Going Feet First Ch. 02

"For the many men and women of ours that they have tortured and slaughtered... I can only hope the Human rejects this one," the other growled as he leered at the assassin they carried. "If he does, I promise we will spend hours getting our revenge. Perhaps if we break her spirit, we may give her kittens. Redeem her sins with the honor to mother a Willher family."

Galen pretended not to understand, but he couldn't fight the mental images of watching this girl suffering for countless hours in some harem. She couldn't be blamed for the sins of her tribe, could she? Maybe she could, but that still didn't mean she didn't deserve a fair chance to state her case.

Sighing at his own thoughts, Galen shook his head at how Tanza was right about him being one with the light. But if this Ra'zorlich woke up and swore to kill him, or begged him to let her die, would he venture into the darkness to end her misery? Or be willing to give her unto the Willhers' pleasure?

He tightened up his grip on the Elf sleeping in his arms, holding her close as he awed at her peaceful, breathtaking features. If she could forgive a troll for trying to crush her into paste, he could give this Ra'zorlich a chance.

...

Dust fell from the ceiling as Galen booted open the door to the scout cabin, the soldier coughing as the smell of dust and aged wood filled his nose. Moonlight seeped through the shutters covering the window but was barely enough to make anything in the room visible. The furniture was meager: a bed against the far wall, a small table with two stumps for stools by the door, and a fire place on the wall to his left. With all of this was packed into in a ten-by-ten space there was little in the way of elbow room.

Turning sideways to get through the door with Celia, Galen crossed the cabin and laid his sleeping Elf upon the twin-sized bed. He then rolled her onto her side and shifted his into as comfortable position as he could without her input. As the finishing touches were made and he pulled the covers over her body, the Willhers unceremoniously tossed their Ra'zorlich captive onto the floor with a coil of rope.

"It is wise to tie her down, in case she decides to try for your life."

"Thanks, I got it from here," Galen said, waving the Nekos off.

The two warriors bowed their heads and headed off back toward their village, leaving the soldier alone with the two unconscious females. Without a lantern to offer any decent light, Galen focused his will into his left hand just as Celia had showed him. A second later it was glowing a bright white to allow him to see his surroundings.

First thing to really occur to him was how this place had obviously been built in a hurry. The floor boards were barely fitted together and there were many visible gaps in the walls that let the outside light leak in. Only the bed, roof, and fireplace were built to any kind standard, with actual tools used to craft them rather than the four walls slapped together and given a spaced ceiling.

With few other options, Galen pulled the Ra'zorlich against the bed and lashed her wrists to the one of the legs before binding her feet together. It didn't sit right with him to do this to her but he had to ensure his and Celia's safety in case she was a Ra'zorlich. Or she simply decided to get violent.

...

Petra's ears twitched to the sound of a crackling fire, her eyes stirring as flames flickered off to her right. Both her hands were incredibly numb behind her; her vision was blurred and refused to correct itself right away. A dull ringing noise persisted in her ears and her head was throbbing above her left eye, but the fact that she was in pain was welcome. Pain meant she was alive.

Beyond that basic concept, however, none of her other thoughts could organize themselves with the dull ache pulsing within her skull. With a few blinks she managed to get a semi-coherent look at her feet in front of her. Her jaw clenched when she noticed the rope that bound them together but that only made her temples hurt.

Then her hearing clued in to the methodic "shick-cling" sound on her left.

Two paces away was Human sitting on a stump-stool facing the fire, flicking the lid of a small metallic object in his hand closed before flicking it open again. He passed a glance her way for a moment and struck a wheel on the device to cause a small flame to ignite. For a few counts the magical contraption entranced Petra, locking her gaze on the burning wick before he flicked his wrist to snap the lid shut and extinguish it.

"You were sent to kill me," he said, speaking in a slow, calm manner with a solemn tone.

In that instant, Petra's breathing hastened. Her heart rate climbing fast. This was the Human Farok had drawn out for her to find and kill. Armored head, eagle on the shoulder, innocent looking face with blue eyes, his description matched.

"You or your partner triggered a trap," he explained before pausing to sigh. "Likely your partner, 'cause if it were you, she would be here now, and we'd be discussin' your death."

