Please don‘t let them find Brant! Please keep him safe. Don’t let them find him! Don’t let them find him! Don’t let them find him don’t let them find him don’t . . .
But they found him.
One of the other dragons dipped into the city and came up with a struggling figure—one Kayla knew even from that great distance. The one person outside of her family she truly loved was now in the clutches of C’Tan.
The dragon carried Brant to the middle of the field. Kayla nearly screamed when he threw Brant in a great arc toward C’Tan, whose dragon lunged and caught him by the shoulders, one of the talons piercing through.
Brant howled with pain. Kayla shrieked along with him. Somehow she found herself on her knees and could do nothing but watch in silence as the questioning began once more. Over and over again, C’Tan asked Brant where Kayla was, and each time, he answered her with silence. Kayla was so proud of him, her heart was about to break. And then the torture began.
Up, up, up C’Tan’s great dragon flew, until the beast was so high it seemed the size of an ant in the heavens. Then Brant would fall, tumbling toward the earth without any scream or thrashing about as Joyson had done. Brant would assume different positions each time he fell, sometimes on his back, other times spread-eagled. He would go head first, feet first, and even repeatedly somersaulted end over end. He looked as though he was enjoying himself, but Kayla knew it was all for show.
Finally C’Tan retrieved him one last time just before he hit the ground. The woman clenched her jaw, and Kayla knew Brant’s time had run out. The overwhelming anxiety and fear, the mind-numbing terror that had held her captive, was suddenly washed away to be replaced by a calm understanding she had never felt before.
It was as though the spirits of her ancestors or the life of the woods had reached out to her and spoken to her heart of hearts, the very center of her being. Never before had she understood these trees, these birds, this life all around her—but now they chanted the same thing over and over again, and Kayla knew what she had to do.
“This is your last chance, Brant. Where is Kayla?” C’Tan demanded. “This time I will not stop your fall, and you will die here in this field with your people watching.”
Brant responded, his voice laced with the pain he would not express. “Then so be it, C’Tan. I will never tell you where she has gone. I hope she plays that flute and destroys you with it. It doesn’t matter whether I live or not. You’ve lost.” He said it so matter-of-factly that Kayla at first didn’t believe his words, couldn’t register that she heard him speak aloud the words the trees chanted.
“Play the flute . . .”
C’Tan screeched her fury at Brant, and the great dragon tensed his grip, sending talons through the joints of both shoulders now. Brant screamed in agony, but did not beg for mercy. The dragon climbed in the sky again, pulling itself higher than it had been before.
Kayla stood, barely aware of the rocks that clung to her pants or the slice in her arm from her hurried flight. All she was aware of was the sight of her love being carried high in the sky to be dropped to his death, and the chanting of life around her—chanting that filled her up and silenced her fears.
“Play the flute . . .”
But the flute was not hers to play! Hadn’t she been told? She was its guardian, not the player. What good could she do? She was only a half-evahn runt, not wanted by the people from either side of her heritage.
“Play the flute, and you will see . . . Play the flute, and you will see . . .”
The chant changed. Kayla’s eyes were still glued to C’Tan and her great beast as she became a speck, a flea in the sky.
And then Brant began to fall.
“Kayla,” T’Kato said in concern, trying to take her arm—but he could not touch her. The tingling energy of the flute surged through Kayla’s blood and muscles, making her hair stand on end. She radiated blue light that sent waves of air swirling around her, picking up the leaves and twigs and stirring her hair into a charged blonde mass that seemed to have a life of its own. T’Kato tried to touch her again, and an arc of blue light shot between them. He flew backward and lay still, stunned and pinned against a tree.
But T’Kato didn’t matter right then. Her eyes were all for Brant as he tumbled and grew larger in the sky, and still he did not cry out.
Kayla raised the flute to her lips, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and released it on the purest, most vibrant color of sound she had ever heard or felt. It was one long note that pulsed and twined with the wind in the leaves and the rustling grass. It sang chorus with the cicadas and the eagle and the sun. It was the song of life. Kayla played that one long note, then segued intuitively into the song she had played the day before.
