Taellaneth Complete Series Box Set

by Vanessa Nelson

  “Is the garden hidden from the building?” she asked.

  “No. You can see the garden from the rooms,” Dorian answered at once. He then looked up, body stiffening, “But you cannot see the centre of the garden from anywhere. The trees always block it.”

  “This was a deliberate design,” Arrow concluded, seeing the same realisation on Dorian’s face. She looked back down at the stones and then up at the Magister, securely tied and watched over by White Guard. “He is a lot older than he appears.”

  “You think surjusi have been influencing the Collegia for a long time.” Zachary sounded every one of his many years of life.

  “About as long as Sanctuary has been around,” Arrow confirmed. Cold was working its way through her body. The stones in front of her, marked with blood, had the same sense of age as the Sanctuary. And it was likely no coincidence that Oliver Anderson had made his powerful circle of protection at the same time as magicians in the Collegia had been laying these stones.

  Dorian looked as ill as she felt. “How do you know?”

  “The stone the Magister had is old,” the Prime told the First Mage. “Worn smooth from handling. And these,” he nodded to the rune-marked stones, “are old as well.”

  “A communication spell,” Arrow confirmed, tilting her head to examine the lines and curves. “Crude renderings of Erith runes.”

  “Communication.” Zachary’s growl lifted the hairs on her neck. “With the surjusi?”

  “It would seem so. The magicians had their instructions from somewhere.” Right in the middle of the Collegia. Where no outside eyes would look. Screened by trees carefully planted around them.

  “Not these ones,” Zachary told her. “They’re all clear of more stones.” She blinked and turned her head, seeing that the ‘kin and warriors disarmed the Magister’s followers, a large pile of weapons and bandoleers watched over by a pair of Kallish’s cadre. The humans had also been ruthlessly searched, their shirts torn open. None of them wore a medallion like the Magister’s or Fleur’s.

  “It might not be on a chain,” Arrow pointed out. The edges of her vision were blurred, even with the growing light in the sky. For a moment she was not sure if she was standing or sitting.

  “We searched them,” Zachary told her. “There’s nothing.” He was confident. She believed him.

  “Here.” Dorian, of all people, was in front of her with, of all things, a large mug held out in front of him. “The kitchens are open. If you want food,” he added to Kester, or Kallish. They were both standing over her, she realised. She took the mug and breathed in the decadent sweet scent of hot chocolate. “About five people told me that’s your favourite,” Dorian told her.

  “That or coffee,” Juniper added. She was carrying a tray of mugs, all sending trails of steam into the night air.

  Arrow blinked, both hands wrapped around the mug. She was even colder than she had realised, teeth chattering together until she clamped her jaw shut. She looked around in the growing light and wondered for a moment if she was asleep and having a particularly strange dream. The First Mage and his deputy were handing out coffee and hot chocolate to Erith warriors and ‘kin in the Collegia garden. But, no, this seemed real. The borrowed boots had pinched her feet and her little toes were pulsing in time with her heartbeat. She ached from head to toe, the echo of the heartland’s healing running through her.

  She blinked again, finding she was almost alone. Zachary was nearby, the others sharing out mugs of whatever drinks Juniper was carrying.

  “You did not really need me here,” she commented to Zachary.

  “We did,” he contradicted. “We’d never had thought to look for the surjusi rock. Or the runes.”

  “I think the ward machines have bits of rock in them. It would explain why the sword reacted.”

  He straightened, some of his power curling out into the garden.

  “Then we’ll need to be very thorough in our search. Damn fools.”

  “Influenced by the surjusi,” Arrow pointed out, taking her first sip of the drink. The chocolate slid into her senses, consuming most of her concentration for a long moment. “This is delicious.”

  “The Collegia’s special supply,” Dorian told her. He seemed hesitant, standing just beyond the Prime, shoulders bowed, all the confidence stripped from him. “We need to search everything and everywhere,” he said, unconsciously echoing Zachary’s words. “Who knows how many of those rocks there are.”

