Chapter the Second: Swords of our Fathers
#2 of A Stage of Destinies
Laughter rang out across the village as children cavorted near the vacancy at the edge of the market. Young fox boys ran circles around each other, whooping and swinging sticks, or tiny wooden swords. Some wrestled and fought the way children often do when given time to themselves. Most of the little girls sat to the side tending to various accoutrements of childhood: dolls, weavings, gossip etc. Things that they would be expected to know in womanhood. Others joined the lads in their games of war and hunting, yipping loudly at their little blows, and returning them in earnest.
Some ways off, a few of the men of the village watched, themselves chuckling at the little ones antics. Mostly, they were there to note the strongest. This was the way of the Beduin. Watching the children was the way that the elder members of the community divined the future. It would let them know who would be the next caste of warrior leaders, who would serve them, and what mates they would be arranged when the strange changing of life came on them. For now, they simply let them play.
Sedric of Beduin Born watched with his friends as the boys and girls pantomimed their elders in matters of hunting, war, and politics. It warmed his heart in a way that few spectacles were capable of. "That boy of yours is a beast", said one of his peers. "He's likely to take the place of Eric, ruling us in our old age." The men chuckled amongst themselves at the prospect and potential of their proud offspring.
"But who will rule him?" came a sweet voice in jest. The yellow-crested heads of the men turned to take in the source of the comment: the sweet faced vixen, Atoly. She stood with her general look of coy amusement with a basket of vegetables under one arm. Sedric grinned, and wrapped one powerful arm around his mate. He kissed her sweetly, and rested his chin on the crown of her head.
"I've been thinking Corinth" he said brightly. "Just look at her." He stepped to the side, and pointed the girl out of the crowd. It wasn't difficult to spot the vixen, for at the moment she stood triumphantly over one of the boys with her mock-weapon raised for a death blow. The boy whimpered and held his head struggling not to cry, or show weakness in defeat. This was the way of the Beduin, and one who could not do it would have little clout in adulthood. "A beautiful child" he said in a stately manner, "Not a flaw on her. She's strong, caring, quick, and very temperate in her humors. That is rare amongst the girls who take up the sword as she has, usually they are fitful, and far too eager to prove out to truly excel."
"She is a pretty girl" Atoly quipped, "and will likely be strong enough to stand beside men at arms, but is she strong enough to handle being a woman?" This was a serious question. A woman of the Beduin was expected to bear strong children, and keep the temper of her man in check as to not let them fall to wickedness. Oftentimes this meant sacrificing personal goals, especially those in the vein of battlefield glory. There is no room in the warrior's ranks for children, or pregnant women.
"Strong enough, I'd wager. She has a strong sense of duty that child, and more responsibility than most women your age. Smart little thing." Atoly smiled. She watched the little ones with earnest enjoyment. Their little plays and antics were more entertainment than one commonly received in the small, simple village. "Oh" Sedric continued, "Look here. This will be interesting."
Across the little field Corinth had felled another young man, but her 'death blow' was deflected by the wood of a comrade. She stepped back, and squared herself to defend as Adrian fell on her with vengeance for his friend. Splinters flew off of their weapons as they clashed, and the children cheered for whomever they hoped to be the victor.
Their little epic battle only lasted a few moments, and Adrian dashed his shoulder against the vixen's chest throwing her to the ground. She fell across a few rocks, and yelped as her cheek struck one. Adrian raised his weapon to strike her, but paused as she checked her sore head for blood. He bent to one knee, and asked weakly if she was hurt. Tiny crimson drops fell from her temple to her shoulder as she whipped around and struck him in the muzzle with the handle of her weapon.
The shocked boy-kit stumbled back in surprise as his nose burst in blood, and a strong anger welled up in him. "Hag!" he yelped, "I was trying to help you!" A loud crack sounded as her weapon struck him squarely in the head, and he looked dumb for a moment. His vision blurred, and he stumbled once more. "And I killed you!" yelped Corinth.
"I'll kill you!" the boy shrieked teary eyed, and as fury filled him he leapt for her with tooth and claw. Her eyes widened at his ferocity, but she readied her stick and prepared to defend herself.
Adrian's leap stopped midair, and confusion settled on him for a brief moment. An instant of dawning came on him, and he looked up into the stern, judgmental face of his father. The boy shrank back from his fierce eyes, and curled up under his grasp. Adrian realized that the vixen also had been snagged, and she was quickly reconsidering fighting back as well. Sedric held the kits by their hair, and forced them to look him in the face.
