Through Slitted Eyes
#2 of Shades of Grey
Shades of Gray Chapter 2 â€" Through Slitted Eyes
Kerris Sel'Dar surveyed the tattered map in front of him. He ran his talons across his nares, trying to stave off the inevitable headache that seemed to develop every time he gazed at the parchment landscape. He'd hung the map on soft wood, and each time he heard of a skirmish or a battle, or lost contact with a tribe (too often) or a new colony was established (not often enough) he marked the spot with a white or black bit of harpy down, sticking the quill carefully into the wood. He looked down at the table, where carefully preened bits of down waited to be used. The pile of white was down to its last few pieces, while the black down had hardly been touched.
In his hands, he held a missive, written in draconic, about the fate of the Redscale tribe. They had been hidden safely (he thought) in the side of Killisk Mountain. The message, though, stated bluntly that their warrens had been discovered by a dwarven trader, reported to the White Tower, and a platoon of Wolf Knights, backed up by one of the Red Ones (fox mages of the highest order) had killed the tribe, down to the last whelp. Kerris read the letter again, then crumpled the brittle parchment.
He traced his claws over his map, finding the mountain called Kirrig Dar (or Storm Anvil.) That name had been crossed out, and he'd written Killisk Mountain next to it, using the older term that dragons used long before the White Tower had supplanted its name. He pulled the black tuft signifying the Redscale tribe out of the soft wood carefully, and replaced it with a white one.
"Lir, remind me to ask the harpies for more white down the next time their matriarch visits."
From across the chamber, a hulking orderly with reptilian features and a proud, green-scaled crest, responded. "Sir, if things continue as they are, we'll run out of places to put them."
Kerris surveyed the map, and with the same sinking feeling he felt every time he saw the slow, inexolerable march of white across his world, he knew it to be true. "You are right, Lir, but remind me anyway."
"Sir, if only we could take the fight to those white fanatical bast..." A sharp crack echoed across the chamber, and Kerris' avian face spun to face Lir. He snapped his beak again, and the lizardman flinched. "I'm sorry sir, I mean, if we could only bring the fight to our honored enemy, perhaps..."
"We would still lose, my friend. We are too spread, too few." Kerris stretched, and his wings mantled. The soft fabric bindings that covered his form rippled over layers of feathers, fur, and muscle, and Kerris Sel'Dar, lord of the Black Tower, gazed out into the sunlight that streamed from a lonely, south-facing window at the apex of the room. "Would you handle the daily missives, Lir? I need the open air to clear my mind."
"The tower has stood for millennia before you, sir, and will stand a few moments more." The lizardman bowed and exited the chamber, ducking his crested head to fit his massive form through the door. Kerris leapt from the floor, and his wings opened with an audible "snap." A single wing beat carried him up to the window, and he perched on the precipice over the steep fall from the dizzying heights of the Black tower. He gazed over the endless jungle that served as his home. The tower was high, high enough that the treetops were obscured by a thin layer of fog or cloud, and he could only see the vague impression of leaves and fronds. Without hesitation, he threw himself from the high window, and spread his wings wide, catching the hot morning jungle air as it wafted from the trees below. After no more than a minute, Lord Kerris was nothing more than a silhouette of a gryphon against the bright, cloud-studded sky.
I woke, and felt immediately light-headed. I brought a hand to my eyes and rubbed them fitfully, before the bleary sight of a plain stone ceiling came into focus. To my left, I saw the foreboding gray ring of stone standing high over me. I blinked, and vision came back slowly, as if colors crept across my vision in waves, rather than stood solidly as they were supposed to. I lifted my shoulder, attempting to sit, and felt resistance lifting my front.
I pulled, and I felt a faint ripping sensation, as if my back had been sewn to the floor with weak threads. I sat on the floor, rubbing my eyes repeatedly, trying to get my disobedient eyes to focus.
All of a sudden, memory of the last few moments rushed back to me, and I jumped to my feet. Behind me, the gray ring of the portal stood impassively, just as it had before. Now, though, the air between the sides of the circle danced and swam, as if I was peering through wavy water at the far side. My vision focused, and I saw the entire room clearly, even into the darkened corners and alcoves.
I heard a click of claws on stone behind me, and turned. Sir Garik had found the stairwell, and was walking towards it unhurriedly.
"Sir! Sir Garik!" I called out, but he didn't turn. My throat must have been dry, for my voice sounded faint and distant, even to me. I sprinted over to him, but stopped after a moment of running. My limbs began to grow weak again, and I felt as if I would pass out. Behind me, I felt a tugging, as if a rope were attached to my abdomen. Anxious with curiosity, I paused and glanced back.
There, laying on the floor with arms crossed over its chest, was me.
My body lay as if at rest, eyes closed and arms crossed over my chest. Sir Garik must have arranged my limbs to some semblance of peace before he continued on.
But if my body lay there, yet I was still standing and moving around, does that mean I'm...
"What do you do here, wolf?" The voice had a faintly sinuous cadence to it. From above the portal, a dark shape detached itself from the ceiling, curling around the stone ring protectively.
