Chương 22: Vol 1. Because Someone Aughta

Morton marched along the dirt road as the sun slowly crept over the mountainside, holding Tahir's paw with the firm, protective grip of a father guiding a young child who had become utterly distraught. The road behind them was deserted every time Tahir glanced back. That did not comfort him in the slightest. Tahir could swear he was hearing footsteps; perhaps it was phantom noise, but what if it wasn't? The morning itself was cruel in its ordinariness. Fresh dew clung to the grasses along the roadside.

Little insects skittered across leaves. Birds were cheerfully chirping and hopping from branch to branch. The world should have looked different after such a traumatic experience, curving and moulding to fit Tahir's feelings. It did not. And that offended him. Morton coughed. His breathing was gruff and severely laboured. Tahir huddled against Morton's forearm, occasionally glancing back every few paces. His ears were pinned flat, his tail tucked close between his legs, his whole body tense.

Tahir could feel Morton's subtle limp worsen. At first, it was just a tiny hitch in his step. Then, as the road stretched on, his left boot dragged through the dirt. His hand tightened around Tahir's paw whenever the path sloped downward. Tahir could see a shake in Morton's knee. Then Morton coughed again, and Tahir's head whipped up to his face in a panic. Morton casually spat blood onto the road.

"Sir Christian," Tahir said shakily, "please, we must find a place to stop."

"No, we can—" Morton coughed harder, this time into his sleeve.

"We stop; those bastards might catch up. Never stay in one place for too long, kid."

"You are bleeding."

"I'm well aware."

"You are spitting blood on the ground."

"Yep, I certainly—" Morton coughed into his sleeve, "am."

"That is not normal. You need to be attended to immediately!"

"Well, it can be; it depends on the kinda mornin' you're havin'. Sometimes you have a mornin' where you're just spittin' blood."

"Sir Christian," Tahir growled. Morton looked down at him. Tahir's eyes had widened with a look of worry, but they quickly turned into one of strong composure, if only for a second.

"As a son of a noble household of Avion, I order you to take a rest this instant!" Morton said nothing for a moment, huffed a light laugh, then said,"Whatever you say, Your Majesty." Tahir guided Morton up a hill and over to a jagged boulder, helping him sit and lean against it. Morton let out a groan. Tahir looked Morton up and down.

"Sir Christian," he said, panicked. Getting down, he examined the stab wound on Morton's leg.

"This wound, it is incredibly deep." Morton's chest heaved visibly.

"Ah, I've… had worse, kid."

"That is not calming me."

"Wasn't meant to." Swiftly, Tahir opened his luggage and pulled out bathing oil, as well as a washcloth. He had no idea what he was doing. He was copying what he had observed the healers on staff back home would do whenever his sister got into scrapes. Still, he continued. Morton clenched his teeth. Tahir wiped the dirt and grime from around the pulsating wound, breaking off chunks of drying scabs that allowed the blood to flow. The cloth was too small to wrap around Morton's leg fully. Tahir bared his fangs.

Pulling out his claws, he cut the sleeve of his dress off and wrapped it around the wound, tying a nice little knot. The scratches on his face weren't exactly comely, but they weren't deep enough to worry about. Tahir dug his claws into his thighs. He began to sob profusely. Why? Why? Why?

"S-Sir Christian," he said choppily, "I am sorry I roped you all into this. You are too good a person. This is all my fault." In his mind, the events of the last little while replayed. His guards died because he had been in that cart. Morton was bleeding because he had refused to hand him over. Neri… she died… She died because she had stepped outside to protect him. Oh, Neri…

Tahir couldn't help but remember a particular haiku he had read once, not impactful then, but very much so now: If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. My paws stain the road Those who shelter me suffer Still, dawn follows blood"I am just some stupid, stupid noble son. I shouldn't be this far away from home. My mother, what was my mother thinking? Now you… you…"

"Hey," Morton said with a sigh.

"Kid, unless it was secretly you who put that hood on and stabbed me with that knife, this ain't your sin to carry." Tahir said nothing. His little chest was working overtime. Falling forward, he collapsed into Morton's arms and began to cry. Morton hesitated for half a second, his arms hovering, awkward and uncertain. It had simply been too long. Still, soon he gave in and wrapped one arm around Tahir's back and rested his other hand between Tahir's ears, where he began to pet him in circular patterns.

Tahir pressed further into him. Morton reeked of blood, smoke, dirt, and whatever other strange musk clung to the human. At any other moment, Tahir would be worried about the musk being contagious and infecting him. Right now, though, he could not care less.

"It is funny," he said weakly.

