by Chris Africa
The
Shapeshifter's
Fate
Chris Africa
Parola Scritta ∞ Michigan
Copyright © 2019 Chris Africa
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Parola Scritta (Ann Arbor, Michigan), an independent publisher. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Cover Design by Peter Thorpe
Edited by Stephanie Smart
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my family by blood,
my family by marriage,
my family by love and longevity,
and my fur babies.
Whether you claim me or not, this book is for you.
1: Chassy
For his first ill-advised attempt at teleporting—alone without so much as a note to tell anyone where he was going or what he was doing—Chassy Waet chose the local market as his destination. It would be a short trip, but if he pulled it off, a ready-made audience waited at the end to observe his success.
Shadows swirled around the image he had constructed in his mind. He had selected a solid anchor to prevent him from drifting into the ether, the fireplace in Xander's great room. But two ingredients were essential to a proper teleport, according to the cleric. He also needed an accurate memory of his desired destination. Therein lay the problem.
"You must know precisely where you are to find the path to your destination." These words sounded like nonsense, even coming from as wise a person as Xander Lanthis. After all, someone with a map could go anywhere.
Maybe Xander had not intended for Chassy to try it himself, but he would never learn to do magic if he didn't practice. Only why did it have to be so hard for him when Nita had started to use her skills overnight?
"Chassy, your inborn magic will reveal itself at the appropriate time," Xander told him patiently, time and again. "Trying to force it will not work."
Well, Chassy didn't want to wait any longer. He focused again on the vegetable carts, the bakery, street food. On the other side of the village square, there were always fabrics, jewelry, exotic perfumes. Oh, how he regretted rejecting an entire half of the market as too feminine! The purer the picture in his mind, the easier the teleport. He understood that much. But clarity fled into the shadows. Chassy struggled now even to recall whether the baker's carts were beside Stuie's street food stand or between the two vegetable wagons driven in from the farms. The buildings were all fuzzy around the edges, the cobblestones slippery under his feet. Rain would have driven the vendors away from the market, so he knew wet stones didn't belong here.
How precise did it have to be, anyway? This was obviously the market, however vague the details.
Chassy lost his footing and slid across the wet ground, but the landscape looked wrong. The street stones of the market lined a slope leading straight into a cave he didn't remember having seen before, a murky hole driving into the side of a hill.
His stomach churned with foreboding.
Flipping over, he struggled to stand or grab something, but everything he touched slipped from his grasp. His market image blurred. The cave entrance devoured him, and he plunged into blackness.
Inside the hole, Chassy picked up speed, plummeting faster and faster into the earth. His hands scrabbled against the walls, grasped something, and broke free. Pain shot up his left arm, and he howled. Lights in the distance taunted him, never growing nearer. The walls felt impossibly close as though he should not have been able to squeeze through. He pushed out his chest and shoulders, trying to use his size to slow himself. Moisture suffused his entire backside, and he wondered if he had urinated. Then the water engulfed him.
Chassy popped out into daylight, soaking wet, flying free through the air. A foam-topped river raced below. A bird overhead laughed. He had one gasp for breath before hurtling back under water again. He flapped his arms, trying to swim away, but the current sucked him into a hole under the river—another cave. He swallowed a big gulp of silty stuff as he pressed through a narrow space, choked, and clamped his mouth shut. Just as his burning lungs threatened to explode from lack of air, he surfaced under the open sky, sputtering. His body hurtled down a hill he didn't recognize, with a generous spray of water slicking his path.
He might have passed out then; Chassy didn't remember much else before the shaft spit him out. A small mound of dirt stopped his feet, but his upper body flew forward and his head whacked a tree. His eyelashes fluttered closed on the concerned face of a dryad.
***
"Be still, I'm wrapping your fingers. You've broken three."
Chassy tried to sit, but his head exploded with pain, and he collapsed back into the bed. Fog clouded his vision. His eyes couldn't quite focus though he detected Xander's form moving above him. "What happened?"
"What happened?" The cleric's voice sounded strained, halfway between worried and angry. "What happened is you tried a teleport spell, but your targeting failed miserably, and you ended up in Havershank Hole."
The broken fingers were beyond pain, but Chassy could tell Xander was trying to be gentle. He reached up with his right hand to touch a wet spot on his forehead, but someone snatched his hand away.
"Havers—?"
"Havershank Hole is a naturally occurring cavern enhanced and used by the now-extinct Trurishan tribes as a test of manhood. Their laws permitted survivors to choose a mate from among the tribe's women or slaves. I guess you could say Chassy Waet has unwittingly passed the Trurishan test of manhood. Maybe he will survive to find a mate." Andrev Smyth's voice rang out with his typical sarcasm. Chassy struggled to remember what had happened. Shouldn't Andrev be hiding somewhere with a book?
"Don't say such things," Xander scolded. "I may not be the world's strongest healer, but he'll survive."
"We thought you were dead, you stupid, stupid boy." That was his best friend, Nita, calling him stupid. Again.
