Chapter 1
Arrival
There comes a time in every life when all that is comfortable
and familiar crumbles, when all the things you knew, or thought you
knew, take wings on a flight of fancy, when you must soar on the winds
of change and be reborn, a pheonix rising from the ashes of what once
was and will be again, or fade out forever, as a star shooting across
the sky, burning brightly in a brief flash of wasted potential. This
is the time when the gods seem to abandon us, when friends look upon
us as strangers, when enemies become allies and the only constant in
life is that there are no constants. This time comes to us all, though
seldom do we recognize it, the time when we must depart from the path
that Fate has charted for us, and seek our Destiny.
Thus, it begins.
For me, it began on a warm summer morning, in a small fishing
village on the northern coast of the semi-continent of Eol. There, a
fisherman stepped out into the morning sun and tipped his head to his
neighbors as he headed for the boats. The path was wet from the rain
that fell the night before, and mud sucked eagerly at bare feet as he
made made his way through the village, but the mud was cool, and not
unpleasant, and in truth, he was not in a hurry.
He was not a young man by any stretch of the imagination, this
fisherman, as evidenced by his slowly vanishing hair, but if his step
wasn't as lively as it once had been, it was as of yet firm and sure.
The sea and the years had left their mark on him, making his skin tight
and copper-toned and his body strong, but wiry and lean. He came to a
stop in front of a house very similer to his own, just as the mud was
beginning to change from mildly pleasant to a minor annoyance.
"Harrel!" he called, in a thick, garraulous accent that spoke of
years practicing a different sort of seamanship, "Harrel, you lazy
son of a goat, get outta bed! D'ya think the fish'll wait on us?" A
head popped out of the house's sole window.
"Give me a moment, old man!" The head vanished back inside.
"If I give you a moment, you'll take all bloody day!" Mikhal
yelled back, but he patiently waited while his fishing partner
finished his morning preparations. A few moments later, Harrel stepped
out, his wide-brimed hat held in his hand. As they set out for the
boats, he pulled the hat on, adjusting it to shade his eyes, speaking
to Mikhal as he did so.
"Was it really that hard to wait while I pulled my briches on? Or
would you like it better if I came out without them?"
"If you'd get up at a decent hour, then I'd no have to yell atcha."
Mikhal said with a snort. Harrel chuckled.
"And if you could remember having a woman, old man, you'd know why
I don't." He shot back.
"Oh, so that's how it is, is it?" Mikhal exclaimed, mock-indignant,
"The pup thinks he's top dog now, does he? I may be an old mongrel,
but I've got a few good years in me yet!"
"That so?"
"Aye, and I'll lay you out flat if you're sayin' otherwise!"
Although they both knew he was joking, and the insults were merely
an amusement between old friends, Harrel also knew that the "old man"
had more than enough muscle to make good on his threat. They laughed
and jibed as they pushed off, though they kept hard to their work and
a sober eye to the horizon, where dangerous summer storms could form
with little warning. Still, the sky seemed fair that morning, and the
day promising.
Their catch did not live up to those expectations, however. They
cast their nets time and again and caught nothing but a few sea-turtles,
sharp-beaked and inedible. Mikhal muttered a few half-hearted prayers
to Vasi, a patron goddess of seafarers, but just the same began looking
forward to returning home empty-handed.
"We may as well be headin' back, I reckon." He finally sighed to
his companion, as the sun began to sink into the sea, "'twill be gettin
dark soon, and we hav'na caught anythin anyway." Harrel nodded.
"Let's make one more cast, though."
"Now what difference will that be making?" Harrel shrugged.
"Don't know. I just have a feeling. Like we're about to get lucky,
you know?"
"Hrumph." Mikhal answered, "I do no believe in luck."
"Yeah, but it couldn't hurt, could it?" Mikhal didn't argue, but
set about gathering the nets to be cast again. Together, they flung the
nets out into the water again, watching them sink into the briny depths.
Before they had time to draw the nets back in again, a storm was
upon them, so sudden and fierce that it seemed to form from in very air
around them. They could see lightning flickering down in flashing, fiery
tounges to strike the sea, and the wind rose to stir the waves, tossing
their small craft dangerously.
"The nets!" Harrel cried.
"Forget the bloody nets, man! We've gotta get outta this storm, or
be drowned!" Harrel wouldn't listen, though, and like a man possessed he
began hauling in the nets. Now that the storm was threatening them and
time was most precious, the nets were heavy with fish, proving the age-old
caution about asking favors of the gods. Seeing his partner's crazed
determination, Mikhal blurted a curse hot enough to make a tavern-maid
blush, and bent to help him haul in the nets, though the storm rocked
them and the boat was quickly filling with water. As they dragged the
last of the catch into the boat, the storm's fury seemed to double, the
waves threatening to overwhealm them and capsize their small craft.
