Herd Mistress (In Deception's Shadow Book 2)

by Lisa Blackwood

  Sorsha shrugged, complied with his request, and continued to silently trail Shadowdancer.

  They scrambled over piles of rocky debris to reach the cave entrance. On closer inspection, the opening wasn’t as wide as she’d thought. “Let me go first. I’m smaller.”

  Shadowdancer grunted in way of answer and then shrugged out of his pack and handed it to her. He leaned down and examined the entrance while she was lighting a torch. When she had it lit, he motioned her forward.

  He snatched the torch from her hand, tossed it through the cave’s dark maw, and a moment later he was angling into the narrow crack. His backside offered an irresistible target. She slapped him soundly.

  “What part of ‘I’m smaller, I’ll go first’ didn’t you understand?”

  A muffled laugh reached her ears. That earned him a second swat, one with a little more power behind it. She glared at his backside until he disappeared inside. Being careful of shifting shale and large chunks of rock, she crawled in after him.

  Inside, the torch illuminated a larger passage way, easily tall enough to stand upright. Shadowdancer grabbed her under the arms and pulled her to her feet. When she was facing him, he leaned down and pressed his lips to the sensitive skin just under her ear then trailed leisurely kisses down her neck. Too shocked to think, she let him. He nuzzled her shoulder. His teeth grazed the skin and she shivered. The pressure increased as he bit down. Hard.

  “Ouch!”

  He chuckled again and soothed the bite mark with a kiss. “Don’t challenge a Santhyrian, little one.” He grinned with her. Then reached out to caress her lower lip with his thumb. “I nip.”

  Finally regaining enough composure to close her mouth, Sorsha stood and stared him down. “We have work to do.”

  “Yes.”

  Sorsha stalked past him. After a quick survey of the cavern, she noted something unusual. “This isn’t a natural cave. These walls have been shaped.” She squinted against the glare of the torch and spotted what she’d been looking for. “There, in the recessed section, I think that was once a door under all the rot and rust.” For once she reached the obstacle before Shadowdancer but couldn’t budge the giant beast of a door. A closer look at the hinges showed why. “There’s no way we’re getting through this door unless you have a battering ram in your pack.”

  “Hmmm, no.” Shadowdancer tapped on her shoulder. “Let me try.”

  Shrugging, she stepped back and let Shadowdancer examine the door.

  After a moment he drew a knife. He flipped it in his hand and smashed the hilt down on the highest hinge. The rusted hunk of metal flaked away, falling to the ground in pieces. He took out the other two hinges. Even after all the hinges were shattered, the door remained upright. The old wood was engorged with so much dampness, the door had expanded tight to its frame.

  Shadowdancer frowned at the stubborn door, then turned and kicked it so hard Sorsha jumped. The first kick had little effect, but by the third, the door started to move inward.

  When he braced his shoulder against the door, Sorsha added her weight. At his nod, Sorsha pushed, visualizing her least favorite tutor from childhood. With a groan the door popped from its frame. Surprised by the door’s sudden surrender, Sorsha pitched forward, arms flailing, unable to regain her balance. Shadowdancer’s strong fingers gripped her hips and spun her in midair.

  When she landed on top of him, her weight knocked the breath out of him. While he gasped and groaned in pain, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “It’s nice to know chivalry still exists.” Her sweet tones earned her a glare. Maybe that would teach him to be a little less domineering.

  “Come on.” She nearly laughed, but offered him a hand up, and then looked around their new surroundings. A thick layer of deeply cracked mud covered the floor. It crunched under her boots and powdery clouds rose knee-high with each step. “This tunnel is in worse repair than the other room. And where did all this mud come from? The ceiling’s still intact.”

  Shadowdancer transferred his glare from her to the floor. “If we’d tried to come here during the spring melt, I think we’d find ourselves underwater—ice cold glacier water. The dirt could have been carried in that way.”

  “Thanks for the comforting thought. If this cave system is flooded for a few days each year, what’s the chance we’re going to find anything intact? All that water would damage the Oracle, wouldn’t it?”

