At the top of the stairs, Ticca threw the cargo doors open wide and dove out. Cold, salty air flowed in through the doorway as they ran out to the wide stone staging platform. Ticca was already climbing the final steps up to the famous docking platform for Damega’s long missing flying ship, the Emerald Heart, which was along the towering middle section of the Blue Dolphin Inn.
Nigan bolted around Lebuin, taking the final steps up in long strides before sliding to a stop beside Ticca, who was standing on the edge of the platform looking down at the area behind the inn. Lebuin jumped up the last two steps and stopped as his eyes adjusted to the bright moonlit night. The chilled air felt fresh on his face, and stars twinkled in the cloudless sky. The city rooftops looked like an alien landscape of peaks and troughs spreading out to the west a full story below the platform they stood on.
To the northeast, hundreds of ship masts swayed in unison like dark arrow shafts stuck into the chest of a giant. The great city docks were quiet, with only the soft creaking of the ships’ hulls. Everything seemed so peaceful that it was hard to believe a life-and-death fight was happening below their feet.
Ticca and Nigan ran over to a set of ropes coiled out of sight. With practiced motions, Ticca and Nigan tossed the rope coils over the edge, towards the back of the inn. Soft snaps came from two docking clamps that Lebuin realized anchored the ropes. Nigan put on his gloves and scrambled over the edge almost before the ropes had hit the ground.
From his position, hanging in the air, Nigan said, “The way to the stables is clear.”
Ticca slipped on her own gloves and spidered down the other rope, reaching the ground well before Nigan. She pulled her dagger and sword and moved cautiously to look around the edge of the building, towards the stables. She signaled that it was clear.
Lebuin went next, with Illa beside him all the way to the ground. Moments later, their whole team was there, crouched, weapons out, holding for Ticca’s signal. With a glance backwards, Ticca burst out running for the stables. Just before she got there, she dove, sliding on her stomach as an arrow from the building across the alley from the inn buried itself into the ground, barely missing her.
Epton peeked out and signaled that the attackers were on the second-story back corner window, directly across the alley from them. That was one of the many dockworker apartments for rent in the area. Epton and Ditani stepped out with bows drawn and released their own shafts. Lebuin leaned out and watched the arrows fly towards an open window, only to bounce off of a barrier.
They have a mage with them. Either Nhia-Samri or a renegade. Since they’re hunting us, I bet they’re Nhia-Samri. Either way, it’s my turn to step up.
Lebuin pulled at his connection to the magic collector artifact in the Guildhouse, letting the energy flow into and through his channels.
His mind created the necessary formulae to blend and twist the energies into a fiery blast, which he hurled at the same window.
In the bright light of his attack, he could see two people — a man dressed as a dockworker and a woman in a simple peasant skirt and a calico apron — inside the room. The man was preparing to shoot another arrow at Ticca.
Reacting instinctively, Lebuin reached out with a telekinetic incantation and held the arrow to the bow as the man tried to release the shaft. The sudden binding of his arrow caused the man to twitch, looking at his bow.
The unexpected action must have distracted the mage for a critical moment. Lebuin’s next bolt of energy exploded on the barrier, collapsing it, and the drapes in the window burst into flames. The woman recovered fast; ripping the drapes down, she threw them out the window and her hands twisted in a familiar gesture at Lebuin. Lebuin poured power into his shields, extending them just in time.
A white bolt slammed into his shields with a booming explosion. The concussion caused Lebuin to step backwards. The other Daggers, taking advantage of Lebuin’s cover fire, bolted for the stables, with only Illa and Nigan remaining behind, guarding his back.
Something at the base of the mage’s neck started to glow through her cotton blouse.
And that is a Nhia-Samri magic source!
“They’re Nhia-Samri!” Lebuin shouted to warn the team.
Ticca and the others were taking their horses out of the stables. Ticca had secured her pack to her horse, but she glanced at Lebuin, her eyes narrowing. Instead of mounting, she dropped the reins and ran towards the building, where the attackers were.
