FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The Ha'tinre tensed, about to rush the Templik. If anything, he could take out at least one more of them.

"Savik?" Calsa pushed up her helm more to see through the eye slits easier.

"Who...?"

She suddenly pulled her helm off, rushing forward. "Savik!"

"Calsa?! What...?" The Templik was nearly knocked over by Calsa. He righted himself quickly, returning her hug awkwardly with the armor clanging against each other. "What are you doing here? How did you get in? Who's this?"

"I came to rescue you! What are you doing?" Her smile was almost painful, but she couldn't help it, the feeling of relief and happiness overwhelming.

"After the Templiks caught me, they gave me the choice to either become one of them or die. I figured the best course of action was to join them and hope they gave me a street patrol so I could get back to you. Damn it, little sister, you are so much more stubborn than mom ever was!" He ruffled her short pale blue hair.

"I hate to break the joy of this reunion, but we had better move along," the Ha'tinre said in a hushed tone. He could sense something sinster in the vicinty.

"Who are you?" Savik glared at him.

"That's not important right now. Do you know the way to the general's quarters?"

"Why?" Savik kept his hand on his sword.

"Look, do you hate the Templiks?"

"Of course, they killed my parents and all my friends."

"Everyone's dead?" Calsa looked at him in horror.

"Yeah, none of them would take the deal, so the Templik dogs cut them down where they stood. The prisons are full and they said they won't be giving any quarter to resistance orphans." He spoke with hatred and sorrow, remembering having to watch all his friends die one by one.

"Then if you know where the general is, I suggest you take me there. The faster the better." The Ha'tinre glanced about as if nervous.

Savik thought a moment before gesturing for the Ha'tinre to follow him. "Calsa, you go back the way you came. I'll come for you when they let me go out on street patrol, I promise."

"Oh no. He and I made a deal. I'm not going to walk away from that!" She crossed her arms, her stance firm.

Savik glared at her, but knew better than to argue with his sister when she had that look. "You are insufferable! Fine, then just stay close. And put your helm back on!"

Once she'd done that, Savik led them down the long multitude of halls and corridors. Luckily, there were few patrols, and of what they saw, they were able to duck into nitches and avoid being seen. It took them nearly a half hour to finally get to a larger hallway. At the end were large double doors. Savik nodded at it. "That's it. You plan on killing him?"

The Ha'tinre gave a nod as he peered around. Savik snorted. "Good luck, he keeps the place locked tight with magic. And he has four guards with him most times. Killing them all before they set off an alarm would be impossible."

"I think I'll manage. You two should probably get out of here, though, just in case." He started toward the doors.

"Not so fast! I made a promise and I intend to keep it." Calsa started after him. The Ha'tinre turned just as Savik grabbed his sister's arm.

"You have your brother, and you helped me get in and find the general. That was the deal. Go now." He turned away again but Calsa had no intentions of obeying.

"I want to see him dead as much as anyone! Because of him our parents and friends are dead. Savik, you can't just turn away from this!"

Savik pursed his lips. He growled in indescion. She had a point. Before the Ha'tinre could tell them to leave before <i>he</i> killed them, Savik let go of his sister and stood straight. "She's right. You'll surely be killed without help, and quite frankly I should have taken death rather than be one of these dogs. I'll help you."

The Ha'tinre growled, but he realized this was not a battle he was going to win. "Fine. Let's go."

He strode toward the door, feeling the magical energy that coursed through the wood. Taking a breath, he placed his hands against it. Sparks flashed for a moment before the spell broke, the doors unlocked. He glanced back, giving a sharp nod to the two before swinging the doors open. They rushed in, not sure what they would find.

The large open room afforded plenty of space for Savik to swing his sword at the back of a guard's neck. The body stiffened before crumpling to the ground. The other guard had barely any more chance to turn before a blade split his vertabre. The two were the only guards the general had thought to keep with him. He had grown much too confident in the security of his fortress. He gave a yell, turned to rush to the mantle over the fire where a Templik symbol gleamed in the firelight. The Ha'tinre flicked his wrist, sending a small knife whizzing through the air.

