A Captive of Wing and Feather

by Melanie Cellier

  He leaped up, grabbing the first branch and swinging himself easily up to squat on it. I could tell he had plenty of practice, with neither his bag, his bow, nor his quiver causing him any grief. He stopped there and reached his arm down to help me scramble my way up, my skirts tucked up as far as they could go and still maintain some propriety.

  In that manner, we managed to climb up several more branches, eventually finding ourselves sturdy nooks where we could wedge without danger of falling. In winter, the position would have left us completely exposed, but the thick foliage of spring surrounded us, effectively hiding our presence.

  And when I finally managed to find an angle that let me peer through the leaves, I could only be glad to be safely out of sight. On the other side of the thicket, the ground became clear, sloping down to the shores of a lake. Any grass or flowers that had once grown there had been trampled, the area a morass of mud and tracks.

  It took my mind a moment to process the reason for the mangled ground because the patchwork of leaves made the unbelievable sight even harder to absorb. But the more I stared, the clearer the picture became. We had found the wolves.

  Chapter 15

  A wolf pack drank at the lake—despite the sun high in the sky above us—and what must have been an entire second pack lay to one side of the cleared ground, in a small patch of shade. A little further around the shore, a shifting mass of legs and heads and ears and furry wrinkles appeared to be a large group of mastiffs. Some drank, while others nudged at each other or stuck their noses in the air, questing for a scent.

  I drew back instinctively, as if that could prevent their smelling us. It must have been these dogs we heard barking earlier, although I was sure none of them had given the bark that called away the wolf pack the day before. That one had been unmistakably wolf.

  “Adelaide,” Gabe breathed, and I didn’t need to ask him what he meant.

  Three enormous, shaggy bears ambled into the clearing and approached the water. All of the dogs and both packs of wolves looked up, the wolves’ ears perking as they watched the bears’ progress. None of them moved, however.

  The shivers now ran over my body in an unceasing wave. Nothing could be less natural than such a grouping of animals or such behavior toward each other.

  As if the scene needed to get stranger, all seven of my swans appeared, gliding down to land gracefully on the water of the lake. Fear gripped me, and I had to suppress the urge to call out and warn them to leave. But unlike with the bears, only a few ear twitches and a handful of head turns marked their arrival. The birds seemed equally unconcerned at the presence of such a large number of predators. Their honking calls added to the grunts, splashes, and yips—the latter coming from a litter of wolf pups I hadn’t initially seen. They leaped, tumbled, rolled, and climbed over the wolves who lay in the shade.

  “What is this?” Gabe whispered.

  Our eyes met, him on a slightly higher branch than me, and I could see a fear there that I had never seen in him before. It wasn’t so much the fear of a man who felt concern for his immediate well-being as it was the instinctive fear of someone confronting something utterly unnatural.

  A deep rumbling growl flooded the clearing, drawing my eyes toward the trees to one side of the lake. Another dark brown head appeared, but this one seemed to have some sort of strange protuberance.

  Several more steps brought the new bear fully onto the cleared land, and I gulped. He wore a harness that had been rigged across his back, over his shoulders, and down his chest. With it, he pulled a cart filled with several large terra cotta jars. A bear. There was a bear pulling a cart.

  A second bear followed the first, his cart filled with what looked like sacks of food. Just as I was wondering who could possibly have attached a harness to a bear, five men stepped from the trees. Three of them broke off—one to greet the wolf pack by the trees and two to wade among the mastiffs.

  The animals welcomed them, the mastiffs showing the most animation, several of them lifting their front feet into the air in a partial jump. Another growl ripped through the space, but the animals seemed too distracted by the newly arrived humans to notice.

  The harnessed bears came to a stop, and the two remaining men freed the carts and began removing their harnesses. None of the men called to each other, the two with the bears working with smooth, efficient motions that suggested they had completed the task many times before. The bears seemed a little irritated, but neither made any aggressive movements toward the men, accepting their efforts with equanimity.

