Tears of Dust (The Venatrix Chronicles Book 5) by Sylvia Mercedes

Author:Sylvia Mercedes [Mercedes, Sylvia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: FireWyrm Books
Published: 2020-03-09T16:00:00+00:00

The night air surrounding Dunloch Castle was filled with inexplicable tension.

The lone rider making her way through the parkland gardens of Dunloch toward the island keep felt that tension down in her bones, down in her soul. Wary, she drew rein on her horse as she came within sight of the castle turrets and slipped a set of Vocos pipes from their sheath on her belt. A few lines of strange music later, shadow-light gleamed in her eye.

She collapsed and re-sheathed the pipes. “Walk on,” she murmured to her mount and continued on down the road through the trees. Whatever waited at the end of this road, it was best to ride forth and meet it, not linger indecisively here in the middle of the night.

Within a few more paces, the humming of a barrier-song spell pricked in her mind.

She pulled her horse to a halt again, her brow tightening. This was unexpected. A barrier spell? Here? Around the castle? She knew of the Great Barrier not many miles from here, binding back the Witchwood . . . but what could possibly have motivated a venator to raise such a stout defense around Dunloch in this time of peace?

“What did she do?” the horsewoman whispered.

She spurred her horse’s sides, urging it into a trot, then a canter, swiftly progressing down the road until the castle bridge came into view. The massive gate loomed, ominous in the moonlight. Torchlight flickered within the flank towers, but she saw no sign of guards on duty.

Something was definitely not right here.

The barrier-song spell gleamed to her shadow vision, a complex weaving of magic force. Arcane magic, she thought, mingled with Anathema threads. Reaching out with her own shade’s perceptions, she touched the webbing, testing its quality. Her mouth turned down into a deeper frown. There was familiar magic here. A weaving of such complexity, such density, could be the work of only one man. One powerful venator . . .

So he was here. At Dunloch.

So he must know already what she had done.

So. So, so . . .

What had he thought when he realized the truth? What action had he taken in response? Had the years softened his hard resolve? Had he learned to see reason beyond his own fixated fanaticism? Had he realized her intention?

Or had he already killed her Ayleth?

With a sweep of her cloak, the horsewoman swung down from her horse and braced herself before the spell. Every barrier had its points of weakness, and Evanderians were trained to find those points, to use them according to necessity. Her quick eyes, bright with shadow-light, studied the complex weaving and found a place where it had been opened recently.

She lifted her Vocos to her lips and began to play. Power rose from the depths of her soul.

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