The Fate of the Tala Read online

  “Ah ah ah.” I waggled a chastising finger at her. “You should know better than to try to speak a lie in this space.”

  She glared, lips firmly closed, then spat at me. “It was you then.”

  “Me?”

  “You stole Karyn’s mind from me. She won’t do you any good. I got to her too late. Those men had crushed all her interest in being more than a handmaiden to their desires.”

  “Is there a point to this conversation?” I asked, not having to fake boredom. “If service to Deyrr makes everyone this tedious, I’ll pass.”

  “You knocked on my door,” she snapped, then narrowed her awful eyes. “Which means you have something that belongs to me.”

  I summoned an image of her topaz jewel. “This trinket? It’s so tiny, I forgot I had it. I was about to throw it away.”

  “Where’s the Star of Annfwn?” she demanded, thoughts arrowing like knives into my mind to flay it open.

  It hurt—but not enough to devastate me as she’d intended. I’d been expecting some sort of attack like that. Mentally ducking, I pulled on my own magic—thankful I’d had the foresight to disconnect from the Heart—and snapped back into my own body. I shielded my mind, hastily wrapping the topaz in a fold of cloth, and braced for her to follow.

  Nothing happened for long moments. I sat on the reassuringly solid rocks of the breakwater, relying only on my physical senses to assess the world around me. Normal sounds of sails catching wind as ships trained in mock battles. The voices of children on the nearby beach echoed over the water, along with soldiers shouting orders as they drilled. The sun shone warm, waves lapped cool on my feet, the scent of salt spray and sweet blossoms filled the gentle air. Gradually, I extended my mind beyond my body, checking for anything else amiss.

  All was as before. It seemed I’d successfully extracted myself. But had I learned anything useful? It would be interesting to—

  “AlertAttackDefend!”

  ~ 2 ~

  The alarm calls rang out, human and animal voices overlapping through my mind and echoing over the water, resonating in my bones and blood. Calling for me.

  With Rayfe downcoast, the responsibility to guard and govern Annfwn fell solely to me. Willing away the noise of my people calling for me, I gathered my thoughts, connecting again to the Heart’s bolstering strength and the Star’s clarifying focus within it. Shapeshifting would forever require concentration from me, would never be the instinctive reflex it was for other Tala. I had to take a long moment to execute it carefully, lest I make a mistake in haste. Especially after that unnerving encounter with the high priestess.

  Concentrate. Focus.

  I became a great blue heron. Once I had the form solid—only a matter of moments, but I hated losing even that much time—I shot out across the harbor, then over the white sand beaches teeming with people in human and animal form. A squadron of staymachs in raptor form, the queen’s guard, joined me in protective formation, and I honed my senses, combing the chaos to pinpoint the source of the alarm.

  The sea gleamed calm, mirror bright, and pure turquoise. No sign of the churning that accompanied the Deyrr sleeper spy attacks, no oily stench of their undead minions. For once they weren’t coming from the sea. Moranu save us, the alert was coming from inside the city. Had the high priestess engineered some new attack while she had me distracted?

  The bright silks and draping flowers of the cliff city flew past as I pumped my wings, scanning with eyes and mind, following the shouts of alarm, and the internal calls of the Tala that tugged at me mentally. This made thirty-seven attacks in forty-five days, and despite all our planning and drilling—despite my own sorcerous vigilance—Deyrr’s sleeper spies caught us by surprise every time. And in each attack, they lost all of their creatures, killed a few of us, and wounded more.

  They could afford the losses. We couldn’t. And they’d nibble us to death before the actual war even began.

  I sent Rayfe a thought—a warning and reassurance combined, that he should be able to understand, though the distance was too great for us to communicate in words. He couldn’t arrive in time to assist. Still, if I didn’t send the reassurance, he’d sense me fighting and worry.

  Not that anything I could do would stop him from worrying. The man practically made it into an art form.

