Magic Below Paris Complete Series Boxed Set (Books 1 - 8): Trading Into Shadow, Trading Into Darkness, Trading Close to Light, Trading By Firelight, Trading by Shroomlight, plus 3 more

by C. M. Simpson

  “Bring it down with you.”

  Marsh snatched the pack from the floor and beat him to the door, glad she’d slept in a bed and not her sleeping roll. Less to pack. She ran down the stairs and into the kitchen in time to snatch a shroom roll from under Henri’s fingers.

  “Not nice to steal a lady’s breakfast,” she said, biting into it before he could take it back.

  “Who said that was your breakfast?” he demanded as Roeglin sputtered with laughter.

  Marsh froze mid-chew and stared at him, but Henri figured it out.

  “You told her I’d eat her breakfast?” he asked, glaring at the mage.

  Roeglin gave way to laughter.

  “Your face!”

  Marsh finished her mouthful, swallowed, and looked at Henri.

  “Sorry.”

  She set the rest of the roll back on the plate and turned to the shadow mage, aware of Henri turning with her.

  “Horse trough?” she asked, and the big guard nodded.

  “Horse trough.”

  Gustav ruined their plans.

  “No time. We have a lot of distance to cover.”

  Marsh and Henri exchanged looks and turned back to the table. Marsh noticed another plate of rolls next to the oven Zeb and Gerry were standing beside.

  “Didn’t know either of you could cook,” she said, taking a fresh one and handing it to Henri.

  “Pa was a baker,” Zeb said. “We did have other lives before becoming mages.”

  Gustav didn’t give a toss for their other lives.

  “Jakob, Izmay. You’re with me.”

  He took two rolls from the plate and headed for the door to the commons.

  Marsh followed them, taking another roll for herself, and Roeglin fell in step beside her.

  “Not speaking to you,” Marsh told him as Mordan came to join them.

  “That’s okay,” Roeglin said. “I have the kat.”

  “The kat” gave him a disdainful look and pushed past him out into the courtyard.

  “She’s not speaking to you either,” Marsh said.

  He didn’t try to change their minds, just helped get the mules saddled and ready for the road. By the time they were done, Zeb, Gerry, and Henri had joined them.

  “Kitchen’s clear,” Jakob reported as they moved out. “New owners shouldn’t have any complaints.”

  “Except for a few unmade beds,” Gustav grumbled, but he didn’t order them back to make them, and Marsh wasn’t the only one who blushed.

  The first part of the ride was back through the ghost moss and brown noses, some of which were already showing signs of recovering from their passage the day before. Marsh scanned the way ahead, noticing how the small life forces of insects and spiders flared and scurried through the vegetation around them.

  They made it to the main trail without encountering any trouble, and Marsh was glad to see the glows were still alight. Roeglin and Gustav followed her gaze and relaxed just a little. Gustav had just turned back to say something when Mordan let out a sudden growl and bounded into the undergrowth by the side of the path.

  As she disappeared from the trail, a grove of calla shroom started to sway, long white tendrils spreading from beneath their caps to wrap around the hooves of the passing mules. The animals panicked, stumbling as they tried to pull their legs free—and Henri gave a startled shout.

  Turning toward him, Marsh watched in horror as a thick many-stranded tentacle of white reached up from the morass around his mount’s hooves and wound around his waist. Henri tried to draw his sword, but the strand trapped his arm to his side and yanked him clear of the saddle. His mule plunged away from it and fell.

  By then Marsh was struggling to keep her own panicked mount under control.

  Easy, she thought, seeking to connect to its mind and calm it. You are safe. I will protect you.

  The animal snorted and stilled and Marsh breathed a sigh of relief, only to be thrown from the saddle when three thick strands rose from under its muzzle and startled it into an abortive plunge. The white mass that had spread under and around them caught her, a wall of white thread rising from it to cling to her clothing and begin to drag her under.

  From the side of the path, Mordan roared, and alarm flooded the connection between them. Marsh caught the impression of brown tendrils blending with the white, and fear flashed through her.

