by Lizzy Ford
“You are laughing at me!” she said, face warm.
“On the contrary, I am sorry to have underestimated you our whole lives. If I thought you had this much mettle, I would have trained you to fight.”
Stunned by the compliment, Tiana smiled, even though it hurt her bruised cheek. Resting her head back against the tree trunk behind her, she peered up at the pine needles.
“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” she breathed.
Arthur started to speak and then began to cough.
Tiana shifted closer to the cage, wishing she could remove it, so she could hug her brother. Blood sprinkled his lips and splashed across the hand he used to cover his mouth. She recalled too clearly how warm his blood had been when it soaked her clothing and coated her hands in the vision, and how empty his eyes had appeared once the life had drained out of it.
I cannot lose him. Ever.
“Arthur?” she asked in a trembling voice. “Are you well?”
He finished the coughing fit and sagged against the metal cage. “I will be.”
“Have you had a vision of surviving?”
“No. But there is too much left for me to do in this world for me to die now,” he replied. “I want to right the wrongs committed by our family. I have always felt a little adrift in Father’s shadow. My fate will be different.”
“I have never cared for your lofty ambitions, Arthur,” she said softly. “I care that you survive.”
He smiled faintly. “I will. I must.”
A shadow fell over her, and she glanced up then away just as fast.
Diving Eagle knelt beside her. Tiana tensed and shifted away, expecting him to take out his anger when his father was not looking.
“For your wounds.” He held out a cloth and jar of balm. “You will not be touched until after your trial.”
She accepted the offering without speaking.
“You call us savages,” Arthur muttered. “Look what you do to a defenseless girl.”
“A Hanover is never free of guilt,” Diving Eagle replied in a hard voice. “But we are not savages like your family. No one should have hurt your sister.”
“And Arthur?” she asked hopefully.
“I am fair game, sister,” Arthur answered before the Native could. “I bear the full brunt, since I am the Hanover heir.”
“Exactly,” Diving Eagle seconded.
Tiana was quiet.
The Native rose and strode a short distance away, where he replaced the current guard monitoring them.
“That was unusually kind for him,” Arthur said. “His father likely had a hand in it.”
Tiana dabbed the ointment on her lip, cheek, and around her eye. After initial stinging, the medicine numbed her pain. She passed it through the cage to Arthur.
“I need more than that,” he said ruefully but accepted both.
She started to relax, when the brush of cool energy caused her to shiver. Arthur stopped in his ministrations of a wound in his arm and looked up.
“What is it?” she asked. The tickle agitated her, and she could not identify its source.
“I am not sure.” He was gazing in the direction Aveline had been carried after she collapsed.
A blur of black crossed her vision as a large wolf trotted into camp, tongue hanging out of her mouth and stomach swollen.
Arthur murmured a curse.
Mesmerized by the first canine she had ever seen, Tiana shifted forward when she realized the animal was headed straight for them. Arthur, too, moved to the front of his cage.
The wolf stopped when she reached him and licked his hands. Her tail wagged. Tiana admired her thick, black fur and the grace with which even small movements were made.
“This is my sister,” Arthur said to the wolf and motioned to Tiana.
Golden eyes turned to Tiana. Unlike the horses that fled from her, this animal’s intelligent gaze seemed to peer right through her. It approached, nose extended curiously.
“Hold out your hand with the palm up, so she can smell you,” Arthur directed her.
Tiana did so. The wolf nosed her and then licked her before walking closer and sniffing at the wounds and ointment on Tiana’s face. She buried her hands into the animal’s coat. A downy layer of fur lined its body, while a thicker, coarser layer of hair grew atop it. The wolf was not as soft as the cougar had been, though her coat was shiny and smooth.
“Tickles,” Tiana said as the wolf licked her swollen eye. “I wonder how many babies she has?”
Six. The soft voice came from within her head. Tiana lowered her hands and gazed at the creature.
“Six,” Arthur said aloud. “Can you hear her?”
“Yes. Is that normal?” she asked in surprise.
“No. We are not normal,” he said with a hoarse laugh. “And neither is she.”
“She’s deformed?”
“Magical.”
The wolf licked her face several more times, until Tiana giggled from the new sensation. The animal went to Arthur’s cage, touched his hand again, then paused in front of Marshall and lowered her head to study the unconscious man.
“He is relatively well,” Arthur said to her. “Resting.”
As if satisfied, she trotted away.
“How wonderful,” Tiana said. “I have seen such wonders on my journey outside the city!” She shivered, despite the warmth of the early spring day. “Arthur, what is this?” She waved at the agitated energy filling the air around her.
“I do not know.” His eyes were on the wolf loping across the village. “Be prepared to run.”
“Why?”
“Just in case.”
Two people ducked out of the tent where Aveline had been taken. Tiana recognized Rocky, who was frowning. The Native with him darted to Diving Eagle. The two spoke briefly before the Native returned to the tent. Not long after, two Natives emerged, carrying Aveline between them on a stretcher.
“Oh, no,” Tiana murmured, eyes on her friend.
“Agreed.” Arthur’s gaze was not on Aveline but someone else. He struggled to change positions in the cage. “Can you feel it?”
