Wizard's Heir (A Bard Without a Star, Book 1) (7 page)

“I’m waiting for Smooth Nose.”

“She has passed through two
cycles and fought off those that would have her,” Long Claw said. “Does she
hope it to be you?”

“That is what she has said.”

“And if she fights you?”

“I will still have her.”

Long Claw sighed. “I am
pleased. Unbonded females can cause strife, and she has been unbonded for much
too long.”

“Will it be soon, do you think?”

“I thought she would be before
Brown Pads, but she is stubborn.”

“As am I,” Gwydion said.

The males went on a hunt again
the next day, and again Gwydion helped to bring down a deer with the pack.
They called to the females, and all but Smooth Nose showed up. “Where is she?”
Gwydion asked Grey Foot, who was Long Claw’s mate.

“Her time has come, Moon Howl,”
Grey Foot said.

“You did not answer the
question, my love,” Long Claw said, coming into the conversation.

Grey Foot looked at Gwydion in
a way that made him want to both stand straighter and slink away in shame at
the same time. Finally she nodded and said, “She told me to tell you: if you
can find her, you can have her.”

Gwydion gave a bark of joy. “And
I shall!” he said, and sped into the woods. He had not missed the look that
Long Claw and Grey Foot had exchanged, that had said so clearly:
puppies
.

He made it back to the camp
quickly, and began sniffing about, but he could not catch the musk that he was
looking for. He began moving in widening circles, but without luck. He sat
back on his haunches, thinking. She had known she was going into heat, and she
had laid her plans. He expected her to go downwind, and maybe cross water.
And perhaps she had not been in heat, yet.

He went back to the camp,
looking for signs of her regular scent. Finding them, he began to follow it
away from the camp in the opposite direction of the hunt. After a few minutes
of tracking her, he began to smell her going into heat. It made it hard for
him to concentrate, but he did. He lost her at the first stream he crossed,
but picked up the trail by ranging up and down the far bank. He crossed two
more streams, with the same results, but when she crossed a fourth stream, he could
find no trace of her on the other side.

He sat down and had a good
scratch while he thought. It dawned on him that since she was trying to make
it challenging, perhaps she had been even trickier than he had expected. He
began searching the near side of the stream, and sure enough, found her scent
ten yards away from where she had entered the water. He was so excited that he
sat and howled. He heard her answering cry fairly close by.

He rushed towards the sound,
and found her waiting for him in a grassy hollow between several large
boulders. “You found me,” she said.

He stopped, suddenly unsure of
himself. “Are you going to attack me?” he asked.

“Why would I?”

“Long Claw said you have done
that to potential mates in the past.”

She came closer to him, and her
scent made him quiver. “It’s true, I have fought in the past,” she said. “But
I have little doubt that you would beat me. So I devised a different test for
you.”

“Did I pass?”

“You found me, didn’t you?”
She rubbed against him until her tail was in his face. Unable to control
himself any longer, he mounted her.

It felt almost as intense as
the mating with the doe, but Gwydion was able to think a little more clearly.
He was especially aware of the change that was happening, a growing connection
with Smooth Nose that went beyond the physical. But the physical could not be
denied, either, and soon enough even the ability to think had passed.

And then it was over. Gwydion
backed away, expecting the same distance to come emotionally as well, but as he
looked at Smooth Nose, he felt more drawn to her than ever. He rubbed up
against her, thinking that he had never seen anyone as beautiful. When she
nuzzled him, he said, “You are my sun and my moon.”

“You are my heart and my soul,”
she replied.

“We shall forever be one.”

“Until the heavens and the
earth pass away.”

“Even beyond that.” She smiled
at that, and he thought his heart would burst with love for her.

They spent three days together,
hunting mice and squirrels when they got hungry. When she told him it was time
to return to the pack, he knew she was right, despite his utter lack of
interest in doing so.

Long Claw greeted them with a
sense of relief. “I was afraid that something had happened that you could not
make it back to Moss Stone Pack,” he said.

Amid all the sniffing and other
greetings, Gwydion said, “There is no other pack and no other leader for us.”
And he was surprised to find that he meant it.

