Magic Claims

11

I found Conlan on the wall. He perched on the parapet as far to the west as he could get and still keep the house in view, a small, compact shape, easy to miss in the pre-dawn light. He was looking at the woods, where a green flag marked the direction of our march.

Inside the wall, on the street in front of the house, the shapeshifters were going through the last equipment checks before we set out. Each one carried a small packet of panacea, the complex herbal remedy that helped prevent loupism; knives or other weapons they’d been trained with; a canteen of safe drinking water; and packs of high-calorie trail mix, nuts, jerky, cheese, and chocolate.

Heather’s archers were going through a similar check. Penderton’s town guard had shown up this morning and informed us that they would be assisting. We got eight archers, and Curran had had to modify our strategy slightly to account for the surprise auxiliary. We were fielding fourteen shapeshifters, including Darin, my husband, and my son, and three not-shapeshifters—me, Rimush, and Jushur. Someone would need to protect the archers, and that someone couldn’t be me because I was taking point.

According to the old Google Maps, the site of the former hill lay about 19.7 miles away from Burgaw. The top walking speed of a human hiker was about three miles per hour. Expecting people to walk twenty miles straight into a battle was unrealistic. Everyone would be exhausted. Also, we would likely get hit along the way. If this was a hike through dense woods, we’d have to budget two to three days for it, but our situation was different.

We wouldn’t be cutting through the forest as the crow flies. We would be taking the old NC-53, heading west, and then we would turn onto US-421 North. Both roads were too overgrown and too damaged by the forest to be accessible by vehicle, but they still provided a relatively clear route for human hikers. There were other options, like Piney Woods Road or State Road 1332, but both of those were narrower and therefore in worse shape. Our route added another mile to our trek; however, walking would be a lot easier. Shapeshifters would have no problem, and Heather assured me that all of her people could handle the hike.

We weren’t the first group to try entering the woods via the old roads. Isaac had taken 421 too, at some point. But all those groups had had to wade through the territory claimed by the forest, and the farther in they went, the deeper the magic ran. Sooner or later, the power behind it managed to push them off the roads into the wilderness.

We wouldn’t have that problem.

The plan was simple. Go in until noon, less if we had to fight our way through. Stop. Make camp. Rest. Keep going. If the night caught us before we got there, we would camp again. Shapeshifters had an advantage in the dark, but I needed daylight. Also, I would be tired as hell by the end of this march, and a lot of that final fight was riding on me.

I put my hand on Conlan’s shoulder. Every muscle on his back was tight. He was like a kitten watching a butterfly dancing in the wind.

He glanced at me. “The archers will slow us down. And we have to protect them. We should leave them here.”

“Fighting a war involves more than just calculating the odds. I’ve claimed Penderton, but I told them that I would never interfere in their governance. The decision to send the archers came from the town council. They are volunteers, and they come as allies rather than subordinates.”

“It’s not safe for them.”

“Wars are not safe for anyone. They’re brave. We must respect that. How would you feel if we left you behind?”

He looked back at the forest. “You’re my parents. I can’t just wait here… I want to help.”

“So do they.”

“But they will make things harder for us.”

A little of my father coming through. I needed to deal with that here and now.

“For five years the forest has terrorized them. It killed people in the town square. It demanded human sacrifice. Yesterday, it killed two of their own right in front of them. A boy about Darin’s age who was guarding the tower in front of our house. A manticore grabbed him off the wall and broke his neck. How do you think they feel?”

He seemed to consider it. “They are angry.”

“People are ruled by their emotions, Conlan, and anger is one of the most powerful emotions we can experience. It can fester if you don’t vent it. Always take that into account.”

“Are you angry?” he asked.

“Very.”

“Because of the boy who died?”

“Yes. And because of other things the power in the forest has done. It has no regard for the value of life, human or animal. Your father and I will end this today.”

“Is Dad angry too?”

“Yes.”

“He never gets angry.”

Oh, you have no idea.

Conlan looked back at the woods. Logic told me that he was only eight, but it didn’t seem that way. I was his mother. I gave birth to him, I have raised him, and yet there was something about my son that remained beyond my understanding. Sometimes I wanted to open up his head and see what was going on in there. But then all parents probably felt that way at times.

“Do you feel the magic of the claiming?”

He nodded. “It feels welcoming. It feels like I’m home. Like safety.”

“Good.”

