Cyrion Page 3

  “Saul, you’re babbling again.”

  Anya pursed her lips. “Well, I can probably do the first two, but I can only shift myself into a frog.”

  Jon scooted back in alarm and tightened his grip on the Slayer.

  “But I wouldn’t do any of those things to you. You’re both fun. I don’t want to hurt either of you.”

  Jon relaxed. I was right. She might be irritating. But not dangerous.

  “Being a cyrion, I can take on the shapes of a lot of things, but mostly animals. I prefer wolves,” Anya scratched the silvery head of the albino wolf lying next to her. “I can also…reach…into their minds and make certain…suggestions.”

  He nodded his head in understanding. “Like hunting—but not eating—a few rabbits.” The beginnings of an idea emerged in his head.

  “Or gathering firewood,” added Saul.

  “Exactly. There are limits on what I can suggest, of course. For instance, I can’t suggest they’ve suddenly developed the ability to fly, and should therefore fling themselves off the nearest high cliff. I’d never do such a thing. I’d never hurt my friends.” She nuzzled her closest lupine friend. “I can also borrow their sense of smell or their sight, which makes my blindness almost a non-issue.”

  “Back there, on the trail,” Jon said, “you let us trip and fall on purpose, didn’t you? That really hurt.”

  “Don’t be such a baby. You ducked the last branch,” Anya said, a puckish smile on her face. “Besides, I thought you were funny.”

  “I wonder how many shapeshifters are hiding in plain sight?” Saul said.

  “I prefer the term cyrion, and actually, there aren’t very many of us. Your rabbits are burning.”

  Jon pulled his smoldering stick of half-burned rabbit from the fire in dismay. Lips twitching into an involuntary smile, he watched Saul bite into the first, still-smoking morsel of meat.

  A split second before he did the very same thing.

  Wait!

  Too late.

  All thoughts fled from Jon’s mind as what felt like a swarm of raging bees was unleashed in his mouth. Blinking back tears of pain, he spat the morsel out and dug frantically into his pack for a water skin. Or raisins. Or peanuts. Even disgusting stale crackers.

  Anything to calm his firestorm of agony.

  Jon pulled off the stopper and upended the water skin over his face, his jaws wide open. He barely noticed a bag bouncing off his head, of it splitting open, and the brief shower of raisins that followed. All Jon cared about was that the fire inside his mouth had been put out.

  He sat back on his haunches, water skin depleted.

  Saul was still tossing his pack, looking for his water skin, inarticulate with pain.

  Anya sighed. “Well, at least one part of you is clean.” She tossed Saul her water skin.

  Still hissing with pain, Saul uncapped it before upending the canister into his mouth.

  “Better?”

  Both boys nodded. Saul made some effort to brush off the odd leaf and twig that clung to his skewer. They returned to their dinner.

  “About reaching,” Jon said. “Does this mean that you can get inside our minds and make us do things?” His eyes narrowed with curiosity. “Are you doing so right now?”

  “No, of course not! You’re talking about mind control and that’s immoral!”

  Jon pursed his lips and stared into the campfire for a few moments. “But you could?”

  “Yes. But Mother always said it ‘displays an appalling lack of respect for our fellow living beings’. I’m not sure what she meant exactly, but I think mind control is rude. No.” Anya shook her head. “I suggest and advise. I never command nor coerce. That is wrong.”

  “Well,” Jon said, his eyebrow arching, “do you feel the same way about, say… goblins?”

  Anya leaned back and tilted her head up to the star-strewn sky. “No. I’ve tried. Didn’t work. The books I’ve read warned against trying to reach goblins. But I did it anyway. When I was trying to reach into a goblin’s mind…I felt like I was lost in an endless, fog-bound labyrinth. I almost couldn’t find my way back out.”

  “Well.” Jon sighed. “Then there is no way you’re doing that again. Back to square one.”

  “If you knew it was dangerous,” Saul leaned forward, his voice rising, “why’d you even try it? That was reckless even by my standards!”

