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

  You know it does. Elise’s voice intruded in her mind, and she flinched.

  The pain that echoed at the mage’s soft words was dull, more the pain of a bruise than a cut, but it was enough to remind her that she really had hurt herself. She didn’t even try to respond in kind.

  “Fine,” she murmured, knowing the mind mage would pick it out of her head anyway.

  Roeglin snickered.

  “We need to rest today,” he reminded her as if he could still read her mind, and she hugged him.

  Not because he was right, and not because he cared. More because he could, and no one would be the wiser. She swore she could hear him smile.

  They made it to the side trail branching to Ariella’s with nothing happening. The tunnel remained silent, and the caverns they passed through might have been devoid of life if it hadn’t been for the bright flashes of dragonflies hunting small insects drawn to the callas’ glow.

  To Marsh, even the insects seemed subdued and careful, as though they didn’t want to be noticed. It was as if a swarm of predators had passed and the tunnels’ residents weren’t entirely sure they had gone. As the party approached a tangled grove of callas and golden gleams marking the entrance to the Grotto, it proved to be a fear well-founded.

  The only warning they had was when the callas came alive around them. Arms sprung from the shroom’s sides, and they reached for the nearest riders. One of the guards gave a startled shout as they were pulled clear and held firm against the shroom’s trunk. Mordan screamed a hoshkat roar of defiance and outrage, and Marsh twisted, trying to find her.

  Before she could, however, she caught sight of a swarm of small forms leaping across the tops of the callas as the mules in the lead bolted forward, their riders clinging to their saddles and Gustav shouting a blue streak.

  More mushrooms moved on their flanks and Marsh kicked free of the mule, dropping to the ground and sprinting for the trail’s edge. She figured once she got clear of the path, she could do something, completely forgetting there was a reason she was supposed to be resting.

  The world swayed and she slammed a hand against the nearest thing to steady herself. Roeglin’s mount gave a startled snort and leapt forward, dumping the shadow mage at her feet and sending her headlong to the ground.

  The small creatures they’d seen bouncing over the shrooms landed amongst them. Most hit the backs of mules. They scampered quickly onto the riders, biting and scratching, their shrill voices screeching. Some landed on the trail and bounced up toward the nearest person.

  “What in the Shadow’s name...” Marsh began and felt Roeglin clawing at her leg.

  She reached down and grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet, feeling grateful the mules had scattered rather than milling in one spot. One of the small monstrosities leapt from the back of Zeb’s mount and landed on her head, its small hands yanking at her hair as it shrieked.

  Marsh didn’t think. Ban or not, this thing had to go. Coating her hand in black lightning, she slapped at it.

  Damn! She had just enough time to think the whatever-they-weres moved fast when her palm struck her now critter-free neck and pain jolted through her. This time, Roeglin caught her, although they both stumbled sideways until they’d regained their balance.

  “No magic,” he muttered, and Marsh was sure it was supposed to be a yell.

  “Shut up and run.”

  They wound their arms around each other’s waists and staggered clear of the trail. Neither of them stopped until they’d worked their way past several motionless callas. The brevilar shrooms beyond them looked like a much safer resting place...

  ...right up until half a dozen small kat-like forms wound their way out of their shadows and stalked toward them.

  “Friends of Mordan’s?” Roeglin asked, letting go of Marsh so they could both step clear and draw their swords.

  “I didn’t know Mordan had friends here.”

  They stepped wide enough to fight, but not wide enough that the small kats could get between them. Neither of them wanted to think of what would happen if the little screeching things came back.

  One of the cats lunged forward and Marsh took a step back, striking out at the creature. It twisted away from her blade with a defiant yowl, and she glanced around to make sure none of the kats had gotten behind her. The two humans casting a net at them came as a complete surprise.

  Marsh had enough time to twist toward Roeglin but not enough time to push him clear before the net’s weighted folds wrapped around them. They staggered sideways, keeping their footing as they struggled to free their arms.

  Marsh dropped her sword and wormed her arm around, trying to reach her dagger. There wasn’t time. The net casters followed their cast with a rush, wrapping their arms around Marsh and Roeglin and forcing them to the ground.

