23

Two

Captured

“Hey! You get out of here or I'll call the constable! No one wants you here, misfit!” the shopkeeper bellowed as soon as I entered the grocery store. I heaved a sigh in frustration. “Don't give me that look, girl. We know what you are, freak.”

“May I resupply what I need, sir? I have money,” I replied politely. “I will be gone as soon as I am done.”

“Eh?” he growled. I heard the shopkeeper's over-large son come up behind me. “Well...fine. But hurry it up, girl.”

The entire time i searched for food and supplies, the shopkeeper's son stayed behind me. I glanced back at him once and he backed up hastily. I sighed again and returned to gathering what I needed before escaping this place. The last time I was here was almost ten years ago, and it wasn't a happy memory; my “foster father” sold me to Darkbird. Those eight years were the worst of my life, and I wouldn't want to wish them upon anyone. Hopefully, I would be long gone by the time anyone informed Damien I was here. For the past two years, Kenlan, my bondbird, and I have been traveling with hardly any money and no means of getting any other than selling what Kenlan and I caught. I had nothing but myself to offer, and no one wanted a tomboy.

Although the villagers of Kelvar hated me for what my mother had been, they never knew all of what I could do. Besides being a shifter, Kith taught me to use mindtouch, or the speaking of mind to mind, as well as translocation, which was a sort of traveling through time and space instantaneously. The albino redelke also taught me to create and control a magelight; a small, glowing ball of magic that shined in even the darkest nights. Another useful thing that Kith taught me was the ability to pick up different languages quickly. Any tongue i didn't know, i learned within minutes of hearing it spoken. Kith himself knew over twelve languages himself and taught me every single one of them.

The shopkeeper's deranged voice broke me out of my woolgathering. “Hurry up and get out of here!” Silently, he stood in the doorway and watched me impatiently.

Everyone else in the store allowed me to the front of the line, waiting for me to leave. Hurriedly, I paid for the food and supplies and strode into the street with a mental sigh of relief. I looked around; no Damien. Thankfully, I had everything I needed to last me several weeks if all went well.

With the food I had just bought packed securely in my back-sac, I started up the road, heading north out of the woods to the road to Tuyen. I didn't have much, just two changes of clothing and several daggers; one in my belt, one in my sleeve, and two others in my boots. As i walked down the deserted and dusty road, I wondered about my real family. My mother was the only one I ever knew, and she died when I was only three. I never knew my father. He probably doesn't even know i exist. The villagers were fond of telling me my mother had died because she was a witch, and had sold her soul to the devil for a child. Another thing they always told me was that I was the get of the devil himself; that I had no father. Of course, they said that all Proteans were born of the dark.

Absently, I wondered when I would see Shadowhart again. I was rushed this time, and wasn't able to see her, but I've managed other visits. I always worried about her, being tied to Damien as she was. The one time I had asked, she refused to travel with me. She had only said, “This is my home, and this is where I shall remain.” It was enough.

The sound of thunder broke my woolgathering with a rumble. I looked up toward the cloudless sky and raised an eyebrow. The thunder continued without pause. The ground beneath me began to vibrate. I looked up the road to the crest of the hill. Men dressed for war sat upon warbeasts, gigantic beasts as deadly as the men sitting astride them. Warbeasts were built and trained for war, being the larger version of runners. Runners looked like a shaggier version of age-old beasts called horses. Their hooves pounded out a foreboding drumbeat against the dusty road, and the animals' eyes flashed in anticipation. My eyes studied the distant soldiers' armor as they raced toward the town. Each carried the black snake of Kygha across their armor. The big, blond Kyghans were attacking their own people again. I caught sight of the royal crest on the leader's chestplate and I instantly dived off the edge of the road, scrambling towards the flowing water of the nearby river. If I could only reach it in time, then I would shift into some sort of small fish and escape to safety. They thundered past. I gagged from the smoke of the warbeasts' hooves. When the smoke and dust cleared, I was looking at the sharpened end of a Kyghan's black steel sword.

“Stay where you are, sonny,” the soldier grinned down at me as his warbeast blew dirt from his nostrils in a large cloud. The black and bloodred of the man's uniform could hardly be seen for all the dust caked onto him. I didn't answer and stayed where I was sprawled in the dirt. “And don't try anything...funny.”

One other soldier parted from the group and came up beside me, his sword drawn and ready should I try anything. I saw the rest of the small army attack the village. I couldn't bear to look as the bloody soldiers gleefully went on their weekly killing spree. True, no one had liked me all that much, but I never could bear to see innocents die. Maybe that was why Darkbird had enjoyed taunting me so much. I thought about running, or rather flying. Then, I caught sight of the single mage in the group. The little man had held his horse back, leaving the plundering and blood to the men. He glanced almost nonchalantly over at me, and I decided rather abruptly against trying to flee. I knew enough that I couldn't hope to escape one of Darkbird's mages; not while he was watching me, just waiting for me to do something. I had been just plain lucky last time, and I knew I wouldn't get a second chance.

The mage glanced over at me again and seemed satisfied when I made no attempt to escape. Sooner than I expected, he called the men back. The town was decimated. I was glad that I knew my foster mother, Shadowhart, had gone with Damien on a trip to Tuyen, the northern town; she wasn’t here. All too soon for my piece of mind, my captor roughly pushed me onto a spare runner and tied my hands behind me and my ankles to the underside of the beast until I could barely move at all.

Great. This is just great, I thought to myself. And just how do you plan to get out of this one?

Five days later saw me still tied to a Kyghan saddle. The bastard mage refused to let me even the simple courtesy of relieving myself. Unfortunately, with my hands behind me such as they were, there was no animal form I could take to escape. All I could do was pray for rescue and hope. Swift hope. All too soon, the troupe reached the small canyon that would allow them passage through the mountains. The trail was small, barely wide enough for a single wagon, and the party went from five abreast to two-by-two. The canyon was long and winding, and many travelers had been known to camp on night under the small outcropping of rocks halfway through. The walls were too sheer and the trail too rocky to allow for any animal to come upon travelers unseen and unheard.

Roughly two hours had passed before I sensed them, they were so well hidden. Though I had no magic of my own, I still had received mage-sight from my unknown father. Kith had taught me well, and nothing got past me anymore. But still, I didn’t sense them until well past midday. Hidden among the small boulders bordering the already narrow trail, Tieran soldiers awaited the moment of ambush. They weren’t in their normal blue and golden uniforms, which was smart, as the setting sun would have glinted off the gold and given them away. The soldiers wore simple peasant clothing; rough wear, but perfect for the arid plains and semi-desert of the mountains.

But if I could sense them, so could the Kyghan mage. I knew something would have to distract him from his scouting of the area, if he hadn’t already sensed them. I heard no alarm, which was a good sign. The only problem is how could I get his attention enough? I could barely move. I ran through a mental list of what I could do, but not much came to mind that would help. Shifting was out of the question, as my hands were in the wrong position; translocation wouldn’t work, it was iffy, and I needed to have a distraction that cost more time than three seconds; mage-sight was passive only; mindspeech? I might be able to annoy him enough…wait a minute. I had grown up around runners, large runners. The runner I was on belonged to the old innkeeper. My foster father had trained him. They hadn’t gagged me yet and my legs might still be tied, but I could still give him some signals. I could get him to cause the distraction for me. I clicked my tongue at him and he obligingly sped up. After a series of clicks, he broke into a rough trot.

“Hey, you!” roughly, the lead rope was jerked backwards, bringing the runner to a full stop. My captor jerked it again and he backed up a step. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Somewhere…far away from you,” I responded innocently. He just snorted. Unfortunately for me, he pulled out a soiled piece of cloth, yanked my head back and gagged me. Damn. I tightened my legs slowly, pulling my feet as far back from his barrel as I could. It was enough because he responded by backing up. The soldier on the other end growled at me and jerked the rope. The runner stopped. The soldier tightened his grip on the rope and shortened it.

Time to try Plan B. Move, I whispered to the runner’s mind directly. His head came up, startled, and swung around. His ears twitched, for while my voice was familiar, he surely hadn’t heard it in eight or more years. Runners didn’t have the best of memories. Move, I whispered more urgently. He took a hesitant step sideways. I sent him a mental picture of him rearing and lashing out with fore hooves like a battle runner. The runner was timid and only sidled sideways a little further. Not enough. I tried again, more insistently. He stopped, ducked his head, and stomped once. I managed a semi-decent nicker through the gag, and he reared slightly. The soldier glared at me in warning, but I whinnied. The runner reared completely. I shouted a muffled ‘heyah!’ and he jumped forward and landed. The jump accomplished its job by pulling the rope out of my captor’s hands. I kicked the best I could, more of a short pressure really, and the runner broke into a trot. Two soldiers grabbed at the rein and missed, but the third caught hold. He reached over and slapped me hard. Jump, I whispered to the runner again, and he obligingly reared and jumped. I empathically inflicted him with the desire to be free, and he began to fight the rein, pushing several other runners out of the way. The Kyghan soldier cursed, and I saw the mage up ahead glance back.

Bastard! You shitty, fucking asshole! I shouted at him. That got his attention. He turned completely to glare at me. He stopped his runner and started to turn it, but hesitated. Your mother was a whore. That decided him. He turned his runner toward me and kicked it to a trot. The whole line of soldiers halted.

