Taellaneth Complete Series Box Set

by Vanessa Nelson

  The baelthras surged out of the jungle around them, high above their heads, six limbs moving fluidly, propelling the creature through the trees, off the trunk above the warriors’ heads. As long as she lived, she would never get used to the creatures. They looked like a nightmare made flesh, grey hide blending into the shadows. The thing paused a moment, assessing the scene with its small, flat, black eyes, then sprang off the tree and onto the warriors. They had their spears up even as the creature fell. It made no difference. The wooden points slid off the toughened hide, the baelthras grabbing the warriors it could reach one by one, by their arms or legs, and throwing them aside. From the sharp cracks and snaps as the warriors landed, there were bones broken.

  It was an old creature, Arrow saw. There were scars across its toughened hide, and the point of one of its teeth was missing. Very few baelthras got to be old. The older ones were always more dangerous.

  Even as she gathered herself, Onalla leapt at the creature, grabbing hold of one of its legs in what looked like a foolish move. But Iserat was behind her and, as she used her weight to hold the leg, he stabbed the point of his spear behind the creature’s legs. Armpits. One of the few vulnerable points on the creature.

  It shrieked, raising every hair on Arrow’s body, twisting away, the spear tip breaking off, the flat eyes turning to Onalla, the creature trying to swipe her away with one of its clawed feet. The warrior clung on, grim-faced, ignoring the tear down her sleeve. Iserat had another spear ready, ducking under a clawed foot to shove the point into the weak spot.

  On the other side of the creature, a trio of Kallish’s warriors were trying to do the same. Two of them were trying to hold a limb steady whilst the third tried to find the right spot for the spear tip.

  The creature lashed its head round, long teeth biting into the spear-carrier’s shoulder. The warrior cried out, lifted up in the creature’s mouth, and thrown aside. The two others kept hold of the limb, another pair of warriors trying to get their spears into the vulnerable underside.

  The baelthras screamed in fury again, the stench of its breath making Arrow choke. It shook itself, gathering its limbs to it, and shaking again, sending the warriors, even Onalla, flying, and turned, clawed feet digging into the ground as it advanced on Onalla, mouth open.

  Onalla yelled back at it, grabbing the nearest spear she could reach, and scrambled back to her feet. There was blood pouring down her arm, and one side of her face was bruised, but she stood her ground against the creature, Iserat and some of Kallish’s cadre joining her.

  The creature shook its head, turning its attention away for a moment, dismissing Onalla as a threat.

  Arrow stepped forward, ignoring Kallish’s soft command to stay still. The remaining warriors were moving around the creature, harrying it with their spears. The baelthras’ narrow eyes moved across the group, searching out the weak points, paying little attention to the spears. It spotted Seivella and moved forward, a rapid ripple of multi-jointed limbs, head low, tongue flicking out across long, jagged teeth.

  Seivella screamed and tried to move away, catching her feet in her dress and falling backwards.

  Before the creature could reach her, the Prime was there, landing on the baelthras’ head with a silent leap, claws digging in as he tried to get his teeth to the creature’s eyes. The warriors moved forward, a few of them coated in leaves and holding their spears one-handed.

  “Now, mage,” Kallish urged.

  Arrow stepped forward, her feet moving without hindrance, until she was right in front of the creature.

  “Zachary, watch out,” she warned. The Prime snarled at her, white teeth shocking against his dark fur, then leapt to one side. The creature turned to her, mouth open in a scream that was always worse than she remembered.

  She poured mage fire into the narrow target of its open mouth, pulling as much power as she could into a long stream of blinding silver.

  The creature screamed again, sound distorted as the mage fire burned through it. One of its clawed feet grabbed at her, grasping her arm, lifting her with ease before she was thrown aside. She hit the sturdy trunk of a temeos tree with force and a cracking sound in one arm. Breath gone, she scrambled to get her feet under her, turning back towards the creature in instinct. She had no mage fire left. The baelthras writhed in agony, mouth open in another cry that drilled through her skull, its body writhing as the fire worked through it.

