FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Huh.” Her voice was flat, exhausted.

  For a while the crackling of the fire was the only sound. When the food was gone and the remains taken far from the cave, she sat cross-legged on her blankets and spoke. “You remember what you said before?”

  “Vaguely.”

  The arch of her eyebrow could have been mild amusement or well-contained annoyance. “I’ve been thinking about it. There was a time when I’d have been excited to hear that I was a Sorceress, but that was before I understood the truth about it. About what magic means to someone in my country, how it’s feared and hated. If what you said were true, I would lose everything. My family, my home, Callum, my future, any hope of a normal life. Do you understand that?”

  “I do. But none of that changes what happened that night. You healed me. The magic is there, whether you want it or not.”

  The corners of her lips twitched upward. “Is this the part where you tell me there’s a prophecy about someone like me? No, wait. I’m a long-lost princess, right? Hidden from the evil fairy for my own good? And I need to seek out the magical amulet, or be saved by prince charming.”

  I was confused for a moment, until I remembered the story book I’d leafed through in her room. “Funny, but no.”

  She rubbed a hand across her eyes, and winced as it brushed the bruise on her cheek. “So you think this binding thing can be undone? Assuming I wanted that. I mean, I want the headaches to stop, but having magic would finish me in Darmid. They’d kill me as soon as look at me.”

  “Even your family?”

  “My father’s a magistrate. I don’t think that would make things easier on me.” She lifted her gaze to meet mine. “I’m going to need to think about this. I understand what you’re saying about the healing and all of that, but it just doesn’t make sense to me. And going to your country is just…” The end of her sentence disappeared in a yawn.

  There was no point arguing when we were both tired. “Here,” I said, and handed her my bedding. “I’m going to change and sleep outside so I can keep an eye on things.”

  I thought she’d also sleep better without me in the cave, but would be either too polite or too frightened to say so. I’d also have an easier time staying alert if I wasn’t in my human body. Now that we were away from the destruction of Rowan’s people, my magic was replenishing itself. I could afford to use some for her comfort and mine.

  I stepped out into the forest and searched for Severn, but felt nothing. I let my clothes fall into a heap as I transformed and took off to find a place in the treetops where I could watch the horses and the cave.

  I doubted I’d be getting much rest.

  Chapter XIV

  Aren

  I NEVER SLEPT AS DEEPLY in my eagle’s body as I did when I was a human. I passed the night without dreaming, and managed to keep a faint awareness of any human presences that might be approaching. There was no one, save for the woman sleeping in the cave.

  I woke before sunrise. While I changed, dressed and collected the horses, I considered the problems Rowan brought with her.

  She understood what I’d told her, but didn’t want to believe it. If she didn’t believe, she wouldn’t go to Tyrea to look for help. I doubted she’d stay with me simply for the pleasure of my company. All I needed was for her to see the wrongness of what had been done to her, to get angry about it, and to fight against everything she’d been brought up believing about herself, magic, and my people.

  “That’s not so much to ask, is it?” I asked my horse as I offered her a morning grain ration. She rolled an eye at me and flicked an ear. “No, should be easy enough. Maybe she had a miraculous vision overnight that convinced her.”

  I led both horses back to the cave and heard Rowan moving about, packing her things. She nodded to me when I entered, but didn’t speak.

  “What, not even a ‘thank you for not murdering me in my sleep?’” I asked as I laid the saddle pad on her horse.

  She smiled and came to help me. “I’m very grateful. Did you sleep well?”

  “Well as I ever do.” I didn’t ask her the same. The shadows beneath her eyes spoke of a restless night. She was moving more easily, though she still limped when she walked, and her face looked better than it had the day before. She’d brushed her hair out and braided it, and changed her clothes. I had hoped that I’d only found her attractive when I first saw her because of her magic’s influence. It seemed that was wrong. Injured and unwashed as she was, she still looked good.

  I turned away before my body could make me understand just how good.

  We left the cave, and Rowan winced as she settled herself in the saddle. “Too much riding yesterday.”

  “There’s still a long way to go,” I told her. “We should make it to Tyrea tonight if we keep a good pace.”

  “We? Does that mean you still want to help me?” She seemed genuinely surprised.

  “I do. I’m absolutely certain of what I told you last night.”

  “But—”

  “I wouldn’t have stayed at your house if I wasn’t. I wouldn’t have even bothered to pick you up off the floor.”

  She winced. “You put me to bed when I was passed out?” I nodded, and she looked thoughtful. “You know, that kind of thing always works out well in fairy stories. In real life it seems a little awkward.”

  You have no idea. I tried not to think about what I’d felt that night, with her magic in me. How she’d looked, how I’d wanted to keep her safe. “I think the princes in those stories usually have better reputations than I have.”

  “True. I just never thought about how creepy it all was, them kissing sleeping girls and all of that.”

  “I promise that was the only time I wasn’t an eagle when you were in the room.”

  “I appreciate that.” She seemed to be mulling things over as we rode away from the cave, still moving east, picking our way through the sparse forest. “So,” she said at last. “I was thinking about whether I’m going home, or going to Tyrea.”

