A/N: Mature content warning (up to eleven... you have been warned! I promise things will get better for them, if only because they can't really get worse...). Thank you for your reviews!

888

Chapter 5

888

Numair gasped as his legs shook in sudden weariness, and he fell heavily to the ground in a clatter of sliding scree. The first steps were always the worst, he knew, but every night they seemed to grow more difficult. He pushed himself upright on arms that were still slightly too thin for his weight, and staggered to a rock ledge to sit down. He rested his head in his hands and forced himself to be still, to breathe evenly and feel every part of his body as it shuddered between hawk and human.

He hadn't been able to turn fully human in the official's house. He hadn't cared. It hadn't seemed important to try, not when he would have to transform again to fly out of the window anyway. He'd only meant to ask a few questions, to find out where Daine was. He'd only meant to scare the man. And as soon as he told himself that, he knew he was lying to himself. He might blame the hawk for the enraged bloodlust that still made his heart pound, but he'd be lying. The human part of his mind had revelled in revenge just as much as the feral creature.

He couldn't think himself back into a human. Not like this. Not when every memory of ripping the cowering human's throat out made him grin and flex shining claws. He shivered and cradled his head wearily, horribly aware of the rising sun. They'd be missing him soon, and it was getting more difficult to sneak away as it was. He was sure Alanna suspected.

Stilling his racing thoughts, he took a deep breath and held it, then breathed out slowly. He couldn't quite remember how he was supposed to be. He flitted from thought to thought, and couldn't catch the shadowy creature that was the human. The bronze fire that ringed his core was faded, dimmer than it had been before, but when he held out a hand to it the light coiled around his claws.

Help me, he whispered, and the fire blazed brighter for a moment. He remembered her then. She wasn't a creature to be avenged, she was a... a person. He remembered a person. There was a memory of her looking up at him, eyes amused as she thought of an answer to some question. She bit her lip for a moment, the way she always did when she was trying to choose the right words, and he remembered her laughing softly are her own slowness. He slowly remembered that they had been walking, and his legs and feet shuddered into the right shapes now they knew they should walk that same way. He remembered that they were in the garden. He remembered the feel of her hand in his, and felt his claws fading away. He knew he was not supposed to have claws. He could not hold her hand with claws.

You always ask the strangest questions, she said, shaking her head in wry defeat. Why would I care where we live?

I thought it was an easy question. He sighed and tweaked her nose. Come on, magelet, I refuse to believe you don't have an opinion. Would you rather live in a house, or a castle, or the top of a tree?

Oh, a tree! She said quickly, and he remembered the slow smile that had crossed her face. His eyes shrank and warped into the almond-shapes they were supposed to be, because he remembered what the world was supposed to look like. He remembered her saying: It would be fair wonderful to have the birds around us, and the leaves rustling, and to see the sky wherever we looked...

Serves me right for asking you a sensible question. He muttered, and smiled despite himself. I would fall out of a tree.

We could find a small tree. She waved a hand dismissively. And make sure there are lots of soft leaves at the bottom.

"How do you do it?"

The voice broke him out of his trance with a yelp, and he raised pink, human hands to guard himself from the speaker. Breathing heavily, he recognised the shock of orange hair, and lowered his hands slowly. "Alanna. How long have you been there?"

"You said you would lose yourself. I watched you every night, and you always bring yourself back in a few minutes." She persisted, and raised an eyebrow. "So, how?"

"I remember who I was when I was with Daine." He muttered, made churlish by the idea that he'd been spied on, "Not that it's your business."

Alanna uncurled her feet from under her and stood up, pulling a fur more tightly around her shoulders as she left the shelter of the boulder. "Well, it is." She said, and gestured to his tunic. "Maybe not when you were just sneaking off in the mountains, but if you walk through my camp covered in blood, there's going to be some questions."

"Am I?" He looked down dully, and took in the state of his clothes. "Ah. It's not mine."

