The Shapechangers (3 page)

“You are dark enough for one of us, but you have not the eyes,” he muttered. “Brown, like half of Homana. Yet why else would Storr protest my pleasure? It is not for the
lir
to do.”

“I am none of yours!” she hissed, profoundly shaken. “I am
daughter to Torrin of Homana. Do not
curse
me by naming me Cheysuli, shapechanger!”

His hand tightened and she cried out. Faintly she heard Carillon’s worried tone carry across the way. “Alix!”

Finn released her so curtly she stumbled, back. “Go to your princeling,
meijha.
Tend his wound like a proper light woman.”

She opened her mouth to protest his unseemly words, then bit them back and whirled, hastening to Carillon. He stood by his Cheysuli mount, unsteady, cradling his bound wrist against his chest. His face, even in the shadows, was drawn with pain.

“Did he harm you?” he asked harshly.

Alix shook her head, recalling the anger in Finn’s hand upon her chin. “No, I am well enough. But what of you?”

He half-shrugged. “It is my sword arm. Without it I am not much of a prince, nor even a man. Otherwise I would not speak of it.”

She smiled and touched his uninjured arm gently. “We have nowhere else to go, my lord. Let us move into the firelight where I can see to your wrist.”

Finn came to them silently and gestured toward a green tent not far from where they stood. Mutely Alix followed the Cheysuli leader, keeping one hand on Carillon’s arm. That he had said anything at all about his wound worried her, for it indicated the wolf bite was worse than she suspected.

Finn watched them kneel down on a blue woven rug before his tent and then disappeared within, ignoring them. Alix cast a quick glance around the small encampment, seeking a way out, but there were too many warriors. And Carillon’s face was already fever-flushed and warm when she set her hand against it.

“We go nowhere, yet,” she said softly.

“We must,” he answered, carefully unwrapping his injured wrist. The flesh was scored with teeth marks. The bleeding had stopped, but the wound was open and seeping.

“We have no choice,” Alix whispered. “Perhaps in the morning, when you are better.”

Light from the small fire cairn, built before the tent, flickered over his jaw. She saw the stubborn set to the prominent bones. “Alix, I will not remain in a shapechanger camp. They are demons.”

“They are also our captors,” she agreed wryly. “Do you think to escape them so easily? You could hardly get half a league with this wolf-wound.”

“
You
could. You could reach your father’s croft. He could ride to Mujhara for help.”

“Alone…” she whispered. “And so far…”

He rubbed his unwounded forearm across his brow. “I do not wish to send you into the darkness alone, no matter how far the distance is. But I have no choice, Alix. I would go myself, willingly, as I think you know.” He lifted his bloody arm. “I do recognize my own limitations.” His smile came swiftly, and left as quickly. “I have faith in you, my girl, more so than in any man who might be with me in this.”

Pain squeezed her heart so that it nearly burst. In the brief weeks she had known him he had become everything to her, a hero she could worship from the depths of her romantic soul and a man she could dream of in the long nights. To have him look at her so warmly and with such trust nearly undid her convictions about not allowing him to see her vulnerability.

“Carillon…”

“You must,” he said gently. “We cannot remain here. My uncle, when he learns of this, will send mounted troops immediately to destroy this nest of demons. Alix, you must
go.
”

“Go where?” demanded Finn from the tent’s doorflap.

Alix twitched in surprise at his stealth, but Carillon glared at the Cheysuli. Somehow Finn seemed more substantial, a thing of the darkness, illuminated by the firelight dancing off the gold on his arms and in his ear. Alix forced herself to look away from his yellow eyes and stared instead at the earring half-hidden in thick black hair. It, like the armbands he wore above the elbows, bore a skillful figure of a wolf.

For his lir
…she realized blankly, and wondered anew at the strangeness of his race.

The Cheysuli smiled mockingly and moved to stand over them. His steps were perfectly silent and hardly left a mark in the dirt.

He is like the shadows themselves…

“My prince,” he said vibrantly, “you must doubtless believe this insubstantial girl could make her way through a hostile forest without aid of any sort. Were she Cheysuli, she could, for we are creatures of the forests instead of cities, but she is not. And I have gone to far too much trouble to lose either of you so quickly.”

