The Awakened World Boxed Set

by William Stacey

  Angie cocked her head. "I thought you said your mother doesn't have any planes."

  "She doesn't," Wyn Renna said. "But that's where she told us to wait for her. If she says she'll be there, she'll be there."

  Erin stepped out of the church, a large rolled-up map under her arm. "Hey, Rowan. You need to see this."

  Rowan joined Erin as she knelt and unrolled the map. Casey held a lit lantern over their heads, and Angie recognized the southern California coastline centered upon the ruins of San Diego and Coronado Island. Tactical markings covered the map, showing routes of advance for military units. It didn't take an intelligence officer to see what this was: the Aztalan military plans to attack the Coronado Island Fey Enclave. "They're going to attack the elves."

  Wyn Renna swore, trailing her fingers over the markings. "I have to get back on the radio and tell my mother."

  "No time for that," Rowan said. "Besides, from everything I've seen of elves, she already knows."

  Wyn Renna glared, her lips a tight gash, but nodded. "We bring the map with us."

  Rowan faced the others, raising his voice. "We're not staying another minute, people. I figure the Aztalans don't know what we've done here yet, but they will soon enough, and then they're gonna come looking for us."

  "So how we playing this?" Casey asked.

  Rowan turned to Erin, who still knelt next to the map. "What do you think?"

  "Me?" Erin stared at him.

  "You heard me. What should we do now?"

  Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded. "This far in the rear, the Aztalan military will assume radio problems. God only knows radios are difficult enough at the best of times. They'll keep calling until they realize something's wrong. I don't know how close the next outpost is, but within a day, no later, they'll send a patrol on horseback to find out why these guys aren't answering their radio. Once they see what we’ve done, it'll probably take a few more hours to mobilize a search. They'll assume we're heading home, going north."

  Rowan nodded. "And?"

  "And we cut a trail north, not too obvious, just enough to show them they were right. Later, we cut back and head east for the coast. It'll take us longer but will be safer."

  Rowan smiled, holding his hand out to Erin, who took it and rose. "So, let's head north, people. We've got trail to cut."

  Minutes later, they rode away on their new horses, leading the spares that carried their new equipment.

  Chapter 5

  Her eyes closed in memories of the past, the black dragon was thinking of her sire when Tlaco knelt before her. She wasn’t sleeping—Itzpapalotl would never sleep so exposed—so she knew the woman was there the moment she stepped foot upon the stones of the underground temple's summit. Itzpapalotl opened an eye and glared at her new Mother Smoke Heart. Despite the breathtaking honor the black dragon had bestowed upon this stupid woman, she had repeatedly failed to recapture the Haanal X’ib, underscoring her uselessness. When the woman saw the dragon's eye on her, her fear scent became intoxicating. For the span of several heartbeats, the dragon considered an early meal but finally decided against it. Eating one's servant was wasteful. Besides, she'd need to find a new Mother Smoke Heart, and the replacement would almost certainly be even more useless than this one.

  That's how it was with dumb animals.

  "What?" she asked, moving one of her massive forelegs so that the scales scraped over the summit's stones, causing the woman to flinch.

  Tlaco dropped to her knees before Itzpapalotl. "Beautiful Mistress, there has been an incident. One of our outposts has been attacked. We fear—"

  "Good. Good. Where is the female changeling, then? Why is she not presented to me for ritual slaughter?"

  "I ..." The fat woman hesitated, her mouth opening and closing, too frightened to form words. "We ... we do not know if it was those we hunt. We think it might have been Ferals, because they freed Feral women and children. But fear not. Even though they slipped away, we follow. We ... we will have them. I swear. The fault lies with the fool mage in command of the outpost."

  The dragon sighed with frustration. As much as her predecessor had failed her, at least Rayan Zar Davi had owned her failures and demonstrated courage. This one was a coward, and her fear scent was becoming harder to resist. Despite her earlier misgivings about eating one's servants, she tensed, preparing to make an exception.

  But then Aernyx stepped out of the shadows, once more pretending to be a pale young man with sorrowful eyes. "Beautiful Mistress, there is more."

  Itzpapalotl paused, her gaze narrowing on him. She hadn't known he was there. Interesting—but also dangerous. He was a sneak. She didn’t like sneaks. His days were numbered.

