Prologue

Havard’s head was pounding from the clashing sounds of the castle bells competing with the city bells as they rang chaotically. Their harsh peals driving people out onto the streets, clogging alleys and making it difficult to walk. He loitered near a group of men as they exchanged rumours in steadily escalating voices almost coming to blows over their own version: the royal family had been butchered, the castle was burning, the Bracians had attacked, no the Goans, no the Merians. Unable to make sense of it, he and Morek walked on, periodically pushed onto the road as they tried to navigate around the normal garbage on the sidewalks and the open doors of taverns, filled to overflowing with worried and confused citizens who scowled as they walked by. Strangers were not welcome in Langfestol at the best of times and now, uncertain as to what was actually happening, more than a few of the scowls were accompanied by angry mutterings, rude gestures and spitting on the sidewalk in front of them. Havard was glad that he and his bond brothers had decided to split up. A large group would have made them too conspicuous.

Reaching the safety of their inn, Havard stopped in the doorway to the common room hoping for dinner before returning to their room. He scratched at his chin, through the dark scraggly beard, unsure of the temper in the common room. No matter how long he grew the beard it still was patchy. The inn keeper was sweating pounds off as he ran from table to table to counter, yelling at the servers to “hurry, don’t talk!” And the servers dazed by the orders shouted in hysterical voices, slammed down tankards and glasses, bottles and mugs before people regardless of whether they had ordered them or not. There was no way they were going to get anything to eat, not with the crowd only interested in drinking and the agitated talk about damn strangers. He turned towards the main stairways and stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Morek asked. Shorter than Havard he had to crane around him to see into the common room. His blue eyes, unique among the more common dark-eyed Merians, were worried.

“Trouble,” Havard said, jerking his head towards the inn clerk.

Morek turned towards the desk near the door where the clerk talked to two soldiers, showing them the registry. “For us?” he asked.

“Don’t know but we’re the only foreigners here. I think there’s a back way. We need to get our things and find the others.”

Havard, with Morek following him, slithered and pushed his way to the fireplace and slipped out the opening next to it towards the kitchen. They quickened their steps as they climbed the back stairs, ran silently to their room and quickly entered, glad that they had been too worried about what was happening in Langfestol to unpack before going out to hear what they could. Both grabbed their packs, making sure they were securely fastened.

Havard stuck his head out the door. “They’re coming up the stairs. It’s going to have to be the window,” he said, shutting the door and dropping the bar across it. “This should keep them until we can get out.”

“Unless they’ve got the place surrounded,” Morek said as he pushed open the window.

Havard grunted as he rummaged through his bag to find a rope. “Here.” He threw one end of the rope to Morek. “Don’t know if they had time. Too many people out and about. What do you think has really happened?” He tied his end around the leg of the bed. “Go,” he said picking up their bags.

Morek disappeared out the window and was down by the time Havard reached the window. He tossed both bags out and climbed through the window. He heard the door start to splinter. He slid down the rope, swearing under his breath as the rope burned his hands. He hit the ground hard. Ignoring the pain, he jerked at the rope cursing for the knot to give. He’d have to leave it, there wasn’t the time to wait for the knot to come free. How he hated to leave good rope behind. Must be the sailor in him.

Havard tossed Morek his bag. “Let’s go. We’ve got to find the others,” he said as he shrugged his bag onto his back.

“Moons, is Antia caught up in this?” Morek asked as he followed Havard out of the back courtyard, trying, futilely, to brush off the rotten fruit his bag had squashed when it landed before slinging it across his back.

“Don’t know. We need to find the others and then find Antia.” Havard touched the link that connected him to his brothers; sent the need to gather. He punched Morek and pointed up. There was no way they were going to be able to move quickly through the streets filled with people and soldiers. The rooftops would be the quickest route. He was sure that the sooner they were out of Langfestol the safer they would be.

Havard let the blood bond guide him to the others, an eastward pull that had them scrambling up and down, more times than they cared, to avoid the crowded and too wide streets. Over the rooftops, with no walls to force them to backtrack and with a clear line of sight, they made quick time arriving shortly after the others.

The lane they met the rest of their bond brothers had a high wall on one side, part of a moon temple that shadowed the lane and, on the other side, the back of several old, abandoned warehouses. Like all the streets, whether major thoroughfares or hidden alleys, it was thick with garbage and although they had long accustomed themselves to Langfestol’s odiferous character, several were breathing through their mouths. Few would care who might be in this lane, nor was there apt to be a lawful reason for anyone to be there, perfect for them to meet. Havard was pleased to see that there were two men as lookouts, almost hidden among the shadows at the mouth and foot of the lane. He and Morek joined the remaining men in the gloom of a large shipping door, well screened from a casual glance into the alley.

