Persistence
Or "Little White Ear and the Bad Black Cat"
Chapter one
Jaromir
evaded a low hanging
branch, leaning down on his horse's back. Patting the stallion's neck
he
whispered: "This fucking winter so early in the year... No wonder those
Atanvanians are always so sour and grumpy..." Keeping his eyes on the
path
- one branch had surprised him a little earlier and his back was still
wet from
the load of snow that landed in his collar - he pressed his knees into
his
horse's side, urging the stallion into a canter. After a few more
kilometres
Jaromir could see a trail of smoke and the anticipation of a warm room,
a good
meal, a pitcher of hot wine and a comfy bed lifted his mood. "Come on
Preeno, a stable and good groom for you and some food." Smirking to no
one
in particular the blue-black haired catboy added: "Perhaps I find
someone
to groom me, too..."
It
took Jaromir another half hour to enter the city and arrive at an
inn in the suburbs. After giving Preeno into the care of a young
stable-lad the
tall Ylvas entered the taproom, the air warm and filled with the odour
of
burning wood, tobacco, sweat, food and alcohol. The dark man took in a
good
sniff, the mixture a nice welcome after clean, but icy early winter
air.
Sitting down on a table in a corner he ordered some stew, bread and a
mug of hot wine from a young waitress,
giving her a wide smirk that made her blush.
Dinner
was a boring affair as always, mindless chit chat, pretending
that he listened to his father, going over the matters of the province
in such
a boring way. Syran had plans, great plans and the will to make their
wealth
and power even greater. His parents however were set in their ways and
wanted
him to do it the way they had laid out for him. Get educated and read
books,
have the good manners of a prince, but... no action! And Syran hungered
for
action... That night after going to bed, he sneaked out of his room
like he had
planned for quite some time. The white eared Ylvas had borrowed clothes
from
his cousin; less fancy than his own. He would go out among the
commoners! A
tavern... He had always wanted to go to such a place ever since his
friends and
cousins had talked about it.
To
be a great ruler one must
learn how the subjects of the kingdom were, how they spend their time
and such.
One of his older cousin had trained him in secret and Syran had
promised him
more wealth in exchange. Now he thought he was ready for a field trip
of his
own. The fur coat he wore was grey;a colour he considered quite plain
and
should be fitting for this occasion. He made his way through the
shadows,
passing the massive estate into the woods by foot. The journey wasn't
really
short but not too long and finally Syran was there. He was excited and
watched
the other Ylvas as he passed, a hint of amusement mixed with disgust
when he
saw how drunk some of them already were just outside the tavern. He
entered the
taproom smiling to himself. A few guests turned to look at him so Syran
tried
to look as casual as he could while making his way further into the
room.
Patting
his stomach after eating the stew, Jaromir leaned back
satisfied. The stew was hot and surprising had lots of meat in it.
Lazily
stroking his black tail, a absent-minded habit of him, he sipped at the
hot
wine, liking the spices the innkeeper had added. 'He should have
seasoned his
stew, too,' the tanned man thought. The more into the North he came,
the more
stale the food became. But it was warm and sating and that was enough
for now.
After all Jaromir wasn't on a culinary round trip. He looked up when a
new
guest entered the taproom. It was quite a small Ylvas, something rare
here in
Atanva, but there was something else that caught his eyes... While
watching the
other man he tried to decipher his odd feeling about the blond.
Syran
looked around with mild distaste, unsure how people would behave
in this place. He should look casual, like... well, like this wasn't
his first
visit. He found a free table and sat down, keeping his chin up to show
confidence yet this new situation caused his ears to move slightly
backwards,
carefully listening every new sound. "What will it be Mister?" A female
voice almost startled him and he looked up and saw a waitress who
grinned
stupidly. Syran tried to calm himself. "A pint," he replied.
"Please," he added out of habit. His cousin had said that a pint was
what people normally ordered and Syran hoped he was right. The waitress
nodded
with a smile and left.
