Taellaneth Complete Series Box Set

by Vanessa Nelson

  They stopped to wash off some of the blood and, at Kallish’s instruction, rub some morias over their clothing, bits of leaves sticking to the drying blood. It would help mask the smell, the warrior said.

  Then they made their way forward, Zachary padding ahead of them.

  Kallish seemed shaken. The first time that Arrow could remember the warrior’s confidence showing any fractures.

  “Are you alright?” she said, voice as soft as she could make it.

  Kallish sent her a sharp sideways glance, and her mouth twisted up what might have been a smile. She shook her head a fraction, and tilted her chin ahead, towards Zachary.

  “He is far more dangerous than anything else in this place,” the warrior answered.

  “A good thing he is on our side,” Arrow answered, trying for a light tone. They would all be dead if Zachary were not here. And whatever the Gardener had done to him, the Prime was still himself, stuck in his animal form.

  Kallish gave a half-laugh, and some of the tension eased from her shoulders. “True.”

  CHAPTER 15

  They had walked until it was too dark to move further, even for the Erith. Arrow was not sure anyone had actually slept when they stopped, Kallish finding them a spot to rest near the stream. They were back on their feet at first light, Zachary climbing the nearest temeos tree and sending down more fruit before they moved on, Kallish insisting that they find more morias to cover their clothes as they walked.

  The sun was high again when they came to a place where the narrow stream widened, pooling among rocks under trees.

  “We should search,” Arrow said, calling a halt. She was sticky under her clothes, pockets full of more plants gathered on the way. Only a few more required and she would be able to brew the counter-agent.

  “What do you need?” Kallish asked. She set the spears into the ground, at widely spaced intervals, ready to be seized if required, and tilted her head to Arrow for instructions.

  Arrow took off her jacket, almost sighing in relief at the weight and heat of it leaving her body, and emptied her pockets, setting the plants she had gathered onto its surface. She gave Kallish a half dozen plants to search for. Kallish peeled off her boots and stepped into the water without protest.

  “I suppose you want me to help,” Seivella said. She had settled at the stream’s edge, bare feet in the water. She looked and sounded exhausted.

  “The only way I know of to make this is by brewing over fire,” Arrow answered, straightening and hissing as her knee protested. She might be covered in bits of morias, yet she had not managed to chew any to ease her muscles. “So we need to work out how to make a vessel for cooking and a fire.”

  Zachary, who had been lying down in the middle of a shrub, made a soft, huffing sound, got to his feet, and padded off into the undergrowth.

  “We need dry kindling,” Seivella said. She was looking around, eyes dull. “Nothing in this place is dry.”

  “Not near the water,” Kallish agreed, coming back to the water’s edge, hands full of damp plants. “Are these what you need?”

  “Most of it, yes, thank you.” Arrow took the plants back to her coat, and reviewed the ingredients again. “We do not have mercat. We will have to use something else instead.” There must be something, she reasoned. Most Erith plants could be substituted.

  “I thought I saw mercat,” Seivella said, tilting her chin back the way they had come. “Back that way.”

  Arrow bit her lip to hold in hasty words. Kallish was not so polite.

  “Why did you say nothing?” the warrior demanded. She was still standing in the stream, soaked nearly to her waist.

  “I did not think,” Seivella answered, sulky again. “It was not far.”

  “Well?” Kallish prompted.

  “You want me to go and get it?”

  “Yes. You know where it is.”

  “On my own?”

  Kallish glared at the lady for a long moment before getting out of the water. “Fine. I will come with you. Arrow, will you be alright?”

  “Of course, svegraen.” Arrow was eyeing the stream with longing. Sitting with her feet in the cold water seemed an excellent idea.

  She was as comfortable as she had been in the jungle. Sun on her face, feet in cold water, trying to ignore the dried blood on her clothes or the fact her long-sleeved t-shirt was sticking to her body. She wished she had a change of clothes. Or a cleansing spell. And her messenger bag. And her sword. And her kri-syang. And a great long list of other things, including Kester.

