In the days since they’d first become partners, she’d shown great skill at navigating the narrow and twisting forest trails. Mild pride kindled in his heart. She was nearly as silent and sure-footed as any of his fellow lupwyn scouts.
Eventually his mare caught up to the others, and he could now catch glimpses of the last riders in line through the trees.
It was mildly rewarding—and childish, perhaps—to know he could track even the elders of this group without them knowing he was so close on their trail.
His magic flowed around both his mount and their surroundings, dulling their scents and even hiding the faint thump of their heartbeats from anyone who might have sharp enough natural senses to detect such.
Not that he could take all the credit. His Larnkin had a special knack for hiding that which it didn’t want known or located. Silverblade’s lips stretched back from his teeth in a grin. He was nearly upon the last rider in line.
“I assume once you’re done stalking us like a starving wolf in mid-winter, you’ll come join me. It’s been five moon cycles since I last saw you in person.”
His mother’s mind voice flowed across his thoughts, and his grin widened at her humor.
“Mother!” Silverblade squeezed his legs against his mare’s barrel to urge her into moving faster and dropped his attempt at stealth. “I never could hide from you. As a child, it used to frustrate me no end.”
“Hmmm, is that why you followed a lupwyn scout’s life path? I always thought you simply rebelled at the idea of embracing your phoenix heritage.”
Silverblade chuckled at his mother’s astuteness and her flippant tone. It was a long-running joke between them that she despaired his choice of following in the ways of his father’s people.
It was all outward pomp and bustle on her part. She loved him and his father, and spent much of her time among the lupwyn nation.
In truth, he didn’t hate his phoenix side, he simply didn’t relate to it as much as his lupwyn form. Flying in bird or hybrid form was something he partook in from time to time to appease his mother, but he didn’t really love it. His lupwyn heritage was too strong, preferring to have at least two feet on the ground.
And the call of the wind and the lazy summer thermals never spoke to his heart as strongly as the need to run through the soothing, dark forests. His mother knew it was so, and it didn’t really come as a surprise to her either. Most offspring that were of mixed heritage took after one parent more than the other, depending on the blending.
Out of all the different Elemental races, the lupwyn bloodlines usually proved the most dominant when mixed with another species. His mother had come to terms with his choice a long time ago. But she still sent the occasional barb his way.
Silverblade guided his mare closer to the group of visiting Elementals and then dropped his cloaking magic. Several of the guards acknowledged his sudden appearance with calm nods. They might not have known he was so close, but clearly they had been informed of his coming.
After returning their companionable nods, he turned his attention to his mother.
“Hmmm. You can’t seem to bother taking on phoenix form, but you’ll do human?” She sighed and then grinned at him, holding her arms open for a hug.
Silverblade guided his mare close to his mother’s santhyrian mount and managed a quick, somewhat awkward hug. His mare tolerated the santhyrian, but the stallion mage Cymael was riding snorted with disdain.
“Mother, it’s good to see you, even if the reason behind it isn’t.”
“It’s always good to see you too.” His mother looked him over. “At least you make a fine enough looking human, I suppose.” Cymael arched a brow at him. “As majestic as your lupwyn form is, it would be nice to see you as a phoenix once in a while when you come to Grey Spires next. But I digress. Once this present mission is over, you’ll need to return to the pack and deal with leadership issues there. Maybe once that’s dealt with, you’ll find an opportunity to pass that stellar heritage on to the next generation.” His mother huffed softly at his stricken look, her cream-colored crest feathers rising slightly in humor. “I want to see some grandchildren one of these centuries before my Larnkin decides it is time to return to the Spirit Realm.”
He could feel his early surprise melting away to mild annoyance. This was an old argument. “Now is hardly the time to worry about such things.”
For the most part, the different races composing the Elementals shared many beliefs and values. But some things, like instincts, were too ingrained within the species and could not be overruled.
Such as a phoenix’s mating instinct. That was something that could not be simply ignored. Like the dragons and gryphons, phoenix mated for life. Unfortunately, other species such as lupwyns or santhyrians had much more freedom to change life partners as sometimes happened.
Silverblade had learned that very painful life lesson half a century before.
While he wouldn’t mind having his own youngling to raise, that was a little difficult without a mate and there was no way he was ready to risk that kind of pain a second time. If his mother wanted grandchildren so badly, she and his father could just beget another youngling themselves!
Silverblade wasn’t so foolish as to tell his mother that.
“Your father says the pack is entering another fertility cycle. It’s likely why he wants you to return and take up your place as pack leader and put down any dissension among the other members while he’s at Grey Spires. You might even find another—”
“No.” The word came out more sharply than Silverblade intended, so he softened his voice a touch. “Once was enough lesson for me.”
His mother sighed, but wisely didn’t press him. She knew well his history.
