Earth & Sky (4 page)

I glanced at the steep, rocky hillside.  There was no way
for a land-bound creature like me to get up there.  I grinned.  Unbuttoning the
row of small, pearly buttons at my wrists, I rolled up my fitted sleeves.  I
didn’t open my alchemist’s pouch.  With all the mineral deposits around here, I
didn’t need it. 

Calling to my power, I closed my eyes and envisioned my
way up.  Once the image was firm in my mind, I clapped my hands together to
focus my power, then knelt and placed my palms flat on the ground, one on
either side of my feet.  Power flowed from me and I shifted the earth, breaking
it down and re-ordering its elements, re-building its structure.  A tower of
rock shot up beneath my feet, catapulting me with it, into the air.  When my
structure was the same height as the pinnacle on which Raven sat, I stretched
my thoughts outward and a small, rough bridge-like arch of stone appeared
between us. 

I stood, my hands tingling when I severed my connection to
my magic.  “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Raven,” I said fondly.  I made my
way across my bridge and stood before the giant bird.

The glistening black creature inclined its head to me, but
it was the little girl who spoke.  “Your magic tastes of the wind, Shifter, not
only of the earth.”

My smile faded.  I had noticed something similar myself,
ever since my run-in with the boy from the sky clan.  And ever since then, my
magic had come easier, stronger than before.  I pushed the unpleasant thought
from my mind.  “We’ve heard rumors that your birds mean to ally with the
Fallen.” 

The girl spoke again.  “We bear no ill will toward our
winged brethren.”

I took a deep breath.  “Is there nothing we can do to convince
you to uphold our cause?”

Raven clicked her beak.  “The Sky clan,” the child said,
“does not pressure us to fight.”

I paused, considering this.  “If you won’t fight alongside
us,” I said slowly, “will you at least agree not to fight against us?”

Silence stretched on between us, broken only by the soft
hum of the wind that whipped around my legs like a live thing.  Finally, Raven
nodded.

“You will accept this, and not pressure us to fight?”  The
girl regarded me with the ancient wisdom of the raven reflected in her eyes.

I wiped my gritty palms on my jeans, squinting against the
sting of the wind.  “I think this is maybe… better.”  One less group of
creatures caught up in our war.

Raven stretched her wings.  I could taste the wind magic,
and see the thin blue energy as it danced over her.  I stood my ground and
tried not to react, wondering what the old bird was up to. 

Cras, cras, she called, her gleaming black eyes staring
into mine.  Then she lifted into the air with a great swoosh of her wings, and
flew away.  The child tilted her head.  “She says to tell you that you don’t
belong here.  You have no place in your father’s kingdom.  But- as long as you
are here, she will honor your request.”

Then the child shifted into a red-winged blackbird and
followed Raven into the sky.  I was left standing alone on the windy peak.  In
the eyes of Winona and father, I knew this would be counted as a failure.  It
was all or nothing with them.  But the Raven had spoken to me, and she had
agreed not to fight against us.  That was something.

I rolled my shoulders and stooped to touch the earth.  I
returned it to its former flat state and made my way back toward my motorbike,
Raven’s magic and the child’s parting words fresh in my mind.

Ravens had been known as oracles since ancient times. 
Mostly this was just nonsense.  But every once in a while they got it right.  I
rolled my shoulders and cast the thought aside.  I belonged.  I had a purpose. 
Sitting astride my bike, I glanced up at the tall pinnacle where I had just
stood among the creatures of the sky.  I gave myself a shake. 

“Birds,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.

T
he
dark man slept fitfully.

He dreamed of a field of flowers that was unfamiliar to
him, and a small, warm hand holding his.  He felt strong, like a leader and a
protector, more sure of himself than he ever felt during his confused waking
hours.

The skinny, red-haired girl stood at his side.  Wren.  She
smiled at him but she looked frightened.  Her gaze kept drifting back the way
they had come.  He tugged her toward him.  She had to stay.  However, she
pulled away and turned back, her hand slipping from his, leaving him bereft. 

Wolves howled in the distance, and he faded back into
the forest.  His father’s voice called to him, thin and weak, and he knew he
must return.  He cast a glance back toward where the girl had been, but she was
gone, the long, swaying stalks of the flowers disturbed by her passage, the
only sign that she had ever been there in the first place.