  “The Oracle can protect itself.”

  “You make it sound like a living creature.”

  “Close enough.”

  Sorsha shivered. “Really. Not. Comforting.”

  Together they climbed higher up the tunnel. The carved stone stairs here weren’t as well defined. Long ago flood waters had eroded them into an uneven slope. After another half a candlemark the footing improved; the stairs once again became respectably passable. Perhaps the spring melt had been diverted down another tunnel and hadn’t reached this part of the structure.

  To either side, rock walls soared above her, disappearing high overhead, the ceiling not much more than a shadowy imagining. She hurried her pace, keeping close to Shadowdancer. It wasn’t cowardice, she assured her Stonemantle pride. It was prudence.

  “How far do you think it is?” She grumbled under her breath for something to say. She’d never liked silence. It was a breeding ground for fear, self-doubt, and any number of crippling emotions.

  Shadowdancer answered with a non-communicative grunt.

  Ahead, the path narrowed. “This place resembles a labyrinth.” Sorsha turned a corner and the tunnel ended in another smooth rock face. “One with nothing but dead ends. Superb. Now what? Is there a chance we missed the Oracle? Perhaps we should backtrack.” She started to walk back the way they’d come, studying the walls for another crevice they may have missed on the first sweep.

  “No.”

  Shadowdancer’s one word answer made her halt and look over her shoulder at him. He was leaning close to the wall, his nose a hand span from the stone. His short answer told her nothing useful so she walked back to where he stood studying a seemingly ordinary portion of stone wall. She studied it as silently as he, but saw nothing.

  “Looks just like more stone to me.” Her dry comment slid off Shadowdancer without reaction since he was still absorbed with whatever he’d found. She continued to scan the area, but detected nothing.

  Shadowdancer shifted, raising one hand to hover just above the surface, almost, but not quite touching. “Looks like stone, but tastes of magic.”

  “What?” How had she missed it? She reached out and touched the grey expanse. What her eyes said was rough stone, her fingers said was too smooth for rock. Mere moments after her fingers made contact, heat raced up her arm to lance deep into her brain.

  Before she could blink she was airborne. An eerie sense of weightlessness stayed with her for the length of one heartbeat before all the wind was knocked out of her as she slammed into the opposite wall. Small sparks of light danced before her grey-edged vision. Slowly her sight cleared, leaving behind a raging headache in its passing. Sorsha allowed herself to slide ungracefully down the wall to the floor, her legs splayed.

  “That was stupid.” Shadowdancer’s voice sounded uncommonly loud in her ears as he gathered her close. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “I think so. And that was…?”

  “A taste of the Oracle’s protection.” He reached out and stroked her cheek. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes, but you have my permission to save me from my own stupidity in the future.”

  “I may not be able to command my power, but I still know what certain spells feel like. I should have given you clearer warning.”

  “Or any kind of warning,” Sorsha muttered to herself as she adjusted her pack. When she’d put things to rights, she cast Shadowdancer a dark look. “You’ve got the knowledge, I’ve got a mostly intact Larnkin. What now?”

  “Link with me and let me draw on a small amo
unt of power. I may be able to determine the key for these protections. This may take some time. It’s delicate work. We will have to prove our skillfulness if we wish to reach the Oracle Stone.”

  “Tell me what to do.”

  “Call on a touch of your magic, and ‘feel’ the room.”

  Once she’d called on a small amount of her power, she could sense the low hum of magic. It was subtle, barely there, and yet the faint magic resonated to something within her soul. Shadowdancer had clearly missed using magic. His expression was intense, close to ecstasy. If he took longer than was needed to read the substance of the weaving, she didn’t begrudge him. In the future, she’d have to think up excuses for him to channel her power. Besides, it felt nice.

  A quarter candlemark came and went before Shadowdancer disengaged from the weaving.

  “Well?” she prompted gently. His expression was still open, vulnerable; the need to regain what he’d once commanded a stark hunger in his eyes. She wanted to heal Shadowdancer; somehow, she must find a way to restore the Santhyrian to his former strength. There had to be an answer to that puzzle.