"That was a good fight" he said, "but this one is not. Adrian, you won. Why didn't you finish her off?" He looked inquisitively at his son, and waited for his answer. Adrian wasn't sure what to say at first, but then he decided. He didn't like telling on other children, but since he wouldn't be allowed to claw her, he'd do the next best thing.
"She fell" he said proudly, "I tried to help her. You're supposed to help girls when they get hurt. She cheated and tricked me by hitting me when I was trying to make sure she was fine." Sedric considered this for a moment with a stern look on his face.
"So then, Corinth, Daughter of Eldreth" he pressed, "why did you strike him so viciously when he was trying to help you?" She looked sheepishly at him for a second, then took a deep breath and put on a face of bravery.
"He offered no mercy, and I asked for none" she said proudly. "A proper warrior fights until dead. Daddy says the sword doesn't leave a Beduin's hand until the shores of Urcain are firmly under his feet." Sedric considered the children's arguments carefuly, then wrapped both of them sharply on the back of the head.
"A warrior doesn't stop for an enemy who hasn't begged mercy, or dropped his weapon boy!" he said sternly. The children whined and rubbed their heads as they stung from his wrap. "And a game shouldn't carry into bloodshed. Know when you're beaten, and surrender girl. There is a difference between fighting for glory, and fighting for pride."
Adrian frowned indignantly, and Corinth glanced at the man with a look of shame. "I'm sorry, Adrian" she said quietly, "I thought I was doing the right thing."
Adrian looked up at his father, and read the gravity in his glare. "I'm sorry too. I let my temper get away from me. I shouldn't have lowered my guard. I lost the fight, Corinth." Sedric smiled as pride welled in his heart. Fine, fine children these were. These would be children that speak pride for the lineage, and promise a strong future for a strong people.
"Then all is forgiven, and you can return to play." The warrior's thick chest relaxed and he smiled at the kits. "Corinth, do you fancy yourself a warrior?" he asked, looking to the girl and scrutinizing her reaction. She thought for a moment, and looked up at him.
"Not so much, my lord. I helped mama butcher some lizards a few times, and it made me sad. I don't think that I would like to really cut someone." He lifted an eyebrow, and pondered the vixen's response. "I do love the sword though" she continued, "and papa says I'm far too talented to put it down, so I fancy to learn war so I can teach it." Sedric smiled beamingly at her.
"A noble endeavor" he said in a stately tone, "one that does honor on your parents. When a man desires you, no price he'll pay will come close to the prize he'll receive for it." He patted her on the shoulder, and briefly contemplated what her father would want in exchange for her. Then, he smiled at his son, and ruffled his hair.
"Look at you boy, a bloody mess, and knotty headed, but still ready to fight!" He lifted Adrian off the ground, and flipped him upside down. The kit shrieked with delight, and squirmed against his father's powerful arms. Sedric spun him around and pinned him on the grass as his boy hissed, and scratched at his arms. "The true spirit of a warrior is in you! You'll be as fine a man as your father one day." Adrian squealed as his father tickled and prodded him, his robust laughter echoing through the hills around. In a few moments, he would leave his son to play with the other children and attend to business. He'd need to speak to Eldreth on the matter of his daughter's marriage. Many strong men would have their eyes on her to glorify their son's lineage, and he hoped that he was early enough to make a proper suit. Another issue would be whether Eldreth considered his line worthy of his daughter, but that was for Eldreth, and his wife to worry about, not Sedric. Self doubt, and defeatism has no place in the heart or mind of one of Beduin born.
Trees swayed lazily back and forth as two figures crept quietly through the hills over looking the Beduin village. A large, muscular tiger man in the garb of a trapper peered through the over grown grass down at the settlement. "There it is son" he said to the much smaller cub to his right. "That is the city we'll burn tomorrow."
The little boy looked down over the buildings and tiny people in the distance. It seemed very similar to his village, with the exception of architecture. "Why do we war with the Beduin foxes, father?" the boy inquired genuinely. His father glared down at him, almost disgustedly.
"I thought I had put more sense in you than that", said Kalafax. "You answered your question in your statement." His ears flattened back against his head, and he looked over the valley with seething disgust. "Look at them" he said. "They can't even build proper buildings. They have all of this rich farmland, and they won't let tigers so much as sniff at it." He scanned the horizon, and tested the breeze for scents. "The fact that they're foxes should be enough for you to kill them" he continued. "Or perhaps you have forgotten that your grandfather was slain when the Sherftii warred with the Beduin twenty winters past?"
