Book 3: Chapter Fourteen

The morning sun hadn’t crested the horizon yet, but the sky had already lightened to gray. Shavala stood quietly, listening to the unfamiliar sounds and smelling the unfamiliar scents. The eastern half of Nysar had a climate similar to the Terril Forest, but the plants and animals were just different enough from what she knew to be disorienting. The bird calls were especially strange. The dawn chorus had begun, and even the few familiar species of birds sounded different in this place. It was as if they spoke different languages just like people did.

Shavala had left the camp while it was still dark out. When the whole group had still been together, there were enough people that she no longer needed to keep a watch shift during the night, giving her more time for her hunting and foraging duties. Even after the groups had split up, Corec had suggested that she continue the practice. Shavala appreciated the gesture—hunting and foraging both took longer here where she was less familiar with the wildlife.

She’d found fresh deer tracks by moonlight, and had followed them for half an hour as day approached and it grew easier to see. Now she waited, staring at the large figure that stood at the top of a gentle rise. The stag rubbed his head against an overhanging branch, then licked the branch before pawing at the ground just below it.

He moved on, following a game trail, and paused to nibble on some vines growing over an outcropping of rock. Shavala nocked an arrow and took careful aim, but then hesitated as a sliver of sun appeared from over the mountains to the east, bathing the deer in light. He was larger than the deer she was used to, with longer ears. The tip of his tail was black rather than white. Strangely, he hadn’t shed his antlers yet. They still stood tall and proud upon his head. Did this species keep them all year?

She lowered her bow. The beast was too magnificent to shoot.

The stag suddenly looked up from his meal, peering east while he stamped his front hooves—first one, then the other. It meant he sensed danger, and not from Shavala’s direction. He snorted and bounded away, not sticking around long enough to find out what it was that had spooked him.

Curious, Shavala reached out with her elder senses to make sure there was nothing dangerous nearby, then approached where he’d been standing. Pushing the vines aside, she found that the outcropping was actually multiple stones piled together, half buried. The size and the straight edges were reminiscent of the shrines to the old gods, but this one had tumbled down decades ago. There was no way to tell which of the gods it had once been dedicated to.

She checked her elder senses again and this time found an animal approaching, but not one she was familiar with. She waited behind a tree to see what it was.

She’d just barely gotten out of sight when a bear appeared out of the tree line to the east, making no sound as it approached the game trail. It sniffed around, then stared in the direction the deer had run. Unlike the brown and black bears Shavala knew of, this one had gray fur. It was also massive, far larger than any other bear she’d seen. Its back stood taller than her head. The creature reminded her of the huge bear skeleton Corec had fought when they were searching for the wizard Lodarin. Was this where he’d found it?

The wind shifted and the bear jerked its head around, staring directly at Shavala. She grimaced. Bears had an even better sense of smell than wolves, and were able to track prey for miles, but they sometimes didn’t notice people until they were right upon them. She hadn’t expected it to see her peering around the tree.

The bear was far enough away that it shouldn’t have felt threatened, but it blew its breath out, then charged at her. Bears usually weren’t so aggressive. The charge might have been a bluff, but the creature didn’t show any signs of stopping.

“No!” Shavala shouted. “Stop. I’ll leave!” The bear stopped in its tracks, looking at her with an expression that could only be interpreted as surprise. She was making a gamble. Animals could understand what a druid said if they were smart enough, but that didn’t mean they were forced to obey. The bear seemed startled she could talk to it, though, and hopefully that would be enough.

It stood up on its hind legs, over twice her height, and peered down at her. The pose appeared threatening, but usually expressed curiosity rather than menace.

“I’ll leave,” she repeated. “You can stay here and I’ll go.” The bears she knew weren’t particularly territorial, but that didn’t mean they were comfortable with strange people walking around the areas they frequented.

She slowly backed away, using her elder senses to watch for stones and tree roots behind her so she didn’t trip. It wouldn’t do to show weakness in front of a bear species she’d never encountered before.

