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  “That’s helpful. Got any other advice?”

  “It is what it is.”

  Reisil chewed the inside of her cheek, tasting blood. The pain felt like punishment, one that she deserved. She’d been keeping a terrible secret. She didn’t want to confess it, but she forced the words past her constricted throat.

  “It might be my fault,” she said tightly. “I know, I know, like I know my own name, that I am supposed to save the nokulas. The Lady said to protect all Her people, and She meant the nokulas too.” She paused, tasting the bitterness of her feelings. “But . . . I do not want to. They took the Iisand, they took Sodur—”

  She broke off and swallowed. How much of what Sodur had done to her had been because he was turning into a nokula? Would he have turned the ahalad-kaaslane against her if the nokulas hadn’t infected him? She curled her hands into fists. She hated them. Almost as much as she hated the wizards. “They’ve slaughtered entire villages. I’ve seen it. They’re vicious. They like to torture people, and they don’t care about who they used to be. They’d just as soon kill us all as not. They aren’t really ours anymore. They don’t belong in Kodu Riik.” She spit the last words with a venom that came from the deepest part of her soul.

  “You wish to see them exterminated.”

  “Of course not!” Reisil said quickly. And was astonished to find it was true. Somewhere deep inside burned the hope that they could be returned to themselves. That she could have Sodur back. Finding the plague-healers had fanned the flames of that hope. But either way . . . she was supposed to save them. The Lady had given her no choice. Being ahalad-kaaslane meant obeying the Lady, even when She had abandoned Kodu Riik. Even if it meant watching her friends die to help save the monsters that wanted to kill them. Reisil’s lip curled in silent fury.

  Yohuac began coughing beside her, and she suddenly became aware how wet he was. She jumped to her feet, frowning.

  “You shouldn’t be out in the rain. Why aren’t you asleep?”

  He reached out and curled a long, damp tendril of her hair around his fingers. Reisil leaned into his touch. “I sleep better with you.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to sleep well for a long time to come,” Reisil said. She stood. “Come on. You need to get dry.”

  Under the traveler’s pine, she rekindled the fire and made more soup. While it cooked, she and Yohuac dressed in dry clothing from their packs. The soup bubbled and sizzled as drops spattered into the fire. Reisil rescued the pot and served them both and sat opposite Yohuac to avoid temptation. When each had scraped the bottom of the bowl, Reisil turned her attention back to Yohuac. Weariness made his shoulders droop and dulled his eyes. Worse were the scars that marked him from head to foot. She was responsible for some of those. And there would be more to come. She gathered herself.

  Throughout the five weeks since their escape from the wizards, she’d been content to drift from moment to moment, speaking little, thinking even less. It had been a time of healing, a chance to rebuild their strength. But Tapit’s arrival had shattered their idyll, and it was time to get back to work.

  “Tell me about your magic. What can you do?”

  Yohuac’s body twitched, his expression shuttering. He sat straight, his legs crossed, fingers laced tightly.

  “Understand that I was never supposed to use magic,” he said harshly. “I was meant to be a vessel—to win the pahtia and become Ilhuicatl’s son-in-the-flesh. In the following year of celebration, every woman in Cemanahuatl would come to my bed. On each I would get a child. Even barren women. In this way, the nahuallis thought to revive the magic in our people.”

  Reisil nodded, unnerved by a sudden avalanche of jealousy. He’d told her this once before. But then he didn’t mean anything to her. Now . . . her toes curled inside her boots.

  “Are you saying that you don’t know what you can do?” Reisil asked, frowning.

  He lifted his shoulders in a jerky shrug.

  “You’ve never tried anything at all?”

  He looked away, his face wooden.

  “Yohuac?”

  “It’s useless. I can do nothing.”

  Reisil leaned forward, touching his arm with her fingers. He flinched. “You have tried something, haven’t you? I need to know. You’re a piece of this puzzle, and I have to know what you are if I’m going to succeed.”

  He swallowed, his throat jerking, and then nodded. “As you wish. But be warned. . . .”