  I tried not to look like I cared, and reminded myself that escape would be easier without her. “Yes?”

  “I should want to go home. The thing is, I was just saying to Felicia that I wanted adventure in my life.”

  “I remember.”

  “The point is, I used to want this. I’ve heard stories about Tyrea and wanted to see it for myself. I once met people from there. Wanderers. Do you see them where you live?”

  I nodded. Wanderers were hardly what I’d call Tyreans—they didn’t claim any nationality, refused to pay taxes, and went where they pleased. They were an irritation at best, and a security risk at worst. But if she thought highly of them and it made her think well of my people, so be it.

  “There was a little boy who told me a few things, but his mother shushed him. Probably didn’t want to get them in trouble. I tried to forget like Matthew told me to, but I don’t think I ever got over the curiosity. Maybe that’s why I loved those stories so much.” She smiled and shook her head. “But I made a promise to Callum, and I’m happy with that.” She hesitated slightly before the word happy. “I can’t leave him because of a childhood dream that was foolish and dangerous to begin with. And I especially can’t go with you.”

  “Of course you can’t. I’m everything you’ve been taught to fear. You believe what you’ve been taught about magic and about my people, so obviously you wouldn’t want to give me a chance to prove that wrong.”

  She frowned. “I’m not like that. And don’t do that, it’s not going to work.”

  “Do what?”

  “Telling me I’m something that I’m not just so I’ll have to prove you wrong. It’s tricky. I don’t like it.”

  Perhaps she was smarter than I’d thought.

  “So what I’m thinking is that maybe I’ll stay with you until we get to the border. You can tell me more about magic, and about your country. If by then I think you’re right about me, I’ll keep going. If you want me to.”

  “I d
o.”

  She turned to me with narrowed eyes. “Why? Why are you helping me?”

  “I already told you. I’m repaying you for saving my life.”

  Her frown wrinkled her nose. It would have been oddly attractive if I’d let myself think of her in those terms. Which I don’t.

  She studied me for a moment longer, then looked forward and straightened her shoulders. “You really think there’s a way to get rid of the headaches?”

  “I’m sure there’s a cure for you.” I hadn’t found any information in Luid of how bindings were performed. Severn hadn’t given me many chances to look through the old court Sorcerers’ records. Still, there had to be some way. “And maybe you’ll enjoy life in Tyrea. If you go that far, of course.”

  She was silent for a while longer, save for asking whether we could ride and eat at the same time. We could, and did. Her ruminating suited me. I was accustomed to being alone, and much preferred traveling in silence.

  “This is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” she said at last. “I should go straight home and forget all about this, but I’ve spent my entire life wanting to know more about magic, dreaming of an adventure like this.” She tilted her head to one side. “Though I might have preferred that the magical, mysterious stranger who saved me from the bad guys wasn’t terrifying and possibly evil.”

  “Well, no one is perfect.”

  She grinned, looking truly amused for the first time since I found her by the river. “I know I’ll regret it if I don’t take this opportunity. This might be my only chance to fix whatever’s wrong with me, and I believe you want to help. But you should know I’m going to have a lot of questions, and I need you to answer truthfully. Can you do that?”

  “I’ll do my best.” Not an appealing prospect, if it meant endless conversation like she seemed fond of when she was with her family. Still, it would keep her around until I could convince her of her magic, and there would be dangers ahead far worse than a lone gryphon that she’d need to learn about.

  She still looked troubled. “This is a bad idea, I know it is.”

  I couldn’t disagree.

  It took her far too long to understand that I wasn’t willing to talk about myself. I tried to be patient, politely deflecting her inquiries when she asked about what I’d been doing when she found me half-dead by the road, how exactly I “did magic,” my family, where I’d grown up, whether I had any pets or friends, what I did when I wasn’t out abducting people. I had agreed to tell her about magic, nothing more.

  She became increasingly frustrated with each refusal, and with each question she pestered me with I came closer to abandoning her in the woods. In theory, I admired her curiosity. In practical terms, it was going to drive me mad.

  “I would feel better about all of this if you would tell me just one thing that makes me think you’re anything other than a creepy bad guy luring me off into the woods to feed me to a dragon,” she said.

  “The fact that you’re still here leads me to believe that you don’t think that at all.”

  She flipped her braid back over her shoulder. “I’m still just a little uncomfortable. You seem to know so much about me. Tell me something. Anything. Tell me your brothers’ names.”

  I gripped the reins tighter and took a deep breath. “What difference does it make?”

  “None, I suppose,” she said. “But I’m putting a lot of trust in you, and you haven’t given me anything in return.”

  “Besides not killing you?”

  She sighed. “You’re right, I know. Coming along was my decision, and I appreciate what you’re doing for me. I’m just—”

  “Severn, Wardrel, Dan. Those are my brothers’ names. They’re not as friendly as I am.”

  “I picked up on that from Severn.” She looked over at me and seemed to be considering something. “Thank you.”

