Denied--A Novel of the Sazi

by Cathy Clamp

  The detour led to an opening a long way up the mountain from where he’d entered. He could climb down, but Scott probably couldn’t fly with his damaged wing, even if he could get the owl freed. He didn’t dare try to heal him fully. It would take too much magic that he might need to defend all of them. Still, out was out, and Tristan could probably help the man to the ground with minimal damage. He looked around, trying to get his bearings. He couldn’t see the lake, or Anica or Bojan. But he could smell magic. It was Lagash. His heart began to race.

  Another tremor made dust rain down on him again. First things first. Who knew how much time was left before the whole mountain collapsed?

  He quickly made his way back to the trapped owl. “Okay, we have one shot at this. You ready?”

  Scott blinked his massive yellow eyes and took a shuddering breath. “This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”

  “Like a son of a bitch. No guarantees either.”

  The owl looked at him and then at the faint light above. He fluffed his feathers until he looked like a child’s toy. He lowered his head and dug his talons into the dirt, cracking the rock below. “Let’s do it. Take the fingernails if you have to. They’ll grow back.”

  Tristan wriggled around Scott until most of his body was under the rock pinning the man’s wing. “I lift, you pull, and then get the hell up to the light. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. Just move forward. Fly, claw, or pull yourself with your beak. Just get out. Understood?”

  The owl’s nod was curt, tight. “Understood.” It seemed to Tristan that Scott knew what he hadn’t said—that it was likely only one of them would get out alive.

  Tristan wedged himself under the lip of the stone and began to draw on the magic inside him. He had to focus the magic precisely or the stone might crack and crush them both. Physics always trumped magic. “Three … two…” Scott tensed, leaning forward and pulling on his damaged wing. His other wing rose and his claws dug for purchase.

  “One!” Tristan lifted the rock, using as much magic as he dared. The stone rose only a few inches. Scott pulled hard, screaming as his feathers tore across the tips and his shoulder pulled out of its socket.

  The rock began to crack. “Go, go, go!”

  Scott did as ordered. He clawed at the ledge, flapping his good wing to get some air, and finally made it onto the shelf above, mostly using his beak to pull himself up. It wasn’t elegant, but it was effective.

  Half the stone dropped squarely onto Tristan’s chest. He might have enough magic left to lift it once more, but he didn’t want to risk it until Scott was out. Even now, his power was holding the weight of nearly the entire mountain just to keep the stone from crushing him. Every nerve in his body screamed in agony and his magic drained rapidly away.

  This was Lagash’s fault. All of this was his fault. Tristan’s anger surged, giving him the strength he needed to pull the last ounce of power from his battered body. How long had it been since he’d been in such pain? He remembered the lash and the rod, the fangs in his side, his legs. He remembered every injury Lagash had caused him.

  If that man had laid so much as a finger on Anica—

  You can only punish him if you make it out of here.

  “I’m out! Tristan! I made it out. C’mon. Hurry!” Scott’s voice seemed to come from a thousand miles away.

  Taking what might be his last deep breath, Tristan screamed in defiance and shoved the stone up with muscle and magic. It cracked, then shattered, and the world around him started to collapse in on itself.

  As he raced upward, his scales grabbed every ounce of purchase and on the wall. Just as he reached the shelf, it gave way and he started to fall.

  Tristan! Anica’s voice was like a bright light in his mind, giving him speed and purpose. He raced into the sunlight, wrapped himself around Scott’s feathered form, and flung both of them into the air, mere seconds before the crevice collapsed.

  Looking down was a mistake. It was a long way to the ground. Scott muttered softly as they started to fall, “Oh, this is going to hurt.”

  The owl instinctively tried to open his wing to glide, but Tristan kept a tight hold around him. “Don’t try to fly. All you’ll do is spin us out of control with your bad wing.”

  The owl kept struggling. “But we won’t die. I can fly better with one wing than you can with none.”

  Tristan tried to throw out a net of magic to soften their landing—simply because landing sounded better than crashing—but he was so exhausted from the tunnel and whatever Anica had been forced to fight off that he realized Scott was right. They were going to land hard.

