Revealed: The Taellaneth - Book 2

by Vanessa Nelson

  “Do you know where we are?”

  “On the Hallveran road,” Arrow answered at once. The amount of jolting they were experiencing could be no other road. One of the damaged sections that the authorities had not yet repaired. “Travelling fast. There are no guards on the roof.” She pointed her chin upwards to the thin ceiling. “Either there are armoured cars in front and behind, or …”

  “This vehicle has agreed passage through the lawless territory,” Kallish finished for her, apparently calm.

  “Quite so.” Arrow tried to match the calm. It took a great deal of money, or force, to persuade the inhabitants of the lawless territory to grant a vehicle safe passage. That meant their kidnappers had a great deal of resource, which was not good.

  “Did you recognise any of the humans?” Kallish asked after a pause.

  “No.” Arrow sighed, thinking back to the brief moments before she had lost consciousness. Taken by humans, she thought, as disgusted with herself as Kallish had been. Non-lethal, the dart had passed straight through her wards. Not something she had ever thought to ward against, and something which she needed to remedy. Turning back to Kallish’s question, she went on, “I had not met any of them before. I thought I saw a gang mark on one of them.” It had been the most fleeting glimpse as she slid sideways, but she was inclined to trust her memory on this.

  “Gang mark? Explain?”

  “A tattoo on the side of one of their necks.”

  “Ah, yes. The double-headed serpent. What does that signify?”

  Arrow took a breath, pulse leaping. Danger was the honest answer. The warrior would need more, though.

  “The Two Snakes is a Hallveran gang which has been growing in power since the riots. They will do anything from shoplifting to breaking into residences to murder for hire. They provide a form of protection for residents of their home area.” And had more than enough resource, in money and force, to gain safe passage through the lawless areas.

  “Miscreants.” Kallish’s disgust was evident. “Also, evidently proficient at kidnap.”

  “They do carry out work for hire. They usually stick to Hallveran. Someone must have paid them well to come to Lix.”

  “You know much about them.”

  “I spent time with a rival group when I was in Hallveran,” Arrow answered, focusing once more on her wrists. The binding was definitely slackening off.

  “You were part of this criminal enterprise?” Kallish’s tone could have frozen water.

  “A rival group, svegraen. Not all groups are criminal. The one I was with had formed in order to survive.”

  “Where were the human authorities whilst these gangs or groups were forming?”

  “There was almost no human authority in Hallveran during the riots. Any authority was confined to the heart of government and guarding as much of the infrastructure as possible.” A pause and Arrow could feel Kallish’s questions building up. “Local law enforcement and militia were occupied in guarding essential services. Power stations. Government offices. That sort of thing. There was no wider authority until they were secure. Hallveran was lawless for months after the riots. Strong gangs, like Two Snakes, grew in power as they were already organised and had resources. Local communities had to join together to survive in collectives or pay protection dues to the gangs. Some of them appealed to the shifkin. The ‘kin took a lot of people in to their muster house, but they did not have room or resource for everyone.”

  And not everyone had adapted to shelter with the shifkin, for the ‘kin had been living at the edge of civilisation, too, with little patience for human sensitivities. They had lost their leader and his second during the troubles and only the discipline that all ‘kin required had kept them together, and sane.

  With no agriculture nearby, the shifkin had relied on hunting game in the wild lands around the city to keep their muster and the refugees fed. Having taken in more people than the muster houses could comfortably hold, the shifkin had expected the refugees to help with chores, including dressing and preparing meat for the table. Oddly, to Arrow’s mind, it had been this insistence on everyone pulling their weight that had stuck with a number of Hallveran residents, a stark adjustment for quite a few city dwellers, used to obtaining their meat in little packets from a supermarket.

  “So, you were with a … collective?” Kallish’s question broke into Arrow’s memories.

  “Of sorts, yes. Residents of a street organised themselves. They were quite efficient,” she added, knowing the warrior would appreciate that detail, “and had rotas for patrols, for chores, and for looking after the young.”

