“Building’s on fire,” he remarked. The mage fire had taken hold. In his haste the magic user had forgotten the usual constraints on the fire and it was seeking new fuel. The upper storey was smouldering as the magic burrowed into the building. Arrow sighed. Whatever clues the tower held were about to be lost.
They made their way downstairs in silence, Zachary dripping blood as they went. Overhead the smell of burning grew. One bolt of untamed mage fire. The entire building would burn.
As they reached the front door it burst open, a human magic-user rushing in, weapon drawn.
“Halt!”
Zachary snarled and, before the human knew what was happening, had the man pinned against the wall beside the door, one arm twisted up behind his back.
“Y-you are trespassing,” the human spluttered, “and I am placing you under arrest for criminal damage.” Arrow gave him credit for bravery as well as foolishness.
“We did not set the fire,” she said mildly, glancing up at an ominous creak. “I suggest we continue the conversation outside. The ceiling may fall.”
Zachary dragged the human out of the house and across the overgrown grass. The man, who wore a uniform that was faintly familiar, seemed to Arrow’s amusement to have forgotten he was armed, weapon held limply at his side.
“How did you know we were here?” she asked.
“You are under arrest …” he began again, stopping when Zachary shook him.
“I am not in a good mood,” the Prime murmured close to the human’s ear. The man turned chalk-white, visibly trembling. “How did you know we were here?”
“M-Mr F-Farraway, sir? I didn’t recognise you.”
“Answer.”
“There was an alert at the watch station,” he managed to get the words out.
“There must have been an alarm,” Arrow said, irritated with herself, finally recognising the human’s uniform as that of the estate watchmen. “Electronic?”
“Y-yes. All the h-houses are fitted with them.” The human’s gaze went past Arrow and Zachary and his eyes widened. Arrow turned and paused, understanding his dismay.
The entire residence was on fire now, mage fire burning far hotter and far more quickly than any normal blaze. Dark, unnatural flames were licking the surface of the building, finding their way along the walls, seeking fuel.
“You should step back a little further,” Arrow suggested, planting her feet, opening her second sight and silently cursing the magic user for his carelessness. The magic user had not cared what his fire burned, only that it burned. The nearest trees were too close, and the fire would quickly spread without someone to stop it.
~
She did not wait to see if the Prime and human had moved, drawing a quick containment spell in the air before her, lines clear in second sight, and sending it out with her will, watching the silver lines catch at the edges of the mage fire. The mage fire twisted. She pushed more power into the spell, the heat of the fire raising sweat on her skin, her own containment failing and eyes sliding to silver as she worked. The well of power inside rose at her will, seemingly endless, and strands of power lapped around the mage fire, holding the sticky substance.
There was no easy cure. Unyielding patience was required. It took a long time, even in the second world where the passage of time was difficult to measure, before the mage fire finally died, running out of fuel, and Arrow released her containment with a sigh of relief, shoulders sagging. At her back, several prudent paces away, she could sense the disciplined minds and amber wards of White Guard although she was not sure how long they had been there.
There was still power left in her, but even that endless pool of silver required rest. She closed her eyes, feeling the ache of silver as an overused muscle, and drew on the memory she had made in Hallveran of how it felt to have the silver hidden. Only when she was sure she was balanced again did she open her eyes, turning to her companions.
Kallish nuin Falsen and a cadre of warriors waited in a loose semi-circle, apparently relaxed at parade rest, eyes watchful. Not all the same warriors as had been in Hallveran, she noted. Behind them Zachary was waiting, arm either healed or bandaged under his clothing, and beyond him was a pair of black vehicles and the shifkin who had met her at the Taellaneth that morning.
“It is done,” she told the cadre, voice rasping with smoke. She coughed, eyes watering. In the second world she had not been aware how close to the fire she had been. Her clothing was covered in ash, natural ash this time, smoke scented.
“Good.” Kallish moved, offering her a waterskin. Arrow took it with thanks and cleared her mouth, almost choking as she found she had been given cooled Erith tea rather than the plain water she had been expecting. The Erith guarded their tea jealously. She took a long drink, not sure when she would next get the chance, and returned the skin, with more thanks.
“Have you been here long?”
“A while.” Kallish’s voice shaded to cool. “Gathering took longer than expected. Some changes were required to find the right warriors.” And Kallish was apparently in charge of a cadre, still, despite the Taellan’s demotion. Arrow wondered what had happened, and how. The warriors with her were quietly resolute, awaiting orders. And not one was glaring at Arrow. The right warriors, indeed.
“There was a human here,” Kallish remarked, breaking Arrow’s thoughts, “who the Prime questioned. The human wanted to send for human fire fighters,” an undertone in the warrior’s voice told Arrow she had greatly enjoyed that idea, “which the Prime dismissed and then sent the human away. The shifkin arrived shortly after on his command.” Human fire fighters could have spent weeks tackling the fire and not put it out. Arrow guessed that the human had been a low-level ward keeper, not skilled enough to recognise mage fire. She shook her head. Humans were unprepared for a surjusi-powered magic user.
