Tipping her head back she looked up at the seven story building, wondering what Kester vo Halsfeld would say if he knew that, in anticipation of the end of her service, she had identified several points of refuge around the city as a temporary respite. There had been no certainty that she would reach the end of her service, the Erith quite capable of arranging her death rather than let her go. And it had been possible that the elder would not banish her. Very remotely possible, for she knew the elder well. He would not have tolerated her presence longer than he had to.
Standing in the city night, sounds muted with the hour, she drew a deep breath, unexpected impulse to laugh rising up again. Free. For the first time in her life. Free.
The hiss of wheels against the road surface at the end of the city block snapped her back to focus. Free. Not safe. And vulnerable, with her body tired and power low.
This building was in reasonably good repair, the lower two floors occupied with retail businesses and their offices. The remaining floors were waiting for refurbishment before being sold as residences. A few quiet enquiries had revealed that the plans were tied up in Lix’ formidable bureaucracy and the contractors would not be here for several months if not longer. In between errands for the Taellan several months before she had managed to store a change of clothes in one of the many unused spaces in the empty floors. A spare set bought cheaply at one of the city’s charity shops. Threadbare, like the rest of her clothing, but clean. Unable to draw wards to protect them, thanks to the constraints of her oath spells, she hoped the clothing was still there.
Her luck held a final time for the day. The clothing still there, safe.
˜
Waking stiff and cold from a night on the floor, she felt oddly leaden as she removed all trace of her presence from the empty rooms, cleansing magic coming easily to her hands, no restrictions now on the use she could make of her power. She made her way quietly down the stairs and paused just inside the door to wait for a few humans to pass by outside, the heaviness resolving itself into a dull pain in her chest, a weight of sorrow that she had not anticipated. For the second time in her life she was an exile from the Erith, the Erith not caring, still, how she might survive. Or if she would survive. Her jaw tightened. This time she was fully grown, trained, with some resources and a far better understanding of how the human world worked.
One of her deepest wishes, freedom from her service, had been granted. She had never quite believed it would happen. When she had set up a few places for a night’s stay at short notice, she had been hoping, but not daring to plan too much further, and not daring to hope too much. Time enough to plan in detail when she was free, she had thought then. The world open before her, places she had read about or seen images of and wanted to see for herself.
And now that she was free, in theory, she could still feel ties pulling her back. There was need for her attention, even if the Taellan would deny it. They might wish to believe that the surjusi threat was gone, that the humans discovered at the underground place that stank of unclean magic were the whole threat. She had told the Preceptor that she believed otherwise the day before. He had not seemed convinced, the magicians with him openly scorning the idea of further threat.
The tainted magicians that had been defeated in the underground were too deformed, and not powerful enough, to have created the spellwork she had discovered. There was still a master magician abroad, one capable of summoning and binding surjusi, and wielding magic she had never encountered before. And Evellan was holding information back that could be useful. He had been too distressed and angry at the presence of surjusi so close to the Taellaneth to adopt his normal, difficult-to-read, expression.
In the shadow of the doorway she shivered. The highest authority in Erith magic was holding secrets relating to an incursion.
The Erith might have banished her, but surjusi were a threat to everyone, including the human world she now occupied. She had lived through the devastation of Hallveran, seen first-hand how little the Erith cared when other races were in danger. There had been no surjusi, disease and conflict more than enough to all but destroy the city. Humans and ‘kin alike had died in huge numbers, and the Erith had not intervened, returning to the city only long enough to pull her out and back to the Taellaneth for their own purposes.
She had no faith in the ability of the self-interested Taellan to now deal with surjusi that did not directly threaten them. The Erith would retreat behind their borders, too fractured and too frightened of taint to be effective. By the time they realised the threat might affect them, the master magician would have had time to regroup and the surjusi hold would be stronger, and harder to push back.
She closed her eyes, thinking it through. The magician who had brought the surjusi into this world would know that his acolytes had been defeated. He would know that the Erith and ‘kin were aware of the threat. With the mastery of Erith magic he had shown, she had to assume he was very familiar with the Erith and how they thought. The assessment she had made, that the Erith would not act against threats outside their borders, was obvious to anyone who knew the Erith.
Ice slid down her spine sending trails through her body. Now was the perfect time for the magician to regroup and strike. Now. While the Erith were torn between panic at the thought of another incursion and relief that it appeared to be over.
And until the day before there had been no one in the human world to stand against surjusi. Now there was. One exiled mage. She was used to working alone, a trained war mage with the slight weight of a spirit sword at her back. That she had encountered surjusi more than once without taint was something she did not wish to think about too closely at present.
She let out a long breath, shoulders bowing under the weight of obligation, her breath clouding the air for a moment. Surjusi threatened everyone and everything. Even her recent freedom. As much as she wished to distance herself from the Erith, there were thousands of people in Lix who did not deserve to be caught in an incursion. And she could not walk away from that.
With an immediate goal in mind, she slipped out of the building and began walking through the city, body loosening as she moved.
˜
Two days after her exile she was reconsidering her resolution. Two days of waiting in the cold, hoping that the Academy magicians and White Guard would leave the underground space and she could get inside, hope that had proved futile. She was stiff and cold, thinking longingly of the warm, cheap, hotel room where she had left her messenger bag and most of her supplies.
