Maiden's Wolf (In Deception's Shadow Book 3) (13 page)

The sounds of the
first birds stirring in the trees dragged Beatrice closer to consciousness.
Warmth cocooned her, warding off the chilled morning air. Instinctively, she
knew she should get up; that their lives likely depended on them moving
quickly. But she also felt Silverblade’s warmth surround her, and a part of her
spirit mourned the thought of leaving that just yet.

“Well, get up,
you stupid girl,”
she thought to herself.
“Unless
you want the acolytes to catch up.”

Her mind’s
logical words still had a hard time driving her body into action, but at last
she sat up, feeling her lupwyn scout’s arms drop away from her. They were both
curled up next to the fire’s cooling ashes.

As her eyes grew
accustomed to the pre-dawn light, she made out the form of the sleeping lupwyn.
Obviously, he’d stayed close throughout the night to keep her warm. His concern
was touching. But she’d already known that when he’d held her throughout her
crying spree.

If they survived
this, she hoped he’d let her stay with him. Briefly, she wondered if his pack
would actually welcome her, a human.

“Silverblade,”
she called softly, tapping him gently on the chest.

He cracked open
his eyes as his fur-tufted ears swung forward out of his thick mane. After a
moment, his ears tucked themselves back against his head, almost vanishing into
the ruff. The bright, blue orbs with their darker shade of blue and black
focused on her for a moment before he heaved himself up into a sitting
position.

Then, catching
her by surprise, he started to rub his face against hers. He nosed her hair out
of his way and worked his way down to her neck, rubbing and nuzzling the entire
time.

The strange
rubbing behavior—was he scent-marking her?—continued for a moment more, until
he ended with his face tucked against her neck and she felt the warm dampness
of his tongue stroke across her jugular.

“Blade?” She
shortened his name into one squeaked word.

Silverblade
expelled a warm breath that raised gooseflesh all along her skin. Then she
heard his voice rumble something else in his own language. He cleared his
throat and chuckled under his breath.

After a moment,
she recovered her composure and tried again. “Are you scent-marking me?”

“Yes,” he said,
sounding slightly guilty. “It’s a traditional greeting between pack members.
I’m sorry, I should not have…”

“You would greet
all pack members like that?”

“Well…no…but if
I’d been away a long time, it wouldn’t be unusual to show affection to—”

She cut him off.
“It’s all right. I may not be lupwyn, but my healer’s magic helps me understand
what other species need to survive. You need this.”

“Ah…thank you for
your…understanding.” Silverblade shifted away from her and then stood, where he
stretched and limbered up his stiff muscles for a moment before reaching down
for her.

When Beatrice was
back on her feet, she began self-consciously brushing at her clothing until
stray bits of leaf litter fluttered back down to the ground. Unfortunately, the
sweat and blood stains were not so easily gotten rid of. She needed a real bath
and clean clothes, or at least soap to wash these ones.

If their
continued existence wasn’t still in question, she would have visited the river
long enough to rinse out her skirt and blouse and give her body and hair a good
scrubbing. Then she remembered she’d lost her pack containing her small bar of
soap. She sigh dejectedly.

At least the
soaproot plant was common in these parts and often grew near bogs. At the next
stop she’d keep an eye open for the plant and harvest a few roots.

In the meantime,
she could only hope she didn’t offend the lupwyn’s nose. She had a sneaking
suspicion his senses were probably much sharper than hers, even though he
complained of them being dulled.

While she had
been picking bits of grass and leaves from herself, Silverblade had gone over
to the cooking fire and dug around underneath the ashes and pulled out a
leaf-wrapped bundle. The outer leaves were darkened and burnt and quickly
flaked away, exposing some kind of short, thick tuber. When she raised an
eyebrow at him, he shrugged.

“When I was
hunting for rabbits last night, I spotted some of these growing near where the
rabbits made their burrows.” Silverblade shrugged again. “The plant’s name
loosely translates as Desperate Traveler. It’s aptly named, for you have to be
desperate to eat it. It’s chewy and possesses a flavor that’s a cross between
cooking ashes, tree bark, and deer piss. But it’s full of nutrients and will
fill an empty belly.”

