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“We should not be so far from the coterie without a warrior to protect us,” Maria commented as she filled her basket with ripe, red berries.
“You are the one who said these berries grow best away from the shadows cast by the cliffs,” Sabine replied. “Besides, we haven’t seen a shifter since the king took over and moved us here.”
“He is a handsome king, is he not? And by the way, I noticed he could not keep his eyes off you,” Maria teased.
“Do not be silly. He was annoyed that I got dust in his face and made him sneeze.”
“Actually, I think he quite enjoyed the banter.”
“Banter?”
“Yes. It’s conversation, except more fun.” Maria methodically plucked berries and dropped them into her basket. The pile of berries was lush and ripe and perfect. Sabine’s was a small mass of mostly crushed, red bits and pieces.
She tried to recall what had been fun about the brief conversation she’d had with their king. It was now the second humiliating experience she’d had in his presence. She hoped she could avoid any future interactions.
Maria, much to her relief, changed the subject. “Why do you suppose they want our magic so badly, anyway? Shifters have the ability to change forms at will. We cannot do that. What do we have that they could possibly want?”
Sabine had thought long and hard on this topic. “Their magic manifests itself in one way and one way only. Ours does so many different ways. Our healers have the ability to pull pain and injury from others. Our cooks make fabulous meals with the barest of ingredients. Some of us even have the ability to pull dirt and dust from one’s dress.”
Maria took the hint and waved her hand in Sabine’s direction. Magic shimmered through the air, and then her dress was devoid of any telltale signs of having lain on the ground, spying on a bunch of shirtless men with rather nicely defined chests.
“And then there is our ability to create light, which comes in terribly handy after the sun has set. Oh, and of course, our warriors’ ability to create weapons with which to defend us. I can see why the shifters would want to steal our magic.”
Maria hefted her basket and motioned for Sabine to follow, and they made their way out of the berry patch. “Okay, fine, but why do those filthy animals continue to believe they can steal our magic if they kill us? How many of us have they murdered already, and not a one has developed any more magic than the ability to shift form?”
“Far too many,” Sabine said. “I am tired of losing my friends and family. I cannot recall the last Lightbearer who died of natural causes. Those bastards keep killing us before we have the chance to truly live. I wish I could conjure a sword so I could help protect the coterie.”
Maria’s gasp told her she’d spoken the words out loud, words she’d thought a hundred times in her life.
“Don’t be silly, Sabine. Only males can summon weapons and defend us.” Maria guided her friend through a path that had been carved in a grassy field, which would lead them to the river that would then lead them to the coterie.
“How do you know? Do you know a female who has ever tried?”
“Why would a female want to?” Maria countered. “Don’t you want to find a mate, start a family?”
“I suppose. But why can I not do both?”
“Females are responsible for begetting babes and raising families, taking care of the home.”
“While I have yet to experience firsthand the relationship between a man and woman, my mother has explained the process, and according to her, the woman does not create life all on her own. So if males can have mates and families and still fight shifters, why can I not do it as well? Right now, you and I, we are—”
“Lambs to our wolves. Or whatever form we choose to take.”
The voice came from behind her, and Sabine whipped around so fast, the berries in her basket scattered every which way. Two six-foot tall men stood in the path from which she and Maria had just come. With shoulders twice as broad as most men in Sabine’s immediate circle, they both had shaggy, dark locks and thick facial hair, although one appeared to take far greater care with his than the other. Why Sabine would notice such an insignificant detail, she could not say. She also noticed their black eyes, and the way their gazes never wavered, never left her and Maria.
Shifters.
The unkempt one slapped his compatriot in the chest with the back of his hand. “We found us some Lightbearers, Xander. See how they glow?”
Sabine hardly noticed the glow, probably because she’d lived with it for her entire life. The shimmer of magic dancing over their skin was one reason why Lightbearers tended to steer clear of areas heavily populated with humans. While most humans were ambivalent to the way a Lightbearer’s skin shone, those with strong beliefs in religion or the supernatural tended to notice.
The one named Xander did not respond but instead stalked toward them while his partner scurried to keep pace. They appeared to not be the least bit worried the women would run—or attack. Sabine could easily take them by surprise—if only she could conjure a weapon. Her right hand tingled and magic flared for a moment, drawing the gazes of both men.
Maria screamed, dropped her basket of berries, and ran. The less attractive of the two men—did she really just think that about a shifter?—let out a gleeful laugh and gave chase. Sabine clutched her basket and resisted the urge to follow. She was certain her friend would not make it back to the coterie alive. Biting her lip, she ignored the ache growing in her chest and focused on the remaining shifter.
