Taellaneth Complete Series Box Set

by Vanessa Nelson

  The Prime took stock of the collars, seeming to understand what they were at once.

  “More afraid of Charon than me?” Zachary asked, voice dangerously soft, eyes glinting.

  “Foolish of them,” Arrow agreed, “but that is what appears the case.”

  “Need make report,” Kallish prompted into the short silence, “return Taellaneth.”

  “You do, yes,” Arrow said, earning a sharp glance from everyone at the table.

  “The Preceptor and his team were still at the Hessman place when I left,” Zachary offered. “The whole place is crawling with White Guard. Matt is keeping an eye on things,” he told Arrow.

  She nodded, heart sinking. The Preceptor was still hesitating, from that account, still investigating the underground place. And the ‘kin were focused on what the Erith were doing. Matt was Matthias Farraway, one of the Prime’s sons, and the primary enforcer for the shifkin nation, as formidable in his own way as an Erith warrior.

  With the ‘kin and Erith watching each other, even with no open hostility, they were distracted. A perfect time for a strike against them. The food was heavy in her stomach. She had made no progress at all.

  “What has occurred?” Thomshairaen asked, eyes keen.

  “Svegraen, perhaps you would brief Thomas?” Zachary prompted, tone making it a request. Kallish inclined her head, a gesture of acceptance and respect. His eyes turned back to Arrow. “And I think we should talk.”

  “Prime.” The sinking feeling in her stomach increased. She was not sure what he wanted to discuss but was certain it would not be pleasant.

  CHAPTER 6

  Zachary stood up and held her coat for her, assisting her into it with impersonal courtesy, then escorted her out into the snow. She gasped as the cold air hit her lungs, gasped again at the pain that seared through her rib cage. Fumbling with the fastenings, she got the coat done up again, wishing strongly that she had her hat, gloves, and scarf, and perhaps another three layers of clothing. She had been too busy running in Hallveran to really notice the temperature. What had been adequate in Lix, with its more temperate climate, was wholly unsuitable for the wild of Farraway Mountain.

  “We have Marianne’s killer but not the whole story,” Zachary said, catching her full attention. She waited a moment, standing still because it hurt her ribs less, but he did not go on.

  “That is so, Prime.”

  “And you have been noticeably absent these past few days,” he growled, pacing with tense, restless strides. Not just angry about the invasion of his lands, then. She remained still, careful to keep her voice even.

  “The Taellan determined my exile.”

  Whatever he had expected, it was not that. He moved to stand in front of her, eyes glowing with power, and held her gaze.

  “Explain.”

  “I am not sure that I can,” she said helplessly, fighting the stupid lump of hurt that threatened to overwhelm her again.

  “You are no longer in the Taellan’s service?”

  “That is so.”

  “Whose service are you in?” he demanded, teeth bared.

  “No one holds my service at present, Prime.”

  That pleased him, a different gleam entering his eyes. He took a few paces away.

  “So, you are a free agent.”

  “Within reason. There are some secrets I may not betray, some truths I may not speak.” She gave him honesty and after a moment, words pulled out from some core-deep certainty she had not fully articulated before now, added quietly, “And I will not act against the Erith.”

  “I expected nothing less.” His eyes gleamed again as he looked back at her. “Will the Erith look for you?”

  Cold was seeping through the coat, her fingers going numb.

  “I do not know,” she answered after a moment. “I believe that the Preceptor will have use for me.” A useful tool in the fight against the surjusi, a fight that was not done. The thought made her want to find a hiding place and stay there for a long time. The mere effort of standing was taking most of her energy, the healing provided by Thomas and the salve making little difference to the bruising and pain.

  He watched her for a long moment, frowning. “Has he made contact?”

  “Not as far as I am aware,” she answered, then had to move, walking slowly between the piles of junk. Her ribs ached, the faint scent of the salve soothing. Movement generated a small amount of warmth.

  “And someone has tried to kidnap you. With all that has happened, do you think that a coincidence?”

