~ Chapter 1 ~


I could never tell what was colder during my roguish descent along the cliffs of the Madesto Gulf; the ragged wind or my kindling exile from a life I once knew. Gleeful spring winds wrapped me in a blanket of thawing winters breath letting me know the month of Seeden was finally yielding her snow to the warmth of spring to come this month of Gentyer. The distant night sun Linus painted the rough hewn stone steps worn smooth by a daily waterfall of travelers in silvery white light. My footsteps were a lone trickle on that now travel dry passage. I heard the sounds of armor clicking and chain mail jingling on the stairs above me that shoved a shiver into my spine setting my tiger striped tail to a full bushing. Bellow me; I spotted a pilgrim shrine to the True One. It jutted into the stairs just bellow me with enough space to squeeze behind the icon of the Sacred Circle of Awareness pierced by a Pillar of Truth and the cliff walls. I made haste and sucked in my breath to allow enough room to press into that darkness. The retreat into the ebony passage came to a jarring halt as the leather satchels slung from my back to be held in my hands went taught in their straps. I reached out trying to find a way to make the firm and resilient contents inside behave and conform by sheer will. I froze as the sound of paws with unsheathed claws clicked and skidded over the stone steps near the shrine. I held my breath, closed my amber eyes and listened.

“She couldn’t have gone far. The monastery gave the cry of theft at moonrise. She has to be on this path.” A male voice rumbled as the sound of claws ticked along the stone steps. The sound of chuffing breath and an annoyed rumble of a mangled purr echoed in the darkness.

“And what if she isn’t heading for a ship, Rolphio? If I was our elder Crusader now painted as a thief of the Golden Crosses and branded a heretic, I wouldn’t risk running for a port. All the piers are guarded by Crusaders. She’ll be caught if she heads there like a foolish kitten. I wager a rotaran she took her Belt of Mercy and her father’s sword up the coast to the cliffs of Sanrina; plenty of caves to hide in there.” A female voice, soft and high to the rumbling growl of the male drifted into the windswept evening.

“Always making the cheap bet. Step it up Calipo. Your family just came into their quest. Your Belt of Mercy is full of rotaran. Three rotaran she’s slinking into Port Tabitha while we chase our tails. You sure Commander Stelphin caught her scent on this trail? He’s not exactly a young Felissii.” Rolphio said.

The sound of hands pushing and rubbing along the shrine stirred a desire to bolt and run for my life. While two Crusaders of the Golden Crosses were formidable against an unarmed victim, they couldn’t catch me if I was quick and not bogged down by the armor I knew they’d be wearing. Yet, if they caught me, my head was rolling down the steps just like my fathers did several years ago upon the judgment dais. I kept my eyes shut, minimizing any gleam from Linus or the moon, Moresh with its fox fire illumination of shifty hues. I listened to Calipo and Rolphio laugh at something I didn’t catch and felt the shrine press in tighter on me as the two Crusaders found delight in leaning against it. I stifled a panicked rumble wishing they’d take up their search and move on.

“Hey, Rolphio, take a look. New pilgrims walking at night and not a crusader in sight. Let’s ask them if they’ve paid their fees. The heretic can’t run forever and I’d like to add some rotaran to my pocket.” Calipo said.

I heard their claws click as they began to move away and let out a slight sigh of relief.

“Extra rotaran? Hasn’t the monastery furnished you enough wealth? Trisha’s lessons about greed never took, did they?” Rolphio asked.

I heard Calipo laugh. “Trisha was a fool. All holy this, holy that. She’d live on traditions if it could sustain her physically. Besides, blessed coins tend to sour appetites in a brothel. I have needs and can’t keep pretty or admired at my own expense. We protect these retched pilgrims day in and day out. Only fair they support our needs. Besides, my parents find one rotaran gone before I leave on my quest; my tail will hang over the door sill.”

“Would be a pity to see that jaguar tail lopped from that fine backside. Let’s get a bit dirty then. You talk, I’ll hold any children over the cliff side. Bet we’ll get a decent purse of rotaran.” Rolphio said.

“Typical lion. No subtlety. You realize that’s why they shoved you with me on this hunt. You blunder through things and like to be rough. But you are at least handsome if not a bit dim.” Calipo said.