The veteran Shadow Stalker calmed her breathing, shifting her hands in the binds she realized to be wrapped around her wrists before she extended her claws. Only they didn't extend. Panic flooded her chest as she felt for her precious weapons; her weary mind unable to fathom the fact that they were long gone.

"My claws..." she gasped. The Human looked to her bearing a sorry look as he shook his head. She could feel her heart hit her gut. With the horror written in her expression, he sighed and pocketed his fire device.

"They've been... removed. The ones that found ya didn't want you to break free or slit my throat."

"Teirie!" Petra suddenly shrieked, making him jump as she thrashed her body about; the memory of the explosion bursting into her mind. "Teirie! She had that metal... THING! I told her to put it down... but then the whole world shook! I flattened on the dirt... so much fire... my dear Necela!"

The Human took hold of her by the shoulder and gave her a sharp jerk to snap her out of her frenzy. She froze, and he looked her dead in the eye to speak with what sounded to be as much sympathy as he could muster, "I'm sorry, miss. Teirie is dead. But you're here. You live."

With her chest heaving and a tear tracing her cheek, she muttered, "I'm alive, but so are you. If you are not dead, I can't go home. King Hector would..."

The assassin bit her tongue and squeezed her eyes shut as she shook her head. Everything was so distorted and fuzzy, her vision so jumbled that she had to look twice to focus on one spot. And then there was that damn ringing in her ears! She desperately tried to rid herself of it, to concentrate and make some sense of what was happening.

A hand gently rubbed her shoulder and her focus snapped back to the Human. Sometime between her outburst and now, he shifted over to come kneel beside her. His goddess-damned voice sounding too damn innocent and friendly as he explained in his own tongue, "What you're feelin' is what we call 'shellshock.' It's from the blast. Now calm down, take deep breaths, your head will clear in time."

Eyes locked with the Human, Petra couldn't help the fearful terror creeping into her voice as she said, "You have to die, Human. You have to die... Hector will kill me if I fail..."

"He can't kill you if you never go back there," he replied.

"But if I stay, you will kill me!" she shrieked, only realizing the folly of the statement after it left her mouth.

And sure enough, the Human cocked up an eye brow at her as he crossed his arms, "If I was going to kill you, wouldn't you be dead? Why waste time talkin' with you?"

Petra opened her mouth to speak, to try and correct what she said, but she found herself short on words. She was so mangled upstairs that nothing could make sense no matter how hard she thought. This Human knew who she was and what her purpose was, so why did she still breathe? What reason did he have to spare her?

To give her a captive's judgement, that's why. Of all the incoherent conclusions she was able to make, this one seemed the most sound even to her addled mind.

"Why are you wasting time talking with me? Why not kill me?" she growled, turning toward the fire. There was a growing wetness in her eyes that threatened to spill over and she didn't dare let it show. Not to the miserable being that was supposed to be her prey.

But then he said something she didn't expect, "Because I don't want to kill you. What's your name, miss?"

Crushing down any physical show of her surprise, Petra held her tongue and kept staring into the fire in front of her. She knew what he was trying to do now; he saw her mental fractures and now he wanted to slip through them to get inside her head. To give her pause in her task and make her turn her back on her people. She slowly clenched her fists, anger building up before sharp pains shot through every exposed nerve in her empty fingertips. Her control slipped and those damned, traitorous tears finally rolled down her cheeks as she fought to hold in her screams.

Of all the things any being could have done to her! A Neko would submit to death before they'd have their claws removed! Taking her claws, her precious, lethally sharp claws, was the greatest punishment the Shadow Stalker could receive. That any Neko could receive. For a Neko without its claws became less than the scum on one's blade. She wouldn't even be a creature in her tribe's eyes. She would be nothing but an object without honor, or value.

"What's wrong?" the Human had to ignorance to ask, sounding genuinely concerned.

"You've ruined EVERYTHING! COL kech pri -RAKNA!" she shrieked, attempting to strike out at him with her legs only for him to move just out of range. Again and again, she tried to hit him, cursing long strings of Nekonian swearwords before breaking down again. Her face streaming with tears while she once again tried thrashing herself free of her binds.