Gwydion joined the males for a
hunt the next day, and as spring turned to summer, he found his life as wolf
dominating. He could think and reason more than when he was a deer, but he did
not bother thinking much about his life at Caer Dathyl. It seemed remote,
unnecessary; he lived in the moment, thinking about the next hunt, or about
finding a suitable den for Smooth Nose to give birth in.

Long Claw watched them both,
and finally approached him. “Smooth Nose grows heavy with pups,” he said. “Soon,
you will need to take her away from here, to a place where she can raise them
in peace.”

“Is there danger in staying?”

“Not directly, but there can be
jealousy and bitterness. It could be worse since Brown Pads is still without a
litter.” He cocked his head. “And I think that now would be a good time to
form a new pack, from a new family.”

Moon Howl stood a moment in
surprise. “Are you sure? I feel unready to be a pack leader.”

“And by yourself, that would be
true,” Long Claw. “But with a mate like Smooth Nose, you will do well.”

“I bow to your wisdom,” Moon
Howl said. “But where do you suggest we go?”

“Go towards the rising sun,”
Long Claw answered. “You will come to a great forest that will feed you and
your mate, and there are hills there like mounds of large rocks. The ground in
between can be dug out, if you are patient.”

“Thank you, Long Claw,” Moon
Howl said. “You lead the pack well.”

“Thank you, Moon Howl. You
will be a great pack leader yourself.”

Moon Howl and Smooth Nose left
that afternoon, and spent three days finding the place Long Claw had spoken
of. The hills were more like cairns for giants, but as Long Claw said, they
were able to dig a den out between two massive boulders, ending up with a dry
cave, well sheltered from both the elements as well as other animals.

Smooth Nose’s time grew closer,
and she rarely left the den. He hunted for her, bringing her his kills. It
took most of his time, but he was happy to do it for her. One morning, Moon
Howl said, “I go to the hunt, my love.”

“Don’t leave,” she said. “I
know my time is near, and I do not want to be alone.”

“You need to eat, for the pups.”

“I am fat from sitting and
doing nothing. I will be fine for a few days.

Moon Howl crouched beside her
and nuzzled her. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I just
don’t want you to leave right now.”

“But how is it different from
any other hunt?”

She licked his paws, not
answering. After a bit, she said, “I worry that you will not return.”

“There are no other large
hunters in the area. Why would I be in danger?”

“It doesn’t feel like danger,
not exactly,” she explained. “I just worry that you will leave, and I will
never see you again.”

“My love,” Moon Howl said, “Nothing
would stop me from returning.”

It took a while, but she
finally relented, and he set off for a spot that had been especially rich
lately. He trotted through the forest, feeling contented despite his mate’s
unease. The feeling lasted up until he was deep in the forest, where the light
was dim and green even at noon. A movement off to his left caught his eye, and
he turned to see something glowing a little ways off. His hackles rose, and he
felt a growl in the back of his throat.

Stiff legged, he walked toward
the unknown glow. As he got closer, he saw the figure of a man, sitting at his
ease about five feet off the ground. The man had a snow white beard and blue
eyes. Moon Howl felt two names come to mind; first, Math, and then Gwydion.

Math said, “It is time to
return to the world of men.”

Moon Howl remembered that
world, and he whined. Math removed a rowan wand from his sleeve, and before
Moon Howl could run, he felt it strike him across the shoulders.

Gwydion knelt on the ground,
feeling disoriented and nauseated. His hands seemed alien, and when Math told
him to stand up, it took an effort to remember the motions necessary. He
swayed as he looked at his uncle.

“It is time to come home,” Math
said.

“This is my home,” Gwydion
said.

Math shook his head sadly. “You
are but a visitor here, a stranger who has sojourned for a season.”

“I have a mate, and pups on the
way.”

“And they will thrive and
prosper, I am sure,” Math said. “But they must do it without you.”

“It’s not fair,” Gwydion said.
Even to himself it sounded like a petulant whine.

Math looked genuinely sad. “When
I was your age, learning these lessons, I felt the same way. The world is not
interested in how we feel about it, however; disappointment is as certain as
death, and sometimes just as bitter.”

“I have to go back to the den,”
Gwydion said.

“She will not recognize you.”

“It doesn’t matter. I know
what I promised to her, that I would return no matter what. I have to know I
kept that promise, even if she does not.”

He turned and began walking,
not even caring if Math was following him. He paused for a moment to get his
bearings; everything looked so different now that he was upright. And unable
to smell.