As she withdrew from its sight, the bear gradually relaxed until it dropped back to all fours. She waited until it turned its back before she did the same.

So much for that hunting ground.

They’d passed an overgrown field just before making camp the night before. Perhaps she could hunt pheasant instead, or some similar bird local to the area. The males would be easy to spot at this time of year, competing for female attention for the mating season. She headed that way.

#

Yassi stared into the scrying orb, tears running down her face as she watched her youngest cousins playing in the warm surf along the shoreline of Sanvara City, under the attentive eyes of her aunt and her grandmother. She’d give anything to be there with them instead of in dismal Telfort. She couldn’t remember actually living in Sanvar—she’d been too young then—but she’d visited several times over the years. Her grandmother would complain that Yassi didn’t follow Zidari customs, and the younger children would constantly pester her for attention, but anything was better than living in the same palace as Prince Rusol. No matter what she tried, though, she couldn’t think of any way out of her situation.

There was a knock at the door, and then Kolvi’s voice. “Yassi?”

“Come in,” she called back, allowing her Seeing to fade.

Kolvi entered, then closed the door behind her. “I heard what happened,” the older woman said. “Do you want help?”

“Yes,” Yassi replied, in too much pain to turn down the offer.

Kolvi drew closer, then winced. “Are you sure? That’s worse than I thought. When Rusol sees what he … what you look like, he’ll make Magnus heal you before anyone else finds out. We might as well just go find Magnus now.”

“Could you try first?” Yassi asked. The wild-haired elder witch was frightening, but she wasn’t hateful in the same way that Magnus was. “After you’re done, I can see if makeup will hide it.” The compulsion required her to protect Rusol, which meant she’d have to avoid everyone—especially Marten and Samir—until the marks faded enough to be hidden.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Kolvi went to work, starting by pouring cool water from a nearby pitcher into a bowl, then using a wet rag to dab at Yassi’s face.

“Why are you here?” Yassi asked, wincing when Kolvi touched a tender spot near her eye.

“I told you, I heard what happened.”

“No, I mean here in Telfort. Why did you agree to help him?”

“Hmm, the skin’s broken. I’ve got a salve that should help it heal without leaving a mark.” Kolvi rummaged around in a bag she’d brought with her. “As for your question, I’m here for the same reason you are, I imagine. Unless you actually enjoy this sort of thing.”

“But you’re his cousin, aren’t you?”

“Not really. Some old king married a girl from my clan three hundred years ago, but any blood connections are too far back to say we’re related. Supposedly Marten’s grandfather’s sister had too strong of a gift to remain in Telfort, so they bundled her away to my village, but I’m not descended from her. I was the one who came because I’m the strongest witch in our clan. When the prince asked for a volunteer, my father urged me to go.” Kolvi laughed mirthlessly. “Nobody told us what he was going to do to me.”

“I knew about the warden bond but not the rest,” Yassi admitted. “He convinced me he needed my help to track down the wardens who’d killed his brother.” Rusol had also used her to look for mages, but she didn’t want to admit that out loud. She’d found Jasper and, more recently, a young wizard who went by the name Rodulf, but she’d also found others who’d refused to serve. Rusol had given them to the priests, imprisoning them for using magic illegally … though only after he’d influenced their minds so they couldn’t tell the Church about the offer he’d made. Only one had gotten away—a Zidari like Yassi. A Traveler who’d teleported as soon as she’d been captured.

Kolvi said, “For us, he claimed he needed our help against the Church. At the time he sounded like he was ready to move against it, but since then, there’s been nothing but delays. King Marten doesn’t want to risk it. But if Rusol truly drives the priests out of Larso, then maybe this all will have been worth it.”

It was the first time the two women had truly spoken to each other for something other than a task Rusol had set them.

“You hate the Church as much as Magnus does,” Yassi realized.

