Veil of Shadows

by Walker, Shiloh

  “As you wish.”

  Elina came awake with a ragged gasp, her body hovering on the razor’s edge of climax. Gritting her teeth, she rolled over and buried her face in the piss-poor excuse for a pillow. Her slender, willowy body acclimated to the ridiculous cot that served as a bed even as it protested. She could still feel the luxurious softness of the bed from her dreams . . . still feel the warmth of Morne’s hands on her body.

  Still feel him as he moved over her, in her.

  “Why in the hell did I have to wake up now?”

  She had half a mind to finish the job herself, but it was a waste of time. She’d been sleeping alone for too long, and after a while, it got to the point where nothing was going to ease the ache inside, save for a man.

  That posed a problem, though.

  Elina didn’t want just any man.

  She wanted Morne.

  Craved him.

  That wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. She was used to wanting what she couldn’t have. Craving what she’d never know. She’d dreamed about Morne for years, and she had always dealt with it. It had been easy, because there were always miles separating them or a war to be fought.

  It wasn’t so easy now, though, and she wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. It might not mean anything . . . or it might mean everything.

  She closed her eyes as a sigh shuddered out of her. Don’t think about him.

  But thinking about him was getting to be a lot like breathing—something she couldn’t control.

  Just don’t think about him . . .

  But even as she tried to push those thoughts out, she found herself remembering what he’d said.

  Adjust to the changes.

  Adjust.

  Don’t try to fix the changes.

  Adjust.

  FIVE

  “So what do you think?”

  “I think we’ll be lucky if we don’t end up getting our asses handed to us on a platter,” Syn said grimly. “And in my case, I’ll be lucky if I get through with my sanity intact.”

  “If I thought it was that big a danger to you, Syn, I wouldn’t ask.” Elina tucked her hair behind her ear and gave Syn an easy smile. “I can handle the magic for short periods of time, certainly long enough to see if this is even possible. If it doesn’t feel like it would work, or if it’s too dangerous, I don’t pull you in.”

  “I want to think it can work,” Lee said softly. She glanced from Elina to Syn, a self-deprecating smile on her face. “But I’m hardly the ideal person to ask. All the magical theory classes you two took, I never had them. Do you think it sounds plausible?”

  The question was directed at Syn. With a grimace, she flicked her hair out of her eyes. The thick black strands were getting too long. She needed to find some trimmers and take care of the mess. It was getting in the way again.

  Meeting Lee’s gaze, she shrugged and said, “I think it sounds like madness, and that it goes against every law of magic I’ve been taught. But I also think it’s got a real chance of working, so take that however you want.”

  “Man, you sound just like this voice I keep hearing over and over in my head,” Lee muttered. “This is crazy . . . and crazy as it sounds, I think it could work.”

  The stronger witches could anchor themselves but tired quickly.

  The weaker witches couldn’t anchor themselves at all.

  But together . . .

  Together, they could create a web and anchor one another, let the power flow through them, and the power would boost that anchor. They didn’t know if it would work, though. And only one way to find out. Try it and see what happened.

  Syn, Elina and Lee were breaking a direct order from their commander, but they didn’t see any way around it.

  In theory, each of them was too important in their own way for the penalty to be that bad. Kalen couldn’t risk sending any of them back east, and for a diehard soldier, that was the worst possible outcome.

  Elina was the instigator and she’d be the one taking the biggest risk. Not just because it had been her idea, but because she had more power than Syn, and she had more experience than Lee.

  Lee’s gift was amazing but she was still too new to it. It was something that confused the hell out of Syn, because she had memories of Lee serving in battle with her dating back to when she wasn’t much more than a child. But until a few short months ago, Lee had never truly been in their world.

  Just her shade. A physical manifestation of her being, and the memories of those times, had been hidden deep inside her subconscious. She’d managed to merge her split selves—her shade who fought as a warrior to the woman she knew she was. Once she’d crossed over into their world, she’d had to relearn her magic from the ground up.

  She’d uncovered most of her memories, but some of them were still less than clear.

  But there were other reasons Lee couldn’t take the biggest risk. Other reasons that would keep her on the sidelines for this experiment. At least until they had an idea of what could happen.

  Lee’s father had been a Warlord, one of the bastards from Anqar, the realm on the other side of the Gates. He’d claimed her mother, one of the witches in Ishtan, after she’d been kidnapped in a raid, and he’d fathered Lee.

  Lee’s mixed heritage combined the two powerful magics, the Warlord’s abilities to manipulate Gate energies, and her mother’s witch gift. That dual heritage would make her one very, very fine prize to any Warlord that still lurked in the forests at the base of the Roinan Mountains.

  If she used her magic, they might sense her. None of them could take that chance, especially not until they knew if the magic was reliable again. If the energy that fueled their magic couldn’t be used, they couldn’t even use it to defend themselves in an attack.

  Syn stood by the side, her arms crossed over her chest. She hoped neither of her friends could feel how terrified, how anxious, she was.

  For close to two months, she hadn’t been able to use her magic.

