Maiden's Wolf (In Deception's Shadow Book 3) (2 page)

Beatrice propped
her longbow against a tree trunk and surveyed her work. Even studying the
forest trail where the wagon had recently been over with a critical eye, the
signs of its passage weren’t obvious. But then again, they shouldn’t be. She’d
just spent the better part of three candlemarks hiding all signs of her
family’s passage.

The absolute last
thing her family needed was for a patrol from River’s Divide to pick up their
back trail. Or worse—acolytes. She’d been diligently hiding the wagon’s trail
for the past three days since the Stonemantle sisters had first warned her
grandmother about the newly arrived ship carrying Lord Master Trensler and his
acolytes.

Beatrice didn’t
know the oldest sister as well as Sorsha, who was of an age with her. Yet
Ashayna was a scout in General Stonemantle’s army and seemed like one of the
most unflappable people in Beatrice’s acquaintance. That a seasoned scout
feared the acolytes was enough to get Old Mother packing. Still, Beatrice was
somewhat surprised by Old Mother’s swift agreement to the sisters’ offer.

The offer itself
was… unusual.

It wasn’t every
day that one was invited to go live among the ‘enemy’ because it was safer.

Beatrice wondered
if her grandmother might have had a vision. Whatever the case, Beatrice and her
family were now on their way to live with Sorsha’s santhyrian allies.

It didn’t
surprise Beatrice that the youngest Stonemantle sister would align herself with
the horse-like santhyrians. Sorsha had always had a way with horses—and for all
their magic, santhyrians did resemble large horses. When the Stonemantle
sisters had visited last, they’d been accompanied by three santhyrians and the
Crown Prince of the Phoenix.

It had been an
odd experience.

All her life,
she’d been conditioned to hide her magic or risk being caught by an acolyte. To
trust someone outside her immediate family with the knowledge was to court
betrayal and a horrible death by fire.

But the
santhyrians and the phoenix prince had known that she was a healer at first
glance, and they hadn’t cared. They’d seemed to consider her one of them, as if
it didn’t matter that she was one of the ‘enemy’. It had been a novel sensation
to not need to hide a part of herself.

For once, she’d
glimpsed what it was like to belong.

Beatrice had
foolishly looked forward to journeying to a new home with the Stonemantle
sisters, thinking it would be nice to be safe for once.

And then four
days ago, the sisters hadn’t met them at the agreed-upon location. Even then,
Beatrice had held out hope.

Old Mother hadn’t
been so trusting and had hitched the pair of old geldings to the wagon and
ordered them in. They’d already packed what possessions would fit in the wagon
and left everything else behind. Stonemantle sisters or no, Old Mother had
decided to take her chances with the lupwyn raiders and other Elementals in the
world beyond the human-held lands. Better a chance at survival out in the wilds
than certain death at the hands of the acolytes.

Her grandmother
had said that the sisters were cunning; if they’d found trouble, they’d likely
find their way free again.

Beatrice agreed,
although her heart had been heavy with doubt.

Then, less than a
day out, they’d heard the sound of horses approaching on the trail ahead.
Before they’d had a chance to hide themselves and the wagon, Sorsha’s mare,
Shadegrove, and Lamarra’s gelding came trotting down the road.

Both horses had
been un-tacked with no injuries to show they’d gotten their saddles off the
hard way. So it looked like the two horses had been ridden out far beyond the
human lands and then turned loose to find their way back to River’s Divide on
their own.

Which suggested
that perhaps the sisters had managed to meet up with their santhyrian allies
after all. Just not where they were supposed to.

After quickly
examining the horses, Old Mother had declared that no acolytes had been near
them. Beyond that, they didn’t know what had become of their friends.

Old Mother, never
one to turn away one of fate’s gifts, kept the horses. Roan, the better rider,
took the fractious Shadegrove as his mount, while Beatrice had adopted
Lamarra’s big-barreled, placid gelding.

In the following
three days, Beatrice and her newly adopted mount doubled back to scout along
the wagon’s back trail to hide the signs of their passage and to alert Old
Mother and Roan if she discovered anyone following.

So far, she’d
found nothing.

Absolutely
nothing.

So why had her
magic been stirring uneasily all morning when she sensed no danger nearby? The
only other reason her magic stirred awake was if a person needed healing. But
she sensed no one in need of that skill, either.

It was beyond
frustrating. It had begun earlier that morning as a nagging sensation, but it
had been growing all day. Until now, it was all she could do not to gallop her
gelding back the way she’d come and ruin all the hard work she’d done to hide
their trail.

It didn’t help
that cold sweat covered her body or that a sour fear was brewing in her
stomach.

If there was
someone back there that needed her healing, she would have gone in a heartbeat.
But the power stirring awake was not her healing power.

No, it was
nothing so innocent.

There was a dark
twin to her healer’s magic which slumbered within her soul.

A power so
fearsome, so evil, even an acolyte couldn’t withstand it.

And that power
was rousing, its attention focusing on something back toward the human
settlement of River’s Divide.

Beatrice shuddered
and turned her gelding to follow the wagon.

