FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

*****

Chapter Seventy

*****

Vakaal stood in front of the mirror in the corner of his room, struggling to button his breeches. He got two of the buttons done up, but could not quite snap the third shut without it digging into his waist. Sighing, he gave up and left it open. _Not like they're gonna fall down anymore._Oasis watched him from atop his bed. The rabbit's nose twitched, an ear flicked.

"They're too small, I know." Vakaal shifted his breeches, watching the rabbit in the mirror. "They don't even reach my feet anymore."

The young urd'thin picked up a brush and set to work brushing his pale gray fur. Hints of lean muscle shifted beneath his pelt. Vakaal smiled, perking his ears. At least this horrible place hadn't stunted his growth. Not that he had anyone to show off for. That was alright. It wasn't his musculature's growth he was interested. It was his shaping. And that was growing by leaps and bounds.

He often wondered if Lovro understood just how strong he was getting. By now, the pup knew that the collars his father and he bore were special. Stronger and more focused than anything Lovro had ever used on a previous subject. Lovro also made it clear the collars held a so-called failsafe, that would kill the wearer if triggered by the golden-robed maniac. If triggered, the collar would also suppress and block any attempt at healing long enough to ensure the wearer did, in fact, die. Vakaal wasn't sure how true that was, but as long as Lovro believed it, then Vakaal would play along. Let Lovro think he held their lives in his hand.

One day, he'd know better.

Beneath all the layers of suppression, Vakaal's shaping grew by the day. Sometimes it came alive on instinct, slipped the bonds of the black manacles without any active thought. When anger or sorrow filled him, that was when he felt strongest. If only he could harness that, he was sure he could remove the damn collar himself.

There had to be a trick to it, Vakaal was certain. Lovro and the other men in their stupid robes who worked for him made it seem so easy. Vakaal had been studying them. Their shaping was different than his, more basic in some ways but refined in others. Vakaal's abilities were far broader and all-encompassing. He could tell almost any story he wanted. But the robed men made up for having lesser powers with decades of training. It was like fighting a dagger with a club. The club would do more damage, but was easier to avoid, and the dagger needed only one swift cut to end things.

That was alright. Vakaal was patient.

A knock on the door drew his attention. Vakaal swiveled his big ears. "Just a minute!"

The pup moved to the bed to scoop up Oasis. He clutched the rabbit to his chest, petting its ears. The last time it escaped his room, Lovro threatened to make Vakaal eat it for dinner. Maybe one day he could release the creature to the grass and plants around one of the oasis ponds outside the compound's walls. Though he might be able to sneak out, he was afraid one of the slave dragons would eat the poor creature.

One day, he hoped to let those dragons eat Lovro.

"Okay, you can come in."

The door opened, and a servant clad in a blue and gray checkered tunic strode inside. He wore the same pair of black breeches he always did, with a new patch near the back of a knee. The storytellers rotated the servants who visited Vakaal on a weekly basis. They all had to bow and kowtow to the men in robes who ran the place. Some of the servants were nicer to him than others. When they were nice to him, he was nice to them.

Vakaal smiled at the older man named Timmons. He was one of the nice ones. Though he bore no collar, Vakaal doubted Timmons was any freer than he was. Timmons set a tray down atop a small table. The tray wouldn't fit on the top of the dresser anymore because Vakaal kept his collection of figures there. He'd shaped them out of sand, from the courtyard, then turned them into stone.

"For the young master." Timmons swept his hand over a plate with sausages and bread. He poured some fruit juice from a pitcher into a wooden cup, then went to close the door. He returned, and gestured at the other smaller plate, laden with leafy greens. "And for the young rabbit."

"I don't think he's young anymore." Vakaal set Oasis down, and then knelt to feed the rabbit bits of greenery. While Oasis nibbled, Vakaal stroked its white and brown ears. "And I'm hardly anyone's master."

"Just an expression, of course." Timmons folded his hands behind his back, gazing around the room. His eyes fell upon Vakaal's figurines. "Is this one new?"

"Uh huh!" Vakaal fed the rabbit another piece of lettuce. "Take a closer look."

Timmons leaned forward, and then gave a happy laugh. "Is that me?"

"Yup!" Vakaal gave the rabbit the last piece, and then hopped up on his bed to eat his own breakfast. He folded bread around a sausage and took a big bite. "Mmmhrriimmmeuums? Yrruhmmbeedaaaired!"

The servant glanced back at him, smirking. "Didn't quite catch that, sir."

Giggling, the pup swallowed his food. "I said, when the time comes, you will be spared!"