  “I do not know what to think. No one has tried to kidnap me before.” Her own temper was surfacing, prompted by pain, weariness and cold. Although Murphy had hinted that someone wanted her out of the way, she was reluctant to put too much faith in his information.

  “What are you going to do now?”

  She bit her lip against a hasty, angry reply and shook her head slightly, continuing to walk slowly. It would not be a good idea to snap at the Prime, but nor was it a good idea to back down from his question.

  “I have not had time to consider the matter,” she said candidly. “Kallish needs to report back to the Taellaneth. Even knowing that Kallish is White Guard, they still pursued us and fired on us.”

  “And through my territory,” he growled.

  “Even so.”

  “There are still answers to be found.” The growl was still there.

  “That is so.” She shoved her hands into her pockets, wincing in discomfort, a fine trembling of cold taking her over. “I have been considering the various questions and what we know.” She took a breath, wincing at the stab of pain. “I should like to find the answers. I would like to examine the underground. However, that will depend on the Preceptor’s permission.”

  “He does not have sole jurisdiction,” Zachary remarked. She looked across and a coil of unease threaded through her. He was looking thoughtful. He had some plan in mind. He smiled slightly when he caught her gaze. “I believe the Erith owe the shifkin nation a great deal of cooperation. I should like you to continue your enquiries.”

  Arrow stopped, giving him her full attention, measuring the extent of his trust in her with that request. Despite the ache in her ribs, anticipation coursed through her, replacing the unease. Finding answers was what she wanted to do. There were too many mysteries still unsolved, and, unlike the Erith, the shifkin Prime seemed genuinely interested in the truth of the matter.

  “Why?” she asked bluntly, too cold and sore for diplomacy.

  “My kin are dead,” he told her, white teeth flashing in a brief snarl. Not just Marianne, she remembered. Another ‘kin had died on the mountain. His power coiled out, carrying his anger and grief. Unfaithful she may have been, but he had been close to Marianne and cared about his people. He was not done. “Some of my kin hold the Erith responsible. There’s too much bad feeling there. They need answers.”

  Arrow shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cold. The ‘kin were angry and grieving and had a long history of battling the Erith. The Prime was telling her that some of his people were on the edge of violence. Violence that could start another war between ‘kin and Erith. She clamped her jaw shut a moment to stop her teeth chattering.

  “There may be unpleasant discoveries ahead, Prime. Everything so far indicates that human magic users have been working with a rogue Erith magician,” she reminded him, “and nothing so far points to any shifkin involvement but ...” She stopped, unwilling to finish the sentence. By the flicker in the Prime’s eyes she saw he had already anticipated the possibility, however remote, that his people were involved.

  “I want answers,” he said at once, jaw tense, “however unpleasant they may be.”

  “I should be happy to pursue more answers, Prime.”

  He smiled, face lit with unexpected warmth.

  “What is it?”

  “You did not ask for payment for your services.” He was amused, she saw, not offended, and further amused at her surprise.

&n
bsp; “I …” To her annoyance heat surged across her face, tips of her ears burning. “It did not occur to me.” Now he had mentioned it she was irritated anew. She would need resources to continue her enquiries, some of them expensive. And beyond that, she hoped to have a life of her own, now in the human world. The human world depended on money.

  “I know. We can discuss this another time.” He nodded back to the cabin. “For now, I need to speak with the muster. The perimeter is clear. Go back inside for the moment.”

  Glancing around, Arrow saw a group of ‘kin approaching through the trees, heritage clear from their speed and grace. Probably summoned by the breach of their borders. They were relaxed, despite the evident weaponry, and she guessed they had been patrolling the area, making sure all the intruders were gone. Except for her and Kallish. She shivered again, not from cold.

  “The Erith vehicle we used to get here is further down the slope, on its side. It is still covered in wards.”

  He waved her inside and she followed his wish.

