Herd Mistress (In Deception's Shadow Book 2) (3 page)

A latch clicked. Metal grated softly on metal as a
bolt was slid back. Shadowdancer jerked awake and looked up in time to see the
door swing inward. Sorsha entered, candle in one hand and a goblet of some
liquid in the other. He inhaled. Ah, spiced wine. The nightmares must be
plaguing her again. She placed the candle in a wall scone as she sipped from
the goblet.

To keep out of her line of sight he eased into a
kneeling position, partially hidden behind the canopy’s draping side panels.

When she untied her robe and tossed it on a chair, the
low burning fire in the hearth granted him a lovely silhouette. As she made her
gliding way to the bed, he grinned at the elegant sway of her hips, and
remembered a little belatedly she preferred to sleep in nothing but her
skin—her silent way of rebelling at the restrictions set by Lady Stonemantle.
Oh well, time to show himself. She’d snarl and spit like an angry cat if he
didn’t make his presence known before she stripped for bed.

His good intentions hit a little snag when she started
to work at the laces running down the front of the night gown. Old wood cracked
ominously underfoot. With a sharp snap, the bed shook hard enough he had to
grab the post to hold himself upright as one side sagged.

The bed would have to choose
now
to complain
about the weight?

“Sorsha, don’t be afraid.”
He sent his thoughts out to her.

She jerked her head up when she saw him. Her mouth
dropped open. Then she drew breath to scream but bit the sound off before it
had even emerged. Rage sparked in her eyes and she lunged back to the chair and
snatched up a harness.

“Sorsha, it’s me, Shadowdancer.”
He put more strength into his mental call. Maybe his Larnkin
was still exhausted….or angry at his foolery perhaps.
“Sorsha?”

With a violent twist of her arm, she threw the harness
and sheath at him. He ducked a hair too late and the buckle scraped his cheek
before it continued over his shoulder to land with a clatter.

“Sorsha. I’m sorry. I can explain.”

Her expression didn’t change at his words. She hadn’t
heard anything he’d said. Belatedly, he realized he should have thought of the
finer nuances of how to communicate if his Larnkin still hadn’t recovered
enough for him to use mind speech by the time Sorsha returned. Now it was too
late. Panic curled in his stomach and he tried to say her name aloud, but lips
which had never known words butchered her name, changing it to a slurred ugly
sound. He tried a second time.
“Sow..hor…a?”

“Did you just call me a whore?
You….stupid…drunken…swine.” Sorsha snarled and lunged at him with her dagger.
“Did some of your drunken friends put you up to this….I’ll give you a tale to
sing about in the taverns.”

Her eyes turned cold—all the rage swallowed back.
Calm, she was more likely to land a fatal blow. Now she was truly dangerous.

Foolish it might be, but his blood surged at the
thought of a challenge. When she advanced on him, he flashed a grin. She slashed
at him with the dagger in answer. There was no fear in her scent, and his grin
grew broader. If this had been Ashayna Stonemantle, he would have run, but
Sorsha lacked her sister’s training.

Sorsha lunged, and he sidestepped. Her dagger cut
through a piece of drapery instead of whichever one of his body parts she had
targeted. Before the fabric fluttered to the ground, she was on him again. He
backed across the bed as fast as he could. Perhaps Sorsha had more training
than he’d thought.

The sheets threatened to trip him, and he fought for
balance in this new body while at the same time trying not to get impaled.

He kicked a pillow at her. She tripped, caught up in
her long gown. While she fought the bedding and her nightdress, he darted
around one of the stout, wooden posts, and lunged off the bed. He backed toward
the window, each step getting him closer to freedom.

Sorsha grabbed fistfuls of her floor length nightgown
and jerked it above her knees with a curse. While she negotiated the bed and
her gown, the bed frame gave another dull crack. She braced her legs to
stabilize her balance. “I’m going to castrate you.”

Now
that
possibility hadn’t entered his
thoughts while he’d climbed the trellis. So much for Sorsha’s gentle hands
tending his wounds. The need to answer a challenge melted away and he glanced
at the window again. He’d be lucky to escape without greater injury.

Could he climb down before she caught up to him?

She leaped at him from the bed. He tossed one leg over
the sill, and then with a brief glance at her and her dagger, he lunged out the
window. He grabbed hand holds to slow his descent, but the ground still rushed
up at him. With an organ shuddering smack, the cold boggy ground embraced him.