“They’re checking the gates out of the city for Merians and Goans. Apparently, the king is dead. No one seems sure about who is responsible so they’re accusing the relatives of the king’s youngest son, whose mother was Goan, and the country of the affianced wife of the eldest,” Jaxin said, “That’s Meria and Tia in particular.” Jaxin jingled a handful of coins nervously. “There’s a small gate on the south-east corner which is lightly guarded. I think that’s our best bet. You have to cross the river and it’s running fast. Be hard for the horses but not impossible.” He looked at Havard. “What do you think? Brac behind this?” His brown eyes were worried.

Havard grunted. “The mother of the prince in residence is from Brac, so I wouldn’t put it past them. The Bracians want to expand and we stopped them at Burning Bush.”

“At what cost? Antia hasn’t recovered yet. I still don’t know why it had to be her. She’s too … ” Gordet sighed, “What’s done is done.” His open countenance clouded over.

“She was the best choice.” Havard straightened up. “We need to get to her quickly. This prince will be sending soldiers out to tell his brother that he is now king. I have no idea how the soldiers or the new king will react to the news that Meria may have been involved in the assassination.”

“So all we have to do is to locate her before the soldiers do.” Mintran rotated his head to stretch his neck. “Do you think she’s expecting us?”

“Duard’s with her and we all felt the bond re-asserting itself. She’ll know we’re coming, even if she’s ignoring the bond,” Havard replied.

“Will she be happy we’re coming?” Gordet asked, looking sideways at Havard. “I mean she was so insistent on breaking the bond.”

“Does it matter? She was the only one who wanted to break it. The bond is two way. Each of us sought the binding, individually, just as she had to accept it individually. Conversely, we each had to agree to the breaking of it. That’s what she forgot. The binding is mutual. She can’t deny us.”

He slapped Gordet on the shoulder, worried about the young man. He was the youngest of this group, only Hereward who was with the Merian ambassador was younger. Gordet’s binding had been in place only a year when they and Antia had been sent to Burning Bush Pass to stop the Bracians from invading. That campaign had exacted a toll on them all, but Gordet and Hereward and most of all Antia who was at the centre of their bond had suffered the most.

“We should be able to get away if we move now."

The tug that was Antia, different from the bond shared with his blood brothers, was off to the north and west, Havard thought. With a look, he gathered the others up and headed towards the gate Jaxin had located. They had to kill one of the guards but the ten men got away. They almost lost one of the horses and another came up lame but they were on the road, towards Antia.

Chapter 1

Dust obscured the approaching rider who was driving his horse hard. Merkel, suddenly aware that he was at the front, alone, dropped his hand to his sword. Breathing quickly, he jerked his sword part way out to ensure it would come clear, if he needed it, then jerked his hand away from his sword, embarrassed at his reaction. They were still too near the capital, Langfestol, for bandits. As the rider approached, Merkel recognised him as one of N’Than’s wolvers. It would be like his brother to assign such a fanciful name to this group of rough fighters. Matching speed with the rider was one of the wolves which accompanied the wolvers. It looked up, his tongue hanging sideways from his mouth, a touch of froth speckled its black and silver snout, amber eyes stared at him, unblinking. Merkel tore his eyes away to meet the muddy yellow eyes of the rider, managing a nod before the man passed. He looked back curiously, too far away to hear the man’s report. The man gesticulated towards where he had come from. N’Than’s response was surprising.

“Into the trees now,” N’Than bellowed. Suiting his action to his words, he drove his horse into the trees, his mercenaries scattering even before N’Than had disappeared into the woods. Merkel, turning his horse in a tight circle, realised that the only ones left on the road were Jack and Brokan, his personal guardsmen and the two Goan women who had attached themselves to the group as they left Langfestol.

“Did you hear what the wolver told N’Than,” Merkel demanded of Brokan.

“Get off the road sir,” Jack snapped, his eyes wide, looking beyond Merkel.

Turning Merkel saw a group of men with weapons out charging at them. They carried no flag and wore no identifying marks, yelling as they stampeded towards him. Surprised, Merkel’s horse spooked, lunging towards the woods. Merkel wrestled with the reins one handed, barely getting his own sword out to deflect the blow of the lead attacker. Somehow he never thought that his brother N’Than would abandon him. He just got his horse turned back to protect the women when two wolves flowed out of the woods behind the group, easily matching stride with the horses. The horses realised they were there before their riders, neighing in fear and bucking to rid themselves of their riders, to escape, to run away from the wolves. Several men looked back at the noise made by the horses and Merkel struck at the nearest one, his sword biting deep into the man’s neck, then three others fell, struck by arrows which came from the concealing bush. Merkel lost sight of the Goan women. He hoped they had made it into the forest. Several of the attackers’ horses, terrified by the wolves were now running out of control, their riders barely able to hold on. Other riders, realising that the archers were more of a danger, rode into the woods using the trees as protection to hunt the defenders down. Merkel was peripherally aware of the wolves following them, harrying the horses, distracting the rider. A horn was blown, the man Merkel was fighting broke away spurring his horse down the road to catch several who came out of the woods, a meagre remnant of the larger group who had gone in. From first to last it could not have taken more than ten minutes. Merkel, exhausted by the fight, short as it was, leaned over his horse breathing deeply, realising that N’Than had gone into the woods to lure the attackers into coming after him. Merkel supposed that with the wolves it made more sense than a melee on the road. N’Than rode out of the forest giving orders as he approached Merkel.

