War of Shadows: Book Three of the Ascendant Kingdoms Saga

by Gail Z. Martin

  The prisoner licked his lips. “They caught him spying outside Torsford and took him to Vigus Quintrel. Quintrel figured out he was your brother, and offered him a deal. He refused.”

  “How did he die?” Blaine asked in a dangerously quiet voice.

  The talishte licked his lips, a gesture from his mortal days. “Quintrel wanted information. The spy wouldn’t give it to him, so Quintrel used magic to take what he wanted. Quintrel gave him time to reconsider and tell him everything, or a talishte would read the rest from his blood.”

  “Carr knew what would happen if a talishte read his blood,” Niklas said. “He’d seen it happen to the spies we caught. And if he was able to withhold anything of value from Quintrel’s magic, all his secrets would be in the blood. So he made that impossible.”

  “What do you want us to do with the prisoner?” Geir asked.

  Blaine drew a ragged breath. He could think of a long list of things that he wanted to do to avenge Carr, but none of them would change anything. The room was silent, awaiting his decision.

  “Can you read another talishte? If so, read him, then execute him. If not, go ahead and kill him,” Blaine said tonelessly. “Just get him out of my sight.”

  Geir nodded, then pulled the prisoner to his feet, and the soldiers escorted them out. Blaine swallowed hard, trying to pull himself together.

  Kestel moved beside him. “It means that, in the end, he didn’t betray you,” she said. “He chose his fate so he couldn’t be turned by one of Quintrel’s talishte, or used as a bargaining chip.”

  Judith dried her tears on her sleeve and stood, once more calm and controlled. “We’ll take care of him,” she said with a catch in her voice. Mari left Dawe’s side and slipped up to take Judith’s hand.

  “There’s room out by the oak to bury him with the rest of the family,” Judith added. “Near where your mother is buried.”

  “The ground is still frozen,” Mari protested.

  “Geir and I can take care of it,” Niklas replied. “That’s not a problem.”

  Blaine nodded, not trusting himself to speak. So many emotions warred inside him. Grief, for what was lost. Anger, at Carr’s headstrong recklessness. Rage, over Quintrel’s cruelty. He settled on rage, since it was the most productive.

  “Quintrel brought him here to goad us into war,” Blaine said finally. “I won’t let Quintrel push us into fighting before we’re ready. But when the time comes…” He did not have to finish his sentence. He saw the same hunger for vengeance in their eyes that he knew they saw in his. “When the time comes,” he repeated quietly, “Quintrel belongs to me.”

  After sunset the next day, Blaine led a solemn procession to the burying ground by the large oak. Ian McFadden’s grave was on the far right, set apart. Judith had seen to Ian’s burial after Blaine’s imprisonment, and the distance between the elder McFadden’s grave and those of the rest of the family was a measure of her scorn.

  The new grave was on the left, near the lonely stone that marked Blaine’s mother’s grave. Blaine’s grandparents were buried here, and his ancestors long past, back to the first McFaddens who built Glenreith. Behind the McFadden graves were the modest resting places of the servants, some of whose families had served at Glenreith for generations.

  Geir and Niklas had made good on their word. Despite the frozen soil, they had dug a proper grave. Judith and Mari had bathed Carr’s body, dressed him, and wrapped him in a shroud. Edward and Dawe saw to a coffin, a rough pine box.

  Blaine, Niklas, Piran, Dawe, Geir, and Edward shouldered the coffin. Kestel, Judith, and Mari followed them, then Rikard and Leiv, and most of Glenreith’s servants, along with a contingent of guards for protection. Judith took the role of Wise Woman, the elder who spoke the final blessing over the dead and consigned the body to rest in the Sea of Souls.

  Blaine watched the simple ceremony, numb with shock and loss. Even rage seemed insufficient. As much as he desired Quintrel’s death, Blaine knew from experience that it would not make anything right. He took his turn with the other pallbearers shoveling dirt into the grave, listening to the sound of the clods striking the wooden box, the most final sound in the world. When the grave was filled, Blaine and the men hefted stones to make a cairn. Judith, Kestel, and Mari set out candles, food, and wine as an offering to Esthrane and Torven, the gods who controlled the Sea of Souls and the Unseen Realm.