Erra had told me that it was supposed to feel like that. The Shar was an ugly beast, but it affected the members of my family in different ways, and children experienced it the least. For them, being in their parent’s territory brought feelings of safety and content. They knew they were protected.

It would be another decade or so before Conlan might want his own territory. Or he might never claim one. Erra hadn’t until she’d settled at her current base in California, and even then, she’d only claimed the immediate area around it.

When Erra and Julie had left Atlanta, my aunt had gone as far west as she could while staying on the same continent. She was giving me a lot of room. My father and she thought not in years but in centuries. They expected me to claim territory and grow it. Fortunately for everyone, I was a champion when it came to failing parental expectations.

“Come with me,” I told Conlan.

He followed me along the top of the wall toward the gates. Two men waited by the stairs leading up to the wall, Jushur and Rimush, wearing identical green and gray garments, a kind of tactical uniform on the crossroads of modern military and ancient assassin. They each carried two curved swords, one on each hip, and bows on their backs.

They looked up at me. I nodded, and the father and son came up the stairs.

I pointed to a spot slightly behind me and to my left. “Stand here.”

Conlan moved to it.

I raised my hands, dropped the magical cloak that obscured my power, and let the flow of magic fill me. It surged through me, through every cell, through bone, muscle, and skin, like a light beam entering a prism, and then it poured out of me in a golden light. I had become a glowing beacon.

On the street everything stopped. People stared at me, some in awe, others in alarm. Luther, my friend at Biohazard, had put it best. Magic was wild and unpredictable, and humans, who always had trouble with chaos, searched for ways to understand and codify it. They tricked themselves into thinking that some things were impossible because it made them feel safe. Without my cloak, I was that impossible thing. The very idea that a person with that much magic could exist shattered the established illusion of safety. Some found it exhilarating, others feared it, and some sought its protection through service. I was a great and scary beast, and it was warm and safe under my wings.

Jushur took a knee.

“Jushur, son of Kizzura, the first of the Eyes and Ears, the Fourth Blade of Shinar, declare your intent.”

Jushur spoke, pronouncing each word with deliberate exactness, as if carving it into stone.

“I swear upon my honor and my soul to pledge my life to you, my queen. I swear to protect and honor you in victory and in defeat, in times of famine and in times of plenty, and even if the entire world turns its hand against you, I will serve as your shield. I shall place your life above my own and speak nothing but the truth to you. My blade, my mind, and my soul are yours.”

He'd modified the oath. The bit about not lying was ad-libbed.

“Do you swear that you are free to make this oath? That no other has a claim on your loyalty?”

“I do.”

“I accept your oath. I shall protect and honor you in victory and in defeat, in times of famine and in times of plenty. I will never forsake you for my own gain. I will care for you until the moment you pass from this world. I will defend you as I defend my own life, and your deeds in the service of our common cause shall be recorded and made known so our descendants may honor and celebrate your life. I shall treat you not as my servant but as my valued friend, who stands at my side. My oath to you shall be true until the end of my days.”

Jushur’s eyebrows rose. I also went with a nonstandard oath because if I accepted someone’s allegiance, I’d do it on my own terms. There would be no queen and servants. There would be a brotherhood of equals, or as close to equals as they would allow themselves to be.

“Do you accept my pledge, Jushur, son of Kizzura?”

“I do,” Jushur answered. “With all my heart.”

I reached out. The golden flood of magic bathed Jushur. The oath was symbolically sealed.

He continued to kneel.

“You don’t need my permission to rise,” I murmured.

“This might take some getting used to,” he murmured back. He got up and stepped back.

“Rimush, son of Jushur, the ninth of the Eyes and Ears, the Seventh Blade of Shinar, declare your intent.”

Rimush swore the same oath. I accepted it and pulled my magical protection back on. The show was over.

“Your father would not approve,” Jushur told me.

“He never does.” I turned to Conlan. “Jushur and Rimush are our people. If something happens to your father and me during this battle, it’s your responsibility to safely get them out of danger. Jushur is an older man, and he might need your help.”

Jushur and Rimush bowed their heads.

Conlan blinked and bowed back.

“Do you understand?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.”

Uncertainty flared in Conlan’s eyes. Up until now he hadn’t considered the possibility that his father and I might not make it. It was a lot for an eight-year-old.

“Where would I go?”

“You would go to your sister and your grandmother. Jushur knows the way.”

“What about Darin?” he asked.

