Come.
The single word echoed in her mind, seeming to fill her room and vibrate out into the night air. She suddenly felt an overwhelming pull, spreading from her stomach to her chest, rooting in her heart and tugging her toward the front door. She crawled out from under her woven quilt, three different silk pillows scattering across the floor with the movement.
She pulled a silk sari around her waist, tossing the loose end over her shoulder to quickly cover her bare skin. She hesitated before the door, her hand on the latch, vivid memories of the storm haunting her mind.
Come.
She turned the latch and stepped out into the night.
Come… Come… Come…
The whisper became more urgent, more constant, the sound seeming to ring from her mind up to the stars. Jacquin knew even as she walked that there was something odd, inhuman about the call, but she couldn’t resist it. Was she still dreaming? In a vision? She couldn’t tell anymore.
Her bare feet seemed to float across the sand as she journeyed beyond the market, past the dance circle to the wall of Oasis. Still the call beckoned, urging her beyond the town’s border.
She raced toward her sanctuary, to the pile of broken wagons and carts and leapt from axle to wheel to trembling roof until she could jump up and grab the edge of the city wall. Her fingers scrambled, searching for purchase, and finally she pulled herself up to the edge.
She stared out at the desert, stretching endlessly into the night. Rolling dunes of sand dotted with the occasional cactus and scrub brush. Oasis was named for the natural oasis in the center of the town proper, but just outside the walls any sign of water or shade disappeared. The only inhabitants able to survive in the harsh ocean of sand were vicious reptiles and sand worms.
Jacquin walked along the wall, traveling along its narrow ledge like a tight-rope walker until she reached a section where a camel-trader’s barn met the wall. She scampered down the edge of the barn, her feet hitting the ground with a heavy thump. The camels in the barn rustled at the noise but quickly settled back down to sleep.
Jacquin raced out into the night, the pull in her chest warming and growing stronger with each step until it suddenly dissipated. She paused at the sudden loss, coming to her senses as the chill of the night sank into her skin and she realized where she was. She rarely traveled beyond the walls of Oasis, not out of fear, but common sense. All it would take was a misplaced foot and she could be bitten by a poisonous snake or sink into a sand-worm’s tunnel, disappearing forever. And that was without the threat of highwaymen or drunken merchants.
As she turned to return home, she heard a shift in the sand. She whipped around and froze, her heart stopping in her chest, her breath catching in her throat.
A small, lithe creature covered head to toe in cat-like fur, her tabby-orange ears folded back against the top of her head approached. The creature sniffed the air, a green-glass curved sword glistening on her belt. A changling. The call had been a trap.
Jacquin had heard stories of changlings, vicious, primal creatures from the north once thought extinct. The history books were full of wars with the changlings, including the battle believed to have wiped the species from Aggar, but merchants swore they had returned, brought stories of changling tribes traveling south, desecrating villages and attacking travelers unfortunate enough to find themselves in their path. What were they doing in Oasis? Her recent visions flooded her mind, visions of people dying, slashed and shot with glass weapons. A changling attack.
Jacquin’s hand twitched, wanting to reach for the knife she often wore at her hip but she hadn’t brought it with her. She had nothing but the sari. She racked her mind, trying to remember how to escape a changling, nervous that any movement would be seen as an invitation to attack. Changlings were conniving, vicious and impossibly fast. She’d never escape.
She breathed deep, clenching her fists at her sides. So this is how she’d go, slashed and gored by a feral changling in the desert. Would anyone find her body? Know what happened to her? Would there be any warning before the changlings attacked Oasis in force?
She’d always thought she’d see her own death before it happened.
The changling prowled forward, her claws catching the moonlight until they glowed. Her hands were the perfect blend of cat and human, with long, slender fingers and wicked, curved claws. She wore a leather loincloth and little else, a belt at her waist holding her sword and a water skin. She seemed to be traveling alone. A scout.
The creature moved until she stood directly before Jacquin. She was nearly two heads shorter, but she radiated lethal danger. The changling looked up into her eyes, gold irises meeting Jacquin’s brown. Jacquin licked her lips, her mouth dry with fear. “Please. Don’t.”
