War of Shadows (58 page)

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Authors: Gail Z. Martin

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BOOK: War of Shadows
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“Do you have orders for the mages?” Pollard asked, changing the subject.

Thrane leaned back in his chair as he thought. “How are they progressing?”

Pollard was certain that Thrane had a general idea through the
talishte
guards he had on every one of the mage workshops. Still, Pollard gathered that what would be read through the
kruvgaldur
, at least at a distance, was not complete. A small, carefully hidden, part of himself noted that with hope.

“We’ve seeded them throughout our holdings, and secured their workshops with walls and guards,” Pollard replied. “McFadden’s last effort at Mirdalur has changed the equation once more,” he added with distaste. “He found a way to broaden the anchor, spread it among thirteen Lords of the Blood once again. That stabilizes the power, though I’m told the magic is still different from how it was before the Cataclysm.”

Thrane shrugged. “The details do not concern me. What have you learned about the power of this ‘new’ magic?”

“It’s only been a few weeks,” Pollard replied. “The mages are still working with it, adjusting to what they call the ‘currents’ of
the power. But they are confident that whatever anchoring was done made the power less subject to sudden fluctuation.” He paused. “That should save us a few incinerated magic users.”

“McFadden will hesitate to use the same kind of battle magic that brought the Great Fire,” Thrane said. “We cannot afford such qualms. Make sure the mages know I place a priority on any magic that can be used as an effective weapon.”

“Except for the necromancers you ordered executed,” Pollard said, his voice carefully neutral.

Thrane’s expression grew shadowed. “I will not permit a necromancer to live. I don’t care how skilled they are. That will not, cannot, be allowed!”

Again, Pollard felt a flicker of hope deep inside.
Talishte
were not invulnerable. Sunlight, a stake to the heart for those young in the Dark Gift, a severing of the head for those with more power, all were effective ways to destroy even the most powerful
talishte
. And necromancy, magic that gave the wielder control over the soul and the ability to control the dead, was one of the few things men like Thrane had reason to fear.

“As you wish, m’lord. We’ve killed two such mages so far. We will be watchful for others,” Pollard replied. He paused. “May I ask—what is your next priority?”

Thrane smiled. It was a terrifying expression, absent of mirth, full of malice. “My next priority is to take my blood son back from the traitors who have imprisoned him. I intend to rescue Reese, and to make Lanyon Penhallow pay dearly for it.”

introducing

If you enjoyed

WAR OF SHADOWS

look out for

THE SWORN

The Fallen Kings Cycle

by Gail Z. Martin

Summoner-King Martris Drayke must attempt to meet this great threat, gathering an army from a country ravaged by civil war. Tris seeks new allies from among the living—and the dead—as an untested generation of rulers face their first battle. Meanwhile, the legendary Dread are stirring in their burrows after millennia of silence, and no one knows what hand wakes them and whom they will serve when they rise
.

Now Drayke turns to the Sworn, a nomadic clan of warriors bound to protect the Dread. But even the mighty Sworn do not know what will happen when the Dread awake. All are certain, though, that war is coming to the Winter Kingdoms
.

THE SWORN is the beginning of a new adventure set in the world of The Chronicles of the Necromancer
.

CHAPTER ONE

“Get some rest. I’ll take this watch. Don’t worry—I’ll be happy to rouse you when your turn comes.”

Despite the amulet, Jair’s dreams were dark. The afternoon’s battle replayed itself, but in his dream, throngs of
ashtenerath
pursued them, undeterred until hacked to bits. He woke with a start, relieved to find the campsite peaceful. Mihei had put another log on the fire, and from the smell of the smoke, more warding leaves. Jair settled himself back into his blanket and tried to sleep once more.

As he balanced between waking and slumber, Jair saw Talwyn’s image in the distance. She smiled and beckoned for him to come closer. She was singing, and the sound of her voice cheered his heart. Finally, he stood next to her, and Talwyn welcomed him with a kiss. Then she placed a hand over the pendants at his throat. “Watch carefully, my love. The roads are filled with danger.” Her eyes widened. “Wake now. Take your sword. The shadows are moving.”

