here you are, darlings! thanks for all the fantabulous reviews
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Codi left Shasa at the edge of the wood and trudged through the gates sometime later still feeling upset and overwhelmed. She was so preoccupied, in fact, that she never even saw the hooded and cloaked figure until he struck her. Damn cowardly thing to do, she thought as she lost consciousness. Whacking a girl over the head with a shovel. Psh.
When Codi awakened, she found herself lying on a hard cold surface. It was dark, but a torch was lit around the corner and by its light she could see that she was in a cell of some sort. Don't panic, she ordered herself. Look around. Am I bound? No. Is the door locked? Most unfortunately. But then, she had sort of expected that. Codi felt for her bodice knife and found that it had disappeared. Was there anything in the cell she might use as a weapon? Not unless she found some very creative use for a dead rat and some spiders. There was also a pile of some unknown substance in the corner, but she really, really did not want to even think about what it might be.
"Well, this sucks," Codi muttered to herself, and settled down to wait.
Propping her chin on her fist, Codi pondered her situation. What could she do? There must be something. Yes, there was something—what was it? Codi growled in frustration. She had a feeling she was missing something terribly important; something right under her nose. At last she figured it out and smacked herself rather more forcefully than she had originally intended. Rubbing her forehead gingerly, Codi shook her head disgustedly. She was so stupid.
"Ashai," she said firmly, with a triumphant grin. And for good measure (although he probably had known she was in danger before she had), "Shasa."
Slowly the grin faded away. Tristan couldn't be terribly pleased with her at the moment. And though she didn't believe for one moment that he would ignore her call, he had no idea where she was. How did it work, anyway? Codi wondered. Would Ashai be able to lead him to her? Maybe Shasa could follow her trail. But—what if Tristan didn't want anything to do with her anymore? What if he didn't come?
"Stop it," she growled at herself. Tristan wouldn't do that. Even if he never spoke to her again, he would still save her if he could. All she had to do was wait.
So she waited. Eventually, she began to get hungry and terribly thirsty. In an attempt to distract herself, she sang every song she knew until her throat became too dry to produce sound. She paced, she counted the stones in the wall, she turned cartwheels—and eventually fell into an uneasy slumber.
"Where is she?" Tristan snarled, shoving Gaius Tullius against the wall while a terrified maid stood nearby, mouth agape. Tristan shook him like a rag doll. "Answer me!"
"Wh-who?" Tullius stammered, clearly bewildered.
"Tristan," Arthur said softly. More sharply, "Tristan! Step back."
With visible effort, Tristan let go of Gaius Tullius, but it was clear that he was ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.
"What's going on?" Arthur asked calmly.
"Codi's gone," Tristan growled. "She's in trouble."
"What makes you think so?" Arthur asked blandly.
"You doubt me?" Tristan asked incredulously, eyes narrowed. "I am certain, Arthur. It is something between Codi and me."
"Alright, what makes you think Gaius Tullius as aught to do with it?" Arthur continued, so calmly that Tristan wanted to strangle him.
"What other explanation is there?" Tristan snapped, then stopped. "The priest," he breathed. He glared at the Roman lord who cowered before him. "How many priests have you on your estate?"
"One—and his acolytes," Tullius whimpered, double chin trembling. "Julius Augustus."
"Fetch him here," Tristan ordered.
"I can't," Tullius cried, and cringed as Tristan stepped forward. "He—he went to his p-private workroom. He left orders not to be disturbed."
"Where is this private workroom?" Arthur asked reasonably.
"I don't know," Tullius whispered. "I beg of you, Arthur Castus, call off this barbarian."
Tristan lashed out, knocking the fat lord to the ground before Arthur restrained him. "Roman dog," he hissed. "What have you done with her?"
"Nothing!" Tullius cried, tears trickling down his face. "N-nothing! If Julius Augustus saw fit to take her, I must believe he had good reason. Would you gainsay a man of god?"
Tristan leaned in close, almost nose to nose with the trembling, sweating Roman lord. "I will find her if I have to tear this place apart brick by brick. And if she is harmed—if there is so much as a scratch on her—I will kill the man who did it, man of god or no."
