Shifting Loyalties

by Melissa McShane

  The woman snatched the child into her arms, but didn’t back away. “Were-creatures don’t speak,” she said, still whispering. “What are you?”

  “Creatures who wish you no harm,” the werebear said.

  The woman’s gaze flashed lower, then back to his face. Her cheeks reddened. “We are used to…more clothing than you are,” she said.

  The man smiled. “We apologize for our…immodesty. I will shift back if that will ease your mind.”

  The woman hesitated, then nodded once, sharply. The werebear stepped back and transformed, falling to all fours. They regarded each other closely. Then the woman, hesitating again, held out her hand palm-first to the bear, who pushed his black nose against it.

  “I do not wish to interrupt,” Perrin said, “but time is against us. The sun is setting fast, and we should not fight in darkness if we can help it.”

  The woman nodded. “We’ll take the children west,” she said, motioning to the other woman.

  Clever turned to face the werebears. She said nothing, but a moment later ten of them left the formation to gather around the women and children. “Do you…speak mind to mind?” Sienne asked Wit in a low voice.

  “Yes and no,” Wit said. “It is a combination of mental speech and body language. Harder to speak in human form, but we’re still capable of communicating that way.”

  “I do not understand,” Kalanath said. “Why do they not fear?” He gestured toward the gathering settlers. “And why do they accept our story?”

  “You see all sorts of strange things on the borders of the Empty Lands,” Swift said. “They may have thought howlers were a story, but they’ve probably encountered enough monsters to believe in the impossible when someone they trust vouches for it.”

  Another howl split the air. It was so close and loud Sienne shivered despite the blessing. The massed ranks of werebears shuddered, and a few broke away to flee westward, not stopping even when Clever shouted after them. “It’s here,” Alaric said.

  “It’s too late,” Dianthe said. “They’ll never get away.”

  “That’s why we’re here,” Alaric said. “Perrin, tell Yannick where we’re going and that he needs to get the rest of his people moving westward. Don’t bother with possessions, just flee. Everyone else…” He didn’t have to finish the sentence.

  Sienne opened her spellbook to fury. She wiped her sweaty palms one at a time on her trousers. Alaric caught her nervous gesture and smiled at her with such tender amusement it reassured her. They would win. They had to. Even if winning meant their deaths.

  They left the settlement and walked north, surrounded by the werebear army. It was all open terrain for miles, with the forest a deep green mass on the horizon below the darkening sky, and there was no one in sight besides themselves. Sienne wiped her palms again. She didn’t dare cast sharpen, to enhance her vision, or jaunt, to take her closer to the enemy, because even that small expenditure of magical energy could be fatal in the long run. Besides, there was no one to jaunt to.

  Far in the distance, something pale moved against the darkness of the pines. It bounded, rose high into the air, and floated down again, a white blotch against the indigo sky. “It can fly,” Dianthe said, despair touching her voice. “How are we supposed to stop something that can fly?”

  “Sienne?” Alaric said.

  “It’s not flying, it’s floating. Maybe enough force bolts will keep it on the ground,” Sienne said. “I can cast—”

  This time, the howl shook her to her core. She dropped her spellbook and covered her ears, cringing like a child in a thunderstorm. The werebears went wild, stampeding in all directions. Most of them ran toward the oncoming howler, others fled, and a few turned on their allies, snarling and tearing at their throats. A hand clamped around Sienne’s arm. “Run,” Alaric said, and dragged her stumbling along after him.

  “That howl is going to destroy us before we can reach the monster,” Dianthe shouted as they ran.

  “If we could stop that, we might have a chance,” Perrin said.

  Sienne stopped, wrenching away from Alaric, and patted her legs frantically. “What’s wrong?” Alaric exclaimed.

  Sienne’s hand landed on the thin, rigid shape of the silence wand. “I can shut it up, but I have to be close,” she said. “And I don’t dare use resources on jaunt in case I’m wrong.”

  Alaric looked around. “Is anyone watching?”

  “They’re all busy running or fighting each other,” Dianthe said. “But you’ll have to hurry.”

