Changing Fate [Fate series] (7 page)

She lay drowsily listening to the sounds of the forest until a different sound reached her ears and startled her into full alertness. It was a faint metallic ring—a horseshoe hitting a stone, perhaps. It wasn't Gris; she could see him sleeping quietly, all four feet planted in the dirt of the clearing. She rose, slipping silently into the trees at the edge of the clearing, and scouted back, parallel to the path. There were two men, both mounted, and she recognized them as Stefan's lieutenants. Either they had been fonder of Stefan than she would ever have imagined possible, or they sought to kill her and Briam in the hopes of a rich reward from Lord Ranulf. Or, she thought shuddering, to kill Briam and take her back to Lord Ranulf.

As she fled soundlessly back to the clearing to wake Briam, she wondered why she was so sure that they were not acting on Lord Ranulf's orders. It was silly to feel she could trust the man who had taken her home and left her orphaned—it was more than silly, it was stupid and dangerous! But, she reasoned, if Lord Ranulf knew and approved of this, there would be more of them, and he'd probably be leading them himself—if only to make sure they didn't harm her out of ignorance.
Even a slash across the belly could make me useless to him—my ability to bear him a child is his main concern.

Fighting back the shuddering nausea that idea woke in her, she loped across the clearing and planted a paw on the center of Briam's forehead.
Wake up! Grab your dagger and hide in the trees on the right side of the clearing. There are two men coming on horses. When I hit the first one, you kill the second one. Move!

Briam scrambled sleepily to his feet, dropping his cloak. Akila was glad that he'd taken off his armor last night; it would have glinted in the moonlight now. In his dark wool tunic he blended into the trees, and with any luck the cloak, the pile of pine needles, and the saddlebags might fool the men into thinking he still lay there, at least for a crucial few seconds. She had no intention of giving them time for a full examination. She slipped into position on the left side of the clearing, opposite and slightly ahead of Briam, and watched as the men rode in.

She sprang at the first man, knocking him out of his saddle and landing on the ground with him, struggling to get her teeth into his throat. Unfortunately, he was wearing a leather helmet which covered nearly all of his neck, and he had managed to get his dagger free as he fell. She hastily shifted her attention to the hand that held it and managed to bite into one of the tendons that held the thumb. The dagger dropped from his grip, and she kicked it away from them. He was lying on his sword, so that wasn't a problem—at least until he managed to throw her off him, which wouldn't take long. She prayed that Briam would finish off the man he was fighting and come help her before she got into real trouble. She was heavy for a wolf, but the man under her was bigger and heavier, and once he got over the initial surprise of being attacked by a wolf, he would realize it. Unless, by the grace of the Lady, he was one of the humans who had an irrational fear of wolves.

He was certainly afraid of something; his eyes were wide with terror. But they were looking beyond her, and there was an incredibly loud flapping of wings. Akila pulled her head back as a set of impossibly large talons dropped almost between her ears, landed at full extension on the man's face, and pulled in to gripping position. Blood from what was no longer a face splashed her as she rolled clear. She had a quick look at an ‘bird’ stranger than anything
she
had ever been—almost all wing, with an incredibly small body and large talons, obviously designed for maximum speed and striking power. She had no need to wonder who flew in that form.
He must have his brain in his wings
, the thought flashed through her mind;
there's no room for it in the body.

But the form was shifting, and the smell of the new form raised her hackles. It was a cat, a very large cat, with claws even sharper than the bird's talons—and now, of course, it had teeth as well. And it was much bigger than she was. She had no hope of beating this in wolf-form; she wasn't even sure she could outrun it. And she wasn't going to run, not with her brother still struggling with the second soldier.

She moved between the cat and the struggle, and growled through bared teeth.
Come now!
said the rational part of her brain,
you can't possibly think this will frighten Lord Ranulf!
But she couldn't think of anything constructive to do, and this was what her wolf instincts were providing in the way of behavior.

The cat, however, was still dealing with the man he had landed on. Its claws laid open the soldier's upper leg—including the major blood vessels, judging by the great spurt of blood and the speed with which the body went limp.