The estate was warded, or so the humans thought. It had taken less than half a morning walking around the perimeter to find a gap and slip through. It was a long walk to the Hessman residence and the opening to the underground, an innocent-looking pair of wooden doors tucked into a high wall along one of the winding, tree-lined streets that passed through the estate.
Human security might be lax. The Erith were taking no chances. The entire estate was being patrolled by White Guard. They walked openly around the Hessman grounds, and more discreetly travelled in vehicles through the rest of the estate. It had taken Arrow the best part of a day to get within sight of the Hessman boundary, only to realise that there was no route inside without being caught.
There was a possibility that the Preceptor would welcome her presence, would give her access to the underground, and allow her to search for information she had missed during the chaotic night that Hessman had been defeated. There was also a possibility that the warriors had been told to shoot her on sight. Bows and arrows might seem old fashioned to some ill-informed humans, but an Erith arrow killed as effectively and swiftly as a human-made bullet. Although her personal wards should stop any fatal blow, she had no wish to test that. And no wish to attract unnecessary attention if the Erith did not want her help. Or had other orders, perhaps issued in spite by Eshan, to shoot her on sight. She could not rule out the possibility.
There had been a steady flow of Erith vehicles through the estate as well as t
he White Guard’s patrols, the familiar hum of magic against her senses telling her that various Academy magicians had been to and from the underground. Her optimism in hoping she could access the space had gone. It could take them months to be satisfied they had learned everything they could. The Academy believed in being thorough and with the evidence of a human magic user wielding surjusi power, they would be being especially cautious.
She tucked herself into the shadow of a hedge to avoid being seen by one of the White Guard’s patrol vehicles, the faintest look-away spell shimmering in second sight around her. Too much and the warriors would notice. With the additional distraction of the vehicle’s wards they had simply passed her by. Subtle, careful magic like that took time and patience and she was running out of both. The hedge behind her bordered a residence whose owner regularly maintained their wards. The residence’s wards were prickling against her back, stirring. No alarm yet.
She needed to move. There would be no access to the underground space. Hessman had not worked alone. There must be other places to search in Lix. Places where she would not need to hide in a hedge with cold drops of melting frost dripping down her back.
And she had to consider other possibilities, too. The shifkin Prime had found her service useful. He might believe her. She had considered asking for his help more than once, hesitating out of hard-learned lessons dealt by the Erith that she only had herself to rely on. Zachary might have found her useful, but relations between ‘kin and Erith were tricky, a delicate dance that the Prime and Queen had somehow managed, the Erith very aware that the balance could tip at any point. Hard to believe that the Erith’s old enemies would take in and give aid to an Erith-trained mage with no status among the Erith. And no legal identity among humans, either. Arrow closed her eyes a moment. There must be something else she could try.
Forcing herself to remain still as the icy water slide down her spine, she cast her senses open. No White Guard were nearby. Relieved, she moved, walking with purpose, as if she belonged there. Mannerisms she had copied from some of the humans she had observed on Lix’ streets. Hands in pockets, head up, shoulders relaxed. Her distinctive hair was tucked into a wool hat, scarf wound around her neck and covering her jaw. The White Guard might not recognise her, if she could keep her magic hidden.
The unguarded section of estate boundary was some distance away. It was also some distance from the Hessman residence, with far fewer White Guard patrols. Beyond the immediate threat of discovery, she relaxed slightly, turning her attention to where she might search.
The tainted magic user might have spent more time in Lix. Other Descendants had lived in the city, and there might be traces at their residences, if the White Guard were not also patrolling there. Or she could go back to Hallveran, to the Rowan house. Where she would have to get past a cadre of White Guard and mage guarding the vicandula. She sighed, becoming aware that as well as being cold she was also hungry. Coffee, she decided, and food, and perhaps a plan would come to her when she had eaten.
With a quick glance around to make sure she was unobserved, she crossed the street, keeping her pace even.
Luck was not with her today, though, for as she passed in front of a pair of gates, cast in light for a moment, she saw a pair of White Guard on patrol on the next block ahead of her. The pair were making no pretence at idleness, walking silently, hands on weapons. Arrow tucked her hands deeper into her pockets and ducked her head, looking ahead for a break in the hedge she might hide in.
“Arrow?”
She glanced up in automatic response and saw, too late, that one of the pair was Kallish nuin Falsen. The warrior was quickening her pace as she came towards Arrow, her patrol companion falling behind, Kallish’s gaze on a point past Arrow’s shoulder.
Arrow glanced back quickly, mentally cursing as she caught a vague glimpse of people following her. She should have been paying more attention to her surroundings, and not to avoiding the White Guard. Before she could do more than pause, there was a blur of movement, a sharp and cold sting in her shoulder. She stumbled, surprised, glancing down to find a long, thin metal device with a red tuft at the end sticking out of her shoulder. Her wards flared, too late, and she turned fully to find a group of four men bearing down on her, guns levelled, vague shape of a bulky vehicle in the shadows of the hedge. How had she missed a vehicle? How had they got a vehicle into the estate? Something snapped against her wards and fell to the ground. Missed. Another one of those red tufted tubes. Her vision wavered. Odd looking guns. Not enough noise.