The
new guy took a seat at a table close to him, his posture looking
confident but with a slight arrogance Jaromir knew from somewhere. The
other
guy's white ears looked a little tense though, contradicting his
otherwise
self-reliant appearance. When the waitress startled the young guy
Jaromir
smiled and when he heard a 'please' it clicked.
Some
nobleman or most likely his son. The rough and harsh climate of
the North brought forth harsh and rough folk and politeness often
reduced to
grunting a greeting and drinking silently a beer. In his home the
people were
more wordy but here in the
Jaromir
smirked a little. He wouldn't mind grabbing those silky hair,
biting those snow-white ears having those nails pressed into his back
while he
showed that boy some joy of the South. But something else was much more
tempting – he was obviously rich and there was a good chance
that this young
man had lots of money with him. That would solve the problem with his
shortage
of Atanvanian money for now. The tall man shortly pondered about
kidnapping the
Ylvas – it didn't look like the small man would be able to
put up much of a
fight – but decided against it. Jaromir never was a big fan
of those means and
it would be difficult to pull of the deal without knowledge of the
local
nobility and habits.
Syran
sensed it; he was being watched. Sure there were curious glances
but he was most certain that he felt something else yet he couldn't
quite put
his finger on it. Just then the waitress was back and Syran searched
for his
purse to pay her. Her eyes went wide when she saw the money he gave her and
added: “Keep the change.” In fear the
young man would change his mind she hurriedly thanked and left.
Observing the
foaming drink in front of him Syran again remembered the feeling he
had. He
turned his head and spotted the stranger and narrowed his eyes
slightly. The
man was different, his looks were different so much... darker... and..
mysterious? Realising that he was staring Syran quickly turned his gaze
back to
his foaming drink. The last thing he needed was to be caught ogling.
Jaromir
hid his smirk when he saw the short light up of a silver coin.
He knew enough about Atanva to be aware that here, like in his homeland
Drabbengrun, no beer costed a silver coin. Three or four copper coins
at most,
especially in a drinking hole like this here. So if the short man only
had
silver coins in that well filled purse of his, maybe he carried a
little
fortune with him. Perhaps he even had a gold coin or two in there?
Pushing
his wine from him, Jaromir took a relaxed posture, not watching
the young noble man anymore, keeping an eye on him from the corner of
his eyes.
He was good at observation, though sometimes it was hard for him to
wait, but
he calmed himself. When the young waitress came again he denied another
mug of
wine – better to stay sober – but reserved a room
with a window to the
backyard. Now it was only a matter of time till the boy left and became
a good
catch. A pleasant tingle of anticipation settled in Jaromir's stomach
and his
tail tapped once against the floor.
This
foamy drink was quite good! The first sip had not been so much but
the second tasted better and made Syran feel relaxed. He licked his
lips,
looked around and decided it was time to go. He could return another
time but
did not want his parents to get to know of his absence. Syran got up
and
glanced again towards the stranger; the difference in his appearance
was
somewhat appealing, but... He should not bother with it more. The small
man
stepped out into the cold night starting to head back to the woods.
Jaromir
smiled a little when the blond man looked at him, not making a
move to get up. When the other had left he ascended the stairs to his
room and
closed the door behind him carefully. The tall man put a chair in front
of the
door and hooked it under the lock to prevent any stranger from entering
his
room. He then put his belongings under the bed after changing into some
wide,
black clothing, a long stiletto and two dagger vanished under his coat
and in
his boots.
Opening
the window to the backyard Jaromir climbed on the window sill,
keeping himself balanced with trained easiness while closing the
shutters
without locking them. With a swift, graceful jump Jaromir leapt on the
roof and
silently walked over it, peeking over the roof edge and saw platinum
hair
vanishing behind a corner. A wide smile appeared on the tall man's
face.
'Hunting time!' With this thought he followed his prey.