  “There were young in the riots?”

  “The riots affected the whole city.” Arrow could not keep the sorrow out of her voice. Hallveran was not, and never would be, home, but the city had a hold on her nonetheless. Too much suffering. “Every resident felt the impact from the very wealthy to the poor. Aha!” The last an exclamation of relief as the bindings on her wrists gave at last. She held up her freed hands for Kallish to see.

  “Good. You will need a knife to cut me free. They tied me tighter. My weapons are stored there.” The warrior jerked her chin to the end of the truck where a low trunk was strapped against the wall. Arrow spared the warrior a glance before moving to try and unpick the knot around her feet. Kallish was understating the case that she had been tied tighter. The warrior was swathed with rope, unable to move much.

  The knot of rope at her ankles was thick, slippery under her fingers, hard to manage as the truck bounced, jarring her ribs, and causing her to hiss more than once in pain. Eventually, though, the rope loosened.

  Not trusting her balance in the jolting truck, she crawled over the floor to the trunk, finding it unlocked. Frowning, she opened her second sight a moment, unable to actively use her power, and looked for spells. There was nothing. Either their kidnappers were extremely confident that they had tied the warrior and mage up properly, or very foolish.

  The trunk was held in place by a pair of thick straps that were embedded into the truck wall, each fastened with a metal clasp. It took a moment for Arrow to work out the unfamiliar fastening then she had the trunk free. The truck jolted over another rut in the road and she swore as the trunk bounced, too, banging into her, sending her sprawling on the hard floor, adding yet more bruises. She scrambled back to her knees and found that the movement had partially opened the trunk lid, showing all of the White Guard’s weapons in a tangled mess together with Arrow’s sword harness and her kri-syang, the small silver blade that all mages carried.

  It took a moment to recover her possessions, fumbling slightly with the sword harness, the kri-syang a familiar weight against her forearm, then she shoved the lid the rest of the way open, searching through the warrior’s weapons, wondering how on earth the warrior moved so easily with all this weaponry on her person. At length Arrow found a reasonably short, wickedly sharp, dagger and crawled back along the truck bed to Kallish, using the dagger inexpertly to free the warrior’s hands and arms.

  “My thanks.” The warrior took the weapon gently, and made swift, expert work of freeing herself before rising and, as though the truck was a smooth path, walking to the trunk to collect her other weapons and arm herself.

  Feeling nauseous from the movement, and the banging in her skull, Arrow stayed where she was, opening her second sight a fraction to monitor the destroyer worms that inhabited the collars she and Kallish were wearing.

  “You do not look hale,” the warrior commented a moment later. Arrow opened her eyes to find the fully armed warrior kneeling in front of her, frowning.

  “Hit my head somewhere,” Arrow answered, realising her words were slightly slurred. The warrior’s frown deepened.

  “Headache? Nausea?”

  “Yes, and yes.”

  “Likely concussion,” Kallish concluded, still frowning. She reached into a pocket and produced a small pottery pot with a cork stopper. “Healing ointment,” she said, “apply it to your temples and fo
rehead. It should ease the symptoms.”

  “Thank you.” Arrow took the tub, feeling that something fundamental had moved in her world. She had never been offered aid so freely by the Erith, all care of her person grudgingly given. The White Guard’s healing ointment was legendary, used to ease everything from knife wounds to headaches. It was an almost unheard-of event for a member of the guard to share their personal supply, and certainly not with a half-breed mage.

  “I want some of this,” Arrow said a few minutes later, crawling to where the warrior was settled near the back of the truck. Whatever was in the thick paste, it had near miraculous properties. The pounding in her head was nearly gone, her sight clearer. She handed the pot back to the warrior. Kallish’s lips curved in what looked like a smile.

  “I will make enquiries on our return,” Kallish said, further astonishing Arrow. “Here, there is a small opening. The surroundings are visible.”

