Ancient Allies (The Malvers War Book 2)

by Tora Moon

  “Easy, girl, let me get us unwrapped.”

  Blazel crawled under the edge of the oilcloth. Night had fallen. The moons Kelar and Zelar were both nearing the end of their cycle, and only a thin crescent of the smallest moon, Chelar, could be seen. Blazel hadn’t realized it was a new chedan. He called fire to his hand so he could see. Black sand, glittering with glass shards, covered the oilcloth. They were lucky it wasn’t shredded—and their hides with it. Carefully lifting the covering so the sand wouldn’t get on her, he slid it off Lighzel. She stood up and shook the last bits of dust from her hide.

  The boulders provided a bit of shelter and with it so dark, he couldn’t risk Lighzel breaking a leg sliding on an unseen patch of sand-glass, so he decided to stay where they were for the night. They didn’t have to worry about any predators. The Malvers monsters went into a stupor during the night and Blazel had never seen narhili beasts in the Barrens.

  A small lamp was included in his supplies, which he dug out along with his bedroll. The light provided comfort. He fed Lighzel some grain and watered her before eating a travel bar filled with dried fruit and washing it down with water. Surprisingly, the travel bars were tasty, much better than his dried swamp rat. Once he reached the plains, he could hunt again.

  The next day as he rode through the desolate landscape, the tumble of petrified wood began to thin, until after ten measures it was gone and only the black sand stretched before him. In the afternoon, he crossed the demarcation of the Barrens. There was no gradual easing of the black sand. It just ceased and the long grasses of the plains began.

  Lighzel whinnied, picked up her pace, and there was a lightness to her step. The plains were her home. Blazel had a long way to go before he reached the place he’d grown up. He wasn’t sure he could call the Sanctuary home anymore.

  A few measures from the Barrens, Blazel caught sight of the Storengher River. The great river flowed from the ice fields in the far north, beyond even the Deep Mountains, through the entire length of Lairheim. It disappeared, going underground, when it reached the Barrens, reappearing on the other side as part of the great southern swamp where Blazel had spent the last year. Once, he had traveled to the southern peninsula’s tip and had seen the swamps give way to a large marsh where the Storengher River emptied into the ocean.

  On his journey south, Blazel had followed the swamps in the western provinces, then traveled along the western coast where no one lived. He had avoided the plains and river because, unlike most people, who stayed close to the Keeps and their safety, the Haaslair clans followed their horse herds as they wandered the plains. There was no telling where they would be in the ocean of grass.

  Then, he had all the time in the world to meander south. Now, he was in a hurry and the quickest way north was following the Storengher River through the plains. Although the chance of running into a wandering Haaslair pack was high, skirting the plains and going north along the coast would take more time than he had. Even as he contemplated the longer—but less likely to meet anyone—route, the whispered, ‘hurry, hurry, hurry,’ in his head grew louder.

  Blazel groaned in despair. He didn’t expect any Haaslair packs he met to give him the easy acceptance he’d received by the Strunland guard-pack. His reception would more likely be hostile. He fingered the colorful saddle blanket’s edge and hoped the barding would allow him to pass through the plains without being molested for traveling alone. He could claim he was in the Strunland pack. It was, after all, what Maheli implied when she gave the barding to him. Whatever happened, he didn’t have time to take any other route. He turned Lighzel’s head toward the river and kicked her into a trot.

  * * *

  Blazel rode for several octars following the Storengher River. As it meandered through the plains, it was wide and lazy; farther north it turned into a fast, rushing beast.

  Birds flew overhead, small rodents rustled in the grass, and insects buzzed. He spotted a ducorn herd bounding across the plains in the distance, too far away to try and catch one. Life filled the plains, a stark contrast to the lifeless barrens he had just left. His pace slowed as he swiveled his head side to side, drinking in the sights and smells of living things. The afternoon sun beating down on his back reminded him it was nearly the beginning of summer. The warm, dry heat tempted him and he took off his leather shirt to soak up the sun as he rode. It had been a long time since he felt sunlight that wasn’t filtered through swamp trees.

