Soldier Sword (The Teralin Sword Book 2) Read online

  “You think the historian guild will provide the answers I need?”

  Novan shook his head. “The guild won't have those answers either.”

  “What is it? Why are you taunting me like this?”

  Her voice took on a higher pitch as she asked each question, increasingly agitated the more she spoke. Novan had touched on something that bothered her, though Endric couldn't fathom what that might be.

  “You haven't told him, have you?”

  “Told me what?” Endric asked.

  Senda glared at Novan. “Nothing.” She lurched to her feet and started away, leaving Endric staring after her, wondering what Novan might know about her and why she wouldn’t share.

  26

  Endric awoke to the sound of violence.

  He jerked around in time to see a man slicing through the middle of the captives, cutting all two dozen of them down before Endric could even fully awaken, leaving none left alive. It was early morning, and the sky had begun to creep with a hint of gray, the beginning of the day starting to appear. The fire had burned back to almost nothing.

  Unsheathing as he leaped to his feet, he reached the attacker.

  It was the commander—the man they had captured and bound.

  He turned to Endric, his face contorted in a sneer. “You thought to capture my men?”

  “Why would you slaughter them like this?” Endric asked.

  Where were the Denraen who were supposed to keep watch?

  Pendin had the second watch, and with him would have been at least one of the Denraen. What had happened to them?

  “You would march them toward Vasha where you would confine them. I’ve offered them something else. I’ve released them.”

  “Released? You’ve killed them.”

  “They are released from your torment,” the man said.

  Endric frowned. “Call it whatever you want, but you will pay for your crimes.”

  “I doubt that.”

  The commander darted toward Endric.

  He attacked with a speed that Endric had only seen a few times before. There was power and a dangerous grace to it that Endric couldn’t match. Even his training with Dendril didn’t prepare him for this kind of fighting.

  Endric sank into the patterns, drawing upon them, praying that he could find enough skill to slow the man. He would discover what had happened to the other Denraen later.

  Others in the camp awoke to the sound to their fighting. Senda joined, her staff spinning violently. Endric had practiced with her but had never seen the full brutality of it.

  The commander forced her back.

  Endric darted in, using the opening to try to push him away, but the man simply slapped away Endric’s sword. Endric lunged at him, trying to draw his attention so that Senda could use the opening to attack, but there was no chance. The man simply moved too quickly, his body a blur.

  They wouldn’t be enough.

  He still ached from fighting the night before. His body felt as if it had been through several days of hard marching, and his muscles didn’t react as well as they should have. Yet, even were he at his peak, he didn’t think he would be able to stop this man.

  Senda tripped and fell back.

  The commander smiled darkly, his sword flashing toward her.

  Endric could practically see what would happen, almost a slowing of time as his sword arced toward Senda. Endric would not be fast enough to counter it.

  After everything that she’d been through, he wouldn’t be able to save her.

  He jumped, screaming as he did.

  The suddenness seemed to catch the commander off guard, and he started to turn, giving Senda the time she needed to roll away.

  Endric leaped at him, his sword extended, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to reach the commander without suffering an injury of his own, but if he could slow the man, if he could find some way to delay his attack, he might be able to give Senda a chance to stop him. Then they still could have their answers.

  This time, when the sword came at him, there was nothing that he could do to stop it. Endric twisted, trying to move away from the tip of the dark sword, the teralin that should have been kept from him, but wouldn’t be able to do so quickly enough.

  The sword swung toward him.

  And was stopped.

  Novan stood in front of the commander, his long staff glowing softly with a white light.

  Teralin.

  The historian swung his staff, once, twice, each time more quickly than the commander could react, catching him first on his arms, then his legs, dropping him to the ground. A final strike caught the man on the side of the head, enough to knock him out once more.

  Endric righted himself and kicked the teralin sword away from the commander’s grasp. “Thanks,” he said, catching his breath.

  “No thanks are necessary.” Novan scanned the camp, noting the dead soldiers nearby, his nose turned up in something of disgust. “He should not have been able to escape.”

  “I had tied him, but it was strips from his sheets. I should have secured him better.”

  “That should have held. No… This is something else.” Novan went for his pouch before returning, removing a bundle of a slender white rope. He used this to wrap around each of the commanders’ wrists before tying them together and lashing them to his ankles. The knots were stout; Novan had experience tying quality knots.

  Endric pulled the man’s boots from his feet and tossed them to the side.

  Novan arched a brow at him in question.

  Endric shrugged and lifted his boot, slipping a knife from a hidden sheath. “It’s how I escaped when I was captured.”

  “Perhaps I should search for similar boots.”

  “I know someone who might be able to make you some,” Endric said, laughing softly. “Senda?”

  She leaned on her staff but watched Novan with an interested eye. The man had managed to disarm the commander when the two of them had failed. Likely she had the same questions that Endric had, though Endric had long ago decided against asking them. What would it matter, when the historian would choose to answer only what he wanted?

