Shapeshifters

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  We nodded, and she left the same way she had come, discreetly in case anyone was watching the camp.

  It wasn’t long before we heard loud voices outside. It sounded as if the Obsidian guild was inviting the mercenaries to join them for supper.

  “We’re looking for a pair of thieves,” the lions’ leader said. “Two girls—a wolf and a bird. One has dark hair, gold eyes, real distinctive.”

  There were some questioning murmurs as the Obsidian guild consulted its own people.

  “No thieves here,” someone answered. I had to bite my hand to keep from laughing. The Obsidian guild, while friendly to a traveling dancer, was generally considered a group of outlaws.

  “You sure? Mind if we look around?”

  I held my breath until I heard an indignant, “Yes, we mind. We offer you hospitality, and you offer mistrust in return. Sit!” It wasn’t an invitation. “Maybe if you join us for a spell, we might be more inclined to believe you’re friendly. Especially if you have something to trade for the information.”

  The mercenaries mumbled an apology. I gathered that they agreed to join the guild for a meal.

  “I know you aren’t looking for thieves,” I heard someone say a bit later. “You’re mercenaries; you’ve passed through here before. Who are you working for now?”

  “Can’t tell that,” one of the lions answered gruffly.

  “Honestly, you must know,” the serpent said, pushing.

  “I know; my men do not,” the leader said before anyone else could speak. “And it is not information I am at liberty to give out, no matter how … grateful … I am for your … hospitality.” There was an odd hesitation in his response, as if he was having trouble speaking.

  “Someone must want these two pretty badly,” a serpent observed.

  “Yes” was the only reply.

  A while later everything was quiet. Betia and I waited until our host stepped into the hut with a smirk and a chuckle. “I hate rude people.”

  “Where—”

  “Drugged,” he answered simply. “Sleeping off some of their own poisons, from their own bags, which my people have lightened just a little. There’s no reference in the leader’s bags about who hired him, but we did find this. I believe it’s yours.” He held out a sheathed dagger that I instantly recognized as one my mother had passed on to me. It had been given to her on the day the last avian-serpiente battle had been fought, and it had never once been drawn. She had handed it to me with the prayer I hope you need it as often as I have.

  “It is.” I tied the dagger to my belt to keep it safe. “Why would the lions have had it?”

  He quirked one brow and admitted, “Probably for the same reason that one of my people took it. It’s very well made, a work of art in addition to being a weapon, and therefore valuable. If the lions found it while they were looking for you, I imagine they didn’t hesitate in taking it. And they’re going to be cross when they wake up and find it gone. We can defend ourselves without any problem, but I would rather you and Betia weren’t caught in the middle of it. I think it’s time the two of you moved on.”

  It had been one of the most amazing days of my life. I had the melos that Betia had given me tied at my waist, and all I needed to do was touch it to break out in a grin. But all good things must end.

  I had another life to return to, one with responsibilities and expectations. I reached for Betia’s hand as I stepped out of the hut, and tried to remember the optimism and faith that she had brought out in me.

  “Thank you, for everything,” I said to the members of the Obsidian guild.

  Our host shook his head. “Our hospitality was nothing more than the Ahnleh should ensure you anywhere. Though if gratitude will keep you from speaking to your parents of us …?”

  I nodded. “If you wish to be unknown, it would be a poor reward for me to go against that wish.”

  “I’ll send a couple of my people with you, to guide you until you meet up with the Vahamil. They should be able to take you the rest of the way to Wyvern’s Court.”

  “Teska.” Thank you.

  The leader of the Obsidian guild smiled. “A’le-Ahnleh-itil. If ever I would acknowledge a queen, perhaps it would be you. But that time isn’t here yet. Wimashe.”

  “Wimashe-lalintoth.” Goodbye, friend.

  We reached Vahamil land sooner than I’d expected. Betia scented wolves before I had a chance to warn her, and she went rigid, recoiling. I had just turned to encourage her when a familiar male voice shouted my name. At the sound, Betia whimpered, turned on her heel and ran. Velyo. I turned to go after Betia but stopped when I felt pressure on my arm, a hand restraining me from running. I shook off Velyo’s grip, but Betia had too much of a head start, and a wolf running in fear would always be faster than the human who followed her.

  Surrounded by unfamiliar woods, I shouted, “Betia, please! You’re safe with me; you know you’re always safe with me—”

  “Oliza?” Velyo said again, drawing my attention back to him.

  Furious, I spun about. The other wolves that had been around us backed off, including some that I recognized from the Vahamil pack.

  Right now I wasn’t interested in them—only the man I had hoped never to see again. “What kind of leader are you?” I demanded, shaking with rage. “She runs from you in terror. What did you do to her—or do I have to ask?”

  I shoved past him, remembering the last scene between us. He refused to move, and my shoulder caught him in the chest, knocking him back.

  Betia would never come to me, not while he was there. “What are you doing here, anyway?” I snapped as he walked after me. “Following me?”

  “Believe it or not, I do take my responsibilities rather seriously,” he replied. “You might not have wanted our help, but I felt that it was important to tell your people what I knew of your situation. While I was here, I wanted to see to my people who winter with the Vahamil, especially since Kalisa isn’t certain she will be continuing in her position. Now, if you’re done with your tantrum, there are some things you should know.”