Tiana cocked her head. Aveline was awake on her stretcher and trying to get up. Tiana was not surprised that the proud assassin-in-training refused to be carried, even if she appeared ill. She struggled enough that the two holding the stretcher had to set her down on the ground.
Tiana smiled. “I do not notice anything –”
It hit her then, the sense of being back in the vision, of watching Arthur die, of being stuck in a recurring nightmare she was unable to escape. Emotions swelled within her, and she looked around wildly.
This was not the right place, not the time, or the circumstances drilled into her mind by the vision. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she reassured herself of where she was by grabbing Arthur’s cage.
I am here now. The vision is elsewhere, at a later time, she told herself. Then why was she unable to release the emotion, the anger, sorrow, and horror, from the vision? Why did she feel as if what she feared most was about to occur? Her pulse raced, and adrenaline lit her blood on fire.
“Tiana?” Arthur asked.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I feel it. What is it?” Already, light and darkness were sliding into one another as her deformity reacted to her emotions and the pull of energy radiating from the direction of Aveline. Tiana stood and breathed deeply to calm herself. Her magic was unpredictable when it was in this stage, and she feared hurting anyone around her.
What had the power to affect her? To enhance her brother’s visions and influence her emotions and magic?
“Not a what. Who,” Arthur said in a terse voice. “Someone very dangerous. Tiana, you need to …” His voice faded, replaced by the sound of her own heartbeat.
Tiana saw him clearly for the first time. The skinwalker from her vision. Walking with the chief of the Diné, he was a tall Native of indistinguishable age. His features were lean and chiseled, his dark hair braided, and the
air around him oddly … still. His eyes were dead, and the exposed skin of the back of his hands, face, and neck bore tattoos matching the colors she had witnessed in the nightmare.
He passed Aveline, who had frozen on her feet and was staring, glassy-eyed, into the distance.
Light and dark began to mix in Tiana’s vision. Everything changed – except for him. She saw all his forms at once: the man, bear, wolf, and otherworldly creature.
“Tiana!” Arthur cried.
She was moving without realizing what she did. Whether the skinwalker’s magic fed hers, or her emotions did, she did not know. Tiana saw no one but the skinwalker, while the vision of what he would do at some point in the future replayed in her mind. The rest of the world smeared until the colors all ran together and faded away, no longer of interest to her.
The skinwalker looked at her, and she stopped, already knowing what he was capable of. He faced her fully.
“We meet at last, spirit.” Was his voice aloud or in her head? She could no longer tell.
“You will not hurt my friends,” she replied. A blast of air accompanied her words, and he was shoved backwards, into the trunk of a tree.
The skinwalker tried to wriggle free, but she kept him pinned without understanding how, except for the fact she wished it to be so. Tiana began to lose the sense of herself and her surroundings, to slide into the state she had been in when she murdered Matilda. With effort, she remained in her mind and walked towards the immobilized skinwalker.
His body remained human, while his shadow began to morph, and suddenly, he was free of her, with his bear form towering over him. He charged her.
She stayed where she was. Her magic flattened the forest behind him without touching him, and Tiana lifted her hand to try to channel it better directly at him. At once, he was smashed onto his back.
The wolf form reared up behind him next, and he slid free of her magic. This time, he made it within inches of her before she shoved him away again.
“Tiana!” Aveline’s voice was unusually loud, as if Tiana stood over her friend.
“You do not wish to kill me!” the skinwalker said.
“Shut up!” Tiana cried at him. “I know what you are! You will not murder my family, my friends!”
He released his animal forms, which lingered in the space around him, and faced her as a man once more. The skinwalker paced, growling deep within his chest and glaring at her, the epitome of a trapped predator waiting for her guard to drop so he could pounce.
“Tiana.” Aveline sounded … hoarse. Scared. Hurt.
“Release me! I will help her!” the skinwalker snarled. Tiana shoved him against a tree again to keep him still and began to crush him with her mind.
She spared a glance around to find her friend and made out Aveline’s crumpled form among the reversed colors of her surroundings. Aveline was convulsing, not seven feet away.
“She is one of mine,” the skinwalker growled.
“You are a monster!” Tiana returned. “She is my friend!”
“The bracelet you wear belongs to her.”
Tiana blinked, not expecting these words. The skinwalker was writhing, pinned and dying, beneath her power. “How do you know this?” she demanded. No one, other than the elderly Diné chief, had known what the symbol was.
“It is the … mark of my people. My kind.” With effort, the skinwalker pulled something from his pocket and allowed it to drop to his feet. The leather wrapping fell away, revealing a medallion like the one Tiana had found among Aveline’s belongings. “You can feel her energy.”
Tiana looked at the medallion, identical to Aveline’s, down to the wear and tear.
“Release me, and I will help her live,” the skinwalker ordered.
Tiana hesitated. If he died today, he would not murder everyone she cared about at a later time.
Aveline might not make it that long.
“If I lie, kill me!” the skinwalker added. His face was beginning to cave in and yet, he showed no fear, no pain, only defiance. “She is not a full blood. She cannot survive her first transformation alone.”
