Edgelanders (Serpent of Time)

by Jennifer Melzer

  Finn glanced self-consciously over his shoulder where she huddled in her cloak staring into the distance for signs of movement. His hands lowered over his sex as if to hide it.

  “Now you show signs of modesty.” Viln smirked and rubbed his hands up and down the length of his goose-pimpled arms, staring with longing at the pile of clothing he’d left on the ground. “You are an absolute idiot, you know that, right?”

  “Oh yeah,” Finn nodded.

  “If we live through this night, I’m going to kill you.”

  “I know that too.”

  “Good.”

  “It’s been a while for you, hasn’t it?”

  Casting his eyes over at his brother, Finn wondered when the last time Viln had even given into the beast. So many of the council abstained from transformation in order to set an example for the people in the village. For a younger member like Vilnjar it was a requirement—one Finn always thought stupid, but not releasing one’s beast made it feral, unpredictable and almost wild when it came time to set it free. That could either work to their advantage, or make his brother a liability. He was hoping for a little unpredictable madness.

  “You still remember how?” he asked.

  The glower he leveled in Finn’s direction and the dark lines of his brow knitting together made him snort a laugh into his bare shoulder. “Of course I remember how. It hasn’t been that long.” For a moment he seemed to inwardly contemplate, counting back the months—maybe even years—since his last transformation.

  Spirals of harsh wind whistled all around them, pellets of icy snow pummeling their skin. The wolf within was eager, anxious, whispering promises of warmth and fury the moment he let himself go. In that brief silence, the wolves in the closing distance howled again, but it wasn’t in communication with each other that time, it was a warning to their prey.

  Ready or not, here we come.

  “Best get to it then, brother.” He dropped down into a crouch, his fingers brushing across the crust of frozen snow in front of his feet. Stretching his neck left and then right, it cracked both ways in preparation for the change.

  Vilnjar huddled beside him, and for a moment Finn swore his brother trembled from more than just the cold, but not him. Finn was actually grinning. It had been a long time since he’d had a good fight with one of his own kind in their true form, and never one he’d been permitted to finish with actual bloodshed.

  He was looking forward to it.

  Inside him, he could feel his spirit pacing the walls of bodily confinement like a prisoner who knew it was about to be unleashed upon the very thing that dared subdue it. Long toes curled into the snow, wiggling, tingling as the bones began to stretch, the hair follicles covering his body widening as the coarse fur grew to cover and warm him. He gritted his teeth and groaned, bones snapping and popping in protest of their own alteration. His spine arched upward, the vertebrae crunching and expanding and he threw his shoulders back, a loud roar of pain tearing through the night.

  He felt his brother’s pain, ten times worse than his own as the familial bond they shared enhanced their physical and mental connection. Vilnjar struggled against himself, almost fighting his own beast as it raged through every cell of his body to free itself from the tightly locked cage of flesh he’d kept it in for so very long. It wanted freedom in the worst way, and promised to make his captor pay for keeping him locked away so long.

  Good, Finn thought. They could use a little extra rage, and Viln’s beast was certainly raging.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Finn told her not to be afraid, but that was the equivalent of asking a scholar not to be clever, or a tiger not to wear stripes. They were far enough away from her she shouldn’t have heard the rumbling crack of shifting bones and stretching sinew of their transformation, and with the wind in her ears she thought she’d be spared the sound, but she could hear it. Painful snarling, popping bone shifting to accommodate the emerging wolf. Her heart thundered, beating doubly fast, and though it was an impossible thing she swore she felt an almost arthritic pain in her own bones.

  Lorelei drew her shoulders up against her ears and closed her eyes. She breathed through her nose, long, slow inhales like Pahjah taught her to take when she was a child waking from a terrible nightmare. Only there seemed to be no waking from the nightmare she was in. At her back, one of the wolves grunted and groaned, an eerie sound that dimpled gooseflesh across the surface of her skin. She started to turn her head, the curious part of her shamefully excited by the process of man becoming wolf, but she stopped herself, shifting her eyes into the snow-misted shadows that pirouetted across the vast white world before her.