"Paddle, y'fool, paddle!" Mikhal yelled, seeing Harrel sitting
dumbstruck, "Or do you no remember how?"
"Paddle where, old man?" Harrel screamed back, "I don't know which
way the village is!"
"I does no matter! Just paddle, you adle-pated dog!" Even as
Harrel bent to obey, spurred on by Mikhal's salty curses, a towering
wave crashed over them, rolling their boat over and over, until all
sense of orientation vanished into chaos.
'That's funny', Mikhal thought as his vision dissolved into a warm
blue light, 'I thought death would be dark and cold.' Then all his
thoughts were obscured by a stunning cascade of pain, and when the dark-
ness he was expecting finally descended, he welcomed it.
A bright warmth on his face gently brought him back to himself, and
he slowly, cautiously opened his eyes. He was greeted by a bright
blinding light that filled the entirety of his vision. 'I'm dead.' He
thought, 'This must be the Great Light the priests talk about.' He
squinted. 'Somehow I did no think the Light would be quite this bright.
Or painful.' Then he heard Harrel cough and retch nearby, and realized
that he was staring into the sun. Swearing at himself and feeling quite
the fool, he turned to look at his friend and found his vision obscured
by dancing green and red swirls.
"Gods of Light, what is that smell?" Harrel asked when he finished
gagging up all the sea-water he'd swallowed, "And what in Seven Hells
happened?" As soon as he mentioned it, the smell assailed Mikhal's nose,
something like a mixture of burnt and rotting fish and something else,
quite unfamiliar. When Mikhal's vision cleared, he was able to see the
strange scene surrounding him.
He was lying on the beach, almost within sight of the village. It
looked as though a day or more had passed, unless the sun had somehow gone
backwards in its path. With everything else that had happened, it wouldn't
have surprised him much to find that it had. His boat was lying overturned
a few yards away, and Harrel was lying prone just on the other side of it.
Pieces of charred fish were scattered all around them, as well as frayed and
tattered sections of their nets. Something else was on the beach as well,
a large something tangled in one of the remaining sections of net, near
enough to the water that the waves lapped up over half of it. As Mikhal
watched, its chest slowly rose and fell. It was breathing. 'Good Gods',
Mikhal thought, 'It lives!'
Harrel saw it too. "By Gaia's Red Tounge, what is that thing?"
"I dunno, but it do look to be alive."
"Not for long." Harrel said, rising and looking around for a bludgeon.
"I don't know what it is, but I bet it wouldn't take more than a few good
whacks to finish it off."
"Surely your no thinkin' to be killin' it?"
"And why not? Look at it!" Mikhal did take a second look. Now that
his vision had cleared more, he could make out the creature's humanoid form
clearly. Whatever else it was, though, it was most definately not human.
Its face was angular, with a wide, flat black triangle for a nose, deep-
set eyes surrounded by heavy brows, and a sort of hare-lipped mouth. It
was covered in hair, or fur, Mikhal couldn't decide which, for most of it
was dark and crisped as though it had been burned, though some patches
showed signs of light brown or red coloring. Its hands were large, but
with somewhat short fingers, and an odd lack of fingernails. He took all
this in while Harrel paused between sentences. "It's a freak and it'll be
better off dead. I'm doing it a favor." Mikhal looked at his friend in
amazement.
"How can you say that?"
Harrel shrugged. "If you looked like that, would you want to live?"
"You'll no be killin' it while I'm around, boy. If it do no want to
live, then it can choose to die, but I'll no have you killin' it while it
sleeps. It just isna right, do you no see that?" Mikhal pushed himself
up, not liking having to talk up to his friend.
"And what do you suggest we do with it then? Take it home and nurse
it back to health, like some boy with a wounded bird?" Mikhal hadn't
actually thought of that, and Harrel could tell he was considering it.
"I'm not getting any closer to it than I have to, I'll tell you that."
"Aye, except to be killin' it." Mikhal noted, "And as for takin' it
home, well, that sounds to me like a charitable notion."
"You can't seriously be thinking of dragging that thing back to the
village!"
"And why should I no be thinkin' that, lad?"
"What if it wakes up? The gods alone know what it could do!"
"Right now I'd wager 'twill be sleeping a good long time. We can
tie it up 'til it wakes."
"How do we know that ropes can hold it? It isn't human!"
"Lad, if it were all that mighty, it wouldna be laid out like that,
would it?"
"I won't let you do it." Mikhal squared his shoulders and put his
hands on his sides, the muscles in his arms rippling bronze in the sun.
"And just how d'ya plan to be stoppin' me, boy?" Harrel shook his
head.
"You're out of your head, old man." Harrel warned, "But you're right,
I can't stop you. Just remember that I warned you; nothing good will come
of this." He turned and headed back to the village, leaving Mikhal alone
to deal with the wreckage.
