Revealed: The Taellaneth - Book 2

by Vanessa Nelson

  Settling the new satchel over her shoulder she fiddled with it, trying to settle it comfortably. It did not quite fit yet. She wrinkled her nose. Her clothes smelled. The stink of burning rubber and the aftermath of weapons fire warred with the cleaner scent of healing salve and whatever herbs Thomas had used to treat his bandages, the binding around her ribs not strictly necessary now. She needed new clothes. And some rest. And probably food. The dull flare of temper settled a moment. Definitely food.

  Course of action decided, she set off towards the gates, Orlis falling into step beside her. He had been subdued for much of the afternoon which made her suspicious. She had a sense that he was normally as vibrant as his hair.

  “We cannot leave yet,” he said, keeping pace with her with long, easy strides.

  “Why not?”

  “The Preceptor requires a cadre to go with you.”

  “I prefer to work alone,” Arrow snapped back, temper fraying, forgetting for a moment that she had been delighted at the prospect of a cadre earlier in the day.

  “It would be prudent to have White Guard.” Orlis sounded genuinely puzzled, forehead creased.

  “Then by all means, please fetch them.” Arrow waved a hand towards the White Guard barracks, hidden from view among trees, but did not pause in her headlong pace towards the main gates.

  “And we need transport,” Orlis pointed out.

  A sensible point, Arrow conceded in the privacy of her own mind, but kept going. The fury that she had suppressed had soared again. She needed to be away. Out of sight of the Erith. Away from the manipulation. Away from the changes. On the trail of her quarry.

  “I need to call the ‘kin anyway,” she told Orlis, succeeding in shocking him and finally out-pacing him. She did not look to see where he had gone, continuing to the main gate, and being let out of the Taellaneth with alacrity, the sentry as happy to see her go as she was to leave. The new satchel was an awkward weight across her shoulders, pressing the spirit sword’s scabbard into her spine, but she did not check in her pace, stomping along the road towards the administrative office.

  The wide-open grassland that stretched as a visible boundary between the Erith and the humans was cast with shadows, telling her it was much later than she had thought. She had lost much of the day in the Archives.

  In the far distance she could see the gleam of vehicles approaching along the single road from Lix and cast her senses out. Shifkin. A thrum of anticipation ran through her. The ‘kin were here. Possibly looking for her, which suggested they may have found something.

  Slowing her pace slightly, muscles protesting the effort, she kept walking.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Silver flashed. Perimeter ward. New magic, not tested. Impact, brutal and silent, slammed her backwards. Off her feet. Hard surface. Breath gone. Personal wards flaring, world coated in silver.

  Scrabbling for breath, calling power, coughing.

  Breathe.

  Think.

  Hit by something too fast for her wards to stop. Deflected by the new perimeter ward. Shoulder icy.

  Shot. Long range.

  Long range meant still threatened.

  More power to wards. Move.

  Silver lightning cascaded around her as a series of hard, sharp strikes tried to break her wards. But she was a war mage and holding a battle ward was a long-ago learned skill.

  She knelt on the road, making herself as small a target as possible, breath rapid and sore, sending her senses out. Shifkin, vehicles moving slightly faster. A group of Erith behind her, moving fast. Nothing else.

  “Mage! Are you hurt?” The urgency in the tone drew her attention.

  “I do not think so.” The better part of her attention was elsewhere. Something had attacked her. All her uneven temper vanished into a single focus. Finally, something that was familiar.

  “You have been shot.” Orlis’ voice was trembling.

  “Long range,” she observed. There was nothing else within reach of her senses.

  “Svegraen, reinforcements. Now. Archers ready. Battle wards.” That was Kallish’s voice, flat and urgent, a series of orders issuing without pause. Arrow stopped listening until she was addressed directly. “Mage, you are bleeding.”

  “I am?” Arrow did not take her attention from her surroundings. Where was her attacker? And why was her vision blurring?

  “Yes. Drop the ward so we can assist.”

