Gathering Storm (The Salvation of Tempestria Book 2) by Gary Stringer (howl and other poems .txt) 📕

the druidess reconsidered, she could if she were to change into something large enough. Cat had been working on a grizzly bear form, but that might start a panic and make things worse.

Maybe there was merit in her first idea, after all, with just a slight alteration. Not breaking into Justaria’s house, but her stable, instead. Any Tempestrian of Justaria’s standing would have their own horse, and the stable would have less security than her home. Again, Catriona could have changed into a horse herself – she’d done it before – but Daelen couldn’t get himself onto her back without help.

“Daelen,” she began, “I’m going to get us a horse, but I’ll need you to help me get you onto it, so save your strength, OK?” Daelen nodded, so Cat continued, “It’ll only take a minute or two – for once I’m going to take your brute force approach.”

Running over to Justaria’s stable, which stood at the far side of her house, out of sight of where Daelen lay in her garden, Cat took one look at the wooden doors and immediately knew the fastest way of gaining access. Grabbing her little-used bow and arrows from her pocket dimension, she called upon even less-used wizard magic to light a small fire at the end. She fitted the flaming arrow and fired, using her druid powers to turn that flame into an explosion large enough to blow the doors off entirely. She would accept responsibility for the damage at a later date, once the crisis was over. Putting bow and arrows away, she ran inside the stable, projecting sympathic reassurance and calm to Justaria’s horse. She threw on minimal tack and saddle as quickly as possible and walked the horse out.

As she led it around the front of the house, she was shocked to see someone dressed all in white, sprinting towards the fallen shadow warrior, with some kind of magical sword in their hand. Acting fast, Cat asked the grounds to please grab them, while she simultaneously threw a water bottle, to land, with the aid of the wind, between the would-be assassin and their target. The water spilt and grew into an ice wall, separating them. The assassin hacked free of the restraining vegetation and spun to face Cat.

They gasped when they saw they saw each other.

“Mandalee?”

“Catriona?”

Continuing to walk the horse up the garden path, Cat approached her old friend, warily, telling the garden to stand down for the moment. She collapsed the ice wall only when she was in a position to stand in between hunter and prey herself.

“Why are you trying to kill Daelen?” Cat asked. “He’s not a demon!”

“I don’t just hunt demons anymore,” Mandalee replied, “I’m an assassin now. I hunt the wizards who summon demons in the first place.”

“But Daelen isn’t a wizard, and he doesn’t summon demons.”

“His kind cause a lot more damage than any demon,” Mandalee insisted. “You’ve never had much love for them before, why are you defending him now?”

“Well, for one thing, it’s my fault he’s in the state he’s in right now. Besides, I’ve talked to him, and I’m starting to see him in a different light.”

“I’ve talked to him, too,” Mandalee retorted. She glanced at her timepiece. “About two hours ago. He was rude, arrogant and condescending.”

“Oh, I see, and those are capital crimes now, are they?” Cat shot back.

“No, but destroying the world is.”

*****

That morning, the demon-hunter-turned-assassin opened her eyes and immediately regretted it; the brightness of the sun was too much for her today.

“Dear gods, what was I drinking last night?” she groaned and lay back in bed.

For a moment, Mandalee couldn’t remember where she was. Then it came flooding back: Walminster. She hadn’t expected to be back in this area after only two years – or ever, really – but this was where she had to be.

About a fortnight ago, she had accepted a most unusual contract. Strangely, she couldn’t remember much about her meeting with her client. Female, she thought, although Mandalee of all people was wary of making snap judgements about such things. Still, she knew who her target was, that was the important thing. That knowledge and the rightness of this task burned in her mind.

The timing was critical, and she’d been on the wrong side of the continent. Five hundred miles to travel in fifteen days. Thankfully, it was summer, so it was doable. She’d thought about calling her giant albatross for a lift, but that would have meant leaving Shyleen behind. That she would not do.

Despite being assured that if she struck at the time and place that she’d been told about, her prey would be weakened sufficiently for her to take out, she was still going to need all the help she could get.

As it was, by changing horses regularly, she’d made it with a day to spare, so she’d taken the opportunity to check out the renowned city nightlife. Given the nature of her assignment, she thought it might very well be her last night on Tempestria, so she really let herself go. She found a bar that looked promising. Good music, great dancing and a whole lot of drinking. Mandalee even decided to forgo her mask, and the entire night went off almost without a hitch. Except for one particular bartender who decided to address Mandalee as ‘sir’ in a really pointed way. The first time she let it go. The second time, she gave him a warning look. The third time she told him that if he said it one more time, she would give him a reason to question his own gender identity by cutting off a particular part of his anatomy. After that, he wisely kept his comments to himself and Mandalee had thoroughly enjoyed herself.

A little too much, it seemed, because she suddenly realised it wasn’t just the brightness of the sun that had bothered her, but also its position in the sky. She’d overslept.

She leapt up, gathered her things and mentally called