Maiden's Wolf (In Deception's Shadow Book 3) (6 page)

It was several
candlemarks later by the time she finished cleaning and stitching his wounds.
All that time, she’d been sharing power with him and he was definitely
stronger. So too was she by the strange quirk of her healing magic.

When she’d
finished bathing the worst of the blood and dirt from him, she’d dragged his
heavy body across the grass on the blanket and situated him next to the fire.
While the stew she’d made from her supplies cooked, she lashed together some
stout branches and rigged them together as a temporary shelter for them.
Tightly woven evergreen boughs created the covering and would divert most of
the rain that was threatening.

She hoped it was
a good strong storm to help wash away the lupwyn’s tracks. Besides, a powerful
storm might swell the streams and rivers enough to slow the acolytes.

Anything that slowed
the acolytes was a blessing. Even getting soaked to the skin by a torrential spring
rains was a blessing she’d welcome.

One more quick
glance around confirmed that she’d done everything she could for the moment. Pouring
herself a cup of tea, she sat back and just studied the lupwyn while she sipped
at her hot drink.

Earlier, while
she’d healed him, she dealt with his individual injuries and studied him with
her mage sight—looking within him more than looking at him. For the first time,
she studied the lupwyn as a whole and what a strange package he was.

He’d said he was
unable to take on lupwyn form, so this present blend of human features and
lupwyn-like characteristics must be some accident that left him halfway between
his human disguise and true form.

After she’d
cleaned some of the blood from his face, she’d been quick to recognize the
‘human’ trapper. Up until now, she hadn’t had time to think on that or what it
meant. Had he been studying them so he could perfect his human form? Or was it
for a darker reason? Had he been studying them because he suspected their
natural magic as being similar to what the acolytes’ possessed?

A great many
questions whirled around in her mind, and the fastest way to answer them would
be to simply ask him. So she would, once he woke. For now, she’d simply study
him until she had satisfied her curiosity.

Her Larnkin was also
clearly interested in this lupwyn’s well-being.

Beatrice reached
out and her magic flared as she gently brushed her fingers over a bruise near
his temple. After that slight touch, the bruise faded.

For all he
was…different, her healing power said his body was viable. He could survive in
this form if he had to.

And he wasn’t
hideous to look upon, only different. He still possessed a thick pelt of fur, long
pointed ears, and a thick ruff-like covering on the back of his head and neck,
but the appendage of greatest note was his great bushy tail. If asked, she’d
have to guiltily admit that she petted it out of sheer curiosity. It had been as
soft and as thick as it appeared.

Except for the
tail and the ears, the rest of his body was surprisingly human. His shoulders
and chest were a little broader and thicker through than a human of the same
build, as were his muscular hips and thighs. Even his calves were about three times
the circumference of one of hers, although she was tiny even by human
standards.

This creature was
a solid wall of muscle, sturdy bones, and sharp fangs and claws. When she’d
flipped him over to wash the front she’d found him built much like a human
male, right down to nipples, a belly-button, and genitalia that looked like
what would be found on the human male of corresponding build.

The pelt that
covered part of his back and shoulders only continued around his sides a little
ways, leaving most of his front hairless. Two strips of fur did wrap around
from behind and curved over his hips.

Likely had he
continued with this shift, the fur from his back would have just spread around
in front and eventually covered him completely in a thick pelt.

Idly she stroked
her fingers through the ruff of fur where it started from a peak on his
forehead and swept back along the curve of his skull, before cascading down his
back rather like a human with a really thick head of hair. It was softer than
she’d expected.

She grinned,
thinking she wouldn’t have minded having his beautiful hair. And come to think of
it, there had been a winter or two when she would not have minded the added
warmth of a fur pelt herself.

Somehow she
doubted it would be quite so wondrous in the heat of summer though. But now,
with the nights still cool and winter not so long ago, she could envy the
lupwyn his pelt.

What would he think
of his new form? Her healing magic had gone a long way to helping heal his
physical wounds, but as for his mental and spiritual ones, not even her
formidable Larnkin had been able to touch them.

His was still
greatly damaged by the acolytes’ feeding. She suspected it would take entire
moon cycles for it to fully recover, if it ever did.

Although it was
too early to say for sure, and she knew almost nothing about Larnkins even
though she’d been host to one since birth, she secretly hoped this lupwyn would
stick around long enough to share some information with her.

It was likely too
much to expect for him to volunteer to be her personal guide. She cast a
speculative glance back at the sleeping lupwyn. Maybe once he was well enough
he could get word to his people and ask about the fate of the Stonemantle
sisters.

She only hoped if
he was able to get word to his people and they did know of the sisters’ fate,
that they were alive and well.

From the little
she’d learned from the sisters, she knew Elementals like the horse-like
santhyrians and the lupwyns coexisted in some mutually beneficial arrangement
that dated back centuries. She hoped that made this one more likely to accept
her.

Beatrice found it
fascinating that several different species all managed to live together in
harmony, somehow linked together by their Larnkins.