The changling reached out, but instead of attacking, she touched Jacquin’s waist, laying a hand on the exposed skin near her navel.
Jacquin was instantly submerged in a pool of vision and memory, the images spinning and spiraling together in an unintelligible blend. She could smell pine and snow, blood and sulfur. Her body radiated both heat and cold, her mouth coated with the taste of blood. She felt split between too many bodies, felt claws extend and retract in her hands, the feel of cold glass, both at her hip and thrust through her chest. She could hear people scream, the cries both human and pack, their unbearable cries threatening to split her head from the inside out. A fiery, opaline glow reflected off every surface, casting the visions of murder and mutilation with a crystalline haze.
To Jacquin’s surprise, the creature immediately turned and ran away, fleeing gracefully back into darkness. Jacquin let out a heavy breath of disbelief, her body still paralyzed from the encounter. She’d never heard of a changling letting a human live. Still, she wouldn’t question it.
She turned and ran back for Oasis, moving as swiftly as possible, adrenaline and fear pumping through her veins, urging her forward until she leapt up the camels’ barn, over the wall and tumbled to the desert floor on the other side.
She landed hard, collapsing to the ground like she had in her dream. She gasped into the sand, her heart speeding in her chest and her breath coming in rapid shots as she came down from her near-death experience. Changlings were near Oasis. They never traveled alone. Chances were there was an entire party staking out the city.
She had to find her sister.
Jacquin pounded on Khalisa’s door, hoping her sister had returned home for the night. She heard a scuffle within and Khalisa answered, her hair in disarray, tangled around her shoulders. Her weary eyes brightened with concern as she led Jacquin into her wagon.
Khalisa’s wagon was larger than Jacquin’s and less functional, a thick scent of spices and wax from candles and soap infused in every panel. While Jacquin’s home had once traveled the desert when the Tribe was more nomadic, Khalisa’s home had been built in Oasis and would never leave. Guests expected nomadic wagons when they visited the Tribe. They didn’t realize more than half of them were as immovable and rooted to the earth as the buildings in the town proper.
Khalisa held Jacquin’s shoulders, searching her face for the source of her obvious alarm. “What’s wrong?”
“A changling. I saw a changling.”
Khalisa’s charcoal brow lifted in confusion. “Jacquin, you’re not making any sense. Did you have a vision?”
Jacquin shook her head, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to be more clear. “No. It was real. A changling outside the walls.”
Khalisa paled. “Could you have been seeing something else? A different creature?”
Jacquin shook her head, her hair trembling along the lines of her shoulders. “It walked right up to me!”
Khalisa gripped Jacquin’s shoulders tighter, her full lips forming a hard, straight line. “You were outside the town walls alone? At night?”
“You have to tell the Council. Alert Oasis guards. Changlings don’t travel alone.”
Khalisa pulled back her hair with a quick twist of her wrists
, spinning the ebony mass back into a bun secured with ridged hair sticks. It had always amazed Jacquin the difference a hairstyle could make in her sister. With a few swift movements she went from sultry dancer, impish lover, to one of the Tribe’s most honored council members. The shift from flirt to n’Sappho.
Khalisa pulled a soft, quilted robe over her thin, woven nightgown and rushed out into the night, her long stride assured and self-confident. Jacquin followed close behind, hugging her arms to her chest. Khalisa knocked on a large, blonde-pine wagon in the center of the Tribe’s caravan.
Khalisa’s voice was steady and strong, her face still. “Aalim!”
The door opened and Aalim stepped out onto his front steps. The leader of the Tribe’s council filled the doorway with his tall, well-muscled frame, his dark hair strung with quill feathers and beads falling to the middle of his back.
“Khalisa?”
“A changling has been spotted outside town walls.”
Aalim’s jaw clenched with apprehension, his muscles growing taut as he realized the full implications of Khalisa’s warning. “Are we sure?”
“Jacquin saw it herself.”
Aalim looked Jacquin over apprehensively, one thick eyebrow raised. “Was she in her right mind?”