  Lighzel kept reaching her neck out to snatch at the lush green grass growing along the riverbanks. Blazel let her; she’d spent several chedans in the Barrens with no fresh grass to eat. As the day deepened to evening, fish jumped and dropped back into the river, and a rabbit darted in front of Lighzel’s hooves. His stomach growled with hunger. The fresh food would be nice after eating only travel bars.

  He kept an eye open for firewood, but the open plain was devoid of any trees. Just as he was about to give up, he saw a bend in the river where an eddy formed a pool with some driftwood was caught in it. A sandy beach made it a good place to spend the night. The river would provide some protection from the monsters, although he hadn’t seen any all day. The monsters loved swamps but hated the fast-moving waters of rivers; they couldn’t swim. He’d also be safe from narhili beasts, which also avoided rivers.

  After taking off Lighzel’s saddle, rubbing her down, and feeding her, Blazel set up camp. He remembered the rabbit, then shifted into his wolf form and loped away from the river, his nose low to the ground questing for scents of prey.

  It didn’t take him long to pick up a fresh scent trail. Suddenly a rabbit scampered from a bush and he chased it, putting on a burst of speed as it zigzagged away from him. Sliding in front of it, he snapped his jaws and missed. Growling in frustration, he continued the chase. He caught the rabbit on his next attempt, shaking his head to break the its neck. He dropped it to the ground and nipped off its head. Rich blood filled his mouth and the skull crunched in his teeth. Fur tickled his tongue.

  What am I doing?

  Blazel howled, spat out the mangled head, and backing away from the rabbit.

  I don’t need to eat as a wolf. I am a man, not a beast. I have the means to build a fire and cook it.

  Shuddering with effort, Blazel shifted back into his human form and stared at the rabbit and its chewed-up head. It was so easy for him to revert to his wolf self. Shifting from wolf to human was getting easier, but it was still painful. A whinny floated from the river, reminding him his horse awaited his return. Her presence would ground him and help him remember his true shape. He vowed he’d practice shifting every time he stopped to rest Lighzel.

  He picked up the rabbit, walked back to his camp, and dropped it next to his packs. He went to the flotsam, found several suitable pieces of wood, and carried them back to his camp. Carefully using his magic, he dried them out. When the first piece was dry enough, he added a bit more fire magic and the wood burst into flame. From long practice, Blazel quickly skinned the rabbit and had it skewered to roast over the fire.

  Going back down to the water, he gathered some wild onions, watercress, and carrots he’d seen growing near the riverbanks. These went into a pot, along with a few herbs from his bag, to boil over the fire. Along with the travel bars, Maheli had included a stash of taevo mixed with spices. Blazel dug out a kettle that he filled with water and set by the coals. The meal did much to restore his equilibrium.

  After eating, he returned to the comfort of his flute to remind him he was a man. There hadn’t been time to play it in the Barrens; he’d been in too much of a rush to cross it.

  Blazel continued to parallel the river the next morning. A few octars later, a stone Keep rose out of the sea of grass in the distance. It guarded a stone bridge that spanned the river, where another Keep sat. The temple dome glittered in the sun and longing gripped him. He hadn’t been to a temple service in years. He missed the gentle presence of the Goddess and Her Consort he felt in the temples.

  He kicked Lighz
el into a trot, heading toward the Keep. He gulped when he saw dust rising as riders left the Keep on his side of the river. This wasn’t the friendly Strunland pack he’d met at the crater; he doubted they’d understand the difference between a lone wolf and a rogue. His old mentor, Histrun, hadn’t been the Clan Alpha of Haaslair to vouch for his trustworthiness. He slumped in his saddle with the realization he couldn’t ride to the Keep and ask the White Priestess there for a blessing. Before the patrol could see him, he quickly turned Lighzel away from the Keep and rode deep into the plains.

  As they paused on the top of a rise, a herd of ducorns bounded away. A crow cawed as it flew over them. Lighzel’s ears pricked forward and then swiveled. Her nostrils flared. Blazel’s hands tightened on her reins as he looked all around him for danger until she whinnied a greeting. On a low hill not far from them, a golden stallion with silver stripes gazed at them. He pawed the ground, raised to stand on his hind legs, whinnied, and then took off. Blazel’s breath was taken away by the stallion’s beauty and grace. He saw the same stallion, or one exactly like him, several times the rest of the day.

