The Tears of Elios (3 page)

She waited until she could no longer smell him before approaching the barrier. Sparks crackled on her fingertips as she raked them across it. When it didn’t waiver, she pressed her palm against it and leaned closer. The barrier was as solid as a dungeon door. She had become his prisoner.

***

Ranealya sighed and pressed her head against the damp cave wall. Dawn was approaching. She was still too weak to shift into any intimidating form, although she might be able to try something small, and there was nothing in this cave she could use as a weapon if he attacked her. Part of her knew she would have to kill him for seeing her in her natural form—humans should never have that kind of knowledge of shape-shifters—but she hesitated. If he knew what she was, why had he gone through all the trouble to heal her?

Complicating matters was the way he stared at her as if she was a normal woman and not a fur-covered monstrosity. Even members of her own family had turned their backs on her when they saw what she’d become, calling her the cursed one. When she remembered the intensity of Gregor’s gaze, though, it almost took her breath away. No man had ever had this kind of effect on her. Why him?

Regardless of anything else, she was indebted to him for saving her life, and the idea left a bitter taste in her mouth. She may be little more than a beast, but she still remembered the code of behavior she’d followed before she’d been changed into what she was now. If his life was ever in danger, she was obligated to defend him.

She would spare him for now and see what he did. Yes, it may be breaking the rules to watch and wait but if he meant what he said about not wanting others to discover her, though, her secret might be safe with him. If he told others, his life would forfeit.

But she refused to remain his prisoner.

***

The dark clouds in the distance forecasted a possible storm within the next few hours. Gregor pulled his cloak tighter around him and trudged back to the cave with the wounded shape-shifter inside. Sleep had evaded him most of the night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. The sensual curves of her body. The haunted glow of her eyes. The way she alternated between being a fierce huntress to a showing him a glimmer of trust. She still puzzled him. He wondered what she would do now that her injuries were healed. Despite her odd behavior and the risk she posed, he wanted to know more about her and hoped she would stay in the area a bit longer.

Duke continued his usual routine of digging in the drifts and running through the trees, unfazed by the cold wind or the falling snow. He paused at the barrier of the cave and wagged his tail, appearing almost as eager as Gregor was to check on the wounded shape-shifter.

He lowered the barrier and expected to find her where he left her. Instead, an empty cavern greeted him. The fire had burned down the embers, leaving an icy chill to permeate the space. The woman had vanished.

Gregor knitted his brows together and rubbed his chin.
How could this be possible? The barrier should have kept her here
. The mystery of the wounded wild woman widened threefold. Only a Master Mage could disrupt the barrier he cast last night, and even then, it would take hours to do so. She could barely stand when he left her.

Duke’s barking interrupted his thoughts, followed by a flutter of wings that came close enough to Gregor’s head to tousle his hair. Duke chased after whatever flew out of the cave, leaving him to stumble through the drifts after the dog. When he came to the tree Duke was barking at, he saw an owl high in the branches. The wind ruffled its snowy feathers as it watched from above, unmoved by the dog below. “It is just an owl, Duke. Leave it alone.”

“
No. Different owl
.”

Gregor took a second look at the owl. A sudden chill that was not due to the wind raced down his spine. Yes, there was something different about this owl. Something about the eyes. He focused his mental energy and asked the owl what it was doing. Its silence only added to his unease. Most animals responded to his questions. Instead, the owl flexed its talons and hissed at him.

He grabbed Duke by the loose skin on his neck and pulled the dog away. If it was his wounded shape-shifter, she was making it very clear she wanted to be left alone. “Time to go home.” His voice sounded calmer than he felt. “Leave the owl alone.”

He could not escape the feeling that he was being watched the entire journey back to the house. Every time he looked over his shoulder, though, nothing was there. Unease seeped into his veins and coiled in stomach. His pace increased with the beating of his heart. He was running up the stairs to his study by the time he returned home.

