Sianim 01 - Masques

sword that was not the sword he’d been using in the sparring match. It glowed gently, with a pulsating lavender light.
    The sight of it sent a cold chill up Aralorn’s back as she recognized the weapon for what it was: a souleater. The last of them was supposed to have been destroyed centuries ago—but, she reminded herself grimly, that was storytelling for you: You could only trust it so far.
    Even minor wounds from a souleater could be mortal.
    The section of the ledge that she stood on was just far enough above Edom to be out of the sword’s reach. Crying out an alarm to the camp, she drew her knife and shifted it lightly by the blade in a thrower’s grip. At this distance she didn’t even need to aim, so she had it in the air before he would have been able to see what it was she threw. He certainly shouldn’t have been able to dodge it, but her blade landed harmlessly on the ground behind him.
    The speed of his move told her that he was a much better fighter than he had shown himself to be. Easily good enough that he could have fooled her into thinking him unskilled if he’d wanted to. Darranians being singularly prejudiced against women, she thought, Edom probably simply hadn’t bothered.
    His face, revealed more by the light of the souleater than the modest campfire, appeared older—although that could simply have been an effect of the light. He smiled at her.
    She was unarmed against him. Normally that wouldn’t have worried her, but the souleater made the situation anything but normal. She could only hope to hold out until someone from the camp got there. Preferably lots of someones.
    All the shapes that she could take quickly were suited to her chosen trade as a spy: the mouse, several types of birds, a few insects. Nothing that would hold off an experienced swordsman for long enough to keep both her and Wolf alive.
    She took an apparently involuntary step sideways, away from Edom, and lost her footing. She made sure that the fall carried her past Wolf’s ledge and on down the hill into some brush.
    Edom had two options, either he would follow her down, getting more distance between that sword and Wolf, or he would turn to finish Wolf off—giving her the extra few seconds that she needed. She planned for either—and he turned back to finish his business with Wolf.
    She chose the first form that she could think of; it was deadly, though small. The icelynx had no trouble with the steep climb and launched herself at Edom’s back before he even had his sword raised at Wolf.
    Warned by the brief shadow she caused when she ran in front of the fire, Edom turned—sweeping aside her rush with his sword arm, but not before she raked his back with her formidable claws. Hissing, she faced him as she crouched between him and Wolf, still held captive on the ground.
    Pale sword and paler cat feinted back and forth: she, just out of reach of the lethal blade; he, careful not to expose himself to the poisonous fangs of the icelynx.
    Suddenly, Edom spoke softly as if not to antagonize the cat, though his tone carried anxious desperation. “It’s Aralorn. She’s a shapeshifter, don’t you see it? She’s here to destroy us, betray us. I came up to ask Wolf about something, and I found her here, with Wolf like that. You’ve all heard of the arcane practices of shapeshifters. Help me before she kills him. Quick now.”
    Aralorn didn’t have to look to see what her nose had belatedly informed her. A half dozen armed people from camp had just shown up to rescue the wrong person. They were too far to do anything—yet. It wouldn’t take them long to reach her.
    She couldn’t speak when in animal form without more preparation—which she was too busy to do—and so was without her most formidable weapon.
    Edom continued, even as he tried to maneuver closer to Wolf. “I’ve heard that shapeshifters need to kill when the moon is full. I guess that Wolf, out here alone, seemed an easy victim. I found this sword near, it must be Wolf’s. She seems afraid of it.”
    Aralorn knew that she had to do something before the time to act was gone entirely. If he succeeded, Wolf would be dead. Disregarding the sword, she leapt at his throat while Edom was still distracted by the sound of his own voice.
    She missed as he threw himself flat on the ground. However, Edom managed to nick her with the sword as she passed him. Her rear leg became icily numb and folded underneath her, but worse was the strange sucking