Shapeshifters (70 page)

Leben appeared to the Dasi, and they knelt in misguided worship.

 

Maeve leaned against the creature, whispering in his ear with a smile, as Kiesha watched from the lonely darkness. The priestess of Anhamirak hid her tears.

 

Maeve wept as she was wrapped in the arms of the
Nesera'rsh.
She had done what she needed to protect her people, but she had lost … everything. Everything that mattered to her.

Without her, the balance ruptured, and the Dasi began to crumble.

 

Cjarsa, falcon priestess of Ahnmik, watched the first of her disciples fall to Ecl. Leben had given them wings, and he had given them madness. One was not worth the other.

This had to be stopped.

Kiesha shrieked as magic that should have called rain for the crops brought lightning and deluge. She cradled a drowned infant in her arms. Her people were dying, and everything she did to try to help them only made it worse.

 

Araceli and Brassal, the priest of
Namid,
struggled; Araceli's daughter was caught in the middle, and at the end she was limp and cold. Brassal backed out of the room with his hands held in front of him; he stared at them as if they were alien growths instead of his own flesh.

 

The Dasi's altars were scorched, frozen, shattered—only ruin left behind—and their priests and priestesses struggled against the magic that cut their bodies and souls.

They cursed Maeve, who had enticed Leben into giving them these “gifts,” the magic of their second forms. When people began to die, the new serpents blamed the falcons—those who worshipped death, sacrificed to it.

Magic and blades and fire and blood … so much blood, soaking the red sand.

“You say you wish to end this,” Kiesha said, greeting the falcons.

“Before more lives are lost,” Araceli said.

 

The hawk child Alasdair screamed as half of Kiesha's magic was shoved into her, and that scream echoed for generations: two thousand years of slaughter between the avians and the serpiente,
which the falcons manufactured in an attempt to avoid the deaths of countless more.

 

Years later, the hawk child Danica screamed as Anjay tore his knife into her alistair's heart. A falcon mother screamed as that cobra was killed by another one of Alasdair's descendents.

 

I screamed as magic ripped into me and tore my wings away, and I fell from Ahnmik's skies.

 

Oliza screamed as the magic of her daughter, Keyi, destroyed her; and Nicias screamed as he fought the Mercy who had come to take Sive's daughter, Aleya, and Salem's son, Zenle, away—

No!

That much I could stop.

The rest of these images were long gone, ash in the wind, but Keyi was still the future, and the future could be changed.

With one final shriek, I slammed into Salem's magic like a blade into water, gasping and choking as I forced myself deeper. The world swirled—violet, white, black, red. Distantly, I was aware that my body was somewhere.

I could hear my breath and my heartbeat slowing … slowing …

The shards of Anhamirak's magic in Salem were searing, and I felt them slice into my mind as I struggled to retain my focus. The poison—

There was a black cobra at the edge of my field of vision, but when I twisted to see, it was gone.

The poison. Falcons had created it; I needed to destroy it. I concentrated, and brought into view the places where Salem's undulating magic shuddered, the golden waves becoming black and charred.

The poison consisted of two parts. The primary ingredient was a toxin, which would cause little damage in the bodies of most shapeshifters; we healed too quickly for that.

However, there was a spell built into the poison, and I struggled to read it as it devoured even more of the magic that made Salem a serpent. The patterns kept shifting, melding themselves with the lines of that which they destroyed.

So vulnerable,
I realized. The Cobriana had only half of the magic they had been created with; the other half had been used long before to form the avians. The falcons had cleverly fashioned the poison to meld with what remained of Anhamirak's power. Once it ate away at the magic that protected serpiente flesh, the base toxins could stop the heart and end the life.

I twisted about, wrapping that deadly magic around myself like spiderwebs. Strands ripped and shifted as I reached for them and altered the patterns to make the spell harmless.

I shoved the energy that made Salem's heart spasm into him. Again, again, again, until it beat on its own. I did the same for his lungs, making them rise and fall.

I surveyed the damage, and it was vast.

Left behind by the poison's onslaught was a battered, crippled remnant of the magic Salem should have had,
needed
to have. His body was performing the motions of life now, but his soul …

Was that lost?

I could force animation of Salem's body, but the poison had done so much damage that his mind and spirit had fled. I reached out as far as I could, trying to find him.

Again I saw a cobra at the edge of my vision, and I spun about, shouting, “Salem!”

Suddenly I slipped on a patch of black ice. On all fours, I scurried back as the ice began to crumble. Where—
Salem!
I screamed, but received no response.

Nothing.

Except a voice, an echo of the darkness I had once loved, whispering,
You have tried and failed, my love, my sweet. You have done all you can do, so rest now. Sweet failure grants no future decisions. It is over; let it be over.