Still stunned, I shook my head. My eyes kept being drawn back to my body, laid to rest on the floor of the Black Tower. The Oracle had been wrong, and I was now just a ghost.
"I repeat, what are you doing here, wolf? This is not a place for your kind." The shape reared, and its head seemed to solidify into a serpentine snout, with a cobra's hood.
I gulped and looked at the creature, forcing my head to stay still and keep my eyes from returning to my deceased body.
"We are here to conquer the Black Tower." My lips moved of their own accord. I had intended to say that we were exploring, but the words that emerged wouldn't obey.
"The white menace sends two wolves to the Black Tower? Do they think us so decrepit?" The serpent glanced about, seeming to be concerned more with the threat of more invaders than with my presence.
I opened my mouth again. We are all that is needed, is what I'd say, or You under-estimate the Wolf Knights. Instead, when I opened my mouth, I spoke, "The Oracle at Lannys-Pier prophesied us, and the White Tower trusts her predictions."
The snake head whipped back to me, and the intense orbs of its eyes glared at me intently.
"Tell me her words, wolf."
Knowing my lips would betray me, I locked my jaw shut. My muscles protested, and a sharp pain struck my cheeks. I closed my eyes, trying to send my mind away from the pain as I was taught, but the further I distanced myself, the more I felt the compulsion controlling my mouth in spite of me.
With a sharp, pained intake of breath, the words tumbled from my throat. "You will find a challenge that is not a challenge, but even though it does not seem necessary, a sacrifice must be made. That sacrifice is you, and the completion of your quest will be within your hands." I panted, and my jaw ached. Even though I was just a ghost, the pain seemed quite disturbingly real.
The serpent glared at me for long moments, and I sat immobile in its gaze, unmoving except the exertion of pulling imaginary air into my ghostly lungs.
"I see. The Oracle is wise, and you were wise to follow her advice. I will help you, wolf, even though it is against my nature as a guardian."
Whatever spell held me still expired, and I fell to my knees. One of my hands met my body, then fell through it without resistance. I lifted my hand, fingers still overlapping with my body disconcertingly.
"Thank you, Guardian." I responded, the polite retort so ingrained by my teaching at the White Tower that it escaped my lips before I even realized that it was my own will that had caused it to be said.
"You will be a guide for your companion through the labyrinth of this tower. The creatures here will see you as a friend, though you'll still be the squire of a Wolf Knight. How you use this gift is yours to decide. Do you understand me, wolf?"
I pulled my fingers up to my chest, gazing back at the serpent and nodding.
"I do not do this as a favor, wolf. The completion of your quest will be in your hands, but it will not bring you or your companion happiness."
"We didn't trek this far into the unknown to be happy, guardian."
The serpent let out a low hiss, then the sleek head nodded. The giant orbs of its eyes flashed again, and immediately, the color that I'd forgotten to see flooded back into the room.
An unimaginable pain sprouted at the base of my spine, and I let out a wailing bark. In front of me, the form of the serpent seemed to disappear as would a puff of dark clouds, and in moments, the portal stood alone again. The pain travelled up my spine, punctuated by sharp cracks at each vertebrae.
I gasped and let out a howl, forced down to my hands and knees by the pain. Another loud crack made me writhe, and a dull throb resonated through my lower ribs.
"Rezik? Rezik, is that you?" I heard Sir Garik's own surprised bark far behind me, and the light of the sun-rod bleached the room again.
Another crack echoed across the room, and in horror, I gazed down at myself. My lovely tawny fur had begun to shift in shade, turning a dark greyish purple. Another crack forced my back into an arch, and my legs drew up protectively beneath me. An alien itching sensation spread from the center of my back and quickly covered my form, passing like a breaking over my body.
"Rezik, what's happening? What have you done?" I heard, no more than fifteen paces behind me. The claws on stone were running towards me, the shuddering alchemical light making the shadows of the room dance as it approached.
My shoulder blades seemed to bend and twist, pulling my arms down, as my pelvis followed suit, tugging my legs down beneath me. A wave of pain crept over my neck, ears, then head, followed by a momentary sense of nausea. I coughed, and an alien chuffing sound echoed from my throat.
Slowly, the pain passed, and my body began to feel normal again. Alive, I thought to myself. Never again just "normal", but alive! I spun in place, still on my hands and knees, and faced Sir Garik. My eyes must still be playing tricks on me, because I was staring at his lower chest, even though on hands and knees I should need to look up to see his waist.
"What beast are you? How did you sound like Rezik?" Sir Garik demanded of me, and I heard the sibilant hiss of his sword being drawn.
"Sir? It's me." I folded my ears back and attempted to show my throat, though being on my hands and knees made that a difficult prospect. I shifted, and it felt as if there was more of me to shift than there had been previously. "Sir Garik, I feel a bit strange."
The wolf knight stopped for a moment, then spoke quickly. "Name the eighty-third precept, the title of the ninth chapter, and your patron, if you are truly my squire."