Behind her, Briam killed the other man, rolled free of the body, and launched himself at the cat. He was promptly knocked flying by a great paw, but the claws were carefully retracted.

Akila scrambled to stand guard, snarling menacingly, over Briam, but the cat made no threatening moves. He stretched out spine and paws, fastidiously licked the blood off his front claws, and then turned his back on them and scrambled up the largest of the surrounding trees. The branches near the top thrashed violently, and Akila saw a bird shape take wing—and this shape was nearly all wing, without the large talons of the earlier version. It headed back in the direction of the castle, and Akila heard herself start howling.

It was all too much. She'd lost her home, den, pack, family (except from Briam, who was more a cub to be protected than an equal to be depended upon); she was so alone, and so tired, and so miserable ... and here she sat in the middle of a bunch of dead animals that weren't even any good to eat!

"Akila!” Briam grabbed her and shook her hard. “Change back! Be human!” He sounded scared, and no doubt he was.

Akila changed to human form, her howls changing to sobbing hysterical tears. It was not an improvement. She was making just as much noise, and she was cold and bloody and there was an awful taste in her mouth where she'd bitten the soldier's hand. She went on crying, sure that she would never stop. Briam wrapped his cloak around her and held her close, but she was still crying when she fell asleep.

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Naturally, she had nightmares. After a day like that, anyone would have nightmares. The Earth Mother was calling to her to return home to the temple, to take her place at the altar, and the Lady of Fire was shooting lightning bolts all around her. She was slipping from one strange shape to another, becoming strange mixtures of all the animals she had even seen, as well as a good many she had never seen and never wanted to see. And instead of the usual mental blurring as she shifted from one shape to the next, her mind was staying in focus as her body melted from one shape to another. She shuddered at the sight of her limbs melting from hands to paws to wings to tentacles and thanked the Goddess she couldn't see her own face—she had always had a horror of seeing things melting. It was one thing to change shape voluntarily, but quite another to lose it.

She struggled to control the changes, but still she kept shifting. Her stomach alternately burned, as if she had eaten fire, and felt as if something was tearing out handfuls of her essence through her navel. She knew that if she were awake and properly in her body she'd be throwing up, but this feeling was even worse. She was sure that she was going to die, but she was afraid she wasn't. She wished she could die and get it over with.

When the great black wings passed over her and landed at her side, she didn't even care. Lord Ranulf's bird shapes had been horrible perversions of nature; this one was a reasonably normal looking bat—except for its size, of course. She wasn't terribly surprised to watch it turn into Lord Ranulf. It seemed only natural that he'd be invading her dreams; they were the only area of her life he hadn't invaded already.

He looked down at her, frowning, then moved away and disappeared from her sight. She thought briefly of turning her head to see where he'd gone, but she decided she didn't care—she felt too tired and wretched to move. She closed her eyes and endured as another wave of nausea passed through her.

When she opened her eyes again, he was back. He was also dressed, and she wondered if he'd flown here with a pack of clothes and dropped them nearby or if he'd just gone to the castle and back. It could have been either one; she didn't know how much time had passed, although normally her time sense was very accurate indeed.

He knelt beside her and pulled her gently into his lap. “Poor child, you are having a rough time of it.” He put his left arm securely around her shoulder and held her so that her head rested on his left shoulder. “Here, just relax; I'll help you.” He put his other hand over the part of her stomach that felt as if it was being torn out, and the pain gradually eased away. She felt rather numb and very tired. “There, now. Rest,” he murmured against her hair, “just rest."

It was all right, she could rest; this was only a dream—he wouldn't act like this in real life. Besides, if he were really here, Briam would be awake and fighting him. She sighed and leaned limply against him. “Why did you come after us, and why did you kill that soldier? Wasn't he working for you?” Even knowing that she was dreaming, she was still curious.

"No, he was not!” Lord Ranulf said emphatically. “I would not have you harmed on any account—do you know how few changers there are in the world?"

