Silverglen: A Young Adult Epic Fantasy Novel

by E. A. Burnett

  Here, the river twisted between rock outcrops and spilled over the crest of a smoothed boulder, forming a curtain of mirrors and crystals. At its base, the water gathered in a knee-deep pool lined with flat rocks before gushing out the other side to return to a calmer river.

  Everything transforms, Ember thought as she soaked in the pool. Even a simple thing like water could alter entire landscapes. There is power in being able to change things, her wizard professors had always said. Well, shifters could change things, too, and the change wasn't some silly Glamour formed out of air. She could change the very bones in her body. Surely there was power in that?

  Even more odd, Riggs had told her that Ineoc, the god worshiped by many shifters, represented transformations. The firebird was his token symbol. Or her symbol, depending on how you saw the deity. Didn't wizards see the significance of that? Ineoc was change, Yathe was everything boring in the world— order, silence, restraint. Anything that wasn't life.

  "They see what they want to see," Ember muttered, remembering Lady Dell's reverence for Yathe. Odd that his symbol was the sun, something beautiful and essential to life. It seemed to her that the sun and the firebird should exist together, that order wouldn't exist without the chaos of change. One might balance the other.

  Is that what Ryscford had created here? A balance of shifter and wizard? Society had never been that way, as far as Ember knew. They had lived apart, and once together, shifters were deemed inferior and denied rights that wizards were given. They had been treated as servants, pets, and slaves.

  The rebellion had begun with Arundel's father, Doune. Salena had told her the story dozens of times, as though afraid the knowledge would be lost if she didn't.

  Not lost, but twisted.

  Ember ran her fingers through her hair, untangling the strands in the water.

  Over the years, people blamed Arundel for starting the rebellion, but really it had started with Doune's abusiveness. Violent and temperamental, Salena had told her. His shifters were slaves. Once, he hunted one who had escaped. When he found his shifter, Doune killed him, causing the shifters' mate—a raging hawk—to attack and blind him.

  This spurred Arundel to action. He sought out the shifter who had blinded his father, and while he was away from home, the mate found her way to Arundel's mother. A servant later found his mother's body, gutted and faceless.

  Shifters were dangerous. Arundel had never used those words exactly; it would have shown he was afraid. But to Ember, wizards were just as treacherous. Who knew what had happened in Arundel's dungeons?

  Ember shivered and made her way out of the pool, letting the air clear her mind.

  She was growing fond of the sun touching her skin. Exhilarating. Wholesome. The breeze, warm now that it was midday, found every curve and crevice. An intimate touch she used to cringe at in human form.

  Thanks to Lexy's dress, she felt more comfortable with the exposure. Preferred it, even. Her arms and legs had tanned, her feet had formed calluses. She had come to appreciate the soft looseness of the deer-hide dress, which gave her more freedom for shifting than her trousers and cotton shirt at Silverglen.

  Silverglen.

  She tried not to think of it as she bent to pick up her make-shift spear. She had formed it from a stick, and had whittled the end to a sharp point using one of Riggs' knives. Just below the tip and at the blunt end, she had bound two stones for weight and balance.

  She missed the food, and not having to prepare it. She missed Finn, too, and Gregory. Most of all, she missed her weapons.

  She didn't miss Arundel. She didn't miss her suffocating room, or her sister's dreadful antics. Silverglen and the Academy were a dungeon compared to this...

  Trees and ribbons of blue sky. Mountains. Sparkling rivers, the scent of moss, and children's laughter.

  She could be happy here. Free. If only the patrols weren't there, somewhere. If only she knew there wasn't someone looking for her, that they weren't all hiding.

  Kneeling on the ground, she bent over the spear and concentrated on creating a one-handed Freezing spell. It was simple, something she had been doing for years. Why not try a two-handed spell? A combination of Freezing and Blinding.

  She took a deep breath and began, wracking her memory for each twist and pinch of the fingers, every flick of the fourth or fifth fingers that commanded the air. Casting the spell was like trying to play Finn's harpsichord, with different hand positions producing entirely different sounds. To her chagrin, she had discovered that she had as much trouble playing the harpsichord as she had casting spells. At least until Finn's lessons.

