Ba’al’amawer’s deep voice rose like a small earthquake. His muzzle and great horns lifted as his deep-set eyed swiveled around the great chamber. None dared meet them, but dropped in deference to the huge Minotaur with the crossed swords on his breasts and the twin hilts beneath his enormous man-like hands. They might be slow to anger, but a Minotaur enraged might be equated with a high-mountain avalanche: steep, cold and as implacable. Once hit, one died under its rolling, impervious menace.
“Our enemies have magic,” he rumbled, forcing both Malik and me, and even Padraig, to swivel toward him, aghast.
“What?”
Ba’al’amawer’s enormous bull shoulders rose and fell in a calm Minotaur shrug. “They fear what we have, the magic powers we call our own. Despite this, some control it, use it, and yes, hide it. Through it, they saw the princess depart into what she thought was hidden. Thus they sent the crude spies to track her down. And seize her royal person.”
“They have magic?”
First Lieutenant Grey Mist’s voice rose amid the muttered babble that rumbled from a hundred throats. A huge, grizzled Griffin with more experience than any save Malik and I for fighting the Raithin Mawrn enemy spoke, his voice rising on a sharp crescendo. “Those bloody hypocrites. They slay our folk while believing magic evil, yet they –”
“Thus they took her,” Padraig said into the malicious silence, his tone icy. “They hurt her.”
“She’s faking it,” I said quickly, before the room might erupt into outrage. “She’s delaying them.”
Malik nodded at the same time Ba’al’amawer rumbled, “Our princess was hale and healthy when they abducted her.”
“She’s too smart to fight them,” I said. “She’s forcing them to slow down. By delaying them, we can catch up and rescue her.”
Ba’al’amawer’s bull brown eyes watched me with quiet assurance, his curving horns rising from his head all but touching one another at the tips. His bovine ears twitched occasionally, and his muzzle failed to smile. Minotaurs could smile if they wanted to: it just never looked quite right. To those unfamiliar with Minotaurs, or their facial expressions, it appeared much like the baring of broad teeth.
His adjutants, Raga and Muljier, flanked him, wearing the same twin swords, long cloaks and Eastern Sun clasps. They ignored me as though I was but a serf and beneath their notice. In better times, I raised more than one tankard of ale with them, sharing laughs and lewd jokes about our superiors. Once friends, now enemies, they remembered Dalziel as though it happened yesterday.
“Our until-recently absent brother may be quite correct,” the Chief rumbled. “Our adored princess is as conniving as a cat at a mouse hole. Our eyes in the sky report more Raithin Mawrn have crossed our borders and ride hard toward the heart of our land.”
Malik raised his eyes from his reports. “Whose eyes?”
“I ordered a Griffin patrol to seek out the Shifters,” Ba’al’amawer continued, his tone mild. “Those in closest contact with the enemy. They sent a messenger.” His huge head swiveled over his massive shoulder at the same moment his ears twitched. “She should be here – ah! She arrives.”
Malik’s human door wardens opened the huge double doors onto the broad stone and tile patio lined with a low stone wall. A huge pillar perch stood atop the wall where a winged messenger might await the Lord Captain Commander’s pleasure.
At Malik’s gesture, the slender light brown Griffin with her ever pristine mane of white feathers dropped to the floor and furled her huge wings over her shoulders. She saluted. Her clenched taloned fist rested over her breast as her beak dropped, granting obeisance to her superior. A light chain hung around her wide lion shoulders with the emblem of her rank resting against her feathered chest.
She’s a First Lieutenant now, I observed, by its lion’s head emblem. She advanced in rank since I saw her last.
“Report, Lieutenant Sky Dancer.”
Sky Dancer saluted again. “My lord Captain Commander. The Raithin Mawrn have halted. They’ve Her Highness in custody, yet they’ve stopped a hundred leagues from the border. They’ve taken shelter within caves, fearing we may fall upon their rear. Reports indicate Her Highness has fallen ill.”
“As I’ve just heard,” Malik snapped. “What else?”
“By the conversations our Clan spies overhear, my Lord Captain,” Sky Dancer continued smartly, “they themselves speculate that Iyumi has created this illness as a delaying tactic. Yet, they dare not continue should they be proven wrong. She lies in a faint, and they haven’t the strength to force her to move. They are but a small number of simple humans, four at most. They need help.”
