IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

by Josepha Sherman

Josepha Sherman is a fantasy novelist and folklorist, whose latest titles include: Son of Darkness; The Captive Soul; Xena: All I Need to Know I learned from the Warrior Princess, by Gabrielle, as translated by Josepha Sherman; the folklore title Merlin's Kin; and, together with Susan Shwartz, two Star Trek novels, Vulcan's Forge and Vulcan's Heart. She is also a fan of the New York Mets, horses, aviation, and space science. Visit her at www.sff.net/people/Josepha.Sherman.

Toward the end of the second day of struggling her way through the forest, Marra was certain she was being followed.

The question was, by what?

I don't need this. Really, I don't.

Marra was not exactly young anymore, not exactly slim and heroic in shape or manner. Just an ordinary woman, she thought wearily, not anyone to be followed by, well, whatever. A four-legged predator would already have tried an attack, and a two-legged one, the bandit sort, would have had no reason not to have done the same. As for Lord Darick's men...

Marra bit her lip. That was done and over. She was the last survivor of what had been a peaceful village, and if she hadn't collapsed after burying...what she could...she wasn't going to break down now. She couldn't afford to collapse. Someone had to deliver the story of that unprovoked raid to whatever authorities she could reach, even if it did mean pushing on through she had no idea how much wilderness.

Marra was doing her best to keep heading in the right direction. If she could only reach the shore of Lake Evandim, she could, hopefully, follow it along to civilization, or at least a real road. At least, Marra thought, she knew woodcraft and could forage for food easily enough. And at least Darick had had the...good taste to attack in warmer weather, so she didn't have to worry about freezing to death.

Damn him. Damn him and his men and his idea of—of burning down a village over an accidental insult—ha, no, he burned it down for fun!

For a minute she had a flash of imagined satisfaction, seeing white-clad Heralds declaring Darick's guilt, hearing him proclaimed a criminal and punished as a murderer...

Might as well imagine herself a Herald while she was at it, with one of those snowy-bright Companions, or maybe—

Marra whirled, hands clenched on the branch she was using for a walking staff. "All right, whoever you are, I know you're there. So stop being childish and either step forward where I can see you, or get the hell away from me!"

Oh, smart. You've just announced where you are to anyone in earshot.

She waited, heart pounding. The forest had gone utterly still, shocked into silence by her shout.

Then a male voice, low but so musical it gave her a little shiver of delight said, "Your pardon. I shall bother you no longer."

"Who—what—"

No answer. Marra waited, but whoever had been following her really must be gone now, because the birds were resuming their cheerful noise. Warily, wondering, Marra moved on.

But night fell swiftly in the forest, and even though a glance upward told her that the sky was still bright with sunlight, down here it was already twilight. She'd better start thinking about stopping for the night.

Another glance upward, and Marra froze, wonder-struck. Far overhead, two gryphons were sporting in the air, so high in the dazzling blue that they looked small as birds. The sunlight glinted off their golden coats and wings, and for a moment more, she stood motionless, holding her breath.

Then they were gone, soaring down the wind, and with a sigh, she began hunting for a place to camp till morning. It really was growing dark—and in a hurry, too

Suddenly, a...thing was on her with a roar, hurling her to the ground under a mass of dark fur. Fangs glinted, and Marra, gasping, managed to get the staff up in time to have them clash together on the branch, splintering it, as she struggled to get free before sharp talons could rake her or—

Suddenly the thing roared again, in pain this time, and the suffocating weight was gone from her. Marra caught a glimpse of a man—no, not a man, not with those curling horns, or those clawed hands. But whatever he as, he was fighting the creature, saving her, and Marra looked wildly about for some way to help him. Pebbles, twigs, nothing like a good solid rock.

She grabbed the largest branch she could find, and whaled the creature over the head with it. The branch broke, and the thing whirled to her, snarling. Marra thought wildly, Wonderful, now it's really mad!

But she'd given the—the man the chance he needed. He had other weapons than claws, evidently, because a blade glinted, then stopped glinting, red with the thing's blood. The creature lunged, the man—whatever he was—cried out in pain

Then the creature fell, twitching, and then lay still. Over the crumpled mound of dark fur, eyes golden as a gryphon's stared at her for an instant.

Then the man, too, had crumpled.

Oh, no, you don't! Marra thought, and hurried to his side. I've seen enough death lately.

But then she froze, looking down at him. His face was finely drawn, almost thin, handsome in its own way, but rimmed with russet...fur. The tips of sharp fangs showed between human lips, and the tips of pointed animal ears poked through the tangled russet...hair? The horns she'd noted rising from his forehead were elegant, like twin spirals of ivory maybe a hand's breadth long, definitely not what one expected to see on a human head.