Lebuin’s heart raced. What is she doing? We need to escape!
The Nhia-Samri mage caused a powerful burst of lightning to rain down on his shields, making a dome of blinding light. Blinking to clear his vision, Lebuin twisted and combined powers together in a layered set of bursts. Hurling his attack at the mage, he ran for the stables. His gut was doing flips as he considered what Ticca might be doing.
The lightning continued to arc at him, cascading around his shields. He could feel them weakening and diverted some of his mind to twist more of his mana into an incantation that created a second layer of shields.
‘Warning: Energy levels low.’ The unexpected Argos energy collector’s voice made his heart skip a beat, and he struggled to maintain control of the shields. Worse, he almost missed a critical interlink for his attack incantation as he twisted the magic threads to release them. ‘Three thousand, four hundred sixty-three point two rellums remain. Current load is fifty-seven point seven two one four. Failure in fifty-nine point nine three seconds.’
Argos didn’t tell me the thing was going to talk to me, and what in Yur is a rellum? At least I understand that last part; I don’t have enough energy for this.
His blasts worked. The mage fell backwards, screaming in pain as the outer layer of Lebuin’s onslaught bore through her shields, and the inner core struck out, arcing between the mage’s arms. Her assault on Lebuin stopped, and Lebuin pinched off the threads to release the inner set of shields, conserving power.
Illa and Nigan joined him, running for the stables. The other Daggers were leading their horses out into the yard. As Lebuin reached his horse, the door of the attackers’ house smashed open, and two people rushed out. Ticca sprung at them from behind, cutting the head off one with her sword and stabbing the other with her dagger.
Lebuin felt dizzy and stared at the falling head, his mind failing to connect the level of strength and ruthlessness that one maneuver took with the athletic yet feminine figure of Ticca.
A third assailant emerged from the building, shocking Lebuin back into the present. “TICCA, BEHIND YOU!” Nigan and Lebuin called as one.
Ticca twisted and dodged, but not fast enough. The new attacker threw a knife that hit Ticca. Lebuin wasn’t sure where, but he heard the strike and Ticca’s grunt of pain.
Nigan and Illa mounted, spun their horses, and raced towards him. Ticca kicked the last man away, but she lost her footing on the loose gravel and fell. The man drew a pair of odassi, confirming once and for all that they were Nhia-Samri.
Lebuin kicked his horse, sweeping up Ticca’s reins as he maneuvered towards her.
Before he got there, Illa and Nigan had delivered a series of strikes from their mounts, killing the last attacker.
Her face contorted in pain, Ticca regained her feet and vaulted into her saddle, cradling one of her arms.
“RIDE!” she ordered.
Their group bolted into the largely deserted street and headed towards the western gate with Ticca in the lead, a knife hilt sticking out of her left shoulder. With a growing sense of dread, Lebuin watched the blood oozing down her back as he tried to keep up.
At the west gate, he expected to be assailed again by more Nhia-Samri, like the last time they left the city, but no one jumped from alleys to stop them. They rode out unhindered by the guards, who stood aside, mouths open, as the party galloped past. Ticca didn’t stop. The bloodst
ain on her back was now a dark patch, which glistened slightly in the moonlight. She continued deeper into the forest even after the town was far behind.
The team rode fast for half a mark and then slowed. Ticca was in the lead, with the rest of the team in a protective circle around Lebuin, Illa, and Ditani. Ticca rode steadily and set a speed that let her horse glide along smoothly through the night. Lebuin couldn’t see her face, and she moved carefully, protecting her shoulder with the knife in it. She’d already waved off Nigan’s offer to stop and tend to the wound, saying she wasn’t in danger of falling.
The pace and time allowed Lebuin to take a headcount; all were present except for Risy, Malla, Sabri, Persa, and Tuage, whom Lebuin finally had time to consider. I hardly knew him and yet he died protecting me. The night’s chill seemed appropriate. Lebuin looked at the dark figures around him. The few faces he could make out were tight-lipped, with eyes scanning for more danger. Should I say something? Not now, but I think I should when we camp.
