Shapeshifters (7 page)

D
REAMS SLID INTO MY MIND SO SLOWLY
I had no sense of falling asleep.

Nightmare chased nightmare, until finally I was ten years old, on my knees on the crimson field, with two of the Royal Flight physically restraining me so I would not run to my sister's side. They tried to be gentle, but I fought tooth and nail to get away, ignoring the chaos of battle surrounding us—

I was dreaming, I realized.

My sister had died nine years ago.

Still, the smell of blood was so strong …

I tried to wake up, but only succeeded in throwing myself into another lucid nightmare. I felt a serpent's blade slice into my shoulder, saw an eleven-year-old Andreios—armed only with
the bloody dagger he had taken from his father's still-warm body—throw himself at the enemy to protect my eight-year-old self.

I screamed as I saw the serpent start to uncoil to retaliate; I knew Rei would carry the scars from the serpent's fangs in his skin for the rest of his life, and I could not stop myself from trying to change history.

This time, instead of being knocked out, I was struck solidly in the gut by an enemy blade, knocked down with a choked cry of pain.

Vasili caught my hand, and though his expression was usually cool and remote, distanced as the hardest warriors always got eventually, he let me see past the reserve to glimpse the affection and concern in his nearly black eyes.

I was fifteen; he was seventeen. Vasili was not the warmest companion, but as he helped me to stand—not berating me for my foolishness in trying to find Rei's younger sister even though we had both known from the start it was too late to help her—I loved him.

I knew I was dreaming, but it was so good to see him again. I had missed him so much ….

And then he was twisting away, his hand going for his weapon as he pushed me behind him so that he took the knife that had been thrown at me—

Gregory Cobriana, clenching his teeth and looking away as he died, slowly. Rei, comforting
as he could. I stood up as I had not done in real life and walked away. The dream phantom called after me, pleaded with me to stay, but I could not stand that again.

And then it was Zane Cobriana before me, twin garnets pinning me in place as he said, “Please don't scream.”

Would I never wake up?

I could never have done so in real life, but in the dream I wrenched my gaze from his and shoved him away. “What do you
want
?” I demanded.

“I should think you would know that,” Zane answered simply.

This was absurd. I wondered bitterly when this scene would turn to pain and violence like the others had. My nightmares had visited paths like this for years, one crystal-clear dream giving way to another until the morning, but until now they had always fallen apart the instant Zane Cobriana appeared. Now that I had seen him, spoken to him, my mind had more ammunition for nocturnal torments.

Zane watched me, his expression wary.

“You don't seem dangerous enough to warrant my mother dragging me out of the Mistari camps in the middle of the night,” I commented to the specter.

The real Zane Cobriana terrified me, but this one was not overly intimidating. If anything,
he reminded me of Vasili. He projected a mask that was numbed to pain, but beneath it he was as fragile and tired of war as only a warrior could be.

“I don't?” Zane purred, a glint of amusement now showing in his red eyes.

I began to pace. If I screamed and kept screaming, would I scream aloud? Would Rei come in and wake me? Or would the dream slow like molasses, as nightmares did, until it seemed I could do nothing but choke on the silence?

“Danica, are you all right?” Zane asked, standing now, too, the skin between his eyebrows tensing with the hint of a frown.

“Is there some reason I should be?” I nearly shouted in return. Zane winced, his gaze flickering to the nearby doorway. “I just want to
sleep.
I don't want to dream, because all I see then are the people I have lost. I don't want to smell the stench of death and decay and rotten blood. I don't want to hear the wet sputter of someone trying to breathe past pain. I don't want to see dying
children
whenever I close my eyes. But I am nearly Tuuli Thea,” I said more quietly, “and once I am, that will be my entire life. War. Death. And
I don't know how to stop it.
”

For a brief moment the arrogance was gone from Zane's expression, and he regarded me with what almost looked like respect.

