Sovereigns of bright and.., p.23
Sovereigns of Bright and Shadow, page 23
His smile faded and he stopped walking. Something wasn’t right. Was that smoke he could smell? He let his keen-sense wash forward and swallowed. The source felt twisted and scarred, much like it had in the aftermath of Kalhanna or in the throne room after Nea had executed Harold.
“Garret, what’s wrong?” Nea stopped next to him, her own keen-sense drifting out in a cool wave. “Oh no.” She pressed a hand to her mouth.
“What’s that?” Nora’s keen-sense was flickering along beside Nea’s. “It feels so—”
“Go back to your mother, Nora.” Garret tried to keep his tone level.
“But—”
“Now!” She flinched as he snapped.
“Come on.” Nea placed her arm across the back of Nora’s shoulders and guided her to where Bridie and the others had stopped.
Garret drew his sword and continued down the road. The closer to the town he got, the thicker the air seemed to get; once more bringing up the memory of Kalhanna. The ruined college had held an eerie stillness, the source twisted and scarred. And then the rows of bodies, all shrouded in whatever fabric could be found, laid out at the foot of the great stairs. Margot had broken down then, falling to her knees on the bloodstained ground. Declan had wondered who had prepared the college dead so carefully, but had left the king’s guard to rot. Had it been Nea, as Margot had suggested at the time? It would have taken her hours, maybe days without help.
He glanced sideways at her as she caught up to him. Her hands were clenched white-knuckle tight and her mouth was a thin line.
“Are you alright? You can wait here if—”
“I’m fine.”
Of course she was.
They crested a small hill and the town came into view. The road below them was littered with dark shapes, bodies slumped and sprawled where they had been struck down as they fled. But they weren’t just townsfolk. Some locals had obviously put up a fight as several soldiers wearing the green and gold of the king lay among them. Nea’s hand was pressed to her mouth. Her breathing had increased and he could hear the air heaving into her chest. He knew what she was reliving: broken bodies, bloodstained earth, the smell of death and fear … Kalhanna.
“You can stay here if you prefer.”
She jumped as he spoke. “I’m fine.” Her breath hitched and she swallowed. “I’m alright, really.” She started down the slope to where the bodies were the most condensed. She stopped next to the corpse of a young woman with flaxen hair and knelt, closing the woman’s vacant eyes with a gentle touch. She smoothed the woman’s hair back behind her ear then reached for the creamy-coloured handkerchief that was clutched in her hand. Lifting it, she folded it neatly and ran her thumb along the red embroidered flowers at its edges.
Garret suddenly felt he was intruding on something very private—bearing witness to a side of Nea that she rarely let others see. He’d noticed it in her interactions with Nora, and the ease with which Nea let her guard down around the girl. In those moments, she resembled the Nea who Margot and Emil often told stories of, the one he found hard to equate with the person she was now.
He drew a breath and studied the scattered bodies. What had happened here?
Noticing one of the soldiers laying nearby, he approached the body and rolled him over. There seemed to be no marks on him but dried blood clung to the skin of his cheeks as though it had run from his ears and mouth. Garret stood and looked back at Nea.
Harold had bled from the ears when Nea had used her magic on him but Garret had also seen healers lash out with similar results. Margot had once explained that it was as simple as turning a person’s internal organs against them.
Drawing a breath, he rubbed his finger along his lip and turned his attention back to the town. It looked as though Evard had attacked the town, but why? Perhaps they had been harbouring a fugitive, but would he have condoned the attack on the villagers? Yes, without a doubt. Evard would not care about the massacre; given his recent state of mind, he may even have ordered it. Garret’s jaw tightened as he pressed his back teeth together. That was when he spotted a woman with ash-grey hair laying over by one of the buildings.
He strode over to examine her. There were no marks on her and her breathing was shallow but steady. Her short hair was standing in dishevelled spikes, littered with dirt and straw. He’d met her once before at Margot’s clinic: Hazel.
