In the second novel of the Ilduin trilogy starts off after
the defeat of Glassidor, in The Shadows of Myth. They
journey to the land of the Arni, Ratha's and Giri's home.
It is a desert in which none have ever seen before, where
the stones are living themselves.
On the horizon, sits an evil so vile, that no one has
whispered his name in many years. In the time since the
first age, the Arni have been enslaved by this evil. Where
both men and women were taken without thought of what it
might bring.
Now the threat of the Bozandari soldiers has become to
great, and the fight for freedom is coming at an alarming
rate. With Archer and the rest of the company brings about
the transformation that the Arni people need to get back
what was stolen.
With everything falling into place around them, Tess is no
longer shielded from her forgotten past. Now it comes in
little pieces, and none of it is good. Death seems to be
what she has always been apart of, and now... will always be.
Rachel Lee has done a wonderful job bringing to life
another world. From one situation to the next, the tale just
keeps getting better -- with Tess' story unraveling,
Archer's identity revealed, Tom's new sight, and Sara's very
own discovery left me on the edge of my seat. Hopefully, we
won't have to wait to long for the third novel. I do
however recommend reading Shadows of Myth before
this one because without it, too much is lost.
For Tess Birdsong and her companions there will be no warm
homecoming. The death of one evil exposed the beating,
seething heart of another far more dangerous power.
Together
they must go to Anahar, to help free the Anari people from
their enslavers, and purge the darkness in their own
hearts.
But that ancient city holds more than the key to Anari
liberation. In its temple lie the secrets of the Ilduin,
women of almost godlike power.
Tess, who remembers nothing of her past, is terrified by
the
power of her Ilduin blood. But Tess's mind conceals more
than fear. There is war, and pain, and death, and anguished
grief. And somehow she must face it all again, guided only
by the shocking secrets of a temple as old as time
itself...
Excerpt
Giri Monabi crept silently over the sand, his dark eyes
focused on the patrol below. Across the steep valley, his
brother Ratha moved with equal silence, invisible in the
dark night. It was not the homecoming the brothers had
imagined.
The Bozandari patrol moved with the casual arrogance born
of power, twenty-four men in two columns walked the road,
swords sheathed, shields slung over their backs, helmets
hanging from sword hilts, equipment clanking with each
step. Their voices were loud against the stillness of
night, the voices of men who did not anticipate trouble
and believed they would be trouble's master if it arose.
The hatred of three generations of servitude burned in
Giri's heart as he watched the soldiers. Almost without
thought, his hand moved to his sword, fingers tightening
in anticipation of dealing quick and ugly death. But he
knew that, despite their casual manner, these men were
skilled soldiers, and easily a match for Giri and his
companions. There would be another time to wreak vengeance.
He began to slither backward, knowing that Ratha would be
doing likewise at this very moment, having reached the
same conclusion. Even an alert guard would have been hard-
pressed to see the movement, and these Bozandari were
hardly alert. Giri and Ratha had shadowed them for nearly
two hours now and knew that the patrol leader had not even
taken the most basic of security measures. There were no
advance or flank guards to scout the route or surrounding
terrain. It was as if they were walking down the streets
of Bozandar itself.
Giri had moved perhaps ten yards when he felt the prick of
the sword against his side. He froze and heard the almost
silent warning.
"Annomendi."
Tess Birdsong sat beside the fire, staring into the flames
as the bitter wind blew down from the north. Three of her
fellow travelers, Archer Blackcloak and his two black-
skinned Anari companions, had vanished into the desert to
keep guard. A strange desert, dotted with strange plants
that grew out of sandy soil, creating eerie shapes among
the tumbled boulders.
There was much in this world, she thought, to keep guard
against — at least in the weeks since she had awoken in
the midst of a slaughtered caravan with no memory of who
she was or how she had come to be there. Indeed, she
wasn't sure if the name she was using was truly hers. All
she knew was that it had felt right somehow when she had
been asked her name.
Other than that, all she knew about herself was that on
her ankle there was a tattoo of a white rose. Sometimes
she looked at it, wondering what clue to her past it might
contain. But tonight it was too cold for such musings, and
too much threat had pursued them from Lorense, where they
had slain a mage.
Something hooted, echoing in the silent forest. One of her
companions? Or some beast that had not fled with all its
fellows?