She snorted in
humor. Humans couldn’t even tolerate each other.

Still, a
foolishly hopeful part of her heart rather wished this lupwyn would look at
her, and the Larnkin she hosted, and consider her a part of the magical
community. Not once in her life had she belonged anywhere.

Only Old Mother
and her brother Roan were anything like her, and even then she sensed her power
was something that would someday alienate her from them as well.

Beatrice knew
well that she might never belong, but she’d settle for a place to build a home
safe from the threat of acolytes and the danger of constantly being hunted.

She eyed the
lupwyn with mild calculation. Maybe she could convince him to allow her and her
family to travel with him for a time.

Silverblade came
awake slowly, hoping all the horrors in his mind were nothing more than a
terrible nightmare. Yet he knew everything that had just happened was all too
real.

His mother.

The acolytes had
taken his mother from him. Grief and rage spun across his soul until they solidified
into one tightly woven need for revenge. If he was alive—which the dull ache of
his body suggested he was—then revenge was still possible. He would find the
acolytes and he would make them pay for what they had done.

But first, he
would need to remain out of the acolytes’ reach until he healed.

He already knew a
bit about where he was and who he was with, his sleeping mind having sensed and
catalogued those key pieces of information. But now he groggily took in more
details of his surroundings and found himself tucked in a blanket. A fire
burned brightly nearby with what smelled like rabbit stew suspended over the
low flames. A female human sat across from where he lay—Beatrice. She stirred
the stew and added a sprinkle of some herb as he watched.

More details of
his new situation seeped into his foggy mind. He had been healed—at least
physically. He couldn’t reach his Larnkin or call his magic. By the dual
sensations of feeling the fur along his back and the blanket brushing against
his naked, furless front, he knew he was trapped between forms. Just like an
overeager adolescent trying his hand at shapeshifting for the first time
without the guidance of an elder.

But there were
worse things than being trapped between forms. Like not knowing his present
location in relation to the acolytes. Or having dragged the young healer into
this mess.

Beatrice was
brave, kind-hearted, and wasn’t the type to blame him should the acolytes find
them, but he would blame himself. He needed to find a way to get the human
safely away from the acolytes and then find his people and report what he’d
learned about the enemy.

“Since you’re
awake, lupwyn, I have some questions for you. And by the way, what’s your
real
name?”

Beatrice stared
at him, her expression calm and thoughtful, not filled with fear or revulsion.
That was a good sign, wasn’t it? But he didn’t respond to her question, not
knowing what to say to her. Even being trapped between forms probably wasn’t
enough to confuse her as to who he was. His human features were probably still
similar enough to his trapper disguise that Beatrice wouldn’t mistake who he
was.

After giving the
stew one more stir, Beatrice sat cross-legged and rested her hands on her
knees. Her body language said she’d wait all day for him to speak if she had
to.

He sat up slowly,
mirroring her position. “My birth name is Silverblade.”

 “I’m Beatrice,
but you already knew that.” The human smiled, a merry light in her eyes. “When we
first met and you introduced yourself as Janinson, a trapper fresh from the
Empire, I knew you lied. I always thought your name was fictitious. Old Mother
and I just assumed you were hiding from the acolytes, same as us. It never
occurred to me that your power ran so deep as to hide your true nature.”

“I never intended
to deceive you, but I had my orders.”

She tilted her
head at him, that thoughtful look back in her gaze, and he wondered which
direction her thoughts flowed in.

“I know. I never
sensed deceit in you. It’s why I trusted you when you still pretended to be a
trapper—why I still trust you.” She began unlacing her shirt’s ties, peeled
back the fabric to expose a portion of her breasts, and tapped the mage mark
emblazoned upon her flesh. “What is this? You have one, so you must know what
it is.”

Silverblade loved
her sensibility. With her, there was never any time wasted on worries or
foolish debates. No, she always saw situations clearly, dealing with immediate
threats first and shoving aside all else.

“Oh, yes,” she
said as if reading his thoughts. “A foreign mark suddenly appearing on my
breast is something of greater concern than a trusted friend who has hidden a
secret because he was under orders.”

Hmmm, just how
deep had her healing power allowed her to ‘read’ him? He didn’t give voice to
his question, afraid she’d think him ungrateful for all she’d done.

In fact, he was
humbled that she still trusted him in spite of his own not-so-mild deception.
And the friendship she spoke of did come as a bit of a surprise. While he’d
struck up a friendship with her family, most of his attention had been focused
on teaching the boy, Roan, a few hunting tricks and the like. Some evenings
after a successful hunt, he and the boy would return to the hut where Old
Mother and Beatrice already had a cooking fire going.

Those evenings of
a shared meal were far enough apart, he hadn’t actually thought much of them.
One simply helped one’s pack.

But seeing the
sincere trust in Beatrice’s pale grey-blue eyes, he realized she, who had never
had proper pack interaction, might place greater importance on even the
smallest encounters. Whatever the cause, he was glad the young healer did not
fear him.

