Taellaneth Complete Series Box Set

by Vanessa Nelson

  She had never liked running. It was actively discouraged around the Taellaneth for servants in any case. She had been made to run only a few times, for classes at the Academy where the Teaching Master or Mistress was convinced that physical exercise was required for their lessons to be more effective. Arrow had always been the slowest of any group she was part of, her body not wanting to move in the fluid way that all Erith seemed capable of.

  The demon realm was no exception. Her legs ached from the run in a way they had not with all the walking. She was sure there was at least one blister on her foot.

  And they were still in danger. And still not at their destination. The Erith spellwork was tantalisingly close compared to when she had started out, but she knew it was still a long distance from her. Distances were vast in this realm.

  The sword at her back pulsed a warning.

  Her wards rose, sword flaring with power and she found it in her hand, hilt becoming more and more familiar. She turned in a slow circle, looking for the threat, holding her wards close to her, dampening the sword’s brilliance. Light was very obvious here.

  For a moment there was nothing then the sticky static sensation of surjusi crackled across her face and hair and an enormous patch of dark rose up from the ground ahead. A demon bigger even than the one in the valley.

  Her throat tightened, fingers sticky where they gripped the sword hilt. She held her ground, feet slightly apart in the defensive stance Kallish had taught her.

  It was only then that she realised she was alone. There was no sign of Kester, Dorian or Juniper.

  Panic choked her throat. Had she left them behind with the rock figures? Or, worse, to the mercy of the Erith-eating surjusi?

  No. She remembered Kester running beside her for a while, strides easy and sure. He had been with her. The humans, too, their footsteps as noisy as hers.

  So where had they gone?

  She was quite certain that Kester would not have left her. Not here. Not without some explanation.

  But he was not within reach of her senses just now. And there was an enormous demon gathering in front of her.

  Survive first. One of Kallish’s mantras.

  So she tried to set aside her worry and waited for the attack.

  The surjusi rose above her, tall as the Taellaneth main building, a giant mouth opening in the side facing her. A deep sound, stone grinding on stone, vibrated in her skull.

  Still she held her ground. She was still full of power, if not physical energy, the sword eager to be used.

  As the creature swelled further and rumbled towards her, movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention. Another person was here, running into view.

  Kester.

  Her heart skipped, relief washing over her, sword point visibly wavering. Not lost, then. Here.

  But it was not Kester. Definitely a person. Human in shape.

  Confusion held her still another moment then the newcomer was between her and the surjusi, flinging out a hand, casting a pre-prepared spell, chanting some kind of incantation.

  Human.

  A human was here. Practising high magic. Not Erith magic, as she could not see a single familiar rune, but high magic all the same, magic bound into a spell and cast.

  Whatever spell the human had used seemed to have the same effect as her sword. The surjusi roared, noise making Arrow want to huddle on the ground, hands over her ears, then faded, reducing to ash. From the ash motes of amber rose. Another demon with a belly full of Erith magic.

  She felt sick.

  The human turned and offered her a smile. Now that there was no surjusi to distract her, she could take in more details. A tallish human male with sandy hair and blue eyes and skin as fair as her own. A perfectly pleasant face. He seemed to wield high magic with confidence and power, even if she could detect none of it in the limited second sight she had. Every instinct was telling her to run again. Except she had an odd certainty that he would catch her easily, and enjoy the chase.

  “You seem to be lost.”

  “How did you get here?” she demanded. It was probably rude, as he had apparently just saved her from a surjusi attack. But it was important.

  “Just passing by. Saw you were in trouble.”

  Her heart was gradually slowing down. He had not attacked her. Yet. She wondered if she should argue that she had not been in trouble, decided against it. She sheathed the sword instead. It was still active, on alert, reacting to some threat she could not sense, but obeying her wish that it looked dormant. She trusted her sword. There was danger here.

  “Thank you,” she said. She was not sure if she meant it, but it seemed the right thing to say. He seemed pleased, smiling again, showing a row of perfect, white teeth.

  “It was my pleasure.”

  “You have encountered such things before?” It was a blatant attempt to get information from him, but also, Arrow thought, a natural question.

  “A few times. One of the hazards of this place.” He waved a hand indicating the realm around them. The gesture was slightly odd.

  Arrow could not quite work out what was wrong or why her every instinct wanted her to run again. The human was pleasant enough. He had just saved her from a demon. And yet the sword at her back was still on alert.

  She held her ground. She had done enough running. And she did not want this newcomer at her back.

  “But you are lost, Arrow.”

  “H-how …” She snapped her jaw shut against the most obvious question and narrowed her eyes slightly, taking another look at him.

  “You are quite famous, you know.” He folded his hands behind his back, standing relaxed in front of her. There was something wrong with the way he was standing. Something wrong with his whole appearance, although she still did not know what it was. “The exiled shadow-walker.” A flicker of something other crossed his face as he said that. Arrow kept her mouth shut. He knew far too much.

  He laughed, a soft sound that was almost perfectly human but not quite. “Are you always so shy?”