  I was so entranced by the sight that it took me a moment to notice Gabe’s attention had turned elsewhere. Following his gaze down through the branches, I sucked in a startled breath, wobbling for a terrifying moment before I clamped onto a branch and regained my balance.

  Apparently the five bears around the lake were not the only ones in the area. In my absorption, I had failed to listen to the sounds of the forest around me, and a sixth bear had approached on our side of the bushes. He whuffed an audible breath through his nose, his great head swinging around before slowly turning upward—straight into the branches of our tree.

  I froze in place, even my breath stopped, but clearly the bear had caught our scent and decided to investigate. He loped toward us as Gabe abandoned any effort at quiet.

  Clasping the trunk in a hug, the bear gripped the bark and began to pull himself up. Gabe swung down from the branches far faster than I would have thought possible—more a controlled fall than a climb. I lurched into motion, trying to follow him, but in my haste, my foot caught in my skirt. I grabbed wildly at a branch but couldn’t save myself.

  My hands reached out, blindly grasping at anything they touched, but I couldn’t catch a secure hold. I fell, whacking against branches and leaves.

  Instead of hard ground, I fell into strong arms. For half a second, Gabe cradled me like a baby. But before I caught my breath, he dropped my legs and pushed me away to stand on my own. Clasping my hand, he took off running, dragging me behind him as I struggled to get my feet under me.

  Rustling and huffing sounded behind us. How long had it taken the bear to descend from the tree? As soon as I gained my balance, Gabe let go of my hand, and I risked looking behind us.

  The bear was only steps away, and I barely held back a small scream. We were running at full speed, but Gabe’s hands still managed to reach for his bow and quiver. He knew we weren’t going to be able to outrun the bear now that it was on the ground again, but I wasn’t sure he could take it down with just his arrows either. Certainly not when it was so close. And I couldn’t imagine my borrowed sword would be any help at all.

  I willed my legs to move faster, but my breath was already burning in my lungs, my muscles straining. At any moment I expected to feel claws raking down my back.

  We burst from between two trees into an area where they grew more sparsely. We flew across the space, moving faster over the open ground, but had only made it half way when a loud bugling sounded. Feathers filled the air, white with a flash of black.

  “No!” I shouted as my swans interposed themselves in a wall of wings between us and the pursuing bear.

  I stumbled to a stop, turning back, but Gabe grabbed at me, dragging me onward.

  “We can’t stop,” he panted. “We have to put some distance between us and that creature.”

  “But my birds—” My bugle did nothing to slow him down, and he continued to tug me along.

  I twisted as he pulled me, peering back at the open area behind us. I couldn’t see past my swans, but I heard the bear give a roar that sounded more like a loud grunt. He must have waved a paw toward them because their line seemed to ripple and bulge as they pulled away from him.

  He didn’t seem to have made any real attack on them, however, and Eagle let out a squeak that was more like a screech—the one that had earned her the name—and dove toward him. I squeaked myself, pulling back on Gabe, but somehow she wasn’t swatted down.

  Gabe threw a
glance back over his shoulder, taking in the scene behind us.

  “We need to keep going. Please, Addie. I have to get you to safety. I don’t know how those birds are keeping him back, but they are, and we need to take the opportunity.”

  Reluctantly, I nodded. The swans did seem to have escaped harm so far—almost as if the bear wasn’t interested in hurting them. Like how at the lake the other animals had ignored their arrival.

  I latched onto that thought and took off running again, Gabe keeping pace beside me. After a while, the silence behind us made it clear the bear wasn’t pursuing us, but neither of us slowed until we broke through onto the road.

  Gabe wheeled around and stared at me, his breath coming fast and his eyes wide. I was in worse shape, sucking in ragged breaths after the headlong flight.

  “What in the kingdoms was that?” Gabe asked.