Codi struggled back into consciousness, gasping and sweating. Well, she thought weakly. The Sight. How exciting. Even more exciting was the fact the Tristan didn't hate her, after all. The fact that no one seemed to know where the priest or his workroom—and therefore Codi—was...that was less than exciting. In fact, it was rather upsetting.
Weakened by hunger and dehydration and having nothing better to do, Codi dozed on and off, wakened by strange noises and fragments of nightmares. The strange dreams that had plagued her before she bonded with Shasa began to reappear. Often she would wake with the scent of deer or streams or even of Shasa himself in her nostrils and odd, fragmented images and flashes of dreams.
Codi awoke at one point to find a small bowl of water and a pathetically small, stale piece of bread just inside the bars of her cell. With a cry of relief, she gulped down the water and nearly gagged at the taste. Obviously, someone wanted to keep her alive—for now—but seemed less than concerned with her health in general. Codi eyed the bread dubiously but decided to take the risk. It was hard as a rock and barely edible. The only upshot was that the arduous task of actually eating the damn thing occupied her for some time.
Codi's nightmares receded, but she dreamed more and more often that she was a wolf. Sometimes she was running with Shasa by her side through shadows cast by the moon, sometimes stalking prey silently through the underbrush, sometimes sleeping lazily in a patch of sunlight, her pack mates sprawled carelessly about her. She spent more time asleep than awake, more time as a wolf than as a human. Codi could no longer tell the difference between waking and sleep, human and wolf. Everything was one and the same.
A small clatter heralded the arrival of water. Weakly, Codi reached out a hand—or was it a paw? Codi closed her eyes. The water was bad, anyway. She could smell it from here. Vaguely she heard voices conferring outside her cell. Deep, guttural, male voices. One more commanding than the others—familiar. Where have I heard him before? Codi wondered. Annoying voice—memorable if only for that. I wonder...
Whatever she was wondering (she wasn't quite certain, herself) was lost forever as a key turned in the lock. Codi raised her head listlessly, staring at the two brawny men who had entered her cell. They seemed rather surprised that she was capable of even that much, but shrugged and came forward without any indication of caution. What need was there, after all?
Rather more need than any of them had thought, including Codi. At first she thought that she had passed out and was dreaming or hallucinating again. But the white faces and terrified gasps of the two men were not hallucinations. Neither was she imagining the low rumbling that was coming from her chest that rose in pitch and turned into a snarl as she leaped forward, jaws snapping shut on soft, yielding flesh. Codi worried the arm she held in her teeth viciously, causing the man to scream in pain and terror.
Scum! How dare he presume to imprison her? A mere man, made of soft flesh and armed with nothing but blunt teeth and soft fingernails—she would tear him limb from limb for that alone. For being the puny, insignificant being that he was. With a yelp, Codi released her prize and glared hatefully up at the man who held a stout wooden stick. He had rapped it viciously across her nose, forcing her to release her hold.
She showed him her teeth, silently promising him a more thorough introduction at a later date. If she had anything to say about it, the horrid little priest would be far more well acquainted with her fangs than he cared for. The priest glared back at her, puffed up and haughty now that there were stout iron bars between him and the snarling wolf.
"Demon," he yelped. He coughed and said in a much lower voice, "Satan's mistress—I will not allow your taint to spread. You will not live out the day."
Again Codi's lips curled back, exposing wickedly curved fangs. The priest laughed nastily.
"My, what large teeth you have! But what use will they be when you've an arrow in your heart?"
When Tristan arrived at the gates with Shasa at his heels, the guards were less than pleased but were willing to be persuaded—at sword point, most men are, Tristan reflected. The entered the courtyard and Shasa went to work immediately, sniffing into any and every nook and cranny in the place. They had been searching the town, surrounding areas and even the castle itself for nearly three days trying to find some trace of Codi. But whoever had taken her had been clever about it indeed—Shasa could find no scent.
"Tristan!"
