“That sounds a whole lot easier than it’s going to be.” Reks said. “The five mages are spread out.”
Rian nodded. “It’s customary for one to reside in each of the cardinal directions and in the very center of the country. Their citadels are hard to get to and well protected. Most of them do not allow access to just anyone. You have to be in a position of power to even be considered.”
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing that you’re a prince, then isn’t it?” Serra said. “And Sylvan is the Princess of the Dryads.”
He shook his head. “Even that might not be enough.”
“Serra can get us in.” Reks said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Serra glanced at him, startled.
“What? No, I can’t. I’m just a servant, an orphan. I’m next to nothing.”
“Serra the servant is next to nothing. Serra the shifter is far from it.” Serra felt her face grow red as the other three looked at her in surprise.
“I’m not- I’m not a shifter. I don’t know what he’s talking about.” She turned a glare on Reks that would have withered him had he been paying attention. As it was, he was striding about the room, mumbling under his breath.
“The closest citadel is in the Sidonia Wood.” Sylvan said, obviously trying to take some of the focus off Serra. “I might be able to get us access to Master Gerard. He was a friend of mine once. I don’t think he will refuse to see me.”
Rian was not deterred. “Serra, what’s this about shifting?”
“Nothing. I can just…” She held up her uninjured right arm weakly. Within moments Eva’s Mark had appeared, it shifted and changed to resemble Reks', but this time her arm stayed her own. The black faded. “That’s it. I can’t change my whole body or anything. I can just make a Caste Mark.”
“Have you tried to shift your whole body?” Sylvan asked.
Wordlessly, Serra shook her head. They were silent. She knew what they were thinking. How could she possibly know for sure she wasn’t a shifter if she hadn’t tried? But Serra didn’t need to try. If she were a shifter she would have found out before now. All those times she had pretended to be Lady Hadrienne or Silas she would have shifted, wouldn’t she?
It had to be just the Caste Mark.
“I suggest,” Reks said, coming to a sudden halt in the middle of the room. “That we leave immediately.”
Vaughn was on his feet at once. “And leave the Creatures here to kidnap innocent children?”
A horrible thought occurred to Serra. “What if they start taking more? What if each one of them takes one tonight? We can’t just leave them here.”
Rian ran a weary hand down his face. “I agree with Reks. The sooner we can figure out who is creating these death muxins the sooner this whole mess will be over. It became pretty clear tonight that we can’t stop them, at least not by tracking them down in the streets.”
Sylvan, who Serra suspected argued with Rian for the sport of it, nodded her head in agreement.
She and Vaughn were outvoted.
Angrily, Serra stalked over to her bed, wincing as she pulled her saddle bag from the floor and practically threw it on the mattress.
More children taken from their beds, more families grieving. The number of children could be well into the three hundreds before they figured out who was behind it.
“This is for the best, Serra,” Reks said quietly from behind her. “You’ll see.”
She heard the door open and close. Sylvan packed up her own things, carefully stowing her potions bottle and jar before saying, “Serra, I understand what you’re going through. Trust me, I understand better than anyone. My little sister was taken from me. I hope and pray every second of every day that she’s alright. But I must face the fact that she might not be. You must face the reality that your friend might not be returned to you. We must do what we can to stop this. Yes, some of the children of this country will be taken from their parents before we do… Imagine what would happen if we continued stalking the creatures and eventually they killed us. Imagine how long this could go on for.”
Tears of frustration filled Serra’s eyes. “I just want to keep everyone from feeling what I feel every day. The grief and the pain. Feeling like you should have done more to keep them safe. It’s too much sometimes.”
Sylvan closed her bag and came over to Serra. There were tears shining in her dark brown eyes. She blinked and sent them rolling down her green cheeks. Without a word the Dryad wrapped her arms around Serra’s shoulders. They stood there, both taking comfort from the other in their shared grief.
After a moment Serra pulled away, used her uninjured arm to wipe at the tears that had spilled over her eyes. A soft knock sounded on their door and Sylvan went to answer it while Serra hastily finished packing. Vaughn entered the room. After helping Serra into her jacket, he shouldered her saddlebag and led the way down to the lobby of the inn.
Reks and Rian were just finishing settling their bill when the other three came into the large front room. If the woman behind the counter wondered how the five of them had returned to the inn and gone upstairs without her seeing them, she didn’t mention it. Reks gave her a charming smile as he dropped coins into her palm.
Without speaking to each other they made their way out to the stables and quickly saddled their mounts.
Shadowdancer whinnied in annoyance when Serra roused her from sleep, but soon seemed to understand the urgency of the situation. The little mare stood still while Reks saddled her for Serra, before wrapping his hands around her waist and lifted her atop the mare. Shadowdancer was the first one out the door and into the city.
As in the past the little mare seemed to know just where it was that Serra needed to go. She picked the way through the cobblestone streets, always heading north. Within fifteen minutes they were riding through the north gate of the city.