Dazed, he blinked up at the night sky and then the
rectangle of light coming from Sorsha’s room. A pale angry face with a cloud of
dark hair looked back at him. She didn’t say one word aloud, but the way she
slammed a fist to her chest, and then brought the same hand up to her neck and
flicked a thumb under her jaw before gesturing at him, didn’t look very nice.
When she pulled her head back into the room, he quickly sat up and took
inventory of his injuries. No blood. No broken bones. Numerous strains and
bruises. A few cuts. But he would live.

A flash of heat raised the hair on his arms to
attention, and Shadowdancer felt the smallest trickle of power swirl across his
skin. Relief made his knees weak. His Larnkin was recovering. He’d be able to
resume his true form soon with any luck.

Of course his Larnkin would awaken now that the danger
was past.
How very helpful of it
, Shadowdancer groused.

Another small surge of power twisted through his core
and with its arrival, an overwhelming sense of impending doom washed over him.

He was already moving, darting toward the nearest line
of trees when he remembered Sorsha’s fondness for archery. Again his Larnkin’s
feeble warning came. Shadowdancer dropped to his knees. A loud whoosh whistled
past his ear, followed by a dull thud as an arrow embedded itself in the tree
trunk above his head.

Without bothering to look toward Sorsha’s window,
Shadowdancer dived behind the first tree and then rolled to his feet. Weaving
between trees and shrubs, he made his way deeper into the garden. The fall of
arrows made a strange counterpoint to the rustle of foliage until he was
finally out of range.

If he wanted to keep living, he’d better find some
shelter where an enraged Stonemantle couldn’t stick his hide full of holes.

Sorsha jogged along the bank of the spring-fattened
river. Shadowdancer trotted along behind her, a silent black shadow. For once
the rushing of the water and the beauty all around didn’t calm her. The anger
she’d been holding in for two days gored her into setting a fast pace.

She hadn’t seen Shadowdancer at all the day before.
He’d been away from River’s Divide, reporting to his elders. Something he said
was easier for his Larnkin to do away from all the humans. He relayed events to
his people every three days, but this was the first time Sorsha had desperately
wanted to talk with him. The invader in her room two nights ago had shaken her
more than she wanted to admit. But she couldn’t report the incident for fear
the general would increase the guards patrolling the residence, making her
nightly visits with Shadowdancer an impossibility.

He’d held his silence while she vented about the
stranger, but every so often, he’d dip his nose down to lip at her shoulder or
nuzzle her braid where it thumped against her back as she ran. Slowing and
reaching behind, she absently rubbed his velvety nose. “I can’t believe
that…that wine benumbed fool. If I’d gotten my hands on him...”

Shadowdancer came along side, matching her pace so
they were shoulder to shoulder.
“I imagine he’s thankful you didn’t.”

She sighed at Shadowdancer’s humorous tone. “It’s not
funny. He needed to be taught a lesson.”

“I doubt he’ll be sneaking into your bedroom again.
His pride is probably still bruised.”

“I did rout him good, didn’t I?”

“By what you told me, it certainly sounded like it.
Though, in the future, you might not want to be aiming arrows blindly into the
garden. You might have hit me or one of the other Santhyrians.”

At his words, her stomach dropped to her toes. “I
hadn’t even thought of that. It won’t happen again.”

They were almost to the dell where she had been taking
magic instruction from Shadowdancer when he froze in place. His ears snapped
forward.

With a lightning fast move, he snaked his neck around
and grabbed the shoulder of her vest. He backed up, dragging her with him. Off
balance, she was forced to stumble in the direction he chose.

“What’s wrong?” Sorsha kept her voice pitched low.
“What do you see?”

Before he could answer, a shadow stepped onto the path
ahead of them.

Sorsha blinked dumbly at the old man for several
heartbeats. Then recognition finally settled in her soul with a cold dread, and
her heart started to pound.

When had he returned from his latest trip back to the
empire? How had she missed the news Lord Trensler, the leader of the Acolyte
bloodhounds were back?

Cold sweat ran down her back, but she managed a
curtsy. “Lord-Master Trensler, what a surprise to meet you out here. I was
unaware of your return. I hope you had a safe voyage.”