Well, he was, wasn't he? Even he had to admit trying a teleport spell on a whim without anyone there to support him was unwise.
"Thank the gods I had set my magic-detection alarms around the house, or you would still be bleeding by yourself out in the woods. How could you be so foolish?"
"I wanted to learn to use magic. And you told me how to teleport. What's the harm?"
"Gods, this! This is the harm! Now, your friends and I will take turns staying with you while you rest. I sewed up your head and wrapped your fingers, but cuts and bruises cover your entire body. The only remedy at this point is rest. You have a long recovery ahead of you, with many scars I cannot fix."
"But I can't see," Chassy protested.
"You have your life, child. Be grateful for that." This time, Xander's voice was only weary. "There are no shortcuts to becoming you, Chassy. For as long as you stay in my house, I forbid you from using magic.
2: Nita
The first time snowflakes lit on her face, they felt strange and exciting. Each flake tingled where it touched her bare skin and then disappeared, leaving a tiny wet spot. Racing outside, she had danced among the bare branches and stones in Xander's enormous garden, trying to catch the little crystals and examine them before they melted away. 'Twas a futile endeavor, to be sure, but she kept trying until they soaked her smallclothes.
The second time she met snow, she stepped carefully to avoid slipping on some frozen stuff called 'ice.' The snow rose above her ankles, seeping through the laces of her boots and freezing her toes. She li
fted her head to the gray sky, searching for any sign of sun but finding only clouds and never-ending snow.
Today, she merely frowned at the windows, which Xander had shuttered from the inside to retain the heat.
Nita Smyth had decided she hated the stuff and was delighted to have missed it for the 15 years of her life until now. Her brother Andrev, older by two summers, was buried in the library, oblivious to the weather. And her best friend, Chassy Waet, kept trying to convince her to climb out the roof door and watch white flakes entomb the city of Death's End.
"The snow has swallowed whole houses. The tree branches are fat and white, and the smaller trees look like little hills." He described the scene for her as he warmed up and dried off by the fire. Despite having covered much of the viewable landscape, the wicked wet stuff kept coming. After a few minutes on the roof, it coated his brown curls in white, even as his nose and cheeks glowed red. He shook his head, flipping droplets of water everywhere, and made half an attempt to finger-comb his brown hair flat. He wore a little mustache, which to Nita looked like some kind of critter crawling over his lip. Well, at least he had cut his hair, that was a positive change. And there were no sticks or leaves in it today.
"I hate the snow." Grumpiness crept into her voice. "I can't wait to see the sun and soak up its heat again." They were probably warmer in Xander's house than they would have been in any other because of the hypocaust he'd constructed under his house when he built it. As their host had explained it, a giant furnace in the basement produced the heat, and stone pipes carried it throughout the house. Although fires still burned in the upstairs hearths, they were more for the enjoyment of a live fire than for the heat they produced.
"Jam sends warmth and happiness from the kitchen. Eat up." Xander settled a tray of tea and cookies on the table between them.
Nita gratefully poured herself a cup of tea. She raised her eyebrows as Chassy grabbed four cookies with stiff fingers, dropped one, and fumbled the other three into his mouth. He grinned at her surprise and grabbed three more with his good hand. Her friend had been chronically neglectful of the exercises Xander had given him to help his fingers recover, seeming content to put up with this new clumsiness. Fortunately, his sight had returned before he could walk again, or he would probably have been crashing around the house breaking things.
"This will be the last major snow of the season, but it's the biggest one." Xander looked perfectly comfortable, despite his many trips into the freeze. The cleric wore the same thing day after day, no matter the weather—neat brown robes with a darker brown scarf laid around his neck like a decoration and his faded hair tied back in a neat ponytail. He was taller than any man she'd ever met and stronger too. Nita had watched him single-handedly hoist a dray out of a mud pit while the owner's cart horses stood patiently to the side.
"How are our neighbors today?" she asked. Xander had been using his teleport spell as often as he could manage it to check in around the city. At the moment, he looked exhausted, so he must have been at it all day.
Xander sighed. "Everyone is well enough, thank the gods. Two houses had run completely out of firewood, and a couple of families were getting low on food, so I made a few extra trips. And I had to help shore up two roofs. If this doesn't let up soon, we might have to host a few extra house guests."
"I wish I could teleport," she repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time since the snow started. Teleport the right way, she added silently, recalling Chassy's unfortunate trip into Havershank Hole. "I would help you."
"It's exhausting work, even for someone as experienced as me," he answered. "Safer for you to remain here with Jam."
"Do you think we could make tunnels between the houses?" Chassy asked.
Xander poured himself a cup of tea. "Many have tried. Unfortunately, the snow in these parts is too light and dry. The tunnels collapse sometimes before completion and always when it is least convenient."
Chassy scratched his head. "And this happens every winter?"
"This is the definition of 'winter' in these parts. What is winter for you?" Xander chuckled.
"It's always the same in Waet Tree Village. We don't have a thing called 'winter,' " Nita said. "Early in the year we have more rain, but it's never cold enough for mittens. Before we came here, we had never seen snow." The Waet Trees kept their giant silver leaves throughout the year. She wasn't sorry to have learned about snow, she reflected. She was only sorry for the discomfort and the confinement.