  Alaric took a couple of steps away. His body vibrated, making Sienne’s eyes water. Then he was gone. In his place, a tall, powerfully muscled unicorn stood, the last light of the setting sun making his black horn gleam as if oiled. He bowed his head to Sienne. Sienne swallowed, let go of her spellbook, and with a boost from Kalanath pulled herself across the unicorn’s broad back. “This is never not going to feel strange,” she told Alaric, who tossed his head in agreement.

  Then they were flying across the fields, Sienne clinging desperately with legs and hands to keep from being flung off by the speed of their passage. Carefully she let go with one hand and felt along her trouser leg where the silence wand lay. It was too bad she didn’t share the kind of mental communication with Alaric that the weres did with each other, because she didn’t know what to do after they reached the howler and she used the wand on it. Blast it with fury, yes, but she was terrifyingly aware of how unprotected her soft, human body was, and the howl was certainly not the creature’s only weapon.

  The howler was now distinguishable as a creature, and it was enormous, twice Alaric’s height and so heavily muscled it looked deformed. Its huge hands were tipped with claws stained dark with old blood, and fresher blood outlined its mouth, full of jagged teeth that would tear its own flesh as well as its victim’s. Cold poured off it like the heart of winter. In the growing darkness, it looked like something out of nightmares. Sienne drew the wand from its sheath along her trouser seam. If it howled when they were this close, even Perrin’s blessing wouldn’t protect them.

  The howler’s mouth opened. Alaric put on a final burst of speed. Sienne worked the opening magic on the wand and slashed it at the terrible creature. Blue-green light flared. The howler’s mouth opened wider—and no sound emerged.

  Alaric skidded to a halt and shrugged Sienne off. She landed on all fours and scuttled away as Alaric became human again, drawing his massive sword and aiming a swing at the howler’s head. One of the howler’s huge arms came up to block the blow, and the sword bounced off it like it was steel beneath the skin. “Sienne!” Alaric shouted. “Hit it now!”

  Sienne’s spellbook opened at a touch to force. Not as powerful as fury, but she couldn’t risk hitting Alaric. She read through the spell as fast as she dared, for once relishing the acid-tinged taste of the syllables, feeling the magic course through her until it shot away from her in a single burst. It took the howler square in the chest, shaking it so it didn’t block Alaric’s next swing. Once more the sword rebounded off the thing’s hide. Alaric cursed and changed his grip, thrusting rather than slashing.

  The howler let out another silent scream. Sienne cast force again, barely missing Alaric when he stepped between her and the howler. “Don’t do that!” she shouted. Alaric ignored her, all his attention on the howler. Then Dianthe was beside her, and Kalanath, and half a dozen werebears, and she lowered her spellbook, breathing heavily. Too many people blocked her line of sight. She backed away, waiting for her moment.

  The howler moved in a silence almost more terrifying than its howls had been. It snatched up a bear and flung it at the others, bowling three bears over. It grabbed another bear and buried its mouth in its throat, tearing it out in a gout of ruby blood that splattered Alaric and Dianthe. Throwing the corpse aside, it bounded forward, its cold black eyes fixed on Perrin, who held a blessing aloft. He invoked the shield just as the howler swung at him. Its clawed hand skittered off the surface of the pearly gray shiel
d. Sienne, caught inside the shield with Perrin, felt her hands shaking from the nearness of their escape. “I think,” Perrin said, his breathing labored, “it is drawn to me. Or, more accurately, to the power of Averran.”

  “I can make you invisible.”

  “That likely would not help. Whatever it senses is beyond things like sight and smell. We must kill it, and quickly.”

  “How can we kill it? Swords just bounce off,” Sienne said.

  “Magic, perhaps. The werebears’ claws do damage—look there.” Perrin pointed. One of the werebears had gotten behind the howler and reared up on his hind legs to slash the creature’s back. It howled, or tried to, and spun with remarkable agility for something that bulky to swipe at the bear, who leaped back. Blood, darker red than a human’s, trickled down its back from four parallel cuts.

  Shreds of filmy gray drifted down from where the howler’s claws had scored the shield. Sienne paced its confines. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, “but this shield is far too effective.”