  Blaine paused for a moment as the others headed back to the manor, watching the candles flicker in the wind. Kestel slipped her arm through his. “Come back to the house,” she urged. “There’s nothing more you can do here.”

  Blaine nodded. “I know.”

  Kestel looked up at him earnestly. “Mick, this is not your fault.”

  Blaine sighed. “Sometimes I think that when I killed Father, it was like I pushed a big boulder off the top of a mountain, and it tumbles faster and faster, destroying everything in its path.”

  Kestel gave him a level look. “You didn’t start the war with Meroven. You didn’t cause the Great Fire, or the Cataclysm. And if you hadn’t been exiled, you’d have died with the others, and there’s no telling when—or if—the magic could have been restored.”

  Blaine shook his head. “No, I’ll grant you that. But it’s caused no end of misery for my family, when all I wanted was to stop their pain.” He gestured toward Carr’s grave. “I thought I was saving Carr and Mari. I didn’t.”

  Kestel pulled him around to face her. “For the gods’ sake, Mick! Mari’s done well for herself. She has a fine son, and she’s made a good match with Dawe. Carr chose his path, and for all we know, perhaps he took more after your father’s temperament than you—or Judith—want to admit. I don’t know whether he was taking crazy chances to prove himself, or whether he was looking to get killed, but in the end, he didn’t betray you. He made his choice. He did exactly what you did when you killed Ian, except you got lucky and he didn’t. Let him rest, Mick. There’s work to do.”

  Blaine stared at the cairn a moment longer, then nodded and turned, taking Kestel’s hand for the walk back to the manor. He noticed that two of Niklas’s guards waited a discreet distance away, and trailed them as they headed down the path.

  They found Verran, Borya, and Desya waiting in the great room, along with the other members of their minstrel-spy team.

  “We just got in, Mick,” Verran said, his face still ruddy from the cold. “Dawe told us what happened. I’m so sorry.”

  Blaine nodded curtly. “Thank you.” He frowned, and glanced at the group. “You’re back sooner than you expected. Problems?” By his count, no one was missing.

  Kestel hugged Verran in greeting. “Have you eaten? Everyone’s been rather distracted. Let me go see what I can find.” She bustled off to rouse the servants.

  Verran returned his attention to Blaine. “Forces are moving. Everything we’ve seen says both Lysander and Rostivan have their armies headed north.”

  Blaine nodded. “Zaryae predicted the same. Niklas is rallying the troops, and Voss has men on the way. Geir sent talishte messengers to the Solveigs and Verner’s son.”

  “Good,” Verran nodded. “Because all the conversation we’ve heard says this is the deciding battle.”

  “Folville sent a runner last night,” Niklas said, walking up behind them. “With all that was going on, I didn’t say anything. There’ve been Tingur attacks in the city, but Folville’s men and our guards have handled it. Then all of a sudden, about three days ago, the Tingur disappeared. Folville thinks Lysander plans to use them in a battle elsewhere.”

  Blaine swore. “Lovely. But at least we know in advance.”

  “It gets worse,” Borya added. “We’ve heard tell that the Tingur have found a way to use magic to bind the magicked monsters to their bidding. They capture the beasts and keep them contained, then loose them on their enemies.” Borya had lost a cousin to the powerful talons of a gryp, a leather-winged predator spawned by one of the wild-magic storms.

  “Just what
we need,” Niklas muttered.

  “There’ve been more Tingur problems in the countryside,” Verran said. “It’s gotten pretty bloody. Some of the villages have run them out of town, and there’s been talk that the Tingur hanged some villagers in revenge. We made sure to spread the word that the Tingur support Lysander.”

  “That might explain why we’ve had a large number of new recruits in the last few weeks,” Niklas said. “I blamed it on hungry bellies.” It was the point in the spring when the food put by for the winter was growing scarce, and new crops were long in the future. “But maybe the Tingur annoyed enough folks they decided to join up with us.”

  “Right about now, I’ll take good news wherever I can find it,” Blaine said. He looked to Verran as Kestel beckoned from the hallway for the newcomers to come and eat. “Go get some food. We’ll find places for everyone to stay. Enjoy it while it lasts; we’ll be heading out to battle in a couple of days.”

