Revenant Winds (The Tainted Cabal Book 1)

by Mitchell Hogan

  The mercenary nodded and mounted one of the horses. He was wearing a black wide-brimmed hat to shade his eyes and keep the sun off his face and neck. Despite his claim he’d spent a year in Caronath, he was clearly used to traveling.

  “All right,” Aldric said, raising his voice. “Everyone mount up. The horses are all much the same. We’ve a short stop to make”—he glanced at Niklaus—“then we’ll be on our way.”

  Niklaus led them through the streets of Caronath. Only a sporadic few windows showed any light at this hour. They passed a brightly lit bakery with steaming bread piled on stalls set up outside, and Priska bade them wait while she purchased a few loaves.

  As the pale light of dawn edged across the city, they arrived at a large parkland. Gravel paths spread in all directions, and there were groves of trees and reed-lined manmade lakes. Somewhere, a duck quacked, swiftly echoed by its fellows. On an open expanse of short-cropped grass nearby, two groups of people were gathered.

  Niklaus called a halt, and Aldric spotted Bryn standing in front of one of the groups, dressed in thin pants and a shirt despite the chill. The swordsman brandished his blade and went through a short form before turning to nod to someone behind him.

  A man stepped out from the opposite group, also wielding a sword.

  “This shouldn’t take long,” Niklaus said.

  A white-haired priest of Nayysur moved to a position between the two groups. He clutched a leatherbound book in one hand and scales in the other and was flanked by four guards of the Caronath Watch. Nayysur, the god of justice and wisdom. Was this …? Aldric’s chest tightened.

  He turned to Niklaus. “This is a duel. What has Bryn done?”

  Niklaus waved a hand. “He’s filling in for someone else. It’s the done thing these days. Some nobles quarreling over a woman. I wouldn’t get excited about it.”

  Aldric clenched his reins in anger and shifted in his saddle. On the one hand, it wasn’t his business what Bryn got up to when not directly under his control. But on the other, if he died today, they’d be one man short. And there was no time to look for a replacement. He cursed under his breath and glanced around at the others. He’d better say something, or they’d think Niklaus was in charge.

  “We’ll wait for Bryn,” he said. “If he makes it.”

  “He’ll make it,” said Niklaus wryly. “The man he’s pitted against is named Ziran. He’s fairly skilled, or at least what they think is skilled around these parts. But he’s no match for Bryn. That’s the benefit of being a stranger in town. Shame there isn’t someone taking wagers.”

  “This is someone’s life you’re talking about,” Priska said.

  Niklaus gave her a lingering look, then glanced away without saying a word.

  Bryn and his opponent began circling each other. Ziran was tall and rangy, and his arms were corded like a laborer’s. He must have spent a great deal of time training, Aldric thought. His mouth was stretched into a grin, and his movements were jerky, almost erratic. Perhaps it was meant to disconcert his challenger.

  By contrast, Bryn looked relaxed. He stood with his feet firmly planted and sword raised high, only shifting position when his adversary’s movement forced him to turn to remain facing him. His slightly curved blade moved marginally, its edge always toward Ziran.

  Ziran’s blade flicked out, faster than Aldric could have countered. Bryn glided fluidly backward a step, dropping his blade. Ziran’s steel missed him by a few inches. Bryn hadn’t even attempted to block Ziran’s strike, just let it pass harmlessly in front of him.

  “Hai!” Ziran shouted, and lunged forward, feet sliding over the dew-wet grass. He aimed a cut at Bryn, and this time sparks flew as Ziran’s strike transformed into multiple attacks, low and high, from both sides and the front. Steel clanged on steel. The onlookers cheered and jeered.

  Ziran jerked back. A stillness fell over the two duelists, Bryn breathing evenly while Ziran panted. And then Ziran fell to his knees. A pained look came over his face, and a hand clutched at his torso. It came away bloody.

  Bryn relaxed, sword dropping to his side. He bowed to Ziran.

  Aldric hadn’t even seen Bryn strike.

  “Gah,” said Ziran, and toppled over. Men rushed to his side while those supporting Bryn raised a dandified young man to their shoulders.

