Feral

Part two of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

Disclaimer: I do not own, or pretend to own, the Fire Emblem game series or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems. The only thing here that's mine is the idea for the story.

"My dear fellow! Sanity is the one unbelievable bore. One must be mad, slightly twisted—then one sees life from a new and entrancing angle."

--Murder is Easy, Agatha Christie

Ike sighed as he finally collapsed into bed, groaning slightly when his sore muscles protested against even the gentle impact of the feather down mattress.

It had been a long, hard battle, taking back that bandit hideout. The place had been more like a fortress, and the bandits were surprisingly well stocked against siege. Not only that, it had taken them far longer than even Soren had anticipated to simply locate the base, wasting precious daylight hours that should have been used for battle. For the majority of the fight Ike had been sure they would drag into the dark hours of the night with their attack. Fortunately, the bandits had finally given up just as the sun was setting, but it still took hours more to survey and secure all the required cargo. By the time his company had returned to Begnion proper they were approaching midnight.

Then of course there was the debriefing with Sigrun, and turning over the requested cargo, not to mention Soren's daily post-battle reports that had taken another half hour to go through. Fortunately there had been no casualties, and most injuries were minor (though a damaging sword wound to Boyd's wrist had nearly cost him his hand, and put him out of commission for the rest of the battle. But according to Rhys, that was healing nicely. Nothing to worry about).

The door had barely shut behind Soren before Titania knocked on it, arriving to inform Ike of a summoning from the Apostle—he was to meet her bright and early to speak of their newly-accomplished mission and the resulting payment. The next forty-five minutes were spent discussing fees, bargaining, and court etiquette for the morrow, and by the time their discussion was finished they were past midnight and into the dark hours of early morning.

When Titania left, Ike bolted the door firmly and swore the next person to disturb him would be meeting the business end of his sword.

But now that he was finally, finally allowed to rest, he found he could not sleep, heavy as his eyelids were. His thoughts were running too wildly, swirling around in his head like one of Soren's windstorms, and they prevented any hope of rest for the time being.

He let his mind do as it pleased, and found his thoughts cycling repeatedly back to the crux of his last two jobs—apprehending cargo. Under normal circumstances the jobs would not seem so unusual; not even the restriction of not looking at the recaptured items was odd. It was a fairly common occurrence with his particular line of work.

What disturbed him was the fact that he knew, without a doubt, that the "stolen goods" he was retrieving were living things. He had been suspicious the first time of the cargo's heavy weight, and the unusual sounds coming from within. But tonight he had distinctly heard growling from inside those iron boxes, a noise that had sounded very similar to Mordecai's snarls in his tiger form.

Ike didn't like the implications of this disturbing piece of evidence. If someone was caging laguz, he would be furious if they had entangled him in their plots.

At the same time...at the same time, whatever had been in those boxes had not transformed back into any sort of beorc form. He had heard snarling, but no recognizable language. And when he asked Mordecai discreetly on their way back to the castle, the tiger had shaken his head in sorrowful confusion and answered that it was no language he recognized, either.

What could it mean?

His thoughts traveled back further, to their first assignment from the Apostle. Their first cargo recovery mission had brought them unexpectedly in contact with a pair of great gray tigers, clearly of the same build as the other tiger laguz. But they had not responded to the calls of either Lethe or Mordecai, nor had they changed back into a recognizable half-beorc form. They had acted sick, crazed, as though they had regressed...

What did it all mean?

Something was very wrong here, of that much he was certain. There was more to this situation than was on the surface, and something was going on with these bandit groups that he didn't yet understand. Two had been stopped at least, but there were other groups out there, one of which he had sent two of his soldiers into unprepared.

He frowned at that thought. Would they be okay? He knew both Lethe and Zihark were capable fighters, each able to hold their own on the battlefield. They were invaluable and experienced, but they were going into something that Ike was sure, now, was far bigger than they had first thought. Had he sent them into more danger than they could handle? Had he sent them into death?

His thoughts churned with worry, but after a few seconds he forced himself to calm down. There was little he could do to change the situation now. As Soren would have pointed out all too matter-of-factly, they were already separated; it was too late to change his strategy. All he could do was trust the two of them and hope for the best.

And, he thought after a moment with a yawn, he could get some sleep. He would be no good to them as an exhausted, stumbling commander. If they were going to need his help in the next few days he would need to be as strong as possible.

