But first, he would need to remain out of the acolytes’ reach until he healed.
He already knew a bit about where he was and who he was with, his sleeping mind having sensed and catalogued those key pieces of information. But now he groggily took in more details of his surroundings and found himself tucked in a blanket. A fire burned brightly nearby with what smelled like rabbit stew suspended over the low flames. A female human sat across from where he lay—Beatrice. She stirred the stew and added a sprinkle of some herb as he watched.
More details of his new situation seeped into his foggy mind. He had been healed—at least physically. He couldn’t reach his Larnkin or call his magic. By the dual sensations of feeling the fur along his back and the blanket brushing against his naked, furless front, he knew he was trapped between forms. Just like an overeager adolescent trying his hand at shapeshifting for the first time without the guidance of an elder.
But there were worse things than being trapped between forms. Like not knowing his present location in relation to the acolytes. Or having dragged the young healer into this mess.
Beatrice was brave, kind-hearted, and wasn’t the type to blame him should the acolytes find them, but he would blame himself. He needed to find a way to get the human safely away from the acolytes and then find his people and report what he’d learned about the enemy.
“Since you’re awake, lupwyn, I have some questions for you. And by the way, what’s your real name?”
Beatrice stared at him, her expression calm and thoughtful, not filled with fear or revulsion. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? But he didn’t respond to her question, not knowing what to say to her. Even being trapped between forms probably wasn’t enough to confuse her as to who he was. His human features were probably still similar enough to his trapper disguise that Beatrice wouldn’t mistake who he was.
After giving the stew one more stir, Beatrice sat cross-legged and rested her hands on her knees. Her body language said she’d wait all day for him to speak if she had to.
He sat up slowly, mirroring her position. “My birth name is Silverblade.”
“I’m Beatrice, but you already knew that.” The human smiled, a merry light in her eyes. “When we first met and you introduced yourself as Janinson, a trapper fresh from the Empire, I knew you lied. I always thought your name was fictitious. Old Mother and I just assumed you were hiding from the acolytes, same as us. It never occurred to me that your power ran so deep as to hide your true nature.”
“I never intended to deceive you, but I had my orders.”
She tilted her head at him, that thoughtful look back in her gaze, and he wondered which direction her thoughts flowed in.
“I know. I never sensed deceit in you. It’s why I trusted you when you still pretended to be a trapper—why I still trust you.” She began unlacing her shirt’s ties, peeled back the fabric to expose a portion of her breasts, and tapped the mage mark emblazoned upon her flesh. “What is this? You have one, so you must know what it is.”
Silverblade loved her sensibility. With her, there was never any time wasted on worries or foolish debates. No, she always saw situations clearly, dealing with immediate threats first and shoving aside all else.
“Oh, yes,” she said as if reading his thoughts. “A foreign mark suddenly appearing on my breast is something of greater concern than a trusted friend who has hidden a secret because he was under orders.”
Hmmm, just how deep had her healing power allowed her to ‘read’ him? He didn’t give voice to his question, afraid she’d think him ungrateful for all she’d done.
In fact, he was humbled that she still trusted him in spite of his own not-so-mild deception. And the friendship she spoke of did come as a bit of a surprise. While he’d struck up a friendship with her family, most of his attention had been focused on teaching the boy, Roan, a few hunting tricks and the like. Some evenings after a successful hunt, he and the boy would return to the hut where Old Mother and Beatrice already had a cooking fire going.
Those evenings of a shared meal were far enough apart, he hadn’t actually thought much of them. One simply helped one’s pack.
But seeing the sincere trust in Beatrice’s pale grey-blue eyes, he realized she, who had never had proper pack interaction, might place greater importance on even the smallest encounters. Whatever the cause, he was glad the young healer did not fear him.
Unfortunately, while he knew the symbol on her breast was a mage mark of some kind, he didn’t know who or what had put it there. Although he had a few unsettling ideas. In his youth, he’d studied in Grey Spires and his mentors had drilled in many history lessons.
But there was a darker possibility as well. His history lesson had not mentioned anyone or anything with powers like the acolytes could summon. He could not rule out that these marks were not something placed there by the acolytes.
One thing he did know was that the acolytes could conscript new, unwilling hosts. It was possible she was one and didn’t even know it.
He glanced down at his own chest. And if that was the case, wouldn’t that then mean he himself was also a new host for whatever dark magic controlled the acolytes? Shuddering at that thought, he didn’t want it to be true. And while he didn’t feel evil, that didn’t mean there wasn’t some dark spark already growing within.
As much as he didn’t want to drag Beatrice into this mess, now that she was clearly hip-deep in it, he felt a kinship growing between them. It was fast, and would be unnatural for any species outside of a lupwyn’s heritage. But lupwyns were pack animals and once they were in the company of another for long enough to grow to trust them, they swiftly began the process of assimilating them into the pack.
And he’d been away from his pack for long enough that his biology was looking to form pack bonds with any trustworthy creature. His scout’s discipline, honed through centuries of training, in combination with his far more skeptical phoenix side was likely the only reason his lupwyn magic hadn’t already managed to form the bonds with Beatrice and her family.