  "Well, lord of the night, skulker in the shadows? Speak."

  "It was indeed the fugitives and the female changeling." He paused, a half smile on his lips as he glanced at Tlaco. "It was not Ferals. One of my children was at the fort. I saw them through his eyes, a dream vision. I saw the Haanal X’ib, but more importantly, I saw two other female mages. One of them was … interesting."

  "Explain."

  "I saw her through dream eyes, Beautiful Mistress, where I hunt. Some Fey have auras in the dream vision. The most powerful Fey grandmaster mages, such as Elenaril Cloudborn, wear powerful auras that speak of destiny. But rarely have I ever seen a human with even a hint of an aura. One of the two mages who walks with the Haanal X’ib, a young woman with long dark hair, was wreathed in fire. A more powerful aura I have never seen. She walks with power, ancient power."

  The dragon watched Aernyx, her thoughts flying on wings. A powerful aura of fire? The helicopter didn't burn. My brother breathed dragon fire on it, and it didn't burn. There is a mystery here, and mysteries can bring doom.

  "It is time," the dragon said. "Bring me Rayan Zar Davi."

  It was late afternoon by the time Angie and the others rode their horses out of the forested foothills that led to the east coast of the peninsula and their goal, the Cueva de Leon. To the north and south, rugged hills rose, boxing in the terrain around them. To the east lay more than a kilometer of open ground, a long, low plain that extended toward the high ridge of coastal headland that overlooked the glittering Gulf of California. The old airfield, their meeting point with Queen Elenaril, was built atop the headland.

  Erin led the party, just as she had all day, with Rowan deferring to her. Angie glanced at Rowan now, who watched Erin. He's testing her, she thought, or training her. She couldn't decide which.

  As they had planned back at the Aztalan church, Erin had left a false trail north before turning and cutting back along a mountain stream that led east. They had followed the stream for several kilometers before Erin took the party southeast toward the coast. Angie was no tracker, but with luck, she figured any pursuers would keep going north until they realized that they had been tricked. By then, it might take a day or more to find their trail again, if they ever did.

  Angie rode an undernourished and poorly groomed piebald mare. Despite the Aztalans’ neglect of the animal, the mare responded well to a light touch and gentle word. Angie had no idea what her previous name had been or if she even had one but had decided to name her Patches in honor of her brown-and-white coloring. Patches seemed happy enough to be free of the church and carried Angie with an easy gait. It was nice to finally get off her feet. Taking the outpost had been the right decision after all. Horses, food, weapons, and other supplies made a huge difference, and arranging a pickup with Queen Elenaril had been a welcome surprise—if the elven queen could pull it off. But even if there was no plane, they were still immeasurably better off with horses and supplies.

  She sighed, shifting in her seat to ease the soreness from an entire day in the saddle. Still better than walking.

  As they crossed the plain, they saw the ruins of an old coastal town to their north, now long abandoned, the buildings falling apart. Erin found an old dirt road that led up the headland, and as they crested its summit, they saw the old airfield's s
ingle runway extending away toward the bay—a runway now gutted with fissures several feet wide.

  No aircraft was ever going to land on this strip again.

  "Well, shit," said Casey, and then he leaned over the side of his horse and spat. He glared at Wyn Renna. "Don't suppose your mom has a helicopter?"

  Up here, the wind blew strong, carrying with it the tang of the sea. Angie climbed from her saddle, stretching and groaning, lifting her arms over her head as she turned in place. The view of the sea, at least, was spectacular. The plain behind them was devoid of anything larger than a bush. "Well, no one's gonna catch us by surprise."

  Wyn Renna, still sitting on her own horse, looked down her nose at Casey and sniffed. "My mother will come for us."

  "Not on that runway," Tavi said. "Does she have a seaplane?"

  Wyn Renna dismounted, her hand trailing over her gray stallion's flank, and shook her head. "She's never cared for human technology and machines. But I've been away from home for a long time. Much could have changed."

  "You mean spying on my people," Tavi said to the woman's back.

  Wyn Renna didn't answer.

