The Magic Below Paris Boxed Set, page 50
part #1 of The Magic Below Paris Series
As tempting as it was to see how the others were doing, Marsh was too busy. Taking the reins in one hand, she disentangled her wrist. It was a good thing she’d done so much riding when she’d been working for Kearick. She’d have been in a lot more trouble if she hadn’t.
You’d have been on your ass on the floor.
Roeglin’s comment made her wonder where the shadow mage got the energy to speak.
You almost fell off.
Like she needed to be told!
She hoped the gatehouse was clear, and that their headlong flight didn’t take them through it and into the station beyond. That would put them in the middle of a courtyard surrounded by walls and buildings—and any number of unknown enemies.
By the Deeps! For all she knew, the waystation was where all these shadow monsters had been making their home, so they might be heading out of the frying pan into the fire.
“This way!” Gustav shouted, guiding his mule off the trail.
It was barely warning enough, but Marsh and Roeglin looked up in time to follow, and the rest clattered through the turn behind them, the mules bleeding off speed to make it. The animals’ instincts for staying with the herd were a boon, particularly as they fought to keep up with their leader.
The turn took them between two tall stands of calla shrooms, momentarily bathing them in pale purple light. Towering outcrops of rock flashed past, and she was just thinking she should be scanning ahead for life forms when a dark shape slammed into the side of her mule. The beast went down kicking and Marsh reached for the shadows, pulling herself from the mule’s back into the darkness above it.
Ahead of her, Gustav and Roeglin were trying to pull their mounts to a halt. Behind her, Henri was tugging Gerry out from under his mule, while Jakob, Zeb, and Izmay were struggling to remain in their saddles. Beneath her, a shadow monster tore into the soft underbelly of her mule.
Gouges in her mount’s sides and throat showed where the monster had thrust its clawed hands into the mule as it struck. Dammit! She’d liked her mule. Fury rolled through Marsh, and she pulled a sword from the shadows. Taking a firm grip on the hilt, she angled the point downward, and then she dropped out of the shadows onto the creature’s back, driving the blade into its body as she landed.
It shrieked and twisted, its cries drawing the attention of some of the monsters attacking the rearguard. Marsh yanked her sword out and stepped back, changing her grip so she could sweep the blade down a second time. As she did, Gustav ran past her, Roeglin hard on his heels. Mordan stood her ground, yowling her defiance at the oncoming horde.
Only when Marsh was sure the monster at her feet was dead did she join them, the kat bounding ahead of her. The two men were engaging the monsters that had come after Marsh when she’d killed the first. Seeing what they faced, she was relieved to note that these monsters did not share the size or the coloring of the one that had taken down her mule, but not so relieved to hear the sound of more hoots and screams coming toward them.
“Move!” Gustav shouted as he felled the monster he was facing and then took down one of those blocking Henri’s path.
The man had one arm wrapped around Gerry’s waist, even as he parried the clawed strikes of another monster. He’d have been in worse shape if the other monsters hadn’t been more interested in the mule than him and the shadow guard, and if Mordan hadn’t intervened. For his part, Gerry had pulled a shield from the shadows and was doing his best to help Henri keep their attacker at bay. From the look on his face, the kat had his eternal gratitude.
“Move!”
Roeglin took out the last of his opponents as Marsh reached him, but he didn’t join Gustav. Instead, he pulled a dart from the shadows, sending it through the head of another of the monsters. Marsh raced past him as he pulled a second dart. As she did, another of the mules went down and Izmay tumbled away from it, barely avoiding the claws that lashed out toward her. Mordan took the monster down with a well-timed leap and Izmay rolled clear.
Again, two or three of the monsters went after the mule instead of the human. That was new, but Marsh didn’t have time to think about it; the horde they’d been escaping was getting closer, and they needed to reach the waystation. She joined Gustav in clearing a path so the others could reach them, relieved when Izmay gripped Jakob by his forearm, pulling him out of his saddle and shoving him clear. Relieved, also, to see Dan taking down the worst of the threats around them.
Jakob’s mule gave a shrill whinny and tried to bolt past the monsters, only to fall before it had gone more than two strides. Jakob drew his sword, coating it in shadow as he turned to face what monsters hadn’t gone after the mule. That stopped them from going after Izmay long enough for the shadow guard to help Zeb get free of his own panicked beast.
It didn’t take the guards and kat long to reach Marsh and Gustav once they were on the ground and able to defend themselves properly. The fact that many of the shadow monsters went after the mules, also helped, and the eight of them made short work of those that pursued.
They worked their way back to where Roeglin was waiting and then they took to their heels, running down the trail and hoping the waystation wasn’t too far off. From the sound of the screeches and howls behind them, the horde they’d fled was gaining ground—and shadow monsters could move a lot faster than humans.
Marsh hoped they didn’t run into a second ambush before they reached the station.
2
Shadow Poison
Marchant’s hopes weren’t realized. They faced and fought their way through two more small clusters of shadow monsters before they reached the gatehouse, only to find it closed and barred against them. Glancing up at the walls, Marsh thought she saw faint signs of movement, but she couldn’t be sure, and she didn’t have time.