"Well I'm glad to hear that." Timmons chuckled, picking up the figurine Vakaal made for him. "This really is good."

Vakaal smiled, happy he liked it. "It's for you!"

"Really?" Timmons straightened up, looking at the miniature in the sunlight shining through the small window. "But what about your collection?"

Vakaal shrugged, stuffing another bite of food into his muzzle. He spoke up after he swallowed it. "I can make another."

"If you're sure, I'd be happy to accept it." Timmons beamed. Vakaal was glad it made the older man happy. Timmons was as close as he came to having a friend in this place. "I'll put it on my desk at home."

"You don't live in here, right?" Vakaal gestured at the building around them with a half-eaten sausage.

"No, I've got a little house, in the town." Timmons pointed to the west. "That way. Near the wall, actually."

Vakaal nodded, finishing off the sausage. He tapped a foot against the floor. No more did his toes hang in midair when he sat on his bed. "Does anyone live in this big castle place they keep us?"

"Just the people in charge."

"That's good to know." Vakaal wrapped the other sausage in the bread, gazing out the window. The morning sun painted distant sands in shades of burnt gold. Vakaal could almost feel the sand under his feet, warm, and shifting. He could almost smell the water from the oasis, when the cool morning breeze blew across it, before the air turned hot. "If you ever come here, in the morning, and you find another figure sitting in the servant's common room." Vakaal took a bite of his food, chewing it thoughtfully. He pinned back his ears after he swallowed. "Go home. And don't come back."

"I...well." Timmons shifted his weight back and forth, rubbing his hands together.

Vakaal gave him a smile. "Take the others too, if they're here. And if you think that's something you should report to Lovro, go ahead. It won't matter."

Timmons pursed his lips, his eyes darting anywhere but at Vakaal. "Not...really the sort of thing I'm qualified to report. Just...be careful, I suppose. Don't do anything to rash."

The pup shrugged, and finished off his food. He doubted Timmons and the other servants knew what was truly being done to him and his father. Lovro and the other storytellers only ever tortured Father in their secret rooms, where the servants were rarely allowed to venture. They probably thought they were just trying to beat them into compliance. They all said they were here to help save their own world, and they all believed Vakaal and his father were key to that. Everyone who wore one of their official robes knew what manner of horrible tortures Father had to endure, knew Vakaal had to heal him, time and again. To make him stronger. But Vakaal didn't think the servants understood.

"I'm not planning to do anything." Vakaal hopped off his bed. He went to the mirror to fidget with his breeches again. "But if you do ever see one like that, just go home."

Timmons swallowed and gave a single nod. "As you wish, young master. Is there anything else I can get for you this morning?"

"Pants." Vakaal wriggled back and forth, tugging on the button again. "These are too small."

The servant clucked his tongue, looking them over. "Indeed they are. I'll see about fetching you a larger pair. That'll be the second pair you've outgrown already this year. Growing like a weed, my father would have said."

Vakaal glanced up at him, scrunching his muzzle. He'd heard the word, but he didn't really have any translations for it in his head. "What's a weed?"

"A weed, young master," Timmons said as he cleaned crumbs from Vakaal's bed. "Is an unwanted plant. And much like you are lately, they're very fast growing."

The pup scrunched up his muzzle, scratching at the base of one of his horns. They were bigger this days. He liked that. "How can a plant be unwanted? They're just another part of the world."

Timmons gave a sigh, and then offered the young urd'thin a smile. "So they are. Back shortly, with your new clothes, if you'll corral Mister Long Ears first."

"Sure." Vakaal picked up the rabbit, and held him long enough for Timmons to leave.

Once the door was shut, he set the rabbit back down on his bed. It hopped around a little bit, then nuzzled up against him, begging for attention. Vakaal stroked its ears and its back a few times, then gently rubbed around the back of its neck with a couple fingers. Happy, the rabbit hunkered down, half limp and savoring the tiny massage.

"Where do you come from, Oasis?"

The rabbit twitched its nose.

"That's your answer for everything." Vakaal giggled. "You wait here."

Vakaal got off the bed, and walked around to the shelves he'd built and attached to his wall. The rabbit hopped to the edge of the thin mattress, staring at him. Vakaal's shelves were all lined with books in sets of four. He drummed fingers over some of them, humming to himself. Two of the shelves were lined with his own stories, written over the years. He thought each of them came out better than the last. Those that ended happily were always his favorites. Maybe one day he'd get to be the hero for his father.

Some of the books came from the library. There was a time Vakaal was not allowed to take things from there. But the last time one of the robed men tried to stop him, he wrenched Vakaal's hand so badly he broke one of the pup's fingers. In reaction, Vakaal hurled him through a bookshelf.