Calsa had hoped he would have made a little more noise when he fell to the ground. Maybe a cry, or a groan, even a gurgle would have saficed, but he dropped to the floor, the blade striking true at the base of his skull, killing him before he even hit the ground.

None of them had the chance to think that it had been too simple. A brilliant flash of light blinded them for a moment. Able to see again, they heard a dark chuckle, the kind that caused the hairs to stand on end all over their bodies. A black clothed figure suddenly seemed to melt right out of the wall. His head and face were covered, his whole body wrapped in a slightly loose black garment. Only the faintly glowing green eyes were visible. The man floated down to the ground, his eyes locked on the trio.

"Ha'trin! So good of you to make yourself so very easy to find. I could sense you in here somewhere, but your... anti magic was making it difficult to locate you."

Calsa looked at the one she had thought was Ha'tinre. "You're a Ha'trin?"

The Ha'tinre laughed. The Ha'trin pulled out another throwing knife. "It surprises me that people still hire the Ha'tinre, you always seem to let your employers die."

The Ha'tinre looked down at the general's body with a sardonic, "oops." Then he shrugged. "His death is a small price to pay to be able to kill you, Ha'trin." He held up his hand, a crackling ball of darkness forming in his palm, the black sparks dancing through his fingers.

"You know magic won't do anything to me!" the Ha'trin scoffed.

"Not you, but them." Calsa gasped as he turned to her, tossing the odd magical ball at her. She heard the Ha'trin curse and rush toward her. But he was much too slow. With a cry, Savik pressed his shoulder into his sister, tossing her to the ground. It was last sound he would ever make. The ball expanded as soon as it struck him, crackling around him, engulfing him, and then vanishing, leaving nothing, not even ashes.

Too shocked to move, Calsa stared at the spot her brother had just been. She didn't hear the two assassins battle. Their weapons clashed, but she didn't see them. So shocked was she still that when she felt hands grab her, dragging her to her feet, saw the face of the Ha'trin before her, saw his lips move, she couldn't understand him, couldn't feel him, couldn't feel her own feet as he pulled her after him. She didn't know that she ran, didn't notice when they finally emerged into the light, didn't hear the sirens going off as they ran.

She hardly knew when they had reached the treeline, running through the forest. Then the Ha'trin stopped and bent down next to an old gnarled tree. He groped through the leaves for a moment before finding a handle and jerking up a small wooden door. He grabbed Calsa, still not totally comprehending the events around her, and shoved her into the small hole. He dropped in after her, pulling the door shut over their heads. Enveloped in cool darkness, she finally started to hear the world come back. First, it was her own heart pounding from the run, her breathing, his breathing. She could hear the Templiks yell over their heads as their heavy booted feet pounded by.

When at last it had gone eerily quiet, Calsa realized her face was wet. She leaned her head against the Ha'trin, her sobs so fierce she thought surely she would suffocate, and truthfully at that moment she wished for it. She felt the Ha'trin put his arms around her, holding her close as she wept against the chest plate he still wore. She didn't know how long they stayed there as she cried, but the Ha'trin said nothing. He made no signs of impatience. He just held her calmly, held her until at last she had no tears left. He looked down at her when she gave a shuddering sigh, making sure she was done before reaching up and pushing the small trap door open.

Easily, he pulled himself out of the hole, turning to help her out. She was so weak that she had almost no strength to even lift her arm to him. Hauling her out, he wordlessly helped her get out of the heavy armor before she collapsed. After shedding his own, he placed all the pieces into the hole before closing the door and making certain it was well hidden. Then he turned back to Calsa. "I'll take you to the next town, hopefully you can start a new life there, maybe find another group of orphans. No one saw your face so you should be safe."

Too weak to argue, her throat too dry to say anything anyways, she nodded and followed him slowly. The day was already late, so they didn't go too far before the Ha'trin stopped them and got about making a small camp. He didn't make a fire, saying it would attract any Templiks that were still out looking for them. Instead he gathered moss and leaves, creating a small bed for Calsa. Even though she was exhausted, the image of her brother's face, twisted in agony, flashed brightly behind her eyelids. Finally she turned to her side and looked at the Ha'trin. He stared up at the sky, sitting with an arm draped over a knee.

