Taellaneth Complete Series Box Set

by Vanessa Nelson

  “We must know what they plan.”

  “If you wish to know, then ask them.”

  “You think they will tell us?”

  “You will not know unless you ask.”

  “You owe us,” Eimille stated, colour high.

  “The Taellan required my service. It is completed. The Taellan determined my exile. You were a witness, my lady. The Taellan’s Chief Scribe required the return of all Erith items in my possession that were not personal belongings. That has been done. I do not owe the Erith anything more.”

  Eimille’s colour was dangerously high, and the other Taellan were on their feet when Arrow finished her speech. A knot loosened in her chest, another bit of tension she had not known she carried. The words had carried the barest, tiniest fraction of her own anger and hurt. Oath-bound, used in service and then discarded. The Erith had no claim on her anymore.

  “You think to defy us. An unNamed brat,” Eimille hissed.

  “UnNamed?” Arrow lifted one brow, holding Eimille’s eyes. It was possible that the oldest of the Taellan did not know about the Naming. Possible. Unlikely. Seggerat had been the most prominent of the Taellan but Eimille had served longest and Arrow thought that very little went on among the Erith that Eimille did not know about. The flicker across Eimille’s face proved the point. The lady had known.

  “Get out,” Eimille hissed at the others. Surprise crossed every face, protests dying as Eimille turned her glare on them. Oldest of the Taellan, she had a stare to rival Seggerat.

  The other Taellan left, exchanging frowning glances. Miach remained in the room. Eimille glared at him to no effect. Formidable as she was, Eimille was still not as powerful as Freyella had been, and Miach had withstood the Queen for a long period of time. Eimille turned her shoulder on him, dismissing his presence.

  “You are unNamed,” Eimille told Arrow, fury lacing her words. “There is no evidence otherwise.” The words rang in Arrow’s head. Carefully chosen by the oldest Taellan.

  “On the contrary.” Arrow felt her face freeze. She had thought that only Seggerat and Eshan had been involved in destroying the official Naming scrolls, the knowledge shared between them alone. It seemed she had been wrong. “A third copy was made, and given to me.”

  “Hand it over.”

  Arrow’s laugh surprised the Taellan. “Lady, I would be foolish beyond measure to carry such a thing with me. And you have no right to it.”

  “You were the unwanted offspring of an unnatural union,” Eimille spat, all pretence of civility gone. “You do not deserve the honour of a Name.”

  “You may insult me as much as you wish,” Arrow bit out, her own temper flaring. Her eyes were brilliant silver. She was so used to the jibes that they barely registered. But now she had other things to be angry about. “But consider that you are also insulting Alisemea vel Regersfel. One of the Queen’s favourites. Whose portrait still hangs in the Palace, for all to see.”

  “And Arrow was not unwanted,” Miach put in, something in his voice catching Arrow’s attention away from Eimille. The Erith’s first guard was pale, age showing on his face. “We all remember how delighted Alisemea was when she learned she was with child. Even you, Eimille.”

  “Do not presume-”

  “You are overwrought,” Miach interrupted, “and beyond insulting.”

  Arrow watched, fascinated, as Eimille glared at the first guard for a moment before turning in an abrupt, angry, move and sitting back in her chair, glaring out the window.

  “Stupid little girl.” Eimille’s voice was still angry, but bore something else as well. Grief, Arrow thought. Years old. Not talking about Arrow for once. Alisemea. “She thought she could build some fantasy world where she and that creature … Well. It did not end as she had hoped. But it was what we all foresaw.”

  “Her vetral,” Miach put in, face hardening. “You and Seggerat hated him. Hated his existence. But he was hardly the first offspring with mixed heritage. And not the last.”

  “We warned her. Nothing good would come of it.” Eimille’s fingers were picking at the arm of the chair, thread unravelling under her fingers. Arrow did not think she knew what she was doing.

  “And what did become of it?” Arrow asked. Miach lifted a brow at her. “No one has ever told me. Only that my parents were dead.”

