Something Odd this Way Comes

Felix

Chp 47

Things had been going well. Splendidly, fantastically, all sorts of the best words applied.

The map had guided me beautifully to the promised haven in the desert. The place where the phenomenal geographic portrayal I so dearly loved had been born. Cartography was as much art as science when it was done well. The thick parchment in my map case was beyond anything I’d seen before.

I stared, noticing a lizard perched on a rock. It pointed east and I took that as an omen I was on course. Not that I needed omens. I had the map. Needing to meet its maker was what had driven me to follow its path.

Or I was supposed to deliver something. The why was fuzzy. Details.

The journey through the desert should have been grueling physically. Yet it passed in a euphoric haze. Catkin are not built for such travel, but knowing I was drawing closer mile by mile seemed to give me strength. I hardly needed food or water as I neared to my quarry. I would find the map maker and learn their secret or throw myself at their feet to become their disciple.

Grovel, prostrate, however they wanted me at their feet. Feet were weird. I giggled as I looked at my own, then had to look away. They weren’t mine. Or maybe they were, and I’d never realized how much seeing them bothered me before.

That I wasn’t making the kind of progress I should have didn’t register. Finding myself off course, I’d use the map to reorient myself. A cycle I didn’t realize I was repeating. Somewhere in the midst of that dizzy frenzy, my distorted thoughts began to crystalize. Ahead of me the stone labyrinth I’d been looking for beckoned, behind me something lurked.

It moved silently between the shelter of stones, flitting from shadow to shadow. It seemed small at first, but a dread certainty it was simply too quick for me to gauge its actual size settled on me. Despite the midday heat, I sprinted for the labyrinth, hoping to lose it. Moments stretched like hours as I dashed heedlessly through the maze.

Bones. It wanted my bones. I knew this as an instinctive truth like the flavor of sunlight. I would not be a delightful broth this day!

Going much too fast, I found myself scraping past or slamming into obstacles. Driven by fearful frenzy to continue forward even as the breath was driven from me. I could hear the tearing of cloth and scrape of leather as I fled, but ignored them. I could only think of finding shelter, lest death find me that much sooner.

With the map clutched in one hand, I came around a corner and struck aside a tall man. One who was far too light for his size. A big man as light as skin full of air. I’d have laughed if the bone stealer wasn’t still after me.

A cave with a narrow opening was ahead of me. If I made it there then I’d be safe, the poor fellow I’d run into would have to fend for himself. I could hear the beast growing closer, its footsteps pounding in my ears. I dove for the cave.

Moments later I found myself on my back, looking up at the sky. My head rang violently with pain while a lesser one assailed my face. Swatting, I realized I was circled by curious people, one of whom was poking me with a stick.

“What the fuck was that?” Someone said.

“Right? Who plows headfirst into a wall?” Another voice offered.

“Think he’ll get up again?” One of them asked. I tried to push myself up in answer, but blacked out again instead.

When consciousness graced me once more, I woke feeling like I was laying on clouds. I was still surrounded, but I was looking up at a timber ceiling instead of open sky. Concerned and curious expressions greeted me. That said, the expressions graced human faces. That had me curling into a ball, one hand going to my neck.

I wore a false slave collar to help me get through unexpected situations. My claws grazed bare fur and my blood ran cold. The fate of those caught without one flashed through my mind as I sat stunned. How could this have happened?

“You lot, stop crowding him,” a low female voice called. Obligingly, the people around me backed up and started shuffling out of the room. Once they were gone, I found myself faced with a curiosity. She looked like a muscular human woman, but her eyes were golden. She didn’t wear a collar, but I felt she had to be some kind of demi-human like myself. One that could pass for a human, unless you looked closely.

“I’m Dawn, head of the adventurer’s guild,” she said as she came closer. I nodded as she took a seat on a stool next to the bed. I had no idea what an adventurer’s guild was, but I liked the sound of it.

“Felix Swiftpaw, at your service,” I responded a bit late. I had to make a conscious effort to smile without showing my teeth while keeping my ears up and forwards. I needed to focus.

Dawn’s eyes and her interesting title didn’t matter. She could pass for human and that meant she’d probably act like one.

I needed to pay attention and find out exactly where I was. Until I did, I needed to keep my expression under tight control. Humans didn’t like when a lesser being failed to pay them full attention. Or showed undesirable emotions. Folded back ears could be interpreted in a lot of ways, but would chiefly be seen as inattentive.

As things stood, it was possible they had figured out my collar was false. Even if I’d lost it somehow though, it was strange I was being allowed the use of a room. Such noble treatment must be either for myself because of who they thought my owner was or my interrogator. With the collars authenticity potentially in question it had to be for the woman. Even so, I couldn’t quite see it.

She was dressed well in an impressive leather coat with metal plates. She looked like a particularly rich mercenary. That still didn’t quite rate a room, of all things. I wanted to slap myself as my curiosity started to get the better of me. I needed to know where I was and how much trouble I was in.

Until I found out, I had to be pleasant and keep my worry bottled up. Humans tended to get more aggressive than they already were if you showed them weakness. I flicked my ears back up every time they started to droop. My features locked in a false display of joy. I hoped the woman didn’t have experience reading more subtle feline expressions.

It’s not like she would have interacted with other beastkin much. Particularly catkin, we weren’t common, right?