She knew not, and the shiver that passed through her came
not only from the bite of the wind.
Across the fire, Tom Downey slept the sleep of untroubled
youth. He alone of the party had been spared the need to
kill back in Lorense, when they had defeated the mage
Lantav Glassidor. Tom had seen many ugly things, but he
bore none of them on his conscience.
Unlike herself. Tess looked down at her hand, at the
healing scar there. Those were memories best left in the
dark recesses of the mind until they were needed.
Nearer to her sat her friend Sara Deepwell, an innkeeper's
daughter who was proving to be one of the legendary
magical women known as Ilduin. As was Tess herself, though
she still rebelled emotionally at the idea.
Sara slept rarely now. Her mind and heart were too
burdened with grief.
With a sigh, Tess stirred the coals of the fire, watching
pin-pricks of burning ash rise to the darkened sky. They
were headed to war, yet she doubted that either she or
Sara was ready for such a thing. Horror behind them,
horror ahead of them.
Suddenly Tom sat up, instantly awake and alert. "Something
is happening," he whispered.
But around them the desert remained silent.
"Annomendi."
Announce yourself, spoken in the clipped, northern Anari
dialect. Giri, still frozen, replied carefully with the
formal address of greeting.
"Giri an Monabi-Tel, ahnorren tir al sarlohse il Anari
gelehsahnen." Giri of the Monabi Clan, returning of free
will to the service of the Anari.
"What have you seen?" the man demanded, prodding Giri with
the sword. "Of you and your companions, I have seen
nothing," Giri replied. "Of these men below, I have seen
much — and much to despise."
"How many are you?"
"My brother is across the valley, and my friends await us
behind the bend of the road. We are returning to help, to
fight for our freedom."
The man let out a satisfied grunt. "Well, a fight there
will be. And if you and your friends are true to your
words, it shall begin for you tonight."
Giri spread his fingers in the Anari gesture of
peace. "May I roll over and know into whose service I have
come?"
The sword moved away, and Giri slowly rolled onto his
side, looking up into midnight-black eyes. The man was
definitely northern Anari, his features slightly rounded,
his skin that fraction of a degree paler.
"Jenah of the Gewindi Clan," the man said. "Now rise and
lead me to these friends of yours. One ambush would be
more than sufficient for this night."
Jenah extended a hand, and Giri grasped it, allowing
himself to be pulled to his feet. With a low whistle,
Jenah signaled whatever companions might be nearby, then
walked at Giri's side as they made their way back along
the road. Within minutes, Giri heard Ratha's almost silent
hiss, echoed a moment later by Archer.
"Be in peace," Giri said, keeping his voice low. "I come
with Jenah of the Gewindi Clan."
Archer and Ratha rose from behind rocks, seeming to
materialize only an arm's length away. Archer's eyes were
hard and cold. "By what right do you capture my companion
and friend?"
"By the right of a warrior who dislikes surprises in the
night," Jenah said. Even in this dim light, Giri could see
Jenah's face harden as he looked at Archer and took in his
much lighter skin. "And any companion and friend of your
kind is hateful to mine."
Giri didn't know whether Archer would detect the deadly
threat in Jenah's choice of words. He spoke quickly. "I am
grateful that you slew me not, Jenah Gewindi. Now slay not
my friends, for you know naught of them, naught of their
motives, and I dare say naught of greater forces that
placed us in this chance encounter tonight."
Before Jenah could respond, Giri drew his sword and held
it by the blade, with an infinitesimal dip of his
head. "On pain of Keh-Bal, I place myself and my friends
in your service."
"On pain of Keh-Bal shall you serve," Jenah replied,
taking the sword by the hilt and turning it around before
offering it back to Giri. "Come quickly now. There is dark
work to be done."
"I must first let the rest of my company know where we are
going," Archer said. "By Giri's oath, I will return."
"Can he be trusted?" Jenah asked.
"With more than your life," Giri replied. His tone left no
room for doubt or argument.
Tom Downey peered into the darkness, trying to make out a
shape to go with the approaching sound, a sound that was
too deliberately noisy to seem like a threat. "Who goes
there?"
"Tis only me," Archer said, appearing out of the
night. "We are discovered."