His eyes slipped closed with a sigh as darkness finally reached out for him. It caressed him gently, soothingly, singing his thoughts into a slowed, sluggish pace, and his last flicker of worry withered away as he sank into a deeply needed rest.

Lethe had always imagined that waking from being knocked unconscious would be something like waking from sleep; slowly, groggily, with her senses gradually returning to her one by one. She certainly never expected to awake with a perfect snap, nor did she ever think she would become aware of several facts nearly simultaneously.

She was instantly aware that she was in her half-beorc form once more, and no longer a cat. She also knew almost immediately that she was cold—probably from laying on what felt like frigid stones—and that there were sharp metal cuffs around her ankles and wrists, and a collar at her neck.

She was also aware that she wasn't alone.

Her ears twitched slightly as the murmur of nearby voices assaulted them, but she willed them to still at once. She did not want her captors to realize she was conscious. Whatever her situation, she wold take pains to keep whatever advantages she could lay claim to.

"--don't understand it," the first voice, a low, gruff one, said in annoyance. "The damn thing has been asleep almost the whole night. Who knew sub-humans were so lazy?"

Lethe bit back an angry hiss. Don't give yourself away...bear it...

The second voice tsked in annoyance as well. "Idiot. We already know sub-humans are lazy. Just like they're stupid, inferior, and worth little more than fur coats." Lethe bit back another low growl and resisted the urge to flatten her ears. The second voice was low and oily, and she hated it immediately.

"Hah!" the first voice answered now, sounding genuinely amused. "You got that right. Except for your little pet project here, of course."

"Far more productive than fur coats, certainly," the second voice agreed. "And you can still get those once they're useless, too...but they're much more interesting as research." There was a loud snicker. "And at this rate my research will outshine even Izuka's!"

Research? This man treated her fellow laguz as research? Containing her anger was growing harder by the minute. Instead Lethe concentrated her efforts on cracking open one eye, slowly and carefully, to survey her surroundings.

The laguz was immediately aware of being in a stone cell, with thick metal bars creating one barrier and three stone walls completing her cage. The cell was surprisingly spacious—perhaps enough to admit two transformed tigers—but the stench of decay and something very wrong was overwhelming to her senses all the same.

Her eye roved carefully, and after a moment she spotted her captors. One thick-muscled, massive man with a heavy ax over one shoulder stood by her cage, his back to her. He smelled terrible. She wished she could close her nose, turn off her sense of smell somehow--at this moment she would even willingly trade senses with a common beorc to make the stench go away.

The second man did not smell quite so disgusting, instead bearing the odors of musty magic and...herbs? Potions? Something else, not quite right...but his looks well made up for his lack of disgusting scents. The man was pale, his skin waxen and sick looking, his hair as oily as his voice had sounded. Lethe had heard some of the beorc use the expression like death warmed over, and she imagined this was exactly the sort of situation they were referring to.

Her eye slipped closed as she faked sleep once more, thinking carefully. Her odds weren't good. She could transform, but she was shackled still. And while neither man looked to present much of a challenge—mage or no—she would not fare well against either of them with her movement all but non-existent.

How had she gotten here, anyway? Everything was a blur before this moment. She couldn't understand why she was in chains on an unfamiliar stone floor with stinking, disgusting humans glaring at her like some sort of pet...

A flash of steel, a yowl of pain, a scream of surprise--

She started as the memory returned to her. The voices of her captives halted for a moment, but, apparently deducing she had simply twitched in her sleep, they returned to conversation.

A close call, Lethe thought grimly. She would need to be more careful. But she also needed answers. Moving carefully, the cat probed the suddenly returned memory further, hunting for some sort of explanation.

It came back to her in a flurry of images, almost too fast for her to keep up with. She and Zihark had been backed up to the river, and the situation had seemed all but hopeless. Yet they fought on anyway, clawing, slashing, biting and stabbing any foul-smelling bandit that came too close.

But they had taken damage, and not lightly. She recalled the grimace of pain on her companion's face as a sword slashed deeply into Zihark's thigh. She remembered her own hissing scream when an ax-blade had razored up the side of her ribs. It still throbbed, if she thought about it, although the wound appeared to be healed now.