  Later that evening, Rikard approached Blaine, Kestel, and Niklas in the parlor.

  “We believe we’ve worked out a solution to your magic problem,” Rikard said. “Well, not a full solution—that won’t happen until you can alter the anchoring. But a way to help you make it through the next battle without the magic taking as much of a toll. And this time, there’s no one working against us.”

  Kestel gave him a narrowed glance. “How sure are you?”

  Rikard chuckled, expecting her reaction. “Leiv, Zaryae, Nemus, and I have all attempted use of the item, with no ill effects. And after what happened the last time, I have the pendant in my pocket. I’m not going to let it out of my sight.”

  Blaine and Niklas exchanged a look, and then Blaine rose. “All right. Show me.”

  “Those artifacts Penhallow secured in the crypts under the castle have proven their worth,” Rikard said as Blaine and the others followed him to the mage’s workroom. “It just took a little digging.”

  Zaryae and Leiv were waiting for them. Nemus stayed behind in the workroom. Artan had died of his injuries, and with Lowrey’s treachery, only the four were left. Zaryae looked at Blaine with concern as he entered.

  “The magic makes your dreams restless,” she said, scanning him with her gift.

  Blaine hesitated, then nodded. “It’s getting worse.”

  “One more way it drains you,” Zaryae agreed. “Your tether to the magic never sleeps. At first, your mind could hide that from you. But as time goes on, it wears you down.” She gave a sad smile. “Like a cistern with a leak. Only a little water leaves at a time, but soon enough, the whole well empties.”

  “Show us what you’ve found,” Kestel said. “The sooner we can decide the battle, the sooner Mick can go to Mirdalur and stop the ‘leak.’ ”

  “We can’t use a traditional null charm for Lord McFadden because of the effect it might have on anchoring the magic, and on his battle magic,” Rikard said. “Unfortunately, Lowrey destroyed the only dampening charm we’d found when he corrupted it,” he added with a grimace.

  “We went through the bags of artifacts that were brought up from the crypt. Dagur left most of them here, since he only wanted the ones that might affect making a new anchor.” He gave a crafty smile. “And we got lucky.”

  Rikard held up a round agate circle on a braided leather-and-twine cord. “I know it doesn’t look like much. Magically, it doesn’t feel like much either, until you realize that the magic sort of ‘slides off’ the charm like rain on slate.”

  “We thought it deflected magic,” Leiv said, with more enthusiasm than Blaine had seen the quiet mage show over anything. “But that’s not the only thing it does. Watch.”

  Rikard slipped the amulet’s cord over his own head, and gave Leiv a nod. Leiv stood back, then raised his hands and sent a streak of light toward Rikard’s chest. It flashed against the amulet and returned to Leiv, stinging him in the shoulder. Leiv shook his arm and rubbed his skin where the light hit, but he was grinning widely.

  “Of course, I didn’t use anything like the energy that got bounced around the last time,” Leiv said. “Didn’t want to hurt anyone. But you see what happens—magic slides off and then bounces back to the sender. Handy, don’t you think?”

  “If Blaine insists on going to the battlefield—” Zaryae began.

  “I do,” Blaine interrupted.

  Zaryae nodded in acknowledgment. “Then we’ve got to keep the magic from wearing you down, and I think this is our best bet.” She gave a dangerous smile. “Of course, Rikard and the rest of us will be going with you, and we’ll be focused on taking out the other mages.”

  “General Theilsson was good enough to spare a messenger for us to summon our fellow mages from the Citadel,” Rikard said. “They’ll join us for the battle as well. We expect them here tomorrow, and we’ll work out our strategy then. But our goal will be to strike hard and fast at the mages with Rostivan and Lysander to put them out of the battle first.”

  Which might include Carensa, Blaine thought with a pang. Sweet Esthrane, I hope Quintrel’s not mad enough to send her into battle.

  “Let’s try out what you’ve got,” Blaine said.

  Rikard took the amulet from around his own neck and draped it over Blaine’s head. Blaine settled it onto his chest so that it hung nearly at heart level. Kestel, Niklas, and the other mages remained on the other side of the wardings.

  “First, we’ll see if the charm works the same for you as it did for the rest of us,” Rikard said. He gave a nervous glance at Kestel and Niklas. “I assure you, the strike I send will sting but do no worse damage.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Remember, if it bounces back, it hits me.”

