Trading By Stormlight (The Magic Below Paris Book 7)

by C. M. Simpson

  He shook his head. “Nope, but since when did that matter?”

  It mattered, but not in the way they were afraid of. The portal worked, but they had to open it above where they wanted to land. Cries of alarm sounded around them as warriors and healers scattered, and Aisha had to step quickly aside.

  “Catch her!” Marsh’s horrified cry resulted in her being knocked sideways, her hand torn from Izmay’s side as she went one way and Izmay continued to fall.

  Henri rolled as he slid, flinging his blade to one side as he snatched Izmay from the air and hugged her to his chest, cushioning her fall. His eyes widened in alarm as he felt the blood staining her side, and he turned to Aisha.

  “Can you...” he began, but the child was already reaching toward the shadow guard.

  “I’ll fix her,” she told him, her voice so full of confidence that he had no reason to doubt her.

  Unfortunately, her change of focus took her away what she had been doing when Tamlin had interrupted her, and a youthful roar cut the night. It was followed by a second and much louder roar, and another large shape crashed past Marsh.

  Dan! Marsh was hurled from the kat’s mind with unexpected force. “Dan?”

  The kat did not respond until she had pinned her kit to the pavement and several of the impi’s druids had come to her assistance. Using stone to pin the young hoshkat in place, they freed Mordan to get up and walk around until she could look into her kit’s eyes.

  The kit struggled and snarled, its tail lashing helplessly, until the kat growled into its face, pinned its head to the ground, and gave it a thorough washing behind the ears and along the neck. Slowly, it stilled, its eyes still flashing defiance as Mordan held it in place and groomed its head.

  One of the impi druids knelt by the kat, touching her gently on the shoulder and earning a snarl for her trouble. “May I help?” she asked, her eyes becoming a luminescent green.

  Mordan contemplated her for a long moment before lifting her head to meet the woman’s gaze. Once the connection had been made between them, the druid turned to the kit.

  “Hey,” she said, nudging its throat with the knuckles of her hand. The kit growled, but the druid was unperturbed. “Hey, you. We need to speak.”

  At first the kit refused to meet her eyes, and then it looked into its mother’s face and huffed a sigh so like Mordan’s when she was giving in and didn’t want to that Marsh caught herself holding her breath.

  The kit shifted its head to meet the druid’s eyes, its blue eyes reflecting the druid’s green. They sat locked together for such a long time that Marsh was becoming afraid for the druid’s safety when the woman smiled.

  Before anyone could stop her, she ruffled the kit’s fur and waved a hand over the stone pinning the kit to the ground, sending it back to where it came from. The closest druids took several hasty steps back, but the kit ignored them.

  Mordan sat up on her haunches to give it room to move as it rolled from its side to its belly. For several long heartbeats, it looked at its mother, and then reached tentatively up and groomed the bottom of her chin.

  When she refused to answer, it made a soft enquiring chirp, followed by a pleading mew and tried to lean against her chest. Mordan’s response was swift. She bounced back and then pounced on the kit, rolling it onto its back and pinning it with a paw on its chest.

  This time the kit lay still, paws and tail tucked to its belly and chest like a pup that had done the wrong thing. Mordan stared down at it and gave a soft chirrup, followed by a purr. The kit twisted to its feet and twined itself around its mother’s forelegs and chest, purring with an enthusiasm that brought a lump to Marsh’s throat.

  After a few moments of this, Mordan gave it a firm nudge with her nose and rose to her feet. Marsh watched as they crossed to the other kit. This one was pinned upright, its legs encased in stone, and she sensed Aisha’s handiwork.

  It had watched the encounter between its mother and its sibling and now regarded the pair with troubled eyes, hissing at them both as they approached. Mordan rumbled a disapproving growl at it, and it laid its ears back and glared at her.

  At first, Marsh wondered why the kits hadn’t greeted their mother with joy, and then she remembered Tamlin and how he’d been when he’d thought she’d been away for too long.

  “Oh,” she breathed and tentatively moved closer. Before she could say anything, she was interrupted by a worried shout from Henri.