I recognized his questions immediately. In any time when the identity of a wolf knight or his squire could not be proved, they'd be asked to name a precept, a chapter, and a patron. There were hundreds of each, so anyone who hadn't been forced to memorize them, day after day of the years of training at the White Tower, could never hope to remember them all. "Light the way with your shield arm, The Psalm of Lady Chase, and Sir Drumman." As I finished the last, Sir Garik's stance softened, and he dropped his sword. He knelt and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, and pulled my head against his.
"I thought I'd lost you, Rezik." The wolf let out a loud sigh, and I noticed how small his head seemed in comparison to mine. "What has this place done to you?"
"What do you mean, sir?" The suspense was eating at me. Something was different, and I couldn't put a finger on what. I sat, and felt my rump hit the floor in a comfortable sprawl on my haunches.
"Um..." Sir Garik trailed off for a moment, then lifted his sword again. He held it lengthwise in front of me, and held the glaring sun-rod to cast light in its reflection.
Staring back at me from the blade's reflection was an alien face, not my own. Dark greyish-purple fur covered a broad feline face, interspersed with broad white tiger stripes. Slitted eyes gazed back at me, green and feral, where mine were blue.
I fell back from the reflection, and my foot caught over a lump on the floor. I landed heavily on my rump, and below me, I saw my old body, still laid to rest and deceased. A deep growl built in my throat, so low that I felt it more than heard it, and I backed up further. My body had lengthened, and I now stood on four legs instead of two, and my front paws had no fingers, at least not as I knew them. Coloration notwithstanding, I was a tiger. A I sat in the darkness, eyes locked on my corpse, and Sir Garik standing passively over it. My breath caught in my throat, and I felt a soft wail building on my lips.
"Shhh, shhh, Rezik, we'll find a way out of this." Garik approached me again, and I ran forward, burying my head against his chest. I heard him let out a breath, and he stroked my ears kindly. "We won't leave you a monster, Rezik, but first, you need to tell me what's happened."
I closed my eyes, blotting out the vision of my own corpse laying at the base of the portal, and spoke. No compulsion shaped my words this time, instead, I simply told him everything, starting from the secret meeting with the oracle, through the ghost-serpent, straight up to the moment that he'd returned to my side.
He said nothing for a moment after I'd finished. Silence hung in the air heavily, and his fingers had stopped stroking my ears. "Why didn't you tell me, squire?"
Again, he degraded me, but my mind wasn't in the mood to be offended. Stress loosened my lips. "Would you have stopped me if you had known, knight?" I should have said sir, but I simply couldn't force it past my lips.
He was quite for a moment more, then responded. "Yes."
"Then I did my duty."
Sir Garik's hands left my head, and he stood back from me. "You did your duty, Rezik." His words were an apology, but his voice was cold. "But we're not done yet. If you're to be my guide, then I'll need your help. I've cast my eyes to the floor above this, and it's not nearly as deserted or safe as we joked."
I let out a small growl and nodded. Business first. "Then I suggest that I lead. I will bring you to a safe place, scout for the next, then bring you to the next safe place. If we will need to fight, I can give us the edge in an ambush. If we're lucky, then we'll find the Lord of this tower without ever even raising the alarm."
"And what of you?" He scowled at me, clearly unhappy with the tactic.
"If the serpent was right, I'll be regarded as a friend."
"Dishonorable tactics." He scoffed.
"The only way to succeed."
Sir Garik frowned. "The assassin's honor will never be redeemed." He quoted from the litanies.
"But the peace he ushers in need not be stained by his dishonorable blade." I finished the quote. He sighed, having finished it in his head before my lips had moved.
"Go, Rezik, let us start this, before I lose the will to be underhanded. The faster we're finished, the faster we'll have you out of that damn cat body."
Again, I was stung. It was never the big things, with Sir Garik, it was always the little slips of the tongue, the small denouncements that grated on my nerves. I pushed past him and climbed the stairs, my paws absolutely silent, and body melting into the shadows.
In the room just around the corner, a blisteringly hot fire had been lit. Around it, a collection of tower denizens feasted. My mouth watered at the smell of meat, both burnt and raw, and my rumbling stomach almost gave away my position. I licked my lips, tempted to simply walk in, and test just how much of a "local" the new form made me.
Thinking back, though, we'd have to go through here no matter what. All of the other corridors on this floor seemed to dead-end, and I hadn't found any excess stairwells, either up OR down. The tower was a maze, complicated enough to make my head spin. That each floor was its own puzzle was enough to cause me difficulties, but there were more than one exit from each floor leading upwards, and not all of those seemed to lead further. On the fourth floor had been a winding stairwell that I'd climbed for what must have been six stories, before hitting a dead-end room with no exits. The eighth floor was particularly frustrating; it had no staircases leading upwards. Instead, we had to take a different set of stairs back down to the seventh to find a longer set of stairs upward to the ninth.
Further, as we'd climbed, we'd started to notice more and more inhabitation. Though I'd lost count (we must be on the fifteenth or higher by now) we now found at least one out of every three rooms occupied, and more and more patrols were keeping eyes on the ones that weren't inhabited.
I'd left Sir Garik two corridors back, where there didn't seem to be any patrols. He seemed grateful for the rest, and last I'd seen, was doing his best to meditate while he waited for me to return. If we needed to get through here, it might have to come to a battle.