Marra swallowed dryly. His hands were such normal hands—but they ended in powerful, curving claws. Yet the rest of him seemed utterly human, clad in tunic and trousers that were tattered but clearly of fine weave. And he—

And he was going to bleed to death if she didn't stop maundering and did something to help him. A slash crossed his chest, and as Marra pulled the torn tunic aside to get at the wound...it was no longer bleeding. In fact, it was no longer there.

A clawed hand caught her own. Before Marra could pull away, the man's eyes shot open. They were that brilliant gold, wild and confused, and Marra said hastily, "It's all right. You killed the—the thing."

The wildness faded, and suddenly those were purely human eyes despite the odd color, the eyes of someone who has lived with despair so long that it has become a companion.

"Yes," he said. "I remember now."

Releasing her, he sat up in one fluid movement. That voice! That musical voice—

"You were the one following me! Why?"

"I wanted to be sure you came to no harm."

"Oh, please. I'm not some fine lady with a noble protector." Marra closed a hand about a rock, just in case. "Why were you following me?"

The...man sighed. "If you must know, I was lonely. I...don't get to see too many of my kind these days."

"Your kind?" she echoed warily.

"Human, lady! I am—was a human, even as you!" 

"Of...course."

He stood, shuddering. "The night is almost here. Come, I'll lead you to a safer place to camp."

Marra glanced about, wrapping her arms about herself. Forest, forest, and more forest, and all of it growing dark. With a sigh, she followed him since there didn't seem to be much of a choice. Besides, he had saved her life...for whatever reason.

"Who are you?" Marra asked suddenly.

"No one."

"Oh, don't be cute! If you really are as human as you claim, you have a name."

Was that a reluctant chuckle? "I can see that you have scant patience for fools. I am Albain Tandarek," a slight, ironic bow, "at your service."

"Ah." That was clearly a noble's name. "I'm Marra."

He glanced back at her, as though about to ask what a village woman was doing wandering in the wilderness by herself, but said nothing.

They walked on through the growing darkness in silence. But then he—Albain—whatever he was, stopped suddenly. "This looks like a good place for you to camp."

With that, he vanished into the gloom.

"Hey! You can't leave me like that! Hey!"

Albain returned in only a few moments, his arms full of wood. "Surely you wish a fire?"

"Surely I wish to know what's going on. Who are you? I mean, really, not just a name. And why were you following me?"

He sighed and squatted down, making a big show of arranging the firewood just so, clawed fingers neatly snagging stray tinder and putting each bit in place. "The second part I already told you: I was lonely. Besides, I didn't like the idea of a woman alone, not here."

He clearly didn't mean in an ordinary forest. "The, uh, thing?" Marra paused in the middle of lighting the fire. "The one you killed?" She heard her voice rise. "There are more of those?"

"Very possibly."

"But then, but then," Marra stammered in a rush of sudden, desperate hope, "officials, warriors, Heralds, someone's bound to be coming to investigate!" And I won't have to go so far to tell them about Darick!

"How would they know?"

"Wouldn't you send word that...oh." They'd think him a monster, too, and probably slay him before he could convince them otherwise. "They would. Magic, or..."

Marra clicked flint and steel together once more in fierce determination. The fire burst into life, tinder first, then branches. As the light blazed up, Albain shrank back into the shadows, an eerie figure in the night.

That was the final strain on Marra's already over-worked nerves. "You enjoy being mysterious, don't you?" she snapped. "Or is it that you're busy feeling sorry for yourself?"

He lunged forward with a snarl, fanged face clear in the firelight. "Shouldn't I be?"

Marra refused to flinch. "Look, I just lost my whole village to a bastard who thought it would be fun to wipe us out."

"Oh. I didn't realize..." He sat back, staring. "I am sorry, truly."

"I wasn't married, or anything like that, but, but..." Marra fiercely wiped her eyes. "I don't know what happened to you, but I don't think you have the corner on self-pity."

"It's not self-pity to mourn for others." But then his voice hardened. "Who was it? Who led the attack?"

Surprised, Marra said, "Lord Darick." Damn him. "Why, do you know him?"

She saw the faintest of flinches before he caught himself. "No," Albain said, a second too late to be convincing. "But then, I've been alone in this forest long enough to be doubtful about a good many things."

"You do know him!"

He sighed. "Put down the rock. I'm not his ally. The very opposite, in fact. Much to my disgust, he and I are related. And yes," Albain added sharply, "I meant disgust. When I last saw him, he was a sadistic boy."

"And now he's a sadistic man."

"Ironic that he's the one who's human."

"Self-pity," Marra prodded.

"Don't I have the right? I don't belittle your loss, truly. But at least you are not a monster."

She sniffed. "And you are?"

"What do you call this?" A fierce sweep of clawed hands took in fangs, pointed ears, horns. "Just a few blemishes?"

"Look, whatever happened to you, you clearly started out human." She paused. "Which brings us back to my first question: What did happen?" When he looked at her in what might have been annoyance or surprise, Marra added honestly, "I know I'm prying. It's none of my business. But, well, you're not the only one who's been alone and lonely."