  The warrior sat back, and Arrow settled on her knees, bringing her face closer to the small gap. By the jarring of the suspension it was clear that, as Kallish had observed, this was not a very well-maintained vehicle. It appeared that the side panels had warped, allowing a sliver of a view to the outside.

  Through the small gap Arrow could see that it was late afternoon, and that they were far closer to Hallveran than she had thought.

  “We are almost at the city boundaries.”

  “The vehicle will need to stop somewhere in the city.”

  “Probably gang territory. The gang is large, perhaps two hundred or more. Humans with basic weapons training. Ruthless and organised. We will be outnumbered.”

  “And short on weapons,” the warrior concluded, face grim when Arrow turned to look. “Can you break the tyres?”

  “Break … Oh. Give them a flat tyre?” Arrow shook her head at once. “I would need to get the collar off first, which will take time.”

  “There appears to be explosive in the collars, also,” the warrior said, nose wrinkling, “old explosive.”

  “So, even without the worm, the collars will likely either kill us or explode if interfered with?” Arrow had to stop herself from reaching for her collar in a futile attempt to remove it.

  “That is so.”

  “We need to leave now,” Arrow said, trying not to think about what might happen if the collar exploded.

  Kallish agreed.

  Warrior and mage looked around their prison for a few moments before both pairs of eyes landed on the trunk then travelled to the back doors of the truck. Doors that appeared to be held shut by a single bolt, fastened on the outside.

  “That bolt is not thick,” Kallish speculated. “A few moments will weaken it.” Without waiting for Arrow’s agreement, she moved to the door and set one of her knives through the gap, sawing at the bolt. The metal was no match for an Erith blade. The bolt gave way. One of the doors flapped open, hitting the side of the truck with a resounding bang that made Arrow even more glad of the White Guard’s healing salve. Before the driver of the truck had time to react, she and Kallish each took an end of the now-empty trunk and heaved the thing out onto the road behind them. It hit the tarmac with a satisfying crunch. Moments after that they were thrown back into the truck as the brakes were slammed on, the truck jolting to a stop, brakes as badly maintained as the rest of the vehicle. As the engine died, loud swearing reached their ears. A human voice. Another one yelling orders.

  Mage and warrior flattened themselves against opposite sides of the truck at the open doors.

  After a moment the doors of the truck’s cabin opened, and boots struck tarmac. Kallish listened intently, head tilted, and after a moment held up four fingers. Arrow nodded, and held out her hands, palms up, showing them empty. The warrior drew one of her longer blades and slid it carefully across the floor of the truck.

  There was no more time for planning or preparation. Shadows appeared at the sides of the truck.

  Kallish leapt with silent grace onto the first human who appeared, blade flashing and making quick work of slitting the man’s throat before rolling, avoiding a wild punch from the second human, and rising up to sink her sword into the man’s chest.

  Arrow made a far less graceful jump from the truck onto a third man, seeing him reach for a weapon. Her body was still not quite working, and her attempt at stabbing the man resulted in her slapping him with the flat of the blade, drawing an outraged protest. He grabbed her arm, flinging her over his shoulder, and she hit the tarmac with a thump that knocked her breath out and damaged her ribs again. She did, however, hold onto the knife and slashed at the man as he came towards her, still fumbling in his jacket for a weapon. The knife sliced through the thick material of his trousers, blood following along with his outraged yell.

  Then Kallish was there and with another economic flick of her blade the man fell to the ground, life pouring out of him.

  Coughing as her breath came back, ribs shrieking protest, Arrow sat up to see that Kallish had killed all four men. The warrior was not even breathing hard, barely a hair out of place. Responding to the warrior’s gesture, Arrow handed back the knife with relief. Heat rose in her face at the raised eyebrow.

  “I was given no training in combat, svegraen. I am very glad of your skill.” And quite glad, too, that the warrior had done the killing, though she tried to hide that. She knew it was necessary. The gang would likely have killed them in a far slower, more painful manner. And yet, the weight of death pressed on her.

  “We should move,” Kallish answered, glancing around.