  She didn’t want to watch, not knowing there was a wolf inside her that might one day experience the obvious agony the U’lfer at her back were in. It sounded hideously painful, as if their bones were breaking and remending, their entire skeletal system shifting into something new. It was unnatural, terrifyingly so, and as tough as Lorelei liked to think she was, she couldn’t imagine purposely giving in to something that would bring her so much pain.

  In the vast number of things she’d contemplated in her life, the shifting of weres was not among them. She supposed she just assumed such a transformation would come naturally and easily, otherwise it seemed a cruel punishment from the god who made them, rather than a gift.

  Nevertheless, the results were stunning.

  Finn appeared first beside her. A hulking, sleek black shadow that towered above her like a giant, he must have stood well over seven feet tall. She had to crane her neck to look up at him and in meeting his eyes, she saw they were only part of him that remained unchained. Silvery and blue, they were both gentle and fierce, and for a fleeting moment they seemed to be the only thing about him that stood out in the haze storm and shadows sweeping all around them. He was standing less than a foot away from her, but she could feel his heat and the snow landing atop the thick mantle of ebony fur melted on impact, leaving behind glittering droplets of water. He shook them free, spraying flecks of water that became ice in the air and pelted off her cheeks and cloak.

  Had she come across that beast in the wild, she would have been terrified. Even knowing it was Finn, she was still scared, and then the musky scent of him invaded her as she inhaled, calming her as the moment of terror she’d experienced upon their first meeting filled her mind. She could almost hear the rattle of the hunting hounds barking, the hunting horn on the wind, and then she felt the cold, damp nuzzle of his nose into her hair, the heat of his sniffing breath against her skin before he darted out warm tongue to taste her skin.

  Chills moved through her with that memory, bristling against the strange warmth it brought to her, and though she felt conflicted there wasn’t time to dwell on the fact that a creature who was half-man and half-beast stirred such strange things inside her. On the night in question she’d been so afraid of the wolves howling in the distance, but he’d saved her. Glancing over her shoulder at Finn, she knew he would save her again. He would die before he ever let anyone touch her.

  His gaping jaw hung open, and for a moment it almost looked as if he were grinning. Long, pink tongue lolling against the razor sharpness of his teeth, she felt a smile draw the corners of her mouth. Was it even possible? Could a wolf grin? Finn could, she was certain of it, and for a moment she leaned closer to him, allowed her shoulder to fall against his arm to let him know she was not afraid as long as he was near her. As if in answer to her comfort, the wolves in the distance bayed, a wicked sound that was no longer a warning, but a promise.

  We are coming.

  Vilnjar took longer to adjust to the changes his body underwent. It was several minutes after Finn arrived beside her that Vilnjar loped in slowly and took position on her left. He rose to his full height, towering more than a foot and a half over her, and yet he still seemed small—a mere shadow of a wolf when compared to his brother. Despite the difference in their sizes, he was no less intimidating, and the feral look in his stark white-blu
e eyes promised blood and vengeance would be his for the taking.

  Standing in between them, it finally occurred to her what was about to happen, what she had pushed for. The cold call of the hunters on the wind doubled the number of goose-bumps on her skin, and for a moment she wondered if it was too late to start running again. Gulping against the swell of fear in her tightened throat, she gripped the shield a little tighter in her hand, saw it waver and tremble in front of her, and the shortsword in her grip shook against the dangling hem of her cloak.

  What had she been thinking, insisting they stay and fight? The great adventurer inside her surely didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut, and in truth she’d had just about enough adventure in the last few days to last her an entire lifetime. Hadn’t she? It was easy enough to say that, but somewhere under the surface, probably crouching in the same dark corner of her body with that wolf Rhiorna said was waiting inside her to come out, there was a little girl who’d always wanted to be a knight, not some boring lady stitching embroidery, gushing over the handsome noblemen at court and picking out names for her future children. When asked as a child what she wanted to be more than anything in the world, Lorelei said a king. They laughed at her, told her young ladies could not become kings. Some princesses got to become queens, and if she was lucky that fate awaited her, but she could never be a king. Kings were men, and women were too weak and feeble to make the kinds of important decisions men made.