Couric considered his father's words. He had never known his grandfather, but he loved his father dearly. He had to assume Grandfather was as dear to his dad.
"Look down there son." Kalafax gestured out over the wide, sweeping valley where the trees had been cleared for farmland, and grazing. "Isn't it beautiful? This is a remarkable country, blessed with the spirit of the living earth. Bountiful crops, fat animals, plenty of clean water, why the sun seems to shine with more fervor here than in other places, like it does in our fields. You can tell this forest is healthy as well. Smell the ferns, the flowers, and the fungus in the air? Rarely is it mixed with decay, or death."
Couric did as he was asked. A sort of peace came over him. Serenity coursed through his young mind as oneness with nature connected him to all he saw and heard. He smiled brightly, as did his father, and the moment stretched. Suddenly, his father's face went grim. "But there is something else here, too. Can you feel it?" Couric thought for a long time, and tried very hard but he could not. "It is much harder to hear. You must listen for the voice of Dalma, the all merciful goddess of earthly fertility, and life. She is sad here, son. Can you feel it now?"
The cub closed his eyes and listened for the lament of Dalma. He tried to understand what could make her sad, or what she would be saying about it. He wasn't sure he understood. "There is a voice on the wind" his father said, "Look on my splendor! See how I have provided this land! I am glorious nature, and I have for you the gift of plant, and meat, water, and wood. Oh! But what a shame...what a shame that I should go to such work to make a land that is so beautiful to tigers...only to have it ravaged by sniveling, worthless foxes."
His view of the world returned as Couric's eyes opened. He was beginning to understand. "So the foxes are bad? They hurt the goddess?"
"They hurt her feelings very deeply. She goes to all this trouble for us, and they selfishly horde it. Have you asked yourself what good a fox is? They are worthless! All they do is farm, and hunt, and fight for other foxes! They don't care a dray's shit for tigers. They just keep taking, and making more foxes. They don't even build proper houses with the wood they take. How must that make Dalma feel?" Couric felt sad for his goddess. "The poor lady, she can't do anything about it because Dalma cannot destroy, no matter how hard she tries. That is the realm of her sister, Nikta. Nikta on the other hand loves foxes. She is one, herself, you know. The god's brothers and sisters can be of other stripes you see."
Couric's understanding grew. They weren't tigers, and how dare they make such a beautiful country feel bad? It just didn't make sense to him. "So you're going to take the land, and kill their men?" he asked.
"Not quite" Kalafax replied. "When we conquered the Talfis, we took their women, and they young because they could make good servants, and wives. That is because the Talfis are lions, and we can breed with them. In time, they will breed out to tigers and we will be brothers in peace. There can be no peace with foxes, son. What can you breed on a fox woman, but nothing? Maybe some kind of hideous monster! Besides, these are Beduin. They'll die before becoming slaves, because they are selfish, proud, and evil. They don't understand their place in the world of tigers. No son, the Beduin must be killed to the last man, woman and child. That is why this village will burn."
"Will I be able to watch?" the cub asked hopefully. He wanted to see the tiger's vengeance for the beautiful Dalma. Those damned Beduin, he thought to himself, and hate rose in his heart. I hope father crushes their every skull into dust!
"No son" his father said, "Yellow crowned foxes are especially vicious, and ruthless. They won't spare even a baby like you just because you are not a fox. That is how selfish they are." He took note of his son's disappointment. "Don't worry" he said, "prisoners will be taken back to the village for sacrifice to please pretty Dalma, so you will be able to watch the last of them die."
Kalafax smiled at his son. He might be slow sometimes, but he always tried very hard to grasp and take his father's lessons to heart. He could already see the righteous fury building in his cub. If a Beduin still stands when he grows to manhood, surely it will die under his boot, the trapper thought to himself with pride. "Come now" he said, grinning, "let's get home before some fox calls his cowardly warriors out to swarm us."
Adrian nursed his throbbing head. He hadn't even gone out to play today. Already it was time for supper. The sun was setting, and his mother and sisters toiled in the kitchen putting down the finishing touches. His father sat by the fire with Eldreth the warrior. They were talking like close friends, and sharing a brandy as they polished their weapons and nursed the soreness of the days exercise and work.
Tight blankets held fast by belts fastened in practiced method muted the sound of armor, and skilled feet moved silently towards the streets of the village. Many others were in various places around the valley. No sound was spoken but rather all signals were given by hand, or the flash of a mirror in the moonlight.