  The sun was dipping in its westerly journey, the Keep was far behind him, and Blazel began to curve toward the river where they could stay the night in its relative safety. But, only a few measures later, a warrior’s deep howl broke the silence. He pulled Lighzel to a stop, and tried to place where the sound had come from. Another howl had Lighzel dancing under him, and he fought to stay on her. A flock of pheasants burst from the ground, close enough to startle Lighzel into rearing. As she came down, she bolted in the direction they had been heading. Blazel glanced behind him to see a swirl of dust that heralded the battle several measures away. Lighzel sped across the plains. When she finally slowed, the battle was far behind them and no one had followed them.

  Ten measures later, he caught sight of a battle in progress off to his right. The fighters were too embroiled to notice him as he galloped past.

  The monsters were more active here as well.

  He finally reached the river and found a suitable place to camp. He practiced shifting before going to sleep. Every time he had stopped to rest Lighzel that day, he had practiced shifting from wolf to human, then back, over and over. Each time he did, the change became easier and less painful.

  He called the magic to him and thought of the form he wished to change into. Unsurprisingly, the wolf came easy. He took a breath and willed the change back to human. A thrill of magic coursed through him, this time a pleasurable sensation, and then a moment later he stood in his human shape. A laugh escaped him—it had been as easy as shifting to his wolf form. Still laughing, he willed the change to warrior, then back to human.

  “Thank you, Goddess!” he yelled to the stars. Once again it was a simple matter of thought to change from one form to another.

  That night he saw Chariel in his dreams, yelling at him to hurry. Behind her a star fell from the sky, a long trail of fire streaming from it. As it hit the ground it morphed into a strange monster, unlike anything he’d seen before. Wherever it stepped, the land was covered in blood and death. The Supreme looked at him with sad, disappointed eyes and asked, “Why, Blazel? Why didn’t you hurry?”

  He woke before dawn, unsettled by the dream. He pushed Lighzel to her top speed. They raced along the river, crashing through the tall grass, stopping only for short breaks. They continued long into the night, with only Chelar’s weak light to guide him. When Lighzel stumbled, nearly falling to her knees, Blazel drew her to a halt. Guilty, he walked her to cool her down, then fed and watered her. His hurry had almost cost him his horse. She wasn’t some beast he could run to the ground; she was his partner. When he had accepted her as his mount at the crater, he had accepted responsibility for her.

  If Maheli ever found out about his mistreatment of Lighzel, she’d take it out on his hide. He had no doubt the feisty Red could hurt him. Thoughts about her brought up memories of the others. He wondered what Faelyn and Rolstrun were doing now and if they were unharmed. It surprised him how much he cared about them and how much he missed them.

  Exhausted, he fell asleep. His dreams were haunted by the strange monster, fire in the sky, and madness. Chariel looked at him with haunted eyes, her hand outstretched, urging him to hurry. As he reached for her hand, she turned into someone else; someone filled with hate and bitterness.

  Chapter 5

  Blazel woke at dawn, panting and sweating from his nightmare. Chariel, his one true friend, was in trouble and he had to keep her from becoming the embittered woman he saw in his dreams. The strange dreams pushed him to increase his pace even more. What would make hate consume her? Lost in his thoughts, he almost raced into the territory of another Keep bordering a bridge across the Storengher River. A quick turn that took him deeper into the plains saved him from being seen.

  Sweat foam flicked off his galloping horse as they raced on. Chagrined, he gradually slowed her down to walk, then walked her until her sweat dried. Ahead on a small knoll, the shade of a lone tree with spreading branches beckoned him to stop. Lighzel had poured her heart out for him and needed to rest. His stomach reminded him it was mid-day and time to eat. He loosened Lighzel’s saddle and let her graze. Leaning against the tree, he ate a travel bar and let his eyes drift close for a moment. His horse’s munching on the sweet grass, her tail swishing away flies, the sigh of the breeze, and the warmth of the sun lulled Blazel into a doze. Other than the two days spent with the Strunland guard pack at the crater, he’d been moving full pelt for nearly half a lunadar.

