Plague Arcanist (Frith Chronicles Book 4)

by Shami Stovall

  A shape moved around in the distance, but it was much too dark to see what it was. What little moonlight there was had almost been lost. It was person-sized, though.

  Then another shape moved at the edge of my vision. Then another. Three in total.

  I swear they looked like scarecrows.

  My steps slowed, and my breathing turned shallow. Although I moved with caution, a sudden drop in the path caused me to tumble down a short hill. I landed at the base and then scrambled to get up into a sitting position, my pulse high. Mud covered my trousers, hands, and half my coat. I still couldn’t see more than a few inches in front of me, but the swirls of movement in the fog increased.

  “Hello?” I asked, my voice steady, despite the tension knotting in my chest.

  “Another one,” someone whispered.

  “That makes three,” another replied. “Soon we’ll have a sibling.”

  Their words drifted through the air at different volumes, each raspy and laced with the harsh scratch of dry hay.

  “Hello?” I asked again. “I’ve come seeking the Mother of Shapeshifters.”

  More movement, this time faster and excitable.

  To my surprise, the fog parted and spread away, revealing a wide, circular clearing. The shadows of night clung to everything like tar, but at least the chill of water hanging on the wind had vanished.

  “Welcome,” a deep rumble of a voice said.

  I locked up, frozen in place.

  Straight across the clearing, somewhere hidden between the trees and covered in darkness, was a giant creature. Its silhouette didn’t make sense. Several limbs hung off it at weird angles. Dozens of arms? Multiple legs? I couldn’t tell. Was there a head? It just appeared like massive shoulders. When it had spoken, the rumble rustled the trees and sent shivers down my spine.

  “H-hello,” I replied in a quiet tone.

  It opened two eyes, and they shone like a cat’s when they caught the light just right. The eyes remained opened—no blinking, perfectly round—staring at me so intently it bothered me to match the gaze.

  Even Zelfree couldn’t handle the beast’s stare.

  I turned my attention to the ground.

  “My name is Everett Zelfree,” I said. “I’m searching for the Mother of Shapeshifters.”

  “Search no further. I am the Mother of Shapeshifters.”

  Hesitant, I glanced up, and instead of two eyes, there were now four. I looked away, my breath caught in my throat.

  After a quick exhale, I continued, “I’m here to take your trial of worth.”

  “Is that so?” When the creature moved, it seemed as though the trees shuddered in response. It stepped closer, but not into the clearing.

  I glanced up again and instantly regretted it.

  Sixteen eyes—four of which appeared as though they were melting. They slid down the beast, still glowing bright with a cat-like quality. All of them unblinking. All of them on me.

  I looked away. What was this thing? Was it trying to frighten me?

  “You must do something for me,” the Mother of Shapeshifters said, its tone becoming serious and haunting. The forest went quiet, the scarecrows in the forest stopped moving—the world tensed in anticipation.

  “What is it?” I whispered. “I’ll do anything.”

  When I had taken the phoenix trial of worth on my home isle of Ruma, there had been a task I had needed to complete. I had to gather a charberry and bring it to the phoenixes—only the most ripe and beautiful would do. What would a freakish shapeshifter require of Zelfree? And how would that determine his worth?

  “You must tell me your greatest, deepest fear,” the Mother of Shapeshifters said. “Then you will conquer it. Only once I’m satisfied with your victory will you be allowed to bond with one of my kin.”

  “Fear?” I whispered.

  “That’s right. Reveal to me your greatest fear.” The creature moved closer, the trees shaking, their leaves rustling in protest. “Only then can I test you. Do you have the spine for it? Are you worthy of a shapeshifter?”

  Snickering echoed from the fog in the forest.

  I remained quiet and still. Was Zelfree thinking about his deepest fears? I didn’t know if I could answer properly, if I were in the situation. What was my greatest fear? The longer I thought about it, the more abstract my answer became. Sure, I was afraid of the plague, and plague-ridden monsters, and I was afraid of death—who wasn’t? Those weren’t my greatest fear, though.

