The Shift of the Tide

by Jeffe Kennedy

  I looked back to the head of the kraken. Between Marskal and I, we had severed four of its tentacles and half blinded it. The remaining eye was the most vulnerable point on the creature. Taking grizzly bear form, I roared and loped forward. Three tentacles smashed into me and my essence began to drain again, but my momentum and terrible strength carried me through. The kraken turned, slicing its gargantuan beak at me, attempting to snap me in two. But my ursine form was too powerful for it and I twisted free, sinking my teeth into its remaining eye, digging my claws into the socket for purchase. As I spat its repulsive ichor from my maw, its remaining limbs reached for me, but I shifted to heron form and flew above its reach.

  Blinded, it flailed helplessly as Marskal meticulously severed each of its remaining appendages, then hacked off its beak. It seemed a long time before I felt strong enough to return to human form and dissipate the still-flailing pieces of the kraken with my remaining magic.

  The deed done, Marskal sat heavily on a rock outcropping, mopping sweat and gore from his brow. “We should go eat and rest,” he said. “Come back later.”

  “What if those things come back? Or the wolf-creatures. I still smell them, lurking in the back caverns.” At least they were too afraid to attack.

  “Do you have enough magic to finish?” He asked pointedly. “You’ve gone pale. And I don’t know how, but you look thinner.”

  The relationship between my shapeshifting and other magic had changed. The one somehow fed the other, drawing on my physical form, though I wasn’t entirely sure how. I’d have to practice with it, except that changing to Final Form would likely alter everything again. “I think I can do this,” I said.

  I approached the sleeping dragon and Marskal followed me, sword at the ready. As ever. I leaned palms against the softly scaled hide, like and unlike Kiraka. So much cooler. That couldn’t be good. But he grew more silvery in color with the giant parasite gone. Marskal stroked the dragon, too, tentative at first, then with more confidence. He glanced at me, a half smile on his mouth.

  “Why is he a different color than Kiraka?”

  “I don’t know,” I murmured thoughtfully, letting my magic tendrils wind in with the dragon’s sleeping mind. “Maybe each individual is different. Reflects who they were as people, perhaps.”

  “Then you will be a deep, sapphire blue,” Marskal replied in the same soft tone. “Like your eyes always are, no matter what form you wear. You’ll be beyond beautiful.”

  My heart tore itself a little at the words, at the sorrow in his voice. But I didn’t reply. I found the spark of consciousness deep inside, calling to him as I’d tried calling to Anya’s daughter to shift. Coaxing him to hear as Zyr had tried to do with me, showing the path.

  The dragon rumbled and stirred. Then lifted his head and opened his eyes. Silver light filled the room. He blinked at us. “Out,” he thought at me.

  “Yes,” I answered. “Follow us.”

  Marskal knew the way to the cliff openings onto the sea, so he led while I followed, encouraging the dragon all the while. Sea spray blew in the cave opening, blessedly cool on my overheated skin. Shifting had helped me, but Marskal had no such recourse. Still, he continued on, uncomplaining and undaunted.

  We’d been in the tunnels all night and now the sun rose behind the volcano, casting her rays on the turbulent winter sea. At the sight of it, the dragon leapt forward—and, reacting with warrior alertness, even exhausted and injured, Marskal pulled me into a crevice, protecting me with his body as the dragon thundered past, narrowing himself to snakelike slimness, then billowing into full form, his wings snapping open. He flew out and up, trumpeting his freedom, as the sun sparked off of his silver scales in the all the colors of fire.

  So beautiful. We’d done it.

  Marskal was watching the dragon fly with a rapt expression, Glorianna’s sun gilding him with loving fingers of rosy light. He belonged to that world, not to Moranu’s shadows. It was time for us to say the final goodbye. The sea churned below, reminding me of my true nature, eternally divided, fighting myself. It would be worse, being the dragon. I knew it in my bones. But it would also be inescapable. There would be no turning back. In time I’d forget that I’d wanted anything else.

