The breeze feels cold without him. “Come with me,” he
pleads. “You belong with me.”
I look back toward home. Father is calling from the
tower.
“I can’t.”
He smiles again. “We’ll be together.”
The breeze ruffles his hair. He takes the dark man’s
hand and walks away into the woods.
Father is calling. My heart feels heavy in my chest.
I call to my magic and shift, my wolf’s form tearing my beautiful dress to
shreds. Then I turn and dash back toward my clan, leaving something of myself
behind.
I sat up and ran a hand through my thick, unruly
hair, the warmth of my dream rapidly fading. A sort of nervous, pent energy
filled me and I stood, throwing off the tangle of cotton sheets. The cool
stone floor was rough under my bare feet as I paced the length of my room, my
mind whirring with the question of who I was, who I was meant to be. Moonlight
streamed in through the high window, and I paused there, bathed in its cold
light.
I studied my arm in the moon’s glow, turning it back and
forth, flexing it to make a small dent of muscle appear in my forearm. I ran
my hands over my skinny frame. I thought of the moment when Winona had ripped
the scarf from my throat, the pain of my father’s blade slicing through the
sensitive skin of my palm, the heavy, sinking sensation of pledging my life to
another, and I vowed to be stronger.
Three Years
Later
I
stuffed my thick, cursed hair under my leather helmet and threw my leg over the
cherry-red motorbike. Then I reached into the tiny pouch hanging from the
shining brass handlebars and took out a pinch of sulfur. I held it between my
fingers, using it as a catalyst for the alchemy that would provide heat for the
steam powered motor. The chalky white powder between my fingers disappeared
and the bike purred to life with a little puff of steam.
I tooled down the long drive, away from the big house, and
headed toward town. I’d heard humans comment about how strange it was that
shifters would drive cars or ride bikes when we could just run wherever we
liked. It was a silly sentiment. Shifting to an animal and back again takes a
lot of preparation, not the least of which entails how you are going to get
dressed and undressed in public, how you are going to carry your clothes when
you are on four legs, or how you’ll manage to fly carrying your clothes if your
animal happens to be a bird. Not to mention, running is tiring. Humans could
run everywhere too, if they wanted. It just wouldn’t be very practical.
The short ends of hair peeking past my helmet ruffled in
the wind. I enjoyed the sensation, resolving not to miss my hair. After
Winona had used my long braid as leverage in our last sparring match, I had
decided it was a weakness. I’d used a pair of sewing shears to cut the thick
mass off at the base of my braid, leaving it to bump about my shoulders in
thick waves. Short hair wasn’t in fashion now but I had to admit, it had been
a freeing experience. I felt lighter. I didn’t feel less feminine without
it. Not at all. I was above things like that.
When I reached town, I slowed and parked my bike along the
sidewalk. I hooked my helmet over the handlebars and fluffed out my hair, then
headed to the gunsmith’s shop. Our capital was a busy hub that somehow managed
to retain the charm of a small town. The businesses along Main Street were
housed in a row of brick buildings with varying facades ranging from Victorian
to gothic revival. I glanced into shop windows as I passed, admiring the
women’s clothing and the pretty jewelry displays, but my pace never slowed. I
didn’t have time for frivolity.
The gunsmith’s daughter, Cora, met me on the sidewalk as
she left the shop. Her long, wavy brown hair was loose, and it blew into her
eyes in the soft breeze. She brushed it back, tucking it behind an ear like a
small child, as I approached. She gave me a blinding smile, complete with
dimples.
“Happy birthday!” Her doll’s face grinned at me, full of
happiness. But her innocent expression began to melt at my lack of enthusiasm.
I smiled at her, hoping to save her flagging happiness. “I’m
just stopping in to pick up my birthday present.”
She frowned at me, then stepped close, wrapping her
slender arms around me in a fierce hug. “I’m sorry. I almost forgot! You’ll
have to fight now.”
I patted her back awkwardly, unused to this kind of
display. I worked my way free and gave her a re-assuring pat on the shoulder.
