Beneath the Twin Moons of Haldae Page 2

  With this anger burning through his veins, he wondered whether it wouldn’t be better if he simply didn’t return from his final journey. It was rare but not unheard of for Shifters to refuse to bind themselves. He’d be free, then. Free to do as he pleased, to fly or roam across Haldae, with no rules to follow or responsibilities to care about.

  Blue-gray eyes barely darker than the sky pierced his mind, reminding him of his duty—reminding him of why he’d been so reluctant to start this journey in the first place. He shook his head. As tempting as it was, he couldn’t abandon everything he was, everything he could become. If for no other reason, he had to return for Elea’s sake. He was all she had.

  The anger faded, submerged by a wave of intense longing. Five years had passed since his father had succumbed to the sickness, just days before Kris’ first journey. Every time he returned to the forest, he couldn’t help but wonder—what signs had his father and mother seen on their own journeys, that had helped them choose their true forms?

  His father’s had been a crowned eagle, with a wingspan half again as wide as Kris’ bird form. This was why Kris didn’t want to bind himself to a bird; all those who had ever known his father, himself included, would never cease to compare the two of them if he did.

  He had only seen his mother’s true form once. Few people chose water creatures, unwilling to limit themselves to a form they could only use in the lake near the village or the river that ran from it. Kris had understood her choice when he had seen the long, thin body of her dolphin form part the water of the lake, fast as a bird, agile as a large cat. He had clapped when she had jumped out of the waves, twirling in the air before plunging down again. To his great disappointment, he’d never been able to shift into a water creature himself.

  Standing on all four paws again, he shook his head, chasing those thoughts away. Whatever his parents had seen, whatever guidance they had received, they couldn’t help him now. He would have to find his own signs for himself, and finally decide—

  Silver flashed through the sky, catching his eye before disappearing behind leaves and branches. Kris tilted his head, curious. That glint of metal could not have been a bird. So what was it? He closed his eyes and pushed his consciousness into his body, feeling himself change at once into his bird form. A small voice deep inside his mind that sounded like Elea chided him for his curiosity. He had come to the forest to find his true form, and he had decided already that the bird wasn’t it. He needed to find his sign.

  What if the silver flash was his sign, he retorted to the voice even as he took flight. He batted his wings strongly and soared above the forest, quickly finding the strange object again. It seemed to glide toward the rising moons, losing altitude with every passing moment. Kris accelerated, intending to catch up with it, but a second unusual sight made him lose his rhythm. For a few moments, he let the faint wind carry him, easily shifting between currents that he could feel with every feather of his body, and focused on the oddity.

  A big, red… thing had appeared in the sky. It unfolded, taking the shape of an inverted bowl. Kris turned his head this way and that, trying to see the thing better, but he could not figure out what it was. He did notice something hanging beneath it, silver like that first flash of movement in the sky, but the rectangular shape meant nothing to him. The two objects were falling down toward the forest.

  Again, that cautious voice warned him. Remaining a falcon was a bad idea when he was supposed to bind himself to a form. Moreover, whatever these strange things were, he ought to stay away from them. They might be dangerous.

  Then again, they might be exactly what he had been looking for; they might be the clue he needed to guide him toward his true form.

  He batted his wings again, looking from the red object to the silver form disappearing behind the forest. It would fall beyond his village’s territory; better not to investigate, then. The Ushias could be touchy about incursions on their grounds. Letting go of the silver object, he focused on the red one instead. It continued to fall, and now appeared headed toward the river F’ryn.

  As he flew closer, he was shocked to realize that someone was sitting on the gleaming rectangle. He tried to approach to get a better look, but already the object and the person on it were reaching the water. He watched, feeling a little apprehensive, as the river swallowed the silver seat and its occupant. The red object spread out over the water, the folds giving away that it was fabric, and finally sunk. Kris instinctively let out a small cry; in this place of the forest, the river flowed fast—too fast for anyone to swim in it. That person would certainly drown.

  He blinked. He thought he had seen—

  There it was again. Red hair pierced the surface of the water. The person was swimming toward the riverbank—or at least, trying to. They didn’t seem to have much success. Still, they kept trying; maybe they knew that after the next two wide turns in the river, large rocks would make the flow even more agitated and deadly.

  Kris did not hesitate. He plunged into the river, closing his eyes at the last moment to shift into a more suitable form. His panther shape was useless in water, more adapted to climbing trees than to swimming, but his wolf form swam better than he could in his human body. He took a deep breath before he hit the water and let himself sink enough to pass beneath the person before he pushed hard with all four legs to break the surface again in front of them.

  The young woman’s eyes widened in terror when she saw him. She started screaming, but a wave stopped her, flooding her mouth. Kris tried to smile, remembering too late that, in this form, a smile might not be all that reassuring. She kicked and batted at him, not realizing that he was trying to help her—not realizing either that the only thing fighting would achieve was tiring herself out.

  She started slipping beneath the water. He swam closer to her and she gripped his fur, only to let go at once and resume trying to fend him off. But the next time the river started to pull her down, she seemed to give up, holding on to him instead.

