Messenger (The Shifter War Book 1) Read online

  Elania shimmered into her human form, her amber eyes wide. “You were able to decipher Kaul’s journal,” she deduced while running a hand over Blutark’s brow.

  Sonnen rumbled. “It took some wrangling. One of its secrets was the halfbreed’s attempt to create a lodestone beneath the deadlands.”

  Hafryn frowned, expression tired. “Lodestones occur naturally, Sonnen. They can’t be forced.”

  “We know that Kaul discovered how to compel Roldaerian leylines to produce kiandrite,” Sonnen said. “According to his journal, he also manipulated them so that they formed into a lodestone of his making.”

  “Like a large crystal?” Danil wondered, thinking of the lodestone he’d found.

  Sonnen nodded. “It is my belief that the lodestone still exists, buried in the remains of his workroom deep underground. And no doubt the Corrupt One believes it, also.”

  Hafryn’s mouth quirked. “Hence why she needs Danil—she doesn’t know where to look.”

  “Nor does Danil,” Sonnen pointed out soberly.

  Danil nodded, thinking. Back in Farin, Magus Brianna had mentioned glyphs at the entrance meant to drive people away. He thought of the changing terrain of the deadlands, how at times he’d been driven to navigate dangerous sinkholes and surging meltwater instead of traversing safer routes across solid rock. He’d never given much thought over such choices, but now he suspected he knew why.

  He glanced up. “If you can get me some parchment, I believe can draw the places in the deadlands I won’t go.” He smiled, resolve hardening. “I can map out the entrance to Kaul’s workroom.”

  20

  Blutark regained consciousness as they carried him up out of the chamber. The bear shifter grumbled at the manhandling, with even a quelling look from Sonnen not enough to quieten him.

  “Quit your huffing,” Elania snapped at Blutark as she and Hafryn lowered him onto a bed of moss. “You will let me tend to you.”

  Blutark threw her a surprised look.

  Sonnen’s mouth twitched slightly. “You broke some ribs, my friend. Never fear—you’ll be ready for battle soon enough.” He glanced about at the mist lingering about the tree roots. “Elania, will you stay with him? I must fly Danil to Corros.”

  Danil turned to him in shock. “What? No!”

  “It was my purpose in coming here, Danil,” the dragon said, unmoved. “You can draw a map just as easily in Corros. And more safely, I might add.”

  “I’m not going.”

  Hafryn frowned. “Danil—”

  “No.” He glared at the shifters. “You saw Magus Brianna. I won’t go to Corros when she can follow me there while using Kaul’s bones for a staff.” He turned back to the dragon. “I won’t go.”

  A considering light showed in Sonnen’s eyes.

  Danil forced himself to hold the measuring gaze, his jaw set.

  “Very well,” the dragon murmured, ignoring Hafryn’s gasp of dismay. “But you will not go anywhere, not even the privy, without two enchanters as escort. Understood?”

  Danil nodded quickly.

  “Nor will you come with us to the deadlands.”

  He gaped. “But I know the deadlands better than anyone!”

  “Then you’d best map it thoroughly,” Sonnen rumbled.

  Danil bit his lip. He’d only suggested the map as a starting place. Much of the surrounding landscape was in constant flux.

  “Take what’s given, fala,” Hafryn said. “A map leading us to the lodestone is more than we could have hoped for.”

  Just then, Katril and a squadron of crows broke through the mist. The commander’s dark hair stuck out in such a manner that Danil couldn’t help but think of feathers in wild disarray. Her swords were unsheathed and bloodied. She ran a quick gaze over them before motioning for a shifter dressed in dark green to Blutark’s side. The shifter pulled out a small jar of iridescent liquid from his pouch.

  Sonnen rose to his feet. “What news, Commander?”

  “My prince,” Katril said, giving the dragon a bow. “We’ve seen attacks throughout Altonas. Most of the Roldaerians have been routed, but a few hold out in the old artisan quarter.”

  Danil watched as Elania took the iridescent jar from the newcomer and roughly dabbed a glyph onto Blutark’s side. The bear shifter gave a grumbly hiss. Elania’s eyes narrowed.

