Changing Fate [Fate series] (3 page)

Even though the change to eagle form was the first one Akila had learned and the one she used most often, she still found it to be the most difficult of the shape changes. It began with long seconds of terror as she fell, with a small part of her always afraid that this time the change wouldn't work. Perhaps this terror came from the fact that she had first discovered her unique abilities by falling off a shed roof as a small child. It was much worse if she was close to the ground when she started. And even once the change was complete and she could control her wings, flying took a lot of physical effort. By the time she returned to her room, Akila knew, she would be dangerously exhausted, but she saw no alternative now. She had to find out about this army.

She fell downward a few feet as the change took hold. Fire seemed to run through her body, and the wind rushing along her skin fluffed the downy feathers sprouting from her chest. Her arms stretched to full length and widened, pin feathers extending from her fingertips as her hands fused into her wings. She scooped air with her wings to stop her fall, then banked sharply to catch the updraft at the south side of the castle. As the eagle flew, it was only a few minutes to the place Briam had described.

As Briam had said, it was an army, and he was correct about the banner; it was blue, with a wolf against a full moon. Akila tried to remember if she had ever heard or read of this device, but nothing came to mind. Between the men and horses and the baggage wagons bringing up the rear were several siege engines.
Whoever this man is
, Akila thought uneasily,
he looks determined.

The leader was easy to pick out; he was riding to the front with several of his lieutenants. For a moment Akila had the oddest sensation of recognition, which was ridiculous, because she had never seen anyone who looked like him before. His hair was dark, and cut very short, and there was a blue circle painted between his brows, like the moon on his banner. The circle was creased by his frown as he replied to something one of his men had said. This conversation might be well worth hearing.

Akila landed on a tree ahead of them, trying to hide among the branches. Concealment, unfortunately, was impossible; in eagle form Akila was conspicuously large, but she did her best. At least now she could hear them.

"Lord, you worry needlessly. The man is dead, and none of his guard escaped to carry word here; I swear it. There are few men remaining here, and who is there to order the defense?"

Akila dug her claws into the branch, feeling faint.
Dead? Does he mean Father?

"I hear he had children, near grown by now,” the leader remarked.

I guess he
does
mean Father.

"Do you think that such a wily old fox would not have shared some of his cunning with his pups?” the leader continued.

"Two children only, my lord, and one of them a girl.” That voice was familiar. Akila stiffened in anger. She had tried to warn her father about Stefan after the evening when she had been forced, in defense of her virtue, to push him down the stairs. Her father had called her a missish little fool and told her sternly that he didn't want her upsetting his soldiers, and if she couldn't handle situations like that gracefully, she should not leave her tower without Marfa or one of the maids with her. Akila had spent most of the next few weeks in her room, counting the days until the army left.

"As for the boy,” Stefan continued in ingratiating tones, “I assure you he's no threat. He prefers music to weapons practice; it will be easy enough to kill him. Then marry the girl, if you wish, and you are the undisputed owner of a defensible castle, a good quantity of land, and such serfs as survive the fighting."

"And the pillaging thereafter?” The lord, whoever he was, regarded Stefan without favor. “I have told you, Stefan, and I mean what I say: keep your men in order. I do not wish my honor further tarnished by your actions."

Honor?
Akila thought furiously. This might be helpful.
What is his notion of honor? Obviously it won't stop him from attacking ‘children,’ but there may yet be things his ‘honor’ will not let him do.
But he didn't seem upset by the idea of killing Briam—or of marrying her.
Does he seriously think I'll marry a man who killed my brother? And why would he want to marry me anyway?
Granted, it would give some slight appearance of legitimacy to his seizure of her home, but was that reason enough to want to marry someone you'd never seen, and scarcely heard of?

There was uneasy silence among the men for several minutes, during which time they came even with Akila's tree. Stefan looked up, saw her, and reached for his crossbow.

The lord twisted catlike in his saddle at Stefan's movement. “What do you think you are doing?"

