Puppeteer

Hello again!

Thanks to all readers and voters.

Thank you, El, reviews make my world go round, and I'm glad you like the story so far.

Many, many, many thanks to Cassiopeia for her input and her beta-work! But now on with the story!

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Meeting Sorr'an

Distant noises disturbed my sleep. It only took a moment to recognize my surroundings before I heard the sound of people running through the forest, the rustling of feet on dried twigs and leaves coming nearer my position. I caught sight of a single person moving almost silently through the shrubbery, their movements fluid and graceful.

It was early dawn and few sunrays filtered through the treetops, painting the scene in shades of gray. I cast a little spell an old friend had taught me some time ago. It improves my eyes' sensitivity to light, so that I'm able to perceive shapes better in the twilight. Before I could catch another glimpse at the person running, five other guys were crashing through the underbrush. They moved clumsily compared to the fugitive, and were partially armored and carry weapons.

I strained my eyes and saw they were all tattooed but even with my little magic trick the light wasn't bright enough to see anything clear. They reached a glade and one took a crossbow from his back and aimed. Before the refugee could reach the protective trees again, a crossbow bolts pierced through their left shoulder, making them stumble and fall to the ground. Four warriors secured the area while one approached their victim. Seemed they had at least some sort of military training.

The wounded one turned around and scrambled back. Something was swishing over the leafy ground. It took me a moments until I processed what I saw -- a tail! I blinked, but before I could dwell on that thought the attacker raised his sword and swung the blade down. A scream filled the air. The swordsman leaned down, picked up the bloody part of the tail he cut off and laughed somewhat gruesomely, while the cat-being hunched backwards.

I went into a state of trance and connected with the crossbow marksman. It was difficult to aim right from my position but when I thought I pointed the sharp bolt in the right direction I let him pull the trigger. Just in time, because the one standing over the cat-human was preparing another blow when the arrow hit his back, the arrowhead peeking out of his chest. Hurriedly I tried to reload the crossbow, hoping they were confused enough to let me have one more shot. It seemed the Gods were with me for a moment but just before I could finish the preparation I heard the dreaded scream.

"Magic!"

'Crap, they're good. Well, you may know that someone is working its magic here but it won't help you.' That's what I thought till the one who shouted reached into a pouch hanging from his belt and threw a handful of sand into the air. The grainy mass floated over the clearing, slowly sinking to the ground. When it reached the string of flaring magic that connected me with the marksman, it clung to it and started to shimmer. Suddenly my power got drained from my body and I felt a numbing pain crawling up my arms. I cut the cords and gasped involuntary at the sharp ache, hoping they didn't spot me. But it was too late; I could see the guy who threw the sand giving a hand sign to two fellows and then pointed in my direction.

'Holy Father Neralos and his shitty brood, what am I doing, getting myself into this kind of situation? Well, no time to dwell on this now, I have to get out of here.' I saw that the cat-being had taken its chance and had risen to their feet, sprinting into the forest, immediately followed by the other two who were not after me. This reminded me to get my ass in gear. I turned and ran along the broad branch that was angled towards the ground but stoped about one and a half meter above it.

I won't be able to take over one of these guys now that they were coated with anti magic sand. So, good old hand-to-hand combat it is. When the wood got too thin to walk on I jumped and grabbed a low hanging spray to swing to the ground, the old, crusty and rough bark cutting into my palm, making me almost lose my grip.

I landed and rolled off in a nimble motion and stopped behind a trunk, panting slightly and waiting for an enemy that I could hear nearing my position. When the rustling was close, I got two daggers out of their sheaths. When the guy passed me I stabbed one dirk through the flesh of his cheek and drew the other one over his face, leaving a bloody track. He screeched and turned, let go of his broad sword, one hand clutching to his face while my dagger slid over the lower half of his chain hood which protected his neck. Damn, no way to cut his throat. His free, gauntlet-clothed hand connected painfully with my chest, the blow sending me backwards, stumbling.