He swiftly sought another topic of conversation. There was one thing he should mention before the current mission sidetracked him. “It will be good to spend time with you, father, and the rest of the pack again.” He simply would not be seeking a new mate, and considering what they were just talking about, he hesitated to bring up the next topic.
However, it was too important to avoid simply because he didn’t want to give his mother more fuel.
“When I first started scouting this area, I found a young human woman and her family living deep in the woods. What’s more interesting is that they all possess Larnkins.” Until recently, he’d thought that those powerful, immortal creatures of the spirit realm only took Elementals as hosts. That was, perhaps, a tad arrogant on his people’s part to believe such.
Yet it was understandable, too. For his spying had only reinforced what the elders had already suspected. Most humans were taught to hate and fear magic; that anyone with even the humblest of gifts was evil and should be hunted down so they could not ‘corrupt’ others. The only corruption Silverblade had ever witnessed was rooted in the acolytes’ core teachings.
“Larnkins?” his mother said, a hint of surprise reflected in her voice that wasn’t mirrored on her tranquil features, her diplomat’s mask falling into place.
“Yes. And when I return to the pack, I’d like to bring this family with me. They have been hiding from the human priests for years. Among them is a female with a very powerful Larnkin. My own led me to them, and he has since made it clear that these humans are under his protection.”
His mother tilted her head, studying him, no doubt trying to read his thoughts. But for once, he had his mental shields firmly in place.
“This female, how old would you say she is?”
Silverblade paused and mulled that over. He knew she was young compared to a centuries-old Elemental like him, but she was human and he’d seen many humans younger than her with babes already at the breast. “Were I to guess, I’d say twenty.”
“Hmmm,” his mother said, her thoughtful expression morphing into calculation. “She would be of an age with the Stonemantle sisters then.”
He supposed that was so. Being a scout, he knew of the human general and his three daughters. It had
been a necessity to learn as much as possible about their enemies.
As it had turned out, the Stonemantle sisters weren’t the enemy. At least the oldest wasn’t. She’d turned out to be the bondmate of the Crown Prince of the Phoenix.
But what that had to do with the three humans he’d found, he didn’t know.
“They must all have been born here. I would need to know that for sure to confirm my theory, but if they were born here and the Larnkins of this land took them as hosts, then that means they are our allies,” his mother said. “You did well to find and protect them. Once you complete your current mission, I would like you to bring this family to Grey Spires.”
“That was my plan,” he agreed with a nod.
“And you say your Larnkin showed interest in this one’s mentoring?”
Those weren’t his exact words, but by the way his mother’s crest rose slightly, he sensed another humorous barb at his expense was likely incoming.
“You most certainly should tutor this young one, and if something comes of it after a century or two, all the better.”
Now his mother wanted him to take a human mate? A species equally as promiscuous as a lupwyn, if not more so?
He was just drawing breath to say as much when the first agonized scream reached his ears.
The terrible sound battered his senses, and then chaos broke loose as the undeniable shapes of two dozen robed acolytes emerged from the surrounding forest.
Ambush, he realized. But before Silverblade had time to draw his sword, a delicately textured net dropped down upon him.
Wherever those delicate threads touched, a hot, fierce burning flared up. The heat and pain lasted moments and then the heat faded, changing to a numbing cold. His mare squealed in terror and then collapsed underneath him. Trapped by the net, he went down with her.
He had no idea what was happening. His Larnkin flared in panic, but the strange nets simply absorbed whatever spell his Larnkin launched at it.
Worse, his limbs were growing heavy, the strange, numbing cold somehow draining away his life energy along with his magic. And even as fine as the netting was, he still couldn’t break or shred any of the threads. He attempted to call on his lupwyn form, but even that was beyond him.
Trapped in a human body without his natural weapons or his magic, he could only struggle uselessly and listen to those around him fighting for their lives and losing.
Somewhere close by, he heard his mother’s enraged raptor’s scream and a moment later, her fire magic blasted just over his head. Some of the flames caught a portion of the net trapping him and burned it to ash. Seeing that, he renewed his struggle to free himself from the net.
He’d managed to free his upper body when an acolyte stepped into his line of sight and leveled a crossbow at Silverblade’s chest.
Chapter Four
Beatrice managed another quarter candlemark of travel, her alarm and fear growing with each stride the horse took. Her dark magic seemed not to care and continued to gather itself.
Nothing she did calmed the magic. She didn’t understand what was happening. In the past, that dark magic only roused when she was in danger. Yet her healing magic told her there was no living creature close enough to be a threat to her life.
So why the sudden stirring of her dark power? It hadn’t bothered to stir awake in years, not since she’d actively started avoiding acolytes at all costs. She sent her healer’s magic outward, searching the area in a half day’s ride around her once again and still she sensed no acolytes near.
Beyond her control, her dark magic continued to rise within her. It wasn’t yet visible to the naked eye, and she didn’t think it was a threat to the gelding she rode, but she could feel the dark power waking. For the first time in her life, that power had a consciousness to it—a will.