“I’m excited to be able to join the fight.”
She shifted the straps of her flowery pink bag higher on
her shoulder and gave me a confused look. “But you might get hurt! You’re a
princess aren’t you? Why do you have to fight?”
I sighed. “Don’t call me that. Look, I’m strong. I
can’t die as easily as a human. That’s why we fight- to protect your people.
You’re all so fragile.”
She laughed. “Well we can’t all be indestructible.” Her
expression sobered and her green eyes met mine. “But thank you. I don’t know
what we would do if it weren’t for the shifters. Those monsters would kill us
all.” She shuddered.
I gestured at her bag, hoping to distract her. “Are you
going shopping?”
Her smile returned immediately. “I’m meeting a group of
friends.” She squinted at my less than girly attire. Leather was durable.
And the corset-like halter over my shirt would stay with me and hold my weapons
if I shifted. “You should come with us.”
I could practically see her visions of playing dress-up
with the new girl. It was my turn to shudder in horror. “Thanks, but I really
need to speak to your father. You go have fun!”
I turned and made my way toward the shop at a brisk pace.
Talking to human girls always made me uncomfortable. They were all so sweet
and fragile and… soft. I thought of what one of the Fallen could do to her and
shivered. What she said wasn’t flattery- they needed us to protect them.
I had finally reached the age when we were expected to
enter the war. I had fought alongside my father and sister several times in
the last couple of years, but only in small skirmishes. Never in a serious,
pitched battle. After today, I may see real fighting. I would be expected to serve
Winona in battle, be her sword and shield and all that.
The gunsmith’s shop was the lower floor of a pretty, old
Victorian, with light blue-grey siding, and red and gold trim around the widows
and steeply pitched rooflines. The front entrance was part of a tall, round
turret, my favorite part of the house. I grasped the big, wrought iron handle
and pulled the door open. The little bell above the door chimed merrily.
“Hello, Merris,” I greeted the little grey-haired
gunsmith. He came from the back of the house and hurried behind the glass
display case that served as a counter. Stooping, he lifted a wooden box from a
lower shelf. His deeply weathered skin folded in on itself in dozens of
cavernous wrinkles as he broke into a smile.
I grinned in anticipation, my fingers eagerly gripping the
edge of the display case. The human returned my smile, flipping the box open
with a flourish. Inside, cradled in a bed of red velvet, was my new pistol. I
lifted it out of the case, fitting the fat bronze grip into my hand, and
spinning the wide chamber of the revolver. The gun was short and thick, with a
showy, exposed chamber. A paw print was etched into the antiqued sides.
It was pretty. It didn’t need to be pretty, it only
needed to work, but it was pretty all the same. I hefted the gun and aimed it
at a big cuckoo clock on the back wall, loving the feel of it in my hand.
“It’s perfect,” I breathed. I envisioned myself de-winging a member of the sky
clan with my new weapon, and my lips curled into a smile.
Merris nodded. “It suits you.” I reluctantly handed him
the gun and he packed it away, closing the box with a snick of the lock.
“You’ll be going out soon?” His brown eyes were worried.
I took the box and tucked it into my backpack. “Don’t
worry,” I said, distracted. “Killing Fallen is what we live for. I’ve trained
for it since I was a child.”
He frowned, and a deep line marred the space between his
eyebrows. “I know,” he said, finally. “That’s what worries me.”
I shrugged. It wasn’t very often that a human would take
issue with our war. For the most part, humans left the Shifters and Fallen to
themselves. I had heard somewhere, a long time ago, that the humans were glad
that we magic wielders were killing each other off. The numbers of magic
wielders and humans were roughly even, but with the shifters and the fallen
divided, the humans were the majority. If our clans were ever to unite to
cause mischief, the weaker humans would be screwed.
“Ah, wait. I almost forgot.” Merris held out his hand and
I returned the box to him. His mustache waggled as he held a hand over the box
and chanted an incantation. I recognized it as a basic metal worker’s ward,
meant to protect the weapon from damage. Some humans had a bit of magic. Usually,
if you looked back far enough, they would have a Shifter relative somewhere in
the family tree. Their magic wasn’t as powerful as ours was, and it tended to
be pretty specific. Merris’s affinity for metalworking, for example.