“If I knew how to grant that wish,” he finally
answered, voice soft, “I would have done so already, before this damn war had taken so many from me, too. Friends, lovers, family; I would have saved them all if I knew how. But if we both want peace, I can't believe that it is impossible to manage.”

I caught him sizing me up, his gaze flickering down my form and up again. “Perhaps there
is
more to you than I see here, Danica,” Zane mused aloud. “More than the stoic avian poise and emotionless reserve.”

He reached up and ran his fingers through my hair, which brought him alarmingly close. His wrapping an arm around my waist brought me even closer, and then he kissed me, this time not hesitant in the face of my recoil or hurried to avoid a knife from the Royal Flight.

The sensation of his lips lingering over mine was startling; the light pressure of his body as he held me against himself was unexpected. He broke the kiss at the same time he pressed something into my hand.

“Tomorrow afternoon, Danica. I'll make sure the guards on the door are loyal and will let you in safely,” Zane said, voice intense despite the fact that my mind was barely following it. I could feel myself sliding into the next dream segment, and I shrank from it, knowing the next scene would probably be a lot bloodier than this one. “We can't meet here in the open—your guards
will kill me if they catch me—but I have enough control in the palace that we can make plans there … if you'll come.”

I nodded, closing my hand on whatever he had given me.

He brushed the back of his hand gently across my cheek and then crossed the room to my balcony doors. I had a vague picture of him spreading wing and flying away.

Then I sat down to look at what Zane had pressed into my hand; before my fingers had finished uncurling, the scene changed and I was in the court, listening as Vasili debated some point I hardly understood but was willing to listen to simply for the chance to hear his smooth voice.

I
DID NOT ATTEND MARKET THE NEXT DAY
; I was so exhausted I probably would have fallen out of my seat. By midday, however, I had been summoned from my room.

I followed the messenger up to my mother's personal balcony, the open top floor of the Hawk's Keep. There was a gentle breeze today, and my mother looked like a romantic portrait, noble and sad, but beautiful. She was dressed in raw silk, nearly white, with golden threads woven into the material around her throat, wrists and the hem of her pants.

The topic she wished to discuss was far from romance.

“Shardae,” she greeted me, dismissing the sparrow with a delicate nod. “I have a meeting
this afternoon with the flight leaders. This is the last assembly before your coronation, and I thought it best that you joined me.” I did not have a chance to do anything but nod before my mother added, “Come, they wait.”

Though I was capable of putting faces to names and matching those names with the flights they commanded, I knew very few of the flight leaders personally. Most of them reported to Rei, who then spoke to my mother or me if there was a problem.

Avian flights were designed to work autonomously, each having its own specialties and tactics. Rarely did all the leaders meet unless the Tuuli Thea called them to, and since the decision for me to inherit early had only been made recently, I had never joined my mother for these councils.

We descended to the second floor, where the courtiers had been cleared to make way for soldiers. At a center table sat avian men and women from all levels of society, all of whom stood upon our entrance. Beside the flight commanders, I saw weapon smiths and a few merchants who dealt in trade not discussed in the marketplace.

Around that table, I saw eyes that reflected horrors of every scope. Haunted expressions met my gaze as I was introduced in turn to each defender and necessary killer. The only commander I felt at all comfortable with, Andreios, was the
only one missing; the commander of the Royal Flight would converse with his queen alone. In the meantime, his flight was surrounding the Keep.

“Please, sit,” my mother said. The simple words began a conference I had no wish to be at.

Karashan spoke first. “Milady, we have taken advantage of these last weeks' lull to train soldiers to replace those lost fighting the cobra's people. We have also recently received a new shipment of am'haj from Ahnmik.”

The concoction of which Karashan spoke, more commonly called avian poison, was a falcon creation that my people had never been able to reproduce. Aside from occasional fatigue, it had almost no effect on my kind. However, a blade coated in it would cause almost instant death to a serpent even if the wound was minor—an advantage we needed against an enemy who could blend effortlessly into the shadows and who was both faster and stronger on land than our soldiers.