Like a beast that had long been hibernating and had come to awareness at last, it shook itself fully awake and looked out through her eyes, and then used her own healer’s magic to scan the area. With that dark power behind it, buoying her healer’s magic as its fearsome strength, her reach was so much farther.
It stretched its waking consciousness back along the trail, hunting for something far from her present location—all the way back to River’s Divide.
There was something there it wanted, something or someone it was interested in.
Perhaps ‘concerned for’ was a better term.
Yes. The knowledge was suddenly clear in her mind. Just a vague, nagging notion one moment and then absolute certainty the next. She didn’t have long to worry over the strangeness of her magic or its willfulness. She was needed elsewhere. Almost against her will, she found herself reining the gelding around until they faced the trail behind them.
The dark power did not share more details. Beatrice desperately wanted to know more, but in the end she couldn’t resist its urging, and she squeezed her legs around the gelding’s barrel to hurry him into a trot.
In all likelihood, she was about to ride into a pack of acolytes, but her fool of a Larnkin wasn’t giving her a choice.
***
Darkness was falling, the shadows among the trees growing longer. Ahead Silverblade heard the rushing of rapids over the sounds of his own passage and the blood pounding in his ears. The crossbow bolt buried in his shoulder grated against bone and the blazing pain caused his vision to go stark white with each step. He forced himself to focus on their surroundings, not each and every agony inflicted upon his body by the acolytes.
He and his mother had escaped the acolytes. For now. But they wouldn’t remain free for long if he didn’t focus.
He blinked his snowy vision clear and looked around.
Yes. He knew this area, had camped by the falls several times and set traps.
The river was near.
They were never going to make it. Silverblade knew it. Likely his mother knew it as well, but still they ran, the underbrush snatching at them. Neither of them tried to hide their trail. It would not matter if they had. The predators tracking them had senses beyond the physical.
Some unknown distance behind, the remaining acolytes still followed them.
Silverblade darted around a tree in his path. His mother stumbled and slammed into it. He doubled back for her just as she righted herself. Together they continued their desperate run toward the river.
A phoenix might be faster than a human, but they were still awkward on the ground. If he could only shapeshift, he could outrun the acolytes. He’d even be able to carry the phoenix on his back as he fled. But his Larnkin was still stunned and reeling from whatever the acolytes had tossed at them.
He could still feel the cold numbing chill from the acolytes’ strange net traps as if he was still trapped underneath them. From what his Larnkin had gathered before it was crippled, it looked like the elders and their guards had walked right into the nets as if they hadn’t seen them. Or perhaps, couldn’t see them.
Not that Silverblade had fared any better. Even with the screams giving him a few moments’ warning, he hadn’t sensed those deceptively delicate nets about to drop down onto his shoulders. Maybe had he not been idly chatting with his mother, he might have seen what was coming, somehow prevented the tragedy from unfolding. If he’d been doing his duty and actively scouting for dangers…?
Looking back, he wasn’t sure if it would have made a difference. He’d never run across something that had no scent, taste, or hum of power to it before. All life—all magic had an essence, some form of taste or smell. But not these power-sapping traps the acolytes had created. They were nothing—a void neither he nor his Larnkin had sensed.
Cymael stumbled a second time, but continued toward the river. A crossbow bolt still poked out of her back, high up near her shoulder blade. Another had shattered her one wing bone and the soft, cream-colored feathers were now drenched in bright blood, her useless wing dragging behind. They didn’t even have time to secure it to her back. If they slowed for even a moment, they were both dead.
> Had their physical ailments been the only factor working against them, he might hold more hope of escape, but even though they were free of the nets, their magic continued to bleed out as if they were even now caught in those deadly, gossamer threads.
Cymael was the most powerful elder in the group. Her fire magic seemed the only thing able to kill the acolytes and burn through the net traps. But even she’d been too late to save the first group caught in the nets—their screams still echoed in his mind.
Ahead of him, Cymael stumbled a third time and fell heavily onto her knees.
“Mother!” Silverblade didn’t bite back the instinctive call, worry for his mother overcoming centuries of training in a moment.
Again he sought his lupwyn form even as he reached for her.
Not even a drop of magic answered his call. Only a deathless cold emanated from that spot in his chest, next to his heart, where his Larnkin used to dwell. His own injuries ached and burned and bled. Rage was the only thing keeping him moving.
He gripped his mother’s arm and dragged her back to her feet. “Mother, you must come. The river is only a little ways farther. If we reach it first, we may be able to lose the acolytes.”
Silverblade didn’t actually believe that, but the hope might be enough to keep his mother on her feet a little while longer. Her normally rich, brown skin was ashen, a fine dew of sweat covered her skin, and she coughed, blood splattering her lower lip. Shock and exhaustion were clear in her trembling limbs, but she staggered in the direction he indicated.
In Deception's Shadow Box Set: Book 1-3 Page 57