"Why did you tell me you were Ha'tinre?" Her voice was hushed, strained from her still swollen throat.

He looked down at her. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. Most people don't fear the Ha'trin. They consider us heros."

"Aren't you suppose to be?"

He scoffed. "Hardly. We just don't share the Ha'tinre's sense of dishonesty, betrayal, and opession of the weak. That hardly makes us heros."

Calsa didn't press that. She didn't feel like arguing. "Why did you become a Ha'trin?"

He raised a brow at her. "My father was one. Died fighting the Ha'tinre. I decided I wanted to join and carry on in his name. At first it was for revenge, but amongst the Ha'trin there is no such concept. Revenge only makes you lose sight of what's truly important in life. If you spend your life trying to get back at those who do you wrong, you don't have much of a life."

"I guess." Calsa sighed.

The Ha'trin stood. "I'll be back in a moment. I hear a stream nearby. I'll get us some water." He vanished into the dark brush. For the first time in her life, Calsa felt afraid to be left alone. Everyone she had ever cared about was gone. The Ha'trin was the only person who she even knew anymore. She sat up, looking around in the darkness.

She was about to stand and go out after the Ha'trin when he emerged from the brush again. He held out the waterskin to her. "Drink. We have a long day tomorrow."

Without hesitation, not thinking about his choice of words, she drank thirstily, nearly finishing the waterskin. She barely had enough time to put the skin down and lay back onto the bed of leaves and moss before the tasteless potion took affect.

*************************************

It took her awhile to wake. She could feel the Ha'trin nudge her, but she didn't want to open her eyes. "Wake up, we need to get moving. Port Lezlan is a full day's walk."

Finally Calsa opened her eyes and looked up at him. He offered his hand to help her stand. Pulling her to her feet, he quickly got rid of any evidence of the camp, kicking the leaves around. Then he handed her a large strip of jerky he had in one of his many pouchs and headed off.

Calsa followed without a word for many hours. Around midday, they came to a road, paved and smooth. A wagon creaked by, pulled by a large, shaggy beast. The Ha'trin began to follow the road heading northwest. After another hour of silence, Calsa finally drew closer to him.

"How did you feel when you lost your father?"

He looked down at her. "Probably the same way you do."

She looked to her feet. "How did you deal with it?"

"I joined the Ha'trin. I learned to accept his death and how to honor his memory while still moving on with my own life."

"How did they teach you that?"

He stopped suddenly. She nearly ran into him. Turning, he put a hand on her shoulder. "Grieving is natural, there's no way around it. But do you think he would want you to spend more than a day or two lost in the memory of his death? Or do you think he'd rather you think of all the good times, carry those in your heart and let those memories guide you and help you grow?"

She blinked. Then she looked down at her feet, shrugging. She didn't know what to say to that. The Ha'trin turned and continued walking. As they went, Calsa's mind raced. She finally got up close to him again. "I want to be like you."

"What?" He suddenly turned to look at her.

"I want to be a Ha'trin."

He realized he had to fight an urge to hold her close and tell her everything would be alright. She looked so lost in that moment. But he steeled himself and shook his head, continuing the journey. "Not going to happen."

"Why?" Calsa ran ahead of him and stopped in front of him, making herself into a barrier.

"Because, there are no women in the Ha'trin." He continued past her without stopping.

"Is it a rule?" She hurried after him.

"No, it's just that no woman in a thousand years has passed the final test."

"Then I'll be the first!" He had to stop again to glare at her.

"You are not going with me. I only said I'll take you to the next town and that's it. I won't put my status on the line for you." He continued again. "Besides, once you started training you'd want to stop and go back to your old life and I don't want to waste my time...."

"No!" She stood before him again. "I'll go through your training! All of it! Whatever it takes. I want to become one." She crossed her arms. Glowering at her, he didn't say anything. He just kept walking.