“Keep moving, I’ll deal with the bitch,” he growled. But his runner refused to get any closer to the now-frantic runner underneath me. Living with runners all my life, I had no trouble keeping my seat, even if I hadn’t been tied to it. The mage made a throwing motion at me, and a huge pocket of air smacked me full in the chest, knocking me breathless. I gasped and leaned forward. Unfortunately, the runner chose that moment to begin to buck. He wanted free, utterly and completely, which included the thing tied to his back. I had done my job too well this time. I sighed mentally and concentrated on regaining my breath, hopefully without getting my neck snapped by the bucking runner beneath me, but I could do little else but flop with each jerking leap.

The mage and nearby soldiers began to laugh. Well, I managed to myself before being knocked senseless, it worked.

When I awoke, I realized my hands and feet were free. My head hurt like blazes, but when I opened my eyes, it thankfully didn’t worsen. All I saw was the inside of a tent roof. I could hear faint Tieran voices walking past the tent flap. Every movement sent new waves of pain to my skull. I closed my eyes again.

Some odd hours later, voices coming closer woke me and I waited in the near darkness for someone; anyone. My head still hurt from whatever injuries I had incurred from the bucking warbeast, and I felt a pressure on my chest as if a very large cat was sitting atop me. I could still breath, but just enough to keep from gasping. I felt tired all over, as if I had just run on foot from a Kyghan war party. Suddenly, the tent flap moved and a bald head peered in.

“Well-a-day! Our little guest is awake,” the man spoke to someone outside cheerfully. “Mind if we come in, child?”

I croaked in answer and coughed, my throat too dry to speak. Finally, I nodded. His head disappeared and the tent flap opened wider. A middle-aged man with peppered gray and brown hair walked in, followed by the bald man, who was shorter than he looked. I coughed hard and struggled to sit up. The old man I didn’t recognize, but the younger man was none other than the king of Tiera, Frostfire. The shadows underneath his eyes spoke of his sleeping habits, and his face had the pained expression of concentration. He smiled at my attempts to sit, and gently pushed me back to the cot.

“Don’t push yourself on my behalf, m’lady,” he spoke quietly. “Please allow me to introduce Tully, our chief healer. Myself, apparently, you already know.” At this, he raised a questioning eyebrow, and I quickly nodded. “My captain tells me your attempt to escape helped distract the Kyghan mage from sensing our hiding spots. Though unintentional, I must thank you.”

I coughed to clear my throat and replied. “No, Your Majesty. I knew very well where you were, and my ‘attempt to escape’ was nothing more than a distraction for your men.”

He cocked his head sideways, both eyebrows raised this time. “Really?”

I nodded and explained a little about my mage-sense. Tully tutted when I had another coughing fit from all the talking and all but shooed the king out the tent. He left, good-naturedly and with a laugh. Tully I found out later, was not only a healer, but a Healer. Many healers only knew how to help with knife and herbs; few could actually Heal by magic.

A few days later, Tully pronounced me fully healed and well enough to continue my travels. I didn’t really want to stay with this small army and travel all the way back to Dionysia, the Tieran capital. Thoughtfully giving me an extra runner, which was a smaller more docile version of a warbeast, they let me go on my way. I tipped my hand to them, offering them the usual good fortune to their travels. The captain offered me the same in return, but one of his soldiers shouted,

“Hey! That’s the woman who stole my runner!”

Oops. Shouldn’t a’ done that. Instantly, I kicked the runner into a gallop, heading northwest. Two soldiers caught up to me easily, being on warbeasts. A soldier galloped his steed in front of me, making the runner charge into him. My mount collapsed, but the war-trained runner only snarled. I jumped clear, but the other soldier had already grabbed a rope and quickly dropped it around my neck and pulled tight. Before I had a chance to get it off and run, the first had jumped off and had his dagger to my throat. I looked down at the blade and tried to grab it from him, but I hit his arm, sending the dagger into the grass. I swung at him with my bare fists, but he grabbed me and held me down easily.

“Damnit.”

One of them grabbed my neck and tightened his hold. Finally, I had to go limp or black out from asphyxiation. As the other soldier grabbed my hands roughly and tied them in front of me with the same rope, I groaned. King Frostfire glanced back at me as I passed him, and I caught the look of disappointment on his face before he turned away. He shook his head and called the order to move out. The king’s sigh could barely be heard over the shifting of runners and men. My captor tied me to his warbeast. I now had to walk. Damn my hair. I should cut it. I shook my head. Except that I couldn’t cut my hair. I had nothing in this world but that. I couldn’t get rid of it except at the last resort. My extra long brown hair was up in my large hat, with was slightly askew. I tried to move my hands up so I could fix it, but the soldier glared at me and jerked the rope roughly. We started out almost directly west.

“Hey, Tomlin. I just noticed something about our little firestarter, here,” the soldier riding to my right commented absently.

“Eh? What’s that?” my captor replied, looking at his buddy.

“She has the same tattoo as Mage Silentwolf does, there, on her left ankle.”

“Huh…odd. What could she possibly have in common with Silentwolf?”

Ever since they had taken their attention off me, I had been working on getting my hands untied. As the ropes finally came off, I waited for about two or three minutes longer before I grabbed my captor’s leg and pulled him off his warbeast. Using his falling momentum, I lifted myself into the saddle and smacked the runner on its rump. Unfortunately, this didn’t have the effect I wanted. The runner snorted and his muscles bunched when I kicked him to run. It looked back at me wickedly, as if contemplating bucking. My heart sank when his back arched, and he shot into the air. I never did like riding broncos…

Finally getting something to amuse them, the soldiers gathered around. My captor had picked himself off the ground, his wide grin telling me he had been the only one who could ride this particular warbeast.

I decided to prove him wrong.

The soldiers’ grins faded to wide-eyed shock the longer I stayed on. My hat quickly came off form the jerking and hopping. Thankfully, I still had my hair tied back into a single braid. But the runner didn’t like it when the end slapped his rump. It only egged him on.

Slowly, the warbeast slowed down. His bucking continued, but didn’t seem as hard. A little while longer, and he stopped altogether, exhausted. I just sat there, shocked that it was actually over.

“Ahem.”

I looked up. The soldier who owned the war runner was standing there, patiently holding the reins. I chuckled nervously and grinned innocently at him.

“May I have my warbeast back now, m’lady?” he asked politely, with a grin in return.

I blinked at him in surprise. “You mean you’re not gonna hurt me or anything?” I asked, sitting there in shock.

“Of course not,” he replied stunned. “Why would we?”

“Well, I…just tried…to take your runner,” I replied, slowly slipping off. The king walked up behind me, gently taking my arm. I jerked, startled, and he smiled reassuringly.

“Then consider yourself duly warned,” the king answered. “Stealing is wrong, but stealing from a royal soldier can get you into solitary confinement.”

“Yes, sir,” I nodded meekly.

“That was one hell of a ride, m’lady,” he continued and his grin widened. I laughed and relaxed slightly. “How did you manage to stay on? Even Tomlin still has trouble sometimes with that animal.”

“Um, well,” I laughed dryly. “MY foster father raises runners, but half the time he can’t control them ‘cause he treats them so horribly. So he told me to gentle ‘em. Unfortunately, his ‘care’ of them only made them harder to control. I’ve lost count how many times I had a broken bone from one of them.”

“I must confess, I’m curious,” Frostfire spoke up quietly. “What else can you do with runners?”

“Well, sir, that depends on the runner,” I replied, rubbing my arm from an old break that never had healed right. Oh, it worked all right, but it still had that phantom pain every once in a great while.

“How old are you, m’lady?” the captain spoke up suddenly, his warbeast paced placidly behind him. “And we don’t even know your name.”

“I’m – well, I’m…twenty-seven? Twenty-eight, I think,” I replied, shrugging apologetically. “And my--“

“You think?” the captain said incredulously. “How can you not know how old you are?”

“I don’t know because I was never told the year I was born,” I shot back, a little nettled at his tone, which implied that if I couldn’t remember such a simple thing as that, what good was I? “I’m an orphan, for your information--“

“Don’t speak to the captain that way, little girl!” the soldier nearest me snapped. I cringed away from his bulk, but the hidden anger of my namesake sparked. I whirled on him, and snarled savagely. “Uh…” he said cleverly and backed up a few nervous paces.

“Enough!” The voice of command spoke sharply. Immediately, I shook my head, clearing my mind of the rage. I sighed, disgusted with myself. I knew better than to threaten a soldier. “Miss. We still do not have your name.”

“Ah…” I blinked blankly for a moment, before shaking my head once again. “Wolf, sir.” Someone snorted. I would have ignored them, but for the strange look on the king’s face. “Firewolf, sir. My full name is Firewolf.”

“Ah. That…might explain it,” the king mused, and turned back toward his warbeast.

“Explain what, sir?” I asked, timidly.

“Look at your hands,” was all he said, before turning and trotting away. Instantly, I looked down, and saw furry paws. “Um…” I trailed off. “Oops.” I concentrated on my real form, my human form.