Another half a mark passed; still they didn’t stop, taking small farming side roads seemingly at random. On the fifth turn a party of riders raced from a different side road towards them, and Ticca motioned for them to turn off into the woods. The team didn’t speed up.
Lebuin’s heart pounded in his throat as the pursuing riders started quickly overtaking them. The bright moonlight clearly glistened off fresh bloodstains on their clothes. He relaxed slightly noting that the rest of the team could not possibly miss them and hadn’t drawn weapons. The pursuers, horses panting and steaming, thudded up as Nigan held out his hand and exchanged a palm strike with one of them.
Lebuin felt a rush of joy as he realized the other riders were actually Risy, Malla, Sabri, and Persa. All of them looked tired with various cuts in their clothing. Risy nodded and smiled at Lebuin as the rest took up their stations in the protective circle.
They rode on for two marks more through the woods. Lebuin’s legs and thighs were burning and he felt heavily abused. All the adrenaline had worn off long ago; only determination not to fail Ticca kept him moving.
Lebuin frowned as Ticca’s wound oozed more in the rough terrain. He considered calling for her to stop when he spotted she was wobbling in her saddle, but she held on until they came to a small glade. Ticca nodded at a couple of trees as if agreeing with something and then signaled to stop with her good arm.
I wonder what makes this place better than any of the other glades we passed through?
Staring at one particular tree, Ticca smiled as if someone had made a joke. Then her eyes rolled up, and she slumped in her saddle. Lebuin and Ditani leapt from their horses to catch Ticca as she slipped so far to the side that Lebuin was sure she was going to fall on her head.
The group dismounted just as fast, with most of the team taking up defensive positions, while others started striking a cold camp. Lebuin helped Ditani lift Ticca off her saddle.
It took more effort than expected, because during the flight she’d tied herself onto the saddle. Once they got the strong leather straps undone, they carried her to a clear spot.
Ticca stiffened momentarily as her eyes fluttered open. “You know, it’d be nice to just leave Llino quietly for a change,” she mumbled.
Lebuin and Ditani stumbled as she went limp, but they kept a firm grip on her. Lebuin’s heart sank, his stomach quivering. Without even the slightest resistance, she was just loose meat and bone. She was so cold. As they lowered her to the ground, Lebuin used his mage sight to confirm her heart was still beating.
With a sigh of relief, they finish laying Ticca out and Lebuin knelt next to her, checking her vitals as best he could. She was still breathing weakly, and although she’d lost a lot of blood she seemed otherwise in reasonably good condition. Malla, their medic, dropped next to Ticca with her stuffed field bag. She held a stitching kit.
Lebuin started to get up, but then thought better of it.
If I’m to live in this world, I must learn the skills needed to save those I’m to protect.
He felt himself going lightheaded, looking at the bloody knife sticking out of Ticca’s shoulder. There was far more blood soaked into her clothes than he’d thought. Forcing his stomach to remain calm, he watched Malla as closely as possible, trying to remember every move she made and every comment she let drop.
Dohma
Stifling a yawn, Dohma sat in the padded, purple velvet chair behind a shallow, but wide, desk. A golden plaque which read, ‘Chief Regent Dohma Gerani-Uriosal, Kingdom of Aelargo,’ was affixed to the front.
He checked the room to see how many had returned from the short break. Chief Queen Paha of the dwarves came in with Lady Saba-Arrur, the elven queen. The two of them were engrossed in a conversation that had both of them gesturing and making chopping motions.
Across from Dohma, King Brinus Laeusia of Laeusia was napping in his chair. Meanwhile, Princess Sheila, Brinus’s eldest daughter and the heir apparent for Laeusia, was still trying to get King Deorgra Yalthum to agree to something that had Deorgra looking down and rubbing his temples while his daughter, Jawayi, was trying not to laugh.
The other representatives or rulers of the countries that made up the realms of the Covenant of Duianna were making their way to their desks to continue the debate on ratifying Duke’s motion to declare war on the Nhia-Samri.
