The Ogre's Pendant & The Rat in the Pit

Beasts I

Beasts I

The less you remain still, the more it shall sting.

Crk.

Mmmmmgh! Wurhi gave a muffled shriek, grinding down on the cloth wedged between her teeth. Her shattered hand was crawling agony up her arm - consciousness would have long fled had her transformations not inured her to the familiar agony of shattered bone.

Every cruel twist of her broken hand thrust her into violent thrashing that withered all reason. Tight bonds gripped clammy flesh like serpents while her healer stoically went about his grim work.

Hmmmm.

Crck.

A broken bone shifted, sending white-fire anguish through her body.

Mmmrgh! she cried. Hot tears spilled down into her ears from wide eyes.

Three more, the voice, near enough to brush her skin, mused with clinical detachment. You are past the worst of it now. Try to still yourself. It paused as its owner turned her hand. Hmmmm. Your flesh does not hold the same resilience as Lycundars children.

Crk!

Mmmmmmmrgh!

Hemp rope bit into the Zabyallans limbs.

There. Another set. Interesting.

Scrtch. Scrtch.

A stylus etched notes into a wax tablet close at hand, though Wurhi could not be sure of its proximity: to her tortured senses, all was a twisted haze. The acrid scent of unknown substances enveloped her while a thick brew bubbled foul vapours into the chamber.

Even in human form, we lycanthropes would have begun some healing - the newest pack members would have lessened swelling by now. You are an entirely different animalin more ways than one.

Crk!

Mmmmmmmmmmrrgh!

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The beast-mans hideous voice resonated in Wurhis ears from somewhere in the chamber. Its brutish tone drove her heartbeat to a panicked gallop. Mmmmmrgh! Mmmmrgh! she shrieked within the gag.

The creatures fanged maw - both a smile and snarl as it had crushed her hand - shimmered before her eyes. Or so it seemed. So utterly distorted were her senses that her vision wove all manner of the fantastical throughout the rough stone ceiling. Wurhi squirmed to shake her head but short, coarse ropes constrained her forehead and chin.

Quiet, my pet, the voice reproved. She already moves enough.

A low grunt answered.

Alright. One more. I would bite down, Zabyallan.

CRCK!

Mmmmmmmmrgh! Wurhi thrashed so violently that her skin tore on the bindings. A shriek threatened to burst her vocal cords as fiery pain seared every nerve in her body.

At last, her strength and consciousness drained.

Blackness rose to take her.

Sometime later, Wurhi gasped into wakefulness.

She was now on the move.

Or rather, she was being moved.

The powerful stench of the beast-man burned her nostrils and sent her eyes flying open. She groaned. With lumbering steps, the creature held her beneath its arm as though she were a sack of feathers, transporting her limp form through a downward sloping passage.

Why? She struggled to keep the hatred from her voice. Why break me then fix me?

Because, Wurhi the Rat, Berard told me of your other form; you are the first shapechanger I have encountered outside of my pack-brothers. Killing or crippling you would be a loss for my knowledgeand my collection.

collection? A note of incredulity entered her voice. Youre going to keep me like one of your beasts?

Of course. I boast both slaves and beasts.

Why me?

Why not you? Training and iron will sculpt flesh as a hand might shape clay, and you are a shapechanger: clay that shapes itself. What could a master sculptor do with you? He turned away. Survive your next battle with that injury and I shall see some value in you.

She glanced to her hand. I thought you were supposed to punish me or something.

I did, Milos said simply, looking back at her hand. But you proved yourself well in the arena, under Lycundars gaze. Do so again and you will have earned your right to life.

With this hand?" she could not fully stop the bite from entering her voice.

Do not play so sullen with me. What did you expect? You are a thief. And that aside, I have done you a favour.

Favour?! Her anger strained against reason and caution. You broke my hand!

Thus granting you your first lesson. He glanced to her bandaged digits. Berard informed me that your transformation is similar to oursbut it involves a great deal of pain, he said. Flesh boils? Bone shatters?

Her words died on her lips.

I see I have the right of it, he mused. Good. It will make this easy to explain. He spread his hands. If you were to transform, would your hand still be broken?

What? You know it wou-

Why? he cut her off.

She stared at him. what do you mean why? Because

Are you a rat or a jackass? Think. He pushed. Use the mind that sets you apart from the beasts of the earth: your bones shatter during your transformation.

He made a squeezing motion with his hand.

And yet.

His fingers relaxed. When it is complete, your bones are whole once more. He gestured to her broken fingers. Why would those be any different?

Becausebecause

Her eyes slowly drifted to her fingers.

We are water. He turned away. If you pour water into a vessel, it becomes the vessel. If you pour it into a bowl, it becomes the bowl - yet it is still always water. Just as I am always I, and you are always you. Such is the way of shapechangers, no matter what form they have been poured into. I could separate water into droplets or sop it up with a cloth, but once I pour it into a vessel? It is whole again.

The tunnel began to widen.

Contemplate this while you await your next trial: if you comprehend even the beginnings then I shall have great hope for you.

Wurhi stared into Milos back in outrage.

For him to reveal something so invaluable either meant that he was a fool, or that he believed her so under his power, she could never prove a threat to him.

As a lion would ignore a mouse.

Her eyes squinted.

She would live and ruminate on what he said. She would make it her own, if there was any sense to it.

Then she would prove to him how fatally wrong he was to underestimate her.