Waking, he reached for the nightstand, groping about until
his hand touched the cool metal wolf charm.  He tucked the necklace under his
pillow and closed his clear blue eyes.

 
I
straightened the hem of my short, fluffy skirt.  Tucking my leggings into my
tall boots, I gave the mirror one final distracted glance and headed to the
door.  Pausing, I retraced my steps to grab my necklace from the nightstand.  I
tucked the black feather into my shirt where no one could see it.  Then I made
my way downstairs, toward the clamor of voices and laughter, and music played
too loud in an attempt to drown it all out.

I snagged a glass of champagne and eyed the crowd, mostly
young people from the elite Shifter families.  Winona was in the center of the
room, surrounded by well-wishers.  I drifted her way, slipping a long, thin box
onto the overflowing pile of gifts.  My good friend, Logan, had helped me make
the leather sheath, and I was proud of the results.  Winona would mock it in
this company, but I knew she would secretly love it.  It would likely be
strapped to her hip for tomorrow’s sparring match.  

One of her friends, a pretty brunette wearing way too much
jewelry, leaned in and toasted Winona loudly.  “Twenty-one!  You’re finally an
adult,” the surrounding crowd laughed.  When we reached twenty-one we were
considered adults, but we were expected to enter the war three years before
that.  I guess we were supposed to prove ourselves in the interim.   

I drifted away, uncomfortable with the frivolity.  My eyes
scanned the crowd until I saw a handsome brown-haired man standing by the
courtyard doors.  His eyes met mine and he tilted his head toward the doors in
invitation.  I glanced around me, taking in the glittering decorations, and the
false, smiling faces.  The urge to escape was overwhelming. 

“Nice dress,” said a snide voice, just loud enough to be
heard over the crowd.  I ignored the passel of girls in their calf-length
dresses with millions of buttons and high, frothy necklines.  I heard a huff of
disappointment behind me when I failed to rise to their baiting.

I slipped out the doors and onto the cool, dimly lit
patio.  A warm hand clamped around my wrist and I let it pull me off the patio
and into the shade of an apple tree.  The tree was just beginning to bud, and
before long, the courtyard would be covered in petals.  Brock’s hands were warm
and demanding as they explored my body, his lips firm and urgent as they met
mine.

I returned to the party a little while later, in search of
more champagne.  My step was light, and I wasn’t bothered by Winona, lapping up
her time as center of attention, in her beautiful dress and her artfully
arranged hair.  

I took two glasses and headed back out to the patio, but I
paused when I heard masculine voices.  “Did I just see you out here with Wren?”

“Ah, I was just passing time.”

“I don’t know, man…with the red one?  She’s cursed you
known.  You’re junk will fall off.”  This followed by laughter and a few other
ribald comments.  My hands tightened around the stems of the two glasses I
held. 

“Her sister though…”

“In your dreams, Logan.”

“Oh really?” Brock’s voice was smug.  “I’ll tell you,
Wren’s fun, but her sister… she really knows what she’s doing!”

The stem of one of the glasses broke, cutting my hand and
shattering on the stones.  I strode forward and slapped Brock, leaving a bloody
handprint on his face.  Masculine laughter rang in my ears. 

He just didn’t seem to realize who he was messing with.  Grabbing
his shoulders, I drove a knee into his groin. “Son of bitch!”  His voice was a
breathless wheeze.  He pushed me back a step and hunched in pain.  I dropped to
a crouch.  Standing, I pulled the dagger from the top of my boot with a smooth
motion and pressed it to the soft flesh beneath his chin.  The prick of the
blade brought him up straight.  His hazel eyes widened as I stepped closer. 

“I am an apex predator,” I told him softly.  “Did you
forget what that makes you?”

Sheathing my dagger, I turned to leave.  There was a
chuckle somewhere close at hand, and anger flared up again.  I whirled and
punched him, connecting with the sweet spot at the point of his jaw.  His eyes
rolled back and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.  I stepped over his
prostrate form and headed back through the crowd toward the opposite door.  No
one laughed.

Winona intercepted me before I could reach my
destination.  “Aren’t you going to wish me a happy birthday?”  She was
smirking.  I saw her glance behind me and gritted my teeth.

