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

  Healers emerged from the huts around them, some hurrying for the medical center and others running for the rock face. Marsh noticed the fighters running with them. These men and women didn’t stop in front of the rock face but ran right through it. She didn’t hesitate; touching Mordan through their link, she headed after the warriors.

  Scruffknuckle bounced past her, ears pricked and silent, Perdemor running at his side, the kit’s eyes intent. Marsh almost stopped, but Mordan veered after her cub and Marsh went with her.

  Call the shadows, Marsh. Roeglin’s voice intruded in her mind and Marsh did as he asked, gathering the shadows as she ran. She pulled it from the heights of the ceilings and the depths of darkness between the shrooms and slid through the narrowing gap in the rock face, relieved when she made it to the other side.

  She hadn’t noticed it closing.

  Ahead of her came an all-too-familiar screeching, and Marsh wondered if Perdemor and Scruffknuckle knew how to use their teeth against the shadow monsters, as Mordan did. There was no time to check, though. Shouts told her the battle had been joined.

  She darted forward.

  Why’d you want me to call the shadows, Ro?

  It doesn’t matter now.

  Marsh surveyed the fight before her and agreed. Releasing the shadow, she ran to join the fighters.

  Call them back to me.

  I’ll get help.

  Whatever help he found, he’d better find it quick, Marsh thought, calling her shadow blade and shield and relieved when there was no pain as she did. The blade appeared in her hand, and she brought it forward in a slashing sweep as she blocked the first clawed strike of the monster she’d chosen.

  Unfortunately, it had chosen her, too, and shimmied away from her stroke. Marsh let her momentum close the distance between them, glad of the shield when it drove clawed fingertips toward her. They hit the shield, and the creature gave a roar of surprised frustration.

  “What’s the matter, sweetie? You never met a shadow mage before?”

  It lashed out with its other claw just as Marsh drew the sword back and then thrust it forward. This time, she’d kept her arm tucked close to her side, and the shield obscured its vision. The first it knew of her blade was when she drove it deep into its gut.

  The creature screamed again, this time in surprise and pain—and then it fell forward over the blade. Marsh used her shield and her boot to get it off the sword, dancing back as two more advanced, taking its place.

  “Nice to meet you!” one of Sulema’s warriors shouted, coming to fight at her left.

  “Likewise!” she replied, bringing her blade around in another sweeping strike and then thrusting forward. This time the shadow monster danced back, only to shriek with pain as Mordan took its feet out from under it with a clawed forepaw and then seized its head in her jaws.

  The warrior beside her hesitated, his sword faltering against his opponent. His opponent was just about to take advantage of his lapse when Perdemor dropped from the top of a nearby calla, breaking the shadow monster’s neck with a reverberating snap.

  “Get your shield up!” Marsh snapped just as Sulema’s voice echoed through her mind.

  Fall back to her!

  She caught a flash of her own face and had an idea. Watching the wary advance of the second shadow monster, she reached for the energy flowing beneath the calla caps. If she could outline her enemies in shroom light, then she could surely call the energy to herself.

  It came as an ethereal blue glow that shrouded her in both warmth and light. Marsh had a brief vision of setting herself alight and pulled the energy into a shield in much the same way as she used the shadows.

  Interesting effect, Roeglin commented, but she didn’t have time for his smartassery. Sulema was speaking.

  To the light. Fall back to the shield of light.

  Shield of light. It gave Marsh an idea. She pulled more of the shroom light from its home among the calla caps, drawing it into her shield. The shadow monster roared and swung at it in frustration.

  Well, that’s one way to test it.

  Shut it, Ro!

  The monster’s claws hit the shield and scraped across it, just as they would have done for a shield of shadow.

  Nice!

  Marsh was too busy fending off the monster’s attacks to form a reply—and the Grotto’s warriors weren’t the only ones drawn to the light.

  Tell them to hurry! She told Sulema and did not expect the leader’s reply.

  Call the lightning. My people are as clear as they can be. The lightning might be all that saves the lives of the rest.