Darin had volunteered to join our party, and Curran had let him. His merman side gave Darin faster reflexes and enhanced regeneration, and like his father and uncle, he was really good with a bow. But more importantly, Darin wanted desperately to fit in, and he had decided he belonged with us and the Wilmington Pack. Curran and I were fighting for the lives of Penderton and our future home; Keelan, Da-Eun, and the other shapeshifters were fighting for the future of the new Pack; and Darin was fighting for himself.

“If there is a chance to save Darin, I’ll make sure he is safe,” Rimush said.

On the street, in front of the gates, the shapeshifters and archers formed up behind Curran. He looked up at me. Our gazes met. It was time.

“Your father is waiting.” I nodded in Curran’s direction.

Conlan took off down the stairs.

Jushur and I’d had a conversation this morning. He and Rimush carried Roland’s water necklaces. When broken, the necklaces would teleport them and whomever they were touching to the original source of the water. Teleportation was risky and dangerous. It was the last of last resorts, but if Curran and I both died, they would get Conlan out of there. They would grab Darin too, if they could get to him, and take the boys to California. Erra and Julie would take it from there.

Of course, for that to happen, the forest would have to kill me and Curran first. Conlan had guessed correctly. We were both angry.

“Sharratum,” Jushur said softly.

Getting him to call me Kate in private was harder than convincing my father that democracy was a valid form of government.

“It’s not too late to change the plan,” the older man said. “Nobody, in my memory, has ever attempted what you are trying to do. The magic drain may be beyond what even your body can endure.”

“There are some things that I won’t tolerate,” I told him. “I won’t lose another civilian to the forest. They are done killing these people. It ends today.”

He bowed his head.

I followed Conlan down the stairs and took my place next to Curran at the head of our little formation. We’d arranged our forces into a column. Curran and I were in the lead. Owen was directly behind us, carrying the big tent we borrowed from Penderton and two gallons of undead blood, which I would need for my blood armor. Behind Owen were Conlan, Darin, and Jushur, followed by Heather and her archers, two per row.

The shapeshifters formed a loose protective envelope around the column, starting with Keelan behind Curran to his left, and Rimush, who technically wasn’t a shapeshifter, behind me and on my right. The rest of the Wilmington Pack formed up behind those two, on the flanks, keeping the archers and the kids between them. Da-Eun, Jynx, and Andre brought up the rear. With those three, nothing would surprise us from behind.

Ned came up to us, with Mayor Gene trailing him. They’d been chatting off to the side, and judging by their body language, neither man felt uneasy. They must’ve patched things up.

“This is it then,” Ned said.

“Yes,” Curran said.

“I won’t say goodbye,” Ned said. “I will say, see you soon.”

“See you soon, Ned,” I told him.

“Good luck!” Mayor Gene told us. He looked past the shapeshifters to the archers. “Penderton is proud of you! All of us are proud of you! Don’t take stupid chances. Come back in one piece.”

The gates swung open, and we started across the killing field toward the green flag. All the things that had to be said had been said.

We crossed the grass to the flag. The sun hadn’t broken above the horizon yet, although the sunrise wasn’t far off, and in the early light, the flag looked more gray than green. Gray was the Pack color. I decided to take it as a good omen.

The beginning of NC-53 stretched in front of us, the asphalt crumbled at the edges and crowded by trees, but still solid.

I stepped forward and gathered my magic. It strummed inside me, like a heartbeat reverberating through my entire body. I plunged Sarrat into the ground.

A beam of magic shot out of me, straight as an arrow, dashing along NC-53, claiming a strip of land fifty feet wide. I pushed it for three miles, to where NC-53 made a slight turn and cut it short. I’d carved a path through the forest’s territory. A safe zone. I would need to do this again when we reached its end.

I slid my sword into the sheath on my back. Curran reached out, took my hand, and squeezed. I squeezed back.

He raised his voice. “Walk behind me and Kate and stay in formation. No straggling, no running off. You are in a fifty-foot-wide safe zone. Do not leave it.”

A chorus of “Yes, Alpha” answered him.

Curran grinned, his eyes sparking with feral gold light. “Time to hunt!”

Keelan stopped. Curran stopped too, half a second later. The entire column halted in the middle of the battered, crumbling road and stared at the woods beyond the pavement.

I listened.

Around us the forest was full of life. Leaves and pine needles shivered in the breeze, stretching over the road to grab every bit of light. Squirrels chased each other through the branches. A feral cat trailed them, sneaking by the tree roots. A faint whiff of old skunk musk lingered, emanating from somewhere to our left. Birds sang and chirped in the canopy.

