Trading By Stormlight (The Magic Below Paris Book 7)

by C. M. Simpson

  The kat rolled to her feet and Aisha lifted her head, the emerald glow fading from her eyes. “Kat’s all better now.”

  “You know what to do.”

  “Uh-huh.” The little girl nodded. “Brigitte showed me.”

  “She did?” Tamlin sounded surprised.

  “Oh, yes,” Aisha answered, sounding too pleased to be trusted.

  7

  An Unpleasant Surprise

  Exactly what Brigitte had shown Aisha didn’t become apparent until the first line of remnant came charging through a gap in the buildings ahead.

  “Now, Aish!” the shadow mistress called, and Aisha thrust both hands out in front of her.

  “Spike!”

  As if on her command, a forest of spikes grew out of the crumbling road, right under the remnants’ feet. Their screams of attack became screams of pain and were brutally cut short. Aisha gave a delighted chuckle.

  “Spear!” she cried, and a stone spear twice as long as she was appeared in front of her. It rested at a perfect forty-five-degree angle, butt set firmly against the roadway. Aisha wasn’t touching it.

  “Shield!” she shouted, sounding far too happy with herself. A shield appeared and hung at head height before her. She gave Brigitte a triumphant look. “Ready!”

  Tamlin stared at her, his mouth agape. “When did you... Did she...” he began, and Brigitte jerked her chin toward the warriors from Ariella’s Grotto.

  “There are some skills I can’t teach her,” she admitted and then smiled. “I asked for help.”

  Master Envermet frowned. “You could have warned us,” he grumbled, a translucent blade appearing in his hand.

  Its arrival both surprised and pleased him. He shot a glance at Marsh. “Thank you for that.”

  Marsh let her puzzlement show on her face.

  “’The shadows are part of the air,’” he replied, repeating her words to explain. “I hadn’t realized.”

  He left it at that and gave a short, sharp whistle. Along the line, the rest of the shadow guard had followed his example, and the two caravan guards had drawn ordinary weapons of steel. Henri’s blade boiled with flame, and Jakob’s boiled with shadow.

  Marsh raised her eyebrows. Looked like the boys had learned new tricks while she’d been preoccupied with the kids, kats, and Roeglin. She wondered how and when but decided she could chase the answers down later.

  The remnant had broken around the barrier of spikes and their impaled clanmates and were almost clear of the foliage that bordered both sides of the road. Their lips were drawn back from the jagged stumps of their teeth, and their eyes glowed an unholy red.

  Red, Marsh thought, noting it, and tried to recall if she’d ever seen that before. It didn’t take her long to decide it didn’t matter. Izmay launched a fireball from her glove and took out the first one to break clear, but the others seemed unperturbed.

  The rest roared and charged. After the first half dozen had trampled down the intervening trees and bushes, the others came much faster.

  “By the Deeps, how many of them are there?” Gerry muttered.

  “Too many for you to be standing around and counting heads,” Henri snapped and launched a fireball of his own into the midst of the mob.

  Behind them, the travelers had huddled together, some clinging to the mules’ bridles as they tried to keep the beasts from bolting. It was a relief when the wolfpack struck the remnant from behind.

  The only indication they’d had that the pack had arrived was a sudden flurry of growls and shrieks of pain and outrage from the back of the remnant horde. By then, Marsh and the shadow guard were too busy to follow what was happening.

  Obasi and the Grotto warriors had formed a perimeter around the caravan, and Mordan had vanished into the rocks and bushes with Perdemor and Scruffknuckle. Marsh had time to note that the pup was becoming more katlike with every passing day, and then the remnant arrived, and she realized she’d been wrong.

  Their eyes weren’t glowing red, they were sheened in red. It was like the way a mage’s eyes turned black when they were doing physical magic or white or green for the other magics, but it was different, too.

  For one thing, she was pretty sure the remnant weren’t casting any magic, and if that was the case, what was?

  “Merde,” she grumbled, and Master Envermet dipped into her head.

