The lady tilted her head, acknowledging the points.
“And you will not tell me if I am right or wrong,” Arrow continued, anger gathering in her voice. “I am expected to solve this and fix this on my own.”
“You are not on your own.”
“I am on a beach with you.”
“You are not really here.”
Arrow said a word she had rarely used and sat down in the sand.
“If I am not here, then you are not here either. You created this.” Arrow looked around again.
“I thought it would be easier for you to understand.”
“Thank you.” Arrow cut off her words, the sharp bite unintended. She looked back at the enormous cliff rising above them. The stone that looked familiar. “Who or what is strong enough to trap the heartland in her own domain?” she speculated aloud, sending a sideways glance to the lady.
The lady stiffened, face twitching in what looked like the beginnings of a smile before she schooled her expression back to apparent calm.
Arrow stayed silent, turning the possibilities over in her mind. She drew her knees up to her chin, wrapped her arms around her legs, and wished she was elsewhere.
Something strong enough to capture the heartland’s essence in her own domain.
Something had tainted Undurat’s brother, the taint swallowed down.
Something was very wrong at the temple.
The Gardener, supposedly the servant of the heartland, had drugged those gathered and removed them to a jungle far from the temple.
The Gardener, supposedly the servant of the heartland. Who had woken Arrow’s sword.
In charge of the temple. Which had made a cloak for Arrow, then kept it. Where Undurat’s brother had been tainted.
“Saul has found a way through,” Arrow said eventually, resting her head on her knees.
Saul. First appearing as a seemingly-human magician. The lord of the surjusi realm. Last seen trying to claw his way out of a portal in the human world. It had taken everything she had, and aid from the heartland, to send him back to his own realm. She had died. She had been saved and brought back by the heartland.
“Except he is not all the way through, or the heartland would be overrun,” Arrow went on, hearing the exhaustion in her own voice. She did not want to deal with this. She did not want to face the surjusi lord again. She wanted to be back in her cottage in the human world with the simple life she was building. Classes to teach. Tasks for the shifkin. Kester.
Except that she could not go back. The Erith had drawn too much attention to the cottage. Humans had tried to kill the Prime in broad daylight and she had been forced to drop her disguise to save them. Her disguise might not work anymore. And Kester. Kester was only in the human world carrying out the Taellan’s wishes. And may not be Taellan for much longer.
There was a dull pain in her chest. Too much change. Too much loss.
She wanted to lie down and sleep. She was so tired. Her limbs were heavy, eyes reluctant to stay open.
“You ask too much of me,” she told the heartland, voice a bare whisper.
“Always.”
The sadness in that one word surprised her into opening her eyes, looking at the lady.
The heartland wearing Alisemea’s form was crying again. Silently, tears coursing down her cheeks. She was still beautiful. “All my bright stars,” she said, voice catching. “I require so much from you.”
There would be no safety if Saul made it all the way through. She had known that before, facing him in the Abbey’s ballroom with a piece of surjusi power burrowing through her heart. Saul would simply take everything.
There were a few people who might stand against him. Who, if they grouped together, might stand a chance.
Everyone who might stand against him had been in the group at the temple, Arrow realised, her breath catching. The six. Serran. Miach, Elias and Kallish. Their cadres. The Prime. Orlis and Gilean. And her.
She had wondered why there were no human representatives among the group. Now she knew. The group was not about choosing a new monarch for the Erith, and having witnesses to that. The group was about collecting all the threats to the surjusi and neutralising them. Humans were no threat, not even the First Mage and his deputy.
“How did the Gardener become so corrupted that he is now doing the surjusi’s bidding?” she asked.
“You should ask him.”
“I will.”
Arrow straightened and stood up, brushing sand off her clothes. The lady rose with her.
“This will not be easy,” the heartland warned.
Arrow laughed.
~
She woke up, laughing, to find a ring of concerned faces above her. Kallish. Kester. Zachary. Iserat. She laughed again at their expressions.
“Arrow.” Kester’s relief was obvious. “You have been asleep for hours.”
Beyond his shoulder, another familiar face appeared. Willan.
“It is good to see you again,” he said.
“And you. Did Zachary find you as well?”
“Yes. Gave me a fright.” The war mage chuckled. He had, along with the rest of the six, survived an unimaginable length of time in the surjusi realm. Arrow doubted he had been truly frightened by the appearance of the Prime.
She sat up slowly, body stiff, and realised that it was dark. Still, she could see their faces.
There was a fire burning nearby, dancing light casting shadows over them. Seivella was sitting near the fire, her dress restored to finery, her hair immaculate. The lady looked up from the fire and Arrow saw that there was no amber in her eyes, the lady’s face tight with anger.
“So, you are finally awake.”
“What happened?” Arrow asked.
“That stupid potion of yours ran out,” Seivella told her, voice bitter. “A few cleansing spells and it was gone.”
“There was not enough for a full second dose,” Arrow reminded her.
“I know that,” the lady snapped.
“We are leaving her be, for now anyway,” Kallish told Arrow, back turned on the lady. “Are you well?”