"Miss, calm down. Please."

Without warning, Petra let out a scream. As loud as she could possibly make it. He covered up his ears, both hands pressing them shut until she ran out of breath. When her voice box begun to wear out, she was sobbing again. Choking up on her tears with her head hanging low.

"Kill me. Please... I beg you... just kill me..."

"No."

"KILL ME!" Petra squealed, now on the edge of losing her voice.

"Why are you so desperate to die?!" he snapped.

Squeezing her eyes shut and hanging her head in shame, she rambled, "Hector... our king... I've failed to kill you... YOU TOOK MY CLAWS!! They'll kill me anyway... but not before they ravish my body until seed pours down my legs... after that they'll grind me down to fertilize the crops... make me an example."

Her body shook as the images of what her tribe did to cowards and traitors racked her mind. Every detail being recalled to the last with her eidetic memory once again proved flawless in bringing them forth. To think of herself suffering this fate, after everything she did and all that she accomplished... her chest heaved with her terrified sobs.

Success or death was the expectation and she didn't succeed.

"Can't you just... stay away from there? Not go home?" the Human asked, clearly shaken by those same images. "Jesus fuck, I wouldn't ever wanna have anythin' like that happen, to you or anyone. I honestly don't care much 'bout who you are or what you were plannin' to do, you don't deserve that. You were only followin' orders."

"And I've failed them..." she repeated bitterly, shutting him up.

He sat back on his haunches, mouth tight and brow furrowed as he pondered what to say next. "And accordin' to your customs, your failure means you belong to me?"

Her eyes went wide as her head snapped up to look directly at him. "No! No, you have that wrong!" she gasped, trying to get her voice back.

With an indifferent shrug, he sighed and looked to the fire. "Probably, it wasn't explained all that clearly. But please, tell me what I got messed up."

A shameful gloom came over Petra as her gaze met the floor, a tear falling from her chin as she shamefully turned away. "You... you have the right to sentence me to my fate. I failed to assassinate you, an action that our laws see as a dishonorable way of killing, and..." She paused to blink away a loose drop in her eyes and swallow the lump in her throat. "And because you removed my claws... I have no value. I cannot hunt. I cannot kill. Were I ever to have young... they would suffer great humiliations for having a declawed mother. Please, Human, spare me the pain. Kill me. Just kill me."

Galen's body tensed up as he stared at the Neko, taking in her sorrowed look and how she refused to meet his gaze. At that moment, it appeared as though death was what she truly wanted to avoid further suffering. He was almost tempted to grant her request if only for mercy's sake.

Almost.

Mercy or not, to take her life in cold blood would never sit right with him. Especially with that feeling brewing in his stomach that she was important somehow. If he wanted her to stay alive long enough to find out why, he knew of only one way to keep from going out to waste herself if he simply let her go.

He pulled off his helmet and set it on the floor beside the bed. Rubbing a hand across his forehead and back into his hairline, already loathing what he was about to say, he declared, "I have the right to sentence you, an' I sentence you t' my service."

Her eyes went wide. "What?!"

There was a serious look in his eyes as he locked stares with the Ra'zorlich assassin and repeated, "I sentence you to be confined to my service."

As that last word past his lips, there came a soft rapping on the door barely audible enough to hear. Frowning and popping the snap on his holster to free up his pistol, he peered out through the window's shutters as his Ra'zorlich's shock started to set in.

Her jaw went slack, her stomach felt empty, and her head hung in defeat. If nothing else clicked in her head, she at least knew what her honor, or whatever remained of it, now bound her to. Even if that cursed Human did not.

With this sentencing to his service, disobedience on her part would see her suffer in a way that made even the most stubborn of servants quiver at the thought of the punishment. Suicide, or setting forth events to bring about either her death or her new master's, would give Yariid the right to damn her to the darkest depths of the Nether. Leaving her without hope of ever reaching the Serene unless she was a good girl.

Farok had been right. Her mission was doomed from the start. Hector, in his vain ignorance, had damned her for life.

...