  “By the Deeps’ becursed backside,” he swore and kept fighting. “We’re going to have to get to the bottom of that.”

  Before Marsh could reply, an alarmed cry from behind them was met with more otherworldly shrieks and the sound of weapons hitting flesh as the Grotto warriors went to work.

  Marsh blocked a strike from a crude wooden club and thrust her sword into the remnant’s chest. More remnant appeared from between the buildings on their right.

  “It sure would be good right now if someone were to summon a shit ton of lightning, doncha think? Henri sounded like he was in trouble, but Marsh didn’t have time to see what he was complaining about.

  The remnant she’d just skewered was rolling to its feet, and another two were moving in.

  “A la poutain!”

  Tamlin stepped up beside her, abandoning the daylit spear he’d been holding for a sword and a buckler like her own. Talk about imitation being the most sincere form of flattery. Marsh wasn’t sure she agreed.

  How in all the Deeps was the boy going to be safe if he copied everything she did?

  “Now would be a good time for that lightning lesson, doncha think?” he asked, imitating Henri’s tone on the last two words.

  Marsh hesitated. The boy was right; it was an ideal opportunity for him to practice the skill, but it was also a great opportunity for things to go horribly wrong.

  “Master Envermet?” she asked, deferring the decision to someone with a good deal more experience.

  His response was unexpected. “Wait one. Obasi, you got a mind mage to spare?”

  “Talk to me,” the Grotto warrior called back.

  “Need a link for Tamlin to see into Marsh’s head.”

  Metal clanged against stone, followed by a grunt and the crunch of a blade breaking bone. A remnant howled.

  “Lioma, you clear?” Obasi asked.

  There was a grunt, a pause, and then, “Oui. Marsh?”

  The woman’s voice was echoed by a soft voice at the edge of Marsh’s mind. May I?

  Yes, Marsh replied, parrying a vicious swipe from the wooden club.

  Merde! How had the remnant gotten up again? She’d put a sword right through its chest!

  “We could be in trouble here,” Gerry observed as he set one remnant alight and felled another.

  Given how much difficulty he had summoning fire, the fact his blade was alight was a feat in itself—and a sign of how desperate he was feeling. Marsh hoped he didn’t overdo it.

  She hoped the same for Izmay as the mage sent a barrage of fireballs arcing over the battlefield. The act left the woman’s chest exposed as she held her shield away from her side to give her off hand space to fire.

  One of the remnant moved to take advantage of the vulnerability, only to lose its arm to a rapid slash from Henri’s blade.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” the big guard snarled, bringing the blade up and altering its direction so it bit deep into the remnant’s neck.

  The remnant’s throat gouted blood and it fell.

  “Get up from that, arschloch.”

  The remnant struggled for a moment as though trying to oblige him and then stopped. The one that stepped forward to take its place stumbled and Izmay sent a fireball through its head.

  The resulting explosion of bone and brain sent her sputtering back. “Remind me not to do that again.”

  “Why not?” Henri chortled. “That was awesome!”

  Marsh might have laughed, too, but Master Envermet and Gerry had drawn the attention of the remnant attacking her, and then maneuvered so they partially blocked the ones trying to take their places.

  Lioma
spoke. What is it you want the boy to learn?

  This, Marsh replied, and showed her how she called lightning from a clear sky.

  And from the shadows? the Grotto warrior wanted to know.

  Yes, although that is not the focus right now.

  You do know that each mage deploys the magic slightly differently? Lioma asked, and Marsh sighed.

  I know. She just hoped Tamlin wouldn’t hit anything he wasn’t supposed to.

  Thanks, Marsh. Lioma had established the link between them and the boy had caught that thought. He didn’t sound impressed.

  Marsh ignored him. Watch this, she told him, directing him to observe as she called the first bolt from the sky.

  She made sure it targeted the remnant parallel with the spikes and beyond them, reaching for the energy hanging invisible in the air. It answered her call, coalescing above the remnant in a swirling storm of arcing power.

