Altered Destiny

by Shawna Thomas

  “Well, follow them and destroy them.”

  “Have you ever tried to follow a Svistra?”

  Fergus’s eyes widened as his mouth rounded. “Surely the rumors that they can disappear at will or turn into trees are false.”

  “They might as well be able to. My best trackers can’t find them.”

  “Then get new trackers. Incompetence is not an excuse.” Fergus fluffed one of his ruffles.

  “Then perhaps I better employ a Svistra tracker. Because that’s what it will take.” Nathan struggled to lower his voice and failed. “King Leisle appointed me to this position because he thought I would be able to read the signs and best command his men. So you tell him I need more men. The Svistra are massing, and my instincts tell me it won’t be long before they swarm south like a blizzard, destroying everything in their wake.”

  Fergus paled, his hand fluttering near his many chins. “T-the castle at Newhaven is of course secure?”

  Nathan leaned back, clenched and then unclenched his jaw. “If I can’t stop them here, I wouldn’t bet on it.”

  Oren’s cough carried down the hall, though with less force than it had a few days before. Selia pushed her hip against the door. “I brought you breakfast. Are you feeling better?”

  “Yup. Can I get up now?”

  She set down the tray on a wooden chest then felt Oren’s forehead. There was no sign of fever. “One more day?”

  “Ah, Selia, it’s boring laying here doing nothing.”

  “You could read.” She handed Oren a bowl of boiled oats.

  “You know I don’t like to do that.” A petulant tone entered Oren’s voice. It was so much at odds with the raw hunger she’d seen in the Svistra’s eyes when she handed him a book that Selia lost her train of thought. She chewed on her bottom lip.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  Oren gave her a clear look of disbelief. “Have you been taking Jaden food?”

  “Of course.” This morning he’d been playing with the kittens when she walked in, the mother cat watching from a distance.

  “Is he better?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you like him?” Oren asked between bites.

  Selia sat down on the edge of the bed. “It’s not that I don’t like him. He’s, well you know, he’s a Svistra.”

  Oren nodded and took a big bite.

  “Svistra are dangerous,” she continued.

  “But not Jaden. He’s my friend,” Oren mumbled around the food in his mouth.

  “Remember the bobcat we brought in last fall?”

  Oren smiled. “Yeah, Jemima didn’t like that much.”

  “No she didn’t. Do you remember what happened when the bobcat got well?”

  Oren’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “You think Jaden will do that? He’s not a bobcat. He’s a person.”

  “He’s not like us.”

  “I know. He’s been lots of places and knows lots of stuff.”

  She let out a long breath. Oren wasn’t going to budge. “Promise me you’ll be careful?”

  “If you promise me you’ll be nicer. I think you’re wrong about Jaden.”

  Better wrong on the side of safety, especially with a Svistra. She nodded. “Promise.”

  Oren stretched. “I am feeling better. Really I am. Just the cough. I’ll help you with the customers tonight.”

  Selia hesitated. It had been busy. As the locals recovered from their maladies, they arrived earlier and stayed at the tavern longer to hear the rumors of a full-blown war with the Svistra. Though the number of soldiers hadn’t increased, their attitudes had changed. She couldn’t miss the atmosphere of expectation. She eyed Oren then nodded. “But I’ll take supper to the Svistra. I don’t want you going out in the cold night air.”

  “Okay. But his name is Jaden.”

  His hands laced under his head, Jaden stared at the darkness above him as he lay on his bed of dried grasses. Selia hadn’t been in a talkative mood. Not that he could blame her—she was preoccupied, and the scent of worry hung on her like a shroud. She’d said Oren was well and would bring his dinner the following night. He heard the news with mixed feelings. Oren’s simple nature was a joy to be around, but he’d liked speaking with the female barkeep. Maybe too much.