Stefan gestured. “The eagle, my lord.” Akila tensed for flight, not that she expected to be able to fly fast enough to escape a crossbow bolt at this range. “It's the old lord's emblem."

"Hardly reason enough to kill an innocent beast,” the lord snapped. “Leave it be. Unless, of course,
you
wish to eat the dead after the fighting.” They rode on in silence, but Stefan scowled as he replaced his crossbow.

Somebody had better watch his back
, Akila thought.
Stefan is ill news.
She shuddered, feeling queasy. She had never realized that she could feel sick to her stomach in eagle form—if she had thought about the question, considering the predator's normal diet, she would have sworn it was impossible. But it took her several minutes of shivering and fighting for control of her body before she was able to struggle to an upper branch and launch herself back into flight.

As she headed back to the castle she pondered their options, which seemed pitifully limited. She didn't fool herself that there was any way to defeat this army; they had a lot of men and ample provisions.
Besides, with all of us trapped in the castle, they can help themselves to the crops in the fields
. But she had to do something. Briam was her brother, and all the family she had left. She couldn't stand by and let him be killed!

In addition to Briam, there were all the other people: the castle servants, the serfs, the tenants on their farms, the artisans in the small village outside the castle walls. Akila had known these people all her life, and even though she wasn't responsible for their lives by law and custom, she still felt that she had to find some way to keep them from being killed or hurt or having their homes destroyed. At least the lord didn't seem to want random destruction any more than she did.

Does that mean that the problem is how to lose with as little damage, injury, and loss of life as possible?
She banked around the south wall, letting the updraft carry her to her windowsill.
But I don't want to lose!

Briam looked up inquiringly as she changed to human form and began to dress.

"You were right, Briam, it's not Father's army.” She hastily laced her gown, covered her hair, and pulled back the bolt on the door. “We had better go talk to Galin."

They found Galin on the east wall, with the few men-at-arms who had remained at Eagle's Rest, watching the approaching army. Galin nodded to Briam. “Do you have any orders, Lord Briam?"

Briam looked uncertainly at Akila, who sighed silently.
I should have coached him on what to say.

"We feel,” she began, “that it would be best to bring all the people—and whatever they can carry—inside the walls."

"But, Lady,” protested one of the men-at-arms, “surely we can't feed all those people for more than a few days."

"We can't feed those of us already inside the walls for more than a few weeks,” Akila pointed out. “If we take in everyone, the enemy may believe us to be adequately provisioned for a long siege.”
Not likely
, she thought grimly,
but it's worth the chance, and at least everyone will be safe for a few days, which gives me time to come up with another brilliant idea ...
“And I am determined—we are determined—to lose no lives in this invasion, not one villager, not one serf, sheep, goat, chicken, or man-at-arms. We trust that you have no quarrel with that resolve?"

"None, Lady,” the man assured her. This, of course, was the answer that Akila had expected; all the young idiots who thought that dying in battle was a glorious fate had gone with her father.

Galin looked amused. The old steward had conducted most of Akila's training himself, beginning in her childhood when she had followed him about whenever she could. “You, and you,” he selected two of the men-at-arms, “go call the people in at once.” The men hurried down the corner stairs.

Akila followed more slowly, talking to Galin about the housing of extra people and animals and the putting up of a semblance of defense “...oil spouts and barrels, and it doesn't matter if the barrels are empty, but we need to look prepared to defend ourselves.” Briam trailed silently behind them.

Satisfied that this part of the plan would be carried out, Akila dragged Briam off the her room to be drilled in his part in the defense. No use to tell him he was the one in most danger; he wouldn't understand that anyone could want him dead. Best to make him think he was doing this to defend her; he'd sung enough stories of gallant knights and fair ladies for that to appeal to him.