  Tamlin gasped and she felt him in her mind, studying what she was doing.

  “Oh,” he breathed. “Like asking the shadows to show...”

  His voice faded as Marsh asked the lightning to take out the remnant and to leave all else alone. She hoped he got that. It was important to be specific.

  As she sent the power lancing down on the remnant horde, she sent a question along the shadow threads, asking them to show her the rest of the horde.

  “A la vache!,” “Poutain!,” and “Merde!” came from several different directions and a multitude of voices.

  You shared? Marsh was both horrified and relieved.

  That kind of information is too important to delay. Lioma was unrepentant.

  Marsh was about to thank her when a second lightning storm sprang into being on their right. She sent a quick warning to the kat and asked her to keep the wolves clear of that flank.

  The cub is learning. She almost laughed at the alarm that rippled through the kat’s mind.

  They are clear, Mordan told her. The pack and pride will concentrate here.

  Dan projected the direction and area, and Marsh noted it. She also noted that there were more remnant incoming. What had they done, sent out an invitation to every crazed once-human in the region?

  Looks like, Tamlin replied, but his voice was strained, and Marsh used the link between them to see the flow of his magic.

  To her surprise, it had obeyed his urgent command to only hit the remnant, and it obeyed his request to move when all the remnant in the targeted area had fallen. It looked like the boy had taken more than the knowledge of how to call and control the lightning from her mind.

  She sensed slight amusement from Lioma but didn’t let it distract her. The sudden emergence of spikes in the area just beyond the boy’s lightning storm did that just fine on its own.

  “What the...” Aisha’s delighted giggle rattled through her head and unsettled her even more. “Aish! What are you doing?”

  “Helping,” came in a tone of false innocence and complete satisfaction.

  Marsh watched as Tamlin moved the lightning storm to take on another patch of remnant. She stared as more stone spikes ripped out of the ground beyond it.

  “Marsh!” Master Envermet’s alarmed cry brought her attention back to her own storm. “I think you’re done here.”

  He did? Marsh returned her attention to the storm she’d left momentarily unattended. “Oh.”

  “Oh?” Henri’s voice was edged with panic. “That’s all you can say?”

  She might have been offended except the big man had a really good reason to sound alarmed.

  Lightning fell around him and Izmay, who were taking out the remnant as they moved in. It shifted as Marsh noticed that Gerry and Brigitte were in trouble, and she gasped. That was the first time her magic had anticipated her next request.

  She did not have to hear Lioma’s awe whispering through her mind to confirm how unusual it was. Now, that’s a first.

  It wasn’t the only first, though. Several yips drew her attention to the back of the caravan as Master Envermet spoke.

  “Marsh, Tamlin, you’ve done enough.” He waited several heartbeats before emphasizing the order. “Tamlin! Marsh! Stand down!”

  Marsh released the lightning, feeling Tamlin’s mind brush hers to see how it was done. It was, she thought, something she should have probably told him before they started.

  “It would have been a good idea,” Master Envermet confirmed, and they both breathed a sigh of relief as the boy successfully dismissed the lightning to its place of origin.

  Marsh followed suit and then asked the shadows to show her the cause of the commotion in the rear ranks. This time she did not protest when Master Envermet rode her mind to discover the answer.

  At the same time she sought answers to the wolves’ yipping, she sent out a request for any approaching remnant to be revealed. She breathed a sigh of relief when the shadows gave her the all-clear.

  Her breath caught when the shadows showed her what had startled the wolves.

  The mantids had returned, but they weren’t attacking the wolves, and the wolves were warily leaving them alone. The red-shelled bug men were using what looked like slingshots to take out the remnant—only they weren’t targeting their heads.

  Observing the proceedings via the shadows, Marsh watched as one of the mantids, a tall, solidly-built individual with orange markings on its carapace, fired at the center of the remnant’s back. The reason why became clear when the missile struck the man-monster and an eruption of red and yellow liquid stained its shirt.