  The familiar sheen of Erith battle wards rose around her, reassuring, impenetrable. Holding her own ward was a drain of energy. Not needed now. Arrow dropped her own wards, sitting back on her heels. At least, she intended to sit back on her heels. In fact, she ended up sitting abruptly on the road surface, cold and unyielding under her.

  “Arrow.” Orlis’ voice was too close. How had he got so close?

  “Orlis.” She turned her head, the world spinning a moment before his face came into focus. Unfamiliar. Not threatening.

  “You have been shot.”

  “So you said.”

  “Can I take your coat off? I need to see.”

  “Very well.” She held in a sigh. Getting the coat off seemed a huge effort. One arm was not working. The satchel slid to the ground and she struggled to get the cursed coat off, heavy armour and her useless arm making it difficult.

  “Stay still, let me,” Orlis suggested and she let him get the coat off the rest of the way, shivering as cold bit through her human clothing. A further chill at the shoulder of her useless arm. “A flesh wound only. It is bleeding badly.”

  “Arrow?” A familiar voice out of context. She looked up, beyond Kallish’s scowl, and saw Matthias Farraway, accompanied by a pair of ‘kin, standing at the edge of the Erith wards. Beyond him were a pair of armoured schifkin vehicles, engines still running.

  “Matthias Farraway.” She started to gather herself to stand, held down by Orlis’ hand on her other shoulder.

  “There is a long-range shooter out here,” Xeveran, the leader of the second third, was saying in low, urgent tones, drawing Matthias and the other ‘kin within the battle ward.

  “Direction?” Matthias asked.

  “Somewhere that way.” Arrow pointed. “Quite some distance. A half mile or more. I could not sense anything.”

  A mass of movement behind her made her want to stand up again, held down again by Orlis. A glint of something on the road surface caught her eye and she picked it up. A long, elegant bullet like none she had ever seen before.

  “Armour piercing round,” Matthias’ voice was grim as he crouched beside her, “and a long-range shot. Someone wanted to kill you, Arrow.”

  “They did not.”

  “Not for trying. There’s what, five rounds here?”

  “Six.” Kallish was equally grim, Xeveran translating between ‘kin and Erith.

  “People try to kill me all the time,” Arrow said, dismissing the concern, hearing a slur in her words. There was no pain, though, and she glanced at her shoulder, wondering what was happening, seeing the fierce amber glow of Erith magic.

  “I have healed the wound, but you will need to rest and eat,” Orlis told her, pale under his freckles, energy depleted but not drained from magic use. A powerful magic user in his own right, even if, having failed to complete his studies, all he could claim was the general title of journeyman. His eyes were gleaming again, though. “Is life always this exciting around you, Arrow?”

  “Often,” Kallish said dryly.

  “I did not ask to get shot,” Arrow protested. She was ignored.

  “We can help with the hunt,” Matthias offered direct to Kallish.

  “That would be welcome.”

  Arrow blinked, looking around and finding that the mass of movement she had sensed had been at least two other full cadre of White Guard arriving, ready for battle. They were spread out around Kallish’s cadre. Even as she noticed the new warriors, Kallish and the other two cadre leaders were drawing aside into a rapid-fire, low-voiced conversation, just out of her earshot,
Matthias and Xeveran close by.

  “I need new clothes.” She let out a breath, irritated. She might be able to get the blood out but had no skill to repair the bullet hole.

  “I would say so, yes,” Orlis agreed, nose wrinkling. “We are going into the human world, yes? Do they regard dirt and blood as fashion?”

  “Not really.” Arrow moved her shoulder, wincing a little as the newly-healed muscle twinged. “Excellent work,” she complemented Orlis. The best healing she had ever had from any Erith and done without resentment. He flushed lightly, ducked his head, and then grinned.

  “I have had to get good at field medicine. Unfortunately, Gilean also likes to rush into situations without scouting ahead.”

  Arrow thought she had been insulted, in the friendliest tone possible, and was trying to puzzle that out when Matthias came back across.

  “Arrow, we’re going to help the Erith track the shooter. Will you wait in the car? I was coming to find you.”

