Spark (Legends of the Shifters) (22 page)

On
our own from this point on, Roland led me past the girls’
dorms, past the arena, and past the survival tents until we were
walking on the bare, snowy terrain. Our footprints blemished the
clear face of the snow. Roland looked at me guiltily. “It’s
slow now, but once we hit ocean, we'll be a lot faster.”

I
shrugged. I didn't care. I was happy that the school was behind us.
“I don’t mind so much,” I said. “Even if the
entire journey went at this pace, I wouldn’t mind.”

He
smiled at me. “Oh, you would after a while. We humans have a
habit of being discontent. Even freedom, after a while, can get
tiring.”

“
I
guess I should enjoy it while it lasts,” I replied.

He
was silent as he looked ahead.

We
walked on the flat ground for perhaps an hour, and then the land
started to slope downward. It got steeper and steeper. We could smell
salt and fish in the air. “We’re getting closer to the
ocean,” Roland said.

Then,
all of a sudden my foot slipped out from underneath me.

Roland
tried to catch me, but he reacted too slowly. I plowed down the
slope, my heart thumping violently, and then, all of a sudden, I was
falling. The smell of the sea was stronger than ever. I looked down.

Below
me, white waves crashed against the russet rocks. I didn’t know
if I could make it, but I changed into my second form as quickly as I
could. In a panic, I flung my wings out to catch myself. Icy spray
splashed at my talons and feathers, sending chills up my spine. I had
caught myself just in time.

I
gained altitude, and looked back in search of Roland. I had expected
him to be watching from the top of the cliff, but he wasn't. Dread
filled me as I watched him plummeting toward the sea.

I
hurriedly circled back, but there was no way I could catch him in
time. He plunged into the freezing waves. As far as I could tell, he
hadn’t landed on any rocks, so I searched for any sign of his
tossing body.

I
shrieked and flung myself upward when a giant head burst out of the
sea, scales shining like copper in the mid-morning sun. Jagged spikes
lined its spine and its fangs were hooked and sharp like a snake’s.
Despite its threatening appearance, I recognized the same mischievous
glint in its eyes that Roland had. I was so relieved that I missed a
wing beat and wavered for a moment in midair. Roland’s form
straightened out, longer than I thought was possible. In order to
swim, he dove his head in the water and made the rest of his body
follow suit. Then, while the other half of his body was still under
the sea, he plunged back onto the surface and repeated the process.

I
stayed back a ways so that I could watch him. He was the most
majestic thing that I had ever seen. True to his word, he was very
fast, mostly because of his monstrous size.

The
ocean stretched out as far as the eye could see, but my eyes hungered
for more. I wanted to see past the horizon. I wanted to explore lands
that I'd never had the chance to see before.

What
would they look like? I was only used to the barren landscape of the
Crescent Isles. Or at least the northern tip of my island. Perhaps
the lower islands had the same climate as the Isle of Ginsey, known
to have five months, rather than three, of summer. I wouldn't know. I
don't travel much.

To
conserve my energy, I would get as high as I could, and soar, pointed
slightly downward for speed. For the longest time, I wasn’t
tired, but gradually, my wings were loaded down with more and more
weight, especially the one that I'd broken. I hadn’t eaten
anything all day.

Roland
was probably stuffed from seawater and some unfortunate fish that
wandered into his path. He’d no doubt had a feast of them by
now.

It
was late afternoon when I finally saw land. I let out a loud,
piercing cry and forged forward. I was definitely winded b
y
the time I landed. Sand spayed up into my eyes because of the clumsy
landing, and I had to change form to wipe it away.

I
turned to watch as Roland transformed back into himself. I hadn’t
noticed that he was tired when he was a sea serpent, but in first
form, his face was slack and his eyes were dull as he stumbled onto
the shore. The outfit he wore was the same color that his scales had
been, and form fitting, like the outfit of an acrobat.

I sat
down on the ground with my head resting on my knees, waiting for my
breath to stop coming in gasps. The temperature felt at least fifteen
degrees higher than what it had felt like at the conservatory. There
wasn't even snow here yet.

Roland
collapsed next to me, breathing even harder than I was.

“
Are
you okay?” I asked.

He
nodded without speaking.

I
waited for for a few minutes before questioning, “Where are
we?”

“
Seahorse
Island,” Roland answered, still breathing hard.

“
Is
the mainland very far away?” I inquired.

He
sat up, and looked out at the ocean. “It’s too far away
for you to fly there. We’ll have to board a ship.”

I
groaned. “How long will that take?”

“
Well,
we only have to be on it until we get halfway there, so I’d say
that it would take a week at least.” Roland paused to look
around the island. “I believe there is a city a few miles away.
We could buy a room at the inn there.”

“
Two
rooms,” I corrected automatically.

Roland
laughed, standing up to brush his pants off. “Of course. I
wouldn’t have it any other way.”

My
cheeks burned red. I hoped that I hadn't implied anything.