  More spectacular was the remnant’s response. It fell to the ground with a roar, convulsions changing to stillness within a few seconds.

  The host does not survive the parasite’s death, was a thought that formed unbidden.

  Marsh gasped and recoiled, and Master Envermet laid a hasty hand on her arm.

  Before he could speak, though, the presence in her mind faded as quickly as it had come. The mantids withdrew, too, the last of the remnant falling as the wolves attacked the barely visible lumps beneath their shirts.

  Mordan joined in, using her massive paws to smash or claw the attached bugs.

  They taste bad, the kat explained when she caught Marsh watching.

  The taste did not seem to bother the wolves, though, and the pack made short work of their remaining attackers.

  “They all had mind bugs?” Marsh asked and knelt beside the nearest corpse.

  Master Envermet and the rest of the shadow mages followed her example, lifting ragged shirts to reveal the red-shelled lumps hidden beneath. One of them moved as Master Envermet’s hand brushed over it.

  A thin whip-like tendril lashed out, and only Master Envermet’s quick reflexes prevented its contact. Almost without thought, he brought the hilt of his dagger down on the shell, shattering it in a spray of red and yellow gore.

  “Crush them all,” he ordered. “I don’t care how long it takes. Make sure none escape.”

  Through the link he’d left between them, Marsh felt his horror at the thought one of the creatures could detach and find its way onto one of the people he’d sworn to protect. The idea that it might attach to a child chilled them both to the bone.

  8

  Claire’s Crossing

  The slaughter took most of the day, but no one stopped until the shadows could find no more. Each and every one of the remnant had been host to a mind-bug.

  “Well, that explains the coordinated attack,” Henri commented.

  He had a point, given that the remnant usually attacked as an undisciplined rabble. These hadn’t. Sure, they’d come racing in, attacking as soon as they’d gotten close enough, but they’d shown teamwork when they’d reached the defenders.

  Instead of getting in each other’s way, one had attacked and then the other, providing a relentless assault where they’d set up their target for their partner to get a hit on. If the shadow guards and Grotto warriors hadn’t formed pairs, they’d have had more casualties than the half-dozen slashes and scrapes the dru
ids had already patched.

  A shout of surprise had them drawing swords as they turned toward the source. The wolf who’d grabbed a druid’s sleeve was undeterred. He pulled the man toward the edge of the road, only letting go of his sleeve when he saw the druid would follow on his own.

  The teams relaxed, and the druid pushed aside the brush to find an injured wolf lying beneath the branches. Making soothing sounds, he knelt beside the creature and laid his palms on the wound.

  “Easy, there,” he soothed it. “This won’t take a moment.”

  It didn’t, even if the wolf yelped and sank its teeth into his bicep as bone grated back into place. The druid gave a pained cry but kept his hands where they were, focusing on the injury until green light flowed out from under his palms to knit the wolf’s flesh and muscle together.

  “There you go,” he told it, ruffling the fur between its ears as it licked the bite wound. “It’s all right. I’ll fix it.”

  The wolf hesitated, whining anxiously as the druid slid his fingers over the injury and sent green light across the broken flesh. Once the wound had closed, the wolf gave another apologetic whine and gave the area a few hasty dabs with its tongue.

  Once it had reassured itself that the damage was gone, the wolf rejoined the pack and the druid returned to the caravan. Master Envermet made a final sweep to make sure no one else was injured, and then he had Marsh ask the shadows to reveal any bugs that might have been missed.

  When he’d been reassured on both counts, he signaled the caravan to move out. The path to Claire’s Corner led them away from the fallen-down buildings and past rusted iron fencing to where two ancient roads met.

  It was a relief to be out of the tumble-walled canyons and moving through trees, although the slight incline on the path made Marsh’s calves ache and thighs burn. The sun was beginning to set when they broke through the trees and saw the low palisade surrounding the town.

  They were also able to look out over the ruins and catch the sunset over the Devastation. Marsh’s breath caught. Not even the view from Kerrenin’s Ledge could match this one.