  If he angled his head just right, he could see the night sky through the gaps between slatted boards of the barn roof. The Svistra read their future in the stars. He moved his gaze to the now-familiar rough wooden walls that were his sanctuary and prison. His future appeared as hidden as the stars in the overcast sky. The wall next to him bore fourteen small slashes, one for each day he spent under the rafters. He supposed he’d missed a few days when he was unconscious, but either way, he’d been here too long.

  Had it been the human’s god, Trickster, or the Blind Weaver who had put him in Selia’s path? Perhaps it was the Nameless One, the dark god, and the meeting was a portent to both of their deaths.

  He sighed. She’d brought him another book. When he’d handed back the first volume and thanked her for letting him read it, her eyes had widened but she hadn’t said anything.

  He reached for the leather-bound book, enjoying its solidity and the anticipation of what he’d find between the covers. He could read it tonight even by the dim light, but he preferred to wait until morning. It occupied his mind and kept him from jumping every time a horse neared the tavern. He could now outrun any pursuit, but Selia would be left to explain his presence, and that was unthinkable.

  Jaden sat, then slowly stood, fighting the dizziness. She and Oren had done a good job and his body was healing, but a familiar hunger grew. Human food was not enough. And his presence here was putting them both in more danger than they understood.

  In saving his life, Selia had created a bond not even he could break; he would repay the kindness whether she knew of it or not.

  With care, he walked down the corridor between the stalls, stopping to pat Jemima’s nose. The horse had been skittish of him at first, as most human-raised horses were, but Jaden had won her over with bits of carrot he saved from his dinner. His father raised horses. He understood them. Humans, however, were another matter altogether.

  Now what? It was a question with no clear answer, and he’d had plenty of time to think. He’d told Selia he would continue to track the Svistra movements. But even if he determined what his father planned, whom could he tell? Which human would believe him? Besides, could he really betray his people? His father had accused him of that at their last parting before ordering him whipped as punishment. Had the second whipping been ordered by him too? No. Those Svistra would have killed him had he not escaped. Perhaps he’d bear those scars courtesy of his brother. Tinlor had threatened to declare Jaden dead among the people. Am I dead? It was a question he supposed not many asked of themselves.

  He walked back down the aisle between stalls, filling his lungs with the moist and pungent air of the barn. Though not well, he was stronger than he let either Selia or Oren know. He hated to mislead them. But knowing how much he’d recovered would only increase Selia’s unease, and what was the good in that? Yet, though he was mending, his stay in the barn was weakening him too. He needed to hunt, and soon. The familiar ache had begun in the depth of his muscle and would soon spread through his frame until it burned like fire in his blood.

  With care, he loosened the board in one of the other stalls. He listened for several heartbeats. Nothing, save the steady drone of rain. With care, he stepped out into the night. He’d found the board shortly after he’d started walking the aisle between the stalls but hadn’t yet ventured beyond the barn’s confines. Tonight was different. Tonight, he’d test how well his body had healed.

  Chapter Five

  Keldar stifled a yawn and accepted the fealty the kneeling man before him offered. “Rise and be named, Harthol, friend of the House of Tanus,” he intoned, and stole a glance from the raised dais of the hall, down the aisle between the long tables
and the smiling faces, to assure this was the last pledge.

  As he rose to his full height to address those gathered, he glanced at the pile of jewelry, spices and gold that were now his. The ceremony was a necessity and he certainly appreciated the perks, but after a while these things were damn boring.

  He perused the crowd. Still better from up here than down there. He doubted even the prosperous province of Ibelin had ever seen such a display.

  His father’s death had forced him to suspend attacks on the humans while he journeyed north to take Tinlor’s herb-wrapped body to his people and then to ask for and receive the full backing of the Council of Barons. That only two barons had made an appearance caused him no loss of sleep. He’d given them short notice, and most of the landowners of the area had already pledged their loyalty.

  A woman moved through the back of the crowd. Her blond hair fell in waves down her back. Noe, another boon he’d soon enjoy.