  They landed hard, Marsh with her hand trapped beneath her and Roeglin with a slight groan. Marsh heard the schnick of metal clearing a scabbard.

  “Not raiders!” she shouted. “We’re not raiders. See? Not...”

  A rough hand covered her mouth.

  “What you are and are not we will soon see.”

  Before she could work out the meaning behind that, her attacker was in her head. He was reaching for her memories when she screamed. Seconds later, he was out of her mind and looking at her with concern.

  “Who did that to you?”

  Beside her, Roeglin managed a weak chuckle. “She did that to herself, you Deeps-cursed son.”

  “And you?” The question was followed by a short sharp cry and then, “Both of you? How did that happen?”

  But Roeglin had gone boneless, and the other caster intervened. “We need to return.”

  “Bien.”

  Marsh drew a shaky breath as their captors got off them, but she lay very still as they lifted the nets clear, removing her weapons as they disentangled her.

  “Up.”

  She stood. It required some help, but she got there.

  “This way.”

  Marsh hesitated.

  “Don’t make me carry you.”

  The other netter scooped Roeglin up and slung him over his shoulder. When they both turned away, Marsh followed, all too aware of the dozen green-and-gray-furred kats arrayed around them.

  She wanted to ask where the others were but didn’t think she’d get an answer. The answer was soon clear as the netters led her back to the trail where the rest of the caravan was waiting. Zeb and Gerry were leaning on each other, and Gustav was glowering at the two that had hold of the rope wrapped around his hands.

  He turned his head as she arrived, relief and anxiety washing over his face as he took in Roeglin being carried. Marsh raised her hand as he went to speak. “We’re fine.”

  Gustav subsided and returned his attention to the man and woman standing in front of him. They seemed to ignore him, surveying the gathered caravan as though counting heads. When they were sure everyone was there, they nodded and turned to lead the way into the Grotto.

  At least, that’s where Marsh thought they were going. She was surprised when they turned off the trail, raising their hands as their eyes flashed green. The sight of the calla shroom and the brevilar moving aside didn’t come as a surprise, given the moving shrooms in the attack.

  And wouldn’t she like to know exactly how they had accomplished that?

  Marsh followed them, glancing around at the others as she did and doing her own headcount. It took her a moment to find the children, and she should have known Tamlin would be keeping a firm grip on his sister.

  The boy’s eyes met hers and he scowled.

  As if any of it is my fault, Marsh thought, but she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it probably was.

  3

  Arrival at Ariella’s

  Their captors led them in silence, some falling back to ask the shrooms to close the path behind them, hiding all trace of their passing. Marsh glanced over her shoulder, catching Elise’s eye as the woman walked beside her husba
nd, holding her daughter’s hand.

  The mind mage gave her a solemn nod, the smallest of smiles playing around her mouth. Marsh wondered what the woman had to smile about but took the reassurance. Maybe everything would be all right.

  They walked for at least an hourglass before their captors stopped in front of a sheer rock face. Marsh tensed, moving closer to Roeglin until the other netter, her netter, took a firm hold of her arm.

  “Not so close.”

  She tried to shrug him free, and his grip tightened, drawing her back a step. Marsh let him. His fingers were pressing hard enough to bruise, and she couldn’t find the strength to fight...not even if she’d been able to. She turned her attention to what their attackers’ leaders were doing at the wall.

  For a moment, she expected to see a gateway open up through the stone itself. When that didn’t happen, she sagged with relief. Her reaction drew a strange look from her captor.

  “We are not raiders, either.”

  Again, Marsh tried to pull her arm free of his grip, and this time he let her go.

  “Come.”

  As if she would do anything else with Roeglin and the rest of her people being led through the parted stone. Marsh made a note. While the two leaders hadn’t opened the way, their eyes had flared white.

  When she passed through the arch, she looked for the mages that had to be there—and was not surprised when she found them. Both were staring in the direction of the arch, but not looking at anyone who passed through. They were focused entirely on the edges of rock, their eyes as black as pitch in the golden glow of the brevilars surrounding the arch.

