by Lisa Shearin
Kesyn nodded in approval. “How about you shield you, and we ward your immediate vicinity.”
“That way you’ve got more juice left to protect yourself,” Jash said.
I swallowed against a sudden lump in my throat. “Thank you, both. I would appreciate that.”
“You still think it’s only spell-locked?” Kesyn asked. “Think, Tam. This is Rudra Muralin’s work you’re dealing with.”
I raised my hands a few inches above the book, focusing my will. “I won’t know until I get it open.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Chapter 26
Unlocking Rudra Muralin’s book on Nidaar wasn’t the problem. That had been simple. Too simple. Now I knew why. Reading what was inside would be the difficult—and dangerous—part.
The book itself had been spell-locked.
The words inside were blood-locked.
That meant I would need to write my name in my blood on the first page to unlock the rest of the book.
I had encountered books like this before in my darkest days of practicing black magic. Some of them still haunted my nightmares.
Merely writing my name wouldn’t give me access to the entire book. At any given point, the words could vanish, requiring more blood from the reader, this time a fingerprint. If you wanted to read, you had to pay, with your own blood. And once you unlocked the book and began to read, you had to keep your hands in contact with it. Break the contact, lock the book.
A mage’s name was powerful. Our blood was even more powerful. Using both was asking for every kind of trouble. The vilest of curses could be worked with the blood signature of a rival mage. I’d heard of a mage using a blood-locked book to kill his rivals—all of whom had read it by signing their names in their blood.
It was risky as hell.
I had to take that risk.
“Wait,” Kesyn told me. He went to his duffle and dug around until he found a small leather-bound book, two pens, and ink. “I brought blank books with me. You read, I’ll write, Jash will listen and stand by to step in if necessary.” His face darkened with a rage I’d never seen from him. “You’re only doing this once.”
I took out a small knife. Without a word, Kesyn passed me one of his pens. I knew he would either clean it thoroughly afterward to rid it of any trace of my blood, or destroy it outright.
I carefully pricked the tip of my middle finger over my open and cupped palm, squeezing it with the finger on either side until the blood began to flow. When I had enough in my palm to sign my name, I dipped the pen’s nib into the blood, took a deep breath, and wrote my name in the first page of Rudra Muralin’s book.
The blood didn’t sink into the fibers of the paper and dry. It remained bright and fresh. Then the page suddenly rose from beneath, as if the book was taking a deep and satisfied breath. As the book exhaled, my name and blood was absorbed into it, vanishing completely.
When the page again lay flat, I could see words appearing on the next page.
I pressed a cloth into my palm to absorb the blood there, and steeling myself, turned the page.
On the inside cover, Rudra Muralin had written a brief summary of what was inside.
Rudra had called it an “interrogation record.” I called it a written account of psychic rape. Rudra Muralin had performed a ritual called a memory drain on Kansbar Nathrach. Rudra had forced his way into Kansbar’s mind, pushed his soul aside while he ransacked his memories. And when he found the ones he wanted, he took them, only then releasing his victim.
Rudra could have been careful, but I know he hadn’t been.
The official story had been that Kansbar had committed suicide shortly after being released from Khrynsani custody. After Rudra Muralin had finished with him, Kansbar’s mind would have been in shambles, all but destroyed. Kansbar hadn’t been a mage; he’d had no way to protect himself. He’d been completely helpless against Rudra’s assault.
I now believed my ancestor had taken his own life.
Kesyn and Jash couldn’t see the pages. Only I could.
I didn’t want to, but I had to.
Sarad Nukpana was still alive. And somewhere inside of Sarad was Rudra Muralin. As long as Sarad lived, so would Rudra. Sarad had taken Rudra in much the same way as Rudra had taken my ancestor.
It had been divine, ironic justice.
But it hadn’t been nearly enough justice.
One day Sarad would show himself, and on that day both Sarad Nukpana and Rudra Muralin would pay.
