Things to know before reading:
--Yay! I have FINALLY edited this story…which is good, 'cause there was a lot of mistakes, and now I can read my own fic without cringing in…in disturbance…at the many spelling/grammar errors. I'm like that. :D Sorry if there are still mistakes, though, and if you spot one, please, PLEASE tell me! My e-mail is aurakage@hotmail.com, and you want to put the subject as 'Kismet Error' or something so it doesn't get deleted.
--I have not read the entire Heralds of Valdemar timeline like most people in this section of Mercedes Lackey fanfiction has, so there may be some history mistakes. Bear with me. O.o;;
--This story takes place after Owlknight, by the way.
~Disclaimer: This is the only time I'm going to say this in the whole story, so listen and listen well. I do not own the creations of Mercedes Lackey, which includes Valdemar, Heralds, Tayledras, Companions, etc. I do, however, (I think) own characters, which are said in detail throughout the story. Do not attempt to sue me. I am broke. @.x;;
Kismet of a Changechild
Chapter I
By Aura Kage
Kestri's opinions tended to be put in bluntly and shamelessly.
:Bad,: the kestrel told Snowsong from her perch, slate blue wings rearranging to fit more comfortably into her sides. :Leave there.:
Snowsong wholeheartedly agreed with his bondbird, but hesitated all the same. His hand reached for a stick, and he prodded the Changechild tentatively with it, feeling foolish.
:No touch!: Kestri told him, sounding angry that his bondmate had not listened to her words. :Leave there!:
:I can't,: Snowsong replied, his voice quavering with tones of utter agreement and making him sound unpersuasive. :It's hurt!:
Indeed, the Changechild was hurt – it was bleeding from at least a dozen different places, and the soil all around her was seeped in its blood, as well as the torn used-to-be-white outfit she wore. The Changechild, however, looked remotely female and was sprawled on the ground as if it had tripped on something or was pushed.
But no matter how disheveled, Snowsong could tell easily that it – or she – was a Changechild – her ears were twisted upward a bit and tufted with dark gray fur. Her nails were sharpened into claws, and an acute canine protruded from her mouth, hanging over her lip. Though her eyes were closed, Snowsong was ready to bet that they would be slitted and even have the cat's ability to contract and dilate.
:So?: Kestri retorted. :So? Leave there!:
Snowsong knew why Kestri was so eager to leave the Changechild, and also knew why he wanted to as well. He remembered the tale of Nyara, the cat-Changechild, and how the infamous Tayledras scout, Darkwind (who was also Snowsong's secret idol), had also found her injured. Nyara was the daughter of Falconsbane, the evil many-times reincarnated mage, also called Leareth and Ma'ar…
Snowsong shuddered. Yes, he very much wanted to get out of this place quickly…before something like that could happen again.
:Go now!: Kestri urged, moving down her branch. :Leave it!:
:No. Have to tell rest of Vale, Kestri,: Snowsong said firmly, moving forward and summoning all his courage to touch the Changechild, and calling even more to pick her up and carry her…
Kestri called out – that odd kestrel's killy-killy-killy cry – and took to the skies, presumably off to tell the rest of the Vale what Snowsong had found in the forest and was dragging in, since she had tried, and failed, to turn him from his decision. That was the nice thing about Kestri – she always agreed with him, even if she felt that he was wrong.
But the majority of the Vale wasn't so nice. He wondered what they would do…
~
"It's a Changechild, Dar'ian," Snowsong said meekly, Kestri perched on his wrist, on a leather glove purchased from Erroldsgrove to prevent Snowsong's hand from being lacerated by the kestrel's talons. It wasn't that large, as Kestri wasn't a large bird – just about the size of a jay. "A cat-like one."
Dar'ian sighed, and Snowsong tensed, afraid that he would be angry. But the leader of the Vale just ran his fingers through his light-colored hair and looked very pained. Behind him, the huge eagle-owl Kuari seemed to look pained as well – though it could have been because Snowsong had intruded when Dar'ian was tending to his feathers.
"How long ago did you find it?"
"Not very long ago. I found it and carried it back as soon as I could…it was hurt when I found it," Snowsong added quickly, as if to silently say that he was not the one who inflicted all those nasty wounds on the Changechild.
Darian allowed himself smile, however small, at the scout's nervousness. Snowsong was thirteen, though he was so shy that some would think he was merely an eight-year-old who had a growth spurt. He was the alone most of the time, with only his bondbird kestrel for company, but that seemed fine with him. He was also an orphan, and had received Kestri just when his parents had died…woe betide the one that harmed his kestrel.
In many ways, Snowsong reminded Darian a lot like himself…though he was a bit more rebellious and outspoken, and Snowsong could only meet the eyes of another with great effort.
