In Deception's Shadow Box Set: Book 1-3

by Lisa Blackwood

  The two acolytes coming at Shadowdancer from opposite directions paused for long moments, and then realizing the flames only spread as far as the fuel allowed, started forward again.

  As if she and Shadowdancer were linked—one mind, body, and soul—they lunged into motion together. Sorsha drew another arrow and took out the acolyte on Shadowdancer’s left flank. The big santhyrian spun his hips around, catching the man on his right with a powerful kick. While the two nearest enemies were down, Shadowdancer drew an arrow from his quiver and impaled the acolyte he’d kicked. It wasn’t until he straightened that she spotted his bound wrist and understood why he wasn’t using his bow.

  Sorsha lunged into a canter, plowing into an acolyte who didn’t get out of her way in time. At the feel of soft flesh and snapping bones under her hooves, her stomach started a slow, continuous roll of nausea. Horror finally penetrated her adrenaline-filled mind. The acolytes, as much as she hated and feared them, had once been human. These were her own kind she was crushing—pitiful, enslaved creatures though they were. Perhaps sensing Sorsha was less than resolute, her Larnkin took firmer hold and reached out to the nearest enemy with her power, studying him. Sorsha could feel what her Larnkin had learned.

  In life, his name had been Keldar, a kind-hearted young man—he’d loved nature and healed whatever wounded animal might cross his path. But now, where his bright spirit had once been, was a cold, soulless power. Its thoughts flowed along the mental pathway, its endless hunger, desire, and madness washing over Sorsha’s mind. An incomplete being, flawed from the moment it had been created. She broke out in a cold sweat as she met Keldar’s gaze. He had long ago become a soulless slave. These acolytes were no longer human—instead, they were empty shells occupied by something evil. Though it was as pointless to feel pity for Keldar as it was for any of them, she felt sadness all the same as she released another arrow.

  Keldar toppled backward off his mount, his cloak engulfed in flames.

  Death was a blessing.

  Sorsha notched another arrow for Light’s cause. Drawing in a deep breath, she held it a moment and then released it, accompanied by a great battle cry. Words of an ancient language poured from her mouth as another arrow guided by her Larnkin’s magic found its mark.

  She charged across the field, grass slapping at her legs as she galloped. Arrow after arrow found acolytes even as they drank her magic.

  If she was to die, she would die with honor.

  * * * *

  She charged toward him, her hair a wild ribbon behind her, tail arched like a banner in the wind, and her powerful legs carrying her closer to death with each stride. She was grace, and she was death. She was his bondmate, his Herd Mistress. And her stubborn Stonemantle bravado was going to get her killed.

  One enemy after another fell before her arrows, but more were coming up behind her, emerging from the forest, and his beloved no longer had the element of surprise. Of the two dozen acolytes, a good half were still very much alive. And organizing for an assault.

  Sorsha thundered up to his side. “Where is he?”

  After scanning the faces of the acolytes closing in on their location, and not seeing one face in particular, Shadowdancer understood her meaning. “I don’t know. Why wouldn’t Trensler be here?”

  “Maybe Trensler’s master doesn’t want to risk his highest-ranking servant?”

  “Perhaps.” He would have said more, but the dozen remaining acolytes were maneuvering their nets within capture range again. “Up.” Shadowdancer circled around and physically shoved Sorsha toward the narrow path leading back up to the temple. “Move now. Or we die here.” He herded her faster, pushing her from behind when she tried to slow enough to take aim at the enemies. “Later, when we’re higher and out of feeding range.”

  “But I’ve got a shot.”

  “You’ll be able to hit your targets just as well from a slightly safer distance.” As he herded her farther up the mountain trail, he made certain to keep the bulk of his body between Sorsha and the enemy below. While he hadn’t seen any archers among the acolytes, that didn’t mean there weren’t any. Sorsha scrambled up the next incline and paused at the turn, bracing herself in an attempt to take a shot at the shrinking enemy below. Shadowdancer blocked her and tried urging her on up.