  “It was the only thing I could think to do! They were putting people in chains and torching whole villages at a time! You think your little Outpost was the first? Not by a long shot!”

  Anya rose from the ground in a single fluid movement. “We’re tracking a relatively small band of goblins. They’re lightly armored and armed with nothing worse than daggers and clubs.” She ticked off the points with her fingers as she paced.

  “There are many other, bigger, better-armed, and armored bands roaming the North. In fact, there’s a much larger band just a little further up North, transporting an even larger group of human prisoners past the Wolf-rider settlements in the Northern Reaches for God only knows what unholy reason!”

  The albino wolf sat up and whined.

  “So, when you both are done with your dinner, I suggest we turn in and get an early start tomorrow. If you’re serious about rescuing your family, we have to do it before they reach the main group, because once they do,” she shook her head with ominous gravity, “we’d have no chance at all of succeeding.”

  * * * *

  Anya turned her head toward the snap and crackle of their dying campfire as heat exploded pockets of sap trapped within the wood. Must remember to add more before I turn in. In silence, she watched the human boys sleep by the light of the moon.

  The large blond one, named Saul, snored. He lay spread-eagled on his back, with the camp blanket tangled around his legs. The dark-skinned smaller one called Jon was on his side, one hand tucked under his cheek and the other resting on the hilt of his enchanted dagger. Anya didn’t tire of watching them because their humanity reminded her of Mother.

  Well, maybe not in terms of manners. At least, not Saul. Although Jon was entirely too controlled for her liking. He needed to loosen up more, in her opinion. Maybe she could teach him that. And in return, he can teach me about controlling myself.

  She drew her knees to her chest and hunched her shoulders. Eyes squeezed shut, she summoned memories of the last place she could truly call home. To the casual observer, home was a small limestone cave set on the side of large hill, deep in the forests, beyond the reach of most game trails. The narrow cave entrance was half-hidden by masses of trailing vines and curtains of moss.

  Only she and her parents knew of the false wall at the back of the cave. Past the false wall and through a twisting rock-lined passage that smelled of fertile earth, was the real main chamber. A familiar wave of homesickness washed through her. Her father’s enchanted mirrors made the natural light skip and dance throughout the cave, as though it was something truly alive. The kitchen and dining room were to the right of the entrance passageway, while the sleeping and cleansing quarters were across, on the other side of the central chamber.

  To the left was her mother’s marvelous study, with its numerous dusty tomes, written in a babble of languages. Anya could almost hear her mother’s chiding voice when she balked at reading yet more books. Knowledge is power you can use. The more you read, the more you know. And the more you know, the more you can use. Keep reading, lovely one.

  When that inevitably failed, her mother would bribe her to keep reading for “just another hour” with sweet treats. From raspberry-laced sweetened iced creams, to syrup-glazed sour cherry tarts. Her mother’s sure-fire bribe was cake made with her precious hoard of cane sugar, covered by a paste made of roasted almonds, finely ground and mixed with honey, and studded with candied quince. Anya’s eyes burned with unshed tears. Her mother passed away over a century ago. She still missed her every day.

  Mother, look. I’ve made friends. Human friends. Just like you. You’
ll like them. I did exactly like you taught me. Although I haven’t met another cyrion in all my years of wandering. We cyrions are cursed with long lifespans. You were right about that. Especially if I truly am the last of my kind.

  I offered these human boys hospitality and a safe place to rest their heads. Their families must be nice also. You always said children reflect their upbringing. I’m sure their families are proud of them. I’ve kept control and tried to conduct myself well. Have I made you proud? I think I have.

  Anya’s brows furrowed and her eyes snapped open. The boys’ families! So many human settlements burned to charred husks by the goblins and then left populated by naught but ghosts. The goblins’ targets were always isolated, always with no one left behind to report to the kings or barons. Or whoever is currently in charge. Even nosy Watchers.

