Zir yawned silently.
He was Cat. He did not make noise unless he intended to. He was silent, observant, and patient.
He had watched the Dwarf, and what transpired with slow blinking amber eyes, and more than a little…disappointment? He had seen the result of the High Lord’s attack on his Mistress, and considered she had earned it. He had watched her flee, and knew where she hid. Then he watched the High Lord flee like he was running for his life. And finally, Naraal had sauntered out, pulling the door almost closed behind him. So much was happening. He yawned again.
They did not know, those mighty Sorceresses and Sorcerers, even though he had lived among them for nigh fifteen years. They did not know.
He was Cat, not fell spirit.
Taken in the Savannah from his slain mother’s side as a cub, he had been intended to be a ‘receptacle’, to house in his body a spirit guardian for one of the Sisterhood’s own. But none had realised the disturbance in the hall that day, when he was first presented to, and accepted by, Khahaynd, had resulted in him shaking off the demon’s attempt to attach itself, and remaining what he was.
Even better. He has caught part of the disturbed spirit in his claws. A disguise only, a ‘scent’ of what he was expected to be. And why not? He was the expert hunter, not the Men, not the spirit. So he had lived in luxury mostly since that day, fawned over by a ‘mistress’ he was happy to protect. There was sorrow in her, a yearning to be loved. He had felt it from the start. She yearned for her mother’s protection. He understood. He yearned for his mother. But he knew death when he saw it. There was no going back for either him, or the frail girl. And he at least had the Great Cat to turn to, the Great Mother’s care. The girl had the Dark Lord, for what that was worth. But she also had him.
They grew together over the years. She working with and addressing what she believed to be a spirit in cat form, while he indulged the ruse, though with a genuine care for her.
When they had been sent on this mission North, he had wondered. Perhaps now, away from the eyes of the Sisterhood, from the scrutiny of Zairaphel, they could make a different life, a truer life? One that did not require deception?
Perhaps? After all, he was Cat!
But she was a very troubled cub. Rejected, as she believed by both parents, and brother, she was only good enough to be offered to a cruel elderly Man. No love. No kindness for her. Save from Zir. He had truly wanted her to escape, to find a better life away from the stench of darkness and decay. But then she had sought to burn the She-Elf to death. That had altered matters. One could do many things, but one did not slay any of the First Born without very good reason. Was Khahaynd irredeemable? He was not certain. Of course she had not succeeded. He had seen the arrival of the other Elves just as he was about to enter the flames himself, to pull the She-Elf clear.
Khahayed had run from the house, nursing her injured shoulder, desperate to find a place to hide from her brother, and focus on healing herself. Even worse, Naraal had not moved a finger to aid her again! Damn him, she had never wanted to see her traitor brother, and now he had brought down further disaster on her. And ever-loyal Zir, what was wrong with him? She had called on her Master to save her life from the attack of the High Lord with but a small knife? What was that about? Since when did Sauron bother with such matters? Furious beyond measure she had headed out of the town, keeping to the thickest groves of trees. There, under the shade of branches and leaves, she had mustered strength to pull out the knife from her shoulder, hearing the sickening sound of cracking bone as she did. Swiftly she reached into her belt pouch, withdrawing a sprinkling of a herb to place on the wound and halt blood flow, and one to place on her tongue to lessen pain. It would not do to leave a trail of blood to her place of hiding. Khahaynd knew from experience Sauron only helped those who helped themselves, who were of use to him. For a moment an ice like chill went through her. Was she no longer of use?
Then Zir approached from the shadows, and paced measuredly in her direction before sitting down and staring at her.
“Where were you when needed?” she grumbled accusingly, tearing off the bottom of her skirt to make a bandage and a sling with. “Do not think I believe you are afraid of that ‘Elf Lord’ with his tiny knife. You could have brought him down in an instant had you the will.”
This time Zir made a small rumbling sound in his throat.
“My brother then? Nay, I believe that not. You are stronger and swifter.”
The Great Cat fixed his eyes on her in return. Though they never communicated with words, she had the image of her using her much avowed ‘magic’ to stop Parnard.
“Did I want him to escape? He has done so?”
Zir swished his tail.
