What the—?
The humid air stank of age and neglect, along with the pungent odors of flood and mud. The muted sun streamed in from the small windows high above, casting me in its dusty light. I stood once more in the monastery’s desecrated chapel, shivering despite the early day’s summer heat. Not me, I pleaded, my tears on my cheeks. Please. Not me. Choose another.
On a stand to the left of the desecrated alter lay an ancient leather-bound book. I could see the dry cracks of age running across its cover. I knew that hadn’t been there when I first entered. It wasn’t there when I peeked inside the chapel a few days ago. I swear it wasn’t there when I glanced about the monk’s small church months ago when we first camped here, on my way to marry Brutal.
But it was there now.
How many hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years old was it? I knew, without knowing, this was the source of white magic. All white magic. I stared at the Book of the Gods, their celestial how-to manual. No mortal creature should ever have seen it.
Take it.
Please don’t make me.
Take it. Hide it.
Please—
Leaving the half-question to hang in mid-air, I dropped to my knee and bowed my head to the gods who protected this place and those I loved. Who protected the people, the myriad creatures the gods themselves created, and the lands we treasured. I offered homage to those gods who heard me, and who just answered my prayer. I felt their approval tingle lightly along my skin, like the feathers of a dusky moth.
I raised my head, tears dripping down my cheeks. I stared up at the less than pristine altar. “I’m not sure I understand what you want of me.”
Above my head, among the vast oak beams of the ceiling, a bird cooed. Another answered amid the very faint rustling of feathers. Doves. I frowned slightly, my memory leaping toward a sermon a priestess of Nephrotiti gave when I was but a girl. Doves had long been the eternal symbol of peace, prosperity and the gods’ hope for all the creatures of the earth.
So very simple.
Rising, I wiped tears from my cheeks. I gathered my hair behind my neck as I bowed my head in reverence to the altar. “You’ll help me out, I hope? I sure as hell have no idea how to stop what’s coming.”
Only silence and the ruffling of dove feathers answered me.
Bowing my head once more toward the holy altar, I whispered. “Don’t abandon me. Please.”
From outside came Kel’Ratan’s rising shout. “Ly’Tana! What the hell are you doing? Fall asleep in there?”
Low voiced laughter followed on the heels of his yell.
Crikey, I thought, panicked. They mustn’t see me like this. They’ll never cease hounding me for information if I came out of an empty monastery crying and hysterical. I didn’t need any inner voice telling me this was something I must keep to myself. And with what I saw in my vision, I’d be keeping this secret for a long time.
I wiped my face clean of tears with my hands and drew a ragged breath. Retrieving my gear, I took the leather-bound book and shoved it all the way down to the bottom of my pack. Being the alpha bitch, none dared mess with my belongings, nor trespass across my boundaries. The book would remain unseen and secret. Even from myself, I chuckled inwardly. I hoisted my packs and lifted my saddlebags before taking another quick look around.
Strangely, I found I would miss this place, the empty central hall, the chapel, the private sleeping chambers. My heart ached, a small tug of wistfulness that when I left, I’d never walk its once beautiful, hallowed grounds again. Perhaps one day I might return. Yet, deep down, I knew I would never stand here, in this place, again.
Did I want to?
Despite my nightmarish vision here, I found that, yes, I would like that very much.
Outside the wide open doors, I heard the horses splash through the floodwaters. The voices of my boys rose in jests and laughter, ribald words cast far and wide. Raine rumbled something I couldn’t catch, possibly to Corwyn, as I heard that man’s murmured reply. Turning my back on the monastery and its ancient holiness forever, my gear in hand, I walked outside, into the sunlit courtyard.
“What kept you?” Kel’Ratan asked as I approached.
“Nunya,” I replied, my tone light. Or I hoped it sounded light. And as care-free as my soul wasn’t.
“Nunya?” he asked, half-turning from his task of saddling his own bay stallion.
“None of your damn business.”
Raine laughed aloud as Rygel chuckled. My boys, those within hearing anyway, guffawed under their breath, grins abounding. Kel’Ratan shot me a dark glance as he tightened his girth. I grinned, impudent, and carefree on the surface. Beneath the surface, however, I worried.