Ecl.

An icy breeze swirled through the illusion, and the skies darkened. Before me I could see a black castle, its dark and cold spires rising. Slipping, scrambling, I moved away from it, still reaching out with my magic …. I couldn't find anyone, anything, not even Nicias.

I had often wanted to return here since he had pulled me away, but I
couldn't,
not now.

Why, my sweet? They do not need you. You have done all you can do and it was not enough. Rest.

I crumbled, feeling the world go cold as the walls of my ancient black palace grew around me. I slammed my fists against them, and for a moment they rang like bells. Images of Wyvern's Court flashed in the darkness.

People rioting and shouting. The serpiente screaming for blood, avians demanding justice, rumors rife, hatred stirred.
I recoiled without meaning to.

Then the sounds faded. Again I struck the black walls, but this time there was silence.

A falcon circled overhead, flickering into and out of the blackness of the sky.

I watched a woman cross the ice down below, her footsteps fatigued. She knelt by the gates. I tried to scream her name, but this land could hold no sound.

Mother,
I shrieked, but Darien heard nothing.

She left behind pink roses, tucked into the chains that barred the door. Dimly I recalled that she had been here before; we both had been. This was an illusion formed of something less than memory—an echo of what once might have been.

Beasts prowled the land outside, ripping themselves out of the ice when threatened and then fading back into the void when my attention wandered. They were attracted by Anhamirak's warmth and held at bay only by my falcon magic. If I struggled, they returned, drawn like sharks to blood.

Soon even they faded away, and there was nothing. Then
I
ceased to be.

Ka'hena'she.

We are not.

Ka'hena'o'she-ka'hena'a'she.

We never were; we never will be. We return to the void we never left, for
Mehay
is the center of all, and all is the center of nothing.

Somewhere deep in that center, I glimpsed something quiet, a gentle vision of the world that still existed … somewhere.

 

Sive was leaning against a post and trying very hard not to tremble. She was the heir to the avian throne now; she wasn't supposed to lose control this way.

Salem and Prentice, both gone. How could they both be gone?

She had told the guards to take Prentice away. Now she had to strike from her mind the sound of his pleas, his begging her to understand that he had only been trying to protect her. Begging her to forgive him. Begging her not to let them execute him.

“Please, Shardae.”

Sky above, take the echo of those words from her brain. Take away the image of him kneeling before her, his hands bound and tears on his face, and let her rest.

Someone walked up behind her and she tensed, wondering if the fiend who had plotted Salem's death by planting those vile rumors had made plans for hers as well. She was alone here; that was why she had come here instead of returning to the Rookery after she had addressed her people.

Silently, the stranger put his arms around her, holding her gently against him, as unimposing as he could be while still offering support. Suddenly Sive Shardae, heir to the Tuuli Thea, did something she had never done before.

She turned around, leaned against him, and began to cry.

Part of her was vaguely aware that he was a serpent, maybe a dancer, probably one of the many people who had loved and respected Salem Cobriana. But not, thank the gods, one of the many who blamed her for their king's death.

Tears fell silently from Sive's eyes as she let him hold her, as she listened to his heartbeat and matched her breathing to his and tried to think nothing.

To another, it might have been a tragic moment. To me, it held a quiet beauty. I struggled to see more, desperate to remember the gentle compassion and the way it had moved me, and again the ice trembled, this time allowing someone else's magic to slip through.

Hai.

A thought returned to my drifting mind, that single word:
Hai.
Vaguely, I remembered … that was me ….

Hai!

I thrashed as if in a drugged sleep, and again images pressed upon my mind.
Salem, poison, pain
—no, I didn't want that.
Sive, and a friendly stranger holding her.
Gentleness.

Someone was calling to me, and I could not help looking as outside my black palace the beasts groggily pulled themselves to the surface, hissing and snarling at an invader who sullied the darkness.

Echoes of what had been.

A panther leapt, drawing blood from the invader foolish enough to try to walk here. The crimson stain made the ice resonate, and I squeezed my eyes shut and crumpled into a ball, trying to block out the pain.

I had been here before.

“I won't leave you here!” the man shouted, but his voice was fading.

Serpents coiled around him, choking away the breath that with every exhalation made the ice near him steam.

I moved to the gates of my tower but was blocked by jagged ice before I could reach the interloper. He lifted his eyes to me, and they were as blue as opals. Nicias's tears fell and the tower fractured allowing me another step.

“Daughter of
shm'Ahnmik'la'Darien'jaes'oisna'ona'saniet'mana'heah'shm'Ecl
and Anjay Cobriana,” he said. “Beautiful dancer Hai.” I felt the words wrap around me as tightly as chains, and I moved forward once again.