Unfortunately,
while he knew the symbol on her breast was a mage mark of some kind, he didn’t
know who or what had put it there. Although he had a few unsettling ideas. In
his youth, he’d studied in Grey Spires and his mentors had drilled in many
history lessons.

But there was a
darker possibility as well. His history lesson had not mentioned anyone or
anything with powers like the acolytes could summon. He could not rule out that
these marks were not something placed there by the acolytes.

One thing he did
know was that the acolytes could conscript new, unwilling hosts. It was
possible she was one and didn’t even know it.

He glanced down
at his own chest. And if that was the case, wouldn’t that then mean he himself
was also a new host for whatever dark magic controlled the acolytes? Shuddering
at that thought, he didn’t want it to be true. And while he didn’t feel evil,
that didn’t mean there wasn’t some dark spark already growing within.

As much as he
didn’t want to drag Beatrice into this mess, now that she was clearly hip-deep
in it, he felt a kinship growing between them. It was fast, and would be
unnatural for any species outside of a lupwyn’s heritage. But lupwyns were pack
animals and once they were in the company of another for long enough to grow to
trust them, they swiftly began the process of assimilating them into the pack.

And he’d been
away from his pack for long enough that his biology was looking to form pack
bonds with any trustworthy creature. His scout’s discipline, honed through
centuries of training, in combination with his far more skeptical phoenix side
was likely the only reason his lupwyn magic hadn’t already managed to form the
bonds with Beatrice and her family.

Despite this
natural skepticism, it was his phoenix bloodline which urged him to tell her
what he knew of mage marks in general and where he suspected these ones in
particular may have originated. That way he could see how she reacted and study
her more.

“Throughout
history, there have been occurrences where the gods, ancient Larnkins, and
oracles marked those with power as their chosen.” He paused at length and then
sighed, thinking how to phrase his next words without scaring the youngling.
With a mental shrug, he decided it best just to spit it out. Beatrice seemed
mature in spirit even if she was still young in body. She had the right to know
the dangers. “Not all brands denote ones who serve the Light.”

The female
glanced down at her mark and ran one finger along the complex series of swirls
and knots that composed the elegant design. Her expression darkened. “I have
been blessed not to have come in direct contact with an acolyte in many years.
I’ve only felt their presence distantly. So I cannot say with certainty that
this power isn’t something of their conjuring.”

“I have not been
so fortunate and know well the feel of an acolyte’s soul-numbing power.”
Silverblade ran a claw-tipped finger over his own brand, unease stirring within
again. “But I cannot rule out that they have more powers at their command. They
are an enemy we have not faced before.”

Beatrice nodded,
and then continued. “You may be correct. However, I do not think my magic would
allow an acolyte to mark me without a terrible fight. And if it is any comfort,
when I was healing you, my magic left no remaining trace of the acolytes’ dark
power. I even think your Larnkin, although damaged now, will recover fully in a
couple moon cycles under my care.”

Remembering back
to how her Larnkin had reached across a great distance and obliterated the
acolytes surrounding him with one swift, decisive strike, he had to agree with
Beatrice on that point. Whatever her power, it was greater and more terrible
than what a handful of acolytes could wield.

“Regardless, whether
I have been marked in some way by the acolytes or not, I must still find a way
to report what I’ve learned to my elders, and quickly.”

“My family and I
are friends with the Stonemantle sisters. I do not know if you are familiar
with them, but the eldest sister is the newly made bondmate of the Crown Prince
of the Phoenix, and she told us we should leave the human lands and that we
would be welcome among the santhyrian herd.” Beatrice looked up at him, gaze
questioning. “If the santhyrian herd is closer than your pack, perhaps it would
be wise to allow our paths to run together for a few days. At least until we
are safely beyond the acolytes’ reach? Once among santhyrian allies, surely
they will be able to get a message to your pack. For as long as we travel
together, my magic will continue to work at healing you.”

Her offer
elicited an unseemly surge of relief in his lupwyn soul. Not trusting his voice
to hide even half the relief he felt, he kept his lips firmly sealed and stared
at the fire. Perhaps this new weakness was just a result of the acolytes’
feeding and the subsequent severing of his pack bonds.

He’d already
recovered much of his physical strength. Perhaps if he stayed with Beatrice,
his magical strength would return too and with it, his pack bonds. Still, the
logical and responsible part of his mind knew he should send her on, while he
stayed behind and laid false trails for the acolytes to follow. Yet, if he
stayed with Beatrice instead of luring the acolytes off in another direction,
his own mission had a much better chance at success. And, if he could learn
more about Beatrice’s magic, they might be able to harness it into an even
deadlier weapon to use against the acolytes. But that could not be accomplished
without endangering the young healer.

While he’d been
at war with his own emotions, Beatrice had filled a bowl with stew and was now
holding it out to him. He stared at her simple offering, but knew if he reached
out for her, he would be accepting far more than a mundane meal.