Author's Notes: The elf Magella and Kitty are Wolfwitch's creations, but everything else in this story is mine.
Wings of Revenge
Chapter 3: The Taming of the Beast
Gwynneth did not dare leave her patient's side for the next week to come. Kira would thank her profusely at the very least ten times a day, and the healer would wave it off, and go back to tending to Whitegrith's wounds, giving him balms, medicine, and changing his bandages. Force-feeding potions to the injured man always left her with a bleeding finger, till the healer sighed that her hands would never be the same again. By day she'd listen to Kira's gay chattering, and by night, Samantha and Kitty would share their combined vast knowledge of NovAtlantia with the squire over the dinner they'd caught. In this manner, Gwynneth learned more about Kira's family situation, and NovAtlantia's situation concerning magic, politics, culture... Although Samantha often came back to her conspiracy theory about the Elf-Matron Magella, and Kitty, to the healer's extreme annoyance, supported her companion's ludicrous claims.
Whitegrith's sleeping face became a familiar, and not entirely unpleasant sight. After all, it could scarcely be said the man was ugly, rather, he was more on the good-looking side. He had a dark, narrow, regular face, a long, straight nose, and full, pouting mouth. They were hard features, somewhat masked by his pure-white hair, but easy on the eyes. Gwynneth sometimes found herself wondering what he was like.
In short, routine had set in: it was Gwynneth's job to care for the comatose giant and his sweet little sister, and Samantha and Kitty would go off hunting for the night's meal. It was a satisfying life, but one Gwynneth soon grew weary of. If only Whitegrith woke up... The man, if nothing else, had lived an exciting life, his scars had betrayed as much to her. At the very least, he'd be a change from his sister's mindless chatter.
Gwynneth woke up early on the eighth day, only to discover her patient no longer slumbered near the fire pit. In alarm, she made to searched the clearing through and through, taking care not to waken Kira or Kitty, who would just panic and make nuisances of themselves, which unfortunately simultaneously meant being as quiet as possible, and making no attempt to wake up Samantha, whose sleep was as deep as the center of the world and just impossible to rouse from. (She'd wake up when she felt like it, thank you very much.)
She'd gotten to the edge of the clearing. How, she wondered, could an unconscious man with a broken leg get very far? Sleepwalking? Gwynneth rather thought not. Put aside the broken leg, and given all the spears still lying around, not to mention the roots and the rocks, the area itself was even the most coordinated person's nightmare. Gwynneth conclusively proved this by tripping over a root, and falling flat on her face, luckily not hitting anything.
The healer irritatedly got up and brushed herself off.
"Hey." she jumped at the low, rough man's voice. She put a hand to her heart, and turned in the direction of the sound... and into the savage, icy gray eyes of her patient. He'd propped himself upright with a makeshift crutch, the pole of a spear tied to a forked tree branch with the bandages Gwynneth had dressed his thigh with earlier. To the healer's wonder, all that was left of the bloody gashes the man has sustained, only raw scars remained. He carried a weapon not unlike a lance, though the pole was slightly taller, and the blade was broader and long, and seemed to be sharpened on both ends, like the double-edged sword the squire had seen her master practice with on occasion. He pointed this weapon at her, but could not steady it.
"What the hell have you done to my sister, you filthy human witch?" he hissed, his voice a blend of hate and pain, his face a grimace of fury. He in fact, looked rather pathetic. It was clear that it was pure torture for him to stand up, his hip and chest injuries having obviously not healed up. He was dressed in nothing but bandages and the tattered remains of his breeches. Despite his haggard appearance, and the slump his injuries forced upon him, he still towered above his diminutive savior, and obviously was relying heavily on this fact to intimidate her. It was also painfully obvious the man would not last ten seconds in a fight, though Gwynneth knew he'd taken on ten men singlehanded.
"You heard me, you wingless bitch!" continued Whitegrith as Gwynneth did not answer. The poor man was not in his right mind, Gwynneth thought.
"Sir, you're in pain. You're expending energy that ought to be used healing yourself. I'll help you walk back to your cot." the healer offered.
"Do you think I'm blind as well as crippled, lady? I wouldn't trust a human to help me if my life was in danger!" spat the Griffin Beast. "Especially one who's wings have been sliced off! What have you done with Kira?!"
"Kira, at the moment, is sleeping. She's been fed, rested, even played with, and is very concerned about your health. Unless you believe my being near her is a crime, I don't see how I've mistreated her. I'm afraid, sir, that your hatred is misplaced. I am not a native of this land. Please go back to camp and lie down on your cot. Your injuries are far from healed, you should still be in bed." Gwynneth answered tritely, her patience wearing thin.
"You lie... There haven't been any ships landing in the Myffar archipelago for centuries, and the last NovAtlantian ships left our world a millennium ago." Whitegrith sneered, "Already you've proved to me how fickle humans are! Why should I listen to a filthy, wingless human?"
