The Sapphire Flute: Book 1 of The Wolfchild Saga
Page 18
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ember lost track of all time as she ran on four legs through the forest, the wind racing through her fur like a sparrow through the trees. It was exhilarating—all her senses heightened. Even as she ran with the wolf pack, she could hear the scurry of mice and insects through the leaves and smell the musty decay of the earth and the sharp tang of pine. She never tired, her tongue lolling in joy, much like the huge alpha wolf to her left. She couldn’t help the expression and didn’t care what she looked like. There was a large part of her that never wanted to go back, content to stay a wolf for the rest of her life.
The pack climbed higher, and now she felt the strain in her chest and hindquarters as she surged upward through the rocky terrain. Higher and higher, until it almost hurt to breathe, then just before a rocky outcropping, the lead wolf disappeared into the mountainside. Ember followed as, one by one, the wolves vanished into what appeared to be solid rock. When it came Ember’s turn, she found that it was mere illusion. The slit in the rock opened into a huge cave.
Water dripped from the heights to collect in a pool near the center of the room. The pack skirted the edge of the water and ran farther into the cave, single file now as they wound through the crack that cut deep into the earth. Finally, when the drip-drip of the rain had stopped and all she could hear was the panting of her pack, the lead wolf stopped and turned to face her. All the wolves circled and dropped to their haunches, tongues hanging, as they breathed their exhaustion.
It was the huge white wolf who spoke to her, though the words came directly to her mind, never reaching her ears. “Who are you, little one? Why have you not been taught the ways of the Bendanatu?”
Ember wasn’t sure how to answer and had no idea who the Bendanatu were. Out of habit, she tried to vocalize her thoughts, but all that came out was a series of yips, whines, and growls. She shook herself in frustration and tried to focus her thoughts. “Who are the Bendanatu?” was her first question.
The white wolf looked at her as if she were mad. “We are the Bendanatu, the people of the wolf, servants of the Guardian Bendanatu. Night walkers, wolfmen, werewolves, wolfwalkers—we have been known by all these, and you are one with us. How can you not know this?” He sniffed at her, then sneezed, a low growl coming to his throat.
Ember’s heart raced. She was Bendanatu? A wolfwalker? How could that be? She thought she was just another magi hopeful. She knew so little about magic; she had just assumed the other wolves were shapeshifting magi like herself. Was this another of those things Marda had never bothered to tell her? She had no answers and began to panic at the restless growls coming from the pack.
“I don’t know! Truly, I don’t know any of these things. I’ve never changed before today. I didn’t even know I had magic until this afternoon. Please, you have to believe me.” Something occurred to her then. “Maybe it came through my father. I never knew him. He died in a fire when I was only a year old.”
The big wolf stood, seemingly surprised, and sniffed her further. He gave one last long whiff, digging his nose in the center of her chest, right about where she figured her pendant must be showing silver on her fur. When the wolf sat back, a big grin split his face.
“Shandae?”
It was the second time that night a stranger had asked after her as if he knew her. She was almost afraid to answer after her encounter with the big, bald man. But the pack had saved her. They deserved her honesty. “Ember Shandae, yes—”
The wolf howled, his eyes sparkling as though they held the moon. “Ember Shandae, daughter of Jarin and Brina?”
Ember was confused. He knew her father, but not her mother? That made no sense. “My father is Jarin, yes, but my mother’s name is Marda, not Brina.”
The wolf chuckled, and Ember heard it in her ears and head both. It was a strange sensation. “It is of no matter what she calls herself these days. I know your scent now. I smell your father upon you, sense his magic, and you look so much like him you could be his twin.”
“How can I look like my father when I’m a wolf?” Ember asked.
He laughed again, and once more the sound echoed in her head and ears together. “You’ve taken the same form as he. It must be in your blood. Come, let me show you.”
He got to his feet and wound back through the tunnel to the big pool. Ember followed his trail, still amazed by her heightened sense of hearing and smell.
“Look,” he said, as a glowing ball of pale magelight appeared over their heads. Ember yelped, startled by the light, then feeling foolish, crept forward to look into the pool as he did. She felt a sense of awe when she caught sight of herself in the water. Her fur was white, though muddied with the gray ash that ran up her legs and dotted her back. She looked smaller than the other wolves, but she attributed that to her age, or gender.
The strangest part of her appearance, though, was the brilliant emerald green of her eyes. On a normal day, they were green, yes, but a faded, muted, almost mossy-colored green, like that of sage. That had changed with her transformation. Now they were bright, the color of emeralds or spring leaves, and seemed to glow from the inside out.
Ember glanced at the big wolf beside her and realized his eyes glowed with the same green light. They also shared the same snowy fur coloring. None of the other wolves were white. They were more the traditional grays and browns, but she and this giant of a wolf were very much the same. Why?
“Would you like to see your father?” he asked.
She didn’t trust herself to speak, so only nodded. How could she not want to see him? She yearned to know what he looked like. A low muttering sound resounded in Ember’s head, like listening to a crazy old man or trying to overhear a conversation from outside a closed room. Occasionally she’d catch a word she knew, though most of them she could not understand. An image began to waver in the pool, an image that looked very much like the one she saw of herself—though larger in stature, with the same glowing green eyes and broad shoulders. He and the wolf at her side could have been twins for the similarities.
Ember started to get a nagging suspicion that she had more in common with this wolf than a reflection in the pool. The image in the water shifted, and she lost her breath. The wolf that was supposed to be her father became a man, and she could see the similarities of which the white wolf had spoken.
She shared her father’s eyes and brow, his nose and chin, the same quirk to the mouth that she found so often in her own mirror. If she had been in her human form, she would have cried in sheer joy and sorrow. This was her father, the man whose memory she had lost in her youth. Now, at long last, she held the image of him in her mind. She examined him carefully, knowing she would never forget, not now.
Ember turned to the white wolf. “Thank you, but I must ask. Who are you, to know my father so well? And why do you look like us?”
The wolf was serious. “I knew him so well because he was my best friend and companion. He was also my brother. Welcome to the family, Ember Shandae. My name is White Shadow, but you may call me Uncle Shad.” He bowed his head to her.
All Ember could do was stare in absolute shock. She’d found her father’s family at last.