Control Comes from Within

I could hear sounds of activity coming from the vast city of tents arrayed before me. The guards escorted me inside, and I came face to face with my first genuine beastfolk tribe.

This particular tribe was composed of lizard-like humanoids, who had blue scales, reptilian bodies and tails, and human-looking hands, as they possessed enough scaly fingers and opposable thumbs that allowed them to form a closed fist.

The females, who were on average shorter than the males, were either tending to the absolutely massive amounts of beasts they had, which were corralled together behind the tents, working on sewing clothing or leather armor, cutting pieces of meat and throwing them into what I hoped was a communal cooking cauldron, or waking their children and sending them out to play.

Most of the tribesmen only wore thin robes or leather pants, preferring to eschew clothing altogether. The natural protection provided by their scales was likely enough for them.

While I was engrossed in studying as much as I could at the academy, the various books I read always emphasized how much the beastfolk lived with nature. It was a trait they adopted from the elves, who led a similar lifestyle, but I supposed I just realized how true that statement was.

They lived like an ancient tribe of nomads, with very little that I could point to that would mark them as civilized. I could even see someone taking a dump and covering it up in the distance! But while I was wrestling with the culture shock, I made sure to keep in mind to respect their culture. If I said or did the wrong thing, they might inform this ‘council’, who could then decide that death was too good for me.

That was something to be avoided at all costs. Under the right conditions, living could be far, far worse than death.

We passed through the circular arrangement of tents, towards the one that had a flag installed at its top, waving back and forth even in the intermittent winds. The breeze also revealed that while the tents were covered in some kind of fur and hide to provide additional warmth, they were actually made out of leather, as the color, texture, and smell enlightened me as to their material.

We passed at least a hundred people on the way, until I finally saw a sleeping Skarl and…Tsul, or Tsol, whatever his brother’s name was. They were both sleeping outside the large tent, which I presumed belonged to the chief of this tribe. The leather flaps were apparently very good at blocking out sounds, as I couldn’t hear the faintest whisper escape from the tent.

Uvil and his fellow patrolman went inside, and a short while later, they allowed me in. “We’ll see you later…Rhaaj.” They both snickered as they slapped my shoulders and padded away, turning back the way we had come.

I cast a minor healing spell on myself, the lizardman’s casual strength being too much even for my essence-enhanced body, before I took a deep breath, and with my ability to remotely sense blood, I felt eight bodies within, one of which was extremely small, possibly a baby.

I entered the tent, ignoring the irrational nervousness that crept up on me, and was met with the sight of the envoys sleeping on the right side of the tent, their limbs and tails tangling with each other into a pile of limbs. Afon was the only one possibly awake, as he looked to be meditating and…he was performing his own breathing technique, as I could sense the movement of essence entering his body from the environment.

The chief and…someone I assumed was his wife, were sitting cross-legged on the ground, crouched over a small bundle of furs that made trilling noises, and I surmised that was their infant child.

The chief noticed me first, as his wife continued being preoccupied with her back turned to me. He said nothing as he got up and went to the left side of the tent, which was dominated by a firepit and a collection of wooden cutlery, though I could spot a quill and some papers spilling out of an oiled leather satchel.

The chief considered me for a moment, narrowing his eyes and at times, raising the ridge where a human would have eyebrows. Finally, he seemed to have come to a decision as he said to me, “Welcome, young human.” His voice was far deeper than the other two, and I could tell he was much older than them.

“You are the first human we have sheltered in a long time. Your,” he nodded towards the envoys across from him, “protectors, have informed me of the purpose of your journey, and I must say, you do not seem like the typical human.”

I bowed and made the appropriate gestures at him as I continued to stand in silence. In beastman culture, meeting a chief, any of them, demanded respect in many fashions. Basically, it would be better if I didn’t speak, eat, sit down, or do anything without the chief giving me permission. Naturally, I couldn’t be expected to know some of these unspoken rules of etiquette being a human, but it was better to abide by them if one was aware of them.

“Interesting,” he uttered. “You said you were taught by a rabbit tribesman? I shall have to send her tribe a gift for producing a student so….humble.” I absorbed the fact that he was aware of that, then realized that I had said so to the guards almost half a kilometer away….and he had heard me.

Like I said, beastfolk senses were no joke.