I rounded the corner, trying to act casual (though how a cat acts casual was anyone's guess.) A nik-nik had picked up a makeshift flute, and was blowing a simple tune as an owlbear danced around the fire. There were beads hanging from the owlbear's neck feathers, which clicked and rattled as it cavorted. A couple of eyes turned to me, then glanced unconcernedly back to the fire and to the meal.
My teachings at the White Tower were conspicuously devoid of information on how to infiltration and carouse with the enemy, so I found myself at a loss. Even though they accepted me without a second glance, I was sure that as soon as I opened my mouth, I'd be uncovered.
As I approached, though, the solution was handed to me, quite literally. A taloned hand dropped to my shoulder, and a burnt haunch of something was shoved just under my nose. The mouth-watering scent, now just within biting distance, was too tempting to pass up. I snapped at it, and half of the haunch disappeared into my mouth. The meat seemed to melt as I chewed with another careful chomp, and I immediately began to feel invigorated and refreshed.
I heard a chuckle above me, presumably from whatever had just fed me the meat. "Heh, heya pretty kitty. You a smart'un or a dummie?" The voice was low and gravely, and the hand heavy on my neck. The question didn't register for a moment, so strange was it to me. A smart or a dummie? While I thought about the question, my mouth decided to use the time to take another bite of the delicious haunch, catching most of the rest of the meat, and leaving the bone with just gristle and fat.
"Eh, a dummie. Ah, well, we could use ya' round here anyway. Mebbe th' Chancellor will know what'cha are, an' maybe what type eh keepin' ye'll need. The heavy hand patted my shoulder, and I looked up. Towering above me was a minotaur, shaggy trunks of legs supporting a heavy and thickly furred frame, with a bull's face and horns topping it off. If I was now large in comparison to what I used to be, then this beast was truly massive.
Suddenly, the words stuck. If their society included beasts both with and without sentience and reason, then there'd need to be a way to tell which was which. For the moment, since I'd already been deemed to be a "dummie", it was probably easiest to play along. At least they wouldn't need an explanation from me if they thought I couldn't answer.
"'Ey Wringer, wuzzat?" From the fire, a satyr had stood from where he was reclined, and was gazing over at us.
"Don' know." The minotaur responded. He dropped the bone, and I sniffed at it idly, doing my best to play into the role.
"Dummie, then?" The satyr walked past the fire, brushing past the owlbear with a rattle of beads.
"Yuh. Gonna lead 'im up to the chancellor."
"I can do that." The satyr slinked up to me, and I noticed between his goat-like thighs that his endowment was standing at attention.
The minotaur grunted at him. "Fine, but if mauls ya' 'cuz your hands go places they shouldn't, I won' be cryin' at your grave."
"Hey pretty kitty, pretty kitty. Want to follow me?" I growled low under my breath. The satyr's voice was high and sickly, and every fibre of my being wanted to be away from him. I sidestepped, bumping against the minotaur's tree-like leg, to keep the satyr's hands off of my pelt. The growl raised a notch as the goat-creature crouched at my side, and I felt fingers duck under my tail.
The growl grew into a roar, and a red haze closed into the sides of my vision.
"Tipsy, get away from 'im, 'e looks like 'e's gonna" That's as far as the minotaur's words got before the satyr's wayward hand goaded me too far to ignore. Just as his hand cupped my sheath, I attacked. I pushed away from the minotaur's leg, pushing the satyr over. A detached part of me marvelled how my new body's paw was so large that it covered almost all of the satyr's chest as I pinned him down. The goat creature's flailing limbs caught a clay pitcher of some liquid, which broke and sprayed potent smelling alcohol towards the fire. My hackles rose, and just as I felt the minotaur's strong arms close around the trunk of my chest, I struck, viper quick and deadly accurate. I felt my jaws close over the satyr's head, sharp canines digging into his hair. Slowly to me, though I'm sure it happened quite quickly, I squeezed.
His head resisted for a moment, then I felt it cave in like an egg cracking beneath my teeth. His high wailing abruptly stopped, and I tasted metallic blood spray against my tongue. I let go quickly, though the taste of his sweat and his fear and his rancid, oily hair stayed in my nose even after the minotaur had dragged me off of my prey.
"Drakes, this is a mess. Hayle, go get the nik-nik saw-bones. Fleyd, go get... AGH!" The minotaur abruptly dropped me, and I curled to land squarely on my feet. The hulking giant of a bull toppled towards me, and I backed up swiftly towards the fire to avoid him. His arms struggled towards me, his eyes panicked, but I could see that his calves had been cut cleanly from behind. Emerging from the shadows behind, Sir Garik took a measured stab down into the fallen monster's chest. Wringer the minotaur gave a startled grunt, then died.
The room was silent for a moment, the revelling crowd of beasts stunned by the bloodshed. Taking advantage of his element of surprise, Sir Garik spun and lunged, catching a troll through the abdomen. With his second strike, the room erupted into a melee of frightened beasts, half of them diving for discarded weapons, the others attempting to escape. Sir Garik caught a third across the knees, the nik-nik who'd been playing the flute, and she fell screaming to the floor.