As they went, Calsa could smell a change in the air. The weather cooled down and there was a stronger breeze blowing. Loud birds flew overhead. The sun was bright and fiery by the time they got over a hill and looked down on a large, busy port town.

As they drew close, the Ha'trin started to speed up. "This will be your new home. I'm catching a boat back to where I belong."

"I'm not staying here...."

"Fine, go where you like, but you're not coming with me." He didn't look back at her as he headed toward the docks.

"You can't get rid of me so easily! I've made up my mind!"

The Ha'trin scoffed, looking down a street as he picked up his pace again. "You're a much easier pest to be rid of than you think."

Calsa was about to retort when a cart made her have to stop and dodge. She hurried around it, a scathing remark on her tongue. But there was no Ha'trin to hear it.

*****************************************************

He leaned back against the barrels in the hold of the large cargo ship. The captain was an ally to the Ha'trin, and he had been delaying his run until he'd returned from his mission. With only the creaking of the ship's hull and the gentle sloshing sounds of both the ocean and the barrels of Templik wine, his mind went back to the last few days. He felt a little regret for leaving the girl behind. But he figured it was for the best.

It wasn't an hour later that he heard a scuffle up on the deck. He could hear raised voices, but he couldn't understand them. Leaping to his feet, he climbed the ladder up onto the deck to see what was going on. He was able to snag a sailor who rushed by toward the group on the port side. "What's going on?"

"Stowaway. We toss 'em in the water for the beasties down there. Dumb kids, they always think they can get a free ride."

The Ha'trin then heard the one voice he had been hoping he'd left behind. He gave a little groan as he strode over to the group.

"You'll be sorry if you don't let me go!" Calsa struggled desperately against the two large sailors holding her arms, about ready to toss her into the water.

"You, boy, made a grave mistake. And you'll pay for it like all the rest of the stowaways." The second in command pointed his sword down toward the water. "I hope you can swim."

"Throwing him in the water would be a grave mistake." The commander turned and looked at the Ha'trin.

"Why's that?" he sneered.

"Because that just so happens to be my apprentice and his test was getting onto the ship undetected. Obviously, we'll need to do some more training, though it wasn't a bad start." He waved his hand nonchalantly.

Sneering, the sailors released Calsa, giving her a shove toward the Ha'trin. She stumbled over to him, glaring back at them as she adjusted her clothing.

"I'll have a talk with the captain about this, mark my words!" The commander stomped off toward the captain's quarters.

Without hesitation, the Ha'trin grabbed Calsa's arm and pushed her toward the ladder. "Get down there," he hissed at her.

Glaring at him, she nonetheless obeyed. He followed after her, turning on her when they were out of earshot of the sailors up on deck. "How the hell did you find me?"

"It wasn't that hard. I asked around the dock. No one had seen you. So I figured you hadn't gotten on a ship yet. I spent the night behind some crates and in the early morning, stalked around on the rooftops overlooking the docks. You weren't hard to miss, you have a certain walk." She spoke haughtily, as if she'd outsmarted him.

"You do realize you're stupid and stubborn and probably just signed your death warrant?"

She crossed her arms again. "I doubt that! I can handle anything you wanna throw at me. I'll go through the training, I'll pass the test, and then I'll become a Ha'trin."

"You really want this, do you?" He narrowed his eyes. She nodded vigorously. "Once you start, it's either finish it all or die. You sure this is really what you want?"

"How many times do I have to say yes?" she growled.

And then she found herself on the ground, the side of her face throbbing. She looked up at him in surprise. "Very well. Then you'll need to learn the rules. And the first rule is holding your tongue with me!"

"Alt! What's this about a stowaway apprentice?" The captain came down the ladder, glancing over his shoulder at the two.

The Ha'trin turned. "My apologies. It's a long, unnessacary story." He seemed like he was about to reach into his pouch when a thought crossed his mind. "Do you think my 'apprentice' could... help around the ship?" The captain raised a brow. "I think some good hard, honest labor will teach him a lot in the ways of being humble and thankful for what he has." Calsa glared at him, grinding her teeth, but held her tongue.