Darthmoor’s Honor felt different now. It was as if the strength in the stone and the dream of an eagle’s flight brought power to the music it hadn’t held before. Kayla felt her will, her soul, reaching out to her falling love and embracing him in her woven sound until she could see the rate of his descent slow.
His face split with a grin as tears streamed down his cheeks.
One great discordant shriek came from high above. Kayla was aware of it, but dared not stop playing until Brant was safe. She had to keep him safe, as she couldn’t Joyson. The black speck that had been high above grew rapidly, too rapidly. Kayla had to speed Brant’s descent, but she was not sure how.
There was no understanding in her action. It was all intuitive as she continued to play and send her prayers heavenward. Fast, but safe, fast, but safe . . .
“Kayla!” T’Kato screamed at her. “Let him go! Let him go now, or all is lost! She is nearly upon us!”
Kayla watched in increased fear as C’Tan grew from flea, to ant, to dog, to horse, to dragon-size—all within a matter of seconds. Brant was still too far from the ground, much too far, but Kayla had no choice.
She let him go.
“I’m okay, Kayla! Run while you can!” Brant screamed as he fell those last twenty feet. C’Tan headed straight for Kayla, a grin of triumph slashing her face. The black beast reached his back talons forward like a hawk coming in for the kill.
Kayla lowered the flute, waited until the last possible second, then dropped to the earth and rolled. The great dragon swooshed past her, taking the tops of several trees along with it.
C’Tan cursed.
“Kayla, come on!” T’Kato yelled. He sprinted away, Sarali loping catlike at his side. This time Kayla did not hesitate.
She ran.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ember awoke with a start, her eyes snapping open. She’d dreamed again. This time the dream didn’t have a happy ending. She’d been in a group the same as in her vision of the night before, but it was the wrong group of people, and the dragon lady had killed them quickly.
Not the dragon lady—C’Tan, Ember reminded herself. She knew who the woman was now. If Ember didn’t succeed at the mage trials, if anything interfered and she was unable to learn magic, the dream would become reality, and she would die. Her life was forfeit unless she could learn.
She closed her eyes, turned over, and wrapped her arms around one of the pillows. She sought comfort in sleep, but it eluded her despite her best efforts. She was too distracted by all the new smells. At first, she had been confused by the odor of her new room. It wasn’t unpleasant, but rather than the dusty smell of warm wood she was used to, there was the scent of fresh soap and the mineral tang of stone.
She’d stayed curled up for a long time, analyzing the differences without the use of her eyes. It was a new experience for her, one made interesting by her sharpened wolf sense. She’d never paid much attention to the scent of things, not unless they were overpoweringly strong, but she certainly noticed now.
She’d quickly come to realize it wasn’t her sense of smell alone that had changed—taste and hearing were much sharper as well. Curious, she stretched and tuned her ear to the smallest sound she could hear—a heartbeat that seemed to co
me from almost in front of her. Ember strained to catch each tharump-ump and finally opened her eyes. Shad’s chin rested on her bed, his face inches from her own.
She scrambled back and squealed. To his credit, Shad didn’t laugh, though it looked as if he were biting his tongue to keep from doing so.
Ember scowled, then glanced at the open door.
“How’d you unlock the door?”
“Magic,” he said, wiggling his fingers.
Ember snorted, but part of her worried he might be serious. The look on her face must have given her away, for Shad snickered.
“No, no, I’m only teasing, little Shandae. I had the deskman let me in. He knows we’re together. You slept so soundly I didn’t want to wake you, though it’s almost time for supper.”
Ember looked at her orientation bag in a panic. What if they’d already called her to trial and she’d missed it? Again, Shad read her mind. “Your number has not come up yet. Don’t you worry, I won’t let you miss your chance. Now, while you were out like a magelight, DeMunth and I have worked hard. What do you think?” He tossed a cloth sack on the bed. It hit the mattress with a chink.
