“Whatever brings you to the mountains of Sylonia, mighty Shiavaka?” the wizard said, shielding his eyes from the sun.
The goddess tapped her foot anxiously. The white streak in her hair had fallen down over her forehead. “You know what brings me here. Do you have it? Was it really in there?”
Tavantis pulled the huge gem from his pouch, holding it up and letting the morning light flow through the stone, causing its facets to twinkle. “It has taken me quite a while to find this. The elves were very good at hiding things, and the protection spells around it were quite formidable.”
The goddess’s eyes sparkled. “Give it to me now and I will see you more powerful than you could ever imagine.”
Tavantis thrust it toward her. The goddess of magic shrank back. “Careful, you dolt. The elven mages were crafty. That could have a protection spell cast on it. During the wars, they often set magical traps for us.” She pulled a small cloth bag from her robe. “Put it in here, and take care with the thing.”
Tavantis looked at the bag. “I don’t know if the elves cast a trap on the stone, but I assure you I did. If the stone travels more than a short distance from me, it will shatter, or explode, I am not sure which.”
Shiavaka’s jaw tightened. He could see the fury in her eyes. “Damn you, you don’t know what you have there. Its power is beyond you, mortal.”
“I think I know what I have. I plan to examine it as best I can at the tower. Then I am going to use it to free my mother. After that, I will be more than happy to make a deal with you.”
“You are a snake, Tavantis. After all I have done, you would defy me now?”
“I’m not defying you; I am just postponing things a bit.”
“The Beast knows you’re coming. He will be no easy foe to overcome, even with the Star. Besides, you don’t even know if your mother is alive. Give the stone to me and I will help you find out the truth. There is no need to be rash.”
“I don’t think so, great one. I simply don’t trust you to aid me in this, and I am not letting the Star out of my sight, not yet anyway.”
The goddess frowned, and he could see the anger boiling inside her. She wanted the stone, but she also knew better than to push too hard. If the legends were true, Shiavaka could be destroyed with the gem. He wasn’t sure how, but the goddess didn’t know that. However, the deity did know he would destroy it just for spite if she tried to use force. A similar incident had transpired in the past when she had called his bluff.
Pushing the white strip of hair back in place, the Goddess of Magic regarded him for a moment. “Keep quiet about what you have found and I will aid you as best I can. If you are victorious against the Beast, you will relinquish the stone to me. No matter what happens, the Star can’t fall into that monster’s hands, for both our sakes.”
“A sound bit of advice, milady; once my mother is free, you are welcome to the Star.” The wizard snapped his fingers. “I think we have a deal.”
“Fine,” she spat back.
Tavantis held up a hand. “Just one more thing. If for some reason my mother dies during our little rescue attempt, we will renegotiate the deal, agreed?”
Shiavaka reluctantly nodded. “I will be in contact with you soon.” The goddess vanished with an angry wave.
Tavantis knew Shiavaka had no plans to aid him against the Beast, just as she knew he wouldn’t hand over the Star of Saree even after he had finished with it. He had no intention of letting any god get their greedy hands on such the powerful item. Since he and the goddess were both liars, Tavantis was very curious how things would turn out.
* * *
The sun had sunk below the horizon and the moon was rising. It would be full tonight. Pepca had left the encampment late in the afternoon, and now she paced alone in the dark wood. The only sound was the crunch of snow beneath her feet.
The princess wished she hadn’t refused Vladimir’s help. The transformation was coming, she could feel it, and Pepca had no idea what was going to happen to her or how it would feel.
The rustle of branches drew her attention. Before, she would never have heard such a slight sound. Tempest pushed back a branch from her face and moved into the small clearing where Pepca paced. Her friend had walked all the way out in the dark unaccompanied. She would never get over how brave Tempest was, or how loyal.
“Pepca, you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. What were you thinking?”
“I don’t want anyone to see,” she said pitifully.
“I understand, but you could have asked Vladimir to come with you. He knows about…”
“Becoming an animal?” Pepca finished.