  Scott let out a piercing screech that was better suited to a barn owl than a snowy as the ground rushed up to meet them. To both men’s surprise, there was an answering screech. A massive falcon dove upon them, out of the smoke. Wide talons wrapped around Tristan’s body and all he could do was tighten his grip on Scott, who let out an audible grunt. No doubt his wing was in a lot of pain. He got points for not bitching.

  There was a moment of whiplash that jerked Tristan’s head as the falcon dropped several feet before she opened and began to flap her massive wings. Not until the second flap did Tristan realize who their savior was. Then he managed to croak out, “Thank you for your help, Carolyn.”

  Gliding down to the lakeshore, she fluttered in place long enough to drop Tristan and Scott onto the soft grass before landing herself. “Of course. It’s a Sazi’s duty to lend assistance to Wolven.”

  Scott was struggling to keep his balance with the bad wing, staggering in a sort of circle while his feathers dragged in the mud. “Who’s Carolyn? This is—” Tristan lashed out with his tail and knocked the owl’s feet from under him, sending him sprawling—anything to keep Scott from finishing his thought. Tristan kept talking.

  “As I was saying, Dr. Archeson, I greatly appreciate the assistance. If I might ask a favor, I could use some help studying an unusual mineral specimen we discovered nearby.” Scott blinked as the bird he knew as Skew responded with a completely different personality.

  “Of course. There are some very interesting minerals in the county. Some of the things I’ve found locally could change everything. Come by my lab later and bring the specimen. I’ll take a look at it.” She tapped the top of his head with her wing. “And no more base jumping with prisoners, okay?”

  “I can assure you, I have no plans to try that stunt again.” That was absolutely true. “I’ll stop by your lab later.”

  She took off in a flurry of wing beats, leaving Scott sitting back on his tail feathers, both literally and figuratively. “What the hell?! What did you do to Skew? I know that’s her … but that is not her. Even her voice is different.”

  Tristan shifted, being careful to give the appearance of clothing. The last thing he needed was to have one of the volunteer firefighters call the police about a naked man in the middle of a forest fire. “That’s one of the things I plan to find out.” He jumped to the side quickly when his bare feet landed on a pile of embers. He was really looking forward to putting on some shoes. The illusion of boots didn’t stop the fire from scorching his skin. “You see, the question isn’t what I did to Skew, but what someone else did to Carolyn Archeson to make her Skew.”

  Scott blinked large golden eyes at him and his beak opened. “Make her Skew?”

  “Tristan! You are okay?” Anica ran toward them with Bojan hot on her heels. She was safe! The sight of her made his chest pound like he’d been running a marathon. He started to walk toward her, needing to touch her, smell her. She stopped short, her scent uncertain, angry. She was carrying the clothing he’d slithered out of. “We see bird catch you in air. Did she hurt you?” There was worry under the anger, and concern. But when she held out his clothing she would not look him in the eye, and she snatched her hands away before their skin touched.

  “Your wing. It is broken?” Bojan, overwhelmed with worry and concern, and a warmth that was deeper than buddies normally felt for each other, squatted
down next to Scott, then called, “Doctor! Come please and help.”

  Tristan spotted Bobby and Amber making their way through the smoking remains of brush and trees. He busied himself with putting on the clothing Anica had handed him.

  “Wish we could have gotten here sooner,” Bobby said as Amber rushed to Scott’s side. “Too many humans around to shift or use magic while the fire was close. Too many questions later.” Yeah, Tristan had seen what flames looked like when he’d tried to use magic around them. Tall columns of bright blue that looked like a gigantic propane flame. You could see it for miles and arson investigators would descend on the area.

  “Okay, Scott,” Amber said after looking over the wing, “I think you’ll be a lot more comfortable if I put you in stasis for this.” The owl nodded gratefully. Bojan’s scent said he was confused and nervous, so the healer explained, looking reassuringly at him, “Stasis is a magical form of anesthesia. He’ll be asleep when I set the arm.” She waved the rest of them off. “I’ll need a little room, please. Bojan can help me.”