"Why you ungrateful clod! I saved your miserable life! All week long, I've been tending to your wounds, changing your bandages, keeping your cuts and scrapes free of infection, and I've minded your sister as well, and you repay the service by insulting me? I've half a mind to put you out of your misery!" Gwynneth cried angrily.
The man stayed silent for a moment. Then he drew himself up, the frown on his face getting even deeper. "I see... So that's how it is... I'm staying rooted to this spot, woman." He smirked, but slumped again.
"How childish." Gwynneth remarked. "Very well then, if you persist in this ridiculous refusal to listen to common sense, I cannot be responsible for your health. Consider this, however: You can barely stand up, even with that crutch of yours. Your broken ribs are not healed up, and neither is your dislocated hip. If you perish here, I could not care less, but your sister will mourn you." she huffed, turning her back to the injured man, and stalking off.
Whitegrith groaned, then fell to the ground in a faint.
Gwynneth turned around, crossed her arms, and sighed. This man promised to be much more trouble than he was worth. She walked up to him and tried to pick him up by the shoulders, but his weight pressed her down. To try and carry the man alone would be torture for both herself and her patient, but at this point, she wasn't about to care for that rude, rude creature. She could hear Kira and the others on the other side of the clearing. Kira was already wide awake.
"'grith! Gwyn! Where are you??!!" the child cried.
"I'm over here!" Gwynneth called back. "Send Samantha and Kitty over! I cannot carry Whitegrith by myself."
"What the... How'd he get all the way over here?" Samantha asked, puzzled, when she, and Kira on Kitty's back, were close enough to speak normally to Gwynneth.
"To use your expression: Beats me." the healer answered, glaring. "I found that great oaf leaning on that makeshift crutch, clutching that weapon." She gestured toward the mentioned objects.
The mercenary nodded. "Let's get this 'great oaf' as you call him, to his cot. And we should bring the weapon and crutch with us." she decided. "That weapon was probably what he wanted to get. I don't feel very safe without my weapons either." Samantha patted the hilt of her blade fondly, then picked Whitegrith up, and draped him over her back.
"Man, this guy's big." she muttered. "Hey Gwynneth, get the stuff, would you?" she asked.
But before the healer could move, Kira jumped off Kitty and gathered crutch and blade.
"I'll do it!" she exclaimed happily as she ran ahead of her elders.
"Try not to drag him!" Gwynneth told the mercenary.
"How am I not supposed to drag him? He's seven feet tall!" protested Samantha.
"I don't want to care for that ignorant fool any longer than necessary." huffed the healer.
"Since when did you start calling people names?" inquired Samantha suddenly, looking directly into Gwynneth's eyes. She was hunching from the weight of the injured man. "Y'know it's not fair to talk like that about people you haven't even met..."
"Oh, I met him. I definitely met him! He called me a lying, filthy bitch! And he refused to believe anything I said, the ungrateful villain..." Gwynneth was going into hysterics. "I know Kira loves him very much, but associating with scum like that cannot be good for her! It's only for her sake I continue. AND he didn't make any sense! Why was he taking offense to the fact that I'm human and have no wings?!" she continued thoughtfully.
Kitty did a double take, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by the mercenary.
"Kitty, is there something you ain't telling us?" Samantha's voice was a warning, a promise of hell to be paid.
"Um..." she said regretfully. "Among the winged beings of this land, it's a common punishment for criminals guilty of murder and other felonies. And NovAtlantian humans aren't very well thought of in any case. People call them charlatans, and worse. They're unnatural. It's said they're related to the Flame Sorcerers, who were human and had no wings, like you, Gwyn, and the Bird Beast Sage. That group is said to have brought about the downfall of NovAtlantia a thousand years ago."
"And this superstition has endured a millennium?" Samantha asked. She whistled in amazement. "Harsh."
Gwynneth said nothing. She stayed silent in thought. She couldn't really blame the man, then, for his mistrust of her. It was a belief that had been seared into him from the time of his birth. Yet the heated hate of his words still got under her skin. He still should have shown her gratitude, she thought, instead of stubbornly refusing her help, to his own peril. What stung the most, however, was her opinion of him had plummeted to the very depths of hell, it seemed. Kira was such a sweetheart. How could such a delightful child have been raised by such a... monster?
* * * * *
"Hail the conquering heroes!" Samantha crooned triumphantly that evening as she stepped into the clearing, after a successful day of hunting with Kitty, her silhouette framed by the rays of the setting sun. She was carrying something large and heavy. She was grinning widely.
"As you can see," she commenced grandly, unceremoniously dumping her quarry on the ground near the fire-pit, "Kitty and I have gone and caught ourselves a banquet of venison!"