“Yes,” Arrow answered automatically. She drew a breath, testing her body and her senses. The well of power inside was as deep as it had ever been, stirring in response to her attention. Second sight came immediately to her will. A moment later her wards rose around her, silver gleaming in the first world.
“It worked,” Kester said, relief obvious.
“You doubt my work?” Arrow asked, smiling. It felt good to have her magic back.
“No,” he answered, smiling back.
“Can you find the others?” Iserat wanted to know. “Death monkeys and baelthras like hunting at night.”
Arrow drew another long breath in, feeling the power running along her veins, coating her skin with familiar barely-there warmth. She closed her eyes, settled into the calmness that the Academy trained, and sent her senses out.
The jungle was overwhelming at first. There was life everywhere. In the soil underneath, on the surface, among the shrubs and trees, and in the skies ahead. Small creatures, and some not so small, that called this place their home.
Around her the familiar presence of Kester, Kallish, and Zachary were muted, the brilliant power she was used to seeing in the Prime stunted. She thought there might be a spell there that she could unravel, setting aside for later as she looked further, beyond the immediate group.
There were others within her range. Clusters of two and three almost-familiar signatures, muted like the others near her. And a larger group. Five. Perhaps six. Most of the group that had been in the temple, or so she thought. They were scattered over a fair distance, and at least two of the clusters were moving apart from each other.
At the very edge of her senses she found something else. A powerful spell. Wards and something else mixed in.
She came back to the here and now to find that Iserat was roasting temeos fruit along with some other fruits by the side of the fire,
the sweet scent of cooking making her stomach rumble.
“We have plenty of food,” Kallish told her.
“What did you find?” Iserat asked.
“Most of the others, I think. In small groups, and scattered over a wide distance. And there is something shielded by wards at the edge of my senses. That way.” She pointed. It was not the direction they had been travelling in, away from the stream’s path. “There are a few other streams nearby. The others are staying near water.”
“Something shielded,” Iserat repeated. He exchanged glances with Willan. “Probably worth exploring.”
Arrow paused, looking at the two of them. They had been in the surjusi realm a long, long time, with the others of the six. She had thought they might be tired of exploring. It seemed not.
“Wards usually mean something valuable,” Willan added.
“Most of the others are between us and the shielded thing,” Arrow said slowly.
“Then we should go that way,” Iserat said, then tilted his head to Kallish. “Unless you have another plan?”
“Seems as good as any,” Kallish answered, voice mild, then turned to Arrow. “Any sign of predators?”
“No. But it would not necessarily be easy to tell. I do think that there is a spell on Zachary, though.”
“Can you remove it?” Kester asked.
“Possibly. With some time.”
Zachary made a low noise which Arrow had no difficulty interpreting as impatience.
“Once you have eaten,” Kallish prompted. “You are already thinner.”
Using magic took energy from the mage’s body. It was one of the first things the Academy taught its students. Arrow held out her arm and saw that Kallish was right. The bones of her hand were more pronounced than they had been. She did not think she had used that much power in the search. And then remembered what had gone before that. The lady and the beach. The heartland had probably used Arrow’s power for that connection.
Arrow could remember the heat on her skin, the feel of sand under her fingers, the light glinting off the lady’s tears. She had retained her memories this time, not losing them when awake. At a cost. She was almost shivering with hunger.
The fruit, whatever it was, and temeos cooked over the open fire was the finest meal Arrow could remember. She had second and third helpings, whilst Iserat and Kallish raided Kallish’s makeshift bag for more fruit to cook for the others. They were keeping her fed so that she could defend them, she knew, refusing to feel guilty as Seivella glared at her, eating her own meal with dainty bites. Not wanting to spoil her dress, Arrow guessed.
The meal done, she turned her attention to Zachary, examining him in second sight. There was a knot of unfamiliar spellwork over his heart that resisted her prodding at first before falling apart, revealing the blinding power of the Prime. Arrow quickly shut down her second sight, coming back to the first world to find Zachary stretching back into human form, eyes full of power.
“That was unpleasant,” he said mildly, settling to sit near Kester. The Prime had come back to his human form fully clothed, as shifkin could do, with effort.
“You were trapped in your other form?” Iserat asked.
“Yes.” Zachary snarled, the sound resonating in his human chest. “And my senses were stunted. Would you recognise the maker?” he asked Arrow.
“Yes.”
“Good.” His lips bared in what could have been a smile, except there were too many white teeth showing and his eyes were full of power.
“What about us?” Seivella asked, voice petulant.
“You are not under a spell,” Arrow told her. “The potion used has not left any trace in your body for spellwork to find. Yes, I checked,” she added, voice sharp, at the lady’s evident surprise.
CHAPTER 17
Travelling through the dense jungle was just as difficult with her power back as it had been before. Even Kallish’s low-voiced suggestions did not help. She was still clumsy.