Behind Tom, Sara Deepwell and Tess Birdsong stiffened. "Is
there trouble?" Sara asked. "Aye, there will be soon,"
Archer said. "Giri was met by another Anari, who
apparently intends to ambush the Bozandari patrol we've
been shadowing. He has pledged us to the fight, as well."
Tess looked up with almost hollow eyes. "We knew there
would be more fighting. But so soon?"
Archer shook his head. "Milady, I cannot choose the time
and manner of the Anari rebellion. Giri and Ratha are
committed to its cause, and a noble cause it is. We have
already sworn to help them. Apparently that begins
tonight."
"We follow you, Archer Blackcloak," Sara said, drawing her
sword. "Where you lead, we will go."
Archer's long black cloak was tossed on the night wind, a
fold blowing back over his shoulder to reveal the gleaming
hilt of his long sword. For an instant, just an instant,
Tess thought she saw a shimmer about him, the ghost of a
younger, happier man. Then the shimmer vanished and he was
once again the hardened warrior.
"The three of you must stay here," he said flatly. "The
horses must be protected, and I need you, Sara and Tom, to
guard the Lady Tess. I sense her part in matters to come
will be of extreme importance. Regardless, we cannot risk
two Ilduin needlessly."
Both Sara and Tom seemed about to voice a protest, but
then nodded. "Very well," Sara said, sheathing her sword
once more. "Mayhap we can do more as healers this night."
"Of that," Archer said, "I have no doubt. But should we
three fall, you three must return to Whitewater."
Tess abruptly rose to her feet. "Don't fail," she ordered.
A low chuckle escaped Archer, and he bowed. "I shall do my
very best, Lady."
Then, this time moving with silent stealth, he disappeared
back into the shadows among the rocks, lost to view.
Tom looked at Sara and Tess. "I think we should follow
him." But before anyone could respond, the shadows moved
again, and they found themselves looking at the drawn
swords of five dark-skinned Anari. They were surrounded.
"You will stay here," one of them announced, "until your
companions have proved themselves to be true."
Tess sighed and dropped back down beside the small
fire. "They're true enough," she muttered. "Truer than
this night is cold."
Tom squatted beside her, as did Sara, holding their hands
out to the warmth.
"Truer," Tom answered beneath his breath, "than one among
our captors, I fear."
Sara nodded. Tess remained motionless, feeling the tingle
and burning begin in the palms of her hand. Something
built within her, and for the first time she had an
inkling of what it was. Slipping her hand within her
cloak, she grasped at the bag of twelve colored stones
nestled between her breasts.
"Aye," she said presently. "Evil is near."
Archer, Giri and Ratha climbed the ridge alongside the
northern Anari. Soon they reached its ragged, bare top and
peered over once again at the column of soldiers marching
so arrogantly down the darkened road.
Jenah spoke to them. "We will attack in three groups after
they enter the defile ahead. One group will attack the
column's head, another its rear. The third group will be
archers, firing from above." He eyed Archer's quiver. "You
will be with the third group. Ratha and Giri will divide
among the others."
Ratha spoke. "My brother and I always fight together."
Jenah's face hardened. "Not this time. I do not yet trust
you fully."
"A fine way to treat an oath of Keh-Bal."
"The oath is meaningless if the witness to it is dead."
Ratha and Giri both stiffened, but before they could
respond to the insult, Archer waved them to silence.
He turned to Jenah. "Have you searched any farther, or
have you followed only this column?"
"This column," Jenah said. "As have you."
Archer gave a short nod, acknowledging that the Anari
force had been aware of his party for quite some
time. "Yes, and since darkfall, their behavior has been
troubling."
Jenah frowned. "How so? They are behaving exactly as they
did all day."
"That is what concerns me."
Jenah eyed him narrowly. "Why would they be baiting a
trap? They know nothing of my group."
"Perhaps not," Archer replied. "But perhaps caution is the
order of the evening."
"Gewindi-Tel has committed to this attack," Jenah
said. "It was decided among the elders six days ago. I
will not shame my Tel by cowardice, and your companion has
sworn himself to my side. We attack."
Archer nodded. "The oath is sworn and will be met.
However, there is evil afoot in this night. My companions
and I have faced much, braved much, endured much. If we
are to die this night, let us die together."
After a long, silent stare, Jenah nodded. "Very well. You
will join the rear attack force. And Keh-Bal upon you if
your deeds match not your words."
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