  Marsh didn’t wait to hear more. She reached for the lightning hiding in the shadows. She called for it to fall on the shadow monsters to draw a line of destruction through the shrooms before her until not a single shadow monster stood whole beneath it.

  Mordan roared, and she froze.

  “Dan!”

  But it was too late. Lightning tore out of the cavern’s shadows striking down the monsters. Dan roared again, and panic rolled through Marsh.

  Just the monsters, Marsh prayed. Just the monsters. Nothing else. Shadow monsters only. Destroy them all.

  The lightning roared as though answering the kat’s challenge and Marsh flung a hand toward it.

  Monsters! Only!

  The lightning continued, then just as suddenly stopped.

  Without her commanding it to. Marsh stood there, surveying the carnage in front of her until she noticed that it wasn’t. The shrooms still stood, the callas slowly regaining their glow, the brevilars gleamed gold, and the brown noses, rosebud toadies, and blue buttons remained untouched—by the lightning, at least.

  The same could not be said for the shadow monsters. Their shattered remains lay splashed across the cavern’s stone floor and the once-pale calla trunks. Gore dimmed the golden glow of the brevilar and gave the blue buttons a purple hue. Movement interrupted her gaze, and Marsh blinked.

  The hoshkat came into view, stopping when she saw Marsh and peering cautiously toward the ceiling.

  “Dan!” she cried, the word coming out on a sob, but the kat ignored her, turning to lift something from beside her and drag it out from under the shrooms.

  Perdemor and Scruffknuckle appeared, also, tails first as they worked together to pull a similar burden toward Marsh.

  “What have you got there?”

  6

  After-Battle Clean-Up

  Mordan, her kit, and the pup didn’t answer Marsh, but let her find out for herself. Together, they dragged two bodies back to the line of men, ignoring the blood and gore-soaked stone. Marsh met them partway there.

  Her feet skidded on the remains of shadow monsters, and her stomach lurched. What she saw made her forget the state of the floor. Mordan dropped the body of the fighter as soon as Marsh dropped to her knees beside it.

  Behind her, other warriors moved forward, and Marsh hoped that at least one of them had healing. She also hoped she had enough to deal with the damage she was seeing. Deep gashes had rent the man’s armor, and the wounds slowly oozed blood where she thought they should be bleeding more freely.

  She wondered how long it had been since they’d been hit and then decided it didn’t matter. She could only do what she could. She didn’t dare look at the fighter the kit and pup had dropped beside him.

  “One at a time,” she breathed and was briefly aware of another presence looking out through her mind.

  We’re coming, Sulema told her. I’ll have some of the shield stand overwatch.

  Marsh didn’t answer. She’d reached through the worst tear in the warrior’s armor and was feeling her way along the edges of the wound, making sure there was no cloth between her hands and his skin. What she felt instead didn’t bear thinking about, so she thought of his skin, whole and uncut, of the organs beneath it undamaged.

  “As they should be,” she whispered. “Make them as they should be.”

  As she spoke, she drew the energy from around her, her
shield unraveling as the light slid from it and into her hands. Warmth flowed over her and through her, the pale gleam of shroom light turning faintly green as it vanished into her skin.

  Under her palm, she felt skin move, knitting back together. Other things moved too, beneath the skin, and Marsh concentrated on guiding the healing to where it was needed. The voice that spoke from behind her was new.

  “Move to the next one.”

  Next one? Marsh blinked, her awareness expanding to include the world around her. And since when had she let herself become so unguarded.

  Before she could argue, two warriors lifted her patient and carried him away, while another two came and set someone down in his place. Parallel grooves had left the woman’s arm in tatters, and a sword cut had opened her cheek to the bone.

  Marsh didn’t need to be told where to send the healing, but the voice intervened as soon as the muscles had knit back together and skin had started to form.

  “Leave it. The rest of us can finish up.”