  She might have only seen one brown slime in her travels, but she remembered it. She’d seen a snake carcass thrown into one, and similar threads of brown had risen around it, pulling it into the slime’s body where it had been dissolved. Glancing wildly around her, she saw no sign of what had alarmed the kat, but she didn’t doubt the danger was real.

  She looked at the glows and wished that for once they weren’t so bright. They made the nearest shadows seem so much farther from reach.

  “Distance…doesn’t matter,” Roeglin wheezed. “Step. You can…step.”

  Pinned flat to the ground right next to a glow?

  “Yes. Step. Just. Believe.”

  He sounded like he was having trouble breathing and Marsh wished she could see him, but the mules and the rising morass of white stopped her. Marsh tried to get her feet under her, but the multitude of threads held her fast.

  Shadow. Step.

  Roeglin’s insistence brought a scowl to her face, but it also annoyed her enough to drive the rising panic away.

  He wanted her to shadow-step? She grabbed hold of her annoyance and looked for a suitable patch of shadow, pushing away the thought that she wasn’t shaded. He laughed, a terrible wheezing thing that didn’t bode well.

  The mule.

  And she realized he was right. Her feet were shaded by the mule, which now stood exhausted over them. Fixing where she wanted to be in her mind, Marsh thought about becoming one with the shadow, about her body taking on the substance of the dark, and of how she should be crouching under the mule. She had to shove the image of the mule kicking her in the head out of the way, but she managed, going from prone to crouched in seconds.

  Another moment of concentration, and she was free of the sticky white shroom stuff and crouched in the sheltering darkness she’d desired. The only problem was that she wasn’t alone. Someone else crouched there too, but he hadn’t noticed her arrival. His attention was focused solely on the mired mules.

  “Come feed,” he murmured, his eyes blazing green as he swept his hands in a complex motion. “Leave the hard-toed ones, for they are innocent, but the raiders you can have.”

  “We’re not raiders,” Marsh said and was surprised when he turned and thrust one hand toward her.

  In hindsight, she thought it might have been better if she’d said “they’re not raiders,” but it was too late for that. Shards of stone ripped themselves out of the floor, thrusting toward her with deadly intent. She had barely enough time to sight on a nearby patch of shadow and will herself into it before the shards tore through where she’d been.

  “We’re trying to restore the trail…and defeat the raiders.”

  She’d added that last as an afterthought, but as the shroom behind her got suddenly brighter and stretched to absorb her, she hoped it was enough. The sudden press of shroom flesh over her face made it difficult to breathe, and panic drove the picture of her next patch of shade from her mind.

  Marsh flailed against the rubbery skin surrounding her, finding her mouth and nose covered. Her lungs burned as the shroom tightened around her and she found herself trapped. She was trying to think of what to do next when it pulled back from her face, and she filled her starving lungs.

  “Not raiders, eh?”

  The voice startled her, but not as much as the craggy face that came into view. Its eyes still burned a faint green, but Marsh was sure she could see gray peering through it.

  “Not raiders,” she gasped. “Fighting raiders. Trying to reach Dimanche. Catch raider spy.”

  The eyes showed surprise, and iron-gray eyebrows rose.

  “And why should
I believe that?”

  “Kat,” Marsh said, still trying to catch her breath. “Ask kat.”

  She tried to connect to Mordan and saw the flare of emerald reflected in his eyes.

  “Dan?” she called, her voice cracking. “Please tell him.”

  She waited for a dozen heartbeats and had almost given up hope that Mordan had heard her when the kat arrived. Mordan wasn’t happy to see Marsh trapped inside the skin of a calla shroom and swatted the man to one side.

  “Dan! Don’t—”

  She reached along their link, trying to impress on the kat with how important it was she didn’t kill the man beneath her claws, and Dan froze, keeping her prey pinned beneath a very large forepaw as she turned her gaze to Marsh.

  “He needs to know we are friends.”

  The kat snarled, clearly disputing that the stranger was any friend of hers.