Ember untied the drawstring as Shad settled against the dresser, arms crossed, a smug look on his face. She upended the sack and dumped the contents on the bed. She whistled in appreciation at the slave bracelets and ring chains dangling amid the cuffs. Ember held more wealth on her bed than her family had seen in ten years of work. The detail was exquisite. She quickly untangled and examined each piece.
The pure copper cuff was identical to Ember’s, but the others were different. Three of the cuffs were made of silver, with different animals instead of her wolves—a stag, a large cat, and a bear. The last bracelet was made of gold, with a fierce dragon head on the ring. If she hadn’t seen her uncle design her bracelet that morning, using only his fingers, she would have thought each item had taken months of labor by a skilled craftsman. Well, he was skilled—just not in the traditional way. Shad used magic where most used tools.
“So, what do you think?” he asked again, obviously fishing for praise. Ember didn’t disappoint him.
“What do I think? I think they’re beautiful, phenomenal, amazing, and every other good word I can’t think of right now.”
Shad’s smirk grew, though he did seem genuinely pleased. “Good. I’ll get to work duplicating them. We found a boy who was willing to run the booth for us, and I manipulated his memories a bit to ‘remember’ meeting you on the road. The few cuffs we made are selling like your grandmother’s apple pie at the yearly fair, so we’ve got to restock as quickly as possible. Duplication seems the best option.”
Ember eyed the bracelets, and her eyes grew round. “You mean, you can create gold out of nothing? How is that possible?”
Shad had the decency not to laugh for a change. “I would that it were so. No, I still need raw materials. I only take the ‘map’ of the finished product and imprint it upon the metal so it duplicates the original. There is more energy expenditure, but it’s worth it for the speed. Ian has already found the booth and questioned the boy we hired. He seemed rather frustrated when the boy’s story matched yours.”
Shad’s eyes sobered. “I’m glad we took the time to imprint his memory before setting him up in the booth. Ian pounced on him within the first hour.”
The hair on the back of Ember’s neck stood up. Ian was getting too close, and she had the feeling he wouldn’t be fooled easily, despite Shad and DeMunth’s best efforts.
Ember’s uncle gathered up his handiwork and put it back in the satchel. “Is everything okay here? How’s your room? Are they treating you well?”
Her dream came to the front of her mind. Goosebumps prickled her arms at the remembered terror, but she didn’t say anything. Shad could do nothing for now, but he would support her when it came time for the battle with C’Tan. He’d promised her. For now, it seemed best to keep her fears to herself, though her stomach knotted with nerves. “Everything seems to be fine, though I could sure use a good soak. Does your room have a private bath?” Ember asked, desperation oozing from her sweaty, wolf-tinted pores. Shad shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t. And none of the residents were willing to share their bath with you.”
Ember groaned and slid sideways down the wall, collapsing almost on top of the bracelets. “I can’t go to my trial smelling like a wolf and covered in mud. What am I going to do?”
“It’s very simple, Ember. You go take a bath.“ He pulled the drawstring tight and threw the satchel over his shoulder.
“I can’t!” she snapped.
“No! You won’t.” Shad leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms.
Ember glared at him.
“Look, Ember, why is this such a big deal? You just go to the public baths when they are empty, wash, and get out. No problem.”
“But it’s the boys’ bath. I can’t go in there. And what if they call me for my trial before I get to bathe?”
“So bathe earlier. Bathe now, if you wish.”
“I can’t!” Ember reddened just thinking about it.
Shad sat down on the bed beside her and put his arm across her shoulders. “All you have to do is put some shorts on. Nobody will see a thing.”
“But I’ll still have to see them! And I’d feel stupid with shorts on. I won’t be like them, and that will draw attention to me, which is the last thing I want. I don’t have the same parts they do, Uncle. I need to blend in, be the same.”
“Then make it so,” he said, shrugging.
“Huh?”
