A Creature of War, Book 5, CH02

The view was magnificent from the top of this hill, El thought, as he looked down at the unending green of the grass interrupted only by the copses of trees dotting it. Birds flew high overhead, and he could sense animals among the trees, many of them. He couldn’t believe that after more than a decade of wandering, such a peaceful sight had the power to take his breath away.

Those first few months were filled with uncertainty. He questioned his decision daily as the loneliness weight down on him, and when the lack of sex hit him. The one thing he found he didn’t miss was the fighting. He was surprised to discover that in spite of the other urges to go back, he enjoyed the quiet, silent moments of peace that sitting at the base of a tree brought him. How walking, without a destination in mind or a need to hurry, was relaxing instead of nerve-wracking. He came to look forward to any destination that presented itself to him because he knew there would be no army waiting for him, no fighting.

There had been fights, almost from the moment he left Vee and his army, but those were not the same. They were bandits attacking a lone traveler. He hadn’t relished them, but the knowledge he couldn’t avoid them made the fighting more worthwhile. Since he refused to use his ability and give away he was powered, he truly had to fight for his life and that kind of fighting had a purity to it; so long as he didn’t go looking for them.

Vee occupied a large part of his mind in the first year. How was he faring? Had he taken a new lover? El was of mixed feeling about that. He didn’t want Vee to be alone, but he wasn’t returning and the idea he’d be replaced was unsettling.

After that, El thought less and less about him. Occasionally wondering if he should look for him, not to go back, but to see that he was doing well. He didn’t, partly because he didn’t want to give Vee false hope and in fear that if he saw the bull again, he’d stay. And El wasn’t ready to go back to the wars yet. He knew he’d been made for them. He could no longer deny the graving each time he heard stories of a war, but in feeling them, he also knew that it was not all that he was. So he wandered, being simply a lynx called El, discovering a world changed by the death of technology.

As he walked down the hill, he thought of Vee for the first time in what felt like years. El wished he could see this and know there was peace in the world. That Vee could lay down his sword and fighting and that there would be something of him left.

He cast his senses into the distance, feeling for water, he wanted a bath after the travel dust and dirt. What he sensed was people. Two of them, further than he could see. Further away was a group of six, at that distance he couldn’t tell precisely how far anyone was from one another, but he expected they would be farmers.

They might be willing to let him have a bath, if not, he could at least find out where he was, hear some of the news. It had been months since he’d spoken to anyone. Food would also be good. He didn’t mind hunting and cooking over a fire, but there came a time when someone had to have a properly cooked meal.

He felt for them occasionally, to ensure he was heading in the right direction. His sense of the further group changes as he approached. He didn’t think they were working the field anymore; they were stationary. Feeling for other elements, he sensed the fire. So a camp of some sort. Soldiers, if there was a city close by. Hunters was another possibility. By the animals he could sense around them, they had to be in a forest.

He came across a dirt path heading in where he was going and followed it. The camp was further from the farmers than he’d initially thought, and as the farmhouse came into view, he felt the people in the forest move. Heading for this side of the trees. Not soldiers.

Now that he saw where he was heading, he stopped sensing for the people. He couldn’t turn off his elemental sense. He always sensed what was around him within a hundred yards, if he simply paid attention to it, but he could ignore the input, like he ignored a badly signing bird.

The farmhouse was a mix of fieldstone and rough wood and within it he felt one person, the other was behind, hidden from view in the field. He stepped off the path and walked toward the door, making it only halfway when it opened and an older man with tanned skin stepped out, holding a long knife.

“That’s far enough, stranger. State your business and move on.”

El kept his hands away from his body and the amusement out of his voice. “I’m just a traveler, hoping for some food and a bath, possibly a place to spend the night. I can pay.”

“You think you can fool me with words? I’m not letting you inside my home. I’d rather die than let you take what’s mine again.”

“I am not a thief.” The man had said ‘again’. El sense further.

“Just leave,” the man said, sounding tired. “I have nothing left for you to take, the others saw to it.”