Mikhal, sighing, set to work. First he untangled the strange creature
from the remains of the net, noting as he did so that it was actually a him.
'Looks sorta like a cat, really', Mikhal thought, 'though I've no seen a cat
that big since my sailin' days.' Once he had the creature untangled, he used
scraps from the nets to bind his hands and feet, then hefted him over his
shoulder. He gave the boat a brief considering glance, then decided it
could wait for another day.
It was a long walk back to the village, burdened with the extra weight
as he was, and he was forced to stop for rest several times. When he
finally made it back to his home, he found a crowd gathered outside his
door. At the head of the gathering was Harrel, who was recounting, probably
not for the first time, the experience of the previous day. Harrel was just
finishing as Mikhal arrived, and his neighbors turned to watch him approach.
None spoke, and no one offered to help him with his heavy load. They
silently parted as he reached them, allowing him to pass through to his
door.
Harrel, however, didn't move, but continued to block his way. Heaving
a sigh of resignation, Mikhal halted and shifted the weight on his shoulder.
"Get outta my way, lad. This fellow is no gettin' lighter, and I've
walked a ways with him." Harrel stood his ground.
"I've told them what happened, and we all agree. That thing is
dangerous, and we plan to get rid of it. If you won't kill it, then we
will."
"You know I'll no be doin' that. If I'd no do it before, I'll sure no
be doin' it after draggin' him a mile to get here. Now get outta my way, or
I'll have to go through ya."
Harrel reluctantly stepped out of the way, and Mikhal pushed his way
inside, finding a clear spot and lying his burden down. He gave a sigh of
relief to have the weight off of his shoulders, then turned back to face his
peers.
"This isn't over, old man." Harrel said, and this time there was no
joke in his insult. "We'll take this to the Law if you make us." Mikhal
looked past him to his gathered neighbors, and saw not a single supportive
face.
"I can no stop you. You do as you feel right, and so will I."
Harrel shook his head. "Why are you being so stubborn? Can't you see
that monster is a danger to us all?"
"How do you know that? What has he done to make you think that?"
Harrel raised his eyebrows.
"He? What makes you think it's a he?" Mikhal gave him a small,
sarcastic smile.
"Now surely a grown lad like yourself knows how to tell a gent from a
lady?" He got a few amused chuckles, but those were quickly silenced by the
surrounding disapproving looks. "From what I saw, I reckon it's a he, unless
it's built a lot different from any animal I've ever seen."
"Yes, but that exactly the point, old man. You don't know what it is,
so how can you know it's not dangerous?"
"Aye, well enough ask yourself that. How d'ya know it is?"
"Better not to take that chance."
"This is no the Republic, boy." Mikhal gruffed, "We do no kill people
just for bein' different."
"That does _not_ count as a person. It's an animal."
"It has two hands, two legs, a head, and a face. Aside from its nose
and all that hair, it could be human."
"Kataanes and Gryndle Hags look almost human, too, but they aren't.
They're monsters. Would you invite them into our village?"
"That does no mean that he should be killed. If he proves to be
dangerous, we can run him off, just as we would a Kataane."
"But what if it's too strong?" He addressed the gathered crowd,
"Better to kill it now, while it's weak!" Those around him nodded. Mikhal
realized that arguing with Harrel was pointless, and stepped around him to
address the crowd.
"Is he right?" He asked them, in the same tone he'd used years before
on errant deck-hands, "Are we so easily frightened that we decide to kill a
helpless creature afore we've even looked on him, simply because Harrel
tells us he's a monster? Would you have us killing elves and dwarves, too,
as if we lived in the Republic?"
"It is a monster." Someone called, secure in the anonymity of the crowd,
"We've seen it now!"
"Are we going to make it a crime to look strange?" Mikhal responded,
searching among the crowd for an example. He found one. "Rheala, I was
there when your cousin was born. D'ya remember that? D'ya remember how the
boy looked? The midwife said to kill it, that it was a monster-child.
That it was a mistake of nature. D'ya remember who argued for that child's
life? Even your mother agreed that it should be killed, but you convinced
them all to let him live. Have you changed your mind, all these years
later?" She didn't answer, but he could see that he'd made his point.
"Her cousin was not a monster!" Harrel protested, "He was just a boy,
a sick boy. This is an animal, a beast!"
"And I say that it is no monster either! It has as much a right to
live as anything else. Now unless you plan to kill me too, I suggest you
leave him be." He turned his back to them, and pushed roughly past Harrel
into his house, and slammed the door firmly behind himself. The crowd
outside muttered for a few minutes, and he could hear Harrel exhorting them
still, but the gathering eventually broke up with no action being taken, for
which Mikhal was thankful.
