Messenger (The Shifter War Book 1) Page 4

  Hafryn lounged amongst the cushions. “The magi seem to think so, and that’s enough for us.” He looked Danil up and down. “You look much better,” he said approvingly.

  Danil smoothed down his tunic. “Not so scrappy, huh?”

  Hafryn shrugged. “I like you scrappy.”

  The tent flap swung open to reveal Elania and a huge bear of a man. Both carried an armful of blankets.

  “What’s this?” Hafryn asked, rising.

  “Sonnen’s ordered that we spend the night in here,” Elania said with a shrug. She dumped her bundle on the opposite side of the room. Her silent companion lowered his with more care.

  “You think that’s necessary?” Hafryn asked.

  The young woman shrugged apologetically. “We’ll do our best not to wake you when we come in later,” she said to Danil.

  “Thanks,” he murmured.

  Elania strode back outside. The man gave them both a polite nod before trailing after her.

  A sour ball churned in Danil’s belly. The dragon might have said earlier he was indebted, but it was obvious enough that the Amasians didn’t trust him.

  Hafryn seemed to share similar thoughts. He watched the tent flap swing back and forth, his expression contemplative.

  6

  Danil woke curled under a nest of blankets. He lay still for a moment, uncertain of where he was and why he’d woken. Glancing across the gloomy expanse of the tent, he spied Hafryn on his pallet. The wolf shifter snored softly, an embroidered pillow hugged tight to his chest. The two remaining pallets for Elania and her companion remained empty, despite the late hour. Hafryn made a snuffle and rolled onto his other side.

  Outside the tent, the camp was quiet beyond the crackle of a campfire and the low murmur of voices speaking in Amasian. An owl hooted far in the distance.

  Danil released a slow sigh, feeling a mix of uncertainty and displacement well up in his throat. He knew he couldn’t go back to Roldaer, not with the magi certain to kill him. But he wasn’t entirely sure he could go forward, either.

  The tiny symbols on his skin glowed iridescent green then pink. Danil half-expected them to be gone by now, but they appeared sharply defined as if freshly painted. Wiggling his fingers made the symbols turn blue and silver.

  Unable to sleep, Danil peeled back the blankets and padded across to the tent flap.

  Easing it back, he saw a shifter guarding the entrance. She met his gaze before turning back to watch over the camp. The surrounding trees creaked softly as a pre-dawn breeze swept through. The firelight cast long shadows on the bark and moss.

  Dozens of glowing eyes stared back at him from the dark of the forest.

  Danil quickly closed the flap, heart thundering.

  “Danil?”

  Hafryn was already on his feet, hair mussed and sword in his hand.

  “What is it?” the wolf asked.

  Just some shifters, Danil thought sheepishly.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, “Nothing. I—sorry to have woken you,” he said. He idly noted that the wolf shifter was fully dressed, boots too. “Do you normally sleep like that?”

  Hafryn sheathed his sword. “You should get more sleep,” he murmured.

  Biting his lip, Danil nodded. He went to his makeshift pallet and sat, idly playing with the loose lacings at the neck of his tunic. The tunic felt soft on his skin, quite unlike the rough homespun he was used to. It was made for Hafryn’s broader frame, though, and tended to slide off one shoulder.

  Hafryn sat on the chest at the foot of Danil’s pallet, sheathed sword resting across his knees.

  Danil eyed the wolf, who stared back unblinkingly. “You’re going to watch me sleep,” he surmised with a sigh.

  “It’s no hardship, fala,” Hafryn said. His mouth turned up in that familiar, mischievous smile, but the night softened it somehow.

  Danil felt his eye twitch at the pet name.

  “Sonnen will fly you to Corros later today,” Hafryn continued. “It’s the largest citadel this side of the Igrett River. And a scant day’s flight by dragon’s wing.”

  A shifter citadel…

  Danil tested it in his mind but found himself wholly unable to imagine such a place.

  “Will you be coming?” It was out before Danil could stop himself.

  “I’m afraid not.” Hafryn’s mouth pulled down. “But thanks to you, we’ve got an inkling of what those two magi are up to.”