  “What has happened?” Her neck was sore from looking up at him, so she gathered herself and stood up, wobbling a moment.

  “We’ve found what we think might be more taint. Near the muster house.” His face was grim. “We’ve evacuated the muster, but we’d like you to check it out.”

  “Of course.”

  “Tomorrow,” Kallish said firmly.

  Arrow made a face. Tomorrow would be better, even though she did not want to lose more time.

  “Tomorrow,” Matthias agreed easily. “We’ve got a watch on the property. Oh, and Pa wanted me to set you up with somewhere to stay. Con has the details. In the car.” He pointed. The vehicle was heavily armoured.

  “Very well. Thank you.” She bent, slowly, and picked up her satchel. Orlis took the armoured coat, poking a finger through the hole in the shoulder, finger coming away sticky with blood.

  “What sort of projectile was that?” he asked. Erith armour could stop most normal weapons. She shivered lightly. Between her wards, which had reacted quickly enough to deflect the bullet, and the coat’s protection, she was still alive. Unwarded, she would be dead.

  “An armour piercing round,” Arrow told him, finding the final third of Kallish’s cadre surrounding her as she walked, slowly, to the nearest ‘kin vehicle. Orlis’ lips moved, framing the unfamiliar term. He settled beside Arrow in the back of the vehicle, wide eyes trying to take in everything at once. It occurred to Arrow that for all he had travelled in the Erith lands, he might not have been to the human lands before. Or seen any ‘kin up close.

  “Do all humans have such vehicles?”

  “This is a shifkin vehicle, though most likely made by humans. And no, very few humans have such things.” Arrow exchanged brief nods and a greeting with the ‘kin in the driver’s seat.

  “Matt wanted me to give you this.” Con passed a thick envelope back to her. “We’ll give you a lift if you like.”

  “That is most kind. Thank you.” She wondered if she should apologise for her smell, surely worse in a closed vehicle and with the ‘kin’s sharper senses. He did not seem disturbed, so she did not say anything.

  Con lapsed into silence, attention outside the vehicle where Erith and ‘kin were tracking across Erith land, seeking a shooter who had used human weaponry. On Erith lands. The Erith would not be happy.

  A shooter who had tried to kill her. She should probably feel annoyed about that. If she had not adjusted her wards after the tranquiliser darts in Lix to provide an outer perimeter, an extra trigger for her defensive wards, she would be dead. The bullet had been travelling too fast for her to react to, even if she had sensed it.

  At the moment she was relieved to be alive, shivering slightly, hands trembling as she opened the envelope, seeking distraction in sifting through the contents. A lease for a property at an address she did not recognise in Lix. Keys, for the property, she assumed. Bank card and account details. With a balance that made her eyebrows lift. And a small white card encased in plastic, showing the ‘kin nation’s official seal and proclaiming that Arrow was acting on behalf of the shifkin nation. Identification that would give her a status among humans and ‘kin.

  She held the card in her hands for long moments, swallowing hard, eyes prickling, the balance of her world utterly gone. Claimed by the shifkin nation. Supplied with a roof, and funds. Expected to work, but no more than anyone else among the ‘kin. Her thumb stroked across the black letters.

  Her eyes were hot. Stupid eyes. Fingers trembling. Stupid hands. The small piece of card was stupidly unsettling. A legal status. Something she had never had before. Status in her own right. Vouched for by the ‘kin. An unnecessary item but one that touched something in her, the part of her that had never belonged.

  “They have not found anything.” Orlis’ voice cut through her musing.

  “I did not expect it.” She tucked the envelope and its precious contents into her satchel. He was staring out the window, watching the warriors approach, light catching the bright highlights in his hair. Hair no Erith would possess. She opened her mouth, curiosity rising, and clamped her jaw shut. She hated questions about her heritage and it seemed rude to pry.

  “No one told you there were mixed race people in the heartland, did they?” Orlis was speaking Erith, voice quiet. He was also still staring out the window.