“More, and with better reason. It wasn’t all that long ago that the priests were burning my people at the stake. But the elderfolk were here before Larso existed and we’ll be here after it falls. The Church may think they drove us all out because a few clans went north, but they’ll learn otherwise.”

“Oh,” Yassi said with a shiver. Kolvi’s eyes had taken on a fervent gleam. Perhaps the elder witch wasn’t much better than Magnus after all. The Church certainly deserved to fall for the things that had been done in its name, but what sort of chaos would come to Larso and its people afterward? The king was keeping everything stable for the moment, but it was like watching a very slow-moving avalanche, knowing nothing could be done to stop it.

There was another knock on the door, but before Yassi could do anything, Samir burst in.

“Yassi! What did he do to you?” He rushed over to her and cupped her chin in his hand, tilting her head to get a better look.

“Wh … what? He didn’t do anything!”

“I saw it!”

“What do you mean?” Yassi asked. “Saw what?” The compulsion was forcing her to fumble for a response. She had to protect Rusol, but the abrupt interruption had startled her and she couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I did a Seeing! You were supposed to visit Mother and Father today, and when you didn’t show up, I wanted to see why! I didn’t want to hear your excuses again. I saw him hit you!”

Yassi’s jaw worked as the compulsion tried to come up with an excuse. She sometimes forgot her brother was a Seer too. “I … uh … it’s not what it looked like. He didn’t actually hurt me. That happened later—I was trying to move the big mirror by myself and it fell.”

“I don’t believe you. Where is he?” Samir strode back out the door and looked up and down the hall. “His study?”

She followed him. “What are you going to do?” This was what she’d been hoping for ever since the trip to Northtower, but now that it was actually happening, she felt a sense of foreboding.

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“I’m going to find out what’s going on! You’ve been lying to me for months! Years!”

Kolvi had left the room, too. “I need to go,” the woman said in a rush before sprinting in the opposite direction. It was obvious why. Samir intended to confront Rusol, and Kolvi’s compulsion would force her to protect the prince. If she thought Rusol was in danger, she’d kill Samir without a moment’s hesitation. It was amazing she was able to leave at all, but Kolvi had always stretched the bounds of the compulsion further than the rest of them could.

Yassi’s compulsion didn’t extend that far, at least. Rusol had never considered that she’d be of any use in a fight. She hurried after her brother, hoping now that he’d seen the truth, he’d finally be able to help her.

#

Rusol sat at his desk going over grain shipments from the previous year and trying to estimate what the kingdom’s needs would be for the coming year. It was pointless, tedious work that had already been completed by the experts, but Marten insisted that the king had to know enough to check their figures. That meant Rusol, as heir, was also forced to learn. It was a waste of time, like many of the tasks Marten had insisted he take on since Rikard’s death.

The door slammed open.

“What the hell did you do to her?” Samir shouted, storming into the room. He was a frequent visitor to the palace and allowed into the inner quarters without being accompanied.

Rusol jerked back in his chair. “Do? What?” Then he saw Yassi trail in, a fearful look on her face. Why was she starting to bruise? He hadn’t hit her that hard, had he? “I … Sam, it wasn’t me!”

“I saw you!” Samir grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him up out of his chair. The other man had always been stronger—Rusol had to be cautious with any physical exertion. Sam shoved him against the wall. “I’m a Seer, remember? I saw what you did to her! You like to hurt people? How do you like being on the other end?”

Rusol’s mind went blank in a panic. He’d never been in any sort of fight before. But as Samir’s fist drew back, Rusol’s vision went red.

“No!” he shouted, pushing Sam away. His hands crackled with energy, lightning dancing around his fingertips.

Sam screeched in pain, stumbling back, and Rusol let loose with the elder magic, streamers of lightning stretching from his outstretched hands to the other man’s chest.

Then it was over, and he sagged back against the wall. Yassi was crouched in the corner, crying hysterically.

Four guards rushed into the room but it was too late. Samir’s body lay draped across Rusol’s desk, curls of smoke drifting up.

