All of them…with their swords drawn, and looking as pissed as any monster from the Deep.
Oh. Oops. Well, this was going to be interesting. Marsh couldn’t help grinning as she went to work. She was so deep in the brown stuff she probably wasn’t going to get out again, so she figured she might as well make it count. The raider who had blocked her strike counter-attacked, the steel of his blade glinting in the light of the shrooms. Marsh caught sight of it in time to block it with a hastily summoned buckler of shadow and she countered, but he parried. They broke apart, circling each other warily.
If Marsh had thought the raiders would form a civilized circle around them, she was wrong. This was a raid, not some gentleman’s duel, and they weren’t prepared to fight fair. She caught a flicker of movement from the side and brought her sword around in time to deflect the blow.
Her opponent laughed and darted forward, forcing her to use her shield and step back and away. Before she could work out why, something solid struck her across the back, slamming into her armor and sending pain through her. Marsh lost her grip on the sword just as a second solid blow hit her behind the knees, dropping her to the ground.
All she could do was try to roll out of the way of the next hit, and when that proved impossible, curl into a ball and watch what looked like half a log coming down toward her. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when a long, dark shadow caught the raider in the side, making him drop the log as he fell. It still landed on her, but he did not.
Even with that raider out of the picture, Marsh didn’t dare uncurl. He hadn’t been the only one with a stick. The second raider switched targets, turning so Marsh was behind him as he sought another opponent. Another shadow speared out of the dark, taking him through the throat, and then a third, and a fourth. Marsh decided she’d lie right where she was.
Each spear found a raider, and the rest started running. It didn’t do them any good, though. More shadow spears cut the darkness, and they fell. Marsh slowly uncurled, looking for whoever had saved her. She was certain it hadn’t been Roeglin. Even moving at the speed he’d been going, he shouldn’t have arrived.
It was a relief to see Scout Clarinay materialize briefly from the shadows and shadow-step away toward the back of the house. She hoped he could catch the farmer and his family in time. They had to know there was a sanctuary for them. She slowly hauled herself to her feet, calling another blade out of the shadows as she did so—and glad it weighed nothing in her hand.
She hurt.
Trying to shove the pain aside, Marsh headed for the back of the house, coming around the corner to a scene of utter carnage. Mordanlenoowar had brought down every raider who had tried to harm the farmer, and then she’d started on the raiders coming around the other side of the house. Nothing moved, and Marsh continued to look for someone else to fight.
She found them at the stables. Two of the farmhands had bolted themselves inside, and several raiders were at the doors, trying to force their way in.
“Hey!” Marsh shouted, but her voice sounded weak in her ears, and the raiders laughed. One of them was shoved roughly in her direction as though she were an easy target.
Marsh lifted the shadow blade and gasped. The raiders might have a point. There might be only one of him, and he might not even know how to wield that blade he held so awkwardly, but he might still win.
“Merde,” she muttered, doing her best to ignore the spikes of pain shooting down her arms and back.
Need a hand?
Roeglin didn’t wait for an answer. He rode around from the front of the farmhouse, running his mule straight at the raider, who dove out of the way, before sliding from the animal’s back and racing toward the warriors attacking the door. Seeing him call a blade and buckler from the dark, Marchant didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
12
In Trouble Deep
Marsh watched as Roeglin charged the raiders by the door, glad she didn’t have to take on another one but not wanting to leave him to deal with them on his own. As she stepped toward the fight, she caught sight of movement at the other end of the barn. The raiders had a shadow mage!
Marsh turned on the spot, wishing she could alert Mordan to the mage standing at the back of the barn; the kat would take him down in no time. As it was, she could no longer feel her connection to the kat, and figured it was because she was tired from racing across the caverns and battling with the raiders.
At least Mordan had saved the farmers.
As she straightened up, Marsh saw the mage making broad strokes through the air with his hands. From this distance, it looked like he was drawing a door against the shadows.
Oh, by the Deeps, no, he wasn’t!
With a shout, she pulled a sword from the shadows and charged. She would not—could not—let him open a gateway to the shadow monsters. There had been enough destruction, and while most of it had been caused by her and the hoshkat, she was not going to let the shadow monsters add to it. She was not going to have those beasts loose in the cavern.
As she raced forward, she felt the ground vibrating under her feet and heard the thunder of hoof beats behind her, but she did not stop. She shouted again, and the mage looked in her direction. His hands did not stop moving until his eyes looked past her and widened in fear, and then they moved faster, but it was too late.
Marsh thought of shadow and thought of speed and was at his side in seconds, startled shouts rising behind her. The first glimmer of the gate’s outline appeared, mapping itself over what she could see of the cavern beyond. With a scream of frustration, Marsh twisted, putting the full force of her body behind the blow and trying to slice her way through the mage before he could finish his work.
As she did, she hoped the outline would fade; that the mage hadn’t already asked the shadows to part. She also hoped that the shadows needed more than just the outline to open the way between the Ruins Hall cavern and wherever in the Deeps the monsters dwelt. Pain flared across her shoulders and she screamed in defiance, her cry matching the agony in the shadow mage’s voice.
