FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy

by Mercedes Lackey

  Unfamiliar voices approached, growing louder until they stopped just outside. Someone tried the door on my left, but the lock held. A low, rough voice cursed, then called out. I held my breath. A wide shadow fell over the curtain, and the hinges creaked as someone hauled back on the door handle.

  Every muscle in my body tensed until they felt ready to snap. I pulled my feet up onto the seat, making myself as small as I could. This is not happening. I mentally cursed Felicia’s choice of clothes, and wished I had my pants and flat boots on.

  The door came off of the carriage with a loud crack, and a bald man leaned in, his shoulders filling the wide opening. He grinned, revealing several broken teeth. Blood dripped into one of his eyes from a gash in his deeply lined forehead.

  He chuckled, and my own blood froze in my veins. “My, my. Not what we was expecting!”

  Someone shouted outside, and he turned to look.

  I kicked my left leg out, and the dainty heel of my boot struck him in the eye. He roared and pulled back from the doorway, and I launched myself out onto the road.

  Everything was confusion. I caught a glimpse of huge hands shooting toward me, but the big man’s aim was off, and he only managed to tangle his fingers in the ends of my hair. I shrieked as he ripped several strands out, but I hit the ground running, straining the seams in my skirt with every step.

  I stumbled into the unfamiliar forest and toward a nearby river that sparkled in the thin sunlight breaking through the clouds. Faint hope swelled in me as I drew closer to the water, and a chance at escape.

  I wasn’t fast enough. Over the sound of my rasping breath I heard someone thudding along behind me, getting closer with every step. I adjusted my grip on the knife’s handle and prepared to turn and fight, but my feet went out from under me as I slipped on one of the loose, flat stones that littered the ground near the river. A sharp pain pierced my ankle as it twisted under me, and I fell.

  I hadn’t even got one leg back under me when a crushing weight landed on my back, pinning my left arm beneath me. A meaty hand grabbed my other wrist and squeezed. I dropped the knife and screamed as he wrenched my arm behind my back, straining my shoulder until I thought he was going to rip my arm off.

  “Don’t think so, sweetheart,” the bald man snarled into my ear, his breath sickeningly wet and warm on my face. He sat up a little and I pulled in a deep breath, but I couldn’t move. Tears of pain, frustration, and fear burned my eyes, and I screamed again.

  I was aware of the sound of another set of feet clattering toward us over the broken rocks, but couldn’t turn to see who it was. I had little hope at that point that it was Daryll coming to save me. The footsteps didn’t slow as they came closer. The weight on top of me shifted. “Hey, lookit what we found in the—” My attacker’s words cut off as something hit him. He collapsed back onto me, and the air rushed out of his lungs in a quick, foul breath. He rolled off, gasping.

  As soon as that weight was gone I pushed with my feet, crawling toward the water and fighting to catch my breath.

  Above the buzzing in my ears I heard the thug speaking. “What’re you on about, she’s just a—”

  He was interrupted by a cracking noise and a scream that I sincerely hoped was his. I tried to stand, but my ankle buckled, and I bit back a cry of dismay as I hit the stones. I’d reached the edge of the wide, shallow river. I was a good swimmer, but the current was moving fast and rough over mostly-submerged rocks. In my condition, I’d be dashed to pieces before I made it half-way across.

  The scream stopped, and footsteps followed me, more slowly now. I’d lost my knife, but I picked up a sharp rock, flipped myself around, and pushed my back up against a boulder.

  A shadow fell over me, and I looked up to see another stranger. He was far leaner than the bald one, younger and taller. The way he stood gave an impression of graceful strength that made me more afraid of him than I’d been of the mass of muscle that attacked me. The sun behind him left his face in silhouette. His hair was dark, just long enough for most of it to be pulled back and tied behind his neck.

  Darmish men don’t wear their hair long like that.