  Again, her patient was whisked away before she could protest—and replaced by a third. Marsh took in these injuries with a sinking heart, but she tried anyway, placing her hands over another torn gut and asking the magic to “heal what is broken.”

  The light flowed, Marsh drawing from the world around her and barely aware when Mordan came and sat down beside her. When the voice came again, it was accompanied by a gentle grip on her shoulder.

  She was on her feet and pivoting away before she could think. The warmth dropped from her hands, and she’d pulled a sword and buckler from the shadows as she went. Those around her froze. The woman standing before her waited, her calm gaze not shifting.

  “We are returning to the cavern. Are you coming?”

  Mordan sat at her feet, the kat’s face as puzzled as Marsh had ever seen it.

  What was she doing? There was no danger. The other pride had seen to that.

  Looking around, Marsh saw the kat was right. Warriors moved around her, but they were moving back toward the rock face, not out to meet an enemy. She let the sword and buckler dissipate.

  “Sorry.”

  The woman shrugged. “I am Rehema. Your captain is waiting.” Her lips quirked into the tiniest of smiles. “And your shadow mage.”

  He’s not my shadow mage, Marsh thought, following Rehema back through the wall.

  Roeglin sighed.

  And I thought I was.

  His protest made her smile. Not likely. There’s Zeb...and Gerry...and Iz. That last thought was lost to a yawn.

  Rehema turned back. “You need to eat before you sleep.”

  The lady had a point, but Marsh was curious. “Why...” She stopped. It didn’t matter how she said it. It was going to come out rude.

  Rehema regarded her, frowning. “Why am I still here?” she asked.

  Marsh blushed red and nodded.

  Way to win friends and influence people, Roeglin snarked, but Rehema was unperturbed.

  “Every healer has a guardian. I was assigned to you.” She didn’t sound like she appreciated it.

  “Assigned?” Marsh asked just as Gustav hurried up.

  “Thank you,” he said, addressing Rehema and she gave him a serious look.

  “My duty is not yet done.”

  If those words weren’t a warning, Marsh didn’t know what was.

  Gustav sighed. “Nevertheless, thank you.”

  The woman dipped her head. “You are welcome. Now, come.”

  She doesn’t seem too pleased with me, Marsh commented.

  Took you long enough.

  What did I do?

  ”You did nothing,” Rehema replied, “and you are right. I am not too pleased with you. You should not have been on the battlefield, and you endangered our shield and spear.”

  Shield and spear?

  “The warriors who fought at your side.”

  “I did not lead them.”

  “No, but you followed, and your presence was a distraction.”

  Marsh felt a small surge of anger. “I saved their Deeps-be-damned lives!”

  Rehema sniffed as if that was a crime as well. “You need to be bathed before you eat.”

  Like the Deeps she did!

  “I can bathe myself! Your assistance is not required.”

  Rehema smirked. “It is my duty.”

  Marsh stopped dead and stepped away from Gustav’s hand. “Like the motherless Deeps, it is!”

  Rehema kept walking. “This way.”

  Marsh stamped her foot, and Roeglin gave a bark of laughter. I don’t believe you just did that!

  Shut it, Ro. I will deal with this. Gustav tucking her hand through his arm jolted her out of her head, and Marsh turned on him, too. “Shadow’s ass! What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Showing you to the washroom, apprentice.” Gustav’s tone was mild, but his use of her lower rank was a warning.

  Marsh frowned, but she let him accompany her after Rehema. Roeglin came and walked on her other side. Where Mordan usually walked... Marsh looked around. Where...

  She got the fleeting impression she smelled bad, then the kat was gone from her head. Roeglin snickered.

  “What?”

  “Kat has a point.”

  His words made Marsh aware of the way her tunic and breeches clung to her skin. Worse, they made her aware of the smell of blood and guts and...other things...rising around her.

  “How can you stand to walk this close?” she asked, glancing at Gustav.

  “It’s the only way I can get Aisha and Tamlin to wait for you in the dining hall.”

