, filled with powdered berries that they used to color their skin, making them look a tiny bit more like they had proper patterning.
“The law among my people is quite clear,” Phaesys continued as he uncapped the small container and touched his fingers to the contents. “Despite what some might do or believe, our traditions and honor require us to protect and very nearly revere women in our society, whether they be family or not.
“I would think you would be more willing to accept this, but it is not the first time I am wrong in dealing with you. I admit to having little understanding of your culture.”
Phaesys rubbed his fingers into the cut on Oria’s shoulder, making her flinch as the pressure burned painfully. Something on his fingertips cooled the wound abruptly and eased the throbbing. He was dabbing some kind of ointment or oil onto the torn flesh.