“I want everybody searched. They weren’t bandits,” N’Than said to the wolver keeping pace with him.

Merkel dismounted, leaning over one of the bodies. He turned him over and tore some material from his plain surcoat to clean his sword. Impressed by how his brother and his men had handled the attackers, he considered his brother’s words. “Why don’t you think they’re bbbandits?” he asked.

“Their armour is too good,” N’Than replied. He toed the man Merkel was standing over. “Look at his armour. Bandit’s armour has a tendency to be poor quality and so gets patched and re-patched far more often than a regular soldier’s. This is good quality.” He looked around. “There was more discipline in the attack. Most bandits would have been shaken by the wolves’ attack and the arrows, but these men didn’t.” One of the wolves came over to N’Than and leaned against his leg. “All gone Sayoran?” The wolf gave a low growl and N’Than rubbed his ear. He moved away to talk to one of the mercs.

Jack hurried to Merkel and saluted, “Your highness, you’re not hurt?”

Merkel shook his head as he looked thoughtfully down at the body.

“He looks Merian,” Jack commented. “He’s not the only one.” Jack pointed towards another body near the verge of the road.

Merkel looked around at the soldiers, dragging bodies out of the woods, stripping them before piling them by the side of the road, at others gathering horses, at his brother who was carefully go through a pile of weapons which was increasing as mercs brought the weapons over to dump before him.

“They’re looting the bodies,” Brokan said in some disgust as he joined Jack and Merkel.

“Why would Mmmerians bbbe here?” Merkel asked feeling just as disgusted as Brokan. Jack shrugged while Brokan watched the wolvers.

“Where’s the princess?” Jack asked suddenly.

Merkel felt a worm of worry being to twist in his belly. He looked around but couldn’t see her. He hurried over to N’Than. “Is everyone safe,” he asked. N’Than nodded, before turning towards a merc who was reporting to him. Merkel looked around, counting and came up short. “Where’s Antia?”

N’Than looked around and shrugged. “Tia was talking about looking for T’Ngley last night. She must have left us at the last crossroads.”

Merkel frowned, looking back at the dead Merian he realised how convenient it was that Antia was absent; was her looking for T’Ngley just an excuse? He tried to close off that avenue of thought. He had sworn he wouldn’t think about T’Ngley. He was tired, tired of everything and everyone. It was bad enough he had to sleep on the ground, his sleep itself had been broken by nightmares: He was flying, except it wasn’t him; there was a body covered with feathers or feathers sprouting human limbs. It didn’t matter, he woke more exhausted than when he first lay down. He knew that it had something to do with the fight in the Goan’s ambassador’s room. He and Tia, Antia, he corrected himself, had rushed to their quarters to rescue T’Ngley but Merkel had not seen him there. Then he and Tia, damn, he couldn’t think of her as anything but Tia, had to fight their way out. The Goans had an eagle and a wolf. He hadn’t believed that the Goans bred animals larger and smarter than anything in Langdon. But the eagle was huge and had attacked both of them before it escaped out the window Tia had opened. Then there was the second wolf that appeared in the room. He knew he was being fanciful that it had helped them to escape. T’Ngley could be anywhere and Merkel knew that Tia, Antia, couldn’t have spoken to him, set up a rendezvous before they left the castle. It made no sense that she would wander around, hoping to find him, which meant where was she? And why had she left?

“The weapons are good quality,“ N’Than said. “I wish Tia was here. She might know where they came from.”

“Would she tell?” Jack asked.

“Why wouldn’t she?” N’Than snapped rubbing at his head.

Jack shrugged. N’Than growled something under his breath and yelled for everyone to mount up. Looking suddenly uncomfortable, he turned to his brother. “Sorry, I guess with Tia not here, you should be in charge.”

“Yes,” Merkel snapped. “For the last time, do you know where she is?”

N’Than shook his head, wincing as he did. “She’s looking for T’Ngley. Look I know you are unhappy with her but she likes you.”

Merkel gaped at N’Than then grabbed his arm and dragged him away from Jack and Brokan. “After what she did to me?” Merkel snapped. “She’s a liar and we both believed her. She was no more a farmer’s daughter than I am. You always believed the best in people but I should have known better if only because as the crown prince people have always lied to me.”

“But you like her. You and she spent so much time talking about strategy and tactics, I could barely understand sometimes.” N’Than insisted. “And she is great with the sword. Even you have trouble beating her.” N’Than paused a moment. “I think she was more upset with me than you when she found out you were my brother.

“Merkel growled. “Surely she, of all people, should understand our need for deception. It was the only way I could escape the castle,” he took a deep breath, “escape from the constant contempt surrounding me. I am not a fool, no mmmatter if most of the court thinks I am. I will bbbe king one day and they will have to accept it.”

“I don’t hold you in contempt,” N’Than snapped. “You are my brother, my crown prince. And Tia doesn’t either! For moons sake, she’s saved your life enough times.”

