The solemn acceptance of loss made Arrow abruptly furious. Three baelthras where no Erith creature should ever walk. And loss of a muster member for lack of proper healing. The mountain’s energy rose up to meet her, equally angry and wanting out.
“Stand aside.” Arrow flopped to her knees as Tamara scrambled back, all the ‘kin on high alert. There was a cry of protest from one or more of the standing ‘kin and a swiftly checked move towards her as she put her hand on Jace’s rib cage. He whimpered, a bare thread of sound, then howled as she took the offering from the mountain and put power into him.
She passed out before she had had time to do more than mend his ribs, clearing the pressure around his lungs and heart.
~
She woke to pain, aching from her dull headache to a bruised ankle. Sitting up made her hiss involuntarily. Her ribs, barely healed, pulsed in counterpoint to her headache, and breathing hurt, chest raw.
The torn-off limb of baelthras lay a few feet from her. She had not been unconscious long, then.
“So you’re awake.” Tamara’s cheerful voice cut through memories that threatened to rise, bringing her back to the present.
“So it seems.” She gathered herself, meaning to rise.
“Stay there a moment.” Tamara handed her a flask. “Jace is getting there,” she said, glancing across to where Jace lay, still in animal form, covered by blankets. “You saved his life.”
Uncomfortable under the praise, not sure how to respond, Arrow ducked her head to peer into the flask. Soup. She was disappointed but knew it was a more sensible choice than more hot chocolate.
Matthias appeared, grim-faced and moving with care, one leg stiff, a piece of cloth tied around his thigh. He picked up the torn baelthras limb without a word and carried it away.
“Are you hurt?” Arrow asked, once the soup was finished, standing up.
“Bruised. Nothing serious.” Tamara’s eyes were on her mate who was, along with Zachary, dragging the dismembered corpse back together. “We’ve never seen anything like them before.”
“Baelthras.” Arrow nodded.
“Baelthras?” Zachary’s voice called her across.
“Erith creatures,” she confirmed, moving stiffly across the churned-up snow to join them. They were re-assembling the corpse to study it, she realised, as she had burned the other two.
“Erith again.” The Prime’s eyes flashed.
“They are predators, normally living in the deep jungle. No natural enemies,” Arrow told him, reciting what she knew. “Armoured hide. The vulnerable points are armpits, eyes, and there is a narrow spot under the chin.” She indicated underneath her own jaw. They had not got the reassembly quite right, she saw, and pointed out the errors to Matthias, who moved silently to correct the positioning, handling the bloody bits of creature with no emotion on his face.
Assembled across snow turning pink under the pieces, the creature was vast. Taller at the shoulders than any Erith, longer than it was tall, built in lean lines, even dead it looked lethal.
“What are they doing here?” Zachary’s voice was low, contained rage.
“I do not know,” she answered honestly, as disturbed as he was angry. “The White Guard have some in captivity for the Trials, but those would be branded, and I do not remember seeing any brands.”
“No brands. No scars or other markings,” Matthias confirmed, equally angry.
“That is unusual.” She tilted her head, considering the dead thing. “They will fight, and eat, anything that comes in their way, even each other. Baelthras do not reach adulthood without scars.”
“These are juveniles?”
“From the size, no.” She shook her head then wished she had not as her head pounded. “Full grown adults. Young, perhaps.”
“Why would the White Guard hold some?” Tamara wanted to know, nose wrinkling in distaste.
“The Trials,” Arrow repeated, and saw Tamara’s confusion. “The White Guard, and the Academy. Tests for graduation.”
“You have to fight these things?” Tamara was incredulous. Zachary was silent, not surprised.
“The Trials change but, yes, for some Trials, the candidates have to face baelthras.” She clenched her jaw against a shudder and memory.
“What -”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Arrow did not hear the rest of Tamara’s question, head whipping around as a distant echo, a wave of magic caught her full attention. Familiar magic. High magic. A translocation spell.
“What is it?” the Prime’s voice cut through.