The dancing owlbear passed me from the side, beak open in fury and bear claws descending in a crushing blow towards my knight. Without thinking, I acted, sweeping the owlbear's feet out from under it with a swipe. I bit again, and I felt one of its arms shatter between my vice-like jaws. Sir Garik finished it with a downward slash, then pointed towards the exit, where two kobolds were racing for freedom.
"I'll handle the rest here. Quick, Rezik, catch them before they raise the alarm!" Before he'd started the second sentence, I was off, powerful hind legs propelling me at speed towards the retreating kobolds. They disappeared up the stairwell, and I followed, close on their heels. The one in the lead gave a squeal, just before my bound took me up and over the pair. I spun and struck with a single flowing move, my new body responding to instructions like a trained and hardened soldier.
The first kodold I caught in the chest with a swiping paw. Its body lifted with the momentum of my bash, and twirled in the air precariously, before is crashed back down the stairs. Before it landed, I'd taken a second slash with my other forepaw, claws extended, at the remaining kobold. It caught on the creatures scales for half a moment, before the strength in my limbs carried the swipe forward. Blood seeped from broad gashes, and the kobold fell clutching its front to the stairs.
Breath coming in gusts through my nose and open mouth, I gazed down at my enemy. She (I could tell by the short dress she wore) was small, half again as small as I used to be as a wolf. She was unarmed or armored. As she writhed in pain, I ducked down, crushing her head in my maw to end her suffering. I descended the stairs again slowly, the red flecks in my vision slowly receding as the battle haze lifted. Below, I found Sir Garik cleaning his own sword on a bit of a discarded woollen garment. His eyes pierced me, and I immediately knew his thoughts.
For the first time following the highs of combat, however, I personally felt no desires, no lust. I glanced around the room, and for the first time, I felt a vague wave of tired sadness. Looking at Sir Garik's face, though, I knew he was in the grip of the post battle passion, though he tried to mask it.
Regardless of my misgivings, though, Sir Garik was still my knight, and I still his squire. I turned away from him and flicked my tail up over my white striped back. He froze, his eyes firmly locked between my hind legs. His eyes glazed over, and his pupils dilated in shock at my blatant offer.
"No. No, Rezik, we need to continue on. We can't stop now." He sheathed his sword, and brushing past me, led the way up the stairwell.
Even though I wasn't in the mood, the rejection stung. He'd rarely passed up an offer like that before, and we'd never fought two battles in a row without slaking our thirsts afterwards. Following close behind him up the stairs, I smelled his desperate arousal, so strong I could almost taste it. Even though the fight hadn't had the same effect on me as it had on him, just his smell was enough to start to affect me with his excited mood.
As he crested the top of the stairs into another empty room, he leaned against one wall. I circled and stuck my head in against his chest, then dropped my head to give a loud chuff against his crotch.
"I said no, Rezik." He pushed me away with one paw, though he was no longer large enough to easily move me with an offhanded gesture. I relented, though, and backed up. "Go scout, Rezik. I want to be free of this damned tower."
I hung my head and trotted off towards one of the two exits from the room. Before I left eyesight, though, I turned and gazed back through the darkness at my knight.
His sun-rod had fizzled out hours ago, and he'd been left mostly blind, except for the passageways laying in fire, torch, and lamp light of the tower's denizens. I, however, in my new form, didn't seem to have any trouble with the dark. My eyes pierced even the deepest of shadows, and were more than sufficient for watching Sir Garik as he lifted his hauberk to the side, dropped his modesty, and grasped his desperation.
Breath caught in my throat, and I felt as if I'd been punched. Neglecting my offer, he'd chosen instead to serve himself, while I went off to my duty. Even if I'd felt the need, I don't think I could have torn my eyes away from my knight as he relieved his urges leaning against the cold wall. Sir Garik's paw dipped and twisted, and though the darkness had stolen the color from my vision, I could still make out the eager shape of his wolfhood. I heard the quiet catch in his breath that was so familiar to me echo softly down the corridor. In no more than a few seconds, I saw milky flickers of liquid splash against the wall, and his clenching paw slowed its movements. It'd been no more than half a minute since we topped the flight of stairs, and Sir Garik had already spent his battle lust.
I turned from the sight with a huff. At this point, it mattered little to me if he realized I'd been watching, though I doubted he would. He was blind in this darkness, and sounds echoed unreliably against the stone. I trotted away, paws silent on the cold floor, into the depths of the tower.
If only Sir Garik had seen to our needs together, it would have made my scouting a much easier task. The smell of him and the sight of him, as much as it pained my heart, brought more immediate reactions to other organs of mine. I'd already foiled one feline creature that seemed to have been tracking me by smell by crossing a disused goblin warren. Something else already seemed to have picked up the trail, though, as I could hear it snuffling in the corridor a few turns behind me, claws clacking on the stone. As I reached the next intersection, I sniffed at each passageway, hoping to find something I could use to cover the smell of my need.
