A Shifter's Tale

Armour

~37~

Anthreft offered Pavarni and I a bed for the night once he’d bandaged up my chest, supporting the rib that was definitely not fractured. The bed was soft and the clean sheets were a blessing after sleeping rough. It wasn’t to the standard of my quarters at the castle, but it was better than a forest floor.

My rib didn’t hurt so much anymore, and most of my cuts were already mostly healed. I was eager to get to the caverns, now I knew Hunter was close.

I checked my bandages as I sat up in bed, the clean shirt soft against my skin after my filthy, ripped tunic. It was in shreds, hanging off the edge of my bed; blood-stained and completely useless. I felt a strange sense of loss without it, not able to sport the clothing that marked me as a shifter and the colour that displayed my role as a scout. Without it, I felt just like any other being on the planet.

Anthreft was sitting back in a chair with his feet up on the table when I went through to the front room, looking completely lost in thought. He looked up as I entered and gave me a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” I assured him. “Being a shifter has its benefits.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Where’s Pavarni?” I asked, noting her absence.

“I told Arama to take her to the blacksmith, have him make you both at least a chest-plate before you explore the caverns. I wouldn’t like it on my conscience if you were both hurt where it could be prevented.”

I grimaced at the thought of more waiting, but didn’t protest. I sat down at the table opposite him and he bounded straight up, grabbing a plate from the side and making up a simple breakfast of bread and cheese. He placed it in front of me before sitting back down.

I nibbled on the food gratefully, gazing out of one of the glass windows. The many footprints were beginning to clear the snow and the cobblestone path was just becoming visible beneath. Women hurried from house to house, carrying armfuls of vegetables from the building I assumed was the grocer’s, pulling their cloaks tightly around their shoulders against the cold air. Men were scarce, and Anthreft informed me that most of them would be on the moors, tending to the sheep and cattle that needed a lot more care during the winter months. I watched children gather snow in their tiny hands and throw it at one another, mothers appearing in doorways to scold them for throwing it against the shutters. It all seemed so normal; so completely peaceful and at ease.

“I don’t think a chest-plate would work for me,” I said absentmindedly to Anthreft as I watched Arama bound past the window towards a group of other boys that looked his age. “If I shift, I doubt I’d be able to get it off quick enough.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he replied calmly. “The people of Meirall are very tolerant of other races; you needn’t worry about being discovered here.”

I hesitated. “Armour would be painful for me if I shifted whilst wearing it.”

Anthreft smiled kindly. “Our blacksmith is very capable; I’m sure he’ll find a way around that.”

I wasn’t convinced, but I didn’t say so. “How do you know Pavarni?” I asked after a moment of silence. “She said she hasn’t come to this part of The Peek before, but she seemed to know you.”

Anthreft sat up. “She hasn’t, as far as I know. I met her on my way up here, sometime a few years back. She was heading south and we crossed paths in a clearing in Midst Forest – that’s the wood that covers the south of The Peek – and when two psychic vampyres meet, it’s usually eventful.”

“Eventful?” I asked, frowning. “How so?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Think of psychic vampyres as having an inbuilt map in their minds; they can sense everyone’s emotions within a hundred-metre radius and therefore plot where they are on this inbuilt map. Because of this, we can never be ambushed or taken by surprise; unless it’s by another of our kind.”