The captain shrugged. "It might put some muscle on him, too. C'mon, boy. What's your name?"

After a second of glowering at her new teacher some more, she turned and stomped after the captain. "Cal."

*****************************************************

The trip had taken several days. Overhead, the occassional roar as an air ship went by, though those were reserved for the Templiks and the Red Guard. Calsa worked long and hard. Everyday she was sore. Her hands were torn and burned from holding rope. Her knees ached from scrubbing the floors.

At last, they reached another port and the two departed. Following slowly, Calsa winced with each step. She had managed to scrounge some rags which she had wrapped around her hands. At first she thought her "Master" would tell her no, but he hadn't made any comment about her bandaging herself.

She followed as he walked out toward the edge of the town, coming to a large pasture. Down the dirt road was a large barn, and near it was a house. The Ha'trin spoke to a man inside. Calsa stood back, looking about at the various riding beasts. Most weren't native to the planet.

"C'mon, Cal. My tabis has been waiting. We still have another day of riding to do."

"Yes, Master Alt," she grumbled. She followed after him as he went out into the pasture and gave a shrill whistle. A large, six legged beast ran toward him, a thick mane covering a long, graceful neck. Square ears stuck out of the tangle of fur, while the long muzzle housed a pair of large tusks that jutted out. The beast snorted as it felt its master's hand. Alt spoke to it for a moment before finding all his riding gear in the barn.

"Do you know how to saddle a tabis?" He turned to Calsa.

"No. I've never seen one before." She looked the beast up and down.

"Good, then you'll learn something new today." He suddenly dropped the heavy saddle into her aching arms.

It took her a while, having to follow Alt's instructions, but she finally managed to get the saddle strapped on properly, and the bridle over the creature's head. All the while it stood patiently. As Alt swung up into the saddle, the leather creaking, he turned to hold out his hand to Calsa. "You're lucky she's so well trained. Most of our tabi are more feral than not. When the time comes, you'll have to break one in."

"Great," she mumbled to herself as she swung up behind him. Alt turned his head to give her a narrow eyed look as he spurred the beast into a canter.

The day carried on, the sun beating down on them. It wasn't until Alt shifted abruptly that Calsa realized that she'd fallen asleep, leaning lightly against his back. She sat bolt upright in the saddle, nearly losing her own balance. She blinked a few times, noticing it was dusk. She had been so exhausted from the long boat ride and barely getting any sleep. As she looked about, taking in the strange new surroundings, the glitter of a small village caught her eye through the trees.

No sooner had she seen it than she heard Alt give out a shrill bird call, pulling his beast to a halt. It snorted and stomped its foremost leg. Out of the trees, shadows seemed to melt into existance. Four Ha'trin, wrapped in black cloth, approached. One of them saluted. "Alt! Grand Master Sanlis has been eagerly awaiting your return." Then Calsa felt eye turn to her and she shrank back against Alt. The crossbows the Ha'trin carried were most intimidating. "Who is it that you bring into our home?"

"My new apprentice, Sanlis willing. Now if you excuse me, I wish to tell Sanlis of my success. Sharp eyes, my brothers." Alt spurred the tabis into a trot without waiting for the others to reply.

After they had left earshot, Alt turned slightly in the saddle. "You will not speak unless directly spoken to. Grand Master Sanlis will be the one who decides if you're worthy to be a Ha'trin, to even go through our training."

"And if he doesn't like me?" she looked into his eyes. He did not meet her gaze.

"You won't be leaving here." He turned straight in the saddle, and they rode into the village in silence.

Dismounting before a large building, Alt removed the bridle from the tabis and let it trot off toward the outskirts of the village where there were sounds of other tabi grunting and clacking their tusks together. He then motioned for Calsa to follow him into the building. "Wait out here until I call you in. Don't touch anything. And remember," he put his finger before her face in warning, "hold that tongue of yours or you may not have it long." She bowed her head, but he saw the deadly glare she gave him under heavy lids. He knew that if he wasn't careful, she'd might very well slit his throat in the night. A trait better suited for the Ha'tinre. Hopefully with some care, she'd lose the hatred in her heart.