  Well, that gave her a reason to move her ass. Marsh quickened her pace, surprised when Rehema took her to one side of the cavern where the walls had been smoothed vertical. Stone pipes ran overhead, several smaller ones branching away from a single larger one.

  A broad expanse of stone covered the ground beneath the pipes and stretched out in front of it. It was already occupied. A dozen men and women moved across it, some stripping their sodden armor and clothing and others standing beneath the water flowing from the shorter lengths of pipe.

  At first, Marsh couldn’t understand how the warriors got the water to start and stop, and then she noticed the mages standing at either end of the pipes, their brows creased with focus.

  “Stand there,” Rehema ordered pointing to a space between two men.

  Marsh hesitated, and one of the men grinned.

  “We don’t bite,” one told her, and the other gave her a cheeky smile.

  “Not unless you ask us to.”

  Gustav coughed and uncurled her hand from his arm. “Go ahead,” he told her, fixing the pair of them with a stern stare. “I’m sure these two gentlemen won’t harm you.”

  Marsh went, mostly because she didn’t want to argue with Gustav when he used that tone of voice, and partly because Roeglin was laughing at her inside her head—and not because of what the two warriors had said.

  No, it was because Mordan thought that either of them would make a good mate, and what was Marsh’s problem? She was more than capable of putting the males in their place. That hadn’t stopped Marsh from blushing.

  Be careful, Marsh. You’re going to give those guys the wrong idea.

  Marsh rolled her eyes and stalked forward, doing her best to ignore everyone. That included Rehema, who was watching with a slight smirk on her face. It reminded Marsh that Roeglin wasn’t the only one who could dip into her head.

  Great.

  “Stand there,” one of the men said and pointed up. “Under that. Mage can’t get the water on you if you don’t.”

  Marsh looked up. Just in time to be hit with a torrent of water in the face. The two warriors laughed, high fiving each other over her head. Marsh ignored them, feeling the water wash the worst of the stickiness from her skin even as it cleaned bloody debris from her clothing.

  It was surprisingly warm.

  Just don’t stand there after they tell you to get out. Roeglin warned her, and s
he got the impression of ice.

  Noted.

  After a few heartbeats, she copied the movements of the soldiers around her, rubbing her hands over her clothing to remove the worst of what was clinging to it and untying her braid to run her fingers through her hair.

  “That’s enough,” Rehema ordered when she’d been standing there for a few moments. “Time for skin.”

  Given the soldiers either side of her had left the water and were stripping out of their soaked clothes, Marsh knew exactly what she meant. Swallowing any embarrassment, she stepped out from under the water and crossed to where Rehema waited beside an empty basket set on a stone table.

  “Put everything in here,” she commanded. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Marsh wanted to ask what she was going to wear but decided not to waste time. She didn’t think Rehema would tell her. The woman seemed to be enjoying her discomfort far too much. Rehema gave her a quick smile.

  You have no idea.

  Marsh wondered what she’d done to deserve that, but Rehema didn’t reply.

  Fill you in later, Roeglin told her, highlighting Rehema’s presence in her head.

  Marsh walked back to her place under the pipe, doing her best to ignore the bodies of the soldiers around her. They, for their part, kept their eyes on some distant point in the surrounding shrooms. Marsh closed hers.

  “You’ll need this.” The voice in front of her was new. Marsh opened her eyes to find a girl, fully clothed, holding out a small bag. “Rub it over your skin. It’ll help.”

  Puzzled, Marsh took it and hoped it wasn’t some kind of practical joke played on newcomers. A covert glance to either side showed her that it wasn’t. Both warriors were using similar bags, rubbing them over their skins and leaving a trail of bubbles behind.

  Oh. Blushing red to her hairline and trying hard to ignore Roeglin’s laughter, Marsh washed, glad when she was done and could step out from under the water. Around her, everyone else was doing the same, and Marsh was relieved to see they all seemed as fatigued as she felt.

  Even the two guys who’d greeted her were quiet. They all headed back to the tables, where their soiled clothing had been replaced by towels and clean garments.