  It was failure.

  Failure to live up to the heroes of old. Failure to protect my friends and family. Failure to cure the plague in my veins—failure that I couldn’t step up to the challenges life threw at me.

  How would the monster make me face that? A certain piece of me wondered if this was all a trap. Or perhaps a test?

  “Well?” the Mother of Shapeshifters asked. “What do you fear the most?”

  It stepped into the clearing, a foul odor of rot and blood wafting all around it.

  I half-gagged. Then I cleared my throat, and without looking up, I said, “Let me guess— Brennis said he was afraid of snakes. And Renk said he was afraid of heights.”

  The Mother of Shapeshifters didn’t reply. It continued closer and closer. Fallen branches snapped under its weight. Nothing slowed its movement. Then it loomed over me.

  I ran a hand down my face, the pounding of my heart waning. What had Zelfree realized that made him so confident?

  “But Brennis and Renk didn’t die because they failed to overcome their fear. They died because they failed to realize what they were dealing with.”

  The creature chuckled, its breath hot and washing over my body. Drops of saliva and bits of chewed flesh dripped onto my shoulder.

  Still, I didn’t look at it.

  “Oh?” the creature whispered, though due to its close proximity, it was easy to hear.

  “Shapeshifters are known for their deception. A doppelgänger could be anyone. A mimic could have any magic. Isn’t that their greatest strengths?”

  “So, then—what is your answer?”

  “Nothing,” I replied. “I have no fears.”

  A blatant and bald-faced lie. Would the Mother of Shapeshifters accept that? Was Zelfree’s conclusion correct?

  Or perhaps the creature wanted to see someone’s willingness to deceive.

  The beast waited for a long moment before taking a step back. “There are only two correct answers, and you have chosen the answer of the mimic. Its potential is great, but it’s dependent on others. Just like you.”

  The last statement struck me as interesting. Why had it said that?

  The sound of slick liquid sticking and then unsticking filled the forest clearing. I closed my eyes and waited. A soft plop and then something landed in my lap. It was… round… and soft… and pulsated. Again, I found myself gagging.

  “Farewell, Everett Zelfree.”

  Just then, I opened my eyes.

  The Mother of Shapeshifters exploded into a swarm of birds, each one a different size. They shot toward the canopy of the forest, ripping through leaves and branches and shooting into the night sky at a fearsome pace. They left a pillar of moonlight streaming into the clearing, illuminating the area enough for me to see what had been dropped in my lap.

  An apple-sized egg sac—the kind spiders left clinging to a wall.

  The webs of the sac were laced in crimson, and the whole thing jiggled with each pulse from within. The fibers stuck to my trousers, and when I picked it up, the strings stretched out like melted cheese.

  The sac felt hot to the touch, but not enough to burn. The web walls caved into my fingers, and I had to gently cradle it.

  The fog cleared away, and the scarecrow creatures had disappeared. It was just me and the grotesque egg sac.

  I was about to get up and leave when the sac jerked in place. It moved more than before, and then a crack formed down the center. I waited with bated breath, unblinking. The head of a kitten jutted out of the s
ac, its fur slicked with blood.

  The kitten gasped and then pushed one of its paws out.

  “Help,” it whispered.

  I snapped back to reality and pulled the sac apart from either end. The webbing ripped and the kitten had enough room to slide out. It meowed and squirmed, and I held it close, despite the sticky fluids dripping from its tiny body.

  The kitten’s tail—longer than normal—wrapped around my wrist. For long moment, I just petted the baby animal, soothing it and muttering reassurances.

  A strong urge overcame me. It was the offer to bond, and Zelfree took it without a moment’s hesitation. His arcanist mark burned onto his forehead, branding him with a star that had no creature behind it. He had become a mimic arcanist.

  “My arcanist,” the kitten said with a mew. “My arcanist…”

  I stroked her wet head with only two fingers. She was too small to use a full hand. “Shh,” I muttered. “You’re okay.”

  “My name…”

  I stopped my petting. “I’m Everett.”