Jacquin felt her cheeks blush with frustration. “I know the difference between my visions and reality.”
Aalim seemed unsure, his head tilted to one side as he considered the veracity of Jacquin’s claims. Khalisa’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, the steadiness and certainty in her expression finally swaying Aalim’s opinion. “What can we do?”
“The Council needs to be on the lookout for an attack, and we need to alert the city proper. As long as they guard the gates, we won’t be safe unless everyone in Oasis is on alert.”
“Why would they trust us?”
“You have contacts with the desertmen of Oasis,” Khalisa argued. “Let them present the information to their governor.”
“Tell them a dancing seer known for her fake card readings has seen a changling in the desert? Almost an entire continent away from their raiding grounds?”
Khalisa’s eyes darkened and she rose up to her full height, defending her younger sister without words. Aalim visibly shrank beneath her lethal presence. “You tell them a changling has been seen. You leave my sister out of it.”
“They won’t believe me.”
“They will when they’re gored by glass daggers,” Jacquin hissed.
Aalim grunted, shifting uncomfortably, but finally nodding. Khalisa growled. “First thing in the morning.”
Aalim nodded, the beads in his hair clacking together as he tried to distance himself from Khalisa. “Fine. First thing in the morning.”
Aalim disappeared back into his cabin, closing and locking his door behind his back. Khalisa crossed her arms tight over her chest.
Jacquin took her arm, leading her away from the wagon, her body rigid with frustration. “Thank you. He wouldn’t have listened to me without you,” Jacquin muttered.
“He’s a good man. Too good sometimes. But he had no right to question your abilities, Jacquin.”
Jacquin shrugged gently. “I’m used to it.”
“It’s absurd. Seers built our Tribe. To talk about them like that…” Khalisa trembled in anger.
“It doesn’t help that I fake visions to steal from merchants.”
“Everyone steals from merchants. Aalim is prejudiced.”
“But will he warn Oasis?”
“Yes. He gave his word.”
“Good.”
Khalisa slung her arm around Jacquin’s shoulders, holding her possessively. “You deserve better, Jaci.”
Jacquin leaned against her sister’s shoulder, drawing warmth and comfort from the touch as they walked back to Khalisa’s wagon. “Can I stay with you tonight?”
Khalisa kissed the top of her head. “Always.”
They returned to Khalisa’s cabin and Khalisa busied herself making tea, pouring her frustration into the preparation. Jacquin stood in the back of the wagon, running her fingers through a short curtain of Khalisa’s necklaces, hanging from hooks off the wall. The cool metal, the weight of the chains, was oddly comforting. She paused on a carved wooden pendant of a scorpion, rocking her thumb over the tip of its spiked tail.
“This will help.” Jacquin turned as Khalisa offered her a cup of amber-colored tea, a concoction designed to help her sleep.
Khalisa’s voice was heavy with unanswered questions, but Jacquin carefully avoided giving her an easy way to broach them. After a long silence, Khalisa finally asked, “I’ve never seen you like this. What did you see tonight, Jaci? I can tell you had a vision. Something besides the changling has shaken you.”
Jacquin sat slowly, taking a long sip of her sister’s tea, letting the hot liquid slide down her throat and warm her belly. “Not just tonight. Every day for almost three tenmoons. I touch people – tribe, merchant, desertman – and I watch them die. And more than a few have been killed with glass swords and arrows. Changling weaponry. If we don’t do something, the changlings will attack Oasis. It will be a massacre.”
Khalisa’s dark skin paled. “Three tenmoons? You’ve been suffering like this for three tenmoons and you never told me?”
Jacquin looked guiltily into the depths of her teacup, her eyes making shapes and designs out of the tea leaves at the bottom of the cup. “It’s hard to talk about.”
“You can trust me.”
Jacquin pulled her sister into a tight hug, holding her close. The motion startled Khalisa, her muscles rippling tight for a moment beneath Jacquin’s embrace before loosening in worry. “Thank you,” Jacquin muttered against Khalisa’s shoulder. “Thank you for always believing me.”
Khalisa held Jacquin for a long moment, contemplating her answer. “Many have trouble believing a beautiful woman with an extraordinary gift.”