Corinth sat beside Adrian, and smiled. "My husband has been decided" she said. Adrian was a little surprised. She was already betrothed? Someone must have really been desperate to have his son set to her to do it so young. Or maybe the two of them had grown older than he realized. "To whom?" he queried.
An opened palmed gesture, a few quick points, and more soldiers moved towards carefully chosen destinations. Very soon the assault would begin, and vast amounts of fox blood would sate the thirst of the angry ground this night. Nerves were tense as tigers of various stripes and lion slaves made their way throughout the settlement. Beduin were notoriously strong and ruthless warriors. Even with the advantage of surprise and superior numbers worry was still high.
"I don't know" she said. "They say I don't need to know just yet, and that I should continue to enjoy having nothing to do for a while." Adrian nodded. Sometimes he wished he had less to do, but he had to learn his father's trade. That meant long hours of hunting, negotiating prices, and tanning the acquired lizard-hides for market. Aside from that, every healthy male kit was expected to learn the sword, the spear, and the bow. Girls only had to learn swords and knives in the most basic sense, unless they had some personal desire to master anything further. Every Beduin was a trained warrior. Those who do not learn the sword can still die to one their saying went.
...
Atoly stepped happily into the room with her daughters following. "Come to feed your selves, warriors!" she said happily as she set the large tray on the table.
...
Kalafax glared at his brothers, and they their friends. In the distance, keen tiger eyes could see the last men moving into place.
...
Edreth smiled, and sat down next to his beautiful daughter. He was filled with pride that such a strong house produced the boy who she would take care of in her womanhood.
...
Cloth-wrapped hobnails settled into place. Some stirring was heard, and a fox-man came to infestigate.
...
Sedric offered prayers to Clovis, god of Righteous battle begging that no conflict they fight be unjust, and that fortune smile on their families.
...
Hands gripped the mighty Beduin blacksmith, stifling his cries of warning. Steel pressed its deadly length in and out of his belly until he fell still.
...
Corinth smiled, and laughed as she threw a small vegetable at Adrian. He vows before Clovis to make her vegetable pay before smashing it.
...
More men die quietly, and a woman screams. Her throat silences as sharpened metal separates it. The village is stirring.
...
The women and children laugh heartily at the kit's playfulness, but the men fall silent and grave. Something is wrong...they can sense it. An uneasy gaze passes between them and a nod confirms their simultaneous worry.
...
It begins. Loud alarums sound one after another. Men at arms jump screaming into action, battering down doors and flooding over the village. The first to fall are the remote farm houses. There are waves of soldiers placed to capture the fleeing. The village is a different story.
Sedric and Elbreth leap from the table so quickly they upset their drinks and chairs. There is no time for armor, only weapons. Sedric pauses at the door, and kisses Atoly passionately before springing out into combat. There are no screams in the house, only worried glances. Elsewhere in the village there are screams, but they herald death knells, not fear. Atoly ran to a cabinet after bolting the door, and flings it open. "Arm!" she cries, and begins tossing swords on the floor. Every man, woman and child will fight this evening, for they have no illusions about the mercy of their attackers.
Swords clash and sinews pop as tempered steel cuts flesh and bone. Bodies fall to the ground in ruined heaps, either mercifully dead, or convulsing in miserable death throws. The stink of blood and bowel fills the air as tiger and fox alike bleeds life in hot streams out over the groaning earth. Rage fills Sedric's eyes as he sees five tigers drag a young woman into the street, and slit her throat. His teeth bare and a scream of "Cowards!" escapes from his throat as he launches himself at the crowd like one possessed. Even with their numbers, he is imposing, and fear shakes his enemy.
Smoke begins to fill the house and Atoly gathers the young together. "We can't stay in any longer! We have to be brave, and fight, or we will burn! Out the back!" The lot of them begin to move, and Adrian's elder sister heads back into a sleeping room to retrieve her baby. She shrieks, and Atoly rushes to aid her. The room is already ablaze, apparently the start of the fire. There are no cries from inside, only the dull call of the fires satisfaction. Atoly grips her child, and tries to pull her away, but the vixen fights in maddened panic and throws her mother to the ground. A plea to wait is ignored, and Atoly watches in horror as her eldest runs screaming into the flames. In a moment, the screaming stops, and a grieving mother fox rushes to the door.
