Chapter 58
Once everyone was washed and feeling refreshed, things settled down. The only bit of excitement left was introducing Vras to the situation. They had opted to leave him in the forest until they could broach the subject with Gilriel as she would likely try to kill him on sight if he simply wandered into the clearing around her cottage. There was much swearing and it took several minutes to convince her not to end the beast the moment he put a paw into view. Upon hearing his name Gilriel also uttered a string of invective that even caused Lethelin to raise her eyebrows in appreciation.
"Vras? Really?" Gilriel had demanded of Allora. "As if shadow cats weren't terrifying enough? You named him that?"
"It is appropriate," Allora said, somehow managing to sound both deferential and firm at the same time. "And, as I said, I have reason to believe that Vish placed him in our path."
Gilriel snorted.
"Nine hells, Allora! I thought you had more sense than that!"
"If I may," Mitchell interjected, not appreciating the dressing down that Gilriel was directing at his companion. He found he had to resist the urge to shrink back when the old drill sergeant turned her steely gaze at him. He firmed his spine against the pressure of her glare. "The choice was mine. It was important to me that Allora agree with me about bringing him along, but I would have done it against her wishes if it had been necessary. So, if you want to be angry at someone, it should be me."
"I don't expect you to know the dangers of this world the way she does. Allora should have--"
"Allora has pledged herself to my service," Mitchell cut her off and allowed a little steel to come into his voice as well. He was also attempting to mimic the formal style that Allora almost always used. It seemed to carry more authority when one spoke it here. "And, while I value her council in all things, ultimately the decision is mine. Would you command an Onyx Knight to disobey her monarch?"
Gilriel's eyes narrowed as she recognized the trap. She turned her gaze back to Allora, who watched mutely, eyes slightly widened at the battle of wills between the woman who she had come to love and respect as both a mother-figure and a mentor, and her monarch. Seeing the slightly accusatory glare from her mentor, Allora firmed her lips and returned the look, though without the matching heat.
Gilriel sniffed.
"You are not monarch yet," she said finally but a lot of the force had gone out of her words.
"True, but it would set a bad precedent, don't you think?"
Gilriel drummed her fingers on the study farm table that took up a large space in the common area of her cottage. The wood was thick, scarred from decades of use, but clean and sturdily built.
"You are correct," she said at last with a huff. "My apologies. It is just... A shadow cat?"
Suddenly the woman stood up and began to hike up her dress. Before anyone could say anything, she had lifted her leg and placed it on an empty chair and exposed her outer right thigh. Despite being well north of one hundred, it was as shapely and toned a leg as Allora's. Except for the wounds.
Mitchell saw three long scars that began just above her knee and traveled up past where she bunched up the dress around her waist. She made sure all of them had a good look. The scars were old but he could see they had been deep and would have been a grisly wound.
"Ten of us went into the Peaks on patrol," she said, her voice hard. "Six knights and four mountain rangers. Only three of us returned. One shadow cat killed seven. Salaya, my sister knight, lost her arm, and the surviving ranger, a good man named Finnik, who had a family, was blinded in one eye, had his face slashed open and was never able to eat or drink again without drooling, and walked with a cane for the rest of his life. Four fully trained knights, and three mountain rangers. Lives gone in moments. From a single shadow cat. It got past our perimeter and killed two before we even knew it was there. That is the horror that you travel with, young monarch. The gods help you all if it ever goes wild."
Mitchell swallowed but her display did not shake his resolve.
"Vras says he views me as something called a tar s'thyr. A human pack leader."
Gilriel's eyes flicked to Allora.
"Your translation, I take it?"
"Yes, as near as I could recall. I was not the most diligent in my most of my studies. I settled for getting a working understanding of the old Dwarvish, Hillspeak, and Gnomish, but Waivian seemed of little use since we so rarely had dealings with the Fey."
"It is close enough. But a more accurate translation would be mortal hunt leader. Shadow cats don't have packs but they will gather for a hunt from time to time. Tar is more a general term for a mortal race as opposed to Waia which is the Waivian word for immortal. They are from the Fey lands, after all. But once the hunt is finished shadow cats disperse."
Mitchell could see her slip back into her old instructor mode as she filled them in on the bit of lore surrounding the beasts. It seems you could take the old instructor out of the classroom but you couldn't take the classroom out of the instructor.
"The question is," Gilriel continued, "if your pet decides that the hunt is finished, what will he do? Hunts are temporary things, after all. What will he do if his desire and instinct to kill overcomes the inherently temporary loyalty to a tar s'thyr?"
They were quiet for a time as Mitchell pondered her words.
"That will be an interesting day, I think," he said at last.
Gilriel gave him a level look but only blinked in response.
***
As the sun began to set Mitchell and the girls, along with Gilriel, who had strapped on her sword and swapped out the stones in her krisa, approached the tree line. That the cat was still young as far as those things were measured didn't appear to dissuade her.
Mitchell called to Vras and they waited. He wouldn't have gone far. While the girls were relaxed, Gilriel was on high alert, hand on the pommel of the sword and a gemstone in her krisa already glowing. Her eyes were in constant motion as she scanned the undergrowth for signs of their six-legged companion. After a few moments a midnight black head with glowing green eyes parted the wild grass and it emerged smoothly and silently from cover. His eyes were already on Gilriel and his body was lowered, ears flat and tentacles low. He stopped about a meter from Mitchell and watched the retired knight warily.
"Vras, this is Gilriel. She is a friend."
Vras's eyes flicked to Mitchell briefly and then back to Gilriel who was also ready to draw her blade. Her stance was wide and her body, perhaps unconsciously, had started to crouch as if she expected action.
"
Threat
," Vras said and a low growl could be heard in his chest.
"No, she's just scared. You know that gratha inspire fear in all the mortal races."
Vras's ears flicked.
"
This is proper. But her scent is threat.
"
"A gratha killed some of her friends. She fears you and fears that you will harm me and the girls. But I told her you would not."
For the first time Vras gave Mitchell his full attention.
"
Then why does she still fear?
"
"She doesn't believe that you will not harm us."
Vras seemed puzzled by this idea.
"Can you do what we discussed before?"
Vras made a sound in his throat somewhere between a whine and a growl and looked almost plaintively at Mitchell, if such a thing were possible.
