Lashaday – six seasons prior
Dunbane winced and rolled his shoulder. The exhaustive training session was over, finally. He'd begun to think Master Vaswa meant to spar him to death. He shook dust from his headfur and spat grit. Hellgates, whoever thought training in a ring of sand was practical needed to be shot.
Frustration still burned under his pelt. For a full afternoon of lessons and practice, he was no better than he was yesterday. Or the day before that. Or a month before. Vaswa had nothing left to teach, yet he didn't accept that. Dunbane's letters of request back to his grandfather to be moved out of Post Lashaday or to receive a new weaponsmaster had all gone unanswered.
So he remained stuck in this seasons-forsaken corner of the realm, forgotten and wasting his talents and his life guarding a stretch of rock and snow by the coast. The biggest threat was sea birds.
Dunbane stomped caked sand from between his toes and shouldered open the door to his hut. A stinking hut. Nothing grander than four walls, a hammock, a table with a stool, and his weapons and clothing chest.
Dunbane narrowed his eyes. Where was Talshesh? She'd promised to meet him. He unslung his buckler and saber and looked around. Unease prickled his nape.
He sniffed. Over the musty odors of unwashed fur, polishing oil and dirt floors, he scented another male's gland musk. A growl built in his chest. He couldn't place the musk yet. He smelled Talshesh, too; her scent was fresher. She'd been here maybe an hour ago.
He dropped his buckler on the table and prowled the limited area, tasting the stale air. Vague recognition toyed at his mind—just out of reach. He inhaled deeper, closed his eyes, and focused.
Darkgates. Maincoat? What was he doing with Talshesh?
Dunbane shook his head and strapped on his saber. Asking the empty room was pointless. He'd find his lieutenant and ask. His lip curled in a restrained snarl. He needed an excuse to shake off the building tensions.
Dusk came early with the autumn weather and a clustering storm front in the south. Dunbane inhaled the chill air and loped towards the barracks. It wasn't much—a long, low-slung building with a peaked roof and a slatted fence in back for a training yard.
Post Lashaday was a tight-packed collection of huts and workshops. A military outpost set to guard the northern coastal border, it had burgeoned into a neatly ordered village. Families moved together or grew in the close-knit community.
Except him. He had no regrets about leaving his mate back home. A loveless, strained bonding was all that existed between them. He'd hoped he could learn to at least appreciate her, but it was impossible. She was cool and stiffly polite. And sterile. Kits might have been the link to make her see him as more than a stranger she'd married out of political necessity. His father doted on her like a blood daughter and the two were close. Dunbane had little doubt he was stationed here in the wilderness so she didn't have to tolerate him.
If not for Talshesh, existence here would have been unbearable. He hadn't seen her much lately. Practice and work with a bow took so much time. She understood, though. She was there when he needed her.
Dunbane shoved his way into the crowded barrack mess hall. A quick scan of the fifty odd soldiers devouring the leftover sea bird and wheat cakes showed no sign of Maincoat.
The body heat from so many creatures made the air stifling. A sudden wave of disgust scudded over Dunbane. He knew a pawfull of the warriors personally; he had even a few friends. But they were all complacent and content. The urge to wander didn't keep them up at night, torn between desires and duty.
Biting down the urge to curse the warriors out for no reason, he padded over to the mink, Becktail. "Have you seen Maincoat?"
Becktail licked cooked bird fat from his muzzle. "Not since this morning."
Dunbane swished his tail, irritable. "Has he been looking for me?"
"Not that I know, Viscount. Why, something wrong?" Concern creased lines in the mink's fur around his good eye.
Dunbane sighed. "No." He was jumping at shadows and old scents.
Stress and the constant frustration wore down his nerves. He needed to get away from everyone, cool his fur and try to rest. He wanted Talshesh—her soft, warm body under his, her levelheaded words, and her sympathetic ear.
He turned and stepped outside again. Where was she? A skulking idea crept past his mind and he frowned. She wouldn't.
His backfur stiff with unease, Dunbane trotted through the streets until he spied Maincoat's hut. The shutters were closed and no candlelight showed through the cracks. Silent, Dunbane slunk closer and cocked his ears, listening.
Muffled grunts and moans seeped under the door and through the shutters. The heavy musk that saturated Maincoat's hut was spiced with Talshesh's sweeter scent.
Heart pounding, Dunbane tested the door. Maincoat never locked it. The door swung open. The hut was like his, minimalist, save for the reed mats on the floor. An oil lamp guttered on the table, turned low so the soft yellow glow left plenty of shadows along the walls.