  “There you are.”

  As if her mind had conjured him from thin air, his voice broke her daydream.

  She looked over her shoulder to find Kester walking towards the stream’s bank, Zachary beside him. She blinked, wondering if she was dreaming. He looked himself, warrior’s uniform in one piece. No weapons, though. Perhaps she was not dreaming.

  “The Prime found me. Are you alright?” Kester crouched beside her.

  “Kester.” She was stuck on his name for a moment.

  “Yes. Is that blood?” He lifted a strand of her hair. Like Kallish and Seivella, his eyes were clear of amber. “Are you injured?”

  She could not speak for a moment, shaking her head, and then tucking her head into his shoulder. His arms came around her and she breathed in the familiar scent, stronger than usual. Cardamom. Weapons oil. Citrus.

  She was crying. She did not care. And she did care. It was foolish.

  “We met some death monkeys,” she told him, voice muffled in his shoulder.

  His arms tightened, then he gripped her shoulders, pulling back so that he could see her face. “You are not injured?”

  “No. But there were so many of them. And so much death.”

  “You said we? You and Zachary?”

  “And Kallish and Seivella. They went that way to look for mercat.”

  “Mercat?” He blinked, startled, then glanced aside at the pile of plants spread out on her coat. “You have your magic?”

  “No. But there is a counter-agent.”

  “Kester.” Kallish’s voice, surprised and pleased, cut across whatever he might have said. “How did you find us?”

  “I did not. Zachary found me.”

  Arrow remembered the Prime’s soft sound, perhaps of discovery, before he disappeared into the trees.

  “Where is the Prime?” Kallish asked. She was full of excellent questions, Arrow thought. Questions that Arrow should have thought of herself. She still wanted to cry, and still did not really understand why.

  “He was with me until I saw Arrow. Then he turned back.” Kester turned and looked into the trees as if he could track the Prime by will alone.

  “Perhaps he is searching for kindling,” Seivella said, a sharp tone to her voice. “Making himself useful at last.”

  Kester lifted a brow at the lady, taking in her appearance.

  “A rough few days, my lady?” he asked mildly.

  Seivella shot him a glare that would have made any student at the Academy stop in their tracks. Kester did not react.

  “Here is your mercat.” The lady dropped a crushed plant on top of the pile. “Anything else?”

  “Kindling and something to cook with,” Arrow answered promptly. She put her boots back on and moved to crouch by the pile of plants. She sorted them through carefully, aware of Kester at her other side.

  “Where did you find sysianai? It is very rare. And usually found in the mountains.”

  “There was some along the way,” Arrow told him, tilting her head as she considered the range of plants before her. Some were mostly found in the mountains, much higher than where they were just now. Some in deep, still water. Some were jungle-dwellers. Some from the open plains. It should not have been possible to find them all together, and along the path that they had taken, staying close to the stream.

  “Very good to see you all.”

  The newcomer’s voice made them all look up, startled, and Kallish cursed under her breath
, taken unawares.

  “Greetings, svegraen,” Arrow said, rising to meet Iserat. The leader of the six was in one piece, and, compared to her small group, unmarked. He looked around the group, taking in the dried blood and water stains on Seivella’s dress.

  “A rough few days?” Iserat asked. The unconscious echo of Kester’s words made Arrow choke on an unexpected laugh.

  “Indeed,” Kallish said, voice dry. “We met death monkeys.”

  “Vicious creatures. Give me baelthras any day. But I see you were prepared for them,” Iserat said, indicating the row of makeshift spears with a sweep of his hand.

  “Did Zachary find you?” Arrow asked.

  “The large black wolf? Yes. I thought it was a shifkin, but I do not know the Prime well. He led me here and set off again.”

  Arrow wondered how many others Zachary might find and thought the others were wondering the same, judging by the keen looks around, trying to follow the Prime’s track.

  “You are getting ready for something, mage,” Iserat commented, eyes on the plants.

  “A counter-agent for whatever was given to us,” Kallish told him. “Have you eaten? We have some fruit.”