Their voices became a faint whisper and I opened my eyes. My heart slowed a few ticks and I felt a pang of disgrace. My apprentices were sprouting fast into the rotten apple of the Crusaders. I noted there were no more voices outside the shrine. Now was my chance to keep moving. While Port Tabitha may be guarded, I knew a few people to help me lay low. With a few wiggles I emerged from my slim refuge and took a deep, crisp breath of salt air. I glanced at the sky, Linus hung like a small radiant diamond straight above and Moresh was peaking over the watery horizon of Madesto Gulf like a glittering emerald moon. The stars were out, pin pricks of white engraving on the black enamel of the heavens. I often found that site better from the swaying ride of a higo. I shook my head from the fond memories spent in the saddle upon Cadara; such a finer mix of Arabian horse and ram was yet to be found, I thought he’d have fetched more than four rotaran. I put a lot of faith in him to keep my safe on my journey. Faith. The word stank in my mind. Those were years lost to the blindness of something too good to be true and innocence lost.

I took up my oiled leather satchels and heard faintly the crusaders harassing the pilgrims. I glanced up the rocky steps and just barely saw a group of six pilgrims, three women, one young man and two kittens. They were all in the white rough spun pilgrim robes of Cala Mormor. It was suicide to be on the pilgrim trails without a crusader. All pilgrims give up their worldly possessions and carry only the robe on their back. A purse of rotaran for tributes at the stations of Truth housing the holy relics was their only possession. They were easy prey for the fallen.

My preying apprentices had held true to their plan. I could see the sleek black jaguarish Felissii in her steel cuirass and chain mail. By the male eye she was indeed stunning, straining armor with curves best left to a house cat or private dancer. Calipo seemed to be making very animated demands while her partner, Rolphio, a thick looking lionish Felissii with moisture curled mane stood decked in simple chain mail. He made a quick grab and dangled the two children by their white, rough pilgrim robes. The kittens mewled in terror from their view over the cliff side with nothing but two hundred feet of air before meeting a fate upon rocks and surging tides of the Madesto Gulf. The women were in shocked outrage; their din of pleading and shouts swept down the stairs and washed over me.

I flattened my black tipped tiger ears and just closed my tired eyes. Pilgrims, Trisha. They are just pilgrims, foolish to start their journey without a crusader and most likely without a sanction from the Madesto Monastery. They’ll live, roughed up and robbed, but they’ll live and maybe they’ll give up their faith poisoned delusion before they met an enslaved fate at the end of it all. Just pilgrims, like grains of sand, more will come and more will go. Just pilgrims.

I picked up my leather satchels, turning my back on the kind of people I had once swore to protect, give aid to and train. People robbed blind and sold into slavery at the end of a false journey through flimsy faith and bits of defunct Humaran technology. It was not my world anymore. Had it ever been my world? I shook my head to clear and claim resolve. They are mot my care. Not my charge. I am not their guard. I had to look out for my own vulnerability among a sea of sharks in armor. No one was going to protect me and I had one life to protect. Mine.

I took two resolute steps down past the shrine and froze. A scream, high and pitched in the agonized tone of an innocent untainted by violence stabbed me between the shoulder blades. The siren sound of someone in pain held my cold hearted resolve in idealistic fevered hands and melted it into a slurry of remorse and shame. I shook my head slowly, telling myself in an almost enforced mantra to not look back. The path back held only commitment and the loss of my life, the path forward held every dream of freedom.

I may have been a crusader and tainted with the violence of protecting pilgrims from bandits, but no matter how far I tried to shove my heart into a barrel and seal it; I was a crusader of mercy and compassion. I gritted my teeth, the only sign I’d lost my battle of mugging my morality. I turned to look up the steps again and saw the young man impaled upon the slim blade of Calipo’s rapier, blood and steel glinting in the silver light of Linus. My amber eyes narrowed as I dropped my satchels with a dull rattle of metal within. I crouched and withdrew from one satchel a rapier that was clipped to a very old looking leather belt. A Belt of Mercy, a true symbol of a Crusader of the Golden Crosses, each weathered band of leather held our symbol of faith upon it; threaded up on that belt were rotaran worked to be worn upon our waists in plain sight. Those rotaran would fund a quest hunting for a divine artifact, or a quest to ease the suffering of those in true need. I strapped the symbol of my former office that was currently reconciled to cast me off into bondage. I adjusted my father’s rapier as it hung at my left hip. I kept my cotton cloak of midnight blue belted under it all and drew my hood up. Anger at how far my apprentices had fallen and a stiff ingrained prayer drove my ascension to the conflict.

“The path of truth begins when one strips the darkness of lies and self importance from their backs. Only in the light of the True One may we have wisdom and know our lives and our world must be remade in the light. Cala Mormor guides our steps as we shine truth upon the depths of greed, violence and dark desire. By the True One may I discern evil from good, right from wrong. Have pity upon this lost kitten’s soul.” I said clearly and slowly in the cadence taught to me in the Madesto Monastery as I trained night and day to protect the wondering faithful.

Calipo was not prepared to hear my words and she seemed startled to see a figure hooded and cloaked, three steps bellow her with a Belt of Mercy glinting in twin to my sheathed rapier worked with Madesto Magnolias.

