Sincere thankyous to DarkangelWings, Ashfur, Fireblade K'Chona, Breezefire, and Wizard116! I love you guys!
Disclaimer: If Misty has lots of money and Hiro No Tsuki has none, who do you think owns Velgarth?
Chapter Three: Don't Shoot!
"So we don't know where he went?" Selaney asked.
"We do, vaguely; the- ah- men that reported the 'monster' also reported passing a young Bard on the road that fits his description, but the men don't exactly appear to be of very reputable origin."
"Ah. Did you get anything from them?"
"I managed to get impressions of a horse-human monster that attacked them- but I also managed to get something else."
"Which would be?"
"They're bandits, Majesty. They were attempting to waylay Julian when the monster attacked them. They don't know what happened afterwards because they ran away. The images that I picked up- well, let me show you."
Selaney nodded and Talia placed one hand on her wrist, and reached for Rolan. She projected the image that was in one of the bandit's mind to Selaney's- a melding that seemed to have black razor sharp hooves, a sword made of human bones, black midnight skin, and raven hair, as well as glowing red eyes.
"Another Changechild, no doubt," Selaney murmured. "How big did they say it was?"
"They said about a hundred feet tall, but I highly doubt that. From the looks of it in relation to the trees, I'd say about nine or ten feet tall. It does seem to be a danger, though."
"Indeed. Send one of the Herald Mages to take care of it, but let him make sure that Julian is at least safe if he isn't dead first."
"Yes, Majesty. And the bandits?"
Selaney smiled. It was not a nice smile.
"Give them standard punishment for attacking a Bard, then put them in gaol for a few months to cool their heels."
"Yes, Majesty."
Misty fog drifted in and out of his view, and all he could see was a vast empty expanse, filled with nothing but mist. Dreamily, he started to mentally compose something- then light assaulted him from all sides, and noise rushed at him. He was back in the tavern where- No! –where he had lost his sight. He tried to move, to get out of there before the drunken sot that blinded him could come stumbling in, but he couldn't move.
What?
He was a prisoner in his own body, watching his own downfall, and he couldn't move an inch. The mercenary came in through the door and immediately moved over to the bar. Julian's body smiled at the Healer across the room- Leona was her name, he thought, and he started playing 'My Lady's Eyes.' An hour or two later, he was drunk beyond belief, and fairly belligerent. He asked Julian for a song- something that Julian didn't know. He said as much and the merc asked again, and Julian repeated that he didn't know. At this point the mercenary's face was flushed, and he was swaying on his feet. He towered over the Bard, anger written in every part of his face. Oh no.
His body smiled up uncertainly at the man, who scowled. Somehow he'd had the good sense to put his lute to the side, in a safe corner before standing up to stretch his leg muscles. "I'm sorry, sir. Are there any other-" He never got to finish the sentence, because the soldier drew back his arm and punched him in the jaw. The other patrons of the bar had drawn back, No help from them, and the man had landed on top of him. He could see the Healer across the room rise and start to push through the crowd, and a Herald wearily entered the door, eyes widening as he took in the situation. Frantically, Julian grabbed for his belt knives, and stabbed at his attacker. The merc didn't flinch, even when Julian drove one into his leg. He just grabbed his own knife, and yelling something that Julian couldn't hear, brought it up high, obviously intending to slash Julian's throat.
Inside his body, Julian watched in horror as his body stared at the knife- the last thing he would ever see- before yanking his chin to his chest to protect his neck. The silver knife came down, down, down, across the edge of his right eye socket, across his eye, the bridge of his nose, across his other eye, and across his left eye socket. His vision vanished in a spray of blood, and he felt the hot blood flowing down his face. Both Julians screamed, and the man was suddenly thrown off of him- no, vanished. Over the roaring in his ears he could hear something landing on the far side of the room, in a crash of splintering wood and shattering glass. Suddenly he felt cold hands on his forehead and right cheek, and the pain lessened. The Healer called to him but he couldn't answer- everything was going darker than his vanished eyesight, ad finally he tumbled into unconsciousness just as he barely heard the Healer ask Herald something-or-other to link with her.