“Get out!” Rusol shouted at them. “Don’t tell anyone!” The guardsmen in this part of the palace had been heavily influenced by Marten to not notice anything unusual about the family. They turned and left without a word.

Samir. Until Magnus had shown up, he’d been Rusol’s only real friend. They’d known each other since they were boys. And now he was dead. Rusol stared at the body. Why lightning? Why hadn’t he tried demonic compulsion instead? It would have been difficult with emotions running high, but he’d grown stronger since becoming a warden. Maybe Sam would still be alive.

Rusol needed to think fast, but all he could hear was the sound of Yassi sobbing.

“Shut up!” he screamed at her. “It wasn’t my fault! He attacked me!”

Yassi didn’t respond. She moaned and cried, her hands covering her eyes as she shook her head back and forth.

Rusol’s father wouldn’t accept the truth. If Marten knew why the fight had happened, he’d never trust Rusol again. The first priority was to get Magnus to heal Yassi before anyone else caught sight of her face. After that, Rusol needed a lie his father would believe. Magic—that had to be the answer. Marten knew Yassi was one of Rusol’s bondmates, but he didn’t know Samir was also a mage. Rusol could tell him that Samir had discovered Yassi and Rusol were mages, and had gone mad with rage. Sam wasn’t religious, but Marten didn’t know that, and the Church of Pallisur’s influence was pervasive in Telfort. Rusol would have to force Yassi to lie, but her state of despair would be understandable given the circumstances.

They’d need another story later, for Sam’s parents, but Marten could help come up with that lie. Something heroic. Rusol wouldn’t allow his friend’s reputation to be tarnished in death.

#

Corec sat listening to Katrin sing in the inn’s common room. They were in Tir Shar, which wasn’t a Tir at all but a small town on the Bancyra side of Vansaira Pass. It had taken his group two and a half weeks to head north around the mountains and back down the other side, but they hadn’t had any luck in their search. The Bancyra Mountains were too smooth and short to match the stark peaks from the sketch Ellerie had made of her amulet.

They’d gotten to Tir Shar, the agreed-upon meeting place, three days earlier, but were still waiting for Ellerie’s group to arrive. Marco and his coin pouch were with them, so Corec had gotten a head start on resupplying, but Boktar, Leena, and the shopping lists were all with Ellerie, so he’d had to work from memory. It was a small oversight that they hadn’t considered when the two groups had gone their separate ways.

With the resupply as complete as they could manage on their own, there hadn’t been much else to do in town. The innkeeper had been reluctant to let Katrin sing since she didn’t know any songs in the local language, but Marco, who’d been translating between them, had managed to convince him by mentioning she was a bard.

The patrons seemed to like the music either way, but when Katrin used her bardic skills, they could see the scenes in their head even if they couldn’t understand the words.

She’d just started a new song when a weary-looking Ellerie trudged in the door, followed by the rest of her group. She said something to Boktar, then handed her saddlebags to Nedley before coming over to sit next to Corec.

“Any luck?” she said in a low voice.

“No, nothing,” he replied. It was obvious there was no point in asking her how her own search had gone.

“Is this the song about Fergus?”

He nodded. Katrin had only played the whole song—quietly—for him and Shavala, but the rest of the group had heard bits and pieces. Katrin insisted it still needed work though it seemed just as good as any other song Corec had heard from a minstrel. The tone was quietly triumphant, and the lyrics focused on Fergus leading his people to safety through one danger after another. It didn’t mention his death much, which was a relief. Corec still felt guilty for allowing the man anywhere near the fight with the snow beasts.

The song ended and Katrin stood up. “I’m going to take a short break,” she said to the room of people who couldn’t understand her. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”

She joined Corec and Ellerie at the table.

“I liked the song,” the elven woman told her.

