Dark Moon Defender (Twelve Houses) (78 page)
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Authors: Sharon Shinn
BOOK: Dark Moon Defender (Twelve Houses)
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He lifted his hands and rested the knife tip against his chest. A great yellow spark separated itself from the fire, drifted above his head, and landed like a butterfly on his laced knuckles. He waited for the sting of the ember against his skin, but there was no burn. Almost no sensation at all.
The ember danced on his folded hands, spreading its dusty black and gold wings. Not a spark, after all, but no butterfly, either—a moth, drawn like all of its kind to certain death in a gorgeous fire.
The moth shifted its impossibly delicate legs and Justin felt magic skitter across his skin.
By the Wild Mother’s woolly head, it was Kirra, come to rescue him from the hot heart of death.
He dropped the knife and shouted her name so that she knew he recognized her. Instantly, he felt the cold tingle of sorcery course along his bones, in direct contrast to the hungry heat pressing in from all directions. He concentrated, holding himself as still as he could, opening his mind, trying to make himself a pure funnel to receive whatever power she poured into him. Would she change him into the same shape she held now, or would she make him some other creature who could more quickly escape this inferno? Something that could fly—that was the most obvious choice. And she knew he understood how to be a bird, whereas he had never been an insect of any sort—
He felt his bones contract, he felt his skin roughen and his mouth purse out and narrow down. The ropes dropped from his hands—they were not hands—he lifted his arms to get a better look and they rose on either side of him in feathered wedges. He could not hold back a triumphant caw of exhilaration as he drove his wings down hard and felt them grab a shaky purchase on the heated, undulating air. He was practically clawing his way above the fire, his balance imperfect and one wing singed by a sudden leap of flame, but he was above the pyre, he was aloft in the cool air, he was flapping his way over the convent walls, too low to the ground to glide.
Disorienting and confusing to fly in the dark through a tangled weave of trees. Where was Kirra? Justin banked and tried to turn around, wondering how well her tiny moth’s body could keep up with his bird’s wingspan, but then he saw her. Now she was a hawk as well, darting straight toward him through the cluttered mesh of branches. She offered a single cry—welcome or inquiry or instruction to follow—and flew right past him, then aimed upward to break free of the chancy terrain of the forest.
Justin followed, his wings working by instinct, his mind only faintly aware of the shifts his body made to skip from one wind current to the next. Overhead, the frozen stars watched in astonishment or dismay. But the Black Mother smiled, pleased at the outcome of this night’s adventure. She exhaled her breath in a tiny puff of air and buoyed Justin through every mile of his flight.
He landed awkwardly and felt a moment’s blinding pain as the edge of his wing bent backward. A small cry tore from his throat and he hopped for a few paces just to distract himself from the raw sensation. Beside him, Kirra made a flawless landing. The others were instantly on their knees in the grass in a rough circle around them.
“Is that them? Are you sure?” Ellynor asked fearfully, and Justin was so glad to hear her voice that he hopped around another few paces just to get a good look at her. She was disheveled but whole; her face was tight with worry.
I’m fine
, he wanted to say, but all he could produce was a hoarse croak.
I’m fine
, he wanted to say, but all he could produce was a hoarse croak.
“It’s them,” Cammon said with utter certainty.
“Why are they still birds? Why hasn’t she changed them back?”
“I’m guessing she’s almost at the limits of her strength,” Senneth said quietly. “You have no idea how much energy it takes for her to change a person into something else. And she’s done how many transformations in a few short hours? She might not recover for a couple of days.”
“So—they’ll be like this for another
day
?” Ellynor cried.
day
?” Ellynor cried.
“Better a live hawk than a dead Rider,” Tayse said.
“So do we stay here tonight or move on?” Senneth asked. “Depending on how spectacular this rescue was, someone might come looking for Ellynor in a matter of hours. We’re awfully close to the convent.”
“They need sleep,” Cammon said.
“We can carry them,” Senneth replied.
Tayse glanced up at the sky, gauging the time. “If we can, I’d like to get to someplace that approximates safety,” he said. “A town with an inn, if such a thing can be found. It sounds like these two will need to recover, and I’d like that to be inside shelter, if possible.”
“Then let’s go,” Senneth said. She reached out carefully and gathered up Kirra’s small, trembling form. “I’ll carry this one. Ellynor, I assume—”
“Yes,” said Ellynor, her soft hands already under Justin’s body. He gave a little cry of pain, and she looked more closely. “I think he snapped his wing,” she said. “Does that mean his arm will be broken when he—when he’s human again?”
“Probably,” Senneth said. “Unless you can fix it.”
Ellynor ran one finger delicately down the overlapping feathers. “I’ve never tried to heal a bird before.”
“Then wait till morning. When Kirra changes him back, you can heal him then. Or she can.”
“I’ll do it now,” Ellynor whispered.
“Hurry then,” Tayse said. “We don’t want soldiers to catch us on the road.”