“If you’re so worried about not having the same parts, then make yourself some. If you can shapeshift into a wolf and change your own body, you can change that too.”
Ember was too shocked to respond at first, and when she did, her words were a gut response and sent out with all the feeling her body possessed.
“Ewwww!”
Shad started to laugh and could not stop.
Ember scowled. “Uncle,” she said, rolling her eyes when he didn’t stop immediately. He doubled over in hilarity until finally she got off the bed, shoved him, and shouted. “Uncle!”
Shad swallowed his laughter and hiccupped at her, but he did stop at last. “Sorry,“ he said, not sorry at all, she was sure. He took a deep, shaky breath and put his arm back around her. “The way I see it, Em, you’ve got only two options if you’re that desperate for a bath. Either you go ahead and bathe with the boys, no matter how you decide to do it, or you go and bathe with the girls.”
“How can I do that? Right now I’m neither boy nor girl.”
“So, change yourself fully into one or the other,” he said with a nonchalant shrug and a squeeze of her shoulders.
“But what about Mum? I can’t really afford to—”
“I didn’t mean forever, Ember,” he interrupted. “Just to take a bath. If you’re not comfortable being all boy, then be a girl again and go bathe . . . before the rest of the building smells like your room. Please.” He waved a hand in front of his nose.
Ember was so surprised by his suggestion she didn’t even notice his insult. Change back into herself to bathe? Yes, there was a chance her mother might see her, but it was a slight one. At least she’d be clean and make a better impression for the trials. It was worth taking a chance. There was only one problem.
“How?” she asked. “I’ve only changed into a human twice, and then it was to turn into a boy. How do I go back to my normal self?”
“Ahhh, now that’s a good question. Focusing on the solution and not whining about the problem. "And,” he said, one finger pointed skyward for emphasis, “it’s a simple one to solve. Changing back is always the easiest because it’s the most familiar. Your body knows what you did, Ember—just follow the paths you have already opened, like listening to your blood when you changed into a wolf. Open yourself to it and trust it. I’ll guide you as best I can.”
Ember nodded, though doubt filled her. What if something went wrong? What if s
he couldn’t duplicate the process?
But what would it hurt to try?
Shad pulled away and propped himself against the dresser opposite her. Ember watched him for a long moment before she sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. His nodded reassurance did little to soothe her rapidly frantically twitching nerves, but she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began.
First she imagined her face as it truly was, the image she had seen in the mirror every day for sixteen years, then she let her fingers explore.
At first nothing happened. Her fingers prodded at her nose, and she could feel the difference,
could see in her mind how it should be, but nothing happened until the frustration built to the breaking point and in desperation she whispered—“change!”
And it did—with all the accompanying pain of two days before. Ember gasped and groaned for a long moment, her fingers gently massaging the familiar shape of her true nose as it ached through her cheek bones and eye socket and all the way into her head.
“Good,” Shad commented, “but do it slower this time. Remember, it’s the abrupt change that causes the most pain. Mold it like clay, Ember. Mold and shape and pull to achieve the best effect.”
Ember nodded, not really sure what he meant, but she took him at his word and pictured the change in her jaw and chin being more gradual. She tugged gently at her chin and could feel it pull forward with a deep ache, but it was not the excruciating pain she’d had before—more like a well-used muscle and less like a boot in the face.
Next, she used her fingertips to gently massage and pull her eyes wider. She changed the color, lightening her brow and smoothing her lids until she felt nearly herself again. Her lips filled and widened, and at last she moved on to her body. All the changes made the day before returned to normal—her hips and arms narrowed, her ribcage thinned. It was painful, but bearable, and didn’t leave her gasping as before.
Finished, Ember opened her eyes and met her uncle’s tear-filled gaze.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, no longer leaning casually against the desk, but instead kneeling at her feet and staring into her face. “You look so much like your father, it’s uncanny. You have his eyes and nose and forehead. I can see your mother in you too, but you favor your father. Ah, how I miss him.”
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