Tristan turned to see Galahad and Gawain approaching, a weedy teenager struggling impotently in their combined grip. Brenna hurried along beside them.
"He's one of the acolytes," Galahad explained. "Brenna found him lurking in the chapel."
"We thought you might like to do the honors," Gawain added thoughtfully, pushing the boy roughly forward.
"I won't tell you anything!" the boy squeaked, chin set stubbornly. "Filthy pagans."
"I see," Tristan said mildly. "You won't tell me where your master's private workroom is? He is...hosting...a friend of ours, you see, but she really must be coming home now."
"She is a witch," the boy spat. "A demon. She must be cleansed—and exterminated."
Tristan contemplated the angry youth before him. He smiled abruptly and beckoned Shasa to his side. "See this lad, here? He is extremely fond of our friend. I do believe he would be most upset to see her harmed. In fact, I think he might even be angry..."
As if on cue, Shasa's hackles rose and a low, ominous rumble sounded from his chest. The boy paled and backed up a step, breathing quickly. He crossed himself and pointed accusingly at the wolf.
"Of course he would," the boy sneered. "He is her mate. Your friend spent the night in his company—I followed her at my master's behest. I saw them rolling on the ground and—and--"
Tristan raised his eyebrows inquiringly. "Aye? Don't stop now, lad."
"Your whore spreads her legs not only for all of you, but for animals," he hissed viciously. "She will die, and the land will be free of her t--"
The boy gave a strangled cry as Tristan calmly grabbed him by throat and squeezed. Brenna made an outraged noise and delt the lad several swift blows the shins before Gawain grudgingly pulled her back. Tristan regarded the boy seemingly without malice and turned him so that he could see Shasa, who bared his teeth.
"You see him?" Tristan asked. "He likes to eat evil, snot-nosed little brats just like you. I would be more than happy to accommodate him if you don't prove cooperative. He likes to savor each bite, you know...one limb at a time. No other way to eat the little bastards, eh, lad?"
Shasa snarled and salivated in agreement while the boy's eyes widened in horror. A hawk's fierce cry sounded from above and Tristan forced the boy's face upwards.
"And there's my bonnie lass. She'll no doubt enjoy such little tidbits as the bright boyo there may feel inclined to leave her. Your eyeballs, for instance, or perhaps your liver. Now," he continued pleasantly. "You are going to lead me to your master's workroom right now, without a fuss. Understood?"
The boy nodded jerkily. Tristan released him and motioned for him to proceed.
"Don't bother trying to run," Gawain advised. "Yon laddie's much faster than you are."
Tight lipped, the boy led them back to the chapel. He hesitated a moment at the altar, but a low growl from Shasa spurred him on. He led them behind the altar and kicked back a rug, exposing a trap door. Tristan held up a hand and turned to Brenna.
"Run and fetch the others here, lass, in case something goes amiss."
Brenna nodded and ran off. Tristan turned back to the boy and motioned for him to open the door. Galahad caught the boy by the collar of his shirt as he made to jump down the hole, no doubt to warn his master. Galahad held him at an arm's length, as if he were dirty.
"Should we tie him up?" he wondered.
Gawain smirked. "No need—I'm sure our wee doggie wouldn't mind keeping him company."
The 'wee doggie' hunkered down in front of the boy, watching his every move. The acolyte glared murderously at them, but didn't move a muscle.
"Not a sound," Tristan warned him, and slipped a knife out of his belt before hopping through the hole.
Tristan landed lightly on his feet and came face to face with a big, burly man clutching a clumsily bandaged arm to his chest. He stared dumbly at Tristan for a moment, then hastily moved aside. Just to be sure, Tristan struck him on the temple with the hilt of his knife and moved swiftly out of Gawain's way. Hearing noises, he headed purposefully toward them and saw yet another man, even bigger than the last, aiming a crossbow into a cell while a weasely-looking man hovered behind him. Without stopping to think, Tristan flicked his wrist, sending the knife winging through the air. The crossbow fell out of the man's hands as he fell with the knife buried to the hilt in the side of his neck. The weasel-man turned furiously and found three very angry knights pointing very sharp and pointy swords at him.
