Dave Gross - Mistress of the Night

"Feena!" screamed Julith.

She caught her breath, struggled to force the last words out: "with"

She was falling. She twisted, trying to find her balance once more, but something pushed at her legsthe ancient stone walland she toppled over. Cool water closed around her. Air burst out of her tortured lungs and Feena choked on water. Her throat burned. One last bubble of air pushed through her mouth. Her lips shaped it with dreamlike hesitation, me.

– ‹§? — Black as Shar's own darkness. A double handspan wide and high. As thick as four fingers held together. Tiles of slate as thin as fine porcelain and marked on the front with silver writing that Keph's mind refused to recognize. Hinged like a book, Variance had said, but in truth not so much hinged as caught along one side in an arrangement of silver rods and clasps that bore a resemblance to both a cage and the setting of an elaborate piece of jewelry.

Keph stared at the book. No wonder it had so completely fascinated his father. No wonder Variance should want it. He swallowed.

"Guide me through this, Selune," he muttered, "and you have my service!"

He reached down and picked up the book.

The instant his fingers closed on the slates, a dark force pulsed through him like a dragon's roar.

— _

‹§› Variance gasped and staggered as the call that had tugged at her for more than a month faded. Bolan whirled.

"Mother Night, are you well?"

"Better," Variance breathed. Keph had The Leaves of One Night. She called out to the nearest shadow mastiff. "Seek the man who stood with me when I summoned you," she commanded the creature, pointing in the direction of Fourstaves House. "That way. Escort him to me!"

The beast growled and loped off. Variance drew a deep breath.

"Now, Bolan," she said, "we unleash our worst." She reached to her side and drew her chakram from her belt. "Mistress of the Night," she called, thrusting it high, "drive ice into the hearts of your faithful and let Moonshadow Hall be brought low!"

All around her, shadow mastiffs lifted their savage muzzles and let out a howl as terrible as night itself.

The force within the black slates hammered at Keph like pounding waves driven before a storm. He gasped and staggeredbut didn't let go. Strasus hadn't described the dark force and Keph knew his father would have! The old man thought of the book as some curiosity, some ancient artifact and nothing more.

"I spoke no lie when I said you had the potential to become one of Shar's priests," Variance had said. Was the power of the book something that reacted only to the potential of divine magic? Was it possible that even a wizard as powerful in the Art as Strasus Thingoleir had not felt the tide of darkness?

There were whispers within the darkness as well: slow, low, and powerful. He felt like he could almost make out the words within themalmost, but not quite. He strained and tried to catch what the whispers were saying. They swirled around him, a whirlpool that threatened to pull him under, to swallow him whole…

Almost like Variance's attempt to alter his memories. He clenched his teeth and thrust back against the whispers just as he had thrust back against the dark priestess.

"Get out!" he hissed. "Get out! I'm not listening to you!"

The force surged. It probed. He flung it back with all the strength of his will.

It retreated. Keph stood still and stared down at the book. It seemed heavier in his hands. His breath came in short gulps once more.

Another questing tendril of force caressed the edges of his mind. He slapped it away, then turned and stumbled out of Strasus's study. Carrying the book was like carrying a tub of water, a weight that shifted constantly and threatened to splash free at any time. Keph held it as close as he dared and made his way slowly back down the corridor of the north wing. He could feel the wards again. Instead of tugging at him, though, it was almost as if they brushed against him then shrank back like hair singed by a candle flame. Whispers swirled.

"No," he growled.

"Master Keph!"

Halfway up the grand staircase, the underbutler he'd encountered before stood and stared at him. There were other servants too, all in various stages of preparing for bed. Down in the entrance hall, the head butler, dressed in a night robe, was just emerging from the passage that led back to the servants' quarters. Some of the men were armed with knives and short swords. All of the servants were staring at him. Keph froze.

The fight with the copper falcon… how far had the sounds carried in the silent mansion?

"Stay back," Keph snarled.

"Sir," the head butler called, "what are you doing?" "I'm fixing a mistake," Keph answered. He took a slow step forward. "Get out of my way."

The underbutler already on the stairs started to retreat back down them, but the head butler moved forward and began to climb.

"That book is from your father's study. I can't let you-"

"I said get out of my way!" roared Keph.

Maybe some of the dark force of the slates had wormed its way deeper into him than he had thought. The head butler turned pale and stopped. The underbutler actually choked, pressing himself so far back against the banister that for a moment Keph thought he might fall over. All the other servants cleared away from the bottom of the stairs.

Keph tightened his grip on the book of slates and marched down the staircase. When he reached the bottom and turned to the doors, the servants parted to make an aisle for him. The entrance hall was deathly quiet.

When he opened the doors, though, sound rushed in. Yhaunn's night was alive with distant cries and screams. Many of them came from the direction of the Stiltways. Keph tottered forward. Strasus's wards had been designed to keep people out of Fourstaves House, not in. The green lines of magic that flared briefly as he walked out shimmered and shriveled just as the wards in the north wing had. The stone dogs actually cowered away from him.

Whispers crashed inside his head once more, and Keph let them crash, holding them at bay rather than thrusting them back. Staggering like a drunk man wading in the surf, he jogged into the night toward Moonshadow Hall.

Feena could hear howls. She could hear screams. She could hear Julith crying for her and the splashing as the young priestess reached into the water of the sacred pooland a shout of surprise as she leaped back.

She heard all of it a fraction of a heartbeat before. dazzling moonlight burned away the haze that had stolen her vision. Feena gaspedand in gasping, drew the moonlight into herself. Selune was inside her, burning in her flesh and blood, knitting her together, and making her whole. The touch of the goddess exploded through her. Feena threw back her head and howled not out of pain, but out of sheer joy.

The wolf within her howled right along with the woman. And somewhere in the silver brilliance of Selune's light, Feena could hear a whole chorus of wolves and beasts raising their voices along with her.

The New Moon Pact was reborn!

Feena felt stone under her feet and kicked out. She shot up through the water and into the night, still howling. Shining water streamed from the fur of her hybrid form. She felt stronger and more alive than she ever had in her life. Everything seemed brighter and more vibrant. Growling with fierce ecstasy, she threw back her head and howled at the sky.

"Feena!"

She looked downno, just across. Julith crouched beside the sacred pool and Feena stood within it. The water was no more than waist deep. But it had felt as though she had been so much deeper! She snarled in awe. There were things to be seen by moonlight

She surged forward through the water and heaved herself out of the pool. Julith was still staring at her in amazement.