  “Let me take the shot.”

  “I have a plan.” If only the pursuers would give him a few moments’ peace to enact it. “A little ways ahead there’s a door, behind it a set of stairs cuts into the heart of the mountain itself. That tunnel leads up to the plateau where the temple resides. That stairway is ancient and still intact, but barely. If we can summon enough magic to destabilize the tunnel, we might be able to cause a small cave-in and block the only quick way to reach the temple. It will take the acolytes some time to clear away the mess and follow us.”

  Sorsha put her arrow back in the quiver. “Any plan that keeps them off our backs for a little while longer is a good one.”

  By mutual consent, they made their way up the trail in a mad gallop, only stopping once they stood before the great maw of the mountain stairway. Sorsha glanced within and then made a little gesture with her arm. “Lead on.”

  He shook his head. “You first.”

  “You’re trying to protect me, again. We’re equals. Even the Oracle said as much. If we die, we die together.”

  “Get moving. We need to be deeper inside the tunnel before I start weaving the spell of destruction.” Seeing her dark look, he summoned a mage globe and sent it ahead of them to illuminate the darkness. “Follow that. Argue later.”

  “You bet. Words later.” She leaned into him so fast he only had a moment to register the feel of warm lips pressed against his before her heat was pulling away. “Just make sure your big, hairy ass is right behind me before the ceiling starts to come down. I don’t want to find out later you were caught in your own trap. When I get to the afterlife, I’ll never let you hear the end of it. I promise.”

  “I know, and a Stonemantle never breaks a promise.” He chuckled, surprised he could still find humor, even now. “Now go. Hurry. This tunnel, it’s long, but eventually leads up to the plateau. You’ll be able to see the temple from there. Soon as I set the spell, I’ll be right behind you.”

  With a sharp nod, she trotted up the tunnel. He split his attention between watching her as she vanished into the gloom and summoning power for the spell. Once he judged Sorsha was a safe distance away from where he planned to bring down a portion of the ceiling, he focused on the immediate terrain, looking for weaknesses in the stone above him. While the tunnel had been cut directly into the mountain and spelled to prevent collapse, the magic was very old.

  His senses stretched outward from his body, expanding to encompass the surrounding stone. After a moment’s probing, he found a fault in the rock above his head. His Larnkin stirred within, its thoughts touching his. Just as Shadowdancer wanted to protect Sorsha, his Larnkin was determined to protect her as well, the other half of his soul.

  He backed up the passageway in the same direction Sorsha had gone, putting distance between himself and the section of ceiling he wanted to bring down.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he closed his eyes and surrendered. Power surged out from his body, a wellspring of potent magic flowing out of him into the surrounding stone. At his Larnkin’s wordless command, magic sank into a fault in the rock. To Shadowdancer’s inner eye, it looked like water flowing into a crevice. Deeper the magic searched, following the fissures higher into the mountain. There it pooled with a growing intensity. Heat bloomed. Rock turned molten. Under his hooves, the ground shifted. Shadowdancer’s Larnkin prodded him into motion. He spun around, taking the same path Sorsha had, but at a mad gallop, scrambling over the heaving ground.

  Behind him, a large chunk of the ceiling sheered off. Intense, thunderous sound assaulted his ears. Shadowdancer stretched his stride even as a cloud of dust raced past, enveloping him in its smothering grit.

  * * * *

/>   “Shadowdancer!”

  Dust, thick and choking, billowed up from below to roll past her hooves. It was such a small amount to herald such doom. Strong winds of the plateau were quick to blow it away.

  Hot tears poured down her cheeks. She stood motionless and called his name again, quieter this time.

  Jaws locked against an overwhelming need to scream, she forced herself closer to the dark entrance in the ground from which Shadowdancer still hadn’t emerged. Her hands shook. She fisted them so hard, her knuckles whitened. Why did I leave him?

  The brave fool sacrificed himself.

  The drumming of hooves reached her ears first, followed by a deep, heaving cough.

