The Stones of Kaldaar (Song of the Swords Book 1)

by Tameri Etherton

  “Rhoane wassheanna, you didn’t see him cowering behind an apron.”

  Carga stood and motioned to the door. “I think it time you leave.”

  Taryn stood to her full height, matching Carga’s glare with her own. “And I think it’s time you’re honest with me. What made yousheanna?”

  Tension snapped at the air with the viciousness of an angry cobra. A kitchen cat hissed and darted off, his tail a bushel brush.

  Carga glanced around the kitchen with wariness in her eyes. “Since the first day you arrived here, I knew there would come a time when I would have to share this tale with you. You will not like the telling of it, though.” She took her seat, and Taryn followed.

  “Does it involve Rhoane?”

  “No and yes.” Carga took a deep breath and began. “There was a man, an Aelan, who used me to get information. I was besotted with him. He was incredibly beautiful. Tall and dark, with eyes the color of a wintertide’s sky.”

  “Zakael?” A flick of anger surged through Taryn. The air vibrated around them.

  “Yes, the heir to the Obsidian Throne,” Carga continued. “I was beyond the veils, on the moors. He said he was traveling the world, to gain experience in the ways of the East so when he took over the throne he could maintain the peace his father had worked for. He was very young.” Carga looked away in misty remembrance. “It has been nigh on twenty summers since he seduced me and since I have been to the Weirren.”

  “He knew you were Eleri. He must’ve known you’d be exiled.”

  “He knew all of that and more. I suppose he thought I had information that would lead him to you. His father believed you were with the Eleri during your absence.”

  Everything kept coming back to Zakael. Marissa was a distraction; it was Zakael and Valterys who controlled the events happening around her. Possibly even the Shadow Assassin. If Zakael had seduced Carga twenty summers earlier, that meant he—and Valterys—knew about Taryn, probably since her birth.

  “I’m sorry he did that to you. I’ll make him pay.”

  Carga placed a hand on Taryn’s wrist, her touch cool. “No. I will deal with Zakael once I am purified. Until then, you must stop reacting and face your fears. Before someone you love gets killed.”

  Of all her fears, losing another loved one ranked highest. Taryn left the kitchens more despondent than she’d been before seeking out Carga. She’d not been prepared for any of this. Perhaps if she’d been raised with the Eleri, she would know what to do, but as it was, she was fumbling in the dark without any hope of finding the light.

  Chapter 41

  TWO men moved through the backstreets and alleyways of the city’s poorest district with silent determination. Swords hung at their sides, fists clenched as they traveled swiftly toward the oldest building in Paderau. Its weathered walls leaned in on themselves, supported by a shingled roof that looked one storm away from collapse. At the back door, Rhoane held up a hand. He pressed himself to the wall, and Baehlon did the same. A lone figure stumbled out from the tavern into the alley, slurring a profane greeting.

  Rhoane stepped around the drunk into the cool darkness, and the rank smell of stale cider, piss, and vomit assaulted his heightened Eleri senses. The men and women seated around the room were an assortment of thieves, prostitutes, and mercenaries. Just the kind of crowd a Shadow Assassin could get lost in, but he wasn’t looking for the assassin. After a quick scan of the customers, he pulled a chair to one of the tables, indicating Baehlon sit across from him.

  A serving maid brought them tankards filled with sour-smelling ale. When she left, a slight figure slid into the empty chair beside Rhoane.

  “I believe the one you seek can be found at the Golden Feiche.” The little man looked longingly at Rhoane’s drink. When Rhoane pushed it toward him, he gulped the ale in several noisy slurps and then set the tankard down with a satisfying belch.

  Rhoane grimaced at his vulgarity. “What makes you so certain?”

  “I followed him from the square today.” The man’s dark eyes darted around the room.

  Without moving, Rhoane tightened his ShantiMari around his neck. “Why would you do something like that, Ebus? If you followed him, how are we to know he did not follow you?”

  Ebus sputtered and gasped, his hands gesticulating wildly as his face turned an ominous shade of red. Rhoane released his power, and Ebus massaged his throat, coughing dramatically. “Your Highness, I am offended. I was only trying to help.” He moved as if to stand. “When you remember to act in a civil manner, then we can proceed.”