  She finished the spell with a quick weave of her hands, and bound it to the spear point.

  There.

  She held up the spear, hardly seeing the spell in the sunlight, and sensed that she had cast it decently well.

  Nothing that would impress Professor Nels. She certainly did not miss her churlish, often volatile spells-master.

  "He can take his pig-nose and shove it into a pile of dung for all I care," Ember declared. Finn's words, not her own. She had been trying to keep her silly, childish tears at bay while he strode up and down her room at the Academy, his mop of hair beating his head with each step.

  “It’s not right that he should treat you this way,” Finn fumed. “He wouldn’t dare give me such a low score, even on a bad day.”

  “But I’m terrible at it, Finn,” Ember croaked. A tear squeezed out, and she flicked it away. “I’ll never come close to your abilities. I’ll never graduate—”

  Finn halted and kneeled in front of her. “Of course you’ll graduate. Don’t be silly. I’ll help you, if it would make you feel better. But no matter how poorly you do on these stupid examinations, you’ll always be a wizard.”

  And a shapeshifter. Her throat ached to tell him. Instead, she sniffed and gave him a half-smile. “Unless I get my hands cut off.”

  A little joke, but Finn shook his head and grasped her hands. “Only the worst criminals deserve that punishment. You are far too kind and gentle, Ember.”

  And you are far too good a brother to deserve my lies. She swallowed against the burning in her throat. “Want to go Glamour the bathroom stalls with Professor Nel’s pig-nose?”

  Finn grinned. “Maybe not as kind as I thought. Of course I want to.”

  Ember smiled at the memory. She only wished Salena had reacted as Finn did, with comfort and confidence in her.

  A shadow flitted over her shoulders.

  With arm raised, she turned to see a pair of wings flashing open against the sky. An immense hawk swung from a head-first dive into open-taloned attack, as if catching a mouse, only—

  The hawk latched to her raised arm like bait, its pointed talons knifing into her flesh. The hawk beat its wings once, twice, and Ember thrust her spear between them with a cry, aiming for a non-lethal blow. Her arm was released, and the hawk disappeared into the canopy above.

  Ember crouched, spear pointed above her head, unable to stop herself from trembling. Not because she fought another animal; she had done that before, in the forests of Merewood, never killing anything but always escaping in the end. But she couldn't run from the shifters.

  She had nowhere else to go.

  Ember watched from every side, her eyes sharpening on any leaf that shivered.

  The hawk loomed in one of the openings above, its bulk nearly black against the sky. Wings snapped closed and it dove at her.

  Ember shifted her stance. If she tilted the spear to the side, she could hit the hawk and knock it out, or at least Freeze and Blind it with the tip—

  A falcon streaked in from above and pummeled into the hawk. Feathers exploded, and the hawk spun off-kilter. The falcon whipped around Ember, its wings beating as fast as her heart, and thrust itself into the hawk again, this time swirling into a hawk and pulling them both to the ground.

  More feathers flew as they rolled. In a blink, they were a pair of cougars, beige fur rippling in the sunlight and lips p
ulled back from bone-white fangs reaching for the throat. One found the other's neck.

  ROAR!

  They whirled into bears, standing nearly twice as high as Ember on their hind feet.

  Ember crept behind a thick tree, intent on staying out of the way. Her spear felt slick in her hands.

  A moment later they were at each other's throats, clinging to whatever they could grab as they pushed against one another, and the sound of their breathing rumbled like thunder over the quiet hush of the river.

  In a blink, they were wolves, snarling and baring sharp canines. Ember was sure she saw a glint of red among the gray coats. One pounced on the other, jaws clamping hard enough on the neck to cause the other to yip.

  The sound sent shivers down Ember's spine.

  The weaker wolf was forced to the ground, belly exposed. The other gave a vicious shake before backing off.

