Starborn. Katie MacAlister
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he will do so for you?” Idril shook her head again, so that the silver-blond hair that covered her like a shawl of silk shimmered with the movement. “You are mistaken, my lord.”
Israel’s jaw tightened. “Then I will take it from him, by force if necessary.”
Idril watched him for a few moments, then leaned forward and touched him lightly on the knee. “You risk death simply to open a portal to Eris?”
“The queen is a prisoner there,” he answered idly, wondering if his score of men would be enough to take the moonstone if Jalas refused to give it up. “I will not suffer her to remain in the company of the captain of the Harborym when it is within my ability to free her.”
“You will not get the stone from my father by force,” she said, her pale gaze holding his. “He may play at being frail, but he is as strong as the stones of this keep. There is help available, though…for a price.”
Israel fought the desire to snap out an irritated response. “What price?” he asked, his voice as grim as his soul.
For the first time in all the years that Israel had known Idril, she smiled, really smiled, an expression that revealed not just mirth, but satisfaction. It lit up her face, and gave him a glimmer of what had ensnared his son. “Me. You must take me with you to Eris.”
That was the last thing he had expected her to say. “You? With all due respect, Lady Idril, Eris is not a place for a gently born woman. It is a shadowland, one beset by Harborym, and filled with priests who perform blood magic.”
“Nonetheless, that is my price. I will help you acquire the stone, but I must be allowed to travel to Eris.”
“Why?” he asked, but knew the answer even as the word left his lips. The light in her face faded when she turned to pour out another goblet of wine.
“The queen is not the only one who suffers in Eris,” was all she said, but it was enough.
Israel reluctantly agreed. He had no intention of letting Idril put herself at risk by traveling with him to Eris, but he would address that issue later, once he had the stone in his possession, and Hallow had the other two.
For now, this was enough. It had to be. There was simply no other way to save Dasa and Deo.
Chapter 5
“I can’t say that I think much of Cape Despair.” The fetid smell of swamp wafted over us via a short-lived breeze. I wrinkled my nose. “I can’t imagine that anyone actually chooses to live here.”
Hallow eyed the trees that dripped with both wetness and long streamers of slimy-looking vines. “It certainly isn’t very pre-possessing, but who knows? Perhaps Aldmarsh is as delightful as this area is vile.”
A rotund, furry animal the size of a small gourd, piebald copper and white, stumbled across the road, weaved dramatically, then fell over onto its back, the four little feet at the end of its chubby legs waving in a desultory manner.
“Even the bumblepigs are depressed about being here,” I said, halting Buttercup to dismount and check on the little creature. We were riding, having left the cart at Peer’s Mill, the town half a day’s ride to the north. I prodded the bumblepig. It squeaked and waved its feet again. I sighed. “Sorry, little fellow, I’d like to take you out of this miserable place, but we already have a pet, and even if a wooden bird inhabited by a spirit isn’t as demanding as a living beast, we are likely going into battle. You’re safer here.” I righted the bumblepig and guided it off the road and into the shrubs that lined the verge. It waddled off looking morose.
Hallow looked up from a journal where he’d sketched a copy of a map. “Aldmarsh should be just over the rise.”
“Good. I don’t think I could remain here for long without losing my will to live.” I popped Buttercup on the nose when she tried to nip me, quickly remounting before she could raise a ruckus. “What are we going to do if Quinn isn’t there?”
“The captain of the guard said he would be.” Hallow’s face was grimmer than I had seen it in some months.
“Mmhmm. And the mayor of Peer’s Mill says he’s never heard the name. Ugh. This place makes me feel like I need a hot bath to wash off all the stickiness.”
“As pleasant as the mayor was, I am putting my faith in Exodius and the captain of the guard. Neither has any reason to deceive us. What are you doing?”
My hands danced in the air. Although I’d been a priest at the temple of Kiriah Sunbringer since I was three summers old, I had never been the most studious of pupils. Not until I left the priesthood to bind myself to Hallow, that is…and then encouraged by the amount of time he spent studying his inherited library, I’d looked into some of blessings and protections that had fallen into disuse. “That volume you said that Exodius must have stolen from my temple referenced a benison that offered protection against shadow beings.”
Hallow didn’t look as impressed as I felt he should. “Are we likely to encounter such beings in Aldmarsh?”
“You never know,” I said darkly as I finished drawing the symbols of protection on him and began to draw them over myself. “This place is so miserable, it wouldn’t surprise me to find Shadowborn, the old ones who walked Alba before man, and a samartxiki or two hanging around waiting to pounce on us. Ugh. This swamp is decidedly not in Kiriah’s favor.” I shivered despite the cloying air.
“We should know in a few minutes, although I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of samartxiki.”
I smiled to myself. Hallow had an insatiable curiosity, and was always pleased to tuck away any random bit of information he happened upon. “Do you not have legends of them in Penhallow? The older priests used to mention them to the initiates when we were young and didn’t have the gravity of spirit that they desired. They used to tell us of how the samartxiki were born in the deepest hours of the night and grew up in the shadows of chestnut trees, hiding themselves until an unwary person passed too close. Then they would leap out and bite at them with teeth like those of a saw. They were supposed to be particularly fond of children who shirked their duties in order to do more pleasurable things.”
He grinned at me. “Why do I suspect they had a particular initiate in mind when telling that story?”
“Because you’re a smart man who has the most adorable eye crinkles, and you’ve met Sandor, all of which means you know that I spent more time hunting for rabbits and birds than I did on my knees next to Sandor in prayer.”
“For which I’m thankful on a daily basis—ah, there, see?” He reined in Penn for a moment when we crested a slight hill. Below us, a small town sprawled drunkenly along the shoreline. There were a few ships bobbing out to sea, no doubt local fisherman, while further out a larger ship was anchored near a sand bar. The houses themselves—more shacks than actual houses—straggled crookedly, and the sound of the surf and sea birds gave the whole place a curiously desolate air. “It’s…uh…it’s…”
“Horrible. That house on the end is leaning so far over, it looks like it might collapse. And is that a dead samartxiki in the road? This is just the sort of area where I’d expect to find them strewn hither and yon.”
Hallow pursed his lips as I pointed to a blob in the path winding down to Aldmarsh. The shape lay on its back, four stiff legs pointing skyward, where high clouds hid Kiriah’s light from the land. I had a feeling Kiriah preferred it that way.
“That, my heart, is a dead cow, not a saw-toothed shadow-dwelling monster,” he said, pressing his heels to Penn. The horse started forward reluctantly, and Buttercup followed.
“Also the sort of thing I’d expect to find here,” I said, glancing around me with suspicion. “Even the animals don’t want to be here.”
“Cows die of natural