Six people, leaving the tree line. Not hunters then, or rather a different kind of hunter. He felt their steps through the earth, rapid, but lightl. Using the low spots to stay out of view. Was this really the coincidences it looked like? Or was one of them an Anthro and had felt him approaching?

They stopped moving.

“I am not with them,” El said as they stood.

An arrow sliced the air, and El could tell its aim was true. If he did nothing, it would pierce the man’s heart. He smiled, and it thunked into the overhead support beam.

“You should go inside.” El pushed his cloak aside and pull the thin sword out of its scabbard. The man’s eyes were wide as the lynx turned.

The archer let loose another arrow, aimed at El’s chest this time, it joined the other on the beam. He stepped forward to meet them before they reached the path. The closest bandit said something over his shoulder that made the archer snarl and let loose arrow after arrow. Each slammed in the ground, the wind lifting the dust.

The archer stopped when two of the bandits were within fighting range and El parried their attacks. Their weapons were large and heavy and could break El’s sword, but unlike them, he knew how to wield it, deflecting them while letting as little of the strength impact it. It was also stronger than it looked, having obtained it when he’d saved a town from brigands a few years before. The blacksmith had been particularly grateful, since they had been after her supplies of precious metal and on top of letting him sleep in her bed while she did the work, she made him this sword.

One of the bandits opened himself and instead of skewering him, El shoulder blocked, sending the man flying back a dozen feet. He grinned at the swordswoman, as she looked from the man getting back to his feet to El. No one expected him to be this strong, he sometimes forgot too that he hadn’t been build to the normal.

Now all six of them were close enough to hurt him. It wasn’t fair, El knew it, but he had fun parrying them, pushing another off balance with one, making one trip over the earth.

They weren’t bad, El reflected as he pushed a mace aside with his blade and punched the man in the chest. They worked well together, but he had centuries of combat experience, a millennia now? That was possible, and the last few centuries fighting wars with Vee had elevated his swordplay beyond what any of them could dream to achieve.

With three quick slices he cut the man’s tendons at the wrist, elbow and shoulder, then cutting his throat before turning to deflect a knife and spear the woman through the heart.

The archer ran, to escape or get far enough to fire the arrows he had left at him, El didn’t care. He grabbed the knife from the falling woman and threw it.

Normally he’d let them escape. He wasn’t bloodthirsty. He didn’t have Vee’s need to kill, but they had attacked this far before, and with no Anthros among them, they couldn’t have come because of him.

El could tolerate much, more than most, he expected. He’d seen wars, he knew thievery, savagery. Men turned on each other out of desperation, but the one thing he couldn’t stand was slavery, which was what these bandits had turned this farmer’s live into.

They let him do the work and then took it from him without offering anything in return.

He turned to face the last three. Half their numbers dead in three seconds. He would let them try to flee is they chose, but there was a second bow at his feet, with a quiver on the woman’s back. It had been years since he’d fired a bow, but—

They attacked together, still working well, in spite of their fear, one even managed to nick him, his hardened skin making the sword slide with nothing more than shaving off a line of fur. She died with a gurgle from El’s sword through her throat.

The mace hit his arm hard enough he dropped his sword, so he broke the man’s wrist, then smashed his head in with his own mace. The last man ran. El took the bow and two arrows. He fired them in quick succession and the man dropped, both of them in his back.

He made sure each was dead, ending their suffering quickly and cleanly, then headed for the farm to make sure the farmer was all right.

“Stay away,” the man warned from behind the partially opened door. He had the knife up as menacingly as a man like him knew how.

El raised his empty hands. “I mean you no harm.”

“You’re one of them, the demons. I saw the dust help you.” The man was wary, but not hateful as most of the people in the cities had become over the years about the ‘demons.’

“You’re a follower of the Celeste then?”

The man snorted. “Gods have no time for the likes of me. It’s just me and the soil I tend. But I hear stories.”

“I just saved you and your farm. You’d think that would afford me some slack, don’t you?”

The man eyes him suspiciously. “You speak like no one I’ve ever heard.”