  “Hey! You can’t leave her like that!”

  “Can so, too,” Aisha retorted. “She’s fine.”

  “But, she...she...” Henri gestured helplessly at where Izmay lay on the ground before him.

  “I’m fine, you idiot.” Marsh was glad to hear Izmay’s voice. It was weaker than usual, but strong enough to grab Henri’s attention.

  He snapped his head toward her so fast, Marsh was surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash.

  “You are?” He froze, and then his face lit up, and he pulled Izmay to his chest. “You are! I thought I’d lost you.”

  Izmay slapped her hand against his chest. “Then you’d better learn to heal, hadn’t you?” she challenged.

  He stared at her as if she’d just sprouted a second head, his brow furrowed. “I could try,” he murmured. “I mean, if Lennie can do it...”

  “You just have to want it badly enough,” Izmay told him. “Like the lady says, maybe we should learn to fix what we break, oui?”

  “Mais oui,” he agreed, pulling her to his chest once again. “I was so af...worried.”

  Izmay twined her arm around his neck and pulled herself upright, and together they turned to watch what Aisha was doing with the kit. The little girl had walked across to it.

  “You,” she scolded, tapping it on the nose with her finger, “are a very naughty kitty.”

  The kitty hissed and snapped at her finger but didn’t get very far because of the stone wrapping its forelegs, chest, and throat. The sudden jerk when it reached its limits made it hiss once more, but Aisha was not deterred.

  “Your mama has been very worried about you,” she continued, “and Perdy has missed you, too.”

  Perdemor had? Marsh wondered, but the kit stilled as its brother appeared out of the shadows near the wall.

  Aisha’s eyes blazed green. “See?” she demanded, looking at its face and catching its gaze.

  Man, Marsh thought, at least the druid asked permission first.

  This is the most stubborn of my children, Mordan informed her as the kit hissed again, its tail lashing wildly, its blue eyes alight with anger.

  Marsh feared for Aisha’s safety but knew better than to try to shake her out of the kit’s mind. The battle of wills happening inside the kit’s head was not something she wanted to disturb. Distracting the child could prove fatal, and she wanted the little girl back. She watched the expressions flowing across Aisha’s face, tracking the battle’s progress.

  They changed from anger to determination to attentive listening and then rebuke and argument, but the changes came and went so quickly it was hard to keep up. Marsh wanted to be ready to help the child but couldn’t work out how.

  Follow the link, Obasi told her. You are linked to her mind, and she is linked to the kit’s. You just need to follow the link.

  It sounded simple, but Marsh wasn’t so sure. What if it sees me as a threat?

  That gave Obasi pause. It might.

  They both hesitated, standing at the edge of Marsh’s mind and looking down the link connecting Marsh to Aisha. On the one hand, she was worried about endangering the child, yet on the other, she’d never forgive herself if anything happened to her.

  She was about risk it when a tentative mew broke the silence.

  Mordan’s response was immediate. The big kat’s rumble was as full of happiness as Marsh could wish. When she opened her eyes, Aisha was returning the stone to the pavement and had taken a step back. She wound her small arm around Marsh’s shoulders and reversed into her lap.

  The
kit greeted its mother and siblings cautiously at first, and then with unbridled joy, rubbing its body against theirs and twining around them. Soon, all four kats were a twisting knot of rumbling joy, with Scruffknuckle bouncing happily on the sidelines.

  “I want a hug,” Aisha whispered, and Marsh obliged.

  28

  Rescue and Reunion

  The kats’ joy was interrupted by the sound of fists pounding against the wood, and voices echoing off stone.

  “Help! Help us!”

  Those cries were interrupted by others begging them to be silent and whimpers of fear cautioning retribution. Marsh and Aisha exchanged glances, and Aisha scrambled clear of her lap. Tamlin and Brigitte were already stalking toward the windows across from the garden.

  It didn’t take them long to discover that there were no doors opening directly into the makeshift field. Bristlebear’s lieutenant found the entrance for them. The wolf lifted its voice in a mournful howl, the tone expressing horror and disgust.

