The Arcana: Shadow Wars, Codex I

XXIV

Rescue

In which they learn terrifying answers

One of the priests unfastened his cloak, and Lady Nensela used it to cover the captive. Another priest brought a flask of the naiad’s spring water to the woman’s lips, gently tilting it into her mouth. She coughed violently, and turned her head.

“Stand back,” Tala said softly.

The others did as she asked. Lady Nensela remained in place, keeping her eyes on the captive.

Bewitching, she judged. Skin a rich coppery red, and night-dark hair shimmering with blue highlights suggested a dryad lay before her.

However—dryads changed their appearance with the seasons. Their hair always matched the color of a fruit appropriate to the season, and exuded the scent of that fruit. While the captive’s hair color hinted of bilberries or elderberries, she bore no such scents, and it was the wrong season for both.

Naiad, perhaps? From a foreign, unknown land?

After a moment, the woman’s coughs subsided, and her eyelids fluttered open.

Eyes of molten gold stared up at them, wide and unseeing. Suddenly, the woman gave a start.

“Be at ease,” Lady Nensela said gently. “I am Nensela, the one with whom you spoke earlier. I have brought you friends.”

The woman’s lips parted, but only a harsh sound escaped. She cleared her throat, and managed at last to utter one word. “How?”

Lady Nensela gestured to Tala. “Tala is a high priestess of the Restorer. The Restorites cleansed this tub of the asrai used to hold you here.”

In the silence they heard her deep inhale and exhale. With trembling hands she reached up and gripped the edge of the tub. Slowly, she pulled herself upright, and looked around.

The first thing she noticed was Leo and the male priests, standing with their backs turned. For a heartbeat or two she blinked in obvious confusion. After a minute she glanced down and saw the cloak Lady Nensela had covered her with, now pooled around her hips. She clutched it fiercely, as though it were a lifeline.

Lady Nensela held out her hand. The woman hesitated. Lady Nensela made encouraging sounds, and her voice did not falter even when she received the shock of the captive’s icy cold palm against her own. Though the woman struggled mightily to rise, Lady Nensela did the heavy lifting in helping her gain her feet. Again the woman inhaled deeply, as if the effort to stand had sapped her strength.

Tala presented her with a silver flask engraved with a phoenix image. The woman again hesitated.

“Healing waters, from the spring of Her Grace, Kyane, in the Restorer’s Fane,” Tala assured her.

Only then did the woman drink. Or gulped it, more like, but even before she finished the flask her trembling ceased.

Sharp, gleaming eyes narrowed as she stared straight at Lady Nensela. “Where are they?”

No doubt she meant her captors.

“By now your abductors are in the care of the Destroyer,” Lady Nensela replied. “Save for their leader, who has taken one of my own friends.”

Rage smoldered in the woman’s eyes. But she calmly asked, “I heard your voice in my mind. Why? Are you … you are not one of my people?”

Ah. Finally.

“If you mean, I am a seer, then the answer is yes, I am one of your people. If you mean, I am from Ta-Seti, then no, you are not one of my people, and I am not one of yours. But neither is what you mean, I believe.”

The woman’s eyes darted about the room. “Are you certain they are dead? My ... captors?”

“I am certain my companions are working diligently to make them so.”

The woman wrapped the cloak more tightly around herself.

“Why did they capture you?” Lady Nensela asked.

For a long, long while the former captive fussed with the cloak draped around her. “Please take me home,” she whispered.

Lady Nensela’s heart began to pound. “From whence do you hail? This place where we are now is known as Kyanopolis.”

The woman frowned, and her face settled into an expression of extreme confusion. Why? Was her home so far away she had never heard of Kyanopolis? Or was it rather that she was trying to comprehend the incredible distance she may have traveled? The woman sank back into the tub, and let out a low moan.

“I think I have failed.” Her voice was thick with agony.

Lady Nensela and Tala exchanged a glance. This caught the woman’s attention; she suddenly turned to Tala as if seeing her for the first time.

“What other temples are here?” she demanded.

“My temple will aid you,” Tala assured her. “Temples to all of the gods are here—”

“The Sea Lord?”

“… Yes …” Tala answered.