  Marik, the owner of the hall and his host, smiled. Keldar returned the compliment before meeting the eager faces trained on him. Earlier that morning, they’d sent Tinlor’s body to Svi and his spirit to the land beyond the sun, where a life of plenty awaited him. His tunic still reeked of the pyre smoke.

  For the benefit of the crowd, he glanced to his boots, affixing a look of sorrow on his features. He didn’t have to try hard. He’d loved his father. But he could not afford to be made weak by emotions. “We have suffered a grievous loss—not the first our kind has endured at the hands of humans—but it will be among the last.” He paused and glanced up, letting the murmured approval run its course. “You have my vow that I will continue the work my father began. The house of Tanus has served the Barons since our history began. We will now strive to write a new chapter for our people. A chapter in which, once again, we will prosper in the land of our forbearers. Indeed, as many of you remember, the land was ours since Svi, glory be to the sun god, put his mark upon his people, long before the humans ventured north. Land that we earned again as we fought for the human kings. The years of trial are over.”

  The murmurs grew louder.

  “Your children will once again grow strong and thrive, and we will push these humans south from whence they came.”

  Keldar smiled as the murmurs turned to cheers. Whence. He’d borrowed the term from one of his father’s speeches but had to admit, it had a nice ring. He nodded and stepped down off the dais to receive the salutations and honor that were now his due.

  His warriors stood around the room, their gazes dulled by the long ceremony. Keldar narrowed his eyes. They weren’t ready for a full offensive, but his men grew restless. Crowd control at a peaceful gathering did nothing to hone skill. He’d give them something to do, a taste of glory—an appetizer before a feast.

  Against the wall, near the entrance, he again caught sight of Noe. Did she wonder why he’d summoned her? She’d been so proud when their fathers announced her engagement to Jaden, tossing her hair and smiling at everyone but refusing even to meet his gaze.

  I will claim everything that is now rightfully mine. His father hadn’t officially declared Jaden dead, but it was of little consequence with Jaden gone.

  Keldar caught Noe’s eye. Her cool, green gaze settled on him for a moment then found something more interesting across the room. Still proud. He smiled. That would only make taming her more fun.

  A cold, damp wind whipped Selia’s hair free from its braid and into her eyes. Cursing under her breath, she tucked the stray locks behind her ears. She pulled on Jemima’s lead rope and the horse quickened her speed for a few steps before settling back into the sedate pace she favored. Summer was late in coming this year and though flowers littered the forest floor, they did so under an oppressive grey sky.

  She had put off the trip into town as long as she could. Martha had complained too often that she was out of flour and low on salt. Sugar was a thing of the past, and Selia had run out of excuses for not fetching more supplies. In a fortnight, her life had changed almost beyond recognition.

  Only a little longer. He’ll be gone and then things will go back to normal. A part of her had to admit she enjoyed speaking with the Svistra. He always had an interesting observation about the world around him or pointed out a detail she’d overlooked in one of her books. He made her think about things she’d never before considered. The Svistra intrigued her, like no one else she’d ever met.

  The coin bag lay heavy over her ribs. Oren had offered to go into town and although she knew he loved both the walk and the general store, he let his mind wander and took twice as long as Selia to make the trip. Besides, she’d be home pacing and worried until he returned. Leaving the tavern untended was out of the question, especially with the Svistra, with Jaden, in the barn. He’d been asleep when she pulled a reluctant Jemima from her stall but then the sun still hadn’t risen from its place in the east. She’d left half a loaf of bread and a little porridge in the nearby hay but hadn’t woken him. If she knew Oren, and she did, he’d be out to visit his friend at the earliest opportunity. His friend.

  “Svistra are dangerous.”

  “But not Jaden. He’s my friend.”

  Oh, damn you, Oren. She hated complications, and a Svistra with a soul was a huge one. It had been much easier to think of him as a wounded animal, a dangerous wounded animal. She had to admit he’d done nothing to warrant her suspicion except being who he was. And could he help that?