  Jay, as always near Tavi, edged his stallion closer and gave the young Norteno mage one of his best smiles. "Hey, maybe we should let it go, Tavi. Done is done." It was a great smile, Angie thought, but Tavi turned her angry brown eyes on him, and Jay looked out over the bay. The sun sparkled on the green-blue waters as the white-tipped waves cascaded against the cliffs of the headland. "Hell of a view."

  Tavi grunted but then admitted, "It is pretty."

  Casey squinted at Rowan. "What do you think, big brother?"

  "I think," Rowan said slowly, choosing his words, "that we need to make a decision. This airfield is a bust, even if the queen comes."

  "She will come," Wyn Renna insisted.

  Casey rolled his eyes.

  Angie glanced at Tec, still sitting atop his mustard stallion, his face expressionless. The wind whipped his long, dark hair about. He turned and met her eye, as if he had known she was watching him. She imagined him naked, lying atop her, with her legs wrapped about his lean torso as he thrust at her and... She shivered with unwanted desire and gave her head a shake. Stop it, you skank. She grew angry with herself and with him. "Well," she demanded, "what do you think?"

  "Does it matter what I think?"

  "Of course it matters," Rowan said sharply. The normally stoic warrior was clearly running out of patience with Tec's moodiness.

  A tightness flickered in Tec's eyes but was gone a moment later. "You can't stay here longer than a single night. That false trail was capably set, but there's just no way to hide the tracks of so many horses. The Aztalan scouts will find the trail once more. You're running out of time. If Elenaril isn't here by sunrise tomorrow morning, she's not coming."

  "She'll come," insisted Wyn Renna.

  "If she's not here by morning, you're going to need to ride north," said Tec.

  Rowan smoothed the ends of his mustache and nodded.

  "We will need to ride north," Angie corrected him, watching his face carefully.

  "We ride north," Tec said.

  "One night," Erin said.

  Jay nodded, as did Casey.

  "My people need me," Tavi said, the anguish clear in her voice. "If she can't come for us here, then I say we ride on right now."

  "You can't help them if you're dead," Rowan stated bluntly.

  Tavi, miserable, looked down. "One night."

  "Well," said Casey as he dismounted, put his hands against the small of his back, and groaned. "If we're staying the night, then I want to lay in some arcs of fire." He approached the pack horse that carried the two heavy machine guns and unstrapped the weapons, carrying each over one of his shoulders, whistling as he climbed to a high point overlooking the plain.

  "Rest of you make camp, get some rest," Rowan said. "No fires. Not tonight."

  Jay groaned. "Cold gruel again."

  "Better than dead," Rowan said and then walked away.

  Jay took Tavi's elbow and pulled her along with them. "You can help me hammer in the tent spikes. I can only do so much with one good arm."

  Angie, who had watched Jay drag a thousand-pound generator with his one good arm, smiled to herself, but Tavi followed Jay. Angie helped the two elves with the horses. As she unloaded a heavy sack of horse feed, she felt eyes on her. Turning, she saw Tec standing less than twenty feet away, staring at her. Once again, a shiver of excitement coursed through her.

  Then Tec turned and stalked away.

  The sun was setting as Angie made her way down a steep, rocky path from the headlands to the narrow beach below. The sky was a storm of oranges running into the blues of the ocean, the sight mesmerizing. As she stepped off the trail and onto the beach, waves of frothy sea-green water washed across the sand, dissolving into foam. The cliffs of the headland extended in either direction, leaving only a narrow strip of sandy beach that was probably underwater for most of the day. Now, the tide had receded, revealing the bits of plastic that covered most of the beach, all draped in glittering seaweed and shells. Skittering crabs crawled among the residue. Angie stared out over the garbage.

  There's so few of us left now, she thought, and when we're all gone, our garbage will be all that’s left of us.

  But oh, God, this view.

  Sand flies had bitten the back of her hands, her shirt was so crusty with sweat it rubbed her skin raw, and her nose was beginning to peel from a sunburn, but she forgot all her aches and pains as she watched the waves crash against the shoreline.

  Kneeling, she untied her boots, pulling them and her socks off. She rolled up her pants to her calves and, picking up her filthy socks, approached the water, making her way through the garbage. When the cold water splashed over her feet, she gasped in excitement. It was indescribable, and she grinned in wonder.