I took the box back with a nod of thanks and left the
shop, fighting the unease that was always present when I thought of the war. I
hadn’t forgotten the blond-haired Fallen boy, and the way I’d felt when he bit
me- as if I was being re-united with an old friend. But this was my world, and
I had a place in it, and a duty to my father and Winona. I had sworn to serve
my sister. I pushed my sick fantasies aside and focused on my training.
However, I couldn’t control my dreams, and he was often
there waiting for me when I drifted off to sleep- him and the shadowy
dark-haired man.
*****
When I returned home, Winona was waiting for me. She was
the picture of powerful elegance in her long skirt, with her dagger tucked into
a wide leather belt at her waist. She had grown even more beautiful in the
last few years- with lush, full curves and silky golden hair that hung in a
thick braid past her waist. But something about her eyes raised my hackles
every time I met her gaze. There was a coldness there, and I knew it was
directed at me.
“I’m glad you finally decided to come home,” she said,
toying with her braid. “Father wants you to talk to the ravens.”
I arched an eyebrow at her. “This is about the rumors.
Have they really allied with the Fallen?” Most of the animals tended to side
with their Shifter brethren, but recently there was doubt regarding the loyalty
of some of the winged ones.
Winona lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I have no idea.
That’s what you’re supposed to find out.”
I tucked the smooth wooden box under my arm and shifted
from foot to foot, impatient to try out my new weapon. “Why aren’t you going yourself?”
She looked down her long nose at me. “I have more
important things to do. Father and I are going to meet with the human
ambassador about mining rights in the west.”
Of course, that was more important than talking to a bunch
of birds. Winona turned to leave. Her sharp, chocolate brown eyes darted to
the side as she passed me. “It’s not like they’re really going to talk to you
anyway.”
I listened to the sharp clack of her kid boots as she
retreated. She was only sending me on this errand because she knew it was
pointless. I squared my shoulders and swallowed the surge of resentment that
followed that thought. It was my duty to carry out the tasks that weren’t worth
the future queen’s time, plain and simple.
I clattered up the stairs to my room. On the way, I
passed mother’s painting. I felt her cool gaze on me until I reached the
landing. When I reached my room, I closed the solid door behind me and leaned
against it for a heartbeat. My hand lovingly stroked the wooden box and I
pushed away from the door to get out my new pistol. I slipped it into the loop
on one side of my leather bodice. Then I grabbed my soft velvet pouch of
alchemist’s compounds and headed out again.
Raven, the leader of the ebony birds, lived in the forest
to the north. I took my motorbike, the gentle sound of the engine soothing me
as I left the big house behind. Having the birds on our side was important, no
matter what Winona said. The animals were our spirit guides. And the winged
ones could attack the Fallen while they were in the air, something we earth
bound shifters couldn’t manage.
I tooled along the narrow dirt road, leaving the town
behind. Acres of farmland stretched out on either side of me, and I reveled in
the feeling of the wide-open space. A steam-powered tractor puffed along,
preparing the fields. I waved at the human farmer as I sped past. I had never
met a Shifter that was a farmer or an engineer. Humans did all of the
manufacturing and harvested the raw materials that we needed to survive. In
return, we were free to focus our attentions on the war- and on protecting the
humans from the Fallen.
I left my bike alongside the road at the edge of the big
forest. Making my way on foot, I approached a tall hillside. I climbed up,
nearly to the pinnacle, until I could go no further. I could see Raven perched
there, watching me. “Raven,” I called, cupping my hands around my mouth. “I
come to speak to you on behalf of the king.”
There was a raucous cry that sounded like a bark of
laughter. A small, dark haired girl appeared at the great bird’s side, one
tiny hand stroking the glossy black feathers. “Raven says if you want to speak
to her, you’ll find a way to come to her.”
I grinned at the challenge. “All right,” I called. “I’m
coming up.”