by Lisa Shearin
Mychael just looked at me. “You asked them not to? They’re bodyguards, Raine, not armed accessories.”
If my hands had been free, they would have been planted indignantly on my hips. “Carnades raked through my memories. I take that personally. If I take something personally, I settle it the same way.”
Mychael glanced at the retreating fire bloom in the sky that was Kalinpar. If the dragon had been closer, Mychael probably would have called them back, and I’d end up tossed over the saddle.
I could only see his face in profile, but there was no missing the clenched jaw. “What about the books?”
I told him what they were and who they were both written by.
Mychael stopped. So did our escort. “Are you certain?” he asked.
“Positive. Though I didn’t have time to do more than flip through the one in modern Goblin.” I lowered my voice. “Rudra Muralin used spellsinging to wake the Saghred, use it, and then put it back to sleep. And he was probably not much older than Piaras when he and the Saghred did their worst damage. It might explain why the stone responded to Piaras and not to you and Ronan Cayle.”
“Perhaps.” Mychael’s face didn’t betray a thing, but I could tell I’d just lit a spark in those blue eyes. I swore silently. As paladin, Mychael needed to know everything I found out, but I hoped I hadn’t just earned Piaras the same watch-first-lockup-later vibe I’d felt since I got here.
I suddenly didn’t want the books out in the open. I tucked them both into my jerkin. It was a tight fit, but I felt safer with them out of sight. I also felt safer by freeing up one of my hands.
Then I saw them. Six goblins, all armed and armored in sleek black. Khrynsani temple guards. Sarad Nukpana’s enforcers.
The Khrynsani were transparent. They were remnants, a psychic impression left behind after a person had left a place. Some sorcerers saw them constantly; I never could. Until now. The Khrynsani—and the young goblin they hunted—had been here just minutes before. I could see the filmy trail of the direction they’d gone in.
“Six Khrynsani were just here,” I told Mychael.
He didn’t question how I knew; his magic just heated the air around us as he shielded me. The remnants instantly vanished.
“Stop it!”
“What?”
“Your shields. I can’t see their remnants anymore.”
“You can’t see remnants.”
“I can now.” Apparently another unwanted gift courtesy of the Saghred. “They’re after a goblin, student age.”
Mychael swore. The shields went down, but his sword came out, the steel glowing blue. “Which way?”
A distant scream answered his question.
The woman had seen the Khrynsani, screamed, and slammed her door by the time we got there. The goblins and their quarry were no longer there, either, but I could tell where they’d gone.
I tried to pull away to follow them. Mychael pulled me back.
“They could be after you.”
I jerked away. “Not now, they’re not.”
Mychael glared. “Which way?”
“Around the corner there.”
“Vegard?” Mychael called over his shoulder.
“Sir?”
“You and Riston take Raine back to the citadel.”
“Yes, sir.”
I wasn’t going anywhere with anybody. “You can’t see them. I can.”
“No, but we can track them.”
“I can see and track them. They’re heading toward the central city. You’re going to lose them in there.”
“Maybe.”
“Shouldn’t that be my decision?”
“Not here, it’s not,” he growled.
I had a couple of choice words ready to let fly, but shouts and the sounds of fighting from ahead stopped me. It was probably a good thing; they weren’t nice words. I took off in the direction of the shouts before Mychael could get a hand on me again, though I knew he was right on my heels. He wasn’t going to be happy with me, but he’d have to get in line.
The shops and nightclubs gave way to a more residential section. The streets were darker with fewer witnesses for whatever the Khrynsani had in mind. I had blades on me but considering who I was chasing, my alternate arsenal might be a better choice. You didn’t just run Khrynsani temple guards into a dark alley without a plan. What I had wasn’t exactly a plan, but it’d keep me from getting roasted until Mychael and his Guardians could catch up with me. I wasn’t going to let the Khrynsani get that kid.
It wasn’t a dark alley. But if the goblins were looking for some privacy, the deserted courtyard they dragged their captured quarry into worked just fine.
One of the Khrynsani had a knife to the young goblin’s throat. Another had leather strips out and was binding the kid’s wrists. This wasn’t a hit; it was a kidnapping.