Her hand moved a second time, even more slowly, down the long sweep of his wing. Justin felt the feathered quills straighten and reknit; he felt the pain simply ease away. He bobbed his head up and down and cawed out what thanks he could manage, but he was tired—so tired.
Ellynor scooped him up and cradled him against her throat. “Let’s get going,” she said in a choked voice.
Justin felt her swing into the saddle, heard Tayse issue orders and Cammon ask a question, but he couldn’t sort out the words. Ellynor bunched up the front of her robes to make a nest for him in her lap, and she kept one hand on his back as the horses went into motion. He could not keep his eyes open any longer; he slept away the rest of the journey.
CHAPTER 40
JUSTIN woke suddenly and completely, lying absolutely motionless as he tried to ascertain where he was.
What he was.
Up to a point, he vividly remembered the events of the night before. The fire, the rescue, the flight to safety. Ellynor’s hands cupped around his small, feathered body, the sounds and sensations of travel. After that, nothing. He had fallen asleep while they were still on the road. He had no idea when they had arrived wherever they were now or what shape he had been in when they stopped for the night.
Keeping his eyes closed, still feigning sleep in case he had somehow fallen back into enemy hands, he cautiously stretched his extremities. Those were fingers, those were toes. There was a definite and familiar weight to his body. He was human, he was male. His skin was overlaid with cotton and his bones were relatively comfortable. He must be lying on his side between the sheets of a bed, his head resting comfortably on a pillow.
His right arm ached as if it had been recently broken, but there were no ropes on his wrists or ankles. Still among friends.
He opened his eyes and stared straight at Ellynor, whose head rested on the same pillow just a few inches from his. She was awake, and her expression was hopeful. When she saw him conscious, her whole face was transformed with delight.
“Justin!” she squealed, and threw her arms around him.
He was alert enough to participate enthusiastically in the kiss, rolling her over so her back was against the bed and he was practically on top of her. Then he was slammed with protests from half the bones in his body, while at the same time catching a whiff of his own odor—sweat and smoke and some indefinable animal scent—and he groaned and let her go.
“I’m too foul to be kissing anyone,” he said, sitting up and stretching his arms high over his head and wincing at every bruise and ache. He hadn’t felt this bad since his first weeks training to be a Rider, when every day was a punishment.
For an answer, she pushed herself to her knees, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t live long enough to ever be able to kiss me again,” she whispered. “Tell me what happened.”
He kissed her cheek and dragged himself out of bed. They must be in an inn of some kind. The room was small and sparsely furnished, but there was a pitcher and basin over in one corner. Justin gulped down half of the water and used the rest to wash his face and upper body. He was stalling for time; he didn’t want to tell her how close he’d come to dying.
“First tell me what happened last night,” he said through the thin towel that he was using to dry his face. “Last thing I remember is flying down to a camp on the side of the road and Tayse saying we had to move on. How’d we get here— wherever here is—and when did I become human again? Did the magic just wear off?”
Ellynor was watching him with wise eyes. She knew he was trying to distract her. “Kirra stumbled in during the middle of the night and changed you back. Then she left and I think she went to sleep again. I haven’t seen her this morning.”
“Where are we?”
“I don’t know. Some small town on the road to the Lireth Mountains.”
He laid aside the towel and came to sit beside her on the bed, his bare feet on the floor. His pants were torn and ripped, and the shirt, which he’d left balled up by the basin, was a dead loss. He hoped someone had brought the rest of his clothes along, or he’d be riding half-naked for the rest of this journey. “Are
you
all right?” he asked gently. “Did they do anything to harm you before we arrived?”
you
all right?” he asked gently. “Did they do anything to harm you before we arrived?”
She shook her head. “No. Well, except for what you saw. But what happened? It seemed to take so long before you returned with Kirra.”
Before he could answer, the door opened and Cammon stuck his head in. Over his shoulder he called, “I told you he was awake,” and then entered without an invitation. He was smiling broadly. His hair and clothes were almost as disheveled as Justin’s, and he didn’t have the same excuses. “You look terrible,” he offered.
“About the way I feel,” Justin admitted.
The others filed in one by one—Tayse and Senneth both appearing rested and capable, Kirra still in a nightdress and yawning hugely, Donnal in human form.
“Hey!” Justin greeted this last arrival. “I thought you’d gone on to Ghosenhall.”
“I called him back,” Cammon said. “I thought Kirra might need him.”
Kirra flung herself on the foot of the bed and curled up there. Donnal settled on the floor beside her. “And I do,” she said drowsily.
“So the king still doesn’t know what’s keeping you so long on the road?” Justin asked.
Donnal smiled and shook his head. Senneth groaned and leaned against the wall beside Tayse. “No,” she said. “I’m convinced he thinks I’ve deserted. It might be easier if I did. I’ll come with you across the Lireth Mountains and then stay there. Maybe Ammet will take me in for another year.”
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