Taellaneth Complete Series Box Set

by Vanessa Nelson

  Even as she rose she saw another figure under the tree. Kester. He said nothing at first, simply came to stand with her.

  “You have been talking with the heartland again,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  They watched the kneeling warrior for a while.

  “Will he live?”

  “Yes. But he will be changed by it.” Arrow remembered the break in the heartland’s voice. All her bright stars. “She is a harsh mistress.”

  “And graces us every day with her gifts,” Kester said, sliding an arm around Arrow’s waist and drawing her against his side. She went, tucking her head under his chin, her eyes still on the warrior.

  “Nothing about the Erith is easy,” she commented, hugging him back.

  “Nothing worthwhile is easy,” he agreed, mouth on her hair.

  They stood like that for a while, while the warrior breathed through whatever changes were taking place within him.

  “New soap?” Kester asked, moving his arm to sift his fingers through her hair.

  “Whatever the House provided,” Arrow answered absently.

  “Smells like starflower,” he said. “It suits you.”

  Starflower. Arrow’s thoughts scattered as his fingers massaged her scalp. What he had said? Starflower. Yes. A tough plant, which grew in the high mountains and rarely flowered. When it did, the flowers were small, blindingly white and highly prized by the Erith for their beauty and fragrance. She thought that she had just been paid a handsome compliment. Despite the whatever-it-was between them, compliments were still rare.

  “She thinks you are kind and generous,” Arrow told him, tentatively leaning slightly more against him. It was strange to have someone else take some of her weight. He held her closer.

  “She?”

  “The lady. The heartland.”

  Kester tensed, taking a sharp breath in, then stroked his fingers through her hair again. “It is a great honour to be noticed.”

  “It usually means she wants something,” Arrow told him, voice shaded to acid. “Usually,” she added, softening, “but she was quite sincere in this.”

  The warrior in front of them stirred, head lifting slowly as though it were too heavy for his neck, shoulders stiff.

  “Stay still a moment,” Arrow suggested, moving out of Kester’s hold to crouch in front of the warrior. “Carrying something else takes a bit of getting used to.”

  “Yes.” The warrior’s voice was odd, laced with what he now carried, eyes blinding amber.

  “You will need to hide the trace for a while,” Arrow told him. “The lady is under siege.”

  “She told me.” The warrior’s voice had returned to normal, the power in his eyes fading back to his usual levels. He drew a breath, shook his head, and rose to his feet, unsteady for a moment. “Why me?”

  “There was only you,” Arrow told him.

  “We should try and rest a bit,” Kester suggested. “It is not long until daybreak and we have a long day ahead.”

  “We still do not know how to get onto the island,” the warrior pointed out.

  “I have some ideas about that,” Arrow said.

  In the end, they did not go back to their rooms but sat at one of the tables outside the House with sheets of parchment and chalk, drawing a rough map of the island, that they could remember, and discussing strategies for getting onto the island undetected, when there was only the tidal walkway.

  CHAPTER 22

  Arrow was not sure she ever wanted to get on a horse again. They had travelled at breathtaking speed on Erith horses that had seemed to fly over the ground, with her in the middle of the group, carefully watched by several of Kallish’s cadre who had as poor an impression of her riding ability as she did.

  They had not stopped at all, the warriors having calculated that they should be able to make the low tide if they pressed on.

  They stopped in the trees and dismounted as silently as possible, the grooms that Neith vo Sena had sent with them taking charge of the horses, and walking them back the way they had come. From the look of the horses, Arrow judged that they were tired but had enjoyed every moment of the wild ride to get here.

  Ignoring her aching legs, she moved to the edge of the tree line with the others. The temple was lit by the fading summer light, no corruption evident at this distance.

  “This was too easy,” Kallish muttered. “The island has been hidden from travellers for most of its existence.”

  “And where is Ferdith?” Miach added.

  Until that moment, Arrow had been focused on getting to the island and then getting on to it. She had forgotten about the uptight cadre leader and his warriors, ordered to keep watch. She closed her eyes a moment, sending her senses out, opening her eyes a moment later to find that Willan and Gilean had been doing the same. They shook their heads.

  “I cannot sense him. Or anyone apart from us.”

  “Look around,” Kallish ordered her cadre, face tight. “Ferdith was waiting there.” She pointed to a particular spot. Her warriors scattered at once, poring over the ground with keen eyes.

  “There has been no death here,” Miach pointed out.

  “They could still have been taken,” Kallish told him.

  “A whole cadre?” he lifted a brow, then glanced across at the island, colour rising in his face. “A whole cadre. It is possible.”

  It was moments before Xeveran was back, face and voice serious as he advised Kallish that there were signs of a struggle. It looked like the whole cadre had been taken one by one, although Kallish’s warriors could only identify a handful of footprints that did not belong to Ferdith’s cadre. They had even looked up into the trees, Xeveran said, wondering if the warriors might have been taken by monkeys or baelthras. Nothing. No blood, just the signs of struggle and the absence of the cadre.

  The group was silent for a long moment, all eyes turning back to the island ahead of them, green and still in the summer air.