  The calls came from high above, near the top of the cliff face, and I strained my wings to climb, striving to compensate for my ungainly weight. The pregnancy of my human body didn’t exactly translate to being egg-heavy in heron form, or so I understood—shapeshifting magic didn’t lend itself to much logical analysis—but it sure felt like it sometimes.

  I caught a lucky convection current of warm air that accelerated me to the cliff top, pushing me over like a friendly hand.

  The sight before me chilled my gut.

  A rampaging warthog—three times the size of the normal animal, with wickedly curved tusks and mad scarlet eyes—reared and stomped at the dense shrubbery wall around the training arena. It was going after our children.

  Moranu curse it—I hadn’t even seen this possibility. Deyrr always came from the sea. Always. How did they get this far in without any of our scouts and perimeter patrols detecting them? Worse, why hadn’t I felt it? The high priestess had tricked me, and I had to do better.

  The Tala children who’d been practicing in the training arena, supposedly the safest place in Annfwn, were mostly in their First Forms, the ones they easily, or instinctively, took when startled or frightened. Some, those still struggling to shapeshift at will or at all—or with only aquatic forms that couldn’t survive on land—were in human form. All were huddling in the far corner backed by a rock escarpment. Their teacher, Meg, in the form of a large black bear, stood on all fours between them and the warthog, head shaking and teeth bared, her growl rolling like an earthquake. It was an excellent defensive form, which is one reason we’d appointed her as teacher in Zyr’s absence. But that monster beast far outweighed her. Once it broke through, she wouldn’t last long. Not without substantial reinforcements.

  A few more Tala had flown in to assist. More were running up the winding cliff road, which would take a while. We needed help immediately. I sent a narrow call for anyone else in the vicinity to make all haste. I really needed one of our flying shapeshifter/human fighter pairs. Unfortunately, most of them had flown off with Rayfe. We were on our own.

  The barrier gave and the warthog crashed through.

  The bear roared. Children screamed. All manner of animal and human voices shrieked in fury. The hog charged, at least two Tala in human form clinging to its back with daggers dug into its thick hide. Tala in various bird forms flew at its eyes, raking and pecking. It waved its tusks, fighting free of the clinging shrubs, tossing branches and bodies in a flurry. Some smaller animals dashed at it, Tala children ready to fight.

  Such brave children. Such foolish, reckless children.

  The giant warthog barreled on, undeterred, and Meg rose onto her hind legs, massive clawed paws ready, her belly exposed to sacrifice herself for the kids. Not while I had breath in my body.

  I landed between them, my guard spiraling around me in a defensive whirlwind, and I took the excruciatingly long moments to shift back to human form. Concentrate. Focus.

  The warthog filled the sky as it charged, growing larger by the moment, like a meteor of doom hurtling at me, scarlet eyes like burning suns.

  Most of these kids could shift circles around me, but I had sorcery—in human form—and I had the Heart of Annfwn to draw on. Once my body settled into place, I hit the monster with a pulverizing blast of magic.

  Nothing. The magic dissipated like soft rain on hot rocks. I had no time to try again. Mouth slavering, it lowered tusks to impale me. Not something my human body could absorb well. If only I could work magic in animal form.

  Concentrate. Focus.

  Exploding into lioness form, I leapt straight in, aiming lethal claws at the mad eyes glaring from beneath protective ridges. I
wasn’t fast enough, and one tusk caught me in the hind leg, making me sprawl across his snout, but I dug in and held on. I bit down. It wasn’t an ideal position—no real lion would do something so ungainly—but I took what I could get. Its fangs sank into a fold of my hind leg, agony pouring through me. Vising down on the warty bridge of its muzzle, sinking my own fangs with desperate strength, I prayed to Moranu this magic wouldn’t fail.

  The great hog’s skull collapsed under the might of my jaws, the oily taste of Deyrr’s undead filling my mouth.