"Well now, lad, you've caused quite a stir for one who's no even opened
his eyes today." He said to the creature he'd defended. "I reckon they're
right, though, I'd best leave you bound for now. Maybe when you wake I can
figure what to do with you."
Thus I came into the Nine Realms, seemingly born full grown from storm
and sea. I remained comatose for two days, and during that time Mikhal
remained at home, protecting me from those who would see me dead. The first
thing I remember, in a very hazy sort of way, is opening my eyes and staring
uncomprehendingly around at my surroundings. Mikhal soon concluded from my
rather vacant stare that I was indeed an animal in intelect, as Harrel had
suggested. Still, he developed an attachment to me, finding that he enjoyed
having someone to talk to, even if one who couldn't answer back, since most
of his friends and neighbors had turned their backs on him for taking me in.
He quickly determined that I was no threat to anyone, and let me wander where
I would--within the confines of his home, at least.
When I was strong enough to move around well, almost a week later, he
went back to work, leaving me to defend both myself and his home. As the
days passed I grew stronger, and Mikhal began to get a better idea of what I
normally looked like. My fur became thicker, healthier, and my mane began to
grow back in, a thick mantle of red hair that contrasts rather nicely, if I
may say so, with the tan fur that covers the rest of me. Mikhal treated me
much as if I was merely an extremely large cat, and for a time I acted the
part. Soon, however, Mikhal noticed that I seemed to actually listen to what
he said, and I started drawing myself upright, even managing to remain
standing for several minutes at a time. He discovered, too, that I could
perform relatively simple tasks, and seemed to understand what he was saying
most of the time. At the time, however, he dismissed these as little more
than clever tricks, such as many creatures can be taught.
About a month after my dramatic arrival, something happened to change
all that. Mikhal was startled from preparing for dinner by a knock at his
door. Mikhal was somewhat leery of visitors by now, since most of the time
the people who visited came only to argue about how I should be driven out
of the village, so he cracked the door to identify the person before
flinging it wide open.
"Val!" He exclaimed as he ushered him in, "What are you doin' here? I
thought you were studyin' your books up 'the city!"
"Harrel wrote me and..." Mikhal's face darkened.
"Oh, so that's how it is. If you're plannin to tell me to kill him or
run him off, then you've come a long ways for nothin."
"No, no, you misunderstand me. Harrel did want me to talk about that,
but I really just came to look at the beast. I've been studying about
strange creatures, you see, and what he described didn't sound like anything
I've ever read about." Mikhal shrugged, looking over to where I lay curled
up near the fire.
"He looks like a big cat, if you ask me. Like maybe a tiger or leopard,
though he does no have the markings." Val studied me where I slept.
"Actually, with that mane he looks more like a lion."
"Never seen one. What do they look like?"
"You've never seen a lion, as much as you've traveled?" Val asked,
surprised, "They're a bit rare, but they live right here in Eol, on the
plains and sometimes in the forests."
"I was a sailor. I do no get inland much."
"Ah, I see. Well, they look..." Val smiled, "Much like he does,
actually. Large cats, round ears, and the males are decorated with much
longer fur around the neck and shoulders."
"So he's a lion?" Mikhal asked, hoping that Val could help him convince
his neighbors that I was not the monster they thought I was.
"No, but he looks a bit like one. Lions aren't that human-looking.
This is something I've never even heard of." He thought for a moment. "I
suppose you could call him a leonithrope... does he ever look more human?"
"No, he always looks like he does now." The sound of their
conversation woke me, and I lifted my head to stare cat-like at them.
"Well, then, I suppose you could call him a leonine humaniod." He
considered that, then rejected it, "No, that's too much of a mouthful. How
about a leonoid?" Mikhal shrugged.
"It do no matter to me what you call him. What I wanna know is how to
keep your uncle from killin' him." Val shook his head sadly.
"You know better than to expect him to listen to reason. He decided the
leonoid was dangerous as soon as he saw it, and once he makes up his mind
like that there's no changing it." I got up and padded over to them on all
fours, getting a deep breath of the newcomer's scent and appraising his
stance before deciding that he posed no threat. To his credit, he remained
remarkably calm during my inspection. "Um, just out of curiosity, he isn't
dangerous, is he?" I stalked over to Mikhal and brushed against him.
"No that I've noticed. He's gentle as a kitten, if you'll pardon the
joke." Val laughed, sounding only slightly nervous, though I knew he was
scared. Human scents are so predictable. Then Mikhal said something that
took my attention away from the visitor. "I was just about to sit down for
dinner. Wouldya like somethin' to eat?"
"Eat." I said. They both looked thunderstruck as they realized that I
was the one who had spoken.
"You didn't tell me he could talk!" Val exclaimed excitedly.
"I did no think he could!" Mikhal exclaimed, sounding just as surprised
as he looked and smelled. "He's no made a noise louder than a purr before."