“Ask a simple question,” Kel’Ratan muttered to himself as he bent over his horse’s right front hoof. He picked the foot up, inspected it closely before dropping to plop back into the nasty water.
As promised, Raine busied himself saddling Mikk, whose girth lay snug but not tight under his belly. I handed him my gear, hoping his sharp eyes didn’t spot the panic I knew still shone in my eyes. Raine had better instincts for emotions and thoughts than any man I’d ever met. I braced myself for his concern.
I must have covered better than I thought, for he took them from me with a smile, Mikk nuzzling his shoulder. I gaped. A rather standoffish fellow, Mikk never offered affection to anyone but me. His approval of Raine told me far more than the approval of my warriors ever could or would. Raine was…exceptional.
Witraz, Rannon and Alun lead the grey mare, and the two bays belonging to Raine and Kel’Ratan forward. The horses, already saddled and bridled, needed only their bags and passengers. Yuri and Yuras emerged from the barn, carrying packs and saddlebags. Tor tripped behind them, lugging his own gear and talking eagerly into their broad backs.
“Your bloody horse bit me,” Witraz complained, lifting his forearm to reveal a very nasty bruise.
Beside me, Raine chuckled. “Sorry. He’s not a very nice horse.”
Alun smacked Witraz on the back of his head. “Your Highness,” Witraz added hastily, rubbing the sore spot left by Alun’s knuckles. His one eye glowered. “Quit hitting me.”
“Mind your manners, then.”
Near the barn, Left and Right saddled their twin black stallions, while Yuri and Yuras busied themselves with Rygel’s black gelding and their own chestnut mounts. Witraz’s piebald stood alone, his reins on his neck, amusing himself by splashing the water with one front hoof.
“Princess.”
Rygel’s voice drew my attention from my boys and their duties and onto himself. He stood, up to his shins in muddy water, his cloak dripping muck, and standing as elegantly as though in a royal court. His yellow eyes, now sober and devoid of humor, gazed at me, assessing. “Are you ready?”
My dry mouth might have denied it, but my spirit soared. He asked a bloody silly question. Of course I was ready. I was born ready.
Raine chuckled. “Methinks she’s prepared, Rygel.”
“Ye gods!” Kel’Ratan roared. “Rygel, what have you done? She’s always been flighty and now you’ve gone and made her flightier.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Not with humor, but with anticipation and sheer joy. With Rygel’s magic, he’d once more transform me onto a bird. I was going to fly.
Arianne stared at me as though she thought I had gone completely and utterly insane. Perhaps I had. Tor dropped the pack he carried, fortunately on the flagstones of the courtyard and not into the brackish water, and gawped. Witraz left the horses to their own devices and splashed his way closer. Seeing him, derelict in his duties, brought the rest of them running, hurrying through the flood. None wanted to miss the second time I got turned into a bird. I dryly wondered how often they’d have to witness it before it became mundane.
“Are you really—” Tor began, and gulped. He pointed upward.
“She is,” Rygel said tersely. “Now give us space.”
Tor backed away hastily, seizing Ar
ianne’s hand and dragging her with him. Raine suddenly took me into his massive arms. Those eerie grey eyes ringed in black looked deep into mine, warm and filled with something, a strange emotion I could put no name to. His fingers traced down my cheek with the gentleness that never ceased to surprise me. His handsome lips smiled sadly. “Don’t forget me while you’re gone,” he murmured.
Despite the tears that popped into my eyes of their own accord, I laughed. “As if I could.”
His warm, no, his hot kiss, his fiery kiss, lit a bonfire within me, an inferno that flamed my blood and set it to simmering deliciously. His devilish tongue teased my own. I tasted his ardor, felt his cravings with every beat of my heart. My desire, my passion, my yearning to be his grew into a conflagration that almost slipped dangerously out of control. I cared not that he kissed me under in front of goddess and everybody. All I wanted was him.
Dizziness swamped me when he finally released both my lips and my body. Ignoring the interested stares, I seized his hand in a tight grip. I had two reasons for this: first to steady myself without seeming to, and second to hold onto him for a moment longer. I smiled up into his strange eyes.
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” I said.