  Bristlebear threw himself at the door, scrabbling at the metal-bound stone. Terrified gasps echoed from within as he growled in frustration. Aisha hurried over and laid a hand on his side.

  He turned, snapping at the unexpected touch and barely averting his teeth in time.

  Aisha glared at him and stamped her foot. “Move!”

  He growled at her, but she moved in under him and placed her hands against the stone beside the door frame. “Like this,” she told the wolf as one of the impi’s druids came to help.

  “We should have done this from the other side,” Henri grumbled when he saw what lay within.

  The wolves poured through the gap, giving short yaps and barks sliding the scale of miniature howls. More gasps and the occasional cry of fear accompanied the eager skitter of their claws, but they were not perturbed.

  Marsh exchanged quick glances with Aisha and Tamlin and hurried after them. More cries of fear rang out as the big kats followed. In the stinking darkness, people shuffled away in panic.

  Marsh was mortified. “Dan! Outside! Take your kits.”

  The kat ignored her, stalking after the wolves, her tail in the air and her ears twitching as they monitored the activity around them. Her kits followed, as did Scruffknuckle, despite the apologetic look he threw her way.

  I’ll find out what they’re up to, Marsh told Obasi. She glanced around, her nose wrinkling with disgust. You need...

  I know, he reassured her, his mental touch soothing. I’ve got this.

  Marsh didn’t wait to hear more. She went after the wolves, stopping at the first closed door she came to. There were more?

  “Keep going,” Henri told her gruffly, nudging her aside. “Iz and I can handle it.”

  Marsh wasn’t so sure. Her senses were still reeling from the sight and stench of the prison quarters.

  I will kill them all.

  You already have, Obasi reminded her.

  It wasn’t enough.

  They’re gone, and that is all that matters. We have found wagons.

  Wagons, huh? Part of Marsh relaxed. At least now she knew how they were going to get these people back to Briar’s Ridge.

  And Ariella’s, Obasi added.

  Only if they want to, she told him tartly, thinking that the enclosed cavern might not be the best place for some of them to recover.

  Point. There was a sigh in Obasi’s communication. I’ll speak with Sulema as soon as we return to Briar’s. I can’t reach her from here.

  Marsh didn’t ask him why. She was racing to keep up with Aisha and Tamlin. The girl stopped to melt the stone away from the hinges of each door she reached, and Tamlin... Marsh frowned. She wasn’t sure what the boy was doing.

  The scent of a storm filled the air, and the next door jumped. Metal shattered, and the door tumbled. Moans of fear greeted this display, but the boy was already heading toward the next door. Marsh looked at Brigitte, but the shadow mage was leap-frogging Aisha and melting stone away from door frames.

  Obasi, we are opening more doors.

  There were around thirteen in all, as it turned out.

  Thirteen, Marsh thought. Unlucky for some.

  The wolves were digging frantically around the base and edges of the last door, whimpering as their claws did little more than scratch the stone. Several growled as Marsh approached, and Mordan snarled back.

  Her response caused folded ears, ducked heads, and hunched shoulders, and Marsh was able to get through.

  “Let me help,” she told Bristlebear, reaching for the latch over the wolf’s head.

  He growled at her, and she growled back.

  “I said help, not claim what is yours,” she snarled, and he looked at her, flexing his ears forward and narrowing his eyes.

  Marsh wasn’t sure she liked the look on his face, but he gave her enough room to reach the door, then yielded a little more as Aisha and Brigitte approached. Marsh looked at them.

  “You’ll be quicker at this,” she told them, grateful when Brigitte slapped Aisha’s hands away.

  “You’ve done enough,” the shadow mistress snapped. “You don’t want to fall over before you have a chance to help him, do you?”

  Him? Marsh picked up on the word and wondered what she’d missed.

  Mordan gave her a scornful stare. The wolves’ human is here.

  The wolves’ human? The... “The druid?” Marsh asked as Brigitte made a curt gesture with her hands. The door, released from the stone around its frame, fell inward.

  “It’s why Aisha needs to be on hand for healing,” Brigitte explained as the wolves surged past her.

