Lord Blaah's Mercy

**

Cita waited for James to finish shooting. To the right, all down the shooting line, the archery team worked in pairs. Three stations down, Carrie, the only girl in the club, released an arrow that sank deep in the center of her target.

"You should go talk to her, Akicita."

Cita stared at James.

"Come on — you know you want to. Maybe you can trade bow maintenance tips!" James laughed and brushed his brown hair out of his face.

"That's enough, team," called a tall figure silhouetted in the door.

Cita shuddered. I know that voice. He squinted his eyes, trying to see. Golden hair glinted red in the setting sun, but the features were obscured.

"I've got your drinks. Stow your gear and gather round. We need to go over the details for this weekend's tournament."

Chatter echoed through the range as Cita stored his bow in its case and locked it for transport. He went to grab a bright red bottle.

"Akicita, you know the red one disagrees with you. I got you a blue one. Here." The man thrust a bottle into Cita's hands.

Cita twisted the plastic band under the cap and frowned. The man's face was still shadowed.

He loomed closer and whispered, "Do you have your pills?"

Cita nodded mechanically and shifted away. Then the man was across the room, and James was speaking again.

"Here, you wanted red, right? I'll trade you."

No! Don't! No sound escaped Cita's tight throat. He watched James drain the bottle while the range faded to black.

He was small, with gangly legs splayed out to stay upright. His mother was a solid warmth beside him, and she had the best milk. There was someone else there: someone with two legs instead of four. Mother paid no mind to the beast, but he wasn't so sure.

Then he was a bit bigger. He kicked and leapt in the tall grass. He raced around the field while Mother grazed and watched in amusement. The two-legger was there again, leaning against the wooden thing that blocked their path from the field. He squealed a challenge. The two-legger made strange noises in response. He raced around the grass for the sheer fun of it, ignoring the two-legger.

The two-legger was wandering in his field again, not paying any attention to him! The now-familiar creature followed the hedge. Even when he snorted, the two-legger made no response. The beast had stroked his mother, and she said it was nice. Even now, she followed what she called a man around the field. He sulked in the middle and nibbled some grass.

He had a new trick to play on the man. The man came often and would play with him as Mother seldom did anymore. Today he carried the odd-smelling things that sometimes covered his hands, sticking out of his pocket. While the man pulled the wood to block the gap in the hedge, he snuck up and snatched one of the things. He ran away, jerking his head and waving the small item. The man chased him, making his strange noises. Whenever the man slowed, he would slow too, or circle around the man. The game would begin anew. Finally, the man flopped in the grass and wouldn't respond to any taunts. He returned the soft thing and received a comforting scratch on his nose in exchange.

His man put something on his back. It was weird and irritating. But his man asked, and it wasn't so bad. Especially when his man fed him a crunchy treat and scratched the itchy spot between his ears.

That's a saddle and a carrot. Why would I wear a saddle?

He was big and strong. Bigger than his mother, who he sometimes saw with her new baby. His man sat on his back and he carried him proudly. They were faster than any of the other horses and their men. They could run and jump together, and nothing stopped them.

He stood sentinel near the smoking fire pit. He flung his nose into the air, scenting the wind. He snorted. The stupid two-leggers didn't hear. He reared, screaming a challenge into the breeze.

Dark shapes streamed toward his field. The two-leggers shouted as the intruders broached the treeline.

He pawed the ground. His new person told him to rest, but he couldn't when his field was threatened. He charged forward. Flames danced around his hooves. This was new, but he liked it. He screamed another challenge.

Before he reached them, the intruders stopped. They turned and retreated. He skidded to a halt at the edge of the trees. If he had been just a little faster, he could have destroyed them. He reared again.

No! This isn't me! These aren't my thoughts!

**

Thumping steps roused Cita. He jolted from sleep. He didn't have four legs, and he had never been ridden across the fields. He went to class, and he practiced archery.

'No, that's not right either. I'm an archer, and I'm staying at Lord Blaah's keep. Yesterday … yesterday, Bilal said I was a flame summoner. The rest … it's just dreams.'

Muffled shouts rang from the hall, summoning Cita from his borrowed bed. He glanced down and flushed. 'It's a shirt — it covers enough and there's no one here!'