  Leaping free, I left the blinded, staggering thing for the others. Humans, Tala, some of Ursula’s Hawks she’d detailed to Annfwn’s defense, and other warriors from outside Annfwn, swarmed the thing to dismember it. Deyrr’s creatures weren’t alive anymore. They’d been animated by black magic and implanted with simple missions that they kept trying to execute until they couldn’t ambulate. To stop them, we had to chop the creatures into pieces and then burn them to ash. Even then, I worried about the pieces finding each other, the perverted magic relentlessly drawing them back to their purpose.

  Worse, the bits of ash retained fragments of the souls trapped by Deyrr and kept in the temple’s possession. No matter how finely we burned and scattered them, in a very real sense those particles could never truly die. Few people could sense that reality, but my sorcerous gifts showed it clearly, the shattered bits of life standing out like a phosphorescent glow. The legacy of sorcery my mother left me gave considerable advantages, but brought a heavy burden also. There were things I’d rather not know.

  I scanned for more of the enemy. Surely this wasn’t the only sleeper spy dispatched for this particular attack, not here where we taught our children, deep into our cliff city, uncomfortably near the king and queen’s suites. Rayfe’s head would likely explode when he found out how far past our defenses Deyrr had penetrated. Lifting my muzzle, favoring the wounded leg, I sniffed the air for more beasts, mentally casting my magic out in waves to detect what physical senses could not. I could do that much in animal form—using magic to extend my senses beyond my body—just not any of the offensive tricks.

  Methodically searching for anything strange, anything even vaguely off, I paced the arena, keeping one eye on Meg, who was rounding up the kids. She herded them away from the still-twitching undead warthog, corralling them back into their safe corner of the arena, putting the steep slope of comforting rock at their backs. Meg had kept her head well enough, but I couldn’t help wishing Zyr had been here.

  He’d had to give up teaching the children, as we needed him more elsewhere. He and Karyn had become a formidable team, her lethally accurate archery complimented by his deft aerial acrobatics. The two of them had taken on training other shapeshifter and mossback warrior pairs. The combination made for an excellent offensive and defensive squad. We also had to hold Zyr in reserve, since only he and Zynda could replicate the journey to n’Andana—should we decide to attempt it.

  Something tickled my awareness, subtle, shielded, but unmistakably Deyrr. Aha. I’ve got you.

  These Deyrr sleeper spies were cats of some sort, like my current form, by the mental feel. And … Moranu take them, sneaking up on the children from the rocks. That showed a disturbing level of strategy for the notoriously mindless Deyrr creatures. Something to think about later.

  I sent a pulse of alarm through the Heart, along lines of magic that connected all Tala, doing my best to point to the fall of rocks that should’ve been a good corner to back the kids against. It wasn’t proof against agile felines, however—nor the venomous reptiles I soon also detected emerging from crevices, slithering toward the Tala children trapped in vulnerable human form.

  This was an ambush, the worst attack so far. I could only hope it wasn’t the vanguard of the final battle. The timing wasn’t right, but the future shifted so constantly that foresight could be dangerously deluding. I really hoped I hadn’t been wrong in not recalling Rayfe and his team. But then, they couldn’t get to us in time to save us anyway.

  I needed to handle this, and I couldn’t fight this kind of attack as a beast. This called for offensive magic, which mean yet another shift back to human form. Concentrate. Focus.

  Human form hurt, the blood from my wounds immediately soaking through the simple shift I could reliably manifest in. If I could heal when shifting, if I could come back to human form wearing fighting leathers, I absolutely would. Alas for that.

  I shouted for Meg to move those kids. The bear responded with alacrity, but the frightened children didn’t obey so easily. Even though they appeared to be human, they’d stopped thinking like people and moved into more instinctive, animal behavior. Leaving their safe-feeling corner went against that instinct.

  Sending out mental commands to the arriving Tala warriors, I ordered my people to flank and circle behind the encroaching sleepers. I pulled hard on the Heart, and magic, pure and shimmering, flowed into me, making me feel as giddy as if I’d drunk several carafes of sparkling wine. Moranu, make this one work. Instead of blasting the Deyrr creatures, I created a shield, a miniature version of the barrier, keeping them from advancing further. It wouldn’t last forever—not without draining me—but it would last long enough.