  “Sit down, Ebus.” Baehlon’s quiet voice came from the shadows of his hood. “You’re making a scene.” He pushed the fabric back a fraction. “I believe the prince asked you a question.”

  Ebus paled to the color of spoiled milk. “What areyou doing here?”

  Baehlon’s stare didn’t flicker. “Killing you, if you don’t answer the question. Did the assassin see you or not?”

  “Of course not. I’m the most skilled thief in all of Paderau. No one follows Ebus.”

  “Your ego is too large for your head, I think,” Rhoane whispered to the man. “Why were you following him today?”

  Ebus shrugged. “When I saw him trailing Princess Taryn, I thought perhaps he meant to rob her. Let him do the dirty work, I figured, and then I’d just take from him what he’d stolen from her. He looked like a safer bet than the princess with all her friends around.”

  “I was not aware of him until he attacked Taryn. How is it you saw him?” Rhoane asked.

  Ebus smiled, spreading his hands expansively. “It is my job to notice the unseen. Now,” he eyed Baehlon once more, “are we going to gossip all day, or would you like to catch your man?” He held out a grubby hand to Rhoane. “Fifty trins.”

  “You will get nothing until I see this demon for myself. If he is where you say he is, you will get a gold piece for your trouble.”

  Ebus’s eyes bulged, and he swallowed hard. The amount was triple what the thief had requested. “We must make haste before he departs.”

  They walked several blocks in the shadows of the glaring sun. The Golden Feiche was in a part of Paderau that faced south, overlooking the river, in a small port district that dealt mainly in goods coming and going to the various houses of ill repute.

  Rhoane stopped the group a half block away from the shabby inn. He glanced up and down the street, getting the lay of the surrounding area. Four windows on the second story and two on the floor above that faced the street. “What room is his?” Rhoane asked Ebus.

  He scratched at his dingy black hair, looking up at the windows, counting on his fingers. “I’d say the third from the left.”

  “There are only four windows, you dolt. Why didn’t you just say the second from the right?” Baehlon smacked Ebus on the back of his head.

  Ebus shrank away from the knight. “Because he didn’t come in from the front, now did he? Used the back door, so I’m figuring he went up the backstairs.”

  “Did you see him enter the room? How can you be sure it is the second from the right?” Rhoane asked in a strained voice.

  “I hid over there.” Ebus pointed to a recessed part of the wall. “When he got to his room, he closed the shutters. Are we just going to stand around all day?”

  “You stay here,” Rhoane commanded.

  He and Baehlon jogged across the street and went into the inn. The Golden Feiche wasn’t busy at that time of day, but Rhoane had to dodge several women who offered to keep him and his friend company. They silently made their way up the stairs, going to the second door and unsheathing their swords. He sent a thread of ShantiMari into the room. Sensing nothing untoward, he slowly opened the door and went inside.

  The room was tidy with no personal belongings on the bed or floor. Little light filtered through the closed shutters, but a slight breeze managed to squeeze between the slats. As he turned back toward the door, a dark figure leapt out at him, sword drawn. Rhoane swung his own sword up to co
unter the attack. The assassin assaulted him with a blade black as pitch. A hard kick to Rhoane’s sternum sent him sprawling against the wall. The black sword shot out to impale him, but he threw a wave of power, knocking the demon against Baehlon, who took the opportunity to conk him on the head with the hilt of his sword.

  Dazed from the blow, the assassin staggered as he circled Rhoane in the small confines of the room. Raw Shanti slithered over his skin, and he hid his surprise. The assassin either had no ShantiMari of his own or was ill trained in the power.

  “My friend,” Rhoane started, “there is no escape from this room. Put down your sword and come with us.”

  The assassin’s light eyes never flinched. He swung his sword, grinning when Rhoane missed a step and was almost cut by the gleaming black blade. Rhoane parried his thrust and then slammed the assassin against the wall. Blood seeped from a large gash on his shoulder. Fear finally sparked in the assassin’s eyes, and he pushed past Rhoane, crashing through the window to the street below. Rhoane leapt after the man, landing gracefully on the empty street. A trail of blood led toward the docks, and he set off after the assassin.