My stress was expelling itself through my wolf half. Not a good sign. As soon as I had returned to my normal self, the soldier who seemed to have charge of me nodded to my designated runner, but didn’t get any closer. I mounted with a sigh, and docilely followed his warbeast as they headed out, continuing on down the road. Too soon the sounds of the day faded, and cicadas heralded the coming of nighttime. It was way past sundown when we stopped for the night. No one seemed willing to give up their tent, so I bedded down with the runners. I fell asleep as soon as I got comfortable, the sounds of night fading even from my dreams.

I came awake all at once, with the foreboding sense that someone had been there. But I was alone. Sitting up, I surveyed my surroundings. The landscape was shockingly white, with distant snow-capped peaks glittering on the horizon. The vast plains wore nothing but snow. No animals stirred the snowy tundra, no bare trees studded the land. I knew this barren wasteland. It was where I had spent nearly nine years of my life. I stood up, feeling the snow underneath me as a soft powder, fluffy as newborn kittens. Slowly the cold seeped into my skin, turning my blood to ice and my innards to frost. Turning slowly, I saw tiny shapes above me slowly winging towards a huge glittering white castle, the castle I had sworn I’d never go near again. Against my better judgment, but having no real choice, I headed in that direction. I had to keep moving or the cold would finish me off, I knew. The snow shifted as I walked through it, but only to fluff into the air before settling, like sawdust or dirt on a road. No sounds met my ears but for the whistling of the wind. I could feel the push and pull of the wind, a chill breeze that sent icicles up my spine. Soon it became hard to run, so I slowed to a walk. Absently I looked up, but there was no sun in the sky, as if the unseen clouds obscured it completely, yet it was as bright as any sunny day. The cold continued to seep through my skin, until I was shivering, but I had to keep moving. If I stopped, I’d never get moving again. The white castle slowly grew larger, but it was still too far away.

Suddenly, I felt the sense of someone there, behind me. I whirled, but there was nothing, not even shifted snow to indicate there had been anyone there. Again, the feeling of not being alone. I whirled again, but my muscles locked up and I collapsed in searing pain, hot and cold sliced through my body. I could no longer feel my hands or feet. I tried several times to get up, but the cold felt like raw wounds sliced across the sides of my shoulders. The last time I collapsed, I felt rather than saw splashes of something warm against my hands. I looked down dumbly, and saw the only spot of color within sight. My hands were smeared with blood. I felt the metallic taste in my mouth and hastily spit it out; or tried to. My mouth didn’t want to work right. My teeth were chattering too much, and a couple of times, I think I bit through my lip, but with the cold and nearing frostbite, I never felt the pain, only the wet and sticky blood slowly freezing tracks down my chin and neck.

A sudden spasm kicked through my body, centered at the back of my spine. Something held me and pulled me up to a slight standing position. I arched in pain, and would have slid to the ground once again if not for the sword through my middle. I looked down at it, blinking uncomprehendingly, until blackness slowly started to creep through the edges of my vision. I coughed, spitting blood onto the pristine snow.

I couldn’t move, not even to whimper in pain. Maybe I had, I couldn’t hear over the roaring of thunder in my ears. The blackness continued to encroach, and a deep, demonic laughter shattered through the thundering roar, but then melded with it until they became one and the same; a deep laughter, derisively mocking my pathetic attempts to live.

Slowly the blackness blurred and blocked my vision completely, though the memory of the white landscape was burned into my brain. I stared, unseeing, at those snow-capped peaks until oblivion finally took me to the ground. The ground I no longer felt.

I started awake, all at once, and for a split second, thought I was back in my ice dream. Slowly the sounds of camp penetrated my frosted mind and my eyes cleared. Blinking into the near-dawn darkness, I heard someone came up to the runners and began pushing and clicking at them to get up.

“C’mon, ya leggards, get yer ‘ides up,” the rough voice growled. Slowly, the runners rolled and stood, I allowed myself to be pulled up simply by hanging onto one of the beasts’ halters as it stood. “Oh. There y’are. ‘E’d ah wondered where ya went. ‘Is Majesty’s a’waitin’ for ya in ‘is tent. I’d suggist ya skit there.”

Instead of arguing, I nodded and made my way through the bustle of camp to the command tent. I walked up to the guards outside, and one of them nodded curtly before scratching on the outside of the fabric door. After a muffled ‘come in!’ they let me through.

“Ah! There you are…Wolf is it?” I nodded and the king nodded satisfied. “I want you to ride up with me. As we have no mage with us this trip, you’re the closest we’ve got.” The captain didn’t seem too happy about this, but didn’t say a word, his posture said it all. He didn’t trust me. For which I wasn’t really surprised. After all, I’d gotten that reaction all my life. “You’ll be riding between the captain and myself.” I nodded and was dismissed.

As we got on our way again, I could feel a foreboding sense of the darkness hovering over the group. It felt exactly like my dream the night before, so at first I simply dismissed it as the last lingering phantoms of my nightmare. But I didn’t like it, as it still felt too familiar. No one else seemed to be feeling it, though, so I stayed silent. When it continued to grow, instead of fading, I muttered out loud about silent phantoms. The king and captain looked at me, then the king looked at the older man, but the captain finally shook his head at me. No one else felt it.

Every night, as we made camp, the feeling disappeared, but would then return, like a faithful dog, again the next morning. All in all, it took a good sevenday and a half before I mentioned it again, to a random soldier this time. Someone was watching us. He asked around, but still not one other person felt it.

Pretty soon, I had all the soldiers starting at shadows as dusk began to fall. When a rabbit shot into the nearby bushes, the warbeasts shied, bugled, and tramped in place.

“The runners feel it,” I muttered with a sigh. “Why does no one else?”

“Perhaps because you’re more attuned to the animals’ senses,” the king spoke up, just as quietly.

“Maybe, sir,” I replied. “and maybe not. There’s something out there, shadowing us. I just know it, sir. I’ve felt it before.”

He just sighed, and looked off at the setting sun. “And it returns every morning?” he asked, finally looking back at me. I nodded silently and he sighed again, and shook his head. “Well, there’s nothing anyone can do about a shadow. Wolf, if it does anything different come and tell me.”

“Aye, sir.” After a few days of traveling, I got used to the constant shadow, and eventually forgot about it. It never swayed from simple watching, so I had no need to mention it again to the king. On noon of the fourth day, something suddenly felt wrong. With a shock, I realized the watching was gone. I cast my senses around. Nothing. It was gone completely, without a trace. As if by a prearranged signal, the back of my neck prickled, like something was coming up behind me. Then, I heard the faint tell-tale whistle of a crossbolt. Instantly, I slipped sideways in the saddle, thanking my lucky stars I was on a trained runner, and caught the bolt as it whirled by. The soldier on the near side jumped and almost fell sideways out of his saddle when I moved.

“How’d you do that?” he yelled, gasping for air, just as another crossbolt imbedded itself into the side of my leg. I screeched in pain, and lost the grip I had on the saddle, landing on the hard ground. Someone yelled for Tully.

“They’re still trying to get me. Damn,” I muttered to myself as I recognized the bolt. Outwardly, I was calm, but inwardly, my brain was screaming at me to RUN!

“Who’s trying to kill you, Wolf?” the king came trotting up just in time to hear me.

“Hmm?” I looked up. Just then, I caught sight of the culprit in the woods with a crossbow in his hands. I growled softly and stood up, just as the healer came up. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to someone to take care of.” Everyone squawked in astonishment that I could stand with that much pain. I ignored their stares. The man in black jumped when our eyes met, and he inhaled in fear. When he turned to run, I shifted into the fastest animal on the face of the earth.

Tuftcats, or “cat of a hundred lives,” live anywhere they wish to. Their nickname alludes to their stubbornness to live. Even a direct hit will rarely kill one. Human hunters are no threat to these great, shaggy cats. Like their name suggests, each tuftcat has large tufts of fur on the end of their long, sharply pointed ears, as well as long whiskers and ‘beards’ on their cheeks. The tawny gold color of their fur is highly prized in markets, but at the cost of many hunters’ lives. Tuftcats are also the most deadly of earthbound animals. Their silent and stealth is unequalled. About the size of a small runner, though still roughly five to six feet at the shoulder, they can slink up to a deer in the tall grasses of a wilderness meadow without being detected.

“Ahhhhhh!!”

“Witch!”

“Daemon!!”

“Shut-up!” That was the king as I raced off toward the trees. In two seconds flat, I went from zero to seventy mph. In five seconds, I had crossed one hundred yards. The man in black screamed as I reached him; screamed for help, desperately. The birds in the trees went silent form my anger; no sound could be heard in the surrounding forest but the wind of my passing. My paws barely touched the ground as I passed. Eyes of the scavengers above watched in anticipation of a fine meal. The Tierans could only watch in shock as I splattered the man’s lifeblood across the forest’s edge. There had been a slight drought lately, and the mossy ground and the trees soaked it up quickly. I was pissed off, in pain, and a female tuftcat. Either of those alone would have been enough, but combined, no one sane would touch me with a ten-foot pike. I took my time, scattering the pieces like fallen debris.

“Firewolf!!” I heard the command even through my rage. Being also heard in mindtouch, I couldn’t help but hear. “Get back here right now! That is a direct command and you will obey!”