  ~ ~ ~

  They were a hundred yards outside the north gate of Caronath when Soki appeared behind them. Her horse was lightly lathered, which spoke to the speed she had ridden through the city, trying to catch up. Dust billowed in her wake as she rode along the dirt road between cultivated fields. Aldric’s heart pounded at the sight of her riding her spotted mare as if born in the saddle, her hair flying wildly around her.

  Bryn, Niklaus, and Razmus turned their mounts and rested their hands on their hilts.

  Aldric raised his hand. “Peace. I know her.”

  Niklaus scowled. “Seems a little late for a farewell.”

  As Soki neared them, she steered toward Aldric, and he couldn’t help but smile. Although part of him wondered with dread why she’d come after them.

  “Aldric,” she said breathlessly, “I’m sorry. They told me I had to come.” Her mouth twisted with distress, and she fumbled with a saddlebag. She drew out a letter sealed with crimson wax and held it out to him. “Your Church sent me. I owe them a favor for something they did for me some time ago. When I went to see them about that job they asked me to do, they told me to join you. I don’t think they—” She broke off and gave the others a sideways look. “Anyway, the letter is from Archbishop Hannus.”

  Aldric saw that the envelope of expensive bleached paper was fastened with the seal of the Five. He smiled at Soki, relieved there wasn’t something wrong. “I assume this tells me to take you along?” he said wryly.

  After the attack last night, he wasn’t sure if she was still in danger. He’d feel better knowing she wasn’t left behind to defend herself if one of those strange creatures made another attempt on her life. Then another thought crept into his mind: had his Church sent Soki to watch him? He didn’t think she would do that, but … what did he really know about her?

  Soki nodded. “I couldn’t say no. And they also offered me unprecedented access to study the Church’s artifacts.”

  “Having you with us eases my mind,” he said. “It will be good to have the support of a sorcerer of your caliber.”

  He saw Priska’s head jerk up, and she stared at Soki. If she’d been paying attention, she would have sensed Soki’s mark earlier.

  “Another sorcerer?” Niklaus said. “And a good one. Excellent.” He looked at Bryn. “She’ll disarm any traps on those treasure chests, eh?”

  Bryn snorted with amusement. “If she can do that, she’s welcome. But that’s another person to split the loot with. If we find any.”

  Aldric shot the swordsman an angry look. Once, toward the end of his training, he’d been taken on a mission to investigate an ancient burial site deep in the Great Southern Mountains of Ealysia. His mentor, Magister Ketil, had paid mercenaries and a sorcerer to accompany them, with promises of riches if they successfully traversed the rugged terrain and survived the savage creatures found there. Their companions had begun bickering among themselves as soon as they’d left, and on the twelfth day there was a scuffle, and a woman knifed a scruffy-looking youth. The lad died that night despite Aldric’s best attempts to save him. All over gold they hadn’t seen yet, which might not even exist. Aldric remembered wondering at how the mere thought of gold could cause such trouble to those who valued material possessions. And he remembered the sorcerer’s cold, knowing smile. Afterward, Ketil had told him that everything was a test. “Menselas chooses our path for us, but it is up to us to make correct decisions and show ourselves worthy in the god’s eyes. Gold is a temptation for lesser men and minor gods.”

  However, despite Bryn’s apparent enthusiasm, Aldric had the feeling the swordsman didn’t care as much for coin as he showed. It was an act, and one that
was well practiced. Bryn was here for his own reasons.

  “I don’t rob graves or ruins,” Soki said flatly. She looked Bryn up and down, eyes resting on his sword. “Or murder people.”

  “Must be nice,” Bryn said, “to be born with a talent that means you don’t have to work.”

  Soki’s face darkened, her eyes narrowing.

  “Enough!” Aldric said. “Lady Sokhelle Pearello is here by order of my Church. She is to be treated with respect. Both of you, no snide comments and no antagonizing each other. We’ve a job to do, and I won’t let us fail because of infighting. We need to trust each other.”

  “Trust a sorcerer?” said Bryn.

  “They’re not all bad,” Niklaus said. “This one looks decidedly lovely.”

  Aldric felt his face grow hot, tried to fight it, and failed. “She is not to be trifled with, Niklaus.”