He motioned for me to sit down, which I accepted while declining my head in respect. I sat as everyone else did, cross-legged on the ground, the soft rucksack I was pretending contained all my possessions laid beside me.

“You may speak, young human. I know you have questions. If you ask politely, I might even decide to answer some of them,” he chuckled, though I felt no malice in it. For all that he was an old and wise warrior, he really just gave off the vibe of an old, retired grandfather.

I still wouldn’t dare to treat him with anything but respect.

“Would the chief allow me to eat before we continue? I have a – “ My stomach chose that moment to rumble again, and I would have blushed in embarrassment if I were capable of it, though the slight grimace on my face did not go unnoticed.

The chief glanced at me and smiled. “Hunger is nothing to be ashamed of, young human. Shua, a bowl for our guest,” he said, and his wife got up and went outside the tent, coming back in a minute with a wooden bowl filled with some kind of soup with chopped up vegetables and a thick green watery base.

I gratefully nodded to Shua, the chief’s wife, before receiving the bowl in both hands, and lifting it up to my lips, taking a small mouthful of the salty soup. Beastfolk cuisine wasn’t something I was familiar with from my time in the academy, so I was appreciative of the simple meal, though my hunger may have had something to do with it.

Once I finished the bowl and set it aside, the chief’s wife took it from me and headed out once more while telling him, “I’ll check on the herd,” to which he nodded.

“So, you wished to ask me something, young mage?” he asked, to which I nodded.

“Yes, chief. Forgive me for my ignorance, but ... how do you view taming? I know beastfolk have their bonds, but I was curious about your opinion of the…human form of it.”

The chief exhaled as he closed his eyes, evidently thinking about my question. He sat like that for at least five minutes, completely still, before he opened his eyes once more and responded.

“You ask a difficult question, young mage. Taming….in the olden days, before the Wall was created, before our ancestors died to erect the Great Barrier in the north, taming was seen as an evil thing. A human mockery of bonding, where beasts were enslaved and forced into a life of servitude.” I would have squirmed if he was aware of how close that description fit my ‘taming’ spell, but I kept my cool, not giving anything away.

“Now, though….I will simply say that taming is only a tool. What matters the most is how you use that tool. Where one sees a lake as a way to quench their thirst, another might view it as a way to drown their enemies. Of course, there are always those who bring dishonor to such practices. Even to this day, human poachers buzz around our land like flies, hoping to make off with uncommon beasts, only seeing the possible riches in selling them off and ignoring that their actions are kidnapping in the eyes of beastfolk and elves.”

His words made me recall an old conversation about shifters, beastfolk who could take on the appearance of their bestial ancestors, perpetrating a massacre on a community of humans who had tamed far too many beasts for their liking. Even now, hundreds of years later, human-beastfolk relations were somewhat strained, which is probably why the king chose to give me up completely. He probably thought the beastfolk would see it, me, as a sign of goodwill.

“That your first question is about taming and not your trial…..you are either confident in yourself, or assured of your judgment.” the chief said.

I smiled at his non-question. “Either way, I have nothing to fear.”

“You do not fear death?” the chief asked curiously.

“There are only two certainties in life: death and taxes.” I said, paraphrasing Benjamin Franklin.

That made both the chief and Afon, who had been listening in to our conversation, chuckle and shake their heads at my declaration, which they seemed to agree with, as I faced no words of denial.

Afon spoke up from where he sat, “Thank you for the food and shelter, chief Un’wa, but we must move on soon. We must leave tomorrow morning if we are to reach the city at all this month.”

“So soon?” I asked him.

He nodded at me, “You need time to recover from the journey, not to mention the chances of attacks are lower during the day.”

“Attacks from who?” I asked.

“Not who. What,” the chief said, making me turn back to him. “Did you not know? There are far more wild beasts here than in your human lands, and they will pounce on you if they see you as easy prey. You will need strength to cross these lands unharmed.”

Figures. It’s like this whole place is stuck in the days of Gengis Khan, but without any horses or warfare. Well, that’s not exactly true. There’s only one war going on, but I don’t think it’s gonna kill ten percent of the world’s population. Unless the monsters develop new abilities or manage to break through the Wall or the Barrier, which is so unbelievably impossible, it’s not even worth mentioning.

“In any case…I was taught that giving gifts during one’s first meeting is customary, but sadly, I have very little to offer besides my magic,” I said to the chief.