  There were times when she felt like she was dying inside. She wasn’t as strong as Lee or Elina, but the magic was a part of her. It was second nature for her to use it to probe an area before making a decision on whether to advance or fall back. It was instinct to use the magic as a defensive tactic when they were battling the demons that prowled the forest. It was natural to use it in an offensive when they corned a cache of the fucking monsters.

  It was part of her, and ever since the Gate’s collapse, she hadn’t been able to so much as make sparks flare.

  She’d tried. Once.

  It had been a week after the Gate’s collapse, and she’d been in the forest with her team. Bron’s team wasn’t far away and they’d been closing in on a small contingent of Raviners. Things went bad and then from bad to worse quicker than she could blink. And if she’d had less effective troops with her, she’d be dead. Or at least insane.

  She’d reached for the magic and it had responded by reaching back and trying to suck her in. One of her seconds had struck her in the head with the butt of his pulsar, knocking her unconscious and breaking her connection to the energy. It had been instinct, and a gamble, but it had worked.

  Now she couldn’t reach for the earth’s energy, and she needed it to use her magic. But she couldn’t do it . . . and Syn feared it was slowly killing her.

  The Gate’s collapse had set the earth’s energies into a state of chaos. It was no longer safe to merge with the energy, and until they could reach it safely, they couldn’t rely on their magic.

  That was a huge part of the reason Syn had felt so chilled over the past weeks. She was hemorrhaging inside. But it wasn’t blood she was losing. It felt like part of her. Not being able to use her magic made her feel like she wasn’t the woman who’d helped lead the rebel army to their somewhat questionable victory.

  She felt like she had lost herself.

  Laithe’s people might lack the technology of the Ishtanians, but they didn’t lack simple resources. He’d been trailing after
Dais for five days when he first sensed the presence of one of the others.

  He recognized the crackle of power, the restrained energy, and knew who it was even before the Sirvani approached him that afternoon.

  “Lord Reil wishes an update,” Corom said after bowing to Laithe.

  Laithe sheathed the knife he’d held and dropped down out of the tree. “It took you long enough to find me. By the time you return to him, it’s likely the situation will change.”

  Corom simply inclined his head. “Has the traitor made any attempt to secure this reputed female Warlord?”

  “No. He hasn’t fled, however. Nor has he tried to establish contact with the rebels. If it was sabotage he was about, he would either have fled or already contacted one of his previous acquaintances.”

  Corom was quiet for a moment and then he asked, a trace of curiosity in his voice, “Have you seen this woman?”

  “No.” Laithe shook his head. They might be close to the rebel camp, but the rebels rarely left it, unless it was in large numbers. This was their territory and Laithe wasn’t about to place himself in their path just to see if this woman existed.

  Corom’s face showed no change, but there was a flash in his eyes—disappointment. “If this man has lied to us, if she doesn’t exist, what chance have we of returning home?”

  It wasn’t entirely an unexpected question—Laithe had pondered it more than once himself. Could they return home? How?

  “I do not know, Corom,” he said finally, turning his head to the west, staring in the direction where the Gate had once stood.

  “I’ve heard talk.”

  Laithe cocked a brow. They’d all heard talk, but he must admit, he was surprised that Corom would discuss this with him—this particular Sirvani was known for being reticent, talking only when relaying orders or addressing his superiors. “What sort of talk?”

  “Some of the other Warlords, including Reil, seem to think they could coax enough energy from the witches to forcibly open a small Gate—the Gate’s pathways still exist, but we haven’t the ability to open the portal.”

  “Coax the energy,” Laithe murmured, smiling despite himself. “There will be no coaxing. It would be taken, and taken in a way that would likely kill them.”

  Corom’s lids flickered.

  “If we’re to be talking of something that would kill whatever woman we laid our hands on, let’s not be soft and dance around the issue. We’re talking of returning to our world—and the price is the life of another.”

  “Does that bother you?” Corom asked.

  Judging by the look in his eyes, it bothered the Sirvani.

  “I will do whatever I must do.” Laithe shrugged. “Although, it may not even be an issue. The only place we could possibly hope to lift a Gate is here. That’s where the strongest pathways lie and the Gate’s destruction threw everything into chaos. Trying to force a small Gate up in a new, untried locale would be foolish, and likely a death sentence for all involved. Besides, I’ve yet to feel the power of a single witch. It’s been more than a month, and not a one of us have sensed any witch magic at all.”

  “Most of them have already fled this region,” Corom said, nodding. “And we haven’t a chance in the frozen hell of kidnapping one from another place and forcing her here. We’d be caught and killed.”

  “Yes.” It was practically a nonissue.

  Corom opened his mouth to speak—no sound came out, though. Both of them heard it. The faint whisper of sound, a foot gliding over the uneven earth. Farther away, a murmured voice. This far away, neither of them could hear the words . . . just the voice itself.

  But it was a female voice.

  A female voice outside the camp.

  And through the trees, they could both see a familiar head as he cut back and forth through the forest.

  Dais.

  On somebody’s trail.

  They followed him.

  Not one now, but two.

  Dais smiled in hot satisfaction.

  Good. Damn good. It was her. He hadn’t seen her, but in his gut, he knew Lee had slipped outside the camp.