  “I have learned we can’t disable the weaving. The spell is as intricate as I said it would be. It’s a test. One that requires a lot of power to trigger. It’s likely to drain us to the point of exhaustion again and we’ll lose what our Larnkins have regained.”

  Sorsha nodded at his words. “I don’t care. If this will help us find our loved ones, I’ll sacrifice power.”

  When he held out a hand, she took it in a firm grip. Liking the feel of his warmth, she scooted closer until she was snug against his side. Shadowdancer wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed his lips to her cheek.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “Suppose so.” Her Larnkin stirred, awakening to Shadowdancer’s gentle summons. Sorsha let go, surrendering her body to the Larnkin. If something went wrong, she’d prefer the Larnkin have the needed control to protect her—or at least take the jolt.

  Magic danced pale against Shadowdancer’s tanned skin. Without hesitation, which made him brave or foolish—Sorsha was undecided—he reached toward the wall. At the first touch of magic, pale runes shimmered to life all around the section of non-wall. Power swelled, tendrils uncoiling from the wall.

  Sorsha stepped back, pushing Shadowdancer back as well. He allowed himself to be herded. Whatever the magic was, she didn’t like the taste of it.

  “Did we just make it angry?”

  He shook his head, but drew farther from the wall, bringing her tight to his body, forcing her back farther as well. “Not angry. Interested.”

  “Oh. Lovely.” Cold sweat broke out along her back. “Interested like a hound sniffing out a fox?”

  “I think so.”

  “Thanks for that bit of blunt honesty. Whisper some sweet lies in my ear next time.”

  “If we live through this, I’ll do my best to tell some lies.” Sorsha heard the smile in his voice.

  “Good. Now what? Any ideas how to lose its interest?”

  “Die?”

  Sorsha’s stomach dropped somewhere closer to her toes and she switched her attention back to the spell. It had spread along the wall several body lengths in both directions. “Let’s try something else.”

  “Actually, from what I learned while touching the spell, there is only one way forward.”

  “Yes. And.”

  “We must pass through the spell.”

  “I touched that thing with my finger and it dropped me on my ass. You want to go through it?”

  “It’s a test.”

  “I’m not very good with tests. When I was a child, my governess despaired of me ever becoming a lady. See how I turned out?”

  “This Oracle has very simple tastes in tests, I believe. Unlike the Oracle which dwells in the center of Grey Spires, this one doesn’t seem interested in games and riddles and deceptions.”

  “That sounds like a good thing.”

  “Not really. While the other one might punish failure, I believe those glowing runes around the entrance speak of victory and death.”

  “Pass the test or die?” Sorsha dug her fingers into his arm.

  “Yes. The ruins are a very old dialect of Phoenix.”

  “Then we have a problem.”

  Shadowdancer arched an eyebrow in her direction.

  With a shrug, she enlightened him. “We’ve been exposed to Lord Trensler. Fed upon. There’s no telling what residue he may have left behind. If the Oracle senses any taint, I can only imagine it will respond in one way.”

  “If we want to help our families, this is the only option.” He pointed at the shimmering spell. The darkness was now shot through with sparks of white light. It reminded her of an approaching thunderstorm. The pain of the slight touch was still fresh. Could she do it? Willingly walk to what might be a very painful death?

  Yes. For the chance to save her family.

  Once again his hand closed around hers, warm, solid, reassuring. She smiled and nodded. “Together.”

  They walked toward the barrier of coiled power. When they neared, the tendrils—which until that point had been fluttering in some unfelt breeze, now reached with purpose, stretching from the vortex’s center until it was within touching distance. A tendril lashed out, wrapping around her arm. A second took Shadowdancer around his waist. The shimmering power changed, brightening into an icy blue swirl. She didn’t have time to scream.

