Dark of Night
She knew he followed. Her feet were blistered and bleeding, the wounds clotted with dust, for the running she had done. Even so, she knew that he was just behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder at the setting sun. Corelle had already disappeared beneath the horizon, but time was still against her for Pertus was still half an hour from setting in the green sky.
And he was coming.
She stumbled, the tattered flesh of her feet finding a sharp stone that all but sent her to her knees. Instead, she careened into the trees that lined the road, catching her balance in passing on their rough bark before she slung herself back onto the road.
Her legs pumped with renewed fervor. Through the trees, she had seen possible salvation if only she could reach it before he could see her. With a burst of strength from quivering legs, she leapt the rocky bank and landed, face-first, in frigid water. She sputtered for only a second before taking a practiced breath and slipping beneath the surface. It was nearly four minutes before her head reappeared above the surface of the water, under the cover of an overhanging tree. Through the fronds of the tree, she could just make out her pursuer, searching the bank and water in the distance, seeing no sign of his prey. His horse quietly cropped at the grass a distance away, the soldier's longsword on its saddle.
Fadya smiled. Let him think the Kordin could shift in the light of Pertus. It would only add to the mystique of her kind. She watched him, her eyes darkening to velvet black, as the last rays of sunlight gleamed along his brilliant armor. Run away, she thought kindly, the onyx embedded in her forehead beginning to glow with a soft violet light. Pertus will soon be gone and that polished armor will not protect you from me.
The soldier didn't hear her thoughts, did not think of the last sun setting, did not think of his own safety, too intent on his prey.
She slid from the water behind him, now sleek with waterproof fur, the signature stone in her forehead throbbing in the fading light. The fur became scales, the sleek limbs melting into a single form.
The soldier lifted his head, certain all at once that he had heard a word "Fool," hissed on the evening breeze. He turned to the sound and tripped, his metal-clad legs already wrapped tight in raven coils. His arms were pinned before he could raise his knife to strike.
A viper's face floated near his helmet, the snake's ebony neck invisible in the darkness of night, the face only discernible because of the glowing stone. "Fool," she hissed again, her muscled length tightening inexorably around the soldier. "Why did you tempt a Nightchanger? You would have done better to run . . . "
"Fadya . . . " the soldier gasped.
Fadya's face melted into something more human as she loosened her hold. "How do you know my name, mortal?"
The man wrenched his arm free and knocked the helm from his head. Fadya found herself staring into the dark eyes of Timbur. "How could I not, whatever your form? Were we not once betrothed?"
The snake pooled at his feet and rose back into the form of a woman he had once dreamed of. "Timbur," she breathed, her soft white hand brushing back the matted hair from his brow. "Did I hurt you? Your poor head."
Timbur's own hand found the lump on his forehead. "'Tis nothing. Spare me your concern. Did you not try to kill me?"
Fadya's face hardened. "And how was I to know you? Need I tell you of the dangers in being Kordin in this kingdom? When a mounted soldier takes chase in the dangerous light of day, a Nightchanger does not hesitate to run."
"And who can you blame if Kordin are hated? Was it not your mother who killed the king, feeding on his fleeting soul?"
"It was the chance my father took to wed her, that she would love him. She told him the price of earning her heart. When the blood calls you, there is no defense, no resisting. It is good the Kordin do not often lose their hearts, but, when they do, they have no choice in their actions. It is in their blood."
"As it is in yours. Fadya, you were human. Why did you become a Nightchanger? Why, now?"
"Do you think it was my choice? Do you think I wished to be hunted, to know I could never love without killing? One cannot stop the call of one's blood and it was in mine. My mother made it so."
"My aunt. My father was also a Nightchanger, but he did not kill his wife."
"He did not love her. It is not the same. I wonder if that is why you never . . . Poor Timbur."
Timbur had removed his gauntlets, his breastplate. Now, he put his hand against her soft cheek. "Am I hunted? Do not waste your pity on me." He pulled her into his arms and breathed in the scent of her blue-black hair. "Why did you leave me? You knew how I loved you."
"Timbur. How can you ask? Don't you think I know how easy it would be to love you? I could not take such a chance with your life. Timbur, please."
Timbur ran his hand down her arm then stroked the small of her back. "And if I took the chance, would you hate me?" He lost himself in her mouth, kissing her with animal passion.
Fadya pulled back, but only a little, her eyes full with the sight of him. "I don't think I could hate you, Timbur."
"Then love me, if only tonight. The suns have gone to their rest. I can see only a life of loneliness ahead for you will not be in it."
"Timbur . . . "
He touched his lips along her cheek and sighed into her ear. "Tonight," he whispered. She relented, letting him pull her to the shadowed ground beneath the trees. Just tonight.
She woke suddenly as the day pushed toward dawn, her eyes still black. She was naked, leaves and twigs tangled into her long black hair and Timbur slumped on her shoulder. "Oh, Timbur, we must never wed for I do think I could love you," she said smiling, her teeth sharp.
Timbur stirred and smiled at her, his eyes black and passionate. "As you wish, my darling." His stroking hand shifted into the paw of a huge black panther and his face stretched to hold the 2 inch teeth. A muted purple glow shone from his forehead.
Fadya opened her mouth to scream, but it was too late; she had no throat to scream from. Timbur buried his face in the flow of blood from her tattered neck, feeding from the fleeting soul of the woman he loved.
When dawn came, the rays first touched the bloodstained face of Timbur, the stone of his forehead now lost behind a scab. He smiled sadly at Fadya's body, saddened that he alone would mourn the death of a Kordin.
"Poor Fadya," he whispered. "You were right. A Kordin cannot ignore the call. And I already loved you."
Conjuring Dreams or Learning to Write by Writing Page 25