He started to turn and call out to Nea when her magic spiked savagely, and she doubled over, gasping for air. He left Hazel and started towards Nea when he felt the magic—a twisted version of Margot’s warm healing keen. It’s owner, a short stocky man with a heavily scarred face, stepped out from behind one of the buildings, a gloating smile firmly on his features.
“I do prefer to play with my prey a bit first. But when the prey is just as dangerous as myself, well, I’m happy enough to take the easy road.” He approached Nea, the knife in his hand glinting in the sunlight.
Garret rushed forward, drawing his sword.
“I will kill her. Oh, He won’t be happy about that, but accidents do happen. And knowing how fragile the human body is, it is extremely easy to do. I don’t even need this.” He waved the knife as he clenched his other fist and Nea screamed.
Garret wasn’t close enough to suppress him.
“Now.” He crouched beside Nea, who glared at him. “This is a delightful surprise. You’re not the one I was sent to retrieve but if I deliver you, Evard will forgive me I am sure. After all, what use is a lockpick when you have the key.”
Garret edged forward a step. If he could just get close enough to suppress the mage ...
“Or perhaps we could join forces, you and I, and forget about Evard. Claim the power for ourselves.” The mage took hold of Nea’s arm. “You’ve had a taste of it haven’t you? You can’t tell me that you didn’t just want to let it take control and unshackle every ounce of your potential.” His voice was soft and he stroked the inside of Nea’s wrist as he spoke.
Nea’s arm shook as she pulled it out of his grasp. “I’ll never give in,” she rasped.
The man chuckled and took a step back as Nea grunted in pain. “You do realise you are an appalling liar.”
Another step, just a little closer.
Throwing caution to the wind, Garret lunged forward, clamping down his suppression on the mage. The man snarled and drove the dagger towards Nea but Garret met his chest with a firm kick that sent him staggering backwards as his breath came out in a tight wheeze.
“You fight dirty for a warden.” He coughed. “I like that.” He sucked air heavily over his lips and squared his shoulders. “Let’s see how long you can keep that suppression up when—”
The air grew ice cold and the man’s eyes bulged.
“Two can play that game,” Nea ground out through her teeth. There was a small trickle of blood beneath her nose and her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “Tell me why I shouldn’t just rip your pathetic soul from your body.” She stepped past Garret, who lost his grip on his suppression in his shock.
“Oh, oh, oh. So this is what your rage feels like?” The mage gasped and dropped to his knees, but the smile stayed firmly on his face. “It’s intoxicating, isn’t it?” He gasped again as Nea tightened her grip.
“What does Evard think he can gain by killing innocents? He can’t just cover this one up like he did Kalhanna.” There was something about Nea’s voice, a tone that was not her own but distinctly other-worldly.
The mage glanced at the carnage around him. “You don’t like my handiwork? The guards didn’t care for it much either, but He doesn’t care about the method. He just cares about the result.” His body started to shake. “Go on, give in to it. Death doesn’t matter to me.”
“Nea, stop,” Garret said and she gave him a wild-eyed glance.
“He did this! Murdered them all in cold blood.” Her voice broke and a tear rolled along her lower lashes.
Her grip on her magic wavered and he kept his voice level. “I know. And he’ll pay for it, but not at your expense. Not like Harold,” he whispered the last few words and slowly let his suppression dampen her magic. She didn’t resist.
As Nea’s magic released him, the mage staggered to his feet, still well within Garret’s field of suppression. Nea scooped up the knife the mage had dropped and leapt forward. Her weight, though slight, was enough to knock the still disorientated man off his feet again. With her knees against his arms, she lifted the knife and brought it down hard. The man’s legs jerked beneath her as she rolled off him. Covering her mouth, she staggered to her feet and raced away out of sight.
The body of the mage twitched; the knife was driven so deep into his right eye socket that none of the blade was visible. Garret cleared his throat and prodded the body with the toe of his boot. He rubbed the back of his neck and stared in the direction Nea had run. He knew he should follow her but he also wanted to allow her a moment of dignity.
