Taellaneth Complete Series Box Set

by Vanessa Nelson

  “So, you were with a … collective?” Kallish’s question broke into Arrow’s memories.

  “Of sorts, yes. Residents of a street organised themselves. They were quite efficient,” she added, knowing the warrior would appreciate that detail, “and had rotas for patrols, for chores, and for looking after the young.”

  “There were young in the riots?”

  “The riots affected the whole city.” Arrow could not keep the sorrow out of her voice. Hallveran was not, and never would be, home, but the city had a hold on her nonetheless. Too much suffering. “Every resident felt the impact from the very wealthy to the poor. Aha!” The last an exclamation of relief as the bindings on her wrists gave at last. She held up her freed hands for Kallish to see.

  “Good. You will need a knife to cut me free. They tied me tighter. My weapons are stored there.” The warrior jerked her chin to the end of the truck where a low trunk was strapped against the wall. Arrow spared the warrior a glance before moving to try and unpick the knot around her feet. Kallish was understating the case that she had been tied tighter. The warrior was swathed with rope, unable to move much.

  The knot of rope at her ankles was thick, slippery under her fingers, hard to manage as the truck bounced, jarring her ribs, and causing her to hiss more than once in pain. Eventually, though, the rope loosened.

  Not trusting her balance in the jolting truck, she crawled over the floor to the trunk, finding it unlocked. Frowning, she opened her second sight a moment, unable to actively use her power, and looked for spells. There was nothing. Either their kidnappers were extremely confident that they had tied the warrior and mage up properly, or very foolish.

  The trunk was held in place by a pair of thick straps that were embedded into the truck wall, each fastened with a metal clasp. It took a moment for Arrow to work out the unfamiliar fastening then she had the trunk free. The truck jolted over another rut in the road and she swore as the trunk bounced, too, banging into her, sending her sprawling on the hard floor, adding yet more bruises. She scrambled back to her knees and found that the movement had partially opened the trunk lid, showing all of the White Guard’s weapons in a tangled mess together with Arrow’s sword harness and her kri-syang, the small silver blade that all mages carried.

  It took a moment to recover her possessions, fumbling slightly with the sword harness, the kri-syang a familiar weight against her forearm, then she shoved the lid the rest of the way open, searching through the warrior’s weapons, wondering how on earth the warrior moved so easily with all this weaponry on her person. At length Arrow found a reasonably short, wickedly sharp, dagger and crawled back along the truck bed to Kallish, using the dagger inexpertly to free the warrior’s hands and arms.

  “My thanks.” The warrior took the weapon gently, and made swift, expert work of freeing herself before rising and, as though the truck was a smooth path, walking to the trunk to collect her other weapons and arm herself.

  Feeling nauseous from the movement, and the banging in her skull, Arrow stayed where she was, opening her second sight a fraction to monitor the destroyer worms that inhabited the collars she and Kallish were wearing.

  “You do not look hale,” the warrior commented a moment later. Arrow opened her eyes to find the fully armed warrior kneeling in front of her, frowning.

  “Hit my head somewhere,” Arrow answered, realising her words were slightly slurred. The warrior’s frown deepened.

  “Headache? Nausea?”

  “Yes, and yes.”

  “Likely concussion,” Kallish concluded, still frowning. She reached into a pocket and produced a small pottery pot with a cork stopper. “Healing ointment,” she said, “apply it to your temples and forehead. It should ease the symptoms.”

  “Thank you.” Arrow took the tub, feeling that something fundamental had moved in her world. She had never been offered aid so freely by the Erith, all care of her person grudgingly given. The White Guard’s healing ointment was legendary, used to ease everything from knife wounds to headaches. It was an almost unheard-of event for a member of the guard to share their personal supply, and certainly not with a half-breed mage.

  “I want some of this,” Arrow said a few minutes later, crawling to where the warrior was settled near the back of the truck. Whatever was in the thick paste, it had near miraculous properties. The pounding in her head was nearly gone, her sight clearer. She handed the pot back to the warrior. Kallish’s lips curved in what looked like a smile.