  “Check the ward devices first,” Arrow told him.

  She had not thought it was possible for him to look any more defeated but he did, turning his face away for a moment, swallowing hard.

  “And the floors. All of them,” Zachary added. “Underneath, too.”

  Dorian looked sick, swallowing again even as he nodded in agreement.

  “The Collegia is supposed to be a place of learning,” he said, voice harsh. “We’re supposed to be neutral. We’re not supposed to use black magic. Or kill people. Or try to influence politics.”

  “A lot of things are not supposed to happen,” Zachary said, voice dry. “The real question, is what will you do now?”

  “Me?”

  “You are the First Mage. Who else is in charge with the Magister under arrest?”

  Dorian’s mouth opened and closed for a few moments before he shook his head.

  “You’re right. We need to get this place cleaned up to start with. Only …” His voice trailed off as he looked at the sand circle and blood runes.

  “We will deal with it,” Kallish told him, appearing out of the fading dark.

  “And we will help,” Zachary added.

  Dorian’s eyes widened, perhaps realising that those were not requests but statements. The Erith and the shifkin would access the Collegia. They would search. And cleanse.

  Arrow remembered the story Dorian had told. The Collegia magicians who had given their all to stop the surjusi incursion in what was now the remembrance garden. It had set the Collegia back decades. She wondered how many years it would take for them to recover from this. The Magister and many senior magicians conspiring with surjusi to overthrow the Erith. The Erith would not ignore that, or the decades of blood sacrifice evidenced by the stones in the heart of the Collegia itself. The Collegia might not recover at all.

  CHAPTER 23

  With photographs taken and records made, Zachary insisted on returning to the Abbey to complete the summit. He had a thick stack of photographs in one hand and a determined set to his jaw. The Prime had a plan.

  The ‘kin were maintaining a presence, along with a fresh cadre of White Guard. More humans had arrived, along with Deputy Chief Summerland, to begin the painstaking, awful process of recovering the dead.

  Kallish’s cadre, the Prime, Arrow and Kester left Dorian and Juniper at the Collegia, Dorian having found a sledgehammer from somewhere was using it to focus his rage in smashing the etched stones into pieces. Juniper was standing underneath one of the trees, watching him, her arms folded tight around her body, eyes hollow.

  Arrow envied Dorian the outlet. She would like to destroy something, too, instead of which she had the journey back to the Abbey to remember and replay, in detail, the events of the day before. The demon lord clawing his way into the ballroom. The Magister and his followers working to try and aid Saul. The awful discovery in the Collegia garden.

  By the time they returned to the Abbey she wanted to be anywhere but in her own head. Zachary had not confided his plan to anyone on the way back, having a brief conversation with Matthias that Arrow could not hear, spending the rest of the journey in silence. Kallish and Kester were equally silent and grim companions.

  Zachary left the vehicle as soon as it had stopped moving. Arrow got out more slowly, not sure what to do next. Kallish and her cadre disappeared after Kallish had exchanged a few words, low voiced, with Kester.

  And then she was alone with Kester outside the stone building. From here it was impossible to tell that anything had happe
ned the day before. Everything was intact from the windows to the wards. Music was playing somewhere. Human music. It sounded like a radio. It was all perfectly ordinary.

  Kester came to stand beside her.

  “I can smell food. Shall we?”

  Not wanting to be alone, Arrow followed him into the building and along one of the Abbey’s main corridors.

  “There you are.” Orlis’ voice was a welcome distraction. He was slightly out of breath from fast walking. “Eimille has gone into a meeting with the Prime and the Premiere. Eimille got a translation spell from Gilean. No one is allowed in. The Prime looked grim. What happened? Oh, wait, do not tell me now. The others will want to hear. This way.”