  Ignoring them, Sonnen said to Katril, “I have a contingent approaching from Corros.” He glanced up at the tree canopy. “I flew ahead, but the first company should be here momentarily. My enchanters are among them—I suggest you hold the border around the artisan quarter until their arrival, as there may yet be more magi in hiding.”

  Katril inclined her head. “Yes, my prince.” She hesitated when Blutark flinched under Elania’s ministrations. The crow healer bent to help but froze as Elania’s lip curled in warning. “My healer is adept at working on all Amasians, no matter their Trueform.”

  Sonnen smiled. “As is Elania.”

  Katril watched the snow leopard for a moment longer but wisely didn’t object.

  “Commander, we have need of a place where the magi cannot discover our activities,” Sonnen said.

  “The hanging gardens are available to you, my prince.” The commander motioned for a handful of crows to step forward. “My best fighters and enchanters will escort you.”

  After murmuring his thanks, Sonnen turned to Elania and Blutark. “Meet us there once you’ve both sorted things out.”

  Blutark looked mildly chagrined as Elania scrawled another glyph on his skin. The snow leopard looked too furious to acknowledge Sonnen.

  They left the grove, Danil taking a final glance before the mist stole his view. “Are Elania and Blutark alright?”

  Hafryn snorted. “They’re fine. Nothing that an honest heart-to-heart won’t fix.”

  They took a winding path back to the main base, using a rickety wooden bridge to cross the river once again. Two crow enchanters stayed apace with Danil, even crowding out Hafryn until the wolf settled for walking a few paces in front.

  Eventually they reached the sprawling courtyard with its outbuildings and watchtower. As they strode across to the building leading into the hanging gardens, a large shadow blackened the sky above them.

  Danil looked up in alarm. Blue scales and wings even larger than Sonnen’s dragon Trueform bore down on them.

  “Ah,” Sonnen said with a benign smile. “Our war enchanters from Corros have arrived.”

  The blue dragon landed in the courtyard in a vortex of dust and leaves. In his powerful talons he carried a large wooden box the size of a shed. The dragon carefully set it down before transforming into his human form. Danil was surprised at the sight of an unassuming, dark-haired young man with mild brown eyes and a face still rounded by the last vestiges of childhood.

  The end of the wooden box opened, revealing twenty shifters. All wore mottled black and grey tunics and breeches reminiscent of those Hafryn had worn when they’d last met in the deadlands.

  The blue dragon strode across the courtyard. “My prince,” he said to Sonnen with a curt bow.

  “Cousin,” Sonnen said. “Thank you for your service.”

  The blue dragon straightened, mouth thin. “I assume my family’s debt is paid in full.”

  “Not quite. There is another company awaiting transport at Corros.”

  The young man’s jaw rippled. “Very well.”

  He stepped back and transformed into his blue dragon Trueform. With a powerful sweep of his massive wings, he burst back into the sky.

  Danil stared, mouth agape as the dragon spiraled through low-lying cloud before wheeling towards the nearest mountain peak.

  “It’s a great insult for a dragon to be used as a pack mule,” Hafryn explained, eyes also on the sky. “Well, it’s insulting for all Amasians, but dragons are particularly sensitive.”

  Sonnen looked at him sidelong, unamused. Danil couldn’t help but notice the flames licking across the pupils of his eyes.

&
nbsp; Hafryn grinned.

  A trio of newly arrived shifters came up to Sonnen and bowed, murmuring greetings before heading for the stone watchtower.

  Hafryn watched them go before turning back to the war enchanters gathering in the courtyard. “Think we have enough fighters, Sonnen?”

  “Only a few will join me in the tunnels to retrieve the lodestone,” Sonnen said. “The rest will remain atop to defend the entrance.” He turned to Danil. “Speaking of which, it’s time we test your recollections.”

  Danil nodded gamely.

  Sonnen took the lead as they strode down a light-filled corridor and stepped into the familiar greenhouse with its hanging gardens of bracken ferns and epiphytes. Low cloud made the air damp, but one of the crow enchanters relit the brazier to break the worst of the chill.

  Hafryn sat down on a thatched mat beside Danil as another shifter brought in with a few lengths of parchment and charcoal. Sonnen settled opposite them, closer to the entry. A handful of shifters came and went, the dragon issuing soft orders in preparation for the deadland incursion.