Jair jolted awake an instant before Mihei cried out in alarm. Jair and Emil were on their feet in an instant, swords in hand.

“What do you see?” Emil said, scanning the night.

Jair could just make out a trace of movement in the shadows.

“Spirits.
Dimonns
. Don’t know which, but whatever’s out there isn’t friendly,” Mihei replied. “I strengthened the wardings.”

Jair looked down, and where Mihei had traced a large circle around them and their horses with the cleansing elixir, a ring of stones now marked the area.

“There! Can you see?” Emil pointed into the darkness where darker shapes moved swiftly across the tall grass of the clearing.

Mihei nodded, raising his hands as he began to chant. As Jair watched, a phosphorescent mist rose in the clearing, first just ankle-high, then suffusing the night with an eerie green glow. In the glowing mist, the shapes became clearer. Disembodied shadows slipped back and forth in the mist, but their outlines looked nothing like men. Some were misshapen hulks with wide, empty maws. Others were wraiths with thin, grasping arms and impossibly long, taloned fingers that stretched toward the living men and horses within the wardings.

The horses shied and Jair feared they might bolt. Mihei spared the animals a moment of his attention, looking each of the horses in the eyes and murmuring words Jair did not catch. Immediately, the horses quieted.

The black shapes rushed toward the stone circle, and a curtain of light flared between the three men and the advancing shadows. The shadows howled and shrieked, spreading themselves across the glowing barrier until they blotted out the moonlight. Jair glanced at Mihei. The land mage’s forehead was beaded with sweat, and he was biting his lip with the effort to reinforce the strained wardings.

“Tell us what you need and we’ll do it,” Jair urged.

“Keep me awake,” Mihei said. “My guess is that someone used this forest as a killing field, and the spirits have never left. Their anger could have drawn the
dimonns
. The deaths in the village could also make the
dimonns
stronger.”

“What do they want?” Jair asked.

“Blood.”

“If they’re drawn by the wronged dead, can you appease their spirits, reduce the
dimonns
’ power?” Jair had drawn his
stelian
, even though it was clear that it would be little protection
against the shadows that wailed and tore at the gossamer-thin veil of the warding.

“I’m no summoner,” Mihei replied. “I can’t help the spirits pass over to the Lady. But if we survive the night, I can find where their bodies were dumped and consecrate the ground. That should satisfy the spirits, and without them and the
ashtenerath
, the
dimonns
should leave.”

“Should,” Emil repeated doubtfully.

Mihei looked to Jair. “I need some things from my bag.” Jair listened as Mihei recited a list of powders and dried plants, and he went to gather them from the vials in Mihei’s bag as Emil stood guard, weapon at the ready.

“Mix them with my mortar and pestle,” Mihei instructed. “Then make a paste of it with some water.” Jair did as Mihei requested, dripping water into the mortar’s rough bowl until a gray, gumlike paste stuck to the pestle.

“Bring me a small wad—save the rest, we’ll need it.”

Jair rolled a coin-sized wad of the gum between thumb and forefinger and brought it to Mihei, who placed it under his tongue. “That should help. When I trained with the mages, there were all-night workings where we didn’t dare fall asleep. The muttar gum will keep me wide awake, although I’ll pay for it tomorrow.”

“Anything else we can do?” Emil asked.

Mihei nodded. “The
dimonns
will try to reach my mind. They’ll send visions and nightmares. If I begin to lose my focus, you have to bring me back. All our lives depend on it.”

“How should we wake you?’

Mihei shrugged. “Douse me with water. Pinch my arms. If you have to, slap me across the face. Better a few bruises than to be sucked dry by the
dimonns
.”

Grimly, Jair and Emil took seats next to Mihei. Jair fingered his amulets, but his connection to Talwyn was gone. Just on
the other side of the coruscating light, the
dimonns
stretched their shadows over the domed warding, mouths full of dark teeth snapping against the barrier. Talons scratched against the ground and cries like tortured birds of prey broke the silence of the night.