“The human was a gate keeper for this estate and arrived when the magician had attacked the house. It seems there was a human alarm set.” Arrow felt heat in her face. A stupid oversight.
“Annoying.” The warrior nodded her understanding. “This was the Hessman residence?”
“As you say.” Arrow turned to stand with the warrior, eyes widening at the extent of the damage. There was almost nothing left in the second world. In the first world the once-fine tower had been reduced to smouldering sticks, not even the enormous front door surviving in recognisable form. It was also difficult to see and Arrow blinked, wondering if her eyes were coated with ash, too. Glancing up at the sky she realised that it was late, darkness almost fully set.
“It burned for the day.” The warrior followed her glance then tilted her head. “The Prime is keen to speak with you.”
“I imagine so.” Arrow made her way back to Zachary who was frowning.
“The magician left.” It was not a question. “We tried tracking him,” he tilted his head, indicating the ‘kin, “but nothing. Not a single scent or trace.”
“Another translocation spell,” Arrow confirmed. Kallish was beside her, listening keenly, as she tried to follow the conversation. Before Arrow could translate, Kallish beckoned one of her cadre across, a warrior Arrow did not recall from Hallveran. She blinked as she recognised him as the warrior who had led the third trapping the snake in the scribe’s archive, startled when he made a small bow, a mark of respect, in her direction.
“Xeveran, translate, please.”
Xeveran’s grasp of the common tongue was nearly as good as Arrow’s, and she could not help wondering how a warrior had acquired that knowledge, even as she was grateful for his presence.
“Is there a way to stop him translocating?” Zachary asked.
“There are some methods. All require close proximity,” Arrow began, then looked at Kallish, “unless we could add a binding spell to arrows?”
The warrior looked thoughtful. The White Guard’s archers were adept at tying spellwork for fire to their arrows. A small binding spell should not be too difficult.
“Somethin
g to try. We will prepare some.”
“Good. If we can trap him that’s a start. How do we find him?”
Arrow had no answer for that. The magician was heavily disguised, not one trace of his personality, if it even was a he, slipping out of his disguise. She had nothing to track in the second world, and the ‘kin had nothing in the first world.
“There were no clues in the residence?” Kallish asked.
“Nothing. It was very ordinary.”
“Hadn’t been used for some time,” Zachary added. “Gate guard said it was built by the Hessmans. Been in the family over two hundred years. Current owner Matthew Hessman. Hasn’t been here for at least five years. Guard had no idea where he is, and no contact information.”
Arrow and Kallish absorbed that information in silence, Arrow’s eyes drifting back to the building.
“Something wrong?” Kallish asked, eyes keen, glint of amber in the fading light.
“That window.”
“Window?”
“The side of the building was all glass.”
“In a tower?” Kallish was sceptical.
“Yeah. Stupid design,” the Prime agreed.
“And very costly,” Arrow put in. “A lot of skilled magic and craftsmanship to create a window with no view. And no purpose.”
“Perhaps the architectural archive will have details?”
“I am not sure humans keep such good records, svegraen. But it would be useful to know.” It might reveal some more detail of the humans who had built the place, or finally put to rest the nagging instinct that there was something important about that window.
“Agreed. I’ll get Matt on it,” Zachary’s brief smile was a flash of teeth in the gloom. Arrow could only imagine how much Matthias would enjoy more paperwork after a day spent indoors.
“Did Matthias uncover anything useful?”
“Not so far. Damn man has vanished.”
Arrow’s stomach chose that moment to gurgle, reminding her that she had not eaten that day, audible to everyone and drawing a soft laugh from the Prime. Her face was burning, and she knew that all her companions could see that.
Before she could stammer an apology, matters were taken out of her hands. Zachary and Kallish decided to leave patrols at the ruined house and return at first light to continue the search. Arrow was not sure what they hoped to find after searching during the day while she had been suppressing the fire but trusted their judgement. Neither ‘kin or Erith gave up easily.
Whilst they planned she thought about Zachary’s wish to trap the magician and some ideas formed.
“Arrow? You’ve been quiet.”
“I have some ideas to help trap the magic user and surjusi,” she said, “but I will need supplies and a place to work.”
“We will use the Erith safe house,” Kallish said. “There is a work space there.”
“If you need anything else, let me know.” Zachary held out a white card and Arrow took it with an odd sense of familiarity. Rather than the outdoors shop details, in the bare light left to her she could see only a series of numbers on the card. The Prime’s personal number. A rare honour. None of the Taellan had this number. She ducked her head, hiding what was no doubt a foolish, pleased, expression, and tucked the card away in a pocket.
Plans made, details settled, they separated, Arrow finding that the White Guard had brought their own sleek black vehicles. Kallish left a third of her cadre along with some of the shifkin to watch the house and expertly steered Arrow into the back of one of the vehicles, transporting her across Lix to the Erith safe house.
Having two thirds of a cadre at her disposal was a heady experience. Xeveran took her list of requested supplies and headed out with his third while Kallish and her third settled her in the property’s kitchen with food then made sure the property was secure and the work space prepared.