"Ah. understandable." Albain shrugged, not meeting her gaze. "The worst of it is that what happened was my own damned mistake. I'm not a wizard or a sorcerer, or anything so grand, but I do have some tiny powers. I...well, when the creatures started to appear, the result of a greater mage's battle or experiment gone wrong, I thought I could be a hero. I thought I could take on some monstrous powers that would help me defeat the things.

"As you see, I succeeded far too well."

"You can't change back."

He snorted. "I can't even kill myself. You saw how quickly my wounds heal."

"You didn't answer me. There's no way for you to change back?"

Albain gave a sharp little laugh. "Oh, there's one. Someone has to want to take on this appearance. Not very likely, is it? Never mind, Marra. On my word, which at least is still wholly mine, I'll see you safely through the forest, and that's the end of it."

No, it's not, Marra thought with a touch of pity. You're not the first man to make a mistake while trying to do the right thing. And I've never yet seen a mistake that couldn't be corrected.

One way or another.

It was startling to realize that she cared. It was even more startling to realize that she still could care.

Albain caught them dinner—rabbit, which Marra was secretly relieved to see he ate cooked. After that, well, after that, she was just too tired to stay up all night worrying about what he might or might not do. Curling up, she slept.

She woke with a start in the first dim light of morning, a clawed hand over her mouth. Before Marra could struggle, she saw Albain frantically gesture with his free hand. Silence! She relaxed ever so slightly, and he removed the hand from her mouth, whispering, "We're not alone."

"Monster?"

"Humans. We're near a trail."

She sat bolt upright, mouthing, Darick? At his nod, Marra scrambled to her feet, suddenly so overwhelmed with rage that she was blind and deaf to all reason. She rushed forward, hardly aware of Albain trying frantically to stop her. They crashed out of the underbrush together, out onto the trail, right in front of men on horseback—Darick's men, who were fighting horses gone mad with terror at Albain's nonhuman scent.

Good! Get them out of the way!

It was only when she was looking up at Darick, who had managed to stay on his horse, that the truth penetrated Marra's mad rage—she was trying to attack an armed man with nothing but her bare hands. He couldn't have recognized her as one of the villagers, just as a madwoman trying to tear him apart, and Marra saw the glint of the sword that was about to cut her down—

"Oh, hell," said a voice.

Clawed hands pushed her out of the way. Albain lunged at Darick, Darick's horse decided enough was enough, and suddenly Albain, Darick, and Marra were on the ground. She grabbed the first weapon that came to hand, another rock, and started beating at Darick with it. His flailing arm caught her a sharp blow to the head, and she lost her grip on the rock. She heard Albain...roar, no other word for it, and saw those clawed hands rake at Darick.

Yes, but his men—if they have bows—

Only a few had managed to stay on their panicked horses, but those few did, indeed, have bows. Marra struggled to her feet, shouting wildly, "Shoot and your lord dies!"

"The monster's already slain him!" one of them shouted back.

Marra whirled. Albain had drawn back, shaking, clearly horrified at his own brutality. No, Darick wasn't dead...yet. But Albain's claws had done some ugly work on his throat and chest.

He won't be in that body much longer.

And then the idea hit her with a force that nearly staggered her. Marra threw herself down beside Darick, snapping, "Do you want to live? Well? Do you want to live?"

A pain-filled, terrified glance flicked her way. Darick managed a nod.

"Would you be invulnerable? Would you be immortal? Wait, watch this!"

Marra clawed the startled Albain's hands, drawing a few beads of blood. Darick gave a choked cry of wonder as the scratch neatly sealed and disappeared. Then the wonder turned to a frantic gasping, as his lacerated throat couldn't get in enough air.

"Choose!" Marra cried. "Take this immortality, or die! Which? Life or death—and the ghosts of the villagers you slew? Choice!"

"'mortl'ty. Chos'n."

The words were barely understandable. But—

—it was enough and—

—there was mist everywhere and—

Suddenly the mist was gone. Marra heard the men gasp and stared at Albain, terrified that she might have done something wrong. But he...he was human, fully, normally human.

The monster that had been Darick snarled its shock, clenching its clawed hands, then scrambled up and raced off into the forest.

"Did you see?" Marra cried to the men. "Did you see your lord? He is a monster!"

They couldn't argue with her, not after what they'd just seen. With shouts of horror, they crashed off through the forest after him.

Albain...stood. Just stood.

"Are you all right?" Marra asked carefully.

He looked down at his human hands, flexing them in wonder, then turned to give her an equally wonder-struck look. "You—he—Powers, oh Powers, lady, I would never want to be on the wrong side of your anger. But thank you, thank you, and thank you."

"You're welcome," Marra said, and to her utter embarrassment, burst into tears. She felt Albain's arms go about her, and thought, A village woman and a lord?

Well, stranger things had happened.

Indeed they have, Marra thought, and shifted position so that Albain could kiss her more easily.