The first two passageways, to the right and ahead, had nothing of interest to my nose, but the third had a refreshing hint of running water. Without thinking twice, I marked the location in my mind, so I could find my way back to Sir Garik after, and trotted down the corridor.
The stone hallway emerged into a cavernous room, more than twice the height of any I'd seen since the first floor. There were smooth cascades of water flowing down one wall and a pool some three body-lengths wide in the center. The room was otherwise devoid of rubbish or debris, and smelled clean to my sensitive nose.
I stepped cautiously into the room, then as my eyes, nose, and ears gave me the all clear, I strode into its center. Running down the middle of the room was a thin rivulet of water, draining from the waterfall into the pool. I ducked my head and drank from the stream, the cool water working wonders to clear my mind.
As I lifted my head, I caught my image reflected in the almost mirror-like smooth waterfall. It was the first time I'd seen myself in my new form, and with a growing sense of pride, I examined myself.
My fur was dark, slatish gray mixed with a deep purple. The shape of my body was broken up by white stripes, broad over my back, and narrowing to points as they approached my underside. Now that I could see my body in full, I finally understood the size I'd grown to. From whiskers to rump, I must have been seven or eight feet long, not even counting the tail that writhed like a serpent behind me. I'd never seen a tiger personally, but now that I was one, the power and raw strength of the form stunned me.
I lifted a forepaw, and the fur rippled tautly over muscle in the reflection. I smiled, and the figure in the waterfall showed teeth as long as my old body's fingers. I wasn't just a "cat" like Sir Garik had called me, I was a true beast. Every inch of my body spoke power and menace. If I had met myself while still a wolf, I would have been terrified.
I would have been terrified at first, but a different emotion swept me up in its grasp as I gazed. I was beautiful. The flow of starkly patterned fur over powerful muscles contrasted with the graceful, almost dance-like prowl of my movements. For all of my size, I was silent as a ghost, and blended into the darkness like a living, breathing shadow. The smell of excitement hit me again, as it had while following Sir Garik, but this time it was my own.
Both shame and curiosity hit me simultaneously. I suddenly realized why Sir Garik hesitated to touch me; I was a monster now, on four legs instead of two, and that was anathema to a proper, chaste wolf knight. Sir Garik was neither proper nor chaste, as wolf knights went, but my form must have been too much for him to overcome.
The slow burning anger of rejection struck again, and though I knew his reasons, I still didn't understand. I was still his squire, his Rezik, and it slowly dawned on me that my form was, to me, truly attractive. Even the part of my mind that still thought like a wolf was admiring my shape and curves, and the pride and excitement that my new form brought me overwhelmed the shame. If those thoughts made me less of a wolf knight in training, then so be it. I liked my new form, every bit of it, and I honestly couldn't find myself looking forward to changing back.
With the shame crushed, I found myself smiling a feral grin, reflected back to me from the waterfall. I lifted the hind leg closest to my reflection, and the outward signs of my aroused state were immediately noticeable. The soft furred shape of my equipment were in scale with my size, and the length standing stiffly between my hind legs was already large enough to rival Sir Garik's own formidable tackle. Instead of the rod and tackle shape of a wolf, though, my weapon was smooth and tapered, like an expertly dipped candle, but just slightly curved. Hanging down over the base of my gear were sizeable orbs, resting comfortably in a fuzzy pouch that had its own white stripes in the short, soft fur.
As I examined myself, the shape of my arousal throbbed, visibly thickening, then receding, as my thoughts spiralled into lust and decadence. My tail whipped above my back, it's tip wriggling like a wayward vine in a storm, and I let an expressive chuff out from between my grinning, deadly teeth.
"Is it friendly? Is it smart?" With a guilty pang of fear, I instantly dropped my hind leg I glanced around the empty room, looking for the source of the voice.
"Does it want to play?" The voice was high, almost feminine, but had none of the creepy whine of the (now deceased) satyr.
"Who's there?" I called out, then instantly cursed myself. How could I play a "dummie" if I talked?
"It's smart like! Pretty kitty. Beautiful kitty." The voice came from another side of the room, and I spun, confused and scared. It sounded different from the first voice, and sounded just a bit more masculine, though it was still high and weedy.
"Where are you? Who are you?" I tried to keep my voice from showing my alarm, but the lack of any presence but the voices had my muscles twitching and ears nervous.
"It's just us." "Tiger need not fear us." "We don't harm, we only play." The voices surrounded me, and as I whirled, I felt a wind blow across my whiskers playfully.
My analytical mind settled on an explanation, and the anxious nerve drained from my. Sylphs. Invisible creatures of wind and water. Even wolves didn't see them as a menace, though they were lumped in with monsters with the same broad brush by the order of the White Tower. I felt another brush past my flank, and another played with the tip of my tail. Their touch was a warm wind, ephemeral and playful.
I smiled to myself and relaxed, letting the small creatures amuse themselves. Their ghost like touches felt nice against my fur, especially after so many hours spent stalking the halls of the tower. My breath came as a second chuff, soft and happy, and responded to the room's keepers. "If you'd like, I'll play."