  “My tantrum?” I shouted, feeling every inch a coiled serpent preparing to strike. “Your own people are terrified of you, Velyo. Has that occurred to you?”

  “They should be,” he replied frankly. “I am their leader, and I have control of their lives or deaths. It is a weak leader whose people do not respect him.”

  “My people respect me,” I spat. “Respect and fear are not the—”

  “Aren’t they?” he asked. “And do they?”

  I was filled with cold rage, and I spoke the words I knew I should not. “What you tried to do to me—what I suspect you did to Betia—would carry a death sentence in Wyvern’s Court. How long do you think you would survive if I told my guard? That is not because they fear me; it is because they care for me.”

  “How long do you think you would survive if you declared war on my people?” he said. He held out a hand to me, challenging. “We both know that you won’t do it. So why don’t you play nice and come back to the camp with me? Your people have been looking for you, frantic as a child missing his blanket. They were not happy to learn that you were traveling alone.”

  “Thank you,” I said, hating to acknowledge his help but knowing that he had not been obligated even to tell my people that I was alive. I did not take his hand, though I tried to force myself to appear calm as I walked back to the camp.

  I was not so furious about what he had tried to do to me. I despised him, but I had no authority over him. I could not change his world when I was trying to fix my own.

  But I hated him for Betia. I had no doubt that he had frightened her into her wolf form, and even as I walked to Kalisa’s camp, I was gnawed by the terror that this might have been too much for her. If she fled into her wolf form now, she might never return.

  I stroked the melos she had given me, which was still tied at my waist. Though the colors were not the vibrant reds, greens and blues traditionally used, any of my
people would recognize it for what it was. I thought about hiding it before I ran into any serpiente, so that I wouldn’t have to face their questions, but I couldn’t. I might have lost Betia already. I would not put away my only remembrance.

  The Vahamil camp was quieter than I had ever heard it, and I quickly realized that Velyo was the reason. His own people watched him with fear; Kalisa’s watched him with wary disdain. Kalisa herself greeted him with a polite nod as she stood and walked toward me. Her movements were tight, and they betrayed that she was still in some pain, but her expression was one of welcome and relief as she grasped my hands in her own.

  “Kalisa, it is so good to see you,” I said to the alpha. “I had heard that you were injured.”

  “It remains to be seen if I will continue as alpha of the Vahamil,” Kalisa replied. “Frektane’s presence has intimidated many of my challengers—but only because he has hinted that he is interested in the position. Velyo is not someone I would wish as my successor.” She glanced at Velyo, who had gone to speak to one of his wolves. “Fortunately, unlike Frektane’s, my position rests on a little more than brute strength. My people are far better off, due to our relationship with Wyvern’s Court. Your parents’ support has been a great help to me during my recovery.” She admitted, “Seeing your parents as terrified as they’ve been since you disappeared has been heartbreaking. I am very glad to see that you are all right and will be back home soon. We are still a couple of days away by land, but it would not be a long flight.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t fly.”

  “Velyo was right, then, about the drugs? But they will wear off eventually.”

  I nodded, though I knew that the drugs were no longer holding me in this shape. I had recovered my cobra form when the drugs had worn off; my wings would not be coming back.

  “In the meantime,” Kalisa said, “I will send one of my fastest wolves to tell your guard where they can find you. Whoever was responsible for taking you away will probably feel threatened by your return. I think it would be best if you wait until your guards are with you before continuing on your way, I wouldn’t travel alone through these woods until the villain is found.”

  It seemed to be sound advice, though if Velyo had offered it, I probably would have refused. “Thank you,” I said. “Can you give me any word on what else is going on in Wyvern’s Court?”

  I worried that other violence might have followed the attack on Urban, such as serpiente retaliating against those who had harmed one of their own—especially while my parents and I were gone.

  “We haven’t been in the area recently,” she answered. “Your guards came here to ask if we had seen you, but we knew nothing until Velyo arrived. I was horrified to learn that you had been taken through our land without our knowledge.”

  Looking up from his discussion with another wolf, Velyo said to Kalisa, “I may disagree with your belief that it is not necessary to patrol the border you share with Wyvern’s Court, but it is hardly the Vahamil’s fault that their neighbors can’t keep track of their own princess. Especially when all the pack’s resources were dedicated to the welfare of its alpha.”

  Kalisa refrained from responding, and Velyo, apparently bored of the discussion, turned and left us again.

  “Two alphas is too many for one camp,” Kalisa said softly after he had gone. “Blue-eyes is a little too eager for me to pass on my authority. The Frektane pack has always been ambitious enough to keep the rest of us on guard.”

  “He treats his own people like dirt,” I said, tact leaving me.

  Kalisa shook her head. “The northern packs need to be a little harsher to survive the winter,” she said, though the expression in her eyes did not match the tolerance in her voice. “It isn’t my place to question how Velyo runs his pack, only how I run mine.”

  “But you let them winter with you.”

  “Should I punish the Frektane people because I don’t like their leader?” she asked.