A groan behind him made him turn. Hazel was getting gingerly to her feet; she pressed her hand to her forehead and squinted in his direction. “Warden Commander?” She stumbled over, her gaze dropping to the twitching body of the mage. “Nice work.”
“I didn’t do it.”
Hazel looked around, confused. “Then who?”
“Nea.” Her name was out before he could stop it.
“Nea? As in, the necromancer who has been missing since Kalhanna? About this tall, dark grey hair, weird violet eyes, Nea?”
He nodded and looked back at the dead mage.
“Any idea who that is? He was a healer, but I don’t remember him,” Hazel said.
Garret shook his head and glanced at the building Nea had disappeared behind.
“That’s weird.” Hazel’s voice drew his attention again. She was crouched beside the dead mage, her fingers holding the hair away to reveal the smudge of a birthmark behind his ear. It was a deep shade of purple and the outline was an almost defined flower shape.
“It’s just a birthmark.” Amelia has one just like it. He spotted Nea coming back, her face paler than normal.
“I think I’ve seen a similar one—Nea?” Hazel stood as Nea got closer. “It really is you.”
Nea stopped in her tracks. “Hazel.”
“Nea?!” A white-haired flash came barrelling from the side and Garret’s hand tensed on the hilt of his sword.
The flash turned out to be a boy of about fifteen. He grabbed Nea and crushed her in a hug that all but lifted her off her feet. “It is you, right?” He asked as he took a step back.
Like most boys his age, he was all arms and legs that he was only just starting to grow into. Most boys didn’t have an unruly patch of snow-white hair though.
Nea smoothed her clothes down and gave the boy an exasperated smile. “Who else would it be?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s a wonder I remember what you look like since you just up and abandoned us all.” He gave her a look that was all cheek, then added, “I don’t remember your hair being that dark though.”
She touched the end of her braid and a frown crossed her lips as the boy noticed Garret for the first time.
“Who’s the serious-looking warden?”
Nea glanced over her shoulder and met Garret’s eyes. “That’s Garret. Garret, this is Bran.”
Garret held his hand out and Bran shook it.
“A pleasure. I think I’ve heard Sonia mention you before. You’re the commander of the capital garrison, aren’t you?”
Garret rubbed the back of his neck. “I was.”
“Nea, did you see this?” Hazel pointed to the birthmark, drawing Nea’s attention to it.
Nea rolled her lip between her teeth and glanced to the right where Garret could feel the spirit. Bran could feel something too because he squinted at the patch of empty air before waving his hand through it.
“It’s just a birthmark Hazel.” She rubbed her hand over the back of her hip.
“Don’t yo—”
“It’s nothing!” Nea snapped and started stalking away towards the bodies. “We need to see to the dead.”
Bran gave a soft whistle and jogged after her.
“A bit touchy these days then,” Hazel muttered as she followed them.
Slowly, over the course of the day, Nea had calmed back to her usual self, or the version of it that Garret was used to. She refused to talk about the mage though, stating it wasn’t as important as honouring the dead. Hazel had let the matter drop, however Garret did notice her and Nea having a whispered conversation that ended in Hazel stalking away with her hands in the air.
While they had made use of his grandmother’s earth magic to dig the graves, it was still late afternoon before everything was ready for the rite to be performed.
Nea walked Bran through the process of the rite, her keen stirring as she held her hands out in the direction of the neat rows of bodies. Bran’s swelled to join it. Garret knew Nea’s keen was different, but feeling it alongside Bran’s he realised just how different. Necromancy always felt cold, but Nea’s wasn’t just cold, it was deep and enigmatic, shifting as though it held a myriad of secrets.
As Nea and Bran finished the rite, Nea let her hands drop to her sides looking more tired than Garret had ever seen her. The tears that had been threatening all day glistened as they rolled silently down her cheeks. She dashed them away with a sniff and let Nora drag her to the edge of the campfire where she had gathered a little collection of rocks.
“She’s different,” Bran said as he joined Garret.