  She bit her upper lip. What are the goblins up to? What made them finally leave their stronghold in the frozen north? And why do they need so many captives?

  Her head jerked up—someone was watching. She reached into members of her pack on guard duty, inquiring if anyone was around.

  No, no one is.

  The wolves smelled nothing but the usual forest fauna. Well, they also scented the goblins. Not unusual. The whole place stinks of goblin.

  The albino wolf beside her woofed. Anya guided its lupine eyes upward and realized how low the moon was in the night sky. Getting late. It’s only a few hours until dawn and I need to get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a very busy day. She laid down on the ground, cuddled the wolf, and dropped off into a deep, restful sleep.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE CHASE. A PLAN EMERGES

  The wolves’ howls unnerved Jon at first. Then he learned to tune out the lupine version of jungle drums as the day wore on. They spent most of the following day trying to keep up with Anya and her pack. Ten paces of brisk walking, followed by ten paces at a jog, then ten paces at a dead run, over and over until Anya called for a halt. During their breaks, they grabbed a few bites of cold leftover rabbit and a few swallows of water before setting off yet again. The pack loped ahead and alongside them, teeth flashing as their tongues lolled.

  Jon had the distinct sense they were laughing at him.

  Despite her petite size and delicate frame, Anya not only kept up with them, she found the breath to tell them what she knew about goblins. Goblins had a good sense of smell, even better than wolves. They also spoke the Common Tongue, in addition to being deceptively strong and fast.

  Anya called for a halt before moonrise. Jon collapsed, panting on the grass. The expression on Saul’s red, sweat-streaked face mirrored his own gratitude for the respite.

  “We can rest here for a bit,” Anya said in a terse voice. “I need to…do something. Whatever happens, please don’t panic. Actually, just don’t make a sound.”

  Her lupine shadow, the albino wolf Jon privately called Minari, settled down next to her. Anya sank onto the dry, brittle summer grass; cross-legged, and her back ramrod straight. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing until it seemed to stop completely.

  Saul tilted his head at Jon, a puzzled frown on his face. Jon shrugged. He licked his forefinger, silently apologized to Anya for the state of his breath, and placed it just under her nose for a few minutes. Faint, warm exhalations cooled his damp finger. He nodded at Saul. Still breathing. Saul sagged with obvious relief. The boys quietly moved to either side of her, bracing themselves to catch her in case she fell. Jon’s arms and legs were beginning to cramp when Anya finally relaxed and came out of her trance.

  She jerked her head back, and Minari studied both of them in turn. “What do you think you’re doing?” She flicked her hands with impatience as Jon started to explain. “Shush and follow us.”

  With Minari in the lead, they went to a hole by the side of a small mound, made invisible by the surrounding vast expanse of blackberry bushes. They dropped to all fours and crawled through a cramped, earth-lined tunnel, which opened into a small cavern. The rugged, eroded natural opening in its roof allowed enough moonlight to see.

  The cavern’s irregular walls resembled the sides of a half-melted candle. The scent of molding leaves and earth sprinkling the ground, mingled with the faint fragrance of blackberry blossoms, grew stronger as the trio sat down in a circle underneath the opening, facing each other, on the cool, knobby limestone cavern floor. Minari laid down next to her. A pair of amber lupine eyes stayed trained on both Saul and he.

  “No fire tonight. We’re still about half a day away, but I don’t want to risk them scenting the smoke.”

  Saul huffed, his sweat-streaked face still flushed a bright cherry red. “I thought we’d have caught up to them by now.”

  “Sorry, I forgot how slow humans are. You did your best. My fault. I forgot neither of you can shift.”

  Jon’s stomach had been rumbling for the past hour. “What’re we going to do about dinner?”

  Anya reached into her pack and tossed the two of them a green apple each. Jon sighed with resignation and crunched into his. At least I’m not eating crackers and raisins.