Standing in the large, luxuriously furnished waiting room, Calsa peered around at the decorations. The finest in craftsmanship. Silks from across the ocean. Wooden carvings from other worlds. The Ha'trin were obviously well off.

"Cal!" She jumped slightly, then rushed over, entering the large office room. A table made of exotic wood sat in the middle of the room, the walls of the room covered in shelves that were ladden with books and scrolls. Alt put his large hand on her shoulder, gripping her tight with warning. She had to force and sneer off her face as he turned, shoving her forward to present her to an older man. He was well dressed, well groomed, his skin the bronze of one that had been outside a lot. The wrinkles on hsi face hardly made him seem elderly, but rather wise. His grey eyes gazed down at her sternly.

"Well then. This here is the boy, eh?" His deep gravelly voice seemed almost disapproving. Alt nodded to the Grand Master. He raised a greying brow. "Are you sure about this, Cal? Once you start, it's do or die."

"There's nothing left to live for, sir. It's either this or death anyways." She saw his lidded eyes widen slightly at her response. He pursed his lips for a moment, before looking up to Alt.

"Very well. Might want to put some meat on his bones first, though. But you are welcomed to our clan. Obey Master Alt completely, and perhaps in a few years you will be ready for the final ritual." He nodded to Alt, who saluted the Grand Master. He then turned Calsa around and pushed her ahead of himself.

Once they were outside, Alt turned her abruptly. She glared up at him. "He asked me so I answered!" she growled at him, expecting him to chide her over it. He shook his head, his face hard, his gaze piercing.

"First of all, you will speak to me with respect. No excuses for anything. And secondly, this whole attitude has to go. If you are so mad at the world, perhaps I should send you to the Ha'tinre. They would love the hate you have for everyone."

"I hate them," she snarled.

"Then why do you treat everyone like them?" Calsa blinked. Alt nodded. "There is no revenge amongst the Ha'trin. There is no hate. It only clouds one's judgement. Sometimes, anger can give us strength greater than what we are normally capable of, but it is rare and must be tempered. If you glare at me one more time, or give me some snib remark, I will make sure you are too sore to think of hating, because hatred takes thought and effort. And remember, I told him you are a boy of 10 years. That should give you enough time to finish your training and pass the final ritual and then it won't matter you're female, you'll be Ha'trin."

She looked at him in surpise. "You think I will pass?"

"I told you to lose the attitude, not the determination." He turned and started heading toward his house.

She sneered behind him, muttering so he could just barely hear her. "They come as a packaged deal."

He smirked, picking up his pace. "Then you will be very sore indeed."

******************************************************************************************************************

He wasn't lying. A year had passed, and Calsa was sore each day of the whole year. He worked her hard. Cleaning weapons, running errands, worthless, mineal tasks that she felt were leading her nowhere. Sure, she had gotten stronger. But that hardly made up for the crap Alt put her through. The meals she ate were certainly nothing she ever complained about. And she had a real bed to sleep in, a warm home. She slept in the same room as Alt, but he smartly gave her her privacy.

As Calsa swept the stoop of the small cabin, she heard some footsteps running toward her. She looked over her shoulder to see the other training Ha'trin boys jogging around the village. They had real training. They worked on learning to fight, not doing house chores. With a sigh, she turned back to her task only to jump back in surprise. Alt leaned against the door frame, his eyebrow raised at her. She fought down a sneer. "When will I get to learn to fight like them, Master Alt?" He could still hear the edge of contempt in her voice, but he had learned it would never go away.

"You want to fight like them? Why?"

She looked up at him, suspicion obvious on her face. He often asked her loaded questions, catching her in contradictions and running her in mental circles, making her have to stop and think, to close up any loopholes in the things she thought about. She stood there, staring at him. She went through several things to say, but couldn't find anything she could say that he wouldn't have a retort for. Finally she shook her head. "Nevermind." She went back to sweeping.