  I reminded myself that she probably still saw me as something of a monster. Not being able to read her was throwing me off, and if I wanted to help her—and it was too late to change my mind on that—I’d have to try to make her comfortable without letting her get too close.

  “You didn’t know there were gryphons in the mountains?” I asked.

  “No. I’ve read about them before, but I didn’t ever expect to see them in Darmid.”

  “Normally you wouldn’t. Your people have done a surprisingly good job killing off every bit of magic in the populated areas of your country, but the mountains are still wild. Out here you’ll want to watch the skies for gryphons, be wary of the paths that a dragon might use for hunting, watch for burned trees. This is probably where they’ve fled to, if your hunters have left any alive.” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

  I must not have succeeded. Rowan grimaced and looked away. “I guess that’s a sore spot for you,” she said. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. But you can’t be upset with us for protecting ourselves against gryphons or dragons, can you? They’re dangerous.”

  “Dangerous, but necessary for most of us. Everything is connected. Without dragons and every other magical creature, there’s nothing to keep magic in the land. Your people understand that, and push all the harder to be rid of it completely. It’s causing problems in Tyrea. That’s actually why Severn wanted you.”

  “For information?”

  “Experimentation.”

  “Oh.” It seemed enough to buy me a few minutes of silence as she mulled it over. Perfect. If I could interest her with those things, she’d have a reason to stay with me, and I would avoid talking about myself.

  We rode farther from the mountain’s slope as the day passed, under cover of the forest. Rowan looked around, taking in the trees and the rocks, and the occasional animal that darted across the path. I was doing the same, but I soon realized she wasn’t seeing the same things I was. To me, every noise was a reason for caution. I looked at the trees for signs of damage, anything that might indicate what sorts of creatures lived in the area. I watched the sky for potential attackers.

  Rowan seemed to be simply enjoying the colors of the leaves. She took deep breaths of the earth-scented air, and smiled when a doe paused in the path ahead of us before leaping away into the underbrush.

  I only wondered what the deer might be running from. You have a lot to learn about the world, Rowan.

  “So tell me about dragons,” she said after the deer fled. “I don’t know much about them, except that there’s a skeleton at the university, and Dorset Langley has a bow made from a rib he took from the first one he killed.”

  “How very impressive. What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  Of course you do. “Your people’s perceptions of dragons seem to be based on younger dragons. They’re nasty beasts, violent and thoughtless. If we have to kill a dragon, it’s usually not more than a few hundred years old.”

  “So you do kill them? I thought you needed them.”

  “We do. And they don’t often bother us enough that we’ll hunt them. Farmers in dragon lands accept the loss of a few animals every season as the price they pay for living there, and they take precautions against it. Once in a while a young dragon will develop a taste for human flesh, though, and discover that we’re easy prey. Then we have no choice. When they’re older, they know better.”

  “How old is old?”

  “A dragon could in theory live for thousands of years. They don’t let it go that long, though. As they get older, they become more like us. Their minds change, they think and speak like we do. And they hate it.”

  She seemed surprised. “Are we so terrible that an animal would rather die than be like us?”

  “They spend hundreds of years living without greed, envy, betrayal, sadness, anger. Even the things we might consider good are confusing to them. It becomes much harder to kill or steal when you start to think about what it does to someone else.”

  She gave me a look that said she was reading too much into that statement, then asked, “Do t
hey love?”

  “I think any respectable dragon would kill itself before it let things get that bad.”

  My answer seemed to please her far more than I’d expected. Strange woman. I’d thought I had her figured out. Easily distracted by daydreams, rebellious only when it was safe and suited her whims, kind but somewhat selfish, probably a horrible romantic. Smart, but dangerously unobservant. Perhaps I was only mostly right.

  I realized that I’d let my awareness slip for far too long, and took a moment to check the forest around us. No humans. I’d have to watch that, though. Having company made for too many distractions.

  Rowan appeared to be enjoying the conversation, and seemed to be growing less wary of me as the day wore on. “Is it true that they steal treasure? Is that a part of them becoming like us?”

  “Partly. Dragonlings are quite fragile. They consume hard gemstones and minerals, and those substances are incorporated into their scales. It’s entirely natural that they’d seek them out for that purpose.” I’d learned all of this when I was a child, and it amazed me that the Darmish could be so ignorant. “But yes, when they get older they begin to hoard things they think are beautiful, and later the things that are valuable to other creatures. Gold isn’t good for a dragon to eat, it’s much too soft. But an old dragon might have more of it than most city treasuries, simply because someone else wants it. Of course, it benefits the dragon when people hear about their treasure and try to steal it. An old dragon doesn’t need to eat much, but they always appreciate fresh meat.”

  “Is that treasure cursed?” she asked, whispering the last word. She was watching me so intently as she waited for an answer that a low-hanging branch nearly knocked her off of her horse. She ducked at the last moment, and turned to face forward again. I hoped she hadn’t seen me trying not to laugh at her.

  I cleared my throat. “You know, I think that’s enough questions for now.”

  “You promised me answers!”

  “I didn’t promise all of them at once. I’m trying to focus on keeping us safe. Curses and everything else will have to wait until we stop for the night.”