After that, he went back to his room on his own. A security team of robed shapers arrived later to see to his punishment. No one bothered to ask about his finger, but it was already healed, anyway. As always, they were going to take out his punishment on his father, until Vakaal offered to take it in his place. Lovro told him he'd only allow that, if Vakaal could punish himself appropriately. So Vakaal broke all the fingers on one hand in front of everyone. The pain made him scream, but the shocked look on Lovro's face when Vakaal held out his hand as all his fingers set themselves back into position was worth it.

Then Lovro told him about the failsafe and cut off Father's tail, anyway.

The memory made Vakaal shudder, bile rising his throat. How he hated these people. He'd never known hatred till he came here, but now he understood it all too well. Now he knew why he'd heard such anger, such loathing in his father's voice the day they were first captured. Father had known from the first day just what manner of people their captors were. He was willing to give himself over to such people, all to protect his son. Such courage stunned Vakaal to this day. Now, he just hoped he could one day find that same courage inside himself.

Someone had to be righteous in the face of such immeasurable cruelty.

Vakaal had never truly believed in monsters until he met the storytellers. There were beasts in the wilds, immense creatures who dwelled in the deepest oasis ponds and lurked beneath the sands, but they were only animals, only did what nature intended. But these so-called storytellers, these men who hid in robes, they were evil. As far as Vakaal was concerned, they were all already dead, anyway. Their stories had ended. Their worlds had died by their own hands. And yet they persisted, spreading their evil, torturing innocent creatures in the selfish hope to extend their own story. To erase everyone else's life-tale and put themselves in its place.

For now, Vakaal played his part, but deep inside he refused to let that happen.

The pup ran his finger pads across the spines of several grouped tomes. In his years of study, he'd found many more stories that came in fours. He found the same pattern in all of them. One story lead to a hero, the other to a villain. Sometimes everyone lived, other times everyone died. Later, he took another book from the library. Something titled, Basic Codex. No one tried to stop him. He discovered the book to be a sort of index, a reference for some of the worlds in the stories. A few of them were grouped by number and letter. With its help, he added letters to the spines of the books he collected from the library. There were also many more places without numbers or letters, and yet others marked only with questioning symbols.

With the basic codex in hand, Vakaal returned to the bed. He sat down on it, and Oasis hopped over and settled in his lap. The pup giggled, and pet the rabbit's ears. "That's where the book was gonna go!"

Vakaal set the book near him on the bed, instead. While he stroked Oasis' soft fur, he flipped through the codex. He hummed to himself, tail flicking across the bedclothes in time to his soft song. He tugged a pillow over to lean an elbow on. Much like the bath tub, the bed that once seemed strange and immense wasn't so odd or expansive any more.

"Let's see...rabbits...rabbits..." He shook his head, ears drooping. "Nope, you're not in the index. Guess you're not important enough to get a mention. Wish _we_weren't in here."

Vakaal scrunched his muzzle. He didn't like the urd'thin section. It sounded as if it was written by someone who thought his people were vermin. Given the way the men in robes treated them, he wasn't surprised. It still made him sad to read it. If these people traveled to other worlds, had they convinced the rest of those worlds that urd'thin were vermin, too? It wasn't fair. Why couldn't the rest of the humans just treat his people nicely like the traders he used to know did? They had a separate section for the urd'thin of a story numbered 3, but the section was removed from the book.

A knock came, and Vakaal swiveled his ears towards the door. He curled an arm around Oasis. "Come in!"

The door opened and Timmons entered, a pair of breeches draped over his arm. He closed the door behind himself and then approached Vakaal to show him the pants. They were made of blue cloth. Like the others, they designed for urd'thin legs and tails. Silver stitching made a zigzag pattern up the legs. "These should fit you well. I realize cloth isn't your preference, but I'm afraid we haven't any more hide or leather pants cut to fit urd'thin legs for the time being."

"That's fine." Vakaal eased the rabbit out of his lap and took the pants from Timmon's arm. He held them up to his waist. They looked a little long, but big enough around to fit him comfortable without falling down. "Thank you."

"Certainly, sir. You may proceed to the library at your leisure." Timmons gave him a bow, waited for him to make sure Oasis wouldn't streak for the door, and then left the room.

Once Timmons was gone, Vakaal stripped off his breeches and tossed them on the bed, careful not to trap the rabbit under them. Then he pulled on the new pair, and buttoned them up. They fit nicely around his waist, but the legs covered up his feet. He settled on the bed, and rolled up the cuffs. With his feet free again, he flexed his gray-furred toes. Since urd'thin legs were designed differently than human, pants for the servants didn't fit him as well.