"You don't say!" Alanna's voice was sarcastic, and she rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't be using shapeshifting magic if it was your blood. I doubt you'd be breathing. And I imagine that whoever's blood it is isn't breathing themselves right now."

"I tore his lungs out of his chest." Numair said bluntly, "So, no. He isn't."

"Lovely. You really are a charming man." Alanna said, her voice sharp. "And are you still going to tell me you have this under control?"

"No." He laughed shortly and stood up. "I'm absolutely sure that I don't. But I'm just as sure that I don't care. I'm so close to..."

"...to losing yourself entirely?" Alanna interrupted, and caught his wrist. "Did you forget to shapeshift back, Master Salmalin, or is this something else you don't care about?"

He blinked and looked down, seeing the rash of feathers that patterned his left arm like a tattoo. He flushed and tucked the hand behind his back, not wanting to look at it. "No, I... I..."

"That's what I thought." She retorted, and turned away. "We spoke about this, Numair. We agreed that it was a bad idea. I thought you understood that, but clearly you were just humouring me. How may have you killed?"

He thought back to the haze of nights, realising that he could barely remember their faces, just the rush of sick glee when each of them had said the words that released the hawk from its cage. "All of them. All the ones I spoke to. Some nights I didn't... didn't find one, so I just came back." He looked again at his bloodstained clothes, and his voice grew darker. "This one deserved to suffer."

"Surely." Alanna tugged at a lock of her hair in irritation and turned back to glare at him. "That scout of yours spoke to me after you left. We're digging your tunnels, Numair. I'm not convinced it's the best idea, but we're doing it. But there's a condition. If you want us to continue with your plan then you must stop this. It's your choice. I know I can't stop you. But..." she hesitated, and then said bluntly:

"But... every night, I've watched the bronze in your gift getting dimmer, and dimmer, and now it's nearly gone. You know as well as I do what will happen when it disappears. I can't risk that happening near my men. So, go away and get cleaned up. Think carefully. If you walk back into my camp then I'll take that as your oath to follow my rules. If not, you will not be welcomed back into our ranks a second time. I will consider you a threat, and if you try to approach us we will defend ourselves. Even if you look human."

"Alanna..." he whispered, but she had turned on her heel and was striding away, down the mountain. He let his breath out in a rush and sat down heavily. "You don't understand!" He yelled petulantly after her, hearing his voice echo against the rocks. Whatever tart reply she shouted back, he couldn't hear it among the echoes, and he let his breath out in a rush.

I would have lost my control eventually anyway, he thought, bitterly worrying at his gift like a sore tooth. It's not just using magic that weakens it. Sleeping, being in pain, being worried... or just letting time pass... they all make her magic drain away. I can't sit around waiting for the war to start. It will be too late for both of us, by then.

He might have rested his head in his hands again, but for the black feathers which he knew lurked on his left hand, accusing and unyielding. As much as he tried to calm himself down, looking at his right hand and sternly telling the other hand that it should match, nothing happened. It was as if there was no magic at all. It was as if he had been born with the feathered hand, and could no more change it than he could the colour of his eyes. The hawk, he knew, was taking payment for his nights of revenge.

"Give me these months." He whispered, and barely knew if the hawk could even hear his plea. "Just a few weeks of sanity, and then I'll surrender. Let me finish this. Just a few months. You know her, Hawk. She spoke to you. We can help her. Just a few months, and then you can have this body. Please."

A strange thrill ran through him, and he shivered as if he were too cold. It grew to a buzzing warmth. The word echoed back at him, but whether it was from the rocks or the hawk, he couldn't tell.

Months. It said.

When he looked at his hand it was human, and only a single feather remained, tattooed into the flesh like a Banjiku's oath mark. Months.

The deal was made.

888

Daine stood up and faced the official when he opened the door, head meekly bowed in the only answer it was possible for her to give. He didn't even look surprised, but he locked the door carefully and crossed the room, raising clawlike hands to touch her cheek. She shivered but forced herself to stay still, trying not to think, trying not to react.