  “That would be most welcome,” Iserat said gravely. Arrow had the strong impression that was an understatement. He and Kester settled nearby and accepted a pair of temeos fruits each from Kallish, who looked into her makeshift bag and shot a glare across at Seivella.

  “I was hungry,” the lady protested, shrugging her shoulders.

  “Well, we will need more fruit soon. Arrow, here.”

  Arrow took the offered fruit and sat on the ground to eat it, still wondering how they were going to manage to brew the counter-agent.

  By the time she had finished her fruit, two more Erith appeared through the trees, also sent by Zachary. Two of Kallish’s cadre, very pleased to see their leader. The Prime came with them this time, settling on his haunches beside Kester, eyes travelling around the group.

  “Is this all you could find just now?” Arrow asked.

  Zachary nodded his head, and bared his teeth in a silent snarl.

  “Something interfering with your senses?” Arrow guessed, not sure quite what had led to that conclusion. He snarled aloud this time.

  “Whatever it was they drugged us with was powerful,” Iserat commented. “I have not woken with a headache like that since my cadet days.”

  “It is also making it difficult to think clearly,” Kester added. Arrow’s attention snagged and she frowned, wondering if that was why she wanted to cry so badly. It made sense. But it also made sense that she was over-tired from weeks of nightmares, and aware of how vulnerable they were in the Erith heartland, full of unforgiving Erith predators, with nothing but a few makeshift spears to defend themselves.

  “This might do for a bowl,” Kallish said, breaking into her thoughts. “There was a fallen tree.” She was holding what looked like part of a hollowed-out tree trunk, the trunk distended to form a large, shallow bowl. Arrow stared at it for a long moment. All the large trees around them were temeos trees, with straight, smooth trunks. Not the gnarled bark and twisting pattern of the one Kallish was holding. The warrior lifted a brow. “Is it too small? There is a whole tree to search. This was the easiest to get.”

  “No. It will work.” And now all they needed was kindling and something to start a fire. Arrow had a strange certainty that they would find what they needed soon enough.

  Sure enough, in short order the group had gathered a large pile of dry and mostly dry fallen wood, dead leaves from the undergrowth and dry stones from the stream’s edge to form a makeshift hearth. There was even a flat pair of stones that Arrow could use to grind the herbs together before putting them to steep in the shallow bowl along with water from the stream.

  It was all very convenient.

  Arrow watched the mixture brewing and realised something else.

  “We do not have much mercat. There is maybe one and a half doses here. Not very much.”

  “You take it,” Kallish said at once. “And Seivella can take what is left, if anything.”

  Arrow looked up at the warrior, brows lifting at the prompt reply. Kallish’s mouth pulled into a smile.

  “You are the most powerful among us.”

  Arrow ducked her head again, staring at the steaming potion. The most powerful, when she had her magic. Perhaps the most vulnerable without.

  She missed her magic. It was like having a limb cut off or tied down. It hampered her in everything she did. Even when she had worn the collar at the Academy, or been oath-bound to the Erith, her power had been there, a comforting presence.

  She did not miss the nightmares, though.

  “It is done,” Seivella said, calling her attention from her gloomy thoughts. “Hurry up. I am so tired of being in these filthy clothes.”

  “We have more important things to deal with than your cleansing requirements,” Kallish told the lady, voice cool.

  “You are not itching?” Seivella shivered lightly. “I need to be clean.”

  “You could wash in the stream,” Iserat suggested. “We promise not to look.” That last comment was worthy of Onalla, Arrow thought, taking the wooden bowl from the heat and setting it on the ground to cool. It was ready.

  She waited until the steam had died down and the bits and pieces of plant matter had floated to the surface, then picked up the bowl.

  “Four full swallows,” Seivella reminded her, apparently having decided to be useful.

  “The normal dose is three,” Arrow said, holding the bowl in front of her.

  “That drug was powerful. You will need at least four. If nothing happens, take another.”