Whoever, or
whatever, had roused her dark magic was not something she wished to encounter.

His mare’s ears
perked and even Silverblade, with his dull human senses, could hear the sound
of hooves on hard-packed ground.

Somewhere not too
far ahead, the group of elders, guards and their horse-like santhyrian allies
rode the same trail as him, likely keeping to a slow pace to allow his mortal
mare to catch up. The santhyrians were normally much swifter than a
domesticated horse. And his mare was not a swift creature by even horse
standards—but she was silent and well-trained. It was the one reason he’d
bought this horse. He’d acquired her on one of his earlier ventures into the
human settlement of River’s Divide. As a trapper, he needed a horse to help
carry his furs, but as a scout, he’d looked over each horse closely for the one
with the calmest disposition. This mare had shown herself to be the most
level-headed, even when he had gotten close enough that she could catch his
lupwyn scent.

In the days since
they’d first become partners, she’d shown great skill at navigating the narrow
and twisting forest trails. Mild pride kindled in his heart. She was nearly as
silent and sure-footed as any of his fellow lupwyn scouts.

Eventually his
mare caught up to the others, and he could now catch glimpses of the last
riders in line through the trees.

It was mildly
rewarding—and childish, perhaps—to know he could track even the elders of this
group without them knowing he was so close on their trail.

His magic flowed
around both his mount and their surroundings, dulling their scents and even
hiding the faint thump of their heartbeats from anyone who might have sharp
enough natural senses to detect such.

Not that he could
take all the credit. His Larnkin had a special knack for hiding that which it
didn’t want known or located. Silverblade’s lips stretched back from his teeth
in a grin. He was nearly upon the last rider in line.

“I assume once
you’re done stalking us like a starving wolf in mid-winter, you’ll come join
me. It’s been five moon cycles since I last saw you in person.”

His mother’s mind
voice flowed across his thoughts, and his grin widened at her humor.

“Mother!”
Silverblade squeezed his legs against his mare’s barrel to urge her
into moving faster and dropped his attempt at stealth.
“I never could hide
from you. As a child, it used to frustrate me no end.”

“Hmmm, is that
why you followed a lupwyn scout’s life path? I always thought you simply
rebelled at the idea of embracing your phoenix heritage.”

Silverblade
chuckled at his mother’s astuteness and her flippant tone. It was a long-running
joke between them that she despaired his choice of following in the ways of his
father’s people.

It was all
outward pomp and bustle on her part. She loved him and his father, and spent much
of her time among the lupwyn nation.

In truth, he
didn’t hate his phoenix side, he simply didn’t relate to it as much as his
lupwyn form. Flying in bird or hybrid form was something he partook in from
time to time to appease his mother, but he didn’t really love it. His lupwyn
heritage was too strong, preferring to have at least two feet on the ground.

And the call of
the wind and the lazy summer thermals never spoke to his heart as strongly as
the need to run through the soothing, dark forests. His mother knew it was so,
and it didn’t really come as a surprise to her either. Most offspring that were
of mixed heritage took after one parent more than the other, depending on the
blending.

Out of all the
different Elemental races, the lupwyn bloodlines usually proved the most
dominant when mixed with another species. His mother had come to terms with his
choice a long time ago. But she still sent the occasional barb his way.

Silverblade
guided his mare closer to the group of visiting Elementals and then dropped his
cloaking magic. Several of the guards acknowledged his sudden appearance with
calm nods. They might not have known he was so close, but clearly they had been
informed of his coming.

After returning
their companionable nods, he turned his attention to his mother.

“Hmmm. You can’t
seem to bother taking on phoenix form, but you’ll do human?” She sighed and
then grinned at him, holding her arms open for a hug.

Silverblade
guided his mare close to his mother’s santhyrian mount and managed a quick,
somewhat awkward hug. His mare tolerated the santhyrian, but the stallion mage
Cymael was riding snorted with disdain.

“Mother, it’s
good to see you, even if the reason behind it isn’t.”

“It’s always good
to see you too.” His mother looked him over. “At least you make a fine enough
looking human, I suppose.” Cymael arched a brow at him. “As majestic as your
lupwyn form is, it would be nice to see you as a phoenix once in a while when
you come to Grey Spires next. But I digress. Once this present mission is over,
you’ll need to return to the pack and deal with leadership issues there. Maybe
once that’s dealt with, you’ll find an opportunity to pass that stellar
heritage on to the next generation.” His mother huffed softly at his stricken
look, her cream-colored crest feathers rising slightly in humor. “I want to see
some grandchildren one of these centuries before my Larnkin decides it is time
to return to the Spirit Realm.”

He could feel his
early surprise melting away to mild annoyance. This was an old argument. “Now
is hardly the time to worry about such things.”

For the most
part, the different races composing the Elementals shared many beliefs and
values. But some things, like instincts, were too ingrained within the species
and could not be overruled.

Such as a
phoenix’s mating instinct. That was something that could not be simply ignored.
Like the dragons and gryphons, phoenix mated for life. Unfortunately, other
species such as lupwyns or santhyrians had much more freedom to change life
partners as sometimes happened.