  He watched me, catching his breath and apparently considering my situation. I glanced back at my previous attacker, who lay flat on his stomach with his face pressed into the rocks, not moving. Nausea washed through me, and I grasped my chunk of rock so tightly that it cut into my fingers. I wasn’t about to go quietly.

  The stranger stepped back, allowing sunlight to fall on his face as he watched me. I had expected a scarred warrior, but found quite the opposite. His unblemished skin and high cheekbones would have seemed more at home on a pampered aristocrat or a prince. His brows shadowed dark eyes in a stern expression that seemed familiar, though I was certain I’d never met anyone like this before. He reached up to rub a hand over the dark stubble on his jaw.

  “It’s all right,” he said, his voice calm and heavily accented. He stepped around so that he was standing beside me, then crouched. In a movement that was too quick for me to follow he caught my left hand in his own. I tried to pull back, but the strength drained from my arm, and the rock clattered to the ground. I was completely at his mercy, and though he’d saved me from my attacker, something about him filled me with terror. I met his gaze, and my mouth went dry at the sight of his cold, green-flecked, brown eyes.

  I’d been wrong when I thought this man was completely unfamiliar.

  He let me look for a few seconds, then said, “I’m not going to hurt you. Will you listen while I explain?” His speech was clear, but his accent made everything sound strange.

  I was afraid to answer. Someone yelled from near the road, and the stranger frowned.

  “I’m sorry.” He reached his free hand toward my face. Blood streaked his knuckles. I flinched, expecting him to hurt me, but he only laid his hand on my forehead. The world grayed out, and I fell away as I had the first time I looked into those strange, beautiful eyes.

  Chapter XI

  Rowan

  EVERYTHING HURT.

  I LAY WITH the left side of my body pressed into a soft surface, with something wedged behind me that kept me from rolling backward. It felt like the room was rocking. Without moving my head, I opened one eye just enough to get a blurry look at my surroundings. The bed I lay in took up one end of a narrow room with boxes lining one wall, a writing desk and built-in wardrobe the other. A heavy curtain was pulled across a small window, and the only light in the room came from a pair of oil lamps. The air smelled of something sweet and herbal that I couldn’t identify.

  There didn’t seem to be anyone else in the room. I opened my other eye and lifted my head to look around a bit more.

  “Welcome back,” said a smooth voice from somewhere near my feet. I froze, my flesh crawling. “Sorry I had to do that. I don’t imagine falling unconscious is fun, but I’d say you’re becoming accustomed to it by now.”

  I looked toward the end of the bed and there he was—the young man with Aquila’s eyes. The rest of his face would have been attractive if those eyes weren’t so cold, or if he would smile. As it was, just looking at him frightened me in a way that seemed to come from instinct as much as it did from the situation. He leaned back in an armchair next to the end of the bed, long legs stretched out in front of him, apparently waiting for me to say something. I got the feeling he could wait all day if he had to.

  “Who are you?” I asked, my voice rasping. “What’s happening?”

  “My name is Aren. You’re on a trading ship bound for Tyrea. My brother Severn needs you.”

  “The…” I tried to moisten my lips with my tongue. “Severn is the king, isn’t he?”

  “Close enough.”

  I struggled to remember what I’d heard about Ulric’s sons. I couldn’t make my thoughts line up properly. Was Aren the one who read minds? No, controlled them. Unless I was missing something, he could certainly turn into an eagle. Those eyes were unmistakable.

  Aren leaned toward me. �
�You should know that you’re in more trouble right now than you can imagine.”

  I could have guessed that, I thought.

  “I’m telling you this because you don’t have much time to decide what you’re going to do about it. Severn will—” He paused. Distant shouting echoed outside the room, and my heart beat harder, pumping fresh fear through me.

  “Speaking of whom…” Aren stood and stalked to the door, then stopped and turned back to me. “I suggest you close your eyes again and that you not move until he leaves. Things will get worse for you in a hurry if he knows you’re conscious.” He came back and untied a set of white curtains that closed between the bed and the rest of the room, sheer enough that I could see out if I squinted.