I looked up at them, blood covering my snout and front paws like sticky red paint. By this time, the king and captain had trotted up. Their runners, though they were warbeasts, still objected to being forced that close to a predator, and objected mightily. Finally, the men had to pull off a good thirty feet away before the animals quieted enough. I could smell their fear, both the animals and the men. The blood rush still upon my mind, I snarled at them. The animals backed up even further in terror. So rarely did I relinquish control of an animal I became that the creature’s mind took full advantage of the temporary freedom. In shifting, a Protean became, essentially, two creatures in one body. The human and the animal.

“Um, I don’t think she’s…” the captain started hesitantly.

I’m fine, Captain. Just don’t come any closer for a few minutes, I replied. There have been far too many times someone has tried to kill me that I take no chances anymore. When he doesn’t return, and I motioned to the sticky remains with a besmeared paw, they will know he didn’t succeed.

“But who is trying to kill you, Wolf?” the king asked, edging closer. The captain tried to keep him back, but he only shrugged the hand away and inched even closer. “And just who are you to warrant someone trying to kill you?”

I’d rather not say, sir, I told them. It’s a long story, and we don’t have the time.

“Then change back,” he commanded. I nodded my shaggy head and obeyed. Frostfire sighed, but then hesitated. “Milady?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Are…are you…” he trailed off, glancing away.

“Am I what, sir?” I asked with a mental sigh. His reaction was all too familiar.

“Are you…a witch?” he asked finally. The captain inhaled, and held his breath as he looked back and forth between the king and me.

“No, of course not,” I replied as evenly as I could. “I’m just a Protean. A shifter, Your Majesty. That’s all.”

The captain sighed in relief. “We should continue on as long as there’s still daylight, Majesty,” the man finally spoke up. The king nodded, and all present headed back to the main body of the soldiers. Frostfire explained to his men what had happened, though many still looked askance at me. It was only a little after noontime, so after a quick food break, we got going once again. The captain warned the men about treating me differently, as I wasn’t a mage, but they stayed away from me all the same.

A few days later, a thin, metal owlbolt came shooting towards me out of nowhere. Apparently, they learned that watching for a few days only alerted me to their presence. An owlbolt is a crossbolt, only silent, like the owls it’s named for. Most people would never have heard it coming. But then, I wasn’t ‘most people.’ Instead of sliding sideways, I dived completely off the runner. Belatedly, I realized catching it might have worked better as I heard the painful scream of a warbeast as the bolt found a home in the animal’s side. The rider dived off and rolled just in time as the animals came crashing to the ground. I felt the air compress, announcing the path of a second deadly crossbolt. This time, I dived underneath and through the nearest warbeast’s legs. Startled, the animal accidentally kicked me. I heard a dull crack! as the hoof connected hard with the side of my knee.

Crap.

I tried to turn, but of course with my leg being broken, refused to hold my weight, so I collapsed to the ground. Out of pure luck, I felt the third owlbolt snag my hat off on its way past as I went down. That was just too damn close. I ignored the pain for the option of staying alive, and shoved my way back up. I wobbled, understandably, and a soldier grabbed my tunic collar and pulled me up in front of him, hard.

No, you’ll get hit, I gasped for air. Startled, he let me go with a squawk. Well, a strange voice inside one’s head will do that.

Desperately, I pictured a crow and felt the changes begin. As soon as the black feathers that appeared on my arms became noticeable, I bounded away from him. Well, more like hobbled, but it worked. As soon as I was light enough, I leaped into the air and flew toward the nearest brush cover. Just in time, I heard the fourth owlbolt shoot past me. I flipped madly in the air before righting myself and dodged around the bushes. I managed to land sort of one-footed on the ground between a couple of bushes for a breather. The pain had lessened only slightly, as I had shifted, but not by much. It hadn’t been set, so wouldn’t heal as fast, or correctly.

Now that I was out of range and sight of my assailant, I got a good look at the soldier who had attempted to help. I was shocked to find it was the king himself. He had a lot of strength for one who looked little more than a scholar. Suddenly, I realized he was speaking. I concentrated and the crow’s mind translated the human speech into something intelligible.

“Wolf! Come back here! The assassin is dead,” he called, sounding a little annoyed. I flapped out from behind the bush and landed on his shoulder. He jumped and I almost dived off his shoulder. “Ah…Wolf?”

Yes?

“Don’t do that again,” he ordered, calming quickly, considering he was talking to a crow. “And change back. Your would-be killer is gone.” And he pointed to a dead body so pecked with arrows it looked like a huge porcupine.

Thanks.

When I was fully human again, my leg once again refused to hold, and I collapsed.

“Wolf!” he exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

“I…” I tried to get up, but gasped when pain shot up my leg like a serrated dagger. “Ow…that hurt!”

“Her leg is broken!” a nearby soldier exclaimed in shock. Everyone else gasped.

“You mean to tell me that you’ve done all that with a broken leg?” the king asked incredulously.

“Although, if you remember,” I nodded. “All I did was fly off. The more I shift, the more it heals. Unfortunately, it must be set or it won’t heal right. My knee is something I can’t set myself.”

“Well, I can certainly do something about that,” Frostfire nodded firmly, then turned to a soldier. “Mikka, go get Tully. He’ll know what to do.” The soldier ran off, and he turned back to me. “When did this happen?”

“When you tried to pull me to safety on your warrunner,” I answered, then grinned as their jaws dropped.

“You’ve been ignoring pain that long?” the captain exclaimed. Just then, the older man strode up and completely ignored everyone else.

“Well, let’s see here,” Tully said, squatting down beside me carefully. “What have you done this time?” He checked the break. “Well. It’s a clean break at least. Unfortunately, it’s broken in two different places. You really can ignore pain when you want to, huh?” He grasped my knee firmly. “On the count of three.”

He jerked instantly, not waiting for anything. I said nothing, but everyone else winced at the sound of the two broken edges of bone grating together before snapping into place. The healer then set the broken spot below my knee with the same sharp efficiency.

“Protean, heh?” he spoke up suddenly. I looked up at him. “Just be careful, ya hear? I don’t wanna hear you broke it again with you trying somethin’ too soon.” He shook a bony finger at me. I followed his finger with a grin and nodded obediently.

A soldier gently picked me up and helped me back onto my borrowed runner. He insisted on tying me to the saddle, which I didn’t think was needed, but throughout the rest of the day, he was very attentive, in case I needed a rest.

Three days later the king’s warbeast suddenly reared in terror, making Frostfire slide sideways, and then bolted for the nearby canyon trail. Unfortunately, the king’s foot caught in the right stirrup, leaving him dangling with the reins out of reach. The captain’s warbeast reared with his brother, but refused to take off. I kicked my runner into a dead run. Nothing hampered the beast as it took off. Apparently, something was keeping the soldiers’ warbeasts from following. Mine, being a simple runner, seemed all to happy run away from the stamping warbeasts. No one could control their beasts but me. Odd.

I thanked my lucky stars that I had been given a trained runner, which could obey commands through the feet, legs and whistles. I kicked him faster, hoping to catch up to the king before the warbeast galloped into the canyon. The ravine trail, though wide, did have rough walls. Something could easily catch, breaking the saddle, or the warbeast could run too close to the walls and seriously injure the king. The runner valiantly put on extra speed, perhaps distantly understanding my urgency. I have often wondered whether animals could understand me or not. Though I have empathy, it seemed about as temperamental as my translocation. I leaned forward to help lessen the wind resistance, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. The warbeast ahead of me exploded into the canyon ravine, turning the sharp corner with a clatter of iron-shod hooves and a squeal. The king desperately tried to regain his balance, but instead slid further, wrenching his foot. My runner’s hooves made an eerie echo through the canyon, but the king didn’t dare take his eyes off his runner. My foresight suddenly acted up, and I pictured myself quite clearly getting cut in half by a rough stone ledge just barely high enough for a warbeast to run underneath. No rider would make that.

My spirit sank as I saw the same rocky ledge up ahead. Thankfully, as soon as I had spotted it, a mental light flashed and I realized I could jump it. Not the runner, of course, but the ledge was small enough for me to be able to go over it while the runner galloped underneath it. I placed my hands on the front of the saddle and lifted myself to a standing position. I barely had time to balance before the ledge was there. I jumped awkwardly, hit the top of the tiny rough bridge, rolled and somersaulted off the edge. By mere luck, I landed on the back of the runner, surprising the hell out of it, I’m sure. But I had no time to congratulate myself on that daring and stupid trick, for up ahead, I saw the king slip further, almost within reach of those iron-shod hooves of a war-trained runnerbeast. I dropped back into the saddle simply by sliding my legs down each side, a move that always made every male nearby wince in pain. I pulled the reins back to my hands from where they were dangerously dangling off the runner’s bridle using my mind, and reach back and slapped the poor beast on his rump. He squealed indignantly, but sped up the best he could.

Slowly, but surely, we gained on the fleeing warbeast. The warbeast was in serious danger of stumbling on the rough, rocky ground. As we pulled up beside it, I saw the king’s face was pasty white. No doubt he had not been trained for this sort of emergency, but then again, was anyone? The fleeing beast suddenly realized I was there, and swerved towards the wall, leaping over debris from a long-ago avalanche. Frostfire’s hand slammed into the ground when his runner landed and he inhaled the dust kicked up from two runners’ hooves. Coughing, he held the now-broken hand to his chest. I mindtouched him, Take my hand.