  He caressed his pulsar lovingly, thought about jacking up the power so that when he shot her, it would boil her blood from the inside out—she’d die horribly, painfully. Relatively quickly, but he could handle quick, as long as it was painful.

  Instead, he set it to stun. Stun the bitch, and then have her trussed up and tied like a beast when the Warlords showed up.

  They’d have to make haste. And he knew she probably wasn’t alone. But there were only a few people with her. The path they followed wasn’t one that allowed for large parties—at least not quietly. It was a scout’s trail, narrow and uneven, winding up into the foothills.

  If it was one of the larger units, they’d take an alternate route.

  So Lee would be mostly unguarded. A few soldiers at best. Drawing his secondary weapon, he tossed his primary to his left hand. He’d take down whoever accompanied her and then stun Lee. It would be over in a matter of seconds. Damn good thing, because he knew Kalen—the bastard wouldn’t have allowed Lee to leave alone, which meant she’d slipped away.

  Once that was discovered—no, there wouldn’t be much time.

  Dais crept ever closer, listening to his back trail, well aware the Warlords were closing the distance.

  Finally, he was close enough to pick up a clear, distinct voice and he paused, swore.

  Of all the fucking individuals to be with the bitch—Elina, her aunt, and Laisyn Caar.

  Syn.

  She’d been one of Dais’s subordinates right up until the last few conflicts—now she was a captain. She’d taken his place.

  Damn the bitch.

  Damn all three of them.

  Witches. They were mounted on some of the battle-trained baerns, and those beasts were viciously protective.

  He could take down ungifted soldiers in a heartbeat, but a witch . . . no. He had to proceed with more caution. Especially with Syn. Her gift wasn’t as strong as Elina’s or Lee’s, and because of that, she trained harder, pushed harder—it resulted in a connection to the earth that outmatched all others—maybe even Eira, the old goat, may her soul rot in hell.

  He wouldn’t be able to catch Syn by surprise. She was more a soldier than the other two combined, and all she’d need was one glimpse of him and she’d flame his ass.

  No. If he had any chance of taking them out, it would have to be a united attack, him and the two Warlords. He’d have to share the glory in claiming this prize . . .

  However—

  A smile curled his lips.

  The Warlords would love to get their hands on a female with Warlord blood, there was no doubt of that.

  With the possibility of two more witches . . . and the loss of these three women would cripple Kalen.

  Yes.

  This could work.

  Most definitely, it could work.

  He would wait, let the Warlords know he was aware of their presence.

  As they made their way to him, he put together a plan.

  Lee and the two other witches. He knew Warlords—they wouldn’t be able to resist getting their hands on a couple of skilled witches. The fact that all three women were young and attractive simply sweetened the pot. They would very much appreciate the boon he was about to offer them.

  Finally.

  After all these weeks of chaos, uncertainty and strife, he found himself once more in a position of bargaining.

  Laithe listened, his arms crossed over his chest, his mind spinning furiously as Dais outlined his plan.

  “You’re certain it is her—this Warlord female—the daughter of Raichar Taise?” he demanded, his voice flat, his blood starting to pump hot in his veins.

  Part of him didn’t want to believe it possible.

  The other part of him burned—he sensed something. Something strange. Something new. Power, the likes of which he hadn’t felt before. It was cloaked—if it came from the woman, it wasn’t
because she’d used her power. She was hiding too well, and if he had been any farther away, he never would have sensed it.

  The feel of it had his skin itching.

  Dais gave him a small, pleased smile and nodded. “Of course I’m certain it is her,” he said, giving him a deferential nod even though the look in his eyes clearly said, Yes, I’m certain, you arrogant bastard.

  Laithe flicked his wrist. Dais’s eyes widened at the sight of the blade in his hands. Laithe tossed it in the air, making the silver weapon dance, all without taking his eyes from the man before him. “You realize this is your life you are bargaining with, do you not?”

  Lee leaned forward, peering at Elina as she sat on the ground. Syn recognized the vials, powders, potions, but she imagined it looked very strange to the other woman. Lee was still struggling to connect with some of her memories, so it was entirely likely she’d forgotten much of her earlier magic training.

  “What is she doing?” Lee asked, frowning.

  “Making a barrier.” Syn rubbed her hands down her arms and glanced around. They were outside the base camp’s walls, inside an old shelter that was seldom used. It was built for the scouts to use if the weather took a bad turn on them, but not many chose to stay here. They’d rather make a run for the base camp than linger outside.

  Syn wouldn’t mind making a run for it, either.

  She felt far too exposed out here. Far too vulnerable.

  But they couldn’t do this in the camp.

  “We have to keep this contained when we try, thus the barrier.”

  Lee planted her hands on her hips, her brow furrowed. “I’ve never seen anybody use sand to build a barrier.”

  “Yes, you have.” Syn’s lips twitched as she glanced at her friend. “You have done it. I remember. It was in your earlier training.”

  She shrugged restlessly and started to pace the squeaky wooden floorboards. “We’re going back to the basics here. Not taking any chances. Which means a lot of mental preparation, focus and whatnot. She’s constructing the barrier the same way she’d teach a first-year trainee. Basics.”