Unconvinced, he dressed quickly.

Cita gazed at his bow. "Probably no open-carry in the keep." He left it but strapped both daggers in place.

In the hall, servants scurried like ants. They flattened against the walls as a guard ran down the hall.

"Excuse me," Cita tried to draw the attention of a servant. They did not pause.

"They're busy," a tart voice spoke on Cita's left.

He jumped and turned to see Rashida.

"Come. Lord Blaah's audience chamber is this way. That's the best place to learn anything at this point." Rashida set off decisively.

The servants dodged around her. Cita followed in her path.

They darted down halls and around corners with no rhyme or reason Cita could see. He was lost by the time they arrived at a long, narrow room. Lord Blaah sat on a carved wooden chair raised on a low dais. Two guards knelt before him.

Cita rose on his toes to peer around the room and then edged around to join Bilal and Nathaniel.

*Are you sure of that? He's got secrets.* Chill fingers traced up his back. Cita jerked away.

"We couldn't get a good count of the Infected in the dark," the guard demurred. "There were at least a dozen — maybe more. They came straight for the firepit. Then they stopped. They left, running back to the east."

Cita jolted. 'Is that … Did that really happen? It wasn't just a dream?'

"And you're sure none of the Infected continued deeper into the township?" Lord Blaah asked, leaning forward.

The guards shared an uneasy glance, and the other continued. "It's possible one or two continued closer, but it looked like they all left. Several guards followed them."

"And the rest of you?"

"The … the others? They stayed to watch the field ..."

"Hmph. How quickly will we know where the Infected went?" Lord Blaah sat back and rested his chin on his fist. The guards fidgeted.

Cita glared at the polished tile floor, wishing he dared speak up for the hapless men.

Nathaniel stepped forward. "Lord Blaah, there's no telling how fast the Infected are traveling; it is unclear when the guards will report back. I suggest sending reinforcements. When we catch up, we can send a messenger back to provide an update."

Lord Blaah narrowed his eyes. "I don't like it. I need guards on the walls, and in the field where there is a known danger. I cannot afford to send any after those already far afield."

"Ah. Perhaps … perhaps your guests could be of assistance in this matter." Nathaniel looked at Bilal.

Cita froze. The shadow at his back deepened.

Bilal stepped forward with a brief bow. "Lord Blaah, as an adventurer, this is a task I am well capable of undertaking. My companion and I ..."

"Companions," Rashida interjected. She, too, stepped forward.

Cita stifled a groan.

Bilal glanced at both and continued, "My companions and I can undertake this task. Once we catch up, it will be a simple thing to send a messenger back with the report you desire."

"A simple thing?" Lord Blaah arched a brow. "Like an archery tournament that injures my heir and leaves the field unusable?"

Nathaniel shot a look at Bilal, whose stone-faced mask stood firm.

"As ever, weapons work can be dangerous, and the Infected are notoriously unpredictable. Let us repay your forbearance in this matter by seeking out the root of this trouble."

"And you would do this from the goodness of your Dracaenaekin heart? Do your merchant ancestors not howl their displeasure?"

Golden eyes didn't blink. "We would ask a few things to ease our passage. The use of mounts. Provisions for the trip. Later, if you are pleased with the results, I am certain you will provide an adequate reward."

"Hmph." Lord Blaah paused thoughtfully. "Very well. Nathaniel, see to their equipment. Let there be no delay. I must know at once how much danger faces my township. However." He paused, shooting a hard look at Cita. "If certain rumors hold a shred of truth, you will not be welcome to return. Leave your warnings with the border guards."

Shaking, Cita ducked his head and clenched his fists to hide their shaking.

Lord Blaah stood and swept from the room. Those in attendance dropped hastily into respectful bows. As they rose, curious gazes swept the chamber for the next drama.

"Well. Let's get moving." Nathaniel followed Lord Blaah out the door.

"Are you not needed here to tend Michael and Donovan?" Bilal asked Rashida.

"No. I've done what I can without a familiar. You're going to help me find one, remember?"

Bilal nodded once. He strode after Nathaniel without another word.

Rashida glided after.

"Wait, that's it?" Fuming, Cita hurried to catch up.

The buzzing drone of a rumor mill firing up broke out behind him.