They both looked down at me. I looked back up, not understanding their
confusion. By this time my mind had developed sufficiently that I could
understand almost any concrete idea, but abstract ideas or other complexities
I had a bit more trouble with. "Lad," Mikhal said, addressing me, "Did you
say you wanted to eat?"
"Eat." I said, repeating my earlier feat of verbal skill.
"He could just be mimicing what you say," Val suggested, "I've seen
birds do the same thing sometimes."
"You may be right, but he has no done this before. He seems to get
smarter all the time." Val gave me a considering look.
"From what Uncle Harrel wrote to me, he was more than half drowned when
you saved him."
"Aye, and he did sleep for a coupla days after, too."
"Perhaps he's still recovering his wits from whatever happened to end
him up in your nets. I mean, he couldn't have been underwater long when you
netted him, or he would have been dead. Where could he have come from? To
hear Uncle Harrel talk, you'd think he was spawned from the Seventh Hell to
destroy you all, but I think there has to be a more logical explaination. I
mean, he didn't just appear out of thin air, right?" Mikhal shrugged.
"I dunno about that. All I know is that he was in our nets when we
woke up ashore." I was slightly annoyed at having been offered food and
then forgotten, and I voiced my displeasure with a growl, startling Val
again. Fortunately, Mikhal guessed my meaning. "Oh, that's right lad, we
were gonna eat, weren't we? Wouldya join us, Val? You're welcome to what
we've got."
"I'd like to, really, but I should be getting along. Mother will be
expecting me, and Harrel will have my head if I don't stop by. I'll try to
drop by sometime tommorrow, though." He thought for a moment, frowning.
"Perhaps it would be better if I didn't mention that I've already been here.
Perhaps..." His eyes lit up and he smelled excited. "What if I told them
that I already knew what he was?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I could tell them that he's a leonoid, an uncommon but completely
harmless creature. Then they wouldn't have any cause to fear him."
"But I thought you just said you've never seen anythin' like him?"
"Yes, but they don't know that, do they?" Mikhal shook his head.
"No."
"Exactly! Now, I was thinking that I could come in tomorrow and bring
my Uncle and whoever else I can get and..."
"You do no understand. I meant no, I'll no have you lying for me."
"But... I don't understand, I thought you wanted them to leave him
alone?"
"Yes, but I'm no easy with you lyin' to your own family for my sake."
"But it isn't for your sake, Mikhal. It's for his!" Mikhal shook his
head.
"I said no, and that's the end of it. Thanks for the offer, and 'twas
very nice of you to suggest it, but I will no have you lyin' to your uncle
for me. Now, lad, you'd better be goin. Your mother's waitin' an' all."
Val sighed.
"Well, I'll see you tommorrow anyway. If you change your mind, you can
tell me then and we could..."
"No." Val's shoulders slumped in defeat.
"All right, then. I'll see you tommorrow."
As the door closed behind Val, Mikhal remembered me. I looked up at
him with the firelight reflected from my amber eyes and bent my neck towards
him as he reached down to scratch my ears. While I now find the memory
slightly embarassing, I have to admit that it certainly felt good at the
time. He finally had to stop, since my limbs ceased supporting me, and I
sank to the ground with a contented purr. When I roused from my pleasant
stupor, Mikhal had fixed dinner, and I was given a plate of fish by the
fire. I've never been able to understand why I enjoyed fish so much then,
since I've never been partial to it since. Perhaps it was the way Mikhal
prepared it, or the fact that it was all I'd ever had, but for whatever
reason, it was good, and I curled up to sleep when I was done.
Another knock at the door woke me the next day, and I could hear the
murmer of a large croud just outside. Mikhal went to open the door, and was
almost knocked over when it suddenly swung inward.
"There you are!" Harrel said as he entered, and I growled softly at him
in warning. Something about him put my fur up. Probably the fact that he
wanted me dead, now that I think about it. He smelled strongly of anger,
with a good dash of fear thrown in. "Now we'll see about this 'harmless'
pet of yours!" Val came in after him, and started to apologize for their
bursting in. Before he could get much of an apology out, Harrel overrode
him, jabbing a finger in my direction. "There it is, Val. Now we'll settle
this, once and for all! What is that thing, boy?" Val stood up straighter,
neatened his clothing, and almost visibly puffed himself up with intelectual
authority.
"Why, it's a..." he looked at Mikhal, who shook his head. He turned
away from Mikhal and looked at me, and his resolve returned. "It's a
leonoid. It's like a lion, except that it's more human looking. It should
be completely harmless unless threatened." Harrel's jaw looked like it was
going to strike the ground at any minute, and he didn't seem to be breathing
right. His anger and fear had given way to something else, probably
astonishment. I'm not sure, because at the time I hadn't encountered it
enough. Ironicly enough, it was Mikhal who came to his rescue.