No visible threat. No strange noises.

I glanced at Keelan. What?

He inhaled, sucking the air into his nostrils, then turned and leaned, looking down the length of the column.

“Come out slowly,” Curran said.

A shape emerged from the brush on our left, just behind the rear guard, their fatigues perfectly blending with the forest.

Da-Eun swore.

The person stepped into the light filtering through the gap in the branches and onto the old road.

Isaac. I should have known.

“The Order’s pathfinder,” I murmured.

We’d been walking for over two hours. About thirty minutes ago, we’d passed the remains of an old gas station swallowed up by magically boosted trees and made the turn onto US-421 North. I’d performed the claiming for the third time, taking over a chunk of that road. By now we were probably ten miles in.

Isaac had managed to sneak up on a pack of shapeshifters, and he had even evaded Keelan’s nose, which put most werewolves to shame. Had he followed us all the way from Penderton? No, probably not. If I were him, I would’ve waited for us at that gas station and then tagged along behind the column, keeping downwind.

“Don’t you think you’d do more good in the front?” Curran asked.

Isaac shrugged. “Not my party. I’m just tagging along. If you want me on point, though, I can do that.”

Curran waved him forward. The pathfinder nodded and moved through the column, completely silent. He took point and we kept moving.

That third claiming took a bit out of me. My body ached, fatigue adding a phantom weight to my legs.

The forest should have attacked us by this point, but so far Isaac was the only human we’d seen. Although, there was a hawk hanging above us. Hawks were territorial, and their range was about two square miles. This one had been with us since we left Penderton. I had noticed it when we set out and then again after the second claiming, and Curran and I had been watching it since.

He saw me looking.

“They’re letting us in,” I said. “We are vulnerable on the road, but they haven’t made a move.”

He nodded. “You took away their trump card by creating a safe zone for us. The priest-mages are powerful, but they take a while to cast their spells. Their spear-throwers would be at a disadvantage in the forest. Even if they managed to ambush us, which isn’t likely, they might get one volley off before we went in and took them apart. If they want to attack us on the way, they’d have to use their shapeshifters, and they must not have enough of them to overwhelm us with numbers. They attacked four shapeshifters and a human with a pack of seven and they lost. They would want a significant numerical advantage.”

“You think they have a spot picked out ahead? Somewhere with open ground?”

“I think they will let us walk all the way to their base. They can deploy the hunters and priest-mages in addition to the shapeshifters they have left. They’re counting on having more people than us and the home field advantage. All the better if we’re worn out by the time we reach them.”

“So it’s a last stand?”

“Looks that way. They are marshaling all their forces in one spot rather than risking losing them piecemeal by attacking us along the way.” Curran grinned. “Also, I think your claiming really freaked them out.”

He had a point. Whoever was in charge of the forest must have been accustomed to their claiming being the final word. Their ultimate move. Chances were that nobody had ever challenged them after that. Claiming gave you control and advance warning. It made you feel safe. It allowed you to kill your own people with fucked-up smoke.

When I took Penderton away from them, it must have been a shock. And my claiming was much stronger and more uniform. It would be like having the best knife in the world and realizing your opponent held a sword.

And now they were sitting in their base and feeling me carve my way straight through their territory. One narrow strip of forest at a time. And they could do nothing about it. They had to watch and wait, helpless.

“I think we should freak them out a bit more,” I said.

Curran smiled and it wasn’t pretty. “Darin, drop that hawk.”

The merman raised his bow and fired in one smooth motion, taking no time to aim. The hawk fell from the sky and landed on the road, an arrow in its chest. Coils of black smoke curled up from it, and the hawk melted into nothing.

Keelan chuckled.

We kept moving.

I was resting. Not really sleeping. Just lingering on the edge of consciousness, with my eyes closed and my body still. My legs hummed, my back hurt, and my chest felt tight. Four claimings in a row was my limit. I would need to practice more. It wasn’t the distance—I could’ve claimed a ten-mile chunk with no problems. It was the sequence of it. Every claiming took a big bite out of my magic reserve.

Unfortunately, the roads weren’t straight. There were places where they veered a little from the safe zone, which slowed us down. Given a straight shot to the hill, I would’ve tried to claim it all in one go.

Around me, our small party had gone to ground. There was a trick I’d learned early in childhood when my adopted father would drive me into the wilderness, drop me off with a knife and a small canteen of clean water, and expect me to make my way back on my own. The best and fastest way to recover was to lay completely flat. Heather’s archers were forest people. They’d stripped off their gear, lain down on the road, and gone to sleep.