El rolled his eyes. “I’m from the city.” That answer was usually enough, and on a purely technical level, it was true. Just not a city that still existed.

The man didn’t lower his knife, but he stepped out from behind the door. “Is it true?”

“You’re doing to have more precise, is what true?”

“That if a demon swears three time about something, he’s bound to it.”

El had never heard that one before. He shrugged. “If it’s going to put you at ease, sure, it’s true.”

“Then swear to me that you won’t hurt me or my son, and that you won’t take anything that’s not first offered.”

“I swear.”

“Again.”

El grinned. “I swear it.”

The man motioned with his knife.

“You’re really going to get me to say it again?”

The man nodded “I sw—” he’d been so focused on the man and his promising he didn’t feel the form launching at him until the last moment. The pitchfork ripped his cloak and shirt, but not him.

A boy who could be anywhere between fourteen and twenty stood between El and the farmer, brandishing the pitchfork.

“You stay away from my Pa,” he said, trying to sound menacing, but the tremor in his voice took away from the effect, as did the fact he had to readjust his grim because of how much he was sweating.

“Orbin,” the older man said sharply. “He’s a guest.”

“He might be one of them bandits.”

El couldn’t stop himself from looking over his shoulders. Four of the six bodies he’d killed were visible from where they stood.

“He protected me from them.”

“It’s a trap,” the boy said. “He looks like a demon, you heard the stories. They’d do anything to make you trust them, then they steal your soul.”

The man turned pale as El tilted an ear. Did they really say that?

The farmer regained his coloring and ripped the pitchfork out of his son’s hand. “Stop waving that around. You might offend him and he’ll have to punish you.”

“I’m protecting you,” the boy whined.

“I don’t need no protecting. Go inside.”

The young man looked like he’d argue. Instead, he glared at El and slammed the door behind him.

“Please forgive him. He meant no offense. Bandits have been coming here for years, each time close to harvest. He’s young and foolhardy.”

“And brave,” El said. Which didn’t have the comforting effect on the man he’d hoped for. “I’m not offended. I understand the need to defend his family.” He indicated the dead. “If you don’t mind giving me a minute or two, I need to bury them before they attract animals.”

“Could burn them.” the man spat. “Easier.”

“That was my thought, but I’m worried the smoke will alert their compatriots something went wrong here. And burying them isn’t that difficult for me.”

The man thought about it. He nodded. “Can you do it on the other side of the path? I don’t want no reminder they were here.”

El dragged the bodies to a dip closer to the forest. He searched them, coming away with a handful of small disks with a hole in the middle. Some were etched with designs but most were smooth. The area’s currency. He took the lightest sword then open a hole ten feet deep for them to fall into.

He returned to the farmhouse, where he offered the man the sword. “I don’t think you’ll need it, but it’s more effective as a deterrent than the knife you’re holding, or a pitchfork.

“I’m not taking anything that’s yours.”

“It isn’t mine. It was one of the bandits.”

“You killed him, so it’s yours. Nothing a demon touched means you well.”

“I can swear it three times if you need me to.”

The man started to nod, stopped, sighed. “Guess if you meant me harm, you could have done it already.”

El smiled. “I thought protecting you was a good indication I mean you no harm.”

“Can never tell with demons.” The man looked at his feet. “Sorry, I don’t mean anything by that.”

“It’s okay, I get that with the few people to come this way, there’s even less chances you’ve seen someone like me before.”

The man nodded. “It’s early for food, but you said a bath. There’s a tub in the barn. It’s old and dented, but it holds water.

“Hot water?”

The man shook his head. “Bucket leaks.”

“I’ll manage, if you can take me to it.”

The barn was old, missing planks here and there, but the structure looked like it could endure storms. A cow and horse, both thin, were in stalls. At the back, the man pulled an overturned tub and righted it.

It wasn’t the cheap thing El expected. The bathtub was long enough El would be able to stretch, had clawed feet and sounded thick. It was rusted in place, and as the man said, dented, but well cared for. This was probably the farmer’s most valuable possession, and he took care of it.