  The scent on the breeze jerked him awake. Lighzel’s squeal of terror had him sprinting toward her. He tightened her girth strap, grabbed her reins, and hauled himself into the saddle just as the first horse thundered past him, eyes white in fear.

  Less than a measure behind them, the spiny backs of half a dozen brechas poked out of the grass as they lumbered after the horses. Janack tentacles roiled not far behind. The gold and silver stallion Blazel had seen yesterday tailed the herd, weaving back and forth in front of the monsters. When he passed Blazel and Lighzel, he trumpeted to them. Lighzel took the bit in her teeth and raced after him.

  There was nothing Blazel could do except hang on. Alone, he was no match for so many monsters. The ground blurred beneath Lighzel’s hooves. She caught up to and passed the stallion. He nodded his head at them toward where the herd banked west toward the river.

  The monster stench grew stronger and Blazel glanced over his shoulder. The lead brecha nipped at the stallion’s heels, who galloped faster. He turned forward again to see the herd disappear from view as they sped down a ravine Blazel hadn’t known existed in the rolling plains.

  From his left, pounding hoof beats drove toward him. He nearly fell off his horse as two figures rarely seen outside of the plains galloped past him. Both centaurs had longbows and a quiver of arrows. One nocked an arrow and let it fly. It burst into flames just as it sank into the leading brecha. The brecha screamed but kept running. Other men—normal men riding horses—joined the fight, flanking the monsters and shooting more fiery arrows into the monsters.

  “Get off your horse, now!” a Red yelled at Blazel as Lighzel barreled past the woman and toward the horse herd milling in a clump at the bottom of the ravine. Stallions were on the outside facing the danger, while the mares and colts stood in the center. Blazel couldn’t see the gold and silver stallion. Two young Reds stood near the horses, the tips of their helbraughts on the ground.

  Blazel jumped off his horse, rolling as he hit the ground. As soon as Lighzel passed the young women, magic fire burst in a circle, surrounding the horses to protect them. Another line of fire magic flared around the monsters, caging them and keeping them from going down the ravine. The warriors swarmed up the sides of the ravine and attacked.

  Blazel quickly shifted into his warrior form. With a howl and a snap of his jaws, he ran to fight the janack. A tentacle flew toward him and he swiped his claws across it. A warrior with gold fur and silver e
ars and paws snarled at him, but when the warrior saw the ichor on Blazel’s claws, he nodded.

  In accord, they leaped on the tentacle, slashing and biting until it dropped to the ground. The janack was off-balance and listing. Its movements grew slower and less coordinated as the warriors’ venom worked through its system. The warrior and Blazel continued to harass the janack until it crashed to the ground, finally still. Blazel spun around, ready for the next fight, only to find this janack was the last monster to be destroyed.

  The Reds began to walk the battlefield, burning to ash all the monster bits. One broke away from the others and stalked toward him. Her long copper-red hair lay in two braids over her shoulders. She was medium height and had beautiful citrine-yellow eyes. She still gripped her helbraught, the blade shimmering with her fire magic. She had the aura of an alpha.

  Blazel glared at the pile of monster ash. Just like in the Barrens, he’d been caught because of a monster battle. The last time had worked out well. He hoped this one would too, since he had proven himself a capable warrior and not a cowardly rogue.

  With a prayer to the Mother, he shifted to his natural form. Only the gold-and-silver warrior also shifted. Several of the warriors and the centaur with a chestnut horse portion formed a circle around him. Blazel had a hard time keeping his attention on the alpha, whose posture was stiff with anger.

  “Who be you? Why do you travel alone?” she spat as soon as Blazel was done shifting.

  “I’m Blazel.”

  “What kind of name be that? What clan be you?”

  Her glare was full of hatred and suspicion. Blazel’s shoulders drooped. He had forgotten the last part of a man’s name indicated his birth clan-pack. The names of his new friend Rolstrun or his mentor Histrun reflected they were from the Strunlair Clan. He could never pretend he was part of the Strunland fighting-pack, regardless of what colors were in his horse’s barding.