Mychael caught up with me on cat feet. Vegard and Riston were close behind. There was no sense rushing in. We were standing in the only way out. Possibly. Mid had plenty of buildings that led to basements that led to tunnels. I’d heard you could get from the harbor to the center city and never see the sky. I really didn’t want to test that rumor for the first time while chasing Khrynsani in the pitch dark. Elven sight was decent in the dark, but goblins could see like cats. Mychael peered into the courtyard. He saw what I saw and, judging from his confused expression, he knew the kid.
There was lamplight in the courtyard, and the goblin was in plain view. He was slender and probably not much older than Piaras, with waist-length black hair that shimmered in the lamplight. His silvery gray skin was suspiciously light, and when the lamp caught his pale eyes, my suspicions were confirmed. A half-breed, probably elven, definitely beautiful. He was stylishly dressed, though his clothing was a bit showy, more like a stage costume than anything. Probably a performer in one of the nightclubs.
A Khrynsani uncorked a small glass vial. I stifled a growl. Tied up wasn’t enough; they wanted him drugged, too. The goblin tried to struggle, but with the knife at his throat he was helpless to do anything about it.
I’d seen enough.
Mychael’s arm blocked me. He looked at Vegard, pointed at me and then emphatically to the ground. I had a feeling if I tried to follow Mychael into that courtyard, Vegard had just been ordered to sit on me.
Mychael stepped out into the courtyard entrance. Some of the Guardians went with him; some didn’t. Vegard and two Guardians armed with crossbows didn’t. There was a tree next to the courtyard entrance. One moment the two Guardians were in the street with us; then they weren’t. I imagine they were making themselves at home on the building’s roof.
A Khrynsani temple guard stepped in front of his captive. He wore tooled leather covered with a combination of black steel plate and scale armor. The single serpent of the Khrynsani insignia gleamed in vivid, red enamel over his heart. The etching in the steel made the armor look delicate, but experience had taught me better.
Mychael’s sword glowed with pale blue fire. “You’re not taking him out of here.”
“I think he’s the only way I am getting out of here.” The temple guard smiled, slow and eager, and full of fang.
Great. Someone was feeling challenged this evening.
I peeked over Mychael’s shoulder and saw that the two Guardians had reached their perches. They weren’t making any effort to hide.
“Teris?” Mychael called to one of them.
“Sir?”
“Would you be so kind as to put a bolt behind this Khrynsani’s ear if he doesn’t comply with my order?”
“No problem, sir. I was thinking along those lines myself.”
I looked back at the Khrynsani. I saw the beginnings of doubt in his black eyes. Mychael didn’t need him to be afraid, just sensible.
“Don’t worry,” Mychael told him. “You won’t feel a thing when it hits. You also won’t have time to take the boy with you.”
Teris’s crossbow creaked as he cranked the string back. The sound effec
t was a nice touch. It also changed the Khrynsani’s mind. He didn’t move, but I saw it in his eyes—the goblin wasn’t worth it to him.
Mychael stood perfectly still. He was getting what he wanted, and saw no sense in spooking the Khrynsani. “Tell your men to take the blade away from his throat, let him go, and step back. Way back.”
No one moved for nearly a minute. Then the Khrynsani guard hissed something under his breath, and the others backed away from the young goblin. The guard never took his eyes from Mychael.
Mychael motioned to the boy. The goblin ripped away the still-loose leather bindings and crossed the distance to us.
Mychael took two steps toward the boy, and the Khrynsani temple guard smiled, though it looked more like a wolf baring his fangs at a new option that’d just appeared on the menu.
He’d seen me.
“It appears I’m in your debt, Paladin Eiliesor. You take one prize away and bring me another.”
Mychael stepped protectively in front of me.
“Darshan?” the Khrynsani guard called over his shoulder.
A figure stepped out of a darkened doorway wearing a black robe lined in silver. A Khrynsani shaman.
Oh hell.
I could see others in the shadows behind him. So much for there being only one entrance to the courtyard.