“She undermined me in front of father and Qadan by offering to rescue the Eastbrook women from Bbbrac, arguing against me going. Gods, gods, frigging gods, why the hell did she do that? The whole court is having a good laugh at mmme now, as usual.”

N’Than glanced away uncomfortably. “She can be impulsive at times. I am sure when you are married it will be better.”

“I’ll rot in the bbblack spaces around the mmmoons before that happens and to hell with politics.”

N’Than looked shocked. “You can’t, you have to.” N’Than’s voice dwindled away.

Merkel glared at his brother, amazed at how guilty he felt taking his hurt out on him. He looked around wishing he could say something to ease the tension between them. He saw the two Goan women standing uneasily by the side of the road as the wolvers bustled around them. “Why are those Goan women here?”

N’Than looked towards them and shrugged. “They spoke to Tia. You were there.”

Merkel tried to remember. The fight in the Goan’s room had washed everything else away, the tangle of feathers and body parts and a wing that ended in a hand. Caution mixed with a healthy dose of fear made his tone sharp. “Isn’t it interesting that there are Goans here, there are two dead Merians and Antia is missing.”

“I told you, I don’t know why they want to be with us. It does have something to do with T’Ngley though. She’ll be back, she left some of her baggage.” At Merkel’s sceptical look N’Than continued, trying to explain. “She’s looking for T’Ngley. She told me his uncle had tried to poison him and he needed her help.”

“Where?” Merkel pushed.

N’Than looked away and mumbled something about Tia thinking he was somewhere to the east and south of them.

Merkel decided to let it go. A pulsing pain had settled in behind his left eye. He wondered if any of the wolvers had something to relieve pain, then decided he wouldn’t ask. He wanted to have his wits about him and he wasn’t sure if he dulled the pain, it wouldn’t also dull his mind.

The soldiers gathered up the weapons, divvying them up among the whole group. After a hasty meal, they mounted and were on their way. Merkel worried about Tia but refused to push N’Than for more information. The wolves, with four wolvers, Lowell and Bardillo riding ahead the two others, Ivailo and Culin, trailed along behind. The two Goan women rode in the centre, now wearing some armour and looking nervous. They rode the rest of the day in this fashion, the only variation being who rode vanguard and who rode rearguard. They finally stopped for the night. Having left Langfestol in a scramble, Merkel was expecting soldiers to arrive any moment with his field kit. He wasn’t worried yet, but he resigned himself to another night spent on the ground. Restin and N’Than went out hunting to augment dinner while the others set up the camp. Merkel tried to keep his anger under control as he, for the umpteenth time, moved out of the way of someone actually doing something useful. His aching head did not improve his mood when he was presented with a tough rabbit for dinner.

Insisting on taking the first watch, Merkel managed to stroll, not stamp around the camp, passing a merc called Jacy on his circuit several times, nodding coolly every time. He had never felt quite so lonely. He noticed that Jack watched him gravely as he made his circuit and he felt slightly better that at least someone was concerned about him. Merkel turned the watch over to Bark, another of N’Than’s wolvers or mercs or whatever N’Than called them and wrapped himself in his cloak. As was becoming usual in this cursed trip, his mind started to rabbit around. He grumbled to himself at the haste to leave Langfestol. Yes, they were on a mission to rescue the wife and daughters of Lord Eastbrook who had been captured by the Bracians but they had been gone for several weeks, another day held captive by the Bracians was not going to make a difference. It was all Tia’s doing. Looking back he was amazed that he had been taken in by her posing as a midwife all winter, a farmer’s daughter kidnapped by slavers. Maybe it was understandable that N’Than believed her; she had helped him escape from the slavers. He, crown prince of Langdon, had no excuse. No farmer’s daughter was as good with a sword or understood strategy so well. Merkel cursed his brother bitterly, silently.

Chapter 2

Tia clung to her saddle by force of will alone. Even though she understood her headache was an unfortunate side effect of being a beast master separated from her shape-shifting companions, she wondered why anyone would allow themselves to be bound willingly. This time though it was accompanied by constant nausea which she had never experienced before. Headaches yes, excruciating the farther away from the shapeshifter she was. The nausea must be as a result of the attempted corruption of T’Ngley’s tie with her by his uncle. It hadn’t succeeded, he had bloodied her again and she could still feel him, but the bond she and T’Ngley shared seemed weak, fragile. She didn’t know how they had done it or how badly it had hurt T’Ngley. As it was, she was grateful that Hereward and Duard, her bondsmen, were with her. She wasn’t sure that without the support of one or the other that she could even ride. They left the road that led to Meria, or so the sign at the turning had said. Tia’s tie with T’Ngley led her towards him in a circuitous route, snaking through woods filled with tangled underbrush and fallen trees. They moved slowly; backtracking to go around what they couldn’t force themselves through. It didn’t help that Tia forced sudden changes in direction when the tie seemed to fade. Most of the trees had leafed this late in the spring. It would be easy enough to hide from a passing rider which she saw made Hereward and Duard uneasy. They finally broke out into a clearing. Tia could feel T’Ngley close.

