Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [123]
after them, then trees were on either side and the wolf-creature's run became a series of leaps and zigzags as he made his way deeper into the forest.
The pain in her wing was intense, all consuming. Larajin tried to cast a healing spell, but the prayer would not come to her lips. She found herself unable to maintain concentration, and she began slipping out of tressym form. Her torso and limbs elongated, fur and feathers shrank back into her skin, and her injured wing became an injured left arm. The wolf-creature, suddenly finding his burden increased tenfold, staggered under the increased weight and nearly dropped her. Sagging to his knees, he lowered her to the forest floor.
Behind him, Leifander settled onto a branch, then hopped along it, his head cocked.
The wolf-creature crouched for a moment in silence, still panting from his run. Then, in a voice that was part growl, part yip, he barked out a single word.
"Larajin?"
Larajin peered up at the creature, whose face was thrown into shadow by the moonhght that streamed down from above. The wolf lifted his head to glance up at Leifander, and she got a better look at his features. They were those of a wolf indeed, with pointed ears and a mouth filled with sharp white fangs, but there was something about those green eyes, the way they sparkled with intelligence-and recognition. Larajin suddenly realized that she was looking not at some strange forest creature but at a product of a magical contagion that had shifted an ordinary man into a werewolf-and not just any man.
"Tal?" she asked.
The werewolf nodded.
Behind him, Leifander had shifted back to elf form. He hopped lightly down from the branch.
"I didn't know your brother could skinwalk," he said.
Tal spun in place and snarled, exposing teeth and claws. Larajin reached out to stop him with her good arm-then gasped as a fresh wave of pain wracked her
body. Tal, however, must have recognized Leifander, for his hands relaxed, then dropped to his side. He grinned, tongue lolling.
"Leifander," Tal said. "I see my sister found you."
Leifander dipped his head in a shght bow.
Dizzy with pain, Larajin was also reeling from having learned Tal's secret. Suddenly, all of Tal's strange ways made sense: his constant obsession with shaving, his monthly bouts with the "flu" that supposedly confined him to bed, his wolfish appetite, and his reluctance to handle the silver dagger he'd given her-all were explained by the fact that he was infected with lycanthropy.
Larajin hadn't been the only one in the Uskevren household with a secret. Maybe it was time to share hers.
"Tal," she began. "There's something I…"
Moving sent a shock of pain through her injured arm. Before she did anything else, she needed to heal it. Cradling the arm against her chest, she touched her locket and began to pray to both goddesses. Healing a cracked bone wasn't easy.
"Sune and Hanali Celanil, grant me your blessing. Lend me a little of your healing magic." The locket began to warm under her fingers, and a hint of floral scent rose from it. "Heal my-"
She gasped as a sharp pain lanced through her foot. It felt as though something sharp had gotten inside the boot, and Larajin had trod upon it. She recognized it as' the sharp sting of the thorn.
Tal kneeled by her side, his wide green eyes brimming with concern. "What's wrong, Larajin? Your face has gone ashen."
Leifander was a heartbeat behind him. He too kneeled at Larajin's side. "Isn't it obvious? Her arm's injured. Larajin, do you want me to try to-"
"Get away from me, both of you," Larajin gasped, looking wildly around the forest and groping for the magic dagger in its sheath at her hip. "It's Drakkar. He's coming for-"
Before she could complete her warning, a bolt of magical energy hissed