He looked up at me, startled, but instantly held out his nearest hand, wincing when I grabbed his broken wrist. I leaned down, let go and instantly grabbed his elbow, for a surer grip. With a grunt, I heaved him up, which caught as he was in the stirrup, pulled his warbeast closer. Part of my mind went out to the two runnerbeasts, keeping them calm and running as smoothly and in tandem as possible. It’s only a parade, I told them. A very, very fast parade. I snorted mentally. Right. I flipped the tiny, wrist knife out of my sleeve and slashed at the broken stirrup, freeing the king, simultaneously attempting to haul him up behind me. Unfortunately, I wasn’t nearly strong enough. He was heavier than he looked. The extra weight almost pulled me out of the saddle, but I held on with my legs clamped tightly. Instead, it pulled the runnerbeast to an abrupt stop, skittering sideways from the lopsided weight.

For a full two seconds, the king and I just stared at each other, adrenaline still kicking in. Our hard breathing was the only thing heard throughout the canyon. Vaguely, we heard the thundering of many hooves echo of the walls, then fade and disappear. I felt a shudder run through the runner, and I let go of the king’s elbow. Just in time, for the exhausted beast collapsed underneath me, smashing my leg against it and the ground. Then it slid down the slight incline, rolling completely over top of me. Once the 2000 lb runner was off, I gasped for air from lungs that didn’t seem to want to work. Pain lanced through my chest, and I realized my ribs were broken. Absently, I saw the runner lay still, trying to regain its own breath back. I just gasped, choking on blood that had suddenly upended from my throat.

Then the king was beside me, awkwardly cradling my head with his one good hand. I looked up at him, and he smiled sadly, but said,

“You will be repaid for this, Firewolf. I promise you that.” He coughed the remaining dust from his own lungs. “Just hang on for me, ok? Hang on.”

Not enough breath to speak, I just nodded as racking coughs of my own thundered through my body. Blood seeped from my mouth and he wiped it off, using his dusty sleeve. “Hang on. Please,” he whispered just as five soldiers came thundering to a stop. All leaped from their warbeasts and ran to us, some landing hard in the dirt beside me.

“Majesty! Are you all right?” one cried, seeing the blood on his sleeve.

“Oh gods! She’s hurt,” another said, seeing the true emergency at hand.

“I’ll be fine,” Frostfire said, as a third soldier helped him up. Gently, a fourth picked me up. The movement jarred my already broken ribs and I gasped breathlessly in pain. “We need to get her back to Tully before…”

“Majesty, I don’t think she’ll make it, “ the captain spoke up sadly. “She’s too hurt, too far gone.”

“Try,” the king pleaded, and the captain sighed, and remounted his war runner. My vision and hearing were fading, but slowly. I forced myself to concentrate. I didn’t want to die any more than Frostfire did.

“Steelmind, take her,” Captain Egion ordered. “Your runner has the smoothest gait.” A few minutes and the soldier holding me gave me up to the mounted Steelmind as carefully as he could. Still, I flinched with every bit of movement. My vision faded in and out.

I’ll hold on as long as I can, I spoke up quietly. My carrier started and I whimpered in pain. He muttered a quick sorry, and his runner started off.

“Wolf! Please hold on,” Frostfire’s voice came from somewhere behind me. My carrier held me close to his body in an attempt to keep what little was left of me immobile. “If only Silentwolf were here. He’d have her fixed up in no time. I just know it.”

The trip back I don’t remember much, thankfully. I fell in and out of consciousness, barely retaining who I was many times, but I remembered Frostfire’s urgent plea for me to not give up. Apparently, though my body wanted to die and my mind agreed, my stubborn will refused, as always, to listen to either. Maybe it was that someone, for the first time in my life since my mother and Shadowhart, wanted me there.

Once I stopped moving, I was able to stay conscious until Tully dosed me with something to help with the pain. The relief was a miracle in my book, and made me relax muscles I hadn’t known were tense. Once the pain was gone, the adrenaline of the past several minutes caught up with my exhausted body. Tully told me later I was out like a light once I downed his brew.

Like a fever, I was in and out of consciousness while my body healed. No one seemed in a great hurry, so Tully took his time in Healing, for which I was grateful. I had gotten the “benefit” of speed-healing once, as Damien hadn’t been inclined to wait for my arm to heal at a normal rate and had paid handsomely for the quick Healing. Of course, he never let me forget that he’d had to pay quite a bit for that “privilege.” Speed-healing was actually quite painful. Normal Healing did speed up the natural process, but it still took several hours. With speed-healing, the natural process was sped up to only a fraction of that time. Normal Healing felt somewhat like someone pulling on an arm to stretch it. Speed-healing was a quick jerk that dislocated or even broke that same arm. Plus, after speed-healing, everything itched.

One morning, I awoke to voices outside my borrowed tent. I couldn’t distinguish what they were saying yet, but the more I crawled from sleep, the clearer they became. The painkillers were just starting to wear off, but the pain was bearable for once. When I heard my name, I strained my ears to hear.

“We need to know where she comes from, Majesty,” said the captain voice. He sounded worried, though for what, I couldn’t tell.

“And I told you, Edgion, I’ll let you know as soon as I find out, but I’m not going to interrogate her anytime soon,” the king responded sharply. “She’s still hurt. She’ll need time to heal.”

“She’s had over five weeks! Tully said she heals faster because of what she was, or something like that,” the captain protested. “She should be able to be up and about right now. There’s not reason why—“

“Because I’ve told you, Edgion, I won’t have it,” Frostfire interrupted his captain. He then sighed. “Look. I know how you must feel, Edge, but she’s still an invalid until Tully says otherwise.”

I heard a rather explosive sigh from the captain, but nothing more. Then the tent flap fluttered and the king looked in. Seeing me awake, he winked and asked,

“Mind if I come in, Milady?”

“But of course, Your Highness,” I managed a weak wave and grinned in response to his cheerful smile.

“Please,” he replied, slipping inside and relaxing cross-legged beside my pallet of blankets. “Call me Frostfire. At least when we’re alone. Being “Your Majestied” and “Your Highnessed” all the time can give even the most patient of men a headache. And I am most definitely not a patient man!”

I laughed weakly at his joke. His smile grew wider.

“I’m glad to see you’re awake, Wolf. No doubt you heard Edge’s – ahem, Edgion’s – argument outside.” I grinned at the stumble of his captain’s nickname. He chuckled and shook his head.

“I don’t…mind questions,” I told him quietly. He shook his head.

“Not yet, my dear,” he said. “You still need time to rest up. Later.” Then he changed the subject. “How are you today? Tully said he’s not been giving you the same level of dosage.”

“Better,” I responded. “The pain is bearable. Now that I’m awake, I’ll be fine in a couple of days.”

“Really?” he sounded skeptical, but I nodded.

“I’ve always healed in roughly a third of the time it takes most people.”

“Hmm,” he thought for a minute. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“Ah…” I hedged, surprised at the sudden turn of conversation. “Well…I was born in the town of Kelvar about, oh, 27 years ago. I don’t remember…much about my mother, and I never met my father. He was gone by the time I was born, I imagine. I do have this pendant that Mother said was made by Father for me.” I carefully pulled the pendant off my neck and handed it to him for inspection. “Apparently, he didn’t even know I was female, as it says “Son – Firewolf,” not daughter.”

The king ‘hmmed’ again, then spoke up. “What about your father’s name? Hawkblade?”

“What? Oh. Um…” I wasn’t sure what to say. Finally, I settled for the truth. “I’ve never met him. I honestly couldn’t tell you for sure if my father is the same Hawkblade as Darkbird’s brother.” I had a pretty good suspicion that my father and Prince Hawkblade were the one and the same, but I didn’t mention that. “Oh, and I’m not a witch, just a Protean. Proteans can shift into any animal form they study for a certain length of time. That’s it. Though I do have mindtouch, telekinesis, and translocation, though that’s extremely iffy and temperamental. I can create a mage-light, though that’s about all I can do in that area. Physically, I’ve trained runners all my life, with my foster father owning the town stable. That’s about all that’s really important. It’s not very exciting, sir.”

He shook his head. “One…it’s Frostfire. Two…I’d beg to differ. I’d love to have been able to train runners. Growing up as I have, having to be Crown Prince, and then King, I was protected to within an inch of my life. Adventure lost its appeal when there wasn’t any danger, I think. Of course, now, I do know better, but that doesn’t make it any more exciting.” He chuckled. “Funny, my son is just like I was at that age, and I find myself saying the same things to him that my father once said to me.”

“Princes always want the freedom of the peasants, and the peasants want the security of rank,” I laughed weakly. “The cycle never ends, does it?”

He laughed along with me. For the next couple of hours, we talked of nothing consequential, but important, none the less.

Two days later, Tully subsided when I proved I would walk, though the king had a soldier practically hover over me to make sure I didn’t do too much too fast. Every time I tried to pick something up or carry something a little heavy, he’d grab it from my hands with a grin. I’d just sigh, grin back and mock-growl, though the first time I did that, I think it scared the living shit out of him. Then he just grinned at me.

After one more day, Tully pronounced I was fit to travel. Everyone packed up camp and shuffled into formation. The king insisted on me traveling on his left, while Captain Edgion rode in his usual spot, on the king’s right. My silent ‘bodyguard’ trotted up and positioned himself behind my right side.