"I have only known you for a very short period of time; we are still practically strangers, and yet I feel as though you are who I needed my whole life." Morton gave a small smirk.

"I get what you're sayin', kid. It has… been a while since I actually cared about someone. Death seems to follow me wherever I go. I reckon he's playin' a cruel game with me." Tahir snuggled deeper into Morton's embrace. He felt calm. Soothed. Like he was where he was always meant to be. Tahir felt his heart racing—babumbabumbabumbabumbabumbabum—as he rubbed his snot- and tear-laden muzzle deep into Morton's chest.

As Morton's warmth radiated and prickled his fur, Tahir found his mind becoming woozy, and slowly, he drifted off into slumber. Morton let him sit like that for a while. He knew they probably should get a move on. But if he was being honest with himself, he needed this too. And so they sat there in an embrace until the sun had fully risen and cast its brilliant yellowish rays upon the land.

"Hey, Tahir," Morton said, poking the slumbering Tahir. Tahir awoke groggily and looked up at Morton.

"Not to disturb your beauty sleep or nothin', but we need to get a move on. I got a feelin' they're still after us."

"Uh… oh, right," Tahir said. He slithered out of Morton's embrace, helped him up, and they began to walk again.

"You got any clue who that was?" Morton asked. Tahir said, "Seroth extremists, most likely."

"You're gonna have to be a little more descriptive than that." Tahir racked his brain for a moment, then rubbed his eyes.

"How much do you know about theology?" Morton chuckled.

"Probably 'bout enough to get myself in a hell of a lotta trouble at the community church Fourth of July BBQ, and believe me, I damn well did many times."

"I do not know what that means."

"It means explain it real nice and slow." Tahir sighed.

"I am not an expert on religious affairs by any means; however, I do know some. My understanding is that the Church of Serava was once one of many independent communities who worshipped the Dual-Gods. Over time, the power concentrated, and all other forms of worship were repressed socially and politically; today the church holds not nearly the power it once did politically, but it does have an iron grasp socially…" Tahir rubbed his cheek.

"Anyway, there are still those who reject the authority of the church. They view it as a corrupt institution that has forgone the true teachings of Seroth, and as such, they have taken matters of spirituality into their own paws.

"There are some who are well-meaning reformers; you see them especially popular amongst the young women of major cities. I have come across a few in my area. The church does not like them, but there is only so much they can do. However… not everyone is well-meaning…

"I remember reading that there was a time, many, many moons ago, before I was born, before my mother was born, and even before her mother, when the church had taken to sacrificing people instead of calves. The historicity of this is highly debated amongst academics. However, there are some who take it to heart. But no one has seen them for decades." Tahir's eyes went hollow.

"She said I was chosen…" Tahir whispered. Morton said softly, "Yeah, I heard that."

"That is their language for ritualistic burnings."

"So they're trying to kill ya' for some wackadoo ritual?" Morton asked.

"I suppose so. And now that we have made them angry, they probably will keep tracking us down."

"Ain't that somethin'?" They continued to walk in silence for a while, then Morton said:"Maybe we should avoid the inns and roads for a while, I reckon."

"So we are to sleep outside?""' Fraid so." Tahir took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and said, "Alas, I guess I shall die as I lived: horribly inconvenienced." After a while, they found an abandoned roadside shrine. It was a pile of stones swallowed by hungry foliage, with a half-collapsed archway that was being choked by ivy and vine. Beyond it stood a little roadside chapel, about the size of a peasant's cottage, with a sagged roof, its doors hanging crooked from one hinge.

Above the entrance was a cracked icon of the Dual-Gods, the Mother's veiled face worn smooth from nature, and Seroth's sacred heart split in a zigzag down the middle. When they entered, Morton stood rigid.

"Kid, I'm gonna need your help. I have an idea."

"Uh, okay." Together, they spent the next hour tearing the little shrine apart piece by piece, breaking glass and pottery, scavenging lamps, and tearing out metal scraps. Tahir was unsure of what Morton was doing, and he was terrified. But as they worked, Tahir could see the vision. By the end, it was sundown. Morton told him they would wait through the night, and if they did not come, they would bolt for it.

"But why not just leave now?" Tahir asked.

"Kid," Morton said, "when you make enemies, you make enemies. This is for your safety." He peered through the narrow slit he had carved into the door.

"If they want a blood sacrifice, they'll be gettin' a fuckin' blood sacrifice."

"Sir Christian, why are you so insistent on protecting me? It is risking your life at this point for no value to yourself."

"Because someone oughta," Morton replied flatly. He tensed.

"Shit, they're here."