“I told you the little thief was headed for the harbor.” Rolphio gloated and gave the kittens a shake over the cliff to renew more terrified mewls.

Calipo gave me a long, piercing brown stare as she imitated an armored statue erected to feline grace cut from jet stone. She took a step back and released the young man from the bite of her blade. He slid to the steps, a crumpled bob tail still growing from his youth. Blood spread along the front of his white robe and I forced my site from it as a rumbling purr took hold of me, my tail twitching in stiff jerks. Calipo gave a smooth, flourish of her rapier, silver darkened blood splattered upon the worn stone as she cleaned her blade.

“A crusader out on the Tabithan Stairway hooded and quite lacking in armor? My you must have a veritable bastion of confidence. You do realize how much danger you can be in from bandits, beggars and those best avoided? But you’d know all about that, now, wouldn’t you, Trisha.” She gave a feral sneer of delight. “You are wanted for fleeing rightful enslavement. Breaking of your oath to find the holy relic quested to your family. Theft of property from the Madesto Monastery.” Calipo said in smooth tones of steel and justice.

“Is that supposed to intimidate me? Being read false charges by a thug? I may know the rotten things you’ve fallen into, Calipo, and our brethren. Lies and mistrust poison us all. But I do know, without hesitation, you have no concept of our oaths. You are a vain kitten. Your actions reek of lies and tainted violence.” I said.

“Bold talk from a fugitive.” Rolphio spat. “You know our oaths and yet you flee from your divine servitude. Stole from those that clothed, trained and brought your family out of pitiful and meek hunting.”

I withdrew my hood, my name known by circumstance and faced them all, amber eyes glittering in the night. My hand traced over the delicate silver work of the basket on my father’s rapier and the chased embellishments upon the scabbard.

“Well, mount lion fluff speaks with dandy lion wool for brains. When has the rightful possession of family heirlooms been deemed theft, Rolphio? If you want to speak of theft, I look no further than two Felissii mugging pilgrims for rotaran tributes. You reek of hypocrisy Rolphio. No surprise. You cared more about getting between the thighs of those like Calipo that are vain enough to fall off the path of the True One even it was three higos wide. Now how are we to be about this mess, my apprentices?” I hissed.

Calipo shifted her weight with ease and raised the tip of her rapier towards me. “We take you in and you’re going to come without a fight.”

My hand slid into the basket of the rapier, fingers tight about the grip, my fur and flesh pressed hard to the prayer beads worked into it. Rolphio gave a small roar and literally rattled the kittens over certain doom. My eyes went to the dangling hostages, flickered over the shocked women and back to Calipo’s gaze. My lips thinned upon my feline muzzle and she smirked seeing that I had recognized their leverage. I resist, the kittens drop and more lives are lost. I stood still for a few moments, the soft mewls of the young man in pain kept us all company. I gave a small sigh of defeat and unbuckled my belt. I held out my sheathed rapier to Calipo. She stepped forward, rapier tip dipping to the steps and reached for the belt and rapier.

“Well played Calipo. Hostages to compel my obedience. You picked up that much of my training. It almost worked too.” I said.

Before Calipo could respond, I let go of the belt and rapier. She naturally reached out to grab for it on reflex. My hands parted my cloak and a slithering of leather uncoiled from about my furred waist. In a blink of an eye, the crack of a whip punctuated the night. Rolphio gasped in pain as my whip bit into his forearm and I gave a hard two handed yank forcing the kittens to swing over the steps as he dropped them in reflex to the pain he felt. He slipped and rolled down a few steps in dazed confusion all in a matter of seconds. Calipo was caught dumbfounded as I reduced her leverage, stunned her companion and with her off balance clutching my belt, I grabbed the gorget about her neck and twisted. She stumbled, dropping my belt and rapier as she fought to keep from tumbling down to the shrine on her face.

“Rookies. You’ve slacked off on your fighting. Thuggery has made you weak.” I sighed and snapped my whip along Calipo’s back side drawing out a curse from her.

With practiced motion, I kicked up my rapier, caught the grip one handed and with a flick unsheathed my blade as the belt clattered to the stone steps. I stood above both of the crusaders now, Linus gleamed on a blade a century old, honed to a soul splitting sharpness. Garnets winked from their stain glass like setting, the scraps of the Talon fortune in their gleam. Rolphio shook his head and slowly stood and gave a sharp growl as Calipo regained her composure and smarting pride. She held her rapier at the ready to cross blades with me.

“I give you one chance. Leave us and head back to Madesto.” I said. “The sun has set on training. You will face me without mercy.”