  The rapid, breathless speech touched a raw place inside Arrow. Orlis was unchanged. As lively and inquisitive as ever. A tiny spark of bright lit inside Arrow. The world was still turning. The conspirators were under guard. The Erith would not allow another incursion. They were ruthless and uncaring. But. The Erith would not cross the shifkin and the Prime had a plan. The Prime cared more deeply for his people than anyone else she knew. She trusted that. She closed her eyes. Everything would be alright.

  She opened her eyes to movement ahead, brushing damp off her cheek. Everything would be alright.

  “We certainly do want your news,” Iserat confirmed, appearing at a nearby doorway. The scent of food followed him. Arrow checked in her stride. The slightly worn uniform was gone, replaced by a uniform that would be the envy of any White Guard on parade. He saw the direction of her gaze and smiled, eyes bright. “Miach and the others have been kind enough to outfit us. At least until we return home. Come. There’s food.”

  “And brandy!” Onalla called as they came into the room.

  Arrow stopped on the threshold. There was indeed food. And brandy. And just about every other form of alcohol the human world could provide. The room was a large dining room, the table big enough for two dozen easily, with a sideboard that stretched the length of the room against one wall. The table surface and the sideboard were covered with what looked like the entire contents of the Abbey’s kitchens.

  The six had placed themselves around the table, most of them with at least two plates and several glasses around them. Miach was settled at another spot, with a more modest selection in front of him. Even as Arrow hesitated in the doorway, Kallish and Gilean appeared, the lines around the warrior’s mouth fading as she took in the sight. The six. Back in the world. And celebrating.

  Everything would be alright.

  “The manager has sent a pair of vehicles to Lix for more supplies,” Orlis confided in a soft voice as he stepped past Arrow. She blinked, looking around the room. Two might not be enough. He glanced back with a slight smile, almost as if he had the same thought. “They are big vehicles.” He moved on to take a place with Gilean.

  “This is marvellous,” Ronath commented around a mouthful of something. He picked another bit up with his fork and waved it in the air. “What is it?”

  “That looks like sausage,” Arrow told him, finding a clean plate, cutlery and a glass and stopping again, bewildered by choice.

  “There are breakfast items over there,” Kester told her. He held his hand out for her glass. “Water?”

  Whatever else might have been said was cut off as another figure appeared at the door. An Erith dressed in human clothes, his weaponry settled oddly against the plain fabric. Thomshairaen.

  “So, it is true.” He seemed frozen in place, staring at the six. Arrow did not remember seeing him in the room the day before, when Saul had been trying to break through. He blinked, damp on his cheeks. “You are all alive.”

  For a moment Arrow thought he was talking to Kester and Kallish, but the old warrior’s eyes were on the six.

  “Old friend.” Iserat surged out of his seat, the rest following, and they exchanged a hearty round of hugs. Not at all the manners Arrow expected from any Erith.

  Kester made a slight motion, settled at the table, and she realised she was standing, open-mouthed, staring at the reunion. She gathered herself, saw that her plate was full of food, and took her place next to him, only then becoming aware that everyone else was also staring at the reunion.

  More than one face was damp when the hugs were done, the six dragging Thomas to the table to sit with them, Yvan despatched to fetch food. Only when Thomas had a pair of plates and glasses in front of him did the six settle.

  “You were dead,” Thomas said, eyes travelling around their faces. He still looked shocked, the shadows across his face faded.

  “Fortunately not,” Onalla said, voice bright. Arrow wondered how much brandy the warrior had consumed. “But the surjusi realm was no fun at all.”

  “We ran out of brandy,” Ronath confided, voice serious. “Although, Willan, that trick with the arrows might have worked.”

  “If we had discovered it sooner,” Willan agreed, thoughtful expression on his face.

  “Arrows? Brandy?” Thomas had lost some of his shadows into curiosity.