The serpents shuddered and moved away from Nicias, their bodies contorting as if burned by his blood, red on their black scales. The panther continued to snarl, the sound a silent vibration through the ice. Finally I knelt beside Nicias, and he lifted a hand to touch my cheek.

“You cannot stay here,” he told me. “I will not let you.”

Cold.

I had never felt cold from him before, but the ice seemed to be seeping into Nicias as his blood flowed out. Too late, probably. At this point, it would be far easier to consign him to the void and follow him down.

Rest with me,
someone whispered. My own voice, stolen by the darkness.

“Rest,” Nicias echoed. He tried to shake his head and trembled.

Sive and her silent savior weren't the only ones comforting each other. I tried to draw on the compassion I could feel beneath the fury in Wyvern's Court, but blood was the only color in this land, the only heat, and it was feeding the creatures. They paced closer.

What have I done?

I had chosen this exile from reality; I had sought it, to escape the pain of my failures. I was meant to be here, but
he
was not. Nicias was light, and warmth, not this blackness. I held him against me as the monsters paced around us, and I felt the world quiver.

It would be easier to let him fall.

The knowledge tempted me too much.

“Nicias,” I whispered. I kissed his forehead, trying to gather his warmth when everything around us was trying to take it away. “Nicias, my light. Please.”

I shrieked into the darkness:
“You cannot have him!”
My voice faded into nothingness without so much as an echo.

The panther snarled, and I wanted desperately to scramble back into the palace to hide, but I couldn't give up on Nicias. If I fell now, Nicias would fall with me. I knew he would rather be dead than consigned to this void world.

“Please, Nicias,” I prayed. “You're the only one who knows the way out of here.
Please …
”

I felt a sliver of awareness from him and tried to pull on it, dragging us both gruelingly across the sharp ice. Somehow, painfully, I found my way back to the
she.

And then we were on a familiar bed—Nicias's, in his home in Wyvern's Court. My hands were gripping his so tightly I did not wonder why no one had separated us.

His skin writhed with my tarnished magic. Strips of power had lashed his arms, face, chest and back. His lungs barely moved and his heart barely beat, but I could fix that.

I gasped, my body going into spasms and my back arching in pain, as I lured the first loop of cutting magic away from him the only way I knew how. My magic preferred its owner. It cut into my body instead of his.

Another loop, and this time I cried out, feeling the skin on my back split. Blood seeped into my clothing. Another line, another slice, another shriek. How many times would I accidentally kill this peregrine?

Nicias stirred, drawing a breath as I removed the bands around his throat. His eyes opened. They held a dazed, lost look that nevertheless was one of the sweetest sights I had ever seen.

Exhausted, I wrapped my arms around Nicias's neck and laid my cheek against his shoulder, breathing deeply and trying to memorize his scent. My body was shaking from the pain it had absorbed and the effort of pulling us both back into this world, but the ache faded as Nicias took over the healing process.

“I couldn't leave you there,” I whispered. “Why did you … why did you come for me?”

“I couldn't leave
you
there,” he said.

Hungrily, I lifted my face to his, tasting his lips. Instead of the ashes of nothingness I had found with others, Nicias
had a spark that drew me
here
and
now.
After a moment of surprise, he returned my kiss, his lips even softer than the feathers I felt at the nape of his neck.

I combed his hair back from his face with my fingers, savoring the silky texture.

He started to pull away, and I clung to him desperately.

“Please,” I said. “Nicias, you drew me back from the Ecl and gave me the world. If you asked me to dance, I feel like I could fly. How could you ever doubt what you mean to me?” I whispered, addressing his fears before he could speak them. There were tears in my eyes, which had been dry for many years. “Please,” I whispered. “Believe me. I love you.”

He caressed my cheek; I closed my eyes, leaning toward his hand. “I believe you,” he said.

“Then stay.”

When I opened my eyes, he was shaking his head. “Hai, I left Salem unconscious, possibly dying, to go after you. I can't stay longer, not without knowing how he is.”

Salem.

After risking so much, and experiencing a kind of hell that only a falcon could ever truly know, how could I possibly have forgotten who we had done it for?

I needed to know what would happen next.

I smiled wryly, realizing that Cjarsa had been wrong about one thing. Apparently a mongrel
could
understand things such as loyalty and duty … at least well enough to let go of this beautiful peregrine and say, “You're right.”

Nicias kissed my forehead, lingering a moment longer before we both pulled back, and rose to face the world that Fate had left to us.

I would never be able to replace Nicias's love for his wyvern Oliza or supplant his responsibility to his Diente, Salem. But for now it was enough, for me, to see the reluctance in his movements as we stepped out his front door and into the bustle of the marketplace.