Syran
entered the dark woods, trying not to lose his orientation and at
the same time keep himself aware of his surroundings in case of a
danger that
might be lurking in the shadows. However the alcohol had dimmed his
senses
slightly; normally he might have noticed his follower faster but this
time his
thoughts were distracted by the longing for his soft bed and a long
sleep.
When
the blond entered the forest Jaromir thought for a moment. Towns
and cities were his preferred hunting ground but his chances with this
small,
obviously inexperienced guy here would be great even in this unfamiliar
surrounding. Extending his talons Jaromir moved hand over hand along
trees and
branches. He looked up, the moon full, which was against his odds but
he knew
some small tricks. When the white eared man reached a place where the
treetop
was especially thick and only little light filtering through it,
Jaromir dived down,
shadows solidified around him magically.
He
remembered where the young noble had his purse and aimed his dive at
the man's left side.
Jaromir was almost
in reach he made his dagger ready. But when he was on the same height
as the
small guy was, the white eared Ylvas stumbled a little, most likely
because his
small magic trick took away the light. Jaromir's shoulder rammed into
the other
man's hip, toppling him over to the ground. Cursing slightly Jaromir
did fast
work, cutting off the purse and running off in the forest, hiding in
his
shadows.
Syran
hardly understood what had happened; it was so fast! He coughed
and cursed, pulling himself up stiffly. His eyes narrowed – he
was seriously pissed off! He had been
robbed! He looked around and listened, all his senses awoke and
sharpened. No
way! There was no way that... THAT BASTARD! would go with what belonged
to him.
His breathing became fast and he caught the other's scent and
immediately went
after it. He would hunt this mouse down –
hunt him and get back what
was his!
Damn!
Jaromir thought that this little spoiled nobleman's son would
shake in fear, wet his pants and run off to daddy, but this one was
surprisingly persistent. Jaromir had paid attention to cover his smell
and
sounds and the magic shadow cloak around him should shield him from
view but
the blond guy kept his trace. He needed a change of plan and so he bend
his
steps toward the inn at fastest speed he was able to go in the darkness.
When
he reached the outskirts he hopped on one roof, the jump magically
enhanced, and cowered down on the roof, sliding over the rough tiles in
fast,
swift motions towards the backyard. Before Jaromir entered his room he
tied the
purse to the drain. After entering his room he closed the shutters from
within,
disrobed and hid the black clothing in his belongings before slipping
under the
covers, trying to will his breath down.
The
guy was fast but Syran was determined and followed. He could be
fast as well! He sensed the others magic, though it was different from
his own.
The robber's scent was faint but he knew it was familiar and focused.
The
tavern! Syran tried to focus and think back carefully until the answer
came as
clear as a day. The stranger! The dark stranger! Oh yes, that bastard
would not
get away without punishment! Syran would get back what belonged to him!
Jaromir
released his magic, his senses worked overtime to hear if the
other was still following him but when there was no ruckus for the next
hour.
The tall man decided that the boy sure was persistent but still not
good enough
to get to him, so he settled for a short night, falling into a slight
slumber.
The
next day Jaromir got up early, retrieving the purse from the drain
that was above his window, hid it in his knapsack and took a light
breakfast
with warm water. He took Preeno's rein from a sleepy stable-boy and
mounted his
stallion, leaving the outskirts in a slow trot. A constant smile was
playing
around his lips, fuelled by the last night's success but it froze when
he
entered a small clearance. There, on an impressive white horse, was the
white
eared guy, anger radiating from the small form, turquoise eyes glaring
at him.
Syran
motioned his horse to move forward. He only had a short rest, got
up early and told his servants to prepare his horse. There was no way
he would
let the thief get away like that. He smiled at the man and it was not a
happy
smile, but had a warning in it. "I believe you have something of
mine," he spoke after closing some of the distance. The smile he had
spotted on the man's handsome face irritated him even further but he
tried his
best to keep his appearance calm in a dangerous, proud way to
intimidate the
dark haired cat man.
Deep
inside Jaromir was a bit impressed at the appearance of the blond.