  Perrin smiled. “How unfortunate that there is not a personal version of it.”

  Sienne opened her book to burn and continued pacing. The howler tore at the shield again. Alaric thrust for its belly, and Sienne saw the skin yield—a little, just a little, but enough that the howler turned its attention from the shield and lunged for Alaric. Sienne screamed as it got one hand around Alaric’s wrist and lifted him high in the air. She threw herself at the shield, drawing her belt knife and hacking at it. It felt tough, like gristle, and her knife barely penetrated. With its other hand, the howler grabbed Alaric’s leg and pulled. Alaric screamed, a hoarse sound that hurt Sienne’s heart. She slammed into the shield and finally felt it part, shoved her way through the slit, and brought up her spellbook to cast burn. Scorch was more powerful, but it would catch Alaric in the blast, so she settled for the fire that burned inside her, filling her until it lashed away from her to strike the thing in the face.

  The howler’s mouth contorted in agony. It had felt that. It dropped Alaric, who landed like a stone and didn’t get up. Sienne wanted to go to him, but she was experienced enough to remember the best way to help a fallen companion was to kill the thing that had hurt him. Once more she cast burn, rejoicing at how the creature recoiled. They were winning, by Averran!

  The howler crouched, then leaped high into the air, flying back toward the forest. “We can’t let it get away!” she shouted, racing after it. It bounded off with great sailing leaps that took it farther away with every moment. She staggered to a halt. One last chance.

  Swiftly turning pages, she began reading a new evocation, one that burned her tongue and lips with acid. The howler had nearly reached the forest. Orange light grew and coalesced in front of her, its heat scorching her face and hands. She spat out the last syllables, putting as much power into it as she could, and a ball of fire shot away from her, flying faster than the howler, expanding as it flew until it was fifteen feet across and blazed like a tiny sun.

  It struck the howler in the back and engulfed it, clinging to its deformed body and sending flames licking along its limbs. This time, when the howler screamed, she heard its cry, not the terrible frightening howl but an agonized shriek. The creature plummeted to the ground and lay still.

  Sienne collapsed to her knees, breathing heavily. It all seemed so unreal—the bears still fighting their maddened kin, the burning corpse lighting the evening like a cheery bonfire and not the remains of a terrible creature, and Alaric—

  She pushed herself to her feet and staggered back to where she’d left her friends. Alaric lay unconscious, his arm in an unnatural position. “Dislocated,” Perrin said. “We will have to restore the joint, and then I can heal him.”

  Kalanath had already arranged Alaric’s body to give himself a good grip on the dislocated shoulder. With a quick lift and twist, it popped back into place. Alaric groaned and tried to sit up. “One moment,” Perrin said, removing a healing blessing from the riffle of papers. Sienne knelt at Alaric’s side and held his hand as the green light played across his body. Alaric winced, then opened his eyes. He sat up quickly and pushed himself to his feet. “Where is it?”

  Sienne pointed. Alaric lowered his sword. “Scorch,” he said. “It’s dead.” The next moment, he shoved Sienne to one side, shouting, “Look out!”

  Sienne fell to one knee, twisting to see what was behind her. The roar of a maddened bear split the night as something coal-black and slavering bore down upon her. She forgot about her spellbook and screamed, raising her hands to defend herself in a futile gesture. Then Alaric was between her and the bear, sword raised. “Don’t hurt him!” she shouted. “It’s not his fault!”

  Alaric changed his grip on the sword and smashed the hilt, with its enormous round pommel, into the side of the bear’s head. The werebear staggered backward, shook its head, and charged again, this time straight into a punch that knocked it to its knees. It stared up at Alaric, its small black eyes dim with confusion. “Wake up, you idiot,” Alaric said. The bear sagged lower, and then it was a man, lying face-first on the ground and moaning.

  “We have to stop the mad ones from hurting anyone,” Dianthe said, and took off toward the settlement.

  Alaric took a few rapid steps after her, then turned. “I think I should make sure the thing is dead,” he said. “Sienne?”