  “Not raiders,” Marsh corrected. “Please, Dan. He fights the raiders too.”

  The kat looked down at the man, letting herself be caught in his gaze. Their eyes flashed green, and Marsh caught herself holding her breath.

  “Please, Dan. Just show him what we’ve fought to get here. Show…” She stopped whispering as the mushroom released her.

  And she ran for the mules and the men trapped in the white mass on the trail. She had to make sure the brown slime didn’t catch a single one of them. She stumbled over rocks and slid on patches of a tarry substance she didn’t want to investigate more closely. She hadn’t realized she’d stepped so far from the path, or that the druid had been able to attack them from so far away.

  Druid? It was a relief to hear Roeglin’s voice back inside her head. Well, that explains a lot.

  He sounded tired, but he was upright and leaning against his mule when she arrived. Seeing that the sticky white threads had retreated from the path and now spread away from it, she hurried over to inspect the rest of her friends. They were all there, but they all looked exhausted, and their mules were dark with sweat. Gustav looked up as she approached and gestured to the rest of them.

  “This druid,” he growled. “I don’t suppose he’s got enough healing to fix all of this?”

  Marsh was about to respond to that when the druid spoke from behind her.

  “I’m sorry, but no. I can take you to a safe place to rest and give you a boost to reach it, but heal all of that? Not a hope in all the Deeps.”

  Gustav shifted his gaze past Marsh and scowled at the man following her. Watching his face, Marsh noticed that for once he seemed at a loss as to what to say. The druid saved him the trouble.

  “It’s this way,” he said, coming into view as he passed Marsh. “Let me redirect the slime. There is some carrion toward the back of the cave—a straggler, or a scout, I can’t be sure. He died too quickly to tell me.”

  “They took the waystation,” Marsh told him as she walked slowly over to her mule.

  It snorted uncertainly and she went to stand to one side of its head, letting it get a good look at her before rubbing its muzzle with her palm and stroking its face. She didn’t move until it rested its head against her chest and heaved a long sigh, and then it was only to take its reins and prepare to lead it wherever the druid chose to take them.

  She noticed that none of the others got back onto their mounts, but all looked at the druid for guidance.

  “When you’re ready,” Gustav said after they’d stood still for too long.

  At first, the druid looked puzzled that they weren’t going to ride, but Marsh thought she caught approval too.

  “This way.”

  11

  A Strange Welcome

  At the druid’s first stop, Marsh had to wonder if it wouldn’t have been better to just keep walking. The man had secured the entrance to a cavern behind a screen of calla and brevilar shrooms, seeding the area with the usual brown noses and blue buttons as well as emerald fern and scarlet darters.

  “Don’t,” he said when Izmay moved to inspect one of the pretty red toadstools. “They have a range of three feet, and you’d be sick for weeks…if you survived.”

  Marsh stared at him, wanting to know more but not daring to ask. The druid ignored her, scanning the cavern around them before turning back to the callas and brevilars. He laid one hand on the broad white trunk of a calla and the other on the blue-skinned flesh of a brevilar and bowed his head.

  If Marsh hadn’t known any better, she would have thought he was praying to the lords of the Deep, but the man seemed more concerned with nature than any long-forgotten gods. She watched as the shrooms changed beneath his touch, their trunks curving away from each other to form a portal.

  The rest of the shrooms in the cluster followed suit until a hollow pathway formed, and the druid lifted his hands away, green light fading from his eyes.

  “Come,” he said, leading them through and into a narrow rocky passage.

  Marsh saw the green return to his eyes before they’d exited the shroom and heard a faint chirping whistle. The druid made the sound again, and then again. He paused long enough to speak as he led them through the rocky slit.

  “Don’t stop until you reach the white rocks, then wait.”

  He didn’t explain what he meant or why but threaded his way back through them to the rocky tunnel. Marsh exchanged puzzled glances with Gustav and Roeglin as they heard the whistling chirp sound behind them, but they did as the druid had told them. It was almost a mistake.