  “Very well.” Arrow brought the bowl to her mouth and took four mouthfuls of the liquid in quick succession. It was bitter and sweet and tart and creamy and foul tasting and full of wonder all at the same time. She set the bowl aside carefully, settling herself cross-legged on the ground.

  “How long do we wait?” Iserat asked.

  “Not long,” Seivella answered. Her voice was distant, heard through the roar of the sea in Arrow’s ears.

  She opened her mouth to tell them that she thought it was working when a tidal wave of silver slammed into her, sending her sliding backwards along the ground, flattening her. Silver washed over her and into her, filling every pore, every part of her being, coursing down her throat into her lungs, pouring into her heart and sliding along her veins. Power. Familiar. Hers.

  CHAPTER 16

  She was blind, the entire world coated with silver. And deaf apart from a roar in her ears. The scent and taste of the potion faded, replaced with the salt bite of the sea.

  And into the roar came an all-too-familiar cry. A woman in distress. Calling out for help.

  Arrow sat up, looking around. She was on a beach. She did not know where. There was sand underneath her, pale and fine. It slid under her when she stood up, falling off her clothes. She glanced down, seeing that she was wearing the clothes from the jungle, bloodstained and covered in bits and pieces of sap, leaves, and dirt.

  The sea in front of her was vast and blue, an endless expanse broken by a few choppy white peaks, meeting the sky at a far distant horizon.

  The hush of the sea did not cover the sound of sobbing nearby. Arrow turned inland and saw a great cliff, stretching into the sky above, made of dull, brown stone that looked faintly familiar.

  On the beach not far from her there was a woman dressed in azure blue, huddled on the sand, blond hair covering her face. She seemed to be crying into her hands.

  “Lady,” Arrow said, voice rusty, and began walking towards the woman.

  The woman stiffened and looked up.

  Blue eyes. Familiar features. Blond hair.

  Arrow stopped in her turn, feeling as if something had kicked her stomach.

  “Why are you wearing my mother’s face?” Arrow asked the lady. Not an Erith. Not a real person. She knew that, with absolute certainty. Still, it was s
trange and unsettling to see her mother’s face.

  “I thought it would be familiar for you,” the lady answered, rising to her feet in a smooth, graceful movement that was far more fluid than it should be.

  “I never knew my mother.”

  “But you have seen her face,” not-Alisemea pointed out.

  “That is so. Why did you call me here?”

  “I have been trying to call you for weeks.”

  “The nightmares.” Arrow felt a chill run through her. “I did not understand what they were. I could not remember them.”

  “You are so guarded that the only time I could get through was in your sleep. I hoped you would have realised much sooner.”

  “How should I?” Arrow heard the bitterness in her voice, fragments of nightmares gathering together in her head along with the odd perfection of this place. The fine sand, the blue water, the sky overhead, the smooth cliff face. Nothing was real. Nothing was what it seemed. Including the apparently Erith woman in front of her, who she now knew. “I am exiled. Why would I imagine that the Erith’s heartland was trying to speak with me?”

  “Because you are my favoured,” the lady answered, putting her hand on Arrow’s cheek, where the heartland’s mark lay. Echoes of warmth, of bubbling water over rocks, fresh scent of spring green, the bite of snow. All seasons all at once. Arrow had felt the heartland’s touch more than once and it was unmistakable, now she was fully alert and aware.

  “And why do you wish to speak with me?” Arrow asked, her tone sharp.

  “Can you not guess?”

  “I am so tired of the Erith and their games. No. I do not want to guess. I do not want to solve riddles.”

  “I am sorry.” Alisemea’s face reflected a genuine sorrow, tears gathering in her eyes. “If there was another way, I would take it.”

  “So, I need to work this out for myself.” Arrow clamped her jaw shut, resisting the urge to spit curses at the lady. The lady who was not a lady, but the embodiment of the Erith heartland. On a beach, with a giant cliff behind her. A cliff that did not belong with everything else, dark and forbidding in the overly-perfect summer day. “You are trapped here,” she guessed. “But not completely. You managed to arrange for the ingredients to be ready. And the bowl Kallish found.”