"I'm sorry, but it's just no true. The boy's never seen one of these
before in his life, and I know that from his own lips." This finally snapped
Harrel out of his shock, and his anger returned strongly.
"You calling my nephew a liar?" He said, menacingly. Val interceeded.
"It's all right, uncle. There's no need to get angry." Harrel turned
his wrath on his nephew.
"Don't you be telling me when I can and can't get angry! Don't you
think that just because you've been getting all that fancy book learning
that you're smarter than me! I can still whup you any day of the week, and
don't you forget it!"
"Now you stop right there, Harrel!" Mikhal said, "The boy was tryin to
be helpful. He just wanted you to let the poor thing be in peace and..."
"Oh, now I get it!" Harrel interupted, "The two of you worked this out
between you, didn't you? You thought you could trick me, huh?"
"No, it's not like that," Val began, but was silenced by a shake of
Mikhal's head.
"Then how is it?" Harrel didn't wait for an answer, but rushed on with
his own conclusions. "Wait, if you admit that it's a lie, then that means
that the creature really is dangerous!" Harrel grinned, already convincing
himself that it was so. "Now there's nothing you can say to stop us from
getting rid of him!" He made what I interpreted as a threatening gesture at
Mikhal. Oddly, throughout this, they had forgotten about me.
"No!" I shouted. That got their attention, at least. It's amazing
their heads didn't come off, as quick as they snapped around to look at me.
"W-What?" Harrel stood agape again. "What did you say?"
"S-say no!" I repeated.
"It talks?" Harrel was forced to revise his opinion slightly. Not
surprisingly, it did not improve. "Then it isn't an animal."
"That's what I've been tryin to say all along!" Mikhal said, thinking
that Harrel was finally seeing the proverbial light. Unfortunately, he was
not.
"Oh, gods!" He screamed, "It's a deamon!" He ran out of the house as
fast as his legs would take him. Outside I heard his cry repeated, and the
crowd scattered in record time. Val looked utterly miserable.
"I'm so sorry, I..." he began, but Mikhal shook his head.
"You only did what you thought was right, lad. There's no fault in
that. I only wish I coulda letcha do it."
"Well, I should have respected your choice. Now I'm afraid your
honesty might have put you in danger. I don't really know how bad things
stood before, but they're sure to get worse. Even those who weren't
bothered by having him in the village in the first place will be calling
for his blood if they think he's a deamon. And with Uncle stirring the
fire..." Mikhal interupted him so he didn't get to finish.
"But what about you, lad? What will you do now?"
"I don't know. Somehow, I don't think I'm very welcome in the village
anymore. I'll probably have to head back to school tommorrow."
"What will you do tonight?" Mikhal asked. Val shrugged.
"I hadn't thought about it. Perhaps I should leave now, do you think?"
Mikhal shook his head.
"No, it's far too late to be startin such a trip. Why do you no spend
the night here, then? We'll be glad 'o the company, especially tonite." I
got a second chance to learn the smell of astonishment.
"You'd actually put me up for the night, after all the trouble I've
caused?" Mikhal shrugged.
"As I said, you were only doin' what you thought was right. You made
an honest mistake, and there's no need to be punishin yourself for it."
"Thank you. I don't know what to say."
"Say that you'll stay the night, and head back home in the morning.
However angry your folks may be now, I can no imagine they'd be happy that I
let you go off in the middle of the night and all. Besides, we've no had
many guests in a while, and the company would be nice."
Val did stay the night, most of which he spent examining me. My
vocabulary improved tremendously that night, with his coaching, and it is
probably because of him that I didn't pick up Mikhal's rather peculiar
accent. By the next morning I could name everything in Mikhal's home, and
could even describe things in extremely simple terms. When Val left, he
told Mikhal that he should probably expect me to continue to improve,
perhaps even to the point where I would be as smart as a human. Mikhal
decided that it would be inappropriate to continue treating me like a pet,
and instead he began trying to teach me as much as he could. I'm pleased
to say that I did indeed improve, though Mikhal's situation did not. He was
treated like a plauge-bearer, avoided at all costs, and barred from all
public gatherings. Many times he was told quite plainly that he was no
longer wanted in the village.
Two weeks later, I was capable of remaining upright almost indefinately,
and my ability to speak had improved to the point where I could carry on a
reasonable conversation, so long as the subject stayed fairly basic. I was
at least smart enough by then that I could see that his isolation was taking
its toll on Mikhal. He tried not to show it, of course, but I could see that
it hurt that his friends had made him an outcast. I did what I could to make
him feel better, but there wasn't much I could do. Even so, he recognized
the effort, and I could tell that he appreciated it. As I became more
articulate, he began giving me more responsibility, more respect, and
finally he gave me some thing I will treasure always. He gave me his
friendship.