  Danil picked at a corner of his blanket. “Elania said Magus Brianna had already broken the treaty.”

  Hafryn grunted. “About six months ago. She was alone here on the borderlands and trying for stealth and secrecy. At the time we judged it best to keep an eye on her rather than send her back to Anteran with a stern missive for your king.”

  Danil recalled the sizeable private force she’d brought to Farin. “Do you truly think King Liam doesn’t know what she’s up to?” he asked.

  Hafryn sighed. “The magi have always hungered for power. I don’t believe your king shares their sentiment. Roldaer is prosperous, with a strong trading partnership with the Natalan Empire. War with Amas would gain King Liam little.”

  “Brianna thinks something lies within Altonas that’s more powerful than a dragon.”

  “Then she’s never met Sonnen.” Hafryn tapped the engraved lines along the sheath of his sword. “Regardless, I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe in Corros.”

  Startled, Danil studied the wolf’s face. There was a tightness about his eyes that Danil had never seen before. “I’d rather stay here and help figure out what the magi have planned.”

  “No, not with what you know.”

  “But you know the deadlands just as well as I do!”

  “I’ve never gone into the mines. They’re too dark and—” Hafryn shuddered. “No. It’s too risky for you to stay. Don’t you want to be safe, Danil?”

  Words lodged in his throat. He didn’t know what he wanted. He couldn’t even say he wanted things to go back to how they were just a few days ago, when Roldaer hadn’t been on the cusp of war and he’d not known Hafryn preferred to sleep amid a nest of pillows.

  Hafryn sighed. “In truth, I asked Sonnen to take you to Corros.”

  “What? Why?”

  The wolf paused, green eyes searching. “Do you really not know?”

  Danil froze, snared by Hafryn’s gaze. He suspected he did know; he was just entirely unsure what to do about it.

  The wolf released a sigh. “Listen, fala, I—”

  The unmistakable clash of swords rang outside the tent.

  Danil threw back the blankets, muscles tensing as the entrance flap yanked open.

  A soldier in a familiar blue tabard burst inside. Already on his feet, Hafryn rushed to meet her. His sword struck hers with a resounding clash.

  The attacker bore a strangely wooden expression as she parried Hafryn’s second blow. Hafryn slashed at her again, teeth bared, but with a flurry of her cloak and a flash of green, she winked out of sight.

  Hafryn cursed, whirling about. “Stay close, Danil,” he ordered. He pulled a dagger from his boot and handed it to him. “Be ready.”

  Danil gripped the small blade tightly, palm sweaty. “How did she do that?” he gasped, scanning about the tent even as specks of green drifted to the ground.

  Hafryn shook his head, turning about to study each corner of the tent. “Mage-touched filth,” he muttered.

  A hooded figure materialized into being above Danil amid a crackle of green light. The attacker dropped down in front of him.

  The man’s face was emotionless, his movements stuttering but lightning quick as he snatched hold of Danil’s tunic.

  Danil stabbed blindly, only for the blade to skitter across hardened leather armor.

  Hafryn leapt. From one heartbeat to the next, he transformed into a massive red wolf and pounced. Powerful teeth tore at the attacker’s throat. The man fell without a sound.

  Launching off him, Hafryn transformed mid-ai
r back into human form, rolling to pick up his sword. He spat to clear the blood from his mouth.

  A series of green flashes erupted above them. Hafryn became the wolf once again, springing to meet the first blank-faced attacker who soundlessly dropped down.

  Hands suddenly grabbed a fistful of Danil’s tunic. He stabbed again, feeling the dagger bite deep. His attacker didn’t so much as grunt, instead bodily lifting Danil off his feet.

  He stared into unseeing brown eyes, the man’s face eerily vacant.

  “No more running, guide,” Magus Brianna’s voice rang from the man’s lips.

  Green flecks amassed about them. The air buzzed.

  The man suddenly stiffened, and Danil heard a solid thud. Two more thuds followed in rapid succession. The green light abruptly dissipated, and the man pitched forward, releasing Danil as he struck the ground.

  Danil whirled.

  Elania stood at the entrance, her hand raised as a glyph shot across the tent to take down another intruder. Blue smoke coiled up from the resulting burn in the man’s chest.