“Leave? We have the advantage. Runners have been dispatched all along the coast of the Madesto Gulf. Just how far do you think you can run before we’ll be on your trail again? What’s to keep us from riding you down when you turn your back? You’ll be caught like a rat in a trap and you’ll be in chains soon enough. Maybe we’ll see your head roll like your fathers. You struck us, Trisha, and that carries the penalty of death. Then it’ll be a trial for these pilgrims. A few words to Commander Stelphin and no one will think twice to see them all as aiding and abetting a violent fugitive.” Calipo hissed.

“Striking you hardly counts as a death warrant. You have to be a real crusader for that dishonor. You should have left.” I sighed and placed myself squarely between them and the pilgrims. I knew if I didn’t intercede now, none of us would remain alive to shine a light on this corruption.

“I, Trisha of Talon, do swear my fealty and soul upon the Setting Sun of a Crusaders Quest.” I spoke and stepped down, my blade flickering and meeting Calipo’s in a shimmering dance of elegant death.

“I shield the innocence from pain. I uphold the chaste and I carry the weak.” My left hand flicked out, the whip cracked as it snatched an eye from Rolphio’s head, sending him into a stumble of pain as he fumbled for his long sword in blind pain. Calipo’s blade sung and slid high aiming for my jugular. I parried, juked to the right and kicked her rump, sending her sprawling on the steps.

“I walk the path of Truth and set no darkness in my way. My paws are sure footed as I pass the imperfect desires and acts of my heart.” My whip cracked again and Rolphio made horrible sounds as he grabbed for the braided leather around his neck, fighting for air. He brought his long sword to bear, the slice whistling hard for my hip. I brought my rapier between my flesh and his blade catching a ring of steel on steel. A tug on the whip made him stumble forward and I stepped in with a swift and sure lunge. My rapier did its job well, needle sharp tip finding passage through the links of his mail and sliced opened the rings as I ran Tigre Nobles through is heart.

“I will brook no act of violence upon the weak, the poor, the innocent and steadfast of faith.” My ambers were slits of righteous fire as I stared into Rolphio’s grey eyes. With all my strength I kicked his chest. He staggered a few steps back and with a gasp of fear fell off the cliff, my whip taken with him to the waiting rocks and waves below. I heard Calipo’s mail rasp on her steel cuirass before she even got a lunge upon my back. A pivot to my left and a lateral parry brought her face to face with me.

“I will keep the lights of the faithful souls walking upon the paths of Truth. My life to dim before theirs waver. To lose such a light is to consign our world to its imperfect state.” I grabbed her into a one armed hug as her executed a thrust, her rapier slid past me, slashing my cloak.

We embraced and she wore a pained look on her feline face as she felt my rapiers tip skid over the bands of steel and thrust under her cuirass deep into heart and lung. I held her for a long moment as her rich brown eyes stared into my amber orbs, light slowly dimming from her sight. I gently lowered her to the steps and stroked her face with deep regret. I never wanted this for any of my apprentices. Cala forgive this lost kitten’s soul.

“Just a moment longer. Be strong . Let the pain cleanse your darkness and take you to the perfect world beyond. May Cala Mormor take you to bathe in the Spark of Life.” I gave my blade a sharp twist and Calipo gasped once and went still.

I laid her lifeless body down and slowly stood, withdrawing my rapier from her. I wiped her blood upon my cloak, a mark for my final duties as their tutor. I stared down at the dead Calipo and knew Rolphio was broken upon the rocks bellow. I was now a dead Felissii. Running from captivity was forgivable when caught. Striking a Crusader carried some lenience within reason. Murdering two of them was inexcusable and cause for death on site. I could no longer run and lay low; I had to run beyond the only shores I knew if I wanted to keep my life. Shrill mewls and anguished cries of grief brought my thoughts to the pilgrims above me. The young man was still, like Calipo. I sighed, my heart weary and sheathed my rapier. I moved up the steps to the grieving mother, knelt and touched her shoulder in comfort. I closed the young man’s eyes and whispered last rites of Cala Mormor then I stood and left her to her mourning. I returned to Calipo and with deft hands began to search her body withdrawing a slim leather parchment case with my families crest upon it.

Every eye was upon me, ravaged pilgrims finding salvation in blood and steel. I was committed now to them whether I wanted to be or not. I had taken their cause, stood for them and they had lost someone when I had failed to act upon hearing the foul plans of my apprentices to be worked upon them. Worse, my fate was now their fate. Strangers on a moonlit path destined to flee or die.

“Someone lend me a hand. We can’t take these bodies with us for consignment. We must make hast to Port Tabitha swiftly before more crusaders will be upon us.” I said.