  Keeping her against his flank, he began swimming toward the edge of the river. He could feel her grip slowly loosening, and swam even harder. If she slipped now…

  He let out a frustrated growl when she let go as they were only a few paces from solid ground. He plunged at once after her, and caught her sleeve between his teeth. It ripped, but held on. Breaking the surface again, he dragged her to safety. The fabric tore just as he was lowering her to the mossy ground.

  He was frowning as he shifted back to his human form, and for once it had nothing to do with the unpleasant feeling of having clothes constricting him again. Rather, it was her appearance that puzzled him. Her skin was pale, almost luminous against the silvery fabric of her clothing. He had never seen hair like hers. And she had come down from the sky…

  Her chest heaved and she rolled to her side to cough up water. He watched, both fascinated and wary. Could she be one of the angels from the tales he had heard in his childhood?

  He knelt by her side. Her coughing fits slowed down, and she pushed her hair away from her face, revealing delicate features.

  “My name is Kris,” he told her, placing both his hands over his heart in the traditional salute.

  Her eyes went from his face to his hands and back. She spoke, but Kris could make no sense of her words. He shook his head. If she was an angel from the stories, why didn’t she speak his language?

  Tentatively, she rested her hands over her chest, imitating him.

  “Zaren,” she said slowly, enunciating the word—the name, he realized. Her name.

  He placed a hand on top of hers. She flinched.

  “Zaren,” he repeated.

  She smiled, faintly at first then more brightly when he repeated his name and she caught it. The old stories didn’t lie. Angels truly were beautiful. Still, what was he supposed to do with her now?

  * * * *

  The circle of Elders looked at Kris with various degrees of incredulity.

  “An angel?” Elder Sarly ask
ed, his thick white brows arching in amusement. “Come on, Kris. Those stories are for children. You can’t honestly believe this stranger is an angel.”

  Kris rolled his shoulders and shifted on his chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. Generations of Elders who had met in this room, around this table, had polished the wood of these chairs, but they had not made the seats any softer. He couldn’t help but wonder if whoever had first carved the chairs wanted to make sure the meetings would remain short.

  “I don’t believe it anymore,” he conceded with a small nod. “But when I first met her, I thought she had to be. How else would you have explained seeing a woman descend from the sky?”

  Elder Sarly chuckled, as did a couple others, but not everyone was amused. Elder Pala glared at Kris, her slight frame leaning forward over the thick wooden table.

  “If you do not think she’s an angel anymore,” she said sharply, “then do tell us. Who is she?”

  Without thinking, Kris looked to his right. Zaren was being kept out there,in a room that was little more than a cell. He hoped she wasn’t too scared.

  “She’s an explorer,” he explained, turning his eyes back to Elder Pala. “She came from the stars.”

  Laughter and outraged cries erupted around the table. Kris’ gaze returned once more to the locked doors. Whether they believed him or not, Zaren had come from a world he could barely imagine.

  Chapter 3

  First Words

  Another fit of coughing shook Zaren’s body. Covering her mouth, she turned away from the man—Kris, she thought his name was—and took the opportunity to look around her. She was sitting a few paces from the river, beneath the cover of the trees. To her relief, the large, wolf-like animal that had swum with her in the river was nowhere to be seen.

  Reassured about her immediate safety, she turned her attention again to Kris. Kneeling by her side, he was observing her with a slightly expectant look, though she had no idea what he could want from her. Her observer training kicked in and she unconsciously started cataloguing details.

  His knee-length pants and tunic-like, sleeveless shirt seemed woven from a natural fiber. Their uniform light brown color appeared original to the fiber and not dyed. The weaving was fine, but clearly handmade. He didn’t seem to be carrying any tool or weapon. All of it confirmed what her preliminary observations had revealed; the planet’s civilization was pre-industrial. At the back of her mind, she already hoped she would have the opportunity to see artisans at work and document their techniques.

  At the same time, she detailed his appearance. He seemed human, which reinforced the theory that the planet had been seeded by one of the Lost Ships. His facial features were strong, his jaw covered by the beginning of stubble. The gray of his eyes was a little unusual, but not unheard of. His black, shaggy hair fell to his shoulders. His body was lean but muscled, and tanned by the sun. He seemed in good health and well nourished. If she had had to guess, she would have placed him somewhere around her age: seventeen, or maybe a little older.

  He was also good-looking, a small part of her added, although that had nothing to do with a formal observation.

  She noticed then that his clothes and hair were dripping wet. “Did you pull me from the river?” she asked before remembering that Kris didn’t understand her.

  He frowned slightly, indicating he didn’t comprehend. Zaren grimaced. When she had been in contact with a civilization new to her during her training, she had had a translang to help her communicate. She had brought one of the devices along on this trip, even though she hadn’t been supposed to meet anyone, but it was with the rest of her equipment: in the shuttle.

  “I don’t suppose you know where my shuttle fell?” she asked as she stood, knowing it was useless but needing to fill the silence.