  “Are you harmed?”

  “Thanks to the historian, I’m not.”

  Novan nodded, his gaze sweeping across the ground, seeming to search for hidden answers there.

  “Where’s Pendin?”

  They heard a groan from the far side of the camp, and Endric hurried over to find Pendin with a gash in his side. He clutched his hand to his flank, holding it while moaning. The injury was deep, and Endric had seen others like it that had been fatal.

  “What happened?” Pendin asked.

  “I thought you might know,” Endric said. “The damned man almost managed to escape. I awoke to him slaughtering his men.”

  “How did he reach us? He was bound and out for the night.”

  “Apparently not as well as we thought,” Endric said.

  “Did he… did he escape?”

  Endric shook his head, moving Pendin’s hand from his side so that he could look at the wound. It went into the left side almost cleanly through. As he removed pressure, it continued to bleed, flowing heavily, forcing Endric to replace pressure. “We got him,” Endric said.

  Pendin laid his head back with a sigh. “Good. I thought I might have to beat on you if you let him go. Maybe I would even report you to the general.”

  “Pendin—”

  “Just end him,” Pendin said. “Kill that bastard before he hurts any more Denraen.”

  Pendin breathed heavily, and watching him, Endric didn’t see how he could survive for long. Would they have come as far as they had for Endric to lose his closest friend?

  Novan rested a hand on Endric’s shoulder. “Let me help,” the historian said. “I have some knowledge of healing.”

  “I’ve seen wounds like this. He won’t be able to make it for long,” Endric whispered.

  “Maybe longer than you realize. There are things that I can try,�
� Novan said, “but you must let me.”

  Endric stepped aside, letting Novan have access to Pendin. He stayed close until Novan glanced up, shaking his head. “You must trust that I know how to help your friend,” he said softly.

  Endric nodded and backed away. “You’ll call for me if you… if you fail?”

  Novan waved a hand, almost as if dismissing the idea.

  Endric started to make a survey of the camp. He found the other two Denraen fallen not far from Pendin, both with their throats slit. Of the Denraen who had come with him, only Pendin still lived, and that was tenuous. He might have rescued Senda, but at what cost?

  Senda joined him as he moved the two Denraen into a better position. They would need to be buried. For that matter, Charles would need to be buried, if they could return to him.

  “Endric,” she started, her voice catching.

  He looked up.

  “You shouldn’t have come for me.”

  “What choice did I have?”

  “You could have followed your orders.”

  Endric stood and took a deep breath. It was the same thing that Listain would say when he returned. Endric risked his command, but this time, he did it for a different reason than before. “I did follow my orders.”

  “No. Your orders were to leave me. Dendril knew what I was after, knew that I was willing to take the risk—”

  “You might have been, but I wasn’t. Listain wasn’t. If we’re not given all the information, how can we make the right decision?”

  “You’re not in a position to have all the information,” Senda said. She watched him, meeting his gaze for a moment before shaking her head. “I’m sorry, but that’s the truth. I know you don’t want to hear it—and I don’t want to be the one to tell you—but the Denraen need you to earn your place with them.”

  Endric nodded curtly. “It would have been better for Dendril to have given me a lower title, one more fitting my experience, but instead he placed me as en’raen. I haven’t earned it, Senda, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to earn it.”

  “I know that, but others don’t know you the way that I do.”

  The comment elicited a smile, the first he’d been able to share in some time. “I hope not.”

  She shook her head but grinned just the same. “That’s not what I mean.”

  “I’m doing what I can. My father made a point of sending me from the city so that I wouldn’t go after Urik, and I have done what I can to obey those orders. I will not sit back when Denraen are attacked.”

  “That’s what got you into trouble the last time,” Senda said.

  “No. What got me into trouble the last time was wanting to attack out of a desire for vengeance.”

  “And this isn’t?”

  “Why does everyone keep assuming that I can’t think straight when it comes to Urik?”

  “Because you haven’t proven yourself the most in control of your emotions.”

  “I think that I’ve done well with my emotions. The only time I let them get to me was when you were captured.”

  Senda took his hand. “Thank you for coming for me.”

  “Why were you willing to risk yourself like that?”

  “Because we need answers. The Ravers have grown in size and influence quickly. The Denraen haven’t the manpower to control them, and they migrate too quickly for the northern nations to effectively manage. Dendril thought that if we could infiltrate them, we might be able to obtain information, learn what they planned and who was directing them.”

  “Why do you think they’re directed?”

  “It’s not only me who thinks they’re directed, but Dendril. They’ve attacked Denraen, Endric. Your father knows this.”

  “So have the Deshmahne.” Which made him wonder if they were connected. With both armies having access to teralin, they had to be connected in some way, didn’t they?

  “Only the once, and not since. They claim they were instigated.”

  Endric opened his mouth to object, but Senda shook her head, silencing him.