  “I can speak for myself, Magister Aldric.” Soki stared at Niklaus and drew herself up. “Almost all men and women cannot see what I can. They cannot understand the power I can wield with my mere thoughts and words. They assume”—she glanced at Bryn—“that because I was born a sorcerer, the exercise of that power requires very little work or sacrifice. Those that do not understand, belittle. I live and breathe sorcery, and I’d wager I’ve spent more time, blood, and sweat practicing than either of you have with your swords. Because sorcery isn’t just what I do, what I’m good at. It is who I am.”

  Niklaus shrugged. “Good to have you along. Just try not to give too many speeches.”

  He turned his horse and continued along the road. Bryn did the same. Inside, Aldric fumed at their disrespectful attitude to Soki.

  “All right,” he said gruffly, voice raised to carry to the others. “Let’s keep moving. If you have any questions, keep them until the next rest break.”

  Later, Soki rode her horse alongside Aldric’s.

  “You did well,” he told her with a smile.

  She grimaced, then exhaled a deep breath. “I find it easier to establish myself in the beginning. It saves complications later on. And speaking of complications … you know we can’t continue our relationship while we’re on this mission. We need to be circumspect.”

  Aldric nodded reluctantly. He’d already come to the same conclusion. It would only complicate matters and could lead to the others questioning his decisions. He’d just have to put his feelings aside for a few weeks. He could manage that. At least, he hoped he could.

  “I understand. And I agree. Out here in the wilderness, any distraction could be fatal.”

  “Well, that’s a bit melodramatic, but we need to make this job as easy as possible—for us and for everyone else.” She hesitated, glancing at him sideways. “This man, Niklaus … there’s something I have to tell you.”

  “You know him?” Aldric asked.

  “No. But the other day when I said I couldn’t see the mark your god has placed upon you, it wasn’t quite the truth. I cannot see it, but for one as attuned as I am to sorcery, I can sense … something.”

  Aldric’s chest felt tight. “Are you saying the god’s mark is sorcery?”

  Soki shook her head, biting her bottom lip. “No, it’s not quite—” She broke off and shifted in her saddle. “For hundreds of years, scholars and sorcerers have wondered about the gods, and there are many theories. No one knows the truth. But back to Niklaus … He also bears the mark of a god. Which one, I couldn’t say.”

  “Sylva Kalisia,” breathed Aldric. “I thought he was just a mercenary they’d hired. But he’s not involved with their faith in any way—at least, not from what he’s said or his actions. Perhaps he’s deceiving me.”

  “Perhaps. Or you could be right in your initial assessment. People don’t always follow the path set out for them. Like you, for instance.”

  “I follow the will of Menselas.”

  “Do you? Or do you follow what the priests tell you to?”

  Aldric couldn’t hear any more of this. He put himself under enough scrutiny and second-guessed himself and his Church far too often. This mission wasn’t the time or the place to examine his life.

  “I do the will of the Church. For now, it has to be enough.”

  He turned his face away from the look of pity Soki gave him.

  “I only brought this up,” she said, “because nothing is ever black and white. Your Church knows more than they told you, or me.”

  “You don’t trust me to do what’s right?”

  Perhaps she didn’t. And without trust, could there be anything more between them?

  Soki shook her head, laughing softly. “I trust you to do what you think is right.”

  She sows doubts in my thoughts already. Aldric felt the walls he’d built around himself crumbling, and they hadn’t been on the trail a day.

  He urged his horse ahead, not wanting to see or talk with Soki any longer. He must remain strong, blot out any doubt, and adhere to the tenets of his faith.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A Winding Road

  ALDRIC KEPT TO HIMSELF for a time, which allowed him to examine everyone in the group. Razmus and Priska rode close together. The ex-soldier sat his mount well, as did his daughter, both obviously accustomed to traveling. When he wasn’t talking to Priska, Razmus kept his back straight and head high, eyes scanning the trees to either side of their path. Priska kept her cloak wrapped tightly around her body, as if it protected her from something. Her long black hair spilled over her collar and hung to the small of her back. Her skin was ivory and free of blemishes. Luckily, the tall trees kept out most of the sunlight else she’d have to worry about her skin burning, Aldric thought.