“Someone is coming to meet them,” I said, forcing Sky Dancer to glance my way. “Right?”
When I spoke, Sky Dancer recognized my voice. Her face swiveled, her eagle’s beak slackening in disbelief. Taking in my Atani uniform, my unnatural good health and standing at Malik’s right hand, her amber eagle’s eyes widened in un-military fashion. Like all Atani, she hated me on sight, though no Griffin died at Dalziel. Atan brothers died, and I yet lived and breathed. That was condemnation enough in her keen raptor’s vision.
“Who?” Malik asked. “Surely not –”
With swift precision, Sky Dancer pretended I didn’t exist and faced Malik as though I hadn’t spoken. “The Raithin Mawrn wait for their heir apparent. He’s on his way to take command and escort Her Highness with royal pomp into Raithin Mawr.”
“Prince Flynn himself?”
“Indeed, my Lord Captain. Our spies inform us he intends to wed her and bind our two nations under one.”
“That’s half the prophecy,” Malik muttered, scowling and staring at his maps. “Where, Sky Dancer?”
Half-flying, half-leaping toward the table, Sky Dancer bent her huge head toward the strewn maps and papers, her wicked beak parted. Furling her angel’s wings, her lion tail lashing from side to side, her right talon rose, hovered, and then lit upon a point midway between our position and the border of Raithin Mawr. “There, my Lord Captain.”
“He’s not even close to succeeding,” Malik muttered, peering down. “Does he even realize we can drop on him before he can take a shit?”
“No, my Lord Captain.”
Sky Dancer raised her beak, her fierce eyes wild with enthusiasm. My presence failed to deter that or her confidence. “They think themselves secret and undiscovered. My unit remains high, among the clouds or hiding in the sun. They’ve no clue they’ve been detected and followed. Sir.”
“Of course they hide themselves,” I said, earning myself a raptor glare. “They know we’ve eyes in the sky. What are their exact coordinates?”
Sky Dancer replied to Malik, not me. “My Lord Captain, they’ve taken shelter within the caves along the Khai River. Those beneath the towers, sir.”
Malik turned away, seeking the caves Sky Dancer spoke of on his maps. His fingers traced as his brow furrowed, his full lips thinning in concentration. Ba’al’amawer politely and respectfully, his bull head nodding his regard, pushed me aside to add his opinion as several officers, Padraig included, leaned forward to see better.
With those around the table intent upon the map, only I caught the sign.
The instant Malik’s back turned, Sky Dancer’s hardened eagle’s eyes met mine. Her raptor’s beak slammed shut. Black-tipped ears canted backwards as her lion’s tail lashed behind her in a short, rapid back-and-forth manner. ‘Twas clearly Griffin body-speech for: ‘I’m pissed but royally.’
Ah, so the predator sought her prey. I stilled my eyes from rolling. How dramatic.
Behind Malik and out of his direct sight, Sky Dancer’s predator eyes promised swift retribution. Her right fist rose as her naked talons crisscrossed in a rapid-fire sequence. I recognized that ancient sign – vengeance. A dire warning, a singular promise. I’d die the instant Princess Iyumi returned home and this mission closed.
Her flat, raptor’s gaze never left mine, nor my challenging response left hers. Forget that
I saved her from an Raithin Mawrn trap not so many years ago. Forget the time I changed into a Griffin and flew wingtip to wingtip with her in a dance of wind and sun and clouds. Forget how I shed my blood alongside hers for our King and sovereign nation. Forget how she flirted with me, pleaded I remain a Griffin for life and be her mate.
I straightened my spine, answering Sky Dancer glare for glare. She wasn’t at Dalziel. I was. She heard the rumors. I knew the truth. Atani soldiers died while hostages survived. She and her ilk cared little for the lives saved and mourned the deaths of those who embraced it.
Sky Dancer stiffened suddenly and her wicked talons dropped as Malik spun on his heels. His hooves clicked sharply on the slate tiles as his tail whipped sideways in the wind of his rapid movement. I always suspected Malik had a third eye that watched all behind his very back. Perhaps his magical powers informed him of the malicious activity his eyes failed to see. I know my own magic wasn’t that puissant. Mine was geared more for tricks and sleight of hand than Malik’s subtlety.
