A Cast of Shadows: An Araneae Nation Story Read online

  “I said shoo.”

  It lunged and bit the hem of my pants, tugging until fabric tore.

  “Hey, stop that.” I pushed it back, and this time the force rolled it onto its side.

  The pup thought that was great fun, so it barked and charged again.

  “Fine.” I stood and gathered my things. “You’ll tire of following me eventually.”

  I hoped.

  Curiosity lured me down to where the males’ footprints cluttered the sandbar. Blood soaked the ground, mixed with yellow grains and turned them orange. Straining my eyes, I searched for clues. What I spotted was a tuft of fur bobbing in the water as the current swept it away. As loud as the splash had been, there must be a body. Could it be…? I glanced at the pup gnawing on the heel of my boot, and my gut churned with certainty. Two canis killed and butchered in one night.

  One pup left with no mother to guide it home come morning.

  Guilt nibbled at my conscience. The pack would hear the pup and claim it. Wouldn’t they? It had fled Mimetidae land, no doubt thanks to the hunters, but did such boundaries matter to canis?

  I wasn’t sure.

  I was less sure I wanted to encounter those hunters while traveling alone.

  The serenity I had experienced up until I was discovered on Mimetidae land vanished. In its place was the cold certainty my father was right. I should have stayed home. Not because I was a female. Plenty of females took care of themselves fine. I, however, had no skills not meant to put food in my stomach, clothes on my back, or to provide shelter. If I had stayed home, not forever, but long enough to learn how to use my spears and nets as weapons, I wouldn’t be so anxious now.

  Chilled despite the sun beating down on me, I slipped into the forest. Trees gave me cover to wander as I considered my options. Returning home was out of the question. I had no wealth and no husband to show for my trials, yet, and I would not face my father or my clan empty-handed.

  I relished the eventuality of saying to Father I was right too much to be proven wrong.

  If I traveled west, I would intersect the Salticidae clan’s lands, and they were allied with my people. Their clan home would be a welcome sight. I could visit friends in the city and forget about the peculiar Mimetidae and his canis.

  Urgent barks made me pause. The pup bounded toward me with its tongue lolling and its tail wagging, happy to have made a friend. For reasons I couldn’t fathom, I let it catch up to me, scooped it up and stared into its eyes. It rested its paws over my heart, and I swear it smiled when I scratched under its chin. My resolve softened, but it didn’t melt. I couldn’t raise this pup.

  But I knew someone who could.

  Grief made Brynmor’s steps heavy as he returned to the den after an unsuccessful hunt. The area swarmed with pack members, all clustered near Errol with their ears perked and expressions alert. Dread urged Brynmor to pick his way closer to the center as he waited for Errol’s attention.

  “I trust you had no more luck than I did.”

  “I found blood.” Brynmor sighed. “Too much blood for one canis, even mutilated as Scipio was.” Urgent yips from the others made him wince. “What’s wrong? Did you find something?”

  “It’s Karenna,” Errol said through their link. “She and her pup are missing.”

  Brynmor sank to the ground and put his face in his hands. “She might have taken Jana to the upper den. If Scipio left her and Jana alone, Karenna’s priority would have been Jana’s safety.”

  “Scipio would not have left the den—or his mate—unguarded.”

  “A hunter might have found the den.” It was the only possibility that made sense. “If Scipio thought the hunter was getting too close, he would have left his mate to lure the threat from her.”

  “If that was the case, then Karenna should have remained here.”

  “I agree.” Brynmor hated to admit, “Perhaps we’re dealing with more than one hunter.”

  It was midday. If neither female had been spotted, Brynmor feared their chances of survival were thin. He kept his concern quiet. Errol could read or discard it through their bond as he liked.

  Errol’s voice held a trace of pride. “It would take more than one Araneaean to outwit Scipio.”

  Nodding in agreement, Brynmor added, “He was a good brother to us all.”

  “He was.” A pause lingered between them. “He was my blood brother.”