“My brother let him go!.” That time she could almost swear the cat spoke. And the realisation occurred that Naraal knew she had tried to kill Danel. In his spite for her, he would surely inform Zairaphel.
She sighed, though by then her head was thumping. She needed rest and temporary safety. She needed someone who would care for her. It was in her mind there could be no explanation to the Lady. She would be cast aside for her disobedience to Zairaphel, and with it all the safety, the family she had ever known. But she had never been one to give up easily.
“I shall find someone, someone who can make sure I am safe until I am healed. A few days, a week at the most. And I can think on where we go from here.”
Zir was not sure what she was planning, but he had spent too long with Khahaynd to just walk away. The attempted slaughter of an Elf sat ill with him, but he was willing to act as a guardian for a little longer.
The sorceress was circling Herne, careful to keep low and hidden in the bushes. Zir had brought her a large chicken, but she didn’t seem interested. He ate it himself. Then she tensed and crouched low.
‘There. The three Elves are on the road again, heading south towards Tharbad. They are on the trail right enough. And perhaps that cursed Danel will yet serve me?’ the Sorceress whispered.
Sniffing the air, the large Cat could smell them, just. A faint scent of woodland pines, and horses of course. He sniffed nearer Khahaynd. Good, her blood was no longer flowing from the wound at all. Dried up into a weeping scab, it would heal fast. But she would have to take care not to over exert herself. The bone needed to knit together. She had looked tired to him, but her eyes were suddenly bright, her cheeks flushed with vigour. She had a plan.
‘Keep out of their sight, behind the walls, but we must try and keep up. They ride slowly for now. If they gallop on we are lost. But perhaps….”
The Elves were talking among themselves, something about the High Lord and ‘osanwe’?
“If he isn’t with them then we don’t know where he is. At the least, they must have news of him. When we catch them up we will ask, and they will answer.” That was the tall, leaner golden haired ‘Captain’, the High Lord’s brother. He looked over at the stronger built, wild haired Elf. ‘Ah, Estarfin,’ Khahaynd thought.
Then it was the She-Elf speaking. “I am happy to ensure they ride little further, but only once we have Parnard safe.”
‘Oh, she is ready to slay us, or to try,’ Khahaynd thought with a hint of pleasure at the thought of such an encounter. The She-Elf was no match for her powers. None of the three were. Looking ahead they were reaching a fork in the road. The greenery grew sparse save for a few tall trees, but there were plenty of large, red boulders. Although the clambering hurt her shoulder, the Sorceress persevered. An idea was forming in her mind, if she could get but a chance.
The Elves halted. “Which way?” asked Estarfin.
The She-Elf paused as if trying to work something out.
“Can you not reach him by thought, Lady? Even to get some sense of where he went?” The Captain’s voice held a tone of frustration, at the situation rather than the she Elf.
“Osanwe isn’t easy, as you know,” she replied, though with a look of sorrow at the Golden -haired Elf. “And time is precious. But perhaps if I sit by the lake for a short time? “
Estarfin nodded to both sitting by the Lake and osanwe not being easy. But his dark grey eyes were searching the area for danger.
Khahayned huddled low, feeling as if she had already been seen, though she knew otherwise. It was not possible.
The She-Elf dismounted, patted her horse's neck, then walked through the grass in the direction of the water.
“From what I know of Parnard he is unlikely to close his mind to me.” She flashed a smile at the dark haired warrior, then turned her focus to finding a place to sit. “I can but try. Stand watch not too far away please. “
With that she settled beside the lake, so low that it was only possible to catch the occasional glint of her red hair through the reeds.
Estarfin frowned slightly, and stood his ground close to her. The Captain remained with the horses on the rough track.
“Meldanya, please. I need to focus on Parnard,” the she Elf said with an apologetic look.
“Walk away, Estarfin,” Khahaynd bent her will to one end. “Get away from her, back to the road.” Then she silently cheered, believing her force of will had effect, rather than he was doing what the She-Elf asked of him.
“A few minutes, Zir, then we are away. Alas, you shall be an old hound again.”
Zir did not like the sound of that. Nor did he like what he thought his mistress was about to do.