I grunted and coughed but got back into a fighting stance while my opponent picked up his sword and attacked me. He struck his sword in wide curves and I ducked under the first two assaults and then saw an opening. I dived under the next swing but instead of backing away I stepped towards him. Unexpectedly his left hand struck at me, hitting me on my hip. I tripped, but managed to kick his legs out from under him and got in a kneeling position. He fell towards me and I raised my right hand, thrusting my long-bladed dagger into his face, through his right eye. He cried out and I added extra pressure to get as deep as possible. With a scrunching sound I crushed his eye socket and after one last seizure, he laid still, half on me, his torso hanging over my right shoulder. He was heavy because of his armor and tall stature. I had to free myself soon because there was another man out there.

I started to roll him off when I spotted the other, smaller and less armored man. Actually, he was without any visible armor and his narrow face, small frame and pale skin told me he was a Randalor. Randalor is a human steppe nation, whose people hate armor, because they think it confines their soul. But that doesn't make them any less dangerous, because they are agile and fast. He was practically flying towards me, a short sword in his right hand and the left one dug into a pouch. I doubled my efforts to get the corpse off of me and finally I succeeded, but by now my enemy was within reach and threw sand from his pouch at me. I tried to roll away, but hit a tree trunk with my back.

Some anti magic dust was covering my right hand and arm and a numbing tingle started to slowly creep through my body. I tried to throw a dirk at my enemy with my left arm but missed. The small bandit stepped closer with a few easy strides, a wide smirk spreading over his face as he swiftly hit me on my temple with the butt of his short blade. My vision got blurry and my opponent's following words sounded like they went through cotton wool.

"Now I'll kill you bastard, slowly, painfully; just like your kind deserves." He lifted his arm to strike a blow and I weakly raised my arms to provide a little protection.

Suddenly a roaring creature dashed down a low hanging branch and knocked the black dressed man over with the power of the impact. I stared in awe as the wild beast started to literally tear the slim Randalor apart, who had dropped his sword and tried to kick the attacker off him, but to no avail. Sharp claws and fangs were scratching at flesh, ripping it open, leaving the raw meat exposed to the air, blood flowing onto the forest ground. A vicious slice over the throat ended the screaming and after some last twitches the man laid still. A low growl emitted the creature on top of the still bleeding corpse when he pulled his teeth from the forehead of the man, blood dripping down his chin and claws.

It looked at me completely still, eyes narrowing. A motion caught my attention and I saw a tail at the backside of the beast -- and the last third was missing, some droplets of blood dribbling out from time to time. Realization dawned upon me. The cat-being from earlier! This wild thing was the refugee that got shot and started that whole mess. A quick look to his left shoulder proved it. I could see the crossbow bolt still sticking in it, the sharp end jutting out of it. I could only assume it was still bleeding because its body was covered in blood and most of it belonged to the bandit he was crouched over.

It crawled towards me and I didn't know if it wanted to kill me, too, but my body was almost completely paralyzed by now so I couldn't do a thing about it. It reached towards me and looked into my eyes. Its own were deep blue with sprinkles of a rich green, as if little emeralds were embedded into them. I'd call them beautiful if it wasn't for the animalistic, wild and brute gaze. But it made them most captivating and I could only stare back. The spell was broken when it started to sniff me and its spiky blond hair, which was adorned with black tips, tickled me. I lifted an eyebrow at the... well... unexpected behavior, though I wouldn't call it unpleasant. Abruptly it stood up with legs apart and looked down at me with a weird expression written over its face. The cat-human then reached into its pants and my eyes went wide as it pulled out his dick and... started pissing on me.

"Hey you little fucker, what the hell..." was all I could mumble before he shook his cock and put it away. What was he trying to do?! Using me as a latrine? Humiliate me? 'Just wait, you asshole, when I can move again I'll show you! You'll drink my piss!'

I fumed inwardly when the paralysis started suddenly to wear off and after 20 seconds a quickly fading numbness was all that was left. 'Now I'll show that little idiot.' I got up and the not-so-housebroken cat took a step back when a thought struck me. Normally it took hours, sometimes days for magic dust to lose its power -- if it wasn't washed off. Well, obviously it also works with pissing it off. At least now I knew his gender. I muttered a "Thank you." when he grabbed my arm and dragged me impatiently behind him. Moments later I heard shouting and cracking wood. Seemed he hadn't killed his pursuers. I started to run and he did the same. 'Let's just go as far as possible and as fast as possible away from here.'