He was acting cold, arrogant and intimidating, showing a self assurance
that
either was inborn or trained over a long time and that despite his
young looks
– he didn't look like he had entered the second decade of his
life. Together
with his now impressive clothing – there even was a white
chain mail shimmering
under a long, white coat with red fur covering the hem – he
looked not like
some ordinary noble man. Internally shaking his head to clear his
thoughts
Jaromir lifted a brow. It wasn't the first time he encountered someone
like
that guy – he was not so easily intimidated. "And what could
that be, my
lord?"
Syran
circled the man smiling slightly with confidence, measuring the
thief. 'My lord' He tasted the words silently; somehow they sounded
mocking
coming from him. The man might be a few years older, might be taller,
might
even look stronger yet non of it mattered to Syran because he was
positive that
he was in fact more powerful than this low thief – and that
counted more than
any physical trait. "Do not play innocent with me," he said raising
an eyebrow. "You do well if you realise your mistake and hand over what
you have stolen. I might go easier on you if you do."
"Stolen?
My lord, please." Jaromir looked shocked. "I
just arrived here yesterday and wasn't even in the city! I arrived at a
dirty
inn that your lordship surely never would enter, had a lowly meal and a
mug of
thin wine and then went to bed. I see your lordship for the first time
in my
life." Putting on a shy smile, the blue-black haired Ylvas added with a
sweeter voice: "And I would have remembered such a handsome and
impressive
man as my lord is, that is for sure!"
Syran
frowned, for a moment almost distracted. Compliments were his
weak point, especially coming from a man such as... 'NO!' He suddenly
screamed
at himself, 'You should not get distracted!' The man was merely playing
with
him! His gaze hardened for a moment. "Do not toy with me," the blond
warned. "Thief!" He hissed the accuse.
Jaromir's
gaze became hard. He sat up and his posture got more
intimidating. What did that boy think? Sure, he was a thief. But he
took pride
of his talents. He hadn't harmed the guy, just took something that this
man
surely had more than enough from. Was it his fault that the other was
so
careless? "What can you prove? You wanna tell your daddy that you
escaped
your secure mansion, left without guardians, just to drink a pitcher of
beer in
a drinking hole? That you showed off your wealth? That someone stole it
from
you? I can hear the spanking already, kiddo. You have no proof, so lets
end the
charade and leave me alone. Learn from the whole episode - after all, I
didn't
injure you. Be glad you're still alive." With that Jaromir reined his
horse and started to leave the clearance.
Syran
narrowed his eyes. Oh no way! No way did that guy insult him like
this! He quickly followed the man. "You do not insult a future king and
get away from it!" He hissed, blocking the man's way.
That
indeed was interesting news. "Future king, huh?"
Smirking widely, Jaromir looked over the other's form. "Well, you have
the
handsomeness, but shouldn't a king be tall and muscled and somewhat
more...
impressive?"
"I
am impressive!" Syran defended furiously. "Huh, can
you say all that only on a horse?" He asked. "I bet you are too
coward to stand face to face with me. After all, you needed darkness
and silly
disguises to steal... that's it, you are a coward!" The blond smirked
quite pleased over his own discovery.
"You
blabber impressively, that is all..." Jaromir thought
for a moment. He should get away from here before some servant or guard
appeared, if the 'future king' spoke the truth about his heritage. "So,
if
I dismount and stand before you, what are you going to do?"
Syran
thought for a moment. "I will fight and I will win!" He
finally answered with confidence.
“Fight?
But why? Just let us assume I really stole a purse from you,
which of course I didn't do. Don't your father have enough money?"
"This
is about principle!" Syran growled. "I know what
you did, and right now I am even more confident that you are a coward."
He
looked at the man. "Perhaps a silly coward really is a waste of my
time."
"Principles
doesn't mean much to me. And a 'king's brat' just
wanting to have it his way faze me even less. So have a nice day."