“You have no right to keep us, shapechanger,” Carillon said.

“We have every right, princeling! Your uncle has done what he could to slay every Cheysuli in Homana—a land
we
made! He has come closer than even he knows, for it is true our numbers are sadly reduced. From thousands we are hundreds. But it has been fortunate, lately, that Shaine is more concerned with the war Bellam of Solinde wishes to levy against Homana. He needs
must steep himself in battle plans again, and forget
us
for a time.”

“So,” Carillon said on a sighing breath, “you will ransom me back to the Mujhar?”

Finn stroked his smooth jaw, considering, grinning at them both. “That is not for me to say. It is a Cheysuli Clan Council decision. But I will let you know how we view your disposition.”

Alix straightened. “And what of me?”

He stared sightlessly at her a long moment. Then he dropped to one knee and lifted her braid against his lips in a seductive manner. “You,
meijha
, will remain with us. The Cheysuli place much value on a woman, for we have need of them to breed more of us.” He ignored her gasp of shock and outrage. “Unlike the Homanans, who may keep a woman for only a night, we keep her forever.”

Alix recoiled from him, jerking her braid free of his hand. Fear drove into her chest so quickly she could hardly breathe, and she felt a trembling begin in her bones.

He could do this
, she realized.
He could. He is a demon…

“Let me go,” she pleaded. “Do not keep me with you.”

His black brows lifted. “Do you sicken of my company so soon,
meijha
? You will injure me with such words.”

“Alix is none of yours,” Carillon said coldly. “If you seek to ransom me, you will do the same for her. And if her father cannot meet your price, the Mujhar will pay it from his own coffers.”

Finn did not bother to look at Carillon. He stared penetratingly at Alix. “She is a prize of war, princeling. My own personal war against the Mujhar. And I would never take gold from a man who could order his men to slay an entire race.”

“I am no
prize!
” Alix cried. “I am a woman! Not a broodmare to be judged by her ability to bear young or bring gold. You will not treat me so!”

Finn caught one of her hands and held it, browned fingers encircling her wrist gently. She tried to pull away, but he exerted just enough force to keep her hand imprisoned.

“I treat you how I choose,” he told her. “But I would have you know
meijhas
are honored among the Cheysuli. That a woman has no
cheysul
—husband—and yet takes a man as mate does not make her a whore. Tell me, is that not a better life than the light women of Mujhara receive?”

Her hand jerked in his grasp. “Let me go!”

“You are not the first woman won in such a fashion,” he said solemnly, “and doubtless you will not be the last. But for now, you are mine to do with as I will.”

Carillon reached out to grab Finn’s arm, cursing him angrily, but the pain of his wrist prevented him. His face went horribly white and he stopped moving instantly, cradling the wounded arm. His breath hissed between his teeth.

Finn released Alix. “If you will allow it, I will heal the wound.”

“Heal!”

“Aye,” the Cheysuli said quietly. “It is a gift of the old gods. We have healing arts at our beck.”

Alix rubbed at the place he had held on her arm. “What do you say, shapechanger?”

“Cheysuli,” he corrected. “I can summon the earth magic.”

“Sorcery!” Carillon exclaimed.

Finn shrugged. “Aye, but it is a gift, for all that. And used only for good.”

“I will not suffer your touch.”

Finn moved and caught Carillon’s wounded arm in a firm grasp. The prince winced away, prepared to make a furious protest, but said nothing as astonishment crept across his face.

“Carillon?” Alix whispered.

“The pain…” he said dazedly.

“The earth magic eases pain,” Finn said matter-of-factly, kneeling before the pale prince. “But it can also do much more.”

Alix stared open-mouthed as the Cheysuli held the lacerated arm. His yellow eyes had gone oddly piercing, yet detached, and she realized her escape lay open before her. He had somehow gone beyond them both.

She moved as if to go, coiling her legs to push herself upright, but the expression on Carillon’s face prevented her. She saw amazement, confusion and revulsion, and the beginnings of a protest. But she also saw acknowledgment of the truth in Finn’s words, and before she could voice a question, afraid of the sorcery the shapechanger used, Finn released Carillon’s wrist.