“Do you really think we’re looking for an eagle?” Tia could hear Hereward ask Duard as she rode around the clearing which backed onto a high escarpment, a few paces in front of them. The clearing fell off into a dark ravine directly opposite the rock face and was surrounded by fir and deciduous trees on the other two sides. Her bonded were not happy with her, although they only had to worry about bandits from two directions instead of four, the cliff and the ravine making it difficult for anyone to creep upon them unseen.

“Beats me,” Duard replied. “She keeps looking up in trees and all this changing direction isn’t getting us anywhere.”

“Except farther and farther away from the rest of them. The soldiers in Langfestol were talking about how many more bandits there were than previous years. I don’t like being here with just the three of us,” Hereward said.

She could tell without looking that he was adjusting the hang of his sword. He always fussed at it when he was worried. Tia didn’t want to explain what she was doing and their quiet conversation rubbed at her nerves but she could hardly blame them.

“Lady,” called Hereward, “are you sure about this bird?”

“Yes, although, he might not be an eagle anymore. In which case we’re looking for a man, probably naked.”

There was silence from the two men. “This eagle, he’s the same one from the woods when your power was reasserting itself?” Duard asked.

Tia felt a smile tug at her lips. It could have been a disaster but it had been funny. She had devised a collar to choke off her magic, a vain attempt to remake herself after the disaster at Burning Bush Pass. Everyone had considered it a great victory but she hadn’t. Too many lives lost, particularly Bracian. They may be the enemy but they were still people with families who would never, ever see them. And she had been the one to kill them with her battle magic. Her own people, the ones who had survived, considered her a hero. She hated it every time they praised her, or their families thanked her for bringing them home. She knew the truth. She had used her secondary power of healing to patch them up so they could go out and fight again and again. Yes, the Bracian army was bigger, ten times the size of the defenders but in the end, after they had won, she had seen the tortured look in her soldiers’ eyes. She has sworn that she would never use magic again, thus the collar which would keep her from using it without a high cost of pain and blood to herself. She fled to Langdon, the only country which refused to believe in magic in a vain hope that she could leave her past behind her. The capital, Langfestol, had a famous physician’s school and she had studied to be a midwife, to have a chance to bring life into the world, not destroy it. But her past had caught up to her in the form of the Merian ambassador to Langdon. Hedd Ester. He had ripped the collar off. Her magic had re-asserted itself, burning through her until she had left the palace for the forest, to get away, to keep from burning everything in Ester’s suite. Only to have N’Than and T’Ngley connected to her through Goan shapeshifting magic find her and attack her bonded, thinking they were protecting her, and have Hereward and Duard fight back thinking they were protecting her as well.

“Yes it is the same. He is a Goan shapeshifter. When he first shifted I was there and they bond with the closest person.” She wasn’t about to explain that it was done through blood, nor was she going to explain about N’Than, who wasn’t supposed to be a shapeshifter, being only half Goan, but had shifted when they were escaping from the slavers. “They call that person a beast master.” She decided that was enough. “He’s here, I can feel him,” Tia muttered as she swung past Hereward, in another frustrating loop, passing under the rock face.

Above her head pine trees hung cling drunkenly from the cliff face. Their roots crawling over grey rock and into fissures, anchoring them to the stone face. In many places, moss, leaves and dirt caught in the crook of the roots provided a home for weeds and wildflowers. Smaller deciduous trees, growing in cracks, tried tentatively to spread branches to catch the sun. The riot of green could not hide the harsh grey of the rock, only soften it slightly.

Tia stopped, her head cocked, listening for a voice calling to her. The soft twitter of birds, nesting among the trees, fell silent. Leaves, small plants and a few stones fell near her. There was an ominous creaking sound. She looked back at her two guards and saw Hereward looking up. She looked up but saw nothing as the creaking seemed to grow louder, now definitely coming from the cliff. Hereward spun his horse around and lunged towards Tia.

“Move,” he yelled as he kicked her horse hard in the rump. Startled, Tia’s horse sidled, reared and with another kick took off into woods on the far side of the clearing with her grabbing onto his mane to try and stabilise herself. High above and behind came louder rumbling. The cliff shuddered into an avalanche of rock, trees, and dirt. The roar filled the air deafening them, dirt and rock dust-choked them as they made it to the trees.

“No,” screamed Tia as she tried to get the horse back under control. “He’s here!”

Duard grabbed at her reins as she tried to drag her horses head around towards where the rock slide was finally slowing. “Not yet,” he yelled above the crashing and rending. He shouldered her horse father away from the cliff face getting more trees between them and the slide.

“Damn, you,” Tia snarled as she wrenched her horse around.

“Antia, stop, it’s not safe,” Hereward said blocking her horse.