“A magician has just transported himself to the mountain. A little distance from here.”
“More bloody Erith?”
“I do not know. The residue is … odd.” Definitely high magic, not natural magic. Only Erith and humans used high magic, the ‘kin more than capable with their own natural magic. And this residue was neither Erith or human. She checked her wards and began walking in the direction of the magic wave.
“Just one magician?”
“I believe so.”
“How many gods-damned …” The Prime’s words were cut off by the snap of something fizzing past his head, thudding into the tree nearest to him, clumps of snow falling, shaken by impact.
“Down!” Matthias called, dragging Tamara into the snow.
Arrow stood for a moment staring at the spot where the whatever-it-was had hit the tree before something grabbed her ankle and pulled her off her feet. Her ribs protested, breath knocked out of her, all protests dying as another series of whatever-they-were thudded into the tree where she had been standing, near-miss leaving her breathless, heart racing in her throat.
“Can you come closer? I will try to ward us.” She called up power, and spoke the command for a battle ward, silver shimmer rippling out to cover the ‘kin as they drew closer on Zachary’s snapped command. All but one. Jace’s animal form lay still in the snow, no longer breathing, and as Arrow watched he transformed back to human. Around her the ‘kin stiffened, and Tamara whimpered, low in her throat. A wash of anger burned through Arrow. He had fought to live. She had held his life under her hands only a short while ago.
The dome of silver sparked, calling Arrow’s attention back as another series of invisible things struck it, melting harmlessly against the wards.
“What the hell are they?” Zachary growled close to her ear. Arrow shook her head, most of her attention on holding her ward in place.
“Something magical,” she offered.
“I know that.” He was not impressed with her analysis.
“I have not encountered this before,” she added. His growl had no words this time. “And how is the magician targeting us so well?” This last as a cluster of invisible bolts struck her ward in almost precisely the same place. The wards bowed under the pressure, held, and sprang back to place.
The Prime stilled, head tilting as he looked around.
“No good line of sight,” Matthias commented from Arrow’s other side, words so faint she had to strain to hear them.
“Must be close.” Zachary agreed speaking as softly as his son.
The Prime drew in an audible breath that lasted several heartbeats, during which more bolts sparked against the wards, then let the breath out with equal slowness, a wave of power rippling out from him. Arrow stared, mouth opening. She had not known that ‘kin could do that. The power collided with Arrow’s wards, silver sparking in reaction.
“Arrow,” he snarled.
“A moment.” Adjusting wards on the move and under fire had been missed from the Academy’s curriculum. A serious defect, as far as she was concerned, frantically reviewing the commands she knew as the Prime’s power grated against the wards and her slender personal reserves dwindled further. After too long a pause she shouted a quick command for lift.
The edges of the wards lifted from the ground, a hand’s span at most, but enough for the Prime’s energy to soar out, dancing across the snow and trees, invisible to the naked eye, felt rathe
r than seen even in the second world as she adjusted her sight to follow.
At the very edge of her second sight, invisible in the first world, the barest outline of something vaguely human-shaped appeared.
With a snarl, the Prime leapt forward, shimmering into his animal form as he leapt, pitch black and lethal, landing on four paws and sprinting after the human shape, Matthias a wolf-length behind his father, Con and Tamara quickly following. Jace remained in the snow.
Using the Prime’s effort as an example, Arrow changed her ward, directing the silver shimmer outward to coat the huddled figure, vision wavering as she spent power to outline the shape as long as she could as it rose, throwing something at the Prime that he smacked aside with a paw, not pausing in his headlong run, the figure abruptly dropping its disguise revealing the blocky, shadowy form from Marianne’s death site, stumbling away into the forest, moving far more quickly than should be possible with its awkward gait.
The silver fizzed and died as the figure and ‘kin moved out of sight. Arrow dropped her head into the snow for a moment, breathing hard, ribs aching. As she gathered herself to rise the ripple of a translocation spell washed over her again followed by distant snarls of the ‘kin, frustrated in their hunt.