  “Get behind me.”

  Arrow was sure she had never seen warriors move so fast, even the ones with broken bones. She raised her wards as the last one came within touching distance.

  Not a moment too soon.

  The baelthras exploded in bits of flesh and bone, in ash and soot, in crackling silver lightning, its dying scream cut off.

  The wards held, sparkling silver as the bits of dead baelthras struck and slid off, forming a grisly semi-circle in front of Arrow.

  She breathed through the spatter of parts, through the pain in her arm, the well of power inside draining with each moment. She waited until there were no more sparks against her wards, then let them fall with a sigh, choking a moment later on the acrid stench of burnt flesh.

  “Most effective,” Kallish said, clapping Arrow on the shoulder, almost sending her tumbling to the ground again. “You are useful, mage.” The warrior turned away before Arrow could answer. “Xeveran, wounded?”

  “None serious,” Xeveran reported at once. “Mostly broken arms and wrists. One broken ankle. Undurat.”

  Even with the heavy presence of death around her, Arrow could still see the dismay on the warriors’ faces as they took that in. The biggest and heaviest of them, moving through the jungle with a broken ankle was going to be almost impossible without help.

  “If you give me a minute,” Arrow said, voice hoarse, and paused a moment to cough. Her rib cage was bruised. Not broken, thankfully. She moved to stand nearer the tree, bracing herself with her good arm, breathing through the pain of the cough and the growing pain in her arm. “I can provide some healing.”

  “We cannot stay long,” Kallish warned. “Come, there is a stream a little way over. Get a drink. Food for the mage,” she ordered someone else.

  Arrow made it to the stream without falling over. She did not so much kneel as simply fold to the ground, using her good hand to splash water over her head before drinking.

  “I’m not sure if they stink worse alive or dead,” Zachary commented, crouching beside her at the stream. He was rinsing his mouth with single-minded focus. “And don’t get me started on the taste.”

  Arrow choked on an unexpected laugh. She sat back on her heels at the stream’s edge and accepted fruit from one of Kallish’s cadre, trying not to think about the stench in the air as she bit down.

  Fixing Undurat’s ankle took most of the remaining strength she had. She eyed the closing cut on her hand, the wrist above it already swelling with whatever damage had been done by the tree, and wondered if she should draw more power to heal the rest.

  “No,” Kallish said firmly, perhaps reading her mind. “We can all walk. Chew morias. You will brew some healing potion later.”

  “Svegraen,” Arrow acknowledged the order, feeling guilty at the relief she felt.

  “Which way?” Willan asked.

  Arrow sent her senses out, wincing as the effort sent a shooting pain behind her eyes. She was at the end of her strength.

  “That way to the shielded thing. But there is a group of three, perhaps four, a little way that way. I think they are coming this way.”

  “Probably heard the screams,” Kallish commented.

  “I only screamed once,” Seivella said, bite to her words. “Anyone would, with a baelthras running toward them.”

  By chance, Arrow met Kallish’s gaze. The warrior was actually biting her lip, holding in whatever retort had sprung to mind. White Guard and war mages faced the Trials, and almost always required to face baelthras. To pass the Trials, the baelthras had to be defeated. Without screaming.
Or running away.

  “Shall we go?” Kester suggested, before Kallish could speak. He was not looking at Seivella, but at Kallish, anger reflected in his face. Arrow realised with a start that, apart from the Prime, Seivella was the only one of the group who had not faced the Trials. Glancing around the cadre, Iserat, Onalla, and Willan she saw that their impression of the lady had not improved.

  “Yes.” Kallish organised her cadre with a few gestures and they set off into the jungle, leaving the scorched and smouldering bits of baelthras behind.

  CHAPTER 18

  The group that Arrow had sensed moving toward them turned out to be Orlis, Gilean and Elias, all of them moving through the jungle with the same ease as the warriors around Arrow. Hearing there were baelthras around, they were even more delighted to have met the larger group, all them turning towards the shielded thing.