  Two of the smaller kats broke off from the pack and went to wind themselves around the mages’ legs. One smiled, reaching down with one hand to scratch ‘his’ kat behind the ears. He kept his eyes locked on the arch as he did so, and sweat glistened on his brow.

  Seeing the kats reminded Marsh that she’d lost sight of Mordan. Reaching for the kat was second nature, and white light danced across her vision as she did. The hoshkat’s growl was accompanied by the briefest brushes of contact, and Marsh whimpered, partly with relief and partly in pain. Ahead of her, Gustav cursed.

  Marsh opened her eyes and looked toward him. She was in time to see him jerk his bound hands free of those holding the rope. They let him go and he came back to her.

  She was sure he’d have wrapped an arm around her shoulders if his hands had been free. As it was, he came to a stop in front of her and stared at her face. “What did I tell you about not using magic?”

  He glanced at Elise, and the woman rolled her eyes. She looked at the ambusher nearest her.

  “Are we permitted to know who you are?” she asked, although from the sarcasm in her voice, she had a fair idea.

  Marsh exchanged a look with Gustav, and realized everyone had stopped to watch. Before anyone could answer, though, there was a slight grating sound, and the rock face melted closed behind them.

  “I couldn’t hold it anymore,” one of the rock mages explained when all eyes turned toward him. He sank to the ground, the other rock mage crouching down beside him. Their kats knocked them onto their backsides, rising onto their hind paws and slamming their forepaws into their shoulders. As they petted the insistent creatures, all eyes turned back to the ambush party’s leaders.

  One glided casually over to Gustav and took hold of the rope at his wrists. Before the captain could respond to that, he’d been released. He stared at them, keeping his mouth firmly closed as he rubbed his skin.

  Marsh stayed as silent as a ghost. If she was very quiet, maybe he’d forget. A quick glance at his face put paid to that idea.

  “Elise.”

  This time, Elise came over, her hand still firmly wrapped around Mina’s. “In a moment, Gustav. First, I believe introductions might be in order.”

  “And apologies,” he muttered, but allowed her to redirect his attention to the two leaders standing before him.

  Marsh wondered if he’d mind if she leaned on him and decided she didn’t want to prove his point. The female leader spoke, drawing his attention. “I am Tabia Nemetwe, leader of this shield.”

  “And I am Kwame Orare, leader of this spear.”

  “We’re heading to Ariella’s Grotto,” Gustav told them. “You stopped us. Why?”

  Marsh wondered when Gustav had tired of diplomacy, but neither of the two leaders took offense.

  Tabia smiled. “We are Ariella’s Grotto.” Her smile faded. “Or rather, what is left of it. What was your business there?”

  “To help it set up defenses against the raiders,” Gustav told her, his face somber.

  “You’re a bit late.” Kwame’s tone was blunt.

  “I am sorry.”

  “We sent for help from the monastery weeks ago,” Tabia added, taking in Roeglin and the shadow guards.

  “We received no word.” Brigitte’s voice was cautious and Marsh realized the young woman had raised her hood, hiding her face in its shadow as she pulled her hands out of sight under her sleeves.

  Aisha and Tamlin followed Marsh’s glance, and Aisha’s eyes went wide. Both children crowded close to their master without having to be told, each facing outward, their faces wary. Kwame picked up on it immediately.

  “Shadow mage,” he ordered, his voice quiet. “Drop your hood.”

  Brigitte hesitated, and the warriors around them turned toward her. Aisha and Tamlin faced them, each taking a quarter, but Brigitte laid her hands on their shoulders. “It’s okay. They won’t hurt me.”

  To which Tamlin’s only response was, “Too darn right, they won’t.”

  Aisha’s echo of “Darn right” was lost in the gasp that echoed around the circle as Brigitte dropped her hood. Her ebon hands were barely visible against the dark cloth of her robes as she revealed her face.

  More than one whisper of “Shadow monster,” whispered out of the throats around them. Hands dropped to sword hilts, and several crossbow bolts took flight.