Tia glared at them then slumped in her saddle. T’Ngley’s voice had been so fragmented. Most of the time he had barely responded to her call and although she could feel that he was close she couldn’t pinpoint where he was. Finally, Duard dropped her reins and she kneed her horse into a canter towards the clearing. The rock slide had filled part of the clearing, some of it flowing into the ravine. The area was now a tangle of downed trees, rocks, and dirt. Tia stared at the mess then her eyes narrowed. She could feel it, the tug that led her through the woods. Swinging down off her horse she started to clamber over the mess before either of the men could stop her.

“It’s not safe. It has to settle,” Hereward yelled in frustration.

Tia ignored him. Pushing away dirt and branches peering down and under things. She snagged clothing on branches and rocks, ripping them when she couldn’t easily free herself, scraping knees and hands and almost wrenching her ankle as it slipped into a crevice once. She finally stopped, balancing over a tree precariously holding back a rock.

“Hereward, Duard, come here. Careful,” she yelled, waving at them to get their attention.

They clambered over the mess to her. She carefully pushed aside branches and the two men peered into the hole. They could see an arm and a hand, holding onto a branch of the downed tree. “We have to get him out of there.”

It took them most of the afternoon to carefully move some of the debris and chop away branches before they were able to reach the man. T’Ngley was battered. His body bruised so badly that the only colours that could be seen were red or blue. Once they got him out of the tangled mess and onto stable ground, Tia was kneeling beside him examining his injuries; one arm broken, a nasty gash, bleeding freely, on the head, and a deep wound in his leg. Tia was amazed that that was the extent of his external injuries, she was sure that wasn’t the case for internal injuries. She gently probed his head wound. When no bones in his skull moved she relaxed a little. If he had damaged his skull she wasn’t sure she could put him back together. Her experience had taught her that damaged bodies accompanied by broken skulls usually meant death. So his skull wasn’t broken, only his body damaged and that she could fix. She crouched over him, her hands on his sluggishly bleeding leg, dropping into a light trance. She traced the path his blood took, examining it for infection and corruption from the poison he had been forced to drink. Yes, there it was, similar, but not the same as the virus she had encountered with the wolvers, men who had been infected by the moon wolf virus in Silven. She scrubbed it from his system. She wasn’t sure if she got it all, nor could she tell what damage it had done. She needed to sew up his leg, set his arm, and get some liquid into him because he had lost a lot of blood. She looked around and was surprised that one of her Bonded had found her healer’s kit. She pulled out the needle and thread and quickly sewed T’Ngley up. Pulling out a packet of herbs from her kit, she stood up, feeling creaky. Healing always made her feel like she was an old woman. At least she wasn’t bleeding. Her back hurt as she stretched and saw that Duard, was setting water over the fire. She was glad that Duard was with her, her first and oldest bondsman. He knew what she would need.

They stayed for two days in the clearing. Hereward hunted for them and Tia hovered over T’Ngley. She finally allowed him to come out of the healing sleep she had kept him in. She dithered about the next step but decided that it was necessary. She needed T’Ngley to change. She wasn’t sure what the virus had done to him. She had healed most of the wolvers and so was confident that T’Ngley didn’t have any of that virus, but she knew that even healed, any virus could have long-term effects. N’Than had been bitten by moon wolves and although she thought she had gotten rid of the virus, he was now able to shift to wolf form.

“T’Ngley?” she called shaking his shoulder gently. “T’Ngley, it’s time to wake up.”

T’Ngley opened his eyes and looked around. He tried to sit up, groaning as he did. “What happened?”

“What do you remember?” Tia asked.

“My uncle, I was at my uncle’s and then.” He went to grab his head but his splint got in the way. “Gods, I feel like I’ve been beaten.”

“You were involved in a rock slide,” Hereward said, handing T’Ngley a mug. “The lady found you.” He went back to the fire to join Duard.

T’Ngley sipped the drink awkwardly, trying not to wince.

“T’Ngley, you need to shift,” Tia said softly. “You have a lot of injuries.”

“Shift?” He sounded groggy. “No!” His voice was ragged as he shrank away from Tia. “I don’t want to. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You must. It’s alright, I won’t let anything happen to you.” Tia said, leaning over to touch him.

He shrank away. “No, no, no!”

Tia bit her lip. “T’Ngley, you will heal faster if you do. N’Than always heals when he shifts.” She could tell that he wasn’t listening to her. She didn’t know whether it was the thought of shifting or something else which was causing his panic but she knew that although given time and care, T’Ngley would recover they were not in any position to provide either time or better care than the rough and ready field healing she had done. He had to shift. She soothed him until he had relaxed and fell into a doze.

Sitting back on her haunches she looked around their campsite, not really seeing anything. This was just another time that she forced people to do what they didn’t want to do. She had thought she was through with that, deciding what was best for others which seemed to result in their death. She watched as Duard skinned a hare he had caught. She turned her head and watched Hereward as he sat near the fire mending clothes. She smiled mirthlessly. They had committed to her, bound themselves and when offered a reprieve from that chain had refused. She couldn’t fathom why. She had tried, gods how she had tried, to escape her own fate. Maybe they knew something that she didn’t, maybe no one had a choice as to what they were. Pragmatist your name is Merian.