The assembly was in its second week of debate. All the evidence had been laid before the rulers of the nine nations of the Duianna Alliance. Yet Duke had not called for a vote, even going so far as to block anyone else from doing so.
We’ve been at this all day. I believe it’s time to move to recess for the night. That we spent another day discussing this topic is beyond belief. The deeds are clear to all.
Orahda, Dohma’s weapons master turned adviser/bodyguard, disguised as a Dagger guard, stood behind Dohma, watching everyone in the room as if he was an enemy about to strike. A number of delegates had commented on it, but Orahda refused to stop, saying that someone had to be a Nhia-Samri informant. Given Orahda’s past with the Nhia-Samri, Dohma was inclined to let Orahda do as he pleased.
Due to the nature of the meetings and the fact the Nhia-Samri had managed to install magical gates into the halls of the assembly, all of the attendees and attendants had been checked out to a level that included magical mind probing by the most senior mages available. Still, Orahda didn’t trust anyone he didn’t know personally.
“Duke set the hands in motion and named the timing. Why does he now block action?” Dohma asked Orahda.
Orahda had personally trained and mentored Dohma, and in those twenty years of training, Dohma had come to respect his opinion and insights. Orahda was more than just the weapons master of Aelargo; in truth, he was a second father to Dohma.
“Though he hid it well, Duke was surprised when we informed him of the Nhia-Samri mage-gates into the cities and these chambers.”
Dohma considered that thought. Pointed out, Duke’s surprise was clear. “You believe his plans changed with that revelation. If so, why does he not reveal to us his intentions? Surely, we’re to be trusted in his plans. You’ve no doubt noticed he disappears every evening, returning to these chambers earlier than anyone else.”
Orahda pulled a set of papers out of his shoulder pouch and put them on the desk. Bending down, Dohma saw that it was a copy of a guard’s log for the last week. There were a number of underlined entries. Every evening there was an entry around 21:00, showing Duke exiting. Every morning there was the same entry: ‘02:30 Admitted Duke Rolly Duke Bensure’ with no other activity until around 06:00 when various staff members started arriving and leaving.
“What’s this?”
“I made a copy of the access log for this chamber.”
“To what end should Duke take his rest in this chamber? Do you have knowledge of what he’s doing during the hours of
his absence?”
Orahda put the log back into his pouch. “I don’t know. I’ve checked, and there’s no other log of his movements anywhere in the palace grounds. He disappears entirely for that time.”
“Clearly he’s working to an end. We must endeavor to discover the new plan. His delays at allowing the declaration of war are likely to the detriment of the Nhia-Samri.”
“He has brought in significant numbers of Daggers. I tell you now; they are not enough against the might of Hisuru Amajoo if Shar-Lumen decides to attack in force.”
Dohma knew Orahda was right. If anyone knew what the Nhia-Samri were capable of, it was the man who had once been their second-in-command. Orahda had defected from them just over forty years ago, at the end of the Burning Bridge War. He had provided the information that exposed the Nhia-Samri’s secret involvement in fanning the flames of that war on both sides in an attempt to break the back of the Duianna Alliance of Realms.
Since then, Orahda had hidden from the extraordinary efforts of the Nhia-Samri to find and kill him for his treachery. Orahda had sworn allegiance to Aelargo and had acted as their weapons master, training the Llino city guard. It was because of his preparations that Duke was able to restore Dohma’s family rightful rule of Aelargo.
“Maybe Duke is seeking to use the ancient powers here. This is the ancient capital of the Duianna Empire, built over 15,000 years prior by our ancestors, with such power and knowledge we’re but children in comparison.”
Orahda shook his head. “No, if that was true he would need to have permission of the assembly to revoke an ancient ruling. You would’ve been consulted if he wanted a secret vote.”
Dohma again recalled Orahda was more than any here knew. Orahda had promised on their return to Aelargo to reveal many truths of his past in the security of his specially protected quarters.
Thread Skein (Golden Threads Trilogy Book 3) Page 3