  Then a huge black bear barreled past Elania. With a terrible roar, it swiped an attacker with a huge paw. The hooded woman flew across the tent to strike the canvas and soundlessly crumple to the ground.

  Hafryn shifted and rolled before striking down another with his blade.

  The air above them coalesced with sparks of green. Danil tightened his grip on the bloodied dagger. Hafryn slid in front of him, sword ready.

  “Wards!” Elania shouted.

  The bear transformed into the silent man Danil had seen earlier in the night. He wove his hand in the air, an odd symbol taking shape. Elania created the same; the symbols streaked across the tent and through the walls to outside.

  A hum filled the air, rapidly followed by a scream from a woman who sounded startlingly like Magus Brianna. The remaining green flecks floated to the dirt and disappeared.

  “Blutark, hold the wards,” Elania ordered the bear shifter.

  The sound of battle outside continued, with flashes of green and orange fire lighting the tent walls. Then a dragon released a massive roar of triumph. The ground vibrated with an unseen energy, and then an eerie silence followed.

  Dry mouthed, Danil waited for long heartbeats until Amasian voices filled the quiet. Unrushed footsteps sounded outside, along with the tread of animals as they checked the perimeter.

  Blutark watched with dark eyes as Elania bent over one of the fallen attackers to inspect something on his belt. She summoned a magelight, washing the tent in a warm glow.

  Hafryn slid his sword into its sheath. “That went pretty much as expected,” he muttered, wiping his bloodied mouth with the edge of his tunic.

  Danil glanced at him, startled. A cold lump lodged in his throat.

  As expected…

  They’d somehow known the attack would happen. And yet they’d left him in a tent with only one fighter for protection.

  Understanding settled heavily in Danil’s stomach. He forced his face to remain expressionless as he gazed about at the shifters, hyperaware of his own humanity and expendability.

  The shifters had dangled him like a tasty morsel to draw in the magi.

  And they’d probably do it again.

  7

  A handful of shifters came to drag the bodies out of the tent. Danil numbly stood by the alcove to stay out of the way, watching as Hafryn gave orders while dressing in a fresh tunic and breeches from the upturned chest. The wolf looked annoyed by the disarray, cursing at the spatter of blood on his embroidered cushions.

  “Danil, come look at this,” Elania called from where she crouched over an attacker.

  He approached on heavy feet.

  She pulled up the sleeve of the dead man’s tunic. A thin layer of ice crystals coated the skin. “Magi-touched,” she muttered, then spat on the ground. “Some soldiers give themselves over to be used as puppets by their magi masters. It makes them stronger and faster, but there’s a cost.”

  Danil shivered, recalling the way the wooden-faced attackers had died without a sound.

  “At least the cost to the magi is even greater,” Elania continued. “Your magi will be drained for days.”

  “One of them spoke,” Danil said dully. “It sounded like Magus Brianna.”

  Elania’s gaze intensified. “What did she say?”

  Hafryn came to stand beside her. “‘No more running’,” the wolf said, face grim. “They came for him, Elania. Not just for the journal. I warned Sonnen of this.”

  The woman’s expression became difficult to read. “We have the wards to stop the magi from transporting more soldiers into camp. All will be well.”

  A slow anger built in Danil’s guts. If such wards existed, they could have stopped the soldiers from arriving in the first place.

  Hafryn studied him, green eyes dark with concern. “Are you well, fala? ”

  Danil clenched his teeth. “What do you care?”

  Hafryn frowned and stepped close. “Of course I care—”

  Danil struck Hafryn’s jaw with a loud crack. The wolf shifter staggered back, shock on his face.

  “You used me as bait!” Danil shouted.

  Blutark was there in a heartbeat to pull Danil back with an arm about the throat.

  He hardly cared. He launched himself at Hafryn as the wolf rubbed his jaw. “You bastard! You knew the magi would send soldiers after me!”

  The bear shifter dragged him back a few steps.

  “Danil—” Hafryn began.

  “Don’t lie to me,” Danil snarled. “You slept with your boots on! You don’t even wear clothes in the deadlands!”

  Hafryn had the grace to look chagrined. “I can explain.”