The shapeshifters had sprawled out as well, but unlike me and the archers, they were still fresh as daisies and most of them were munching on their supplies and talking.

“Should he be climbing that?” Curran asked next to me.

I opened my eyes halfway. Our son was scrambling up a big pine like an overgrown squirrel.

“It’s in my territory. I claimed a circle three hundred yards in diameter.” I yawned. “He can feel the magic. He knows where the boundaries are.”

“You should sleep,” Curran told me. “I’ll keep watch.”

“One hour,” I told him.

“One hour,” he agreed.

Curran’s warm hand touched my arm. “Time to get up, baby.”

“It hasn’t been an hour.”

“No, it’s been two.”

My eyes snapped open. I sat up and groaned. There was no fucking way.

I looked up at the sky. Definitely past noon. Damn it.

Curran studied me, his gray eyes concerned. “Do you need more time?”

Yes. About twelve more hours. A solid meal and a soft bed would be lovely as well. But we had another four miles to go, and the sun was rolling across the sky.

“I’m good.”

“We can wait another hour.”

“No need.”

He nodded and put a small rectangle wrapped in foil on my lap. “And before you ask, I gave one to Conlan already.”

I raised my eyebrows.

Curran walked away and crouched by the shapeshifters sitting in a loose circle in the middle of the road.

I unwrapped the foil. Chocolate.

Best husband ever.

“We’re almost there,” Curran said. “There will be a fight. There will be other shapeshifters. For those of you who missed the first fight, they are different. You won’t be facing gray wolves. You will be fighting dire wolves, prehistoric cats, and possibly giant bears. In their warrior form, they’re larger, stronger, and faster than most of us.”

I took a bite. Almonds. Oh my God.

“One on one, in a contest of brute strength, we lose.” Curran’s voice was reassuring and steady. “But they fight on instinct, like animals. They’re brawlers. We are trained killers. They will mark each of us for individual duels. We will not oblige them. Stay calm. Think. Remember your training. Look out for each other.”

“I know you’re trained,” Keelan said. “Because I trained you. Don’t embarrass me by getting killed by amateurs.”

A light laughter rippled through the circle.

Keelan flashed his teeth in a happy grin. “You are a unit. They’ve never encountered shapeshifters like us. Organized warfare. It worked for the Romans, it will work for us.”

“Pick a battle buddy,” Curran said. “Stay close to them. Watch out for them, watch out for the others. Take them two on one when you can. If you see someone in trouble, jump in. Remember, the people we’re fighting may not have a choice in this fight. Kill if you have to, disable if you can.”

Isaac walked over and crouched near me. “I want to show you something.”

I popped the last of my chocolate into my mouth and got up.

He led me off the road into the brush. Ten yards into it I stopped.

The forest here was different. Gone were the mast-straight pines flooded with sunshine. These were much darker woods. Denser, with huge aspens and massive birches vying for space with balsam firs and cedars. Hemlocks spread their green branches. Honeysuckle, yew, and gooseberry bushes crowded into the rare patches of light. The air smelled different, clean, without a trace of salt or ocean, and spiced with a hint of Christmas conifers.

Wow.

“This way,” Isaac said.

I followed him deeper in. We rounded a huge balsam fir. Ahead the forest parted, as if someone had cut a perfect circle out of the green growth. In the middle of it, a jagged stone thrust up and out of the forest floor, like the rib of a mountain. On top of the stone lay a body in tactical camo.

Isaac took another step forward, and I put my arm out in front of him. We had reached the end of the safe zone.

The body lay bathed in sunlight, perfectly preserved. I could see every detail: the blond hair, the face of a man in his thirties with two-day stubble on his chin, the eyes opened wide, gazing at the sky. He didn’t look dead. He looked like a man who had decided to take a break after a long trek through the woods, except for the sword thrust into his chest, the Order’s mark on its pommel.

No animals had touched him. No insects swarmed above him. The forest had formed a perfect ring to avoid him. Just the rock, the man, and the red symbols scratched into the stone and traced with blood.

“Jeremiah?” I asked.

“You remembered.”

“Of course I did. Knight-Defender Jeremiah Gardner. The first man taken out of your team.”

“When this is over…”

“I’ll find a way to get him off that rock, Isaac.”

The knight-pathfinder nodded and looked back at the body. “Not too much longer,” he promised. “I’ll come back for you.”