  She was about to rinse her socks in the ocean when a man spoke from behind her. "I wouldn't."

  Angie spun to see Tec, not twenty feet away, sitting atop a barnacle-encrusted boulder. He had been here all along, but she hadn't seen him until now. "Were you watching me?"

  "Been watching you for days, and you know it."

  And he had been, just as she had been watching him. "Why not?" she asked.

  "Why not what?" He frowned.

  "Why not rinse my socks out? They're about to walk on their own."

  "Ah." His emerald eyes smiled. "The salt. It'll rub your feet raw. Best to wait until we find another freshwater stream."

  She picked her way over to him and then climbed up atop the boulder beside him, so close they were almost touching. He stiffened, and she felt heat between them. He feels it, too, this attraction. That’s why he’s been watching me. She stared out to sea, but her thoughts kept returning to him. Her heart throbbed too quickly, and she felt like a tongue-tied child.

  "What the hell is going on between us?" she finally said.

  "Was wondering when you'd ask."

  She turned and considered his profile. With his large hooked nose, he reminded her more of a bird of prey than a feline. "Well?"

  He swallowed. Is he nervous? Him? No way. She watched and waited. Finally, he spoke, his voice thick with emotion. "Short answer. I don't know. It's new to me too. My guess is we're drawn to one another because of the dragon-marks we bear."

  "How can you not know?"

  He sighed. "I've never met another who bore my master's gift."

  "Never?"

  "You don't understand how rare this gift you've been given is, Angie. I was born more than two hundred years ago, and you're the only other I've ever met."

  She smiled. "You're pretty spry for an old dude."

  "You laugh, but it's true. I was born January first, in 1843. My birth name was Diego Águila, and I was the son of a wealthy Mexican landowner."

  She stared at him in shock. It seemed impossible, but somehow, she knew it was true. She changed the subject. "Okay. Why Teccizcoatl, then? Diego is mu
ch easier to pronounce."

  "Because the man who was Diego Águila died two hundred years ago. Died after I changed into a were-jaguar for the first time."

  "I don't understand. How could you have changed two hundred years ago? The Fey Sleep had suppressed the werewolf gene in humans since the Spanish Inquisition, way more than five hundred years ago. There have only been werewolves since A-Day, eighteen years ago."

  "I'm not a werewolf, Angie. My curse is different, and the Fey and their magic can't touch it. Their spell had no effect on me. My condition runs through my bloodline. I'm a blood descendant of a Teotihuacan warrior who lived more than a thousand years ago. The original Teccizcoatl was the first of my line to carry the blood curse, the first were-jaguar. I think ... I think maybe I’m a reincarnation of this man. I used to dream of him, of being him, of walking ancient cities long before Europeans came to this land. I took his name to honor the Teotihuacan people, to strengthen my bond with the past. It was my master's idea, a way to help me focus on my humanity."

  "Weeks ago. When you first rescued Erin and I from the Tzitzime, you mentioned losing yourself in the beast. What does that mean exactly?"

  "It means I sometimes forget I'm a man. It's dangerous for me to change. Not all the time, but sometimes, I ... I prefer being a were-jaguar and forget about turning back."

  "That's what happened after you saved us, when Char used her talisman to force you to change back to a man."

  He nodded. "Likely in another day or two, I'd have changed back anyhow." He made a fist of his left hand and then opened it, exposing the dragon-mark on his palm. "My master's mark helps me remember. But two hundred years ago, when I first changed, I lost myself completely, lost my humanity. I spent eight years in the jungle living as a jaguar."

  "Eight years?" she repeated in wonder.

  He nodded, rubbing his eyes. "The dragon saved me. Quetzalcoatl called to me in my dreams. You can't imagine what that was like, to feel him in your head." He paused and then took her left hand, turning it over and tracing his fingers over the dragon-mark tattoo, barely visible on her palm. As his fingers trailed over her skin, she suppressed a shiver. "Maybe you can. But Quetzalcoatl helped me find my way back to becoming a man again. When I awakened, I was a man—naked and alone in the jungle—but a man once more. I knew I had to find the dragon or risk losing myself again, maybe for good this time."