A voice called him out of sleep and he heard the dim swishing of water. "Bard," an accented voice called. "Bard. Wake up. It's light out. You can leave."
He struggled out of the depths of sleep, and said the first thing that came to mind- "Mummy, I don't wanna help you with the chickens today. Five more minutes."
The voice replied, this time with a hint of humor. "Julian J'Erthan, wake up before I pour your basin of water on you." To prove it, a dribble of water landed on his neck. Cold water. Very cold water.
That got him awake. He shot up, and heard something being placed beside him. "The bowl of water is to your left, Julian. I've got some soup ready for you, and some dried venison before you go."
"O-okay," he stammered. "Thank you."
Hooves moved away from him, and Julian wondered again why the Shin'a'in was mounted at this time of the morning, and inside the cave, too. "Milor- Rowen?"
"Yes?" Came the reply. He sounded sad. "Why… are you always mounted? I've never heard you get off your horse once, and I was just wondering." The air in the cave suddenly grew very still. "If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to," he added hastily, when the air in the cave started to stifle him.
"That- is not something I would care to discuss at the moment," Rowen said, after a while. "Perhaps if we ever meet again."
"Alright," Julian conceded. "Another time, then."
"So I guess this is it," Julian said, two days later. They were out by the road, the warrior having led them there the same way he'd led Julian to his home.
"Yes," the Shin'a'in echoed. "This is goodbye."
"I guess this is goodbye, I hope we'll meet again, my friend," Julian half-sang under his breath.
"What's that?" Rowen asked.
"No idea," Julian said. "It just sort of appeared in my head."
"Oh."
"Well-"
"Well-"
"Bye, then. I'll try to come back sometime, or at least write you."
"Yeah," the Shin'a'in muttered. "Write me."
Julian turned down the road, and started walking.
Some time later, he heard frantic hooves thundering down the road behind him. 'Not the bandits again,' he thought frantically. He extended his sense of Empathy- Rowen
Indeed it was.
"Julian!" The Shin'a'in shouted. "Julian, you've got to explain to your Heralds and their Guardsmen that I'm not a monster!"
'What?'
Rowen turned in front of him and grabbed his arms. "Julian, listen to me. I'm not a monster- I'm a- I'm a Changechild."
"What?"
"I was caught in one of the Change Circles with my mare, and we were melded. I'm not human, but I'm not a horse either. Please, tell them not to shoot me!"
Julian extended one hand and the Shin'a'in grabbed it by the wrist and placed it way high up, on his chest. Julian felt hard muscles under his fingers, and trailed them down, over the rock-hard abdomen muscles, past the- fur? His hand shot up again, to the boundary where skin met pelt. All around the waist of the warrior it ran, his spine extending from mid-back into a horse's backbone. Two sets of ribs, two hearts, a melding of two bodies, but one mind.
"Rowen-"
"Julian, you have to understand." Julian could definitely detect fear tingeing Rowen's voice. "Please, they're right behind me, tell them I'm not a monster! Tell them!"
The bell-like quality of two Companion's hooves penetrated his senses, along with the sounds of normal hooves biting into the dust of the road.
"Changechild," one of the Heralds- a female- Lisha said. "You will please step away from the Bard."
To Julian, the other (male) Herald said, "Julian, please don't move. We're going to get it away, just be ready to run towards my voice."
Rowen sounded nervous and Julian felt his stomach muscles clench. A hand touched Julian's shoulder and squeezed it gently. He gathered his scattered wits- Felt the Guardsmen draw back their bowstrings- Felt the Heralds tense-
'Now or never.'
In his best Voice, the one he rarely used, that could stop a small riot, he yelled.
"STOP!"