  And then he lifted his hand, holding it out, palm down. After a moment, small clumps of dirt danced into the air and began to rotate slowly. Their speed increased, drawing up more dirt, twigs, and needles. Soon a small tornado whirled beneath Yohuac’s hand. It began to widen. Reisil could feel the tug of coiling wind. The fire flamed higher and then guttered as the funnel pulled harder. Pressure built against Reisil’s lungs, and she fought for breath. Dark spots clouded her vision as flying debris stung her face and hands.

  “Yohuac, stop!”

  He looked up at her, his mouth a stiff line. Blood trickled down his cheeks and forehead where he’d been struck by a chunk of wood. He jerked his head, fear flickering in his eyes. Reisil’s stomach twisted. He couldn’t stop. By the Lady, he couldn’t stop!

  She rolled up onto her knees, her heart pounding in her ears. Her head ached as if it were being squeezed in a vise, and she wheezed as she tried to breathe. She reached for her magic. It filled her raw channels in a flood of pain. She ignored it, feeling the ground beneath her knees beginning to shudder as the great pine that sheltered them began to uproot itself.

  She released her magic slowly, in loose, gauzy strands. They wound around Yohuac and the maelstrom, wrapping them in a smothering ball like sticky silk. Reisil bore down carefully. Her magic swelled and pushed against her fragile control. Reisil trembled as she fought to hold the flow steady. Yohuac thrashed against the wild tide of his own raging power. It ricocheted violently within the cocoon Reisil wove. Its whirling edges tore the strands. As fast as she repaired them, they were torn again.

  She could see his panic—felt its echo pounding its fists inside her. Yohuac’s eyes bulged as he fought with silent desperation. Sweat ran down Reisil’s forehead and stung her eyes. Her chest ached and her jaw hung open as she gasped for air. Dirt and needles filled her mouth. She coughed. Her magic roared as her concentration slipped. Frantically she grappled at it. She let it flow faster, knowing neither she nor Yohuac could last much longer before they both exploded in flames. The sticky strands whipped from her hands in thick ropes. Soon she could no longer see him behind the wrap of magic. She tightened. Slowly she could feel the maelstrom beginning to subside as she pushed against it.

  Reisil felt something give, like a stubborn lock turning. Relief rushed over her. She let go of the cocoon, her magic draining away. Debris pattered down onto the ground, dust hazing the air. Yohuac keeled over on his side, panting heavily. Reisil sucked in a deep breath and then another, feeling her spinning head beginning to steady. She crawled over to Yohuac, pulling the blanket over his clammy length.

  “So you can move the earth. I thought that was just in bed,” she rasped, resting her forehead on his shoulder. She wrinkled her nose, smelling her own stink of sweat and fear.

  He slid his arms around her. “You should see what I can do with wind.”

  Reisil closed her eyes. Yohuac had far more power than she’d ever dreamed. No wonder the wizards wanted him back. He is what he was bred to be. The seed of the nahualli magic. And they didn’t bother to train him. Idiots. And being this close to Mysane Kosk isn’t helping.

  “I’ll show you how to control it.”

  She was surprised when he pushed her away. “No. I am not meant to use this power, only to carry it. It is forbidden.”

  Reisil’s eyes narrowed. “You have to. I can’t do this alone.”

  “Don’t forget the nahualli—Nurema. Baku has his own powers as well. And your friends. They are very resourceful.”

  Reisil bit back her re
ply. He looked haggard. His skin was scraped raw. She would work on convincing him later. “They’ll have to be.”

  Reisil clambered to her feet, banking the fire. “You rest. I’ll keep first watch.”

  “Don’t forget to wake me. You need to rest as much as I.” Yohuac waited until she nodded agreement before closing his eyes and dropping instantly into a heavy sleep. Reisil donned her green cloak and crawled out from under the tree. She took up a position in the shadow of a narrow ledge.

  The mist grew thicker, even as the rain pelted harder. Soon it was difficult to see more than a few yards. Nor could she hear anything but the rushing wind and the rattling water.

  Her eyes grew heavy and she knuckled them, watching the mist slide in and out of the trees. And then she went cold, her skin prickling.

  She wasn’t alone.

  She stiffened, blinking the rain from her lashes as a monstrous shape shivered into being before her.