*
How do you read a detailed account of your ancestor’s mind being raped?
It didn’t matter that Rudra Muralin had done this to Kansbar Nathrach nearly nine hundred years ago.
It felt as if it were happening to me as I read.
What Sarad Nukpana had done to me in that bunker under the Isle of Mid had been appallingly similar.
I had met Rudra Muralin only a few months ago. He had somehow discovered that Talon was my son. He then proceeded to use Talon’s safety against me. If I failed to turn Raine over to him, he would have had Talon kidnapped and sold in the Nebian slave markets. Rudra didn’t need to tell me what kind of slavery awaited a half elf/half goblin as beautiful as Talon. He didn’t need to tell me, but he had. The Khrynsani had a long reach, so I knew I couldn’t send Talon away to keep him safe. The closer he stayed to me, the better. If I had tried to warn Raine, Rudra would have had Talon killed outright.
So as I had many times in my life, I walked a tightrope, feigning cooperation while plotting retribution.
I denied Rudra his chance at controlling the Saghred by having Raine as his captive, and I—along with some of the dark mages on the list I’d given A’Zahra and the four I’d brought with me on this voyage—had kept Talon from being sacrificed to the Saghred, and Raine from having Talon’s murdered soul pulled into the Saghred through her.
It had been a good and satisfying night’s work.
However, Rudra had escaped, and I had no doubt that I was at the top of his “kill slowly in revenge” list.
Sarad Nukpana had gotten to him first, consuming his soul and his life force, and leaving nothing but a dried husk. Imala had decapitated him and had his body burnt and scattered to the winds.
But if Sarad still lived, so did Rudra—in a way.
Rudra had written this book. Sarad had read it.
Both would love to watch me read it.
I was surprised that Rudra hadn’t told me what he had done to Kansbar. Perhaps he’d been waiting for a time when it would have inflicted more pain.
I glanced up. Kesyn and Jash were patiently waiting, not judging. Understanding.
“Sorry,” I told them both.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Kesyn said almost gently.
I began to read.
*
Rudra had absorbed Kansbar Nathrach’s memories, incorporating them into his own. He recorded what he had learned for the benefit of a Khrynsani reader, spending more time on sections that would have been of interest to them. What was of interest to Kansbar did not matter. Rudra had ripped out every memory Kansbar had of the voyage and expedition, so he could shift through the knowledge later at his leisure.
Inexplicably, Rudra had written down Kansbar’s background. I couldn’t imagine what interest that could have had for the Khrynsani, but he had included it.
Kansbar was a young nobleman and a member of the Nathrach family. He was the youngest of five brothers, and as such, under the inheritance traditions of that time, would not have inherited a sufficient portion of the family estate to support himself to the level in which he had grown up. Once his schooling was complete, Kansbar had taken to the sea for adventure and to seek his fortune, as did the younger sons of many goblin families, noble or common.
The king at that time, Omari Mal’Salin, had ordered an expedition to Aquas to find the legendary city of Nidaar, the city of the golden-skinned goblins who were said to have been our distant cousins, separated fr
om us thousands of years before when the continents had split. Omari sent an ambassador to speak in his name and establish diplomatic relations with any civilization, if found.
Kansbar was a goblin historian and scholar of ancient goblin languages. If our distant cousins did exist, the language they spoke would likely not be our own. Kansbar was asked to become the expedition’s official translator. He immediately accepted the position, eager to possibly be the first to discover proof of the existence of this legendary race.
What Kansbar had not known, but Rudra had recorded, was that the ambassador and his staff were all Khrynsani, and that their assignment was to secure the Heart of Nidaar. At this point, Rudra Muralin and his Khrynsani still had the Saghred. Not satisfied to possess and wield one stone of unimaginable power, Rudra wanted any he could get his hands on. Others on the expedition had equally dark intentions. There were treasure hunters and slavers. If these golden-skinned goblins existed, they would bring a high price, as would the gold their city was said to contain.
