The Captive Shifter (Magic of Claddare Book 1), page 1
Copyright 2017 by Jean D. Walker
This book is a work of fiction. The names, places, characters and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Cover Art by Fiona Jayde
DEDICATION
To my daughters Valerie and Elizabeth,
my brother David and my best friend Daniel
for all their encouragement and support!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Julie C and the E-book Formatting Fairies!
THE CAPTIVE SHIFTER
(MAGIC OF CLADDARE BOOK 1)
CHAPTER ONE
Caitlyn let the caravan master do the arguing on her behalf, although she wanted to reach through the bars of the city gate, grab the officious man standing in her way and shake him. Such a simple request—open the gate, glance at her papers and let her go on my way. It lacked but half an hour till sunset and the captain of the guard at the ancient city’s portal wasn’t inclined to allow a long caravan to pass so late in the day.
Lazy bastard. She eyed him, tempted to use some of her magic to influence him but inner caution held her back. This was the city of witches and magic. She needed to go slowly displaying her abilities. Calm down, breathe. None of this will go as I hope if I let myself show anger. Caitlyn sucked in a deep breath of the damp air and stood straighter, adjusting her hood to keep the autumn drizzle off her face.
“Camp on the meadow across the river,” the captain said from the other side of the gate, addressing the caravan master. “Return in the morning.”
Glancing at Caitlyn, the old man shook his head. “I’ve told you, one of my passengers is an applicant, identified by the queen’s Searchers. She must be at the palace tonight, for the welcoming ceremony. She can’t wait until morning or risk losing her place in this year’s Trial.”
As she edged closer to the arched entryway to get out of the increasing rain, impatience burned along Caitlyn’s nerves. Why did a petty tyrant have to be her final obstacle after the long journey? The caravan master was right; she did have to be at the palace tonight. After three weeks of slow travel from her home in the South it was especially galling to be so close to missing the deadline. To literally stand on the threshold of her destination and be refused entry was unbelievably frustrating. All right, honeyed words first, then there’s nothing for it but to unleash a taste of magic on him. Pasting a smile on her lips, she stepped forward, allowing her cape to fall open, deliberately swaying her hips a bit. “Please, captain, I’m sure the Witch Queen would appreciate your extra efforts to let me arrive on time. The Searchers told me every woman with power is greatly needed this year,” Caitlyn said, in an effort to cajole him. “How about permitting me past the gate by myself tonight? Admit the entire caravan tomorrow?”
Grinning like a cat toying with a mouse, the officer shook his head emphatically, shaking a finger at her. “Against the rules. We do the entire group or none. Now come back in the morning!”
The caravan master took her elbow, probably to escort her to the waiting wagons. Caitlyn jerked her arm free, ready to summon energy to bespell the officer into giving her entry. Folly to risk using power so soon in this place but he left her no choice. She pushed aside the next worry, about finding her way through the unknown city to the castle.
A new voice entered the conversation. “Is there a problem here?”
Behind the blustering captain, the other soldiers had snapped to respectful attention and were saluting two newcomers. The first gentleman walked forward into the torchlight at the gate proper. He was older than she, dressed in black and burgundy garments projecting a subtle message of wealth and power. Attractive, if one was looking for a bedmate, which she wasn’t. As the second man came into the light Caitlyn took a step back, blinking.
She’d never seen his like before. A shapeshifter? Why would such a rare creature of magic be here? The power surrounding him was palpable to one with her gifts, yet didn’t flare in her second sight as it should. As if the magic was restrained but how could such a thing be possible? Dressed in a uniform similar to the officious gatekeeper’s, this man was clearly a warrior – muscular, handsome, high cheekbones, piercing green eyes, long, unbound sandy blond hair. But why would a shapeshifter be in this dank, gray city? His people ran in the massive forests of the North, where their kind ruled and humans walked at their peril. A city, much less a Court with all its ritual and routine, would be the last place to find such a wild and free spirit.
He returned her gaze with open appreciation. Caitlyn lowered her eyes first.
The captain lost his self-importance as he faced the nobleman who’d spoken. “Begging your pardon, your grace, I didn’t see you there. No problem worthy of your grace’s attention. I’ve told this caravan master he has to wait till morning to clear the gate. It’s too late to check them in today.”
“I see. Captain Nedd, is it?” The Duke’s voice was deceptively soft. He looked at Caitlyn and her companion. “But you believe otherwise, good caravan master?”
“Aye, sir, I do. This lady here has traveled from the south, from Ordlathus, to present herself at Court tonight.” He gestured at Caitlyn.
She pushed her hood back and curtseyed. “If it pleases your grace, my name is Caitlyn and I was chosen by the Queen’s Searchers. I asked the captain if he could permit me to enter the gate alone this evening, if there’s no time to inspect the whole caravan.”
“A reasonable enough request, I should think.” The Duke raised his eyebrows and slapped his riding gloves against his hand as he looked at the captain. Focusing his attention once again on Caitlyn, he said, “First, welcome to our city.” He gestured at the nearest guard. “Raise the gate.” As the man complied and the heavy iron bars creaked upward, his companion leaned forward, speaking to the duke, although his words carried to Caitlyn.