  Touching Tristan’s sleeve to get his attention, Anica said, “May we speak?”

  Tristan nodded. As they walked off together, he put a hand on the small of her back, just to touch her. A brush of electricity at the contact made the hairs on his arm stand on end and a tumble of tension tighten his gut. Anica started and jumped a step ahead with a gasp. Her arms rose to cross across her chest.

  From behind, Tristan heard Bobby’s voice in his head. Don’t force it. That’ll only make things worse. Tristan gave Anica some room.

  Once they were standing at the water’s edge, Anica turned. “Your phone rang while you were in the cave. I saw on the display that it was Ahmad, so I answered it. I know I should not look at your phone, but no other phones have signal, so I am surprised when I see call and am hoping we can use to get help.” Tristan didn’t bother to mention it was a satellite phone that had a signal whether or not the towers were working.

  Bobby’s mouth dropped open at about the same time as his own did. Bobby spoke first, proving he’d been listening in on Tristan’s brain. Damn it! Tristan slammed down his shields, which a week ago wouldn’t have taken nearly as much effort. “Why would you think it was okay to talk to a councilman? You know he’s the snake councilman, right?”

  She shrugged, her scent unconcerned and a touch confused. “Of course. But I know him … and Tuli. We traveled together for days in a small car across Serbia. Ahmad sent you both here. If anything happened to Tristan while he was trying to save Scott, Ahmad would want to know what he had found out.”

  Tristan wasn’t sure whether to feel annoyed, impressed, or terrified. “What did you tell him?”

  Another shrug, along with a blink. “Everything. I told him of the fires and the bombs, Paula and Lagash. And his sister. He was surprised, and concerned.”

  No doubt. “What does he want me to do?”

  Anica reached into her pocket and held out his cell phone. “Call him. He said he would talk to only you … if you survived.”

  That sounded like Ahmad. Bobby waved at him with the back of his hand as he pulled a second satellite phone from a leather case on his belt. It made Tristan wonder why he hadn’t used it to contact Amber. She should have one as well. “Go. Talk to your boss. I’ll talk to mine.”

  Anica didn’t move as he started to dial. She just stared at him, her thoughts hidden, or maybe just too confused to be coherent. But her scent wasn’t as shielded. She was annoyed, angry, and a dozen other things—he wasn’t sure exactly what she was feeling. Those large dark eyes were sad. He didn’t want to see her sad.

  He had to turn away.

  His call was answered before the first ring ended, but the person on the other end remained silent. “Ahmad.”

  “You survived.” There was no surprise in the voice, just an acknowledgment. He heard a whisper in the background, a female, but not Tuli. “And the boy?”

  The way he said it made it sound like Scott was a child. “The man’s shoulder is dislocated, the arm likely broken. But he’ll live.”

  A pause and a muttered conversation to the side. It would do no good to ask who was listening in. Ahmad would just tell him to go to hell. “Find a private place and tell me everything.”

  Tristan looked around. The closest thing to privacy was a public bathroom made of concrete blocks on the other side of the lake. “I’ll call back.” He disconnected without saying good-bye. Nearby, Bobby was listening intently. Tristan could just make out the hushed voice coming through the speaker: Lucas, the head of Wolven. As Tristan approached, Bobby turned his head slightly, acknowledging him. Tristan pointed at the bathroom. “I’ll be over there.” The snake shifter nodded.

  As he passed Anica, he could smell the flurry of her emotions. She reached out as though she were going to touch him, then pulled back at the last moment. It was a struggle not to stop, to gather her close and take her with him, keep her safe. Keep her close.

  Even when he got to the bathroom, he positioned himself where he could keep a watch on her through the high opening in the painted blocks.

  She turned, as though she could feel him staring at her, and locked eyes with him. What is she thinking? Why is she angry when she already knew I wasn’t a bear? Or did she?