  It seemed an odd assortment of thoughts to be pondering over, there on the verge of possible death, but what else was one to think about at the end of their world, waiting for death to come and claim them?

  She was tired of running. Even when she was standing absolutely still, her mind felt like it was racing away from the harsh reality that had become her life. Leaving home even though she’d wanted to stay, Trystay trying to kill her, her parentage, the monsters tracking them through the woods, the monster they said lived inside her. At one point she actually envisioned herself being so tired she would tumble off the edge of the mountain to her death, and that was when she decided getting torn to pieces by feral beasts would probably be a slightly more honorable way to die, a knight’s choice, she thought.

  Closing her eyes for a moment, she was surprised how hot her body felt. Feverish droplets of sweat slipped down her spine through the heavy wool of her travel cloak, along the backs of her knees and into the loose leather of her boots. Then she realized the heat wasn’t coming from her, but from the wolves beside her, their two bodies like a roaring hearth fueled by the rampaging madness building up inside them. Finn’s massive shoulders bobbed with every ragged, heavy breath, the long arms dangling at his sides tipped with razor sharp claws. She could feel every exhale steaming through the layers of her clothes, making her hotter. In conflict with the bitter wind, her body didn’t seem to know how to react, and so she only trembled.

  Through the biting howl of the wind the incoming hunters bayed once more, one wolf, then another, then another, their smooth, conjoined chorus wrenching at her heart. They recognized their own kind, knew that they wouldn’t stand against inferior men, but beasts of their own caliper and in their mournful song she heard lament. It was Finn who answered first, then Viln joined him, and though she shouldn’t have understood the doleful language the wolves spoke to each other, she knew what they were saying.

  Finn challenged them, the piercing ferocity of his howl promising a bloody death. Vilnjar seemed to try and reason with them, a lower pitch reverberating through the wind, followed by a second, much shorter bay. Let us go, he seemed to say, it is the right thing to do.

  One moment she spied nothing more than their eyes in the snowy mist of shadows, and the next they were on them. The three charged in quickly, two wolves tackling Finn to the ground, their bodies rolling, tumbling, snarling and gnashing as they growled and seethed in animosity. A third drove straight for Vilnjar, the two forces coming face to face with a vengeance unlike any she’d ever seen or heard before. Lorelei held up her shield, ducking behind it and trying to maintain focus on the battles as they unfurled around her. At first she thought the hunters were trying to take out her protectors before they dealt with her, but it was only a distraction.

  A fourth wolf dove through the trees, wide-shouldered and silver-coated; its fierce yellow eyes glimmered like citrine in the dull light of the slow-rising moons behind the storm clouds. It was charging right for her in long strides, closing the distance between them in the time it took for her to blink. A panicked shriek tore through her throat and she threw her shield arm forward on instinct. She only nearly connected with the beast, as it skidded to a halt and arrived in a spray of snow within a hair of her reach. Baring its teeth, it snarled a low growl in the back of its throat, leering dangerously and exposing rows of jagged, angry teeth.

  It lashed out at her in threat, a fierce, rumbling bark, and then it charged head-first into the shield she swung around just in time to bash it across the side of its massive head. She skidded backward, the shield dropping atop her and allowing her to cower behind it when the wolf shook off the cobwebs of the blow she’d landed and then lunged. Its heavy weight thudded into her body, pinning her beneath her own shield and crushing her into the hard, frozen earth. The sharp claws of its back feet tore through her leggings as it scrambled to perch atop her like a dragon sitting upon a jewel horde, and then it began battering almost clumsily at the shield. Thumping, cracking, splintering the wood and iron protecting her from the claws at the ends of those paws. Every strike rumbled through her bones, rattled her teeth. She bit her own tongue and tasted blood in her mouth. It was thin and salted, like a copper coin and she turned her head to spit red-tinged saliva into the snow.