  His gaze snapped to my face, as if he’d heard my thoughts. I cupped his beloved face in my hands, each line around his mouth and in the corner creases of his eyes a map of all his travels and battles. I kissed him, for the last time, and he returned it with ferocity, wrapping his arms around me with a groan. Our tongues tangled, flavors mingling, and I pressed myself against him, groaning with the longing to stay just like this forever.

  But I wrenched myself out of his arms. “I have to go.”

  He nodded. “Then let’s go. With you able to shift again, we can take the diagonal across the mountains. You can get us through the swampy parts.”

  I was already shaking my head. “Faster still for me to fly. I’ll go to Kiraka.” Before I could weaken and change my mind. “This is goodbye. You’re absolved of your duty.”

  His jaw clenched, the fire in his eyes not all from the sun. “Don’t try that nonsense. You know this has never been about duty for me. And you won’t be able to dismiss me so easily.”

  Not easily, no. Nothing had been more difficult, not even straining to shift. There is loving and being loved. “You’re right. I’ll never forget you.” I took a breath, finding it hurt, my chest so tight. “I do love you.”

  He smiled, caressing my cheek. “It’s so good to hear it, at last.”

  I pulled away from him. “And because I love you, I can’t let you give up your life.” I pulled the jeweled pin out of my hair and gave it to him. He clutched his fist around it, knuckles going white. “Go find your mossback girl and have many babies. But don’t give it to her. Save it for your daughter, maybe. Or just keep it, and remember what we had.”

  “Zynda,” he said, voice ragged, face ravaged. “Don’t do this.”

  “It’s done. Don’t try come after me. You won’t be allowed into Annfwn, so don’t even attempt it. If you love me, you can let me go. That’s why I’m doing this. For you. Have a good life.”

  He grabbed me and hauled me up against him. I should have been able to dodge him, which meant I didn’t really want to. He kissed me, deep and drugging.

  I wanted to resist. I really did. And yet I couldn’t find it in me. He fisted one hand in my unbound hair, holding me tethered to him. I’d been prepared for the other being our last kiss. This one caught me off guard, sneaking beneath my skin. The immediate prospect of losing him forever had me clinging to him, savoring these last moments of flesh to flesh. Once I took the Final Form, I’d never feel him again. The thought made me want to weep and rage. Instead I poured it into the kiss, longing rising in me and escaping in a long moan of despair.

  “I know,” he murmured, soothing me even then. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s go up and eat, get some sleep. Then we’ll talk”

  I looked at him, setting the image of him in my memory. “Food and rest don’t solve everything, my love.”

  He opened his mouth, and because I knew I’d never win an argument with him—never had, never would—I became the seabird slipping out of his arms. A sharp pain stabbed at me. Not heartache, but the loss of a feather he grabbed and plucked out.

  Let him have it.

  I winged out of the cave, into the sky. Putting the rising sun at my back, I headed to Nahanau. And Kiraka.

  ~ 28 ~

  I flew directly to Kiraka, not stopping in Annfwn or at the palace in Nahanau. Having learned my lesson with Marskal, I didn’t dare try to say goodbye to anyone else. It was too difficult, and I wasn’t that brave. Once in Final Form, I’d change my name and no one would know it was me. I’d vanish as if I’d died in truth. I hadn’t been back to human form since I’d shifted in Marskal’s arms to escape his grasp.

  Kiraka watched me circle in, wearing falcon form. She lay sprawled across her meadow, blinding gold in the sun. I searched
carefully with my falcon’s keen sight for any glimpse of Dafne or anyone else nearby—one reason I’d chosen the form.

  Seeing no one about, I landed and shifted to human form. A stiff breeze off the ocean caught my hair, whipping and tugging it. My heart shifted in my chest at the sensation, and I suddenly missed Marskal with a desperation bordering on panic. Steam billowed from Kiraka’s nostrils, but I felt no fear. In fact, I’d almost welcome it if she incinerated me again. I didn’t care anymore if I lived or died.

  Do you have a death wish? The pained way Marskal had voiced that question came back to me, and I knew it would hurt him terribly if I died. I needed him to go on living, to be happy, and make babies with some pretty mossback girl and… irrational and angry jealousy flared up. I wasn’t capable of that kind of generosity, so no thinking about that. Just picture him happy.

