Shifting Stars by Gary Stringer (best fiction books of all time txt) 📗

be counter-productive, to say the least. As it was, she only had to use a tiny bit of druid magic, in essence, whispering to the soil to move ever so slightly, to cover the seeds, and encouraging them to begin to quietly germinate. Job done, for now, she flew away to get some rest. She would be back in the middle of the day in a different form.

*****

At noon the next day, as the sun beat down upon the Black Tower, a red-banded falcon was perched on a tree just outside the grounds observing, with her sharp eyes, the black-robed woman sitting on the steps of the Tower, reading a book of magic and occasionally sipping on a glass of wine. The bird also observed the patches of greenery that had grown overnight. Plants that wouldn’t look at all out of place unless the observer was keenly in tune with nature. Certainly not the undead guards that served as groundskeepers. The stage was set, the player was ready. Time for the performance to begin.

Gliding silently to the ground, Catriona reverted to her natural form, pulling her clothes and spell ingredients out of her pocket dimension, as well as her bow and arrows. She was nervous but embraced the butterflies as she walked calmly but purposefully towards the ornate iron gate that opened into Dreya’s gardens.

The groundskeepers paid her no heed. Dreya didn’t often entertain visitors, but neither did she kill everyone who set foot on her land. Her guards and defences would react only in the event of a threat to Dreya herself. Cat had to make sure to not play her hand too soon. For now, she had to walk and wait.

After a few minutes, Catriona arrived at the optimum distance from where Dreya sat and, making no sudden movements, came to a natural halt. Tied to the end of her arrows, along with her trademark red fletching, were roses – some red, some white. Being careful of the thorns, she nocked a non-matching pair and let them fly, swiftly followed by another and a third. The half dozen arrows never got close to Dreya, sailing high and wide to stick to her doorframe, thanks to some magically modified tree resin on the flattened tips. From there, the flowers grew into a rosebush that blocked the entrance entirely.

Dreya’s groundskeepers stopped their gardening and moved threateningly towards Catriona, but a quick mental word with nature caused the plants she had seeded to proliferate and grab them, the stems wrapping around them and preventing any movement. The more they struggled, the more the plants grew, and the tighter they squeezed.

Unconcerned, Dreya placed a bookmark in her book, closed it and put it away in a pocket in her black velvet robes.

Cat found herself feeling quite envious of Dreya’s robes. They looked so soft! Their colour was, without doubt, the blackest black she had ever seen – as if they were spun from the fabric of the night sky. Dreya glanced behind her at the roses and then finally looked up at Catriona.

“That’s an original way to deliver flowers,” she remarked.

“Oh, I’m nothing if not original,” Cat replied.

“And what’s the occasion?”

“Occasion?”

“Well, call me old-fashioned, but when someone brings me flowers, there’s usually an occasion of some kind.”

“Usually?” Cat wondered. “Do people bring you flowers often, then, Dreya?”

“No,” Dreya admitted. “Not often. In fact, I can’t remember the last time anyone did. Which brings me back to…”

“…an occasion,” Cat finished, nodding. “OK, that makes sense. Well, I suppose you could say they’re a ‘thank you.’”

“A ‘thank you’? For what?”

“For agreeing to my proposal.”

Dreya arched her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “You’re proposing to me now?”

Cat winced slightly at her choice of words and warned herself not to be too smart mouthed. Catriona loved playing with words, but clearly, she was in the presence of a master wordsmith. She’d meant to say ‘proposition’ but having said ‘proposal,’ she had little choice but to go with it.

“Well, it is Midsummer’s Day,” she reminded Dreya. Perhaps that was the reason for her slip of the tongue. “But I think we should take it slow,” she said, “date a bit first. Starting with, say, a study date in your library.”

“Interesting idea,” Dreya remarked, “although if we’re going to be dating and eventually married, it seems to me I should probably at least know your name.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” said Cat. “I’m Catriona Redfletching, and you’re going to give me access to your library before this day is done.”

Dreya got to her feet with a kind of fluid grace that reminded Catriona of Shyleen when she’d spotted some fascinating prey, just before her claws came out.

“‘Before this day is done,’ eh?” Dreya echoed. “Someone’s been doing her homework, but then Xarnas does like to brag about his finest student. Not that I can blame him.”

“Well, you are his crowning achievement.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Dreya said, dismissively.

“No flattery,” Cat assured her. “You’re Dreya the Dark – you’re famous.”

“As are you, Catriona Redfletching,” Dreya replied. “According to legend, you’re quite happy to demolish a wizard’s entire home just to get your hands on a single book. I can only imagine what you’ll do for an entire library.”

Cat gave her a crooked smile. “I’m showing you what I’m prepared to do.”

“Do you really believe you can just tear the Black Tower apart? Do you really think you have that power?”

“Power isn’t everything,” Cat shrugged, “and what I believe is that I will have access to your library before this day is done.”

“And what’s to stop me calling on my grounds’ defences to kill you where you stand?”

Cat glanced around, making a show of being unconcerned. “Your guards seem to be a bit tied up at the moment.”

Dreya snorted, “If you’ve done this much prep work, you must know I have a lot more defences than that. Unlike Ulvarius, I keep them dormant, because I’m not insecure enough to jump at every shadow that passes across my land.” She paused before adding pointedly,