  “By no means. But you have me at a disadvantage,” she answered, keeping her voice calm. They were speaking Erith, she realised. That was definitely wrong. No humans knew Erith well enough to speak it without an accent, as this human was. “I do not know who you are.”

  “I hope to be a friend.” The smile was like the laugh. Almost but not quite right. “You may call me Saul.”

  “Saul.” Arrow made a reflexive half-bow, Erith Court manners still deeply ingrained despite her exile. The bow was returned. Not something a human would do. “Are you trapped here as well?”

  “Something like that.”

  He was like an actor, Arrow realised. Every move seemed rehearsed. An amateur actor, then. The best ones, that she had seen at human theatres, moved and spoke seamlessly as their characters on the stage. Saul was not practised enough to be natural in this role.

  Erith had legends of dream-walkers, of magic creatures that would take shape in your sleep, become your fondest wish and then steal you away, never to wake up.

  But Arrow knew she was awake. Her feet hurt too much for this to be a dream and she could feel the sweat on her skin sticky under her clothes.

  Besides, if Saul was trying to fulfil her wishes, he would look like Kester. Who she needed to find. He was a highly accomplished warrior, and against normal enemies she would not be worried. But this was the demon realm and, apart from her, she did not know of any Erith with a natural immunity to the surjusi.

  Even if Saul was not an Erith dream-walker of legend, he was still somehow disguised and not at all what he seemed. She glanced past his shoulder to the cloud of amber rising from the surjusi dust.

  He followed her line of sight, turning slightly to see. He turned from his waist only, and too far around to be comfortable for a human. Her pulse skipped, chill sliding across her skin. Most definitely not what he seemed.

  “Ah, yes. The dregs. More will be coming soon to clean up. We should move. Where are you he
aded?”

  “For higher ground,” Arrow answered. It was what any warrior would do, she thought. It was what Kester had suggested that the magicians do. Get to a higher vantage point to see what was about. Now she actually looked around she realised that she was in the undulating terrain of a mountain’s foothills. Higher ground was nearby.

  “A sensible choice.” There was a smile in that answer that she did not like. Something had pleased him. His expression reminded her of Eshan, when the former Chief Scribe had known Arrow was under his authority and could not resist his commands. Eshan had been petty and cruel, his punishments often more annoying than dangerous. She did not think Saul was petty.

  “Where are you going to?” Arrow thought to ask.

  “I have a residence in the higher mountains. I will go there. I would be delighted if you would join me.”

  “That is a generous offer,” Arrow began, trying to think of a polite way to refuse.

  “A moment.” He lifted a finger, turning his head as though listening. Arrow could not hear anything, or sense anything untoward. “Sadly, I must leave you for now. Think about my offer. It is not a safe place here.” There was something in his eyes again when he said that, some glimpse of his true nature that made Arrow’s heart thud and dried her mouth.

  She did not have time to reply or react as he took a few steps away from her, towards the amber cloud, and simply disappeared.

  Shock held her still for a moment. People, or whatever Saul was, did not simply disappear. She tried opening her sight to see if he had stepped into the shadow realm, if that was even possible here, and received a stab of blinding pain through her skull in return.

  Pressing fingers to her temples, she sent a small amount of healing energy through her skull so that she could focus again.

  The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was the dust and amber. It was brighter than the amber she had seen before, and would draw more surjusi soon.

  Her mouth dried, throat closing, pulse loud in her ears. Alone in the surjusi realm. With their favourite food not far away.

  Her knees wobbled and she crouched closer to the ground, hunching over, trying to calm her pulse, steady her breathing. Panic helped no one. The Academy trained its graduates to maintain focus in the face of danger and distraction. At least it tried to. She did not think any Academy graduate would maintain their discipline whilst alone in the demon realm.

  She did not need to remain alone, though. There were others here.

  She needed to find Kester. Dorian and Juniper if she could, but Kester was the priority. Find him.

  Then they needed to move. Far away.

  Casting her senses out, she could not find any trace of him. Just the Erith wards at the edge of her senses. Closer than before. Searching further only increased her headache.

  He was a warrior, she reminded herself. And could move and run far faster than she could. They had been heading for the Erith magic. He was skilled at tracking, with a far better sense of direction than she had. He might already be on that route. Perhaps if she continued on, she would find him.

  There were also the humans to consider. The ones with the backpacks who had gone through the portal first, willingly. And Dorian and Juniper, not powerful enough to defeat surjusi on their own. She hesitated, sending her senses out again. Still nothing. If she could not find them, she could not help them. The tangle of Erith magic was strong enough that it was possible the magicians might sense it when they were close enough. Possibly. It was the best option she had.

  She set off again at a steady walk, muscles raising serious protest at her use of them, feet raw in her boots. Drawing on the vast well of power she carried, she sent some healing through her body, particularly her feet, and walked a little more freely, heading for the Erith magic.

  It was some time after she had left the fallen surjusi and site of her meeting with Saul that she wondered how many surjusi might be gathered around the brilliance of active Erith magic.

  CHAPTER 14

  Her feet were bleeding. Her muscles torn. Her breath harsh and uneven. At least, her feet felt like they were bleeding.

