The Caste Marked

by Mariah Esterly

  As far as she could tell she hadn’t done anything that wrong. After all he’d seen her while she was bathing, wearing scarcely more than he had been. Why was he so angry?

  “Serra.”

  She turned slowly, trying hard not to touch him. She had never been in such close proximity to anyone in her life. Or maybe it only felt that way because of the way his silver gaze was boring into hers.

  She stared back, trying to understand. She saw anger in his eyes, but also fear. What was he scared of?

  “Serra, you can’t tell anyone what you saw.” His voice reminded her of how it had sounded when he’d held a knife to her throat. Cold. Threatening.

  “You with your shirt off? I hardly think it’s that big of a secret, Reks. Others are sure to have seen it.” She tried to keep her voice light.

  He leaned closer and repeated, “you can’t tell anyone what you’ve seen, Serra. My life depends on it.”

  That brought her up short. He was looking at her with such an earnest expression that she couldn’t help but believe him.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t have to understand, Serra. You just have to do what I tell you.” He removed his hands from either side of her and moved away. He stood by the windows, gazing out with his back to the room, as if dismissing her.

  Serra followed him into the room, straightening her shoulders. He didn’t get off that easily.

  “Reks, I don’t even know what I saw, how can I tell anyone about it?” He didn’t answer. She moved closer cautiously. “If you have something that you’re hiding, I wish you would share it with me. I trusted you enough to share my shifting with you. I wish you trusted me.” She laid a hand on his shoulder causing him to flinch.

  “I can’t tell you, Serra.” His voice was softer now. “I wish I could but I can’t. I’d be putting you in danger.”

  She squeezed his shoulder gently. “I’m in danger already. Please, Reks, let me be a good friend to you.”

  His fingers came up circled around Serra’s, a shock went through her. His fingers were warm and calloused, they tightened around hers briefly before he said, “No.”

  Serra slipped her hand from his shoulder and moved to the door. Her hand rested on the knob as she said, “I’m here if you want to talk.” She pulled open the door and stepped into the hall, just as Rian did from his room. He looked pointedly at Reks' door and raised an eyebrow in question.

  Serra shook her head silently and retreated down the hall to her room.

  She ate by herself that evening, not from a fear of seeing Reks, but because she wanted to avoid Rian’s questions and warnings about the Thief Lord’s depravity. Thistle ate with Sylvan, Rian, Vaughn and Reks leaving her alone again.

  The next morning Serra was the first up, ready and packed. She had slept very little the night before, the possibilities of what Reks' secret could be swirling in her head. After tossing and turning for three hours, she had risen and packed all her belongings, hoping that the activity would make her tired.

  When she returned to bed, her eyes were drooping. She slept fitfully until just before sunrise, when she sat straight up in her bed, wide awake.

  She was waiting in the great hall when the others came down, looking sleepy. Reks tried to catch her eyes as he descended the stairs, but she avoided his gaze.

  Melita Tiana entered the room followed by Nalren and five servants.

  The Queen of the Dryads went immediately to her daughter, embraced her for a long moment. When she stepped back tears shimmered in her eyes. They spoke in Dryadian briefly, Sylvan bowing her head, listening to her mother’s words. Then Melita Tiana stepped back and looked at each of the companions in turn.

  “I appreciate what you are doing beyond what words can express. I sincerely hope that you are successful in your quest, not only for the return of my child, but for the return of every child who has been taken.” She motioned the servants forward. “To aid you in your journey.” Each of the servants stood in front of one of the companions and presented them with an object.

  Serra took the gift given to her, a black pendant surrounded in silver on a long silver chain, and held it gingerly. Something sparkled in the depths of the black stone, moving in a swirl of light. Serra squinted, but couldn’t get whatever it was to truly focus.

  She fiddled with the chain as she looked at what her friends had received. Vaughn, standing to her right had received a Dryadian bow and a quiver of arrows. She listened as the servant explained that the quiver would never run out of arrows, no matter how many Vaughn used.

  Rian to her left was presented with a long sword, the metal shining with a silver light that seemed to emanate from it. A black sheath of some material Serra did not recognize hung from a leather belt.

  Reks received a pair of dangerously curved daggers, with fine sheaths made of the same material as Rian’s.

  From her mother, Sylvan received a large smooth stone, that same color as the stone in Serra’s pendant. In fact, she looked around again, each of the items had the same black stone lodged into it somewhere, on the quiver for Vaughn’s arrows and on the hilts of Reks' daggers and Rian’s sword.

  “Mother,” Sylvan breathed after a moment. “I can’t take this. It has not left the Wood since it was discovered here. It must stay.”

  Melita Tiana shook her head. “The stone is an heirloom of our family. It passes from the eldest daughter to eldest daughter. It is yours by right. If your path leads you out of the Wood then the stone goes with you.”

  Sylvan appeared to be overcome with emotion. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it finally she carefully set the stone on her saddle bag and wrapped her arms around her mother.

  Serra listened while the other servants explained to each of the companions about their gifts. Serra’s gift, apparently did not warrant an explanation, leaving her to believe, she was either meant to know what it was or that it was nothing more than a pendant.