Standing up she went over to Duard. She watched him for a moment as he prepared the hare. When she hadn’t said anything he looked up at her. “Is he going to live?”

Tia shrugged. “As he is? I’m not sure. He needs care, better care than he can get here.” She hovered there unsure how to proceed. In Langfestol, when they had followed her into the woods, she had told them that the eagle was T’Ngley. She wasn’t sure if they had believed her. It didn’t really matter, if T’Ngley was to survive he had to shift. That was what was important. Survival.

She went back to the sleeping T’Ngely and knelt beside him. She had forced N’Than to shift, from wolf to human but never back the other way. She had never forced T’Ngley to do anything. When he first shifted, she had encouraged him to shift from eagle back to human. Laying her hand on his arm she centred herself, dropping down until she found her power. She hovered there, examining the roiling ball of light that was her power. It made her slightly nauseous, its colours flickering constantly, never still. She knew that she and T’Ngley were connected. She examined the ball carefully, nothing there, just streaks of colour. She started to rise up when she noticed a strand of colour reaching out beyond the ball, hidden in the glare. It seemed to pulse, pale compared to the globe. Once she concentrated she could see that it wasn’t the only thread running from the centre outward, disappearing into a beyond she could not see. Carefully she touched one, immediately she knew that it was Jaxin. She frowned, as she sensed emotion, joy? Worry? It was too garbled. She dropped it and drifted over to another, then another. She recognised them all; her bonded, on the move, a sense of urgency permeated them all. But she didn’t want her bonded. She needed the one that bound her to T’Ngley. She moved about aimlessly, poking at strands and finding nothing that reflected T’Ngley. Maybe it had been broken and she had just been hallucinating the tug she felt. The virus must have broken it. She completed her circuit and was preparing to leave when she noticed, not a thread but a handle. She approached it cautiously, not one handle but two. One seemed tarnished, rough, badly made. The other brightly polished and smooth to her touch. She gripped it and knew, it was her link to N’Than. She could feel his discomfort that she was so far away. She almost laughed and pulled at the handle and it was like a door opened and she could feel N’Than, feel his thoughts. She sent her affection to him, that she was fine and not to worry. She didn’t wait for his response, that wasn’t why she was here. She needed T’Ngley’s connections. She shut N’Than’s door and moved over until she was directly in front of the second handle. It looked poorly constructed, brittle. She carefully gripped it and pulled. It resisted her efforts. Her hand slipped away from it. She tightened her grip, it was like a live thing. It seemed to writhe in her hand. She wouldn’t let it go. It became rougher, scraping her hand as she pulled, she felt like the skin was being sandpapered off. She clung to the handle and pulled steadily. When the door opened, a rush of horror, like the scream of an animal in a leg hold trap. She almost dropped the handle but she didn’t. She clung to it as the emotions, animal, bestial, inhuman, unhuman, rushed through her. She gasped, her lungs felt like they were being squeezed. She needed to breathe. She pushed back, pushed hard, drove the emotion back. *T’Ngley,* she snarled, *T’Ngley, you are human; you are human, T’Ngley you are needed, I need you, N’Than needs you. T’Ngley stop it. Think!* There was a pause and she drove into the pause, all the memories she had of T’Ngley, eagle and man, man and eagle. The joy of flight, the joy of fight, the joy of laughter and good food, comradeship, jokes and the beating of wings in the rising sun. The pause became longer as she dragged those emotions along with her showing him how he looked, high above her head lazily circling, how he looked riding his horse, teasing N’Than, stooping to dive, practising his archery. She pushed hard, harder, until the emotions quieted, until she could feel T’Ngley himself. The pain she shared with him was acute but she didn’t let go. *Shift,* she suggested gently as the emotions smoothed out. *Shift and the pain will be less.* T’Ngley hovered on the edge of acceptance and then like falling from a precipice he slammed his fear at her, drove her back and out of the link.

They left the camp just after sunrise. Tia was sore, both physically and mentally, from her attempt to heal T’Ngley. She seriously considered forcing the shift once more but she quailed. The way T’Ngley was acting now, avoiding her, and when he couldn’t, saying the least he could, made her glad that she had not done so. If he was so ambivalent at this point he might very well have hated her if she had succeeded in forcing the shift even if he would be completely healed. She had been hoping that T’Ngley would offer to fly above, scout out the best direction to meet the others. She hadn’t been paying attention as she rode away and was afraid they might be lost. He was a shapeshifter, not a beast and she was his anchor not his master. There was no way she was going push him into something he didn’t want to do.