  The truck had come to a stop in one of the many deserted streets that littered Hallveran.

  “We are far from habitation, even in this city.” Arrow made it to her feet, trying not to wince too obviously as her ribs protested. She took a moment to get her bearings. “If we go further, perhaps two miles, we should find civilisation.”

  “You will not make two miles on foot just now. Can you drive this vehicle?”

  “I should be able to. What do you propose?”

  “A little confusion for our captors.” The warrior’s eyes lit with unexpected mischief. “Here, use some of this, and ensure you can operate the vehicle.” Arrow found the healing salve back in her hand and moved towards the truck’s cabin. Propped up against the cab she applied some of the salve to her side, wincing at the pain, glad she did not have an audience before she opened the driver’s door. Heaving herself into the driver’s seat made her vision waver, black spots floating across her sight.

  By the time she had worked out the truck’s controls, Kallish was settled in the passenger seat, sparkle still in her eyes. Arrow glanced out of the window and suppressed a gasp. The warrior had lined the dead men up along the side of the road, along with the trunk, human weapons laid at their feet. There was a rune drawn in blood on the pitted tarmac near the bodies. An Erith symbol of weakness. The gang might not know the language, but they would not miss the message. A deliberate taunt. One that would provoke the gang leader into rage.

  Arrow started the truck at the warrior’s sideways glance, thinking that it was a very good thing White Guard were bound by honour codes.

  “Can we avoid this gang’s territory?”

  “Easily. They have a large area at the other side of the city. If we take this truck as far as the nearest inhabited area and abandon it, it will take some time for the gang to find it if they ever do. It is not warded and I can detect no tracking device.”

  “Very well.” The warrior made a swift, thorough search of the cabin, not even wincing at the occasional crunch of gears as Arrow wrestled with unfamiliar controls. Arrow kept going until they were right at the edge of an inhabited area, finding what looked like an abandoned street. She stopped the vehicle in the middle of the street, turning off the engine but leaving the keys in the ignition.

  “Nothing useful,” the warrior summarised her search, showing Arrow a single piece of paper, “simply the registration details for the vehicle. A corporation.”

  “
Hal Very Inc. How imaginative.” Arrow shook her head, agreeing with Kallish.

  “Nothing to connect them to their overlord. And nothing on their bodies either. Not even a mobile phone.” The half-human words sounded strange from the warrior’s mouth, but Arrow appreciated how thorough the warrior had been in searching the truck and bodies.

  “A very careful overlord, then,” Arrow speculated, descending from the truck with a hiss as her ribs pinched. Despite the salve her entire side ached.

  “We should move.”

  “Yes.” Arrow straightened, proud when she did not wince. Judging by the frowning glance from Kallish, her attempt to appear normal had not worked.

  “We require resources,” Kallish noted, checking over her weapons as they began walking, slowly, towards the city’s centre.

  “The cadre at the vicandula?” Arrow suggested, hesitant. Etan nuin Sovernis had fallen in the encounter with the surjusi, and in gathering his soul stone she had loosed the seed for a vicandula, the Erith grave plant. A little piece of the Erith in the devastated city, now closely guarded. The cadre would not welcome her, but Kallish at least could seek refuge. The cadre would defend the vicandula to the death. There would be a mage stationed there, too, charged with setting protections for the plant.

  The warrior was silent for several moments. Arrow glanced across to see her frowning, normally expressionless face showing worry.

  “The gang would have no hesitation in attacking the vicandula,” Arrow said, guessing the warrior’s concern.

  “Lord Whintnath would not be happy if the vicandula was disturbed.”

  An understatement if ever Arrow had heard one. Grave plants were sacred to the Erith, a potent remembrance of their dead, and a warrior fallen in combat more so. An entire cadre and a mage to guard one plant would appear ridiculous to humans. Among the Erith it was the least they expected. Lord Whintnath, the head of the White Guard, would be beyond furious if the plant were damaged and had the entire White Guard to enforce his fury.