Not wanting to
offend him, she accepted the offered food. After a cautious sniff, she took a
bite, contorted her face, chewed some more, wrinkled up her nose, and bolted to
the river for a drink.

She heard the
lupwyn’s laughter float to her over the sound of the river.

“I did warn you.”

When she’d
managed to wash her mouthful down, she looked over her shoulder at him to see
him gnawing on his share.

“Hmmm…the warning
wasn’t much help. Maybe if you said it would taste like two-year-old shit
fermented in mead.”

“Have you
actually tasted…?”

“No!” She started
to laugh. “Have you tasted deer piss?”

“Hmmm, not
intentionally.”

Beatrice
processed that for a moment and then started to laugh. “Hunting?”

“Unfortunate
accident. I was much younger then.”

“Did you win in
the end?”

“I let the doe
escape for valiant effort.”

Beatrice
continued to laugh, but in the end did take another bite of her root and choked
it down. He was right. They needed the food. It was going to be another long
day of walking. Her healer’s magic had made quick work on the gelding’s hoof
abscess, but it would still be sore today and she didn’t want to risk a flare
up.

When they
finished what passed for their breakfast, Beatrice coaxed the gelding from
where he was grazing and together, the three of them continued in the direction
they’d been going for days. She just hoped they didn’t run into any more
acolytes on their journey.

By Silverblade’s
judgment, they had made fairly good time considering they were on foot, the
gelding still not being sound enough to ride. They walked all morning, only
stopping for a quick meal of toasted Desperate Traveler root at mid-day. He
didn’t take time to hunt. It was more important to keep moving as fast as
possible.

He cast a
sidelong glance at the human, knowing she had a short stride and had to work
harder to keep up with him. She probably couldn’t maintain this pace for much
longer. But he was impressed by her fortitude, her tenacious will to live. She
traveled without complaint or even a weary sigh. He might not know much about
Beatrice’s life before he met her, but he knew it couldn’t have been easy.

Living in the
shadow of the acolytes, the knowledge that the threat of exposure was always a
possibility must have haunted the edges of her consciousness. But instead of
breaking her or making her a fearfully, neurotic creature, it had forged hers
into a soul of steel. She had the heart of a warrior.

Unfortunately, he
was feeling far from warrior-like himself today.

For the past few
days, while they had been riding double, the physical closeness had been enough
to temporarily replace his severed pack bonds. But then, the gelding had gone
lame and now they were walking beside him to be safe. Which was all well and
good for the gelding, but Silverblade now grew weaker.

He would have to
broach the topic with her about sharing power with him again soon. But he
didn’t want to lose travel time because of it, so he would wait until they made
camp for the night. He’d just damn-well endure.

*****

Beatrice stumbled
over a protruding root, her boot toe catching when she didn’t step high enough.
Cursing, she regained her balance and continued on, plodding alongside the
gelding. Silverblade, stoic as always, continued silently on the horse’s other
side.

She was
foot-sore, sweaty, hungry, and thirsty, not to mention dirty as a pig.
Actually, she had a sneaking suspicion a pig might smell better than she did at
the moment. But the knowledge that the acolytes could even now be somewhere
behind them on their trail would keep her to this pace for several candlemarks
more. Better to be exhausted and possessing a few new blisters than to be
sucked dry by an acolyte or have to call upon her death magic again. There was
no way she was ready for that again so soon.

“There is a small
rise in the land ahead, where the river cuts through the landscape and creates
a small waterfall. If the acolytes haven’t already found it, there should be a
small stash of supplies we can use. If we see no signs that the acolytes have
been there, we’ll make camp for the night before making the next leg of the
journey.”

“Are you sure we
should be stopping for the night already? We still have candlemarks more of
daylight. We could just grab the supplies and keep going.”

*****

Silverblade knew
she was right, and they
should
travel further this day, but if he did he
was afraid he might collapse somewhere on the trail, and that wouldn’t help
Beatrice in the least.

Lethargy creeped
across his body, with it came a new chill. Worse, his vision was doing strange
things. He was pretty sure his body was going into shock, even though he didn’t
have a physical wound to show.

