A short story
By Chris Gilman
A gentle breeze disturbs the foliage of the forest trees. In the course of its path it blows across the fur of the lone figure sitting against a great oak near a clearing. The male white feline’s head rests against the rough bark of the tree and his chest slowly moves in the slow rhythm of sleep. His clothes are that of a woodsman, simple brown pants and with black boots, but are all excellently tailored hinting at someone with money. A sword belt lies on the ground next to him with a well made short sword in its scabbard. A fine bow and quiver hang from a nearby branch along with a green cloak.
The cat is oblivious to the world around him, and the slow and methodical approach of two tabby-cat felines dressed in black armor. A whisper on the wind of steel sliding out of leather catches in the ears of the cat and he opens his eyes a tiny slit. “You two should know better then to sneak up on a sleeping cat in these woods,” he calmly says to the two felines.
The two figures stop and their hands drop from the daggers at their belts which slide back into their scabbards. “Master Tomaek, you know you should not be out here alone without guards. The gods only know what foul creatures and brigands wait out here to kill an unsuspecting young man.”
The white cat still sitting at the foot of the tree grins slightly. “And you should know better then to remove your hand from your weapon when you’re going to kill someone.”
The two armored tabbies look at each other in surprise and reach quickly for their swords. But their hands never make it to their belts as arrows sprout from both of their necks. Gurgling blood they fall face forward to twitch and die in the puddle of blood that flows from their necks.
Two green cloaked archers drop from a nearby tree to land gently on the forest ground below. One reaches up to remove his hood and reveal the battle worn face of an older cougar. “You were correct in your assumption young sir, seems someone wants you dead,” he says as he kicks one of the dead assassins with his boot.
Tomaek stands from his rest and straps his belt back on. “Search them, see if there is anything we can use to prove who wants me dead so badly,” he says as he reaches for his quiver and cloak.
The other archer removes his hood to reveal a young cougar’s youthful face. He and the older feline bend down and go through the bodies of the dead men-at-arms. The older feline pulls a small parchment from the pocket of one and unrolling it reads. A scowl crosses his face and he stands and holds the letter out to the smaller feline. “Master, I think this is what you were looking for.”
The young feline takes the parchment and reads it quickly. His eyes snap up to the old ranger, “Yometa, we must get back quickly. This is worse then I thought.”
The old mountain lion nods his head in acknowledgment and disappears into the trees quickly. In less then five minutes he comes back riding a massive grey warhorse and leading a pair of black ones. He pulls his horse to a stop so the other two can mount up. Soon as their tails hit the saddles the horses charge off at full speed.
Soon they are riding hard and fast through the trees. The horses almost seeming to fly between the trees, miles are covered in minutes and soon they are approaching the castle of the local lord, Tomaek’s father. The guards at the gate don’t challenge the trio of riders as they approach and they clear the gateway. They skid to a sudden stop in the courtyard kicking up dust and gravel. With a flourish of green cloaks the three riders dismount and the horses quickly turn and run back out the gate, this time rider less. With determined steps the three cats head for the great hall where Lord Whitel would be at this time of the day.
The guards before the entrance to the great hall block the small group from entering by crossing their pole arms across the doorway. “Sorry sirs, but the lord has given orders that no one is to disturb him today,” one of the guards informs them.
The small white feline looks at the armadillo and growls, “Soldier, get out of my way. My father’s life depends on it.”
A flash of worry crosses his face, but he doesn’t back down, “Sorry sir, I have my orders, you know I can’t allow even you to pass.”
The young noble turns and gives a quick nod. At his nod both of the larger cougars spring into action and soon the guards that were blocking their path are flying through the air. Before they even land Tomaek pushes the doors open with a shove and marches into the great hall of his father’s castle.
At his entrance the two white felines at the other end of the hall look up in shock at the disturbance. The lord stands with a look of shock on his face, “Tomaek?” Turning to the younger white feline next to him he screams, “I thought you said he was killed in a hunting accident this morning?”
Tomaek’s older brother glares at his runt of a brother, “Yes, he did.” From behind his back he pulls a dagger and throws it at him, but it is deflected by an arrow from the doorway where the younger of the cougars stands with his bow, having just released his arrow to deflect the dagger.
“Pantre, you have tried to kill me twice, and I would know why,” says the young feline as he walks towards his angered brother and startled father.
Pantre starts laughing in an unnerving way, “Why, my dear brother, why else? To keep my birthright of course you whelp. So our father wouldn’t give it away to a weakling like you who is too weak to hold what needs holding.”
He suddenly is in motion again. He steps behind his father and brings a dagger up to his throat, “Now back away, or our dear father dies for your meddling.”
Tomaek sees the sharp knife edge threatening his father’s throat and takes a step backwards to try and keep his brother from killing him. Tomaek runs things through his head but can’t come up with a solution, but he doesn’t have to. His white hair is brushed by an arrow’s path as it passes him to strike his brother in the right eye. He watches as the dagger falls from numb fingers and clatters on the stone floor. The lord slowly steps forward and turns as his oldest son drops to the stone in a pool of his own blood.
A commotion at the doorway causes both nobles to turn and see the castle guards trying to apprehend the two cougars who of course are resisting.
“CEASE!!!” yells Lord Whitel and all the commotion stops with no less then ten guards lying unconscious from blows of the two cats’ feet and hands. The lord slowly approaches his younger son and rests his hand upon his shoulder, “How did you know? How did you know of your brother’s treachery?”
The young cat holds up the parchment found on the body of one of the would-be assassins. “This, it was carried by one of my brother’s personal guards. Two of them tried to kill me.” He turns to look at the two rangers, “If Yometa and his son hadn’t of been watching me they might have succeeded too.”
The lord motions two guards forward, “Take Pantre, and prepare him properly. He may have been a traitor, but he was still my son, and he will be buried as such.”
Two of the armored guards run forward and carry the limp body out of the hall, a thin trail of blood left along the floor shows the course they take.
He watches till his son’s body is gone then he turns to the rest of the guards at the doorway. “Take those poor fellows and get them seen too. Leave my foresters alone, they saved my life and my son’s.” With a salute the captain of the guard starts barking out orders to his men as they carry out their fellow guards and close the doors to the great hall again with a dull thud.
Whitel claps his son on the back and guides him back towards the table, motioning the two cougars to follow. “How your brother knew that I was going to pass everything on to you I don’t know. But I am glad he failed in his plans to kill you. Now I know, I am making the right choice in trusting our future in your hands, rather then his. These lands need a man of brains, not just brawn to rule them. And with allies like our two ranger friends here at your side, there is little you should fear from those who would try to hurt you.”