“Kester. You have turned out well.”
“Thank you,” the warrior answered evenly, a wry smile twisting his mouth.
“Mage.” Kallish was frowning. “Why are you out of the heartland?”
And that was a very good question, Arrow realised. Reputedly the Queen’s favourite mage, Gilean vo Presien was famed not only for his bad handwriting but also his enjoyment of travel. Erith legend had it that Erith lands stretched further than the maps had chartered, and Gilean was determined to explore them all.
“Not here. Not now,” he replied easily, eyes flicking momentarily in Gesser’s direction, the young lord still moaning softly.
Arrow had some sympathy with the spoiled Erith lord, but only a little. It must hurt to have a sword wound through your middle, but it had hurt when the lord had deliberately broken three of her fingers, savaging them joint by joint. He had only laughter to offer her then. Him and his friends. All confident that they could do what they pleased to her, without fear of repercussion. As had been proved.
Her right hand clenched, misaligned fingers refusing to curl into a proper fist, a constant reminder of the young lord’s cruelty, and, if she needed it, a constant reminder of the Erith’s bare tolerance for her existence. As Orlis had shown by restoring her other hand, an Erith healer could have set the bones back entirely straight. Instead, they had done as little as possible. The hand was functional; not fully, but sufficient for spellwork, which was all that had interested the healers.
Shadows in the doorway preceded the arrival of four healers. Two from House Regresan, two from House Regersfel. Arrow’s eyebrows twitched. The elder must want a direct report of the matter. For once she was glad of her banishment; the elder might want her punished, but he no longer had the ability to do so.
That would not prevent either the elder or Gret vo Regresan from trying, and they were each capable of setting the White Guard after her.
“You know where to find me if you need me, svegraen,” she told Kallish. “Mage.” She bowed her head slightly, and skirted around the bustling, dismayed healers, on her way to the door.
Lord Whintnath himself was coming along the corridor, his personal guard around him. She stepped to one side to let him past, taken aback as he paused.
“The threat is gone?”
“The surjusi is banished.” Her voice was heavy with the weight of Master Hustrai’s death.
“The threat?”
“The young lord called surjusi into him, and had help to do so,” she told the White Guard commander, holding his eyes, her own full of silver. “I do not believe the threat is clear.”
“That is a serious accusation, Arrow,” the commander said, face stiff. An observation, not a challenge, she noted.
“Have him questioned.”
“We heard the lord admit it.” Gilean’s voice was too close. She was very tired of people creeping up behind her.
“I see.” Lord Whintnath closed his eyes momentarily, shadows across his face. When he opened them, he had himself under control. “Lias, make sure there is a cadre to guard the young lord. And he will be cared for in the barracks until we can determine he is no longer a threat.”
“Svegraen.” The leader of Whintnath’s third made a shallow bow and strode away to carry out her orders.
“Lord vo Regresan will protest,” Kester commented.
“Let him. That young lord has had far too much freedom for too long,” the commander said, voice edged. Arrow felt her right hand clenching again and stopped the movement.
“You were leaving, Arrow?” Gilean asked.
“I have outstayed my welcome.”
“We will want a statement from you,” Whintnath told her.
“Kallish and Orlis can both find me.”
A disturbance further along the corridor drew her attention and she saw the too-familiar figure of Eshan nuin Regersfel bearing towards her.
“Burthris, we have not finished with the scene yet. Inform the Chief Scribe of that and ensure that no one apart from the guard and senior Teaching Master is permitted into the building.” Whintnath’s voice was calm.
“Svegraen.” The next senior of his third bowed, a smile tugging his lips before the warrior went to meet the Chief Scribe, something of a spring in his stride.
“There is a side entrance,” Whintnath nodded down a nearby corridor, “and Kallish will escort you to the gate with her cadre. My thanks, Arrow.” He gave her a small bow and moved on.
Arrow’s mouth shut with a snap. The White Guard commander did not bow to half-breed outcasts or extend his thanks. She stared after his back a moment trying to puzzle out what had happened. Praise or thanks were not what she expected from the Erith. She could not understand the behaviour, and her skin was itching, telling her she had lingered too long. She turned to continue on her way.
“The young lord will heal. He is under guard,” Kallish told her, keeping an easy pace as they made their way towards the gates, following one of the lesser-used pathways. Kester had joined them, Orlis presumably staying with Gilean for now.
“Any sign of taint?”
“No. The guard and Academy staff are going through the Academy. It is all clean so far. The teaching staff wish to destroy the Potions classroom.”
Arrow checked in her stride, weight gathering in her stomach.
“That seems like a good idea,” she said at length. A rapid conclusion following the Master’s death, his body still warm. A sign of how much the teaching staff feared taint.
“You do not agree?” Kester asked from her other side.
“I do not think the room could be recovered.” Arrow shrugged one shoulder. “But …”
“Master Hustrai will be missed,” Kester said softly.
“Yes.” Arrow’s throat closed.
“He was a generous, gentle soul,” Kallish added. “May he rest well.”
“May he rest well,” Arrow and Kester echoed.
“You knew Master Hustrai?”
“I remember him as a young thing.” Kallish’s voice was shaded with hurt that Arrow thought the warrior did not often share.
