Herd Mistress (In Deception's Shadow Book 2) (19 page)

“I’m not leaving you here, and since I’m not suicidal,
it would be wonderful if you’d look for something to push off against. We need
to get into deeper water. You’re a strong swimmer. Once you’re away from the
edge, you should be able to swim and right yourself. Once you’re upright you
can walk ashore.

“I’ll crush you.” His body tensed again.

“No panicking.” She smacked his chest, but her own
heart pounded with fear. She wasn’t sure if her plan would work. “Don’t worry.
I’ll get out of the way in time. Promise.”

“Sorsha…”

“Just do what I say. I’ll let you win our next fight.”
He didn’t laugh at her joke. Probably not a good sign. “Come on. I’m getting
tired. Make up your mind.”

He shifted slightly and glanced back in her direction.
“I found a ledge that will suffice. Swear you’ll get out of the way.”

“Promise.”

Shadowdancer stared into her eyes. His were filled
with an emotional pain—one she wanted to sooth away. Once more she glanced at
his new body and didn’t know how she could make that better. But right now, his
new form was the least of their worries.

“Are you ready?” he asked and then waited in silence.

“Yes.” After a quick kiss pressed to his temple, she
released her hold and pushed off from the bottom, arching back into deeper
water. She’d only made it a short distance when something with the delicacy of
a log in rapids slammed into her, crushing the air from her lungs while pushing
her to the bottom of the pool. A hoof struck her leg. She would have screamed
in pain, but instinct saved her from inhaling water.

She made for the surface only to run into the bulk of
a massive body above her. His forelegs thrashed fearfully close to her head.
She tucked herself into a ball, hoping he’d swim over her without doing too
much damage.

A hand reached down and grasped her shoulder in a
painful grasp. He hauled her up between his front legs as he scrambled up the
slope and out of the water. When they reached dry land, Shadowdancer heaved her
onto the uneven stone floor and knelt down in front of her. Once he released
her, his fists clenched and loosened with indecision. After a slight hesitation,
that lasted moments but felt like candlemarks to Sorsha, he reached for her and
drew her to his chest where he simply held her as he shook.

The pounding of her heart and the rasp of his
breathing were the only sounds beside the drip of water on to the stone floor.
Neither of them spoke. They didn’t have to; each could feel the other’s fear
and relief.

Finally Shadowdancer moved, his hand coming up to pet
her matted hair. After he placed a kiss on the top of her head he stated in a
low voice, “You lied. You didn’t get out of the way.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled into his chest. “I really did
think I could get out of there in time.”

It was the oddest sensation to hold Sorsha and know it
would be the last time he could touch her. Because of that, he caressed her in
a slow methodical way, wanting to remember the feel of her, the smell of his
Herd Mistress, guardian of his heart. Sorsha didn’t try to pull away from the
horror he’d become. She was too brave for that, but he’d seen how her
expression had changed from incomprehension to a flash of horror when she’d
first looked upon him in the water and understood what price the Oracle had
exacted. The Mark of the Oracle. Just what being a Harbinger dictated.

Shadowdancer felt the horror growing within him again.
He chuckled with humorless laughter. He’d thought the Oracle had meant some
kind of a symbol like a tattoo or a brand. No, its idea of a mark was somewhat
more spectacular.

If he closed his eyes and didn’t move, it was easy
enough to ignore his new body, for it felt both familiar and strange.

Sorsha’s small hands slid down his chest, pausing at
his waist and then after another moment’s hesitation, continued onward to
explore where his human torso merged with his Santhyrian withers. He wanted her
to stop, not sully her hands upon such an unnatural combination….and yet….he
needed her touch to chase away the self-loathing, even for a few moments.

“You’re not a monster. Trensler is the monster.
Remember that.”

Her words gave him the strength to hold her out to
arms-length and gather his hooves under him. Not because she didn’t think him a
monster, because he knew the truth, but her mention of Trensler reminded him of
his duty—to protect his Herd Mistress.

And he would fulfill all his obligations; he would
become the Oracle’s Harbinger, no matter the personal cost. When he started for
the stairs, Sorsha called after him. He ignored her as she followed him
doggedly up corridors that led to the outside world.

