Visioner (The Shifter War Book 2)

by K K Ness

  Elania’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve decided to take the emissary to the High Council as well,” she guessed. “The Roldaerians can’t know that there are Amasians who oppose our presence in the deadlands.”

  Sonnen inclined his head. “I’m to breakfast with Emissary Arlyn now and let her know the High Council has agreed to a meeting. Danil and Hafryn, you will join me.” He paused to study Danil. “You had best change out of that tunic, custodian.”

  Danil abruptly noticed the rents in the fabric. Mustering a nod, he headed for the partition separating the sleeping quarters from the rest of the tent. He pulled out a new tunic, pausing only to wipe the crystal clean of any remnant blood. Taking a slow, calming breath, Danil released it and watched the stone settle into pale blue.

  He returned to find Hafryn checking his blade before sliding it into a sheath on his belt. For the first time, the wolf appeared rattled.

  “Fala,” he began.

  “Not now,” Danil murmured, forcing down the hurt at Hafryn keeping secrets.

  They joined Sonnen in his trek across camp to an orange tent edged with glyphs marking the House of Corros. Inside, the Roldaerian emissary was already seated at a small table laden with plates of meat, bread, and fruits.

  Arlyn rose and curtseyed. “Good morning to you all.”

  “Emissary Arlyn,” Sonnen said. “I trust you slept well.”

  She smiled. “I confess to being unused to such rudimentary accommodations, but my comfort was seen to most kindly.”

  “I’m pleased,” Sonnen said, then motioned for her to sit.

  With just four chairs at the table, Danil found himself seated beside the emissary. Hafryn sat opposite him, eyebrow raised.

  “This is quite the feast, Your Highness,” Arlyn said happily as she filled her plate with food. “Far grander than I was told to expect given the circumstances.”

  Sonnen speared a slice of ham onto his plate. “What circumstances do you refer to, emissary?”

  She set down her fork. “Please, we can be informal—call me Arlyn.”

  The dragon prince inclined his head, but Danil noted he didn’t offer Arlyn the same informality.

  Arlyn smiled again. “I speak of the deadlands, Your Highness. Many of my people have succumbed to the dangerous pits and tunnels that stretch all the way to Amas. These strange new gullies aside, much of the land is a bleak and desolate place unfit for habitation.” She placed a hand on Danil’s arm. “I’m sure you agree, dear Danil.”

  Danil resisted the urge to pull his arm loose. “Not so much, emissary.” He noticed Hafryn eyeing him with amusement. “There are some with the skill to safely traverse the deadlands, although most people know better than to try.”

  “Hmm, quite so,” Arlyn murmured. “I imagine your experience is unique, given where you were born.” She turned back to Sonnen. “But I must ask, Your Highness. Are we safe here? I heard quite the commotion earlier.”

  Danil’s grip on his fork slipped. Across from him, Hafryn threw him a quelling look.

  Sonnen’s expression remained carefully blank as he peeled an orange into segments. “We are surrounded by scree fields, Emissary Arlyn. Perhaps you heard one giving way.”

  “I see.” She returned to her plate.

  “It’s a dangerous place, as you say, Arlyn,” Hafryn muttered. He stabbed a slice of meat with more force than necessary. “Perhaps you should relay that back to your armies. We know they’re gathering at the royal city.”

  “Hafryn,” Sonnen chided.

  Hafryn’s eyes widened innocently. “Oh, we’re not done mincing words yet? My apologies.” His smile showed teeth.

  Arlyn’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “No, he speaks fairly, Your Highness. It’s true King Liam is a man open to many contingencies. It’s my hope we can avoid the unpleasantness of war.”

  Hafryn muttered something under his breath.

  Sonnen ignored his friend. “Amas would similarly prefer a diplomatic solution. The High Council has sent word that they will hear your terms. Transport will be ready later this morning.”

  “Wonderful.” Arlyn beamed. “May I have my attendants? The two I brought with me shall suffice.” Her face was both open and firm, set to bargain.

  Sonnen merely nodded. “I will have word sent to your remaining attendants, emissary.”

  Arlyn once again squeezed Danil’s arm. “How very wonderful. I do hope you’ll excuse my enthusiasm, Danil, but I never expected to enter Amas. This will be quite the adventure!”