  Using Farin as the starting point, Danil traced out the deadlands. He marked out the dangerous fungi groves and escarpments and mineshafts. Winter had brought with it newly collapsed tunnels and sink holes. He noted them down, too, along with the shale and scree fields he’d walked for years.

  Despite his diligence, a small area of parchment remained blank. It was near the south-western edge of the deadlands about five miles from Farin, where a mountain escarpment often tumbled great yellow boulders onto the blackened rocks far below. Danil remembered waking up at night during his childhood, frightened by the thundering crash of stone in the distance.

  Danil sat back, rubbing his aching hand.

  Hafryn hummed in thought. “I’ve never patrolled those parts,” the wolf said. He glanced at Sonnen, who watched Danil work with hooded eyes. “Perhaps the enchantment drives away Amasian folk, too.”

  “It stands to reason. Kaul preferred his human aspect, and his magi brethren more so.” Sonnen leaned across to hand Danil a fresh piece of parchment. “It will be difficult, Danil, but draw any feature you can recall of the area.”

  Biting his lip, Danil tried to think back on the last time he’d even neared the area, realizing it had to be at least a year ago. A sense of disquiet always kept him away from the escarpment. He idly drew it onto the map.

  The only time he’d only truly entered the area had been the week his ma had gone missing. He remembered the desperation as he searched the tunnels, fighting instinct in the hope that just around the corner would be his ma, alive and well.

  His focus narrowed down to a tunnel, the walls surprisingly smooth and shiny like onyx that seemed to swallow the light of his torch. Danil recalled his feet sliding on the polished ground as the urge to flee fought with the raw need to keep up the search. There’d been strange symbols on the walls, ones that glittered dark red like drying blood. But he’d pushed on until he reached a dead end in the tunnel. Danil never found her.

  Blinking, he looked down at the fresh charcoal scratchings. “That’s the place.”

  “Are you certain?” Sonnen studied the parchment. “One would need a powerful desire to reach it.”

  Danil nodded, swallowing. “I’m certain.”

  It seemed enough for the dragon. “Very well. Hafryn, when the last of the contingent arrives, be sure to vet them. You’ve walked the deadlands often enough to know what to look for.”

  “No flat-footed bison. Got it,” Hafryn said with a lazy salute.

  Danil wiped his stained fingers on his breeches. “Do you think Magus Brianna can get past the glyphs to Kaul’s workroom? Is she powerful enough?”

  The dragon hesitated. “In time, little may stop her. Right now, she clearly prefers to use your knowledge over her ability to control Kaul’s remnants.” He sighed. “But she’ll grow powerful quickly.”

  Danil scrubbed his arms. “Her skin looked charred as if by fire.”

  “The staff and orb are cursed magic of the darkest order,” Sonnen said, troubled. “With each passing moment, she becomes corruption. We haven’t been so at risk since Kaul himself.”

  “Considering her particular bent, she may be even worse,” Hafryn added, mouth pulling downwards.

  “How so?” Danil asked.

  “Ice,” Sonnen said grimly. “The bitterness of winter, the seed left frozen underground, the heart turned cold.”

  Danil shuddered. “Can you stop her?” he asked Sonnen, afraid of the answer. “Her magic didn’t seem to affect you.”

  “It helps to be impervious to almost all magicks,” Hafryn said with a wry smile.

  Sonnen grunted. “If the Corrupt One gains control of the lodestone—no. There will be no one to stand against her.” The gold in the dragon’s eyes darkened. “That’s why it’s vital we remove the lodestone from her grasp.”

  Danil slid the maps across to Sonnen. “I still think I should go with you. The area around the escarpment will have changed a lot since I last strode there.”

  Sonnen carefully folded the parchments and tucked them into his belt. “I have eagles already scouting the deadlands. A few sweeps over the area will give us an inkling of what we face.”

  “I hope it’s enough,” Danil murmured, trying to subdue his unease.

  “It will be,” Sonnen promised. “By tomorrow night, the lodestone will be ours.”

  21

  Respite finally came that night. At the dragon’s urging, Danil crawled into a quiet nook below the canopy of hanging greenery. Curled under a pile of blankets, he let the murmur of voices from the other side of the wall lull him to an exhausted sleep.