Only a few hours down the road and the king’s new warbeast took off. Fortunately, the captain was watching for that exact movement and grabbed for the reins and tugged, hard. The beast stopped abruptly, and snorted. Hesitantly, the king continued. I started thinking as we rode along. I thought about my idea for almost an hour before edging my runner closer to Frostfire.

“Majesty?” I asked quietly.

“Yes, Wolf?”

“Do I have your permission to speak to you through mindtouch?” I asked formally.

He looked over at me quizzically, but nodded silently.

I’ve been thinking this over for a while now, I started. But I’m not sure if I’m overstepping my limits of commoner or not. Please tell me if I am. He nodded slightly and turned back to the road ahead. I can easily shift into a runner. I have carried men larger than you before and it hasn’t slowed me down one jot. I can naturally enhance my own endurance, speed and agility. Plus, I’m a lot more sensible than a true animal. I finished in a rush, then held my breath as he slowly thought it through. I’d never been around even nobility before, so I didn’t know how far a low-end commoner like myself could go. But he seemed receptive, or I would never have gone so far as to even suggest this.

Finally, he nodded and spoke quietly. “I’d rather not have any of my men know about this, especially not Edgion. Many still don’t trust you, unfortunately.” He looked at me then continued in a louder and more audible voice, “Wolf, I want you to scout ahead. Use a bird of some sort.”

I nodded and slid off my runner. The soldier who’d shadowed me took the reins from me. Quickly, I concentrated on my image of a peregrine falcon. Gray and black feathers sprouted up my arms and down my back, with blue feathers rippling down my front. Black feathers sprouted from my hair. I always wore undyed cotton, so my clothing slowly made the shift with the rest of me. Several soldiers slowed their mounts down, so as to not run over me, but I took off into the sky as soon as possible. Circling, I looked on down the road for a likely spot to reshift. Mindful of the “job” he’d given me, I also kept a lookout for anything suspicious. Since we were out of the ravine, there weren’t many places to hide until we reached the edge of the forest. I glanced down and saw the captain and king raise their hands to shield their faces from the glare of the sun so they could see me. I gave a harsh cack before flapping off towards the distant trees.

Fairly soon, I caught a thermal, which shot me up and northward. I spotted an eastern thermal, though not so high, and angled into that one. Riding the warm currents was a pure pleasure on warm, balmy days like this. In minutes, which would take those below about a half hour, I had reached the edge of the small forest. Closing my eyes for a moment, I sensed a larger falcon in the area; an osprey. Normally, they live near lakes, but maybe the small lake near Fletcher was close enough, even though it was nearly a hundred miles away. Or maybe this particular osprey enjoyed mice more than small trout. I soared lower, well within his sight range, and soon enough I heard his low territorial scream. I ignored him, and he instantly rose to my intrusion. This far away, the soldiers couldn’t tell the difference between size and color. I mock-fought with the angered osprey for a while, then when he made a open-taloned lunge at my head, I ducked, but screeched and dropped into a freefall. Those below wouldn’t know which falcon was which, and would (hopefully) assume that the “victor” was me. The osprey followed my fall downwards, until I reached the tops of the trees. I sensed him angle off just above the branches, but I continued deep into the canopy cover before righting myself and zooming back towards the forest edge. I landed just before the tree-line to take a breather. Man, that was fun! I exulted to no one in particular. I had heard rumors of the people up in the Vleian city of Navieya were constructing what they called “roller wagons:” boxcars on rails, but with a track in the air instead of on land, and for no purpose other than to entertain the little kiddies. Every time I rode thermals, then made a freefall dive, I knew nothing could compare to the exhilaration of out of control flight. Not even a few roller thinga-ma-jigs.

After a few minutes, I flapped up to land on a nearby branch and wait. Right on time, the soldiers came within a few more minutes ride of the trees. I called to the king,

Think you can fake your warbeast running off with you into the trees? I saw clearly his head shoot upwards and scan the trees for me. I laughed mentally. Somehow, I doubt you’ll find me, Majesty. Oh, and just mouth the words, I’ll see you.

He shook his head with a half-grin, and nodded once to my question. I flapped back to the ground, landed with a soft thud, and shifted to a dark gray warbeast with white mane and tail. Unfortunately, I couldn’t shift my gender, which might be a drawback, as most of the army’s runners were gelded males. As a quick afterthought, I shifted the army’s brand into my right rear flank, marking me as an army warmount. It might or might not work, but I had seen some mares in the ranks. Though I was slimmer than a normal warbeast, I was also faster, which meant that I could have been in the skirmishers part of the cavalry.

Almost as soon as I was done, I turned my head to see what the crashing noises were. I bugled in alarm and had to dance out of the way of the onrushing warbeast. My definite female-ness almost stopped the king’s runner in his tracks. It would be interested. I groaned. The warbeast whickered in my direction, and I led them deeper into the forest.

“Um, Wolf? How far in do you plan on taking us--me?” the king’s voice called out. “I can’t be too far from my men, you know.”

Oops. I muttered, but stopped and turned around. I didn’t want them to come thundering up while we were talking. I explained. Go ahead and switch tack. Maybe we can act like said warbeast and here I nodded to the gelded male, carried you off until it ran into a clump of bushes which annoyed it. Said warbeast finally stopped, and you dismounted, held the reins and regained control. He nodded and began taking off the tack from his dark brown runner.

“That still doesn’t explain how I rode in here with one runner, and came out with two,” he spoke up, tightening the girth around my middle. Suddenly, he grinned. “You know, for a runner, you’re exceptionally well-behaved.” I whickered in laughter, and stamped a hoof in the moss.

At first glance, I’ll look like him, I said, thinking. Maybe they’ll think he’s a stray… I trailed off when he shook his head.

“You’re a mare, Wolf. Even the least observant of my men will notice that.”

Darn. I thought for a moment. Ok. How about this. I am a stray that was once a part of your army’s cavalry. Somehow, I either escaped or got lost. I happened to be nearby, and you didn’t want to risk your -- ahem -- hide so soon with a temperamental warbeast. So you gently captured me, and exchanged saddle and bridle.

“Hmm,” he thought it over. “Sounds good.” Frostfire nodded decisively, and pulled a small lead rein out of his saddle-packs, and attached it to the halter that he’d kept on his old mount. He’d only placed the bridle on my head, not the halter. He then tied the other end of the lead rein around the saddle horn, and grasped it firmly and swung a leg over. He settled his weight, and coughed politely.

Yes?

“You’re sure about this?” he asked with one raised eyebrow. I turned slightly to look up at him.

It’s a little late to be having second thoughts, Majesty, I answered. I tossed my head, resettling my forelock from where he’d moved it. I don’t mind at all. I was just thinking it odd that you’re taking this awfully well.

He chuckled. “Ahem. Remember that order about not using my title when we’re alone? I think your mindtouch counts as being alone.” I just nodded. “Well, while my good friend Silentwolf is a mage, he doesn’t have the powers of shifting. I’m sort of used to magic. Plus, I find this a nice, safe adventure. That and I’m getting tired of having my warbeast run off with me.”

Hmm…interesting. A safe adventure?

“Yes,” he nodded laughing. I started off. “A safe adventure. I can’t afford the dangerous ones.” I just snorted and he clicked his tongue to push me into a trot. “Damn, woman. You have a smooth trot.”

That’s because I’m working at it. This is different than simply being a runner. You’re a good rider, so I’m not that much off balance, but there’s still a difference, I replied.

I ended up carrying King Frostfire for an entire two days before it happened. My vision darkened and I heard the birds quiet down and the insects herald the coming of night. Suddenly a bright flash of light snapped right in front of my long snout. I bugled in shock and equine terror. I stopped immediately, stamped and started backing up, unable to see a thing. Shaking my head slowly from side to side, I heard the king saying ‘hoah’ in an attempt to get me to stop completely. Slowly, my vision returned, but with it came a sudden image of a large, angry female tuftcat in full charge. My equine brain panicked, and I reared in blind terror. Fear and the remembered pain from a long-ago slash spurred me to flight. Terror overwhelmed my thinking human brain and I took off in a dead run, desperate to get away from the angry wild cat.

“Hoah! Hoah!” the king exclaimed, as once again, none of the other warbeasts took off after us. “You said you wouldn’t spook!” My runner half wondered at the strange two-legged on my back, fearing why it kept trying to stop me from running away from the predator. “Wolf!” I careened towards the small lake near Fletcher, splashing into oversized puddles from the soggy overfilled banks. He yelled “Firewolf!” again as a hoof caught in the mud and I staggered. The jerk of my foot only spurred me harder.

Finally, he yanked savagely on the reins, causing the double bit I resented to cut deeply into my tender jaw. I bugled in pain, but it shocked me out of my mindless terror. It also caused me to stop abruptly. To avoid having the king glide over my head, I collapsed my rear into the wet mud, swiftly halting his forward momentum. “Firewolf! Answer me! Now!”

I…Cripes, that was one powerful illusion! I exclaimed, then the reality of the pain hit. Ow! Oh, that hurt. Now my jaw’s gonna hurt like a snake’s…rattle.

“What just happened?” he demanded. Gasping from my headlong charge south, I slowly stood back up. My rear made a slight sucking noise as I pulled it out of the muck. He pulled the reins around, leading me back towards the others, where I could hear them still fighting with their own warmounts.