"Not many that I know of, but until two days ago I did live a restricted life. But Briam's not a changer, and you didn't seem to object to having him killed."

"Killing him in a fair battle is one thing—pre-dawn ambushes are quite another. He won his life fairly; I do not claim it forfeit now.” He sighed. “I would not have thought that Stefan's men wanted to avenge him, or I would have kept a closer watch on them. If I hadn't been wandering restlessly on the walls in the middle of the night and seen them creep out.... They could have killed you!"

"Oh no, I don't think so.” Akila shook her head. “I was holding my own, and Briam would have killed that man in a few minutes even if you hadn't come along. And I'm very glad that you didn't hurt Briam."

"Oh, he'll probably have quite a few bruises, but I did pull in my claws.” Lord Ranulf dropped a light kiss on her hair. “I doubt you would agree to marry me if I killed your brother—you appear to have an extremely stubborn and determined character."

"I'm not agreeing to marry you anyway.”
Even if I am dreaming that you're nice.

His face was gentle, as was the hand that smoothed back her hair. “No, not yet, but I still hope that you will in time. I do wish you'd at least come back home. It's obvious that no one ever taught you anything about shape-changing, and you'd be a lot safer if you were properly trained. And speaking of training, where is your library? So far the only books I've found in the entire castle are the account books."

Akila chuckled. “If you are meant to find the library, you'll find it. If not, you won't."

Lord Ranulf sighed. “That's exactly what your steward said."

Akila felt a brief stab of alarm. “You didn't hurt him, did you?"

"No, of course I didn't.” He actually sounded shocked. “What do you think I am—some king of monster? All of your people are safe and well."

"Thank you,” Akila said politely.

"One thing does puzzle me, though. I haven't seen anyone show grief over your father's death, including you and your brother."

Akila shrugged. “I suppose I'll cry for him in time. Right now so much has happened that I feel rather numb. As for everyone else—well, he was away at least half of every year, and he wasn't exactly the sort of person one loved. Everybody obeyed his orders promptly, but—” she tried to find words to explain “—he didn't care about
people
, except as things: his steward, his son, his daughter.” She suddenly realized something. “You know, I don't remember his ever having touched me, not even to take my hand, or kiss me in greeting when he returned from a campaign."

Lord Ranulf blinked in surprise. “He seems to have been a strange man. Where did you get your talent? Was your mother a changer?"

"I don't know—she died when we were born. Nobody knew I was one until I fell off a shed roof when I was three. I was a bird when I hit the ground. Fortunately Briam was the only one who saw me, and he thought it was a great game. After that, I taught myself, but I was careful to keep it a secret. And once I grew up I was too busy administering the estates to have much time to practice, so I suppose I'm not very good."

"For a wild talent, you're quite good. Your main faults are that you copy real animals too much, rather than making adjustments that fit the shape to your weight better—you can get a great deal more flying speed and range if you don't insist on trying to look like a real eagle—and you haven't learned to recognize and compensate for your limits. You should establish some simple defensive shape that you can shift to and hold when you're exhausted, and practice it until it's automatic. And you need to strengthen your sense of self—no matter how tired you get, you shouldn't be doing that random shifting you were doing just now. You don't want to lose yourself—you're much too valuable."

His arms tightened around her. “I wish I'd met you when you were younger, and when my father was still alive—he was a good teacher.” He sighed. “Please come home, Akila."

"No.” At the moment the idea did have a certain appeal, but Akila resolutely refused the temptation. “I have to take care of Briam, and he wouldn't be safe at home anymore."

"But I've told you I don't seek his life!"

"Maybe you don't. But you obviously have plenty of men who'd kill him to do you a favor.” She set her jaw and looked him straight in the eyes. “I really don't think Stefan's men were out to avenge him; I think they thought you'd reward them for killing Briam and returning me, even if you didn't order it."

He considered that for a long moment. “You may very well be correct. Well, I'll set my house in order, and you look after Briam—but be very sure that you look after yourself as well!"