  Brynmor blinked. He hadn’t realized that. After living together for so long, the pack smelled much the same. The brothers hadn’t resembled one another. Each canis differed in coloring and temperament. Errol lacked Scipio’s white paw and Scipio had lacked Errol’s spirit and his vigor.

  “Then I’m doubly sorry for your loss.” There was nothing more he could say.

  Errol bobbed his head once before angling his snout upward to pinpoint the sun’s location.

  Precious few hours remained before nightfall. “What would you have us do?”

  He turned pensive. “You found no scent trail?”

  “No.” Brynmor tapped alongside his nose. “The hunters are covering their tracks well.”

  “Why would they bother?” a familiar voice had Errol’s lips curling away from his teeth.

  “Daraja,” Brynmor breathed. He fisted Errol’s scruff before twisting around.

  “That is my name.” She inclined her head. “I still don’t have yours.”

  She held a spear in one hand and a wiggling pup in the other. Jana.

  “She has Jana.” A growl choked Errol. “What has she done with Karenna?”

  “Why did you come back?” Did the female lack all sense of self-preservation?

  “I was on my way…” Her sentence drifted unfinished. “It doesn’t matter where, the point is, I was at the river when two males arrived and pitched something in the water.” Color rose in her cheeks. “I admit it, I was hiding. I didn’t see them or see what they did, but there was blood near their footprints in the sand and I saw a body in the river.” She hefted Jana. “And there was this.”

  His worst fears were realized. “Can you lead us to where you found the pup?”

  “It would put me headed back in the right direction.” Daraja shrugged. “I suppose I could.”

  Loosening his fingers a fraction, Brynmor tugged on Errol’s fur to get his attention. “I know you don’t trust Daraja, but she did return Jana. If we hurry, we might find Karenna in time to—”

  “It would be too late. If Karenna lived, she would be the one carrying her pup into our midst and not this female.” Errol vibrated under his hand. “Karenna may be past saving, but Jana…”

  “The pup is not in need of saving.” Brynmor leaned back so Errol got an eyeful of Jana nipping Daraja’s chin as Daraja laughed and spluttered. “It looks like Jana has made a friend.”

  “So it seems.” He relaxed a bit. “Karenna must have hidden Jana before the hunters came.”

  Brynmor agreed. “Jana wouldn’t be so playful if she knew about her mother or father.”

  “It seems I owe the female a debt of gratitude,” Errol groused. “I will not harm her.”

  “He looks less inclined to rip out my throat,” Daraja said. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

  Amusement tugged at the corners of Brynmor’s mouth. “Despite the fact you returned to this land after I warned you not to trespass again, you did save Jana. For that I am thankful. So is he.”

  “I didn’t save her.” Daraja ruffled the fur on top of Jana’s head. “I just let her tag along.”

  Since she seemed uncomfortable with his praise, Brynmor didn’t push the matter.

  “I don’t suppose you overheard anything that might help us identify the hunters?” he asked.

  “They didn’t say much.” Her lips pursed. “They mentioned being home before dawn.”

  “Gods damn them.” Brynmor scowled. “I had wondered…”

  “Ah. I see.” Daraja’s gaze sharpened. “You think the hunters are Mimetidae.”

  He stare
d at her.

  “Cathis is the nearest city,” she explained. “If the hunters expected to be home before dawn, after a night of hunting, it’s the most logical choice.” While his frown deepened, she elaborated, “You mentioned the males covered their scent tracks. I assume that also includes the kill sites?”

  “Kill site.” He gestured she should continue.

  “If the canis are as precious to your paladin as you say,” she said, pausing to set Jana on the ground, “and punishment is death for killing one, then these hunters will ensure no one can track them or find the carcasses until after they’ve been processed. They’re being very, very careful.”

  “Caution won’t save them.” Errol would exact his revenge. “Even if we can’t recover Karenna from the river, linking the hunters to the death of one canis is enough to see them both hanged.”

  “You say we…” she glanced around, “…but do you mean that as in him or me?”

  Brynmor should have lied, ignored her question or said anything except, “I meant you.”