  Orlis had also been gathering plants for the counter-agent as he and Gilean had travelled, having come to the same conclusion as Arrow. It was the first piece of good news that day. He had some of the ingredients that Arrow did not, and ideas about how to make up for the gaps. Mercat was the main one missing, but Orlis and Gilean had been discussing ways of brewing other plants together to make up for the lack.

  So the rest of the day’s walk passed far more easily. Apart from the growing ache in her arm, swelling now making her sleeve tight, it was almost pleasant. Orlis’ enthusiasm had not been dimmed by lack of magic, and he moved among the warriors with morias for them to chew to ease the pain until they had time to brew a proper healing, exchanging ideas with Willan, Gilean, and Arrow about how to brew the counter-agent.

  And as they walked the trees began to thin a little, the ground easier to walk on, so that Arrow did not have to concentrate so hard on where to put her feet.

  “Something ahead.” One of the warriors that Kallish had assigned to go ahead and scout reported back.

  The light-hearted conversation ceased, every warrior coming to battle alertness in a heartbeat.

  “Mage.” Kallish summoned Arrow forward. Kester shadowed Arrow as she made her way to the head of the group. “Is this what you sensed earlier?”

  Arrow looked ahead for a moment, eyes gleaming silver. “Yes. I thought it was further away,” she admitted.

  “We have travelled a long way,” Kallish told her, mouth quirking in a smile. “Did you not realise?”

  “No.” Arrow’s face heated. She had been too distracted by her arm, probably broken, and the conversation. Now that Kallish had mentioned it, she realised that her legs were sore and she was in need of a drink. And some more food. “We should see what is ahead.”

  “I can look,” Zachary offered.

  “There are wards and spells,” Arrow told him almost absently, sending her senses ahead for a better look. “It seems to be some kind of wooden structure protected with spells.”

  “There are hunter’s huts in the jungle,” Iserat put in unexpectedly. “Or, there were last time I was here.”

  “No one uses them now,” Gilean added. “But the structures still stand. The wards may still be active.”

  “This is fresh magic,” Arrow told them, still looking ahead. “Erith but not.”

  “Bloody magicians,” Zachary said, light tone at odds with the intent expression on his face.

  Kallish organised her cadre, exchanging a few low-voiced comments with the Prime as she did so. The most able-bodied to the fore, the injured at the back, with Seivella, Orlis, Gilean, and Willan. Elias, Kester, Onalla, and Iserat were drafted into the warriors’ ranks, assigned to watch Arrow. If any of them were insulted by the task, they gave no sign of it, readying their makeshift spears and keeping to either side of Arrow as they moved forward.

  The trees thinned out further, giving them a good view of a low, wooden structure. A hunter’s hut, as Iserat had suggested. There was no door, just a dark space shadowed as the light began to fade. And a smell that made Arrow’s nose wrinkle and must be much worse for the Erith and ‘kin around her.

  “There’s no one else around it.” Zachary’s voice made her squeal in surprise as he melted out of the undergrowth nearby. He grinned, too many white teeth showing.

  “Mage,” Kallish prompted.

  “What? Oh. Wards. Right. Give me a moment.” Opening her second sight fully she grimaced. “No wonder it does not feel like Erith power.”

  “Blood magic,” the Prime said, voice hard.

  “Yes.”

  “In the heartland?” In second sight, Arrow could not see Iserat’s face, could only hear the dismay.

  “There is something wrong with the heartland,” Arrow told them, almost an afterthought. “Her power is diminished.”

  “And you are just telling us now?” Kallish sounded furious.

  “We knew something was wrong the moment Duraner arrived,” Undurat put in unexpectedly.

  In second sight, Arrow could not see the exchange of glances, and chose not to hear the exchange of pithy comments as she examined the spells in front of her. Simple ward spells. Layers and layers of them. Bound with blood magic. Nothing destructive, just meant to hold the contents of the hut preserved and intact.

  That assessment complete, it did not take long to dismantle the spells.

  She came back to the first world to find that the light had faded further and the warriors around her were still arguing. She ignored them, stepping forward towards the hut, Iserat and Kester her shadows.