There was a creak of hinges as Galen opened the door and poked his head out to check the area outside. A dim glow lit up in his peripheral to draw his attention to a flat object stuck to the door. When he tried to get a better look at it, he was forced to step back and cover his face as it nearly blinded him with an intense, pale blue light. When it dimmed a second later, he had to blink the spots from his vision to see that it was beating a pair of thin, broad wings to flutter off into the cabin.

A butterfly... he thought, watching it hover in the air above the Neko tied to the bed post before coming to land in her lap.

"A Nightwatcher..." she muttered. "But I thought them to always be green..."

The blue insect leapt from her thigh and fluttered up to the bed, landing beside the still-sleeping Celia and gently probing her nose with its antennae. Seemingly satisfied with whatever it found, it turned toward Galen in the doorway and shifted its legs around before its glow intensified. The Private shielded his eyes as this bug once again lit up like a tiny star too impossibly bright to look at.

A deafening silence then hollowed out his ear drums, some force draining the whole cabin of sound before the room finally went dark again. Save for the firelight and a dim, blue glow.

"You can look now, Galen," a divinely feminine voice said.

Slowly lowering his hand, he had to blink several times over to clear up his vision enough to see the figure now seated beside Celia. First thing he noticed was a pair of large, blue, butterfly wings sprouting from the back of what appeared to be a young woman. The tone of her skin matched the blue tinge of the moon above, and she did not wear one stitch of fabric to cover any part of her body. Her eyes though, they were not Human. Not nearly.

She had no pupils or whites around her iris, but rather, the orbs that stared at him appeared as though they were emulating the starred expanse of the universe in the night sky. Two braids of her violet hair framed her face along her temples to her jaw, with the rest brushed back over her head to reach down to the bottom of her shoulder blades around the bases of her translucent wings. From her forehead emerged two, hand-length antennae that swayed to one side as she tilted her head and smiled warmly.

The first description for the woman that came to Galen's mind was "fairy," but Mila had never mentioned such a creature living in Atzla. Whatever she was, she held an air of nobility and joy about her, as well as a sense of calm.

"Who are you?" he asked, completely dumbstruck.

She giggled, and while her voice was divine to listen to, it had a tone of maturity to it much like Tanza's. Already the soldier felt he was meeting a creature that was far older, and more powerful than she looked. It left him wondering whether he should be cautious, servile, or both.

"Galen, to not know me must mean you truly are as new to Raska as Atzlar said you were..." she chuckled and he gave her a confused look. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Necela, goddess of life and the night."

The air went deathly silent as both Galen and Petra absorbed whose presence was among them. Hairs on the assassin's neck began to rise as her throat went dry around her voice box. She wanted to say something but she felt her words unworthy to her deity's ears. None of the ancient texts she had read that detailed the beauty and charm of the goddess could match what sat on the bed beside her. There was no way they could have ever prepared her for, or even helped her comprehend, her actual being in the presence of Necela.

Her head swam, her heart skipped, her belly whirled as though a rabble of Nightwatchers fluttered within it. She would be the only one of her tribe, and perhaps even of this forest, to meet the immortal in centuries. No honor could be greater, or more redeeming, than an audience with one of the highest goddesses on all of Raska. Especially as this one is said to have only appeared within Atzla three times in the past two millennia.

Hands trembling, Galen kept his posture straight and respectable as he stood before the enchanting deity. Already he had encountered one supernatural figure of worship, meeting a second as striking as this one stole his breath away. As his mouth hung open, brain frying itself in an attempt to process something to say, he found his eyes glancing over to the Ra'zorlich by the bed. The assassin sat wide eyed and slacked-jawed with her tail whipping about behind her in pure delight as Necela giggled at their awing faces.

Only Celia's soft snores could break the stand-still, drawing the goddess's attention to her while the Neko struggled turn her body enough to see this mysterious fourth presence. Rubbing the Elf's shoulder with a bit of affection, Necela shifted her gaze back to Galen and raised an amused eyebrow. She gave a breathless chuckle and brought her legs together as she realized the soldier's entranced eyes had unconsciously drifted toward what lay between them.

When his attention snapped back to her face, the goddess smiled pleasantly before she again looked to the warm body sleeping beside her. With the back of her fingers, she gently caressed Celia's cheek to make her elongated ear twitch and her golden glow flicker.