Fox, Jaide

CHAPTER ONE



Shadowmere, Northern Borderlands



    Swan of Avonleigh had no knowledge of where she was and no memory of how she had gotten here. There could be only one explanation--dark magic.

    She nursed little doubt that the source of the dark magic, the instrument of her torture by terror now, was the same—Morvere, the sorcerer who had cursed her to live by day as a swan, only resuming her human form at night, the sorcerer who had had clipped her wing so that she could not even fly away to protect herself when the spell overtook her and changed her into a swan.

    Not content with the misery he had already inflicted upon her, he had dropped her into this nightmare world, prey to the baying pack that now pursued her, where a horrible fate awaited her the moment she faltered.

Terror surged through Swan’s veins, near deafening her to the sounds of the pack that surrounded her, almost seeming to toy with her as they herded her onward, closing in now and then to drive her in a new direction. Pushed almost beyond endurance, her muscles screamed in agony, but the threat of being eaten left no room for anything but the instinct to survive, to continue placing one foot in front of the other.



    Keening howls tore through the night, wolfen, yet strange. They surrounded her from every direction, closing in now for the kill. Ignoring the sharp nettles of underbrush slashing her arms and legs as she forced her way through them, tearing her naked flesh, Swan forged onward in desperation. Blood shivered in thin rivulets down her skin, scenting the air and driving the howls wilder, louder ... the chase faster.

They were toying with her, she knew with certainty now, yet she could not give up hope that she would elude them.

Something crashed through the brush a short distance behind her but she dared not look--could only forge ahead and pray she could evade the monsters in pursuit.

    Her heart choking her with its thunderous beating, the air burning her ragged lungs, she darted around a tree, ducking under its slapping branches as she passed. The hair rose on the back of her neck as she sensed something close, something bearing down on her. She whirled around, looking frantically for an avenue of escape, but everything was black in the night shaded forest. Movement caught the corner of her eye--death close at hand. She twisted away from it in vain hope, the scream she’d held back for so long tearing from her throat as a dark shape lunged for her. Jerking away from its grasp, she lost her footing.

    Leaves and dirt churned as she crashed to the ground. She screamed again as hands grasped her arms and a heavy body rolled with her until she lay beneath it, her arms trapped behind her back against the cool earth. Bracing her feet against the ground, Swan heaved upward, desperate to escape the ravaging blows she expected momentarily. A leaden weight settled over her, tight against her thighs. Hands pinned her shoulders to the ground. She was trapped. Thoroughly bested, unable to move the slightest inch, exhaustion forced her to collapse and cease her struggles. Breathing harshly in the overwhelming silence, Swan braced herself mentally, expecting to feel curved talons rake into her flesh, slicing down into her heart.

No attack came, no bestial growl broke the stillness. Quiet had descended around her. The howls had receded into nothingness, and the forest was still save for her own pounding heart and ragged breath. When no death strike fell, her sanity returned, and she realized a man lay atop her instead of a beast as she’d feared. The touch of him scorched her own feverish skin, the sheen of perspiration doing little to cool her unnatural heat.

    Blinded by the darkness, she could see nothing of him, his shadow eclipsing what meager light made its way beneath the thick foliage of the forest. Hard muscles clamped tight against her hips, their grip strong and unforgiving, but still human. He seemed as human as she, someone she could face and hope to win against ... if she could just gather her strength. A deadly calm settled over her.

     “Why come you to these lands?” a deep voice rumbled above her.

    Startled, Swan looked up at him, too surprised to do anything but blurt out the truth. “I know not where I am, nor how I came to be here.”

    He was quiet a long minute, weighing her words. “I think you do not speak the truth, but I will humor you for the moment. You lie in a forest of Shadowmere, on the Northern Borderlands. You have ventured far from your home, little bird. Now--who opened your cage?”

    Gooseflesh rose on her skin, chilling her despite the hint of amusement she detected in his tone. Morvere had more power than she’d ever dreamed. If such was truth—and she held onto little doubt that it was not—then she could not hope to defeat the sorcerer on her own. It would take someone of equal power, someone versed in magic ... someone from Shadowmere.