“I am sorry.”
“The blame lies elsewhere,” Kallish answered, face closing.
“Has anyone searched the young lord’s rooms?” Arrow was glad to change the subject.
“Whintnath will see to it.” Kallish’s eyes gleamed. “The Taellan his father will likely protest. He will not be listened to.”
Gesser had lived at his father’s mansion in the Taellaneth, Arrow remembered. Gret would do more than protest at White Guard invading his residence. Still, he would not be listened to.
“Word is that Gret was dismayed,” Kester said quietly, “and deeply shocked. He said he had no idea.”
“The lord was wilfully blind,” Kallish said dismissively, face tight. “The young lord has been troublesome for many years.” The warrior tilted her head to Arrow’s hand, damaged fingers evident.
“Gesser did that?” Kester asked, dismayed.
“Many years ago.” Arrow shoved her hands into pockets, out of sight.
˜
The rest of Kallish’s cadre met them at the gates, the sentries on duty hastening to open the way.
Leaving the shadows of the walls, Arrow had a momentary sense of dislocation, looking ahead to the road to Lix and seeing a group of vehicles travelling towards her. The Erith vehicles were gathered a prudent distance from the gates, one of the mechanics checking them over with close attention, muttering audible from several paces away.
“Shifkin vehicles,” Kallish observed. “The Prime paying the Taellan another visit?”
“Seeking an update, perhaps,” Kester suggested, equally calm.
Arrow wondered why they had not called her and dug the mobile phone out of her bag, glad that no one in the Taellaneth had searched her belongings. She had forgotten to leave it in the vehicle; such technology was forbidden within the Taellaneth. A blank screen met her eyes. She shook it slightly, press
ed a random key. Not working. Somewhere between yesterday morning and now.
“Is it broken?” Kallish asked.
“Perhaps it needs to be charged,” Kester suggested, surprising her with his knowledge. “Did the shifkin leave a device for that?”
“Perhaps. I have not had time to check.”
By unspoken agreement they kept walking on, past the Erith vehicles, ignoring the glowers from the mechanic.
Walking between the slightly taller warriors Arrow still shivered lightly. A short distance from here she had been shot. Her wards had been adapted, so no bullets should now get through. And she knew who had organised the shooting. Still, it was unsettling.
The ‘kin vehicles came to a smooth stop ahead of them, doors opening, Zachary getting out along with a half dozen armed ‘kin, who made a point of staying with the vehicles, weapons away from the Erith as their Prime came forward.
Zachary was dressed for combat in black clothing, hilt of a sword poking over one shoulder, face tight.
“There was an almighty surge of magic,” he began, apparently calm. Arrow’s brows lifted; she had not realised that the Academy’s emergency wards would travel as far as Lix, and wondered if the humans would shortly send enquiries, too. The Prime glanced around the Erith, drawing in a breath. “There has been trouble. And more death.”
“An incursion today at the Academy,” Arrow told him, fingers clenched in her pockets. “Master Hustrai died.”
“The Potions Master.” His face shadowed. “A grave loss. A good man.”
“Yes. He was.”
Zachary looked her up and down and she realised that she was still spattered with Master Hustrai’s blood and the ash of surjusi. There was a bundle of hurt in her throat, sending tendrils into her chest, constricting her breathing.
“Let’s walk,” he suggested, tilting his head towards the grassland that stretched either side of the road. “Unless your escort object?”
Kallish narrowed her eyes but made no comment as Arrow moved to walk beside the Prime.
“Walking does not really help,” she told him as they stepped off the road. “I have tried before.”
“Alone, I’d guess.” He matched her steady pace.
They walked a few moments longer, Arrow having to take her hands out of her pockets for balance.
“The threat’s contained?”
“It is.”
“And the Preceptor?”
“In the Taellaneth still.” Her jaw clenched. She had sent the Prime the briefest of messages about Evellan and Seivella’s recovery and now remembered the reason why they had come to the Taellaneth that morning. There had been no time for questions. She wondered if Kallish and Kester would want to return to the Taellaneth now. Perhaps she could remain here with the ‘kin. “Along with Lady Seivella.”
“What have they told you?”
“Very little. They were tainted and wounded. They are under healers’ care and guarded.”
“Good. I want to speak to them both.”
“I am …” A quick sideways glance and she bit off whatever else she had intended to say. The Prime would speak with them.
“What happened today?”
“There was a possession. Gesser vo Regresan.” She heard the bitterness in her voice and found that for the first time she did not care. She did not need to hide her dislike any more. Another effect of freedom. She had no time to consider it further, as the Prime was waiting. “I banished the surjusi. But then something moved Master Hustrai.”
“The same surjusi?”
“I do not know.” And that was worrying.
“A companion? Is that possible?”
“I do not know,” she said again, frustrated by her lack of knowledge. The text from the Preceptor’s book turned within her, a page unfolding, edges of parchment brushing against her mind. Closing her eyes, she focused inward, trying to read the page. The words and symbols were nonsense. No language that she knew. Her foot caught on something and she stumbled, righting herself, face flaming. Clumsy and awkward.
