Chapter 3

There were five horses and seven riders, so when Ilga offered to take Tarra to ride with him, Swift quickly offered a spot on his horse to the young human. He was very curious about him. The boy looked to his father, who quickly nodded in assent. These hara, his look seemed to say, could be trusted.

Swift swung into the saddle and a moment later, Seel had helped Ranat up and strapped his bags onto the saddle as well. Once Seel mounted his own horse, they were ready to go.

"I won't be sorry to leave here," Tarra announced. "Thanks for protecting us, old house, but I think I'd rather return to the real world."

On that note, they headed into the trees. At the front of the group Ilga chatted with Tarra, while Ashmael updated Troniel on what had transpired inside the cottage.

For his part, now that he knew what he was headed towards, Swift felt the forest had grown a little lighter. He was more confident and with Ranat leaning up against him in front so close, he decided to try and talk.

Seel rode beside him as he began. "So, Ranat, your father says you'd been living here for two years."

"Yes. It seems like a long time -- the longest I can remember ever staying anywhere." He turned his head slightly, thinking to make eye contact. "We were always moving."

"How long has your father been taking care of you?" Swift asked.

"For ten years. Ever since my mother was killed."

Swift glanced over to Seel and could see that like him, he wondered what else the boy could tell them.

He decided to ask. "Ranat, could you tell us about yourself? I don't want to rush you or seem rude, but I am very interested in hearing your story."

"How it my father is Wraeththu, you mean?" he asked offhandedly. As before, it was clear that Ranat knew the state of affairs, had not been kept in the dark. How very unusual it was. Swift had never heard of incepted Wraeththu ever seeing their human children again, let alone caring for them.

"I've never told anyone before but I suppose there's no reason not to tell you, " Ranat began. "My father was, obviously, once human and... he had a son. The world was a mess, breaking into chaos, but he and my mother loved one another, although both of them were quite young. For six months after I was born, we were a happy family, or so my father tells me. Then one day everything changed -- my father disappeared."

"He was incepted," Seel surmised.

Ranat gave a single nod. "Yes. They took him away from us."

Seel followed up. "What tribe incepted him?"

"The Sulh. It was a desert tribe, nomads. Have you ever heard of them?"

Swift felt his heart skip a beat. "Yes, Ranat, my... hosting is Sulh." How strange it seemed to talk to a human about his hostling. The only human Swift had ever really been close to was Byrony.

Ranat smiled. "Really? There are some that have survived? My father has told me there were all either killed or, as he said, 'assimilated.'"

"Oh, yes, Ranat, there are many who survived. My hostling, though... he was taken as a consort by--" Swift suddenly stopped in mid-sentence. Mentioning the circumstances by which Cobweb had come to live in Galhea would certainly not be wise. Worse would be mention of his father. Terzian, who even in the grave held a power in many people's minds.

"But, ugh... please, continue your story," Swift urged. Ranat turned, curious about the change in topic, but he did not prod

As they rode through the forest, the boy filled in the rest of the story. After his inception by the Sulh, Tarra had been gifted with about two years of peace, time for caste training and education, before the Varrs had come. Many were killed, injured or enslaved. He could easily have been one of them. but he had managed to escape. He ran home to the human settlement he had come from. He had nowhere else to go and it was far enough away that he expected it to be safe. Ranat's mother would understand, would take him in, ever after three years away.

When he arrived he found it was too late. The settlement had been destroyed, apparently quite recently. There were fires burning and the streets and fields and houses were filled with corpses, mutilated. Many women had been raped, killed by the poison of Wraeththu aruna. He found his house and inside, the woman he had loved. She was dead. Tarra had wept with grief, had gone half mad, until suddenly he heard a sound, a whimpering noise. He followed his ears and went to the closet. Inside he found Ranat, four years old, alive but orphaned. He would need a parent.

From that moment on, Tarra had resumed the role of Ranat's father. He returned to Wraeththu settlements and tried lay low, stay out of war, and of course to conceal his son as much as possible. He often was forced to keep him inside. Strangers could not be allowed to know him, for if they did, they would surely discover the peculiar secret, and if that happened, they would be in danger. Varrs, who by now had taken over everywhere, would not allow such a situation to exist. Any human child was either to be slaughtered outright or eaten. There were no exceptions.

Two years ago, the situation had grown intolerable. Ranat was growing old enough to want to have some freedom, to want to know other people, and yet it was impossible. The Varrs were growing more and more touchy as the war against the Gelaming reached the final stages.

Ranat was also about to start growing, changing, and it would become noticeable, Tarra knew. It was time to hide and so his father had taken him into the woods, where the cottage stood, almost as if it had been waiting for them. There they had lived alone. Every few months they had gone into town to gather supplies, but that was all. They had grown their own food, provided their own entertainment. They had waited for their moment.

Six months ago, Ranat's body had begun the change in earnest -- the hair had grown and his body had felt new urges and desires. They had both lived in such fear that the Varrs would find him and either kill him or forbibly incept him into their way of life. Or they feared that the Varrs would never be defeated and by the time they could find Wraeththu to incept him properly, it would be too late. The beard had begun in the last month. Soon Ranat would be a man.

"So you're fourteen?" Swift asked, as the boy came to the end of his tale. They had nearly reached the village; the forest had opened up and they were once again on a visible path.

"My birthday's next week," Ranat replied. "I'll be fifteen."

They rode for a short distance and then Ranat spoke up again. "How old are you two? There's no way for me to tell and I was wondering..."

Even though the question was reasonable, Swift was taken by surprise. "Well, Seel is... Actually I don't know since he prefers to keep that a mystery--"

"Old, Ranat." He laughed.

"And you, Swift?" Ranat asked.

"My birthday is next week as well. I'll be eleven." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized something he should have realized before. Here he was, treating Ranat like a boy when he was actually four years his senior! Well, he was a human and they did develop at half-speed and so technically he was 20 by human standards but still -- it was something that hadn't occurred to him.

Ranat was startled. "You're younger than me!"

Swift laughed uneasily. "Yes, I am."

Ranat shook his head. "This is going to take some getting used to. I'm not... I mean, being around other people or... really hara... anyone... it's so different. Until now it's only been what my father has told me, what I've read. Now everything is real."

"Yes, it is, Ranat," Swift responded. "And you may find this hard to believe, but I think I know some of how you must feel. I grew up in some isolation myself. The day I left my home, everything changed."

"For the better?" Ranat asked.

"Mostly," Swift answered. "Mostly."