  “I will make enquiries on our return,” Kallish said, further astonishing Arrow. “Here, there is a small opening. The surroundings are visible.”

  The warrior sat back, and Arrow settled on her knees, bringing her face closer to the small gap. By the jarring of the suspension it was clear that, as Kallish had observed, this was not a very well-maintained vehicle. It appeared that the side panels had warped, allowing a sliver of a view to the outside.

  Through the small gap Arrow could see that it was late afternoon, and that they were far closer to Hallveran than she had thought.

  “We are almost at the city boundaries.”

  “The vehicle will need to stop somewhere in the city.”

  “Probably gang territory. The gang is large, perhaps two hundred or more. Humans with basic weapons training. Ruthless and organised. We will be outnumbered.”

  “And short on weapons,” the warrior concluded, face grim when Arrow turned to look. “Can you break the tyres?”

  “Break … Oh. Give them a flat tyre?” Arrow shook her head at once. “I would need to get the collar off first, which will take time.”

  “There appears to be explosive in the collars, also,” the warrior said, nose wrinkling, “old explosive.”

  “So, even without the worm, the collars will likely either kill us or explode if interfered with?” Arrow had to stop herself from reaching for her collar in a futile attempt to remove it.

  “That is so.”

  “We need to leave now,” Arrow said, trying not to think about what might happen if the collar exploded.

  Kallish agreed.

  Warrior and mage looked around their prison for a few moments before both pairs of eyes landed on the trunk then travelled to the back doors of the truck. Doors that appeared to be held shut by a single bolt, fastened on the outside.

  “That bolt is not thick,” Kallish speculated. “A few moments will weaken it.” Without waiting for Arrow’s agreement, she moved to the door and set one of her knives through the gap, sawing at the bolt. The metal was no match for an Erith blade. The bolt gave way. One of the doors flapped open, hitting the side of the truck with a resounding bang that made Arrow even more glad of the White Guard’s healing salve. Before the driver of the truck had time to react, she and Kallish each took an end of the now-empty trunk and heaved the thing out onto the road behind them. It hit the tarmac with a satisfying crunch. Moments after that they were thrown back into the truck as the brakes were slammed on, the truck jolting to a stop, brakes as badly maintained as the rest of the vehicle. As the engine died, loud swearing reached their ears. A human voice. Another one yelling orders.

  Mage and warrior flattened themselves against opposite sides of the truck at the open doors.

  After a moment the doors of the truck’s cabin opened, and boots struck tarmac. Kallish listened intently, head tilted, and after a moment held up four fingers. Arrow nodded, and held out her hands, palms up, showing them empty. The warrior drew one of her longer blades and slid it carefully across the floor of the truck.

  There was no more time for planning or preparation. Shadows appeared at the sides of the truck.

  Kallish leapt with silent grace onto the first human who appeared, blade flashing and making quick work of slitting the man’s throat before rolling, avoiding a wild punch from the second human, and rising up to sink her sword into the man’s chest.

  Arrow made a far less graceful jump from the truck onto a third man, seeing him reach for a weapon. Her body was sti
ll not quite working, and her attempt at stabbing the man resulted in her slapping him with the flat of the blade, drawing an outraged protest. He grabbed her arm, flinging her over his shoulder, and she hit the tarmac with a thump that knocked her breath out and damaged her ribs again. She did, however, hold onto the knife and slashed at the man as he came towards her, still fumbling in his jacket for a weapon. The knife sliced through the thick material of his trousers, blood following along with his outraged yell.

  Then Kallish was there and with another economic flick of her blade the man fell to the ground, life pouring out of him.

  Coughing as her breath came back, ribs shrieking protest, Arrow sat up to see that Kallish had killed all four men. The warrior was not even breathing hard, barely a hair out of place. Responding to the warrior’s gesture, Arrow handed back the knife with relief. Heat rose in her face at the raised eyebrow.

  “I was given no training in combat, svegraen. I am very glad of your skill.” And quite glad, too, that the warrior had done the killing, though she tried to hide that. She knew it was necessary. The gang would likely have killed them in a far slower, more painful manner. And yet, the weight of death pressed on her.