  I shook my head. Even if I’d had words, I wouldn’t have known where to start. Instead, I tipped my head up and scanned the sky, hoping to catch sight of my swans, winging their way to meet us.

  Still looking up, I stepped backward and onto a small stone. My ankle rolled, my trembling legs not able to catch me as I tipped backward.

  Gabe lunged forward, grabbing at my shoulders and pulling me back forward, just in time. He drew me in against his chest, holding me there for balance. I gasped out my breaths, my heart beating raggedly against his.

  “You’re all right, Addie,” he murmured against my hair, apparently sensing it wasn’t just the near trip that had me in such a state. “You’re all right.”

  I let him hold me for a moment, drawing strength from his solid presence. I could feel his heart beating a slowly descending rhythm, but he otherwise seemed unaffected by our adventures.

  I told myself that I should pull away, but my body didn’t obey my directive. Instead I let my head rest against his chest and felt myself relax.

  It was a revelation.

  I wanted to be held by this bold, reckless prince. Despite all the sensible strictures of my head, my heart was trying to convince me that here was safety and security—combined with the sort of heady thrill that kept my heart from completely returning to its normal pace.

  Apparently my heart hadn’t learned its lesson after all. I pulled back sharply, forcing my body to obey this time. If Gabe noticed any oddity in my behavior, he didn’t comment.

  “We need to get you back to the lake,” he said, instead. “I think there’s been enough excitement today without running late for that.”

  I nodded slowly. That was something we could agree on, even if it wasn’t late enough to have me worrying yet. But as we started the walk back, I realized he was right. It had been years since I led the pampered life of a princess, but even with my time spent helping at the haven and the twice daily trek to the lake and back, I wasn’t used to so much physical exertion. My feet hurt, my legs ached, and I could already feel bruises forming in various places from where I had hit branches as I fell. It was going to take longer to get back than I had been anticipating.

  At least my swans had reappeared, although they flew too high above us for me to question them. I cast frequent glances upward as we walked until they flew out of sight. No doubt they knew we could easily find our way back now that we were on the road.

  None of them looked injured, as far as I could tell, and with that worry abated, my mind turned inescapably to our encounter with the bear and the strange sights in the clearing before that. I went over and over them in my mind, trying to make sense of it. And I didn’t like anything that occurred to me.

  In unspoken agreement, we bypassed Brylee, making straight for my lake. I didn’t have time to stop at the haven anyway, and Gabe seemed determined to see me all the way back. I wished he would break off and return to the town, but I didn’t bother suggesting it. His presence might make me uncomfortable, but even I had to admit we needed to talk about what we’d just seen. And my lake was the only place we could do that.

  I would just have to make it clear he wasn’t welcome to spend the night. It was far too dangerous now that I realized how much I wanted him near me.

  We reached the lake just as dusk was falling. Despite Gabe’s gentle coaxing, my pace had slowed considerably, and only the fear of falling short drove me the final distance. I was utterly exhausted and everything hurt.

  My swans were already on the lake when we arrived, and they all swam for the shore, waddling up to crowd around me.

  “Thank you,” I told them, stroking each of their heads in turn. “You saved us.”

  They honked and squeaked, sounding pleased with themselves. Stormy went so far as to preen, until Eagle nearly nipped her wing. I laughed and knelt down to wrap my arms around them.

  “Please thank them for me, too,” Gabe said from several steps away.

  “Gabe thanks you, as well,” I diligently repeated, and Snowy and Sweetie broke off from our little huddle to approach him, bumping against his legs.

  He smiled and knelt on one knee, running gentle hands down their necks and along their backs.

  “Aren’t you elegant ladies?” he said, and they both butted him gently with their heads in response.

  He grinned up at me, and for an unthinking moment I grinned back at him. But I turned my head away quickly. I couldn’t let myself be lured into dropping my guard just because he was kind to my friends.

  Chapter 16

  I continued to murmur to the swans until darkness fell fully, and I felt the subtle pressure inside me lift. Then I stood, turning reluctantly to Gabe as the swans dispersed back to the lake.