Despite this natural skepticism, it was his phoenix bloodline which urged him to tell her what he knew of mage marks in general and where he suspected these ones in particular may have originated. That way he could see how she reacted and study her more.
“Throughout history, there have been occurrences where the gods, ancient Larnkins, and oracles marked those with power as their chosen.” He paused at length and then sighed, thinking how to phrase his next words without scaring the youngling. With a mental shrug, he decided it best just to spit it out. Beatrice seemed mature in spirit even if she was still young in body. She had the right to know the dangers. “Not all brands denote ones who serve the Light.”
The female glanced down at her mark and ran one finger along the complex series of swirls and knots that composed the elegant design. Her expression darkened. “I have been blessed not to have come in direct contact with an acolyte in many years. I’ve only felt their presence distantly. So I cannot say with certainty that this power isn’t something of their conjuring.”
“I have not been so fortunate and know well the feel of an acolyte’s soul-numbing power.” Silverblade ran a claw-tipped finger over his own brand, unease stirring within again. “But I cannot rule out that they have more powers at their command. They are an enemy we have not faced before.”
Beatrice nodded, and then continued. “You may be correct. However, I do not think my magic would allow an acolyte to mark me without a terrible fight. And if it is any comfort, when I was healing you, my magic left no remaining trace of the acolytes’ dark power. I even think your Larnkin, although damaged now, will recover fully in a couple moon cycles under my care.”
Remembering back to how her Larnkin had reached across a great distance and obliterated the acolytes surrounding him with one swift, decisive strike, he had to agree with Beatrice on that point. Whatever her power, it was greater and more terrible than what a handful of acolytes could wield.
/> “Regardless, whether I have been marked in some way by the acolytes or not, I must still find a way to report what I’ve learned to my elders, and quickly.”
“My family and I are friends with the Stonemantle sisters. I do not know if you are familiar with them, but the eldest sister is the newly made bondmate of the Crown Prince of the Phoenix, and she told us we should leave the human lands and that we would be welcome among the santhyrian herd.” Beatrice looked up at him, gaze questioning. “If the santhyrian herd is closer than your pack, perhaps it would be wise to allow our paths to run together for a few days. At least until we are safely beyond the acolytes’ reach? Once among santhyrian allies, surely they will be able to get a message to your pack. For as long as we travel together, my magic will continue to work at healing you.”
Her offer elicited an unseemly surge of relief in his lupwyn soul. Not trusting his voice to hide even half the relief he felt, he kept his lips firmly sealed and stared at the fire. Perhaps this new weakness was just a result of the acolytes’ feeding and the subsequent severing of his pack bonds.
He’d already recovered much of his physical strength. Perhaps if he stayed with Beatrice, his magical strength would return too and with it, his pack bonds. Still, the logical and responsible part of his mind knew he should send her on, while he stayed behind and laid false trails for the acolytes to follow. Yet, if he stayed with Beatrice instead of luring the acolytes off in another direction, his own mission had a much better chance at success. And, if he could learn more about Beatrice’s magic, they might be able to harness it into an even deadlier weapon to use against the acolytes. But that could not be accomplished without endangering the young healer.
While he’d been at war with his own emotions, Beatrice had filled a bowl with stew and was now holding it out to him. He stared at her simple offering, but knew if he reached out for her, he would be accepting far more than a mundane meal.
Chapter Eleven
Beatrice held her breath as she waited for him to take up her offer of friendship. He tilted his head at her, a questioning look in his eyes.
“Do you not fear me even a little? I thought humans feared the Elemental races.”
“I am not on speaking terms with most of humanity.” She grinned. Here was a question she could answer truthfully for the first time in her life and not fear the fire and the stake. “Most humans are taught to fear magic as the greatest of evils. I am different, and know magic itself isn’t evil. I am mage-born, but have only ever used my magic to heal those in need. I’ve found my magic can make a person forget. It’s a handy ability.” Waving at him, she clarified. “Not that I would try that with you, as you are mage-born as well, and I feel that my secret is safe in your keeping.”
Silverblade snorted with bitterness. “No, you do not have to fear me telling an acolyte about your magic.”
“And you are kind.”
His one ear flicked in her direction and she could see her admission surprised him a touch. His look said, ‘She doesn’t even know me. Why does the foolish human think I’m kind?’
“Ah,” she said when his one eyebrow arched up in question. “You think I’m not able to judge the heart of a neighbor I sat across from while enjoying a meal we shared? I assure you, my magic is capable of studying a person and judging them worthy of my trust.”
She held the bowl of stew out to him once again and he took it and then the spoon she handed him. Once he started to eat, she scooped up a bowl for herself. They ate in companionable silence, even though she had many more questions she wanted to ask. There was a tension to the silence, and she could only imagine what was going through his head. Probably still trying to determine if she could be trusted. There was nothing she could say to reassure him, only time could aid him in that. Though she hoped they might become friends in truth.
It would be nice to have someone to talk to besides her brother and grandmother on the long journey. That he was a lupwyn and likely knew the fastest way to make the journey was an added benefit. But that wasn’t why she’d healed him.