Well, lets see… I replied. I sneezed suddenly. Ow. Blood was slowly trickling down my jaw to congeal at my furry chin. Instantly contrite, Frostfire let up on the reins a little, but motioned for me to continue. I was doing just fine, when suddenly from out of nowhere, a painful flash of bright light blinded me. Hence why I stopped moving. Since I was blind, that’s why I was backing up. After a couple of minutes, when I could finally see again, I found, to my terror, a huge angry tuftcat charging straight for me. I don’t know about you, but me? I’ve met a few live tuftcats, and usually, what men hunt are the males, right? Well, let me tell you why. One of the oddities of tuftcats are the females are almost twice as large and that much harder to kill. The wild cat bounding towards me was a female; an angry female. One, I’m not really all that brave, and two, seeing a tuftcat, and angry one at that, charging for me, scared the shit out of my equine ass. Runners can’t do squat against a wild cat.

Throughout my semi-ranting, the king remained silent. When we reached where everyone was still attempting to get their runners back on track, the animals suddenly calmed down. The king glanced at me, a calculating expression on his face.

Please don’t look at me like that, sir, I replied to his unspoken question. Don’t even think for a minute that it’s my fault. Someone out there wants you dead by making it look like an accident. Their biggest mistake is trying the same tactic over and over again.

“What’s their smallest mistake?” he muttered.

Ignoring me.

He snorted at my overly cheerful reply, shook his head, and slid off the saddle. “Captain, I need a softer bit for the runner. I had to yank quite hard to get her to stop.”

“You take that off, and you’re not gonna get another bridle on her, sir,” the captain answered worried. “What I can’t understand is why only your warbeast seems to take off, while the rest of us can’t even control a beast we’ve had for all their equine lives.”

Someone is using illusions to terrify the runners, Captain, I spoke to everyone nearby.

Everyone jumped at the unexpected voice from out of nowhere. “Who said that?” Edgion demanded, his eyes wide.

I did, I replied, turning towards the man.

“Who’s there?”

Over here, I laughed at the king’s expression and softly pressed my nose into his arm. He gently rubbed the side of my face. A soldier handed him a kerchief which he then used to wipe off the remaining blood.

Everyone looked around frantically.

“Wolf! That isn’t funny!” the king said firmly, but trying unsuccessfully to hold back his laughter. The soldier then handed him a bitless bridle, which he slipped over my head with no problem.

“Where is she, Majesty?” the captain asked, irritated.

I slowly raised a front hoof and gently tapped the captain -- who was oh so conveniently, facing away from me -- in the rump. He screeched and whirled, glaring around wildly. Finally, his gaze locked onto me. I nodded and said, innocently, ‘Allo.

Frostfire finally cracked up and fell against me, holding his sides.

“Why in hells name did you do that?” Captain Edgion near-growled.

I know what it feels like to get thrown off a runner, I replied, sweetly. I’m not as fragile as I sometimes look, Captain.

“Why did you do that?” he repeated, slower and emphasizing each word. The king raised a hand in warning.

“She had an idea to help keep my skin safe,” Frostfire told him. “I thought it had merit, so we tried it. She’s been carrying me since we left the forest.”

“The…the forest?” the captain said incredulously.

“Yes, the forest, Captain,” Frostfire returned, impassively. “It was my dicision.”

“But…she still spooked,” the captain insisted. “…right?”

“That she did, but she also found out why,” and Frostfire nodded at me to continue. I nodded intelligently at him, causing some of the soldiers to jump.

Someone has been using illusions on the runners to terrify them, I explained. The captain slowly nodded.

“That would work,” he mused. “With the right illusions, even a war-trained runner won’t stand still.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Frostfire spoke up with a sigh. “Let’s go home before that same someone gets another chance.” With nods all around, the small army mounted up once again.

The next day, we had passed the lakeside city of Fletcher, following the lake shore and down the river until it met the ocean. Even though everyone now knew who I was, what I was and why I was a runner, most still did not trust me. I think the captain was slowly coming around, finally believing that I had only the king’s protection in mind, but none of the other soldiers were. So I normally stayed with the rest of the warbeasts, though I wasn’t tied or hobbled. From where we camped that night, I could see the dark blue waters of the sea. Even from this far, it was a beautiful sight. When the last rays of the sun spilled across the distant ocean, I could faintly see the silhouette of the Tieran castle and the vast city of Dionysia below.

By midmorning, we had already ridden a good fifty miles or so. Militia had always impressed me. Those within the ranks never stood around and waited for things; they went and made it happen. Military personnel knew what had to be done and they went and did it, without making a fuss about this or that.

Not an hour away from the castle, we were just riding down into a valley between two of the rolling hills that so characterized Tiera when there came a shout from the scouts off to the right of our trail. Turning in that direction, we soon came across the reason for the shouting. The three head scouts were fighting a desperate Vleian soldier. He was easily losing, being alone and unaided, but he continued to fight valiantly.

“Wolf?” the king asked. I nodded and concentrated on an image of a cougar on the back of the Vleian soldier’s runner. Instantly, the runner squealed in terror and imagine pain, and started to buck to get the weight off. Caught by surprise, the lone soldier went sailing off, landing in the soft, mossy dirt. The runner bucked one last time before turning and galloping off. No one made the effort to catch him and he sailed off over a hill and disappeared. The scouts immediately surrounded the downed soldier, so when he stood up, he was fenced in by drawn swords. He looked up, terrified, and shakily put his hands in the air.

A scout taunted the man and poked him in the shoulder. The captured soldier only flinched at the jab, but didn’t acknowledge the taunt.

“Sir? I don’t think he can understand Tieran,” the scout reported, with an awkward left-handed salute as I trotted up.

“We have no one here who can even understand Vleian, not to mention speaking it,” the captain spoke up.

I speak Vleian, I offered. Fluently.

“You do?” the captain looked down at me from his own mount. “How’d you learn Vleian?”

I travel quite a bit. No one knows me, no one bothers me.

“Hmm…” the king ‘hmmed’ again, then continued. “Wolf, see what you can get out of him then.”

Once the king had dismounted, I walked over to the captive, shifting back to human for the first time in almost five days as I went. The scouts glanced over at their captain, but when he nodded they let me through. Seeing what looked like only a woman with a long dagger at her hip, the Vleian soldier scoffed.

“Is this my interrogator? I had expected at least a man. So, they send their women to do their dirty work for them, huh? What can you possibly do to me?”

“Attack me and find out,” I replied in his own tongue, sharply. I stopped five feet from him, crossed my arms, and waited. He jumped in startlement when I spoke Vleian fluently, but quickly hid it.

“I won’t fight a woman!” he protested.

“Then I guess you won’t find out what I could do to you, hmm?” I responded, not moving an inch. I glared at him for what I knew he was thinking. Every man always thought the same thing when they saw me. Even when I dressed like a man, they always seemed to think I was nothing more than a prostitute. I hated it, but again, I knew no right and moral lady goes traveling around the countries. I had always looked like a vagabond, but then, traveling was the only ‘home’ I had had for nearly nine years.

He watched me watch him for a moment, then suddenly tensed, and lunged at me, or rather my dagger. If he expected me to scream and jumped backwards, he was sorely disappointed. I twisted around so that he missed me completely, and punched him in the back, right in the kidneys. With a pained gasp, he collapsed. Before he could regain his composure, I sat on him, straddling his back.

“Don’t make me use this on you,” I spoke casually, as I pulled the long dagger out of my belt and stabbed it into the ground, pinning his right side to the dirt by his leather jerkin. He flinched, but remained motionless. I grabbed his tunic collar and pulled him back slightly, leaning forward at the same time. “Now. We can make this real easy, or we can make this hard. Which do you prefer?”

He pulled his hands up to balance himself on his elbows so he wouldn’t be completely at my mercy. He swallowed compulsively several times before his quickened breathing allowed him to speak. “P-please, d-d-don’t hurt me.” He swallowed again.

“Then tell me what you were doing out here, in Tieran territory. And not even an hour away from Dionysia, no doubt,” I demanded. When he didn’t answer, I pulled the dagger out of the grass and placed the tip at his neck. “You think I’m mean and scary? It’ll go much worse for you if you have to confess to them.” And I pointed to the Tieran soldiers, who helpfully glared at the man beneath me.

“I can’t tell you anything, and I won’t,” he said defiantly, though not very convincingly as his teeth were chattering from fear of the dagger at his neck.

“You know, they call me a witch,” I spoke absently. “That’s why I’m here. I can dig into your mind as easily as you dig into butter. But it still costs me effort. An effort I’d rather I didn’t have to make. So, which is it?”

“I won’t tell you!” he yelled. I growled and pushed the dagger against the front of his neck.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

He swallowed, and I pulled his collar back a little more, bending him backwards harder. He gasped for air, trying to push himself up to release the pressure of his collar. His eyes looked around wildly.

“There’s no help for you nearby,” I spoke, echoing his surface thoughts. He inhaled, which ended in a squeak. The scouts nearby laughed, calling him a mouse.

“I’ll be killed if I say a word,” he protested weakly.

“Aw, shit! I’ll kill you if you don’t!” I growled deep in my throat. The laughing behind me stopped abruptly.

