Visioner (The Shifter War Book 2)

by K K Ness

  Eyebrows raised, Danil said, “If enchanters can’t find them, what makes you think I can? Maybe the stories about glyphs being returned are just that—tales sung to children and fools about faded glory.”

  A low hiss came from Merlias as she paced behind him. He tracked her steps on the boards.

  Viren smiled. “I have sensed a power within the repository. Something yet remains where the lodestone once sat. That is where your strange abilities will prove useful.”

  “And if I can’t do what you want?” Dani asked.

  Viren glanced meaningfully at Merlias, who had slowed to a halt behind Hafryn. She looked ready to gut him, or worse. Danil knew there was worse.

  The Eyrie councilor smiled benignly. “It’s in everyone’s best interest that you do.”

  22

  Left alone in the hold a short time later, Hafryn collapsed against a crate with a grimace. He gripped his side in obvious pain, sweat peppering his forehead.

  Danil hurriedly filled a cup of water from the nearby barrel and took it to him. “How bad is it?” he whispered. The shadow of two guards was visible from the grate above them, close enough to hear every word.

  “Give me a moment, fala,” Hafryn muttered, wincing as he stretched out his legs. He gratefully took the offered cup, taking careful sips.

  Nervous energy thrumming through him, Danil took a new glance about the hold. Their only escape, it seemed, would be through the hatch.

  Setting the cup down, Hafryn ran his gaze over Danil’s face. He reached up to run gentle fingers over a cut above Danil’s eye, before tilting his chin to examine the swelling of his left cheek.

  “Nothing’s broken,” Danil murmured.

  Relief showed in Hafryn’s face. “Same here, I expect. Thugs though they are, the Eyrie are far too exacting to inflict injuries that may later inconvenience them.” He glanced about the hold grimly. “They need us relatively mobile.”

  Danil opened his palm to examine the black glyph more closely. Underneath, the symbol of Sonnen’s House grew paler still, turning white like an old scar.

  Hafryn cursed softly. “Viren’s enchanter must be a glyph-breaker. Their talents are…unsavory to most folk.”

  Danil supposed it was hardly a surprise, then, that Merlias seemed so good at her task. Curling his hand into a fist, he wondered, “What if Sonnen thinks we just left Corros?”

  “He’d know better. Elania, too. At the very least, we would have sent word before wrangling Griff into flying us back to Kailon.”

  “We should never have left in the first place,” Danil murmured, despairing. Kailon lay unprotected and vulnerable, and now even more exposed to magi greed.

  Hafryn leaned forward to grip the back of his neck. “This isn’t your fault, fala.” He squeezed gently. “Were it not for you, Kailon would have already fallen.”

  Danil knew that Magus Brianna would have inflicted terror across the lands had her plans succeeded. But that hardly freed him of his responsibilities as custodian now. The leylines trusted him to keep them safe.

  Shaking his head to clear it, Danil asked, “How far is it to the repository?”

  “It’ll take weeks to navigate the river,” Hafryn muttered. He squinted up through the grate. “Judging by the speed of this ship, we’ll be at the Eyrie border in a few days.”

  But the border was weeks from Corros. “The ship is magicked?” Danil asked.

  Hafryn nodded grimly. “They often are—the current is too fierce without it.”

  That explained why Danil felt Kailon rapidly drawing further and further away. “We need to get off this ship, Hafryn.”

  Eyes on the grate above them, Hafryn promised, “We will.”

  Five guards took to monitoring them from within the hold.

  Seated beside Hafryn, Danil eyed them with obvious dislike, wondering if Viren had sent them down in light of their earlier conversation. Such precautions seemed unnecessary, considering Hafryn was unable to so much as stagger to the privy pot without assistance.

  Danil resisted the urge to watch the ghostly wolf Trueforms as they ranged about the hold. Like Hafryn’s wolf, they were russet red and green-eyed, and Danil abruptly realized that, together with the owls, he’d not seen any other type of Trueform among the Eyrie. He wondered if they were heading for a land solely of predators, or if he’d only been privy to the House’s warrior caste.