  Once I was the dragon, I wouldn’t care so much.

  “It doesn’t work that way, you know, little changeling.” A whisper of dry humor, steam hissing over coals.

  “Hello, Lady Kiraka,” I spoke aloud, since there was no one to overhear. “I’ve satisfied your terms. I’ve freed the dragon under Windroven. I’ve survived your tests and challenges, and am ready to take Final Form.”

  “How many forms do you have?”

  Here we were. I stood on the precipice. “I have one hundred and forty-seven forms.”

  “Good. Show me.”

  I became the hummingbird. First Form. Forever associated with Marskal and his strong, loving hand. Then I became a white seabird. And a raven. And an owl. All the birds I knew. Then into the four-legged creatures. With a vast well of replenished power, I showed off my many forms—all but the aquatic ones, as I had no desire to suffocate.

  I ended up back as myself, wearing the gown I’d used to bring with me by default. No hair pin. I’d left that with Marskal. I hoped he would give it to his daughter someday. Along with a feather from a white seabird who flew away with a broken heart.

  “The conditions are satisfied. Here is the knowledge.”

  It slid into my mind, so simple. As if I’d always had the form. In a way, perhaps I always had. It had been one of Moranu’s shifting faces. And it would be my last one. Forever.

  I want forever, Marskal had said, with that bright and burning conviction.

  I sank to my knees, crumpling under the weight of my dread and turbulent emotions. Had I ever felt so much before Marskal? I didn’t think so. He’d awakened something in me that wouldn’t sleep again. As if I’d lived in a hibernation of my own all these years, believing myself free when I was only alone. If I’d been so free, why had I always felt such a need to escape?

  Only with him had I lost that constant search for the opportunity to flee.

  I hadn’t been trapped, I’d found a home.

  Just when I had to give it up, forever.

  “I warned you the price would be higher than you could imagine then.”

  I wiped the tears from my face, uncertain if the voice had been Moranu or Kiraka.

  It didn’t matter.

  Slipping the tethers to my human form, the body Marskal had caressed and loved so well, I reached for Final Form.

  ~ 29 ~

  I found him slogging through the mountains well inside the Annfwn border. Of course, the stubborn man. How he’d made it so far, so fast, I had no idea.

  He rode one staymach horse and led the other—still in the complementary black and white coloring I’d given them. Amazing that he’d persuaded them to continue to serve him. But then I knew well how persuasive my mossback could be.

  My dragon wings cast a vast shadow as I soared low, surprised and yet not to find his face turned toward me, studying my descent with a fixed, narrow-eyed stare. He knew me. My heart, a larger, stronger one than I’d ever had before, raced with more than flight.

  True to the promise, dragon form preserved all my intellect, which meant I still retained every human emotion. Perhaps more, because the sight of Marskal’s face turned toward me made me feel the love for him with excruciating immediacy. I’d come to see him first, of everyone who loved me. He deserved that much. And I’d made him a promise.

  I folded my wings, landing in the chilly marsh water with a sigh of pleasure. Being a dragon was hot, and any cool had become a treasured treat. Marskal raced the horses toward my landing, hoofbeats thundering like the steaming blood through my immense scaled body. He halted the horse in a spray of mud and gravel. Exhaustion lined his face, and made circles under his eyes. I’d done that to him, and yet he still chased after me. He swung down, strode forward, then stopped.

  “Zynda.” He spoke my name in wonder and satisfaction. “I was right. Deep, sapphire blue. Even your eyes. I’d know you anywhere.”

  I hesitated, terribly afraid of what might come next. But he loved me. More, I loved him. That had changed me, in more ways than I’d known.

  Marskal approached closer, relieved joy relaxing his face. “You came back. You changed your mind. I haven’t changed mine,” His voice shook with deep emotion. “Change the staymachs into birds and we’ll go to Annfwn. You’ll let me stay with you—be your human companion.”