Five hours later around noon we stopped by a small stream, to rest a little, drink some water and to wash body fluids off of us. I was glad to do so because he might not be human but his urine stank just like human's. Ewww... I remembered stories about a race of people that looked like a mixture of cats and humans, living in the far south-east, while I watched the catboy standing with his back to me as he discarded his worn out and damaged clothes.

Not shy about his body that was for sure. And he definitely had no reason to be it. Shorter than me, perhaps one meter and sixty-five centimeter, the top of his head reaching my mouth. Cooper bronzed skin from his neck to his feet, flawless as far as I could see, except for the arrow wound. Not broad shoulders nor skinny, an elegant curve of his back, his spine visible but framed by slender muscles. His tailbone melted into his tail, the blue-black fur slightly straightened up, due to tension and alertness, I guessed. My eyes shifted lower to narrow hips and I beheld sight of what must be the greatest ass of the whole world. No, "ass" is a too impure word for that masterpiece. It looked supple yet taut and firm, clearly begging me to touch it. I quickly looked further down to avoid any rash actions but his strong thighs and calves were doing nothing to cool me down. I was drooling by now and had to swallow quickly to not make a complete idiot out of myself. Perhaps I should not ogle my life-saver that shamelessly. Than again, I saved his life first, so I thought it was okay.

I grinned a little and gave him a once over again when he suddenly sprinted into the water and took a splash into a deeper spot. When the catboy resurfaced he yelped and... squeaked. I lifted an eyebrow somewhat confused. He frantically scrubbed the dirt, sweat and blood off his body and then ran back to the bank, grabbing his clothes. He quickly washes them clean, holding them in front of his body while he passed me, shaking his head and body to get rid of the water. The whole incident couldn't have taken longer then 30 seconds. I suddenly had to laugh -- it seemed that he really had cat genes in him, not liking water. He glared at me, baring his fangs. I grinned back, finding it oddly adorable.

While he retreated to the edge of the forest and plopped down on a patch of grass I undressed and got into the small river, taking my time to get clean. The water was not really warm but it was summer and the sun shone brightly so I could enjoy the bath. I checked my body for injuries and found two large bruises, one on my hip, one on my chest, and some scratches on my hand. When I touched my left temple I twitched and winced. That little Randolian bastard! I remembered what happened to him and I glanced at my companion who was taking a sunbath, air-drying in the midday sun. Okay, he might be adorable but I should definitely try to stay on his good side. Yep, that was the best thing to do. I finished washing myself and then cleaned my clothes.

When I stepped out of the water and made my way to the catboy I saw he was already dressed in his pants. I admired his flat stomach for some moments, raising my gaze with a little smirk that froze when I saw why he hadn't put on his shirt. The crossbow bolt still stuck in his shoulder and there were two cuts on his other shoulder and a small one on his jaw line. Shit, we had to tend to them and remove the bolt fast, before he got gangrene. I cautiously kneeled besides him and lifted my hands, palms facing towards him, and then reached into the inner pocket of my vest. My hand vanished and I felt around a big space. When my forearm vanished halfway, I got a suspicious glance from the catboy. I smiled a little and tried to explain it to him.

"That made a good friend of mine for me. He's a studied magician and well, actually he told me how it worked. Lots of time-space shifting and nutshells outside the normal three dimensional stream, blablablubb... He's great at things like that, though he tends to talk too much about it, instead of just getting it done. So no worry, it's just a little magic. These things are great. It's not like you can deposit a sword or horse or house in it, but some helpful little things." I tried a reassuring smile, hoping that magic wouldn't freak him out when he replied.

"Assurg?"

I stopped in my motions and blinked. "Pardon?"

He furrowed his brows, looking interrogatively at me. "Assurge tes sadar?"

Great, it was obvious he didn't speak my language and I didn't even recognize his. I resumed the search in my pocket and found the bottle I was looking for. I pulled it out with some strips of cloth and showed it to him. "See, disinfectant. It will hurt a little, but we need to apply it so your wounds won't get infected." He still wore a confused look on his face, so I just uncorked the bottle and applied some of its content on a rag and gently started working on one cut on his right shoulder. A sudden hiss was my only warning and I barely evaded the claw that swung at my arm. A low growl was emitting his throat and he skidded away some centimeters. "Well cutie, I know it hurts but take it like a man, will you?" The growl intensified some. Okay, he wouldn't.