Finishing the last of her meal, full of food, Arrow listened to the quiet noises about the building as the third made their checks. They had activated the building’s wards, too, making sure nothing would get in without their knowledge.
This must be what it would be like to be a recognised war mage, Arrow thought, savouring the last of the Erith tea. A cadre around her, her requests granted. The other side of that protection was her obligation, to stand against the darkness. That thought prompted her to rise and seek the workspace.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
With her inferior senses and inability to track the surjusi, in the first or second worlds, there was nothing she could add to the hunt. What she could do, better than any of the ‘kin or the Erith warriors, was magic. She had a secure workspace and access to as many supplies as she could wish for. So, after a few hours’ sleep, she began creating containment spells, weaving her magic into potions and powders, filling the containers the White Guard had found for her.
Focused spell work soothed her, requiring her absolute attention, easing the frustrations of the past days.
She finished another jar of powder and stretched, small of her back stiff. A quiet cough distracted her before she could move on to the next containers waiting in line. Looking up, she found Kallish in the doorway, shape indistinct in shadow. Arrow blinked, realising it had grown dark while she worked, and she could in fact barely see what she was doing. She had spent the entire day here.
“Lights, svegraen,” Kallish requested and the most junior of the cadre slipped past her with a taper, lighting the old-fashioned lanterns hung around the walls of the room. A room designed for spellcraft, it had no windows in the walls.
“Svegraen,” Arrow greeted Kallish, and stretched again, all the muscles across her back and shoulders tight and sore. “Is there something you need?”
“We have food, and the shifkin have just delivered this for you. It came from something called a flash drive.”
Arrow took the large, heavy envelope and cleared a space at the end of the workbench.
“A flash drive?” Kallish prompted.
“Yes. A curious object. Apparently a storage device for computers.” Arrow opened the envelope and tipped out the contents. A thick sheaf of papers, with a covering note from Zachary, letting her know this was everything that they had found on the flash drive.
“How large was this device?” Kallish asked, eyes on the pile of papers.
“No larger than my smallest finger.”
The warrior’s eyes gleamed with interest before she ducked out of the room, returning a few moments later with a plate piled high with food and a tall wooden beaker. Arrow murmured an absent thanks, attention on the papers. She barely noticed Kallish handing her a fork and leaving the room.
Far into the night, Arrow had finished skimming through the papers. Marianne’s full file on the commissions she had received from Hugh Danes. Danes had detailed several items that he wanted Marianne to find. Including wooden panels that, Danes said, came from Hallveran.
In the middle of the papers she had found a series of photographs. Wooden panels, the size impossible to tell from the photographs, firstly grouped together, a series of four. Covered in dust, clearly having been stored and neglected for a long time, then individually captured going through various stages of cleaning until they were sharp and fresh. She cleared more space and spread the pictures out along the workbench. The panels depicted slightly different scenes, detail sharp and fresh, and finally at the last set of restored pictures there was a sense of scale; a human-made measuring ruler laid alongside the panel.
Frowning, Arrow made a rough calculation, bits of information coming together. Wooden panels from Hallveran. The missing panels from the ruined fireplace in the Rowan house in Hallveran. Long since taken away.
Marianne’s reports to her client showed that the panels had been found in a warehouse in Hallveran, one of the semi-legal human businesses that sold items robbed from deserted homes. Marianne had arranged for the panels to be shipped to her client, and there was an acknowledgement from the client, pleased with the success. Then nothing. T
he trail of correspondence ended.
Arrow could all too easily picture the next part. Something about these panels had piqued Marianne’s interest. She had gone to the Rowan house, wanting to see where the panels came from. After all, she had been in Hallveran already. And had found something beyond her experience.
That fit, Arrow thought. It fit what she knew of Marianne, a bold and enquiring mind.
The shifkin female might not have fully understood what was going on in the panels, perhaps guessing some of it. A group of humans performing magic. The Ancestors, Arrow guessed, a depiction of the plan they had formed to perform forbidden magic in the Erith heartland, steeped in power, and destroy the Erith.
The assault had nearly succeeded. Even defeated, the Ancestors’ actions had the potential to ruin the Erith’s relations with humans.
Very few Erith understood what the Queen had been about, letting the Descendants live. There may only have been six humans in the heartland when the spell was performed, but it was clear that entire families had been involved in the preparation. Families denied more land because humans had spread out over the lands they had been granted and there was no more space in the human world, not in Lix anyway, and the Ancestors did not want to move. Families such as the Ancestors who wanted their own land to farm, or live, had nowhere to go, forbidden from using the open space that bounded the Erith lands. The human authorities would not permit it, enforcing their tentative agreements with the Erith, who had pushed back all breaches of their borders with brutal force.
The gaining of more land was a shallow motive, Arrow had always thought, aware that such things seemed to matter to some humans. Perhaps the Queen had thought so, too, leaving some of the families alive, those who had not been involved. And rather than declaring war and annihilating the human population, as many Erith called for, she secured a formal treaty with the humans which had governed their relations ever since, ensuring peace and lucrative trade. And no more human encroachment into Erith lands.
Concealed: The Taellaneth - Book 1 Page 22