  “No more than the bobcat.” Her voice sounded loud on the lonely road. That encounter had left Oren with a scar down the length of one arm, and still he’d pleaded with her not to kill it. She hadn’t.

  Common knowledge painted the Svistra as savage, no different than the large timber wolves that sometimes made their way down from the Telige. But Jaden had shown compassion and gentleness. She could still picture him playing with the kittens. An animal wouldn’t have done that, would it? An animal didn’t read, didn’t discuss the types of flowers in the field or the habits of barn swallows. Still, it was better to err on the side of caution and keeping the Svistra there was becoming too dangerous. He was sitting up now and visibly stronger. When she returned from the village, she’d tell him he had to leave.

  A rustle in the woods brought her out of her reverie. With an arrow already nocked, she brought the bow up, peering between the gloomy trees, seeing nothing but dense undergrowth on either side of the path. The hair at the back of her neck tingled as she strained to hear any further sound. Only the thud of Jemima’s hooves reached her ears.

  She didn’t lower her guard. Something or someone was out there; benign or enemy was the only question. She quickened her pace and strained her peripheral vision for any sign of movement. Jemima snorted, apparently annoyed at Selia’s impatience.

  A short distance ahead, the road curved abruptly before it straightened as it neared the village. It was as likely a place for an ambush as any. But why wait when she was obviously alone?

  Feigning an adjustment to Jemima’s pack, she made sure her sword was accessible, cursing herself for not wearing it. She’d have to put down the bow to put it on now and every instinct warred against that move. In the safety of the bar, she reasoned she wouldn’t need it. She’d be traveling during the day, the walk to the village took less than an hour, and she knew every stone and tree along the way. She’d been a fool. Her skin twitched, expecting the bite of an arrow any moment.

  Jemima stopped and pricked up her ears then whickered softly. The surrounding woods remained quiet. She couldn’t see anything that might have caught the mare’s attention. After a few tugs, Jemima resumed her plodding walk toward town. With every step, she closed on the blind curve.

  Despite the early morning chill, sweat formed on her brow.

  Another faint rustle. Selia paused and strained to hear anything out of the ordinary. The forest was quiet, too quiet. As the turn neared, she slowed her step and threw the lead rope over Jemima’s back. A branch creaked to her left and her arrow flew, thudding into a tree t
runk. Selia nocked another and froze, waiting. When nothing happened, and her heartbeat had slowed to just above normal, she continued walking. Jemima’s hooves plodding against the dirt road sounded loud in the quiet forest. As they passed the turn, she let out a long breath but didn’t lower her bow. By the time the first building came into view, Selia wondered if the strain of hiding Jaden and rumors of Svistra hadn’t got to her.

  “Still nothing?” Nathan walked the perimeter of Eagle Rock’s outer wall. It was old, but the large boulders and mortar holding it together appeared solid.

  Matias paused as Nathan bent to examine a crack in one of the larger boulders at the foundation of his first line of defense. “No. If they’re out there, they’re being quiet.”

  “Nothing for half a moon and more.”

  “Do you think they gave up?”

  Nathan stared at his friend. He’d served with Matias since they first grew whiskers. He was one of the few people Nathan called “friend.”

  “Stupid question,” Matias mumbled.

  “No, I don’t.” Nathan answered anyway, brushing off his hands. “But then I don’t pretend to know how a Svistra thinks.”

  “Solid?”

  “Enough.”

  When they arrived at the fortress more than two weeks before, the forest had grown to the foot of the fortification. Nathan had ordered his men to cut down every tree within a hundred feet of the outer wall. Others he had roaming the stone fortress with smoky torches in an attempt to discourage the colonies of bats from continuing to call it home. The land was now cleared and all but the most stubborn bats had fled, leaving the keep’s cold damp tunnels and the lingering smell of bat droppings to their human occupants. With the felled trees, they’d built tables, chairs and beds. King Leisle had ordered Eagle Rock to remain manned at all times, even after they drove the Svistra back to the Telige Mountains, a permanent deterrent against the bastards’ return.