  “I am sorry,” he said sincerely. “You should have been told more.”

  Arrow bit the inside of her lip to stop a hasty retort. It was not his fault. And perhaps if Arrow had been to the Palace when she was growing up, or even admitted into the heartland, she would have known more. But Seggerat had kept her isolated, away from the heartland, confined to the Taellaneth and the duties the Taellan assigned her.

  “They were travelling. Alisemea, her vetral, and you. You were just beginning to walk, I think. Alisemea wanted to be away from her father and the Palace, so they were going to House Liathius. It should have been a safe journey but they were attacked on the way.”

  “She died to protect you,” Eimille hissed. There were tears on her face, eyes bright with amber, jaw set. “Alisemea gave up her life so that you could live.” It was clear Eimille did not think that was a good bargain.

  “They fought their attackers. They hid you. We have no idea how or where. But you were found a day later, crawling through the forest a good distance away from the bodies,” Miach told her.

  “You found them.”

  “Alisemea was one of Frey’s favourites. When she did not send word of her safe arrival at House Liathius, Frey wanted to make sure all was well. She had a sense, sometimes, when things were wrong.”

  “What was my father’s name?” Curiosity pulled the question out of her.

  “Gareth.”

  “Gareth?” Arrow’s brows rose. A prosaic, human name.

  “Apparently his mother insisted he have her father’s name. A long human tradition, I believe.”

  “I believe so,” Arrow agreed. Gareth. She could not imagine what such a person would look like.

  “Now you know.” Eimille rose again, twitching her skirts into place. Her eyes passed over the ruined arm of the chair, loose threads testament to her temper. “And you can go. This has been quite upsetting enough.”

  Arrow stared back at her for a moment, lips forming a flat line, silver in her eyes. Eimille was finished with her, that was clear. Neither of them had got precisely what they wanted. For the first time, though, Arrow was leaving a meeting with a Taellan with more information than she had at the start. And only partly thanks to Miach.

  It took considerable will power not to bow, the reflex was so ingrained. But she held her back straight, nodded to Miach, and left the room.

  CHAPTER 9

  After the revelations of her meeting with Eimille and Miach, Arrow was not sure she would settle to sleep. In the end, she did not need to worry about sleep as there was enough to keep her busy.

  The night was filled with one alarm after another, the hastily-arranged perimeter wards throwing up false alerts by the dozen, matters not improved by a downpour of rain that rendered parts of the ground into pools of mud. More than one of the humans fell, cursing loudly, as did Arrow, embarrassed at her clumsiness against the White Guard who moved as steadily as ever on the slippery ground. She spent much of the night with mud plastered along one side, clothes soaked, chill working its way through her as the rain continued.

  None of the wards were disabled, though. It should have been good news, although little seemed good with cold, wet, clothes against her skin and mud sliding from her hair into her eyes every few minutes.

  The wards were a concern to chill her further. Not disabled, yet alerts at random intervals. Perhaps the Collegia magicians did not want to use their new tools so openly by openly bringing the wards down. Which was frustrating in its own way, as Arrow still did not know how they had disabled her wards and how to guard against in for the future.

  The next morning all the Collegia’s combat magicians looked frayed around th
e edges, at least those in uniform. The White Guard and ‘kin security on duty were outwardly composed, but Arrow knew their patience was worn thin. There were tense shoulders among them, flickers of amber in Erith eyes, and teeth shown among the ‘kin. She was sure she also displayed signs of unease. She did not know what had been interfering with the wards so much but the alarms had been too frequent to be wildlife, which was the only suggestion Dorian seemed willing to accept.

  Her bad temper was compounded by lack of caffeine. There had barely been time to get rid of her wet, filthy clothes and shower away the mud before Zachary and Matthias were calling for her. They wanted her views on the night’s activities before going back into the meeting room, frowning when she told them her best guess that there was some intelligence behind the disturbances.

  Whatever had tripped the wards overnight seemed to have infected the delegates as well. The formalities and politeness of the first day were gone the second morning of the summit.