Worse still, she remembered the nets. They had been thrown over her repeatedly, entangling her fine paws and lashing tail, lowering her mobility. She had kicked and scratched and bitten but to no avail, for the fabrics would not come lose. Zihark had attempted to cut her out several times, but turning to aid her had left his own back open, and he had taken too much damage.

Then came the arrows; light and flexible, not enough to damage her, but certainly enough to administer poisons. The dull, sleepy sensation that overwhelmed her struggling limbs floated hazily back into Lethe's mind.

Her memories grew fewer, spotted. She remembered slipping back subconsciously into her half-beorc form, struggling against oddly strong human hands as they bound her. She remembered, with surprisingly sudden clarity, Zihark crashing to the ground, bleeding from a dozen places. The laughter emanating from the surviving bandits as they heaved his unconscious body into the river to drown still rang in her sensitive ears.

She hissed low in her throat, too low for even her captives to hear. She did not like most beorc, but that man had done his best to help her, and had most likely died for it. She did not like to see her comrades die. She would kill those that had killed him.

She needed a plan.

It came to her suddenly, and she acted on it immediately. Groaning softly, she began to shift, pretending to finally come to. Her captors would think her groggy and confused, but she would be wide awake and ready for them. The cat in her nearly purred at the thought of ripping the throats from her prey.

"Look it that," the gruff ax-wielder muttered suddenly. "Looks like the pretty kitty's finally waking up." There was a definite sneer evident in even his voice, but Lethe did not allow herself to be distracted.

"It does seem that way," the second man answered in agreement. "Korren, make sure my pet is ready for action."

The first man, Korren apparently, gave a horrified yelp. "You actually think I'd go near that thing? Yer crazy!"

The mage tsked. "It is well trained, I assure you. It certainly won't attack."

"I ain't goin' near that beast with a twenty-foot pole!"

"Suit yourself," the second man answered with a sigh. "Call the other men, then." Lethe could hear footsteps pacing to a nearby cell, followed moments later by the clatter of chains and a very distinct, oddly familiar, rumble.

No distractions. Regardless of this new development she would see her plan through. With another theatrical groan, Lethe allowed her eyes to flutter open slowly, groggily, and squinted as though the dim lighting hurt her newly-sensitive eyes.

"Good morning, and welcome," came the second voice, and the mage stepped into view at the bars of her cell once more. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my latest subject." He smirked. "Or it would be, if you were anything more than a worthless beast."

Lethe hissed and twitched her tail angrily, but carefully did not use too much energy. She was just waking from being unconscious; it wouldn't do to blow her cover now.

"Feisty, you are," the man continued with a satisfied nod. "Most of them are in the beginning. I assure you I will break you of that habit soon...and then strengthen it tenfold, in my favor."

The laguz glared at him. "What--"

"Am I doing here? Who am I?" the man finished for her, with a dark smirk. "Do forgive me for predicting your questions, but I have heard them countless hundreds of times by now. The answers are the following: I work here, performing various experimentations on the sub-human structure and mind. You may simply call me the Overseer."

She bared her teeth at him, growled low in her throat. "I will call you filth. That is all you are." Careful, careful...don't overdo it...

"Such a mouth you have," the man answered, seemingly bored. "That's good, though. The fighters last longer in experimentation. They provide such interesting results." He smiled, and then turned his head as four other bandits joined him, along with Korren.

"She's got some bite to her, huh?" Korren asked slowly, frowning a little. His size, and the way the other men shied away from his presence, marked him as the leader.

"Indeed. This should be most interesting."

"I still think we should sell her," Korren said, scowling. "Nice coloring. Rarely get a female sub-human like that. Great selling price on the market."

"Don't be an idiot," the Overseer snapped in response. "When my experiments are perfected the selling price of the Feral will be ten times any amount your petty slave sales draw now. Think about it, Korren—mindless, perfectly obeying beasts, always beasts, able to do any labor given to them at any time with no regards to their transformation cycles." The mage sniffed. "And you will be the centerpiece of the Feral market."

Korren still looked doubtful, but the enticing offer of ten times his current influx of gold was too attractive for him to turn down. "Fine. Keep practicing, then."

Lethe scowled. "I am right here," she snarled at them, voice hot. "Do not speak of me as an invisible object."

"I will," the Overseer answered simply. "That is all you are. Now then." He nodded to the four smaller bandits even as he unlocked Lethe's cell. "I wish to make a few tests while she is awake. Restrain her, if you will."

