Taellaneth Complete Series Box Set

by Vanessa Nelson

  Miach appeared barely conscious, eyes vacant.

  “No sign of obvious injury,” Orlis was saying, voice tense and rapid. “Lie him down here. I need more water and my satchel.”

  Orlis knelt beside Miach, a hand over the warrior’s heart, eyes brilliant with amber. “He is barely alive. What happened?”

  “He was like this when we found him,” Ronath answered. “We got some water into him but nothing else. He does not respond to his name.”

  Arrow took a pace forward and her sword lit up.

  “Orlis, step away,” she ordered, sword coming easily to her hand. Brilliant silver flared along its length.

  “I could not sense any corruption in him,” Orlis protested, standing up and moving away.

  “I cannot either, but I trust the sword.”

  Arrows wards rose as she stepped further towards Miach, watching the too-shallow rise and fall of his chest, searching in first and second sight for the tell-tale dark of surjusi. There was nothing at first, even when she stood at his side. Nothing but a dying warrior. Still, she trusted the sword. She waited, attention focused. There. There. Under his breastbone. The tiniest sliver of dark.

  Her own chest twisted with the echo of the surjusi power she had carried. The wriggling dark, delighting at pain and urging her to violence.

  She ignored it. She had defeated the real thing. The memory was potent, only dangerous if she gave in to it.

  She moved, the sword leading, knowing what was required, and thrust the tip of it into Miach’s chest, between his ribs, deep in so that the tip of it caught the bit of dark. The banishment spell she had crafted into the blade blazed, blinding in first and second sight, and the trace of dark shrieked, sound deafening in her ears, before it faded.

  Leaving her standing in the midst of a group of White Guard with her sword in a warrior’s chest.

  “He is clean,” she told them, tensing her grip on the sword to pull it back.

  “No!” Orlis was there again, a bundle of cloths in his hand. “Not yet. On my word.” He knelt beside Miach, power brilliant in his own eyes, and glanced up at Arrow. “I hope you missed his heart.”

  “Missed his heart. The surjusi was in his lungs.”

  “Pierced lung, then. Very well. Now.”

  Arrow drew the sword out in a fluid move that was becoming easier with practice, and watched as Orlis stemmed the blood flow with the cloths, then sent a powerful healing into Miach.

  “Will he live?” Elias asked, pale. The two were more than colleagues, Arrow knew. He was standing beside her, no weapons in his hands, tears standing out in his eyes.

  “Orlis is the best healer I know,” Arrow answered, sheathing her sword. It went back to its home with what felt like a minor protest, catching her attention. Miach was clean. She was sure of that. But she had been separated from both her magic and the sword for days.

  “Svegraen.” She caught Kallish’s eye. “There is something else wrong.”

  “Mestera ovail,” Kallish ordered without hesitation. Every warrior in her cadre had weapons ready, attention sharp before their leader had finished speaking. “We are with you, mage,” Kallish said, coming to stand beside her.

  “I need to check everyone.” The sword was back in her hand, restless and uneasy. Opening her senses, she let it guide her around the group, past the alert warriors, Seivella’s pale and taut face, and onward. To the other sick Erith. Evellan. Settled with his back against a tree, panting with effort, sweat standing out on his forehead.

  Evellan looked up as she approached and she saw nothing but Erith in his eyes, and nothing but Erith in the shape he made in second sight, colours muted as his magic was still suppressed. And yet the sword was uneasy.

  She crouched in front of the Preceptor, sword point-down to the ground, and considered him for a long moment. Around them, Kallish and her cadre were gathered, wary and ready.

  “You think I am tainted?” Evellan asked. He gave a harsh laugh. “It would explain some things.”

  “Not quite. There is something there. Not quite taint. Something wrong, though.” Arrow considered him further, aware of Elias settling cross-legged by Miach’s side, taking his hand, Orlis and Gilean moving over to join Kallish’s cadre, the six a further, interested audience. “You have not healed,” she said to the Preceptor. “I assume the healers tried.”

  “Tried.” Evellan tried to laugh. “Several times. The stomach wound will not close for long.”