Xander watched the chase with an almost bored look before turning his head and arching his eyebrows. “You aren’t running.” His accent was thick and strange. He was not local. Had he deliberately made his way to this hot, dry climate in search of the Lightbearers’ latest hiding place?
“It’s said running makes your kind more eager for the kill.”
Surprise leaped to his face. He crossed his arms and contemplated her. “This is true.”
“I am in no hurry to die.”
The shifter walked slowly in a circle around her but made no attempt to draw closer to Sabine. She turned with him, never letting him see her back.
“I am not a lamb.” Sabine stood straight and tall, determined to face her adversary head on. She would not cower in fear. She would not run. Light flared around her hand and she dropped her basket. It was as though fire was coursing through the veins in her arm.
“Something wrong with your magic?” he finally asked. He stopped and watched her hand as if he expected it to do tricks.
She looked down and frowned. “No. Other than I have an urge to attack you.”
He laughed, a deep, hearty sound, as if he found what she said outrageously amusing. For the briefest moment, her magic sparked as irritation swept through her, and it felt as though she were holding something. Something heavy and dangerous. A weapon. She stared at her hand.
A great flash of light brightened the dusky landscape, coming from the direction in which Maria had run. Sabine’s heart contracted and tears flooded her eyes. One of her dearest friends was dead.
“Carlos found your friend.”
“So it would appear.” She blinked away the tears, fighting to keep the emotion off her face. She would not let this murderer see any weakness. She had told him she was not a lamb, not a pitiful, defenseless being, and she meant to prove her words true.
He seemed taken aback by her forthright attitude. “Do you think he will come back filled with Lightbearer magic?”
“No,” Sabine said flatly. “Killing us kills us. You cannot inherit a Lightbearer’s magic in that way.”
He cocked his head and continued to study her, as if fascinated by what he saw. “So how do you inherit a Lightbearer’s magic?”
She lifted her chin and refused to answer. It was none of his business. The fates knew he would never be given the opportunity to find out.
His focus was diverted, presumably listening to the oth
er one make his way back after having killed Maria.
Now is my chance. Sabine stared at him. If only she could summon a weapon.
Her hand tingled the way it did when she fell asleep with it under her head and woke to discover the circulation had been cut off for far too long. Magic flared, bright and hot, a shimmering, sparking sphere around her hand. It coalesced and then grew into a long, straight line that started at her palm and shot into the air.
She held a sword in her hand. She very nearly dropped it, so surprised was she by what just happened.
The shifter gave a visible start when he saw the weapon. He took a hasty step away. “I have never seen a female Lightbearer conjure a sword before,” he commented, his gaze riveted to her face.
“I do not think one ever has before,” she admitted before she could catch herself. The long piece of steel was getting heavy, and Sabine was afraid her hands would start shaking. She swung it experimentally. A mass of magical sparks, like swirling snow during a storm, trailed in its wake. The shifter widened the distance between them.
“Then you’ve never used one before.”
She swung again. It felt so right. Far better than draping a basket from her arm and picking berries.
“Perhaps not, but as you can see, I seem to be adjusting rather quickly.”
“I do see that.” He eyed the sword, his facial features giving away his trepidation mixed with reluctant awe.
Before she could wrap her mind around just what that meant, she caught the brief flicker of his gaze to a point behind her. She did not hesitate nor think. She grasped the sword in both hands and swung, spinning ’round on one slippered foot at the same time. The tip of the sword hit something solid. Sabine’s magic surged, making her physically stronger than normal, ensuring the sword sliced through whatever it had come into contact with.
The second shifter fell to the ground in a heap, clutching at his profusely bleeding abdomen. Sabine leaped away from him and turned back to the first one. He was, at this point, the far more dangerous of the two.
“It would seem Carlos has come to the end of his Lightbearer hunting days.”
“Not soon enough,” Sabine snapped. “Now it’s your turn.”
The shifter lifted his lips in a rueful smile and shook his head. “I think not.” Before Sabine could so much as blink, he shifted into a fox and rushed away through the undergrowth. She stared after him for long seconds, as reluctantly impressed with the act of shapeshifting as he had appeared to be with her sword-summoning skills.
A sound caused her to turn back to the other shifter, who was attempting to crawl away. With adrenaline surging through her system, Sabine stabbed him where she presumed his heart was. Emotions took over as she jerked the sword from his body and stabbed him again and again, taking out her anger and frustration. She stopped only when she was breathless and exhausted and could scarcely lift the weapon one more time. And she stood there for a long time, staring at the dead, mutilated body, until she realized how dark it had become.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Sabine wiped her sword in the sand at her feet and lifted it to let it rest on her shoulder as she went in search of her dead friend. She would return the body to the coterie for a proper death ritual.
Chapter 2