"Right." Alt suddenly grabbed her broom, easily jerking it from her surprised fingers. He then tapped her on the top of her head with the handle. She jerked back, covering the area with her hands.

"What was that for?" She rubbed the spot, glaring at him.

"You want to fight?" He suddenly rapped the handle against her elbow, sending a shock of pain through her arm. She jumped back with a small cry. "Then learn to defend." He struck her a light blow across the temple. She tried to jump back again, but tripped and fell off the porch, tumbling to the ground. She heard the other boys start to laugh. They had heard the noise and came jogging back. Now they stood there laughing at her. "What's the matter, Cal? Have you lost your fighting spirit? What happened to that fierce attitude that could cut glass?" Alt stepped down off the porch, standing over her. She scrambled to her feet, glaring at him, haunched over like an animal. He suddenly swung out with the broom handle again. She lifted her arm to protect herself. She felt the vibration of contact go straight through her bone and she stumbled back even further, grabbing hold of her arm, nursing it.

Again the boys chuckled amongst themselves. Alt strutted after Calsa, a mocking grin on his face. In the one hand he held the broom like a sword, while the other he kept on his hip. "Is the fire dead?" Her pale blue eyes flicked up to him. Indeed they had seemed dull the past few months. But he could see something in there burning. He leaned foward, his face close to hers, his voice quiet for only her to hear. "You're nothing but a girl...."

In that moment, he saw the look a serpent has when it strikes. She lunged at him with an angry cry, swinging her arm in an attempt to hit him. Alt simply stepped back, swinging the broom handle and striking Calsa along the back. She stumbled, whipped around and leapt at him again. Again and again he countered her every wild attempt to get at him. Again and again he struck her another stinging blow until they all melted into one pain which she ignored. The anger in her burned, blinding her to anything but Alt, and her desire to make him regret humiliating her. The session went on for so long that even the other boys started to back away.

Alt had hardly broken a sweat. He continuously redirected her energy past him, tripping her, knocking her down, giving her a bruising tap with the broom handle. Stepping back again, he gave Calsa a sharp tap against her temple yet again, watching her stumble away, tripping on herself and tumbling into the dirt. At last she lay there, panting, looking up at the sky. Boredly, Alt looked down at his boot. "Whenever you stop laying around and decide to be productive, my boots could use a shining."

Stiffly, Calsa got to her feet, still panting. Alt's eyes flicked up to her. The look in her pale orbs surprised him. A clarity he had never seen in her before. She suddenly lunged at him again. With ease, Alt stepped to the side, swinging the broom handle. He blinked in surprise when Calsa twisted and caught the handle with her hands, falling to her back, jerking him toward her. The air was knocked from him as her foot shot up and got him sqaure in the stomach. He let go of the broom, backing away a few steps and bending over, coughing as he tried to get his breath back. Lunging to her feet again, Calsa glared at him.

"I wasn't done sweeping, Master Alt." She limped back to the porch, continuing where she had left off.

Alt looked up her and then laughed, standing up with some effort. He dusted himself off and glanced at the boys that were still standing there, slack jawed. "Want me to tell your Teachers you're just standing around? Now you better do twice as many laps to make up for all the time you been standing there. Get!" The boys all twisted on their heels and jogged off.

As they rounded the corner and were out of sight, Alt turned in time to see Calsa collapse. He was at her side in a few hopping strides, quickly dragging her into the house so no one would see her moment of weakness. Her pride was not something he intended to break just yet. That would follow soon enough if she really had learned the lesson he had just been trying to teach her. He lifted her and put her into her own bed. He left a moment to get a bowl of cold water, a rag and a special salve for all the swelling and bruises he had caused. When he came back into the room, Calsa was sitting up, her shirt off as she examined her injuries. Alt had to turn his eyes away even though her breasts, which had started to grow with her better diet, were tightly bound to keep the illusion of a flat chest.

He came in and placed the items on the small table that was between their beds. She glared at him. "Why did you do that?"