Two ships left Regor for Aquas. The voyage to the continent was uneventful as far as Rudra had been concerned. He had written only a few sentences. As for Kansbar’s thoughts of his first trip across the Sea of Kenyon, apparently Rudra didn’t think them worthy of recording.
Halfway through the journey, the ships stopped in the Lastani Islands for fresh water, and to make some minor repairs to one of the ships.
The bay on the east coast of Aquas where the two ships had moored two weeks later was approximately fifty miles south of where we would be making landfall. The bay was large and protected, the same location that every expedition coming to the continent had used. Kansbar’s expedition hadn’t been expecting an ambush. We, on the other hand, had to be on guard for anything.
Once they reached the coast, a smooth beach awaited them. Beyond the beach was a lush landscape of forests, valleys, and fields, filled with plants and animals that had never been seen before. There was ample fresh water in lakes, rivers, and streams. To the goblins weary of over a month at sea, it was nothing short of a paradise.
This was the first account I’d seen of the interior of Aquas being anything other than barren rock and desert. Subsequent expeditions to the exact same location told of a nearly unclimbable escarpment that extended as far north and south as the eye could see. Beyond that lay dried-up lakes and riverbeds and a parched and rocky landscape. The map we had had told us as much. I had hoped whoever had drawn that map had been exaggerating.
Aquas had apparently been named for what it had been, not what it was now.
Later expeditions had found no sign of the city of Nidaar or its golden-skinned goblin inhabitants. One expedition had remained a year in the area where Nidaar was said to have been, without success, leading to Nidaar’s reputation as a city of legend rather than one that had actually existed.
Kansbar’s expedition arrived at the foot of the mountains after nine days of travel and camped in a cave they discovered, after posting their usual guards outside.
The four guards were found dead the next morning. Not just dead, but shriveled as if they had been drained and dried from the inside out.
I suddenly felt magic slide against my shields, oily, nauseating. It wasn’t black magic, at least not as I’d ever known or experienced it. It wasn’t merely different. It was alien.
I glanced up sharply at Kesyn. He had stopped writing. He felt it, too.
Jash leapt to his feet and flung open a window. There was shouting from the deck and above.
“Ships off the starboard bow!”
I closed the book.
Chapter 27
The three of us rushed up on deck. I continued up to the quarterdeck with Phaelan.
“What have we got?” I asked him.
“They’re Nebian, Captain. Frigates, I think,” came the call from aloft.
“That’s what we’ve got,” Phaelan shot back. “Hot on our tail and gaining.”
I couldn’t believe it. Then again, I could. “The bastard didn’t want an alliance because he already had one.”
Phaelan had a spyglass up, looking in the direction of the ships. “This bastard have a name?”
“Aeron Corantine, the Nebian ambassador. Said the rest of us were committing suicide by forming an alliance against any invaders.”
“So you’re saying he couldn’t sign on with you because he was already in bed with this Sandrina Ghalfari.”
“Figuratively, I’ve long suspected. I haven’t considered a literal interpretation. I certainly wouldn’t put it past her or him. Though none of that changes what’s closing on us.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Phaelan lowered the glass and passed it to me. “They look fuzzy to me, and I haven’t had a drop to drink all week. Are they wearing wards?”
I raised the spyglass to my eye and focused it. Or attempted to. It was a veil, a good one, and large enough to cover multiple ships. No wonder the lookout couldn’t make a positive identification. I summoned just enough discernment magic to let me make out two separate forms. If they didn’t know we’d spotted them, I didn’t want to be the one who gave us away.
“They are frigates, and they’ve got veils,” I told him. “Good ones.”
Phaelan snorted. “Two Nebian frigates coming after three Benares warships? Now that’s suicidal.”
“I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but they’ve got dark mages on board. That’s why I came up from below. I sensed them. So did Kesyn and Jash.”
“And we have three ships, and you and your four buddies. I’m still taking bets on our side.”