“So people keep saying.”
“Yeah, you didn’t know her before did you? She used to be a lot more fun, less … sad.” He frowned. “The old Nea is probably still in there somewhere.”
Garret rubbed his scar and led Bran over to join the others at the fire. Bridie passed them both a cup of tea.
“Nora said you and Nea are taking her to Hartswood,” Hazel said from her seat beside Nea.
“We were taking her as far as Fort Braemar. Perhaps you could take her for us,” Garret said.
Hazel shook her head. “We’re on our way to Loch Bastien.”
“Why?” Nea asked.
“Nonna is chasing some books that the college has had on loan. I don’t know why she couldn’t just send a request for their return by bird. Though maybe she knew we’d run into you.” Hazel sipped her tea.
“I thought she sent us because of that box of Warren’s.” Bran piped up.
“Why would she think that something of Warren’s was at Loch Bastien or that Sophia didn’t just have it burned with the rest of his things?” As Nea mentioned Sophia’s name, the tone of her voice became strangely bitter.
“Maybe she doesn’t know it was his. Nonna seems to think he hid it in the repository before going all … you know.” Hazel circled her finger around beside her ear. “Chances are, Sophia isn’t even aware it is there.”
“Who’s Warren?” Garret asked.
“Sophia’s father,” Hazel replied. “She doesn’t like people to know about him, given that he went crazy and became a hermit before he died.”
“Warren’s not dead; he’s still living in that bolthole in the mountains north of Fengate.” Nea traced the rim of her cup. “And he’s not crazy. He’s … different. But Sophia doesn’t associate with different. It could ruin her carefully cultivated reputation.”
There was that bitterness again.
“Do you know what’s in the box?” Nea asked.
Hazel shrugged. “You know what Nonna’s like. It’s probably just some old jewellery box.”
“And the books?” Nea glanced at the empty space where Garret could feel her spirit friend.
“Just a few old books written by Vanasha. Apparently they have been at Loch Bastien since the time of High Mage Phineas, and Nonna thinks it high time they were returned to Hartswood.”
Nea shifted in her seat. “What if I went to retrieve the box and the books?”
Hazel stared at her for a few moments before collapsing into a fit of laughter. “Oh, I am sure Sophia would welcome you with open arms. She’s likely to burn the books just to spite you.”
Nea rolled her eyes and an expression settled on her features that reminded Garret of Margot. “I’m serious, Hazel. You and Bran take Garret’s family to Hartswood, freeing Garret up to get back to Fort Braemar, and I’ll go on to Loch Bastien.”
“You’re not going to Loch Bastien without me.” Garret crossed his arms over his chest.
Hazel looked from Nea to Garret and then back again. “If you want to go on a scavenger hunt to Loch Bastien in our place, I’m not going to stop you.”
Garret studied Nea. There was more to this then she was letting on, but he didn’t think she was willing to discuss it in front of the others. Even if they were alone, she might not open up.
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the fire. “It probably wouldn’t hurt to go to Loch Bastien and see if Aveline kept any of Declan’s old notes on corruption. Margot may find them helpful. That is, of course, if you don’t mind escorting my niece to Hartswood in our stead, Hazel.”
“We can certainly do that,” Bran said. “That is if Hazel is alright with it.”
“If it means I get to avoid Sophia then I have no problem with it at all,” Hazel said before finishing her tea.
Later, when everyone else had turned in for the night, Nea sat by the fire studying the flames as she folded and unfolded the handkerchief she had taken from the young woman’s body. Garret sat across from her. Every so often he’d cast a glance her way as he moved the short blade of his carving knife over a piece of wood that had been intended for the fire.
Nea’s fingers brushed her wrist. It was still free of the corruption marks; he had asked her about it when no one else was in earshot. But something was bothering her.
“Are you alright?” He knew what the answer would be but he asked anyway.
“I’m …” She let out a sound that could have been a laugh. “Not really. Today was hard.”
Garret examined the fox that was taking shape between his fingers.