  “That’s not what I agreed to.” She took a stumbling step back. “I’ll show you where I found the pup, but that’s all. I don’t have time to help you trap hunters. It’s not my problem. I’m sorry.”

  Now that she had planted the idea of working with him in his mind, Brynmor was unable to let it go, to let her go. “Trap, you said?” His voice turned persuasive. “I heard Deinopidae weave the finest nets in the whole of the Araneae Nation. The one you used on Errol was impressive.”

  Pink suffused her cheeks. “It was a simple net meant for catching salmo.”

  “Yet it caught a canis.” Brynmor released Errol. “Could you manage a stronger, larger one?”

  “Of course I could, but—”

  “Excellent.” Brynmor stood and approached her. “You will be compensated for your efforts.”

  “As much as compensation appeals to me, I haven’t agreed to do more than act as a guide.”

  “Linger here a while longer,” he coaxed. “Help see that justice is served.”

  “You chased me off this land.” Daraja measured him with a stare. “What has changed?”

  He spread his hands. “I need your help.”

  “Again so soon?” She snorted. “At least you’re honest.”

  He trailed a finger down Daraja’s arm, marveled at the softness of her skin, the way her eyes widened and breath hitched. How long had it been since he had a female? Decades since his wife bore his touch. Years longer since she wanted him in her bed, if she ever really had. Even now he was unsure how much of his marriage to Isolde had been genuine and how much of her affection had been a role she played. Gods above, he had craved her beauty, her charm, her wit…her love.

  The fire in his blood when he saw Daraja was reminiscent of that same instant fascination.

  Daraja slapped his hand. “Keep those to yourself.”

  Shaking free of the past, he cleared his throat. “Will you stay?”

  She studied him. “How do I know you won’t change your mind again?”

  Such assurances were beyond his making. “Perhaps your reward will persuade you?” When her lips parted, he said, “I still owe you for your earlier assistance with Errol. Let me repay you now.”

  Her eyes glittered with mischief. “What is a net of mine worth to you?”

  “I am not so ignorant of females that I would answer your question and still expect to remain in your good graces.” He began to walk. “Too low a price on your work, and I have insulted you. Too high a price, and you will use my excess as an excuse to sneak off at your first opportunity.”

  “You have a rather low opinion of me.” She sounded close, as if she were on his heels.

  Good. He hoped she would follow. Brynmor picked up his pace. “It’s what I would do.”

  “Ah.” She chuckled. “Am I to assume then that you have a rather high opinion of yourself?”

  Paladins, the worthy ones, were revered by their people. That adoration made it difficult not to develop an inflated sense of self-worth. Brynmor certainly once had a high opinion of himself.

  Death had shattered his illusions. Nothing disillusioned a male quite like the end of his life.

  The bitter reminders of his death, of his wife, drained his pleasure from their conversation.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” Daraja said after a while.

  “You didn’t.”

  She grasped his arm. “What is that? I can feel rumbling through the soles of my feet.”

  He led her through a copse of trees, drinking in the wonder on her face as she realized where they were. A river-fed waterfall plummeted from the narrow cliffs over their heads to froth in the shallow basin. “You look surprised.” He leaned in close enough to catch her floral scent. “Well?”

  Her head fell back, and he admired the gentle curve of her neck as she absorbed the splendor of this place. “All that time I spent in the woods, I had no idea what I was missing… It’s lovely.”

  “My father brought me here as a boy.” He pointed to a flat rock overhanging the basin. “We sat there and talked about all the things fathers tell their sons. We spoke of females, of wars, of a day when our clan would possess the wealth and status it deserved. Coming here was our secret.”

  Her smile widened. “I can see why you cherish this place.”

  “In the spirit of sharing secrets…” Brynmor toed off his boots and rolled his pants up to his knees. “There’s something I would like to show you.” He held out his hand. “Will you come?”

  Daraja glanced around and seemed to notice they were alone. Her hand tightened around her spear. She glanced from the waterfall to the forest and back, then to him as if expecting trickery.