“Where are you going?” Sorsha asked with growing worry
clouding her voice. She looped an arm over his withers and stroked his hide,
the hand caressed higher up along his human back. It was a blunt attempt to
divert him from his path. When that didn’t work, he felt her call her magic.
His lips twisted into a snarl. He captured her hand and dragged her forward
until she stood three steps above him on the stairs, effectively making them
eye level.

“I must stop Trensler and rescue the Falcon Staff as
the Oracle demands.” He snatched her other hand before she could touch him
again. “I honor my word.”

“Wait!” Sorsha yelled at him as he pushed past her,
and continued his lunging trot up the steep, twisting stairs. He didn’t slow
until he saw sunlight and freedom a few strides ahead. Next to the small hole,
which he and Sorsha had had to wiggle through to get inside the Oracle’s
mountain dwelling, another larger archway now opened to the outside world.
Seemingly, he had the Oracle’s blessing.

Shadowdancer was halfway across the floor of the upper
cavern when Sorsha burst out of the dark stairway and into the cavern behind
him, shouting curses as she ran.

“I’m supposed to come with you, you great idiot!”

He slowed long enough to gather up one of the packs
they’d left near the entrance. It held water and a few other foodstuffs, enough
to fuel his body for a short time. The other pack he left for Sorsha. If he
managed to rescue the Falcon Staff, he’d come back here and collect her, and
then return Sorsha to the Herd. His plans didn’t extend beyond that point; he
really couldn’t imagine his life without Sorsha in it, even though all his
dreams were now impossible.

After trotting under the archway, and out into the
welcoming mountain winds, he slowed to allow his sight to adjust to the
noontime sun. When he could see again, Sorsha had darted around in front and
planted herself firmly in his path.

“We need to do this together,” she said. Her
persistence reminded him of a spring gnat.

“You can’t come.” Shadowdancer hardened his heart,
dragging up hurtful words to force Sorsha away from him. “You’re human. You’ll
only slow me down.”

* * * *

The sharp flare of emotional pain at Shadowdancer’s
words held Sorsha frozen in shock and speechless. She stayed there, arms
crossed over her middle, legs braced apart and knees locked to stop their
shaking.

So he thought she was merely a slow human, did he now?
Anger sparked to life, an ever tightening coil in her stomach. Human she might
be, but the Oracle had said she was once of the Twelve and that Shadowdancer
would need her. Sorsha squared her shoulders and glared at the tall figure
before her. With a cry that would have been fit for the battlefield, she lunged
at him in an attempt to vault onto his back.

He danced out of reach and still wouldn’t face her.
Nor would he let her within the emotional barriers he’d erected. He paused as
he fought to adjust the pack’s straps, though he wasn’t so distracted that he
allowed her to get within touching distance. She wanted to scream her
frustration, but that wouldn’t help Shadowdancer, or their quest.

She had to make him see reason, to understand she
didn’t think him a monster, that no matter what the Oracle did to him, it
didn’t terminate her love. But she’d only just come to realize how deeply she
loved Shadowdancer and wasn’t sure if she could face the consequences if she
bared her heart and he still ran away from what was between them—as he clearly
intended. She fell back on reason. “The Oracle said we are Members of the
Twelve. We must prove ourselves worthy. We, as in both of us…not just you. I
need to come too.”

“Don’t be foolish. Neither of us have a chance against
Trensler in a one on one fight. Until we know better ways of killing the
Acolytes from a distance, we must avoid them. But with them closing in on the
Falcon Staff’s location, we’re running out of time. I stand a better chance of
getting to the temple and escaping with the Falcon Staff on my own. You can’t
keep up on foot, and if I carry you, it will slow me. I can’t take that risk.
But you’ll be safe here with the Oracle.”

Damn arrogant Santhyrian. He was right. His words were
true, but that wasn’t why he was doing it this way. “You’re just trying to
protect me by keeping me out of harm’s way while you risk your own life.”

“I may not be what I was before…I don’t even know what
I am now, but I can and will still serve duty, to the Twelve, to my family and
to you, my Herd Mistress.”

“Shadowdancer, stop!”

“Be well, Herd Mistress.”

“Get back here.”

He turned on his heels and Sorsha uttered denials as
he broke into a canter, churning up grass and earth under his hooves. He didn’t
stop, or slow, or look back, though she ached for him to look back just once.

“Bastard!”

She didn’t run after him. He was right. There was no
natural way she could keep up with him. But if he thought she’d just sit and
await his return, he wasn’t just arrogant he was exceptionally stupid, too.