The chief fixed his gaze onto me as he asked, “What magics are you skilled in?” I could tell by the tenor of his voice he was interested.

“Blood, and nature.” I said, to which he politely nodded. “I also know some healing spells if anyone is injured or sick.”

He stopped nodding once I finished speaking, and turned to me once more. “Healing, you said?” I nodded in confirmation. “And…how…familiar are you in your knowledge of beastkin bodies?”

“My teacher was an elf, and he –”

“An elf! Then there’s no trouble at all! Little brother,” he changed how he addressed me, “I would ask that you heal those in our tribe who are suffering from some illness or injuries.” The mere mention of an elf was enough to smother any doubt they had about my capabilities, though I was unsure how they knew I wasn’t lying. Maybe they figured I wouldn’t dare boast about something that could be easily verified? Or maybe they thought I just wouldn’t lie to a chief? Whatever the case, it was good that he accepted my offer. It would at least buy me more goodwill with this particular tribe, another act of kindness that I suspected the envoys would inform the council members about.

I was tempted to ask the chief if that would stay within the parameters of ‘living with nature’, but…it was shortsighted and possibly rude, and it was on the verge of disrespect, something I was trying to avoid.

I simply nodded at his request, bowing slightly in my seated position.

“Then we will have you as guests until your departure in the morning. For now, eat and rest. I know your travels must have made you weary. We can discuss other matters once you wake up.” He nodded at me before leaving the tent, leaving me alone in the tent with the other sleeping envoys and Afon.

“Sleep,” Afon said to me, “or meditate if you wish. We must make haste to reach the council before spring.”

“What happens in spring?” I asked stupidly, the answer coming to me a moment after I had asked.

“The Thundering, our…festival, I suppose you would call it. It is similar to your human festival celebrating your heroes in the winter, only ours has less food and games, and is focused entirely on combat skill.”

I nodded along like I was hearing the information for the first time.

“Despite how tired I am…I have become accustomed to sleeping at night. I will go and see to those I can heal now. Excuse me,” I said, and Afon nodded to me as I left the tent, immediately noticing that the tribe was bustling with far more activity.

Now, who should I ask about where they keep their sick and injured?

As it happened, the very first lady I asked told me.

“Why would we keep all our sick together, human hatchling?” she asked. “That would just make them all get worse and die sooner!” She shouted at me like I had suggested she swallow battery acid and molten mercury.

Her shouting had drawn attention to us, and I was trying to avoid any kind of bad reputation right now.

After I bowed and apologized profusely for my ignorant comment, on account of me being a human, of course, she settled down and told me something that had me struggling to maintain a calm face.

Families kept their sick and injured in their tents, as far away from everyone else as possible. With how resilient the beastfolk constitution was, there was usually little to worry about, but when a beastfolk got sick… they got sick.

I was starting to regret choosing not to sleep, but I couldn’t back out now. So it was that I trudged into, out of, and around, the scores of tents that had some kind of patient for me to look at. Most of the afflictions I had to fix were minor things, cuts and scrapes from people falling off their mounts or being knocked to the ground hard during spars, the occasional broken or displaced joint or bone.

There was only one real illness that needed my intervention, a badly healed puncture wound that had tiny debris particles inside, and the warrior, who insisted he was fine and didn’t need any human healing, had trouble with his shoulder’s range of motion. A few quick spells later, and he was bowing and shaking and my hand, grateful that he could properly fight again as he began swinging his shoulder in every conceivable angle. I did my best impression of a stern healer as I strongly suggested to him that he rest for at least two days to let the muscles heal. He pouted and his tail drooped as he walked away, looking like a teenager whose crush just told him no.

I worked throughout the day, and eventually, people grew satisfied with the level of ability I had shown and began making requests of me, asking me to visit their tent, as their family member was wounded. Fights almost broke out over whom I would visit first, but thankfully the blows were limited to being verbal in nature, as I got fed up and threatened to not heal anyone if they didn’t calm down. In the end, I just herded everyone together as I went from tent to tent, looking like a mother duck with her ducklings following behind.

Eventually, after receiving well-wishes and statements of gratitude and friendship, I stumbled back to the chief’s tent, where I collapsed onto the ground, too tired to notice there was no mattress, pillow, or blanket. After my eyes fluttered and shut, I was out and embracing unconsciousness to the fullest, looking forward to a night of dreamless sleep.