Her wards rose and fell and rose and then finally fell, her mind not able to hold the spell. Another sting, in her other shoulder. She could not focus. Tufted metal tubes. Dark pavement cleared of snow. Heavy boots. Humans with guns.
Raised voices behind her, the words distorting as the world slid sideways. She thought that the language might be Erith but could not be certain. Her mind was not working properly, magic refusing to come to her aid, her hasty attempt at raising her wards again shivering into nothing in the chill air.
Tranquiliser, she realised at last as another sting hit her. Legs tangled. Body refused to stay upright. Knees on ground. Sharp points of pain. Ground rushing towards her face then blackness.
CHAPTER THREE
She woke feeling sick. Head pounding. Muscles cramped. Everything was sideways. She was curled up, surface under her hard, uneven, and moving. She could feel the vibration of some kind of engine through the floor surface. And the smell. Foul cheese. She tried breathing through her mouth. A bare improvement.
“Good, you are awake.”
The Erith voice nearby startled her into opening her eyes and turning her head. A mistake. The world tilted unpleasantly while she breathed carefully through her mouth, waiting for her stomach to settle.
“Svegraen,” she greeted Kallish, “where are we?”
“Inside some kind of transport vehicle.”
The surface shuddered and jolted as the vehicle ran over something rough in the road.
“A very ill-maintained vehicle,” the warrior added, lips thin.
Arrow struggled, confined by crudely fashioned rope ties at her wrists and ankles, to a more upright position, sitting against the side wall of the vehicle. She had a better view of the interior now, hesitating a moment before sending her senses out. Not only was her head pounding, but there was a weight around her neck. Some kind of device that hummed faintly with magic. Her stomach lurched. At the edge of her hearing, thankfully muted by the ache in her head, was a faint scratching, an almost-whisper that was sickeningly familiar.
“How came you to be here, svegraen?” she asked, wanting a distraction from the collar around her neck and what it meant.
“Following you, mage.” The warrior’s voice was terse. Her impeccable composure was gone, leaving an irritated scowl as she glared at Arrow. “Xeveran went for aid but did not arrive in time.” Arrow’s mind was still slow, and it took her a moment to process that. Kallish’s patrol companion. So, the White Guard would have been alerted to the presence of humans. And were perhaps looking for Kallish even now. The warrior’s lips thinned again. “You have a talent for attracting trouble.”
“I am sorry that you have been involved in this,” Arrow responded with automatic courtesy, Erith training deeply ingrained. She paused, frowned, and looked around. “Whatever this is.”
“Kidnapped by humans.” The disgust in the warrior’s tone told Arrow that was the thing that rankled most and made her smile despite her aching head and ribs.
“They had the element of surprise. And tranquiliser guns, which is not something I would have expected,” she answered, testing the bindings at her wrists again. They seemed to give a little more, but she was not entirely sure. It might simply be that her wrists were becoming numb with the pressure.
“And what are these infernal devices?” Kallish spat, jerking her chin towards Arrow’s neck. Arrow stilled, chill creeping through her. The dim light provided by the filthy skylight did no
t allow for much detail, but she thought the warrior was serious.
“You do not recognise them, svegraen?”
“No. Should I?”
“They appear to be a form of suppressor collar. The Academy use them on occasion. And I thought the White Guard as well.”
“Barbaric things.” Kallish’s hiss of disapproval cut the air. “We have no need of such to maintain discipline in our ranks.”
“They contain a destroyer worm, so do not engage your magic for any cause, svegraen,” Arrow warned, “or the thing will eat you.”
“This little thing?” The warrior was not mocking, just considering, dark eyes gleaming intently in the gloom, fixed on the collar around Arrow’s neck. Arrow wondered if the warrior could hear the almost-whispering, too. It had been a constant companion when she had worn a collar through her Academy days. Worst in the night, when she was alone in her blankets with no other distraction.
The van jolted then, hitting another rough patch of road, and Arrow hissed, pain stabbing through her.
“You are wounded?” The warrior’s enquiry was simply seeking information.
“I broke ribs on Farraway Mountain, and cracked them again at the underground,” Arrow admitted, feeling heat in her face. She seemed to have spent the past few weeks going from one injury to another and had found no time to heal herself properly in the past days.
“Uncomfortable,” Kallish offered. Arrow realised with a start that the warrior was expressing sympathy and understanding.
“Indeed,” she answered, voice dry, “and most inconvenient.”
“Brace yourself against the back of the cabin beside me,” the warrior suggested, “rather than at the side.”
Arrow moved as best she could with her hands and feet tied, wriggling around so that she was not propped against the side of the truck but had her back against the cabin, within arm’s length of the warrior. She was now sitting on a pile of stiff cloth that she thought might be tarpaulin, which was easier on her bones than the hard surface of the truck’s interior. The jolting was less intense, too, giving her relief from her aching ribs. The pounding in her head she could not do much about at present.
Revealed: The Taellaneth - Book 2 Page 3