A motion caught Jair’s eye. Something solid moved through the tall grass, and to his horror, the face of a young girl, no more than six or seven seasons old, pale and wide-eyed, rose above the mist. The image wavered, and as Jair ran his fingers over the amulets at his throat, the girl seemed to flicker and shift.

Emil started toward her, and Jair blocked his way. “She’s not real.”

Emil struggled against Jair, his eyes on the child. “They’ll kill her.”

“She’s not really here.”

“Let me go!” Emil broke away from Jair and stepped through the warding. Immediately, the shadows massed and the image of the girl winked out. Emil’s scream echoed in the night. With a curse, Jair dove after him, making sure to keep one foot within the warding as Mihei began to chant loudly. Jair caught the back of Emil’s great cloak and pulled with all his might. Claws tore at him, slicing into his forearm and shoulder. He twisted out of the way of snapping jaws and he pulled again. This time, he succeeded, landing hard on his back as Emil tumbled through the warding.

Emil’s skin was pale, as if in the few seconds beyond the warding he’d been nearly drained of blood. Long, deep gashes had sliced through his vambraces, down his right arm. Razor-sharp teeth left their imprint on his left thigh. Emil was trembling and jerking, groaning in pain.

Jair glanced up at Mihei, but the land mage’s full concentration was fixed on the battle beyond the warding. The
ghostly child was gone. Jair had seen enough of battle to have a rudimentary idea of how to lessen Emil’s pain, and he rifled through Mihei’s bag until he found the flask of
vass
, mixing a few fingers’ depth of
vass
in his tankard with cohash and poppy. Jair pinned Emil with the weight of his body and forced his jaws apart until he could drip the mixture between Emil’s teeth. Emil’s eyes were dilated with pain, and his blood stained the dry grass red. Little by little, Emil’s breathing slowed and the thrashing ceased. Jair slid his fingers along Emil’s wrist.

“He’s got a pulse, thank the Lady.”

“Cleanse the wounds,” Mihei said in a distracted tone. “Use the
vass
. It’ll sting but it’s the best we have.
Dimonns
don’t carry plague like the
ashtenerath
, but their wounds fester.”

Jair did as Mihei said, gritting his teeth as he drizzled Emil’s wounds with alcohol and Emil flinched, gasping with the pain. Jair tore strips from Emil’s ruined shirt to make bandages and bound up the wounds as best he could. When he had done all he could for Emil, Jair applied the
vass
to his own torn arm and shoulder, then returned to Mihei’s side.

Outside the warding, the
dimonns
struck with increased fury.

“They’ve tasted blood,” Mihei murmured. “They’re hungry.”

“Wonderful,” Jair said drily. “Now what?”

“Just keep me awake. It’s taking a lot out of me to keep the wardings up. You could sing.”

Jair looked sideways at him. “I can’t sing, even for Talwyn. You know that.”

Mihei managed a tired half smile. “Pain is an effective way to stay awake. It’s that or step on my foot. ”

In reply, Jair trod on Mihei’s toes. “Ouch!”

“Awake now?”

“Yes, thanks. You can save the other foot for later.”

As the candlemarks wore on, Jair paced the warded circle. For a time, he drummed on the empty water bucket with the pestle, playing a rhythm that kept both of them awake. When Mihei began to waver, Jair brought him more of the muttar gum and fanned his face. But as the stars overhead reached their zenith, Mihei was tiring. The golden glow of the warding dimmed, and the
dimonns
, sensing victory, massed against the shielding.

Alarmed, Jair started to his feet, one hand on his
stelian
and one hand touching his amulet in a gesture of protection. Beyond the warded circle, the phosphorescent glow had gone dark. Mihei’s eyes were bleary and his lips were dry and cracked as he struggled to reinforce the magical barrier. And although Jair had treated his own wounds, the gashes where the
dimonn
s had cut him burned. He was sweating, although the night was cool, and his heart was racing from more than mortal fear. Emil lay still and pale on the grass. Whatever poison was rapidly coursing through Jair’s blood, Emil had received a larger dose.

I’m going to die, Talwyn
, Jair thought, fingering the metal charm.
Forgive me
.