“The well’s behind the barn.” The man indicated the other door. “There’s soap on the shelve. If you use those.” He turned and left El alone.

He inspected the tub. Free of cracks and a knock confirmed it was thick. He hollowed a pit under it then went out the back to gather wood, filling the pit with them. He felt for fire, and the closest was in the house’s hearth. The farmer wouldn’t appreciate the burned trail if El called a flame to him, so he took out the flint and his knife.

He managed to hold on to a refillable lighter for almost twenty years, hoarding light fluid and flints like they were gems, but eventually he’d run out and had to do like everyone else in the army.

He stroked the knife against the flint once and the wood caught, the fire spreading quicker than a normal one would. He didn’t bother with the well to fill the tub, he drew it out of the air.

He undressed, giving his clothing a rough cleaning by forcing water through it. He could clean himself the same way, condensing water and forcing it through his fur, but that always left dirt that wasn’t earth so he was stuck with it and it itched. It was simpler to wait until he found a stream, or, better yet, a proper bath.

He felt the eyes on him as he checked the water temperature. “You can come in, if you want,” he told the young man. The farmer wouldn’t bother trying to be surreptitious if he was going to spy on him.

The door creaked open. “Are all Furrian demons?”

El turned and leaned against the tub. “None of us are.”

The young man looked at him suspiciously. “The man said that Furians were demons, that they prowled the land to tempt us away from the Celeste.”

“He wore black robes?”

Orbin nodded.

“Met them before, full of themselves. Have no idea what they’re talking about. Did I look like I was prowling?”

“Dunno what that means.”

“I’m not a demon. I’m just Furian traveler.”

“Do they all look like you?”

“No, just like humans come in different flavors, we do too.”

“You eat us?”

El shook his head. “It’s just an expression. From the city,” he added. “It means we’re all different.”

“Why’d you talk about how I taste if you meant how I look?”

“It’s just how the expression goes.”

Orbin leaned against the wall and tried to look relaxed as he studied El. His gaze move to the lynx’s groin. “You look like me down there.”

“Of course, I’m a man too.”

“Never seen a man without clothes before. I thought you’d be different.”

“You’re welcome to keep looking, I don’t mind it while I answer more of your questions.”

Orbin shook his head, reddening. “Should help Pa with the chores.”

El noticed the bulge as the young man turned and left. If this was his first exposure to anything remotely sexual, El wondered what he was going to do next.

The water was almost too hot when he sank in it. He sighed as felt lighter in the water, as if the weight of the months of travels lifted off him. He closed his eyes and relaxed, adjusting the deepness of the pit to keep the water comfortably hot.

A knock made him open his eyes. The water had cooled enough he felt for the fire. It had gone out.

“Food’s about ready,” the farmer said, then left.

El washed and got out, making the water in his fur stay in the tub. Each time the tub was tipped over the water made a furrow, so he had the water in the tub follow it. He buried the ashes and leveled the ground under the tub as he dressed. He then tipped the tub over where it had been.

He found Orbin and his father in the house, a large pot over the fire in the center of the only room. In opposing corners were sheets over hay.

El sat on the offered stool and Orbin kept glancing in his direction.

“Don’t worry about the tub,” the farmer said. “Me and the boy will empty it after eating.”

“Already took care of it.”

The man frowned at him.

“I’m stronger than I look,” El offered as an explanation.

The stew was good, mostly vegetable, and came with a hard loaf of bread El used to soak up the gravy. After an initial uncomfortable silence, Orbin asked about El’s travels, and the lynx recounted some of what he’s seen, focusing on the people and places, more than the fights.

Even the farmer leaned forward as he listened to El speak, expressing dismay as some descriptions of city buildings, laughing at some of the troubles El landed himself in, and expressing awe when he described some of the clothing El had seen in southern cities.

When the only light in the room was the fire, El stopped talking.

“Only place for you to sleep is the barn,” the farmer said, sounding apologetic.

El smiled. “Hay is better than dirt.”