  Stomach wound. Arrow remembered coming into the small hut, the stench of corruption, the severe wound across the Preceptor’s stomach, curdled with taint. Taint she had cleansed. Or so she thought.

  “Did they cleanse you again?”

  “At least a dozen times.” And that was the dry tone she remembered from her days as a student at the Academy.

  “May I see your wound?” she asked, impulse prompted by the sword’s continued unease.

  “If you must.” He struggled to sit forward, wincing with the effort, and gathered his over-robe, pulling it off to reveal loose fitting dark trousers and a white undershirt stained with sweat and what looked like infection.

  “Lie back,” Orlis ordered, the healer coming to the fore. “You did not mention any of this to me,” he scolded the Preceptor.

  “I had a half dozen of the Erith’s supposed best healers clucking around me.” Evellan’s breath was harsh as he lay back. He coughed again. “I am sick of being a patient.”

  “Perhaps you would rather die?” Orlis asked, tone conversational. “I am sure the Lady Vailla would understand.”

  Colour washed over Evellan’s face and he turned his eyes away, biting his lip.

  “This wound is infected,” Orlis told Arrow, the information unnecessary as he exposed the wound, rolling the shirt up and out of the way.

  “I need to see inside.” She was still following her instincts, ignoring the protest from Orlis and the flat denial from Evellan. “I think something has been left inside,” she added, glancing up at Kallish.

  “Very well.” A few hand gestures later, and the Preceptor was pinned to the ground by a third of White Guard who ignored his furious protest, Orlis’ instinctive denial and the shriek of fury from Seivella. Kester stopped the lady moving forward by grabbing hold of one arm, ignoring the threats she made. A pair of Kallish’s warriors stepped closer to the lady, ready to assist Kester if needed.

  “Knife,” Arrow requested. One of the small, sharp blades was placed in her hand.

  “At least numb the wound first,” Orlis said, handing her a wet cloth. “I have soaked this in morias.”

  Arrow applied the cloth to the wound and waited until the heat of infection had almost dried the cloth before lifting it away, wincing in sympathy as the scabs over the wound came away releasing a gush of putrid liquid.

  “I am amazed you are still alive,” Orlis told Evellan, crouching opposite Arrow. “That infection alone should have killed you.”

  Arrow ignored the conversation, hoping it would distract Evellan enough, and stuck the point of the blade into the open wound, slicing as cleanly as she could along the partially-healed length of the wound. More puss came out, along with fresh, red blood, and a stench she hoped never to smell again.

  She leant forward, enhancing her sight, and looked into the wound. The inside looked like the normal inside of a person. At least, so she imagined. She took a breath and reached in with a hand instead, ignoring the protests around her.

  There. In the middle of the softness. A point of hardness that slid away from her fingers at the first attempt. She tried again, sliding her fingers underneath it, and carefully, slowly, brought it into the light.

  “A surjusi stone,” Zachary growled. He was just behind her.

  “No wonder he could not heal,” Kallish commented.

  “True.” Arrow turned the stone over in her hand, examining it in second sight.

  “What is wrong?” Kester was just behind her as well.

  “When we found the Prec
eptor, I cleansed him. There was no taint left. I did not sense this.”

  “There must be some kind of concealment on it,” Willan said. “Fascinating.”

  “It was put there by Nuallan. How did he get a surjusi stone?” Arrow glanced back at Kallish and found the same question reflected in the warrior’s face.

  “He was also a powerful surjusi,” Kester pointed out.

  “Ah.” Arrow had kept looking at the thing in second sight and now sat back on her heels. “Not a surjusi stone. It is a piece of bone. Infused with surjusi power.” She came back to first sight to make sure that everyone understood that. From the grim expressions on the faces around her, she did not need to explain further.

  “Nuallan could have made that himself.” Kester’s eyes were on the tiny thing in Arrow’s palm. “Will the taint spread?”

  “No. It is almost done. I think it was there to kill Evellan.” Arrow tilted her head, eyes still on the bit of bone. “Nuallan left Seivella injured and tainted in the shadow world.”