Sorsha watched him until he was a small dark speck
against the rocky, slate-grey terrain. He still moved with grace and surprising
speed. When he was out of sight, she turned and followed the tunnels back to
the Oracle’s chamber.

* * * *

Once again, Sorsha found herself facing the sentient
crystal pillar. Its magic tingled against her body and the flashes of light
cast halos of color upon her skin. It was beautiful. But she hadn’t returned to
stare upon its beauty. “I’ll serve you for the rest of my life. And in return
you’re going to help me. You’re going to make me like Shadowdancer.”

“Exactly like him?” The Oracle’s voice was tinted with
humor. Perhaps it wasn’t so different from them after all. It was even giving
her a warning of sorts. Yes, she’d worded her request wrong.

“A female version of Shadowdancer, only faster, so I
can run his arrogant ass into the ground.” Anger spent, Sorsha cleared her
throat. “Shadowdancer needs me; we need each other to defeat Trensler. Will you
help me? Besides, the sooner we get the Falcon Staff, the sooner we can fix her
and get her safely away from Trensler. That’s what you did all this to
accomplish, isn’t it?”

“It is as you speak. I will grant your wish.” The
light flickering deep within the crystal stilled. “You, too, will be my
Harbinger for as long as I exist. Are you certain in your choice?”

“Yes.” And to her great surprise, there was no doubt
in her heart.

“Then drink of the pool deep below and await me.”

Sorsha bowed to the Oracle, but her mind was already
on her future.

It was mid-afternoon when the wind carried the scent
of water, awakening Shadowdancer’s thirst. He slowed his pace, easing into a
trot as he studied the land in more detail. A river ran nearby. By his
reckoning, this one cut across the plains and widened as it passed near the
temple. And if his memory served him, he was no more than three day’s gallop
from his destination. He’d made good time and there was still no sign of
Trensler or his men. Unless the Acolytes had an unusual mode of travel, he was
well ahead of them.

He should be able to rest for a little while before
continuing on his journey. While his body benefitted from brief rests, his
heart and mind dreaded the idle moments. It allowed far too much time to think
and dwell on things he’d rather not. Each time he looked down upon himself, his
stomach involuntarily tightened with revulsion. Even after a day and a half, he
wasn’t used to it—his new body. It didn’t move right, nor did it feel right—he
carried more weight on the fore, and there were other subtle changes as well.
His forelegs were more muscular and his hooves wider, more like what one would
expect in a human’s draft horse. With a chagrined grimace, he imagined he
wasn’t much more elegant than one of those heavy weights, either. The worst had
been when he’d awakened at dawn and thought he’d had his Santhyrian form back.
Then he’d awaken fully, and remembered the true horror of his situation.

How could he have been so stupid, so arrogant as to
assume the Oracle’s Mark was something as benign as a simple tattoo? He’d known
the Oracle’s gifts were more like curses.

If he was honest with himself, it wasn’t his new body
that upset him. He could run again, feel the earth under his hooves, the wind
in his mane. This body was actually stronger than his original, and even with
the bulky muscles, he was fast. That part brought him joy.

Oh, but the cost.

Memories of that first glorious night, when he’d
finally taken Sorsha as his mate, flashed through his mind with painful
clarity. Never to be able to touch or caress her again, never to feel her arms
locked around him, her body warm against his. He slapped his tail against his
rump and broke into a thundering gallop, rest far from his thoughts.

The Oracle’s price was too high.

He had come to terms with life as a two-legged. Loving
Sorsha completed him, filling a hole in his soul he’d been unaware of all his
life.

But now Sorsha thought him a monster. She hadn’t been
able to hide her shock or revulsion the first time her eyes had tracked down
his human torso and seen where it merged with a Santhyrian’s lower body. His
fists clenched and his stomach tightened into a heavy knot. He’d lost
everything. When he’d galloped away from Sorsha, they’d both known he was
riding out of her life. It was for the best, he reminded himself.

Melancholy occupied him long enough that he reached
the river before he realized it. With a mental shake, he returned to the task
at hand. After awkwardly lowering himself to his knees, he cupped his hands and
drank while he continued to dart glances around him.

Having to kneel to drink was one of the few weaknesses
his new body possessed. The position left him vulnerable to predators for the
few precious moments it took to gain his feet. Thirst quenched, he struggled
back up and continued scouting southward along the river for a time.