The woman rose again, and attempted to negotiate the walls of the tub. Again Lady Nensela offered her aid, and this time the woman accepted without hesitation. She held fast to Lady Nensela’s arm even after she was free of the tub.

“Take me at once to the Sea Lord’s temple!”

“How might the Marinites aid you?” Lady Nensela asked.

“No one can help me; only my father can. Please, I seek those who serve my father.”

Lady Nensela’s heart beat a shade faster. Could it be … ? “Your father is a high priest of the Sea Lord?”

The former captive stumbled, and tightened her grip with such preternatural strength Lady Nensela feared her arm would break.

“No,” said the woman. “My father is the Sea Lord.”

The woman refused to elaborate. However, because she ‘knew’ Lady Nensela, she insisted Lady Nensela accompany her to the temple. Lady Nensela agreed, but carefully hid her confusion and misgivings.

By now Ziri and the others swooped in, having killed all but the few mercenaries the scryers said would be important. When Lady Nensela and her group swept into the courtyard, Ziri already had one captive bound at his feet.

Walking was too much for the woman, who had still to give her name, so Leo carried her. The minute she saw Ziri’s captive she bared her teeth and made a threatening sound in her throat.

Everyone froze in place, and the hair stood up on Lady Nensela’s neck. Never had she encountered a person whose voice could lock her bones and jangle her nerves. The roar of a tiger, yes … and of dragons.

The prisoner gaped at the woman, then he shocked them by bursting into tears. The others watched silently, uncertain for several moments as the man dropped to his knees and buried his face in his hands.

Ziri raised his eyebrows at Lady Nensela. In her most soothing tones she explained the situation. This while she placed a restraining arm on the former captive, quelling her fruitless attempt to wrest free of Leo.

“He deserves to die!” the woman raged.

“Undoubtedly,” Ziri agreed. “But I must ask that you keep your rage in check until we get answers.”

He bowed, a wise move if the woman’s claim to be a demigoddess was true. The woman subsided, but her glares made it clear she would not be held at bay for long.

Lady Nensela strode over to the crying man. The pace of her steps made him look up, for her stride was purposeful, and his survival instincts demanded he learn her purpose regarding him. Of a certainty she knew this; centuries of human interaction told her as much.

Deliberately she said nothing. Let him think, let him imagine. Coldly, implacably she raised her head and stared down her nose at him.

He bowed low, his forehead nearly touching the ground. “So you are real,” he said in despair before glancing up again.

Lady Nensela gestured for Damya to join them. The flash of glowlights on her gleaming orichalcum ring drew the man’s eyes. Naturally, he would notice the white jadestone, too.

“Ask your questions,” he said, resigned now.

Lady Nensela asked, and he answered. The room was tomb-quiet as they spoke.

Last summer, Gallo confided to the man—Claudius, he called himself—a great secret: a new order was coming, and they had a part to play to make it so. The part in question was to hunt and kill anyone asking about the giants. No one was supposed to learn any answers and live.

“Speak to us of the giants,” Lady Nensela commanded.

“My lady, I didn’t ask about them. To ask is to die, and the money was enough.”

For a long moment she eyed him. Incurious people were so odd. But he wasn’t lying; Damya’s nod confirmed as much.

He continued, “We put out that the giants were just rogue sorcerers in disguise, and we killed any witness or government official who claimed differently. But then a new set of people showed up asking questions. Shook us up, and we figured out they had to be an order of arcani.

“Somehow, our scryers couldn’t See them. No matter what we did, they just slipped through our fingers. And then” — he faltered when he glanced at his former prisoner— “Gallo said there was a way. A way we can stop the spies. We couldn’t even figure out who they were at first, but since we were going to fail if we didn’t stop them, I went along with it. I’m sorry—”

“Spare us,” Lady Nensela cut in.

A tear ran down his cheek. After a moment he continued. Gallo, he said, sent two teams of men to the Cauldron. Once arriving there, they split up, for two different missions. One group was to capture the asrai.

And the other group was to capture the dragon.

Murmurs and chatter rose up behind her, but Lady Nensela did not dare to take her eyes off Claudius. Manacled though his hands were, the man might also be desperate enough to try and take her as a hostage.

“The dragon,” she said evenly.