  At the street crossing, the trail split in opposite directions. He walked in a circle, trying to differentiate which to follow when Baehlon caught up with him. “You take that way, I will go this.”

  Rhoane strode down the street without waiting for a reply, keeping his eyes trained on the ground, his power stretching around him. Near the docks, the trail suddenly ended. A flash of light warned him a moment before the attack.

  He swung around, facing the assassin. They held their swords out before them, Rhoane’s godsteel gleaming in the sun, the assassin’s blade fading into shadow. The man wore a long black tunic with a wide belt around his waist. Several knives and dagger hilts protruded from the belt. One spot was empty.

  They circled each other, Rhoane intent on the man, all other sights and sounds peripheral. A sick grin spread across the assassin’s face. He leapt, his sword held a little too high. Rhoane bent low, elbowing the assassin in the ribs. He grunted and spun around, slicing his blade toward Rhoane. He countered a thrust at the man, keeping enough distance between them to avoid the deadly blade.

  By then, a crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle. The last thing he wanted was a public brawl, but there was nothing for it. He caught sight of Baehlon heading off the duke’s guard, and Rhoane let the assassin stay on the attack, hoping to expend all of his energy before going on the defensive. Each time the assassin missed his mark, Rhoane, quick as a carlix, would knock him with a kick or punch. But instead of tiring, the assassin gained strength with every passing minute. He attacked without any finesse, his cuts random, his form incomplete. Antiquated, like Kaldaar’s soldiers of old.

  Rhoane smacked his open wound, and the assassin let out a laugh that startled the crowd. Sunlight caught his golden hair, giving him a shimmering radiance that did not extend to his lifeless eyes. Hayden had said the assassin was neither alive nor dead, and yet his wound bled. Demon that he was, the assassin could kill Rhoane as certainly as he’d dispatched the boy in the market.

  Rhoane redoubled his focus, pulling his ShantiMari close in a protective shield. They crouched toward each other like animals about to pounce. Rhoane tightened his muscles in anticipation of a lunge when the assassin vaulted not toward him but away, running a few steps before jumping from a cart to a nearby rooftop. His golden locks bounced and then disappeared.

  Rhoane clenched his jaw. “Damn it, man, how does he do that?”

  “He is truly a shadow.” Baehlon cursed in the direction the assassin fled.

  Ebus ran up to them, panting. “I followed him as far as I could, but then he was gone. Not a trace—just disappeared.”

  “Thank you, Ebus.” Rhoane handed him a gold coin. “If you see him again, send word to me immediately.” To the guard, he said, “Tell only the duke what transpired here today. I do not want the princess or empress to know of it.” When they moved off to clear the crowd, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Blood and ashes, but it is hot today.”

  Baehlon was watching him closely. “Are you well, my friend?”

  He flexed his hand, noting the new rune that appeared. “Well enough. We must return to the palace—something has happened. I must see to Taryn.” He spoke to Ebus. “We will be leaving Paderau soon. Have you any desire to travel to Talaith?”

  “The capital city? What thief doesn’t dream of such a place?” “Am I to assume the prince has a job for me?”

  “I do, but I must warn you, if your fingers are caught on anyone’s purse strings, I will cut them off.”

  Ebus snort laughed, shaking his head. “If you can catch me. What is the job?”

  “Come to the east gate of the palace tomorrow morning. All will be revealed to you then. Ebus, this should go without saying, but do not speak of this to anyone.”

  The little man’s dark eyes glittered like polished obsidian. “As you wish, my liege.” He bowed gracefully to Rhoane before disappearing into the thinning crowd.

  “What the hell are you thinking, man?” Baehlon grumbled as they made their way back to the palace.

  “He is the only one who can trace this Shadow Spawn. His eyes are sharper than mine are, and he is quick enough to follow the demon. We will put him in the duke’s livery, calling him your page or something, and then we will let him travel with us to Talaith. If the Shadow Assassin tries anything while we are on the road, Ebus can alert us.”