  As they were pulled into that burning power, she held the wish to help her family firmly in her mind. If she was about to die, she’d damn well let the Oracle know what she was made of.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  One moment she was immersed in a swirling river of power, magic licking at her skin, then the next she was propelled forward by some vast, unseen hand. Her knees took the brunt of the landing, and she collapsed forward onto her hands. She escaped relatively unhurt until another weight slammed into her back, sending her crashing facedown onto the floor. Sorsha moaned softly as Shadowdancer hurriedly rolled off her and offered her his hand. She took it and sat up with another groan. Though he sat crouched next to her, his focus was on something beyond her shoulder.

  Sorsha followed his gaze.

  The chamber was small; octagon shaped with a sloping ceiling. Growing from the rough-hewn stone of the roof, an opaque crystal stretched toward the ground, not unlike a stalactite. Bluish light flickered in its heart as the magic awoke. Sorsha’s heart picked up speed and her breath hitched. Nervous energy coursed through her veins in time to the pulsing of the crystal. Oppressive power flowed out from room’s center, heating the air. Fog rose from the floor, the dampness making it even harder to breathe. Sorsha’s lungs burned with the need to cough, but she held it in, fearing the Oracle’s reaction. It reminded her of a wild beast. She’d treat it like one—a dangerous and unpredictable one.

  “Be calm,” Shadowdancer whispered, his lips almost brushing her ear. “It responds to our magic. Fear makes our magic flare, and the Oracle reacts.”

  “Easily said,” she mumbled a dark curse under her breath and sought to calm her racing heart.

  The flickering of the crystal pillar slowed, its magic calming.

  Perhaps Shadowdancer was correct.

  Nothing happened for several moments and Sorsha wondered if the Oracle had returned to its slumber. She wouldn’t have minded if it forgot about them. With the earlier oppressive power no longer swirling around her with such violence, she could almost think clearly again.

  Shadowdancer stepped away from her side and slowly approached the Oracle Stone in a non-threatening manner. When Shadowdancer stood within touching distance of the crystal and still hadn’t come to harm, Sorsha released the breath she’d been holding.

  Shadowdancer halted before the pillar and gave it a deep bow. “We beg your aid. There is a great darkness hunting our land.”

  Within the Oracle’s crystal heart, power pulsed with a renewed rhythm. A soft throbbing reached her ears. Her sen
ses tingled with the rising power in the small enclosure. After a moment’s thought, she pinpointed just what unsettled her about the sound. It matched the beat of her heart.

  “I know of the darkness. I smell it upon you. The Dead King has warned me of the new danger to our land. But you came for something else. You seek a personal boon.” The Oracle’s voice was deep yet soft, some snatches of words stronger than others like a barely heard conversation carried upon a changeable breeze.

  How the Oracle could sound so threatening with its soft tones was beyond Sorsha. Its magic flared again. She winced as power raised the hair on her arms to attention. While the pillar didn’t have eyes in the traditional sense, she felt it looking at her, assessing, judging. Did it find her lacking?

  “Shadowdancer speaks the truth,” she said instead. “We come for advice and help.”

  “I aid only those worthy of help. Do you wish to see what you once were, long ago, before the Circle of Twelve was broken?” At its words, light bled across the chamber’s rough stone walls, causing the shadows to swirl and dance. Blurry images began to form from the shadowy chaos.

  It was tempting to look, and Sorsha found her eyes trying to make sense of the swirling colors. But something else—a deep sense of unease seeping from her Larnkin into Sorsha’s bloodstream—had the hair at the back of her neck standing at attention.

  Just as an image was coming into focus, she jerked her eyes away and yanked on Shadowdancer’s shoulder, turning him away from the undefined danger. Stiffening her spine and summoning up every bit of Stonemantle bravo she could muster to face the menace in the air, she cleared her throat and said, “Looking back, to dwell overlong upon former greatness, of heroic deeds, and long ago victories, does not make us worthy now in this life. More a weakness, I should imagine. One which could lead to arrogance and pride.” Sorsha drew a quick breath before rushing on. “And, yes, we came for a personal boon as you said. But should not worth be judged by what we are now; what we are willing to undertake, what we might yet accomplish with your aid?”