They rode in silence. Herward ranged ahead, angling towards the north and Duard, with T’Ngley sitting behind him, rode just before her. She let her link with N’Than guide them. She was hoping that they were not too far behind the main body. She kept her eye on T’Ngley as they rode. He slumped behind Duard, barely paying attention to where they were going. She was sure he was still in pain. As usual, she had patched someone together, enough from him to ride. She was glad she had brought clothes for him, but she had forgotten his sword and bow, not that the condition he was in would make it feasible for him to use them. She fretted over what to say, or do for that matter. Was it better to talk about what had happened with his uncle or let him wallow in whatever emotions he was feeling? She sensed there had been some damage done by the potion his uncle had forced him to drink, she just didn’t know enough to tell what it was. The trail they were following led into a clearing. Several other paths led out of the clearing, one larger than the others indicating that it led to something important, maybe the main road. People living in the woods must come through here to get to it. Just as she thought that the silence would start to drive her crazy, she felt a tingle in the back of her head. Her bonded had a variety of ways of communicating with each other and her which was different from the way N’Than and T’Ngley could communicate in their shifted forms. Her bonded communicated using emotions: feelings of danger or the need to run would alert each other. Over time they had come to be able to interpret the emotion, hide, run, stay, fight, meet. T”Ngley and N’Than could talk to her but only in their shifted forms, although N’Than had once, when Merkel had been poisoned, so frightened that Merkel would die that he had managed to call her to him to save Merkel. Thinking about Merkel made her realise that N’Than had not explained about his shifting to his brother. Tia knew that the fear of the wolf virus was so pervasive in Langdon that Goans were universally feared which would only get worse if they knew that a member of the royal house could shift even if it had nothing to do with the virus. Dragging her attention back to where she was, Tia pulled her horse up short looking for Hereward and not finding him looked to see Duard dropping back to talk to her, his hands flashed in the sign language her bonded used - ‘someone is coming’.

Tia nodded and followed Duard into the woods away from any of the paths and dismounted. Duard motioned for her to go deeper into the woods. T’Ngley climbed off Duard’s horse and looked around, more alertly than before. He moved deeper into the woods avoiding Tia, flinching if she got to near him. Tia stopped shortly and turned to peer into the clearing. She could see Duard off to one side but still not Hereward. She heard the creaking sound of leather as a group of men rode into the clearing they had just vacated. They had come along the larger path. She drew further back into the bushes. There were ten men versus four of them. She looked at T’Ngley and decided that it was only three of them. Both Hereward and Duard would have come to the same conclusions so they just had to remain undetected. The men stopped in the centre of the clearing, facing a path to their right. Shortly they were met by two men cantering out of the forest from that direction.

“Well, how did it go?” one of the newcomers asked. He had a large hat, pulled down to shade his face. The other man wore a cloak, his face hidden in the folds.

“You didn’t tell me they knew what they were doing. ‘An easy ambush,’ you said. ‘Only a few men,’ you said. Well, we lost nearly half and they were waiting for us.” One of the men in the group rode forward to confront the hatted man. His face was covered with stubble and Tia could see a scar cutting across his cheek.

The newcomer grimaced. “They were caravan guards. You got sloppy.”

Scarface leaned towards him. “Not sloppy. You told lies. I lost good men.”

“And you’ve been paid and paid well. Did you leave the two Merians as I told you to?”

“Yah, I left them. Stabbed them like you told me.” He laughed coldly. “They never knew what was happening. They might not have been the smartest soldiers, but they were solid.”

“Here’s the rest of the money. Drown your sorrows in Silven.”

Scarface dropped his reins to count the money in the small purse he had been handed.

“Satisfied?” Snarled the other man.

The leader nodded curtly, tying the bag and slipping it into his jerkin. He gathered his reins, signalling his men to start moving out.

The hatted man watched them as they slowly crossed the small clearing. The cloaked man raised his hand, a lazy gesture of farewell perhaps. A wind started up and there was a splintering sound. The trees across the clearing where the men had left the clearing started thrashing. The rending sound of trees breaking apart and screams of men deafened Tia. She could see branches stabbing down towards Scarface. He narrowly avoided a branch as he dragged his horse’s head around, kicking him back into the clearing. Two other men followed him. All three pulled out their swords.

“Betrayed! You friggin coward,” Scarface bellowed.

He was almost on top of the hatted man when his sword seemed to twist in his hand and cut hard across his thigh. Scarface’s scream was almost drowned by the screams of the other two men as their weapons twisted in their hands to stab them. Scarface fell off his horse and was run over by a horse terrified by the noise of the trees falling all around them. The second horse galloped off into the forest, his rider’s foot caught in the stirrups, his head smashing into rocks and trees as the horse disappeared.

Tia just barely able to hold onto her horse prayed that the two men, left in the clearing would not look towards where she and T’Ngley were hiding, hoping that the noise of the falling trees would mask their presence. The trees around them moved restlessly but remained upright as the sounds of the falling trees across the clearing finally died away.

“Well, that was rather forceful, but a little noisy,” Hatted man grumbled. “Next time be a little less flamboyant.”

“I work with what I have. I had wood,” the other man replied. His Bracian accent startled Tia.

Hatted man shrugged and turned his horse to leave the way they had come. Once they were gone, Tia, Hereward, Duard with T’Ngley behind him, hurried out of the clearing. Tia prayed the wider path did indeed lead to a road.