Behind her, the hoofbeats slid to a stop and someone landed heavily, before moving toward her.
“Marchant!”
She knew that voice but couldn’t think of any reason why the cavern founder would pay her the slightest bit of attention, although he did sound angry. Marsh pulled her blade out of the shadow mage, relieved when he collapsed to the floor and the gate’s outlines slowly faded. What was it her uncle had said?
Better to ask forgiveness than—she struggled to bring the saying into focus—permission. From the sound of Monsieur Gravine’s voice, forgiveness might be needed. She turned, intending to ask, completely forgetting the blade in her hand.
A startled shout greeted her, and someone slammed into her from the side.
“Merde.”
The landing drove the wind from her lungs and momentarily knocked all thought from her head. The shadow blade disappeared, but the weight of the guard pinning her to the ground did not.
“What in all the Deeps are you doing?” Marsh managed as Monsieur Gravine spoke.
“Let her up.”
“You heard the man,” Marsh said when the guard’s weight did not shift.
She had meant that to come out a lot stronger than it did, but it was a creaky whisper. She pushed against him until he moved, and he hauled her to her feet.
“Thanks a lot,” she muttered as she turned to face Monsieur Gravine. “I’m—”
“You did well,” he snapped, cutting her off, “although next time you will understand that it is much better to ask permission than forgiveness, at least with me. You are under arrest, pending disciplinary action.”
Marsh stared at him, her mouth open in surprise. The guard laid a heavy hand on her shoulder.
“I haven’t seen him that angry in a long time,” he told her, then added, “You’d better come with me.”
Marsh nodded. It wasn’t like she had much choice. Firstly, because she didn’
t think she could make a successful break for it, and she definitely couldn’t slide into the shadows, and secondly, because—
“Trainee Leclerc!”
Judging by the tone of his voice, Roeglin was mad at her.
You bet the Shadows I’m mad at you.
Well, at least she couldn’t make it worse.
“Yes, Roeglin?”
“That is Master Leger, Trainee!” Shadows flew to his hand, snaking together to form a long staff. “Defend yourself.”
The guard’s vocabulary of curses clearly extended well beyond merde. He let go of Marsh’s shoulder, moving to stand off to one side and out of range.
Marsh thought about asking forgiveness but decided it would be a waste of time. She pulled her own staff from the shadows, deciding she might as well get this over and done with, and then see what the founder thought was a suitable punishment for someone who—
Roeglin’s staff caught her a solid blow to the thigh, then danced up to smack her on the hip, and up again to… Marsh recovered in time to block the blow and make a counterstrike to his head. He ducked under it, turning his staff side-on and stepping forward to hit her across the chest and push her off her feet.
Marsh stumbled back, regained her footing, and shifted her grip on her staff to see Roeglin spin his stick, bringing one end up toward her face. She pulled her head back, but not far enough, and the blow landed, setting her ears ringing and making her see stars. She landed on her backside, her staff vanishing from her hands.
“Next time, you will follow orders.”
Uh huh, Marsh thought, Sure I will.
What she said was, “Yes, Master Leger.”
I can see what you’re thinking.
And your point is?
He rolled his eyes, letting the staff dissipate from his hand so he could reach down and help her up.
One day, you’re going to find yourself deeper in the Dark than you know how to handle.
Marsh accepted his help, wincing as the results of the day’s activities made themselves known.
And when that day comes, I’ll be sure to ask you to help me get out of it.
“This way,” he said, “I need to speak to Monsieur Gravine.”
Marsh just bet he did, but Roeglin wasn’t waiting, and she had to concentrate just to keep up. When the founder’s guard fell into step beside her, she didn’t try to move away.
I wish you’d waited, Roeglin grumbled as a second guard fell in alongside them.
Marsh didn’t agree. If she’d waited, they’d be down three farming families instead of two and would have had an incursion they didn’t know about until much later. No, it was better that she’d been on hand to intervene.
“Six,” Roeglin said.
“Sorry?”
“We’d be down six farming families. The founder sent squads out to each farm in this sector and stopped the raiders who had escaped from making a second hit. They didn’t reach the last three farms, but they had a map, and all six were marked. Don’t let it go to your head.”
Why had he gone after her with a staff, then?
Because the appearance of discipline is important, and hopefully you’ll think twice before you cut me out of your plans again.
Right. It was food for thought.
Roeglin didn’t answer that, but he did give a heartfelt sigh as he headed to where Monsieur Gravine was talking to the farmer and his wife. To Marsh’s surprise, Mordan was standing beside the family, three children resting their hands on her brown and gray hide. The founder saw them coming and reached out to shake the farmer’s hand.
“You’ll be able to return as soon as the cavern is secured. In the meantime, my men will help you move your family and animals to the township.”
“The crops…” The farmer waved his hand toward the nearby fields.
“I’ll appoint a steward to help organize protection during the harvest for all the farms.” Monsieur Gravine indicated one of the soldiers standing nearby. “This is Captain Novel, and he will assist you in your move.”