It made Vakaal wonder if they'd made his clothes just for him, or if they'd once belonged to other urd'thin. He saw the others only rarely. There were probably a dozen or so in the city, but it was uncommon for them to come into the castle where he was kept. Vakaal didn't know where they lived, or what they did. He'd been forbidden from talking to them. Somehow, he doubted he was the one who'd be punished for breaking that rule. For his father's sake, he kept his muzzle shut despite the heavy pangs of loneliness that twisted his guts in cold knots whenever he saw another urd'thin. He always gave them a friendly wave though. Sometimes they waved back.

Vakaal liked it when they waved back.

The others were collared, but not in the same way as him. Their collars looked more like the one he bore when he was first caught, a smooth black band that encircled their necks. His collar now was larger and thicker, with runes and sigils inscribed upon it. It put up a stronger wall between Vakaal and his shaping, and held a far tighter grip upon his heart than even the triple manacles on each wrist. Vakaal wondered if that was part of the failsafe, if it could just squeeze his heart till it burst. Lovro liked to say that Vakaal and his father were the only two they'd ever had to put that kind of collar on. He always made it sound as if he was bragging about it.

It didn't matter what kind of collar he bore. He knew now that Father was right. There would come a day when no collar could hold him. And then for his people, and for his father, he would rain justice upon these torturers and murderers.

Vakaal scooped up the rabbit. Oasis kicked and squirmed, and Vakaal stroked its ears. "I know, I know. I don't like being stuck in a cage, either. But I have to put you back in there or you'll poop all over the floor." The pup giggled as he carried the rabbit to the corner. "Not to mention try and run out the door again. Maybe if you're good, I'll take you out to hop around on the grass later. Just don't tell anyone if I do."

The pup made his way to the library after putting the rabbit back in its cage. He paused a few times to roll the cuffs of his new pants back up after they fell over his feet. He was going to have to have Timmons fix those. A few of the servants he liked greeted him along the way. They all gave him little bows or waves, a smile and a greeting. Vakaal even caught one of them humming a tune the pup often sang to himself. It must have been a catchy song. Of course, that also meant they'd heard him singing more often than he realized. Embarrassment warmed the inside of his ears, and he laughed it off, shaking his head.

He knew the way to the library by heart now. Down the hall to the left. Up the stairs on the right. Go straight past the green door. Turn left at the red door, take the next right. Past the grand stairwell. Library is on the right. What was once a very confusing place, he now could have navigated with his eyes closed. Not that he wanted to try, he'd probably mash his muzzle on a wall.

The halls were decorated with objects from places Vakaal had never seen. Some walls bore paintings of giant, snowy mountains. Little tables held vases of shining blue crystal. Exotic weaponry affixed to plaques lined another corridor. Small soft rugs in vibrant hues covered the floors of intersections. One of the castle's larger hallways was lined with immense tapestries depicting detailed images from his captors' history. There was the rise and fall of kingdoms, and a history of travel from world to world.

Vakaal thought that if he was responsible for ruining worlds, he wouldn't be hanging it on the wall like a badge of honor.

When Vakaal reached the library, he was pleased to see his Father was already there. Today was a day off, no healing practice. Which meant more time to spend with his father without having to see him twisting in pain, without having to see him bleeding. Vakaal scrunched his muzzle, pushing the images aside. He'd like to shackle up Lovro and let Father put knives in _him_for a while. See how well Lovro worked after he'd been cut apart and put back together. Vakaal half wondered if his father even remembered those times. When his emotions took over, powered his healing, sometimes he thought he was healing even Father's mind.

"Hey, Pup!" Father sounded cheerful. Father always sounded cheerful. Vakaal wondered how he could be such an endless well of good spirits, even in such a horrible place, enduring such horrible torment. "This book is really good."

Vakaal smiled when Father waved one of the pup's books about. It was his latest attempt at writing another cycle of stories, and Vakaal liked to think he'd improved with each book. He'd given that one to his father to read at night, when he was recuperating from Lovro's so-called training. He went to a chair at the round table, next to Father, and plopped down.

"Thanks!" Vakaal plucked a piece of fruit from the tray, and popped it into his muzzle. He spoke whilst chewing. "Thaaoone...ish...ero..."

"Swallow your food, Vakaal."

Vakaal flattened his ears a little, sheepish. "Sorry. I said, that one is the hero."

"And you know I like a good heroic moment." Father ruffled Vakaal's ears.

The pup giggled and squirmed. "It's my second favorite."