  The defeated wolf snapped into human form, kneeling and gasping on the ground. Ember recognized her as the shifter who lived in the hovel next to Riggs. She wiped the smear of blood from her throat with a trembling hand and stood. Straight as a stick, she had narrow hips and skin the color of sandstone. Ekesian. Her hair, a slightly darker shade, fell to her bloodied nape, and piercings covered her brows and ears. A single gem of black, like a moonless night, glinted just beneath her lower lip.

  The other wolf shifted, and Ember's heart banged against her chest.

  Kitt. He had a few scrapes, but what drew her attention was the swollen wound on his leg. He bent over and gasped for breath, looking as pale and exhausted as the woman. He had ripped his stitches.

  Glowering, Ember stalked out from behind the tree and grabbed her deer-hide dress, turning away from the two as she tugged it over her wet body.

  "You're a wizard," the Ekesian woman accused, and Ember turned to see her spit blood to the ground. "I saw you doing a spell."

  "I'm a shifter," Ember stated, tightening the loose garment with a quick knot over her shoulder. "And I'm capable of protecting myself," she added to Kitt, picking up her short spear.

  The Ekesian woman scoffed. "I could've easily killed you if I wanted—"

  "Enough, Jinni." Kitt glared at the Ekesian woman, who scowled back. "She's part of the camp now, for better or worse."

  "So you're on the wizard's side, now?" The woman sneered. "Fancy a fuck with her, do you?"

  Kitt made a move to lunge at her, but the woman only grinned. Heat burned up Ember's cheeks. She scowled at the both of them, her nails digging into the wood of her spear.

  "You knew she was a wizard, then," Jinni continued. "She's kept it secret, but why not from you?"

  Kitt gave her a grim look, but said nothing.

  "The others in the camp won't like it. You know that. It'll make them wonder...what else is she keeping secret?"

  Two brown eyes, of a shade that competed with black, confronted hers.

  Ember straightened her back and raised her chin, angling the spear tip toward her just enough to suggest a threat. She poised her face to hard stone.

  Before Kitt could reply, Jinni swirled into a crow and flew off, her raucous caws sounding like bitter laughter.

  "I think she hates wizards more than you," Ember said, eying Kitt's wound. "She was forced to watch as they killed her mother."

  Kitt frowned. "It's rude to eavesdrop."

  That is what I do. "I was not raised to think so."

  "The rules are different here." He met her gaze, and, remembering the etiquette Etty taught her, Ember averted her eyes.

  "I wasn't keeping it a secret. Being a wizard, I mean. You knew, and Riggs, and Rys—Seabird," she corrected. Did Kitt know who their leader really was? What was it Riggs had said once, when she first met them, that the patrols might recognize Seabird? "And I've done other spells out in the open. I know at least one other has seen it."

  "The shifters appreciate transparency. Many, like Jinni, are suspicious."

  Like you.

  "If you insist on being a wizard," said Kitt, "the only way you'll survive here is by learning to fight as an animal."

  "I know how to fight. I can defend myself." She raised her spear. "This is tipped with a Freeze and a Blinding spell. It should stop a bear in its tracks."

  "Should," Kitt repeated skeptically. "But what if a shifter changes from a bear to a snake in the last instant? Quickly enough to strike you with a lethal dose of venom?"

  Ember remembered the speed with which Jinni and Kitt had shifted, how they had matched each other in pace and nearly in strength. Doubt flickered through her.

  "You underestimate my abilities with a weapon," Ember retorted. He underestimated all the wizard's abilities. How did he think the wizards had stopped the rebellion?

  "I can see that you need more practice," Kitt said, lifting a thick brow and motioning to Ember's bloodied arm. "You wizards have your tricks and tools, but shifters have their strengths, too. How do you think we are all still here, after the rebellion?" he asked, his words mirroring her own thoughts.

  Perhaps because the wizards have been hiding you, she wanted to say. But that was unfair, and beyond the point. She was a shifter, and to belong here as a shifter, she needed to do what other shifters did. And, she thought with a shudder, she didn't want to be caught without a weapon again. Like when Kitt had pounced on her. He was too fast, by far.

  "How do I learn to fight like an animal?"

  "You learn by doing. I will help."