Chapter 13
SERRA
Sylvan informed them that Master Gerard’s Citadel was in Sidondale, the largest Dryadian city where her mother, Melita Tiana, lived. To reach him they would have to travel through County Plysa and into the Sidonia Wood that separated Iperia from Roza.
They traveled in silence for the first few hours. No one wanted to speak as they came to grips with the idea of more children being taken before this was over. The only sounds were their horses’ hooves on the ground and the occasional tinkling from Thistle or one of her offspring as they scouted before and behind and came back to report.
No one had followed them from Norwood.
By mid-morning Serra was exhausted. They had not slept since the previous day and the wound in her shoulder was pounding painfully. She shifted trying to ease some of the pressure in her shoulder, and gasped as sharp pain shot down her left side, making her momentarily dizzy.
Everyone ahead of her turned their heads. Upon seeing her pale, sweaty face they all dismounted without a word. Vaughn and Rian helped her down from Shadowdancer‘s back, making her gasp again as her shoulder was jostled. They laid her gently on the green grass.
Sylvan rummaged through her bags and came up once again with the red and blue bottles of salve. Her fingers were deft as they pulled Serra’s vest gingerly off and then pulled down the shoulder of her shirt, exposing the bandages that Sylvan had put on the night before.
The dryad carefully removed the stained white cloth and revealed the angry red wound underneath. “Serra, why didn’t you ask us to stop sooner?” Sylvan asked, taking the red bottle and placing a few drops on the wound. “This must have been bothering you for hours.”
Serra shook her head, biting her lip against fresh pain. She waited to answer until Sylvan had slipped a new bandage with the blue salve on it over her injury. “I didn’t want to slow our progress. It’s important that we make good time.”
“Yes, it is.” Rian said, from a few yards off. “But it’s also important that you not strain yourself to the point where you will be no good to us.”
Serra began to pull her shirt over her shoul
der, but Sylvan stopped her. “I prefer to allow the body to heal on its own, only helped a little by the salves, but usually the injured is able to stay in bed and to relax. Lay back.” Serra did as she was told. Sylvan placed one hand on Serra’s shoulder and the other on her forehead. Warmth spread slowly through Serra’s body and a tingling permeated her skin where Sylvan’s hands rested. After a moment, Sylvan sat back on her heels and smiled. “That should do it.” Cautiously, Serra sat up. Sylvan pulled the bandage off revealing only a thin scratch where the angry gash had been. “See? It’s almost healed.”
Sylvan gently placed the bandage back where it had been and secured it with a long piece of linen.
They settled into a small circle and ate a meal of cheese and stale bread. Serra, a small amount, still feeling off from her injury. She lay back down, allowing the surprising autumn sun to wash over her face and glorying in the feel of the soft grass beneath her. She would close her eyes just for an instant and when the other roused her she would be ready to go.
When Serra woke, the sun was high in the sky telling her it was well past noon. Lifting her head, she saw Rian, Vaughn and Sylvan stretched out on the ground around her, while Reks sat up his back to her, no doubt keeping watch.
As Serra sat up she saw the large golden hawk from before resting on Reks' arm. Reks was deep in what Serra supposed was conversation with the bird and was oblivious to all else. She could hear the deep murmur of his voice, though the words were indefinable. She was briefly reminded of Reks' curse back when she’d shown him her ability to shift her arm. What had it been? Fava lats hurrad. That was it. No language that Serra had ever heard before.
Reks finished his conversation, while Serra wrapped her arms around her knees and waited. The hawk bowed slightly, and then took flight. Reks watched it fly away before commenting, “It isn’t nice to listen in on other people’s conversations, you know.”
Serra inched away from their sleeping companions and scooted up next to him. “I couldn’t understand a word of what you were saying anyway. Unlike you, I don’t speak bird.”
“I don’t either. Meka and I just understand each other.”
“Like an Ara Mana?” When Reks didn’t answer her, Serra continued. “An Ara Mana is a familiar, generally tied to a mage.”
“I know what an Ara Mana is. You seem to think that just because I steal for a living, I don’t know about anything else.” His voice was bitter. “I had a whole life before I thrown out into the streets. I even read a book or two on occasion.”
Serra didn’t move her eyes from the rolling green hills in front of them. “I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry.”
Reks sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, too.”
Now Serra turned to look at him. Dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes. “Have you slept?”
“No.”
“You should. I’ll keep watch and wake you in a couple hours.” Reks gave her a perplexed look and Serra nudged him with her shoulder. “What you think I can’t keep watch up here? We’re on the top of a hill, Reks. I’ll see if anyone comes from any direction. Now go to sleep.”
He nodded and moved back until he was in the spot where Serra had slept. She watched him lie down, and then turned her attention to the hills around them. They were on top of a soft hill. Trees bordered a good portion of the bottom of the hill, though one side sloped toward an open field. Reks had been watching the trees, and so Serra did the same thing, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to look toward the field.