Jacquin held her older sister tighter. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Always, Jaci.” Khalisa pulled away and smiled gently, the expression full of love and concern. “Now come. Changlings or no, you need sleep if you’re wandering into the desert alone at night.”
Jacquin chuckled softly, leaning forward against Khalisa’s shoulder. She had no doubt sleep would elude her, but perhaps with her sister near she’d find a moment’s rest.
Chapter Five
Adrian slid down the peaked roof, her feet skimming over sleek tiles, her cloak billowing back behind her to cut her speed. She traveled by feel, judging weights and balances in the pads of her feet, moving through the darkness with ease despite being unfamiliar with her surroundings.
She hadn’t learned the name of the town, a ramshackle mining settlement built up around a massive coal deposit deep in the brushland just north of the Great Desert. The brushlands were dotted with towns like these, thrown together and eventually abandoned when the mines had been depleted. The workers barely survived, living in the shadow of a wealthy foreman or handful of wealthy sponsors.
She glanced over the roof’s ledge to the street below, lit by a series of covered lanterns and torches, casting deep shadows along ever corner. Her eyes narrowed as she watched two black-cloaked travelers pause before a run-down tavern. Circle members had been trickling into the town all day, coming in small parties to keep from arousing suspicion. Someone with moderate intelligence had to be leading them, but they couldn’t fool Adrian. She would know anyone from the Core on sight.
Adrian’s lips curled back in a snarl. Too many men had entered the town for the group to be a splinter of the Circle. She couldn’t tell if they planned to attack the village or just rest on their way to their next destination. She clenched her jaw. There was a time she could have just looked at them and known their intention, but not anymore. She let out a deep breath. It was the only time she ever regretted giving up her empathic abilities.
Adrian crouched down, sitting along the edge of the roof, careful to remain in the shadows. There wer
e too many of them to attack directly and she couldn’t kill any of them publicly without drawing the attention of the others. She would have to be more subtle.
She pulled a small, wax paper bundle from a pouch at her waist. She unwrapped the paper, revealing a leaf-wrapped bundle, still soft from cooking earlier in the day. Without taking her eyes off the Circle’s men, she nibbled at the boko, the stuffing, now chilled, made of a few rabbits she’d snared and a collection of root vegetables she collected while traveling.
The scent of her food attracted a raven, who fluttered to the roof and sat along the edge beside her. Adrian instinctively ripped a hunk of her meal free and placed it on the roof before the bird. She watched him tear at the meat paste with mild interest, lingering on the way his feathers ruffled and spasmed with each motion. There was something about the way he moved that betrayed his hunger. He wasn’t particularly skinny or desperate, but there was a sense about him, an ache that made Adrian’s stomach rumble, hollow and empty.
A bottle broke on the street below and the bird arched up in surprise, catching Adrian’s eye. Adrian felt as if she’d been punched in the face, pain exploding behind her eyes and rippling down the muscles of her neck and spine. Her stomach rolled and burned, a mix of unstable, clashing magics warring for control over her heart and mind.
She scrambled backward, her palms scraping across rough tile and her leather boot sliding across shallow, standing water from recent storms. She forced her eyes closed, a gasp exploding from her chest as if coming up for air. She heard the bird flee, its wings wildly flipping through the air to get away from Adrian’s gaze.
She slowly opened her eyes again as her stomach started to settle. Her hands spasmed and trembled. She balled her hands into tight fists, waiting to regain control. She glanced down, catching her own reflection in a small pool of rain water, the light of the torches from the streets casting her face in deep shadow. Even in the darkness she could make out shocking, ice-blue eyes.
She immediately turned away, clenching her jaw tight in frustration, a flash of hot anger and guilt burning just under her skin. She’d been so shaken by the forced connection with the raven even her most intricate illusions had been shattered. She knew better than to catch an innocent eye. She’d been able to eradicate her Blue Sight urges in most humans, but every now and then she’d look into the eyes of a truly innocent beast and the magic would overcome her.
Sands of Aggar: Amazons of Aggar Book 3 Page 5