Gwynneth looked distastefully at the deer's corpse. "Please don't leave it near Whitegrith, Samantha. It may be carrying a disease, and I do not want my patient infected." she said coolly.
"How touching." Whitegrith's sharp voice was heard, and created a pregnant pause. He'd propped himself up with his arms, though he was gingerly keeping his weight off the slashed arm. Nevertheless, he really shouldn't try to sit up... But the healer knew she likely wouldn't get a chance to tell him so.
Finally Kira gave a little shriek of happiness. She practically bounced over to her older brother and caught him in as much of a bear-hug as her little arms could manage. "Whitegrith! You're awake! I'm so happy you're awake, I was so worried, I thought you were gonna die, but Gwyn took care of you and you're gonna be all right!!!!!" The man shuddered under the pressure to his ribs. "Kira... Let go of me." he gasped.
The little bat-squirrel beast reluctantly complied. She had a petulant pout on her face.
Samantha busied herself in skinning part of the deer, while Kitty watched the siblings with unblinking eyes.
"Kira." the griffin beast's sigh was almost a wheeze, "Why did you ask that filthy human for help?"
"I beg your pardon?" snapped Gwynneth. "Every moment without treatment, you came closer and closer to the brink of death. Kira was in no position to choose. Would you have preferred to be left to die, in the middle of the forest, and knowing your little sister would be alone in the world when you passed away?"
"I would have been better off than following some filthy little human beggar around!" the man retorted disdainfully.
"Following around-?" Gwynneth repeated in confusion.
"Don't play around! I can see right through your facade. The only reason you saved me was because of the Griffin Beast's Curse. A runt like you WOULD need to resort to such an underhanded trick for her own protection." continued a sneering Whitegrith.
Samantha growled threateningly. "I don't know what the hell he's talkin' about, but only bigoted idiots go around jumpin' directly to conclusions like that!" she raised a fist, shaking in rage. Kitty hissed in agreement.
"I understand humans don't have a very good reputation here." Gwynneth started crossly. "But I do not need this grief from you. Now what are you babbling about? What does my saving you have to do with the Griffin Beast's Curse, whatever that is?"
"You." Whitegrith snarled accusingly. "You dare to play innocent?!"
"Kitty, d'you have any idea what he's talking about? And d'you mind explaining why you were so eager to want to see him up and about, as well?" Samantha asked. Throughout all this, Kira remained quiet. She didn't want to anger Grith, but she knew he was being ridiculous.
"I don't know the details. I didn't much pay attention when the elders taught history..." Kitty confessed. "But basically, when the great mages split Myffar apart, they tied curses into all of the beast tribes they represented. For instance, the bird beasts were cursed with the inability to fly, and more to the point, the griffin beasts were cursed with an unbreakable moral code of conduct. Technically, they're the most honest people to walk the face of NovAtlantia."
"Oh?" Gwynneth raised an eyebrow. "Then why does he behave like such a cur? A good man would show gratitude!"
"Don't get me wrong, woman. I know I owe you my life. You'll forgive me if I don't thank you for forcing me into Clause ***ing Ten!" the wounded man swore.
Gwynneth was taken aback. She held Kira's shoulders protectively. "Why... Using such language in front of a child... Have you no propriety?! How Kira still remains a sweet little child in your inadequate care, I cannot fathom"
"I'll talk however I want, human." the man spat.
"Hold it for a moment! What's 'Clause Ten'?" Samantha asked.
"I owe her my life. In order to repay my debt, I have to serve as her bodyguard for as long as the Curse feels necessary. So says the inescapable Clause Ten of the Griffin Beast's Curse." Whitegrith snarled.
"But I neither want, nor need a bodyguard, especially not one as insufferable as yourself!" protested Gwynneth.
Whitegrith seemed to deflate at this. "Regardless of your intentions in the saving of my life, we have no choice. We're stuck with eachother." he said bluntly. "No Griffin Beast can go against a thousand-year-old curse. But it doesn't mean I'm going to like it."
Gwynneth made a show of rummaging through her pack. Better to ignore the ungrateful beast.
"Great. That means we got a potty-mouthed cripple along for the ride. There goes the quest." Samantha sighed.
"Look who's talking, you cavalier shrew." Whitegrith snorted. "Mutilating the language, are we?"
"At least I don't swear in front 'o' kids." Samantha sneered. "And you're forgetting who has the advantage."
"Don't worry, give me time to heal, I'll defeat you yet." the Griffin Beast smirked.
"You're quite literate for a two-bit thug!" continued the mercenary.
"You should talk, brute. I noticed bandits have a monosyllabic vocabulary. Using words like advantage, and understanding such an abstract concept as literacy! Well, I hadn't expected that from a person of your caliber!"
"Same goes for you, you smooth-talking hulk."
"I believe it takes more than a hulk to defeat ten well-trained soldiers. Woman, you have high standards."