Many times, the Tuuli Thea had petitioned the falcons for more than poison, as they were rumored to possess magic, in addition to controlling the most deadly soldiers ever to live. The price for that aid, however, was surrendering our freedom to the falcons and accepting subjugation in exchange for victory. Like every queen before her, my mother had refused the soldiers.

However, like every queen before her, she
had accepted the poison. It was the only way we had survived this long.

Karashan continued, “I believe the serpiente are feeling panicked, milady. The only incidents that have occurred since Gregory Cobriana's death have been easily put down.” She paused, looking about the table, where others were nodding agreement. “We need to take advantage of this time, milady.”

“I assume you have a recommendation,” my mother said when it seemed Karashan was hesitant to continue.

“There is obviously serious disorder among the serpiente. I suspect that your early return from Mistari land may have interfered with their plans. Before they reorganize, I would recommend a direct attack …. We won't—”

“No.” My voice cut through Karashan's. Suddenly all eyes at the table were on me, including my mother's, which were full of disapproval at my interruption. I continued anyway. “Doesn't anyone have even the slightest hope that the reason the serpiente have not attacked is because they honestly want peace?”

I saw the answer to that question before I had even finished asking it. The other flight leaders agreed with Karashan. I saw fear in some of their eyes, but more than that I saw jaded surrender. Peace was a
myth
to these people. They couldn't think of any other existence but war.

There was no way to change that here, and yet I wasn't willing to let them destroy everything, either. Trying to appeal to their more rational side, I pointed out, “We have tried direct attacks before. They only bring slaughter. If we attack the serpiente in their own land, we
might
strike a blow, but it will be at an incredible cost.” Knowing it was a painful subject for many, I reminded them, “It took half of the Ravens, a dozen of the Royal Flight and eighteen others to kill Gregory Cobriana. And in the meantime, Xavier Shardae, my brother, was killed.” More than one of the commanders looked away as I spoke those words. I knew then from what flights those final eighteen had come from. “That was on our own land. When the bodies were counted, we had two soldiers down for every
one
of theirs, including many of our best fighters and our prince. And you are willing to take the battle to serpiente land? Willing to lose a dozen soldiers to the archers on the palace roof before you even reach the ground? And then what do you plan, to chase the royal family through their palace?” I sighed, shaking my head. “It's suicide, and we don't have a hope of doing enough damage to end this war.” Before anyone could argue, I added, “It's suicide even if they are as disorganized as Karashan believes they are. If you can't believe that the serpiente want peace, then they obviously have a plan. Attacking their heart would be
walking right into it. As soon as our forces were destroyed, they would take the Keep apart.”

Silence followed my words, a silence that was heavy with the weight of defeat. I didn't want to
surrender;
we would fight to the last sparrow before we would give up. But neither could I allow them to begin a battle that would destroy us—and any last hope for peace.

“Shardae, do you have another plan?” my mother asked.

Another plan?
I wished I could have stayed in the Mistari lands to negotiate—no matter how frightening their first suggestion had been—but my kind was not trusting enough to allow another meeting. The only way I could speak to the serpents again would be without the knowledge of my people. Alone, I would be shot down long before I could even reach the palace to request an audience.

Stalling for time, I threw my only thoughts out. “Something less direct. Something they wouldn't predict.” What wouldn't they predict? We had been warring for thousands of years, fighting like two dancers who know each other's moves without thinking. “If we want to attack them on their land, we need to know what we are attacking. But we've never even managed to get a soldier inside the palace—not one who returned, anyway.”

“We need to do something,” Karashan
declared. “Soon. I would accept losing every life under my command, as well as my own, if we could deal a wound that wouldn't heal. We've always been conservative in the past, and we've always ended up exactly where we started. Isn't it time to risk a little more?” There were murmurs of agreement around the table.

In some generations in the past, the Tuuli Thea had been ruled by this group. If I didn't make a decision, the chance would be taken from me, but I was not ready to set a date for the slaughter.