  Multiple voices gave reports and asked questions, mental conversations overlapping. I fielded as many as I could at one time, feeling much like an octopus wielding a different tool with my many mental arms.

  I limped into the group of panicking children, holding their attention as best I could with one arm of my attention, the lion’s share of it on fending off the encroaching attackers. Unlike its permanent cousin, the enormous barrier rooted in and powered by the Heart of Annfwn, my temporary barrier anchored only to me, shifting with my attention. None of my fighters could get through it until I dropped the shield. They moved into position, the Deyrr creatures flinging themselves against the invisible barrier with ferocious intent.

  This would have to happen fast. I’d have to drop the barrier and hope my people could stop the lethal Deyrr attackers before they reached the kids. I didn’t like the odds, but what choice did I have?

  “Andi. We’re incoming.”

  Zynda’s mental voice slashed across my mind like bright fire. With a rush of gratitude, I grabbed on. “Are you in dragon form?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank Moranu!” I sent her an image of the rocks behind the arena. “Wait for us to move the kids, then burn, baby, burn.”

  Her mental laugh of anticipation fueled my own flagging spirits. Moranu, but I was grateful for their unexpected arrival. My leg felt like fire and ice at once, my body exhausted from so much shapeshifting, sorcery, and fueling that mini-barrier. I ignored all of that and held out my hands. I raised my voice and reinforced it with magic, the kind that let me speak to anyone with enough Tala blood. Fortunately, no matter how panicked, the kids knew to obey their queen.

  “Listen and obey,” I called over the cacophony. The children stopped their noise. Wide eyes peered at me through tangles of dark hair. “Come with me.” They launched themselves at me, like frantic puppies and kittens, some literally crawling up my body, nearly taking me down. I managed to hold firm.

  Like a great ship laden with barnacles, my staymach guard flying patterns around us, I waded torturously across the arena. With a mental warning of Zynda’s approach, I simultaneously sent orders for the fighters to be ready to handle any attackers that escaped my barrier—now weakening as I moved away from it—and for the others to pull back to avoid dragon fire. Meg lumbered ahead of us, alert for more Deyrr creatures. She reared up on hind legs to roll away the stone gate, letting us escape from the arena, and bellowing at her charges to follow. Some obeyed. Others weren’t thinking clearly enough. It takes practice and concentration to maintain human rationality in animal form—something still beyond many of these kids.

  I filled their minds with my commands, too. Follow me. Come with your queen. Holding their clinging obedience with a strong arm of attention, I made my wa
y to the open gateway. My staymach guard flew at my charges, herding them into a tight group. Birds swirled around my head, four- and two-legged creatures of all kinds clung or danced around me. One child had wrapped her little arms so tightly around my neck she nearly throttled me, her face buried in my hair.

  Zynda’s vast presence swept overhead, her dragon form both the essence of magic and a cool space in the middle of it. “Clear?” she asked.

  “Stand by.” I sent out the call to retreat, pull back. I could only hope they’d be smart. Adult Tala, too, got swept up in the animal drives to fight to the death. My dragging steps set the timing, a slow countdown as we exited the arena. Birds streamed overhead, animals leaping the shrub fence, children breaking free of my hold as they made it out the gate, galloping on human and furry legs, screaming, sobbing, and howling. My temporary barrier thinned to brittle instability.

  Shouts of alarm and mental pictures showed three of the sleeper cats breaking through to bound into the arena, leaping after us. We were out of time. I let the rest of the barrier fall. “Now!”

  Dragon fire scorched my back, and it seemed I felt my hair curling with the searing heat, burning smoke filling my nose. Forcing my aching leg, I ran with my remaining burden, flinging us down the path I’d first seen on a peaceful day, traveled by no one but me and merrily trotting goats.

  That was the Annfwn of the past, however. One that seemed doomed to be lost forever. And it would be all my fault that I hadn’t saved it.