"I'd be more impressed if you weren't saying that from a sick-bed."
"Would you have been able to do any better?"
"Damn straight."
"Now look who's swearing!"
If Samantha had been a man, Kitty reflected, the testosterone in the area would have been unbearable right about now. Gwynneth was of the same mind. Luckily, she'd found in her pack what she was looking for. For all Magella was incomprehensibly vague, when it came to being prepared, the woman certainly delivered. Gwynneth didn't even have to brew ingredients.
"Now if you are quite finished exchanging verbal barbs, my patient needs to take his medicine." Gwynneth pushed past the mercenary, and knelt down by the beast's head. "Please cooperate. The sooner you heal up, the sooner your debt will be paid off, and the sooner we can be on our separate ways." she told him. She produced a bottle, and poured a few milliliters into a vial, offering it to her patient.
"Do I have a choice?" the man asked. He took the vial with his bad hand, and sniffed it suspiciously.
"Do you think it's poisoned?" Gwynneth sneered sarcastically.
Whitegrith drained it in one gulp. "For all it tastes bad, do you think I would drink it if I thought it was poisoned?" He was going to say more, but he stifled a long yawn. "You... Sleeping..." he said with an accusatory glare, even as he lowered himself down and drifted off to sleep.
Gwynneth turned to Kitty and Samantha. "I think we've have quite enough of him for today, don't you?" she asked.
"No shit. You're a lot more devious than I thought you were. Way to go!" Samantha congratulated her charge.
Kira was anxiously kneeling near her brother, trying to shake him awake. "Whitegrith..."
"He needed his rest, but most likely wouldn't have gotten it, given the way he mistrusts me so much. It was the most expedient way." Gwynneth told the little girl sharply. "Now, Samantha, get back to the meat, Kira, you and Kitty find some wood, and I assure you, you brother is perfectly safe in my hands."
* * * * *
Whitegrith awoke in the middle of the night to the crackling of a fire. He propped himself up again, in the same manner as before. He scanned the camp. Kira was cuddled up against the human, to his horror. He consoled himself with the fact that they were using the sphinx as a pillow. Sphinxes were generally good people, so he could trust Kira to be safe. Everyone was sleeping except...
"Yo, bastard." Whitegrith's thought was both interrupted and contradicted by the mercenary woman.
"You want to start the fight over again?" he asked defensively.
"Nah, that's just a waste 'o' time. Let me get straight to the point: I got a few questions for you, Whitegrith." said the woman. Samantha, that was her name...
"And what makes you think I would be inclined to answer those questions, mercenary?" he smirked.
"Because the way I see it, you'll be stuck with us until we leave this world, and any information you can give us would sure be helpful." Samantha replied. "For instance: any idea why those goons attacked you? D'you steal anything? Kill someone important? Is there anyone with a grudge on you?" she paused to think. "Figures. Who did you piss off?"
Whitegrith gave her an unimpressed look. "I didn't 'piss anyone off'. Whatever their motives were for ambushing me, I don't know. Kira and I don't have anything valuable that bandits might want, and I haven't gotten on anyone's bad side." Whitegrith paused. It was the mercenary's turn to give him an unimpressed look. "I don't personally know anyone powerful enough to send a crack team of ten soldiers to assassinate me." he corrected himself ruefully.
"I figured as much on my own. I don't suppose there was a prophecy about your birth?" sighed Samantha in resignation.
"If there was, would I tell you?" asked the Beast.
"You're stuck with us. I don't know what will happen to you if Gwyn gets killed before your curse releases you from her service. And I get the feeling you don't wanna find out either. What if your withholding information gets her killed?"
"I'd like to know what you and that human are doing here."
"A quest. Unfortunately, I can't be more specific. The woman who sent us means us as pawns in the great, inter-world game of manipulation. As pawns, anything we know, we have to discover ourselves."
"Well, that's just flowers in spring, isn't it? You're on a quest and you haven't the slightest clue what you're doing. I suppose that's what possessed that filthy human woman to heal me. Lack of direction."
"She did it out of the goodness of her heart, you stubborn jerk. Catch a clue." snapped Samantha. She pulled a blanket out of her pack. "About that prophecy."
"I wouldn't know. If there was a prophecy about my birth, they wouldn't have abandoned me." Whitegrith snorted. "You didn't really think a bastard like me would have a stable childhood?"
"You accusing me of naivete?" Samantha yawned, as she lay down on the ground, and pointedly went to sleep.
* * * * *
Author's notes: Here's to another chapter finished. Wow. More lack of action. Is it just me, or does it seem like I'm putting off the start of this story? Well, I introduced Whitegrith, that's a start, at the very least. I've always been proud of the great monster. And to think he started off as a cross between Yue and Inuyasha... I hope the cold bastard doesn't seem too familiar to you. The good thing about stories, as opposed to real life, is that after the points have been made, you can skip to the more interesting parts.