  The brightness of the moon woke him a while later.

  He lay on his back, unable to sleep, watching clouds scud across the stars. The sounds of folk coming and going in the courtyard outside were muted. Occasionally a winged creature spiraled overhead, and Danil wondered if it were one of the enchanters tasked with watching over him.

  It was a few hours yet until dawn. By midday, he’d have to watch as the contingent flew for the deadlands without him. He could hardly bring himself to examine how he’d feel when the time came. Against all expectation, he’d made friends amongst the shifters.

  Smothering a sigh, Danil rolled over. He startled to see Hafryn a scant foot away under the splayed leaves of a staghorn. The wolf shifter had rolled off his blankets in his sleep.

  The muted light cast gentle shadows on Hafryn’s cheekbones and the slope of his freckled nose. Danil ran his gaze down the length of the wolf’s body; it was a rare opportunity to study Hafryn unawares. He was rangy like his wolf form, all long limbs and corded muscle. A tuft of red hair showed at the neck of his tunic, a dusting of freckles visible on his bare arms. His feet were bare and tangled up in his blanket.

  Danil returned his study to the shifter’s face, only to find Hafryn awake. Mild amusement showed in the shifter’s eyes.

  Cheeks hot, Danil made to roll over but Hafryn reached out. With slow cautiousness, the wolf shifter took Danil’s hand and threaded their fingers together.

  Unexpected heat flooded Danil’s belly. Desperately grateful for whatever darkness the night afforded, he parted his mouth to speak but found no words.

  Hafryn merely watched him, the moonlight pale on his eyelashes. Heart thundering, Danil watched him back.

  After a time, Hafryn closed his eyes. He was asleep in moments, snoring softly.

  Danil glanced at where their fingers lay still intertwined on the ground. The texture of sword callouses on Hafryn’s palm brought an odd peace and comfort. He found himself unwilling to let go.

  A short while later, sleep took him.

  22

  Hunger woke him soon after dawn.

  Staggering blearily toward the campfire, he collapsed down beside Sonnen as the dragon spoke quietly with Hafryn. Both men donned the strangely mottled tunics and breeches made to blend with the deadlands.

  The dragon ack
nowledged him by handing over a small loaf of bread.

  Mumbling his thanks, Danil broke it open, fingers singed as steam wafted up. He tore the bread into three and shared the pieces before biting down. The taste of cinnamon and nuts exploded on his tongue. Danil chewed with relish.

  Hafryn watched with amusement. “As I was saying, Sonnen, I know you think Gavril will be useful, but he’s as light-footed as an ox. We don’t want to lose anyone to a rock fall because they stomp about like drunken moose.”

  “What are your thoughts, Danil?” Sonnen asked.

  Danil swallowed a mouthful of bread. “You might have injuries if you don’t land close to the entry point.” He paused, blinking. “You are flying everyone there, right?”

  “Griff will transport our enchanters,” Sonnen said.

  Danil didn’t recognize the name.

  “He’s the blue dragon,” Hafryn supplied.

  Danil nodded, stretching his bare toes toward the warmth of the fire. “Have the hawks returned yet from the reconnaissance? I need to update the maps before you go.”

  “I’ll have them brought in soon,” the dragon promised. His gaze sharpened. “Now, may I see your hands, Danil of Farin?”

  Danil paused, startled by the turn of conversation. He carefully set down his hank of bread and obeyed.

  Sonnen turned both hands palm-up. In their center was the whorled glyph the dragon had created to heal his burned skin. The twin glyphs shined golden, solid and unchanging. Danil expected them to have faded by now, their healing powers spent.

  “These are the mark of my House,” Sonnen said.

  Danil’s gaze snapped up in surprise. The dragon looked as stony-faced as ever, but his eyes softened slightly.

  “They are both protection and belonging,” Sonnen said. His golden eyes turned penetrating. “You have stood true to my House, defending it and those I hold dear, without prompting or personal gain. Even when I doubted you.”

  Danil stared.

  “Know that you have a place among us, Danil.” Sonnen held his gaze until he nodded. “The House of Corros will always welcome you.”