  “Shadowdancer?”

  A familiar shape emerged up out of the dark stairway, one hind leg dragging on each stride as he staggered up onto level ground. Sorsha gave a cry of joy and launched herself at him.

  His arms circled around her shoulders, his face buried in her hair. Warm, damp breaths puffed against the curve of her neck—it reassured her. He lived. It didn’t matter he’d scared the Stonemantle stubbornness right out of her, or if tears poured down her cheeks.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “You’re alive. You scared me to death, you great idiot!” Sorsha’s mumbled words of love soothed him even as her arms tightened around his ribs so fiercely she nearly wrung a pained grunt from him. Long moments later, her steely embrace loosened and she caressed his back, his sides, and down past where his human torso ended and his santhyrian body began.

  Mumbling his own words of love, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, and then he let his hands explore her body, checking for injury, much as she did him.

  Finally, she broke away, stepping back a pace so she could continue scanning him for injuries. He let her, waiting patiently while she ran her hands down his legs, hissing in sympathy at all the minor wounds. A curse dropped from her lips when she examined his right hind leg.

  It was hot, probably swelling. A sticky dampness continued to seep down his hock. He could feel heat and a deep throbbing pulse in that hoof.

  “Stay put. I’ll get bandages.” Sorsha rushed over to the pack and tore at the buckles as she returned to his side. Shifting his weight off his injured leg, he closed his eyes and allowed Sorsha to work. Explicit curses alternated with soothing words of love as she worked upon him. They were in such contrast he smiled, even under the circumstances.

  Once Sorsha patched him up as best she could, she straightened and stood shoulder-to-shoulder, but didn’t further berate him for endangering his life. She allowed him his moment’s peace while he gazed upon the temple in silence. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Sorsha recounting their meager supply of fire arrows.

  “Collapsing the tunnel bought us some time, a candlemark or two at most, but it won’t stop the acolytes for long. With all those nets they have down there, they’ll have plenty to convert to rope for climbing. I bet they’re debating the fastest route to scale the cliff.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Shadowdancer said tiredly. What else could he say? It was the truth.

  “Now what do we do?”

  Using it as an excuse to avoid Sorsha’s question—for he didn’t have an answer—he lowered himself closer to the ground and began repacking the supplies she’d dumped in her hurry to find the bandages. Sorsha bent and started to help—all the while he could feel her staring at his down-turned face. At last, after everything was repacked to his satisfaction, he glanced up. Her eyes were bright with a sharp intensity, her expression composed. Though the small wrinkles in her brow told of her inner battle and the cost of keeping her expression so calm.

  Shadowdancer fixed her with a steady look. “I see no escape from this.”

  “Well, we’re in agreement on that front.”

  A wave of bitterness pounded through his blood. He had failed Sorsha, his herd, his parents, the council, and every other living creature that shared this land. “I was so close. Deep under the temple there is a circle of wardstones protecting what must be the Staff’s resting place. I was standing less than ten strides from it, but when I tried to cross the Wards, they judged me incomplete.”

  “Incomplete?”

  “Because you weren’t with me, and perhaps because I don’t wear the Mark of the Twelve.”

  “Well, that Ward’s just entirely too picky if you ask me. And while I’m on the topic, if the gods actually wanted us to win, they could have stacked the odds a little better in our favor, because, by my reckoning, if you’d waited for me, we would have arrived just in time to see the acolytes retrieve the Staff and drain her dry. So that Ward can drink up its ‘incomplete’ statement until it ruptures its own crystalline...”

  Shadowdancer cut her off with a snort of amusement. “While listening to you insult the wardstone circle is certainly diverting, it isn’t going to help us with our predicament.”

  “Sorry,” Sorsha mumbled without looking up. “You may have noticed I get surly when I’m scared.”

  “It may have come to my attention a time or two.”