Wings of Revenge
Chapter 3: The Taming of the Beast
Gwynneth did not dare leave her patient's side for the next week to come. Kira would thank her profusely at the very least ten times a day, and the healer would wave it off, and go back to tending to Whitegrith's wounds, giving him balms, medicine, and changing his bandages. Force-feeding potions to the injured man always left her with a bleeding finger, till the healer sighed that her hands would never be the same again. By day she'd listen to Kira's gay chattering, and by night, Samantha and Kitty would share their combined vast knowledge of NovAtlantia with the squire over the dinner they'd caught. In this manner, Gwynneth learned more about Kira's family situation, and NovAtlantia's situation concerning magic, politics, culture... Although Samantha often came back to her conspiracy theory about the Elf-Matron Magella, and Kitty, to the healer's extreme annoyance, supported her companion's ludicrous claims.
Whitegrith's sleeping face became a familiar, and not entirely unpleasant sight. After all, it could scarcely be said the man was ugly, rather, he was more on the good-looking side. He had a dark, narrow, regular face, a long, straight nose, and full, pouting mouth. They were hard features, somewhat masked by his pure-white hair, but easy on the eyes. Gwynneth sometimes found herself wondering what he was like.
In short, routine had set in: it was Gwynneth's job to care for the comatose giant and his sweet little sister, and Samantha and Kitty would go off hunting for the night's meal. It was a satisfying life, but one Gwynneth soon grew weary of. If only Whitegrith woke up... The man, if nothing else, had lived an exciting life, his scars had betrayed as much to her. At the very least, he'd be a change from his sister's mindless chatter.
Gwynneth woke up early on the eighth day, only to discover her patient no longer slumbered near the fire pit. In alarm, she made to searched the clearing through and through, taking care not to waken Kira or Kitty, who would just panic and make nuisances of themselves, which unfortunately simultaneously meant being as quiet as possible, and making no attempt to wake up Samantha, whose sleep was as deep as the center of the world and just impossible to rouse from. (She'd wake up when she felt like it, thank you very much.)
She'd gotten to the edge of the clearing. How, she wondered, could an unconscious man with a broken leg get very far? Sleepwalking? Gwynneth rather thought not. Put aside the broken leg, and given all the spears still lying around, not to mention the roots and the rocks, the area itself was even the most coordinated person's nightmare. Gwynneth conclusively proved this by tripping over a root, and falling flat on her face, luckily not hitting anything.
The healer irritatedly got up and brushed herself off.
"Hey." she jumped at the low, rough man's voice. She put a hand to her heart, and turned in the direction of the sound... and into the savage, icy gray eyes of her patient. He'd propped himself upright with a makeshift crutch, the pole of a spear tied to a forked tree branch with the bandages Gwynneth had dressed his thigh with earlier. To the healer's wonder, all that was left of the bloody gashes the man has sustained, only raw scars remained. He carried a weapon not unlike a lance, though the pole was slightly taller, and the blade was broader and long, and seemed to be sharpened on both ends, like the double-edged sword the squire had seen her master practice with on occasion. He pointed this weapon at her, but could not steady it.
"What the hell have you done to my sister, you filthy human witch?" he hissed, his voice a blend of hate and pain, his face a grimace of fury. He in fact, looked rather pathetic. It was clear that it was pure torture for him to stand up, his hip and chest injuries having obviously not healed up. He was dressed in nothing but bandages and the tattered remains of his breeches. Despite his haggard appearance, and the slump his injuries forced upon him, he still towered above his diminutive savior, and obviously was relying heavily on this fact to intimidate her. It was also painfully obvious the man would not last ten seconds in a fight, though Gwynneth knew he'd taken on ten men singlehanded.
"You heard me, you wingless bitch!" continued Whitegrith as Gwynneth did not answer. The poor man was not in his right mind, Gwynneth thought.
"Sir, you're in pain. You're expending energy that ought to be used healing yourself. I'll help you walk back to your cot." the healer offered.
"Do you think I'm blind as well as crippled, lady? I wouldn't trust a human to help me if my life was in danger!" spat the Griffin Beast. "Especially one who's wings have been sliced off! What have you done with Kira?!"
"Kira, at the moment, is sleeping. She's been fed, rested, even played with, and is very concerned about your health. Unless you believe my being near her is a crime, I don't see how I've mistreated her. I'm afraid, sir, that your hatred is misplaced. I am not a native of this land. Please go back to camp and lie down on your cot. Your injuries are far from healed, you should still be in bed." Gwynneth answered tritely, her patience wearing thin.
"You lie... There haven't been any ships landing in the Myffar archipelago for centuries, and the last NovAtlantian ships left our world a millennium ago." Whitegrith sneered, "Already you've proved to me how fickle humans are! Why should I listen to a filthy, wingless human?"