I know it may sound strange to say that he gave me his friendship then,
after all the things he'd done before, and all that he sacrificed, but that
wasn't really friendship. It was charity and mercy, at first, and then a
sort of animal affection, the kind humans tend to show toward their pets.
No matter what some people say, you can't truly expect to be friends with an
animal. Animals will be loyal to you, even respectful of you, but friendship
cannot exist in such an uneven relationship. All humans are convinced that
they are innately superior to all the creatures of the field and sky, to
some degree or another. I have only met one who truly considered all
creatures equal, but she was a druidess, and quite insane, as well. Once it
became apparent that I was something more than an animal, however, Mikhal
and I did become very close friends. I took to accompanying him everywhere,
which did earn us some frightened stares when we went outside.
It was so wonderful being outside for the first time. I suddenly
understood the feelings I'd been having ever since I could remember. After
being inside for so long, I was free! I felt as though someone had taken a
heavy chain from around my neck; As though I'd been drowning without
realizing it, and suddenly I could breath again! I laughed with joy,
startling two women passing on the far side of the street so badly that one
dropped her water-jar. I attempted to apologize, but they just screamed,
and scurried off, leaving the shattered pottery jar where it fell. My
shoulders slumped, and I turned back to Mikhal.
"Why do they run away, Me-call?" I still spoke slowly and carefully,
and I was still trying to master the syllables of my friend's name.
"They just do no understand you, lad. They can no see past that face
of yours."
"My face? What is wrong with my face?" He stood still for a moment,
trying to find the best way to explain.
"Well, there's nothin' wrong with it, really." He said after much
consideration, "It's just different, and they do no like it. It makes them
afraid, y'see?"
"No, I don't." Mikhal sighed.
"Look, I may still have a bit of looking-glass somewhere. When we get
home, I'll letcha look..." He broke off as two very unhappy looking men ran
up, followed by the two women who had run away a few minutes before.
"There he is, Suri." One of the women exclaimed, "There's the one who
attacked us." Mikhal stepped between them and me.
"Now, now, the lad did no attack anyone."
"He did so!" The woman contested, "He yowled at us something awful,
knocked the jug out of my hands, and scared the both of us out of our wits!"
"No, no, you have it all wrong! The lad was laughing, and then you
dropped the jug. He tried to apologize but you both ran off!" One of the
men muscled his way forward.
"You expect us to believe that?" He asked, leaning forward in a very
threatening way. He was lucky that I'd recovered my wits as much as I had.
A week before, I would have taken him down just for sounding like he was
threatening Mikhal. As it was, I stepped from behind Mikhal, and looked
down at the man. I tried, in my own way, to calm the situation down.
"You don't like my face." I said, explained the situation as I saw it.
He looked up at me and lost a little of his bluster, but nodded. "That's
okay." I continued, "I don't like yours either." Quite obviously, I was not
yet up to full speed intelectually, but at the time it seemed like a logical
thing to say. We might still have talked our way out of it, if I hadn't
smiled. At the time, I was still attempting to duplicate human gestures,
since I had no idea of how horrible they looked on me. Suffice it to say,
my words and facial expression were misinterpreted as being threatening, and
the women screamed, which made everything worse and confused me even more.
A punch was thrown, and I dodged back out of the way. I may not have been
the smartest person in the Nine Realms, but there was nothing wrong with my
reflexes. Unfortunately, the swing that I dodged connected with Mikhal,
knocking him over. At this point, I stopped being patient with them. I
roared at them, my lips peeling back to reveal two rows of sharp ivory
points. If the women screamed before, they positively shrieked now, and
the men lost what little desire to fight they had left. I took a step
towards them, menacingly, and they ran. Satisfied that they wouldn't pose
any more problems, I found Mikhal picking himself up from where he'd been
knocked down. I think his pride was hurt more than anything, because I know
there was no way they could have dropped him if he'd been ready for them.
He didn't really look it, but he was extremely sturdy. We headed back home,
deciding that we would probably be better off if we did. I could tell that
Mikhal wasn't terribly happy with the situation. Not that I could blame him,
of course. To see if I could take his mind off of it, I reminded him about
the looking glass. He nodded and started rummaging around, finally coming
up with an irregular piece of silvered glass. He held it up, and I saw
myself for the first time. I drew back from the image in shock. I'd known
I was different; I hadn't realized just how different I really was. I
reached out and touched the mirror, my hand trembling, and jerked back when
I cut my hand on the sharp edge. My paw, I should say. I brought my paw up
and touched my face, seeing it reversed in the mirror, tracing the angles and
contours of my inhuman face, the soft-leather feeling of my black triangle of
a nose. I swung away from it, unable to bear looking at it any longer.
"Put it away." I said. "Put it away." Mikhal did, and I turned back
around.