The metal tingled under his touch and Talwyn’s image formed clear in his mind for the first time since the
dimonn
attack had begun.
Hang on. Rescue
… The voice faded, but hope was enough to shake off Jair’s fatigue. He ran to Mihei and shook him by the shoulders, rousing him as the glow of the warded dome dimmed nearly to darkness. The shrieks of the
dimonn
s were louder now, and just beyond the thin golden glow, Jair could hear the snap of teeth.

“They’re coming for us,” Jair whispered, afraid that the
dimonn
s might hear. “Try, Mihei. Try to hold the barrier until help comes.”

Mihei nodded. His eyes widened, and he slammed them shut, squeezing them tightly as his head jerked back and forth. Alarmed, Jair reached toward him.

“No. Visions. I see… our deaths. All dead.”

Acting on instinct, Jair gripped Mihei’s shoulder with his right hand and tightened the fingers of his left hand around the amulets that hung at his throat. He willed his breathing to slow, picturing a river of golden light flowing between his amulets and Mihei, warm and powerful energy to reinforce the mage’s failing magic. Mihei drew a long, shuddering breath and seemed to relax.

In the distance, Jair heard hoofbeats.

A crack like thunder split the night, and a wall of flame burst into light at the edges of Mihei’s wardings. A streak of light burned through the darkness, and the
dimonns
scattered, howling in anger as strong magic crackled through the cool night air. Mihei collapsed to his knees, and the last glow of his warding faded.

The fire flared, and in its light, Jair could see five shapes approaching. By their outlines, all had swords at hand. As they stepped closer, Jair could see that the five were Sworn, and leading the group was Talwyn, clad in leather armor, dressed for battle. As Talwyn and the others reached the stone circle, the ring of flames disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving only blackened grass behind.

“Open the circle,” Talwyn said, and Jair rushed to move stones out of the way to welcome the others into the warded space.

“How did you know?” Jair asked, as Talwyn knelt beside Emil.

“When I touched your dream, I sensed evil near you. Something was strong enough to keep me from reaching your
dreams again to warn you. Janeth knew the route Emil and Mihei were going to take. We’d had to backtrack from where they left us because flooding had taken out the bridge on the river, so we weren’t as far away as Emil and Mihei would have expected. Even so, we had to ride hard to get here in time.”

Jair glanced at their sweat-soaked horses, then looked back to Emil. “The
dimonns
tricked him. They showed us a child beyond the wardings. She looked like Emil’s daughter.”

Talwyn nodded. “That’s hard to resist, even if you know better.” Jair looked away, not at all certain he could have resisted the bait had it been Kenver’s image the
dimonns
had projected.

“Can you heal them?”

Talwyn checked over both Emil and Mihei carefully before she nodded. “Yes, but not here. I’d like to be somewhere less exposed.” She looked up at Jair and cast a worried glance at his wounds. “I’ll need to look at that arm, as well.”

“Gladly,” Jair replied. The warmth of the wound had grown to a low fever, and he didn’t want to imagine how Emil was feeling.

At Talwyn’s command, the Sworn warriors lifted Emil and Mihei and carried them to their horses, draping each man over his saddle and securing them in place. Jair waved off assistance and swung up to his saddle, favoring his damaged arm but able to ride. They rode in silence, on high alert, for a candlemark until they came to an inn.

“We stop here,” Talwyn said, and the others slowed beside her.

“Is it safe?” Jair asked warily.

Talwyn smiled and raised a hand. On the upper doorpost, a rune suddenly began to glow, fading again into invisibility. “One of our people marked this place. It’s safe.”

The inn was quiet, empty of the usual travelers. Jair had no doubt that plague had dampened business, and if the locals suspected that the road ahead held horrors, then it was no surprise
that few ventured this way in the dark. The innkeeper’s eyes widened as he saw the company of Sworn enter, but he gestured them upstairs at the sight of the injured men, and he promised to send up food and ale. Jair took a deep breath to steady himself as he climbed the stairs. His fever had worsened during the ride, and his head had grown light. He stumbled near the top, and one of the warriors caught him by the shoulder. Talwyn glanced sharply toward him, but Jair shook his head.

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