"Why you ungrateful clod! I saved your miserable life! All week long, I've been tending to your wounds, changing your bandages, keeping your cuts and scrapes free of infection, and I've minded your sister as well, and you repay the service by insulting me? I've half a mind to put you out of your misery!" Gwynneth cried angrily.
The man stayed silent for a moment. Then he drew himself up, the frown on his face getting even deeper. "I see... So that's how it is... I'm staying rooted to this spot, woman." He smirked, but slumped again.
"How childish." Gwynneth remarked. "Very well then, if you persist in this ridiculous refusal to listen to common sense, I cannot be responsible for your health. Consider this, however: You can barely stand up, even with that crutch of yours. Your broken ribs are not healed up, and neither is your dislocated hip. If you perish here, I could not care less, but your sister will mourn you." she huffed, turning her back to the injured man, and stalking off.
Whitegrith groaned, then fell to the ground in a faint.
Gwynneth turned around, crossed her arms, and sighed. This man promised to be much more trouble than he was worth. She walked up to him and tried to pick him up by the shoulders, but his weight pressed her down. To try and carry the man alone would be torture for both herself and her patient, but at this point, she wasn't about to care for that rude, rude creature. She could hear Kira and the others on the other side of the clearing. Kira was already wide awake.
"'grith! Gwyn! Where are you??!!" the child cried.
"I'm over here!" Gwynneth called back. "Send Samantha and Kitty over! I cannot carry Whitegrith by myself."
"What the... How'd he get all the way over here?" Samantha asked, puzzled, when she, and Kira on Kitty's back, were close enough to speak normally to Gwynneth.
"To use your expression: Beats me." the healer answered, glaring. "I found that great oaf leaning on that makeshift crutch, clutching that weapon." She gestured toward the mentioned objects.
The mercenary nodded. "Let's get this 'great oaf' as you call him, to his cot. And we should bring the weapon and crutch with us." she decided. "That weapon was probably what he wanted to get. I don't feel very safe without my weapons either." Samantha patted the hilt of her blade fondly, then picked Whitegrith up, and draped him over her back.
"Man, this guy's big." she muttered. "Hey Gwynneth, get the stuff, would you?" she asked.
But before the healer could move, Kira jumped off Kitty and gathered crutch and blade.
"I'll do it!" she exclaimed happily as she ran ahead of her elders.
"Try not to drag him!" Gwynneth told the mercenary.
"How am I not supposed to drag him? He's seven feet tall!" protested Samantha.
"I don't want to care for that ignorant fool any longer than necessary." huffed the healer.
"Since when did you start calling people names?" inquired Samantha suddenly, looking directly into Gwynneth's eyes. She was hunching from the weight of the injured man. "Y'know it's not fair to talk like that about people you haven't even met..."
"Oh, I met him. I definitely met him! He called me a lying, filthy bitch! And he refused to believe anything I said, the ungrateful villain..." Gwynneth was going into hysterics. "I know Kira loves him very much, but associating with scum like that cannot be good for her! It's only for her sake I continue. AND he didn't make any sense! Why was he taking offense to the fact that I'm human and have no wings?!" she continued thoughtfully.
Kitty did a double take, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by the mercenary.
"Kitty, is there something you ain't telling us?" Samantha's voice was a warning, a promise of hell to be paid.
"Um..." she said regretfully. "Among the winged beings of this land, it's a common punishment for criminals guilty of murder and other felonies. And NovAtlantian humans aren't very well thought of in any case. People call them charlatans, and worse. They're unnatural. It's said they're related to the Flame Sorcerers, who were human and had no wings, like you, Gwyn, and the Bird Beast Sage. That group is said to have brought about the downfall of NovAtlantia a thousand years ago."
"And this superstition has endured a millennium?" Samantha asked. She whistled in amazement. "Harsh."
Gwynneth said nothing. She stayed silent in thought. She couldn't really blame the man, then, for his mistrust of her. It was a belief that had been seared into him from the time of his birth. Yet the heated hate of his words still got under her skin. He still should have shown her gratitude, she thought, instead of stubbornly refusing her help, to his own peril. What stung the most, however, was her opinion of him had plummeted to the very depths of hell, it seemed. Kira was such a sweetheart. How could such a delightful child have been raised by such a... monster?
* * * * *
"Hail the conquering heroes!" Samantha crooned triumphantly that evening as she stepped into the clearing, after a successful day of hunting with Kitty, her silhouette framed by the rays of the setting sun. She was carrying something large and heavy. She was grinning widely.
"As you can see," she commenced grandly, unceremoniously dumping her quarry on the ground near the fire-pit, "Kitty and I have gone and caught ourselves a banquet of venison!"
Gwynneth looked distastefully at the deer's corpse. "Please don't leave it near Whitegrith, Samantha. It may be carrying a disease, and I do not want my patient infected." she said coolly.