"Where is she?" Tristan's voice was deceptively soft.
The man—he must be the priest, Tristan thought disdainfully—cackled madly and gestured toward the cell. Hearing a gasp behind him, Tristan glanced into the cell and was briefly shocked. A wolf stood splay-legged with its fur on end and its head low. It snarled feebly in between pants, its ears laid flat against its skull. After a moment, he shook himself. The Change, he forced himself to think calmly. Merlin had said she might have it. Well, obviously.
"Keys," Tristan said simply. When he received no response, he laid the point of his sword at the priest's throat and pressed gently, bringing a drop of blood. "Now."
Swallowing, the priest pointed. Gawain hurriedly fetched the keys and then stopped, unsure of what to do. Clearly he hadn't realized that the wolf was Codi. Tristan nodded toward the cell, not taking his eyes of the priest's.
"Galahad," Tristan said as Gawain inserted the key. "Tie him up."
Tristan slipped through the door and moved slowly toward the panting, wild-eyed wolf, completely ignoring Gawain's hissed protests.
"Codi," he said soothingly. "It's alright, lass. Hush, little one. You've gone and changed yourself, have you? Your grand da said you might. You're turning into a regular sorceress, eh? Aye, my witchling, my magelet. It's time to come back now, vrya. Come on, then..."
Still crooning soothing nonsense, Tristan edged slowly toward the wolf. She watched him warily, but made no move to harm him. Tristan had the distinct impression that she hadn't the strength to do so, but he hoped it was more because she recognized him. Finally, he knelt and slowly reached out a hand, placing it gently on the wolf's head. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, it wasn't a wolf under his hand at all, but a dirty, gaunt young woman. Codi collapsed against Tristan, trembling. Tristan, weak with relief, held her tightly, cradling her head gently against his shoulder. He allowed himself a moment to revel in the fact that she wasn't dead and then looked up.
"Water," he said urgently.
"Here." Brenna pushed through the knights, handing him a flask. She responded to his raised eyebrows with a snort. "Prisons aren't generally concerned with the quality—or quantity—of water given to their inhabitants. I though she might need some."
Tristan nodded and dribbled a few drops onto Codi's lips. Her tongue flicked out feebly at first, then more eagerly. He gave her a bit more in this fashion and then handed the flask back to Brenna.
"Go to the kitchens and have them boil water with sugar and a bit of salt mixed in. Have it ready in her room—and build a fire," Tristan added, noting that Codi's trembling had not ceased.
Brenna ran to do as he said and Tristan rose with Codi in his arms. He turned to see his fellow knights staring at Codi with mingled awe, fear, and a sort of horrified fascination. Arthur met his eyes.
"You are going to explain, I trust," he observed mildly.
"As soon as I've seen her settled," Tristan promised.
His eyes flicked toward the priest and scowled. There were so many things he would like to do to that weasel...With a sigh of regret, Tristan carefully handed Codi up through the trap door to Gawain, who met his eyes almost challengingly. Tristan climbed up quickly and reached for Codi. Gawain hesitated a moment, but grudgingly handed over his burden.
Brenna had done everything he asked, and so Tristan soon had Codi settled in bed and slowly taking bits of the bits of the drink. She was groggy and confused, but awake. Tristan sang softly as he worked, for it had often soothed her in the past.
"I knew you would come," Codi muttered, blinking blearily up at him. "I dreamed it."
"The Sight too, hm?" Tristan murmured. "If it brought you hope, I'm glad of it."
"Me, too," Codi whispered, eyes drifting shut.
Tristan eyed the liquid left over, wondering if he should try to have her finish it. After a moment, he shook his head. He'd gotten more down than he'd hoped. He'd reheat it and give it to her when she woke up. Tristan sat back, observing her silently. She would be alright, he reassured himself. He stood up—Arthur was waiting for him to explain how a wolf had turned into one of his knights—and touched her cheek briefly before leaving. What exactly was he going to tell Arthur, anyway?
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there you are, duckies, hope you like it. review lots and lots!