Hearing the patter of Jam's diminutive footsteps, she turned toward the door. Xander's friend and cook raced into the room red-faced, wearing an oversized apron. Jam was about the height of a girl at tenyear, except she was twice as wide as any girl that age Nita had ever seen. She blamed it on her heritage, but Nita wondered if it also had to do with her incessant tasting of food. It wasn't only her job here at Xander's house; it was her life's passion. Over the winter, Nita had heard numerous stories about the duo's adventures. They always featured Jam whipping up a drool-inspiring creation concocted of stones and river water, or something almost as likely. She assumed there had been more than a little exaggeration.
"I took a plate of cookies downstairs to the elf's room." Jam had pulled her straight brown hair back into a tight, convenient bun. "That ungrateful scut. He tipped them onto the floor."
Xander shook his head. "I told you not to squander your cookies on him. You are too kind, by far, for your own good. Thank goodness Quon will be here in a few days to retrieve the scoundrel. Only feed him to keep him alive and do not spare your feelings for him."
"Who's Quon?" Nita asked.
"She's a high priestess of Xillith, the Wizards' colony in the Northeast. As you know, they are accusing Lyear of several crimes—not the least being last summer's theft of the Amulet of Hope—and Xillith has quite an interest in meeting him."
Nita shifted uneasily. She had no love for the thieving elf, but he had saved her life last summer. Well, after stealing the magical amulet, running away, and leaving his friend to die. And later she had saved him right back, so technically they were even. Still, he seemed more misguided than evil.
"What are they going to do to him?" she asked.
"Nothing ominous, I am sure. But a tribunal of wizards will sit in judgment, and I'm sure he'll spend time in the prison there. It's rumored to be the most humane prison in Ayzwind. And they will want details about his associates who are trafficking in magical artifacts. Have no worry, Nita, he will be well under their care." Xander nodded his head as if to confirm what he was saying.
"Oh, Xander! You'll be happy to hear I have all the meals planned for Quon's stay. I have a whole pig chilling in the ice pit, dressed out and ready to roast. We're going to stuff it with apples and pears. Also, we'll have roasted chickens' feet and olive pies, and I'm hoping the dairy will come through with fresh butter for my bread, as soon as the snow clears enough for me to go get it." She became more and more animated as she talked until she was dancing in place.
Nita hid a smile. Jam was even more enthusiastic about great food than Henny, the cook at her parents' inn back home. She blinked back tears and reached for a cookie to distract herself from thoughts of Waet Tree Village.
"You've forgotten dessert," Xander joked. "That will never do."
Jam clapped her hands and squealed. "You know I would never forget dessert. I'm making an ube custard cake and apple pies—the small kind you can carry in your hands. I'll have the girls deliver them hot to the tables on trays, like street food."
Nita's stomach grumbled, remembering the last time she had Jam's ube custard. Made from yams imported from Across the Nareeth Ocean, she loved it for its richness and purple color.
"Well, plan the meals but don't forget the rooms. They'll need somewhere clean and fresh-smelling to stay after they've over-filled their stomachs with your marvelous cooking." He kissed Jam on top of the head, and she raced off, undoubtedly thinking of more food.
3: Chassy
Warm
spring winds blew green into the trees, melting the last clumps of snow from the darkest corners of Death's End. Each day was a new discovery for Chassy at Xander's home, where he had spent the winter with his friends.
Today it was crocuses and daffodils, poking their heads up through the stones and frost in the garden out back. How could anything so delicate thrive among the ice?
"Do you miss home?" Nita touched his arm. Her brother, Andrev, was retreating into the library where he had lived out the winter in apparent bliss. It surprised Chassy he'd even come up to the garden.
"I miss the trees," he admitted. A full month had passed before he learned to fall asleep without the rustle of silvery Waet Tree leaves singing to him. This time of the year, he should be waking to the irregular clumping of the bolls knocking together. "Part of me is ready, but another part of me wonders how I could go back to that after all I've seen and done."
It was like he had spent 15 years hiding in a cave, only to emerge one day and learn about sunshine. Or in this case, magic.
"Me, too," Nita said. "Part of me wonders how everyone will treat me. With the secrecy about magic, would they even let me stay if they could see this?" She motioned to the veins of godsilver adorning one side of her body, from the end of her arm all the way up one side of her neck and face. "Andrev says he's never going back. He is still angry my parents didn't tell him about his real father. And he's determined to break the prophecy..."
Chassy nodded.
You shall be the fall of the Waet. You shall draw the vengeance of Ana and Asa. Your power is an abomination, and your blood shall mend the divide. The Nydwon who had come to town and started all this nonsense had said these words to Andrev. It all seemed so far away and ridiculous now that Chassy wasn't sure he even believed it. But the prophecy and the secrets had stirred something in Nita's brother, who now insisted he didn't belong in Waet Tree Village. "How many times did you see him over the winter?"