The women fumbled in shock and horror being asked to help in such a grizzly task. We took Calipo’s limp body and tossed it over the edge of the cliff. With slow care, the young man was committed to the rocks and waves as well, his mother crying out to his body vanishing in the surf bellow. I stood on the edge of those cliffs and stared down at the three bodies just barely seen in the surf surging white around the rocks.

One of the horrified women stood next to me. My thoughts were wary as I held up an arm to block her, suicide being an easy option to what they had all witnessed. The site of the two kittens hugging tight to her sides eased my worry. She was a solid looking woman touched with lynx and cheetah. Her yellow green eyes were wet with tears of relief. She turned her head and gave me a long springtime stare.

“You’re Telwin’s kitten are you not?” She asked.

I nodded slowly to her. “Telwin of Talon, my departed father. Yes, I am his kitten. You knew my family?”

“I knew your father. He protected my parents on their pilgrimage. The Calibrios owe him much for the many pilgrimages he traveled. He was to protect my husband three years ago but never came. My husband became lost in the flatlands. Dead or enslaved I cannot say. I took up his pilgrimage, to show my children the wonders of Chanteer and the holy relics that the True One will use to bring us all happiness. I did not know we had to buy protection. Buy an official blessing from the Madesto Monastery.” She said.

I nodded stiffly, my eyes still staring upon the crashing waves bellow. “It wasn’t this way before. Pilgrims were free to go on their treks. Make tributes and spread what they saw. Crusaders guarded them for free. Cala Mormor led us well in the paths of the True One. Something rotted within us. The poison of greed and power now worms through the carcass of the Crusaders of the Golden Crosses.” I mumbled coldly.

“Can you lead us to our next station of Truth, Trisha?” She asked.

I gave her a long and steady gaze with wet amber eyes. “No. I cannot lead you on your pilgrimage. We may all be marked now. Once this blood is seen, the bodies may be found. We will all lose our heads for that. I can, however, lead you to some semblance of a life with truth. The choice is yours though. You all can go continue your pilgrimage. Or you may flee with me and save your lives. I fear you will not complete your pilgrimage without great loss.”

The woman looked out to the moon, Moresh, and sighed bitterly as if someone asked her to stop breathing. She chewed on her lower lip then nodded.

“We’ll travel with you, Trisha, to Port Tabitha and beyond. Thank you for saving my two children. My name is . . .” She said.

I walked away from the cliffs edge breaking off her thanks and utterance of a name. “Thank me when we are all still alive on some other shore. A Talon guards a Calibrios once more. Now, we must be going.” I trudged tiredly down to the shrine and gathered my leather satchels. We began our trek down to the port city, this time instead of a lone trickle a traveler; we were now a small brook.

~ Chapter 3 ~


I’d returned to the waiting pilgrims. They’d taken their fill of mead, juices, meats, cheese and fruit. My armor was packed neatly in the remaining satchel, and each of the ladies wore simple cotton robes of blue and the children had cotton robes of yellow. I let them know of the plan to set sail in an hour, and with a bit of resistance collected five hundred rotaran from the pilgrims to add to my belt that was worth at least four thousand rotarans. After I had my fill of food and drink we hustled down to the docks, me leading them in my returned cloak and my sword back in the satchel. It wasn’t hard to find the Albatross, Captain Tilson’s galleon. It was painted white and the ship head was carved into the very water bird it was named for.

The boom and crack of black powder and splinters of wood coming off a barrel to our left let us know it was time to run. I shouted to the pilgrims to run for the ship as I turned to look behind while I ran. The local port militia had come out and leading them was none other than Commander Stelphin. Then it clicked in my mind. The gate guards were conscripts at the Madesto Monastery and attended my stripping and trial. Stelphin must have hedged his bets on Port Tabitha and had them here as a look out. Another boom rang out as smoke billowed from a musket rifle and a crate splintered by my hip. I ducked, kept low and ran like hell. I despised fire arms. Not for their violence and assuring death, but for what they stood for. Humaran presence still lingering in our homeland.

There was a roar of challenge as Stelphin took up the chase and made me long for the safety of the ship dearly. I didn’t dare look back. I knew the powerfully packed, muscled Felissii that boasted Saber Tooth Tiger blood was going to catch up to me at any hesitation. More musket fire rang out, this time from the Albatross as the crew tried to cover my escape. The twin lynx’ leapt up from row boats to block the last twenty strides to the gangplank. They both had on steel cuirasses and bore rapiers as well. Seems my assessment of their positions was quite off. I slid to a stop and heard the heavy thundering paws coming behind me. The twins strolled towards me, rapiers unsheathed and menacing slashes made in the air to herd me back to Stelphin. I fumbled into one of my satchels and barely missed tripping on the deck. A sharp crack was heard and one of the twins fell into the water in surprise as a hole was blown through his steel clad chest. The other mewled in pain, feeling his twin mortally wounded. He fell to a watery sleep as another shot took him out of his loneliness.