  With a sigh that rang of defeat, her deliciously calloused hand closed over his.

  Forget the canis; this male was the most dangerous creature in the woods. Black eyes ringed with sadness, dark hair tousled by his hands. His thin lips pressed tight as if guarding a mouthful of secrets. Before we ventured any farther, I was determined to pry at least one secret from him.

  I used my grip on his hand to keep him still. “What is your name?”

  He didn’t answer, but he did begin toeing the rocks at his feet.

  “I won’t give you time to think of a lie.” I warned, “Tell me your name or I will leave.”

  He glanced up slowly, seeming to have made a decision. “My name is Brynmor.”

  “That sounds familiar.” I thought it over. “Wasn’t that the name of a Mimetidae paladin?”

  “It was, once.” He used our joined hands and led me to the basin. He climbed in first.

  I braced on his shoulders to avoid slipping on mossy stones. “You were named after him?”

  “Not exactly.” He grasped my hips and lifted me over the ledge.

  My toes curled when they touched the calf-deep water. “It’s cold.”

  I caught him staring where my nipples beaded beneath my shirt. He said, “I can see that.”

  I gave the front of his pants a frank assessment. “Pity I can’t tell if you were affected.”

  His eyes shot open wide and his lips parted, but he didn’t utter a sound.

  “It’s all right.” I patted him on the shoulder and waded past him to hold my hand beneath the waterfall’s spray. “You aren’t the first male to suffer the ill effects of icy water on his…pride.”

  His gaze bored into my back. “I assure you, my pride has not been affected.”

  “Of course not.” I smothered my grin as I turned to face him. “Now, why are we—?”

  Brynmor’s face was inches from mine. His scowl lined his forehead and mouth. He stalked me back until I hit a stone ledge and a torrent of water soaked me from shoulder to toe. “It’s not wise to tempt a male who might see your flirtation as an invitation for more.” He bent down, and his soft lips feathered across my cheek. “Do you want more, Daraja?” He fit his hips to mine, and I gasped at the hard ridge of flesh he pressed against me. �
��I didn’t think so. Come on.”

  He left me panting against the falls, asking myself, What in the gods’ names was I thinking?

  Never one to shy away from who or what I wanted, when had I decided I wanted him?

  One day my penchant for rebellion would land me in an early grave. How often had Father said so? If I wasn’t careful, the desire to explore the tingles burning my skin where Brynmor had touched me would land me in his bed. Dangerous to crave a male I had just met. No doubt that was the source of his appeal.

  Before trailing after him, I ducked my head under the falls and prayed the rushing water would beat some sense into me. Let him think that was why my cheeks were flushed and I was breathless.

  While shaking the water from my hair, I heard soft laughter and spotted him watching me.

  Fresh heat burned in my cheeks.

  “Are you ready now or should I make myself comfortable?” he asked.

  “I’m ready.” I straightened my shoulders. “What is it you wanted to show me?”

  “There is only one way out of Cathis, unless you go over or under the walls.” He stared into the forest. “The Mimetidae keep their prisoners in a grotto beneath the city. There’s a tunnel used for transportation and…private liaisons…near here.” He grinned at my surprise. “What’s another secret between friends? Besides you don’t strike me as the type to go about liberating prisoners.”

  I shook my head. “My clan has plenty without me borrowing more from the Mimetidae.”

  “Most clans do,” he agreed, bending to examine a pile of smooth stones.

  Leaning over his shoulder, I asked, “Do you find stones so interesting?”

  Amusement deepened his voice. “Not so much the stones as what they conceal.”

  Ah. Our outing began to make more sense. “You have a cache hidden here.”

  “I do.” He shook out his arms. “Give me room.”

  “Why?” I backed up a step. “What are you doing?”

  “Must you question everything?” He sounded as if he didn’t mind my curiosity.

  So I said, “Yes.”

  I believe he muttered about the inquisitiveness of the young or some such nonsense. If I had to guess, I bet his age was within five years of mine, so he was hardly an authority to lecture me.