Masques (Sianim #1)(30)

The section of the ledge that she stood on was just far enough above Edom to be out of the sword's reach. She drew her knife and shifted it lightly by the blade in a thrower's grip. At this distance she didn't even need to aim, so she had it in the air before he would have been able to see what it was she threw. He certainly shouldn't have been able to dodge it, but her blade landed harmlessly on the ground behind him.

The speed of his move told her that he was a much better fighter than he had shown himself to be. Easily good enough that he could have fooled her into thinking him unskilled. Darranians being singularly prejudiced against women, he probably simply hadn't bothered.

His face, revealed more by the light of the souleater than the modest campfire, appeared older - although that could simply have been a mistake of the light. He smiled.

She was unarmed against him. Normally that wouldn't have worried her, but the souleater made the situation anything but normal. She could only hope to hold out until someone from the camp got there. No one who was tuned into magic could miss the disturbance that Edom's unholy sword was causing, now that it was active. Already she could hear voices from below.

All the shapes that she could take quickly were suited to her chosen trade as a spy: the mouse, several types of birds, a few insects. Nothing that would hold off an experienced swordsman for long enough to keep both her and Wolf alive.

She took an apparently involuntary step sideways, away from Edom, and lost her footing. She made sure that the fall carried her past Wolf's ledge and on down the hill into some brush.

Edom had two options; either he would follow her down, getting more distance between that sword and Wolf, or he would turn to finish Wolf off - giving her the extra few seconds that she needed. He turned back to finish his business with Wolf.

She chose the first form that she could think of; it was deadly enough, though small. The icelynx had little trouble with the steep climb and was leaping silently at Edom's back before he even had his sword raised at Wolf.

Warned by the brief shadow she caused when she ran in front of the fire, Edom turned - sweeping aside, her rush with his sword arm, but not before she raked his back with her formidable claws. Hissing and growling, she faced him as she crouched between him and the still form on the ground.

Pale sword and paler cat feinted back and forth: she just out of reach of the lethal sword; he careful not to expose himself to the poisonous fangs of the icelynx.

Suddenly Edom spoke softly as if not to antagonize the cat, though his tone carried anxious desperation. "It's Aralorn. She's a shapeshifter; don't you see it? I came up to ask Wolf about something and I found her here, with Wolf like that. You've all heard of the arcane practices of shapeshifters. Help me before she kills him."

Aralorn didn't have to look to see what her nose had belatedly informed her. A ragtag band from camp had just shown up to rescue the wrong person. In a form she was unfamiliar with, Aralorn was without the power of speech and unable to defend herself.

Edom continued to speak, even as he tried to maneuver closer to Wolf. "I've heard that shapeshifters need to kill when the moon is full. I guess that Wolf, out here alone, seemed an easy victim. I found this sword near; it must be Wolf's. She seems afraid of it."

The scent of humans and metal was getting stronger, and Aralorn knew that she had to move before she was unable to do anything. Despite the legends, shapeshifters were quite vulnerable to cold steel weapons. Disregarding the sword, she leapt at his throat while he was distracted by the sound of his own voice.

She missed as he threw himself flat on the ground. However, Edom managed to nick her with the sword as she passed him. Her off rear leg became icily numb and folded underneath her, but worse was the strange sucking sensation that consumed her. The sword was alive, and it was hungry.

Edom quickly regained his feet. On three legs, fighting the pull of the sword, she didn't have much of a chance. Aralorn watched as the sword descended.

Abruptly it was jerked out of its intended path. Aralorn could feel the sword's intense disappointment as Edom was suddenly consumed in flames. The smell of burning flesh offended her feline-sensitive nose almost as much as the light bothered her nocturnal eyes.

Apparently someone - she found out later that it was Stanis - had finally thought to remove the ropes that held Wolf down. Wolf did a more thorough job of burning Edom than was absolutely necessary, but then it must have been maddening to lay there and know what was going on without being able to do anything about it.

She yowled at him demandingly. With her leg numb and the odd dizziness that accompanied the wound, she was stuck where she was. He also made her nervous, putting so much effort into burning a dead body. He needed a distraction. When the yowl didn't do it, she rolled until she could bite him on the ankle, hard enough that he could feel it, but not hard enough to release the venom in the glands underneath her fangs.

Abruptly she was gathered up and set gently down on his bedroll. Wolf grabbed his staff from wherever it was that he put it when he wasn't using it and balanced it on its feet so that he could examine her wound in more certain light. She noticed with interest that the rest of the camp was staying well away from them. Well, Wolf's pyrotechnics had been pretty impressive.

Wolf traced a quick design over the wound with a finger; Aralorn decided that it was to break the sword's hold rather than close the wound, since human magic-users were not the best healers. Nothing seemed to change. He frowned and traced it again; this time she could feel that power that he used. Still nothing happened. She meowed at him nervously. He ignored her and chanted a few words.