  She slipped the chain over her head and tucked the pendant into her shirt, where it hung against her breastbone. Melita Tiana made her way down the line of companions and embraced each of them in turn. As soon as the Dryad’s arms wrapped around her Serra felt warmth spread through her entire body. “The pendant was given to me long ago, by one who intended it to do more than sit in my jewelry box.” Her arms tightened. “Do not fear.” She whispered. “The answers you seek will come to you in time.”

  Serra pulled back startled. Had Sylvan told her about Serra’s shifting?

  “How…?”

  Tiana smiled, making her eyes crinkle. “I knew the moment I laid eyes on you. It is hard to hide something like that from a Dryad as old as I am.”

  She stepped back from Serra and took the group in with her warm gaze. “Peace and luck be with you on your journey, my friends, my daughter.”

  Nalren, standing behind her his arms crossed and glaring, seemed unable to keep words from tumbling from his mouth. “Melita Tiana. I must reiterate the folly you are committing by allowing Prince Doran to slip through our fingers.”

  “Nalren,” Tiana said, her voice warning. How many times had Serra heard Sylvan use that same tone?

  “Your Majesty, please reconsider. If we return the prince to his father, the King will call off his armies and we can avoid the loss of life. To consider any other course of action is foolish.”

  “Nalren!” Sylvan barked. She stalked to where he stood and glared up at him. “You dare to call my mother’s decision foolish? You dare to question she who has provided nothing but impeccable leadership for nearly seventy years? This- this is why I cannot stay with you. It is in times like these when a person’s true character comes out and you have been shown to have a true coward’s heart, searching for the easiest course for you. The situation with Iperia has escalated beyond something that can be resolved with Rian’s return to his father’s house. The King believes we are responsible for the kidnapping of every Iperian child. Not just his son.”

  Me
lita Tiana glided to where her daughter stood fuming, she placed a restraining hand on Sylvan’s shoulder and spoke quietly. “My daughter is right. The king is indeed beyond reason in this matter. The best chance we have for peace is for these companions to discover the cause for the kidnappings and return all of the children. Prince Doran might in fact be key in this journey and I will not risk the loss of my child nor that of countless others simply because you think my decision is foolish.”

  Nalren bowed slightly. “Your Majesty.” He spun on his heel and exited the room, his back tense, anger evident in his every movement.

  No one spoke. The silence was only broken by the sounds of Sidondale drifting through the open windows. Then suddenly there was a flurry of movement at the door and Master Gerard stumped into the room, resplendent in his red robe. The servants rushed forward to help the bent man, but he shook them off. “Let me be! I’m fine.” Though he did not look fine. His face was red from the exertion of walking so far and his breath was coming in gasps. Over his shoulder he carried a satchel that clanged and banged with each step he took.

  “Ah, good, you’re still here. I thought you might have left at first light. Thank the gods you’re a lazy lot.” He hefted the satchel off his shoulder and it clunked to the ground. “Here,” he said gruffly. “The results of my experiments. There is a list of items and their uses in there. Now mind, I haven’t tested them and they might not work… Who am I kidding? They’ll work so long as you use them correctly.”

  “Thank you, Master Verteri.” Sylvan said, leaning down to kiss his grizzled cheek. “We appreciate the help.”

  He waved her off. “That’s enough of that.” He said gruffly, though Serra could tell he was pleased. The Mage turned toward her. “You there, Shifter.” Serra started to hear herself addressed so.

  “Yes?”

  “There’s something in there for you, too. Still not sure I believe you, though.” he grumbled as he turned to the door and stumped out of the room. “Remember,” he called over his shoulder. “Not every Mage you search out will be as welcoming as I was.” Then he was gone.

  “That was welcoming?” asked Rian.

  “For him?” said Sylvan, her voice was warm with laughter. “Yes, it was.”

  “You had better go,” Tiana said, it sounded as though she were trying not to cry.

  “Yes. I suppose we should.”

  Vaughn hefted the bag that Master Verteri had given them and led the way out the door.

  Sylvan was the last to follow. Serra paused in the doorway watching Sylvan. She lingered in the Great Hall, holding her mother one last time. She carefully gathered up the stone and her bags and then strode from the room.

  “Let’s go.” She said her voice steady.

  Serra followed wondering if Sylvan would ever again return to this place.

  Chapter 17

  SERRA

  During their journey to Mistress Vaneza’s Citadel in County Talmon, Serra boycotted Reks. She neither looked nor spoke to him. In fact, she avoided any type of contact with him. She stopped her knife lessons with him and instead devoted her time to practicing the staff, sword and archery.

  Her anger at him was irrational at best and downright childish at worst. But she couldn’t help it. It was the only way she had to punish him for imagined wrongs. She had trusted him, had let him witness a change in her that she didn’t understand and he couldn’t trust her the same way.

  It hurt more than she would have thought.

  Rian was nearly as unbearable to her as Reks was. He tried countless times to corner her as they set up camp, offering to help her bring water up from the stream or to help her start a fire. Serra dodged him each time, knowing that he wanted to talk about what had happened between her and Reks. He would reiterate his feelings about trusting Reks and Serra did not want to hear it again.