“Right, well, you ought to rest a few days before you worry about service. You were in a mad state when you were found,” Dawn said, waving off the idea.

My expression locked in place. I was found in a mad state? Rabid?

“The disease that afflicted you has already been dealt with by the hermit,” Dawn continued. She was oblivious to my internal state of panic. Were the days for observation, so they could decide if they were going to put me down like a sick animal?

“Wait, hermit?” I asked as a word stood out. I’d missed most of what she’d said otherwise.

“The hermit of Larel. Hetcha did send you, right?” Dawn asked. Her expression was curious but not upset, despite my interruption.

“Yes?” I answered her after blinking. I hadn’t expected to hear Hetcha’s name from human lips.

“Good. It’s too bad you got sick, but at least you made it,” Dawn said, nodding.

“I was following a map… One with astounding detail,” I explained. A whisper of my prior reverence creeped up. Dawn flinched, then coughed behind her fist like she had choked on something for a moment.

“It's with your things in the wardrobe. The mayor will want to talk with you tomorrow, but for now, rest up and eat,” Dawn said, as she stood up. I nodded, unable to do much more. Once she’d said something about food, I realized I was hungry. I could smell something unfamiliar but tantalizing.

I didn’t notice Dawn take her leave or shut the door firmly behind her. Turning to the side, I found a table loaded down with a king’s personal feast. I did a double-take between the food and where Dawn had been.

Was I dead? I was either dead or dreaming.

Either way, I was going to at least try those pastries once in my life, another dream or not.

I was a meat-eater first and foremost, but I bolted right over to the pastries. They glistened majestically and I was determined to try one. They weren’t rare, but bakeries weren’t a place demi-humans were allowed in Stromholt. I’d only been able to steal forlorn glances at them from afar.

The first bite was good but sickeningly sweet. That didn’t stop me from taking a bit from every single one on the table. I felt ill by the time I was done, but I didn’t regret my decision. Looking at the pile of food, I belatedly realized I was not supposed to try and finish it. It wasn’t a reasonable amount for a single person, even if I stretched it between two meals.

Realizing my paws were a sticky mess along with my muzzle, I washed up and decided to change my clothes. I’d been trekking through a desert for quite a while and they bore the sweat stains as proof. My spare set wouldn’t be in better shape, but would be more comfortable than the ones I’d slept in.

Opening the wardrobe I found my things laid out neatly and a faint herbal scent wafting from them. My clothes had been washed with good soap. I was gentle with my things but it seemed like whoever had put them up was an even softer touch. The hair along my spine stood up at attention. The entire situation was strange. Not unpleasant, but strange enough to leave me feeling uneasy nonetheless.

Putting on clean clothes, I was refreshed and my mind turned to more pressing matters. Looking through the drawers, I found my slave collar first. A few more moments of searching revealed a leather case. My gluttony was catching up with me and I wanted to take a look at the map before I succumbed to the urge to nap.

Opening the tube, I expected to find it neatly curled within. Instead, I was greeted by something bizarre. A triangle of paper stuffed in the top. It took me a moment to realize what I was looking at. In the next, I was snatching it out in disbelief.

It was folded, the map was folded.

Multiple Times.

I was livid, and all the tasty flavors and my sleepiness were forgotten.

“What rat-tailed, buck-toothed, brainless, worthless, faithless...” I snarled. Cursing usually calmed me after a while, but this time I felt my agitation growing. Unfolding the map on the floor I quickly assessed the damage.

“BASTARD Folded a MAP!? Much less THIS map!?” I continued to myself. The folds themselves were unnaturally neat and crisp. Parchment usually didn’t like to bend in the first place and would break apart randomly along the fold.

Did I fold it?

The question rose up as I remember Dawn describing me as mad when I was found. If I’d been crazed enough to not remember crossing a desert, then it was possible. I shivered, feeling sicker than I had from the pastries. Of the many colorful things I’d done in my life, it would be the chiefs of my sins as I was a maker of maps myself.

Looking closely I had to shake my head. It wasn’t likely I’d done it. Beyond being too crisp, the folds were precisely equal in a way I’d never have bothered with. I knew Hetcha had given me a map but I couldn’t remember much else about it. It was possible that it had already been folded then.

Relieved, I began studying the map in earnest. It took ten seconds of glancing restlessly over it for my shoulders to droop. The borders were accurate, likely traced from other maps. Beyond that though, the rest was a lovely painting in the style of a map.

I knew because it depicted the edge of the world where the demon territories should have been. Beyond that was a rendering of the land of the gods. Maps hadn’t included that for two hundred years.

Looking at it I tried to think why Hetcha would have given me what amounted to a cartographic death trap. It took a minute, but I realized there was a very small dot of red on it. It was at the foot of the accurate rendering of the Larel Mountain range. Right before the rest became artistic nonsense.

It was a map no one in their right mind would take seriously. A good disguise for directions to a secret hideout. Especially given its proximity to the bullshit part. It seemed I’d gotten lucky. I’d found my destination instead of wandering off in search of the gods in my delusional state. I let out a sigh.

Despite being done, I couldn’t quite bring myself to fold the map. Trying to roll it proved fruitless. In the end, I laid it out on a desk. If I could find things to sit on it, the creases could be forced out. A needless thing to do, but one I couldn’t stop myself from. Maps were to be rolled with respect, even copies of crazy old ones.