  They ran hand in hand toward the burning corpse, which smelled horribly of rot and burning tar. It was clearly dead, its face eaten away by flames, but Alaric prodded it a few times with his sword just to be sure. “How did you know the wand would do that? You took a terrible risk,” he said.

  “Because that’s how silence works when you cast it on…oh.” Sienne’s cheeks felt warmer than the fire could account for. “I guess I never remembered to tell anyone I figured out what the wand does. Though it’s true it might not have worked on something so powerfully magical.”

  “It’s almost miraculous. The perfect weapon for this battle. Without it, we would likely all have died, either at the howler’s hands or at each other’s.”

  “Averran steered us toward Nocenti’s treasure. Do you suppose this was why?”

  “Who knows how avatars think? Aside from their priests.” They turned and headed back toward the settlement. “I certainly believe Averran could have seen this conflict in our future.”

  The fighting was all but over when they returned. Too many people, werebears and humans, lay motionless near the settlement. Sienne was grateful none of the figures were tiny. They found Clever in human form talking to Yannick. Someone had found her an overlarge shirt that barely came to the tops of her thighs, but neither she nor Yannick seemed bothered by her state of undress. “We must carry our kin to where they can be honored,” Clever was saying. “Then we will return and speak further.”

  “Do you bury your dead? It seems so human,” Yannick said. Sienne winced. Clever ignored his gaffe.

  “It is a private thing,” she said. She saluted Alaric, one leader to another. “Your deeds are now the stuff of legend,” she told him. “We thought killing a howler impossible.”

  “Thank Sienne,” Alaric said. “And the artifact we believe Averran gave us.”

  “An avatar?” Clever looked Sienne over. “Then that is truly a marvel. As was the creature you summoned.”

  “Creature?” Sienne said.

  “The horned beast that carried you into battle. I thought unicorns a myth. I suppose magic can do many things.”

  Sienne swallowed. “Yes, it can.”

  “Find the others, would you?” Alaric told her. “I’m going to make sure the children return safely. It’s getting dark.”

  Sienne nodded and went in search of her friends. Near the closest building, she found Perrin tending to the wounded. “It is both good and bad news,” he said when she approached. “Few people are seriously wounded enough to require divine healing. But that is because everyone seriously wounded was killed, either by the howler or by maddened allies.
”

  “Did those people, the ones the howl made mad, did they recover?”

  “They have been subdued and taken to where they cannot injure themselves or others. If they do not recover…” He shrugged. “It breaks my heart to think of them permanently in that state. Death may be the only option.”

  “Where’s Dianthe and Kalanath? And Wit and Swift?”

  “Kalanath is assisting with carrying the bodies for burial. The human bodies, that is. I believe Dianthe went in search of the children. I have seen neither Wit nor Swift.”

  “I’ll go look for them. They were close to the howler—it might have injured them.”

  It was getting too dark to see, so she made a few lights and set them hovering around her shoulders. It probably made her look like Delanie, the Lady of Light, and she hoped no one would think her blasphemous. All around her, naked men and women carried the fallen bodies of their kin, most of them still in bear shape, back toward the werebear camp. She was struck by their silence, how no one was weeping or shouting the way humans might when confronted by premature, violent death. It felt surprisingly fitting that they should mourn that way.

  She saw Wit, crouched beside a dead werebear with his back to her, his naked shoulders heaving as if he were crying. She approached him quietly, then thought maybe sneaking up on someone who was grieving was a bad idea, and tried to make more noise. “Wit? Is everything all right?” she asked.

  Wit didn’t respond. He was shaking, though the evening was warm and there were no breezes to cool the air. “Wit?” She laid her hand on his shoulder.

  Wit jerked away and turned on her, snarling. His mouth and hands were covered in blood, and he clutched something rubbery that trailed tufts of brown fur matching that of the dead werebear in front of him. He raised it to his lips and tore off a hunk of flesh, chewing and slobbering over it.

  Sienne took an involuntary step backward. Horror flooded through her as she realized he was eating his dead kinsman. Her mind gibbered in circles, paralyzing her. Just as she had the one coherent thought that she should stop him, he lifted his head and let out a soul-shattering howl.