  She had been attacked several times by surjusi on the way, the sword alerting her each time before the demons attacked. There were several piles of dust and clouds of Erith magic in her wake. Each attack took a little more energy from her and she had been forced to stop at one point to get some food from her bag and use some of the energy for healing so she could keep going.

  After the last attack, sensing she was close to her destination, she had run. There might be no safety at her destination, but some instinct told her that it would be a lot safer than out in the open.

  As she had travelled she had also climbed. She was not sure how much. At a guess, perhaps the height to the township on Farraway Mountain, which was accessed only by a narrow road and multiple switchbacks and hairpin bends. It had seemed a very long way down when she had travelled that road. In some ways it was a good thing that this realm was so dark and she could not see all that far.

  She had also had to double back a few times on the route as the direct path led to a yawning chasm, or split in the mountain.

  But she was here now. The glow of Erith magic was a beacon in the darkness ahead. A very short distance ahead.

  She could trace the individual spells. White Guard battle wards, almost seamlessly blended together with a war mage’s battle wards, the spells subtly different. It was one of the most powerful wards she had ever seen and she could not help wondering how the Erith were maintaining it. Battle wards, particularly when attacked, took a great deal of energy to maintain.

  Stubbing her toe on a rock she swore and reminded herself to pay more attention to her path.

  She came up the final shallow slope and saw the whole wards to the first time and what they contained. Her feet stopped on their own. Her jaw dropped.

  There was a small plateau, with a clear view of everything around it, and settled on the plateau, inside the wards, were half a dozen Erith. A third of White Guard and a mage. They were settled on what looked like chairs or benches made of stone, playing some kind of game with dice.

  Something alerted them to her presence. One by one they turned their heads to see, became still, then rose and came to the edge of their ward.

  Six Erith.

  A White Guard third and a war mage.

  Arrow looked at their faces and suffered another shock. This one took her knees out and she tumbled to the ground.

  Fallen not Forgotten.

  The artist had not exaggerated or made up his subjects.

  The six Erith before her were immortalised in stone in the statue before the Taellaneth main building.

  The last six. The ones who had held against the last major surjusi incursion. Who had held and given their lives to stop it. Fallen not Forgotten.

  Her lips were moving, but there was no sound coming out.

  There was sound, though. The sound of voices from within the circle.

  “Is that a girl?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Oddly dressed.”

  “Looks a bit worn.”

  “You can talk. Have you seen the state of your sleeves?”

  “They would be in better repair if someone had not lost our last needle.”

  “What do you expect when a demon swarm comes upon us?”

  “Seriously? Demon swarm indeed. One. Small. Demon. And you dropped the needle.”

  “This again?”

  “Perhaps she has a needle she can spare.”

  “Or drink.”

  “Ah. Drink. Now, that would be lovely.”

  “Young lady. I say, young lady?”

  Arrow blinked, realising that the Erith had moved. One of the warriors was coming forward, the others maintaining a watch, with the war mage. For all the light-hearted conversation, their eyes were keen and there were hands near weapons.

  The first warrior came out of the circle and moved towards her. The braids
on his sleeves, slightly worn, told her he was a cadre leader.

  “Svegraen,” she said, voice sounding high and thin.

  “Ah. Good. You speak Erith. By any chance, do you have something to drink in your bag?”

  “Drink?”

  “Yes. We ran out a while ago. Some brandy would be lovely.”

  “I …” Arrow got her legs to work and rose to her feet, hand going to the flap of her bag. “I am sorry. No.”

  “A pity.”

  “Ask her about needles,” one of the other warriors hissed.

  “I do have needles,” Arrow confirmed. A sewing kit had been helpful on many occasions in the past.

  “Wonderful. Invite her in.”

  “We do not know anything about her.” Another warrior objected.

  “There are six of us and one of her. I think we will manage.”

  “Not so fast.” The war mage’s gaze was focused on Arrow. “She has training. And that sword is … well, it looks like a war mage’s spirit sword. But not quite. Who and what are you?”

  “I am Arrow. A graduate of the Academy.”

  “What a strange name.”

  “Academy? What is that?” the war mage asked, eyes keen.

  “The Academy …” Arrow began, her voice faltering. These Erith did not know about the Academy. The last surjusi incursion had been over a hundred years before. It was possible they had been trapped here that long. “The Academy was founded after the last surjusi incursion. It was the idea of Serran vo Liathius. It is the place where all Erith learn magic.”

  “Serran’s mad idea? Really? That happened?”

  “What does it mean? Graduate?” That was the cadre leader, the warrior standing closest to her. There was bright amber in his eyes and a tight expression on his face.

  “I graduated as a war mage,” she told him.

  “Aha! Another one. Do you cheat at dice, too?” the female warrior demanded.

  “Onalla, be serious for a moment.” Another one of the warriors. The archer, Arrow thought.

  “I am being serious,” Onalla protested. “I have never met such a cheat.”

  The war mage spared some attention from Arrow to send the warrior a sharp sideways glance. She grinned in response, not in the least bothered or intimidated.