The guard laughed softly. “Before the paladin so gallantly shielded his fair lady, did you see her?”
“Yes, I did. She is the one. Take her.”
So I was on the Khrynsani’s dance card this evening.
I heard a pair of thumps, and suddenly there were two fewer Khrynsani. A crossbow bolt had taken one in the chest, another in the back.
Teris looked wildly behind him. The shot had come from the roof next door. The marksmen were goblins, they were heavily armed—and best of all, they weren’t Khrynsani.
The Khrynsani scattered like roaches in torchlight. Apparently there were other exits from the courtyard into the street and the Khrynsani took full advantage. Within seconds the temple guards and shamans were moving to surround us.
Crossbow bolts weren’t the only things flying through the air as the Guardians, Khrynsani, and our mystery goblin allies launched spells, counterspells, and enough nasty crossfire to fry anything left standing. I wasn’t standing. I’d hit the cobbles during the first volley. In a serious fight, mages launched spells at an opponent’s torso or head for a quick kill. Anything below the knees didn’t warrant attention. The same went for personal shields.
I never ignored any target, especially ankles. A little focused will and a quick yank would jerk a mage’s feet right out from underneath him. It’d worked for me in the past, and was doing a fine job now as another Khrynsani landed on his back in the street. That most were knocking themselves unconscious when their heads hit the cobblestones was just an added bonus.
A spell ricocheted off someone’s shields. I rolled to keep from getting fried and ended up facedown in a gutter—and face-to-face with the kid. Eyes of the clearest aquamarine; eyes of a pure-blooded high elf. About eighteen years ago, a goblin had ventured way out of his or her family tree. Another explosion made us both cover our heads.
“Looks like someone doesn’t like you, either,” he said.
There was a momentary lull in the shooting and spellslinging, and the kid started scrambling to his feet. I grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. “In my family that’s not silence; it’s reloading.”
I felt cold air down the front of my shirt. I looked down. My jerkin laces had come undone. I frantically felt down the front of my jerkin and shirt. The kid’s eyes followed my every move. I’d lost one of the books. Dammit. Then I saw it, lying about ten feet away against the curb. A Khrynsani shaman spotted it at the same time. His eyes went wide and he dove for the book and snatched it up. I scrambled to my feet. He tried to run, but he didn’t get far. I tackled him at the knees and we both went down. Ugly wrestling ensued. The shaman had been taught in a temple. I’d been taught to beat the crap out of anyone who took something of mine. It didn’t take me long to get my book back.
A pair of strong hands jerked me to my feet and dragged me into an alley.
I went for my switchblade, but he got there first. Only two men knew where I kept it. Phaelan was one. The other was the tall goblin wearing rough leathers whose entire body had me pinned against the alley wall. His hair fell in a dark, silken curtain around us both. He had my switchblade, but I had his wrist.
Tamnais Nathrach.
I was breathing heavily and so was he. I’d just wrestled a Khrynsani shaman. I didn’t know what Tam’s excuse was— or what the hell he was doing here.
I drew breath to ask, then held it when a Khrynsani shaman ducked around the corner into the alley. His back was to us, his hands glowing red with an unreleased spell. Tam clapped his other hand over my mouth. He needn’t have bothered; I wasn’t going to make a sound. It was Darshan, the shaman who had recognized me. Neither one of us moved, but the shaman must have sensed that he wasn’t alone in the alley. He turned, and when he saw the two of us, he smiled slowly and the red glow faded from his hands.
“Primaru Nathrach, I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses. You arrived just in time to keep your end of our bargain.”
Bargain?
Darshan wanted me—and he knew Tam by a title he’d tried to bury along with his past.
The Khrynsani held a small vial in his hand. I’d seen its twin a few minutes ago.
His smile twisted into a leer, fangs peeking into view. “Do you require this, or do you wish to subdue her yourself?”
Tam violently hissed a single word and Darshan froze, his eyes wide with disbelief, strangled sounds coming from between paralyzed lips. Lips that I knew no air would ever pass through again. Strangled turned to gurgling. Tam repeated the same word over and over, each time deeper, softer, and more sibilant until the word resolved itself into a serpent’s hiss.