  “The defences are weakening,” Willan noted, the mage’s slightly unfocused expression telling Arrow he was watching things in second sight. “We should be able to break through easily. Perhaps the heartland wants us here.”

  “Almost certainly,” Miach said, words heavy. “The land around is weakening.”

  “Low tide is almost here,” Undurat pointed out. “We need something to hide us.” That was the one weak point of warriors’ plan for getting onto the island.

  “You are going to stay here,” Arrow told them, opening her messenger bag and pulling out the mage’s cloak. It blended into the shadows under the trees, making barely a ripple in the first world. A murmur of excitement ran through the group. Apart from Kester, Kallish, and Undurat, no one had seen this cloak.

  “A shadow-walker’s cloak,” Willan said slowly, face breaking into a wide smile. “I am glad to see you have it. Finally.”

  “Duraner carried it,” Arrow told them, fingers clenching in the folds. Even though this was the best way, she was still oddly reluctant to put the cloak on.

  Another murmur through the group, sorrow and admiration combined.

  “I can only take a small group,” she said briskly, settling the cloak around her shoulders. There was no fastening that she could see, but the cloak held itself in place, tendrils of magic clinging to her shoulders, folds settling around her, falling to the ground. She was quite certain that, no matter what she did to it, the cloak would never get wet or muddy. The fabric had no weight at all. Like her sword. No weight at all, and it was among the heaviest burdens she had carried.

  She looked around the group and saw the beginnings of something truly dangerous. Hope. They were placing their hope in her. The shadow-walker, with a mage’s cloak. She wanted to tell them to choose someone else. But there was no one else. Breaking through the island’s defences and forcing their way onto the island would warn their enemy, and be dangerous for the warriors. Creeping in through the shadows was the safest way. And she was the only one who could do that.

>   Her hand rose, covering the edge of the cloak where it was fastened to her shoulders, fingers tightening. The burden seemed too great for a moment. All she had to do was pull, and the cloak would come off. She knew that. And she did not move, letting the folds settle around her, feeling the dense magic woven into the fabric. Clean magic, all of it. She wanted to study the spells. Perhaps there would be time later. For now, the island lay ahead of them and the tide was turning.

  “We will need extra food,” Kester added, making a quick check of his weapons. He glanced at Arrow. “A lot of extra food.”

  Elias had put himself in charge of the provisions and handed a satchel to Kester, holding up another one and lifting a brow at Arrow.

  “Iserat. Willan. Zachary,” Arrow told Elias. Miach shifted, an involuntary move, shoulders rigid. She met his eyes, the brilliant amber in his and the blinding silver in hers. The first guard was one of the most powerful mages the Erith had. And a formidable warrior. “Not yet,” she told him. He was not happy, but settled back and waved a hand to Elias who lifted a brow but complied, handing satchels to the rest of Arrow’s chosen group.

  Arrow turned to Kallish, expecting a protest from her, and saw only grim determination on the warrior’s face.

  “We are with you,” the warrior said.

  “I know. I cannot take everyone. But somewhere on the island will be the key to safe passage. A way to cross without bloodshed. You need to be ready.”

  “Always.”

  “The tide is almost there,” Undurat interrupted, tense. “You do not have much time.”

  “Good hunting, svegraen,” Arrow told Kallish.

  “Good hunting, mage.”

  Kester had gathered their chosen companions close around them and evidently given them some instruction as they stayed still while Arrow opened her sight.

  “Gehthras.”

  The shadow world opened up ahead of her and she held out an arm, free of the cloak. Four hands descended on her arm, grips firm as she took the first step forward, keeping a hold of her as she took them through the fissure into the shadow realm.

  “I know it is strange,” Arrow told them, leading the way towards the shore, “but we need to move.”

  Zachary was at her shoulder, Iserat and Willan close behind, the war mage’s cloak a void in this place whereas Arrow’s cloak rippled with every colour.

  “This is extraordinary,” Zachary murmured as they reached the shore.

  “Keep behind me and be careful with your feet. Stubbing your toe here will hurt a lot more than in the first world,” she told the others, and set off across the walkway.

  ~

  No one at the temple or on the island had thought to guard against shadow-walkers. All the same, she could feel the wards and protections on the island rippling in unease, perhaps sensing there was something wrong. No alert was sent. But, if the head Gardener or someone else on watch was paying close attention, and they were particularly sensitive mages, they might notice the unease in the wards. Arrow hoped not. She did not have the impression that the Gardener was particularly sensitive to anything.

  They arrived at the island with no obvious alarms.

  “Where to?” Zachary asked, eyes gleaming with interest.

  “There must be a focal point for the wards,” Arrow said. “Not at the temple. Probably somewhere near the houses.”

  “If we are inside the perimeter wards, we should not trip any alarms,” Willan speculated, looking about with interest. “Can we be heard in the first world?”

  “I do not think so. We cannot hear the first world from here. Best not to risk it. There is no one else around just now.” Arrow was quite sure of that. It was getting easier for her to interpret the first world from the shadows.

  “There will be watchers assigned to the walkway,” Kester said.

  “There is a group of trees a little way that way.” Iserat indicated. “Perhaps we can come out of the shadows there?”