The warm touches spread, and with mingled surprise and amusement, I realized that the room must contain hundreds of little sylphs. The waterfall and pool must have been perfect for them, a constant source of fresh water and motion. I stretched slowly like a cat, bowing my front to the smooth stone and drawing back against my forepaws, shivering as the warm caresses swarmed over me.
The sylphs spread from my tail and shoulders, and to my shock, their warm embrace missed nothing. While the warm wind ruffled the fur over my long form, what felt like hot fingers made of liquid danced under my lifted tail. I lifted my front and let out another chuff, warning this time.
"Not there, sylphs." My voice emerged as a growl.
"Not where?" "Where?" "Tiger not want to play?" A chorus of questions assaulted me, and I lowered my tail between my hind legs
A rude sound echoed from near my tail. "But Tiger came to us wanting." "In need." "Why else come to the sylphs?" "Not want us?" "Not want to feel good?" The questions came rapid-fire, and I was at loss for an answer. Their caress had felt divine, and certainly wasn't going to be returning to Sir Garik to sate my immediate desires. Slowly, hesitantly, I lifted my tail again, and the ghostly fingers played across bare flesh almost instantly. My lust returned full-force in a matter of seconds, subjected to tentative touches that felt like kisses to my turgid flesh.
"Eager kitty." "Not too fast." "Spoil the surprise." The voices conferred with each other around me, but I didn't feel the need to respond. The hot caresses rippled over me like a breaking wave, focusing on my urgent need as it crested. I let out a low yowl and rolled my hips, trying to push and thrust against a lover that wasn't there.
"Ready now." "Over here, tiger." With a last fondling touch, the sylphs abandoned my hind end. Left shaking and wanting, I opened my eyes, trying to see where "here" was.
The pool in the center of the room had started to roil and squirm, the clear water twisting and curling as the sylphs submerged themselves in their element. "What's the kitty's dream?" One of the voices asked, and I felt a warm kiss of a sylphs presence on my nose. I crossed my eyes, trying to focus, but the being remained invisible.
My breath was husky, more of a growl, as I responded dimly, "My dream?"
"Fantasy?" "We make your imagination live!"
"Um, then..." I felt the kiss of a sylph on my lips.
"No talk, kitty. Just think."
Somewhat taken aback, I looked at the water as panicked questions threaded through my mind. Could they read my mind? Would they reveal me as a traitor? Sir Garik! Would they find him?
As soon as I thought of Sir Garik, the water churned. The sylphs' magic drew spouts of liquid up in just a moment, a pair of calves and shins, sculpted of water, appeared in the middle of the pool. Before my eyes, the statue grew up to a pair of wolf's thighs. The two legs met, and a shapely, muscled rump greeted me, just before a bushy tail sprouted from it with a splash. The legs and rump crouched and stretched, moving themselves in a semblance of life, as a torso filled itself upwards. I approached the sculpture, my head at mid-chest height, and gazed at it in wonder. To my amusement, it spun, and I saw a smooth, water-sculpted wolfhood sprout from its front.
I leaned forward, touching it carefully with my nose, and met wet, warm resistance. A sylph tugged on my ear, and one of their voices drifted across to me, "A wolf? Strange tiger." Another spoke up, from my left shoulder, "Kinky tiger." A third piped up from the sculpture itself, perhaps one of its creators, "Nice imagination! Very sexy." I felt my ears burn in embarrassment, but as arms and a head sprouted from the sculpture's torso, I couldn't help but agree. The wolf was perfect in every respect. It ducked a little, and one watery hand dropped to its exquisitely sculpted member, and with a grin of wild abandon, winked at me over its shoulder.
Quickly getting the idea, I hopped up on my forepaws, landing them heavily on the water construct's shoulders. I felt warm water seep into my fur, but even though my paws sunk half an inch into the figure, it held my weight. The lifelike wolf crouched just a little more, and I felt its wet tail slap across my belly as it bent. Wetness touched my pride, hot enough that it was almost body temperature, and the fake wolf's fingers stroked up and down my length. The sculpture silently shifted, and I felt a moment of resistance, before a tight ring of warm and wet pressure parted around my excitement.
I heard a growling roar echo off of the walls, and was startled for a moment before I realized that it was mine. The watery simulacra beneath me rocked a little, and I felt myself slide deeper into the tube of warmth. Finally, as my senses returned to me, I finished the movement by pushing on the water-wolf's shoulders. My sabre hilted itself in its new-found sheath, and the liquid double beneath me squeezed around it in a slow, languorous wave. The same red flecks I'd seen earlier closed in on the sides of my vision, and as my lust and passion grew, I let my hips drop, pulling from the liquid tunnel of the wolf's rump. I closed my eyes, focusing only on my sense of touch, and thrust.
The hot ring closed around my tip again, and slid towards my hips as my pelvis rocked forward. The sylph-made creature beneath me ground his hips back against me needily, clenching tight around my girth as the water heated another few degrees. I retreated again, then buried myself to the sheath, letting out another excited roar of pleasure while the wolf beneath me reacted to me with urgency and care.
