Sianim 02 - Wolfsbane

sent her tearing off after Gerem, she took the time to change. The goose would be faster gliding down the stairs than the icelynx would be since the stone offered no grip to claws.
    “What the—” croaked Kisrah as he sat up in time to witness the last part of the change.
    “After him,” she said, and took flight.
    By now, Gerem was already down the stairs. He didn’t bother with the more polite methods of getting to the stables but threw the bolts on the shutters of a window and jumped through.
    He’s going to break a leg doing that, thought Aralorn. The window might be waist high inside the keep, but it was better than half a story higher on the outside. Closing her wings, she darted through the open window after him.
    Hurry, said the wind’s unwelcome voice. Death is waiting.
    Let it wait, then, she thought.
    She’d overshot Gerem and was close to the stables before she could turn around. Goose wings were meant for great sweeping turns, not falcon-quick maneuvering. Especially a domestic goose that had to work far too hard to fly. She started to turn back when she saw the howlaa.
    It waited in front of the stables in the moonlit courtyard, the wind carrying its scent away from the sensitive noses of the horses in the stables. She thought about how unexpectedly the last howlaa had come upon her and wondered if it could control the wind and keep its scent from prey.
    The dead one’s mate, said the wind, as clearly as if someone were whispering into her ears. Dream-called and hungry for blood.
    Closer, she could see differences between this one and the one she’d killed before. Its mane was longer and darker, with red as well as yellow tints. Its eyes, though, were the same, crystal so deep she could drown in its depths.
    Spelled, she thought. It had magic to compel its victims to meet its eyes. It wasn’t just stupidity on her part that had let her be caught by the first howlaa.
    Called by the howlaa, she let herself get too close. Only when it moved was she able to break the hold of its eyes. It rose to its hind legs with lethal swiftness and struck. Aralorn tucked her wings and dove to the ground, avoiding the crushing blow by a margin so slim as to be nonexistent.
    The wind laughed alternately in thunderous then high tones that hurt her ears. Wind-touched, it said. Howlaa bait. How could you think to approach it unnoticed?
    Gerem ran into the courtyard. He dropped his knife and looked at the howlaa. It returned his look, freezing him where he stood. Ignoring Aralorn, it took a step forward, then cried out in the chilling, whining tones she’d heard before.

    Alone, so alone without the harmonies its mate provided. She wanted to find the one who brought them to this cursed place and rip his mind away, but the caller was too strong and could not be disobeyed. This child must die first.
    Aralorn launched herself from the ground, changing in midflight to her own human form. When she dropped, she landed on the howlaa, much as she had its mate—and this time she had Ambris instead of her knives.
    But the howlaa dropped as soon as Aralorn touched her, rolling agilely on the cold ground, making Aralorn scramble to get off it in time without coming within reach of the creature’s talons. She wasn’t wholly successful.
    Blood poured down her arm as she backed away rapidly, and she’d lost Ambris; the sword lay on the ground behind the howlaa. It was easily within Gerem’s reach, but her brother hadn’t moved since he’d come to the courtyard. The howlaa stood between Aralorn and her brother—between Aralorn and the sword.
    Well, she thought wryly, at least she had its attention. Without a weapon, she wasn’t going to hold its attention long—not unless it was hungry. But—there was help in the stables. She gave a long, shrill whistle as she backed up one slow step, then another.
    She was grateful for every second she’d shaved off the time it took to change to icelynx form, for as soon as the howlaa realized what she was doing, it charged.
    Aralorn’s vision was still trying to adjust to the difference between human and cat when the howlaa was upon her. She barely managed to avoid the howlaa’s swipe by running underneath it and out the other side. This put her on the right side of the howlaa to retrieve her sword if she wanted to take human form. She hesitated and decided not to risk changing again. It was just possible that the icelynx would have a better chance than a human bearing a sword. As