For a moment, the farmer looked like he might have more questions, but then his gaze swept the area around them, taking in the fallen raiders and injured protectors, and he turned toward the captain and Monsieur Gravine.
“Thank you, Founder.”
With Novel at his side, he led his family back to the house, Mordan surprising Marsh by trailing along with them.
The kat spared a brief glance in her direction, her tail lashing briefly as she let the children cluster around her. Marsh didn’t know how to feel, but she understood. When the cubs were safe, Mordan would be back. In the meantime, Monsieur Gravine was waiting.
Marsh’s head spun and she frowned, conjuring a staff to lean on before she fell. Beside her, the guard wrapped his hand around her arm. The firm touch was enough to disrupt her grip on her magic, and the staff vanished just as she went to lean on it. She stumbled, the guard’s grip all that kept her upright, and he cursed.
“By the Deep and Shadow’s Children!”
Marsh hadn’t heard that one, but she liked it, filing it away for later use as the guard pulled her arm over his shoulder. Roeglin observed the interaction, his face a mask of calculated calm.
“Overdid it, did you?” he asked, and Marsh resisted the urge to flip him off. Instead, she answered with all the respect her tired mind could muster.
“Yes, Master Ro…Leger.”
His lips tightened into a thin line but he said nothing, turning away to speak with the cavern’s founder.
“I believe you have arrested my trainee, pending disciplinary action.”
Monsieur Gravine’s face was solemn.
“I have.”
For a second, Roeglin waited for the founder to continue. When it became evident he was not going to, the shadow mage spoke.
“Perhaps we can discuss the form of disciplinary action required.”
Monsieur Gravine glanced at where Marsh leaned on his guard. After a moment’s consideration, he replied.
“I will see you in my office when we return, Master Leger. In the meantime, I’ll leave her in your charge.”
Beside her, Marsh heard the soldier muffle a sigh of relief.
Just how much trouble had she been in, anyway?
A lot.
Not what she needed to hear.
Merde! Marsh thought as crushing fatigue washed over her. Just once, she’d like to make it back to safety under her own steam.
13
From Frying Pan to Fire
Marchant woke to find herself back in the bottom bunk of the room she shared with Izmay. At first, she just lay still, slowly registering the heavy warmth and musky scent of hoshkat and realizing the great beast was stretched out beside her on the bed.
“Mordan,” she murmured, pulling a hand clear of the covers to lay on the great kat’s side.
A soft rumble vibrated the bed, and she realized the kat was purring. The sound was followed by a raspy tongue licking her cheek, and Marsh opened her eyes. After all, she was going to have to open them sometime.
“Finally,” Roeglin said, his voice coming from beside the bed and startling her.
Marsh gasped and turned to face him, and then she yelped as the bruises from the previous day’s battle made themselves known. Marsh’s mind raced as she tried to remember what had happened. It slowly pieced itself together, and she found there was a lot she wanted to know.
“Has Master Envermet arrived yet?”
She was really asking if the children had arrived safely, and Roeglin picked that fact right out of her head.
“He did, but Tamlin and Aisha have to wait a little longer before you can see them. Their team got the route to the monastery up and running, and we should have shadow-guard reinforcements arriving late today.”
He stopped as though waiting for her to ask him something else, so Marsh asked him the next question preying on her mind.
“Did you get to Madame Monetti?”
“Not yet.” H
e held up a hand to still Marsh’s protest. “We picked up the trail where several smaller groups had split away from the main raiding party, but they ended at a blank wall.”
“Shadow gates,” Marsh muttered.
Roeglin nodded, licking his lips before he continued, “Yes. By the time we worked that out and dealt with the raiders who’d survived, dusk was falling and the joffra were emerging.” He hesitated. “There are a lot more joffra out there than there should be. No kats, though.”
Not yet, Marsh thought, remembering Mordan’s kits.
“We’ll get them back,” Roeglin assured her.
“We need to get her first,” Marsh insisted. “She has to be the one in charge of this cavern.”
Roeglin scowled and pushed back his chair.
“I agree, but it’s not going to be you, and there’ll be a guard on your door to make sure.”
There was a sharp tut from the doorway, and Brigitte came in with a man Marsh didn’t recognize.
“I hope you aren’t aggravating my patient,” he said with a reproving glare at the shadow mage.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Roeglin replied. “I was just reassuring her that everything was working according to plan and that nothing required her personal intervention.”
That last was delivered with a meaningful look in Marsh’s direction, and she rolled her eyes. Roeglin gave her another scowl for good measure and stalked toward the door.
“I’ll check in on her later.”
“Much later,” the medic stressed. “She needs to rest.”
“She needs a good kick in the ass,” Roeglin muttered, but he was through the door and away before the medic came back with an answer.
Instead, the man sighed and came over to take Roeglin’s seat.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Like I was run over by a stampeding mule,” she admitted.
“That’s a good analogy. A better one would be more like you were beaten to within an inch of your life.”
Magic Below Paris Complete Series Boxed Set (Books 1 - 8): Trading Into Shadow, Trading Into Darkness, Trading Close to Light, Trading By Firelight, Trading by Shroomlight, plus 3 more Page 38