By the time the army arrived they were as ready as they could be in such a short time. People and livestock were all crowded safely inside, the castle was closed and looking formidable, and Briam, dressed in freshly-shined armor, stood on the battlements with his hand resting on the back of a large eagle perched on the wall in front of him. It was an uncomfortable perch, but even Briam wasn't strong enough to hold her on the fist—she weighed four times what an eagle would. Wolf-shape would have been a good deal more comfortable—Akila didn't like being touched in bird shape any more than a real eagle would—but she wanted to have the eagle's eyesight, and this was the package it came in. She consoled herself with the reminder that they looked imposing—and as long as they were touching she could mind-speak to Briam without anyone's knowing he was taking orders from his sister.

Stefan rode ahead of the army to parley.
Good
, thought Akila,
they consider him expendable. At least they have reasonable taste
.

"Lord Ranulf of the Mountains comes to inspect his new castle. Open to him at once."

Briam had a good voice for shouting from battlements, a nice full booming bass. “I do not recognize Lord Ranulf's claim to my castle, and I do not speak to scum like you."

"He claims this castle by the death of your father, boy.” Stefan pulled their father's head from his saddlebag and held it up by the hair.

One of the archers on the wall loosed an arrow. The head dropped to the ground, Stefan hastily dropped the lock of hair he still held and checked to be sure he still had all his fingers, to the accompaniment of guffaws from the men of both sides. Akila made a mental note to see that the archer was rewarded later.

Lord Ranulf rode forward and gestured Stefan back to the ranks. The blue circle on his forehead was furrowed to an oval by his frown.

"Lord Ranulf,” Briam called out. “Your choice of men does not commend you to us—nor do your intentions toward my lady sister."

Akila was glad now that she had chosen eagle-form; she could see Ranulf's eyebrows rise in shock. If they were very, very lucky, she thought, he'd think Briam was a sorcerer and would go away. But instead, Ranulf was looking thoughtfully at her.

No one alive knew that she was a shape changer except Briam. Most people didn't believe that such things existed, save in old tales told on the Longest Night. But if Lord Ranulf had a good imagination, and a good eye for feather patterns, and if he had taken a good look at her in the tree ... no, that was really stretching coincidence too far. All he would have seen, then or now, was an unusually large eagle. He couldn't know, and even the suspicion would be lunatic. But he did not appear ready to leave.

"Lord Briam,” he called out courteously, “you cannot hope to withstand me for long. I have plenty of men and supplies; even if I cannot breach your walls, I can certainly starve you out, and I am prepared to do so. Yield, and save us all trouble and grief."

"I will not sell my folk and my sister into slavery,” Briam returned. “If my father is dead, this castle is mine, not yours, whatever a fool like Stefan may think.” He cast a disdainful glance at Stefan, then looked back at Lord Ranulf. “Leave now, and save
yourself
trouble and grief."

Akila suddenly realized that Lord Ranulf only appeared to be looking at Briam, for when she looked at Ranulf, his eyes met hers.

"I'll stay,” Lord Ranulf said calmly, still looking into Akila's eyes. “I'll be here when you change your mind.” He reached down in a graceful sweep of his upper body and scooped up their father's head from the ground, then straightened, cradling it in his elbow. “By the way, don't try to send out any messages. My men have orders to shoot any creature trying to leave the vicinity.” He rode back to his army and started them setting up in siege formation.

Briam ordered the men-at-arms to keep watch on the army, then strode majestically to Akila's room and bolted the door, while she flew around the building and landed on the window ledge so she could change back. The last rays of the setting sun still warmed the ledge, but the air was getting cold, and Akila was glad to scramble back into the clothes she had left in front of the fire.

Briam started to take his armor off, and Akila automatically moved to help him. “What do we do now?” he asked in the confident tone he always used when asking her that question.

But this time, Akila had no idea of the answer.

Lord Ranulf returned their father's body to them the next morning, under a flag of truce. The body had been washed, dressed in the best clothes their father had taken with him, and placed in a coffin, which the village carpenter confirmed had come from his shop. “There's always a few men make it back here and then die each year,” he said, “so I always make a coffin or two this time of year to have one ready."