"Now, lad, there's no need to act that way. I mean, you knew you were
no human, so why d'ya act so surprised?" I couldn't answer. He was right,
of course, I'd always known I wasn't human, I only had to look down at
myself to see that, but there was something dark and terrible about seeing
my face reflected back to me, to see why the others hated me so much. To
have it driven home once and for all that I _am not human_.
I sat in Mikhal's hut brooding for over an hour, just thinking in my
own slow way. When Mikhal left, I elected to stay where I was, and after a
time I located the mirror and drew it out again, this time being careful of
its sharp edges. I brought it out and looked at myself again, this time
knowing what to expect. I once again traced the contours of my face, but
this time I felt the soft, warm fur instead of the sharp planes of my cheeks.
I wrinkled my nose, moved my eyebrows, and watched as the image in the glass
followed along. I tried smiling, and suddenly understood why the humans
winced and drew away when I did that. It looks terrible, like I'm snarling
without making any noise. From this I drew a startling realization. Not
only did I not _look_ human, I just plain _wasn't_ human. I know it
probably sounds like I should have understood this before, but I didn't. I
finally realized that trying to be like the humans was futile. I couldn't
even mimic their facial gestures, and trying to act human would only end up
with me getting hurt and looking foolish. I decided to be happy with who and
what I was, and not worry about trying to be like everyone else. I put the
mirror back where I'd found it, and waited for Mikhal to return.
This was quite a bit to go through in just a few hours, especially for
someone who was still not quite thinking right. However, I found that as my
thinking improved, my decision seemed to make more sense, not less, and I've
held to it ever since. To be honest, I don't believe I've ever wanted to be
human. I might have thought I did, for that short space of an hour, but what
I really wanted was to be accepted. To have people like me for who I was,
not fear me for what I looked like. A foolish dream, perhaps, the simplistic
desire of a simple mind, but it is a dream that I still find myself unwilling
to let go of.
The end came not long after that. I was, so far as I could tell, fully
recovered by the end of the next week. My speech was essentially flawless,
and my reasoning skills were more or less what they are now. It might appear
that this was a tremendous leap forward in my recovery, but in truth it
wasn't. It was merely a matter of a few final things clicking into place.
Mikhal and I were peacefully eating our evening meal of fish-head stew one
evening, when we heard a muffled thump from the roof. I immediately sensed
that something was very wrong. There was a strange tension in the air,
almost like the expectant hush before a storm, which carried a strong promise
of violence in the near future. I felt it so strongly that my fur actually
started to stand on end. Apparently, Mikhal noticed this.
"What's the matter, lad? You're puffed up like a treed cat."
"I don't know, exactly. There's just something wrong. Can't you feel
it?"
"Nothin' but this stew. I think I spiced it a bit much." I agreed
with him on that, but that didn't come close to explaining what I felt.
Soon after we heard several more of those muffled thumps from the roof.
"Sounds like it's hailin', but that can no be in this heat." Mikhal
commented.
"Maybe some of the boys throwing rocks?" I suggested. We'd had a few
problems with pranks recently, some of them fairly nasty, like the snake
we'd found coiled on our door step.
"I'd no think they'd be that brave." Mikhal said, doubtfully, but he
left it at that, and we finished the somewhat over-spiced stew without
further interuptions. When we were done, we cleared the table and went to
sit by the fire. Soon, however, we both found ourselves growing
uncomfortably warm, and moving away from the fire didn't help much. We both
simply attributed this to a late-summer night's heat, until embers began
drifting down from the thatch above.
"Fire!" Mikhal shouted, just as part of the roof collapsed down in
front of us, scattering burning thatch in all directions. "Out, quick!"
At the moment, however, I was discovering an unpleasant fact of nature;
fur burns. A blazing wad of thatch had landed in my mane, and I was doing
my best to beat it out. I managed to get it out, but our exit was already
blocked by the fallen section of roof. There was no other way out, and the
room was already filling with thick, black smoke. No help for it, then.
Running, I grabbed Mikhal and slung his not-inconsiderable weight
across my shoulder. Reaching the edge of the fire, I jumped, hoping that I
had enough force behind me to knock the door down. I felt the fire surround
me, felt its tiny fingers reaching out to embrace me, its tounges reaching
out to taste me. I felt for a moment as though I'd lept straight into the
Fourth Hell, then a sudden, jarring impact took me by surprise, knocking the
wind out of me. I made it through the door, though, and the cool night air
was at once refreshing and painful. Somewhere after emerging from the
burning dwelling, I lost hold of Mikhal, and as soon as I hit the ground I
started rolling. My fur was singed and blackened, and still smoldering from
my leap through the inferno. When I was finished rolling, I looked up, and
who should I see but Harrel. Beside him was Suri and the other muscle-man
who's name I never knew. I didn't exactly give a chance to ask, as someone's
boot found my head and I returned again to darkness.
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