  Mostly because now she knew that he was right.

  Almost as soon as they had left Sidondale, Serra asked Vaughn if she could see Master Verteri’s satchel. He handed it over and Serra fell to the back of the line of travelers and rooted through the bag. Thistle hovered over her, offering her light to show the contents of the bag.

  Inside were tiny bottles tied in groups of three by thick silver string, an envelope that no doubt held instructions on how to use each of the potions, a few blue pots of salve that Serra recognized from Sylvan’s medicine kit and a thin leather bound book.

  Serra grasped the book and pulled it out. Holding the book between her teeth, she twisted in her saddle and tied the satchel to her own saddle bag. Then she turned and examined the book closer.

  There was no title on the cover, but rather a creature with the face of a human with the torso and front legs of a cat and the back legs and tale of a horse stamped on it with peeling gold paint.

  Serra tied her reins loosely around the horn of her saddle and allowed Shadowdancer to pick her way through the forest, knowing that the mare would not stray far from the others. She began to read.

  The book was not more than one hundred pages and by the time they stopped for lunch she had finished it and had begun to read it again. Her mind swirled with all the information she had read. Though the book said nothing of the origins of shifters, it did give an in depth description of past shifters and told amusing stories of how they had used their powers. A woman named Suchin had turned into a cat to spy on her husband. She had discovered that he was cheating on her, but was unable to tell him how she knew.

  The book must have been written by a shifter, because a good twenty pages were devoted to the sensation of shifting and how to induce the shift.

  Another chapter discussed how to shift from a human shape to that of an animal. This was harder as the Shifter had to lose bones and grow new ones, not to mention fur growth over the entire body and, as in the case of Booker the Bovine, who liked to turn into a bull more than any other animal, horns and extra internal organs.

  It would be impossible for a shifter to merely look like another being on the outside. They had to adopt all of the inner workings of the shape they were taking. When applied to specific people this meant that the shifter would take on any imperfection of body that the person themselves had. Hence, Serra’s back had ached when she turned into Reks because she had taken not only his form, but also his wounds.

  If a shifter stayed too long in a shape other than their own, they would begin to think as that person did, or as in the case of Danae Alcott, who preferred the shape of a sheep dog, the shifter would begin to lose their humanity to associate more with the animal’s needs then with those of their human self.

  After reading the chapter on animal change three times Serra began practicing shifting to forest animals during the time that she would have been practicing knives with Reks.

  Sylvan helped her, examining Serra after she had shifted to see if there were any inconsistencies in the shape and form.

  By the time they left the Sidonia Wood Serra could easily turn into each of their horses, a squirrel, a chipmunk, an owl, a rabbit and a wren. If she shifted into a horse she had to strip off every stitch of clothing first so that she wouldn’t rip them. If she shifted into a squirrel she just melted inside her clothes and when she shifted back she was inevitably naked.

  This was another reason why Sylvan was the one to help her and not one of the others, though they had offered.

  They crossed the invisible border between the Sidonia Wood and County Reza on the third day just as a heavy fall of rain started. That night they made camp in a burned out shell of a castle that had at one point stood tall and strong. Now the ceiling had caved in and rocks and rubble littered the ground. They found a squat structure with most of its roof intact next to the larger stone walls of the main keep and decided to bed down there for the night. The size of the fireplaces in their shelter told Serra that this building had once been the kitchens.

  As they sat around the fire that night Rian consulted the map.

  “We’ll travel through the Kendrew For
est for the next four days or so and then we’ll hit plain lands, so although the distance is greater we should cover it in about three days. We’ll reach the citadel in about a week.”

  “Do you know much about the Mage there?” Serra asked before taking a bite of bread and cheese.

  “I don’t but Vaughn does.”

  Serra looked at Vaughn, curiously. She was surprised when the guard blushed. “Mistress Vaneza’s niece Aloisa was… is a good friend of mine.” That seemed to be all he was going to say about the subject.

  “You mean the mage who helped you gain the information from the King’s study?” asked Sylvan.

  Rian nodded. “She and Vaughn were quite close for a while. He’s even met Mistress Vaneza.”

  Vaughn was tight lipped about his relationship with the Mage Aloisa, but Serra could tell that the subject was a sore one for him, leading to only one possible conclusion. They had been lovers and it had not ended well.

  “Well, that should make it easier for us to get in at least.” Reks commented.

  Vaughn shook his head, but didn’t elaborate. Rian did that for him.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” the prince said. “From what I recall she wasn’t too fond of the idea of her niece, the only mage born since Vaneza, cavorting with a… how did she put it Vaughn?”

  The guard’s jaw tightened. “A lowly mongrel soldier not fit to even spit on her shoes.”

  “A lowly mongrel soldier.” Rian repeated, shaking his head. “She obviously didn’t take the time to get to know you, Vaughn; if she had, she wouldn’t have said such a thing. Anyway, for whatever reason she took an immediate dislike to our friend and so his presence might actually hinder our entrance more than it will help.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness, for sharing that with us all.” Vaughn said, his voice sounded bitter.

  Mistress Vaneza’s.” Reks said. “I have to say I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to go there either if I were you.”