  “We can only act on what we know. The Deshmahne claim that they had no interest in attacking our men and that it was nothing more than a mistake.”

  “What about the attack on the city?”

  “Rogue priests.”

  Endric sniffed. “That was more than rogue priests.”

  “Probably,” Senda agreed. “But that’s the reason your father is taking a measured approach. The Deshmahne haven’t shown any signs of violence. That would be the only reason your father would attack—it should be the only reason your father would attack.”

  “He knows the threat the Deshmahne pose,” Endric said. “There’s more to it than that.”

  “Maybe,” Senda said. “But the Ravers have been attacking the Deshmahne. That’s the reason we’ve increased patrols in the north.”

  Endric had known about the increased patrols, but not much more than that. Had his father been keeping it from him, or was this something that Listain had? Why send him and Listain south when there was such a threat in the north?

  That would explain why Listain had been as annoyed with the assignment as he had been, and it would also explain why Listain had wanted to ensure that his assets were in position before they departed for the south. The spymaster would want to be informed about what might be taking place in the north while they were gone.

  “And we don’t know why the Ravers have been attacking.”

  “Only that they are coordinated and effective. Now that we have the commander…”

  Would the man be of any use? If he were powered by the teralin, Endric wondered if he would be able to withstand their questioning. The other Ravers he’d caught hadn’t been willing to speak. Whether that was out of fear or for other reasons, he didn’t know.

  He squeezed her hand and pulled her toward the commander.

  “What are you doing?” Senda asked.

  “I’m going to get some answers for you.”

  “Endric—”

  “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? The reason that you’re here? You wanted to know who commanded the Ravers, and you wanted to know more about them. Now is the chance. We have the commander.”

  “And if he doesn’t talk?”

  Endric shook his head, his eyes hard. “I won’t give him that luxury.”

  He stalked across the camp and found the man still bound and seemingly out. Endric nudged him with his booted foot, and the man stiffened, still trying to feign unconsciousness.

  “I see that you’re awake,” Endric said, grabbing the man by the back of his shirt and hoisting him up. He forced the man to meet his eyes.

  The commander glared at him. “What do you think that you’ll get from me?” the man asked. “Do you think that I’ll share my secrets with you? Perhaps you think you can break me. I don’t fear you, Denraen.”

  “I don’t want you to fear me. I want to know who employed you.”

  “No one employs the Ravers,” the man sneered.

  “Someone did, otherwise you wouldn’t have been here. Why attack the Denraen? Why risk it?”

  “Because,” the man said, leaning forward, “attacking the Denraen is easy. You send your patrol out, thinking that your band of fifteen or twenty men is enough to hold some sort of peace, but it’s not. You were lucky when you captured me, but it will not happen again.”

  “Lucky? We managed to capture you twice.”

  “You did not capture me. That damned man did.” He tipped his head toward Novan, who was making his way toward them.

  Endric tossed the commander back onto the ground, leaving him there. There wasn’t much that he would share. He had attacked because he thought that he could get away with it. He had attacked because he had believed that he was able to defeat the Denraen. That was no good reason, but it seemed that it was reason enough for him.

  “Is he—”

  Novan shook his head. “Your friend will live.” He focused on the fallen commander and knelt
in front of the man. As he did, he pulled the dark teralin sword out from beneath his cloak and rested it on his knees. “You should not possess this.”

  The commander’s gaze was drawn to it and likely drawn to the way Novan handled the sword with his bare hand. Endric knew what would happen to him while holding the sword that way. The metal—and the polarity—would influence him. He’d seen it happen to the historian before.

  “Novan, do you think you should be doing that?” Endric asked.

  “Since discovering the dangers during the last attack, I have learned a few things as well. One of them involves understanding the effect of the metal’s polarity, as well as how to counter it.”

  He lifted the sword and rested the tip in the ground. Novan pressed on it—Endric had no other word for what he did—and the metal began to hum. It started slowly, building rapidly until the metal started to shimmer. The darkness of the blade began to fluctuate and then began to shift, slowly starting to take on a steady glow.

  Sweat trickled down from Novan’s forehead, and he ignored it.

  Endric could feel something changing as Novan pressed on the sword.

  It was a shifting, as if he could feel the polarity—the darkness of the metal—begin to change. Slowly, very slowly at first, the metal began to turn from dark to a faint silver. It shimmered again, this time taking on a swirl of colors. Novan held whatever it was that he was doing, maintaining it for long moments, until the colors faded completely, leaving the sword a simple dark silver.

  “It is done,” Novan said.

  “What did you do?” Senda asked.

  “He changed the polarity,” Endric said. He looked up from the sword to meet Novan’s eyes. “That can be done?”

  “Not easily.”

  “But what of the artifacts in—”

  Novan cut him off with a shake of his head. “As I said, it is difficult. There shouldn’t be the ability to shift anything else.” The tone of his voice indicated that he would not allow any additional argument.