"What else about it?" Dar'ian asked, noticing how Snowsong was repetitively shifting his weight from foot to foot and allowing the Tayledras-scout a chance escape from the conversation.
"Well…nothing much," Snowsong admitted. He was silent for a heartbeat after, brow crinkling slightly, and then he brightened. "Actually, Kestri didn't want me to touch it, but I brought it back anyway…because it was hurt."
Darian's eyebrow lifted. Instead of taking the exit offered and just saying 'no, nothing else' and leaving, Snowsong had answered him and stayed. Clearly not normal behavior.
The mage would have probably been more concerned for the boy's state had he not noticed his brow furrowing - the well-known motion of someone listening to their bondbird talking. Kestri had obviously prodded him into being a whole eighteen more words talkative.
"Alright. Thank you, Snowsong; you may leave now," Dar'ian said, and Snowsong sighed in relief, nodding gratefully and nearly running from Dar'ian's ground-bound ekele like a frightened dyheli.
Darian chuckled and turned back to Kuari, rubbing his fingers against the owl's soft feathery crest. Kuari leaned into the caress, eyes half-closing in bliss.
~
Nightwind sighed as she tended to the Changechild's hurts.
Why am I doing this? I'm not a Healer, I'm a
trondi'irn…just because the poor thing's half-animal doesn't mean that I'm automatically the person to send her to.All the same, Nightwind couldn't turn away the Changechild and sent it to Keisha instead. She didn't know why…she just couldn't. Maybe she had picked up a bit more of that infernal Healers' Code than she had thought.
Though, I'm sure, Keisha could do a better job than I'm doing on the poor thing so far.
The Changechild was designed off a cat, and obviously started out human. Her – it was really female – looked more like a discarded experiment, however.
In fact – Nightwind pursed her lips to conceal a snarl – the Changechild probably was an experiment. Her wounds were not from beatings – they were animal-caused wounds, long, deep slashes down her arms and back and semicircle punctures that looked to be bite-marks.
I would bet that some sick mage created her to fight something – some sort of out-of-control pest or invading predator – and when she lost to it he just cast her off like a used rag. Then she probably wandered around for a pretty long time, judging by all this dirt in her cuts, and then just collapsed when she couldn't take it anymore…
Well, this was something, at least, that Nightwind knew how to work with. She carefully washed out the wounds and rubbed healing salve over each before wrapping them tightly with bandages. It was a good thing that the Changechild was unconscious – Nightwind doubted that if she were awake, she would let herself be tended to like this, however helpful it was. Though she wasn't sure whether the Changechild was more human or animal, she knew that cats tended to reject any help towards them unless their pride was truly beaten down.
Moonshadow was out, playing with Kelvren most likely – hard to believe that a fierce gryphon would succumb on a daily basis to be a living plaything. Well, so long as Moonshadow was with the gryphon, she would be safe – even from the gryphon himself, as Kel made very sure not to impale the baby with his talons.
It must be hard to do that, what with some little one pulling on your feathers.
Nightwind continued binding up the Changechild and was nearly finished when her patient stirred. Nightwind froze; hopefully, the Changechild would not consider Nightwind an enemy and slash out in presumed self-defense.
Nightwind's hand reached out for a cup of bitter tea that had been blessedly sweetened with honey. If the Changechild took her the right way, it would be good to give her something to drink to quell her no doubt parched throat…
The Changechild sat up slowly, painfully, her face twisting in lines of suffering as she moved. Her eyes opened, and Nightwind felt uneasy looking at them – cat's eyes, a fiery gold and tinted with forest green, with an augmenting slit in the middle to adapt to the strong light in the room. She blinked several times, as if surprised at where she was, ears quivering as if trying to swivel and orient on sounds. A hand move forward and back to brush away her matted, dirty shoulder-length black hair not unlike Nightwind's own – and then the Changechild turned and spotted Nightwind. Her pupils dilated in alarm, engulfing the color that was within them-
And Nightwind suddenly felt a terrible, overwhelming fear-
Nightwind heard a distinct, yet distant, fear-inflicting roar that made her heart skip a beat. It was so real, and so far – as if she was reliving a memory-
It hit her. A memory! It's the Changechild's memory! But how-
The Changechild yowled in pain and put her clawed hands over her ears – the sound was unearthly, a high-pitched cry like a hawk's; she stood up despite all her wounds and tried to walk, every step unsure and just strong enough to support her weight. She staggered around, emitting primal cries of agony, and Nightwind bit her lip and tried to block out those horrible memories-
A roar louder and stronger than thunder, but like thunder, also a warning-
Crimson eyes glaring, looking down at her, blood lust shining openly-
A cackle from behind, a yell to
do something, hurt, kill, anything-And then, only a mute dread as a large claw arched into night sky, firelight dancing off each bloodstained talon-
"Please, stop it!" Nightwind cried, feeling her knees collapse underneath her. The Changechild shrieked at the sound of Nightwind's voice, and Nightwind felt as if her eardrums would explode-
And then the noise stopped.