  “We should move,” Kallish answered, glancing around.

  The truck had come to a stop in one of the many deserted streets that littered Hallveran.

  “We are far from habitation, even in this city.” Arrow made it to her feet, trying not to wince too obviously as her ribs protested. She took a moment to get her bearings. “If we go further, perhaps two miles, we should find civilisation.”

  “You will not make two miles on foot just now. Can you drive this vehicle?”

  “I should be able to. What do you propose?”

  “A little confusion for our captors.” The warrior’s eyes lit with unexpected mischief. “Here, use some of this, and ensure you can operate the vehicle.” Arrow found the healing salve back in her hand and moved towards the truck’s cabin. Propped up against the cab she applied some of the salve to her side, wincing at the pain, glad she did not have an audience before she opened the driver’s door. Heaving herself into the driver’s seat made her vision waver, black spots floating across her sight.

  By the time she had worked out the truck’s controls, Kallish was settled in the passenger seat, sparkle still in her eyes. Arrow glanced out of the window and suppressed a gasp. The warrior had lined the dead men up along the side of the road, along with the trunk, human weapons laid at their feet. There was a rune drawn in blood on the pitted tarmac near the bodies. An Erith symbol of weakness. The gang might not know the language, but they would not miss the message. A deliberate taunt. One that would provoke the gang leader into rage.

  Arrow started the truck at the warrior’s sideways glance, thinking that it was a very good thing White Guard were bound by honour codes.

  “Can we avoid this gang’s territory?”

  “Easily. They have a large area at the other side of the city. If we take this truck as far as the nearest inhabited area and abandon it, it will take some time for the gang to find it if they ever do. It is not warded and I can detect no tracking device.”

  “Very well.” The warrior made a swift, thorough search of the cabin, not even wincing at the occasional crunch of gears as Arrow wrestled with unfamiliar controls. Arrow kept going until they were right at the edge of an inhabited area, finding what looked like an abandoned street. She stopped the vehicle in the middle of the street, turning off the engine but leaving the keys in the ignition.

  “Nothing useful,” the warrior summarised her search, showing Arrow a single piece of paper, “simply the registration details for the vehicle. A corporation.”

  “Hal Very Inc. How imaginative.” Arrow shook her head, agreeing with Kallish.

  “Nothing to connect them to their overlord. And nothing on their bodies either. Not even a mobile phone.” The half-human words sounded strange from the warrior’s mouth, but Arrow appreciated how thorough the warrior had been in searching the truck and bodies.

  “A very careful overlord, then,” Arrow speculated, descending from the truck with a hiss as her ribs pinched. Despite the salve her entire side ached.

  “We should move.”

  “Yes.” Arrow straightened, proud when she did not wince. Judging by the frowning glance from Kallish, her attempt to appear normal had not worked.

  “We require resources,” Kallish noted, checking over her weapons as they began walking, slowly, towards the city’s centre.

  “The cadre at the vicandula?” Arrow suggested, hesitant. Etan nuin Sovernis had fallen in the encounter with the surjusi, and in gathering his soul stone she had loosed the seed for a vicandula, the Erith grave plant. A little piece of the Erith in the devastated city, now closely guarded. The cadre would not welcome her, but Kallish at least could seek refuge. The cadre would defend the vicandula to the death. There would be a mage stationed there, too, charged with setting protections for the plant.

  The warrior was silent for several moments. Arrow glanced across to see her frowning, normally expressionless face showing worry.

  “The gang would have no hesitation in attacking the vicandula,” Arrow said, guessing the warrior’s concern.

  “Lord Whintnath would not be happy if the vicandula was disturbed.”

  An understatement if ever Arrow had heard one. Grave plants were sacred to the Erith, a potent remembrance of their dead, and a warrior fallen in combat more so. An entire cadre and a mage to guard one plant would appear ridiculous to humans. Among the Erith it was the least they expected. Lord Whintnath, the head of the White Guard, would be beyond furious if the plant were damaged and had the entire White Guard to enforce his fury.

  Arrow tried to ignore the pain from her various bruises, instead considering how they could leave Hallveran, and escape the gang, with the limited resources they had. She had never missed her bag more, safely tucked away in Lix.