  Danil shoved his tunics into a pack.

  The tent was quiet save for the soft ‘snick’ of Hafryn checking over each of his blades before the wolf stashed them in various locations on his body. The desk was clear once again, the assassin’s body taken away to be hidden from curious eyes.

  One of Elania’s protective glyphs made lazy circles around the central tent pole. The crystal hanging from Danil’s neck took on the same golden light, singing low in the back of his mind.

  Behind him, Hafryn sighed. “The emissary is a friendly sort, no?”

  With an effort, Danil turned to see the wolf shifter perched on the trunk at the end of the pallet. Hafryn clasped his hands between his knees, his head bowed.

  “Arlyn wants me to be her ally.”

  “A smart move for when we get to Corros,” Hafryn muttered.

  Setting aside his pack, Danil said, “Maybe. If she truly wants what we do.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  Danil sat beside Hafryn on the pallet. “It’s like you said—King Liam might have sent Arlyn here, but he’s is still preparing for war. Arlyn will use the threat of Roldaer’s armies to demand concessions from the High Council.” He gave a deep sigh. “I doubt we’ll like her demands.”

  “I can remain here if you wish. Keep an eye on the border.”

  Startled, Danil turned to fully face Hafryn. The wolf’s mouth was downturned but determined, and Danil swore he saw lines of tension about his eyes. “I don’t want to go to Corros without you,” he replied after a moment.

  Green eyes searched Danil’s face. “I should have told you, though. About Eyrie.”

  Swallowing carefully, he managed, “It came as a surprise.”

  “And an unpleasant one at that.” Hafryn looked irritated with himself. “You might have guessed the Eyrie are a secretive lot. We don’t reveal our Trueforms, not even to those we hold beloved. Shifting is learned in private so that our owls remain hidden and able to perform their tasks.”

  “That must make the other Houses suspicious of you,” Danil murmured.

  Hafryn shrugged. “It’s something you grow accustomed to.” He clasped his hands together. “I’d shown certain characteristics of owls as a child—I could sneak up on folk, catch them unawares. I never brawled with other younglings, instead preferring to bide my time. Folk began to talk.”

  “They expected you to be an owl.”

  Hafryn nodded. “Transforming into a wolf when I was ten summers old came as an unpleasant shock. I was so certain the gods had made a mistake that I transformed before the main hall in my village and demanded I be trained regardless.” He shrugged. “I was exiled instead.”

  Danil was appalled at their harshness. “You were a child, Hafryn.”

  “I’d revealed my Trueform and therefore was of no use to my House. I was damned lucky to be given exile.” His mouth ticked upwards in an echo of a smile. “So I wandered for a time, worked when I could and stole more often than needed. Sonnen found me working in a caravan and offered me a meal. When he left the next day, I followed.”

  Danil wondered if he’d ever be that resourceful or determined. He reached across and took Hafryn’s hand, squeezing it gently.

  “Forgive me for not telling you sooner,” Hafryn murmured. “I bear the Eyrie glyph not out of pride, fala. It’s so that I never forget the people who decided my Trueform wasn’t enough.”

  It was something Danil could understand.

  5

 
An short while later a blue dragon circled down off the mountain peak, large wings outstretched as it glided over the deadlands. It landed on the stretch of rock in a flurry of dust and dislodged pebbles, a small carrier box in its talons. Danil shielded his eyes against the grit.

  His vision cleared to see a plain-faced young man stand where the dragon had been. Danil recognized him from Altonas as Sonnen’s distant cousin, Griff.

  Sonnen strode across to greet the young man, and for a moment Danil saw a ghostly blue dragon, steam drifting up from its nostrils as a golden dragon flared its wings.

  Then the sight was gone. Danil paused.

  “Is something wrong, Danil?” Arlyn asked brightly, coming to stand beside him. She looked resplendent in a fur-lined cloak and red robe with heavy brocade at her neck. Her dark hair was pulled up and dotted with matching ruby gems.

  “Dust got in my eye, emissary,” Danil murmured.

  The two Roldaerian attendants waited beside an oversized chest, their faces carefully blank. While still armored, their cloaks were new and delicately embroidered.

