VAESEN - The Ruins of the World

Chapter 12 - A Compass with no Direction

This time eclipsed all his previous experiences. Because the skillful hands of royal healers were not waiting for him there, his brother was not grinning down at him and teasing him. He had no safe retreat where he could recover and where the scent of herbs tightened his nerves in the longing to feel the grass under his paws again soon. 

But for now, Zane shed the shape of the feline predator. A silvery-white mist blurred his form, bones cracked and reshaped themselves within fractions of a second.  Fur the colour of fresh snow gave way to platinum-blonde hair and leathery, worn clothing. He immediately shivered under the changed colour of his perception.

Part of him wanted to close his eyes. Surrender to the faintness that danced before his eyes like dark wafts of mist, promising to ease the pain if only he would let himself fall.

But he knew he couldn't do that.

What would that look like?

Escaping the Bloodhunter and her stupid newbie only to die down here among rats? No. Kaye would rip his head off his shoulders in the afterlife.

'You are a warrior of the Cait-Sith! They can take your rank but not your pride. So pull yourself together,' Kaye would say.

The thought of his brother made him shake his head as he slowly pushed himself off the damp stone and sat up, only to sink back against the stone of the corridor. Zane smelled mold and moss, felt the wet seep through his clothes, and shivered. Kaye, with his damned schemes and his secretive stubbornness! He hated it when his brother hid pieces of the puzzle from him... and now he couldn't put the picture together.

"You son of a bitch," he groaned between clenched teeth, his fingers digging fine grooves in the mud as he clenched them into fists. "A Bloodhunter," he hissed as the corners of his mouth twitched, and he couldn't suppress the mirthless laugh that rose in his chest and bumpily made its way out. "A servant of the bloody bloodlords, Kaye! What by Cernunnos?!"

In a mixture of rage, grief, despair, and helplessness, his voice rose to a roar that echoed off the walls. Damn it, with the death of the satyr, he had lost his only clue, his last lead that could lead him to the murderers and the cursed dagger. He also had so many questions that he couldn't find answers to.

'Why are you making me look for one of them?' he continued to rant as if Kaye could answer him. He was standing right before him as the air in his lungs grew thinner and thinner. 'Find her... protect her... damn gods, she can protect herself and doesn't need me! On the contrary, she almost killed me! What were you thinking, you stupid fool! What the hell was going on in your moronic head...'

The barking cough swallowed up the rest of his rant as he ran out of breath. The heavy, hoarse bark sent new waves of pain through his body, causing him to crumple to the side back into the stinking mud as he struggled for breath. Damn. He felt as if Kaye had shoved a compass into his hand that showed no direction.

Trembling fingertips slid over his coat's scuffed, battle-scarred leather, pushing aside the heavy fabric before Zane lifted the dirt and blood-smeared cloth of the once-white linen shirt to reveal the tanned skin beneath.

He lifted his head briefly, only to lower it again the next moment with a groan. His lower right ribcage was already marked with dark, intertwined patches, and the skin was very swollen. His leg was also at an unnatural angle and was undoubtedly broken.

"Crap," Zane hissed and struggled into an upright position, using his claws on the wall to pull himself into a sitting position. Only to slump back against the damp wall again.

Even with his excellent healing powers, it would take days for the wounds to heal to the point where they no longer bothered him. Until then, he would probably have to drag himself around like a cripple, which would undoubtedly make him stand out.

He was sure that the blood hunters knew this too and would be on the lookout on the surface for anyone and anything that caught their eye. In other words, he was trapped down here for the time being. Without food and fresh water, with serious injuries. He had to hope that he wouldn't catch a fever and devour his last reserves of strength... but that hope was slim. Especially down here in this... Filth.

He was literally in deep shit.