Katrin hesitated for a moment, then smiled. “Thank you,” she said. Ellerie had been making an effort—off and on—to make peace with Katrin, but had only been partly successful. Any time an overture failed, Ellerie would give up for days or even weeks at a time, allowing the relationship between the two to sour again. Katrin had asked Corec to keep out of it, insisting that she’d deal with Ellerie in her own way. “Did you find anything?”

Ellerie sighed. “No. That was a waste of three weeks. We had to know for sure, though.”

“Did you get delayed?” Corec asked. They’d suspected Ellerie’s route would be slightly shorter than his own. The warden bond hadn’t been of much help, simply telling him that the others were still to the south.

“All the rain we’ve been getting caused some flooding—in Josip’s cousin’s home town, no less. We stayed to help out.”

“It hardly rained at all for us.”

Ellerie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Be glad.”

“Where are we going next?” Katrin asked.

“There are two choices,” Ellerie said. “The closest option is the Belepetra Range to the northeast. Or, directly east from here is the northern tip of the Skotinos Mountains.”

“We’re taking the closest first, then?” Corec guessed.

“Maybe. That was the original plan. But in my book, the author says he went south from Tir a Tir to visit a shrine, and from there, he went east, following something he called the valtos road. Bobo hadn’t been able to translate that—he doesn’t think it’s from the Ancient language—but Josip has been teaching him how to speak Nysan. Now, Bobo’s convinced that valtos means swamp, so he asked Josip about swamps near the mountains. Do you remember Black Lake on the map, southeast of the Skotinos? Josip says there’s a swamp between the mountains and the lake. It would translate as something like Silent Waters.”

“And there’s a road through it?”

“Josip doesn’t know. But southeast from here, near the Skotinos Mountains, is Aencyr. It’s the second largest city in Bancyra, and Senshall has a big outpost there. Josip says the caravans go north or south from there, or they’ll take boats across Black Lake to the settlements on the other side, but they don’t really go through the mountains or the swamp. There isn’t enough trade to make it worth the effort.”

“Will we be able to find supplies there?”

“Sure. There are people and towns; it’s just not as heavily populated until you get closer to Black Lake.”

Corec nodded. From what he remembered from the map, the lake was huge—more like an inland sea—but there hadn’t been much detail about the area just north of it.

“It seems like a good lead,” he said.

“Yes, but even if Bobo’s translation is correct, it’s not uncommon for swamps to occur near mountains, and swampland from thousands of years ago may not be swampland today. If these aren’t the right mountains, we’ll have to backtrack all the way to the Belepetras.”

“We’d be going back that way anyway, right?” Katrin pointed out. “Unless you’ve thought of another mountain range to look at?”

“These three are the only good choices if we assume part of the route needs to pass through Bancyra at some point, but Bobo says the winged snakes may have migrated over time. If we don’t find a match in the Skotinos or the Belepetras, we’ll have to look farther out.”

Corec shrugged. “Things might have changed or they might not have. If there’s a swamp now, there’s a good chance it was a swamp in the past. It seems like we should go with what we know first, and leave what we don’t know for later.”

Ellerie laughed. “That’s pretty much what Boktar said, but he was less polite and used fewer words. I guess we’re headed to Aencyr next.”

#

“I thought you’d have left by now,” Razai said quietly. She was riding close to Leena. They were a day outside of Tir Shar, on the road to Aencyr. “I take it your Seeking magic is sending you in the same direction as the rest of us?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” the other woman replied. “When Ellerie was planning on going to the Belepetra Range, my Seeking suggested I go that way. When she changed her mind and decided to visit the Skotinos Mountains first, my Seeking changed too.”

“Wait—you knew about that? I didn’t hear anything about the other mountain ranges until we got to Tir Shar.” Razai had accompanied Ellerie’s group, partly due to Marco’s insistence, but nobody had said anything about the next leg of their journey.

“Ellerie told me,” Leena said, “but she hadn’t decided yet, so I didn’t think she’d want me to mention it to anyone.”