Zachary led the group with the easy grace of a predator, even in human form, not hampered by tree roots or sliding rocks under his feet, or any of the other hazards on the jungle floor. The warriors and Willan moved with similar grace and even Seivella seemed to have picked up the knack of it. So the only slow person was Arrow, at the back of the group, sticky with sweat under her clothes and stubbing her toes frequently.
Kester stayed with her, walking a few paces ahead where their path did not allow them to be side by side. He made no comment at all on her frequent stumbles, keeping an eye on their surroundings.
Her lack of skill only became more apparent as the day wore on. They found the rest of Kallish’s cadre, who had managed to gather in twos and threes already, every one of them relieved to find their leader. They also found Onalla, the warrior delighted to see them as well, even though they did not have brandy.
Kallish lost no time in putting her warriors to work looking for the plants needed for the counter-agent. There were too few of them, though, and key ingredients were missing. The heartland’s help was fading, Arrow realised, and a knot of worry formed in her chest. She had not found the time or words to explain to the others what she had learned.
Apart from Seivella, who kept twitching her skirts as though trying to get the cloth away from her skin, the others accepted their lack of magic with reasonably good grace, gathering the plants in the hopes that there might be enough for more doses as they went.
The warriors in particular simply adapted to their new circumstances. All had been stripped of their weapons, only a few managing to retain small blades like the one Kallish had. Between them, they gathered more straight sticks to make spears until every warrior, and Willan, carried one spear ready with at least two spares. The war mage carried his spears with a casual familiarity that told Arrow he knew how to fight. Zachary just laughed when they offered him a weapon and Seivella refused to carry one. Arrow was tempted to ask for a pair to use as walking sticks, deciding against it as she did not wish to be pitied.
It was late in the day and she had just brushed her sticky hair off her face for what felt like the hundredth time. The heartland’s transformation of her had included less tangled hair. It still got tangled, though, and she had nothing to hold it off her face, strands clinging to her skin. The minor distraction was enough for her to lose her footing. Her toe caught on something on the ground and she fell forwards, flat on her face, outstretched hands not finding anything to hold on to, unable to catch herself.
She scrambled back to her feet, face burning, and brushed leaves and dirt from her clothes, tucking hair more securely behind her ears, before moving on, only to stop again. By chance they had arrived at a small gap between the trees, so everyone could at least see each other, and several of the group glanced back at her as she stopped again.
“Is she alright?” She heard one of the warriors ask.
“Something is wrong,” she said. Something had carried in the air. Some scent. Or trace. Something.
“Where? What?” Kallish asked, directing her cadre into a circle with swift hand gestures. There was no space for them all to stand together, their places interrupted by temeos trees.
“I am not sure. Something. Prime, do you sense anything?”
“Something foul,” he agreed. “Not clear where.”
Even as he finished speaking, an all-too-familiar scream rang out. Night was falling and the world seemed to darken as the cry went on.
“Baelthras,” Iserat said, grim. “I did not miss them.”
“Close in,” Kallish ordered her cadre, “and keep your eyes open. Seivella, go stand with Arrow.”
“Baelthras,” the lady said, voice high and sharp. “We should run.”
“They can outrun any of us. Even the Prime,” Kallish countered, giving the lady a shove into the centre of the warriors’ circle. Iserat, Willan, Onalla, and Kester were in the circle, too, spears ready.
“Give me a blade,” Arrow ordered, holding her hand out.
“It
will not help against baelthras,” Kallish protested.
“It will help make mage fire,” Arrow snapped back, temper worn. Kallish lifted a brow, tilted her head and put the blade into Arrow’s hand a moment later.
Using an ordinary knife to slice her skin was an exercise in agony and Arrow was on her knees by the time she had made a big enough cut to draw enough blood. She found Willan crouched beside her, the war mage’s face expressing nothing but sympathy.
“I have only had to do that once,” he told her. “More than enough. Remember to breathe.”
Breathing. Excellent idea. In. Slowly. Out. Slowly. The sharp piercing white hurt of her hand faded and she could focus. There was danger on the way. No time for her to faint.
The words of the mage fire spell came easily to her lips. Too much practice. Blinding silver crackled in her hands, power ready to be used.
“I do not have much,” she told the warriors. “Maybe one or two shots.”
“Then we will try and keep it still,” Kallish said, face set. She issued orders to her cadre that had similarly grim expressions on all their faces.
As long as there was only one, Arrow thought, but kept her lips firmly shut. Baelthras were generally solitary creatures, fighting each other when there was no other prey.
Baelthras were formidable foes. White Guard normally fought baelthras with a full complement of weapons, and their own wards. They were in a jungle armed with sticks and no magic. Arrow’s stomach tightened as she moved, at Kallish’s direction, to stand a little further back from the warriors. Every single warrior was holding their ground. She could not do any less.
They waited.
The scream came again. A keening cry that could not be ignored or forgotten. Closer. Much closer.
A low, snarling sound made her freeze for a moment before she remembered the Prime. He was in his animal form, a lethal dark presence stalking through the ranks of warriors, teeth bared, eyes glowing with power, looking for his enemy.
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