  “He wanted us both dead,” Seivella put in, voice harsh. Arrow did not need to look to know that the lady was crying again. Nuallan. Evellan. Her weak spots.

  “He nearly succeeded. Arrow, have you got everything out? Can I heal him now?” Orlis asked.

  “A moment.” Arrow laid her sword across Evellan, watching the blade and paying attention to the spells she could see in second sight. “No reaction. I do not think there is anything else there.”

  “Shall we let him go?” Kallish asked Orlis.

  “No. This is going to hurt. A lot.”

  Arrow rose to her feet and backed away hastily. She remembered when Orlis had told her that it would hurt a lot. He had not lied. Even weakened, Evellan still struggled against the warrior’s hold as Orlis poured healing into him.

  She left the others to care for Evellan and Miach, taking the little bit of bone closer to the fire, still inspecting it in second sight.

  “Can we destroy that now?” Willan asked, voice tight.

  “In a moment. I want to know why I could not sense it.” Arrow enhanced her sight as far as she could, until the little bit of bone and the darkness it carried were all she saw. There did not appear to be any magic around it. Just that bit of taint. And yet it had hidden from her senses until now. And survived cleansing from Erith healers.

  There. Twined into the taint. The faintest trace of a rune.

  She pulled the end of it, as gently as she could, drawing it out, and heard gasps from Willan and Gilean, standing nearby.

  “How did you see that?” Gilean asked, shocked.

  “More to the point, what is it?” Willan asked.

  “Some kind of concealment,” she answered absently, teasing the rest of the spell out of the dark. The skin of her hands was covered with dark as well, the runes powered by blood magic making her throat tighten.

  “I have never seen a spell like that.”

  “Memorise it quickly,” she told the others. Her skin was crawling with the effect of holding the unclean thing. Besides, they needed to get out of Orlis’ way so that more counter-agent could be made. They could all have their magic back.

  ~

  “Do you think it required blood magic?” Willan asked.

  Distracted by the question, Arrow missed her next step and stumbled, a nearby branch catching her across her face as she righted herself.

  “We are almost out of the trees,” Orlis told her, a few paces to one side.

  “Good.” Her face was burning again. The minimal instruction Kallish had given her in how to move did not appear to have helped. She was back to being clumsy and heavy-footed compared to her graceful travelling companions. Even Evellan, recovering fast from his injuries, was moving more surely than she was, a light pattern of shadows gathered around him.

  “Well?” Willan prompted.

  She concentrated on her next few steps, turning his question over in her mind. She, Willan and Gilean had been discussing the concealment spell as they walked, heading for House Sena. The war mages were as confused by the spell as she was, and she could tell that, like her, they were itching for some parchment and chalk to sketch the spell out and dissect it more easily. Reviewing the runes in memory was no substitute.

  “It did not require much power,” she said at length. “Just skill. Which Nuallan had.”

  “But he did use a lot of blood magic,” Gilean put in.

  “Yes.” Arrow suppressed a sigh. The three of them did not seem able to agree on anything.

  She stepped over an ancient tree root and onto changed soil, going from jungle to grass in one stride. The fizz of wards against her skin told her that they had moved into someone’s protected territory.

  “We are on House Sena’s lands now?” she asked.

  “Yes.” Kallish had waited for them, the warrior as composed as ever whereas Arrow was hot and sticky with travelling, and bruised in several places. “Kester has gone ahead with Iserat and his third. Apparently, Kester and Iserat know the lord quite well.”

  “I did not know that,” Arrow said, welcoming the pause as Kallish remained still. She drew a deep breath and dug into her messenger bag for a flask.

  “Here.” Orlis handed her a flask. “You are too thin again. When did you last eat?”

  Arrow hid a smile as she took a drink. For many years no one had cared if she ate well, or slept. She did not miss those years.

  “This is very good,” she said, returning the flask to Orlis. Not the water she had been expecting. Some kind of tart, fruit drink.