  “The wards are down,” she told them.

  “Any idea what’s inside?” the Prime asked, coming forward with them.

  “No. Some of it has a mage’s trace, but I cannot read it properly.”

  “We may need some light,” Kallish said. “It is difficult to see in the dark.”

  Arrow saw grimaces of acknowledgement from the other Erith. Interesting. Stripping the Erith of their magic had reduced their eyesight.

  They all tried to crowd into the doorway at once, unable to see anything as their bodies blocked the light. Kallish sighed and ordered Arrow to stand aside while she and Undurat went inside.

  There was a pause then Kallish made a sound that might have been surprise. She came back to the door of the hut with something in her hand. A very familiar messenger bag.

  “It looks like all our belongings are here. Weapons. Bags.” Kallish handed the bag to Arrow.

  “The magic has been suppressed somehow,” Arrow told them. Her messenger bag should fizz in second sight with the ward spells and protective spells, but they barely registered. She slung it over her shoulder, relishing the familiar feel of its weight across her body, curved around her hip, and opened the flap to check the contents. Everything was there. Just diminished, somehow. Apart from the mage cloak, which still crackled in second sight.

  “Gilean or Willan might know more,” Kester suggested.

  “Yes,” Kallish acknowledged. “Xeveran, bring the others forward. Undurat, help me with the rest of it.”

  By the time the others had arrived, Kallish, Undurat and a handful of her cadre had emptied the contents of the hut, bringing an army’s worth of weaponry into the open along with Orlis’ satchel and bags that Gilean and Willan took up with obvious relief. And, underneath all the warriors’ weaponry, there was a carelessly discarded pile of kri-syang and Arrow’s sword.

  “There is other weaponry here,” Kallish noted. She and her cadre were efficiently sorting through the blades, bows, arrows and spears and arming themselves once more.

  “Miach. And his and Elias’ cadres,” Arrow suggested.

  “It does not look like enough.” That thought made Kallish uneasy.

  “That is Ronath’s bow,” Iserat said. “And these are Pateris and Yvan’s weapons.”

  Arrow picked up the sheath for her kri-syang and paused. It did not feel right. She moved her thumb over the surface and turned it over, seeing an odd residue on her skin.

  “Orlis,” she said absently, “do you know what this is?”

  “I have just
found it,” the journeyman said. “I have never seen it before.”

  “I have,” Iserat said, face tight, voice flat. “It looks like memory dust.”

  “That is forbidden,” Orlis answered, eyes wide in shock, holding his hand out in front of him.

  Memory dust. Forbidden, as Orlis said, it was a potent blend of Erith herbs and a touch of magic that rendered a person incapable. The recent memory of the former Magister of the Collegia, slack-jawed, eyes vacant, came to mind. This dust would turn all of them into copies if it was not stopped. Arrow looked at the residue on her hand and wondered how long it would take to work.

  “We need cleansing,” she said, shrugging out of her bag. The only way she knew of to remove the dust. And it was on all of them. Even the Prime, his own weapons among the hoard. All those weapons, sitting underneath straightforward wards. She should have known it was another trap. She looked at the kri-syang, covered in the stuff, and felt a growing knot in her middle. “I will need the blade again, svegraen,” she told Kallish.

  “Mage,” Kallish began, frowning.

  “There is no other way.” She clenched her jaw against the tremor that ran through her. She emphatically did not want to put another non-bonded blade against her skin, to repeat the white-hot agony of releasing her blood for magic.

  It seemed Kallish agreed with Arrow’s assessment, the warrior handing over the small blade with evident reluctance.

  “What can we do?” Kester asked.

  Focus on practical steps, Arrow told herself. Good idea.

  “Everyone should gather as close as possible, with everything found in the hut. This may not be comfortable.”

  “I will take discomfort if it means keeping my mind intact,” Iserat answered, the sentiment echoed by everyone moving closer in.

  Xeveran was providing a translation for the Prime. Seivella was pale, face pinched. Not complaining for once.