  ~

  Inside the cabin the atmosphere was tense enough that she remained standing, moving to a point where she could see all the doors and keep her back to a solid part of the wall, unfastening the coat and letting warmth creep in with some relief. Thomshairaen was busy with various tasks around the cabin and Kallish had appropriated the table to lay out and catalogue the weaponry she had with her. They were carefully not looking at each other.

  “There are shifkin outside,” Kallish remarked, glancing up from the gun she was checking.

  “Members of the muster, I believe. The Prime is speaking with them.”

  “Will we be given passage to the Taellaneth?”

  “The Prime will not hold you against your will, young warrior.” Thomshairaen came back into the main room.

  “That was not the question, old man,” Kallish snapped back.

  “I will not be returning to the Taellaneth,” Arrow said, before either warrior could speak. That broke through some of the tension as both stilled, turning to her.

  “Your assignment takes you elsewhere?” Kallish asked, frowning.

  Arrow’s reply was cut off by the door opening and Zachary returning.

  “Your vehicle seems to be in reasonable order, and may run,” he told Arrow. “The muster will return it to the road for you to test, if you can disable the wards.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “How?” Kallish asked.

  “We’ll lift it,” Zachary said.

  “This, I would see.” Kallish swiftly gathered her weapons and rose, collecting the two collars as she moved.

  “Thomas, your hospitality is appreciated.” Zachary moved across the room and shook hands with the Erith. With the Prime’s irritation of gun fire on his lands faded, it was clear to Arrow that the two were old, familiar friends. The son of one of the Erith’s oldest Houses had found a place here, not just outside the Erith borders but within shifkin territory. The possibilities she had imagined for herself expanded a little more.

  “Good hunting.” The older warrior nodded to Kallish, who returned the gesture with the barest inclination of her head.

  Thomshairaen turned to Arrow, still standing with her back to the wall. “Young thing, if you have the chance, I would welcome your company again. Your grandfather was an exceptional man and a good friend.”

  “Thank you, svegraen,” she stammered, heart skipping in surprise. No one within the Taellaneth would speak of her heritage and she had a lifetime of curiosity stored up, only fuelled by the limited information she did have. The quiet offer, sincerely made, touched a raw place deep inside. She blinked to clear her eyes.

  “Her grandfather?” Zachary prompted. The warrior smiled slightly.

  “You knew him, too. The Erith’s most powerful mage. Well, until now.” Thomshairaen smiled at Arrow. “You have something of the look of him and I do not think you are into your full power yet, young thing.” A low, impatient sound from Zachary drew a gleam of a smile from the warrior, not in the least intimidated, before he answered the Prime’s question. “Serran vo Liathius.”

  There was a short, charged silence in the room. Kallish drew an audible breath, outrage crossing her face. Zachary lifted his brows, eyes turning to Arrow. Arrow could feel the colour draining from her face, eyes stinging. She put a hand on the wall behind her to hold herself upright, whole body trembling. No one spoke of her lineage. And although she had known who her grandfather was, the words spoken aloud were powerful.

  “The Erith’s greatest mage was your grandfather?” Zachary was too close, crowding her into the wall, shock and some anger in his voice. “And you did not think that worth mentioning?”

  “I am forbidden to speak of my heritage.” Her voice was shaking, lips stiff, her breath too quick, sharp pains crossing her bandaged ribs. “My lineage has been struck.”

  “Not good enough.” The Prime’s voice was a low growl, still crowding her against the wall. She could smell the fresh, clean scent of shifkin, the bitter taint of his anger a physical force holding her still.

  “Zachary.” Thomshairaen was abruptly there, easy good humour vanished. “She is wounded, and you are in my cabin.”

  The ‘kin snarled, teeth flashing, before he took a small, deliberate step back, eyes returning to Arrow’s face.

  “Are there more secrets?” he growled.

  “Many more, which I am not able to tell you,” she reminded him, holding his eyes with effort. Every part of her hurt.

  The low sound of shifkin anger filled the cabin. Everyone was still, both warriors with wary eyes on the shifkin, Arrow and Zachary staring at each other. His lip curled up again in a silent snarl.