  Gustav gave a shout of outrage and charged the nearest archer, but Brigitte conjured a shield of shadow before her and the children, and Tamlin did the same behind them. Aisha’s shrill scream of protest cut through the cavern like a knife.

  “Blue!” she shrieked. “They’re blue. Her eyes are blue.”

  Another round of bolts hit the shields and Tamlin lost his temper, slamming his hand forward and propelling a block of shadow into the nearest archer.

  “Blue,” he yelled, doing his best to imitate an older man’s roar. “Dumbasses.”

  “Dumbasses!” Aisha trebled. “BLUE. EYES.”

  Marsh followed Tamlin’s example, summoning a block of shadow and thrusting it forward. She saw it roll forward, and then she hit the floor, wondering how she’d managed to slam it into herself.

  “Dumbass,” Gustav muttered, dropping to one knee beside her. By the time he’d picked her up, the shooting had stopped and Tabia was standing in front of Brigitte, her hand raised in command.

  When the warriors had lowered their crossbows, looking somewhat shamefaced, she turned to Brigitte. “I am sorry, Shadow Mage.”

  Brigitte laid a hand on her arm, causing several sharply indrawn breaths from the warriors around them. “I am used to it,” she replied and made a grab for Aisha as the little girl glared at one of the crossbowmen. She missed, and the child marched straight toward him.

  “Uh-oh,” Gustav muttered and set Marsh down so fast her legs folded beneath her. His “sorry” was nothing more than an afterthought as he ran for the girl. “Aisha!”

  His cry drew Tamlin’s attention, and he dropped his shield. “Aysh!”

  She had reached the warrior before either of them could get to her and poked him in the leg. “You,” she snarled, when he looked down at her. “Are. A. VERY. Bad man.”

  He stared at her in complete surprise and then gave a startled bark of laughter.

  “Not funny,” she growled, and his laughter turned into a shout of fear as stone rose from the cavern fl
oor to sheath his legs.

  “Aysh! Stop!” Tamlin yelled, reaching her before Gustav could and grabbing her by the shoulders. “Stop it, Aysh. He’s sorry. He really, really is. He made a mistake.”

  He cast a desperate look at Brigitte as the stone continued to climb, but their instructor couldn’t seem to find the words. The look of horror on her face was almost comical to see.

  Gustav came to a sudden halt. “Apprentice Aisha Liliana Danet,” he roared. “Stand. Down.”

  The stone stopped, and everyone held their breaths. Aisha poked out her bottom lip, her blue eyes filled with resentment and tears. “He shotted at Brigitte.”

  Gustav’s face softened although he tried to keep his tone stern. “Yes, he did.”

  She cut in before he could say anymore. “He is a very bad man.”

  “No. No, he’s not,” Gustav told her. “He made a mistake, and he’s very, very sorry.” He fixed the crossbowman with a firm stare. “Aren’t you, soldier?”

  The man’s eyes widened. “Yes, sir. Sorry.”

  Gustav pointed at Aisha. “Not me. You have to tell her.”

  The man looked down at angry child standing at his feet. From the sudden stoop in his shoulders, he tried to kneel, but the stone prevented him. He settled for looking down at her instead. “I’m very, very sorry. I did not mean to shoot at a friend.”

  He lifted his head, his eyes seeking Brigitte. “I really am. I... It’s just that...” He let his words peter out. “I’m sorry, shadow mage.”

  Aisha looked at Brigitte as her mistress replied, “I understand. With what you must have faced recently, I really do understand. I apologize for my apprentice. It’s been a long day, and she’s very tired.”

  At her words, Aisha whirled and stamped her foot. “Am not tired!”

  Her words brought laughter to the warriors around, and Brigitte crossed over and wrapped her arms around the little girl. Her whisper carried. “Put the stone back,” she ordered, holding Aisha close.

  There was a moment when nothing happened, then the stone subsided back into the cavern floor. The crossbowman stared at her with wide eyes and then he breathed a sigh of relief, laying a hand on the shadow mage’s shoulder. “Thank you...and I am deeply sorry.”