Jaromir
tapped his head and added with an overly sweet voice: "Your majesty."
Syran
was unable to overcome his annoyance. How dared that thief! He
would not walk away with his money, not like that! He watched,
concentrated and
murmured a low chant which made the road slippery, icy. That made the
horse
slip but not causing an injury on the animal, just distracting the
rider enough
to cast the next chant that sent the dark Ylvas off the saddle and onto
the
ground. The startled animal run farther, his own stayed foot; well
trained.
Feeling satisfied with himself Syran quickly approached the man and set
his foot
onto the other's chest. "Do not underestimate your king," he purred.
"Now, give me back my money, thief!"
When
Preeno foundered Jaromir tried to calm the horse when suddenly
something hit him and sent him flying out of the saddle. The impact
with the solid
ground pushed the air out of his lungs. Then this little brat stood
above him,
a foot on his chest. "You are not my king, you brat!" Jaromir spat
out. This obnoxious guy got on his nerves, but obviously he never
fought dirty
or else he would have not placed his foot in range of Jaromir's hands.
Quickly
grabbing the ankle and spinning it, he sent the blond to the ground and
quickly
got up. "You blame me of cheap tricks and then use magic at someone's
back?"
Syran
growled. His head hurt but it didn't matter. "You played
cheap before I did!" He hissed and ignoring the pain in his head and
ankle
he charged at the man, pushing him back down. "Last night was low!"
Stumbling
back Jaromir tried to secure his stand. "What was low?
You were playing dangerous, boy! Showing off so much money in such a
surrounding. You can be glad it was me who stole from you, not someone
else who
would have robbed you, raped your nice, virgin ass and then let you
bleed out
with your throat slit open!" Evading an angry blow to his head, Jaromir
gritted his teeth. "And why the fuck is that purse and the little
silver
in it so important, huh? Is it the money? Or the principle?" Taking a
deep
breath, Jaromir added: "Or is it your pride?"
Syran
blinked, taken aback a little by such such horrid language! He
opened his mouth and then closed it, like a fish on dry land.
"You...you..." He tried to find the fitting word. He was ashamed that
the man had a point; it was his pride but the rest of it... "Oh don't
tell
me to be glad, you villain!" He hissed.
"Oho?
I am the villain and you are the hero? The knight in shining
white armour?" Jaromir couldn't suppress a small laughter. "But okay,
you wanted your fight, so come one, king. Show me what you got!"
Syran
huffed still somewhat disturbed, but his claws came out.
"Alright," he hissed, eyes narrowed. "I will win," he said
with confidence.
Looking
at the young man's stance Jaromir could see the other was
serious. "Then come!" Taking a defensive stance the taller man got
ready for the attack.
Syran
wasn't very used of fights put in action. So far they had been
just a game but this time... He tried to shrug away his nervousness and
approached the other, measured him, somehow trying to ignore the fact
that the
man was bigger. As he was about to charge when the noise of approaching
horses
got his attention. The sound was coming towards them and he had no idea
what to
expect.
Hearing
the horses as well, Jaromir didn't want to take his chances
with some approaching guardians so he decided to end this tussle fast,
even if
it meant it had to become dirty. Analysing the other's stance and
movements
Jaromir could see that he was used to honourable fighting but that
wasn't going
to help him. When the blond attacked Jaromir ducked under the blow and
stepped
beside the smaller man, a hand delving under the coat, searching
around. He
found what he was looking for and grabbed the furry appendage that
swung in a
frenzy and bent it upwards and pulled it hard.
The
younger man fell to the ground, a long, pained mewl escaping his
lips and Jaromir inwardly cringed. He experienced that feeling a few
times and
he knew how it felt... He whistled and Preeno came to him. Jaromir
searched his
knapsack, found the purse and threw it at the blond who was cradling
his abused
tail close to his chest, still mewling in pain. "I'm sorry, lad... Next
time don't show off your wealth or take some guards with you..."