The sun had lowered considerably in the sky when he
found something more unsettling to dwell on than the strengths and limitations
of his new body. Cutting southwesterly across the plains, heading in the same
direction he’d chosen, were tracks from at least two dozen horses.

So he’d been wrong.

No human patrol from River’s Divide had ever invaded
so deep. These could only be Trensler’s men. And they were ahead of him, not
behind. Though there was one glimmer of hope. To judge by some of the tracks,
Trensler’s horses were exhausted, stumbling and weaving badly even at a walk.
It wouldn’t take Shadowdancer long to out run them. He could still skirt around
the Acolytes, gallop to the temple and rescue the remains of the Falcon Staff.

He glanced at the orange and pink sunset with a frown.
Since his transformation, Shadowdancer had discovered his night vision was as
limited as a human’s. It wouldn’t help his cause if he inadvertently stumbled
upon Trensler’s camp. Perhaps it would be best to shelter in the trees for the
night and then start out at dawn.

After a few moments searching, he found a suitable
place to stop for the night. He folded his legs under him to rest, and for the
first time since he’d entered the Oracle’s pool, he allowed himself to feel
hope. He would fulfill his duty and Sorsha would be safe from Trensler. It
didn’t matter if his life now belonged to the Oracle. As he saw it, his life in
exchange for Sorsha’s safety and continued freedom was a fair trade.

* * * *

Rhythmic drumming of hooves on dirt intruded upon
Shadowdancer’s idyllic dreams. With a mental shake, he glanced up from the
mesmerizing flames of his small camp fire and gazed through the sheltering
dense underbrush, but couldn’t see anything because of the gentle incline of
the land around him. He’d picked this sheltered little gully specifically
because of its ability to hide his fire’s light, but it also meant he didn’t
have much in the way of line of sight.

Still blinking the fire’s afterglow from his vision,
he struggled to his hooves, and stretched, limbering up muscles stiff from
overuse and damp ground. A groan changed itself into a sharp hiss as he
continued to hurriedly work sore muscles in case his hiding place was found and
he had to bolt. For the same reason, he lunged for his pack and then eased away
from the dense branches of his sleeping area. Moving closer to the outside of
the thicket, he hoped to catch a glimpse of the newcomer without giving away
his own location.

By the sound of it, whoever they were, they were
alone. Could it be a straggler from Trensler’s group—maybe one who had already
killed his horse and had to go back and get another from River’s Divide? Even
as he thought it, he discarded the notion. No, there would not have been enough
time for that—no horse could travel that fast. A Santhyrian then? Perhaps a
scout sent by his father?

He eased forward out of his nest, into the outer edge
of his shelter. Still concealed by the greenery, he could watch the newcomer
and decide what to do after he reasoned out a course of action.

The newcomer crested a hill and trotted into view.

Try as he might, Shadowdancer couldn’t think. Before
he realized it, he was moving. First one hesitant step, and then another, and
another, until he was suddenly galloping toward Sorsha. Finally spotting him,
she shouted in recognition and came to a halt, her chest heaving like a
bellows, her hands braced at her waist, bent slightly forward. Stunned, he watched
sweat trickle down her neck. He caught glimpses of it between the laces of the
leathers she used to protect and cover her upper body. That much of her was as
it should be. But everything else...

As if his hooves were somehow a mirror reflection of hers,
he halted too. A small cloud of dust drifted away from his hooves in Sorsha’s
direction.

“Get over here. I’m not taking another step.” Sorsha’s
scolding tone had only about half of its usual bite. She glanced up, her lips pressed
into an uncertain line.

Speechless, he continued to study her as sweat dripped
down her human torso and mixed with the foam dotting her Santhyrian lower body.
Her legs shook like a new foal’s.

“Seriously, get over here so I can lean on you before
I fall down. I’ve just run in less than a day the same distance that took you
almost twice as long.”

“Sorsha, why?” His brain started to recover. Speech
was returning at least “How?”

“Why?” She sucked in another breath, still winded from
her run. “I hadn’t counted on it taking most of the first day just to learn how
to use these.” One at a time, she picked up each leg before stomping the hoof
on the ground. “As for the ‘how’, that’s pretty obvious. Luckily, the Oracle
also made me faster than you. I’m here to help you with the quest. The least
you could do is say thank you, or better yet, take my saddlebags.”