  The human delegation arrived with flushed cheeks and a set to their jaws that did not bode well. They were also noticeably fewer in number, with a few empty seats. Perhaps they had decided that the show of force was not necessary, with the smaller numbers of shifkin and Erith present. Perhaps they had grown as bored as Arrow with the formalities of the day before. She did not think either explanation was right. Something else was going on.

  The Erith delegation appeared well rested and calm, and yet more than one had amber in their eyes and even among the cadre on duty, Kallish’s this day, there were tense shoulders.

  “Something is wrong,” Arrow murmured to Matthias as they came into the room. She was still cold, not sure if that was the effects of the night out in the rain or something else. “Everyone is on edge.”

  “Go check the perimeter again, make sure nothing got through,” Matthias told her. “Pa is in no mind to argue. We’ll hold.”

  Arrow nodded and left the room, heading out to the boundary once more, commandeering one of the Abbey’s silly white electric vehicles to save her the walk.

  A long and fruitless search, disturbing all the White Guard, ‘kin and humans on border patrol, and she came back to the hotel with nothing to report, a headache and a growing sense of unease.

  A quick stop at the hotel’s kitchens relieved the headache and finally chased away some of the chill, standing beside the huge range cooker for a few moments. She took a moment to shove extra food into her messenger bag. She had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

  She arrived back at the meeting to find the Premiere still seated but some of the other delegates on their feet, shouting at full force to both the ‘kin and Erith.

  A moment’s listening and she recognised the litany of complaints from the conservative elements of human politics. Humans were being denied land. They were being corralled into unsuitable areas. The Erith were hoarding all resources. The ‘kin were colluding with the Erith. The complaints were, naturally, led by Normal Merkel, the man’s booming voice drowning out the others. The Premiere herself was keeping still and outwardly calm, irritation shown only by the white knuckles as she clasped her hands on the table in front of her.

  Arrow took a step forward, catching Matthias’ attention. He ducked out of his chair, leaving Zachary. The Prime was settled back in his chair, apparently relaxed, and as Matthias left his seat, Zachary stretched one arm along the back of the empty chair, fingers relaxed as he watched the humans and Erith. An impressive display of restraint.

  The Erith were restless. Not used to being so openly challenged. And doubtless also remembering that the lands the humans occupied just now had been Erith at one time. As were the lands the humans were seeking to gain. There were no requests from the humans. They were demanding. Resentment at the restrictions placed on them by the Erith, wanting more Erith lands. It was odd the humans did not want ‘kin lands, Arrow mused, or seem to resent the ‘kin at all.

  Matthias steered her out of the room into the comparative quiet of the corridor.

  “Anything?”

  “Nothing came through the wards last night.”

  “Something’s wrong. Everyone’s far too fired up. The humans are shouting at the Erith.” Matthias ran a hand through his hair, an uncharacteristic gesture, betraying his own unease.

  “I have not checked the building.”

  “Could a spell be doing this?”

  “Making everyone angry? Possibly. It would explain why the ‘kin are less affected. You have a fairly strong immunity to high magic.”

  “Bloody magicians.” Matthias stared into distance for a moment, frowning, and then focused on her. “I think you should take Thomas and at least one of the Erith warriors with you. Or that magician. What’s his name again?”

  “Gilean. I doubt he will want to leave the Taellan.”

  “Well, let’s see.”

  They ducked back into the room to find that the Premiere was now on her feet, trying to calm her colleagues down, her own face flushed with anger and embarrassment. Arrow could not help wondering just what her colleagues had said to break her composure.

  It took a mere moment to get Kallish’s attention and draw her and Thomas aside. Kallish’s mouth tightened.

  “I cannot leave the Taellan. Nor can Gilean. Miach should go.” Kallish made a quick hand signal, drawing Miach across the room.

  “Something wrong?”

  Arrow had her mouth open to reply when she was knocked sideways, staggering, trying to stay on her feet before dropping to her knees, palms flat on the floor. Silver lit around her. Wards. At full strength. Blinding.