Tempest tried to hug her, but she jerked away. She felt so hot. Heedless of the cold night, Pepca threw her cloak off. Sweat had soaked her clothing, and her hands shook violently. “I wish I was dead. I don’t want this to happen.”
“I will stay with you,” Tempest offered.
“You can’t. What if I try to eat you or something? I couldn’t bear it if I hurt you.”
“I am not afraid,” Tempest said with grim determination. “You are my friend, Pepca, and I won’t leave you, especially now.”
Her bones began to ache, and her skin felt as if it would burst into flame any minute. “I am hurting, Tempest. My whole body feels like it’s coming apart.”
She fell to her knees and Tempest sank down with her. She pulled Pepca’s head to her chest. “I know it hurts. I spoke with Vladimir before I came, and he said not to resist. You should just surrender to it, and the change would be quick and less painful.”
“I can’t. I just can’t,” Pepca screamed, pulling at her hair. Feeling Tempest’s strong arms around her, she gritted her teeth, determined not to let the wolf win. Maybe if she could just hold on until morning, it wouldn’t happen.
Pepca lost track of time how long she clung to Tempest in that murky wood. She didn’t know, but looking up, she saw the full moon rising like a silver sun into the night sky. “Oh no, God please, please, please,” she begged as she felt her body come apart.
Her last sensation as a human was feeling herself burst out of Tempest’s arms. The female wolf looked up, sensing that the human in front of her was a friend. She sniffed, taking in the woman’s scent.
“Oh, Pepca,” the white-haired human said, reaching for her. She shied away. The moon’s song was calling her. Laying her ears back, the young wolf ran into the arms of the night.
The Keep of Broken Souls was teeming with activity. Soldiers from the Circle’s dark legions herded the leaders of their new allies out of the imposing citadel. Bargains had been struck and sinister pacts made. The inhuman hordes of the Synsarian waste and the denizens that inhabited the Forest of Claws now knelt before one master, the Archmage Vanguard, and he served only the God of Darkness.
The lord of the Circle watched from the battlements of the massive complex. It was only on rare occasions that the archmage emerged from the fortress’s interior. Finalizing the covenant with the leaders of the humanoid host had been good cause to make an appearance. He now controlled a force larger than any seen on Saree in a thousand years.
A satisfied smile broke through his forked beard. Dressed in his traditional dark robes, he watched the creatures as they marched through the gates of the colossal keep. The creatures would carry the word back to their huts and caves that they now had a master unafraid to lead them against Saree’s human inhabitants. He had promised to arm them and see their soldiers trained in the ways of men, then they would only have to await his command and their conquest could begin.
Scavs, goblins, ogres, and even the dreaded mountain-dwelling gargoyles had all come to an accord. The creatures of the Synsarian waste were now his to wield as he saw fit. The long years of preparation had finally come to fruition. It had taken nearly all of his magically extended lifetime to get to this stage. With the might of his own human legions, and the sheer numbers of the humanoid host beside them, there was no army that could stand against him.
Besides, he had the most powerful mages known to mankind at his disposal. That was if he could keep the fickle group together, and sometimes that was a task in itself.
Vanguard thought of how each of his sorcerers would react when they found out the truth of what he intended. The archmage well knew there were members of the Circle that may have to be persuaded to join his cause.
Two of the casters that the archmage felt certain would support his endgame stalked down the battlements. He had summoned them to meet with him about what he considered a delicate matter.
The first was Stone Crow, from a small village in the Wild Lands. His home had been nestled in the foothills of the Gray Wall Mountains, spires so high that none had ever breached their invisible peaks. His brown skin was wrinkled with age yet the wizard’s hair was still black and worn in four long braids that snaked down his back in the style of his people. Feathers, bones, and small totems sacred to his race had been woven into the ropes of hair, symbolizing his power. Dressed in primitive animal skins, the man could be mistaken for any common savage. Though his temperament seemed mild, the wizard’s modest appearance and reserved demeanor hid a soul of uncompromising barbarity.