  Taking a breath—oddly, finding it more difficult than the reach to Final Form, or rather, not Final Form at all—I let go, and became myself again.

  He staggered back, face going white. But only for a moment. Then Marskal had me in a grip so fierce not even my shifter strength could break it. A strange sound came out of him, part laughing, part gasping for air. He reared back and cupped my face. “What sorcery is this?” he demanded.

  “I forgot something,” I said. Not the right words, but at least I’d managed to speak. I would have to get used to remembering that I couldn’t think my words as in dragon form. I shook my head. “I mean, no. Moranu, no. You will not be my human companion. I’d have to incinerate every female who made eyes at my handsome, stalwart mossback, which means we’d run out of women before long. Not a good idea.”

  “I don’t understand.” His hands flexed on my face, ran down over my arms. “How are you back from Final Form? I saw you as the dragon.”

  “Yes, well, it turns out that Final Form is not so final.” I laughed, raggedly, and wiped the tears from my face. I hadn’t even realized I’d been crying. “It only happens after centuries in that form, and then only if the shifter decides to stay in it and not shift back. Kiraka just never bothered to tell me that, because she wanted to test how much I’d give up.”

  “You gave up everything,” Marskal whispered, pain in his eyes.

  “Yes. And it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Except maybe for this. Marskal, do you love me still—even after the way I left you?”

  He cracked a weary smile. “Oh, I’m pissed about that, but I still love you. I’ll always love you.”

  “I love you, too.” I said it and it felt good. Right and beautiful and part of life. “Is the offer still open?”

  His brow cleared, but his eyes crinkled in question. “Which offer?”

  “Everything. Will you father my children, and protect them and me? Can we live in your house near your family—I will want that lake—and in Annfwn, too? I’ll need to be there a lot of the time, but maybe—”

  He stopped my words with a long kiss, the relief and delight vibrating through him. I clung to him, immeasurably reassured to find he could still be my ground and my center. Gathering the fall of my hair in his hands, he held me close. Encircled in his arms, but not trapped. And we kissed each other as if we’d been apart for centuries.

  As if we’d never part again.

  “There’s one more thing,” I told him.

  He laughed and kissed me. “I don’t care what it is. This is more than I ever hoped for.”

  “I have to tell you,” I insisted. “I promised.”

  Going still, he searched my face. “You stayed alive.”

  I laughed. “That, too. But the other. It’s very early, but shifting to dragon form—recovering my shifting�
��it’s given me new insight into my body. I discovered something.”

  I took his hand and laid it over my belly, watching the delighted wonder fill his face. “Don’t get too excited,” I warned him, feeling breathless.

  “Too late,” he whispered, reverence in it. He cupped the small life in his big hand, just as he’d once held and preserved me.

  “I don’t know what being a dragon will do,” I continued doggedly. “And I have to do that. So it could—” I put my hand over my mouth to stop more words. Marskal gently pulled my hand away and kissed me.

  “Thank you for telling me,” he said against my mouth.

  “I’m so afraid,” I answered.

  “I know.” He slipped a hand into my hair and drew me against his chest. His heart thundered under my ear, and his scent filled my senses, bringing me home. “We’ll get through it together. I will love no less for a short life than a long one—none of it can break me. And it won’t break you. Look at you.” His smile filled his face. “You’re a fucking dragon! You’ll be the most spectacular mother under Moranu’s gaze.”

  I laughed. “Only you.”

  “Only us,” he replied, kissing me with such tenderness my heart nearly stopped.

  “I want forever,” I breathed against his mouth.

  He laughed, all the music of life in the sound. “As my lady desires.”

  “Want a ride?” I asked him, batting my lashes.

  “Yes. But if you drop me in the water, I’ll take revenge.”

  “You can try.” I stepped back and flashed into dragon form. Marskal unstrapped the packs from the horses and I clutched them in my talons. The staymach horses became birds, circling my head joyfully. Marskal climbed onto my back.

  “Ready!” he called.

  With the strong clasp of his thighs close against my skin, I spread my wings and took to the sky.

  The story continues in the next of tales of The Twelve Kingdoms and The Uncharted Realms: