James Galloway - The Tower of Sorcery

"Jesmind," he called in the unspoken manner of the cat.

"I know," she replied calmly. "Just leave them be, Tarrin. They're not looking for us, and I hate killing anything before breakfast. That isn't breakfast, that is," she added absently.

"But-"

"Just lay back down, Tarrin," she told him.

There was a cry from outside, and Tarrin saw the edge of his trousers as they were picked up. "They know we're nearby," he said sourly, "and they know I'm not alone."

She seemed to consider that. "Maybe we should do something about it," she decided. "If they're with those Trolls, I don't think that we want them knowing where we are. Besides, I'm not giving up my clothes. But if we do this, they all have to die, Tarrin," she told him. "All of them. Even the wounded. Are you capable of it?"

He was quiet a moment. "I am," he said grimly.

"Alright then. Let's crawl out of here. You go one way, I'll go the other. We'll get them between us, change, and attack. Remember, no mercy. We can't let them know we have alternate forms."

"Alright," he said.

The black and white cats slithered unnoticed from the hollow log and split up. Tarrin hunkered down and darted from bush to tree, working himself out to the edge of the Dargu pack as he took stock of them. There were about eight, armed with spears, clubs, and one with a rusty sword. They were snuffling and checking out their clothes, putting their dirty hands all over them. He'd have to wash them after that. The sword was no danger to him; it was the clubs that were the real threat. Weapons of nature, the rough treestumps could deal real damage to him. Besides, the raw impact of a club could knock him out just as easily as a human, and then he would be helpless.

Once he was in position, Tarrin waited a few seconds for Jesmind to get into position, then changed form. It was so easy to him, he didn't even think about it. He struck from behind, without warning, and his clawed paw reached around the Dargu and cut its throat with a single claw just as quickly as any assassin's knife. The Dargu died without a sound, slumping to the ground, and the others had yet to notice. Tarrin picked up the already dead Dargu and hefted him over his head, feeling hot blood pour on his shoulder, then he threw the dead creature into the backs of his companions. They fell to the ground in a bloody pile, grunting in surprise and the shock of the impact.

Total chaos erupted at that instant, as Jesmind struck from her position of concealment. Jesmind fought with an elemental style that Tarrin could see was self-learned, but it was no less deadly. She ripped the throat from her initial victim, then darted in and did the same to the nearest enemy before it could react. Tarrin drove right into the heart of the Dargu concentration, wreaking havoc with his clawed paws and feet, fighting in the forms of the Ungardt hand style, modifying them as he went to take advantage of his claws. Fighting in the familiar forms seemed to calm him, help him control the bloodlust that raged through his soul, dying to be released, and it allowed him to maintain himself. He caught the wrist of a club, yanked the creature forward, and then broke the arm. Then he whipped it around by that broken arm, and it spun over onto its back as it howled in agony. Tarrin finished it with a stomp right to the neck, crushing the windpipe. The Dargu at first fell back, then pressed in, and then fell back as their weapons were batted aside or evaded, and Dargu fell by the second to the clawed Were-cats' devastating attack. The last few turned to flee, but Tarrin knew that there could be no mercy in this battle. His life depended on it. He grabbed one by the ponytail on its head and yanked back hard enough to snap its neck as Jesmind rushed forward and tackled another, her claws flaying it alive before they hit the ground. That left one, and it had a few steps on Tarrin. Tarrin simply picked up a fallen club, sized up his target, and hurled it at its back with his unnatural strength driving it. It hit the Dargu squarely in the back of the head, and it hit with sufficient force to spray the surrounding trees with red gore. The dead creature tumbled to the ground, and was very still.

Jesmind blew out her breath, carefully sizing up the bloody mess. "Good," she told him. "You know how to fight. That's something I won't have to teach you."

"I know how to fight," he said tightly, looking away from the bloody carnage they had wrought in a surprisingly short time.

They washed themselves of the blood in the nearby stream, and Tarrin dunked his clothes and beat most of the dirt out of them, and wrung them out as best he could. They were still wet when he put them on, but there was little else he could do. Wet leather chafed and itched, but he wasn't about to go nude.

"Much better," Jesmind approved as she donned her own wet shirt. She'd taken his idea and done the same thing.

"You think there are any more of them out there?"

"Thousands," she replied, "but they usually live farther north. They'd only come down here for a reason, and with those Trolls that were chasing you, I'd say that you were that reason."

"I don't see why," he complained. "I'm just a farmboy from a secluded village."

"I don't know either, and I don't really care," she said. "We'll have to make for a city. We need humans around us, with their steel to scare off the Goblinoids." He saw nothing wrong with that idea. Until he could continue on in safety, heading for the Tower was out of the question. It was too far away, and these creatures had obviously been placed previously…as if the placer had known which way he would go.

Of course he did, Tarrin realized. There was only way to get to Suld from Marta's Ford.

One way for a human.

"Darsa is on the coast," Jesmind thought aloud. "It's actually pretty close. About four days' travel. And they're expecting us to go south, towards Ultern, not west."

"So we should go west," Tarrin said.

"But my home range is east," she fretted. "I hate going the wrong way."

"If you want to walk through them, then go right ahead," Tarrin told her.

"Hush," she said absently, billowing out her wet hair to help dry it. Tarrin was struck again quickly by Jesmind's raw beauty and physical perfection at that moment, as she scrubbed her hair to and fro to get air through it, the move accenting those breasts that Tarrin couldn't help but stare at when he thought she wasn't looking. He didn't understand why or how he could look at her as a guardian in one way, and as a partner with the same eyes. She was almost like his mother, and he wouldn't even dare to think of his mother the same way he caught himself thinking about Jesmind. He thought that maybe it was because she was a female of his own kind that made him think that way, the only one that he knew. But it could be anything, and he knew that. He still wasn't familiar enough with this new life to understand the nuances.

She gave him an intent look, then put her arms down casually. "I guess that we will go west for a time, then turn south again," she acceded. "We may not have to go all the way to Darsa. It'll depend on whether or not we're followed."

"I guess that'll work," Tarrin acquiesed.

They turned west and started at a very brisk pace that was almost a run. Jesmind urged him into a loping, jog-like pace that ate up the ground, and he was shocked at how easily he could maintain it. They ran for most of the morning, farther and faster than a horse could manage it. The trees flew by as they ran along game trails, and the whole world seemed to center down to the sharp watch for tree limbs and turns in the trail, or picking out a path when they had to travel through virgin forest. Their clothes dried relatively quickly with their speed blowing air over it. About midmorning, Tarrin started to get tired. "Can we stop for a while?" he asked her.