A death curse in Old Goblin. The blackest of black magic.
And Tam was wielding it with a master’s touch.
The Khrynsani’s eyes went vacant as he slid lifelessly down the alley wall.
The Saghred responded. I didn’t know if it was to Tam’s touch, the sound of Old Goblin, the death curse, or the potent scent of Tam’s black magic lingering in the air.
The Saghred didn’t care.
I felt heat coil tightly like a fiery serpent in the center of my chest. It uncoiled and ignited, spreading through my body, heating and awakening. Eager and quivering. I couldn’t hear anything past the pounding of my heart. Tam held me pressed against the wall, his lean body hard against mine. He looked down at me in shock and disbelief—and beyond that lay something darker and uncontrolled. His large eyes were bottomless black pools with barely any white exposed. His breathing became ragged and the sharp tips of his fangs appeared behind parted lips.
“The Saghred?” Tam’s question came out as a raw whisper.
It was, but I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I started to panic as the power between us continued to build, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I couldn’t fight it; I couldn’t stop it.
And I didn’t want to.
Tam slid his hand from my mouth to my throat, the heated trail of his fingers burning away all instinct to defend myself. He bent his head until his lips hovered over mine. His breath was warm, the sting of his fangs a sharp sweetness as he softly bit my bottom lip. Then his mouth met mine and the Saghred’s power coursed like liquid fire through my veins, meeting and melding with Tam’s black magic until what was mine and his became ours in a searing blaze of power. A pulsing, living thing ripe with dark promise.
No!
“Back,” I gasped. I managed to wedge my hands between Tam and me and pushed hard against his chest. “Dammit Tam, get back!”
My effort wasn’t necessary. Tam staggered back from me like I was the edge of an abyss and he’d almost fallen in. I dimly realized the fighting in the street had stopped.
“What are you doing here?” Tam’s words came out half strangled.
“The boy,” I heard myself say. “The Khrynsani want him.”
And me. A Khrynsani shaman knew Tam well enough to lower his defenses—and expected Tam to hand me over to him.
But Tam had killed him. With black magic.
I bent and retrieved my switchblade from where Tam had dropped it, never taking my eyes from the goblin that until two minutes ago, I had considered more than a friend. I flipped the blade open. It was in perfect working order. Good.
“Just what the hell are you doing here?” I growled. My eyes widened in realization. “You followed me here from Mermeia.” I looked at the dead Darshan. “Why? As a favor for the Khrynsani?”
Goblins had what they called “intricate alliances”—and even more intricate betrayals. I couldn’t believe that Tam would betray me.
I couldn’t deny that Tam was a dark mage.
Tam had always wanted me. Now Tam’s black magic wanted the Saghred. He’d come close to getting both.
“Raine!” It was Mychael’s desperate shout from somewhere in the street or the courtyard. I didn’t know. Hell, I could barely think. I put Rudra Muralin’s journal back in my jerkin, and saw that my hands were shaking. Fear, shock, rage—take your pick.
“Answer me, Tam!” I snapped.
Silence.
“Raine!” Mychael was closer.
“She’s here,” Tam called, loud enough to be heard by Mychael, but no one else.
Mychael appeared at the alley entrance, saw us, and noted the dead shaman. His eyes went back to Tam, his face an expressionless mask. The air around us still crackled with the remnants of our melded powers—and the acrid scent of Tam’s death curse.
I knew a little about Tam’s past. He’d reluctantly volunteered some things, and I’d heard whispered rumors of a few more. None of it was anything to be proud of. Mychael had known Tam long before I’d met him. As a lawman, I imagine Mychael had made it his business to know the name of every skeleton in Tam’s closet.
Mychael didn’t need to say a word; his blue eyes were blazing and so was his blade. They were doing his talking for him. Tam’s black eyes matched Mychael’s for intensity, and the red glow of a spell in readiness flared to life on his hands. The two of them were packing enough firepower to wipe out most of a city block. I’d seen this kind of behavior before—at high noon on a quickly deserted street. I was going to put a stop to it right now.