Razai frowned. She had little interest in spying on Ellerie, despite Marco’s proddings, but she hadn’t expected Leena to start keeping secrets from her.

Shaking her head, she focused on the conversation at hand. “Then the magic isn’t sending you to a specific place? It wants you to stay with us.”

“Seeking can be hard to interpret, and I haven’t had much training. Maybe it just thinks this is the easiest way to get to where I’m going.”

Out of nowhere, the whispers spoke in Razai’s mind. Danger.

What danger? Razai asked. Where?

Enemies. All around. Ahead.

“Something’s happening,” she murmured to Leena. “Get behind everyone.”

“What?” Leena asked.

Razai didn’t stay to reply. She urged her horse ahead, drawing even with Corec. “There’s trouble,” she told him. “People watching us.”

He peered around. “Where?”

“Some are ahead of us. I’m not sure about the others.”

He turned his head. “Shavala?” he asked. The elven woman was riding on his other side.

“I sense them,” she said. “A lot of them. They’re off to the sides, too.”

“Everyone, hold here!” he shouted. “Boktar, Nedley, shields out!” He pulled his helmet on and flipped the visor down.

The group came to a halt. In the distance, a line of men armed with hunting bows came out from behind the trees where they’d been hidden, apparently realizing they’d been detected. They quickly nocked their bows and launched a volley.

A dozen arrows arced up and then down, but suddenly slowed and came to a halt in mid-air as they met an invisible barrier. Each hit caused a flash of flickering light. With the arrows’ momentum arrested, they fell to the ground. Razai recognized the telltale signs of an arrow shield spell.

“I can’t hold the barrier any longer!” Ellerie shouted. Boktar spurred his horse toward her, covering her with his shield.

The archers launched a second volley, but a heavy wind sprang up out of nowhere, pushing the arrows off course to the south.

“I’m going after them!” Corec yelled, his warhorse charging forward. Sarette followed him.

No more arrows came, though. Instead, the rest of the ambushers burst out of the bushes lining the sides of the road. Some screamed while they rushed the group, the commotion frightening the animals. Only Corec and Boktar had warhorses, trained to ignore the chaos of a battlefield.

Razai’s own horse reared. She dove off and hit the ground with her shoulder, then rolled smoothly to her feet, drawing her heavy, curved knives. As she stood up, she slashed one man’s throat and stabbed another in the gut, then faced off against a third. Unlike the first two, who’d been armed only with daggers and hadn’t realized she was attacking them until it was too late, the third man seemed to know how to fight. He held his buckler out in front of himself and gripped his arming sword, preparing to strike.

Abruptly, Katrin’s voice cut across the battle, singing some nonsense song in a discordant tone. Half a dozen men screamed in terror and ran back the way they’d come, then kept going.

Razai’s opponent wasn’t one of them. He smiled when he realized he was facing a woman. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed she was demonborn yet, or perhaps it didn’t worry him.

Growling, she threw one of her knives at him. They weren’t designed for throwing, but he looked startled when the weapon hit his buckler with a clang. While he was distracted, she closed the distance. With her free hand, she grabbed him by the throat and slammed his body backward to the ground. Humans always underestimated how strong she was. Most demonborn did as well—she didn’t have Vash’s muscles.

She held him down, tightening her grip on his throat and kneeling on his sword arm to prevent him from attacking. He was wearing chainmail over his upper body, so she quickly slashed deep gashes across his inner thighs, severing the blood vessels there. It would take him a few minutes to bleed out, but he wouldn’t be doing any fighting in the meantime.

Razai grabbed her fallen knife and turned to face the battle. She was tempted to call forth a disguise she liked to use when facing a large number of opponents, but she hadn’t told her companions about it. It was too risky to try it—they were likely to take her for an enemy.

She’d have to do it the hard way then. She bared her fangs and ran up behind the nearest opponent, wrapping one arm around his neck while she stabbed repeatedly at his kidney. Letting him fall, she searched for her next target.