  Arlyn followed his gaze. “Ah. Prince Sonnen was kind enough to have my trunk brought to me.” She winked at him. “Can’t stand before the High Council looking like a scavenger nation, can we?”

  Her reference to Danil’s past annoyed him, and he resisted a scowl. “I suppose not.”

  She beamed at him.

  Hafryn sauntered up the gravel path with Elania and Blutark, deep in conversation. Neither enchanter carried travel packs with them.

  “Excuse me, emissary,” Danil said as he stepped away. He hurried to join his friends as they reached the pennants marking the top of the camp. “You’re not coming?” he asked Elania and Blutark.

  Elania shook her head. “There is not much we can personally do to sway the Council to aid in the protection of the deadlands. We can, however, watch over it in your absence. While other enchanters are up to that task, we figured you’d prefer folk you know.”

  A knot in his belly eased. “Thank you,” he swallowed hard.

  The bear shifter winked. “Just ask the leylines to hold off on making more crystals, eh? At least until you’re back.”

  “I’ll try,” Danil said with a crooked smile. “They’re pretty willful, though.”

  Hafryn bumped his shoulder. “Like their custodian.”

  “We’ll send updates, but you’ll likely already know if anything is amiss,” Blutark said, nodding to the crystal dangling off Danil’s neck. The stone flashed a cheerful green in response.

  Elania pressed a kiss to Danil’s cheek. “Don’t be so worried, Danil. You’ll discover friends in Corros, I’m sure of it.”

  “Hopefully they’re on the High Council,” Hafryn quipped.

  Feeling a jostle of nerves in his belly, Danil glanced over at Griff. The blue dragon shifter seemed intent on ignoring them. “Didn’t Griff have a bigger carrier box last time he transported people?”

  Hafryn grinned. “That’s for our army contingents. Don’t worry, though. Griff has strong talons.”

  Danil hadn’t given much thought to how they’d reach Corros, but he was confident that he didn’t want the dour blue dragon to take him. His gaze slid to Sonnen as the two dragons approached. He wondered if Sonnen could take them instead.

  “Dragons don’t like to be used as chattel, Danil. Royals even less so,” Hafryn remarked, mouth quirking as he read Danil’s expression. “It offends their sensibilities.”

  “Indeed, Hafryn.” Sonnen bared his teeth in a humorless grin. “My cousin knows his duties,” he added, golden eyes moving to Griff. “I will see you all safely at the waypoint tonight.”

  The young man bowed. “Yes, my prince.”

  With that, Sonnen transformed into a golden dragon so huge it blotted out Danil’s vision of the sky. Massive wings unfurled, and then Sonnen launched into the air in a swirl of angry dust.

  “You insulted him,” Danil mused as the dragon quickly became a golden speck amidst the clouds.

  Hafryn huffed a laugh. “His scales are thick, fala.” He slung his pack over one shoulder and turned to Griff. “Shall we?”

  The air about the young man shimmered as the blue dragon took form. This close, Danil could see the glittering white of the dragon’s underbelly. Griff waited beside the carrier, staring down his long snout at them. Made of primarily of wood, the carrier was a square box held together by metal straps that gleamed with enchanted glyphs. Danil quietly hoped the enchantments had been recently renewed.

  Arlyn eyed the dragon and carrier dubiously.

  Hafryn smiled at her discomfort and bowed. “You first, emissary.” His eyeteeth seemed inexplicably longer.

  She sniffed before climbing the short ramp, her attendants in tow.

  “Best of luck, Danil,” Blutark murmured, sparing the younger man a quick hug that took him by surprise. “You’ll do well in Corros.”

  Taking a steadying breath, Danil nodded. They all knew what was at stake. He joined Hafryn on the ramp. Inside, a dozen rope handholds were bolted to the walls, and to Danil’s relief, shuttered portholes dotted the walls.

  The ramp rose up and closed behind them, flooding the carrier in darkness. Momentarily blinded, Danil’s vision shifted. A ghostly red wolf stood beside him. Its edges appeared limned with light. Danil reached out, curious, and suddenly found Hafryn’s sleeve.

  “Steady your feet,” Hafryn murmured, guiding Danil’s hand toward one of the rope holds.

  The harsh grate of claws on wood echoed in the dark around them, and then the ground bucked. Danil gripped tight, stomach plummeting as the carrier yawed sideways and then rocketed up into the sky.