Raine smiled back. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep, my lady.”
“He will be careful, my sweet sister,” Arianne said.
Both of us turned toward her in surprise. Not just at her words but at her tone. She flung her hair back from her face and stood alone and proud. “He has a task to perform.”
Raine’s brow arched. “And what may that be?”
“You’ll know when the time comes,” she said. “Right now it’s to keep all of us safe.”
“She’s correct about that,” I said.
“I hate to break up this little soiree,” Rygel said. “But we really need to fly, like, now.”
“One moment more,” I said, raising my finger to him. Rygel blew out a sharp breath and nodded. I turned around to find Bar still perched on the cupola, his predatory eyes eager as he bent his head down toward me, his wings half-spread.
“You stay with them,” I said sternly. “I’m sorry, Bar, but this time you can’t come with me.”
I tried not to wince at his screech of denial. “You absolutely cannot be seen with me, you know that. I need you to fly ahead of the others and find them as safe a passage though this mess as possible. Show Kel’Ratan the way.”
“I never could understand his bloody squawking,” Kel’Ratan growled. “What makes you think I can now?”
“Listen with your other ears,” I snapped, rounding on him.
He puffed himself up in outraged indignation. “What other ears, I ask you? I have only the one set.”
I glared up at Bar. “Do as I tell you, understand?”
He grumbled an assent, his yellow eyes angry, his tufted ears flat. Yet, his wings settled across his back.
“Rygel will keep me safe.”
Bar’s hot predatory glare seized Rygel, his message unmistakable. He hissed long and low, his tone as menacing as ever I’d heard it.
Rygel, diplomatic for once, bowed low under Bar’s dreadful scrutiny. “I will, Bar,” he said. “My life for hers.”
At his pledge, Bar relaxed somewhat, but his neck feathers still ruffled in either anxiety or irritation. I never could quite tell which tended to ruffle them more.
I turned to Rygel. “I’m ready, my lord,” I said. “I think.”
Rygel kissed Arianne on the cheek and ruffled Tor’s hair. Predictably, Tor yelped, much like Kel’Ratan, in outrage. He cleared the area with a quick flip of his hand, his gesture sending Raine, Kel’Ratan and my boys into backing away. With a wide circle cleared about us, I took a deep breath. Rygel’s posture told me he was about to use his magic. I braced myself. When his magic hit me, I’d be ready.
As before, his power felt cold, bone chilling cold. My body ran, melted, turned in upon itself. Unlike before, I felt no panic, and only a small amount of fear. Yet, as the change came so suddenly, I lost my balance. Where once I stood on human legs, now I flopped about, trying to stand on thin legs ending in long toes. I flailed about, wings flapping against the flagstones until my equilibrium returned. It did, far more quickly than the first time. I learned fast.
At last I stood, peering up at the giant humans that ringed me round. I tried a chirp. Instead, I croaked.
Damn and blast, I thought, dismayed. Where was my hawk’s triumphant screech? I croaked again. Looking down at myself, I saw black feathers, black legs. Toes, not talons. Damn it, if he didn’t do as he threatened. I’m a raven, not a hawk. Personally, I despised ravens.
Well, wings still worked the same way. Leaping into the air, I fluttered up to perch on Raine’s shoulder. I gripped tightly to his tunic, my toes causing little harm to his massive muscles. His head turned slightly to see me, a wide grin of delight etched across his features. “Damn, but don’t you make a beautiful bird.”
I make a better hawk, I thought. Peering around at the people surrounding me, I found a repeat of my earlier transformation. Witraz, Rannon, Alun, Yuri, Yuras and Left and Right all stared at me, perched amid Raine’s shoulder-length locks. No few made the sign against strong enchantment. Tor’s tonsils showed behind his teeth as he gaped. Arianne smiled, a small secretive smile that made me think she knew something she wasn’t telling. At least she wasn’t afraid.
On Kel’Ratan’s shoulder stood another raven.
“Ready, Princess?”
As before, his voice spoke within my mind.
“Is that your entire vocal repertoire?” I returned primly.
He laughed. With a loud croak, he launched himself into the air. He circled, his broad wings outstretched to their fullest, climbing higher and higher on the warm thermals. I spared a moment to rub my head against Raine’s cheek.