Mounting
his horse Jaromir looked at the man on the ground. "No hard feelings,
okay, cutie?" With that he took off, away from the thunder of hooves
that
was now already sensible.
Syran
lay on the ground with tears in his eyes, cursing the man, trying
to get over the pain on his tail, still holding it and mewling
miserably. The
horses were near, he heard the riders slowing down and approaching. "Oh
my
what have we here?" One of the voices asked. Syran raised his pained
gaze
and cursed. His fathers half brother and two of his men; not good. The
man had
always hungered for the position of Syran's father and was later cast
out from
the family as a black sheep. Syran tried to get up, to his horse, but
one of
the man had already caught it. "This must be my lucky day," the man
in lead smirked. Syran hissed baring his teeth, which only caused the
three to chuckle
circle him slowly. "Yes, my
lucky day
indeed, the prince of the kingdom," the foul man grinned.
Jaromir
took to his heels when suddenly the thundering stopped. Against
better knowledge he slowed Preeno, listening but it didn't sound like
someone
wanted to follow him. He furrowed his brows. If he was at the prince's
position
he would have told the riders to ride on and catch him. But whatever,
he should
turn tail and try to get away as far as possible before the guys
changed their
mind.
Why
Preeno was slowly turning back to the clearing in a bow, why his
legs and arms were steering the horse that way was out of his
knowledge... That
brat was brave and he found him out after all, something he was sure
the white
eared guy wasn't able to to do, but he did... He reached the edge of
the
clearance, seeing three guys standing above the smaller man, obviously
mocking
him. Well, that wasn't so bad, right? After all that little snob could
need a
lecture in humbleness. But when one of the guards draw a sword, Jaromir
was alarmed.
Syran's
eyes widened when the sword was pointed at him, towards his
throat; it resembled what the man had said earlier and... His step
uncle placed
the blade under his chin and forced him to look up in his smiling face.
"You are of more value alive than death... aren't you?" He grinned.
Syran pursed his lips. "You have no right! " He hissed. "I am
the future ruler; they'd never forgive you my death!" His so called
uncle
laughed at this and the other two followed. "We do not need to kill
such
harmless little creature IF he follows the orders..." The man grinned.
Jaromir
could hear the words and he didn't like them one bit. He was a
thief, yes, but treachery made his stomach churn. He reached for a
small
crossbow that was tied to his saddle and aimed... One of the guards had
his
chain mail hood down and that was his fault. Jaromir had been taught
assassination as a part of his training and even though he didn't like
it that
much, it was useful at time. Times like this.
Taking
carefully aim he slowly pulled the trigger and then the small
crossbow arrow flew, hitting the guard into his ear. The man fell down
with a
scream and Jaromir used another little magic trick. The bushes at the
other end
of the clearing were rustling, the two other men turning first to the
injured
man, then towards the sounds. "An ambush, my lord! We have to get
away!" The second guard called.
Syran
looked around, confused, he thought he saw a glimpse of someone
farther, but more important did he see his chance to escape. Although
he didn't
have his horse he quickly tried to rush away on foot, stumbling a
little in
panic on his way.
Jaromir
was glad to see that this 'prince' seemed to have his thoughts
together, because an open attack against two trained and armed soldiers
would
have been suicidal. The two men obviously were occupied for the moment
so he
retreated from the edge of the clearance and rode –
absolutely coincidentally –
after the white eared guy. Obviously the white horse of the prince was
good
trained because it waited for the small man a good few hundred meters
later.
When
the other man mounted his horse, Jaromir thought it was time to
take his escape, too. Thoughts were running through his mind
– treachery on who
someone who was a nobleman's son, perhaps even the prince and he stole
from
him. He killed a royal guard, attacked a royal member – no,
two of them... Damn, he was in a lot of
trouble and he didn't know how he got into that trouble. He was just
taking on
an advantage last night and where was he now?
Web
published: Octoberr 21st, 2009.
My Secret Shore
© KOLGRIM and NIRKAL 2009