  Time stopped for a moment, or at least it seemed to slow down as tangled bodies tore up clumps of ice and snow all around. She glimpsed Finn, she thought, a bold black statement against a white world, his heavy jaw clamping down on the throat of his enemy and then tearing flesh away. The wolf fell slack at his feet, his hot blood steaming like a carpet of red in the snow all around him. Finn rose triumphant, roaring as he swept his massive arm into the second wolf and sent it flying into the air. She couldn’t see where it landed, but he charged after it, leaving her line of vision.

  Her own enemy rammed its body harder into her, crushing her with its weight until she couldn’t breathe. If the beast couldn’t tear her to pieces, its weight bearing down on her lungs would suffocate her. Her head swam, panic rushing through her as she kicked and jerked her legs in an effort to throw it off, or at least shift its position so should could draw proper breath.

  Its weight was crushing her and she couldn’t breathe. Turning her head into her shoulder, she gasped and wheezed, but it was no use. She could barely even hear the sounds of battle outside the din of its angry claws pounding and pummeling the only thing standing between her and death. Her whole world in that moment consisted of thumping metal, gnashing, snarling, growling, rattling bones and the blood in her mouth. The taste mingled with the scent of brutal cold and wind and the copper-tinge of bloodshed in the air. It roused something feral inside her, waking a feverish brutality and lust for vengeance that tightened like a fist in her gut. She could feel it growing, teeming inside her until it reached her racing heart.

  No! She wasn’t ready, she didn’t want to.

  A ragged scream of rage erupted, and she shoved hard against the shield atop her, pushing the beast off long enough for her to notice how silent the world seemed even amid the fighting. Clarity, crisp and new, her sharp mind refused to battle with the fear in her heart because she was not going to die. Her friends were not going to die. And then just as quickly as the clarity came, the roaring snarls of battle resumed all around her.

  There were more than three wolves out there fighting with Finn and Vilnjar; it sounded like there were dozens. No sooner had she thrown off her attacker, then it was back again, barreling down upon her with a vengeance and pummeling at the flimsy shield protecting her.
She could feel her ribs bruising, her lungs caving beneath the wolf’s weight until every gasping breath felt like a nightmare.

  Squeezing her eyes closed tight, she whispered a silent prayer. To Llorveth, Foreln, the Ladies, the goddess Alvariin that Pahjah had always prayed to when Lorelei was just a little girl, Heidr, Creator of all things, whoever would listen. Someone, anyone, please.

  If it was one of them who answered, she would never know which, for just beyond the rim of her own shield she saw a dark flash of purple light cloak the sky until it was as dark as night. The blaring of war horns followed, bellowing through the mountains until the fighting silenced, the last snarling gnash of teeth disappearing within the sound of that blast.

  A deafening quiet followed, only to be disturbed by the low keen of wind rushing against her shield and fluttering through the loose fabric of her cloak on the ground beside her. The wolf perched atop her dropped off the shield, hitting the frozen ground beside her with a heavy thud. She waited for it to reach for her, could see the curl of its claws just inches from her face, but they were rigid and unmoving as snow. Only the tangles of its soft, silver fur fluttered in the wind, but for a long time Lorelei was too scared to move.

  Edging the shield away from her face, the world beyond its protection still glowed in that eerie, soft purple hue, as if someone dropped a magical layer over everything around her. Tumbling onto her side, her shield toppled onto the wolf and slid off its rigid body into the snow. She scanned her surroundings and gasped when she realized everything and everyone around her was frozen, the only disturbance coming from the flurries adrift on the air. Her eyes found Finn, rigid and unmoving, suspended in mid-lunge as if the particles in the air around him were all that held him aloft.