Keeping watch was harder than she had thought it would be. No, it wasn’t hard. It was boring. She sat for a while, but found that her head began to droop toward her chest; apparently, her nap had not been enough. She walked a wide circle around her friends. She paused by each of the horses, who were contentedly eating the long green grass, and patted each one in turn. She walked her circuitous route for nearly a half hour, marching like a sentinel, before she grew too weary even for that.
She returned to her place in front of where her friends slept, drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. She rested her chin on the hard bones of her knees and stared off into oblivion.
The conversation from the night before came back to her. What if Reks was right and she was a shifter? What would she be able to do? Would she only be able to shift into other humans, or would she be able to shift into animals, trees, rocks?
Serra held her left hand in front of her. Almost without thinking Eva’s Mark appeared on her arm, it grew until Lord Arseno’s had joined it. She found that shifting into something she had changed into before was easy, like slipping on a pair of well worn in pants.
The Caste Mark on her arm changed until it looked like Reks' complete with scars. Her arm ached gently as her fingers grew longer, her palms wider, her forearm more muscled. She continued the transformation further. She had not seen Reks without clothes, but she could imagine what his build was like. And it seemed as if her body was willing to make the change, eager even.
Serra watched transfixed as her left hand shifted to resemble Reks'. Within moment’s Serra no longer recognized herself. Her clothes were strained, pulled tight against Reks' frame. She lifted her hands and ran Reks' fingers through his short hair, down his face. She felt where the scar bisected his eyebrow then ran down his cheek. The skin of her back ached, as if an old injury was acting up.
Serra’s heart began to beat unnaturally fast. This was beyond bizarre. She had really shifted her entire body to resemble Reks. It felt strange, not quite right, as though she were wearing clothes that were too big and heavy, they weighed her down.
Shaking her head, she willed her body to shift back, back to its original form. She felt the extra weight from Reks' body melt off hers, felt the bones shrink back to their original size. His scarred Mark was the last thing to go, dissolving into her skin without a trace.
She had not moved from her spot when Reks and the others woke. As a group, they decided that it would be best for them to make camp there then continue. They were all exhausted from their nights of hunting. After Sylvan had established the protection spells and they had eaten a cold supper of bread, soft cheese and salted pork, they all bedded down for the night.
Serra didn’t say a word to anyone about her newfound ability. She saw no reason to tell them until she could better understand what was going on herself.
Chapter 14
HIS ROYAL MAJESTY
The words in front of him were swimming, his brain having trouble making sense of the data. He dropped the papers to the table and leaned back in his chair, running a hand down his face.
It was hard to get his mind to focus these days, on anything but the rage that bubbled inside him. It had been there since he was a young boy quiet at first, but growing now until it was almost all he could hear, all he could feel. He needed to have an outlet, a way to release it.
The Dryads, the anger inside him whispered. The Dryads did this. Took your son. They should pay.
He shook his head, trying to clear it. He knew that Iperia would have very little chance of surviving a war with the Dryads, but the voice was right. Long ago the Dryads had failed to help his father, they had sown the seeds of distrust and over the years it had only grown.
Now they had the audacity to steal into his palace and take his son from under his very nose.
That’s right, the anger said. They brought this on themselves. They deserve to be eliminated.
The king leaned forward, pulling a blank piece of parchment toward him. He dipped his quill into his ink pot and began to write.
Chapter 15
SERRA
At the end of their second day out they passed the border of trees and entered the forest. At first Serra was disappointed. She had thought that the very trees in the Sidonia Wood would be magical. They would have to be to allow the dryads shelter. She had heard they had carved buildings out of the trees, making walls and columns from the trees themselves.
/>
But the trees here were simple, and normal, like the ones in the Kendrew Forest that spread from County Reza to into County Plysa. She voiced her concerns to Sylvan who smiled and informed her that they had not yet crossed into the Sidonia Wood.
“When we do, trust me, you will know.”
Serra spent her evenings in much the same way as before, training with anyone who would teach her, only now she added her own lesson in shifting to the mix. After she had finished with Sylvan she would gather her things and make her way to the stream, followed by Thistle. Once there she would hurriedly splash water on her body, then dry off and practice shifting. This was the perfect time to do it, as it was much easier to shift without the restraining effects of her clothes, and her companions were less likely to approach her if they knew she was bathing. Thistle had been sworn to secrecy.
By the time they had reached the forest Serra had shifted into each of her companions’ forms. She found the more she did it, the easier it became. She moved from Sylvan to Rian to Reks to Vaughn and back again with as little concentration as she had once used while hanging Eva’s clothes.
When she finally returned to camp, everyone was usually already asleep.
During this time, they all watched her with curious eyes and she had the sneaking suspicion that they had an idea about what she was doing. Now that she had established in her own mind that she was indeed a shifter, though she had no idea how, Serra felt that it might behoove her to tell the others officially.
One of them might be able to give her a greater understanding of just what was going on and why.
The morning of their third day out, Serra noticed that the trees were bigger. There was a pale golden light that radiated from them as though imbued with magic. Warm breezes filtered through the trees to play with her unbound hair, bringing with them the sweet scent of flowers and loamy earth.
The Caste Marked Page 12