  “Thank Ronath. He spotted some really odd-looking fruits and got very excited. Insisted we make up the drink.” Orlis took a drink of his own. “It is good.”

  “Ronath grew up near the jungle,” Willan told them. “We missed a lot of things, in the surjusi realm.” The mage’s normally calm manner slipped, shadows across his face.

  “Did you manage to drink the Palace cellars dry?” Arrow asked into the slightly awkward pause. When the six had returned to the world, they had been an unimaginably long time without the basic comforts the Erith took for granted. Miach had promised them access to the Palace’s cellars on their return to the heartland.

  It seemed the right question to ask, as Willan laughed, amber lighting his eyes.

  “Not quite. Despite Miach’s order, the Palace staff were reluctant to let Onalla into the locked rooms.” Willan’s smile broadened. “The kitchens were far more welcoming.”

  “They have a lemon cake which is quite amazing,” Orlis agreed.

  The two went on ahead, heads together, comparing notes on the Palace kitchen offerings.

  “Mage,” Kallish held Arrow back with that one word, Gilean drifting after the rest. Arrow saw that everyone else had moved on ahead, leaving her and Kallish behind. The warrior’s dark eyes, once more flecked with amber, were very direct.

  “Svegraen.”

  “The temple is tainted. The head Gardener is tainted. The heartland is in danger because the surjusi lord is trying to break through again. Is there anything more we should know?”

  Arrow opened her mouth in a quick denial, face heating again at the idea she was concealing matters from the warrior. Then she sighed, tugging her hair behind one ear.

  “I do not know. I do not know what is relevant and what is not.”

  “We are with you, mage. To the end. But it helps to be prepared.”

  Arrow felt her eyes hot with unexpected tears. The unqualified support of a White Guard warrior was a serious matter.

  “Thank you,” she said, through the lump in her throat.

  “What else do you believe might be relevant?”

  “Serran is not here. And Miach and Elias’ cadres are still missing.”

  From the tightening of Kallish’s face, the warrior had the same concerns.

  “You think Serran is injured as well?”

  “I do not know.” Arrow bit her lip. “I do not know him well enough. His behaviour seems strange to me.”

/>   Kallish snorted and waved a hand, indicating they should move on. “That one is nothing by odd behaviour. But he is stranger than usual, yes.”

  “Perhaps it was the surjusi realm. He was imprisoned there. For quite a long time, I think.” Arrow pressed her lips together to stop a babble of words. Kallish knew that the Erith’s favourite mage had been imprisoned. The warrior also knew that the mage was Arrow’s grandfather, and could probably guess that the reunion had not gone well.

  “At least one of his sons is still alive,” Kallish commented, keeping pace with Arrow as they followed the others.

  “And a Gardener,” Arrow added.

  Kallish had nothing to say to that, striding out a moment before checking her pace to match Arrow’s again. Free of the trees, it was far easier to walk. Arrow wondered if she should try and walk faster. The ache in her legs suggested otherwise, holding her to a steadier pace that she could manage for a while. They might be in House Sena’s lands, but the House itself could be a long distance from here.

  CHAPTER 21

  The land around them was undulating grasslands, dotted here and there with copses of trees. A familiar landscape from paintings within the Taellaneth. House Sena had been breeding horses for a long time, much of the territory given over to fields for the horses, or farms which produced grain for the horses.

  It was also a refreshing change to be able to see far ahead, rather than only a few paces around before another tree, or shrub, blocked the view. Arrow wanted to turn about, look in all directions, and stare up at the sky overhead, vast and unending.

  Their group was scattered ahead, walking much more quickly out of the jungle, everyone apparently relaxed, laughter drifting back to Arrow’s ears. She understood the impulse to laugh. Everyone had their magic back. And they were out of the jungle, able to walk freely and look around. Simple things that left her feeling light inside.

  Arrow found herself moving forward with far more assurance than the past few days, strides lengthening, despite her aching legs, as they made their way up a shallow slope. The House’s wards had been tripped when they passed the border. Kester was ahead with Iserat, seeking aid. The sun was shining overhead. There might be food waiting for them at the House. It was a good day.