"How touching." Whitegrith's sharp voice was heard, and created a pregnant pause. He'd propped himself up with his arms, though he was gingerly keeping his weight off the slashed arm. Nevertheless, he really shouldn't try to sit up... But the healer knew she likely wouldn't get a chance to tell him so.
Finally Kira gave a little shriek of happiness. She practically bounced over to her older brother and caught him in as much of a bear-hug as her little arms could manage. "Whitegrith! You're awake! I'm so happy you're awake, I was so worried, I thought you were gonna die, but Gwyn took care of you and you're gonna be all right!!!!!" The man shuddered under the pressure to his ribs. "Kira... Let go of me." he gasped.
The little bat-squirrel beast reluctantly complied. She had a petulant pout on her face.
Samantha busied herself in skinning part of the deer, while Kitty watched the siblings with unblinking eyes.
"Kira." the griffin beast's sigh was almost a wheeze, "Why did you ask that filthy human for help?"
"I beg your pardon?" snapped Gwynneth. "Every moment without treatment, you came closer and closer to the brink of death. Kira was in no position to choose. Would you have preferred to be left to die, in the middle of the forest, and knowing your little sister would be alone in the world when you passed away?"
"I would have been better off than following some filthy little human beggar around!" the man retorted disdainfully.
"Following around-?" Gwynneth repeated in confusion.
"Don't play around! I can see right through your facade. The only reason you saved me was because of the Griffin Beast's Curse. A runt like you WOULD need to resort to such an underhanded trick for her own protection." continued a sneering Whitegrith.
Samantha growled threateningly. "I don't know what the hell he's talkin' about, but only bigoted idiots go around jumpin' directly to conclusions like that!" she raised a fist, shaking in rage. Kitty hissed in agreement.
"I understand humans don't have a very good reputation here." Gwynneth started crossly. "But I do not need this grief from you. Now what are you babbling about? What does my saving you have to do with the Griffin Beast's Curse, whatever that is?"
"You." Whitegrith snarled accusingly. "You dare to play innocent?!"
"Kitty, d'you have any idea what he's talking about? And d'you mind explaining why you were so eager to want to see him up and about, as well?" Samantha asked. Throughout all this, Kira remained quiet. She didn't want to anger Grith, but she knew he was being ridiculous.
"I don't know the details. I didn't much pay attention when the elders taught history..." Kitty confessed. "But basically, when the great mages split Myffar apart, they tied curses into all of the beast tribes they represented. For instance, the bird beasts were cursed with the inability to fly, and more to the point, the griffin beasts were cursed with an unbreakable moral code of conduct. Technically, they're the most honest people to walk the face of NovAtlantia."
"Oh?" Gwynneth raised an eyebrow. "Then why does he behave like such a cur? A good man would show gratitude!"
"Don't get me wrong, woman. I know I owe you my life. You'll forgive me if I don't thank you for forcing me into Clause ***ing Ten!" the wounded man swore.
Gwynneth was taken aback. She held Kira's shoulders protectively. "Why... Using such language in front of a child... Have you no propriety?! How Kira still remains a sweet little child in your inadequate care, I cannot fathom"
"I'll talk however I want, human." the man spat.
"Hold it for a moment! What's 'Clause Ten'?" Samantha asked.
"I owe her my life. In order to repay my debt, I have to serve as her bodyguard for as long as the Curse feels necessary. So says the inescapable Clause Ten of the Griffin Beast's Curse." Whitegrith snarled.
"But I neither want, nor need a bodyguard, especially not one as insufferable as yourself!" protested Gwynneth.
Whitegrith seemed to deflate at this. "Regardless of your intentions in the saving of my life, we have no choice. We're stuck with eachother." he said bluntly. "No Griffin Beast can go against a thousand-year-old curse. But it doesn't mean I'm going to like it."
Gwynneth made a show of rummaging through her pack. Better to ignore the ungrateful beast.
"Great. That means we got a potty-mouthed cripple along for the ride. There goes the quest." Samantha sighed.
"Look who's talking, you cavalier shrew." Whitegrith snorted. "Mutilating the language, are we?"
"At least I don't swear in front 'o' kids." Samantha sneered. "And you're forgetting who has the advantage."
"Don't worry, give me time to heal, I'll defeat you yet." the Griffin Beast smirked.
"You're quite literate for a two-bit thug!" continued the mercenary.
"You should talk, brute. I noticed bandits have a monosyllabic vocabulary. Using words like advantage, and understanding such an abstract concept as literacy! Well, I hadn't expected that from a person of your caliber!"
"Same goes for you, you smooth-talking hulk."
"I believe it takes more than a hulk to defeat ten well-trained soldiers. Woman, you have high standards."
"I'd be more impressed if you weren't saying that from a sick-bed."