The severed pack
bonds were leeching magic from his Larnkin—those conduits were open, almost
like a sliced vein. To judge by his body’s present state of weakness, it was
worse than he thought. This might not be something even sharing power with
Beatrice could fix.

At first, he’d
thought he would keep it secret from Beatrice, not wanting to burden her with
more stress, or have her decide she might be able to fix his problem by forging
pack bonds with him during a night of lovemaking.

She hadn’t
figured that one out yet, thankfully. But she was pragmatic and if her Larnkin
suggested that it was in the best interest of mutual survival, he was certain
the human might try to forge the bonds that way.

And if he was
honest, in a few more candlemarks he might be more than willing. But how would
he survive with his heart intact if one day she decided to leave him?

Oh, by the Light,
why were phoenixes and lupwyns allowed to beget children? It certainly wasn’t
fair to the offspring. His mind continued to whirl uselessly. Perhaps if he got
through the day, then each night, if he slept with her tucked next to him, her
healer’s magic might strengthen him enough to make it through the next day.

With luck,
another fortnight’s worth of travel would put them in lupwyn territory and
there they would quickly be discovered by scouts.

The scouts could
alert his home pack to his danger and another Elemental could bring them by
Gate to his location. Once among his home pack, they could heal him. But if he
was to judge how weak he was today, he might not even be able to travel another
three days, let alone the fortnight required.

He glanced
sidelong at Beatrice only to find her studying him with narrow eyes.

“What are you not
telling me?” Beatrice said as she circled around the gelding and came over to
Silverblade.

She scanned him
with her magic. Its warm essence flowed over him, and his Larnkin flared
eagerly to absorb that small bit of power.

Her eyes widened
slightly, then she frowned. “You have less magic than you did this morning.
It’s not a lethal draining yet, but it shouldn’t be happening at all. I sense
no acolytes nearby or following in the distance, and I’ve been hunting for them
all day. I would know.”

“So that’s why
she hadn’t noticed my problem sooner,”
Silverblade
thought to himself. Aloud he added, “I had not wanted to burden you with more
knowledge. And before, when we were riding double, I was fine.”

“Fine? A lie is
always more of a burden than the truth.” Beatrice reached out and tapped a
finger against his chest. “My magic will ferret out the truth before too long,
but I would rather spend that time fixing whatever is wrong. So if you know,
just spit it out and stop wasting time.”

She was right.
This wasn’t something he could hide from her.

“You already know
that lupwyns are creatures of a pack. We form tight-knit communities who rely
upon each other. We hunt together. We play together. We raise our young
together. But the pack is more than family. When a Larnkin takes a lupwyn for a
host, the nature of the magic is slightly different than among other species. Instead
of forming a primary link with a single bondmate, which is almost unheard of
among lupwyns, it is far more common for the individual Larnkins to form lesser
bonds between an entire pack. While each individual Larnkin might be less
powerful, any member can call upon the power of the entire pack when needed.”

“Interesting.
I’ve heard you talk of your pack, but even then I assumed you were just
speaking of the physical family. But there’s a magical or almost spiritual
component to it as well, isn’t there.”

“Yes.”
Silverblade accompanied the word with a nod, again surprised at Beatrice’s
ability to come to conclusions quickly.

“I know very
little about Larnkin bonding, but when Ashayna Stonemantle was visiting with
her sisters, I learned a few things of interest about Larnkin bondmates. It’s
true that Ashayna is much stronger now that she’s bonded with her phoenix
prince, however my healer’s magic also told me they had a great weakness. One
cannot live long without the other, and physical separation between bondmates
causes anguish between hosts.”

Beatrice circled
him while she was deep in thought. “Am I correct in assuming that the bonds
between Larnkins in the same pack works on a similar level? But if that is
true, how were you able to act as a spy for so long? I didn’t know the trapper
and the lupwyn scout were one and the same, but I sensed you scouting the
forest near my home for many months as you studied the humans of River’s
Divide. Yet only rarely did I feel the presence of another lupwyn within your
territory.”