I
followed him into the forest and we walked on for half an hour before
we came to a small village, smaller even than the one that I was
from. “A city?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He
wrinkled his brow. “Well, it
has
been a while since I made this
journey…but we can probably still find an inn here.”

“
I
think I’d rather stay in a village anyway,” I said. “I’ve
never been to a city before.”

“
I
like the city better,” he said. “There are so many more
things that you can do…so many possibilities.”

I
shook my head. “Then you’re a lot different from me,”
I said. “I prefer places with a small population. It just seems
safer."

“
I
understand that,” he said. “My mother was the same way.
We lived near a city on the southern isles, called Redrune. Mother
would always stay home to garden or cook or do laundry. I wished that
she would come with me into town, but she never did. The only time
she ever went was her occasional trip to the market.”

I was
curious to know what his life had been like before he came to the
conservatory. “What was your father like?” I questioned.

“
Father?
He's nice enough as long as we do what he says. I don’t know
him as well as Mother because he's always out to sea.”

“
Do
you have any siblings other than your sister?” I asked,
remembering the time when he'd told me that his sister had just had
her baby.

He
nodded. “Yes. I have three brothers. The youngest of them is
seven years older than me, so it was hard to establish a steady
relationship with them. Nowadays, we write to each other, but only on
rare occasions.”

I
found myself imagining things about Roland’s life, wishing that
I could've had a large family. I could picture a thin woman with her
son’s black hair and soft brown eyes. She was in a chair,
knitting some socks while her young son played with blocks or slept
in the cradle that his siblings had used before him.

“
Do
they ever visit?”

“
My brothers
don't very often, but my sister lives in the same city as us.”

“
And
why don't your brothers?” I pressed.

“
Jake
was a wolf and got a job in the king's castle, and Brent was a stag.
They've always had a strong relationship with each other, so Brent
moved to the castle with him to get a job as a sentinel. When my
other brother turned into a wolf a few years after that, Jake had
good connections and got him a job at the king's castle.”

We
were silent. I watched the smoke coming out of the chimneys, twisting
and spiraling upward until it disappeared. The smell of smoke mingled
with the mouth-watering smell of freshly baked bread.

Roland
started off down a path. “I remember this village now,”
he said. “These people are famous for their cooking.”

As
soon as we entered the village limits, I noticed people watching us.
There were children peering through windows and women that stared.
Then, in a blur of motion, we were suddenly surrounded with people,
flaunting their merchandise shamelessly. Jewelry, blankets, coats.
One man even pushed a horse in our direction. Roland declined them
all, but he did ask one woman a question. “Is there an inn in
this village?”

She
nodded. “Just around the corner. It has a sign that says
Hayman’s Tavern, so you can’t miss it.”

Roland
thanked her, and we pushed through the crowd of people. Thankfully,
the tavern wasn’t very far off. The sign was previously held up
with two metal chains, but one of them had snapped, and the sign now
hung vertically, creaking in the wind, its letters worn and faded.

Roland
ignored it, but I studied it with suspicion. Inside, it smelled like
dust, old food, and alcohol. A grizzled man sat at the bar with a
glass emptied of ale in front of him. He looked up as the bell above
the door rang.

When
he saw that he had customers, he stood quickly and hurried behind the
bar, placing the glass under the counter as if we hadn’t
already noticed it. “Could I interest you in a drink? Some
stew? Some bread?”

“
Yes
to all of those,” answered Roland. “And we also would
like a room, please.”

With
a pronounced limp, the man hurried to a doorway, covered by an old,
dingy tapestry. “Rema!” he called.

A
plump woman scurried out from behind the curtain, a wooden spoon
grasped in her stubby fingers. “Yes? What is it, you old coot?”
She shut up as soon as she saw us. “Goodness gracious!”
she said. “We’ve got company!” She turned her gaze
back at the man. “Why didn’t you say so, Roger?”
She hit him with the wooden spoon and hurried back into the room that
she came from.

Roger
grimaced. He looked at us apologetically. “One room or two?”
he asked.

“
Two,”
I answered quickly.

He
limped closer to us and reached under the counter to pull out two
keys. Then he led us up a flight of stairs and into a narrow hallway.
I noticed why he was limping as soon as I saw his leg, or the lack
thereof. He had a wooden stump, starting at mid-shin. We shuffled
along behind him, slowly because of the man’s disability.

“
Your
rooms are numbers three and four. Numbers one and two are quarters
for our live-ins. Probably the only reason why this place is still
running,” he grunted.

He
handed us both a key, me the 3 and Roland the 4, and then hobbled
back down the hallway to see about the things downstairs.

Roland
and I opened our rooms and inspected them. Mine was dusty, with
cobwebs in the corners, on the bedframe, and underneath the chair
that was placed in front of a vanity. The mirror was caked with
grime. I brushed at it with my fingertips, and they came away almost
black. I flopped on the bed, sending billows of dust flying into the
air. I coughed and hurried to get away before any more of it could
get in my lungs.