CHAPTER 4
She prepared herself; she would change back to wolf if she had to. The logic that had applied to her while she was frightened no longer affected her thoughts. She was foolish to have sought his help. Lone Shifters could not always be trusted. They were lone for a reason, after all. She watched him.
He definitely saw her. How could he not with her white body plastered against the dark forest? It was when he moved that she decided things weren't all as they seemed.
He stepped forward, right arm raised in a gesture of peace, showing her he held no weapons. And then he stumbled to the ground.
Odd.
She pulled herself higher, stretching to see where he had collapsed. It was no use, though, it was too dark. Cautiously, she strode toward him, if he was injured she might be able to help him. And it looked as though he had been injured. But what was he doing out in the forest alone, instead of somewhere he might protect himself? Maybe he had a death wish, or maybe, she thought as she neared, he has escaped from whatever was snatching stray wolves from the forest. Maybe she could heal him and earn his aid, or information at least.
“Where are you going now woman?” the Dragon Lord reached her side before she took her second step. “I thought you had agreed to come to the Amber Aerie, which is a great distance the other direction.”
“Not everything I do is centered around your great presence, Dragon Lord,” she snapped, still shaken by how easily she had been manipulated by the man, and how natural giving in to him had been. “And stop calling me woman, it sounds as though you are calling your dog. My name is Lis.”
“Alright Lis, what is it I have done to deserve your ire? You are pricklier than a rosebush stripped of its leaves. And if we are doing names then you may use mine, I am Cillumn.”
“You want a list?”
“A list...?”
“Of things you have done that I am angry about.”
“Er...no, I guess not,” he shook his head, drawing her attention to his face again. His heavy lashes were half lowered, his face soft, but serious. Yet, somehow, every time she really looked at him, he seemed just a little...sad. “Can I at least know why we are stalking off into the dark forest in a direction that seems to go nowhere? I do not want to render you unconscious once more.”
“And you won't. Ever,” she growled. She could hardly stop him, if he chose to do so, but she figured sounding certain that she had a choice would be far more likely to dissuade him. She turned so that she could study him more thoroughly in her periphery. He watched her, but not with malice or ill intent, more like a strange new creature that required careful observation.
She sighed…was she used to that look.
“There is a shifter over here. He collapsed a moment ago. I am checking on him.”
Cillumn's head whipped up. His eyes glowed amber, and he stalled a moment, searching the forest ahead. “Are you certain?” he whispered. “I do not sense anything.”
She snorted. “You wouldn't sense anything.” A dragon might have the adaption to detect the emotions of those around them, and sometimes lies, as well, but it was a weak ability, and easily fooled. The real, physical senses were far more reliable. It was hard to trick a wolf's nose. “Besides, I saw him.”
Cillumn looked back toward the tree she had started at. “You saw him? From that distance, in the dark?”
He obviously didn't have much experience with Shifters. She didn't enlighten him about her superior senses, they were approaching the area the shifter had collapsed in. She could smell him better now. She tilted her head. Something wasn't right. There was no sign of illness or injury in the air, which meant she had been fooled.
“Look out!” she cried, an instant before a figure, the Shifter, leapt from the shadows behind them and landed, hard, against Cillumn.
So much for her superior senses.
Cillumn was fast though, turning instantly when she spoke, so that when the Shifter met him it was not his back the attacker faced. They tangled to the ground with a series of grunts and meaty thuds.
The battle was short lived, however. After the initial surprise of the attack and a few blows, the attacker rolled away. He rose partially, one hand braced against the ground, his chest heaving.
“Bloodbriar? How is it that you are here...and not dead?”
Cillumn was as surprised as Lis by the call of recognition, if his startled twitch was anything to go by.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
The figure straightened, no sign of his earlier weakness. A flash of anger worked through her at being so thoroughly tricked. She was supposed to be clever enough not to fall for such things; she glared at Cillumn. His presence was messing with her thought processes. How was one supposed to be logical when such an intense draw for emotional chaos was about?
“It is Scet, Lord Bloodbriar.”
The name meant nothing to her, but it obviously meant something to Cillumn. He dropped his tense posture, adopting one that spoke more to confusion, and stood facing the Shifter.
“You'll have to forgive me, friend. I find my mind is still not functioning at full capacity. I only awoke three hours ago.”
“Do not call me friend yet, Dragon Lord. Why is it you are not dead? And why are you here now?” Scet growled.
Lis frowned. What kind of a greeting was that? Especially from Shifter to Lord. There might be packs that eschewed connection with the Lords, but scorning them outright was simply...dangerous. And the way they were talking, it seemed as if the two should know one another.
“I have spent the last three weeks and two days healing in a Shifter camp not far from here.”
Cillumn's voice was tentative and suspicious. An intelligent thing to be, given where they were and the rogue they found themselves with. She herself was suspicious. Yes, the rogue was a Shifter and should have loyalties to protect his own...yet many stories proved otherwise. She couldn't help but find herself grateful that Cillumn was purposely vague about the whereabouts of her people.