She stumbled to her feet and trudged ahead until she found the ‘kin, their hackles raised, teeth showing, soft sounds of fury vibrating the air, sniffing around a bare patch of ground, snow melted away.
“He has gone. Another translocation spell,” she told them between breaths, heart slowing down as she realised the immediate danger was gone.
The Prime snarled, wolf form shimmering back to human, long sleeve dark t-shirt and trousers following a moment later, leaving him barely clothed and barefoot in the snow.
“Where?”
“I do not know.” Her head was thumping with the mere effort of standing. Putting a hand up to her nose confirmed it was bleeding again and she dug out the Prime’s handkerchief to blot the flow.
“Anything?”
“The same magic user as killed Marianne Stillwater,” Arrow confirmed. “The gait was the same.”
“But?”
“Too fast. He was too fast across the ground.” Matthias’ voice startled Arrow. He was dressed the same as his father, equally comfortable with the cold and snow under his feet.
“Much too fast,” Zachary agreed, crouching next to the melted snow.
“You can’t follow him?”
“I am sorry, no,” she answered Matthias’ back as he stood beside the Prime. “It is not a skill I possess.”
“So, another Erith mage might?” Zachary’s eyes glinted as he looked back at her.
“Perhaps.” Arrow thought of the Preceptor, whose skill with translocation spells was unmatched, as far as she knew.
“More Erith,” he said in disgust, rising to his feet.
“I do not know if the magic user was Erith. He did not seem either Erith or human.”
“My people don’t use magic that way.” The Prime was not arguing, simply stating a fact.
“He threw something,” Arrow turned, back the way they had come.
“He did.” The satisfaction in his voice chilled her as he strode past, unerringly headed for the thing in the snow.
~
Arrow plodded behind them, finding Matthias and Zachary motionless, attention on something in the snow at their feet. Jace’s body lay in view, unseeing eyes turned up to the sky. Arrow flinched. She had failed to protect him. The failure stung along with the loss, another life gone.
Coming to stand between Matthias and Zachary she saw what held their attention and bit her lip to stop a useless exclamation.
The thing in the snow was a true abomination.
Bone glistened, a few sinews still attached. Bones from something human-shaped. Arrow had seen enough bones to know the difference. Shifkin or human. Fixed together in a basic shape.
“Crossbow.” She forced her voice to calm, crouching beside it.
“More unclean magic,” Zachary’s voice was so low it was almost inaudible. She did not look at him.
“Yes.”
“I hate magic.” Matthias’ voice was nearly as low as his father’s.
“This magic is …” Arrow could not find a word and did not think the ‘kin required one. The thing repulsed in first sight, was worse in second sight, crawling with crimson red runes. “Human or ‘kin bones,” she spoke her conclusion aloud. Erith bones had no strength after their owner’s death.
“Can you tell the maker?”
“I will try.” She put a hand out, paused to reinforce her wards, and touched the thing.
Cold wet against her skin. Filth. Abomination. Crawling under her skin up her arm. Darkness. Fetid air. Heavy. Something dead and rotting. Shuffling sound that echoed. Bare earth underfoot. Low light. She could barely see. Odd shapes in shadows. Shuffling. Something coming forward.
The thing shifted, sinews stirring against her skin. Home.
The crossbow was in her hand, in front of her. Something was moving in the shadows. A twist of darkness. Something that should not exist. Her finger was on the trigger. The trigger moved under her skin, loathsome sensation, and a near-invisible bolt snapped through the gloom.
And she was on her side in the snow, bright sunlight burning her eyes, heavy weight, no, weights, pressing her down, one wrist screaming pain.
“Arrow!” The Prime’s voice, with his full authority behind it.
“Prime,” she gasped. He and Matthias were on top of her, pinning her against the snow, Tamara and Con snarling nearby. The bone weapon lay in the snow not far from her hand. “What happened?”
“You fired at me,” he told her, relaxing his hold, elbowing the crossbow further from her reach.
“Sorry,” she said automatically, then blinked. “I was not here. I was …” She wriggled out from under them and threw up, retching until her stomach was empty.