Maincoat had his teeth sunk into Talshesh's scruff, straddling her. Both martens growled and she arched her hindquarters against him. Their tails curled together as they rutted on the bed.
The smell of heat and sex stung Dunbane's nostrils. Shock faded behind raw fury. "Talshesh?"
Both lovers started. Maincoat sat up. "Viscount."
Talshesh pinned her ears back, dark eyes wide. "What—what're you doing here?"
Dunbane's hind legs quivered. "What am I doing here?"
Maincoat rolled off the cot and scrabbled for his pants. "These are my quarters, sir."
Rage rippled through Dunbane, and for a moment the world was composed of shades of red. "She isn't yours."
"I don't belong to anyone," Talshesh said. "What am I supposed to do, Dun? Wait around for you when you're only ever practicing or out wandering? You're never around when you say you'll be." She pulled her tunic over her head, glaring at him. "You should've been at your quarters for lunch, and back an hour before dusk. I waited but you never showed up."
Dunbane shook his head. That gave her no excuse to run to another marten. She'd said she loved him. Did that mean nothing? His teeth showed. "I have duties to attend to."
"Right, you always do." She snorted. "The duties you think are so important you never see anything else." She bared her fangs back at him. "I've had enough, Dun. If you can't find time to even see me in a month, I'll find someone who can." She took Maincoat's paw.
Dunbane glanced between them, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. This wasn't happening. Not Talshesh. She couldn't betray him like this.
"That's how it is?" Dunbane asked.
"What's that mean?" Talshesh pressed her side against Maincoat's. "I'm here as the bloody cartographer, Dun. I can decide who I want stay with."
She could betray him that easily, just toss aside everything they'd shared before for another male? Dunbane hissed, his body quivering with anger. He drew his saber. "Fine."
Maincoat shoved Talshesh away and lunged for his sword hung on the wall. He grabbed the hilt. Dunbane took a step and rammed his blade home, up Maincoat's stomach and into his heart. The other marten jerked, eyes wide. Blood dripped down his jaw.
Dunbane kicked the body off his blade, gore slicking his paw and arm. He shook droplets of blood from his whiskers, his pulse drumming in his ears. The surge of vengeful excitement remained and he pointed the saber at Talshesh. "Then stay with him like you've decided."
She hunkered down, hissing at him, tears rolling down her muzzle. "What is wrong with you?"
"This damn place is what's wrong! I hate it. You, him, every damned beast here." He kicked over the table. The dim oil lamp shattered and flames licked the walls. Dunbane watched the fire, felt its heat mimic the rage inside his chest. "It should all burn."
"What--"
Dunbane snarled and spun on her, jabbing the saber at her. "Shut up, you've done enough!"
Resistance met his blade and jarred his arm. Steel sunk into her neck. Her eyes widened and she clutched her throat, the blood soaking through her creamy fur.
Dunbane yelped in surprise. He hadn't meant to kill her. Her body toppled over and blood pooled around her head and shoulder. Not Talshesh. He wouldn't hurt her like that, he couldn't--
The mats caught fire and smoke clogged his eyes and mouth. Coughing, Dunbane pushed through the haze towards the door.
He blinked back stinging tears. Already the walls burned, the dry wood catching fast. Yes. The dead, dry, suffocating nature of Lashaday should burn, all of it. The flames raged before his eyes and the heat blistered his nose and singed his fur.
It was hellgates opened.
Bodies clustered around him, paws dragging him back. Becktail shouted at him, the words incoherent.
"Let it burn," Dunbane said.
"Are you mad?" Spittle flecked the mink's jaws and he shook Dunbane. "Help us put the fires out!"
Dunbane's throat was raw and he realized he was shouting. "Let it burn, all of it. All of Lashaday!" He spun on the shocked soldiers and other creatures. "Anyone who stops it will face execution for insubordination."
The fires had jumped. Strong winds from the south caught the sparks and flicked them into the other huts.
Creatures stampeded for safety. Screams and yowls of fright and pain were lost in the inferno's roar.
Dunbane let Becktail and half a dozen others drag him out of the smoke and heat. He closed his eyes, trembling, and felt the weight of his bloodied saber in paw. In his head, he saw Talshesh's glazed eyes and the fire spreading around her.
What is wrong with you?
He had no control. No honor. There was far more wrong with him than anything else.