“Wolf!” The king’s voice caused me to look up at him. His eyebrows were up in his hair. “What are you doing?”

Confused, I blinked at him. “Your arms, Wolf. Look at your arms.” I looked back down, and to my horror, I saw dark brown fur sprouting from my tanned skin. Yikes. I’ve got more control than that. Immediately, the fur disappeared. The king stepped back, satisfied. “Just don’t kill him, Wolf.” I nodded shortly, and returned my attention to my captive.

“The king there just gave me permission to do whatever I want with you,” I told him. His breathing quickened until he was almost hyperventilating. “I think I’ll start by cutting certain…things…off. How about that?” He whimpered as I slowly slid the dagger down his neck, across his shoulderblades and down his back. I reached his lower side when he finally cried out,

“All right, all right! I’ll fuckin’ tell you! But please, don’t hurt me!” I stopped, flipped the dagger and slid it back into my belt.

“Good. Now tell me,” I released the pressure of his collar ever so slightly.

“What do you want?” he asked shakily.

“Why you were here, for one.”

I felt him desperately cast around for an excuse, any alibi. He was trying not to think about why he was really there, which was to await the Tieran king’s return and run home to tell his superior.

“I was…I have…I have a family nearby!” he said finally.

“Why do you have family here in Tiera when you’re fighting for the Vleian king?” I asked. He looked trapped.

“Um…”

“Tell me, why is your captain at the Tieran castle?” I asked, leaning down to his face. He looked about ready to pass out from terror. I imagined I could guess why. Not many soldiers would admit to being beaten by a woman. Soldiers were hardened men, strong, fierce, oftentimes bloody-minded. No mere woman could defeat them. He gasped and I pulled his collar up higher. He coughed and again, begged for me not to hurt him.

“Then tell me!” I demanded. I started to slide my dagger back out when he blurted,

“We seized the castle and found it empty of the king and a small contingent of his men!” I almost dropped the dagger. None of the three countries had been able to get so far as to the enemy’s capital city before. It was almost unheard of.

“You…w-WHAT?”

“Aw, shit,” he swore.

“No cursing,” I replied cheerfully, and dropped him hard back to the ground before standing up. “Oof!”

I repeated what the soldier said to Frostfire. Slowly, the Vleian soldier stood up, staggered, and froze when the tip of a sword touched his neck. I could clearly hear his heavy breathing even from five feet away.

The king sighed. “Well, I guess we can’t go back to the castle, now can we?” The captain immediately sent one of the scouts to find a nearby place for them to stay. “Edgion, send someone to find a way inside the castle and find my son, Darian.” The captain nodded and dispatched another scout.

A few minutes later, the first scout came running back, and led them to a small, rundown barn. The trees and bushes surrounding the place were wild and overgrown, effectively hiding the abandoned place. Before they pushed the captive inside, he suddenly kicked backwards at the man holding his hands behind him, turned and took off in the direction of the largest clump of foliage. Instantly, one of the soldiers spurred his warbeast to catch him. As he caught up with the fleeing man, the warbeast jerked a sharp left and cut the man’s escape route off just as he stumbled on a root and collapsed. The animal danced over him to avoid trampling the man. The soldier slid off, grabbed his collar, and pulled his arm behind his back and up. The Vleian soldier cried out, and quit struggling. This time, the soldier fished out a sturdy piece of rope and tied his hands behind him. He was then shoved back towards us, the warbeast following his rider like a dog.

That night I berated myself about getting involved. Ever since I had begun traveling, I had told myself that I’d never get embroiled in this senseless war. And yet, here I was, interrogating prisoners and helping the king of Tiera. I shook my head and looked up into the night sky. The king had expressly ‘asked’ me to stay near the entrance, as my enhanced abilities would most likely sense alarm before any of the scouts could. There were three other soldiers who were on night watch with me, but they were out of my sight. I could smell them, though.

Soon after most had bedded down for a tense night, I noticed many soldiers would glance my way with a thoughtful expression, blink a few times, and only then crawl into his blankets. I kept my expression blank and ignored them for the most part. I knew they wanted something, but I wouldn’t be the one to ask. Finally, a few soldiers conferred in hushed whispers, and one parted from the group to walk over to my chosen spot by the barn door. He stood above me awkwardly until I took pity on the man and motioned for him to take a seat. Hesitantly, he squatted beside me.

“Why did you put the king in danger, save his live at the cost of your own, then protect him without telling anyone, the captain especially?” he asked, finally. Nervous, he fiddled with a broken piece of forgotten straw that littered the barn floor still.

I thought over my answer as I watched the stars twinkle innocently. Instead, I asked, “Do falling stars aim where they’re going to land?”

“Eh? Nnnnnnno,” he answered confused by my apparent change of topic. “They’re stars.”

“But people blame others when a falling star -- a meteor -- lands in a populated area, killing people or just destroying property.” He looked more confused than ever, so I continued. “You can’t possibly blame people for an act of the cosmos, can you? No. And you can’t blame the meteor, it’s just a hump of hot rock. So, what happens?”

“It’s an accident,” he replied, giving up on attempting to follow my train of thought. “There’s nothing anyone can do anything about. You just move it elsewhere, and go on with your life.”

“And hopefully, you take measures to prevent a similar accident, correct?” I asked him, finally turning from the sky to look at the man. He looked out at the stars, then back at me.

“Yes, but what’s that got to do with my question?” he returned.

“People can’t help natural causes. So you try to prevent them,” I told him. I looked down at my hands. “I can’t help what I am. But I’m not a witch, so don’t go looking for excuses to blame me for every bit of magic you don’t understand. I did not startle the runners or keep them from following.”

“But your runner seemed free of what kept the others at bay,” he protested. “Only you could follow the king into the ravine.”

“I honestly don’t know how that was possible,” I shrugged helplessly. “I’m not a mage, so I can’t profess to know or understand anything about how magic works.”

“Then tell me: Why did you risk your life for a king not your own? You’re Kyghan.”

“Not…fully,” I hedged. “I’ve just lived there most of my life, hence the damned accent. Sorta hard to change.”

“Oh? Halfbreed then?”

“Hey now!” Heads popped out from blankets and growls floated our direction. I winced, as I didn’t mean for my expletive to be that loud. I continued much softer, but no less hurt and angry. “I resent that. I may share two countries blood, but that doesn’t make it any less red.”

He shook his head and held up his hand in surrender. “Sorry. It’s just…Firewolf, I know that was uncalled for and I apologize.”

I harrumphed, slightly mollified.

“So…” he cast about for another topic. Silence fell for a long moment before he spoke again. “So, um… If you’re not a witch, then, uh, what exactly are you?”

“Protean,” I said shortly. I glanced at his face and relented. “Proteans can shift into any animal they see and study. Hence the crow and the runner. I grew up surrounded by runners, so I gathered a real good idea of how runners are made.”

“How’d you learn to turn into a crow?” he asked, intrigued.

“I’d watch them, late at night,” I told him. I heard someone come softly up behind me. The soldier glanced up, his eyes widened and he made to stand up, but was motioned back down. I guessed it was the king from the respect in the man’s eyes. “From my attic window, I could see much of the main square of the town, so I’d watch them at night, fighting over the trash the village boys would leave in the streets.” I turned to face the man behind me. Sure enough, Frostfire was sitting cross-legged on a pile of hay.

“What else can you change into?” the king asked, grinning that he’d been found out.

“Hmm, let’s see,” I thought for a moment. “It’s kinda hard to remember all of them. There’s quite a list. Warbeast and crow you already know about. Then there’s silex, wolf, spitrabbit, hawk, house cat, tuftcat, robin, --“

“Tuftcat!” the soldier exclaimed in a whisper. I nodded, grinned and continued my listing.

“Varabex, tunnel lizard, black widow spider, a rather large brown rat, a white hunting dog, dragon, harpy eagle, black-tailed rattler, --“

“Dragon!” the king hissed. I nodded with a grin at his shocked face.

“There are much more, too,” I said. “Unfortunately, I usually can’t remember them all.”

“Tell me,” the king replied, abruptly changing the subject. “How’d you get caught?”

For one panicked moment, I thought he meant the first time, nearly nine years ago. But reality set in once again, and I realized he was talking about a few sevendays ago. I shook my head with an mental eye-rolling at myself.

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” I said ruefully. “The soldiers saw me, a lone woman, and thought they’d have their fun once they got back to the castle. For which, I am eternally grateful you guys happened along.” I meant it. Back to Darkbird was the last place I ever wanted go be. Never again, I told myself.

“Ah. Well, you’re welcome,” the king replied with a genuine smile this time, not a mischievous grin. “We’d better get some sleep. I’ll want you fully awake tomorrow, and morning will come awfully quickly.”

We nodded and the soldier nodded cordially at me before standing and returning to his own blanket roll. I turned back to the night sky. Not for the first time, I wondered where my mother was from. The ‘halfbreed’ comment made me think all over again who my mother had been. Janessa sounded Vleian, but nowadays, one couldn’t be sure. Where was her family? Where was my own father when I needed him? I had so many questions, yet no one could answer them. My only clue was my pendant.

I sighed, and shook my head. I turned halfway back inside, and got comfortable against the doorway wall. The next minute, it was morning.