“Happy birthday.  Get the hell out of my way.”  I tried to
side step her, but she blocked my escape.  “Where are you going in such a
tiff?  Lover’s quarrel?”

I bared my teeth at her.  “Winona, what is it like to
never, ever be satisfied with what you have?”

She raised an eyebrow at me.  “I have no idea what you’re
talking about.”

I clenched my fists.  “You could have any guy in this
entire town- no, this country- and you take Brock?”

She snorted and looked bored.  “What would I want with a
badger?  He’s not even apex.”

“Exactly.” 

I shook my head and tried to let it go.  I had to get out
of there.  I pushed Winona aside, leaving a bloody smear on the shoulder of her
cream-colored dress.  She was still squawking about it like an agitated hen
when I made my escape.

I made my way out back to the old training barn.  Bringing
my hands together, I formed a light orb and set it to glow, bathing the area in
soft light. 

I hauled out one of the heavy bags.  Then I grasped either
side of my short, poufy black skirt and ripped it off, tossing the shredded scraps
of silk and lace aside with a snort of disgust.  I rolled up the long sleeves
of my shirt and tucked the hem of it into the top of my leggings.  Then I
hammered the hell out of the bag, grunting with the force of each strike.

I don’t know how long I had been at it when Logan spoke. 
“What did she do this time?” He was perched on a bale of straw, fiddling with
an old wooden practice sword.

I twisted and kicked the bag as hard as I could, knocking
it over.  Damn it.  I should have heard him coming.  It wasn’t as if the
stocky, mixed-blood shifter was a master of stealth.  Logan sighed and went to
stand the bag back up.  Then he held it in place as I threw a series of jabs.

“Nothing.  Everything.  Nothing new.”

He nodded.  “Brock?”

I slammed my elbows into the bag and rested my forehead
between them.  “It’s not like I think he’s my soul mate or something.  Gods, it
just… pisses me off.”  I drove a rapid combination of punches into the bag.

He snorted.  “That idiot isn’t good enough for you
anyway.  He’s just as shallow as Winona.  They deserve each other.”

I straightened and frowned at him.  “You shouldn’t say
things like that about your future queen.”  I turned away.  “Even if it is
completely true,” I said under my breath.

Logan sighed.  “You know your father’s looking for you.” 
He eyed the pile of fluff that used to be my skirt.  “He wants me to tell you
to return immediately and apologize for your juvenile behavior.  He also wants
me to tell you that your place is…”

“…at my sister’s side, supporting her on this important
night,” I intoned, finishing his sentence.  “And he knows you’ll find me.”  Logan
always had that uncanny ability to know right where I was.

I turned and gave the bag one last vicious spear-hand,
wishing it were Brock’s throat.  Then I turned on a heel and left Logan holding
the bag.  I returned to the party, not bothering to fix my appearance.  I stood
behind Winona in parade rest for the rest of the evening, not speaking to
anyone.  Of course, everyone knew what had happened.  I clenched my teeth and
put it out of my head.  It was all so stupid.  I had more important things to
worry about than boys with aspirations to the throne. 

I permitted myself a smug grin at the thought that Brock
wouldn’t last past tonight.  Winona was only trying to hurt me.  She had no
real interest in him.  He wasn’t high enough up in the clan hierarchy to
matter.  Only an apex predator- a big cat, a bear, or another wolf- would be
good enough for her.  Lower order predators, like Brock’s badger, were a couple
of ranks below ours, after birds of prey, part of the lesser mammals the upper class
referred to merely as “dinner.”

*****

 When I reached my room, I stripped off my clothes and
cracked the window.  I didn’t bother to light an orb.  The soft light of the
full moon illuminating my small room was more than bright enough for my sharp
night vision.  The cool air felt good on my heated body as I paced restlessly. 
I shouldn’t be so upset over such a stupid thing.

I glanced at the tall, shadowed mirror that stood in the
corner, then away.  I didn’t need it to know that my thick, cursed red hair
would be standing out in bushy waves.  Or that my solidly muscular legs could
never be called feminine or graceful.  I knew my compact form well.  Small
breasts, strong arms- in every way the opposite if the woman who would be
queen.  I wondered if I would have been happier to be born a commoner’s
daughter.  Physically, I was more suited to life as a farmer.