His hooded gaze caught Sky Dancer within their dark depths as though reading her mind and her animosity. Her beak rose and her eagle’s eyes lost their savagery. Resuming their military, under-inspection blankness, her amber raptor’s eyes narrowed to stare straight ahead of her. Her right foot hit the mosaic tile at the same moment her angry tail ceased its lash.
He wasn’t fooled, however. I knew Malik too well to be taken by his innocent I-don’t-know-what’s-beneath-my-nose façade. He knew immediately Sky Dancer threatened me, and she knew full well he knew. Still she faced him, unrepentant, fearless, and uncompromising. She had a backbone, all right.
Beneath his scrutiny, Sky Dancer stood at attention, her eyes front, talons on the tile, and her lion’s tail stilled. “My Lord Captain Commander.”
“Do we have a problem here, Lieutenant?” Malik asked softly.
“No, my Lord Captain.”
“What do you want, Lieutenant?”
“My next orders, my Lord Captain.”
“Good,” he replied, his tone icy.
He turned back to his conference table and officers, his hands clasped behind him. Sky Dancer stood as though under inspection, silent and well-disciplined. I turned my back on her to squeeze my way between officers to have a look at the map myself – and drew up sharply.
Cian watched me with the same predatory intensity that marked Sky Dancer’s vengeful eyes.
My blood grew as cold as Malik’s voice.
“If Prince Flynn runs his horses into the ground,” Malik continued, his attitude frosty, “he could easily arrive at the caves by sunset. We must have our people and plans in place before then. That gives us only six hours.”
Cian and I locked eyes.
One of the Griffin flight leaders stirred, his feathers ruffling. “My Lord Captain,” said Commander Lightning Fork, his voice tight. “Permission to speak.”
“Of course, Commander.”
“A Shifter brought word of a storm rolling toward the Khai River Valley.”
“That may slow Flynn down,” Padraig observed, running his hand through his dark locks.
Malik brightened slightly. “It may be enough to give us the edge. We must conduct this mission with utmost quiet and secrecy, people. We dare not alarm her kidnappers, for they may kill her out of hand. Should they get wind of our approach, they may seek to hide behind her, cowards, knowing we’d never risk her life.”
Cian stared at me and I him.
Malik studied the map on the table before him, took up his quill and scritched yet another notation.
“We must have absolute surprise,” he said, raising his head. “Our numbers are strong; our Shifters must hide in various guises and report on every word, every movement and every fart. The Griffins’ unit will mark Flynn’s progress toward the river. Communication is essential – we must know where he is at all times.”
He nodded at the Griffin flight leaders: Commanders Storm Cloud, Lightning Fork and Swift Wing. “We need eyes from above watching their every move. Order your Griffins to maintain contact with the Clan on the ground. We need their eyes and their speed as messengers.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. What is that boy up to?
“I have Lieutenant Gaear and a dozen Shifters in various guises nearby, listening and watching,” Chief Ba’al’amawer rumbled. “Their current reports are right there, my Lord Captain. The four spies haven’t stuck their noses from the cave since they went in, though whether they suspect they’ve been compromised isn’t yet known. Five units of cavalry ride with my Minotaur infantry, marching hard toward the Khai River.”
Malik nodded. “Now tell me something I don’t know.”
“We have but ten days to the dawn when the sun and moon rise together, my Lord Captain,” Ba’al’amawer replied. “According to His Majesty’s esteemed scholars, the dark side of the moon occurred three months ago – three cycles. The tenth day from today marks the end of the third cycle.”
Malik nodded. “You’re absolutely correct, my friend. That dawn must rise without the child or Princess Iyumi anywhere but in our hands.”
“My Lord Captain,” said Lieutenant Wind Warrior, a Griffin with an unusual black mane that ran under his belly. “Perhaps our Griffins should attack, hard, now, drive Prince Flynn away –”
Malik’s shaking his heavy head forced the dark, grizzled veteran to slowly shut his beak.
“I wish to humiliate Flynn,” Malik said slowly, grimly. “I plan to gaze into his pitiful, cowardly eyes and name him craven. I’ll send him home to his despicable sire with his tail between his legs and a message: ‘Keep your filthy hands off our Princess, our King, and our land or I’ll personally cut both your throats.’”