He made it to the den more by
luck than skill, and peered in. Smooth Nose was licking the caul off of a
small blind pup, and another lay nearby, yawning. She looked up and saw him,
and made a low growl in her throat. He opened his mouth to respond, but could
not think of how to express his feelings from human to wolf.

They stared at each other for
some time. One of the pups, in a fit of exertion, crawled to the lip of the
den and tumbled down to land at Gwydion’s feet. Smooth Nose let out a worried
whine, which only intensified when Gwydion bent and picked up the little blob
of fur and feet. He smoothed the still wet fur on the pup’s head, and lifted
him to look him in the face. The pup yawned and rested his chin on Gwydion’s
thumb. Gwydion kissed his nose, then reached in to set him beside Smooth Nose.

She stopped whining, and after
a quick check on the pup, she looked back at him with a question in her eyes. “Until
the heavens and earth pass away,” he whispered. She thumped her tail twice.

He backed away from the den,
stumbling over the uneven ground. Math was waiting at the bottom of the hill.
“I am ready to go,” Gwydion said.

Math said nothing, only raised
his wand. When he brought it down, the forest swirled into nothingness, which
then became Math’s tower. Goewin still held the old man’s feet, and the
windows still whistled with the winds. And for Gwydion, none of it was even
remotely the same as when he left.

Gwydion spent the rest of the day in a pensive state. His
chambers seemed even more alien than they had the first time, and his
experiences as a wolf kept turning over and over in his mind. It had seemed
more real, more permanent than his time as a deer. He missed his mate, and the
warmth of her body curled next to his in the nighttime. He knew he was human
again, and he felt the bonds dissolving between himself and the pack. It made
him weep in both sorrow and frustration.

Servants brought him food which
he ate without tasting, and when it was too dark to see any longer, he slept.
Bran did not come to his rooms, and Math did not summon him. For three days he
paced, floating in a world somewhere between humans and wolves, unsure of where
he might end up, but on the fourth, he awoke with a clear head. He got
dressed, and went up the stairs to see his uncle.

“What did you learn, nephew?”
Math said.

“Much,” Gwydion said shortly.

“Was it good or bad?” the old
man pressed.

“Both. Neither.” Gwydion shook
his head. “Good and bad aren’t the same to a wolf.”

“But you are a man again.”

“In my physical form, yes. But
something is shaping within me that is new. My time as a stag was
overwhelming, but my time as a wolf was something even more.” He shook his
head again. “I do not know if I still know myself.”

Math leaned back. “Yes, I see.”
He stroked his beard idly. “There is one challenge left. Do you need more time
to assimilate before beginning?”

“I don’t think so,” Gwydion
said, frowning. “I think it would be best to continue, without any more delay.”

“Come forward, then,” Math
said, drawing the wand from his sleeve.

This time, Gwydion strode
fearlessly onto the dais and past Goewin. Stopping at his uncle’s side, he
said, “I am ready.”

The wand descended for the
third time; Gwydion felt the changes come over him, this time compacting his
body into a smaller frame. There was less pain, and he thought he might be
getting used to shapeshifting. His body sprouted bristles and his nose
stretched into a snout. He snorted and grunted a question at his uncle.

“You are a wild boar,” Math
replied. “Now go, and explore.”

The chamber swirled, but
Gwydion found that his mind was clearer than the previous times. He saw the
swirling for the illusion it was, but the glowing portal that opened before him
was real enough. He stepped through it, and onto a greensward lush with early
summer growth.

Gwydion marveled at the new
senses he had acquired in his new shape. His nose was even more sensitive than
it had been as a wolf, and he could feel the power in his muscles that made him
a dangerous foe even to humans. He began to run, and quickly realized one
limit of his new shape, settling into a trot that kept him from feeling like
his lungs would explode.

The grass gave way to small
trees, and his nose picked up the faint traces of another boar. He hesitated,
remembering with painful clarity what happened when he encountered others in
his previous transformations. The thought surprised him, and he was still
marveling at the ability to think rationally without being overwhelmed by
instinct when he realized that the other boar he had sensed was staring at him.

He backed up with a snort. The
sow radiated amusement at his confusion, and he heard very clearly in his mind,
“The body you wear sits a bit uncomfortably, I take it?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean, you are not naturally
a boar.”