  “I knew Serran vo Liathius,” he said unexpectedly, leaning forward until all she could see was Zachary’s intent face and the glimmer of power in his eyes, “and he had a bare fraction of the power you wield.”

  Arrow felt rather than saw Kallish’s surprise at that bald statement. Among the Erith it was simply accepted wisdom that Serran vo Liathius had been the most powerful mage in their history, and they were unlikely to see his kind again.

  The Prime was not done, though. “Where does that power come from, mage?”

  “No one fully knows where a mage’s power comes from,” she answered directly. “Some say birth right, others that it is simply a random gift. It is most likely my power is the result of my unusual heritage.”

  “A heritage you cannot discuss.”

  “That is correct, Prime.” Although, if the Prime had known Serran at all, he might have a good idea where her non-Erith heritage had come from. By all accounts, Serran had been as formidable a flirt as he was a mage, scandalising the entire Erith Court on more than one occasion with his dalliances with humans and ‘kin. Her human grandmother and half-human father had not been the only oddities. Serran might have been forgiven because he was so powerful and skilled. That forgiveness did not extend beyond him. Arrow’s eyes stung again.

  “What can you tell me?”

  “I am an Erith war mage, a fifteenth cycle graduate from the Academy. With those titles come certain oaths. One of those oaths is to wield our most destructive powers only when absolutely necessary.”

  “So, you will not go on a rampage and destroy my muster?” he asked, startling her with abrupt humour.

  She blinked, wondering if she had heard correctly, but his eyes had softened, a smile playing on his mouth.

  “No, Prime.”

  “Very well.” He stepped back, anger vanishing as swiftly as it had arrived. “You do not lack for courage, mage. Very few people can stand against me.”

  Recognising that he had just paid her a sincere compliment, her cheeks flushed, chasing away the paleness. She lowered her eyes. “Prime.”

  “Come, those wards need taking down.” With that, he turned on his heel and went out, leaving the door open behind him.

  Arrow was not sure she could move yet, too many things circling her mind, all clamouring for a
ttention. She seized the next thing that came to the forefront and said, wondering, “He was testing me.”

  “Partly, yes,” Thomshairaen said with a wry smile, “and partly genuine anger. The history of the Erith and shifkin has not been a happy one.”

  “No,” Arrow agreed, finding that she could, in fact, move. She pushed away from the wall and turned to the Erith warrior, watching her with old, dark eyes. “My thanks for your hospitality, svegraen. I should be pleased to visit again when circumstances permit. I should like,” she added, voice choking slightly, “to hear about my grandfather.”

  “I should be pleased to tell you. There are many, many stories about Serran.” The warrior returned her bow, exchanged a crisp nod with Kallish, and then the mage and warrior left.

  Arrow had forgotten to fasten her coat again and hastily remedied that, stumbling a little through the snow as she followed the Prime down the hill to where the vehicle lay.

  A dozen shifkin milled around, all dressed in dark, combat clothing, weapons openly carried making Arrow’s skin prickle with momentary unease. A moment’s glance showed the shifkin paying little heed to her or to Kallish, their focus on their surroundings, and their Prime. Relaxing her shoulders, she made her way, carefully, back to the vehicle.

  “I will need a short time,” she told the Prime, and put one hand on the cold metal. The Erith wards sung in response to her touch, the protections built into the vehicle still holding despite the accident. She undid the most hostile wards, rendering the vehicle safe for others to touch.

  When she was done she stepped back, nodding to the Prime, and went to lean against a tree, far enough to be out of the way of the shifkin. Kallish came to stand beside her, watching with close interest as half a dozen shifkin simply picked up the heavy, armoured, vehicle and set it upright, then another few joined them, and they carried the vehicle back to the narrow road, pointing it back towards the Hallveran road. Arrow had the distinct impression that the shifkin did not need the numbers they had but judged it expedient to assist with manoeuvring the bulky vehicle through the trees and across the uncertain ground.