Silverblade
hesitated, hunting up words to explain it to someone who was non-pack. “Under
normal circumstances, well-established pack bonds are not stressed by the pack
member’s dispersal. After all, the pack still needs to hunt even when the young
are too little to follow. The first Larnkins to take lupwyns as hosts seemed to
have understood that and adapted their magic to suit the needs of my species.”

Beatrice frowned.
“So something happened to your bond with the pack when you were attacked and I
healed you?”

“Yes. But it is
not permanent. Once I return to my pack, I will be able to re-establish the
bonds.”
And if I keep you close, I won’t have to worry about mating Autumn
Shadow to form them.

Beatrice stopped
before him and then rested a hand on his chest and bowed her head. Her power
raced over him and his Larnkin awoke, almost purring with happiness before he
began to drink up the power she offered. Another unhappy realization struck. If
his Larnkin grew strong enough from Beatrice’s feedings before they made if
back to lupwyn territory, it might not be a lupwyn mate he need fear.

“Care to
elaborate?”

Damn, Beatrice
was studying him with narrowed eyes. How much had she already picked up from
his body language?

“When the
acolytes fed upon my Larnkin, they didn’t just injure him, they also harmed my
pack bonds. The first time those bonds were just damaged, but the second time
was worse.”

“Ah.” Beatrice’s
expression turned thoughtful and then a little unhappy. “My healer’s magic felt
those bonds you speak of; at the time, I did not know what they were or why my
Larnkin severed them, but I did feel her do it. But now that I know what they
were, it makes no sense. Why would my Larnkin try to harm you in this way? She
has only ever tried to help.”

Silverblade
didn’t answer her right away, not wanting to go down the path this conversation
was heading, but Beatrice at least deserved to know the truth.

“I believe your
Larnkin was trying to help. My bonds to my pack were too damaged to heal and I
think she was trying to replace them with new pack bonds between us. However,
you and she were both too weak to complete the task.” Telling her even that
much caused a great sense of unease within his heart. “My pack bonds were so
damaged that if your Larnkin hadn’t severed them completely, my Larnkin may
have bled out like a severed artery.”

“How long can you
survive without the pack bonds?”

“As long as you
continue to share power with my Larnkin each night, I will survive long enough
to return to my pack and restore those links.”

“That was an
answer, but not to the question I asked.”

Silverblade
shrugged. “I don’t know how long a lupwyn can live once pack bonds are severed.
It has never happened in my memory. Nor have I heard tell of such in the
stories passed down from the elders.”

“Well, the
acolytes are new to this land, so perhaps that isn’t so surprising.” Beatrice
tilted her head to study him, but he knew she wasn’t seeing him with her eyes.

She continued to
circle and again he felt her power, the soothing balm of her healing magic
flowing across him, and he hungrily drank of that power, absorbing her concern
and sympathy along with it.

But it was not
enough. It simply whetted his appetite. He fisted his hands so he wouldn’t drag
her into his arms. The temptation to bask in her warm, nourishing magic was
that great.

“Tell me more
about how these pack bonds are formed.”

Beatrice’s
gray-blue eyes met his. Trapped, he couldn’t look away—and he didn’t want to.
“There are places on the body that act as conduits for the Larnkin. If it
helps, think of them as gateways through which those spirit creatures can
directly touch another of their kind in the physical world.”

At his words,
Beatrice reached out, her fingertips hovering less than a hand-span from his
body but did not touch him.

Shifting closer
until Beatrice’s fingertips brushed his chest, Silverblade guided them up to
his throat. “There are seven gateways in total. During the Bonding Ceremony,
where sacred symbols are painted upon their hosts’ bodies, a Larnkin can use
the gateways to escape a host for a short time and forge their spirit bond with
another of its kind. When that occurs, the two hosts become bondmates for life,
like Ashayna and Crown Prince Sorntar.”

Beatrice caressed
his throat with a slow thoroughness that tested his concentration.

What was I
saying? Ah, yes. Pack bonds. Why then am I telling her about bondmates and the
great fiery bonding ceremonies?
It didn’t relate to
the way lupwyn pack bonds were formed, but he knew in the deepest, most secret
part of his phoenix heart, he wanted her as his bondmate.

“From what I
understand so far, pack bonds are similar, but not as powerful as the link
shared between bondmates, yes?”