“We’ll be headed west,” he said, his fingers stroking down my feathers. “Toward those mountains. Find us there. And don’t forget to look after yourself.”
I croaked. Damn, a hawk’s voice was ever so much nobler. I leaped from his shoulder and flew upward. Instantly, I recognized how different a raven’s body was to a hawk’s, and I needed a moment or two to adjust. The raven was a large bird, heavier, its feathers thicker, its wings broader and longer. A hawk was built for speed, while a raven had little need for speed. I missed the hawk’s ability to climb high and fast, to turn on a wingtip. But the raven owned a body built for soaring with little effort. Only the tiniest of wing beats set me to floating effortlessly on the warm air currents. I liked soaring.
Despite Rygel’s impatience, I took a moment to circle over Bar. He watched me, his eyes alight with happiness, with eagerness, and also a sullen anger. I knew his anger, for I, too, wanted to fly with him, to dance the dance of wind and air and flight with my guardian. Perhaps Rygel might change me back into a hawk one day. One day when our urgency was less and we had some time. Then, given his magic, I might fly once more with my Bar.
I croaked down at him, an apology, a word of love, something. His chirp in return assured me his anger was but temporary and I was forgiven for abandoning him. The following hiss informed me: he forgave me—this time.
I laughed inwardly as I joined Rygel in climbing the warm thermals of the newly risen sun. ’Twould be a hot day and a wonderful day for flying. The incident in the chapel receded into the depths of dim memory. Much like a nightmare I promptly forgot about upon waking. Only the shadow of it still lurked deep within my soul.
Unlike on our search for Raine, we did not fly high. Rather, we flew low over the corpse of the vast forest, our shadows behind us reflected off the glimmering floodwaters. All the hail finally melted, but the water from them, and the day and night of heavy rain, would take time to leach into the earth. Like the scene at the monastery, the savage destruction took my breath away. So much primal beauty, gone, shattered in a single night, dead. Would it return, perhaps, one day? I hoped so.
Hard on our right
, the escarpment, now bare stone, stood out in stark contrast to the devastation. The forest where Bar found me lay in the same tangled mess we now flew over. I spared a brief thought for the Tongu we left in that woodland. As their assassin brothers had attacked us so soon, I knew they’d killed themselves rather than die of starvation. Perhaps their leader killed his men out of mercy, and then opened his own veins. Thus, only he’d incur the wrath of their gods, whoever they may be.
The stench of death reached my sensitive nostrils, rising on the warm damp air. I was glad I ate a full meal at daybreak. The raven in me wanted to feast on the dead bodies of unlucky deer, wild pigs, rabbits, birds and other forest creatures not fortunate enough to have reached safety before the storm hit. The disgusted human in me fought hard against those raven instincts.
Predictably, Rygel laughed. “Ravens are carrion birds, Princess.”
“But did we really have to become ravens?” I complained. “Wouldn’t another bird do?”
“How about a vulture?”
I gagged.
“Vultures can soar like no other creature with feathers.”
“I don’t care.”
Rygel laughed. “A crow?”
“Shut up.”
“We must pass unremarked,” he answered, a smile in his mental tone. “Just concentrate on our task and the desire to eat dead things will pass.”
“I don’t much like you right now.”
Wizard laughter echoed deep within my mind.
We covered ground faster from the air than we did on horseback, when we fled Brutal’s trap with an injured Kel’Ratan over Raine’s saddlebow. We flew less than an hour when we approached the city’s walls on the not so distant, treeless, horizon.
Soon, I found myself very glad I conquered the raven’s desire to eat dead things. We flew low over not only the corpses of horses, cattle, sheep, mules, oxen and donkeys that floated in the floodwaters, but also those of the human population. The stench rose ever upward, caught on the warm air that rose off the water. We soared over the Federate highway choked with the remains of folk either fleeing the city or seeking shelter there from the approaching Wrath. Real ravens, as well as crows and vultures, feasted on the bodies of peasant and noble alike. The stench of death and bodies rotting in the sun overwhelmed even my raven instincts.
Catch a Wolf Page 12