“Three weeks healing, Dragon Lord. No wound takes so long.” Scet began to move back and forth, his nervous energy palpable. Lis studied his broad form as he moved. Wider even than the Dragon Lord's human figure, his muscles bunched in the moonlight, ready to attack...protect...or ravage perhaps. New twinges of alarm worked their way through her; something she apparently forgot to mask for Cillumn's eyes slid her way, assessing.
“Indeed...apparently I was healed and then kept sedated until the pack decided what to do with me.”
It occurred to her, suddenly, that the Dragon Lord had no more reason to trust her than this forest bound loner. An idea that made her want to squirm. What if he decided she wasn't worth the risk?
Scet stilled from his pacing and looked between the two of them. Lis tried not to balk at the renewed suspicion. She was the one in the right. She had freed the Lord and she was not the rogue in the situation. Yet somehow, even now, she was the one who ended up at the bottom of the interaction. The one not trusted.
“That sounds like something a pack would do,” Scet admitted after a moment. “What happened to you? All we found was a great deal of blood deep within the forest a very long distance from the Aerie.”
“Pourtus happened to me. An ambush. He and three of the Onyx Aerie Dragons pounced on me as I guarded the Lady. What happened to the delegation, Scet?” Lis noted the hint of trepidation in his voice. “Are you all that remains?”
“Far from it,” Scet assured. “The only ones who did not make it were the ones who deserved their fate,” he paused, running fingers through his loose hair. “It was far more complicated than a simple betrayal, and I fear we have only scratched the surface of the plot.”
“How so?” If the survival of his people relieved him, the tension returned with the Shifter's announcement.
“I will explain, but not here. The forest is not safe.” He looked at them pointedly, as if to question their presence. Then he moved off into the night, expecting that they would follow blindly perhaps. Cillumn might know this strange Shifter, but she did not. Besides, she had been kidnapped from her pack and scared half to death. She was really through with being bossed around this night.
“The forest is always dangerous,” she told him, refusing to move.
“That it is,” Scet stopped and looked back at her, well, them since Cillumn had remained behind, too. “But it is even more so when you are being hunted.”
“Hunted by who?” Cillumn asked as soon as they entered the small shelter.
It was an ancient looking shack, the logs that formed the walls were damp and moss covered. She had nearly missed it, it fit so well into the surrounding trees, but Scet's scent was strong here.
Which explained the traps, she supposed, dozens of them surrounding the entire approach to the building. There was only one way in, as well, tucked neatly against a steep slope with a deadly litter of loose stones on one side and the sheer face of a twenty foot cliff on the other. To reach the cabin from either of those directions was impossible. Unless one flew. But there were several traps lining the roof to take care of such intruders.
Lis had heard stories of lone Shifters, losing their sanity, slowly going mad and starving. A pack creature needed a pack. And Shifters were pack creatures. This ones delusions and paranoia about visitors spoke to such madness. The strips of dried venison hanging from a line strung in the corner and pile of slightly under ripe fruits made her re-think. It would be hasty to assume this man incompetent.
A pile of skins and furs made a bed of sorts in the corner, but the rest of the room was largely unfurnished except for a small table and a stump that served as a stool. An old set of dishes sat on the table, chipped and worn, but clean.
There were no windows to allow light in, and only a small hearth barely large enough to cook food, if one wanted. A low fire burned, hardly enough to cast light to the surroundings. By the supplies presented, Lis guessed that Scet did not cook.
Scet slipped on a pair of pants from a pile near the door as soon as they entered, passing Lis a pair as well. He eyed Cillumn a moment before moving to the bed and pulling up a threadbare blanket, which he tore down the center, giving half to Cillumn and half to her. She quickly took care of her nakedness, while he apologized to Cillumn.
“I have no pants for a man of your height, you will simply tear what I have, which is precious little.”
“Yes, and that brings up the question, Scet, what are you doing living in the forest? And what is all this nonsense about being hunted?”
Cillumn's tone booked little argument, a man tired of not having answers. She supposed if she had missed out on three weeks she would be frustrated, as well.
“I live here because I will not be welcome at the Aerie for some time,” Scet shrugged.
Oddly, it sounded like banishment, but the man's reaction to it didn't make sense to Lis. It was not something one often found...satisfying.
“And as to who is hunting me, or what, I do not know, not yet, only that something is, and I believe it has to do with this,” he lifted an object from the bunch of furs piled at the head of the bed. It glinted in the flickering firelight. A metal, some sort of chain with a lump at its center.
Curiosity drove her nearer, her heart skipping a beat. It didn't take long to confirm what she feared. The lump was a glyph, a roughly formed swirl bound tightly around a darkened gem in the center, before shooting out on eight sides, like the spokes of a web, each spoke ended with a crude hook.
And she had seen it before.