“I wouldn’t know how to act if someone wasn’t trying to kill me.” I looked through the glass again. “They’re flying every scrap of canvas they’ve got, and they’re gaining on us.”
“If they want to die before sundown, who are we to deny them?”
I hissed out a breath. “I don’t want to say this, but I have to. They’re flying the pasha’s flag. We can’t touch them.”
Phaelan turned on me.
“Unless they fire the first shot,” I told him. “We can’t attack two royal Nebian ships.”
Suddenly, we had the attention of every crewman—goblin and elf—who wasn’t occupied with sailing the Kraken. The others were listening, too. They just couldn’t give us their full attention.
Half the crew were goblin, the other half elf. The captain was an elf, I was a goblin and head of the expedition. The goblins were also agents of the crown and sworn to aid, serve, and protect the royal house of Mal’Salin. My last name was Nathrach, but I was the king’s chancellor, temporary heir, and his voice on board this ship.
We had many more weeks at sea together. I knew the Nebians didn’t have friendly intentions, but as the representative of the goblin king, I could hardly go around blowing another ruler’s ships out of the water.
“I know as well as you that’s why they’re flying that flag,” I kept my voice down and my expression neutral. “So we don’t blow them out of the water on sight.”
“The deck you’re standing on doesn’t belong to a goblin ship,” Phaelan said quietly. “We’re flying Benares flags. They know who we are, and they’re still coming after us.”
“You’re a wanted man and we’re in interkingdom waters,” I countered. “They could claim they’re apprehending wanted felons.”
“Shit.” Phaelan clearly hadn’t thought of that.
“Yeah.” I had thought of that. “I’ve got the Mal’Salin royal standard and a Guardian flag on board, and I sent a set over to Gwyn and Gavyn with my team before we set sail. To attack a Benares ship is enforcing the law, however suicidal. To attack a Mal’Salin or Guardian vessel is a declaration of war.” I grinned. “Aeron Corantine and I had several disagreements while on the Isle of Mid. I recommend flying the Guardian flags. You and Raine are more like brother and sister than cousins. That makes Mychael Eiliesor your almost brother-in-law.”
Phaelan smiled. “He wouldn’t mind at all.”
“Not in the least,” I agreed.
“And family lets family borrow things.”
“That they do. And I don’t think the Nebians are that suicidal.”
“They’ll keep following us. We’ll keep watching our backs.” Phaelan flashed a grin full of white teeth against his swarthy face. “I wouldn’t know how to behave if someone wasn’t trying to kill me, either.”
“Sirs?” Calik stood on the stairs to the quarterdeck in full flight leathers, helmet tucked under one arm, smiling up at us. “If we really want to encourage the Nebians to go home, may I suggest letting the ladies out for a little exercise? Besides, the girls won’t like being cooped up that close to the gun deck should you start firing those cannons. I think a little fly-about would be in everyone’s best interests.” He chuckled. “Well, except the Nebians’.”
Phaelan and I exchanged a glance. He raised his hands. “I’m the captain of the ship. You’re commanding the expedition. The lizards are all yours.”
“I would never dream of denying a lady a good time.” I grinned broadly. “Release the dragons.”
*
The Nebian ships had been closing distance.
As soon as the three sentry dragons cleared the masts, our pursuers had second thoughts about their course of action. They had third and fourth thoughts when the ladies roared and exhaled columns of fire half as thick as a mast.
The frigates slowed their pursuit, but they didn’t retreat.
“They’re determined to be a problem,” I said.
“The ships or the mages?” Jash asked.
“Yes.”
The ships were a known equation. The dark mages were unknown. We’d only sensed them for a moment, but we knew they were there, and they were powerful. Now they were quiet. Not just quiet, completely silent, as if they were no longer there.
We knew better.
I’d been in contact with my four team members on the Raven and Sea Wolf. They’d sensed the same thing that we had. It was the stirrings of magic that felt like nothing we had ever sensed before.