Silverblade had
learned that very painful life lesson half a century before.

While he wouldn’t
mind having his own youngling to raise, that was a little difficult without a
mate and there was no way he was ready to risk that kind of pain a second time.
If his mother wanted grandchildren so badly, she and his father could just
beget another youngling themselves!

Silverblade
wasn’t so foolish as to tell his mother that.

“Your father says
the pack is entering another fertility cycle. It’s likely why he wants you to
return and take up your place as pack leader and put down any dissension among
the other members while he’s at Grey Spires. You might even find another—”

“No.” The word
came out more sharply than Silverblade intended, so he softened his voice a
touch. “Once was enough lesson for me.”

His mother
sighed, but wisely didn’t press him. She knew well his history.

He swiftly sought
another topic of conversation. There was one thing he should mention before the
current mission sidetracked him. “It will be good to spend time with you,
father, and the rest of the pack again.” He simply would not be seeking a new
mate, and considering what they were just talking about, he hesitated to bring
up the next topic.

However, it was
too important to avoid simply because he didn’t want to give his mother more
fuel.

“When I first
started scouting this area, I found a young human woman and her family living
deep in the woods. What’s more interesting is that they all possess Larnkins.”
Until recently, he’d thought that those powerful, immortal creatures of the
spirit realm only took Elementals as hosts. That was, perhaps, a tad arrogant
on his people’s part to believe such.

Yet it was
understandable, too. For his spying had only reinforced what the elders had
already suspected. Most humans were taught to hate and fear magic; that anyone
with even the humblest of gifts was evil and should be hunted down so they
could not ‘corrupt’ others. The only corruption Silverblade had ever witnessed
was rooted in the acolytes’ core teachings.

“Larnkins?” his
mother said, a hint of surprise reflected in her voice that wasn’t mirrored on
her tranquil features, her diplomat’s mask falling into place.

“Yes. And when I
return to the pack, I’d like to bring this family with me. They have been
hiding from the human priests for years. Among them is a female with a very
powerful Larnkin. My own led me to them, and he has since made it clear that
these humans are under his protection.”

His mother tilted
her head, studying him, no doubt trying to read his thoughts. But for once, he
had his mental shields firmly in place.

“This female, how
old would you say she is?”

Silverblade
paused and mulled that over. He knew she was young compared to a centuries-old Elemental
like him, but she was human and he’d seen many humans younger than her with
babes already at the breast. “Were I to guess, I’d say twenty.”

“Hmmm,” his
mother said, her thoughtful expression morphing into calculation. “She would be
of an age with the Stonemantle sisters then.”

He supposed that
was so. Being a scout, he knew of the human general and his three daughters. It
had been a necessity to learn as much as possible about their enemies.

As it had turned
out, the Stonemantle sisters weren’t the enemy. At least the oldest wasn’t.
She’d turned out to be the bondmate of the Crown Prince of the Phoenix.

But what that had
to do with the three humans he’d found, he didn’t know.

“They must all
have been born here. I would need to know that for sure to confirm my theory,
but if they were born here and the Larnkins of this land took them as hosts,
then that means they are our allies,” his mother said. “You did well to find
and protect them. Once you complete your current mission, I would like you to
bring this family to Grey Spires.”

“That was my
plan,” he agreed with a nod.

“And you say your
Larnkin showed interest in this one’s mentoring?”

Those weren’t his
exact words, but by the way his mother’s crest rose slightly, he sensed another
humorous barb at his expense was likely incoming.

“You most
certainly should tutor this young one, and if something comes of it after a
century or two, all the better.”

Now his mother
wanted him to take a human mate? A species equally as promiscuous as a lupwyn,
if not more so?

He was just
drawing breath to say as much when the first agonized scream reached his ears.

The terrible
sound battered his senses, and then chaos broke loose as the undeniable shapes
of two dozen robed acolytes emerged from the surrounding forest.

Ambush, he
realized. But before Silverblade had time to draw his sword, a delicately
textured net dropped down upon him.

Wherever those
delicate threads touched, a hot, fierce burning flared up. The heat and pain
lasted moments and then the heat faded, changing to a numbing cold. His mare
squealed in terror and then collapsed underneath him. Trapped by the net, he
went down with her.

He had no idea
what was happening. His Larnkin flared in panic, but the strange nets simply
absorbed whatever spell his Larnkin launched at it.

Worse, his limbs
were growing heavy, the strange, numbing cold somehow draining away his life
energy along with his magic. And even as fine as the netting was, he still
couldn’t break or shred any of the threads. He attempted to call on his lupwyn
form, but even that was beyond him.

Trapped in a
human body without his natural weapons or his magic, he could only struggle
uselessly and listen to those around him fighting for their lives and losing.

Somewhere close
by, he heard his mother’s enraged raptor’s scream and a moment later, her fire
magic blasted just over his head. Some of the flames caught a portion of the
net trapping him and burned it to ash. Seeing that, he renewed his struggle to
free himself from the net.

He’d managed to
free his upper body when an acolyte stepped into his line of sight and leveled
a crossbow at Silverblade’s chest.