  “There are about thirty—well, twenty-five goblins now,” Anya said, a feral glint in her eyes. “The children are locked in what seems like a covered, barred wagon. The men are chained. But the women aren’t.”

  “How’d you know?” Jon said. “Did this have anything to do with…what happened? Just then?”

  “I…persuaded some bats to lend me their ears. Then I persuaded some adders to lend me their fangs and venom sacs. So what was thirty, is now twenty-five.” Her voice grew much colder, more vicious. “They never even saw me coming. At night, those goblins are almost as blind as I am.”

  Jon started to smile, then stopped, his lips frozen in a grimace that quickly faded. He glanced at Saul, and spotted guilt written all over his face.

  “Oh stop. It’s all right if I make the joke.”

  “Still doesn’t seem right to me,” Jon said.

  “Me neither,” Saul said.

  “Okay, no more blind jokes. So,” Anya said before munching on her own apple, “how should we do this?”

  The boys exchanged a look.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Jon said. “We appreciate your help, but—”

  “Oh, stop it. I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Mother used to say I should help people. So I am.”

  Saul shook his head. “But you’ve already helped us. A lot. And this could get dangerous.”

  “Yeah, I mean, we’re not even your people. It’d be better if you stay here.”

  There was a pause. Anya looked down at the ground, tangled locks of hair hiding her face. Back slumped, she drew her knees up to her scrawny chest and held her arms stiff on both sides of her slight frame. Her right foot moved back and forth rhythmically, as if trying to dig a hole into the limestone floor.

  “I know you don’t want me around,” she said in a small voice. “I thought we could be friends because I thought we had a lot of fun. Well, I had a lot of fun.”

  Minari whined.

  Jon thought he heard a soft sniffle. He shook his head. “That’s not what we meant at all.”

  Anya’s foot moved a little faster, her calf muscles visibly tensing. “But I…But you really do need my help. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “That’s our point, Anya,” Saul said. “We don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “You’re our friend,” Jon said.

  Saul bobbed his head.

  “We don’t want you in danger,” Jon said. “If you come along, you will be. That’s why I said you should stay here.” He shook his head. “Which part of this don’t you get?”

  “Well, I’m coming and you can’t stop me. So we better come up with a good plan.” She drew her sleeve against her face, and then glared at the boys with red-rimmed, silvered eyes, as if daring them to object further.

  Minari growled a low warning.

  Jon huffed in exasperation. “It’s pointless arguing with you
.”

  “Exactly.” Anya lowered her legs, returning to her original cross-legged posture, an unmistakable expression of stubborn determination on her face. “So stop wasting time.”

  The trio fell silent as they all tried to think of something. Minari rested his head on his paws, and continued watching them.

  Saul’s head snapped up, his eyes sparkling in excitement. “Our mums aren’t even chained or anything. So can’t we unchain the men, free the children, and then run for it?”

  Jon thought for a few minutes, shook his head, and turned to Anya. “Something’s not right. Why’re the women free?”

  “Maybe because the children are very heavily guarded?”

  “That’s the key. The grumps wouldn’t want to try anything if there’s a chance the children would get hurt.”

  Anya shook her tangled dark curls away from her face. “It won’t be hard to convince the oxen to bolt. They don’t like the goblins very much. Or at all, really.” She wrinkled her nose. “Something about how they smell.”

  “Okay.” Saul nodded at Anya. “You convince the oxen to bolt with the wagon somewhere safe. Meanwhile, Jon and I free the men, before we all run for it!”

  “A few problems with that.” Jon’s brows furrowed. “How do we stop them from chasing and recapturing us? Or what happens if, instead of chasing us, they report to the main camp?”

  Saul’s eyes widened with realization. “They might return with an even bigger force.”

  Jon nodded. “Also, we need time. Time to stockpile food, to build some kind of wall, or something to defend the Outpost. And we also need to send for help.” There was an odd, flat note in his voice. “We can’t let even one of them escape and report to whoever’s in charge of this thing.”