“Of course I am,” Gwydion said
irritably. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“Because you have the wrong
smell about you,” the sow said. “You were also thinking too deeply to notice
my presence, which a true boar never does. And your accent is odd.” She
cocked her head to the side. “Shall I continue?”

“Are all boars so sarcastic?”
Gwydion asked.

“To some extent, I suppose,”
she said. “My name is Ruchalia.”

“I am Gwydion.” He paused. “Do
we sniff each other, or rub noses or something?”

“Are you a dog in your natural
form?” Ruchalia asked.

“No, but I have been a wolf
recently.”

“Really? I’ve been a dog, but
never a wolf. I’ve always wondered how similar they are.”

“You shapeshift?”

“You seem surprised,” Ruchalia
said. “You must be human in your natural form.”

“How did you know?” Gwydion
asked.

“Because humans always assume
that they are the only sentient beings in the worlds.”

Gwydion bowed his head. “You
speak truth, my lady.”

Ruchalia squealed in laughter.
“You’re so cute! I do think I’d like to spend some time with you, just to see
what you might do next.”

“I’m not sure,” Gwydion said
with a frown.

“You don’t trust me?”

“I don’t
know
you,”
Gwydion answered. “We’ve barely met, and already you’ve altered my perceptions
of how the world works. How much worse will it be if I spend more time with
you?”

She nodded sagely. “That’s
true. It could be that you will want to stay here with me forever.”

Gwydion heard the humor in her
voice, but his heart still ached. He said, “I would rather not take that
chance, my lady.”

The smile in her voice
disappeared, but sympathy remained. “You’re new to shapeshifting, aren’t you?”

Gwydion said nothing, but
started to trot away from her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, catching
up to him. “I didn’t mean to insult you, truly I didn’t. It’s just that it’s
been ages since I met a fresh shapeshifter, and never one as young as you. Did
you figure it out on your own?”

Gwydion said nothing, but
continued trotting. He smelled water ahead, and he realized he was thirsty.

“No of course not,” Ruchalia
said to his silence. “I’ve only known of a few natural shapeshifters, and they
mostly lost themselves after a change or two. Oh, you could tell that their
shape wasn’t natural, but you could also tell that they no longer knew which
shape was true to them. So you have a teacher, or a guide.”

They had come to the banks of a
pond. Gwydion could smell the scum around the edges, and it surprised him that
it aroused hunger in him. He ignored it, though, and waded into the water
until he could drink deeply without bending too much. Ruchalia was still
talking to him, trying to figure out if she knew his teacher, but the names she
said were strange, and he could tell that many of them were not human.

“But I should concentrate on
the humans I know, shouldn’t I?” she said just then. “Let’s see, there are
only a few that really stick in my memory, like Taliesin and Math—”

Gwydion choked on his drink. “Taliesin
the bard?” he sputtered. “And Math, son of Mathonwy?”

“I knew Taliesin long before he
became a bard,” Ruchalia said. “And Math used to come to my bower every summer
for years. Do you know them?”

“I only know Taliesin by legend
and song,” Gwydion said. “But Math is my uncle. He’s the one who transformed
me and sent me here.”

“Did he now?” Ruchalia said. “I
wonder if he meant for us to meet. Last time I saw him, he spoke to me about
taking on the lordship of his land.”

“Really? What was he like?”

Ruchalia laughed. “Oh, now you
don’t mind being with me. Come then, young Gwydion. Let’s get some food to go
with your fine drink, and I will regale you with stories.”

She led him back into the
trees, and to a patch of wild mushrooms that tasted like heaven to Gwydion. He
said as much to Ruchalia, who said, “Those would be deadly poison to a human,
you know.”

“Really?” said Gwydion. “Does
that mean I should wait to change back to a human until after I digest them?”

“Yes,” Ruchalia answered. “And
if you ever eat one while you are human, you’ll want to shapeshift in quick
order. That knowledge saved Taliesin’s life once.”

“Can you tell me that story?”
Gwydion asked.

“I thought you wanted to know
about your uncle.”

“Well, ah, yes,” Gwydion
stammered. “I just have an interest in the bards as well.”