The sound of muskets firing back and forth as the militia now sparred with the Albatross’ crew had the air whistling with flying lead balls. I shoved my sword back into the satchel and before I could take a step forward, a steel grip latched onto my shoulder and spun me around. I had a nice view of Stelphin’s over sized tusks as he drew his free hand back. The punch snapped my head to the side and it rang a bit, blood from a cut on the inside of my cheek gave me a coppery round of cheers. I felt myself drawn in for another brutal punch when suddenly I was let go. I spat blood and saw Stelpin cursing from a gunshot to his shoulder. He seemed to file the pain away as he looked up and pounced upon me, his strength and weight taking me down to the decking of the dock.

“You’re not leaving you little weasel. You’ll face everything you have coming to you. You’ll beg to die, and we’ll just laugh and leave you in a mud filled hole. You’ll pay for my sister!” He roared.

I stared up into his reddish brown eyes, my hand worming into the satchel with my sword in it. “Calipo would’ve been better off a lady. Not a corrupted pawn in the Order!”

He smashed his forehead into my nose and I cursed as I saw stars and tasted more blood. “She would’ve been better off not looking up to you as a saint. I’m going to enjoy taking you apart.”

My hand closed upon the cold rubber and steel handle of what I sought. “I’m sorry I killed your sister. I did my best to train her right. I’m sorry you set her on a path of corruption. May you forgive me, Commander.”

Several loud pops and flashes erupted from between us and Stelphin stared in shock at me then fell over. Several large holes exited his steel armor. I scrambled to my feet, the pistol I’d lifted off of the cloaked woman during the meeting with Captain Tilson fell from my fingers and clattered beside his body. I turned and fled reaching the sanctuary of the Albatross as the ship made sail and began to pull away from the docks. Panting hard, I took shelter behind a hull beam of the ship and glanced out the open hatch. I watched us pull away from the docks and with a good head wind stared as Port Tabitha shrunk away in the night. I watched as I left the only country I knew.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~


I and the pilgrims shared a cargo hold that was getting a bit cramped after three days at sea. Most of us spent time up on the deck of the Albatross, staring at the vastness of sapphire blue water. At night the sky was a delight to behold and it kept the two kittens occupied as their mother and fellow pilgrims pointed out the constellations the captain was navigating by. I spent time chatting with Captain Tilson, lending a hand to the crew, maintaining my armor and rapier to ward off rust from the salt air. I never seemed able to catch a glimpse of where the other two odd passengers took up lodging. They seemed to go everywhere together, talked in low tones and stayed apart from everyone. On the second day they finally threw their cloaks over board and the crudely made animal masks they’d worn. We did indeed have two Humarans aboard as they sunned themselves on the deck.

Ahmeh was by rough estimates, nearly six feet tall, with a refined bronze beauty and white hair. She displayed green tattoos at the temples and sides of her neck. I never knew the fascination Humarans had with shoving ink under tender skin, but her inking seemed less ornamental and more functional. She had emerald eyes that took in everything with a critical gaze as if she was scoring everything for evaluation. Her partner, Bethany was about mid shoulder height to Ahmeh. Raven black hair cut short in a military fashion and a shifty, wary glance to her brown eyes. She bore a belt with a few pistols holstered upon them, though a holster was empty on her right hip. Maybe lifting that pistol from her back in Port Tabitha was not the brightest idea, though she seemed not to be lacking in fire arms. Stelphin never knew what hit him either and I was still alive and breathing. It all came out as a wash in my mind.

Sunrise on the third day was spectacular to me. A vivid and rich crimson color drenched the indigo night as day pushed night away. A few clouds were forming like large cotton balls and a steady cool wind had filled the Albatross’ sails. As I stood there enjoying the sunrise, I noticed the sailors about me muttering low and glancing at the horizon and crimson sky. When I stopped a grizzled looking Tortoise colored Felissii sailor to ask what was up, he simply grunted out, “Red in mornin’ sailor take warnin’. The sea don’t set right today miss.”

I left him to his work of securing rigging and clearing up some cluttered barrels. As I moved to the wheel house of the ship I saw Ahmeh and Bethany in conference with Captain Tilson.

“I really don’t believe the Humaran Navy is about. We haven’t seen a ship of theirs in years.” Captain Tilson said in a voice that spoke of habitually repeating itself.

“Since the fall of the Humaran Empire from the Anthro Wars I am not surprised.” Ahmeh said. “They are not dumb enough to be painfully obvious in enemy waters. I simply ask we stay away from usual shipping lanes. Any ship can be Humaran under guise.”