In the tense silence, Malik jerked his head at me.
I stepped forward smartly as Chieftain Ba’al’amawer retreated aside with his massive head bowed. All jumped swiftly when Malik was irritated.
“Van, I want you –
A scream rose, deafening across the chamber. “Die as she died!”
I reacted without thought.
As the officers around the table slewed about in surprise, taken off-guard, I shoved Malik hard with my shoulder and my limited magic. Like the others, he first gaped in confusion, his eyes seeking the threat, his mouth open. Despite his size and four legs, he staggered under my charge, his hooves unable to catch on the slick, slate tiles. His arms flailing, he slid several feet, well away from me and the impending attack.
I knew Cian planned to kill me, here, in this chamber in front of the others. I read it in his calm eyes, recognized his intent to die. Murder me, then die moments later under the expected retaliatory strike from Malik or one of the other officers. I’d no need to read his mind, had I been able to. His eyes told me everything.
Flames burst over the conference table, forcing the Atani officers into recoiling and burning Malik’s precious reports. Padraig shouted something I couldn’t hear as the Griffin flight leaders screamed, leaping backward, wings flaring, and smoke curling from their feathered manes. Ba’al’amawer’s guards bellowed and rushed him, catching him low across his waist and forcing him down as the ball of fire raced across the huge chamber.
Its destination me, it passed over the heads and horns of the Minotaurs, dismissed Padraig out of hand, and rushed upon me with the speed of a striking snake. Leaving behind blackened wood, ash and an outraged, yelling Atani council, it streaked toward my chest and homed in.
Having worn the shape of an angry serpent a hundred times, my skill in dodging that very creature outstripped the ball by several, important seconds. Before an eye might blink, I dropped to my belly. The fireball passed harmlessly over my head.
I felt its heat crisp my neck, my back, and its flames licking my breeches and warming my boots. Its crackling evil snicked into my ears, its hungry mouths seeking nourishment from the air, and, having missed its target, sought new prey. It passed beyond me in an eye-blink and into
empty space, harmless.
Cian, you stupid –
The thought rose in my head and halted as a rising scream of agony rose high, overwhelming the shouts loud in the chaotic chamber. I scrambled halfway to my knees, confused. What did the fire find? Who stood behind me – Gods, no –
Sky Dancer.
Still at disciplined attention she waited, obviously unable to see the danger streaking toward her through the tangle of Minotaur and Centaur bodies. Cian’s deadly magic, his hatred and lust for vengeance missed me and honed in on the next viable body. An innocent whose only crime was to be in that chamber at that moment.
I whirled around, sitting up, cursing, my mouth dry. The fireball struck her dead on, setting her feathered mane alight and spreading to her face, her lion body – her tawny, trim frame. Within a fraction of a second, she lit up like a holiday bonfire.
I didn’t bother to think. A Shifter changed himself or herself into anything at all – anything real or imagined. I practiced often enough as a youngster, my experience as an Atan honed my skills to a fine edge. Many Clansmen needed seconds to change. Sky Dancer would die in those seconds.
Before the flames caught a firm hold, or bite too deeply into her lion fur, I altered. Water. Only water might swamp those wicked flames and cool her burns. Two or three large buckets might suffice, but I never did anything by halves.
My body, shaped into of a wall of water, cascaded over Sky Dancer and drenched her from her beak to her tail. I swept away and drowned the flames, engulfing her body and prevented new fires to birth from loose embers. My cool and soothing currents prevented Cian’s attack from seizing a firm hold. Or so I hoped. The fire blackened her body, scorched away her feathered mane. Raw patches of flesh gleamed reddish and angry across her neck, chest and back. The flames scorched up her wings, charring her feathers halfway to their furthest tips. What remained smoked lazily as she weakly waved her wings, trying to remain upright and on her charred, taloned feet.
Was I in time? Did Cian’s vengeance take out one I loved? For, despite her hatred of me, I did indeed love her. I didn’t exactly have eyes to see with, but I felt her heart racing beneath my touch, heard her sharp intake of breath. I felt her struggles to breathe beneath my weight as her pulse beat a frantic rhythm. Thank all the gods there are – she drew in ragged gasps, agony widening her eagle’s eyes and beak. She was alive. Alive.
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