“But the taint is gone?” Zachary’s voice was very far away.
“Yes. The Academy is clear. The staff and White Guard are making certain.”
“And Gesser?”
“I stabbed him.” Arrow was not sure why that was the first thing she said.
A choking sound drew her eyes and she found Zachary trying not to laugh, eyes bright.
“How violent of you.” He grinned.
“The sword,” she flicked her head, indicating the hilt at her shoulder, “needs contact to work.”
“So, you stabbed him? Hope I never get possessed,” he said lightly.
“You will not. Shifkin are not prone to such things, and you are too powerful,” she told him seriously.
“A clean wound?” he asked after a pause.
“So Kallish said.” She bit her lip. “But that was an accident.”
“And now the sword is solid.”
“I am not sure what I did.”
The Prime was an oddly comfortable companion, apparently relaxed, attention on her, but not overwhelmingly so. There was no judgement in his gaze, no revulsion, rather a quiet recognition.
“The Erith don’t really know what you are, do they?”
“They suspect.” Her shoulders tensed, and she relaxed them, muscles sore. “Something they call a shadow-walker. It explains my … immunity to the surjusi.”
“And they need your help.” His eyes were bright again. “Remember that.”
“Thank you.” It seemed the only appropriate response.
“Is the space to your liking?”
“Oh, yes.” She could not stop the smile, words crowding each other at her lips. More room than she had ever had before. And granted to her. The chance to practice magic for its own sake, and not by the Erith’s order. “It is a luxury to have a space to work.”
“Work?” She had amused him for some reason she could not fathom.
“I have not been able to prepare spells. Healing salves. Strengthening potions,” she clarified.
“Any progress on tracking the rogue?”
The question she had anticipated and had no clue how to answer. So, she told him about the book, about the portrait, about Evellan and Seivella’s apparent connection to the rogue, and about how strong he was.
She stopped walking then, body locked, unable to move forward, everything tense, an unhappy coil of shame and hurt twisting her gut. She had not told him about how broken she had been after the last encounter with the rogue. The sword at her back was whole again, and another surjusi was gone. And she still felt damaged.
Zachary had been guiding their steps and she saw that they were back near to his vehicles, the ‘kin and Erith waiting patiently under a darkening sky, the great walls of the Taellaneth a backdrop to the odd group.
“How do we find him?”
She swallowed, prepared to tell him that she had no idea, and another page of the book unfurled inside.
“There may be a way to track through the shadow land. I need to-”
Whatever she had been about to say was cut off as a bolt of dark mage fire slammed out of nowhere and struck the Taellaneth walls.
“That’s him,” Zachary said grimly. “Finally.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Against the backdrop of shouts from the Erith and alarm coursing through the ‘kin, she followed Zachary back to the vehicles, the Prime moving with lethal ease over the ground, quickly out-pacing her.
Another blast of mage fire struck, and the gates fell, the shock of their landing vibrating through the ground, sound following a moment after.
“He does like a show,” Zachary was saying as she arrived at the group.
The potent symbol of the Taellaneth gates lying on the ground, the way into the Erith’s showcase open for anyone, was indeed a show. A display of power that no mage could match. And a display of arrogance that few Erith could equal, Arrow thought. The mage had announced his presence. She wo
ndered why he had come here, answering her own question a moment later. Outside the heavily guarded Palace, at the heart of the Erith lands, this was the most powerful symbol of Erith government. Anyone wanting to make an impression on the Erith would come here. As the Prime had a handful of days before.
Battle wards shimmered around the Erith and within the wards armoured coats were being fastened, weapons readied, Kallish issuing orders in an apparently calm voice. The ‘kin were folded into the Erith’s wards without hesitation and the group made their way back to the Taellaneth, Arrow forced to a half-run in their midst to keep up, grateful that she did not have anything heavier than her person to carry.
By the time they arrived at the Taellaneth gates she was sweating and out of breath. The group paused involuntarily to look at the damage done, the enormous gates lying broken on the ground, splintered, and charred, the sentry points on either side toppled.
“Gate guard?” Arrow asked between breaths.
“Gone,” Kallish answered, face grim.
“Gone? Dead?” So quickly. Two bolts of mage fire and the entire gate guard destroyed. There was no scent of death, the air full of burning wood.
“Missing,” Xeveran confirmed, coming back to the group. Arrow had not noticed him going, too busy trying to catch her breath.
“How many?”
“Two thirds.”
Ten White Guard. A small army, in the right place and time.
“Mage, are they in the shadows?” Kallish demanded.
Arrow managed to straighten and shed her first world vision. The entry to shadows was becoming easier to see in the second world. There was a large rip several paces away from the gates, on the road to Lix, coated with the rogue magician’s trail. No other trace.
“I cannot sense any disturbance where the warriors were taken. They may be with the rogue.”
“They would not support him,” Kester dismissed the idea, revulsion in his voice.
“They may not have a choice,” Arrow said, grim.
“The rogue is that powerful?”
In the second world, Arrow could not see his face, only heard the disbelief. She came back to the first world, eyes shot through with silver.
“The most powerful being I have ever encountered.”
Revealed: The Taellaneth - Book 2 Page 28