"Would you have been able to do any better?"
"Damn straight."
"Now look who's swearing!"
If Samantha had been a man, Kitty reflected, the testosterone in the area would have been unbearable right about now. Gwynneth was of the same mind. Luckily, she'd found in her pack what she was looking for. For all Magella was incomprehensibly vague, when it came to being prepared, the woman certainly delivered. Gwynneth didn't even have to brew ingredients.
"Now if you are quite finished exchanging verbal barbs, my patient needs to take his medicine." Gwynneth pushed past the mercenary, and knelt down by the beast's head. "Please cooperate. The sooner you heal up, the sooner your debt will be paid off, and the sooner we can be on our separate ways." she told him. She produced a bottle, and poured a few milliliters into a vial, offering it to her patient.
"Do I have a choice?" the man asked. He took the vial with his bad hand, and sniffed it suspiciously.
"Do you think it's poisoned?" Gwynneth sneered sarcastically.
Whitegrith drained it in one gulp. "For all it tastes bad, do you think I would drink it if I thought it was poisoned?" He was going to say more, but he stifled a long yawn. "You... Sleeping..." he said with an accusatory glare, even as he lowered himself down and drifted off to sleep.
Gwynneth turned to Kitty and Samantha. "I think we've have quite enough of him for today, don't you?" she asked.
"No shit. You're a lot more devious than I thought you were. Way to go!" Samantha congratulated her charge.
Kira was anxiously kneeling near her brother, trying to shake him awake. "Whitegrith..."
"He needed his rest, but most likely wouldn't have gotten it, given the way he mistrusts me so much. It was the most expedient way." Gwynneth told the little girl sharply. "Now, Samantha, get back to the meat, Kira, you and Kitty find some wood, and I assure you, you brother is perfectly safe in my hands."
* * * * *
Whitegrith awoke in the middle of the night to the crackling of a fire. He propped himself up again, in the same manner as before. He scanned the camp. Kira was cuddled up against the human, to his horror. He consoled himself with the fact that they were using the sphinx as a pillow. Sphinxes were generally good people, so he could trust Kira to be safe. Everyone was sleeping except...
"Yo, bastard." Whitegrith's thought was both interrupted and contradicted by the mercenary woman.
"You want to start the fight over again?" he asked defensively.
"Nah, that's just a waste 'o' time. Let me get straight to the point: I got a few questions for you, Whitegrith." said the woman. Samantha, that was her name...
"And what makes you think I would be inclined to answer those questions, mercenary?" he smirked.
"Because the way I see it, you'll be stuck with us until we leave this world, and any information you can give us would sure be helpful." Samantha replied. "For instance: any idea why those goons attacked you? D'you steal anything? Kill someone important? Is there anyone with a grudge on you?" she paused to think. "Figures. Who did you piss off?"
Whitegrith gave her an unimpressed look. "I didn't 'piss anyone off'. Whatever their motives were for ambushing me, I don't know. Kira and I don't have anything valuable that bandits might want, and I haven't gotten on anyone's bad side." Whitegrith paused. It was the mercenary's turn to give him an unimpressed look. "I don't personally know anyone powerful enough to send a crack team of ten soldiers to assassinate me." he corrected himself ruefully.
"I figured as much on my own. I don't suppose there was a prophecy about your birth?" sighed Samantha in resignation.
"If there was, would I tell you?" asked the Beast.
"You're stuck with us. I don't know what will happen to you if Gwyn gets killed before your curse releases you from her service. And I get the feeling you don't wanna find out either. What if your withholding information gets her killed?"
"I'd like to know what you and that human are doing here."
"A quest. Unfortunately, I can't be more specific. The woman who sent us means us as pawns in the great, inter-world game of manipulation. As pawns, anything we know, we have to discover ourselves."
"Well, that's just flowers in spring, isn't it? You're on a quest and you haven't the slightest clue what you're doing. I suppose that's what possessed that filthy human woman to heal me. Lack of direction."
"She did it out of the goodness of her heart, you stubborn jerk. Catch a clue." snapped Samantha. She pulled a blanket out of her pack. "About that prophecy."
"I wouldn't know. If there was a prophecy about my birth, they wouldn't have abandoned me." Whitegrith snorted. "You didn't really think a bastard like me would have a stable childhood?"
"You accusing me of naivete?" Samantha yawned, as she lay down on the ground, and pointedly went to sleep.
* * * * *
Author's notes: Here's to another chapter finished. Wow. More lack of action. Is it just me, or does it seem like I'm putting off the start of this story? Well, I introduced Whitegrith, that's a start, at the very least. I've always been proud of the great monster. And to think he started off as a cross between Yue and Inuyasha... I hope the cold bastard doesn't seem too familiar to you. The good thing about stories, as opposed to real life, is that after the points have been made, you can skip to the more interesting parts.