"Momma!" sounds a desperate cry at the front as the golden-haired vixen rounds the corner. Two tigers drag her younger daughter back into the house while tearing her close from her. The girl pulls a dagger from hiding and jams it into the thigh of her attacker, and he throws her to the ground in pain. His partner snarls in rage, and stomps heavily on the neck of Sedric's youngest daughter. Atoly rushes the tiger and runs her blade into his mouth and throat. He falls heavily, and she struggles to pull the weapon free of his corpse. Wrenching it out in an arch, she turns to face the wounded one. He leans against a wall, and smiles at her, baring the river of blood that flows from his leg. His eyes begin to glaze as she realizes what is happening. The knife opened his artery, and he was dying. Her daughter convulsed on the floor, shaking with the aftershocks of a broken neck. Her eyes stared ahead, wild and unseeing as vomit oozed out over the tongue that carelessly hung from her mouth. "I should have listened" the tiger chuckled, and Atoly turned back to him, as rage filled her. "The commander warned us about you Beduin women, and I didn't listen." His amusement turned slowly to tears as he felt the end coming. "Help" he whined pitifully, but there would be none this night. His breath slowly eased away as his heart emptied through his leg, and he cried no more.
The night was as bright as day to Adrian as he looked about in shock and horror. Everywhere he turned there were tigers, or lions. There didn't seem to be any mercy, but none was asked. Houses and stores blazed with brilliant embers painting the night a faint hue of orange and purple, and flames shot into the sky in burning tapers. He gripped Corinth's hand, and they fled towards the woods. Just a little bit further, and they'd be safe until father arrived. There was suddenly a great weight in his hand, as a sickening crunch sounded behind him. Adrian turned slowly to see a warrior drawing back a mace, and Corinth falling towards his tugging. He shrieked, and leapt at the tiger, burying his short sword hilt deep into the brute's stomach.
The mace fell from Kalafax' powerful paw, and a sensation of sinking overcame him. The brat has gutted me, his mind screamed, and he became aware of a gurgling in his throat that should have been a growl. All of his strength was pouring out of the thick gash as the kit yanked his weapon back. The warrior fell to his knees, and jerked off his helmet. He stared incredulously at the boy, as he squared up into a warrior's pose, the flames of a buildings destruction rising up behind him. "Even the babies" he said in surprise, "even the babies are demons! Son, don't you never forget em'. Their all demons, those foxes, and one has killed old Kalafax this night!" A bright silver arc cut through the flame-touched darknes as Adrian erupted in a falsetto of a war cry. The tiger's head fell next to his body, and the kit fell next to his best friend.
The boy lifted Corinth onto his knees, and turned her over. His eyes widened in mute terror as he brought her face into view. Kalafax' mace had completely destroyed the left side of her countenance. Blood was running freely from her nose, and orbit, and her eye hung by its thread outside of her splintered socket. One of her teeth actually protruded through her cheek, and dripped blood down her shoulder. Her body was terribly cold, and she was shaking slightly. sorrow welled in his eyes, as her remaining eye locked onto his. A tear welled in it, and she mumbled. "I wonder who I was going to marry" she slurred, and went limp.
Adrian gripped her tightly to his chest, and sobbed freely. Beduin warrior or not, he couldn't help it. His ears perked up at the sound of his mother's voice, and he looked up hopefully. Atoly loved him! She always made everything better, she could fix this because mommy could always fix anything. His eyes opened, and he realized why the sound in her voice was so fervent. A spear hung in the air aimed at his chest. His father was in the distance cutting down the weapon's owner. Everything seemed to slow till it barely moved. His mother's scream blended with the roar of the hungry fires, and the shouts of battle from all other directions to orchestrate a symphony of pure madness in his ears. Now was the end and he waited for it helplessly. Clovis, he prayed, let it be quick.
A gasp escaped Atoly's lips as her desperate leap carried her body into glorious selflessness. The pressure in her back let her know she had succeeded. Adrian's eyes stared motionless, as though he were some marble image of horror sculpted by the demented hand of a mad master sculptor. His mother was there, and she was making it all better. His mouth hung open, and the hot coppery taste of blood flooded it. She took the spear for me, he thought, and his eyes slowly lifted to Atoly's. She was shaking with pain, and blood was dripping from her mouth over his face. A distant, glazed look was in her eye, and she groped blindly for him.
"Oh, my boy" she said, gurgling on her blood, "By Clovis' blood, I'll save one of my children this night...My boy, where are you?" Tears flowed freely from his cheeks, as she groped blindly over his face. Slowly, she sank down into a slump, sitting limply on her knees before him.
"Mommy?"
