‘Oh, Syline.’ Jane’s hiss cut the silence like a hot knife. ‘You really shouldn’t have looked through it. I was going to let you go with a cuff on the ear, but now…’
She left her threat to the girl’s imagination as she stalked forward. Unthinking, Syline picked up the book as she stumbled backwards. She was in danger. The woman was just a wizard without a focus, yet, somehow, Syline knew, if Jane caught her, she’d receive much, much worse than a cuff on the ear. Seeing her grab the book, Jane’s composure broke even further, irritation turning to fury as she hurried towards Syline.
‘Give me the book!’ she yelled.
The terrifying woman broke into a sprint towards her, teeth bared, revealing sharp fangs, her arm back ready to strike her, fingers tensed into a claw. Syline froze up and didn’t even move until the woman’s fingers scored across her shoulder, nails slicing clean through her robes and flesh. She screamed and the woman replied by grabbing Syline by the robes and hurling her into a nearby bookshelf. Syline flew as if a man twice Jane’s size had thrown with all his strength, hitting the bookshelf hard and slumping to the floor. Even as the books rained down around her, Syline held tight to the spell-book. She was going to die here. Jane wasn’t going to arrest her or ask for recompense. She was really going to kill her. Her finger still marked the page of the teleportation spell she had first seen. Frantically, she opened the book to it and began to read by the light still hovering at her shoulder, as Jane stormed towards her to follow up and finish her off.
Perhaps it was fear that let Syline cast as she did; the knowledge that her life may very well be on the line, but, in that instant, she cast the spell so fast the woman barely touched her by the time it was complete. Syline cast it flawlessly, each phrase pronounced to perfection, and the world went white.
Suddenly, the room was full of lightning. As Jane felt her foot hit the young mage’s shoulder, the girl exploded into electricity, pain filled Jane’s form and she fell to the ground screaming. Black and white spots danced across her vision, and she felt her body shake uncontrollably. Blood was leaking out the side of her mouth – she had bitten her lip in her seizures. When the shakes and tremors finally came to an end, she opened her hand. In it lay a platinum hairclip, marked by two sabres, crossed in front of a torch burning with a gemstone flame.
‘Syline Petranski.’ She let out a ragged breath. ‘You stupid girl.’
It was cold. It was so damned cold. Wherever the spell had taken her, she couldn’t see a damned thing. She was completely surrounded by snow. It was so hard to move. So hard to think. She struggled to pull her wand from her pocket and begin an incantation that would protect her from the cold. Black spots danced across her vision as she tried to pull on reserves she didn’t have. The wand fell from numb fingers. She couldn’t even move her head to see where it’d fallen.
She was going to die. That realisation came in with the cold, numb, distant. Something she could do nothing about.
Her eyes were heavy. At least if she was going to die, she’d likely do so in her sleep, that was a comfort. Something landed on her chest, light enough to be barely noticed through her robes, but it still made her force her eyes that little bit wider.
A songbird, of all things, something that had no right being out in this cold, at this time of night. Gold eyes met her ice blue ones as it turned its head this way and that, taking her measure. It began to sing, a beautiful, cheerful tune. The sound was like the battlehorn of summer, for through Syline, warmth rushed in a charge. A cozy, comforting warmth that reached from the tips of her fingers to the end of her nose. It was like being wrapped in a blanket and tucked in to bed. Despite the absurdity of it all, Syline let out a little yawn. By the time the bird’s song had finished, she was fast asleep, still filmed in the otherworldly warmth. The bird hopped to and fro on her chest, looking about. Setting its sights, it took flight and disappeared into the darkness.
Chapter 4
When Jane returned to her manor, arriving in a burst of flame in the hidden chambers she and Lauralee convened in, she did so in a mess. Her hair was singed and still smouldering in places, her dress was ripped and torn, her own blood was splattered across her lips and chin and someone else’s dripped from her claws.
Lauralee was aware Jane was known for her temper but seeing her like this reminded her just how different it was for one of their kind to be in a temper, than it was for a normal human to be. Lauralee stood at the corner of the dark room, having been organising Jane’s notes from the evening. She hesitated to speak, lest whatever fury Jane had burning within was unleashed on her. But in the end, as Jane’s breath came to her in furious, shuddering gasps through clenched teeth, curiosity overcame Lauralee.
‘What happened, my lady?’ she asked, and Jane’s head whipped to her like a predator sensing prey.
Okay, that was a mistake. Jane flexed her hands, as if ready to pounce, but seemed to force herself to calm. She stood up straight, running a hand through her hair and adjusting her dress as a long, ragged sigh left her.
‘An idiot child with more guts than brains. That Petranski girl you were flirting with, broke into our vault when someone smashed the window, thinking she’d fix it for us. It would have been sweet if she hadn’t started reading my tome. She’s disappeared with it. I’m amazed she managed the teleportation spell I’d been studying when she left, but it did quite a number on me. Took the book with her.’