“Wait here,” she said, sliding into shadow form and turning to look down the length of the wall.
Before Roeglin could ask her what she was doing, Marsh had stepped into the darkness, asking the shadows to find her a door. It took her only seconds to find the threads of darkness connecting her to the answer, and a few seconds more to find the small door in the wall not far from the gatehouse.
Thinking of what the path had looked like in front of the gates, Marsh focused on becoming one with the shadows and stepping through them to shorten the distance in between. Her arrival startled the guards, and only Roeglin’s swift warning kept her from being skewered. As it was, Gustav barely managed to turn his blade away in time.
The shadow master rolled his eyes, and Marsh ignored him.
“This way,” she said, cutting through Gustav’s apology. “There’s a gate.”
Again, she drew on the shadows to guide her, but this time she didn’t seek to become one with them, remaining solidly human. Leading the way through the shrooms and boulders clustered around the base of the waystation’s wall, she took them to the gate and was relieved when it opened beneath her hand. The kat brushed past her to investigate the territory behind, and Marsh didn’t try to stop her.
None of her companions made any comment, but she knew that more than one of them would be thinking that whoever had taken over the station had made the same mistake as Monsieur Gravine—they’d barred the gate and forgotten the secondary entrance.
Or they left it clear so they could escape if they needed to, Roeglin murmured.
Marsh might have rolled her eyes at his words, except the man had a point. Drawing on the shadows and on a more natural magic, she tried to see if there was anyone waiting inside. It was a relief when the shadows showed the space on the other side of the gate to be empty. It was even more of a relief when her nature magic showed that the dark ahead of them was devoid of anything except Mordan’s brightly flaming life force.
Now all they had to do was reach the gatehouse. She led the way along the wall, hoping there was an inner gate as well as an outer one. The Deeps knew her uncle had insisted two gates were safer.
She glanced back to make sure the others were following and muffled a snort when she saw Gustav carefully lowering a locking bar over the small doorway. Someone, at least, had learned from past mistakes, even if they weren’t his own.
To her relief, they reached the gatehouse without encountering anyone or anything—and the original builders had decided to install an inner gate, which the current occupants had closed. Once they’d quietly opened them and slipped inside, Gustav and Izmay shut it again and lifted the locking bar and dropped it back into place. The sound echoed loudly around them.
It probably echoed loudly in the courtyard beyond too, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that they’d reached safety and could finally rest. Marsh was feeling the effects of the long ride, the battle, and using her magic, but there were more important matters. She looked over at where Henri was helping Gerry settle to the floor.
The redheaded shadow guard was looking pale in the light of Henri’s lantern.
“Need a hand?”
Henri looked bleak.
“He got clawed.”
Of course, he did. Marsh looked around the gatehouse.
“Anyone else get clawed?”
Her question led to restless shuffling as everyone stopped to check themselves. Zeb gave a soft exclamation of surprise and sank to the ground. His action drew Gustav’s attention and the guard captain uttered a quiet oath, reaching down to help the man to his feet and guide him across to sit beside Gerry.
“I thought you shadow mages were made of sterner stuff.”
Zeb managed a tired chuckle and pointed an accusing finger at Marsh.
“Didn’t notice it until she made me look.”
“Yeah, she’s all kinds of trouble, that one.”
Gustav patted him on the shoulder and looked at the others.
“Anyone else?”
Marsh wondered if they could be that lucky, and breathed a soft sigh of relief when the others shook their heads.
“Nope. All good here,” Izmay said, and Jakob echoed her.
They’d been luckier than they deserved.
Agreed, Roeglin said, then added, You’d better get to work.
Marsh glanced at him, and then at Izmay, who was rummaging in her pack. She shot a look toward Mordan, but the kat had settled along one wall and was cleaning her paws. If she’d been hurt, she’d have been licking the wound, instead. Izmay’s voice drew her attention back.
“Lost what I had on the mule, but I’ve still got these,” the dark-haired shadow guard said, pulling out a small bag and looking at Marsh. “You know how to clean a wound?”
Marsh shrugged.
“I can learn.”
“I do.” Jakob’s quiet assertion made them both turn, and they watched as he pulled his own small bag from his pack.
“What?” he asked when he caught their stares. “Plenty of guards get hurt on the caravans. I learned.”
Marsh wondered if anyone had suggested he try seeing if he could heal using magic, but he’d already taken a pannikin from his pack and was tipping the contents of his canteen into it. He passed both to Gustav.
“I need hot water,” he said. “Those wounds need to be cleaned.”
He seemed completely unaware that he’d just given his senior an order, and taken the reins from Izmay without asking. Neither of them argued with him, though. His attention was focused on the two injured.
“Someone want to light a fire? We need to sterilize the wounds.” His face was grave as he looked around, his voice somber when he added, “We have to try, anyway.”
“I’ll help,” Marsh told him. “I can draw the poison from the wound.”
His eyebrows rose. Izmay’s and Gustav’s, too.
Zeb gave a half-hearted laugh.
“So we do have a chance…”
From the sound of it, he might not have much of one if she didn’t hurry, but Marsh hesitated. She looked at Jakob.