“It is done, princeling. It will heal cleanly, painlessly, though you will have scars to show for your foolishness.”

“Foolishness!” Carillon exclaimed.

Finn smiled grimly “It is ever foolishness for a man to threaten a Cheysuli before his
lir.
” Finn nodded his head at the silver wolf who lay silently by the tent. “Storr will let no man harm me, even at the cost of his own life.” He frowned suddenly, eyes somber. “Though that has its price.”

“Then one day I will slay you both,” Carillon said clearly.

Alix felt the sudden flare of tension between the two, though
she could not put name to it. And when Finn smiled ironically she felt chilled, recoiling from his twisted mouth.

“You may try, princeling, but I do not think you will accomplish it. We are meant for something other than death at one another’s hands, we two.”

“What do you say?” Alix demanded.

He glanced at her. “You do not know the prophecy of the Firstborn,
meijha.
When you have learned it, you will have your answers.” He rose in a fluid motion that put her in mind of a supple mountain cat. “And it will give you more questions.”

“What prophecy?” she asked.

“The one which gives the Cheysuli purpose.” He stretched out his right hand in a palm-up, spread-fingered gesture. “You will understand what this is another time. For now, I must see my
rujholli.
You may sleep here or within my tent; it is all one to me. Storr will keep himself by you while I am gone.”

He turned and walked away silently, fading into the shadows, lost to sight instantly. Alix shivered as the wolf rose and came to the blue blanket. He lay down near them, watching them with an odd equanimity in his amber eyes.

Alix recalled Finn’s odd words earlier; his strange reaction to the gentle tone she had heard in her mind. Carefully, apprehensively, she formed her own.

Wolf?
she asked.
Do you speak?

Nothing echoed in her head. The wolf, called
lir
, did not seem so fierce now as he rested his jaws on his paws, pink tongue lolling idly. But the intelligence in his feral eyes, so unlike a man’s, could not be ignored.

Lir?
she questioned.

I am called Storr
, he said briefly.

Alix jerked and recoiled on the blanket, fighting down nausea. She stared at the animal, horrified, but he had not moved. Something like a smile gleamed in his eyes.

Do not be afraid of me. There is no need. Not for you.

“By the gods…” she whispered.

Carillon looked at her. “Alix?”

She could not take her eyes from the wolf to look at Carillon. A shiver of fear ran through her as she considered the madness of her discovery. It was not possible.

“Alix,” he said again.

Finally she looked at him. His face was pale, puzzled; fatigue dulled his blue eyes. But even were he alert and well, she could not tell him she heard the wolf speak. He would never believe her, and she was not certain
she
did.

“I am only confused,” she said softly, mostly to herself. “Confused.”

He shifted the arm into a more comfortable position, running a tentative finger over the puffy teeth marks left by the wolf. But even she could see it had the look of healing to it.

“You must leave,” he said.

She stared at him. “You still wish me to go, even after what the shapechanger said?”

Carillon smiled. “He sought only to frighten you.”

“The wolf…”

“The shapechanger will not leave him with us forever. When you have the chance, you must go.”

She watched Carillon ease himself down on the blue blanket, stretching out long legs booted to the thighs and wrapping the green cloak over his arm.

“Carillon…”

“Aye, Alix?” he asked on a weary sigh.

She bit at her lip, ashamed of her hesitation. “I will go. When I have the chance.”

He smiled faintly and fell into an exhausted slumber. Alix looked at him sadly.

What is it about an ill or injured man that turns a woman into an acquiescent fool?
she wondered.
Why is it I am suddenly willing to do anything for him?
She sighed and picked at the wrinkles in her gown.
But he would go himself, were he well enough, so I will do as he asks.

She looked curiously at the wolf, wondering if he could hear her thoughts. But the animal only watched her idly, as if he had nothing better to do.

Perhaps he does not
, she decided and drew up her knees to stare sightlessly into the flames.

The fire had died to glowing coals when she felt an odd touch in her mind, almost like a probing. It was feather-light and very gentle, but terrifying. Alix jerked her head off her knees and stared around wide-eyed, afraid it was some form of Cheysuli torture.