Captain Tilson leaned on the ship wheel, studied the compass before him and gave Ahmeh a smirk. “That be the case, why Yester Wende for refuge? They are largely Humaran. You looking for neutral territory to surrender?”

Ahmeh adjusted a robe of cotton dyed light green, lumps from some kind of armor beneath it seemed to make the robe shift around on her body in odd ways. “Yester Wende stayed neutral in the wars. I seek sanctuary on neutral territory.”

“Funny.” Captain Tilson said.

“What’s funny?” Bethany spoke from her lean against the railing of the wheel house.

“If you truly are the glorious General Phoenix, why not go blasting the Humarans away? You run like a young kitten from a dire rat.” Captain Tilson said.

“I’d rather not hurt my kinsman directly.” Ahmeh said.

Captain Tilson gave a small purr and a grunt. “I heard tales of Yasmiir when I was in port at Axzim. You fit a lot of the local legends in looks and beauty. I believe the name they called you was Beautiful Death?”

Ahmeh shifted in discomfort hearing his words. Bethany moved from her lean and strolled over to Captain Tilson and poked him in the nose.

“Don’t you dare call her that name ever again. The General can go where she pleases and does not have to explain herself to the low likes of a ship captain.” Bethany sneered.

“As you wish, Bethany. But I still stand by my assessment. We stray from the shipping lanes, trouble will find us. The sea is slowly gaining teeth, the sky glowers red. We are in for a rough trip soon.” Captain Tilson said.

“Keep off the shipping lanes.” Ahmeh stressed slow and deeply.

I thought I caught a glitter in those emerald eyes. Captain Tilson seemed likely to refuse but went a bit slack in his face and muzzle. After a few moments he simply nodded to Ahmeh and worked at turning the ship toward the eastern horizon dripping in red clouds now. Ahmeh and Bethany walked down the steps from the wheelhouse and caught sight of me. I gave them a small, courteous nod and Ahmeh stopped in front of me.

“The Crusader so eager to go to Yester Wende. Would you like to break your fast with us?” Ahmeh asked.

I glanced at Ahmeh, then Bethany who seemed absolutely bored and less amused about someone joining them. I gave another courteous nod.

“Would be my honor to join with our former masters, the Humarans.” I said.

Ahmeh smirked. “Spare me the civility and thin respect. I know you most likely hate me and my kind. I’m not asking you to eat with us to gain favor. I want to know what influence your people have in Yester Wende and how best I may have to deal with things.”

I gave a small smirk on my muzzle and bowed more to her. A direct and to the point Humaran. That was an odd thing to behold. I followed them to a cabin that bore Captain Tilson’s name upon the door frame. Seems the Humarans were still getting preferential treatment. Some things never change no matter how much blood was spent to change them. We sat around a small table shoved and screwed into the corner of the captain’s cabin. The cabin spoke of a man married to the sea. Sparse furnishing neatly held down, sea charts and maps folded on a large table and few pictures of family. Breakfast was salted pilmoo meat, dark and grainy Losus bread, and a pitcher of water and some bottles of brackish ale to wash it all down with. I decided to forge into the discussion first and see if I could put Ahmeh off guard.

“So, why are you lying to the captain? I’ve never heard of the White Haired General seeking sanctuary. Only peddling death.” I said and chewed on the hard Losus bread.

Ahmeh gave me a slight smile and sipped from an ale bottle. “Bold little kitten I see. What makes you think I’m lying? Many have peddled death on Chanteer. Even the Crusaders of the Golden Crosses that you hail from.”

“Our local history tells of you coming to Madesto Gulf several years ago; that, before you arrived, Humarans had us soundly beaten in the wars. Then you brought the smell of death. Gun powder. Guns that spit out lead faster than an archer can loose arrows. Even the Madesto Monastery has records dating a decade ago that you organized raids with our people. All Crusaders are warned to steer clear of you. You’re trouble.” I said.

“I think we have an educated kitty on our hands Ahmeh.” Bethany said as she shoved in a strip of salted Pilmoo meat.

Ahmeh ate some of the Losus bread in a dainty fashion that made me wonder if the woman ever saw any form of labor. “While an educated Felissii is a treat, it does pose problems to us. Or it would, if you weren’t lying as well.” She said, dancing around my question. “Yester Wende is a neutral port island. It holds no religions nor gives them any means to stay around. I strongly believe you aren’t a missionary to start a monastery there. You’re running. Now why would a crusader be running?” She looked to Bethany.

“Probably stole something like she nicked my pistol. That was a gift from Ahmeh. You’ll be paying me back for it for a long time, stripes.” Bethany said.