  Kris stood as well. He said a few words, but even if they had been an answer to her question, Zaren wouldn’t have understood. With a slightly hesitant hand, Kris reached toward her arm and touched her torn sleeve. It was holding on to her top with no more than a few threads. She wondered if the wolf had done this. If it had, she was lucky it hadn’t ripped through her flesh as well. She shuddered as she remembered the animal’s gleaming teeth.

  “Torn for torn, I might as well tear it off,” she said aloud, speaking to herself.

  She grabbed the edge of the sleeve and pulled hard, finishing to separate it from her top. She peeled it from her arm.

  Head tilted to one side, Kris reached again to touch the fabric. Frowning, he rubbed it between his fingertips before doing the same thing to the edge of his tunic. Zaren didn’t understand his words, but the surprise in his voice was clear enough.

  “Yeah, it’s dry,” she said, smiling. “The miracles of artificial fabrics.”

  She shoved the bit of fabric inside her pocket. It was bad enough that she was having unauthorized contact with a native, she couldn’t leave anything behind. Her eyes widened at the thought and she looked back at the river. From the bank, she could see how fast it flowed. Her seat and parachute were long gone. Those, she would have to abandon. She was lucky enough to have survived; trying to fish out her belongings would have been suicide.

  Looking around, she tried to orientate herself. It proved much more complicated a task while in the middle of a dense forest than when she had been above it. The direction of the river’s flow gave her a small idea about which way to go, but she had no clue how far away the shuttle had fallen.

  Trying not to be discouraged, she looked at Kris. He was observing her every move with rapt interest.

  “Did you see my shuttle fall?” she asked again. “Shuttle?”

  Feeling a bit silly, she raised her arms and batted them awkwardly like a bird before pointing up at the sky.

  “Shuttle. It flies.” She batted her arms again. “It’s silver. It fell down the sky.” She pulled her sleeve from her pocked again, bunched it up and threw it in the air, pointing at it as it fell to the mossy ground. “See? It fell like this.” She glanced at Kris, who was giving her a completely bewildered look. She sighed. “And I don’t know why I’m standing here babbling at you when clearly you don’t understand a word of what I say.”

  Kris picked up her sleeve. Rather than handing it back to her, he folded it this way and that, creating a long form with small triangles sticking out horizontally by its tail. He looked up at Zaren, an eyebrow raised questioningly as he said something. Zaren blinked, her hopes suddenly renewed.

  “Yes! That’s my shuttle! Did you see it?”

  She pointed at her eyes, then at the representation of the shuttle again. Kris tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling of branches high above them; only a little bit of sky was visible beyond it. Then he looked at the river, before turning his eyes to the forest around them. He didn’t seem to know which way the shuttle was, Zaren thought dejectedly.

  She picked the bit of fabric from his open palm and looked at it, thinking. Maybe if she found a way to get some height, she could manage to orient herself. She turned her eyes to the closest tree. How hard could it be to climb it, she wondered, and tried not to think about what would happen if she fell.

  “Shutel?”

  She froze at the hesitant word and returned her full attention to Kris. He was pointing in the direction where she had thought the shuttle might have fallen.

  “My shuttle?” she said, reining in her excitement. “It’s this way? You saw it fall?”

  He repeated the word again, this time pronouncing it a little better. He was still pointing at the forest. Zaren pointed at herself, then at him, then at the same direction he was indicating. “Can you take me there? Can you help me find my shuttle?”

  One last time, he repeated the word “Shuttle,” then took a few steps forward, looking at Zaren as though to invite her to come with him.

  She beamed at him. “Thank you.”

  He returned her smile and they started into the forest together.

  * * * *

  The first few minu
tes were intensely frustrating. Zaren kept talking and looking around her, but none of it made sense to Kris. She did seem to repeat one word several times. It had to be important. He watched her mime something—flying? Could she shift, too? Did she want him to shift to his bird form now?—and point to her torn sleeve as it dropped to the ground. It caught a stray bit of sunlight and gleamed, just like the flying thing had when it had disappeared beyond the forest.

  Inspiration struck in a flash. Was that what she was talking about?

  He picked up the silver fabric and folded it into the flying object’s shape. Her face lit up. It was what she wanted. It was that… shuttle thing she kept mentioning. It had to be. At least now he knew what to do. He’d lead her to it.

  He pointed the way and they started in that direction. He kept an eye on her for the first few minutes. She wore strange, flat shoes that weren’t suited for a trek through the woods. He slowed down his step to accommodate hers and thought about what he was doing. At this pace, it would take them two or three days to get out of the forest and reach the swamps that bordered the Ushias’ territory where he had lost sight of the shuttle. Three days should be enough for him to figure out what he would do then.

  But three days were a very long time for Elea in her condition. He’d hoped to go back from his journey as quickly as he could; this had definitely not been in his plans.

  “Kris.”

  He stopped and looked back at the sound of his name. Zaren was leaning against a tree, her breathing fast and heavy. Clearly, she needed to rest. Maybe angels were used to flying but not to walking through the woods.

  He looked up toward the sky. He couldn’t see the sun, but judging by the brightness filtering through the branches, it had to be past noon. Maybe they could stop for a while, rest and have some food.

  He pointed at several large rocks on the ground. “We could camp here for a while.”