Was he lying? Tiana had no way of knowing. But he did possess the same medallion Aveline did, and the chief had mentioned running across two skinwalkers of late.
Aveline’s body abruptly went still. Concern replaced fear, and Tiana dropped her arm. The world righted itself instantly, and the skinwalker landed in a heap at the base of the tree. He coughed and staggered to his feet.
Tiana dropped to her knees beside Aveline. The assassin-in-training radiated heat and energy. Her clothing was soaked with sweat, and she was paler than a Ghoul.
“Aveline!” she called urgently.
The skinwalker pushed her aside and took her place at Aveline’s side. “Take her head in your hands,” he directed.
Tiana studied him briefly before obeying. Her hands trembled from exertion, and she gently rested her fingers and palms against Aveline’s head. Fire flew through her at the touch.
The skinwalker drew a knife from his belt and slashed his palm.
“What manner of spirit are you?” the skinwalker asked gruffly without looking at her. He reached forward for Aveline’s hand and gripped her wrist.
“I am not a spirit,” Tiana whispered, concerned for her friend. She flinched as he sliced open Aveline’s hand. “What are you doing?”
“Full bloods can transform at will. Most half-breeds die during the first transformation. My blood will stabilize hers.”
Aveline was muttering in her sleep.
As Tiana watched, color returned to Aveline’s cheeks. The energy zipping through her abated, along with the heat.
“Release her,” he growled.
Tiana did so. “She will be well?”
“For now. The same cannot be said for either of us.”
She glanced at his face and then past him.
The entire village had ringed them. The forest on one side was gone as far as she could see. She sought a familiar face in the crowd, praying she had not hurt the chief who had been walking beside the skinwalker when she attacked him. Diving Eagle and his father stood side by side, and she was unable to tell which of them was grimmer.
“You have haunted me long enough, spirit,” the skinwalker said. He was bandaging his hand and stood, knife in hand.
Tiana gazed up at him, recalling the vivid vision too well.
He snatched her throat.
Her magic exploded.
The skinwalker went sailing through the air, over treetops, and fell, disappearing into the woods a half a mile away.
She shook her head, and the colors of the world returned to normal.
Silence surrounded her. Aveline was breathing deeply, her body no longer curled, and her cheeks pink with health.
Tiana hugged herself, not wanting to cry when everyone was watching her. The tears came anyway.
“He is gone, little Hanover, and we will tend your guardian,” he said in his low, gruff voice.
She faced the chief, who had approached and stood by Aveline’s sleeping body, flanked by his son. The elderly man leaned heavily on his cane and was unarmed. His gaze remained direct, and he made no move closer to her.
“I am so sorry,” she said. “I saw him and …” Hot tears spilled down her cheeks.
“I believe you now, Father,” Diving Eagle said. “The Hanover children are dangerous.”
“Unlike their father, they use their gifts to protect rather than harm,” the chief said. “Perhaps we should talk, little Hanover.”
Tiana swallowed hard with a nod. Had Arthur witnessed what she did? Was he ashamed of her, as their father would be?
She lifted her eyes towards the tree where her brother was imprisoned, looked away and then back.
Rising onto her tiptoes, she stared at the cage.
It was empty.
“Where … where are they?” she asked with a gasp.
Diving Eagle strode past his father and stopped beside her, following her
gaze. After a split second, he bellowed orders to the warriors nearest the tree. They scrambled to obey and began searching the area.
Tiana stared at the cage. It was still locked. In the time she faced off with the skinwalker, Arthur, Marshall, and their shackles had vanished. Her magic had been directed against the skinwalker on the opposite side of the village. She had never controlled it this well before, and never used it purposely in this manner at all. She did not understand her limits any more now than she had before. Was it possible her deformity lashed out randomly at others? Were Arthur and Marshall sent flying as well? Or had she done worse to them? Was she so obsessed with stopping the skinwalker that she lost her brother?
Tiana began to shake, and tears blinded her.
Two warriors lifted Aveline onto the stretcher behind her, but Tiana was unable to take her eyes off the tree.
“Come, little Hanover,” the chief instructed her.
What have I done? Tiana thought.
Book Three
Arthur
Chapter Twenty-Three
Arthur’s senses awoke slowly. First the crackle of a fire, then the heat against his left side contrasting against the cold chill numbing his exposed right cheek and hand. The comforting scent of burning wood was followed by an ache radiating throughout his body. He was sore, and the intensity of warm pain left him wondering if he had been thrown off a horse several times. The middle of his chest felt unusually hot, and he was not able to immediately assess whether he was injured there or not.
Unable to awaken fully, he slid again into the lingering vision, which played from the beginning once more.
Tiana wore the blue dress and bracelet he had envisioned in every iteration of the dream. Her blond curls bounced around her shoulders as she sprinted through a field and towards the sunrise, which had painted the sky pastel shades of pink and yellow. Unlike former versions of the possible future, this vision was different. Arthur saw more of her location. She ran away from a forest and towards the mountains, and four steps behind her, reaching out to grab her, was someone other than the skinwalker Arthur had envisioned every other time.