“Here.” Matthias was crouching nearby, wary, holding out a flask of something. Tamara, back in human form, was behind him, watching intently, ready to defend her mate.
“Thank you.” Arrow’s face burned. She sipped the flask. Water. Rinsed her mouth, spat in the snow, and then drank, grimacing at her raw throat.
“You were somewhere else?” The Prime had found time to pull on boots and a wool sweater, eyes hard as he crouched nearby.
“Yes. The … weapon showed me its … home.” A few shallow breaths, then she continued. “Somewhere dark. Smelled like death. Rotting. And there was something there in the dark. It was … other. Unclean. That is what I fired at.” Her face was glowing, she was sure. Academy graduates were trained to guard their minds against outside interference, yet she had been pulled somewhere else with no warning. And had shot at the Prime. Remembering the invisible bolts, and the immediate death of Marianne Stillwater, she shuddered again. She had nearly killed the Prime. She swallowed, hard, trembling, and took a careful sip of water, needing both hands to hold the flask.
“Where?”
“I do not know. Inside. Earth floor. No identifying marks.”
A snapped-off sound told Zachary’s feelings on that. He rose, paced restlessly, the other ‘kin careful to avoid his gaze. Arrow remained still in the snow, sipping more water, and ignoring the growing damp at her knees as snow melted.
“This is what killed Marianne,” Matthias commented after a while. He was now fully clothed, Tamara just behind him, her hand resting lightly on his arm.
“Yes,” Arrow agreed, though it had not been a question. She gripped the flask hard enough that her knuckles turned white. “I do not think I should examine that thing further.” She could not even look at the crossbow.
“No,” Matthias agreed with a soft, unexpected laugh. “Not a good idea.”
“Destroy it.” Zachary was back.
“Burning will work. Mage fire,” Arrow clarified. “I will need a branch or something to light.”
A few moments later Tamara brought a short, thic
k branch, still damp from snow. Exchanging the flask for the branch, Arrow dug deep for some power and called mage fire to the end of the branch. When the branch’s tip was white hot she shuffled forward and dropped the branch over the bone weapon, speaking the commands to extend the fire. Her nose was bleeding again, and she was unsteady as she got back to her feet, the bone weapon reduced to ash.
“Bury it,” Zachary told Con, who nodded and set about his task. “Burn the baelthras and bury that too.” Tamara took a small flask of something with a hazard label on its side and tramped across the snow to where the remains of the baelthras lay.
Arrow followed the Prime as he paced a short distance from the remains of the weapon, guessing he had more to say to her.
“Mage fire.” Voice flat, eyes glittering with power. And she had nothing to defend herself with. Mage fire had been used against the shifkin by the Erith often in their shared, bloody, history. Wielded only by battle mages, who the ‘kin generally killed on sight.
“She’s a war mage.” Matthias was equally unhappy. In name only, Arrow thought. She had all the necessary qualifications, but the Erith would never deploy her in battle. Had not even allowed her a cloak. The Erith were not concerned that the thought of battle made her stomach churn, they were only concerned with her impure bloodline and discordant power.
“Why have the Erith sent you?” the Prime asked. His question was underpinned by his power, unleashed to curl around her, trying to hold her still and compel answers from her. She almost told him that that, in spite of her current weakness, it did not work on her, keeping that information back, a possible, slender, advantage for a future date.
“I am disposable to the Erith.” The old bitterness in her voice apparently convinced him, his face relaxing a fraction. It was the truth, too, which helped.
“It takes at least fifteen years to train a war mage, and they would just dispose of you?”
Her laugh was a sharp sound that took her by surprise. “Most easily, Prime, I assure you.”
Fifteen years was a long time in human terms, but ‘kin and Erith lived long lives. Fifteen years was a blink to Seggerat vo Regersfel or Eimille vel Falsen, or the Preceptor. It had felt like a long time to Arrow, the longest part of her life that she could remember, most of it under oath-spells and collared.
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