  “Traces. I’m… Traces.”

  “Everett?” Lynus yelled out from the forest. “Where are you?”

  “Here,” I called back.

  It only took Lynus a few seconds to reach me. He leapt down the slope in the trail and landed in the clearing. He had to glance around before he spotted me sitting on the ground.

  “I heard branches breaking,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  With trembling hands, I held up the bloody kitten. “I did it.”

  “What is that thing?”

  “A mimic.”

  Lynus knelt by my side. “A cat? Not the Mother of Shapeshifters?”

  “I don’t think the Mother of Shapeshifters was even an option,” I said. Then I smirked. “But at least she knew I was a cat person.” I cradled my new eldrin close, my arms trembling—not from fear, but relief.

  “Heh. Dogs are better.”

  I grabbed his shoulder. “Help me up.”

  Lynus did as I commanded, but I made sure to keep Traces comfortable at all times.

  “Cats are better,” I muttered. “They’re lucky, independent, and capable of living anywhere.” I offered Traces more pets as she drifted off to sleep.

  “Cats, huh?” Lynus said.

  “That’s right. You’ll see.”

  “Cats…”

  A hand grazed the side of my face.

  I opened my eyes, groggy to the point of confusion. Where was I? My dark-sight had returned, and I stared at the wooden boards of a bulkhead. Was this the Sun Chaser? It had to be. Where else would I have been?

  “I thought you’d never wake up,” Karna said, her voice low and straight into my ear. “I can’t sleep.” She took my hand and placed it on the natural curve of her side, right above the hip. “Keep me company.”

  25

  Aura Training

  I rubbed at my eyes, but I couldn’t clear away the exhaustion. Details from the memory-dream lingered in my thoughts, and I had a million questions. My mind muddled everything together the moment Karna slid her hand over my chest.

  “Um,” I muttered. I had forgotten her previous statement.

  “It’s been nearly a week since we started sleeping next to each other,” she said, her silky voice practically lulling me back into a comfortable sleep. “You haven’t asked me for anything more than this.”

  “Do you want me to?” I ran a hand down my face, shaking away the worst of the grogginess.

  “I must admit, I was a little disappointed.”

  I sat up on the tiny mattress, my back stiff from the awkward positioning. I hadn’t moved around much, to make sure Karna wouldn’t be thrown from the bed, and it resulted in odd pains every time I awoke.

  Combing my hair with my fingers, I took a couple of deep breaths.

  Karna sat up next to me. “I would’ve said no,” she said. “But I still wanted you to ask.”

  I stared at her through the dark. Her eyes remained unfocused, since she couldn’t see in the gloom, but she crossed her arms and glowered in my general direction regardless. Her statement and attitude confused me—or perhaps I just wasn’t accustomed to someone with her forwardness—but it seemed as though she didn’t desire my touch, but my desperation. Or maybe frustration would be a better word.

  I didn’t appreciate her games.

  “I know you’re worried about spreading your illness to others, but I’ve spent my fair share of time around those who were plague-ridden,” Karna stated. “You may not know this, but Vethica was infected for a long while. We still managed to enjoy each other’s bed before she… well, before it became a problem we could no longer deal with.”

  “I don’t like taking unnecessary risks,” I muttered. “I can already hear William scolding me.”

  “William?”

  “Gravekeeper William. He…” I shook my head. “Never mind.”

  I never wanted to disappoint William. He was the epitome of a father figure and just as much my role model as any heroes from legend. He had served his nation, loved only one woman with all his being, and cared for two orphaned children when no one else on our island would—the definition of chivalry and honor. What would Gravekeeper William say if I lost myself to lust and later regretted it?

  Obviously, I wasn’t forcing myself on Karna—it was almost the opposite. If I weren’t tainted by the plague, perhaps this would be different. She was beyond beautiful. My whole body reacted when she was near.

  But none of that was a good enough reason to risk spreading this malady.

  Karna loosened a bit as she leaned against my side. She uncrossed her arms and placed a hand on my leg. “You’re so high-strung. Don’t you want to unwind?”

