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Asylum
Days after the last practice drill, the gong crashed in earnest, the echo bouncing off of the newly fortified sides of the Tipsy Willow. Verve paused in her exercises—she’d been sparring with a training dummy Hadiya had scrounged up—and glanced toward Ivet, who’d sounded the alarm.
“I thought we didn’t schedule a drill for today…” Verve’s question died on her tongue as Ivet gestured to the path that led out of Lotis. Klaret and Owen were sprinting toward the village.
Verve’s heart stuttered. “Is it Damaris?” she called hopefully.
Owen pointed behind them. “Renegade mages!”
Verve swore. In the two weeks since she’d fought those other shape-changers, no other rogue mages had dared show their faces near Lotis, although Klaret had reported seeing a couple particle mages fighting each other a few leagues from the village.
Of-sodding-course, there’d been no sign of Marea Damaris. Verve was starting to wonder if the moon-blood was just a mass hallucination. If—when—she found this mage, she’d need to press Danya for a bonus.
Villagers rushed past her to the Willow. Verve allowed herself a moment of pleasure to note that only a few of them carried unimportant trinkets. Progress. Owen helped Dannel up and toward the tavern, where Lio and Kinneret were already safely ensconced for their daily studies.
After grabbing her weapons, Verve met Klaret outside of Dannel’s house. “Just two shiftlings,” Klaret said before Verve could ask. “But they’re chasing a couple.”
“A couple of what?” Verve asked, loading her crossbow. She glanced around, but didn’t see Alem. Where in the stars was he?
“More mages, I think,” Klaret said grimly. Her gaze fell toward Berel’s home, then she relaxed at the sight of her lover rushing up with Hadiya. “Not sure what’s going on, but they’re all headed this way.”
It was the most Verve had heard Klaret speak since she’d arrived. Verve nodded her understanding and pointed to the Willow. “Get to safety. I’ll handle them.”
Klaret shot Verve a grateful look as Berel and Hadiya bounded up, then the three villagers rushed to the tavern. The wind picked up; the tall, cotton-like clouds that had drifted over the sky all morning had darkened to iron gray, and the air bristled with energy. As Verve hurried down the path that led out of Lotis, Ivet called her name.
Verve slowed but didn’t stop. “Get to the shelter. I’ll return when it’s safe.”
“Be careful,” Ivet called in Sufa.
Verve rolled her eyes and replied in Sufa before she could stop herself, “No promises.” The second the words left her mouth, she regretted them, for even shaping the familiar tones made her heart try to collapse in on itself. Damn Ivet and her kindness. Verve gritted her teeth and pressed forward.
The gray clouds had thickened by the time Verve found the mages, who stood upon a small grassy island between cypress trees, black water rippling on all sides. A couple, perhaps only a few years older than her, clutched one another as another trio of shape-changers circled them, pressing them to the center of the tiny island. Verve had never seen these lion shiftlings before, but she recognized the other shape-changer as the sodding ummaroc — the sickle-drake she’d kicked out of the Tipsy Willow her first night in Lotis.
“Back again, eh?” she muttered. “Good thing I wore your favorite bracelet.”
None of the mages noticed Verve, so she eased herself into the dark water, silently praying she’d not meet another swamp creature, and made her way through the shallow marsh toward her targets.
“Please, let us go,” one of the mages cried as the shiftlings circled. He had tawny skin and dark hair, but even from afar, Verve could see his bright green eyes. Another shiftling, then. But his companion had dark eyes. No mage-fire flickered at her deep-brown hands, but Verve figured this particle mage wasn’t without her own skills.
The ummaroc snarled and her targets flinched. Still silent, Verve eased herself onto the little marsh island and readied her crossbow. She’d only get one shot at surprising the moon-bloods; better make it count. Too-well did she recall the ummaroc’s tough skin, so she aimed instead for the nearest lion. As the ummaroc dove for one of its targets, Verve fired. Her aim was true. The lion had no time to even squeal as the bolt embedded itself in its throat. As the creature collapsed, it shifted back into its human form, and the other lion roared in ear-splitting fury. The ummaroc whirled to see Verve, then to Verve’s immense confusion, leaped into the water, away from Verve — and away from Lotis. Maybe she’d seen Verve’s wire bracelet.
No such luck with the second lion, who turned on Verve with bared teeth and claws. Verve ducked out of the way of those massive paws, whipped out a dagger, and drove it home into the lion’s shoulder. The creature roared again, the sound blending with a distant rumble of thunder. Verve rolled away from another swipe; a rock jabbed into her back, sending a dull pain through her spine. She leaped at the lion again, using her own momentum from the roll to drag the embedded dagger down the lion’s side. The shiftling screamed again, but this time the roar faded into a human wail.
Both shiftlings lay dead and the ummaroc had not returned. But the other mages, the ones the shape-changers had been hunting, were also nowhere in sight. Verve swore and glanced around. Her stomach rolled at the sight of the couple rushing directly for Lotis, hand in hand. She allowed herself a second of debate before she aimed her crossbow at the shape-changer.
The particle mage glanced back. Her eyes rounded as she spotted Verve and she froze, raising her hands as if in surrender.
“In Seren’s name,” she cried. “We claim asylum! Please, we mean you no harm.”
Her fellow stood at her side, panting hard. “Asylum,” he repeated breathlessly. “Please, have mercy.”
Crossbow still loaded and aimed, Verve strode toward them. Her boots squelched over the spongy ground, the whipping wind tore at her damp braids, and she could not suppress a thrill of satisfaction when the mages shrank away from her. “Give me a good reason to spare your lives,” she growled.
“Please,” the woman begged, hands still raised. “We mean no harm. We heard Lotis was a safe place, and we thought—”
“Safe from dregs like you,” Verve broke in as she closed on her targets. “Not for you.”
Tears streamed down both mages’ faces. “We don’t want to fight,” the fellow said, his voice shaking. “We just want to live in peace.”