  “It doesn’t help that I don’t have a plan, either. I’m almost out of arrows and we’re in no condition to fight anything stronger than a gentle breeze.” She trotted a large circle around him. An attempt to stave off stiffness creeping into fatigued muscles? Or to burn off nervousness? “Since we’re out of good plans, do you have any bad ones?”

  “No,” he grunted in way of answer, his earlier doubts and sense of helplessness returning swift and vicious.

  Back at his side, Sorsha placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Though I sometimes pretend otherwise, I’m not naive. I know we’re going to die.”

  “No.” He wanted to comfort her, but words failed him.

  “You’re a terrible liar. If we’re going to die in the next candlemark, I’d love to hear something more than ‘no’ from you before we do.”

  “I love you.” He cradled her chin in his hand and tilted it up, then dropped a playful kiss upon the tip of her nose. “Better than a ‘no’?”

  “Yes, actually.” Sorsha’s smile bloomed into real humor, brightening her eyes, and softening her features. It lasted a few moments before fading into a thoughtful look as she stared off into some inner, far distant place. Wondering about her thoughts, he drew breath to ask when she suddenly blinked her eyes back into focus and said, “We both agree we’re probably not going to survive this, and besides the obvious reasons, that’s not a good outcome. Even if the Oracle takes back the power it gifted to us, Trensler’s master will still grow stronger from our deaths, and then he’ll feed on the Falcon Staff.”

  Shadowdancer raised a brow in question, wondering where she was going with this. They already knew what Trensler was capable of.

  “But what if we died before Trensler’s men can reach us?”

  He frowned. “You mean throw ourselves off the side of a mountain?”

  “Not exactly.”

  * * * *

  Inside the temple, the darkness was complete now that the sun had set. Shadowdancer spared enough power to summon one mage globe, but he relied more on memory than sight as he ran his hand along the wall, counting turns and forks in the passageway as he went. Finally, he found the opening he sought. Yes, there was the first stone step, slippery with damp and slime, and another below it, almost as bad as the first.

  “Careful. We’ve come to the stairway.” Though Shadowdancer doubted he needed to warn Sorsha. She followed so close on his hooves, every time he slowed or paused she’d gently bump into him. The first three times she’d knocked into him, he’d thought it was fear that kept her so close on his heels, but when he glanced back, Sorsha’s upper body was half twisted to study the darkness behind them, a fire arrow at the ready. Under normal circumstances, he’d kick out instinctively at anything that came too near and threatened to tangle or trip him up, but he actually liked having her close. He found her scent soothing in this ancient, tomb-like place.

&nb
sp; “Do you think my plan has any hope of success?” Sorsha’s voice floated to him from out of the silence.

  “Blunt honesty?”

  “Always.”

  “Even if we can rework the spells on the wardstones and siphon power from them, we’ll burn ourselves out long before we destroy the remaining pieces of the Falcon Staff. If the legends are true, even Dakdamon, the great enemy of the Twelve, couldn’t destroy the Staff, only shatter her. The Staff’s destruction is beyond us, but with luck, we might entomb her when the mountain vaporizes beneath us. Either way, your plan still has merit. And we’ll escape Trensler’s feeding.”

  They continued in silence. The trip seemed to take longer this time. More likely he was at the end of his endurance. Slowly, the darkness gave way to a pale, bluish light. The ghostly outlines of the walls and ceiling sharpened.

  “Merciful gods, I was starting to think there was no end to this tunnel.” Sorsha’s relief buoyed his own. He picked up his pace. Sorsha crowded closer, coming alongside him, obviously as eager as he to get to the end of this journey.

  The dark-walled corridor widened into a vast underground chamber dominated by the twelve massive crystal pillars. Next to him, Sorsha halted with a soft gasp. He glanced back over his shoulder. Her lips parted, but no words came out, her jaw hung unmoving for a heartbeat until she gathered herself and snapped it closed.

  “It’s somewhat similar to a bonding chamber, like the one below the Oracle’s Tower back at Grey Spires.”

  “This seems like a rather remote location for a bonding chamber—there being no Elementals within a few days’ ride and all.”