  “That’s not—”

  “I can make you forget all about your worries,” Karna said in a quiet, half-breathless voice. “And I’ll just use my hands. Nothing else.”

  Somehow, even when I tried to deny her, Karna had a way with words that stilled my thoughts. My face reddened, and I was thankful she couldn’t see me properly. I hated feeling uncertain and feverish. I found it hard to formulate coherent arguments when her fingers grazed my forearm.

  Karna chuckled under her breath, soft and feminine. “Take off your clothes and lie down. Once you see it’s harmless pleasure, you’ll realize how foolish you’ve been.”

  I was running out of reasons to say no, and I didn’t stop her from unbuttoning my shirt, even if I was worried that she would feel the exuberant beating of my heart. The thrill of the moment brought with it a heightened sense of perception. She still smelled of flowers, even though we had been sleeping for hours prior.

  “My arcanist,” Luthair said from the darkness, his gruff voice a jarring reminder of the outside world.

  Karna flinched at the words and glanced around. She grabbed my arm, her eyes wide, but unseeing.

  “I wish to make a formal protest,” Luthair continued. “This goes against the wishes you’ve expressed in the past.”

  Her shoulders tensed as she slowly turned her attention back to me. “Your eldrin is here?” The faux-curiosity in her voice betrayed her underlying irritation.

  “He’s always with me,” I said. “He’s been here every night.”

  “You didn’t think to send him away?”

  “No…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I mean, I barely have any privacy nowadays. What does it matter if one more person knows what I’m doing at all times?”

  Karna flipped back her long, blonde hair and glared at me. “Who else is here?”

  “Well, he isn’t here, but Adelgis can hear thoughts. Always. And I’m pretty sure he’s not sleeping.”

  She gritted her teeth and turned away, her body becoming tenser with each word I spoke. “I had forgotten about your creepy little friend.”

  “And Fain is often invisible, hovering nearby. I doubt he’s here now, but he’s surprised me on a couple of occasions, so I’m not certain. If he revealed himself to be in the corner of the
room, I wouldn’t be shocked.”

  “You could have at least said something,” Karna stated. “I’ll have you know I sent my doppelgänger away every night so that we had time alone.”

  Although we were embroiled in a tense moment, the instant I heard the word doppelgänger, the events of the dream-memory came rushing back at full force. There had been doppelgängers in the woods all around Master Zelfree, and their scratchy hay voices echoed in my thoughts.

  “Karna,” I said. “Did you ever meet the Mother of Shapeshifters?”

  She slid off the side of the narrow bed and stood straight, her posture stiff. “How do you know about that?” Before I could reply, she turned on her heel, facing away from me. “No one but… shapeshifters know of that.”

  “My master, Everett Zelfree, is a mimic arcanist and—”

  “Zelfree? The renegade pirate?”

  “Well, he was never really a pirate. He pretended to be one to help the Frith Guild.” I waved away the comment. We were getting off-track, and I had a burning question I wanted to ask. “Do you remember what you answered when the Mother of Shapeshifters asked for your greatest fear?”

  Karna walked away from the bed, more uncomfortable than I had ever seen her. She kept her arms tightly crossed, and her gait became stiff. “I don’t want to talk about this.” She shook her head. “I haven’t slept, and your ability to change the subject is masterful.” Karna flounced from the room, opening and shutting the door in one quick motion.

  That was… bizarre.

  I hadn’t meant to change the subject, per se, but the mystery of the Mother of Shapeshifters intrigued me. What was that creature? It obviously wasn’t a mimic or a doppelgänger, even if it was creating them. And it seemed unique—I had never heard of another one existing. Where had it come from? Where was it now?

  I kicked my legs off the side of the bed and let out a long sigh.

  “I’m sorry, my arcanist,” Luthair said from around my feet. “I didn’t mean to add an element of contention to the evening.”

  After another exhale, I tilted my head back. “What did you mean when you said this went against my wishes?”