  “Leader? What about his father?”

  “Dead,” Kalisa informed me. “Shortly after you left.”

  “Frektane did not seem that unwell when I saw him,” I said, wondering if Velyo had added patricide to his list of crimes since we’d last met.

  “This isn’t really a conversation for you, Wyvern,” Kalisa replied, confirming my suspicions. “Pack business is pack business, not meant for the ears of Wyvern’s Court.”

  I nodded, accepting the dismissal. Unlike among the Obsidian guild, here I would always be Oliza Shardae Cobriana. When Kalisa spoke to me, it was queen to princess, and that was not a relationship that allowed for idle talk.

  “Just … be careful,” I couldn’t resist adding.

  “I always am.”

  Time passed differently among the wolves than inside Wyvern’s Court. The days were marked only by sunrise and sunset, and the meals by when a hunter returned. The mellow rhythm was a poor match for my anxiety and frustration. As long as I was with the wolves, I knew that Betia would not come back to me. I was the only one she seemed to trust. And as long as I was away from Wyvern’s Court, I would not be able to eat or sleep without the queasy feeling that my world might be crumbling.

  A flurry of wings woke me early on my third morning with the wolves. I opened my eyes to see the descent of ten avians, including a peregrine falcon and a golden hawk. I was desperate to see my own people again, and I hurried to meet them.

  With a falcon’s ability to dive swiftly and gracefully, Nicias landed and returned to human form first. He practically lifted me off the ground as he hugged me with truly serpiente abandon. I noticed a couple of avians averting their gazes as they landed around us, but I tried to ignore them. Birds would forever look away at displays of affection, just as serpents would forever indulge in them. Some things would never change.

  Someone behind Nicias cleared her throat, and he sprang away from me to give her room. The other avians—a half dozen from my mother’s Royal Flight, and the rest from among my Wyverns—also stepped back, fanning out protectively around us but giving us space.

  My mother hugged me so tightly, I feared for my ribs; I hugged her back just as tightly. “We feared the worst,” she whispered, refusing to let me go. “Are you all right? Can you fly yet?”

  “Yes and no,” I answered, trying to keep up with her quick, anxious questions. Though she had been raised avian and was perfectly capable of assuming their poise, my mother was making no attempt to be calm just then. “I’m fine, mostly, but I can’t fly. Did any of you see a wolf on your way here?”

  “We saw a lot of wolves,” my mother answered, stepping back with a puzzled expression. “Kalisa’s people?”

  “No, a …” I sighed. She wouldn’t have known Betia from anyone else. “We’ll look for her later. What’s going on back home?”

  “You are coming home, right?” my mother asked suddenly.

  “Of course. How could you think otherwise?”

  She relaxed. “Someone went to great lengths to convince us you left willingly. I can’t stay long; there are too many destructive rumors going around in Wyvern’s Court. Not to mention your father wanted to go tearing off after you. Nicias can explain everything you need to know. I just had to see you alive and well, and hear from you that you are coming home.”

  She glanced back at her guards, who were standing at attention. Kel, the sparrow who led the Royal Flight, was quietly conferring with Nicias; he was nodding, listening to her without ever taking all his attention from me. I wondered where Gretchen was.

  Nicias excused himself from Kel and crossed toward us. “I apologize for hurrying you two, but Kalisa’s runner said that it was lions who kidnapped you.” He looked at me for confirmation.

  “Yes, the mercenaries who came to Wyvern’s Court.”

  “That being so, I would like to send a few people to track them as soon as possible.” He did not add aloud that he could not do that when all the avian Wyverns were needed to guard me, and the Royal Flight was needed to gu
ard my mother.

  My mother nodded, grasping the problem quickly. “Of course. Oliza, we can speak further when you get home; I need to let your father know that you are okay before he goes and does something foolish. For the gods’ sake be careful,” she said imploringly before hugging me again.

  “I will be.”

  “Fly with grace,” she bid me before nodding to Kel and shifting back into her hawk form. About half of the remaining guards from the Royal Flight followed her, and the rest stayed with the small number of my Wyverns who were left.

  I turned to Nicias then. “Now, tell me what is going on.”

  “People are frantic,” Nicias said, as soon as we had some privacy. “When we found the note—”

  “A note?”

  “In your handwriting,” he continued, “explaining that you had left of your own free will. People saw it before the guard did, and half the court was sure—You didn’t run, right?”

  I shook my head, a little dazed. It was the perfect scheme, convincing people that I had left willingly, so that there would be no conflict when Salem and Sive took their respective thrones. But who?

  “Who?” I asked aloud.

  Nicias shook his head. “We don’t know yet. The runner Kalisa sent told me only what they knew—that you had been taken by mercenaries, and that you had been drugged and couldn’t fly. Now that we have found you, we will find them. Their leader will know who hired them.”

  “And if Tavisan won’t tell you?”

  Nicias hesitated, reminding me that some falcons were more than capable of finding the information they desired in someone else’s mind.

  “I’ll bring him back to you,” Nicias answered finally. “It will be up to you to decide how we deal with him.”

  “What else am I going to find when I get home? What happened with Urban?”