“What happened?” asked Vertigern. “What did you do?”
“I protected myself. And I understand it now. It’s all about control. I can use it...”
“Not like that,” interrupted Indarin. “Jeren, it’s too dangerous. Don’t you understand?”
“What’s to understand? I can do it, Indarin, use it. I can finally—”
A shout from outside brought all their attention away from her and to Elayne, who burst into the pavilion, armoured and pale with exhaustion.
“Fellna sighting. Less than an hour to the south along the side of the road.”
“An ambush,” said Indarin. “They’re waiting for us if we go that way unprepared. Call the men to arms. We’ll ride ahead and deal with them now.”
The exhilaration turned sour and dry in her mouth. Jeren shivered. She’d seen Shan out there on his own, on that narrow strip of road with the pine trees and rocks providing so many places for ambush. Out there where the Fellna waited, where they could catch him unaware, where they could capture him again. And there were few they’d prize as much as Shan. And she knew again, with a fire that seared her heart that he was on that road, coming back to her, just as she knew the dream last night was no dream. That is had somehow been real, in that world of between only magic could create. The magic that sparked between the two of them.
She breathed out, fighting the panic and alarm, fighting the need to tear out of the tent on her own.
“I saw Shan,” Jeren said. “On the road. If the Fellna are out there we have to find them and stop them. Before they find him. He’ll walk straight into a trap.”
Chapter Seven
If it had been a dream, he asked himself—and all logical evidence said it was—why had he woken with the scent of her still lingering on his skin? With the chill of magic swirling through the air around him? She was heartbroken and he had caused that. She was in danger, and although that was nothing new, for Jeren lived her life in danger, this time he knew it was so much worse. He woke with the dawn, picked up Naul and began to run. He knew the site where they were camped. He knew it wouldn’t take long. He just had to get there.
All day he ran. When they would have set their new camp, still he ran. He didn’t need food or rest. All that mattered was Jeren.
Magic drove him. He knew that. The magic between the two of them perhaps or something greater. Who could tell? Certainly not the will and strength of a stupid warrior who should never have left her, no matter how sound his reasoning had seemed to him in the heat of anger. He ran, felt the attack on her like an attack on himself, ran and felt her drain the magic from another. He ran, and knew he’d never reach her in time.
They came at him like a swarm of shadows sweeping down the hillside, between the trees, bringing the night with them. Darkness whirled around him and the world changed. So many, far more than he’d ever seen in one place. Blind to anything but the danger to Jeren, he ran right into the narrow valley where they’d laid their ambush.
The Fellna burst over him, tearing Naul from him and pinning Shan to the ground. There wasn’t even time to draw a weapon and they were so many, so impossibly many, that he couldn’t shake them free.
The Enchassa appeared from their midst, calm and cool, her smoke-grey gown billowing around her. She moved like a wraith between the trees, between the shadows. Her eyes flashed like shards of obsidian as she came to a halt before him and her servants hauled him to his knees.
“I made you a very fine offer, Shan. It’s rude to reject me so out of hand.”
He clenched his jaw, struggling against the sinuous hands holding him, but they were too strong, too numerous. The Enchassa came closer, her bare feet silent on the leaves and twigs that littered the ground between them. A cat, stalking her prey.
This time, he thought, it’s gone too far. She’ll kill me for sure.
And part of him welcomed that.
But he’d never see Jeren again, never hold her, never press his lips to hers.
“I’m going to give you a gift, Shan.” She unfurled her fingers, long nails glinting in the half-light. “Whether you want it or not. For those of us you’ve killed, for those possessions you’ve taken—”
“They were people, not possessions!”
The Enchassa smiled thinly. “Not to us.”
“You’ve tried this before. I’ll never be your slave. I’ll kill myself first.”
She shook her head, her hair whispering against her shoulders. “I said a gift. I don’t need another thrall, certainly not one as unruly as you.” She tore open his shirt to expose his skin to the cool air and pressed her hand to his chest. Her nails dented his flesh. “My gift is transformation, as Ylandra might have intimated. I’m going to give you the gift of awakening your magic, Shan. I’m going to make you one of us.”
Her nails slid like knives into his flesh. He screamed in spite of his resolve. Burrowing fire like acid etched its way inside him. Shadows flowed from her touch, turning the blue veins beneath his skin to indigo, marking him, tracing through him like a spider web of darkness against the light. It caught hold of the desperate need to find Jeren, to protect his mate, to be with her. And it twisted it. Rage followed. Rage and hatred, uncontrollable, the need to hurt, destroy, to take vengeance on anyone who harmed her, anyone who threatened her, anyone at all. It grew, like mould, devouring as it spread. All the things that a Shistra-Phail could suppress, all the things he needed to keep under control. Shan threw back his head and howled out his agony. His captors released him, crowing in glory. He couldn’t get away from her now. He was lost.
A small grey ball of fury burst through the ring of Fellna. Snarling like a beast ten times his age, Naul threw himself directly at the Enchassa. She jerked back, more surprised than afraid, surprise which quickly turned to anger. She kicked him and his growl ended in a yelp of pain.
She flung one hand towards the wolf, a curse forming on her rosebud lips, but it was all the moment Shan needed. Pulling his knife and sword free, he attacked, his lips bared in the same wolfish snarl, his mind maddened with pain. More wolf than Feyna now. He could feel Anala raging within him, her spirit driving him to break free, to kill them all, to kill anyone who threatened their pack.
Four Fellna lay before him while the others retreated. The Enchassa gathered her swarm around her.
“This is far from over.” She glared at Shan and with a twist of shadows, she was gone.
Breathing hard, almost too afraid to drop his weapons, Shan sank to his knees by Naul’s crumpled body.
“Not again,” he whispered, and sheathed the knife so he could touch the cub. He couldn’t lose a bonded animal again. Couldn’t live with himself if he did. And Naul was so young, needed his protection and guidance. He failed everyone he cared for. His sister Fa—murdered because he couldn’t see what was happening with Gilliad— Indarin—his magic lost— Jeren, Ylandra, Devyn, Anala... Everyone.
Shan wept, because there was nothing else he could do.
Naul stirred, lifted his head weakly and tried to lick Shan’s hand. Alive. Thank the goddess. Shan stroked his head, lifted the pup carefully and set him back on wobbly legs. Naul whined, but managed to stand.
“We need to get to safety,” Shan murmured, petting the wolf cub’s head, scratching behind his ears. The camp wasn’t too far, but it felt like a hundred miles away. “Shelter.”
He tried to stand but a wave of dizziness swept over him, weakness such as he had never known. He was drenched in sweat, splattered with Fellna blood. His body ached inside and out. Pinpricks of acid poured through him again—the Enchassa’s spell still crept through his veins.