"Hey tiger-kitty, over here!" Another sylph called, and I glanced to the side. Not far away, I glimpsed the waterfall's reflection. The gyration of my hips paused for a moment, and my lips pulled back in an eager grin at the image that greeted me. A tiger (I had to remind myself that it was myself I was seeing) stretched to its full, glorious length as it arched over the transparent wolf-shape crouched submissively below. My hide shimmered and flickered in the impure reflection from the water, but even with the little waves and rivulets breaking up the smooth surface of the waterfall, I could clearly see the part I most wanted to see.
Through the shimmering surface of the wolf-creature's transparent side, I could see the splash of red flesh where my pride stood rampant. Giving a surprised chuff, I rocked my hips forward, and I watched in close detail as I speared into the wolf's eager rump. My girth slid through the watery insides, throbbing with each beat of my heart, until I felt wet cheeks wedge firmly between my thighs. My eyes were captivated by the scene, and my head stayed turned to the side as I pulled my hips back until my thickness had disappeared behind my thigh. The wolf creature reached a hand back, and fingers slid over my exposed length.
To my surprise, I felt the slow tingling of my approaching peak. I had only thrust a few times into the sylph's construct, but it was already about to coax me into release. Seeming to sense this, the creature lifted my pride to the tight ring I'd been plundering, and reached its paw backwards, cradling my orbs in a wet caress. The breath caught in my throat as I thrust desperately, burying myself deep and grinding my hips against the liquid concubine. The tight tunnel in which I'd hilted myself tensed and gripped at me like a hand in a velvet glove.
With the haze of lust clouding my vision, I watched in the reflection as the tigerhood jumped fitfully inside the water wolf. Then, on the third throb, a thick gout of milky liquid shot from its tapered tip. My hips convulsed in the grip of ecstasy, and a second spurt of seed joined the first, where they danced and flowed around each other inside the innards of the simulacra. With the sight of my own new and gorgeous body caught in the throws of passion adding to my already indescribable high, the intense feeling of release grew too much for me to handle. I slumped, closing my eyes, as I emptied myself into the wolf, each jet joining the growing milky white cloud.
Around me, the sylph's babbling resumed, squabbling amongst each other as I slowly backed away from their creation. My fur was damp all over, though thankfully, just with water. I sat, still trying to catch my breath while the sylphs chattered.
"Told you he'd like the view." "He's a smartie. All smarties like a good view." "He's dreaming of the wolf again." That last one was right. I was studying the wolf statue, and comparing it, feature for feature, to the wolf I used to be. It was a bit larger, and its muscles stood out a little more prominently. "Wolves no good for beasts though." "True, no good even for sylphs."
That last got my attention. "Why wouldn't sylphs like the wolves? We... They don't really care what the sylphs do." Thankfully, none of the little, invisible beings seemed to sense my gaffe.
"We monsters, just like everyone else here." "We fled because wolves chased us." "Safe here, and lots of playing to do, lots of beasts to make happy." I couldn't deny them that. They definitely had a talent for play, and I was a quite bit happier than when I'd first stumbled into the chamber. The water double waved at me, the whitish tinge to its belly slowly filtering out through its legs and being replaced by fresh water.
"Tiger like our sculpture? Made it just like he wanted!" "Think, and the sylphs obey!" With a sudden impact of realization, I saw Sir Garik's face superimposed over the transparent one of the fake wolf I'd just mated with. The features fit, down to the little tuft of fur next to his left ear that would never lay right, or to the thick muscle tone that filled my dreams at night with such images. With a glance, I even confirmed that the pinkie of its left hand was missing after the last knuckle, a reminder of an accident while training.
But even though it was the double of Sir Garik, it wasn't him. The sculpture's face held a smile that was warm and inviting. He never gazed that way at me, with the unabashed desire that I craved, and felt for him in return. In honest fact, the only time I'd ever seen Sir Garik wear that smile had been in my own imagination. The pain of rejection returned, though relieving the pressure in my loins had dulled its sharp, cutting blade to a dull ache.
As soon as my thoughts drifted to the melancholy, the wolf creature collapsed with a splash back into the shallow pool. "Aww, our wolf made the tiger sad." "Cheer up, kitty, lots of wolves out there for you to hunt!" "Maybe even one for you to keep, if you look after it!" The sylphs tittered amongst themselves, and I felt that it was time for me to leave. My eyes scanned for exits to the sylph's lair, and found a promising stairwell at the far side.
"Thank you, little sylphs. If I find a wolf, I promise I'll bring him here to play some day." I gave them the parting jibe in jest, but as soon as I spoke, I felt the faint hint of a plan starting to form.
Behind me, I heard a rude cheer from one sylph, while the others nattered on to each other. My fur had begun to dry, and I felt refreshed and ready to face both the dangers of the tower, and my own grumpy, disagreeable knight. My paws led me silently along the hallways, back to where Sir Garik waited for me at the top of the stairs.
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(Fin! Rezik, Sir Garik, and all the monster's they're about to slay are (c) Kandrel. Any resemblance to other characters is only incedental and unintentional. Reposting is permissable, however, all reposts must be in original form, and must contain the author's name unaltered.)
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