“While you sort this out, Aerrol, I’d best go ahead. Her Majesty isn’t forgiving of those who arrive late.”
“So you can be on time, while I face her wrath.” The noble laughed and punched the shapeshifter in the arm. “Well I’m her kinsman, which will take some of her displeasure away. You go ahead then.”
Bowing, the warrior shot another glance at Caitlyn before striding away.
It was a relief not to have the power of his magic lapping around her ankles like a curious cat any more. Caitlyn gave herself a mental shake and focused on the Duke. She sensed he had a small gift of power but it was buried so deep inside him, she doubted if he even knew it existed. No risk of discovery from him.
“Please, do step inside, where it’s dry,” Aerrol was saying, gesturing for her to enter the now open gate. “As it happens my sister was chosen by Searchers this year as well. I’m taking her to the Palace now in fact. Would you care to ride with us?”
Safely out of the rain, she pushed back the hood of her cloak and curtseyed, unable to believe her good luck. “It’s kind of you to offer, sir, thank you.”
“Then the arrangements are settled.” Aerrol smiled at Caitlyn. “If the captain could bestir himself to glance at your papers, we can be on our way. As my friend Kyler said before deserting us, it’s not advisable to arrive late to an event at the palace.”
“Thank you, your grace,” Caitlyn said. She handed her papers to the fuming captain. While he made a show of leafing through the dog eared file, she shook the caravan master’s hand warmly. “Thank you for your courtesy these past few weeks, sir.”
“We owe you gratitude, mistress, for curing the blight on our oxen after they ate the poison weeds a week ago. I’ll send your horse and trunk to the castle tomorrow, as soon as I can.” The caravan master glared at the captain. “We’ll be lined up at the gate at dawn.”
“There’s at least a half hour till full dark,” the Duke said, frowning. “Captain, proceed with checking the entire caravan. No good reason for making them camp in a soggy meadow. They already crossed the river once, no need to force the poor beasts to make the effort twice more on our account. After all, this is your last night on duty at my gates, Captain Nedd, correct? Aren’t you planning on entering the service of Princess Bradana tomorrow? I’d hate to see your transfer delayed on account of early morning gate traffic. I do have to sign your orders, releasing you from my guards, you know. It could take me weeks if the transfer doesn’t go as planned tomorrow.” He yawned, as if bored by the topic. “So many other important matters demand my attention.”
The captain ground his teeth audibly at the thinly veiled threat but handed Caitlyn’s papers to her. He saluted the Duke and without missing a beat berated his soldiers, yelling at them to start the caravan clearance as if they’d been the problem, not him.
The Duke offered his arm to Caitlyn, who was suppressing a grin with an effort. “I was to meet my sister here, to continue our journey to the castle together. She’ll be waiting in the carriage, this way.”
“Thank you, your grace. I was in some despair what to try next when you arrived,” Caitlyn said as they walked away from the gate. “I can’t miss the ceremony.”
“Thinking of climb
She laughed. Little did he know the mad notion crossed her mind at least once in the last half hour. The feat would have required too much expenditure of magic, given other tests she might face tonight at the palace.
“I’m sorry there’s no time for you to change or even wash the dust of travel off. The welcoming ceremony is beginning in a few minutes. I’ll leave word with the castle seneschal to have your baggage directed to the headmistress of applicants though.” The duke steered her around a puddle.
Holding her skirts out of the muck as best she could, Caitlyn regretted having to appear before the queen and her court in bedraggled condition, but there was nothing to be done. At least she’d beat the deadline, thanks to this man. Returning a year from now to try again wasn’t an option. “I’d no idea people in the city were so welcoming.”
“Not all are, I fear. I do my best to set the tone. And here’s the carriage.”
The ride to the palace was short. Caitlyn had to admit she enjoyed walking into the throne room with the Duke of the City, his mother and sister Susana. Being in such exalted company was much more pleasant than trying to find her own way in this sprawling complex. All doors were opened hurriedly for the Duke’s party. Aerrol and his mother, the Dowager Duchess, left the two women in the appointed gathering spot for applicants and then Caitlyn had only to wait her turn to meet the Witch Queen.
The line of young women moved ever so slowly toward their individual moment under the queen’s gaze. Caitlyn’s bones ached with tiredness from her long journey to reach this place in time, and her head pounded with stress over nearly being refused entry to the city. She studied the throne room as the line inched forward, noting with surprise the tattered and worn state of the tapestries covering the walls. In far too many places the mortar appeared to be crumbling between the great stones making up the wall. A ten times larger than life sized, golden figure of an eagle had been cunningly set into the wall above the throne as if it was hovering over the occupant. The effect would have been more impressive without the obvious spots where the gilt was worn off or tarnishing to an ugly green. Why doesn’t anyone pay attention to these things in such a mighty palace? The Queen certainly has enough staff.
A sharp tug on her sleeve recalled Caitlyn from her speculations. “Don’t fidget so,” Susana said in a hissing whisper. “We’re nearly there.”