“I think I heard the doctor say she was taking Salem back to his room in the Rookery,” Nicias said, leading the way to Wyvern's Court's royal keep.

When we reached the Rookery and ascended the stairs to the top floor, we found guards in front of Salem's door.

They nodded to Nicias in respectful greeting and said to us, “Sive Shardae is inside.”

Nicias had just lifted his hand to knock when the door opened, revealing the young hawk, who did not manage to keep the sorrow and fatigue from her face.

“Nicias, Hai,” she said. Her voice was still musical and calm, but exhaustion had given it a rough edge, and she didn't quite focus on us when she spoke. “We found you with Salem—” She drew a breath, trying to compose herself, and then said, “It is good to see you well.”

“Thank you,” Nicias answered her. “Has he woken yet?”

Sive shook her head. “Not yet, and the doctors do not know if he will. They say that by all rights he should be dead. The poison …” Her voice dropped, but resolutely she continued, “Prentice used the strongest poison he could get his hands on.”

We knew it all too well. Neither of us had the courage to ask the next reasonable question, but Sive must have known what we were wondering.

“Prentice has officially been exiled from my people,” she said, “and given over to the serpiente to face judgment. If
Salem survives, he will be the one to judge his attacker. If he dies, Prentice will be executed, in accordance with nest law.”

She looked back at the door she had just come through, as if willing the cobra on the other side to wake.

“Oliza has returned,” Sive added. “She is Salem's heir, and if he dies, she will need to take the serpiente throne.”

Sive's gaze drifted out the window. On the ground below, I saw the image of a now familiar figure.

 

Keyi darted among merchants, running into this one and that one as she evaded her mother, Oliza. The child was laughing as Oliza shook her head, smiling fondly.

Vere Obsidian sneaked through the crowd and took his daughter by surprise, lifting her around the waist.

 

I reached for Nicias's hand, needing contact, comfort,
anything,
because in that moment I wasn't numb. I could feel despair, and hopelessness, and shame.

I had seen Keyi time and again. I had seen Salem's death. The visions had unsettled me, and I had stirred myself to speak to the Empress and the falcons, but what had I
done
to prevent this from happening?

Until the moment when the cobra had been dying in my arms, I had done little more than hope for the best … and now we would all suffer the consequences of my naïveté and weakness.

I, who could see quite clearly all our futures, had no excuse for this failure. I should have done something differently.

Was it too late, or could I still?

Sive leaned against the wall, whispering, “Salem should be king. Oliza should be allowed to be with the woman she loves. Prentice should—” She broke off. “Once Salem named his mate, he secured the title for his generation, and the succession never goes backward while there is a legitimate heir. Besides, an infertile couple can't rule the serpiente, and Irene hasn't had any children in the last twenty years.”

Sive was rambling. Everyone in the room knew it, but she didn't seem able to help her own words.

Finally her eyes focused, on us. “Please. Is there anything you can do for him?
Please.
”

“We'll try,” Nicias promised her.

She reached out and caught my hand. “Hai, I know you and I have never been close. Your prophecies—the idea that our destiny might not be of our own design, might be completely out of our hands, terrifies me. But if you can tell me … please, will he wake? Do you know? Do you know who started those horrible rumors, or if … Is this my fault?”

Nicias gently took her hand off mine. “None of this was your fault,” he said.

“I should go,” she said to us. “I have obligations. I have to …”

“It's all right.” I was not good at giving comfort, but I could try. “You do what you must. I swear to you, we will do everything we can for Salem.”

“Th-thank you. I'm sorry, I—I should go,” she whispered again, as if that one decision was still too difficult.

“Someone should go with her,” Nicias said to one of the other guards as Sive started to walk away alone.

I shook my head. “She'll be fine.”

“You can't be sure of that,” the guard said. He looked from Nicias to me.

Nicias turned to me. “Hai, you're certain?”

“Yes, I am.” Sive would be queen; she always reigned in the futures I envisioned, except when Oliza's child killed us all. “For now she needs time to be alone. She can't grieve if someone else is there.”

But she wouldn't be alone. I could see her already snuggling close to the serpent who had first comforted her. He held her quietly, because someone needed to.

“Then we'll let her be alone.”

“Yes, sir,” the guard replied before we moved forward to check on Salem.

We entered the sickroom with Sive's despair heavy in our hearts, and it only settled deeper when I saw the cobra.

Salem was pale and still. His heartbeat was slow but even, and his breath rose and fell, yet I sensed no life from him. Normally my magic reacted to Anhamirak's fiery power in Kiesha's kin, but in this case I felt nothing.

Salem's body had survived, but that was all.

He would not wake.