He nudged her weakly, and a terrible fear welled in his chest. "Mommy, get up. Mommy! Please!" In the next instant, there was as strong arm around him. He screamed and pleaded for release, but it was useless. His father's iron grip hoisted him up and carried him away.
"Don't look at her boy!" he screamed, "Don't look or you'll never forget!" The world became a blur of panic and tears as his father carried him away from the bodies of his mother and his best friend, and he wailed in agony into the widely muscled chest of his last living relative. Sedric clamped his hand over his sons mouth, and ducked into a shed. Darkness covered them. "Shh, shh!" he cooed, "She'll hear you. Her soul is on the ocean of death, but if she knows you are still here, she'll look for you, and her spirit will never find the shores of Urcain."
The battle raged in the distance. The village was ravaged. Even the proud Beduin warrior scholars couldn't stand against the tigers numbers with no preparation. Sedric looked at his son, and Adrian slowly calmed down. Pale moonlight illuminated the shed through a southerly window, and his father sat before him slumped against the far wall. For the first time, he saw his father breath heavy and erratic, and he realized he bore two arrows in his chest, and one is his leg. His arms were a patchwork of cuts, and scrapes, and his left hand was mostly gone. He noticed his boy calmly looking over him, and smiled broadly. "I'm sorry son" he said, "There was nothing anyone could do but die valiantly. I saw you slay that tiger." Tears filled his fathers eyes, and Adrian's own widened with shock. "I'm so proud of you. My flesh, my blood...you'll be a finer man than I one day." His good hand raised and beckoned his son over. The kit complied. Sedric pulled his son onto his lap, and hugged him tightly to his chest. "You have to run" he said, and kissed the kit on top of the head.
Adrian was awestruck. Not even a child of Beduin born runs. What could he mean?
"You have to live, boy. I know you don't want to run, you want vengeance on those damned tigers, hell I want that too, but too many people have died to see you survive. You run, and you grow up, and maybe one day you'll get what you seek." He took a deep labored breath, and Adrian looked up at him with fear in his eyes. "No." he chastised, "Don't you ever fear anything of earth. Maybe the gods, but you of Beduin Born fear no man's blade, power, or passing. Chin up there, my sweet boy. Pride. Remember what you are."
Sedric struggled for a moment with his buckle, then laughed and groaned. "Help get this belt, boy, I've not enough fingers left to do it." He struggled to stay alive as his boy unfastened the strap that held his saber in place. He struggled to see, but his vision was gone to a complication from a head wound he took earlier. A concussion was taking him. "Take this" he said, and put the weapon into his son's hands. Adrian stared at it in awe. His suspicions were correct, he deduced. Sedric of Beduin Born would never part with his weapon as long as he lived. He was dying. "Don't you never let this sword go, not until the day you die." His father continued.
"I love you son, we all do, and we'll keep a fire burning for you when you're time comes. You'll find us waiting on the beach, for we'll not enter Urcain without you." He took a deep breath, and let it slowly release. Adrian waited a long time for him to take another, but it never came.
The boy stared at the sheathed blade of his father in the pale iridescence of the moonlight, and something hardened inside him. "By the mighty hand of Clovis" he whispered, "Protector of the righteous, compass of honor, and lord of war for the sake of virtue, I vow this sword will never leave me until I die." Tears welled in his eyes, and he gritted his tiny teeth. "I'll live to be a thousand years old if I must to make the tigers pay for what they have done here! Wait for me on the shores of Urcain father, don't tarry. In your name I swear that no man or woman of Tiger Born will ever send my soul forth from this world, and that I'll live until the last stripe-back lies in blood at my feet, dying on the blade of my father!"
He stood abruptly and bolted out the door into the night. He saw no other tiger, but he didn't stop running till he collapsed. "No man or woman of Tiger Born will escape my vengeance, or strike me dead."
Derek watched for days as the only man whom he could hope to turn to languished in a hospital at the Order of the Temple. For hours each day he fingered the blade of a small dagger between his fingers, contemplating killing the man. He was after all the reason his mother died. He had even tried a couple of times, but he couldn't bring himself to draw the knife. He could put it against his throat, but he lacked the courage to make the cut. Besides, mother had said this man was his father.
"You may as well give up boy" one of the clergy told him. "That Beduin is never waking up. He'll die in his sleep from those wounds unless Shopil himself loves him as a brother. You may as well join the church and enter an orphanage. What is your name, son?
"Derek" the kit replied, "Of Beduin Born."