  “Risten! Perhatian!” The bellowing voice from the phone in his hand cut through his daze. He nearly dropped it. That was something his mother used to say, in Indonesian, telling him to pay attention. But it wasn’t his mother’s voice. It was Ahmad’s. I don’t even remember dialing. He inhaled, trying to focus. The sharp, unpleasant scent of dirty concrete, old graffiti, and stale urine that was soaking into his pores made him shudder and walk around to the other side of the building and the entrance to the ladies’ side, which stank less. Why are ladies’ rooms always cleaner?

  His name and a string of hissing curses sounded again from the device in his hand. He raised it to his ear. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation.

  CHAPTER 19

  Why it is so much harder to think with Tristan close enough to touch? Anica tried to focus on what Tuli had taught her by phone in their conversation. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d spoken with Ahmad’s wife, even including their time together in Serbia. Tuli was a woman of action, not words. But Tuli had taken the phone from her husband’s hand earlier when Anica had asked about mating and they had talked, the woman’s voice softening to sound almost maternal.

  “Don’t listen to Ahmad. Of course it’s possible for a snake to be mated to a bear. I…” Her voice became distant, as though she was holding her hand over the phone, and then the language changed to one Anica didn’t understand. There was a loud crash that made her pull the phone away from her ear, before Tuli’s voice came back on the line. “Apologies. I had to explain to my husband why he’s an idiot.”

  It made Anica smile. Very few people would likely still be alive after that. It made her ask the other woman a question: “Is Tristan a good man?” Ahmad was a good man—tough, hard, unrelenting. But underneath, he was good.

  There was a pause and then a reply of sorts. “He’s very good at what he does. Is that what you mean?”

  It was, and it wasn’t. “I had always thought when I found a man interested in me that he would be strong, but thoughtful, and that he would trust me and support me and want the best for me. A good man … like Ahmad. Is he?”

  Tuli had answered at length; Anica would need to think much about what the older woman had said. Then the snake councilman’s voice had replaced Tuli’s with a final warning: “Fear is a thief, Anica. It steals strength. Do not weaken Risten with fear or worry. He is strong and capable like you are strong and capable. I have seen you both face danger, impossible odds, and live. If you wish to have a future with Ris, let him be who he is and insist you be who you are. But you must let him do what he was sent there for. Risten is who other snakes fear. Remember that.”

  He’d hung up then without saying good-bye
, as she’d seen him do in Serbia also. She’d thought about the conversation for long minutes while she’d waited to see whether Tristan and Scott would survive. She thought about the impossible odds of finding her prison again and taking down the cell of evil snakes and bears who had turned her.

  She had survived.

  When the mountain had started to rumble a second time and panic had blown open the door in her head once more, she had to keep Ahmad’s words in her head: Risten is who other snakes fear.

  He had to be able to concentrate, so she shut the door again, her heart pounding with a panic he couldn’t afford to feel. It had been hard to do that when she saw his black-and-blue-banded form, wrapped around the fluffy white owl, burst into the air from a place high on the stone wall. Snakes could not fly, and neither could a bird with a broken wing.

  He is strong and capable.

  Bobby and Amber arrived just as Skew had caught the escapees in mid-air and then it was a race to see who would get to their landing site first. That Anica had arrived first surprised her, considering who she was racing against. Then when she’d seen Tristan, she felt awkward. Part of her wanted to hug him, another part to hit him. She didn’t want to distract him, and was also still angry about his lies.

  So she did nothing … and he noticed.

  When he’d touched her back, the physical pleasure had nearly overwhelmed her. Every nerve in her body had been awakened at once, making her stumble and nearly fall over. She’d had to fight to keep the door closed, as though a hurricane were on the other side. But Tristan hadn’t pushed beyond his natural magic, thank goodness. In fact, he’d pulled back further into himself, making it easier to keep the door shut.

  While everyone was busy and her head was briefly clear, she had time to think. It had been the first time since before she arrived at Rachel’s. She sneezed and she raised her hand up to cover her nose. When she pulled her hand away, there were smears of wet in the ash and soot covering her entire body like paste. Things keep happening too fast. Every new thing is piling on top of the old. There is no time to process a single event.