“I do not steal. I simply acquire what is needed to survive at the moment. You’re pistol was tempting and useful when avoiding others.” I said.

“So what did you simply acquire to get the wrath of your fellow crusaders and the militia of Port Tabitha?” Ahmeh asked.

I filled a pewter mug full of tepid water and took a drink. Setting the mug down, I took my time chewing on some of the salted Pilmoo meat before answering. “Ah, ah. You two are going to paw around with my question like a scared mouse, but demand direct answers from me? Trade. You show me yours and I show you mine.” I narrowed my amber eyes at them both.

Bethany sat back and laughed. “She has a spine. I’m beginning to like her, Ahmeh.”

Ahmeh gave a slight smirk and sipped more ale and ate more bread before speaking. “I’m actively being pursued by my psychotic brother. Humara wants me back. They want to enslave me. Point me in any direction they want and make me wipe out nations. So I’m spitting in their eyes, starting up thousands of anthro rebel groups and creating weaponry for them. Your homeland, Chanteer, only one of ten in the last twenty years of our work. I’m on the run to Yester Wende to find ways to acquire more supplies to fund and start more rebellions. That and the Crusaders were showing a lot of interest in me this last year. Trying to hunt me down. Would you know anything about that?”

I leaned forward and grinned. “You’re a popular trouble maker. Could be a thousand reasons why they wanted to hunt you down. I’d wager greed and a favor with the Humarans. The Crusaders haven’t been the same for years.” I sat back and fiddled with a strip of salted Pilmoo meat. “Had it been three years before, you’d have been left in peace. We’d be too busy looking for artifacts. Holy relics. Tending to those with faith in the True One. Doing good for the world. Not taking from families faithfully serving. Not…”

“Extorting and robbing pilgrims?” Ahmeh finished.
I gave a silent nod.

Ahmeh tapped her chin slowly. “The Felissii that are with you. I wager they are part of some blood debt?”

“Yeah.” I slumped a little. “Former trainees of mine roughed them up. I stopped thinking of my own hide and stepped in. A young man in their group died. I wasn’t fast enough. Now they are marked like I am if caught.”

“Imprisonment?” Ahmeh asked.

I shook my head slowly in disagreement. “Death. I slew my trainees.”

Ahmeh ticked an eyebrow up for a moment. She looked to Bethany. Bethany looked bored and waved her hand as if hearing many stories like this. Ahmeh smirked more and gave a soft chuckle.

“Oh dear we are in the company of a murderer. What shall we ever do? You should have left the pilgrims. Additional weight will only get you killed. Though I know your type. You won’t drop them. Should you ever tire of playing the martyred saint, come find me. I could use a smart Felissii to help watch my back. Bethany has many more uses than just body guarding.” Ahmeh said.

“I’d rather let you swing by your neck by your own Humarans.” I said before I thought.

“That never gets old.” Ahmeh laughed.

I glanced between her and Bethany.

“There’s a long line of people and countries wanting her dead. Do you see her in the ground pushing up flowers?” Bethany said with a slim smile. “She’s not going to kill you for mouthing off. But it’ll be a miserable life if you refuse her offer.” She grinned.

“Now Bethany. Don’t go scaring the anthros again. Seriously. She has free choice. Not my place to tell her if fate would weigh heavily against her favor to be opposing me.” Ahmeh said as she finished her ale.

I shook my head in disbelief. “If you think I am going to side with a stinking Humaran, forget it. Your kind put my kind into centuries of servitude. I am not your house pet. I’ll take my chances with fate and be free than dishonor my ancestors. Good day to you both.”

I stood to leave and found Bethany’s hand around my wrist like a steel vice. “She’s offering you a chance to survive this world. You’d be a fool to slap that away. Bury your wounded pride. We aren’t the Humarans that enslaved you. We merely seek allies where possible to oppose the atrocities committed by our kind.”

“Start with shipping your furless hides back to Humara.” I snarled.

“Your hatred is blinding you.” Bethany said.

“Let her go, Bethany. Just let her go. She’s chosen her path. Let her walk it. Maybe fate will cross our paths again. If so, perhaps she’ll have time to reflect on things. Till then, thank you for your company.” Ahmeh said.

Bethany let go of my wrist and I stormed out of the captain’s cabin. The insolence of those Humarans wishing me to abandon helpless women and children; abandon pilgrims to safe guard a mass murdering Humaran was ludicrous. I wore my anger like a storm wrapped about my midnight blue cloak. Sailors and pilgrims alike avoided me as if I was a ticking fury ready to unleash claw and fang. I returned to the cargo hold and resigned myself to the swaying of my hammock. The ship’s rocking picked up rhythmically and I was fast asleep.