  As the day dragged on, the slosh of water against the hull lulled Danil’s senses. Hafryn was a warm, heavy weight against his side, his breaths deep and steady as if in sleep. His Trueform rested its head on Danil’s thigh, ears pricked as it tracked the pacing of the other wolves.

  Careworn and hungry, Danil judged it was well past midday based on the angled stream of light cutting into the hold.

  A sudden rap, like a butt of a staff urgently hitting the deck above, echoed in the hold. The hatch slammed open, and Merlias jumped down and motioned quickly to the guards.

  Hafryn stirred.

  Before Danil could move, two men yanked him up and dragged him toward the back of the hold. He heard a scuffle and grunt of pain as Hafryn was hauled after him.

  Merlias banged her fist against the wall. It gave way to a small compartment.

  “What’s going on?” Danil asked frantically as the guards dragged him inside.

  The ship rocked slightly as if adjusting to a new weight. Unfamiliar voices, muffled by the wood, announced themselves as members of the Corros harbor guard.

  Hafryn gave a pale, sweaty grin. “A search party, fala. Just as we expected.”

  Sneering, Merlias signaled to one of the guards, who kicked the back of Hafryn’s leg.

  As Hafryn staggered to his knees, the guard his head wrenched back and set a dagger against his throat.

  “Don’t—!” Danil gasped, fighting to reach him.

  “Quietly, custodian,” Merlias purred, taking a slow circle about Hafryn. “A sound from either of you and he dies. Understood?”

  Danil nodded desperately.

  Smiling, Merlias motioned for the guards to drag Hafryn into the compartment, blade still held at his throat. In the tight confines, Danil scarcely dared to breathe.

  Merlias struck the wooden wall again, and the compartment closed about them.

  Danil watched through a tiny crack as the enchanter climbed back through the hatch, her voice bright as she called out a greeting.

  A short time later, a newcomer climbed down into the hold, and Danil recognized the somberly dressed garb and dour expression of the young man.

  Griff…

  One of the guards clamped his hand over Danil’s mouth.

  The blue dragon stalked the length of the hold, idly checking some of the crates. Viren climbed down the ladder. He tucked his hands behind his back, green eyes amused as he tracked Griff’s wandering path.

  “I must say, Councilor,” Griff said as he continued his inspection. “I’m surprised to see you gone from Corros.”

  “My duties with the council ended with the vote.” Viren smiled placidly. “I yearn for the High Reaches of Eyrie, as do many of my people.”

  Griff returned to the ladder. “Of course.” He put a hand on the rail and wavered. “But you can see that timing of your absence is unexpected. It coincides with the disappearance of the human custodian, whom you had promised to protect.”

  Through the tiny crack, Danil saw Viren’s mouth twitch.

  “The human didn’t get what he desired from the High Council.” He shrugged eloquently. “I don’t blame him for leaving. My people were released from their duty the moment he left the citadel.”

  Griff nodded, mouth tightening slightly as he gazed about the hold once more. “And you have no idea where Danil may have gone?”

  “Ask my cousin, Griffin,” Viren said. “Unless Hafryn’s gone from Corros as well?” He affected a look of mild concern.

  “They’re both missing,” Griff conceded.

  “Ah, well, it appears where one goes the other will follow.
”

  Griff nodded, expression closed. “Indeed. Very well—I apologize for slowing your journey, councilor.”

  “Not at all,” Viren said, motioning for Griff to climb the ladder before following. “You’re most welcome to some refreshments.”

  “Another time, councilor.”

  The hatch thumped closed behind them.

  Danil tracked the dragon’s path across the deck. A short while later, the ship rocked again, marking Griff’s departure. From the corner of his eye, Danil saw the Eyrie guard lower the blade from Hafryn’s neck.

  “Well, that’s that,” Hafryn muttered.

  Danil couldn’t hide his dismay.

  23

  Three long days passed in the hold.

  For the most part, Danil and Hafryn were left at peace, their guards content to stay nearest to the hatch except to deliver surprisingly hearty meals of stews, meats, and vegetables. The reprieve did Hafryn well, with color returning to his cheeks and stiffness leaving his bones. With increasing frequency, Danil’s vision shifted to see his friend’s wolf Trueform pace in front of them, healthy and alert once more.