  Niklaus rode ahead of the pair with Neb. Without the settler, they’d have been hard-pressed to find the valley where the settlement was located. At the base of the mountains, the hills and forest paths were numerous and almost a maze. Neb led them through the forest, keeping an eye on the position of the sun when he could. Their progress was good, but the settler insisted they had some way to go yet.

  Occasionally, Niklaus looked back over his shoulder at the rest of them, and his gaze lingered on Priska every time. Aldric sighed. This was a serious mission, and they could ill afford bad blood between the group over a woman. If Niklaus did anything other than look, Razmus was sure to react.

  And without proper training, Priska wouldn’t be much help to the mission. Aldric wished she’d remained behind in Caronath. Not that he begrudged her closeness with her father, but the others might see her as a burden. Someone they had to babysit.

  Bryn rode like he’d spent much of his life in the saddle. Aldric thought there probably wasn’t much the man didn’t do well. His sword was always within easy reach, and his restless body couldn’t keep still for more than a few moments. All day, he switched positions within the group, sometimes trailing behind for a while before slowly edging up to the front, past Niklaus and Neb. Sometimes, he even left the trail and made his way through the trees on either side. Often, he stretched and occasionally dismounted to walk his horse. Aldric thought that Bryn was keeping himself warm and limber, ready for anything, and decided it was a good idea in the northern forest and hills. He began his own limbering regime as they rode.

  Stray Dog was different to Bryn, but both contained a suppressed violence that hid at the edge of awareness; although where Bryn was restless, Stray Dog was calm and relaxed. The hulking black-skinned man carried axes in cleverly designed sheaths strapped across his back, one handle protruding over each shoulder. He also carried a large knife in a belt sheath. Most surprising were the mail shirt and hard leather pants he wore, both of excellent quality. He hadn’t responded when Aldric had asked where he’d got them.

  The priestess who had pressed Niklaus into letting her join them remained cloaked and hooded. She didn’t speak to anyone and kept to the back of the group. Aldric had noticed a disturbing amusement in the shape of her mouth, as if their whole mission entertained her. It got his back up, and though he didn’t car
e for her, he needed to know more about her. The only thing he’d been able to get out of her so far was her name and title: High Priestess Valeria.

  Soki flitted among the group, chatting amicably and making sure to introduce herself to everyone. She spent longer with Priska and, from what Aldric could see, looked upon the young woman with sympathy. And no wonder. For a sorcerer of Soki’s talent and training, Priska’s plight must have cut deep. It could have been Soki herself if she’d followed a different path.

  Aldric flicked his gaze away whenever he caught himself watching Soki. They’d both agreed to keep the mission uncomplicated. But when they were back in Caronath … The thought put a smile on his face.

  ~ ~ ~

  On the second day, Aldric noticed that Valeria was spending time with Priska. For her part, Priska seemed to enjoy the attention: she and Valeria chatted amiably for long periods. Aldric urged his horse closer, approaching from behind, wanting to overhear some of their conversation. He wasn’t proud of the strategy, but he didn’t trust Valeria for one moment.

  “Of course, she’s a goddess that all women should worship,” Valeria was saying. “Please, ask me anything.”

  Priska mumbled something that Aldric couldn’t catch.

  “Our Church’s reputation comes from disgruntled men who believe women should be their slaves,” Valeria replied. “We don’t exist to serve. The goddess Sylva Kalisia venerates women and gives her priestesses power to defend themselves. And men hate this. Why would the goddess care if you’re a sorcerer? Women of power are valued and exalted above all others. Once this is over, you should—” Valeria turned to regard Aldric with cold eyes. “Is there something you want, Magister Aldric?”

  Aldric shook his head and urged his mount to a trot. “Just passing. I want to talk to Niklaus. I hope the pace we’re setting isn’t too hard for you?” The question sounded lame to his own ears, but it was the first thing he’d thought of.

  Valeria practically sneered at him. “We’re not weak. Worry about the others, especially the sorcerer Sokhelle. She looks a trifle delicate for hard travel.”