  Ember flushed and shook her head. "But you're injured—"

  Kitt waved the worry away like an annoying fly. "I'll heal soon. We can start with the basics, tomorrow."

  He began to walk away.

  "Why are you helping me?" she asked in an emotionless tone. Too soon for him to trust her, and an impossibility that he no longer hated her.

  For a moment she thought he wouldn't answer, but then he paused in his limping gait.

  "I'm tired of shifters dying," he said.

  He left, the sun and leaves playing hide and seek along his back and shoulders and the breeze lifting clumps of his ruffled hair. His hands were fists at his sides.

  Ember watched him go, barely able to catch her breath. She had expected the truth from him; hadn't he been honest with her from the first? She just hadn't expected that particular truth.

  A truth that made her wonder what he had seen during the rebellion, and what he had gone through afterwards.

  And it meant he no longer wanted to kill her. That was progress, wasn't it?

  chapter Twenty-four

  Metallic clanging beat the air with its rhythm. An inhuman heartbeat.

  But he wasn't inhuman. He was her father. Tall, broad-shouldered, and strong. The summer sun warmed her shoulders where she sat watching him hammer a bar of iron. Would he make her a toy? Or something pretty for Mother?

  She loved the way the sparks glowed as they danced before fizzling out. Loved the way her father would sometimes stop, and smile at her, or give her cheek a playful nudge with a blackened knuckle. She giggled and asked when she would learn how to make things out of iron.

  It takes strength and endurance, he said.

  I am strong, she replied, unsure what endurance meant.

  And you will be stronger when you're older, he said, then raised a great hand to tousle her hair.

  Mother called and she ducked away, glancing behind to see her father lifting his hammer over the red iron again, a look in his eyes she didn't recognize then. A pinched sort of anger that made her chest heavy.

  But Mother's cool hand wrapping around hers made her forget, and the clanging grew distant as they left the smithy.

  chapter Twenty-five

  Surprise is essential, Kitt had said, and quickness. Always go by your gut feeling. Not all dangerous creatures are big and strong. Sometimes you surprise yourself.

  Well, she certainly had.

  Ember lumbered toward Kitt, her back heavy from the weight of a tortoise's shell, her limbs curled and strong. Perhaps a tortoise
wasn't the most ferocious of animals to start with, but she felt better having a shell to retreat to if the fight started to get out of hand. She was fairly certain Kitt wouldn't attack her as he had before. Would he?

  The tortoise's natural instincts took over, and she raised her neck, beak open, poised like a snake ready to strike.

  Be sure about your attacker's intentions, she heard Kitt say again. You must trust your senses.

  He waited as a smaller tortoise, his head high and tilted so as to watch her movements.

  She lunged at his exposed neck, only to miss as he suddenly reared up. Using his shell as leverage, she clawed her way up to meet him, certain that she could tip the balance with her heavier weight. His beak found her throat and she pushed him back with her front claws, digging her rear claws deep into the humus of the forest floor. The balance tipped, and she was winning, her powerful limbs causing him to topple—

  The resistance disappeared. A fierce raccoon rushed at her face, his black mask wrinkled in a snarl.

  Ember squeezed into her shell, heart hammering. The raccoon couldn't get to her in there, she knew, but that wasn't the purpose of the lesson.

  With regret, Ember shifted to a raccoon, vulnerable for the half-second it took for her to catch her bearings.

  Sharp hearing, sensitive nose, lithe movement.

  Before she knew what was happening, Kitt pounced on her, his teeth like pins on her neck. She screamed in frustration and clawed at him, trying not to do real damage.

  Until his teeth sank deeper. Enough to draw blood.

  Twisting, outraged, she shifted to a squirrel.

  A dart squirrel, smaller and quicker than a raccoon. With a rattling chatter, she gave the raccoon's arm a snappy bite and leapt away, then scaled the rough trunk of a chestnut tree up into the canopy.

  She needed a moment alone, a few seconds to settle her—

  A sharp tug on her tail, and she whirled, chattering ferociously at the chick-sparrow that had crept up behind her. He chirped back, puffing up so that he was nearly the same size as her, and scowled out of one beady black eye.