The contrast between Stone Crow and his counterpart was striking. The caster sported a tailored short coat and silk shirt with ruffled sleeves and collar. His fine trousers were tucked into a pair of boots made from the skins of rare serpents. The gaudy ensemble was set off by a solid silver mask that covered half of the man’s face. Silver Scar’s single blue eye darted about, taking in the sorcerer’s surroundings with practiced care.
The wizard came from the gutter, yet he now dressed himself in the finery of a nobleman. The silver mask covered the horrible wounds of a wretched childhood. Vanguard had discovered the powerful sorcerer prowling the alleys of a vile slum in the Celonian city of Kasena. Mutilated and murderous, the young man had been wasting his magic on rape and robbery. Vanguard had offered the unstable wizard another way to let out the rage inside him. His true name long forgotten, he had reinvented himself as Silver Scar, one of Circle’s most zealous members.
Both wizards stood, patiently waiting to see why the archmage had summoned them. “I have something for you two to take care of. It is a small task but an important one,” Vanguard offered.
“Command us, Master,” Silver Scar said, inclining his head.
“I want you to go to Trimenia. I assume you are both acquainted with our dealings there?”
The two wizards exchanged a look, and both nodded.
“Keep your presence concealed till the appropriate time. If Baron Serban looks to be in danger of losing control of the kingdom, I want you to step in and assist him. And be discreet, I don’t want your involvement known to any of our other members.”
Stone Crow looked confused. “I thought Tragedy and Misfortune were seeing to our interests in Trimenia? Is this not their situation to deal with?”
Vanguard frowned. “Is there some reason you need further instruction? Is my request not enough?”
“Of course not. I just thought things were already being managed there,” Stone Crow said evenly.
The archmage put his hands behind his back, ignoring the wizard’s inquiries. “There are some things you should know. The Slayer is involved with the Trimenian rebellion, as well as Strom and his mercenaries.”
“An unfortunate turn of events. I thought Strom had been guided into Serban’s service?” Stone Crow queried.
“He was, but the baron mucked it up. Now the captain and his warriors aid the rebels. I need you two to tidy up this mess before we lose all we have gained in the accursed kingdom. It would be for the best if you left at once. The snows are melting, and there will be little time to get the specifics of the situation before things begin to stir.” Vanguard folded his arms across his chest and sighed. “Neither Strom nor the Slayer are men of patience once blood has been spilled. I believe events will unfold quickly now that the weather has turned.”
The two wizards gave the archmage a slight bow, turning on their heels and walking from the battlements.
“Try not to disappoint me, gentlemen,” Vanguard called after them.
Vanguard placed a liver-spotted hand on one of the battlements’ enormous merlons. Lying to the Circle’s members was a necessity. Playing them off each other was important to retaining his control of such a powerful group.
It had been a grievous error on his part to allow Tragedy’s union with the Slayer. The disgusting creature had fathered her son, and he believed where the swordsman was concerned, the woman’s judgment was clouded. So he let her believe he was no longer interested in Trimenia, and as he suspected, she had abandoned the kingdom.
The ruse was needed to remove Tragedy and Misfortune from the endeavor in Trimenia without insult. Both of the women’s feelings were easy to hurt, and the two sorceresses could get rather nasty when scorned. Now was not the time to have dissention inside the Circle, he was too close to his ultimate goal.
Hopefully, Stone Crow and Silver Scar could handle things in Trimenia quietly, and if not, he would simply devise another clever lie to explain things to Tragedy and Misfortune. He could ill afford trivial issues with the two women to interfere in his grand designs for the future.
* * *
They knelt on the wet ground a fair distance from the camp. Spring’s warmth had nearly melted all the forest’s snow, with only a few stubborn patches remaining that were shaded by trees. The chirping songbirds were interfering with Pepca’s concentration, and Vladimir’s instruction had been less than helpful. He always told her to feel things, but she was never sure if she was feeling the right things.