  The group moved to the trees Iserat had indicated, Willan catching his foot on a stone as he was too busy looking around. The mage hopped on one foot for a moment, swearing fluently.

  “That hurt. A lot.”

  “Yes. Interacting with the first world from here is extremely painful.”

  “So we can’t kill the Gardener from here?” Zachary was not really asking, more confirming. Arrow nodded in response, finding her breath short as they drew to a halt under the trees. The cloak made travelling in the shadows much easier than it had been before. It was still exhausting.

  Having checked there was no one else around, and hoping that the group was hidden by the trees, Arrow brought them back to the first world. It was a slow, dragging step forward and she ended up shuffling out of the shadows, crumpling to her knees.

  The others were not much better, all staggering as they came back to the first world, settling more gracefully onto the ground. They were in the midst of a group of trees, shrubs and lower branches hiding them from view. Not that there was anyone to see them. This part of the island was deserted with no noise apart from the lap of waves and gentle breeze.

  “Food. Drink,” Kester suggested, and opened the satchel Elias had given him. “Here.” He passed Arrow a flask and a food packet, the oiled cloth woven with preservation spells.

  Arrow took the offerings and forced herself to sit cross-legged before opening the food packet. Some kind of pie, richly scented and full of flavour. She devoured it in a few, huge bites, taking another one from Kester and eating that as well before she opened the flask.

  The others were eating more slowly. Just. Even Zachary’s face was hollowed.

  “Is it always that hard?” Willan asked.

  “No.” Arrow finished her third piece of pie, considering that. “I wonder if the heartland’s weakness is affecting the shadow world as well.”

  “The island is often hidden from the world,” Willan pointed out. “Even though we can see it now, that might make a difference.”

  “Perhaps.” It was an interesting thought.

  “Iserat, Willan, will you watch Arrow whilst the Prime and I scout a bit?” Kester asked. Arrow glared up at him as he rose to his feet. That had not been in the plan they had discussed. Kester inclined his head slightly, acknowledging her irritation. “We may need to go back to the shadows quickly. You need to rest and eat more.” The fact that he was right annoyed her even more.

  “There is a powerful concentration of wards a short distance that way,” Willan indicated. “It may be what we are looking for.”

  “Let’s go.” Zachary looked fully recovered, eyes gleaming.

  “Fine.” Arrow took a different packet of food and glared at Kester’s back as he and Zachary melted silently out of the trees.

  “Keep eating,” Willan told her when she had finished that one. “You are still pale.”

  “I am always pale,” she told him, taking another packet. There was a large pile of used wrappers next to her. Larger than anyone else’s. Both Willan and Iserat seemed back to normal, each paying close attention to their surroundings.

  It was not long before Zachary and Kester were back.

  “There is a watch house a little way that way,” Kester pointed the way that they had come. “And Revan is on watch.”

  “Is he now?” Arrow rose to her feet and folded her cloak, tucking it away into her bag. Iserat and Willan were on their feet, too, the mage making sure there was no trace left of their presence.

  “Will he help us?” Iserat wondered.

  “He’s nervous. Restless.” Zachary’s nose wrinkled. “And not Oliver Anderson anymore.”

  Arrow lifted a brow in silent question.

  “The things we looked at before. In the museum. There was a scent,” Zachary told her. Arrow remembered the dusty room in Lix’ museum, the artifacts and exhibit celebrating one of the founders of Sanctuary. “Clean. He doesn’t smell that way anymore.”

  “Unclean?” Arrow asked, surprised. The magic he had worked, binding a spe
ll of protection into the stones he had carved, had been pure and powerful. It was rare for a mage of that calibre to turn to unclean magic.

  “Not quite. Just. Not the same.” Zachary shook his head. “Mind you, this whole place doesn’t smell right.”

  “Looks as if he has not slept for a while,” Kester added.

  “Worth speaking to at least,” Iserat concluded.

  ~

  The watch house was a small wooden hut that shimmered faintly with magic in first sight and was crawling with ward spells in second sight. The spells were not protecting the hut, though, but the anchor points of various ward spells around the island. Including the ones across the walkway.

  Oliver Anderson, now Revan, was sitting outside the hut with his back against it. It looked more like he had collapsed. The reserved Gardener who had met them had been diminished to a hollow-eyed, nervous man who did not look like he had bathed or slept in days.

  He barely reacted to their approach, Iserat, Kester, and Zachary keeping a close eye on their surroundings, wary of more Gardeners.

  “I thought I sensed something in the wards,” Revan said, tilting his head back to look up at them. “Have you come to kill me?”

  Arrow clamped her jaw shut on the immediate denial, pausing for a moment instead.

  “Why would we kill you?” she asked.

  “Duraner is dead, isn’t he?” he asked, voice harsh. Arrow realised with a start that he was speaking common tongue, the words oddly accented. Too many years of speaking Erith. And yet, when he was desperate, he returned to his mother’s language. Revan’s lip trembled. “I liked him. Always ready to laugh. There was a brightness to him. Then. Something. He wouldn’t say what. He was so strange. Then he left. We were told not to worry.”

  “He is dead,” Arrow confirmed. “He walked across the heartland to the Taellaneth.”