Looking up at her, he pursed his lips. He dipped the rag in the bowl, wringing it out and dabbing it against the exposed skin of her chest and along her shoulders. "You said you wanted to learn to fight." He gently wiped the dirt from her face, assessing the swelling along her forehead and temples, the bruise darkening on her cheek. "I was trying to show you that there is no fighting without defending. If you cannot defend, you can only die. Imagine if that was a sword. The first hit would have killed you." He began to apply the thick, cool salve to her bruises. "I was also trying to show you what I have told you many times. Anger clouds our minds. Sure, it gives us strength, as you demonstrated beautifully for the other boys, but as you also noticed, at the end, when you put the anger aside for a moment, assessed the situation clearly, you saw a weakness and was able to use it to your advantage. In one day I'd say you've learned a lot more than any of those boys have in the year they've been jogging around the village, learning to beat each other with sticks."

"You didn't need to beat me in front of them." She turned away from him, wincing as he smeared the salve on her cheek.

"The more I bruise your ego, the more you'll realize it's worthless, serves you no good, and the more you'll work to get rid of it." As he turned back to her after reaching for some more salve, he noticed a look in her eyes he hadn't seen before. Something inside her was aching. He knew that ever since the day her brother had died, she had looked to him as his replacement, a shelter in the storm of the world. It immediately clicked in his head to drop "in front of them" from her statement. He suddenly bent down and kissed Calsa on the top of her head where he had first struck her. She looked up at him in surprise. "I kissed it. Does it make it feel better?"

She breathed heavily, hiding a laugh in a snort. "That's not the one that hurts. But I'm tough. I'll sruvive."

Alt smeared the salve over her nose. "If you weren't, I never would have put my neck on the line for you." Wiping his hand, he turned and headed out the door. He needed to take a moment to breathe. She spoke the truth. She was tough, but she was also vulnerable. It was that part of her he wanted to hold, to reassure. She hid it well enough, but he could tell that she had never healed right emotionally. She purposely stayed away from the other boys, afraid that in their roughhousing they might find her out. She had no friends here, and it wasn't healthy for her.

"I heard you gave Cal quite the beating." Alt turned. He had not heard Sanlis come up behind him, but that was no surprise. Sanlis was old, but he was still the leader of the clan for a reason.

"He wanted to learn to fight." Alt looked back out at the tabi that were grazing peacefully in the field.

Sanlis came up to him and slapped Alt on the opposite shoulder, putting his arm around the younger man. "You know, after your father died and I took you in under my wing, you have never been good at hiding anything from me." Alt glanced at his old teacher. "I became like your father. I see the same thing happening here. I also know there's quite a bit more going on. And the sooner you get it off your chest, the sooner it'll stop tormenting you." Alt let out the breath he had been holding in as a sigh. "Do you think you're the first to bring a girl here?"

Alt suddenly turned to Sanlis. "When did you know?"

Sanlis chuckled deeply. "From the start. The way you acted made it obvious."

"Then why...?"

"I let you take her as your apprentice because I saw that she was lost. If nothing else, I figured you'd help her get things together, teach her to walk with clarity in her soul, not the burning hatred that has been seething in her. You told me she had lost all her family, everything she had ever known. If I had turned her away, she likely would be out there training under the Ha'tinre. We can afford no more enermies. We are close to driving the Templiks off this world, all that thwarts us are the Ha'tinre." He glanced at Alt before looking back out to the field. "I honestly doubted she'd make it as long as she has."

"You will let her take the final ritual?" Alt prayed that Sanlis would continue his generous nature that far.

The old man appeared thoughtful for a moment. He then looked to his ex-student. "She probably won't pass. But if you have that kind of faith in her, then I will."

Alt relaxed visibly. Sanlis gave him a fond slap on his shoulder. "You don't have to tell anyone else if you don't want to. I just hope that you know what it is you put your faith into. No woman has passed the final ritual for over a thousand years for a reason."

Alt straightened, looking his clan leader in the eye. "I have faith in myself to train her right. And I think for her own good, it should stay secret."

Sanlis nodded and turned, walking away silently.