The switch to this show of calm was quite startling to Lauralee, she guessed much of it was a cover. A trained, practised control of her temper. Syline had broken into the vault. The timid girl, clinging to her because some thug harassed her. It amazed her what sides of people came out, just like Jane’s fury. Lauralee hadn’t expected this side of the sweet noble girl she’d met in passing.
‘She took the book? Then what will happen with your project? I met her. I could find her again, I’m sure. I have her scent. I can silence her before she reports it to anyone important.’
Jane looked as if she considered it, raising an eyebrow in amused surprise.
‘You’d kill her?’
‘Of course, my lady. If that’s what the Mother’s Hand needs.’
Jane smiled; Lauralee’s words seemed to calm her in a strange way. She walked towards the table Lauralee had been working at, pausing to place a hand on Lauralee’s shoulder.
‘You’ll go far, Lauralee. Don’t let emotion cloud vision, that seems to be a lesson you’re already taking to heart. Your mother breeds them well, it seems. No, no, there’s no need for you to bloody your hands with her. She might have gotten lucky casting that spell, but a beginner like her? She’ll be lucky if she’s not already dead. She’ll be blessed by the gods themselves if she can walk tomorrow. Most of the watch is in my thrall. I’ll have them begin scouring the city for her. We may even be able to wipe her memory and bring her into my thralldom if they don’t get overzealous. If they do, well, we’ll manage; a noble daughter disappearing invites questions, so there’s a good chance I’ll be receiving a visit from her mother tomorrow. Besides, the spells were a gift. The main concern were the writings on the goddess and the beasts and I’d already removed those into their own binder. No, she’s an irritant, but she can’t distract us from other more important matters. She’ll be dealt with by tomorrow’s end, I’m sure. You, meanwhile, my dear…’
Jane seemed so calm in how she spoke now, but it was then Lauralee noticed Jane’s fingers were trembling on her shoulder. Nervous quivers that had her clenching her grip on the young woman, sharpened, painted nails within a hair’s breadth of piercing in. It all still simmered there; she was still cooling down.
‘You have another mission. Do you remember that cult we spoke of?’
Lauralee nodded.
‘They’re due to attempt a summoning tomorrow. As their patrons in this, it’s due that we have someone there to greet their new lords and instruct them on our plans for Dawnsteel and receive a scroll from them they should have prepared for us already. Your mother said you can still use scrolls, yes?’
Lauralee nodded.
‘Good girl, good girl. Take these then.’ She handed her two scrolls, ‘Teleportation, one to take you there, one to come back. Study the map in the back, the ritual site is marked. Don’t get involved with them if you don’t have to, you’re an observer until the summonings are done, then you need only instruct the demons and leave.’
Lauralee nodded one last time, then dared to ask, ‘What are you going to do now, my lady?’ She did not comment that she’d never seen a demon and was quietly petrified at the thought.
‘Our research is far from done my dear, from what we’ve managed tonight.’ She picked up the books Lauralee had been organising. ‘I do believe I’m ready to have my first taste of this god.’
She licked her fingers clean of Syline’s blood as she spoke, delighting in every drop.
Pushing on the southern border of Russenholde was the city of Dawnsteel. The primary god of the region may have been The Wanderer, the god of open roads and long journeys, but Dawnsteel was a city for Soel, the Glorious Dawn, the god of daylight, fire, and justice. Where Russenholde fostered hunters of monsters and worse, Dawnsteel held its own special kind of warrior: The Morning’s Fury, hunters of men and their dark machinations. The servants of the Glorious Dawn hunted cultists of demons, fey and other vile things and were unrelenting in their quest to purge the land of darkness.
Amberly Penzare was one such hunter. She was a tall, beautiful half-elf, white hair framing well-sculpted features and her skin carrying the faintest blue tint when caught in the right light.
Children had been disappearing from Dawnsteel; from the avenues, from the parks and from even their beds. Evil’s audacity knew no limit. Other members of the Morning’s Fury investigated other places around the city en masse and encouraged the citizens to come together in prayer, but her instincts had led her here, down in the old catacombs to the east of the city.
While the others clambered in the light for safety, Amberly knew the only solution was to descend to the dark and face it head-on. She’d found nothing though and cursed herself a fool. Every moment wasted was another child lost and she’d been pacing these dark, empty tombs for hours, guided by the scant light that penetrated through holes in the ceiling above. She’d found nothing but rats and the dead, and for all the questions she had, the dead told no tales. There was one more layer beneath her, one in total darkness. She’d need her torch to descend any deeper, and to do so would throw any attempt at stealth out the window. Still, nothing for it, it was this or retreat and admit she had been wrong.