  It was the color of moonlit water, with silver eyes that curved like a bowl. Its face was heavy-boned, with jutting jaws and dagger teeth. Its body was muscular, fluid and sleek—like a mountain lion. Its fingers moved like tentacles and were tipped with thick, tearing claws. Its feet were bony and long, with talons that curved like scythes and bit gouges in the dirt. A long tail twitched slowly back and forth behind it.

  Reisil stared up at it in frozen horror, too stunned to defend herself.

  Nothing remained of the man he’d been. Its expression was alien, its body monstrous. But there was something about the tilt of its head, the way it turned sideways to look at her, like a bird.

  “Sodur,” she whispered past the hard lump lodged in her throat. “By the Lady, it’s you.”

  Chapter 2

  The world spun around Reisil. She smelled the tang of wet bark and pine—the fresh-washed scent of the mountains. Impinging on it was a cold, flat odor that made her skin crawl and lungs ache. Roaring filled her ears like the sound of stampeding horses. Behind her, the rock shelf dug unforgiving into her back as she shoved away from the nokula. She scrabbled for a weapon, finding a sharp-edged stone. This was not Sodur. Could not be Sodur.

  The nokula stood an arm’s length away, the rain beading on its silvery hide. It watched her. She shifted, making no attempt to move. She didn’t want to get any closer to those knife-filled jaws than she had to.

  ~You are hunted.

  Reisil shuddered and jerked away, yelping as her head bounced off the stone shelf. Needles splintered through her skull, and she was grateful for the pain.

  “Don’t,” she said, holding up the rock, though she hardly knew what she might do with it. “Stay out of my head.”

  ~We must speak. I have little time left. Reisil’s gorge rose, and she swallowed noisily.

  “Who are you?” she asked, though the cadence of his words and the brusque edge to his tone were as familiar to her as her own hands.

  The nokula smiled. Or Reisil thought it was a smile. Perhaps it was a snarl. They were likely the same. Its voice sounded amused and predatory.

  ~You have already guessed.

  Unbidden, an image rose in her mind. It was a bittersweet memory, from before Sodur’s betrayal, before he made everyone think she was the worm in their apple. He was showing her around the Lady’s Temple for the first time. He had led her beneath the trees, their leaves sifting together softly in the breeze, the air smelling softly of wisteria and roses. His back had been to her as he recited the history of the Temple.

  As the memory rolled through her mind, Reisil’s teeth clicked together and her skin went clammy. She was seeing it exactly as she remembered, from her perspective. Fear uncoiled in her chest. Somehow he’d plucked it from her mind. Furiously she slammed her mental barriers shut, ejecting him forcefully from her thoughts.

  A faintly startled expression crossed his face.

  Reisil’s chin jutted. “Stay. Out. Of. My. Head.”

  He opened his mouth. His rounded tongue lolled out, slithering in the air. Nonsensical breathy sounds issued forth.

  For a moment Reisil wanted to laugh. Then a tide of fury and bitterness rose up in her. He was manipulating her again. Making her do things his way. Did it never stop?

  She took a breath, counting to ten. She let it out with a whoosh and glared at him resentfully. He knew more about Mysane Kosk and his fellow nokulas than she did. She didn’t have a choice.

  ~Fine. What do you want?

  ~You must not go to Mysane Kosk.

  ~Why not?

  Sodur made a guttural sound and swiped suddenly at his head with a heavy paw. Sparkling ridges rose where his claws scraped painful, deep furrows into his flesh. If it could be called flesh. Reisil gasped and drew back against the rock.

  ~You are hunted, he repeated, his voice sounding tinny and frayed.

  ~Tell me something I don’t know.

  ~Not just the wizards. They . . . we . . . want you.

  He cuffed at himself again and hunched lower to the ground. Reisil watched in fascination as he twisted his head as if to escape some sort of painful sound. Suddenly an unearthly wail rose out of the night. Reisil found herself raising the rock above her head. The sound went on and on. An earthquake began deep in her gut, moving outward and growing more powerful with every breath. The rock dropped from her limp fingers.

  Then a wordless screech broke across Reisil’s mind, shattering the howl into pieces. Reisil slammed closed her mental barriers.

  ~Dear heart, thank you.

  ~It is really Sodur?

  ~He hasn’t been Sodur for a long time.