  “What? How funny it is to dupe the human?”

  The wolf frowned. “No. Never that, Danil.”

  “Right. And I’m supposed to trust your word.” Danil pushed at the arm about his throat. “Let go!”

  The tent flap snapped back to reveal Sonnen. He stepped inside, his eyes gleaming dangerously in the magelight.

  “That’s enough,” the dragon prince ordered.

  Danil refused to be cowed. “Stuff you and your sanctuary,” he spat at Sonnen. “You used me to kill Roldaerian soldiers!”

  “Enough!” the dragon roared.

  It vibrated through to Danil’s bones. He froze, teeth clenched, but kept his heated gaze locked on the dragon.

  “Leave us,” Sonnen ordered.

  Blutark released his grip on Danil and trailed after Elania, who sent Danil a concerned look before striding out of the tent.

  “You, too, Hafryn.”

  Mouth thinning, the wolf shifter gave a short nod and followed the pair.

  Danil curled his hands into fists as footfalls faded away.

  Sonnen clasped his hands behind his back. “Will you listen to my words, or has your rage not yet run its course?”

  Jaw tightening, Danil said, “Why should I hear anything you say?”

  The dragon studied him, golden eyes unreadable. “My enchanters were with you, along with my best warrior. The magi were never going to have you.”

  Danil remembered the green light buzzing about him to transport him away. That Hafryn would endanger him, so too this dragon despite his promise of safety…

  He swallowed, heartsick and at a loss.

  His thoughts must have shown on his face for Sonnen released a sigh. “You brought a journal only the mageborn can touch, Danil of Farin. Despite Hafryn’s assurances, we couldn’t be sure you weren’t a magi trap.”

  “A trap.” Danil stared at him bleakly. “I’d have thought it obvious that I’m no mage. They want to kill me.”

  “The magi have set elaborate ruses in the past. I won’t apologize for my caution.”

  Danil’s shoulders slumped. Cold bitterness settled in his belly. He’d risked everything to thwart the magi’s plans, but was now trapped and at this dragon’s mercy.

  “For what it’s worth, however, I
believe you.”

  Danil squinted up at him.

  Sonnen sighed deeply. “I would have sensed a mage walking the deadlands all these years. Added to that is Hafryn—he speaks well of you.”

  A tangled heat filled Danil’s belly. “Oh,” he managed.

  “As for bringing the journal, you wouldn’t have survived the ice curse without some measure of untapped potential.”

  The very idea of him having any magic was ludicrous. “I was born in Farin,” Danil argued. “My family has lived and died beside the deadlands for generations. We’re very aware of our lack of potential.”

  “It’s possible the deadlands quietened your innate abilities. Enchantments rarely flourish there.” Sonnen frowned, flame-filled eyes contemplative. “From what I can tell, your gift is limited. Nonetheless, there is something about you…”

  Danil shifted under the intensity of the dragon’s regard.

  Sonnen shook his head to clear it, then seemed to come to some sort of decision. “I ask that you don’t judge Hafryn too harshly. He argued against tonight’s plan, and when I wouldn’t change it, he insisted you stay here.”

  Hurt flared again. “He could have warned me.” In a kingdom full of strangers, he’d trusted Hafryn. Blindly so.

  “Would you, in his place?”

  Danil folded his arms, discomforted. “I don’t like being manipulated,” he muttered.

  Sonnen’s mouth quirked. “Noted.” He pointed to Danil’s hands. “May I?”

  Frowning, Danil raised his left hand. The dragon turned it palm-up. The glyphs on his fingertips appeared blurred on the edges and no longer glittered so brightly.

  Sonnen sighed. “I’m afraid there are other matters we were not forthcoming about, Danil of Farin.”

  “How so?” Danil asked, not particularly surprised.

  “These glyphs are not only for healing, but also served to warn us of a farseeking.”

  With a sinking feeling, Danil said, “I don’t understand.”

  The dragon muttered an unfamiliar word, and the glyphs brightened once more. “The ice curse left a mark that goes far deeper than frostbite,” Sonnen said. He released Danil’s hand. “It makes you…traceable. At least to the mage who created the ice curse.”