The Valentian pointed, and she knew he was indicating the woman in Leo's arms. Damya murmured imprecations in Adamantean.

“I didn’t believe it, either,” Claudius confessed. “But she’s not a true dragon. Her papa’s a sea dragon, but we’re sure her mama’s a dryad.”

Goosebumps broke out on Lady Nensela’s arms. In ancient legends, sea dragons would take human form and pair up with dryads. It was the basis of a famous festival drama.

Legends usually had a root in reality, but she always thought the appeal of those stories lay in the mismatch. A sea dragon shared no common purpose with a dryad; how could a sea dragon safeguard the seas if he lived in the forest? And dryads were tied to their trees, were they not? This very factor made the stories more poignant, with the added excuse for allowing the actors to indulge in melodrama.

Which made the stories easy to dismiss. But perhaps she ought to reconsider: what if the sea dragon and the dryads in these legends and plays did not have human motives? What if, instead of romance, they paired up to carry out orders from their divine parents?

“My mother is a dryad,” the woman said from behind her. “And in times past my brothers did bond with dryads, when such was needed. But my Father is the Sea Lord.”

Very well. But now was not the time to pursue questions on that score.

Lady Nensela again focused on Claudius. “How did you know to find her? And why did you need her?”

A sound from Ziri distracted her. She risked a glance at him, and stopped short. Horror and dismay battled it out on the faces of all of the Star Dragons. When she turned back, tears were glistening once again in Damya’s eyes.

Ziri explained, “The ‘dragon’ part of our name is not borrowed glory. Part of our oath includes taking the blood of a dragon into ourselves. Our legend has it that after the Third Cataclysm our founder made a deal with a dragon. It wasn’t a sea dragon—”

“Was it a sapient fire dragon?” Lady Nensela interrupted, awestruck.

“The answer will impress you I promise, but where I was going with this is that the oath we take binds us to the vows our founder made with that dragon. In return, we’re granted certain protections and abilities. I will say no more in front of him.” He jerked a thumb at Claudius.

Claudius said, “Sea dragons are hidden from scryers. But with her blood combined with the asrai water we’ve been able to find the Star Dragons.” Staring straight at the woman he added, “I am truly sorry.”

Lady Nensela waited, but the strange woman remained silent. “By what means did you find her?”

“At first Gallo didn’t say. Later I found out about Murena. He told us where to find her. Up to that point I thought we were looking for some kind of sorceress. But after I found out about Murena, Gallo told me more.”

And Murena’s role?

Claudius insisted he met Murena only once, and it took him several attempts to get the words out when he recounted the experience.

“I never spoke to Murena. Would you? Look, I know you want to know why we were dealing with, uh, him, but I was too scared to ask. Knowledge can be so dangerous. Some things, if you know, you can’t sleep.” His voice cracked. “But I can’t sleep anyway. Eyes, like lava, looking at me. That was the only part of him that stayed the same.”

“Elaborate, please.”

“Blink. Just blink, and his face is different. Like an illusion, which I thought is what he was working, to keep us from identifying him. But those lava eyes always stayed the same.”

No race known to Lady Nensela answered to any such description. At once she remembered the advice of her priest: she must find the Fire Lords.

“Is Murena the one who is cutting off the sorcerers from the spirits?”

“No, my lady. I’m sure it’s not him, only because Murena spoke of an ‘interceptor,’ but I never saw whatever it was.”

Interceptor.

Icy needles probed Lady Nensela’s spine. “What else can you tell us about him? Spare nothing!”

To his credit, Claudius finally managed to stop trembling. But as for Murena, or the Interceptor, he knew nothing more.

“You need Gallo for those answers.”

“Gallo has run off, leaving the rest of you to die,” Lady Nensela said, allowing spite to show through her voice. “The portal in the room where you imprisoned this woman, where does it lead?”

The look in the throat-cutter’s eyes turned cagey. Did he see a way of escape for himself? Let him imagine so, she decided.

“The portal came from Murena,” he said. “None of our scryers can See where Gallo goes when he enters it; we can’t find him at all once he goes through it.”

“So generous a benefactor, this Murena is,” Lady Nensela observed. But her stomach churned as she wondered if the portal’s power to evade scryers was limited to Gallo. Or would it hide Edana as well?