  He had been busy with something, but I had been keeping my head averted. Now I could see the small fire he had built by my shelter. He blew the first small spark into life and soon had it burning merrily. My body pulled me toward it, and I sank onto my pallet, sighing with relief at both the warmth and the release of being off my feet. My mind fixated on the flames for a moment before being drawn inexorably back to a different lake. I looked up and found Gabe watching me.

  “What was that today?” I asked, breaking the silence. “I can’t say that’s what I expected to find.”

  “No.” Gabe gave a rueful smile. “I’d like to think we would have been smart enough to avoid being chased by a bear if we’d realized ahead of time what we were walking into.”

  I slowly shook my head, reliving the terrifying moments.

  “I didn’t even get a chance to draw my sword.” I smiled reluctantly. “Which actually might be for the best—I’m a little rusty in truth.”

  “You brought a better defense with you, as it turned out,” Gabe said. “I don’t like to think what would have happened without your swans.”

  “I never expected them to intervene like that. I’m just so relieved none of them were hurt.”

  “Did you get the impression the bear wasn’t particularly interested in hurting them?” Gabe asked. “Like there was…I don’t know…some sort of connection between them?”

  I frowned. “It did seem odd the way they just landed on that lake as if the whole area wasn’t filled with predators. And the other animals didn’t seem particularly interested in their arrival, either.”

  “And that’s without going into the strangeness of dogs, wolves, and bears all inhabiting the same area—let alone the same clearing,” he added.

  “I feel like we would have an easier time naming what wasn’t odd about that scene,” I said.

  Gabe chuckled. “Fair enough. I’m just thinking about the connection between all the animals—and the humans.”

  I shuddered. “Seeing those men taking harnesses off those bears and wandering around among the wolves…”

  “Did you hear those growls?” Gabe asked. “The ones when the bears with the carts were arriving?”

  I nodded slowly. I vaguely remembered some growls.

  “Did you see where they were coming from?”

  “No, I was watching the dogs at the time, but they must have been from the bears. Those
weren’t wolf growls.”

  “No, they sounded like bear growls, but…” Gabe bit his lip. “A week ago I couldn’t have imagined suggesting such a thing but…I think they might have been coming from the men.”

  My eyes widened as I immediately grasped his point. When I turned to look toward the distant black shapes of the swans on the dark lake, Gabe nodded.

  “Exactly. It would explain how the men could move so freely among the animals. And how they could convince them to do unnatural things like pull a cart.”

  “You think those men have been enchanted in the same way I have,” I said softly.

  Gabe leaned forward, eagerness tinging his voice as he explained his theory.

  “I’ve been thinking about it all the way back. It seems too great a coincidence for there to be two such similar enchantments in such a small area for them not to be related. Perhaps that’s why the animals are willing to co-exist—some recognition that they are bound in the same way? I don’t know, I’m just guessing, of course, but I would be willing to bet that some similar curse has been cast over them.”

  “You think those men were trapped as I am?” Nothing about their manner had given me that impression.

  “No.” Gabe sounded grimmer than I had expected, and my eyes flew to his. “They looked like mercenaries to me. I suspect they went into this arrangement willingly.”

  Sick dread filled my stomach. “So Leander has built himself an army of dangerous animals under the command of mercenaries who answer to him.”

  Gabe’s mouth tightened. “That’s the way it looks. And I suspect he’s been slowly building it for most of the time you’ve been trapped. He can’t create the creatures from nothing, so it must be taking him time to gather and enchant them.”

  A horrible thought struck me. “Do you think he has more than we saw today?”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me at all. We already know he gets his supplies for the Keep from somewhere other than Brylee—no doubt to isolate his servants and keep information of his doings away from anyone who might form a full picture of them—so who knows what type or quantities of supplies he’s sourced? If he gets them from far enough away, no one would know to question why he needs so many.”