  But any sort of relief at Hafryn’s improvement was tempered by Viren’s repeated visits. The Eyrie councilor seemed to relish in the discomfort it caused, seeking details of their exploits in Kailon and Altonas. Hafryn had no hesitation in telling the man, but it made Danil wonder what tales Tresa had imparted to the High Council, and what she’d chosen to leave out.

  Other times, Viren merely sat and watched. Those visits disquieted Danil the most, with Viren’s Trueform so close to his face as to blot out any other view. In such moments, Danil pretended to sleep, muscles tense as he felt Viren’s smug amusement.

  At present, the councilor perched on a crate loaded with darkly glazed pottery protected with straw. He read from a packet stashed beneath his overcoat, the magelight above him dipping and swaying with the gentle rock of the ship.

  Danil sat with his back against the curved bulkhead, listening to the soft hush of conversation overhead and the snap and furl of the sails. Hafryn lounged beside him, sharing a blanket thrown down by one of the sailors the day before.

  The hatch opened, and a handful of Eyrie entered as Danil and Hafryn uneasily rose to their feet.

  “Ah,” Viren said, tucking the packet into his overcoat. He climbed down from the crate. “Time, is it?”

  “Aye, my lord,” one replied, a burly fellow with a balding head and owl Trueform.

  “Let’s not dally, then,” Viren said.

  Two men jostled Danil aside as others grabbed Hafryn by the arms and wrenched him up the ladder.

  “What’s happening?” Danil asked in alarm.

  Viren made a careless wave as he climbed the ladder. “By all means join us, custodian,” he said, his voice amused.

  Clambering after them, Danil squinted away the brightness of midday as he stepped up onto the deck. Tall grey escarpments marked both sides of the river where the water had cut deep into the landscape. The ship moved fast against the current, and Danil turned his face to the crisp breeze, momentarily reveling in its freshness.

  His attention snared at the prow, where Hafryn cut a lonesome figure against the railing. Merlias stood under the mast ten feet behind him, together with an archer who looked ready to fire at the first order. Sailors and guards alike observed Hafryn with cruel and leering amusement.

  Approaching, Danil noticed Hafryn’s white-knuckled grip on the railing as he stared out at the grey rocks jutting out of the water.

  “What is it?” Danil murmured, confused as to why they were out here.

  Hafryn shook his head minutely. “We’re close,” he murmured.

  “To Eyrie?” Danil asked, startled.

  Hafryn’s mouth thinned.

  “You’re right, cousin,” Viren observed, moving to stand beside them. The breeze tugged on the fine cloth of his cloak. “The marker for our territory lies past yon river bend. I thought it only appropriate you know the moment of your return home.”

  Hafryn’s grip on the railing tightened.

  “Of course, your dragon and his cohorts cannot enter Eyrie—not without initiating a war I’m certain few can afford.”

  Danil squinted. “The longer I’m gone from Kailon, the more likely Roldaer will take it for themselves. Then we’ll all be at war.” Eyes narrowing, he added, “What you’re doing—what you’ve done from the outset—is to the detriment of all in Amas.”

  Viren raised an eyebrow. “My duty is to Eyrie. Something I expect you’d understand, Danil.”

  He gritted his teeth in frustration.

  A pillar of stone in the center of the river pulled Danil’s attention. Water swirled around its base, but Danil felt drawn to the gleaming kiandrite seated in a cradle of stone at the top of the pillar. The magi would have no hesitation harvesting the crystal, Danil thought bitterly.

  A haunted look crossed Hafryn’s face as they drifted past the pillar.

  “Welcome home, cousin,” Viren uttered smugly.

  “I never thought—” Hafryn stopped, throat working.

  Danil could hardly imagine the pain of returning to one’s homeland when all that awaited was threats and hostility. Heart aching, he placed his hand over Hafryn’s on the railing and was rewarded to see his expression smooth over.

  With the Eyrie border behind them, Danil and Hafryn often found themselves escorted up on deck to take in the bracing spring air. Shadowed by Merlias and her archer companion, they positioned themselves in an out of the way corner of the stern as the grey escarpments gave way to forests of pine and oak and pockets of fields. A few children played on the banks, waving as they sailed past. None of the Eyrie waved back.