“I am accepting the crown in three days,” I stated. My voice was strong, and it hushed the mumbling. “Give me that time to think. In the meantime, make your plans for the attack; it will take you at least that long to organize the kind of offensive you are talking about. If by the morning after the coronation no one has come up with a better plan, I will give you the word to go.”

I glanced at my mother for her reaction; for the next few days, she was still queen. I saw hesitation on her face and silently prayed that she would abide by my decision.

Finally Nacola Shardae nodded. “Three days, when your Tuuli Thea gives the word.” She did not mention considering other possibilities, but neither did she override my words with a command to attack now. “Karashan, the Royal Flight is needed here, so you will lead the attack. After
my daughter's coronation, you will present the plans to your new Tuuli Thea for her approval.”

“Yes, milady.”

“Dismissed, everyone,” she said briskly when no objections were raised. “Unless another method is decided upon, we will reconvene the morning after the coronation.”

I watched the flight leaders leave, feeling shaken. After the three days were over, this would be my life. The battle that Karashan was talking about would be madness, but I saw no way to prevent it unless I could think of an equally decisive way to end this war.

When we were again alone together, my mother said, “You spoke wisely today, Danica.”

“Wise words won't save people's lives if I cannot think of another plan, and I have no other plan,” I answered.

The Tuuli Thea looked at me sadly for a moment. “I don't mean to hurry you, Danica,” she said gently, her voice holding a rare note of affection. “But I honestly feel you are ready to take the throne, while I am long past my prime. It is a queen's faith that keeps her people alive, but mine is running out.”

“You are young yet,” I argued, upset by the note of finality in her tone.

“Perhaps, but some days I feel so washed away. You still have dreams, Danica. I have faith in
you,
and in what you can do. So does Karashan, or
she would not have let you stall her plans today. She has been planning this offensive since Irene Cobriana first entered our courtyard.”

I shuddered at the thought that different words might have sent us all to battle today.

My mother changed the subject to lighter things. “It occurred to me while you were speaking that when you accept the position of Tuuli Thea, you might also announce your choice for alistair. It would help the morale of your people,” my mother explained.

I nodded, though with reluctance. This was her way of assuring herself—and the rest of our people—that the idea proposed by the Mistari queen was preposterous. “I will consider it,” I allowed.

“Have you given any thought to whom you will choose?”

The question was just a formality, since we both knew the answer was Andreios. His lineage was almost as pure as my own, and as leader of the Royal Flight, his loyalty was unquestioned.

“I will be able to give my decision after the ceremony,” I answered, thinking how very short the next three days were likely to be.

When she did not speak for a moment, I inquired, “Is there anything else you would like to discuss?”

She shook her head. “I wish I could have given you peace,” she said with a tired smile. “Fly with
grace, nestling.” It had been so long since my mother had spoken to me with anything but detached civility, a queen to her subject, that hearing her speak so fondly made my throat constrict even though the words were a dismissal.

“And you … Mother.”

After the words, I did not return to my room, but instead sequestered myself inside the library on the third floor. If I could not think of a way to reach the Cobriana peacefully, then perhaps these books of tactics and descriptions of past battles would at least help me think of something less mad than Karashan's plans.

Instead, I found a dusty copy of an ancient text written in the smooth, flowing symbols of the old language. Supposedly, the original text had been written by the brother of Alasdair, who had been the first queen of my kind.

No one could read the old language anymore, but when I absently flipped the pages, I found a few paragraphs that had writing above them—a translation, done by a raven named Valene. She had been a highly regarded scholar, until her quest for knowledge had led her to the serpiente. She had been exiled from the courts long ago, but apparently she had translated some of this text first.

A bit later, another piece was translated.

A few lines were translated on each of the next few pages, and then came the words I did not want to read.

I shuddered, putting the journal aside. Was I following in my ancestor's footsteps, giving trust to a cobra despite every warning? Was I making the same mistakes, to ultimately end with the same fate?