  “Send it,” Blaine said, taking a deep breath to steel himself. Rikard raised his hand, and a brilliant flare of light arced from his palm. It crackled toward Blaine, sliding aside at the last minute and sizzling back toward Rikard, striking him in the arm.

  “It works!” Kestel said, grinning.

  Zaryae frowned and closed her eyes. She spread her hands, palm down, and looked as if she were listening for something she alone could hear. “I sense no change in Blaine’s energy levels from the strike,” she said. She opened her eyes. “Of course, Rikard expended very little power. Still, it bodes well.”

  Rikard rubbed his palms together and licked his lips. “Which brings me to the other thing we wanted to try,” he said nervously. “We thought it prudent to gauge how well Lord McFadden reacts to powerful magic nearby, and whether the amulet blunts that impact.”

  Kestel looked dubious, but Blaine nodded. “Better we find out here than to get knocked off my horse in battle,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”

  “A simple trial,” Rikard replied. “We’ll raise a warding around Blaine, so that our magic can’t harm him directly. We just want to see how he reacts to being in the presence of strong power. Of course, the amulet won’t raise a warding—that would be too constraining. But the amulet should be able to protect his body, and most importantly his mind and his life energy.”

  Kestel’s glare told Blaine what she thought of the idea, and Zaryae looked worried. Niklas looked to Blaine and shrugged. “Up to you.”

  Blaine let out a long breath. “I’d rather land on my ass here where I can recuperate than expect protection and get flattened in the thick of the fight.” He nodded. “Let’s give it a try.”

  Kestel gave Rikard a look that made the mage pale, no doubt thinking about the fate that had befallen Lowrey. “I promise you, Lord McFadden, we will minimize the impact.”

  Blaine shook his head. “Don’t. We need to know what this amulet will—and won’t—do. Better here than elsewhere.”

  Rikard nodded nervously. “As you wish, m’lord,” he said, though his gaze slid sideways to Kestel’s glower.

  Rikard, Zaryae, and Leiv took up places at an equal distance from each other along the outside of the circle. “We aren’t going to make a direct strike at Lord McFadden,” Rikard explained. “We’re just going to raise a lot of power qu
ickly, and see how it affects him while he’s wearing the amulet.” He met Blaine’s gaze. “Then we’ll have him remove the amulet, and see what happens when we do it again.”

  Blaine nodded, and Rikard signaled the others. Each called down power in his or her own way. Rikard chanted quietly under his breath as he raised his hands, and his entire form began to glow. Zaryae closed her eyes, singing to herself, and Leiv swayed back and forth, fingers working in complex motions as he gathered his magic.

  A milky curtain of pure power shot up to the ceiling, shimmering white, glowing like the Spirit Lights of the far-north sky. Tendrils of mist-like energy wafted back and forth through the center of the circle, winding and curling around Blaine but leaving him untouched. Blaine caught his breath and staggered back a step, but when Rikard shot him a worried glance, Blaine shook his head, signaling them to continue.

  The coruscating wall of power glowed brighter, crackling with energy, glistening like the trapped power of a winter storm. Blaine paled and wavered on his feet, but did not fall. He nodded to Rikard.

  This time, the power rippled like a waterfall, with a rush and crash of a thundering cataract. Blaine could barely make out the worried faces on the other side. He could sense the amulet straining against the power, like listening to a rainstorm pouring down on the roof overhead. Yet every time the power closed in, Blaine felt it slide away, as the amulet deflected the worst of the strike. Blaine could feel the magic shift back and forth, what the mages called ‘fragile.’ The energy poured out full strength, then dropped out for an instant, back again almost too quickly to notice the gap. Gradually, the protection of the amulet wavered, and Blaine gasped, falling to his knees.

  Abruptly, the power vanished. The sudden disappearance of the energy gave Blaine to realize just how much he had been straining against it. When the power winked out, he fell forward, as if he had set himself against a headwind that suddenly quelled.

  Rikard ran toward him, waving the others back. Blaine was already on his hands and knees, shaking his head to clear it.

  “How do you feel?” Rikard asked. Blaine related what he had noticed as the power escalated, and Rikard nodded.