  “Stop right there!” called a voice as they reached an outcrop of glistening white stone.

  Gustav slid Roeglin a sideways glance.

  “Do you think we’ve come far enough?” and it was clear he meant Izmay and Henri, who were walking in the rear.

  Whoever owned the voice had no doubts, though.

  “I said stop!” The order was followed by the snap of a bowstring and the whirr of an arrow.

  Another whirr followed, and then a third.

  The first arrow hit Gustav just below the shoulder, and he dropped his reins with a startled cry. The second arrow took Roeglin in the thigh. The third hit Marsh in the upper arm. The direction of the shots making it clear their attacker had walked his fire across their line of advance and hadn’t been aiming to kill.

  Roeglin hit the ground with a wordless cry of pain, and Gustav folded slowly to his knees. Marsh looked down at her arm and sat beside the nearest rock. With muttered curses, the other guards moved forward, Izmay and Jakob pulling bandages from their saddlebags.

  Henri and Gerry moved forward to guard the path, taking up positions just in front of Roeglin. Two arrows bit into the earth at their feet.

  “No farther.”

  Gerry said nothing, but Henri held his blade at the ready with one hand and made a single-fingered gesture at the dark. Marsh waited for another arrow to come flying out and pierce his hand, but all that came was a soft chuckle.

  “I understand your sentiment, but that won’t save you if Alois doesn’t appear soon.”

  Marsh lifted her head. Alois?

  “The druid? He went back in the tunnel, you string-happy asshole.”

  The voice tutted.

  “That’s not very nice language for a lady.”

  “Go shag yourself; the shrooms have better things to do with their time.”

  Roeglin groaned, and Marsh wasn’t sure it had anything to do with the pain he was in. The owner of the voice was not impressed.

  “You’re lucky Alois would be upset if I shot you again.”

  “Marsh…” Gustav sounded like he was trying to give an order through gritted teeth, but Marsh understood.

  She sighed as Izmay and Jakob quickly inspected Gustav and Roeglin and gave a quick glance in her direction. It was disappointing when they didn’t come over for a closer look, but she guessed they’d already found which of them needed the most attention.

  “Great,” Roeglin muttered when they settled down beside him. “You had to pick me.”

  “We could always let you bleed out,” Iz
may retorted, probing the entry point.

  “Would it hurt as much?”

  “It could be arranged.”

  She poked him, and he yelped.

  Marsh snickered, and Izmay looked at her.

  “Your turn is coming.”

  “I can hardly wait,” Marsh retorted, but under her breath, where she hoped Izmay couldn’t hear her.

  Roeglin started laughing, right up until Izmay snarled at him.

  “Hold still. I need to see what sort of head it has.”

  “Lanceolate, and the kind you can pull out without making the wound worse…unless you’d rather push it through.”

  “Do I get a vote?”

  “Shut up, Roeglin. And hold still.”

  Marsh leaned her head back against the rock, feeling mildly light-headed and nauseated. She looked down at her arm, then focused on the cavern ceiling, wishing she hadn’t. She flinched as a figure stepped out from behind the nearest shrooms, tilting her head to take a closer look.

  “Asshole,” she managed, noting the bow slung over his shoulder and the long blond braid tucked into his shirt front.

  “And very pleased I am to meet you too,” he said, before kneeling beside her to inspect the wound.

  It hurt, and Marsh gritted her teeth as sweat sheened her skin.

  “Just…had to…get…your arrow back, huh?” she managed as he worked carefully to remove it.

  He frowned, laying the shaft to one side as he pinched the edges of the wound together.

  “Hush.”

  Marsh felt a soft rush of energy from his fingertips and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “You’re a healer too?”

  There was a moment’s pause as more energy flowed into her and she felt less fatigued, and the archer replied.

  “Alo says I should be prepared to repair what I damage.”

  “He also says you should try not to damage it in the first place!”

  Alois had returned, and he was obviously displeased by what he’d found. The archer got to his feet and slowly dusted off his knees.