“You know, you look almost
nothing like Math,” Ruchalia said, cocking her head. “All the same, there are
similarities. Like an interest in everything in everything around.”

“You say he was close to my age
when you met. Did he appear like I did?”

“Oh, no, you’re much cuter,”
Ruchalia said.

“I meant here, in this
place—wherever this is.”

“This world is called Eleysia.
And yes, Math did just show up one day, just as you did today. He said he was
learning shapeshifting and world crossing from his father, Mathonwy.”

“Eleysia,” Gwydion said. “It’s
a beautiful name, and comes from such a lovely sow.”

“You’re
very
different than your uncle,” Ruchalia said. “He never flattered or flirted. It
was all business with him.”

“Some things never change.”

“It’s nice to feel appreciated,
though,” she said, snuggling up against him.

Gwydion moved away, feeling
pangs of heartache. “I’m sorry, Ruchalia. I was only being friendly.”

“As was I,” she said. “Something
happened to you recently, a loss, or a heartbreak. It’s hard to tell which.”

“Both. Neither.” Gwydion
shook his head. “It’s complicated.”

“It usually is.” She moved a
little bit away, snuffling along the forest floor.

“I’m sorry, Ruchalia,” he
said. “I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression.”

She looked at him in surprise. “You
think I’m offended?” She squealed in laughter, which turned into snorting
chuckles. “You are young! You think that I’m pining for you, but I just
wanted to give you a little space. You obviously are not ready to talk about
whatever has happened. You are just as obviously used to having the sows fall
all over themselves trying to get to you.”

Gwydion grunted sheepishly. “I
imagine you’re right on both counts. Well, the second one, for sure. As for
talking...” He did his own rooting around for minute while he considered it.
Ruchalia nudged him with approval.

“That’s the way a boar acts,”
she said.

“I thought boars were all fire
and passion,” Gwydion said.

“That’s all some see. Not a
sow, though.”

Gwydion shook his tusks. “The
truth is, I would like someone to talk to. There’s my uncle, but he’s not
here, and he’s hard enough to talk to when he is around.”

“There were times I couldn’t
get him to shut up,” Ruchalia said.

“But was it a conversation, or
just him talking at you, expecting you to agree with every word?”

Ruchalia snorted a laugh. “Yes,
he did do that quite often. Now that you mention it, that’s when I enjoyed his
company least.”

Gwydion trotted around the forest
floor between three trees. “He’s a good teacher, and I’ve learned a lot. But
there are things that I don’t trust him with.”

“Like?”

“Like about my time as a deer,
or a wolf. I know he understands, but I don’t know that I can just tell him
what it was like for me, good and ill.”

Ruchalia said, “You just want
him to listen.”

“I do!” He slowed down and
finally stopped in front of her. “I really do.”

“So tell me instead,” she said.

“I’m not sure I can,” he said.

“Let’s walk, and you can tell
me about your shapeshifting so far. You said you’ve been a deer and a wolf?”

“Yes,” he answered, walking
beside her through the forest. “He turned me into a deer first, which scared
me more than I like to say. But I had no idea he what he was going to do. He
simply said that we would be training, and I thought it would be a lecture, or
drills or something.”

As Gwydion talked, Ruchalia led
him deeper into the forest. The trees grew taller and more spread out, but
still so thick at the top that the light was green even though it was the
middle of the day. Different smells teased his nose, but he ignored them; the
offer to talk had opened a door within him somewhere, and he spoke of his
experiences without thinking about the consequences or what Ruchalia thought of
him. Ruchalia, for her part, steered the conversation with small questions and
grunts of assent or sympathy, while she steered him physically with little
nudges and tugs.

She led him up a hill, where
the forest thinned. Gwydion saw the valley below, filled with trees, and noted
that the sun was beginning to set. A part of him wondered where he was going,
but he also trusted Ruchalia. He told her about his disagreements with his
uncle, and why he suspected that Math was at least as stubborn as he was; about
his time in the tower, and his suspicions about Bran. He told her the
differences in mating as a wolf and as a deer, and about making love as a
human. He told her about Arianrhod, and why he thought she was so different
from the women he normally bedded, and so much more attractive. He talked
about being Math’s heir, and his fear that he would never be the leader his
uncle wanted and the people needed. He also spoke of the harp, and how it
brought him the most joy and satisfaction in his life.