The farmer did bring a thick blanket to put over the hay. After he left El undressed and stretched on it. Even after centuries without air conditioning and roughing it, he couldn’t sleep dressed. Because of that, he despised winters and did his best to be south when they hit. Fortunately the weather had stabilized long enough ago that he’d learned to read it again and was never caught in bad weather unprepared.

He felt the person approach, pause at the barn’s door and open it slowly, stopping when it creaked.

“I’m still awake,” El said, and the young man stiffened.

El turned on his side and watched the young man navigate the barn toward him. Orbin didn’t seem to be impaired by the near total darkness.

“Do you need something?” El asked.

Orbin stopped a few paces away and El patted the blanket. After hesitating, the young man sat.

“Pa told me to stay away from you.”

“Then why are you here?” El smiled.

“You did something when I watched you, you made me feel strange down there.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Oh,” his voice was heavy with disappointment. “I wanted you to do it again.”

El placed a hand on the young man’s bare thigh. Rubbed it going up, not encountering the expected clothing. “What if your father gets angry?”

Orbin shrugged. “I’m old enough to do what I want. I want to do this and he can’t stop me.” El nodded and pulled the young man against him.

He spent the night showing Orbin pleasures he couldn’t have imagined existed only hours before. El made him scream out in ecstasy, writhed with need, beg for more and, as the sky lightened, fall asleep from exhaustion. El licked him clean without eliciting a reaction other than a satisfied moan. He still smelled of sex strongly enough even a human would know what had happened.

El dressed quietly. He wished he could lie down next to the young man and get some sleep too, but if he was here when Orbin woke, things would get far too complicated.

This wasn’t El’s first time teaching a young person the pleasures of sex, and each time, be they men or women, they always ended up thinking the sensations they’d experienced were what love felt like.

He considered leaving through the field, but he felt the farmer sitting outside in front of the house. He didn’t want to leave like a thief in the night. He’d done nothing wrong.

“Are you taking him from me?” the farmer asked before El turned around the corner.

“Why would I?”

“He gave into what you offered. The stories say that makes him yours.”

“I’m not a demon. I’m just a man, like you.”

The farmer motioned to El. “That clearly not true. I don’t have fur. I don’t have the dust doing my bidding.”

El shrugged. “Just because I can do something you can’t, that doesn’t mean I’m a demon, and if I was, I promised to do no harm.”

“You didn’t promise three times.” The man sighed. “I told the boy to stay away from you, but I saw the way he looked. I remember how it was when I first saw his mother. Nothing my Ma or Pa could say kept me away.”

“Where’s his mother?”

“She passed. The cough took her.”

“I’m sorry.”

The man shrugged. “You’re leaving.”

“It’s best that I do.”

The man narrowed his eyes. “You did something to my boy?”

“Nothing more than you did with his mother. How did you feel that morning?”

The man smiled wistfully.

“I was never going to stay and I can’t take him with me. It’s best if I’m not here when he wakes up. Might be best if you tell him you didn’t see me leave.

“Where are you heading?”

“First, I’m going to take care of your bandit problem. When they realize those who came here are dead, they’re going to think you did it and I can’t let you suffer for what I did.” El looked up. “The weather’s going to be cooling soon, so I’m going to head south.”

The man looked at the forest. “You have my thanks for protecting me and my boy.” He paused. “Maybe your kind aren’t all bad.”

El smiled. “The only thing most of my kind want is to live a normal, quiet, life. It’s the stories those Keepers spread that forces some of them to have to protect themselves and end up causing more stories to spread.” He pushed away from the wall. “You two have a good life.”

“And you too,” the man replied as El headed for the forest.

*

It took him six days to reach the camp he’d felt from the farmer’s house. He thought they’d traveled away, but he couldn’t be sure, not with the distances involved. He didn’t present himself to the bandits, make a proclamation or give them a chance to atone. These people weren’t worth saving.

He let their own fire do the work while he stayed in the trees. It took a day for the fire to catch up to everyone who fled and another to burn everything to ash. When he walked away, all that was left was an empty clearing the forest would slowly reclaim.