***

Ranealya landed on a tree branch outside of Gregor’s cottage and shook with silent laughter. And here she worried that the form of an owl wouldn’t be enough to spook him. Obviously, he’d been told too many tales of the evil shape-shifters as a child.

Good. That will keep him from telling anyone about me
.

Her shoulder throbbed, reminding her that her wounds hadn’t completely healed. She glided down to the ground and shifted back into her normal form. The wound appeared almost closed on the outside, but it would probably take another day or two to form a pink scar across her flesh. Wounds from the Azekborn always took longer to heal than ordinary ones.

She sniffed the air for the scent of brimstone, offering a quick prayer to the goddess Elios that the Azekborn wouldn’t find her until she had fully recuperated from her injuries. When she discovered no traces of them in the immediate area, she turned her attention back to the problem a few hundred feet away. Gregor Meritis knew what she was, and until she figured out what to do with him, she had no plans on leaving the area.

CHAPTER 3

Kira paced the small room. Master Tyrrus should be back by now. What was taking so long? She ran her hand through her cropped hair and paused to listen for any footsteps in the dark tunnel outside that stretched beyond the door. Nothing. She cast a glance at the stone arch on the opposite side of the room and resumed pacing.

They were playing a dangerous game. Every few weeks, Master Tyrrus would appear with one or two heavily cloaked strangers. Kira’s job was to activate the arch, allowing the strangers to disappear into it. She knew better than to ask questions. All she knew was that the strangers didn’t want to be caught and that the King’s guards were looking for them. It didn’t take her long to put two and two together and realize they were part of the Resistance. And by helping them, she and Master Tyrrus were committing treason.

Not that they were law-abiding citizens of the kingdom by any means.

A shadow flickered in the tunnel. Kira prepared to cast one of the defensive spells Master Tyrrus had taught her. She wouldn’t give up without a fight.

“Kira, set the table,” a voice hissed from the darkness. “We have guests.”

She relaxed, recognizing the voice. Master Tyrrus ushered two cloaked figures into the room. These “guests” would not be staying long. When the door shut, she slipped a pink crystal into a divot in the stone and murmured a spell. As soon as the gate filled with blue light, the strangers disappeared through it without saying a word. She removed the crystal, and the wall behind the arch reappeared.

Master Tyrrus collapsed in a nearby chair. “That was a close one,” he gasped, wiping the sweat off his balding head. He was still breathing hard, and Kira suspected he had been running—or at least, moving as fast as his pudgy form could.

She poured him a glass of water and sat next to him. “What do you mean?”

He removed his dark blue cloak before taking the glass. “We were followed,” he said and drained the glass. She refilled it, and he drank it as quickly as before. “It took us a while to lose them.”

“Them?”

“The Azekborn.”

Her heart rose into her throat. Yes, they’d always walked along the narrow rim of the law, but she never dreamed the Azekborn would be hunting them. “Master Tyrrus, please, I beg you, tell me what's going on.”

“Kira, we've been over this before. What you don't know, can't hurt you.”

“Wrong! If we have the Azekborn hunting us, then I think I have every right to know what I've gotten myself into. Then I can decide if I want to continue doing this.”

“You've never questioned my judgment before.”

“We never had the Azekborn after us before.”

Tyrrus sighed and leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on his broad belly. “Some laws are meant to be broken, my child. Take you, for example. Just because you were born a girl, the law says you cannot be trained in magic.”

“I doubt the Azekborn are after us because of that”

“Correct you are. This is a far bigger matter. One you need not concern yourself with.”

Kira shoved back from the table and stood over him. “Why are you withholding information from me? I'm no longer a child—I deserve to know what's going on. Who are these people you keep bringing to the gate? Where are they going? What are they doing in Dromore? Are they the reason the Azekborn were following you? What—”

“Please, please, lower your voice. We don't need to draw any more attention to ourselves. I'll tell you what you need to know when you need to know it. Now, be a good girl, and go get us some food.” He pulled out two coins out of the pouch hanging from his belt.