This was it, the cat realized with carefully contained excitement. As soon as they entered, she would teach them a lesson they would not soon forget. Teach them to treat her like an object...stupid, foolish, disgusting humans...

The bandits looked doubtful, however, and took no steps forward. Impatient, the Overseer snapped at them. "Hurry! I do not have all day!"

"She'll attack," one of the bandits muttered in dull confusion. "Kill us."

"She is restrained," the Overseer responded sharply, "and exhausted from waking. She poses no threat. Now move, before I become a threat to you!"

The four cutthroats still looked dubious, but their fear of the unrestrained Overseer clearly overrode their fear of the restrained and supposedly weak laguz, and they lumbered into the cell with outstretched hands to hold Lethe down.

She was ready. Even as the first man came within reach of her, she melted like quicksilver into her cat form, and with a battle hiss leaped as far upward as her chains would allow. Her fangs sank into the bandit's throat with a speed unmatched by her human attackers, and her shackled claws dug into his flesh as well. He tasted just as bad as he smelt, but Lethe did not allow that to distract her. With a vicious jerk she ripped the man's trachea free.

The cutthroat fell to the ground with an abruptly cut off scream, and his fellow companions jumped back in surprise. Now on the offensive, the cat leaped for the next with a growl—and crashed to the ground as her shackles reached their limit, tugging painfully at her now-furry ankles.

"Restrain her!" the Overseer shrieked angrily, and the bandits needed no further encouragement. With Lethe down, the three mean dashed forward, crashing down on top of her.

Their heavy weights were too much for the slender cat, and she yowled angrily, thrashing to sink her natural weapons into any part of their skin she could find. Bucking and twisting wildly the laguz tried to free herself, but the humans held on gamely, knowing their protection rested upon keeping the fierce captive restrained.

Through the haze of battle Lethe's ears twitched at the sound of a painful, high-pitched whine. She froze, startled by the aggravating keen, and the bandits used her hesitation to secure a firmer hold around her neck and body, digging their fingers roughly into her fur.

And then came a far more familiar and welcome sound: the low, warning growl of a laguz, quite close by. With a surge of relief and another sharp twist, the cat managed to jerk her head in the direction of the cell's door, writhing angrily under the pile of restraining bandits as she searched.

The Overseer was cowering back in the shadows, just barely within her wild and limited range of vision, but the object of his fear was well within focus. A massive tiger laguz, slightly larger than Mordecai's beast form, was pacing around the bars of the cell to its entrance. He growled fiercely as he moved in the bandits' directions. The tiger's fur was matted and appeared sickly, its color dulled to a nearly gray tone. But his muscles bulged as powerfully as ever, and his wicked fangs gleamed even in the dull prison light.

"Help me!" Lethe ordered immediately, communicating in the growls and snarls of the beast tongue. She struggled beneath the overpowering weight of the bandits, clawing at them angrily. Her strength was almost out; if this kept up too much longer she would be forced back to her half-beorc form from exhaustion. "Hurry!"

Another keening whistle ripped through her sensitive ears, and the tiger snarled lowly as well, shaking its head in frustration. Behind him, the Overseer yelled loudly, "Restrain her! Hold!"

"Hurry!" Lethe growled again, as the tiger recovered from the wailing, horrible noise. "We must escape now!"

The tiger roared loudly—odd, Lethe thought with a frown, that he hasn't responded in our language yet—and launched itself forward. His huge paws ate the distance between the cell doorway and her captors in a single bound, knocking aside the dead bandit with one angry swipe of a forelimb. The bandits screamed in surprise and backpedaled, crawling away to the corners of the cell in an effort to get away from the sub-humans they so despised.

"Yes!" Lethe hissed to him, standing shakily on still-furred limbs. She had a little energy yet...perfect. "Now hurry, break these chains so we may--"

The blow came without warning and she crashed to her side in pained surprise, mind reeling. Shocked, she struggled to regain her feet, her spinning vision unable to focus properly on the world around her, but she was sure...had that tiger really struck her?

Another low growl reached her ears, and she called to him with the snarls of their tongue. "What are you doing?! I am laguz! An ally!"

The tiger did not respond, but she could hear the laguz pacing around her. Still confused, she focused her hazy vision on the massive gray beast, mind searching frantically for an answer. Perhaps he had been a slave, and never learned the beast tongue. He certainly looked older than twenty years, so she supposed it was possible.