“Not so surprising, I assure you.” His reply was
polite enough, but something in his voice sent a shiver up Sorsha’s spine. He
continued in his cultured tones. “My ship was damaged in a storm. We had to
find a safe port several leagues south of River’s Divide to make repairs. I
decided to ride ahead after a fisherman told me the Crown Prince of the Phoenix
had returned with General Stonemantle’s oldest daughter. Perhaps you can fill
in the details, Lady Sorsha.”

Damn, the old man recognized her. Then she realized
her own stupidity. Of course he would know her. No lady would have the nerve to
go riding at night, and only one other woman dressed like a man. And since
Sorsha’s sister was taller than most men, Lord Trensler wouldn’t get them
confused, even at night. Double damn. At least Ashayna could have come up with
a reasonable explanation why she was out at night—practicing scouting in the
dark or some such, but Sorsha didn’t have an excuse. Not one Lord-Master
Trensler would believe. And if he sniffed out she was learning magic…..

That just didn’t bear thought. She cleared her throat
and plastered on a vapid smile. “Oh Master Trensler, please don’t tell the
General I was out riding this late, he’ll be very angry at me.” She flashed him
an uncertain smile. “I like to pray at night—with the stars so clear and bright
I feel closer to the All Father.” Her smile took on more conviction. “You of
all people would understand, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course, dear. But I doubt very much ‘prayers’ have
much to do with why you’re out so late.”

Sorsha pretended to look startled and then followed it
up with an expression of pure panic—not so hard, considering those were two
emotions close to the surface.

Lord Trensler bestowed a knowing look upon Sorsha. She
couldn’t believe her luck—she knew she hadn’t fooled him completely, but she
secretly hoped he thought he’d caught her about to meet a secret lover. The
truth would be so much more damaging. “Oh, please Lord-Master, don’t tell my
father I’ve been sneaking off to see a lover. Father will never understand.
I’ll do anything; I’ll come to the temple twice as often…I can help with….”

“I don’t believe you’re here to meet a lover either,
not this time.”

Her stomach plummeted. “Whatever do you mean?” she
hedged, hoping to distract Trensler before he could unearth something more
damaging.

“I hardly think you would be going to see a lover with
one of the magic wielding ambassadors in tow.” Trensler steepled his fingers,
and as he watched her, his eyes narrowed with disdain. Cold emanated from him,
his normally charismatic smile taking on an edge of cruelty.

The chill in Sorsha’s soul increased. Gasping, words
would not come. She floundered. Fear gripped her heart when she couldn’t get
her body to respond. Her legs felt like lead, her arms dead weights, her
fingers jerked but she couldn’t make them grasp the knife at her belt.

Shadowdancer stepped forward, momentarily blocking
Trensler from her view. She could have kissed the Santhyrian. The moment
Shadowdancer’s magic flooded out and obscured Trensler’s strange wintry power,
the icy fear encasing her heart released its hold and she could draw a deep
breath again. Her mind snapped back into focus and she took quick inventory of
herself. Shadowdancer must have counteracted whatever the Acolyte leader had
summoned. She still shook, but whatever Trensler had done to her was easing.

Shadowdancer sank his teeth into Sorsha’s shoulder.
The small pain focused her mind and she realized the stallion was trying to
communicate. If he couldn’t touch her thoughts, the cold sapping numbness had
spread to him too. The stallion rolled his eyes at her, the whites flashing
with fear. She shook her head at his silent message to run. She wouldn’t leave
him to face Trensler alone.

“Oh, no need to rush off. I was just starting to
discover something interesting. I was hoping for more time to get to know each
other—so when I meet your sister and the Crown Prince of the Phoenix early
tomorrow morning, I’ll be able to introduce myself properly.”

“I’m sorry Lord-Master, but I really must be getting
back. Perhaps we can talk tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist we talk now.”

Hooves rustled in the dry leaves of the surrounding
forest as five horses broke cover. Their Acolyte riders guided them in a
flanking maneuver.

Sorsha leapt onto Shadowdancer’s back. The stallion
gathered himself, and spun away from the new threat before they were
surrounded. Dried leaves and rich loam scattered under his hooves as he
thundered away from their enemies. Underbrush snatched at Sorsha’s legs and she
was grateful for her sister’s stolen leathers.

While Shadowdancer didn’t slow his pace, he must have
found a game trail or other narrow track for he no longer weaved through the
forest so violently.

Unable to see through the deepening dark of the night
shrouded forest, Sorsha had to trust to Shadowdancer’s superior night vision.
Ahead an unknown darkness waited; behind, a known danger—and trapped between
the two, Sorsha had never felt so helpless, or useless. If they survived this night,
it would be entirely Shadowdancer’s skill which saved them.