  There was a single hard knock at the door. Brighter lamplight flooded in from outside as Aren opened it and a white-haired person stepped in, looked around, then closed the door.

  “Where is she?” he asked. Aren gestured toward the bed, and the man who I assumed was Severn strode toward it. My eyes snapped shut just before he pulled back the curtain. His clothing rustled as he leaned over me, and I fought to keep my breathing slow and even. He smelled smoky, like my hair after I fell asleep beside an outdoor fire. I struggled to remain still, and to keep by breathing slow and even.

  “This is her?” There was a sneer in his voice. “Not much to look at, is she?”

  “She doesn’t usually have those bruises.” Aren sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

  You bastard.

  “Has she wakened yet?”

  “Not since I’ve been here. Sara was in to tend to her wounds earlier, and gave her something to keep her quiet. She’ll be fine.”

  “Hmm.” Severn leaned closer for a moment, his breath tickling my skin, then stood and turned away from the bed, letting the curtains fall closed.

  I took a deep, trembling breath and let my eyes open again, just enough so that I could watch.

  “About that temper of yours,” Severn said.

  “This was completely different. You saw what happened. Morten got carried away, and I did what was necessary to protect your interests.”

  Severn’s chuckled. “I wonder whether killing him was completely necessary. Still, it’s a small loss.” He gestured toward me. “You’re certain about her? I don’t feel anything.”

  “No. Whatever they’ve done to her has been effective enough to keep her magic hidden from her people for all these years.”

  The skin on my arms prickled. Who do they think I am?

  Severn sat in the chair and removed his gloves, then leaned back far enough that I couldn’t see him. “Perfect. We’ll still try to keep this quiet, but getting her into the city will be easy enough, even if someone stops you.”

  “Are you leaving?”

  “Is that a problem?”

  Aren shrugged. “She won’t be a problem. I thought you’d be sailing with us.”

  “Hmm. No, I have the horse. I’ll fly back. I don’t like to leave the city in anyone else’s hands for too long. I suppose I could try to take her with me, if you don’t want the responsibility.”

  “It will be fine. Sara will put her under again if she wakes.” Aren didn’t sound any more pleased to be stuck with me than I was to be trapped with him.

  “Very well. No sign of anyone following us yet? Her husband-to-be, his father? Anyone?”

  “Nothing.”

  I thought back to the day I’d rescued the eagle with Aren’s eyes, the conversations I’d had with Callum and Felicia when he was within hearing distance, and fought back a wave of nausea. It had been this man, this Sorcerer, listening to my stories and sleeping in my rooms that whole time. I should have turned him over to Dorset Langley when I had the chance.

  “Let’s hope it stays that way. Much as I’d love to see what you’d do if Dorset Langley himself angered you, I’d rather keep this quiet.” Severn stood and looked at me through the curtains again. “I’d almost say we were doing her a favor by getting her away from them.”

  Aren rocked back on his heels. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but when he spoke there was a hint of a smile in his voice. “I doubt she’ll agree once she gets to Luid and finds out what’s waiting there.”

  Severn chuckled. “No, certainly not.” He reached out to clasp Aren’s arm with his hand. “I’m pleased to see that your view on these matters has improved. This is for the best.”

  Aren cleared his throat. “Indeed.”

  Severn took a sudden step closer to Aren. It startled me, and had Severn not been nose to nose with his brother, he’d certainly have seen me twitch. “Don’t disappoint me.”

  “Never again.”

  Severn held his position for a moment, then stepped back and left without another word.

  Aren stood frozen in the center of the room, fists clenched. He breathed in, sighed, and collapsed into the chair, resting his face in his hands. I propped myself up on one elbow and winced at the pain that twisted through my arms and my torso as I moved.

  I wanted to speak, but couldn’t find words. Though I waited, Aren said nothing.

  “I think there’s been a mistake,” I whispered at last, and pushed the curtain aside so I could see him better. “I’m not whoever you think I am. I understand you not wanting to keep me here…” I trailed off and tried to wet my parched lips with my tongue. “I’d be happy to go.”