I put the ointment away -- for the time being. I then pointed to myself. "My name's Niven." The boy stops growling and tilted his head, looking puzzled. I put my hand on my chest and repeated. "Niven." After two more tries he got it and pointed to me. "Niven?" I smiled and repeated it for him. "Niven!" A small smile graced his lips and I took a moment to actually study his face.

It had some feline traits to it, slightly round eyes with slit pupils, high cheek bones and a small, lightly pointed nose. Soft, hairless cheeks and smooth lips, a fang visible, gently worrying his lower lip. His eyebrows were slim, lightly bushy and curving upwards. And then I saw them. His hair was a little flat against his head because it was still damp from his... short dip into the river. Triangular, soft furred ears on top of his head were pointing into the sky. Pitch black at the base and blue black at the top, adorned with fine, long hair at the tip and inside. They just invited me to touch them and I subconsciously raised my right arm. And then I realized it. I was behaving like a love-stricken teenager! Sure, he looked cute, captivating, delectable, sexy... No! Not again! I groaned mentally. Okay, he was good looking but that didn't mean anything. 'So, help him, get out of the trouble and then go your own way.'

After that was decided, I used my already half-raised hand to point at him. After a smile and an inquiring look from me he says: "Sorr'an."

I blinked at the rough, somewhat guttural sound. "Soran?" I tried it myself.

He shook his head and repeated it. "So-rr-an." The "r" he made was a strange mixture of low rattle a in his throat and a vibrating roll of his tongue.

I tried again but have to stop because I almost started to cough. He looked strangely at me and I tried again. "Sorran."

He smiled and repeated it again. "Sorr'an!"

I took a breath. "Sorr'an."

"Xandarr'ah!" he exclaimed happily, nodded and pointed with his index finger to me. "Niven!" And then the digit was directed to his chest. "Sorr'an!"

His smile was contagious and I had to return it and then took the disinfectant into my hand. In an instant the cheerful expression vanished from his face, the growl was back and he bared his teeth at me. Ooookay... "Look Sorr'an...," the name was still causing me trouble, "we need to sanitize your wounds..." No change in reaction. Well, this needed a new tactic. I took the soaked piece of cloth and rubbed it over a scratch on the back of my hand. It stung, but I did it again, showing it to Sorr'an. He squinted his eyes and leaned forward, sniffing my hand and snapped back, scrunching his nose. "I know, but Sorr'an, we have to do it." Again I wiped the cloth over my scratch. The skin started to get irritated, the sting getting painful. 'Why am I doing this? He wants to die of gangrene or tetanus -- fine, what do I care?'

He then lay down on the grass and presented me his shoulder. Well, seemed my demonstration helped a little. Good for him, I would have stopped the next moment. Right? Right! I took a new strip of cloth and saturated it with the opaque liquid. I gently dabbed the first cut. He hissed and twitched once but then he kept still. I disinfected both gashes on his shoulder and with a new tissue I tended to the small cut on his jaw. Well, that was the easy part. "Sorr'an?" I tried to get his attention and then pointed to the bolt in his other shoulder, making a pulling motion. He sighed and nodded. I carefully put his shirt under his back and pushed his shoulder down. He yelped and pulled a grimace, then swatted at my hand, turned and searched the ground. Sorr'an grabbed a stick and put it between his teeth while he lay down again, looking at me. I nodded and held his shoulder down, grabbing the bolt under its head and jerked it out.

There was a cracking sound as Sorr'an bit through the piece of wood and sliced his lower lip, though it didn't look too bad. I inspected the damaged area but couldn't find any splinters of timber that stuck into the flesh and I couldn't smell anything foul only a little trickle of blood was coming from the puncture. Sorr'an coughed and spat out pieces of wood and I reached for the ointment but the catboy caught my hand and shook his head vigorously. "Sorr'an..." I tried to soothe him but his claws penetrated my skin. 'Okay, okay, I get your point, cutie.'

I set the bottle down and wanted to wrap his shirt around the wound when he took my hand and peered into my eyes. 'Well, now you've got me confused, catboy.' He lifted my hand to his mouth and I stared in awe and shock, when the boy started to lick my fingers. That was... definitely not what I expected. Sorr'an intensified his gaze and pointedly licked along a long scratch in the palm of my hand. "Sorr'an..." was my confused comment and he rolled his eyes at me, made a licking motion with his long tongue and pointed at me.