A moment later Susana mounted the twelve gleaming black marble stairs, curtseyed in front of the throne and answered low voiced questions from the Queen. Caitlyn watched closely, seeking to learn how this ritual was supposed to go so she wouldn’t embarrass herself more than necessary. Two women sat in slightly smaller thrones on either side, interjecting remarks as the discussion continued. They must be the princesses, Bradana and Ylain.
Caitlyn eyed the guards ranged behind and beside the throne. Most were watching the guests milling about in the crowded room, probably bored with this endless ceremony. One man was staring directly at her, however, and she hastily lowered her eyes. The shapeshifter again. Was she to run into him at every turn? Furious with herself, she realized she was blushing over the obvious appreciation of her form he’d displayed.
She risked a furtive glance at the dais. He continued to study her. Worry threaded itself through her nerves. What if he could sense the many secrets she was hiding? What if he could read her thoughts? Who really knew what powers his kind commanded? Would he say something to the queen? She touched the amulet around her neck and prayed to her goddess for calm. The next few minutes were critical. She had to make a good impression on the Queen. No matter how handsome or unusual the guard was, she couldn’t allow him to distract her. Too much was at stake for her people in the South.
Then the page beckoned her forward as the duke’s sister exited the dais on the other side.
Consulting the tablet he cradled in the crook of his arm, the page squinted and pronounced her name a bit awkwardly. “Caity Lyn of Ordlathus.”
She proceeded up the stairs as gracefully as she could, terrified of slipping on the slick stone, hoping she wasn’t leaving muddy footprints, and then curtseyed. “It’s Caitlyn, your majesty.”
“From Ordlathus? How unusual,” the Witch Queen said, her voice low and melodic. She leaned forward on her throne, looking Caitlyn over from the top of her neatly braided hair to the tip of her scuffed, stained shoes. “We’ve not had an applicant from there in a long time, have we, Ylain?”
“Perhaps never, in fact,” agreed her sister, sitting to the right. She seemed amused by the idea, round, pleasant face dimpling with mirth. “I can’t recall another.”
“Ordlathus doesn’t breed magic,” said the other sister, Bradana, flatly, drumming her fingers on the padded arm of her throne.
“Forgive me, your majesty, but the Searchers did clear me to make the journey,” Caitlyn reminded them. “I passed the basic test.”
“Much remains to be done before you earn a place at this Court, access to this training, bumpkin.” Frowning, Bradana shook a finger at her. Her obvious distaste for Caitlyn’s appearance made her angular face even more harsh and forbidding. “Don’t get above yourself so soon.”
“I’m sorry, your highness.” Caitlyn apologized immediately, dropping another curtsey for good measure. “I’m so happy to be here, it’s all so grand and glorious for a country girl.” She kept her eyes on the eagle mosaic inlay in front of the thrones. The words felt false and wooden on her tongue, probably because they were. She hoped these women were so used to flattery and sycophancy they wouldn’t notice anything amiss about her tone.
“You’re somewhat older than our usual candidate, by at least ten years, I’d judge.” Bradana assessed Caitlyn more closely. Caitlyn made herself stand straight, shoulders back. The Queen’s sister saw entirely too much. Surely it would be unheard of to reject a properly Searched candidate before the testing? She strengthened her mental shields, reinforced her glamourie, and checked her protective spells closely, even as she fended off a push at the edges of her mind, a probe clearly launched by Bradana.
“Don’t scare the poor girl,” Ylain admonished, laying a hand on her sister’s arm. The mental probe snapped off as suddenly as it had begun and Caitlyn pressed her lips together to smother a telltale sigh of relief. Ylain smiled warmly in her direction, apparently unconscious of the byplay on the magical plane. “I’m sure there’s an interesting story here, some compelling reason the Searchers selected her, despite the uh age disparity with our usual requirements. We’re glad to have you here, Caitlyn.”
“Welcome to the Court and to the testing,” the Witch Queen said, apparently satisfied for now or else bored with the topic. “I’ll be interested to see how you progress.” She fished a badge out of the large crystal bowl on the table next to her, handing the brooch to the herald. Stepping forward, he pinned the medallion to the shoulder seam of Caitlyn’s plain green dress.
“You can go,” he whispered. “Curtsey again and exit to the right.”
Heaving a sigh of relief as she backed away, Caitlyn did as she as told. On the way to the stairs at the edge of the dais, she had to pass directly in front of the shapeshifter guard. She dared to glance one more time at him, to find him gazing at her with an odd expression on his handsome face.
Does he pity me for my success in persuading them to let me stay? Before Caitlyn could ponder the guard’s unusual reaction, Susana was grabbing her by the wrist.
“Thank goodness the smile and curtsey ritual is over. What a bore.” The duke’s sister drew Caitlyn headlong into the crush of nobility and other guests, weaving around the small chattering groups with skill. “Come on, we have to meet with the headmistress and we shouldn’t dawdle. She’s going to discuss tomorrow’s trial of power.”
“We certainly need to hear any details she’s ready to share.” Relief flooded over Caitlyn in a cool wave as they left the hot, crowded audience room and walked through a side hallway. The first hurdle in her quest had been cleared. She breathed a quick prayer of thanks to her goddess.