All she could think about were the birds. If the plan was going to work, then she had to try it now, but they hadn't agreed to help her yet. She forced herself not to speak to them, knowing that if Orsille thought for a second that she was using her magic then he would surely kill her. She kept her head bowed and her expression carefully blank, and listened to the birds singing in the night air. Her heart rose: they were agreeing to help her. She ducked her head to hide a smile.

He stroked her cheek gently, and his lips curved in a gentle expression at her apparent obeisance. "Good girl. That wasn't so difficult a choice, was it?"

"Are you going to hurt me?" She asked quietly, hoping he would think she was asking out of fear. He wasn't to know it was important. She couldn't risk the magic without pain to bring her back. His fingers stilled for a moment, and then he ran his fingertips up through her cropped hair so she could feel the sharp edges of his nails. His voice was amused.

"What do you think?"

"I think you enjoy it." She said, and her voice was poisonous as the words poured out of her unbidden. "I think you can't be a man unless someone's crying under you. I think you're pathetic, and I think you're sick."

"Oh, you do, do you?" He said quietly, and his nails bit into the nape of her neck. She raised her eyes to meet his, and let him see the loathing that she knew burned in them.

"You threaten me with the death of my unborn child. That's the action of a weak man. A coward."

"And yet, it worked." He smiled broadly, and the open friendliness in the expression was far more horrifying than any threatening look. "I've bought your obedience, Annette. I'll accept your rather endearing hatred as a gift. I must admit that you're a lot more interesting since you gained a voice."

She pressed her lips together, half of her still cringing away from what she'd just said to someone who terrified her even in her dreams. He looked intrigued rather than angry, and his hands became gentle as he reached out and cupped her face, tilting it to one side, then the other. He lifted her chin with one finger, eyes quizzical.

"What happened to you? Where did my wolf go?" He asked, in a voice that would have sounded sympathetic from any other person. He took her hand and kissed it, holding it between warm hands, and she couldn't help herself from shuddering. He raised an eyebrow and ran his fingers up her arm. "What did they do to you, my petal?"

"They were good to me. They're good people. And they'll come and find me." She said, raising her chin defiantly and meeting his eyes like an equal. He laughed for an unsettlingly long time.

"I see. There's no great trick, then. They've just tamed you from a wild wolf into a loyal little lap dog."

"Better a dog than a devious, slimy, pathetic old snake." She retorted viciously. Orsille licked his lips and then struck her, laughing when she grabbed at the wall to stop herself from falling down. She raised shaking hands to her face, feeling the heat of fresh blood where his ring had scored a line along her cheek, and glared at him through her fingertips before spitting at his feet.

He avoided it easily and turned away from her with cheerful nonchalance. "Take off your dress."

Daine had practiced letting her mind drift away for so many years that she realised that she barely even had to meditate. She nearly wept when he finally stopped hitting her to crush her against the rug with heavy hands. Instead of letting her thoughts escape into the sky, as she longed to do, she found the copper spark of the bird's mind, and gratefully slipped behind its eyes. She thanked it in a babble of tearful respite as the pain faded away into the back of her mind.

For a few delirious seconds she was in both places at once, seeing the budding green acorns and the sweat that beaded his forehead, smelling the sweetness of the evening spring breeze and the sourness of his harsh breath on her cheek. Then she pushed her mind forwards, and felt her human body disappear into a distant shell.

That was dangerous, too, though. Her mortal hands might have become feathers, filled with the mindless joy of freedom as the bird took wing. She wanted to sing and fly and never return to the ground. Then the loathsome human creature in the locked room thrust into her body with vicious force and the pain brought her back. It stopped her from shape-shifting, as she had hoped and feared that it would, and every time hurt tore through her she remembered, just for long enough, that she was supposed to be a human.

It's enough, she thought, almost hating the fact that this was working. Let's go, she whispered into the bird's mind, carefully shielding it from her agony when the official's nails tore cruel lines into her back. Let's find them.

888