  Another gasp greeted them, followed by soft laughter. “I wondered when you’d come.”

  At first, Marsh thought the voice was referring to her, but then she realized it wasn’t.

  Bristlebear gave a joyful yip and bounced around the gaunt figure slowly uncurling from the wall. The woman reached a hand to the wolf and fondled his ears. “You were nearly too late, you know. Another day...”

  Bristlebear whined and looked back at Aisha, his eyes pleading.

  The child stepped forward, her eyes blazing. “I need to borrow energy,” she told him, “from you and the pack. Please?”

  She had linked with the wolf and was speaking to him directly even as she voiced the words. It was as if it were important that everyone around them knew the energy transfer was consensual.

  Bristlebear shoved his big head under her hand, and then curved it around and took her wrist in his teeth, pulling her closer to his mistress.

  “Well, hello, little one. What do you...” The question ended in a soft cry of surprise as green light blazed from Aisha’s hands. “Wait, you don’t... Oh.”

  Marsh rushed forward as the child collapsed to the floor, but Brigitte was quicker. The shadow mistress scooped Aisha into her arms.

  “She’ll be all right,” she assured Marsh. “I’ll ask one of Obasi’s people to check her, but I think she’s just overdone it.”

  “That’s an understatement!” the strange druid added and dropped to her knees. The wolfpack pressed close as she wrapped her arms around Bristlebear’s neck and went on to greet the rest.

  When she was done, she looked up at Marsh. “Thank you.”

  She looked around, and her relief quickly turned to concern. “The others?”

  “They’re being looked after,” Marsh told her shortly. “We’ve found some wagons to get them to Briar’s Ridge.”

  At the mention of the town’s name, the woman stiffened, her face hardening in rejection. “No. I won’t allow it.”

  Marsh cocked her head. “Why not?”

  “It’s a raider town,” the woman snapped. “Surely, you know that?”

  Marsh shook her head. “Not anymore. As far as we know, this was the last nest of raiders to be cleared.’

  “The last?” The druid looked like she’d just been told all her dreams had come true, and she was having a hard time believing it.

  “As far as we know,�
� Marsh reassured her. She held out a hand. “Can you walk?”

  The woman nodded, taking her hand and squeezing it briefly. “Thanks to your child.”

  “Not my child,” Marsh corrected her and fought the sudden rush of pain in her chest. “Obasi’s this way.”

  While they had been speaking, Tamlin, Izmay, and Brigitte had been helping people out of the cells. Marsh ushered the druid after them.

  “How many of you are there, anyway?”

  “I think a hundred.”

  “A hundred?” The sheer numbers startled Marsh. “Here?”

  She thought about the small rooms they had passed and the utter squalor of the conditions. The druid gave a bitter laugh.

  “Bar the ones who have died or were scheduled to die.”

  Marsh swallowed. “Scheduled?”

  The druid reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “You don’t want to know.”

  She headed for the door. “You came just in time. Supplies were low.”

  “But, scheduled?”

  The druid gave an impatient sigh. “The old and those too weak to work and not fit for sale. The raiders treat us like cattle to be culled at will.”

  Marsh’s stomach rolled. “That’s...”

  “We are grateful to you for getting us out, especially if Briar’s Ridge is no longer a transport hub.”

  “Why were you not taken to the Library?” Marsh asked, and the druid’s expression sobered.

  “There are other ways Below,” she uttered darkly, “but the one here opens once a month, and it did not open at the scheduled time. The raiders here were waiting for the next.”

  “When is that?”

  “Tomorrow. It would be better if none of us was here then.”

  Marsh looked at her, stopping to let the last captive be helped from the room ahead. When the way was cleared, they moved forward again.

  “When you said, ‘scheduled to die,’ did you mean taken Below?”

  The druid shrugged. “It’s the same thing.”

  “And we reached you just in time?”

  “I got careless. They discovered what I was and decided I had more value as a gift for those Below than a means for enriching their crops. The ones Below are hungry for anyone with magic.” The druid cocked her head. “You would be a prime candidate.”