Kira let her anger subside before taking the money. Every time he called her “my child” lately, her jaw tightened. She might have been a child when she was first apprenticed to him, but that was well over ten years ago. Maybe one day he’d finally acknowledge her as his equal.

More than just fear drove her questions, though. She was also worried about him. Master Tyrrus had always been like a father to her, but he was getting older. The top of his bald head still glistened with sweat, and what was left of his gray hair hung damply around his shoulders. More wrinkles lined his face with each passing year. These secrets were taking their toll on him.

She placed her hand gently on his shoulder. “I'm sorry I lost my temper, Master Tyrrus.”

He patted her hand. “Quite alright, Kira. I sometimes forget that there are more factors involved in the situation that I can account for. I'm only trying to protect you, but please know I will tell you everything, should I need to.”

She nodded. “I'll go get some food while you rest. Anything in particular you want?”

“A barrel of cold beer would be lovely, but seeing as how that would be awkward for you to carry, some bread and cheese will be all that I need for the moment.” She was opening the door when he added, “Take care that you aren't being followed on the way back.”

“I will.”

Kira moved through the dark tunnels with the ease of a cat, navigating from memory and aided by flashes of dim light from the street above. These tunnels had been carved out over a century ago as a mine, but few people remembered they existed. Their secrecy soothed her frazzled nerves.
The less people who knew about the strange visitors and the stone arch, the better
. As a child, she’d frequently gotten lost in these tunnels, but as a grown woman, they were now her home.

She reached the end of one tunnel and climbed the wooden ladder up to the surface of the street. A loose flagstone covered the entrance, which was further concealed in a twisted alley. Looking in either direction, she pulled herself out of the hole and covered it again. She took a deep breath and ventured into the crowded streets.

“Good evening, Kieran,” a familiar voice called as she entered the Stag’s Glen Tavern.

“Good evening, Mistress Love,” Kira replied with a smile. Only Master Tyrrus knew her as Kira. To everyone else, she was Kieran, a young lad of maybe twelve or thirteen summers who was Master Tyrrus’ apprentice—young enough for them not question her beardless face and higher voice for now. They’d have to frequent another area of Dromore soon, though, before the locals realized her failure to reach manhood.

Mistress Love crossed the room, licked her hand, and tried to smooth Kira's hair. “You're looking a bit messy there, lad. Master Tyrrus had you studying hard again?”

Kira wrestled herself free from the tavern keeper’s wife. “A bit. He sent me to fetch him some food.” She ran her hand through her hair to mess it up once more.

Mistress Love put her hands on her hips and sighed. “Well, you make sure you get a bit of it yourself. You're too scrawny for a growing lad.” She beckoned for Kira to follow her into the kitchen. “And I'm supposing Master Tyrrus will be wanting a bit of ale to wash it all down with, eh?”

“Perhaps a pint or two.”
Or three or four
. His thirst was well-known.

“Wait here, Kieran, and I'll round you up a jug of ale and some hot vittles.”

Kira sat on the stool as instructed and smiled. It always amazed her how many people saw her as a boy. Her dark hair was cut short and stuck out in various directions. She was small and slight of build—or has Mistress Love put it, “scrawny”—and any hint of a feminine curve was well concealed in clothes that were about three sizes too large. Still, she decided, people saw what they wanted to see.

“Here you go, lad.” Mistress Love reappeared carrying a sack and a brown jug. Kira exchanged the two coins for the items and turned to leave. “Now, I hid an apple tart in there for you, so make sure you get it before your Master does.” She pinched Kira's cheek. “It's you that needs the fattening up, not him.”

Her mouth watered. She had almost forgotten what a full meal tasted like, much less an apple tart. “Thank you, Mistress Love.”

“Be off with you now. It's getting dark, and a boy your age can find himself all kinds of trouble on the streets if you're out too late.” She tried to wipe a smudge off her cheek with her apron. Kira ducked out of the way and rushed out of the tavern. She knew Mistress Love meant well, but she could stand only so much mothering in one day.