  Aren raised his head just enough to look up at me, and a look of slight amusement touched his eyes. “No, there’s been no mistake. I wish there had.”

  “I’m not—I mean, I don’t use magic. Please, just let me go home.”

  Aren leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Let me think.” He closed his eyes, and I waited. I thought he’d fallen asleep when he said, “Gods damn the whole business.” He opened his eyes to glare at me. “If I turn you loose, he’ll find you again.”

  “But—”

  “Not to mention the fact that my life will be worth less than nothing when he realizes what I did. I can’t let you go.” He stood and tied the bed curtains back.

  “Please,” I whispered again when his gaze met mine. I fought back the tears that filled my eyes, not wishing to appear weak. I doubted crying would buy me any sympathy from a person like him. “I’m not what you think I am.”

  His jaw muscles tightened and his eyebrows pulled together in a deep frown. He turned away and took a heavy-looking brown coat from a hook by the door. “I have to leave for a while. Sara will be in soon to change your bandages. I’d suggest not talking at all, especially about what you think you know about me, even to someone who seems trustworthy. Everything gets back to Severn. I’ll answer your questions when I return, if I’m able to.”

  Before I could ask whether it was his return or my answers that were in question, he had left. The lock clicked into place. I was alone, a prisoner.

  It felt like I was watching all of this happen to someone else. This is a dream, this is a story book. This is not my life.

  But I couldn’t wallow in my disbelief and panic. I’d have to figure out how to escape, to get home or to a place where I could send a message to Callum. I suddenly found myself longing for that safe feeling I had when he was around, and wondered why I’d ever desired anything more. All I wanted now was to see him again.

  Hot tears slipped down my cheeks. They had to come out some time. I allowed myself a few minutes of sobbing quietly into the pillow, and when I’d finished, my mind felt clearer.

  Take stock. What do you know?

  I knew that my body hurt. I tried to sit up, but the muscles in my stomach wouldn’t support me, and when I moved my legs my ankle burst into pain. I knew that I was afraid, and that I was in trouble.

  What else?

  Aren was a Sorcerer. I saved his life, and now for some reason he wanted to take me to Tyrea. I’d seen him kill a man.

  I didn’t much care what had happened to the one they called Morten, but I wondered about the others. Daryll was certain
ly dead. If Aren was leading that group that attacked us, he was responsible for that.

  A chill washed over me. What if Matthew had come along like he’d wanted to?

  There was no time to think about it more. The door creaked open and a pretty young woman with long, honey-colored hair slipped into the room. She moved slowly and purposefully as she pulled a variety of items out of her basket, but she kept looking over her shoulder, and twitched when footsteps passed outside the door. I didn’t answer when she asked how I was feeling.

  “I’m going to check your wounds and change the bandages,” she murmured in a warm Tyrean accent, and I closed my eyes. If she wanted to fix me, it would only help me when it came time to escape. The air felt cold on my arm when she uncovered it, and my skin tingled as she rubbed a thick ointment into it. That explained the strange smell in the room—some kind of herbal remedy for injuries. She worked it into my shoulder, and tendrils of warmth swirled deep into the muscles.

  “The arm wasn’t out,” Sara told me, “but it’s been pulled too far. You shouldn’t use it for a while, and rest that ankle while you can. The other cuts and bruises will heal soon enough.”

  I flinched when she rubbed the stuff into my cheek. When I tried to touch it, she pushed my hand away. “Look at me, please.”

  After a few moments I turned my eyes to her, but kept them unfocused. Sara leaned in close and pressed her lips into a thin line. “We’ll see how things look in the morning.” She held a cup of water for me to sip from, then stood and gathered her supplies back into the basket, which she left on the desk.

  “You’ll be fine,” she said softly, and laid a cool hand on my brow. “Just don’t cause trouble. It’s better that way.” And then she left. I didn’t hear the lock click into place.