  A pulse of magic rebounded off her wards. Powerful. Shaking the ground as it travelled, vibrating through her chest. Silver wards flexed, marred for a moment with something unclean. Urjusi. Forbidden magic.

  Hearing and sight went as the sticky, nauseating crawl of urjusi continued. All dark. Silent. The only real things were the blinding weight of her wards, invisible to her useless eyes, and the dense presence of her sword, every single spell in its fabric alive and buzzing, woken to its purpose.

  “Surjusi,” she whispered, voice so loud in her ears that she winced.

  The dark and quiet vanished and she came back into the first world to witness panic. Humans were screaming. Erith were on their feet. Kallish was back with her cadre, the warriors forming a circle around the Taellan, battle wards shining. The ‘kin were on their feet, more than a few weapons ready, Thomas among them, his eyes brilliant with amber, face pinched and white. A warrior who had faced demons before.

  “What in hell? That sword’s lit up like lightning.” Matthias had a weapon in his hand, a matte-black, snub-nosed hand gun, muzzle pointed to the ground.

  “Surjusi,” Arrow said again, touching her sore ears. Her head was ringing. Her fingers came away wet and sticky. Blood. “Somewhere nearby.” She got to her feet, unsteady, the sword’s spells vivid, its weight sending her sideways again, balance uncertain until she adjusted to it.

  “The other cadres are on their way,” Miach said, grim. His eyes were blazing amber.

  “We do not have time to wait.” The sense of urgency had Arrow’s feet moving, heading for the door before she finished speaking.

  “Where?”

  “Down. Somewhere down.”

  “Bloody basements,” Matthias muttered, keeping pace with them. He had an ear-piece around one ear, his dress shirt covered in a slender bullet-proof vest. She was sure he had not had those earlier, and wondered how long she had been blind for.

  “Someone summoned surjusi here?” Miach demanded.

  “Unclear.” Arrow went ahead, crafting a light spell and sending it down into the basement, only remembering halfway down the stairs that this was a human building and there should be artificial light. The light spell did not reveal anything untoward at first. There was the long, low-ceilinged corridor that led between the various storage rooms the hotel rarely used. The light did not stretch its full length, and at the end of the light Arrow saw what lo
oked like a pair of figures carrying backpacks. She checked in her descent, Matthias’ and Miach’s tension telling her she had not imagined the sight. The light spell drifted further. The figures were gone but the door at the end of the corridor was slightly ajar, pitch black at its edges.

  Arrow’s hair crackled with static.

  “Get your cadres, Miach,” she ordered. “There is something here.”

  “They are on their way,” Miach answered, not leaving her side. “This is not the first one I have faced.” He had sparks of amber on one shoulder that she thought was a ward spell for a moment, then realised he had gathered some of Gilean’s translation spell to him before he left the room. So he could understand everyone, and be understood. She touched her own ear again, the blood drying quickly. While she had been staggering under the realisation of surjusi, Matthias had been readying for battle and Miach had been gathering his resources.

  “Me neither,” Matthias growled. “We can compare numbers later.”

  Running footsteps behind drew all their attention back along the corridor, Miach and Matthias with their weapons raised.

  Kester came into view, closely followed by Kallish and her third, Kallish furious, eyes snapping amber, jaw clenched.

  “Elias and his cadre are with the Taellan,” Kallish told Miach quickly, anticipating his concern, “the others are on their way.”

  “Eimille wants to evacuate. Some of the humans are trying to block the doors, stop everyone leaving,” Kester told them, slightly breathless from the run. “The Prime is holding everyone in check.” Even as he said that, Arrow could feel the Prime’s power overhead, the full force of his will unleashed. If anyone could hold a room full argumentative humans and Erith, it was the Prime.

  Kester seemed to be outside Miach’s translation spell so Arrow made a quick translation for Matthias, whose response was a low snarl that showed his teeth and raised the hairs across her body. Matthias’ mate and unborn young were in the chamber with argumentative humans and panicking Erith.