The bearded shapechanger had become her mentor over the past two months. The first transformation had terrified her so much that Tempest had been able to persuade her to seek Vladimir’s help. It had been more useful than Pepca thought, to have someone who could answer her questions and understood firsthand what was happening to her.
The weather had grown so cold after her first change that she believed she and Vladimir had been the only ones to venture out of the camp over the last several weeks.
The change had become easier with Vladimir’s help, though she still struggled with being able to bring it on without the moon’s influence. Pepca didn’t see why she would ever want to do such a thing. Who would want to go through that if they didn’t have to?
Her secret had remained safe. Only a very few people knew about her condition, and they had kept it to themselves as winter ended.
Dimitri’s wounds had healed with Miro’s help. The ex-priest had been very dutiful in administering to her sightless brother. She had planned to tell Dimitri about her state after he had regained his strength, yet Pepca had not worked up the nerve to tell the prince about the wolf. She loved her brother dearly, but she didn’t believe he would ever think of her the same way if he knew.
Tempest and Ashlyn had been a blessing. Each woman was very different in their approach, but it was their friendship that had helped her though Julian’s death and the curse he had left her with.
“Pepca, are you paying attention?” Vladimir asked.
“I’m trying. I just don’t understand this bond with the land thing. I can’t seem to touch the hidden power you speak of.”
Vladimir picked up a handful of the cold soil. “You must feel Trimenia. It belongs to us, and we are part of this,” he said, holding the wet forest loam in front of her nose. Pepca could smell dirt, heavy with the scent of the forest. “Let the land’s spirt move through your body and mind, and the wild will become part of you, and you part of it. Once you have felt it, the wild will weave through your soul like a vine, forever becoming a portion of who you are.”
Pepca placed her hand on the ground and tried once again. Closing her eyes, she searched for the power. Within moments, the princess slapped the wet ground. Nothing. Her thoughts were too jumbled to focus on anything.
“I’m sorry, Vladimir, but I can’t conc
entrate today. I have too many things on my mind”
The shapechanger scratched at his beard and looked at her from beneath his thick brows. “It is spring; even I have trouble this time of year. Cooped up for the last two months, all I want to do now is run with a pack. In time, you will know the wild, and the wolf in you will calm. Then you will be able to control her much easier.”
Pepca to felt the urge to run, but that wasn’t all she felt. Vladimir had told her the impulses of wolves would fill her mind now, and she would have to learn to control those urges. Hunting and mating were the hardest for her. She dreamed of devouring small animals, and having relations with powerful men. Each was very disconcerting for her. Often she would wake in a heated sweat, hot with the desires of the animal inside her.
Pepca didn’t share those details with anyone other than Tempest and Ashlyn. Tempest encouraged her to keep working with Vladimir and Ashlyn had told her she was just in heat. Pepca had tried to work up the nerve to ask Vladimir about her dreams, but it was just far too embarrassing to tell any man about her carnal thoughts.
“Can we stop for the day? There are some things I want to do,” she said.
“We should talk about something first,” Vladimir said, his tone turning serious.
Pepca knew what he meant to speak with her about. She had hoped they wouldn’t have to discuss it again. It had only happened that one time. “I know what you’re going to say, and I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“I know you didn’t. I just want you realize how dangerous it is, and you must do you best from allowing it to happen again.”
Pepca hung her head. The last full moon when she began to transform, something had happened. The wolf had not come, but a monster had appeared instead. Vladimir called it the between. The creature was part-human/part-wolf, and it had been terrifying.
“Pepca, if that happens again, you must fight to bring on the wolf. The between is mindless and savage. Few shifters have the ability, and I have never known any who could control it. It is neither human nor wolf, but a mix of the two. In that state, you lose yourself, Pepca, and the human and the wolf both will be at the mercy of the between”
The Star Of Saree Page 34