"After?" Father set the book down.

"Everyone lives, of course. Cause it has a hero, and no one dies. It's the happiest."

"And who doesn't like a happy ending?"

Vakaal folded his arms, his smile fading. "How are you so happy all the time?"

Father tilted his head, shrugging. "I'm not. I just-"

"But you always seem so cheerful! I mean..." Vakaal's ears drooped and he glanced away. "Not...always." He set his hand atop his fathers, gently running his fingers along the tendons there, wanting to make sure he'd set them back right. "How's your hand?"

"It's fine." Father lifted it, waggled his fingers, and then poked Vakaal on the nose. "See?" He dropped it down to poke him in the ribs a few times, making the pup squirm and giggle. "Still pokes giggly pups just fine!"

"ACK! Cut it out!" Vakaal laughed and slapped at it. "I'm gonna put it on backwards next time!"

Before the morbidity of the humor even set in, Father laughed and smoothed Vakaal's fur back down over his head. "That's why I'm cheerful. Because we must find our joy where we can. Even in our darkest times, Vakaal, there's always hope, there's always something to make you smile. If you can find a way to make yourself smile in the worst moments of your life, then there's nothing that can ever beat you. What power does Lovro truly hold over us, if we can laugh it off later, like it's all some grand joke? If the gods are playing cruel jokes on us, then all we can do is laugh with them."

The pup tilted his head, smiling. As always, he was in awe of his father's inner strength. If only he could be so strong inside. If only he could turn every tragedy into a joke, too. "I'll try."

"Here, I'll help." Father turned in his chair, prodding and tickling at Vakaal's ribs.

Vakaal giggled and squirmed, trying to wriggle away. His chair wobbled, and only when he nearly toppled out of it did his father relent. "Enough already!"

"Giving in so soon? Guess your father wins again, huh?" Father folded his arms, grinning.

"You won't be so smug..." Vakaal panted for breath. "When I shove those fruits...in your ears!"

Father flattened back his ears, and then covered them with his hands. "You wouldn't!"

"Would too!" Vakaal plucked up two pieces of dried fruit, one reddish brown, the other bright gold. "When you're asleep." He ate one piece, then mimed eating the other before throwing it and bouncing it off his father's head.

"Ow!" Father rubbed his forehead, glancing at the fruit rolling across the floor. "That's a waste of good fruit."

Vakaal shrugged, smirking at the older urd'thin. "I wouldn't call it _good_fruit. If you want good fruit, we should go to the oasis. The handfruit in their trees is finally ripe."

"The oasis?" Father tilted his head, then waved a hand at the room around. "You mean you'd rather feel real sand under your feet and sun on your fur, than sit here with all these musty old tomes you've already read?" The older urd'thin stood up and walked for the door. "Good idea."

The pup hopped out of his chair and hurried to catch up with his father. Just as he reached him, he tripped over the cuff of his pants. He stumbled forward with a loud yelp, and Father caught his arm. Vakaal righted himself, and then adjusted his pants again, grumbling.

"New breeches again?"

"Uh huh." Vakaal gave up fiddling with the cuffs, and just hiked them up, holding each side as they walked through the labyrinthine stone halls.

"You keep growing like that and you're going to be taller than I am." Father wagged his bushy tail, bumping the pup with it. "Then you'll have to carry me around on your shoulders."

Vakaal giggled, shaking his head. "I haven't done that since I was a pup."

"Correction." Father thumped his shoulder. "You're still a pup."

"Better a pup than a creaky old elder!"

Father bent over as he walked, holding his back. He mimed a shuffling limp for a few moments, tail crooked. "These old bones are getting' awful achy..."

Vakaal laughed and gave him a playful shove.

"Aaaaah!" Father made a show of stumbling around. "Don't push your elders, you'll break mah hip!"

"At least I could fix it, if I did."

"That you could, pup." Father straightened up. He smiled at Vakaal, then glanced away, swallowing.

"S-sorry." Vakaal wrung his hands, a coldness settling over him. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Nah, think nothing of it." Father bumped Vakaal with his tail, smiling again.

"One day, I'll set our story right." Vakaal reached out and took his father's hand, squeezing it. "I promise."

Father squeezed his hand back. "I know you will, pup. I know you will."

His father's agreement seemed both a buoy and an anchor around Vakaal's heart. There was a time, long ago, when Father talked about waiting for the gods. That one day, their adherence to the gods' rules would be rewarded. That something would happen that would free them from this horrible place. That the gods themselves might one day free them, or show them how to free themselves.

Vakaal wondered what it meant that Father didn't talk much about the gods anymore.