Claudius visibly swallowed, hard. His eyes strayed to her bow case, a silent question.

“Odd,” Lady Nensela began. Now she addressed Ziri, “Did I err in expecting him to offer leverage to save his life? How little reason he has given to keep him alive! Do you see a purpose in his continued existence?”

“Wait! I do, I do know where he might be,” Claudius cried. Cagey no longer. “Let me be your bait. Money—not for you, for Gallo. I hold the purse strings, I kept the books, and some of the vaults require my help to access them. If you play this right, you can sow chaos for him and bring him down. I’ll be more than happy to help.”

“Will you now?”

“Attack one, attack us all, that’s how it was supposed to be. Do you see him here? After all these years—years—he left me to die!” His chest heaved, and his shoulders shook. After a while he quietly said, “Aside from that, I owe her. For my part in her suffering. Please, I don’t want to die. Keep me from Murena and I’m your man. It works both ways; if Murena knows how to hide us he knows how to find us. He found her. All these years I gave my all for Gallo and the Red Daggers. I put my soul on the line, and where is he? I no longer have any loyalty to him—”

“And none to us, either.”

“What does that matter? You don’t need me to love you. I fear you, is that not enough? And more than that, I will help you find Gallo.”

And thus, Edana.

Lady Nensela thought now of her brother. In battle, it was ever his way to turn an enemy’s weapons and tactics against him. A successful strategy, particularly when he kept speed and surprise in his quiver of tactics. Surely Gallo believed all of his men had perished, and if so, he would look for no trouble from that quarter.

But there was still the matter of Murena. What were his motives for ordering Edana’s capture, when all who spoke of the giants were slain at his command?

What tortures would the shadow agent subject her to?

No.

Now was not the time to entertain catastrophes. No inert bovine was Edana; the child was resourceful, and extremely motivated to escape from Gallo. Count her a soldier in this battle.

And the daughter of the Sea Lord?

Lady Nensela exchanged a glance with Ziri, and he in turn gestured for his men to take Claudius in hand.

Time now for the Sea Lord’s child, whose withering glares made her hesitate. Must the Children play nicely?

“May we speak? I belong to the Seeker, and you belong to the Sea Lord. On such terms I would confer with you,” Lady Nensela said.

As she hoped, the demigoddess was rattled. Thoughtfulness replaced wrathfulness, in her face at least. Might they come to an understanding with one another?

When the demigoddess nodded her assent, Leo followed Lady Nensela to what had been Gallo’s office. Once the Sea Lord’s daughter was comfortably settled on the couch, he left the women. His backward glance as he closed the door almost made Lady Nensela smile.

With a practiced eye she looked over Gallo’s office. Though thoroughly ransacked—or scuttled—the decor proved that banditry paid him well. The man even possessed some modicum of taste; several of the sculptures in the room were clever copies of classical pieces.

Thank the Seeker they were mere copies: what yielded no intelligence in this lair must be destroyed. A man who did deals with the likes of Murena, and who captured asrai and gods’ daughters, was a man who needed to be obliterated.

When Lady Nensela was sure the woman was at ease, she joined her on the couch.

“You are going to plead for his life,” the woman accused, her eyes blazing.

“Last year, the Seeker gave me a vision.”

And she told the woman of what she and the four other prophets foresaw. As she spoke, the woman’s gaze cooled, softened.

“I have a suspicion as to what Murena is up to,” Lady Nensela said. “I seek proof. But I believe he may wish to force the gods to walk again in our world, for reasons that I cannot guess, but that I fear with every fiber of my being.”

The woman looked expectantly at her.

“An abomination was done to you, and to handmaidens of the Restorer’s daughters. People who worship the Reaper are being attacked. So far the dryads appear to be untouched, but I will not claim certainty on that score. Do you understand me?”

The woman didn’t answer right away. Instead she closed her eyes and sighed. “These are extraordinary days. You do not seek that man’s life out of selfishness or misplaced compassion. If you require him, I will spare him. No longer do I believe I was taken by chance misadventure, nor even for the base reason he claimed I was captured for. I was sent here for a purpose. To give aid. And I believe you are the one I am meant to help.”