At first she thought her eyes played tricks with her;
but no, her eyes began to adjust and the darker shapes of trees loomed up out
of the shadows. Overhead, the canopy of interlaced branches was silhouetted
against the star speckled sky. No longer totally blind, she relaxed and
gathered her thoughts. She reached once again for her companion’s mind. Sorsha
came up against...nothing, only a blank void. Her panic surged anew. What had
Trensler done to Shadowdancer? Or was it her gift that was gone?

With each passing moment that she couldn’t summon
magic, her panic increased. She bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Then
the faint hint of Shadowdancer’s magic, like fog on an early summer morning,
seeped into her, chasing away Trensler’s chill.

As Shadowdancer put distance between them and their
pursuers, Sorsha regained more strength. She still couldn’t speak mind to mind,
so she settled for speaking out loud. “I’ve never trusted Trensler, but I
didn’t know he could do this to us. Are…are you alright?” She had to shout over
the wind rushing in her ears.

Shadowdancer continued his headlong flight through the
dark forest.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

He rolled an eye in her direction. While she couldn’t
be sure of his meaning, the nervous sweat foaming his coat spoke volumes on its
own. He continued to gallop away from River’s Divide, weaving his way through
the undergrowth. Ahead a familiar ghostly pale trunk, devoid of bark, took
shape out of the night. The long dead tree stood to the right side of the path,
still guarding the entrance to a small oblong meadow. Sorsha’s sense of
disorientation faded. They were heading toward the river.

“Why are you running toward the river? We need to get
away, not be hemmed in on another side.”

Shadowdancer galloped onward like he hadn’t
understood. Still hunched over his neck, she chanced a glance behind. A group
of six horses gave chase. They were some distance behind, but still posed a
threat. No normal horse could match a Santhyrian’s speed. But these horses
were.

“How are they keeping up?” She didn’t expect an
answer, and was mildly surprised when Shadowdancer’s thoughts touched hers.
Still faint and almost whispery, but there.

“Unnatural magic.”

“I can hear you. Thank the gods.”

“I’m growing stronger now that I’ve put some distance
between us and them.”

“Good. Why are we heading toward the river?”

“We’re going to cross it and double back to River’s
Divide. We need to warn Prince Sorntar and the others.”

“There’s no safe place to ford. The river is too
narrow and fast here. It’ll be suicide if you try to cross it now.”

“We have no choice. We’re being herded.”

“Kind of noticed we’re being chased.”

“Not chased. Herded.”

“Not much of a difference, as I see it.”

“If they had wanted to capture us back there, the
horsemen would have surrounded us and then revealed themselves. They didn’t.
They came at us from all the same direction, forcing us away from River’s
Divide. Whatever their plans, they want us far from help. Unless I’m mistaken,
they’re herding us into an ambush.”

“I hope you’re wrong.”

“I hope I’m wrong as well, but I doubt we’ll be so
lucky.”

They continued in silence for a few moments. They were
finally running alongside the river again when a new sense of dread tightened
Sorsha’s stomach.

“You sense them ahead as well, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “I was really hoping you were
wrong.”

“Me too. We need to get back to River’s Divide. The
fast moving water will carry us back toward the settlement as I make the
crossing. I don’t care what power the Acolytes are feeding those horses,
there’s no way a horse can make this crossing.”

“How are
we
going to make this crossing?”

“Do you trust me?”

“I do but…”

“Hold on then.”
Shadowdancer gathered his powerful hindquarters and leapt out over the water.

“Never wanted to live forever anyway.”

His jump carried him out impossibly far. Dark water
rushed up all around her, its cold embrace a shocking slap. Bareback, without
anything to hold onto, she didn’t have a hope of keeping her seat and the wild
waters tore her from his back.

“Sorsha!”

The current carried her farther from the stallion. She
bobbed up and down, dragged lower by the swift waters and the weight of her
saturated cloak. Large mats of floating vegetation, tree branches, and other
debris jostled her. Clawing at her cloak’s clasp, she managed to unhook the
chain. The cloak tangled with her legs, causing a moment’s dread, and then the
river tore it away. The water carried her toward a tree with overhanging branches.
She made a grab, her fingers locked onto a fistful of leaves, but the twigs
broke and she continued past.