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Speechlessly Dannine walked amongst the bodies in the mist of early dawn.
She had never seen anything like this, and until now, she never would have believed it possible. Spells of undoing simply could not be this powerful! It went against everything she had learned, all she had experienced in her many years of practising magic.
Going out to the mountains was one of the duties Dannine usually relished. Her father had instructed her to help Taunus build up his army, and so Dannine had established a breeding ground for her own necromes in a warren of caves conveniently located on the north-eastern side of the mountain range. It was not a strenuous job. She simply made a comfortable camp for herself, gave the existing necromes her instructions, and they did the rest. Always, before, they had returned to the caves with their ranks swelled. Arran did not wish to declare himself openly in Svanfeld yet, so they had to be careful, but in this wild country, there were always stragglers and wanderers, and even a very isolated hamlet or two.
Dannine clenched a gauntleted fist against her thigh, and the scar across her palm throbbed dully. Why hadn’t she been scrying for these necromes? Why had she been blind?
She could answer that for herself well enough. Dannine had three companies of necromes in her caves already, and she had to send them on different ranging courses lest they be seen, or tracked. She could only follow one company at a time, so she chose to conserve her resources and only scry for each company once during the night. She had followed this company up towards the remote farmhouses, then severed the link to check on the others. When they failed to come back in the morning, she had tried to scry again, but to her horror, had discovered that she could not. The necromes did not exist any more, and she shuddered to think of what kind of adversary faced her now. To undo the necrome-magic in such a way that she, their creator, did not even notice that the spell had been undone!
The corpses were just corpses; there was nothing more to discover here. There was some evidence that other magic had been done; baked earth attested to a fireball, and she could sense spell-residue. She cast around for tracks, but the morning was misty and a light rain had fallen during the night. Everything was mud and confusion for yards around.
She cast around with her magical senses, and found a slight presence some way off to the east. From what she could tell, not nearly powerful enough to have done this, but perhaps they were exhausted, or conserving their power. She turned her face towards the presence, wondering why it felt familiar. Was it another soldier, a scout from Qwu’Mallorn? Surely not. They had never sent their spies into Svanfeld, and not a single Morgein soldier whom Dannine had ever faced had been powerful enough to frighten her.
She would follow that presence, of course. There was no question of that. For a moment Dannine allowed herself to feel the anguish that burned in her heart. Someone more powerful than she was. Someone who could defeat her. Who could kill her.
What am I, if not my father’s faithful daughter? Dannine would do anything for her father, even if it was to pay the ultimate price. She turned towards her quetzal; it stood ready to ride.
Just as she was rearranging the flying-saddle to suit her for a long journey, Dannine felt a tell-tale prickling at the edge of her magical senses, a tentative probe that spoke of a minor spell being performed just under her nose. She knew each of her siblings’ magical signatures as well as she knew her father’s laboratory, and Dannine detected the overtones of Taunus’s clumsy magic.
She fumbled at the saddle-bags, undid a leather clasp and drew out a small, leather-bound notebook. Every vellum page within was quite blank, but Dannine could clearly feel the residue of magic on each. She flicked through until she found the last used page, somewhere in the middle of the book. Hastily scribbled letters appeared, glowing with the magic that had just engendered them.
The words vanished as soon as she read them, rendering the book completely empty to mundane eyes, but the message was branded into Dannine’s mind as though she were seeing it over and over again.
Deryck. She had never expected this message to come. She had always thought that if anyone discovered the whereabouts of their erstwhile brother, it would be herself. For a moment she could not even comprehend what had happened, could not understand that her once-brother had stumbled right into Taunus’s grasp, that he was being held, waiting for her.
Then realization flowed through her, and the anger began.
Deryck. Taunus was holding him, for her to deal with. She would see him again, after eight long years apart, eight years of agony. She could do to him whatever she pleased. Rage flared in Dannine’s mind, and reason flew at the very thought.
I should tell Father. I should send the message on to him. But Taunus had not sent this message to Arran. Instead he had contacted her directly, knowing full well that she wanted to deal with Deryck in her own way...
Why should Father know? she asked herself fiercely. Why? All he needs to know is that we caught Deryck... he doesn’t need to know that we caught him alive. She trembled at the thought of deceiving her father, but the rage and the temptation were too strong to rescind now. We will present him with Deryck’s corpse at the end...
The quetzal squawked, and Dannine started as if brought out of a trance. What of her current task? What of the sorcerer who was strong enough to reduce her necromes down to nothing? Duty remonstrated hopelessly against anger in her heart. She had made up her mind the moment the fiery message had appeared. She would not, could not forsake this windfall. Dannine had always done her duty, what her father expected of her, and nothing more. Until today.
I will send the necromes after the sorcerer, she decided. I can scry all the way and send them orders down the link. That would be a lot of effort, but there was no other way. And the business with Deryck ought not to take too long...
She looked around, at the hanging mist and brooding clouds. Bad weather to fly. The temperature was dropping rapidly, telling of a storm brewing somewhere along the great mountain range. But that’s just too bad.
Without further ado, she swung into the quetzal’s saddle. There was much work ahead of her. She would have to persuade the necromes to remain a safe distance away from their quarry, and that was always difficult. The instinct to kill was always uppermost in their simple minds; they hated the living with every fibre of their cold hearts. But this sorcerer can undo the binding magic. Dannine wasn’t risking that happening again, and she knew that the necromes would obey. Her will was well honed, and she was practised in exercising it.
She would decide what became of Deryck, this time. Her father could have everything: he could have his kingdom, the world, her life and devotion, but he could not have the life of the boy she had once called her brother.
Deryck is not my brother anymore. Once, he could have stood at Father’s right hand, and spared me that place. But he thought only of himself. Only thought of how he could get away. I stayed. I was loyal. I did everything Father asked. When Deryck left, he didn’t betray Father. He betrayed me.
A cold rage sped Dannine’s wings as she set her sights towards the southwest, the way ahead barricaded by fangs of white rising into the distance.