Switching to the common human language (a difficult feat as a cat, given the shape of her form's jaws and tongue) Lethe called out once more. "Did you hear me? I am Gallian! An ally! Why do you atta--"

Another stunning blow crashed through her senses, and she collapsed to the ground once more. Shocked to her core, Lethe realized with a sudden sense of horror that this time, she would not be getting up. The tiger had placed one massive paw on her torso, and fixed his huge jaws calmly around her neck and head. If she moved, his powerful maw would crush her skull and break her neck.

"Wh...what are...friend..." she hissed weakly, mind swimming with both mental and physical pain. This was wrong. And now that he was this close she could smell, almost sense, something inherently not right around her fellow laguz.

A soft click of boots reached her ears, and moments later the Overseer approached with a small chuckle. "Ripper is no friend of yours," the loathsome man said with a sneer. Out of the corner of her eye, Lethe saw him raise a small silver whistle to his lips. Another high-pitched keen screamed through her senses, and she felt the tiger holding her shudder slightly.

"Drop," the mage said sharply, and like a trained animal the tiger released Lethe's head from his jaws immediately. "Hold," the man added, and the tiger's paw pressed harder on the cat's back, rolling her onto her side. Five dagger-like claws extended from his paw, prickling gently but warningly at her skin. Movement, she realized, would mean she would be gutted instantly.

The Overseer smirked at her and nodded slightly to the tiger. "Very good," he said again, and to Lethe's supreme disgust and horror, he reached out to pat the tiger lightly on its massive head. The beast growled warningly, but the man seemed unafraid of the warning tone, instead chuckling as though vastly amused.

"You will have to forgive me for such treatment," the disgusting human continued, speaking casually. "I would have you knocked out again, but unfortunately I need you conscious for these first few tests. It is vital, you see, to have a control when performing such experiments. I need to know exactly how much you can take."

"What...what did you..." Lethe tried to gasp out, hissing painfully under her breath as the tiger's claws dug deeper into her flesh. The pressure was too much, and the staggering blows from the creature still left her winded.

"Ripper is a Feral One," the Overseer explained casually, even as he removed several liquids and a long, needle-like object from his pouch. He filled the syringe carefully with one of the liquids and studied the golden, thin substance as he spoke. "A successful, complete subject, perfectly conditioned and prepared. Unfortunately, we don't have enough perfect subjects to really lay claim to a successful formula and procedure, and more tests need to be made." He smiled at her, but it was as oily and disgusting as his smell. "You'll be helping us with that."

"I will not help you with anyth—aaagh..." The cat's voice trailed off in a pained hiss as the tiger claws dug still further into her skin. She was sure she could feel the tips of the natural weapons grinding against bone.

"I am afraid you have little choice in the matter," the Overseer answered dryly. "Now do hold still, and tell me truthfully what you feel...if you can, rather."

The needle jerked suddenly into her skin, and she could feel a biting pain as the liquid was forced into her blood. Shock overwhelmed her senses. Had he put something into her? Had he poisoned her? She would have no chance to escape if he did. Fear flickered on the edge of her mind.

But fear transformed into anger as she regained control of her emotions. She would not let this filthy, stinking human force poisons into her blood. She would kill him before he got the chance!

Her rage was building now, hissing through her every sense like a deadly gas, and through her haze she barely recognized that the pressure of the tiger was gone. Indeed, all the scents of the living beings had left her cell, were outside it now, but she was too angry to care. She was furious, and in pain, and she hated it all. She would kill them all, she reasoned, every last one, avenge herself for her treatment, avenge her partner for his watery death.

And then reason was gone, and all she knew was her senses, her body, her very veins were on fire, burning with anger and pain such as she had never witnessed before. The world was in flames, blood and pain were all that mattered, and she was enraged, and she was going to kill every last thing, kill and kill and kill until there was nothing left to kill...

And then all traces of thought were gone as well; dragged into flames, set alight, and ripped into thousands of irreparable pieces.

And there we have chapter two. More where this came from—this isn't even close to over. So stick around and you'll get answers soon.

If you leave a review, kindly make sure there's some meat to it. I want to know what you liked, what you didn't, what you thought was done well, what could be better. Input REALLY helps, and I would REALLY appreciate it. Thanks!

--Velkyn Karma