  The explanation that followed was not very lucid, every one of the six adding their own flourish to the story until Arrow, who had been there, was hopelessly lost. Most of the room were laughing, and Thomas was smiling at the end, shadows gone into open, simple pleasure. And that, she thought, glancing around the six, was what they had been trying to achieve. It was the kindest thing she had ever seen any Erith do, bringing Thomas out of his shadows even for a few moments, and they had simply acted together without hesitation. She thought again that they were the most unusual Erith she had ever encountered.

  The explanation had, naturally, taken quite a bit of brandy to explain. Onalla sighed as she looked at her empty glass.

  “I suppose it would be greedy to ask for more.” She sounded regretful.

  “The Palace cellars has a whole room of brandy,” Miach told her.

  “I remember.” Her expression changed to something close to longing. “Will we be posted there, do you think?”

  “I think that you will be given extended leave,” Miach answered, voice gentle.

  Arrow glanced between the two. It had not occurred to her what the six might do now.

  “We have been on duty for a hundred years,” Iserat added gravely, a glint in his eye at odds with his serious expression. “At least in the world.”

  “Much longer in the realm below,” Ronath agreed, catching his leader’s train of thought.

  “So, what, a dozen years’ leave?” Willan suggested.

  “Far too short. Have you seen the size of the Palace cellars?” Onalla’s smile was predatory.

  “As long as you wish,” Miach told them, serious note in his voice making it a promise. He might not be the head of the White Guard, but Arrow was certain Lord Whintnath would honour whatever agreement Miach made. She would be surprised if anyone, apart from the six themselves, expected the six to resume their duties at all.

  “You will be leaving so soon?” Thomas asked, hollows back on his face.

  “We have missed our homes,” Ronath told him. “And sunshine.”

  “Even rain.”

  “Wind.”

  “Snow.”

  “Ice.”

  “No, not ice. Unless it goes into a drink,” Onalla contradicted Yvan.

  “I like ice,” he told her, smiling. “And I would be happy to be cold for a while after so long in the dark.”

  “I will see you have access to the Palace cellars,” Miach promised, as gravely as he had promised their leave. “There are less pleasant things to discuss, though.” He turned to Arrow. “Tell us.”

  The excellent breakfast curdled in Arrow’s stomach and she could not speak for a moment. By the time she had gathered herself, the mood of the room had changed entirely. All trace of laughter was gone from the six. Thomas’ face was haunted again.

  Arrow told them in the briefest, baldest sentences she could manage. The Magister wearing a surjusi rock. Using blood magic to try and open a portal. The decades’ old
blood-powered communication ring in the Collegia.

  The room was still when she finished. No one questioned if it was true.

  “Looks like we came back right in time,” Iserat commented. His jaw was set in determination. “We will help,” he told Miach. It was not a request.

  “You know more about surjusi than any Erith alive,” Miach answered, voice soft. “Thank you.”

  “And we will need your help, too,” Iserat told Arrow.

  “I am still exiled,” she reminded them, feeling selfish for saying so. The six had not hesitated to offer their aid, despite more than a hundred years in the surjusi realm. “And you do not know if the Taellan will want to aid the humans.”

  Protests rose from the six, which died as the other Erith did not join in.

  “That cannot be right.” Willan was genuinely shocked. “The surjusi threaten us all.”

  “The Erith have no regard for the humans. They only respect the shifkin because of the damage the ‘kin can do.” Arrow shook her head. “That might change now. Considering that humans are still learning how to use their powers. Even inexperienced, they have brought damage to the Erith more than once. And there are still those stones in the world. Who knows how many were in the conspiracy with the Magister.”

  Iserat looked thoughtful. A hundred years away from the world, a longer span in the surjusi realm. Arrow could not help wondering what the world had been like when the six left it. A hundred years before the three primary races had not been trying to kill each other with the same enthusiasm as two hundred years before. Perhaps the beginnings of peace were taking shape. Perhaps the leader of the six despised humans as much as many of the current Taellan. Arrow did not think so.

  “You say Erith,” Iserat commented and Arrow stiffened at once, remembering similar words from Kester, with far more anger and bitterness behind them. “You do not live among us?”