“Your call,” she said. “Which one needs me more?”
Her words made him blink, and he crossed swiftly to where the two men waited.
“You need to lie down,” he told them, helping Zeb do as he asked while Henri assisted Gerry.
Neither of them looked good.
Zeb had three deep grooves on the outside of his thigh, and Marsh wondered how he’d been able to run.
Battle heat, Roeglin told her. You don’t feel a thing until it wears off. That, and the deeper the wound, the more your mind blocks your awareness of it—until it can’t.
Great, Marsh thought, watching as Jakob finished inspecting Gerry and then looked at Izmay.
“You any good with a needle and thread?”
She glared at him.
“I’m not a seamstress.”
“I meant for stitching wounds.” He sounded exasperated. “I don’t give two shits for your skill at mending clothes.”
Izmay colored, then nodded, bringing her bag of supplies.
“Never done it before.” She slid him a look laced with sly humor. “But if the ability to mend a seam will help…”
“It’s better than nothing.”
Marsh wondered if he’d meant to be that short, but Jakob was already looking at her. When he saw he had her attention, he pointed to Gerry, and Marsh noticed what she’d missed before: the man’s side was soaked with blood.
The shadow guard caught her expression and his lips twitched.
“It’s what armor’s for,” he said, and Marsh realized Henri had cut the armor away so Jakob could inspect the wound.
She crossed to where he was, hoping the shadow monster’s claws hadn’t gone too deep, but was severely disappointed by what she saw.
“A la putain.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Henri told her. “Do what you can.”
From his tone of voice, the man wasn’t holding out much hope for the shadow guard’s survival. Marsh didn’t bother replying, just nodded and knelt beside them. As soon as she was settled, she closed her eyes, laying her hands on either side of the injury and concentrating on the guard’s life force.
It was stronger than she’d feared, and Marsh felt a small part of herself relax. If he was still this strong, he might make it until the healers on Master Envermet’s team could reach him.
Not if you don’t deal with the poison.
Roeglin’s voice was an unwelcome distraction in her head and Marsh pushed it aside, finding the dark threads of shadow poison lacing their way through the brighter reds and yellows of a healthy life force. Marsh drew a deep breath and let it out, reaching for the shadows and asking for their help, then linking the shadow of the poison to the shadows outside the wound.
The darkness inside the body was connected to the darkness outside it, right? The shadows in the poison linked to the shadows of the air beyond…and she’d done this before.
For Roeglin.
Don’t remind me, the mage protested, but Marsh needed to remember, if only to remind herself it was possible.
Roeglin had been injured by a poison-laced blade. Shadow poison and the dark; she could do this.
Holding firmly to that belief, Marsh focused on pulling the poison from the wound, drawing it back along the shadows and out of the body. When the dark threads no longer stretched tendrils from the wound, and only faded health could be seen, she opened her eyes and looked for somewhere she could put the poison.
When she’d done this before, she’d realized she couldn’t just dismiss it to the shadows, or it would affect anyone who came into contact with it. She’d had to… Roeglin pointed to the discarded fragments of armor and clothing that had been cut away from the injured, and Marsh directed her ball of shadows and shadow monster poison into it. When she was done, she disentangled the shadows from the poison before returning them to the corners of the room, then looked at Jakob.
He was staring at her.
“How… When…”
“Later,” she told him. “I’ll work on Zeb next.”
Roeglin stirred uneasily, and Marsh hoped he wasn’t about to suggest she rest first because there wasn’t time. Shadow-monster poison acted fast. If she rested, it might be too late.
“I know,” Roeglin told her aloud, but his voice was laced with worry. “Just…do what you can. Okay?”
At first, Marsh didn’t understand why he was so concerned, and then she went to stand. Izmay caught her before she could fall forward onto Gerry, and Henri helped his fellow guard drag Marsh upright again. Jakob looked on with concern.
“Are you sure you’re up to this?”
Marsh looked from him to Zeb, casting a glance at Roeglin that dared him to deny her. The shadow guard was watching her, and from the look on his face, he expected her to have to stop. His expression mingled resignation and understanding, and he closed his eyes when he saw she’d noticed.
“It’s okay.”
“Yes,” Marsh said, glaring at Roeglin and pushing away from Izmay and Henri, grateful when they kept a hold on her and helped her reach Zeb’s side. “Yes, it is okay.”
Ignoring Mordan’s sudden growl of alarm, she placed her hands over the lacerations in Zeb’s thigh. This time, she didn’t close her eyes but used her life sight to overlay the map of the poison’s path on what she could see of his body. The dark veins had already threaded their way to a brighter line of red tracing the way up the inside of his leg; it was spreading fastest along that.
“Well, merde,” she murmured, and asked the shadows to come once again to her aid.
This time, she had three wound entrances to clear, three different sources from which the poison spread. A dark web of deadliness traced its way out of each wound but converged on the thick red line to become a river. She was going to have to use a different approach.
Taking another deep breath, she went to work. Instead of following the poison along the pathways of the body and drawing it back, she turned to where it pooled in the gouges in Zeb’s leg. Gathering the shadows, she sought the shadow in the poison infecting his thigh.