After unhooking the two long bows from either side of
her burden, she bent nearly in half trying to reach the girth strap clinched
around her horse-like barrel. With a grunt of relief, the girth loosened. She
struggled out of the harness and then tossed the overstuffed packs at him. He
caught them by reflex alone, his mind still chewing on her words, trying to
make sense of them. In one small part of his mind, he realized the Oracle must
have fashioned the harness and pack system for her.

“How could you be so stupid as to trust the Oracle
after you saw what he did to me?”

“Trust?” Sorsha chuckled while she adjusted a quiver
full of arrows, and then looped one of the bows back over her shoulder. “Not a
chance, but it did what I asked.”

“What you asked? You
wanted
it to do this to
you? Make you into a monster like me?”

“You think I’m a monster?” Her voice tightened with
ugly, turbulent emotions.

Heaviness settled in his chest. He’d not meant the
words and was already forming new ones to sooth away the hurt. “That’s not what
I...”

She turned sharply on him. He lunged backward and a
little to the side as her heels flashed in his direction. Apparently annoyed
with her miss, she whirled back around and slapped him instead. Her eyes were
wide with indignity and color rode high on her cheeks. Her tail flared like a
silken banner behind her. “I’m not a monster and neither are you. Only the gods
know why I love you, you great ass, but I wasn’t about to let you vanish from
my life. Don’t ever refer to yourself as a monster ever again. We’re the
Oracle’s Harbingers.”

“I didn’t…I wasn’t.” Words wouldn’t come; his mind was
still in shock. “Forgive me, I did not mean that as it sounded.”

“Besides, the Oracle said we had to do this together.
You said a human couldn’t keep up and you couldn’t carry me. So…” She shrugged.
“Now, are you going to be gallant and pass me some water from the pack or not?”

Her words finally penetrated his shock-numbed mind,
and he rummaged in the pack until he found her water sack. While she drank
small sips, he mulled over what Sorsha had done to herself.

She’d undergone this transformation for him, so he
wouldn’t be alone. She hadn’t said it aloud, but he’d sensed the meaning at the
heart of her words.
No. No, no, no, no
. She was the Herd Mistress. She
was not for him. Or the Oracle, for that matter. She was supposed to be an
untouchable symbol of hope and renewal for the Herd. But, now, in a single act
of self-sacrifice, she’d just banished herself to a life of exile alongside him.

This was wrong.

Sorsha flicked a sideways glance at him. He felt his
ironclad resolve waning. Very wrong...

And yet, he couldn’t help but study her form and found
her pleasing to look at. Under the foam of exhaustion, her coat was a deep
brown, like a dark wet wood. It shone in the sun, the same shade as the hair on
her head. The hair of her lower body blended into the golden brown of her human
torso, smoothly, gracefully. He could only imagine what she would look like
once she was groomed. He stepped closer and touched her shoulder.

At the contact, she shied away from him, her body
language suddenly uncertain. She turned in a slow circle, still panting from
her run. “What do you think? Do I meet muster?”

“Hmmm?”

It took him three deep breaths to organize his
thoughts, and then her condition finally registered on him. Sweat dripped from
her coat and steam rose from her body in the cool evening air. “You’ve half
killed yourself. You need to walk and cool down.” Concern sharpened his words,
and Sorsha baulked at the command. Seeing the stubborn flare in her eyes, he
merely placed a firm arm around her human shoulders. When she resisted his
urgings, he swatted his tail against her rump. She yelped in surprise and
danced in place before moving into a sedate walk.

“You could have just asked.”

“I did.”

She muttered something dark under her breath, and then
looked down at her forelegs, as she walked in a slow circle beside him. By her
expression, she was still as uncertain of her body as he was of his. Somehow,
it made him feel better—marginally.

As she walked, silence stretched between them, like a
fissure in the ground, eroding away the trust and deep sense of companionship that
had once been between them. He needed to say something to her, something that
would help, not harm.

When he couldn’t think of anything, he bent next to
her and ran a hand down one hind leg. “You’ve got some swelling here.” He moved
to the next leg and examined that one too. After he’d looked her over, he
pointed in the direction of the river.

“To the river. Now.”

Sorsha sighed, her shoulders slumped, but she knew
enough about equine and Santhyrian physiology not to question him. When she
dutifully plodded in the direction he’d indicated, he followed, herding her as
surely as his Santhyrian nature demanded.