When she’d compared him to a neighbor, it was true.
She frowned in thought. A very close-mouthed neighbor.
*****
Beatrice was just finishing her own stew when Silverblade set his bowl down and picked up the cup of tea she’d slid his way earlier. He sipped it and then looked over the rim at her.
“Thank you for healing me and for the shared meal.”
“You’re welcome.”
He fell silent again and she figured one sentence was about all she’d get out of him for another candlemark.
But he surprised her. “I am familiar with the Stonemantle name, though I have not met the Crown Prince’s bondmate in person.”
Beatrice debated what to say to keep the lupwyn talking. “I cannot claim close friendship with Ashayna Stonemantle like I can her two younger sisters. Ashayna has always been aloof and fearful of magic.”
The lupwyn grunted and shifted positions to sit cross-legged. This position freed his tail and her eyes were drawn to where it poked out of the blanket. She noted the lupwyn didn’t seem to care that he was completely naked. A sneaking suspicion nagged at her thoughts that he only kept the blanket across his lap for her sake. As a healer, she wasn’t a modest type, but she was still secretly pleased he covered up. It allowed her to study the rest of his body without feeling like she was ogling him.
Hers was a purely medical interest of course.
Although she was woman enough to notice his wide shoulders, heavily muscled upper body, and the shadows and light contrasting his abdomen. Hmmm…the other, less human parts might take a little adjusting to, but there was nothing about him that made her want to jump up and run away. And what human features remained were still those she’d known when he pretended to be a trapper.
She’d always had a difficult time determining his age. His appearance made him seem like her contemporary, but his demeanor suggested he was far older. Regardless, she’d secretly always thought him striking. There was just something about the combination of his striking blue eyes, defined cheek bones, and that way his eyebrows arched just slightly in amusement that she found fascinating. She’d often stared at him far too often when he’d come to share their fire in the guise of a trapper. He’d even appeared in a few of her dreams.
He sighed again, causing the fire’s light and the night shadows to dance across his muscles.
“I think your earlier words about us staying together for a time are wise. I will travel with you until our paths must part. At the very least, I can see you safely to lupwyn territory for your aid in healing me.”
“You haven’t mentioned what happened to you in detail. I know what I saw once we’d merged, but before that I could only sense your great pain.” She softened her voice. “I can still feel it, a pain my healing magic can do nothing for, but perhaps my friendship can. If you need to speak of it, I am here. And if you are not ready to share your pain just yet, that is okay as well.”
“It is not a good story and since you’ve known of the acolytes longer than I have, I expect the outcome of this tale will not be new to you.” He huffed, picked up the fire’s stir stick, and gave the logs a couple pokes. “Two days ago, Sorntar, the Crown Prince of the Phoenix, and Shadowdancer, the santhyrian ambassador, reported that the acolytes possessed some foreign power that allowed them to drain a Larnkin. Since I know more about River’s Divide than any other Elemental, I was reassigned to accompany the delegation sent to study Lord Master Trensler and his other acolytes.”
“Trensler. I can’t say what he is. But I’ve known since I was a child that he is pure evil.” Beatrice allowed her eyes to wander to the fire again, giving Silverblade a moment to decide if he wished to talk about his ordeal or not.
Perhaps if she told him more about herself, he would open up and share some of that terrible pain she felt churning beneath his control. It still bled profusely, his grief welling up and washing against her sens
es. Outwardly, he showed nothing.
He hadn’t said he was the only one to escape, but he didn’t need to. Survivor’s guilt was stamped firmly upon his spirit. Her heart flared in sympathy. He’d lost someone close to him, someone he loved?
Ah. He very well may have had a mate who had been accompanying the delegation.
Pain shared was pain lessened.
“Acolytes murdered my parents,” Beatrice began. “They would have murdered my brother and me, too, if it hadn’t been for the quick thinking of my grandmother.”
Even as she watched the fire, the lupwyn’s sudden distress was so great she knew without seeing it that his expression had just hardened and the earlier grief morphed into rage.
“Then we have that in common.” Silverblade’s voice sent chills down her spine. “For the acolytes killed my mother as well.”
Her breath stilling in her lungs, she met his gaze. The pain there caused an old ache in her heart to flare in sympathy. The acolytes and their master had much to atone for. While it was unlikely she herself could do much to banish them from this world, perhaps Silverblade and his people could.
In that moment, she felt her life’s path change, a subtle shifting in her soul. “I am a humble healer. My knowledge of magic is limited and based upon what my grandmother learned from hers. If my gifts can aid you in some way, I share them gladly.” She glanced back at the fire where it was greedily eating away at the most recent piece of wood she’d added. If something wasn’t done to stop them, the acolytes would be a raging fire sweeping across the world, leaving nothing but ash and barren rock behind. “The acolytes must be stopped no matter the cost.”
“Yes.” Silverblade made a low, rumbling growl. “The acolytes cannot be allowed to continue as they have. I will take you up on your offer.”
Maiden's Wolf (In Deception's Shadow Book 3) Page 6
