Page 31 of Shifter King
Maybe it was simply the intensity of what they had witnessed. Maybe it was all of the sorrow. Staring down at the dark lines that intersected across her arm and hand, she wondered if perhaps it was the remnant of Dry Deep.
Leaning forward, she picked up her canteen of tea. Blowing on it, she stared into the murky green liquid. The steam coiled up and around her face. "Do you need to go fight something or anything like that?"
He shook his head. His long black hair hung straight down, obscuring most of his face. "I will save my strength, my rage, and my vengeance for a point when it matters. For now…it is enough to plan and save it."
After a few sips of tea, even in the silence, it became easier to strengthen the barriers, intensify the boundaries, and add to the shields. Perhaps it was just a matter of time. They felt sturdier now. The more she drank, the better they became even if it was slower than she wanted.
Shuddering, she glanced up. Something unsettling had drawn closer. Someone was looking for them. She stood.
AaQar rose as well. "What?"
She motioned toward the eastern forest, an uncomfortable energy radiating through her mind. "Someone is here." Not QueQoa or WroOth or Naatos.
AaQar motioned for her to come behind him, placed the whistle to his lips, and gave it several silent blasts.
She slid back beside him, her gaze fixed on a section of dark-green leaves with interlocking branches. A cachi gourd tree was several yards beyond that. Right now it felt as if ants were scrambling up and down her arms and spine. She shivered again. "I don't know how many. Several. Scattered."
"It's all right." He kicked the rope aside as he scented the air. "Stay close."
The leaves rustled. A hawk-tattooed hand reached out and pushed the branches up, allowing a slim woman in an elegantly-patterned gown to step through. The dress was a combination of turquoise, green, yellow, red, and black, layered with geometric designs lined in red and creatures lined in turquoise. She carried a walking stick with an elegant amber sphere set within its polished top. Some sort of claw or tooth had been preserved within the amber, and the length of the walking stick had been carved to resemble four snakes twining together to support the orb. The strands of silver in her elegantly coiled stood out against the amber stone set in the center. Large layered necklaces of delicately-carved beads and animal amulets hung about her neck. And though she had several bone bangle bracelets with equally impressive designs, she wore only two rings: one gold with a sapphire stone and one silver with an emerald stone, both on her left middle finger.
Despite the elegance of the woman's appearance, there was a hardness in her face. She was a survivor, and she carried herself as if they should both drop to their knees in respect. A sharp hunger flashed in her honey-brown eyes as her gaze at once fixed on Amelia. "You felt us coming, did you not, Neyeb?"
A man emerged from the underbrush behind her, the owner of the hawk-tattoo. He was a head taller than she but just under six feet in height with smooth dark-brown hair and black eyes. He wore simpler clothing, a dark turquoise vest over a bare but heavily tattooed chest and torso. Most of his tattoos depicted eagles and hawks in states of flight and attack, his bare arms heavily sculpted. If there was hunger in the woman's face, anger and revulsion lingered in his. Especially once he looked at her.
AaQar put his arm out in front of Amelia. "Who are you, and why have you come?"
The woman dipped her head to the side, her gaze still fixed on Amelia. "I did not think a Neyeb would ever escape Dry Deep again."
"What makes you say I'm a Neyeb?"
The woman laughed. The younger man halted at the edge of the camp, his expression downcast and his arms folded over his chest. She made a flourish with her hand and then placed it back on the top of her walking stick. "I am no fool, regardless of what many might like me to be. You are of our sister race. I am Zorna, Queen of the Reskal Bealorns, friend of the Neyeb, our sister race. And I know you are the Mother of the New Neyeb."
"And why would you say such a thing as that?" AaQar demanded, his voice colder now. "We are no more than travelers who have stopped for the night. We mean you no harm, and we have nothing to offer."
There was something sinister about this woman in particular. An uncomfortable weight and hunger clung to her like a wet robe, and she stared at Amelia as if she had found something that gave her an exceptional advantage. "Have you nothing to say, Neyeb?"
The brush and branches behind them thrashed and crashed as a familiar presence bolted closer. QueQoa emerged from the forest, leaves and twigs caught in his brown-blond hair. He halted just on the other side of the fire, muscles tensed and teeth bared. "Who are these people?" he demanded.
Zorna's mouth twisted in a slight smile. Her finger tapped on the polished amber globe. Her fingernails were cut short and buffed. Only one thumbnail was cracked and somewhat yellowed. A long scar ran from her thumb to the back of her hand. "Are both these men yours, dear?"
Amelia raised an eyebrow. "They are my family."
"Of course they are." She canted her head. "Though it is well known that skinchangers are unrelenting in their demands for monogamy, I am not surprised they would be willing to compromise. To be the father of a new race is a great honor. To be the father of a new race means accepting certain compromises, and more compromises must be accepted, especially given your station. At least we know you are prepared."
As the woman stepped forward, AaQar held out his hand. "You will not come closer. You have not been invited. It does not matter how many are in your party or have yet to show themselves. They will be dealt with harshly."
Zorna chuckled. "I do not think you look so dangerous. And would you risk it when you cannot guarantee the safety of your woman? There are only two of you to defend her."
A loud yelp followed as a man flew through the air and then slammed into the ground. QueQoa pounced on him, hauled him into the air, and then looked around. Rips and tears from the thorns tore the brown fabric of the newcomer's tunic and threads from his sash, small cuts dragged across his forearms and cheeks.
Naatos thrust out of the underbrush, dragging another yelping man by a bloody arm. He glared at Zorna and the younger man, his expression at once darkening. The utter ferocity and rage that flared off him might as well have been visible just as much as his intent to rip them apart.
Zorna at once lifted her walking stick, holding up one hand. "Yes, you, you I know. I know that look. You stand down, skinchanger," she said swiftly. "If we disappear here, then more and more will come. We have made preparations. Preparations you cannot hope to stand against. From other nations. Other tribes. All will come if this does not end properly, and it does not end properly if I or my son die. Nor will I be pleased if any of my warriors are mauled further." She clicked her tongue as she stepped back. The younger man didn't even move. He just raised an eyebrow, his expression twisting with distaste. "This is a peaceful conversation," she said, her voice calmer now. "Do Vawtrians remember how to parley?"
Amelia bit back a smile. Well, Naatos was always going to make an entrance. And it was good to see him back here. She'd been so focused on the woman that she had barely felt his approach.
"Parley for what?" Naatos demanded. He flung the second warrior to the ground, glaring at Zorna.