  Hafryn cursed beside him, but after a few terrifying heartbeats, the carrier steadied. The air vibrated with the roar of a dragon.

  “Griff’s normally more graceful than that,” Hafryn muttered. He banged his fist against the wall in protest at the blue dragon, and then slid a shutter open to blue sky and a buffeting wind. The sudden brightness made the freckles across Hafryn’s nose and cheeks more apparent.

  The wolf opened the shutter beside Arlyn also, who still had the ropehold in a white-knuckled grip. She murmured her thanks.

  Danil peered out. The deadlands quickly grew tiny below them, the black rocks broken up by seams of verdant green within the canyons and ravines. They circled over the camp, the tents becoming bright spots of reds, blues, and yellows. A humming energy drew Danil’s gaze toward a location between Roldaer and Amas, where deep underground lay the temple that the halfbreed Kaul had made for himself. He sensed the leylines coursing underneath, filled with power.

  The mountains swung into view, all sharp peaks and jagged edges. With a whomp of powerful wings, Griff sailed over the first jagged ridge, where snow still lay heavy despite it being early spring. More mountains stretched out ahead, their valleys dense with forest.

  Hafryn returned to revel in the view, standing on the tip of his toes to peer down. The wind whipped his braid back and forth.

  “That way lies Altonas, fala.” Hafryn pointed southward, where more dense forest carpeted the ground far below. “A half day’s flight by dragon-wing.”

  Danil followed his gaze. It had taken them days traveling on foot to reach the broken citadel of Altonas in their quest to uncover Magus Brianna’s plans. In that time, Hafryn had revealed himself as more than a trickster wolf with a penchant for thievery.

  “And ahead lies Corros,” Hafryn added, releasing a sigh as he took in the mountains and low-scudding clouds on the horizon.

  Danil studied Hafryn instead. The green of his eyes appeared muted. “Do you really like Corros so little?” he asked quietly.

  The wolf leaned against the wall, arms folded. Arlyn and her two attendants seemed absorbed by the view from the opposite porthole.

  “Corros is my home, but my association with Sonnen draws me closer to the citadel’s politicking than I like.” Hafryn shrugged. “It led me to seek a few rotations on the deadlands—
not a terrible outcome, I must admit.” An edge of a smile tugged his mouth as his eyes roamed Danil’s face.

  “Being with a human won’t cause you trouble?” Danil asked.

  “Our issue is with Roldaer, not with humans.” Hafryn hesitated before conceding, “There are folk who don’t know the difference, but you won’t find them in Corros. Sonnen doesn’t abide such narrow-minded folk.” He looked over the landscape, frowning in thought. “Human or no, custodians are honored in Corros, and you won’t be ignored. We’ll soon discover who’s on our side, and those who may be swayed.”

  “How many of the High Council do we need on our side?”

  “It’s a majority vote of those present. There are twelve council members, one from each House. We’re fortunate that Corros is hosting the meeting, or this could be a very long trip.”

  “Maybe we can get the High Council to inspect the deadlands, see how it’s changed,” Danil suggested.

  “I expect some will be quite open to the idea,” Hafryn said. “The Eliar and Jolun Houses border the Orineye Sea—much of their trade is with human folk. They understand better than most the threat of the magi. Most other Houses are inland and have little interaction or care for what happens beyond Amas.” He leaned against the porthole, squinting against the buffeting wind. “Amas won’t sit idle should Roldaer invade. But we must convince them to make their stand in the deadlands.”

  Danil nodded. If the Roldaerian magi gained control of the deadlands, they could use the leylines just like Magus Brianna planned.

  “Decisions of the High Council aren’t always driven by what is good or obvious,” Hafryn muttered, eyes flicking to Arlyn. “At least the Eyrie councilor won’t be there. He rarely concerns himself with the larger issues of Amas.”

  “But there will still be Eyrie in Corros,” Danil guessed.

  “Aye, as personal guards to other the High Council members and those who can afford their fee.” Hafryn crinkled his nose. “I have little doubt they report all goings-on to the Eyrie councilor anyway.”

  “Maybe I’ll be able to discover who among them have owl Trueforms,” Danil murmured, determined to learn how to use his strange new gift at will.