  Arrow’s chest compressed with old hurt and a sting of betrayal. Not only had no one told her, those who had cursed her impure bloodlines had vehemently denied such a thing was possible.

  Orlis seemed to read more into her silence than she would have managed as he turned and gave her a direct, serious look, at odds with his normal vibrancy.

  “There are not many of us, but we exist. Even in the Palace. Some wondered why you never came to find us. Now we know.” His mouth curved into a smile, normal humour returning. “You will find a lot of curious people in the heartland.”

  Arrow returned the smile, as it was almost impossible to resist Orlis’ energy, but shook her head, too. She could not imagine a circumstance where she would be permitted into the heartland, no matter what may be true for others. Seggerat had made that abundantly clear, more than once. She wanted to see the heartland, with a far keener wish than any desire to travel in the human world, but it was closed to her.

  Orlis’ attention had already left her. He got out of the vehicle to greet Kallish and Matthias as they approached. Arrow stayed where she was, exhaustion pinning her to her seat. She lowered the window so that she could hear.

  “Disguised his scent,” Matthias said in disgust.

  “No trace of him,” Kallish confirmed, equally disgusted. “I must report to Lord Whintnath.” The warrior glared at Arrow. “You should come with me.”

  “I am exiled, remember?” And too tired for manners. Orlis’ eyes widened again. Clearly Evellan had missed that particular piece of information.

  “Then you should wait here.”

  “Svegraen,” Arrow managed to lean forward and found some manners, “thank you for your attention. You know that it could be hours before Lord Whintnath is satisfied. I know nothing more about this incident.”

  “No idea who might want to harm you?” the warrior asked.

  Arrow sighed, closing her eyes a moment, holding back a laugh that might not have been a laugh.

  “Too many people, svegraen. Many among the Erith. But none I can think of who would use long-range human weaponry.”

  Kallish’s mouth tightened, irritated.

  “I must investigate this suspected taint as soon as possible,” Arrow added.

  From her expression, Kallish was not happy, but understood the necessity.

  “We’ll look after her,” Matthias offered. Arrow thought she should have been annoyed at being discussed as though she were not there and being passed about as an unwanted parcel. Body weighted with exhaustion, she had no energy to care.

  “We will meet at the muster house at first light tomorrow, then,” Kallish said, face tight.

  “I’ll have someone
meet you there to guide you,” Matthias confirmed with a nod, getting into the front passenger seat. “Good hunting, svegraen.” The Erith term took the warrior by surprise, his accent tolerable.

  “Good hunting,” Kallish returned, expression lifting into what might have been a smile.

  Before Arrow knew quite what was happening, they were driving back towards Lix leaving the Erith behind. She fumbled with the window control, getting it to lift and cut out the cold.

  “I am very sorry for the trouble,” she said softly. And, now that she was free of them, sorry for her bad mood with Kallish, her cadre, and Orlis.

  “Not much trouble for us,” Matthias said, turning to her, showing her a faint smile. “The shooter was on Erith land, after all. That’s going to annoy them.”

  “Indeed.”

  There was silence for a few moments.

  “Where’s your luggage, Arrow?”

  “Luggage?”

  “You said you were exiled. Where have you left your stuff?”

  “Oh. I have a bag at a hotel. Messenger bag.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Exile,” she answered, lips twisting.

  “Looks like you need some new clothes. I’ll ask Tamara what she can arrange.”

  “Thank you.” Arrow rested her head back and half-listened as Matthias called his mate. The easy warmth in his voice brought another lump to her throat. Matthias was not gentle or easy with anyone apart from Tamara. And Tamara was easy and gentle with everyone unless they crossed her mate. They were an excellent pairing.

  ˜

  The journey through Lix passed in a blur until the vehicle drew to a halt in front of a building that had, Arrow thought, been an artisan’s home at some point. The single structure had what looked like a workshop to one side, and a residence to the other. The building was set back from the road in a mostly residential street, mature trees providing screening from neighbours and passers-by. It was fully dark, well into the night hours, details picked out in the uncertain light from street lamps.