  “And help himself to the empress’s jewels while he’s at it. I don’t like this plan, my friend.”

  “I am afraid it is the best one we have right now.” The runes on his wrist swirled and shifted. “We must hurry.”

  TARYN was sitting near the river, curled on a bench reading a book. Kaida asleep in her lap. Rhoane paused before approaching, waiting for the wave of relief to pass. For the surge of desire to lessen. The need to be near her was overwhelming.

  She looked up, her eyes lighting when she saw him. That small gesture tugged at his gut. Made his bones feel like jelly. It was no good, this power she had over him. He carefully put his emotions to the back of his thoughts. If their enemies ever knew what she meant to him, they would exploit that knowledge with deadly precision, he was sure of it.

  “Hey.” She scooted aside to allow him room. “Want to join me?”

  He sat next to her, petting Kaida absently. The grierbas pup yawned and stretched under his touch. “She is getting big.”

  “Carga says she should start on solid food soon.” Taryn patted Kaida’s pudgy belly. “I think she likes milk a little too much.”

  A boat made its way down river. Across the water was the dock where he’d fought the Shadow Assassin. Too far for an Aelan to see the fight but not for an Eleri.

  “You left my rooms in quite a rush.”

  “I was overwhelmed all of a sudden.”

  He studied her profile, committing to memory every freckle on her straight nose and the way the sun glinted off her cheekbones. Her skin shimmered slightly with her first signs of Glamour. She was becoming more Eleri with every passing day. Soon her ears would end in delicate points. That is when he’d know she was full Eleri. That is when she would no longer be his alone.

  “This is all very real, isn’t it?” She met his even look. “Carga says I need to stop being a child and embrace who I must become.”

  “Carga speaks out of passion when a level head might be more kind.”

  “No, she’s right. I’ve been acting as if this is just an elaborate game of dress-up. I’ve come to like all the tiaras and gowns and having maids who pamper me.” She scratched Kaida under her chin and then linked her fingers with Rhoane’s. “Thinking like that will only get me—or worse, someone I love—killed.” Her eyes clouded, like a sudden summer storm. “I failed today, and that can’t happen again.”

  “You were taken by surprise by an assassin. He is trained to be untraceable.”

  She held up h
er book. “According to this, there is a master for every Shadow Assassin. We need to find out who is controlling him.”

  “That will not be easy. Black ShantiMari is difficult to trace. Those who practice it do not want to be known.” He skimmed the pages. “Where did you get this?”

  “Hayden found it in the library. It has information about all the great mages and sorcerers. There are only a handful who could raise a Shadow Soul. Before I search for them, I need to control my powers—all of them.”

  Rhoane didn’t like where the conversation was headed. She was right; she did need training in her Dark powers. But he dreaded it all the same. Dark ShantiMari meant Valterys, and he couldn’t let her near him until she was strong enough to defend herself. That could take more seasons than they had.

  He placed her hand against his, palm to palm. Their runes glittered in the sunlight, and his desire increased. “Something happened, Taryn. I felt a shift in our bonds.”

  “It was my conversation with Carga, I think. We were talking, and then there was a new rune. I didn’t know that could happen.”

  “They will shift and change as does your path,Darennsai.” Rhoane said, less concerned with the bonds than he was the curve of her lips.

  Her power enveloped their hands, melding them into one. Her Mari caressed his skin while her Shanti plucked at his nerves, sending sparks of heat through his body. He should separate their bonds, should pull away, but it was too good. He opened his mind to hers, craving more than she was willing to give.

  He watched her face, saw the smile on her lips, heard the whispers of fear that lingered in her thoughts. The same whispers tormented him. She desperately wanted to be brave. For him.

  Underneath all her doubts and desires was a single thought.

  Rhoane.

  He fought to control his emotions, but they spilled over, finding their way into her mind. His power melded with her ShantiMari—the trinity of power that marked her as the destroyer of his people.

  When she opened her eyes, they were filled with raw desire. “What was that?” Her voice low, husky. Seductive.