"What…?" Nightwind looked up, and saw a dyheli standing in the doorframe, Dar'ian behind him.
:Apparently, you needed some assistance,: Tyrsell said dryly, walking into the room, hooves tapping as they collided against the wood flooring.
"Are you alright, Nightwind?" Darian asked, rushing forward to help the trondi'irn to her feet.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Nightwind said faintly, wavering slightly on her feet before gaining balance. She looked at the Changechild on the floor, which was passive in an awkward position – though her eyes darted between the three in the room fearfully.
:We heard the…screams,: Tyrsell explained, looking at the Changechild with a considering kind of look. :I have temporarily taken control of her…at least until she hears us out.:
Nightwind sighed in relief. Thank the gods for Tyrsell's strong mind-powers…I didn't think I could stand much more of that.
"Alright, then," Dar'ian said, turning to face the Changechild. If she had possessed the power to move, she would have backed away from him until the wall came out, Nightwind was sure.
"I am Darian Firkin k'Vala k'Valdemar, Changechild," Darian said in Valdemaran, sounding (he hoped) firm, powerful, and peaceful. He also hoped that the Changechild could at least understand his tone, if not his words. "These are my friends Tyrsell and Nightwind k'Valdemar. We are friends – we aren't going to hurt you, and we're trying to help heal your wounds."
:She doesn't believe you,: Tyrsell informed all of them, even the Changechild, though his statement was for Darian. The Changechild's eyes widened in fear that the 'deer' had spoken – and into further astonishment, as the 'deer' had spoken without opening his mouth, and talked right into her mind.
:I'll let you go,: Tyrsell told the Changechild, :if you don't run away.:
She must have agreed, for a moment later she was pulling herself into a sitting position and flexing her fingers as if to make sure they were under her command again. She stared at them avidly, pointedly trying to ignore these strange people. But her attention was pulled away.
"Who are you?" Darian asked.
"My…my name is…" the Changechild stuttered, her voice hoarse with misuse. The Changechild frowned, brushing back her hair again. "I do not know…or have forgotten. Or have been forced to forget," she added thoughtfully, with fear etched into her voice.
"Do you know where you come from?" Darian pressed, giving a slight glance at Tyrsell to see if she was speaking truth. She was – the dyheli said nothing to counter her words.
"I…no, I do not. I…I only remember…" The Changechild stopped and a shudder rippled through her frame – Nightwind braced herself for another memory, but Tyrsell had grasped hold of the Changechild's mind again, forcing her obvious Empathy silent.
"What do you know?" Darian pressed. He added quickly, "Not what do you remember, but what do you know?"
"I know…I know that you are…are Ta-tayle…"
"Tayledras," Nightwind supplied, and the Changechild nodded rapidly, grinning.
"Yes! Tayledras – the Hawkbrothers!" the Changechild exclaimed, sounding as if she had received her heart's desire. The abrupt change from sadness to happiness made the two Tayledras uncomfortable. "And I know…that…" She saddened, a frown swiftly replacing her smile. "…I am…not what I used to be."
"You were turned into a Changechild?" Darian inquired. "Do you know how…?"
"A mage did it…I do not know much else," the Changechild informed them. She hung her head, a waves of filthy sable falling over her face. "I am so sorry…for any inconvenience I have caused you…if you like, I will leave-"
"No, you won't," Nightwind interrupted firmly. "You're still hurt – you're not up to any traveling, much less walking at the moment. You will stay with us until you're better."
The Changechild looked up, inhuman eyes gleaming. "Truly? You will care for me?"
"If you don't let her care for you, then you'll probably end up in worse pain then you were before," Darian said lazily, starting out of the room, relieved and convinced that the Changechild was not a threat. At least, not the Changechild directly. "And not just because your wounds will have gone untended."
~
Far, far away, in the Companion's field in Haven, a pure white equine lifted his nose into the air, as if smelling something odd. He held his nose to the air, silver hooves beginning a walk that quickly turned into a canter, and then a full gallop. His blue eyes were shining as he jumped the fence that bordered the field, mane and tail tossing, his muscular body vacant of any riding gear, an anomaly to the other Companions that had gone to respond to a Choosing. Yet he galloped his way north, and his purposeful gait stopped anyone from eluding his path and properly adorning him.
Soon he would be coming back…with his Chosen.