  Danil leaned against the railing, the breeze in his face. The current was against them, but the ship moved apace. He slid a gaze to the helmswoman, whose eyes were distant as she expertly steered the vessel past a trading boat making its way downriver. Tiny glyphs glowed on the wheel under her hand.

  They continued along the river for the remainder of the day, passing skiffs and fishing boats. Most were heading for Corros to trade, others supplying the small villages and hamlets that dotted the river.

  At Viren’s urging, the helmswoman continued on after sunset, using lamps at the head of the ship to light the way. As the moon rose above the river, off duty Eyrie congregated at the bow of the boat to share a flagon. Each poured a dram into a tumbler and tossed it over the side before taking a mouthful themselves.

  Hafryn muttered something under his breath and stalked past his armed escort to enter the hold.

  Danil watched him disappear with a quizzical look and made to follow.

  “They practice dranst,” Viren said from where he stood beside the helmswoman. He indicated for Hafryn’s guards to join the other Eyrie. “It’s a customary drink that only adult Eyrie may partake in.”

  That didn’t explain what irked Hafryn, however.

  Viren watched his companions with amusement. “Hafryn left before his maturation ceremony.”

  Mouth falling open, Danil asked, “So you don’t view Hafryn as an adult?”

  “Exactly so.” Viren smiled. “Of course, it is unlikely he would be welcome even if he’d completed the ceremony.” His expression turned conciliatory. “No need to take offense for your lover—a gentle reminder of his exile is better than the alternative, no?”

  Hafryn still bore the marks of their kidnapping. Danil shook his head. “I thought the cleansing ritual meant no Eyrie could hurt him.”

  Still smiling, Viren conceded, “It’s true that attacking someone so recently cleansed is prohibited. But with sufficient cause, a Keeper can make an exception.”

  Eyeing him with dislike, Danil said, “In other words, you can throw aside the protection whenever you damn well please.”

  Amusement showed in his green eyes. “If you’re wondering why I bothered at all, Danil, consider our company. Few believe Hafryn is deserving of the Eyrie name.”


  Danil’s gaze instinctively went to Merlias, whose owl Trueform perched upon the rigging above her. She sat aloof from the other Eyrie, scowling out into the night.

  “No,” Viren said, following his gaze. “Merlias follows my will. Nonetheless, I couldn’t risk anyone jeopardizing our mission by getting inventive.”

  Fighting off a shudder, Danil muttered, “Very thorough of you.”

  Viren smiled. “I’m glad you understand, Danil.”

  Gritting his teeth, Danil took his leave and followed after Hafryn into the hold. He startled to see the ghostly wolf Trueform on his haunches in the barred moonlight of the grate. Hafryn himself was curled under a blanket in the shadow of the bulkhead. Danil sat beside him with a sigh, watching how the wolf’s ears were folded back as laughter filtered down from the deck.

  “You’re seeing my Trueform, aren’t you?” Hafryn muttered with a huff, throwing back the blanket.

  “I don’t need to see it to know your thoughts.”

  Green eyes met his gaze. “You’re getting good at it—seeing Trueforms,” he observed grudgingly.

  Danil shrugged, wondering how it could possibly help them against Viren and his bloodthirsty enchanter. “We’ll need something better if we’re to get out of this.”

  Hafryn grunted. “Or my blades. And best before we reach the repository. If you can’t do what Viren demands—” He shook his head.

  “Will he kill us?”

  Hesitating a moment, Hafryn said, “He spoke truly about Eyrie not killing custodians, but do we really want to find out, fala?”

  Danil released a sigh, feeling exhaustion in his bones. “We have to get back to Kailon,” he murmured. “If I’m truly videre, it’s because Kailon needs me to be, not the Eyrie.”

  “Viren is smart, and that makes him arrogant.” Hafryn’s eyes grew hooded. “We’ll find our advantage.”

  Danil noted the weary lines about his friend’s eyes. “Just being among them hurts you, doesn’t it?”