  “How far to the safe house?” Kallish asked after another pause.

  “Which one? There are four that I know of.”

  “The one where we left the vehicles before.”

  “Ah.” Arrow’s brow cleared. Unlike Kallish, she had forgotten that the White Guard had abandoned perfectly usable, well-armoured, vehicles in their haste to convey Lord Juinis back to the Taellaneth. “Perhaps another few miles.”

  She searched through her pockets and pulled out a handful of human money, a few stray pieces of chalk, and a matte black credit card. She frowned at the card. Slipped into her pockets as an afterthought when she left the hotel.

  “We may have resources. Providing the Chief Scribe has not cut off my credit.” She thought it was unlikely that Eshan nuin Regersfel, with the opportunity to make things difficult for her, would have forgotten that small detail.

  “We will be conspicuous through the city,” the warrior remarked. Arrow glanced across and realised abruptly what a contrast they made. The warrior was dressed in the working uniform of the White Guard; a dark grey outfit exquisitely sewn and tailored by Erith hands, bristling with weaponry. Despite the difficult day, the warrior’s back was straight and her long, black hair barely ruffled from its complex series of braids. Arrow was dressed in dark human clothing more suited for an outdoors hike than a city stroll, clothes threadbare from use, the fleece jacket she had worn as her warmest layer covered with bits of dirt and plant, doubtless from her trail through the estate in Lix. She had lost her gloves and hat, and without looking Arrow knew that her own hair, wildly curling at best, would now resemble a bird’s nest.

  “It will be nightfall soon. We can use the dark as cover. Not many people venture out at night in Hallveran.”

  “Very well.”

  They kept walking a while longer, Arrow guiding them down deserted streets as much as possible, the late afternoon giving way to dusk and early evening. Walking was an effort. Standing still was not an option, with the gang likely looking for them.

  “We should rest. And e
at. There are places where food can be purchased?”

  “Yes, svegraen. Something to eat and drink would be welcome.” An understatement of her own. She looked around. They were at the edges of a residential area, with the bright signs of a commercial area showing at the end of a street a little way ahead. “There are generally all-night cafés with take out available in these areas,” she speculated aloud. “There, that green sign.”

  “All-night café? Take out food?” the warrior tested the new phrases. Adapted from the common tongue they sounded clumsy in Erith.

  “It is not likely to be the same quality as Lix,” Arrow warned the warrior, remembering the bakery bags in the safe house. “If I might suggest, svegraen, that you wait close by, I will procure the items.”

  “I will be too noticeable, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “I shall wait there.” Kallish nodded to a dark alleyway and stalked away, leaving Arrow to continue down the street.

  There was a currency dispenser a few doors down from the café, so she stopped there first. Handing over cash was commonplace but using the Erith’s unlimited credit card in a café would provoke discussion and draw even more attention if the Chief Scribe had indeed cut off her credit. Happily, the first stroke of luck of the day, the Erith had not cut off her credit. She took out as much as the machine would allow. One of the administrative office clerks would be sure to report the card’s use to Eshan. It was unlikely the card would work again. She hoped that the money she had managed to get, along with Kallish’s skill, would be enough to see them across the city. While the collar was active she was useless.

  CHAPTER 4

  Carrying enough food for four hungry humans or, she hoped, one hungry Erith warrior and a mage, she rejoined Kallish a short while later.

  “We should rest while we eat,” Kallish said, taking some of the bags. “There is a small green area nearby that seems suitable.”

  Hoping that Kallish was not suggesting they camp in someone’s private garden, Arrow followed the warrior a half block further on and down a narrow alley between silent and unlit human residences, seeing to her relief that the warrior had found an allotment area, a large stretch of land with different plots neatly cordoned off with fencing, the whole expanse dotted with garden sheds, some of the locks shimmering with wards. Kallish led them a short distance into the area to a plot where there was a table and chairs set at the edge of an extensive vegetable garden. The plants were not Erith, the scents unfamiliar, yet there was still something soothing about being among green growing things, frost and snow carefully swept aside by the human caretakers.