Page 12 of Silver & Smoke
Zavier didn’t look up, but he nodded. ‘Fragments left over from the previous war. Infused with royal blood to make targeting magic wielders possible... The brother I loved died long ago; I just didn’t want to admit it.’ He drew a shaky breath before he continued. ‘If my parents could see him now... If the people of Naarva knew about him... I have to go with you, wherever you’re going. I must help undo this.’
A noise of frustration escaped Torj. ‘I think you’ve done enough. For all we know, it wasyouwho tipped him off to target me to get to Wren. You could be the reason he knew to poison me.’
It was Zavier’s turn to scoff. ‘Your and Wren’s relationship is the worst-kept secret in the midrealms. Silas is no fool. He wasthereat the battle of Drevenor. He saw with his own eyes what was between you two then, like every other man, woman and child under the sun. The battle itself could have been a test – to provoke any magical connection... You tell us, Bear Slayer. Might he have seen something that day?’
Torj glared at the Naarvian prince. ‘I trust you about as much as I trust—’
‘Torj,’ Wilder interjected. ‘I think the prince has a point.’
Torj clenched his jaw and said nothing more.
Zavier forged on. ‘He’s a summoner, like me. The Embervales can wield lightning and thunder, whereas the Terling family can move objects with the power of our minds alone. Silas... Silas is the more powerful of us brothers, and ever since he attacked Drevenor at our graduation, he’s been getting stronger. I don’t know how. I’ve been trying to work it out for weeks.’
‘Does he know about the silvertide roses? That they’re part of Wren’s cure for his shadow alchemy?’ Torj asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Zavier said. ‘If he doesn’t, it’s only a matter of time. There are so many more people involved now. Silas will have just as many spies as Lucian Devereux.’
Torj was wrenched back to the final moments of that battle, where a pair of soulless eyes behind a horrifying mask stared back at him—
‘Has he always worn a mask?’ he asked abruptly, his gaze snapping back to Zavier.
Zavier frowned. ‘No... but he and I look quite similar. If he faced anyone who knew me, they would be able to tell we are kin. I just assumed it was to hide his identity.’
‘Is there any significance to its design? Does it mean anything to you?’ Torj pressed.
But Zavier shook his head. ‘No. My guess would be that it’s part of his intimidation tactics. A sea of masked men makes them somehow inhuman, doesn’t it?’
‘And what of his other tactics?’ Wilder asked from across the fire. ‘The stories we’ve heard have been the same all over the outer villages – a stranger comes to town, breaks bread and leaves. He pressures no one to join the People’s Vanguard, simply shares information and then goes on his way. But then people go missing, others depart in the dark of night... Then there are the folk who suddenly start fights with their neighbours and friends, completely out of character, and things escalate to the point of death. Do you know anything of this?’
‘I doubt it’s Silas himself,’ Zavier said slowly. ‘But he has several trusted alchemists in his ranks ready to do his bidding. It could be some sort of elixir designed to amplify aggression, but from your description alone I can’t be sure—’
A blur shot across the fire, and a startled shriek sounded from the darkness.
Wilder’s swords were gleaming in the firelight and Torj had his hammer ready. The string of Cal’s bow quivered as he nocked another arrow, his gaze fixed on something in the shadows.
‘Will one of you Warswords tell me what’s happening?’ Zavier demanded, a hand pressed over his chest as he scanned the camp wildly.
‘I come in peace!’ a voice called from the forest.
‘Then show yourself!’ Torj shouted back.
‘I would, but I’m now pinned to a tree,’ came the reply.
Torj nodded to Cal, who shouldered his bow and went to retrieve their new guest. Exchanging a wary look with Wilder, Torj waited.
The underbrush rustled as Cal emerged with a woman in tow. She carried herself well, her chin lifted, her back straight, though her eyes gave away her distrust.
‘Who are you?’ Wilder demanded.
Cal brought her into the light, dropping a large canvas sack at their feet – her belongings.
‘My name is Senna Cross,’ she told them, eyeing their weapons with trepidation.
‘You have my word that no harm will come to you while you say your piece here,’ Torj told her, equally apprehensive.
‘I’ve lived in the midrealms long enough to know that promises from anyone mean nothing, let alone promises from strangers,’ Senna said, with a cool note of detachment.
Torj couldn’t argue that. ‘Fair enough.’