  Before she could answer, another shape emerged out of the misty trees. It was half again as large as Sodur. It reminded her of Baku, with elegant ripples of muscle and a long, reptilian body. It radiated tension and threat. Reisil swallowed jerkily. Could it be? How could Lume have turned into something so big? And yet she didn’t doubt it was Sodur’s ahalad-kaaslane turned nokula. Somehow the lynx had become this hulking brute.

  She felt the scritch of claws against her mental walls and stared in repulsion. Lume too?

  The beast bared his fangs at her and pressed close to Sodur, who nudged him with his shoulder in affectionate acknowledgment. Lume regarded Reisil, dipping his head in something like an apology. Reisil lowered her mental walls uneasily.

  ~They didn’t plan for us, Sodur said, stroking Lume in a loving way that struck Reisil as somehow reassuring. Maybe something of Sodur yet remained. Maybe he could still be recovered.

  ~We have resisted the call to come to Mysane Kosk, he continued, oblivious to the whisper of thought. But the pull is strong. Soon we must go. He whipped his head from side to side as if to dislodge a swarm of biting flies. This must be quick. Everything I say, everything I think, the rest know. We share a mind; they would silence me—

  He recoiled suddenly, collapsing on the ground and twitching spasmodically. He emitted an aching cry that sounded like a soul-riven rashani and made Reisil’s intestines contract. He flailed and clawed furrows into his neck and face. Lume nuzzled close, and his touch seemed to lend Sodur the strength to resist the invisible onslaught. He rolled to his feet, staring at Reisil with that unnerving, lidless gaze. There were chunks of silvery flesh clotted in his claws. The gashes gaped bloodless like wounds on a corpse.

  ~I still don’t understand what you want.

  He gave a frustrated sigh. It sounded so . . . human . . . that Reisil stared askance.

  ~Imagine a school of fish, the way it turns and moves as if of a single mind. So are nokulas. The individual cannot resist. His mind conforms, like sand under the lash of the wind and sea.

  ~But you are here even though the rest don’t want you to talk to me?

  The Sodur nodded in that oddly human fashion.

  ~Lume and I have resisted. And some others. Ahalad-kaaslane mostly. But the others are very strong.

  He was referring to the wizards who had been caught up in the spell they cast at Mysane Kosk. Reisil shuddered.

  ~You m
ust not go to Mysane Kosk. You must go far away.

  ~Why?

  ~They know you have come to destroy Mysane Kosk. They will stop you. They mean to . . . convert . . . you. It requires only that you be drawn inside the circle surrounding Mysane Kosk. You will become nokula. There will be no hope for Kodu Riik. Get away where they cannot find you! And do not fool yourself. This is no illness that can be cured or reversed. The change is irrevocable. You can neither save us, nor can you be saved if you are changed.

  She eyed Sodur closely, ice spiraling down her spine and boring into her stomach. Here was a danger she hadn’t considered. Bright Lady, what could she do? She could defend herself with magic, but could she fight them off without killing them? Or worse, without destroying Mysane Kosk, and Kodu Riik with it? Could she fight them off at all? They were made of magic. And the change was eternal. There was no reversing it. The spark of hope she’d nurtured for Sodur and the Iisand guttered and went out. She shoved the pain of that final loss away, focusing on the problem at hand. The entire cadre of wizards who’d created the spell had become nokula. She couldn’t begin to guess how powerful they were. Reisil licked her lips, taking a slow breath, fear clamping her throat. But she couldn’t run. Kodu Riik would still be destroyed, not to mention the rest of the world—and Cemanahuatl.

  Sodur picked this out of her racing mind. She felt his urgency shoving at her with physical force. She pushed back.

  “Do not try that again,” she said, her voice like metal.

  ~You must go! If you stay—if you are caught—you will destroy Kodu Riik!

  His frantic words lashed her mind, and black streaks sizzled across her vision at their intensity. She doubled over, bracing herself against the rock shelf and locking her knees against the agonized clench of her body.

  “To leave means the same.” It was all she could do to force the words out. “The only hope is to continue. If I don’t save Mysane Kosk then Kodu Riik dies too.” Her body shuddered and spasmed as agony burrowed into her mind, chewing nerves and shredding bone.

  ~No! They will not allow it! They will take you!