Page 4 of Shroud of Eternity (Sister of Darkness: The Nicci Chronicles 2)

Holding up her hands in a circular motion, she made the wind spin faster and faster, sucking the air away from the flames. She channeled it, choked it, drove the fire into a whirlwind pillar, which she tightened into a thinner spout, shooting a jet of flame high into the sky.

Bannon and Nathan ducked against the rising storm, letting the sorceress work her magic. Mrra flattened her ears against her head. Around them, branches crashed and whipped, twigs flew in all directions.

At last, the remnants of the fire flickered out, leaving only curls of smoke that dissipated as Nicci let the magic die away. The storm faded, and the oak branches stirred, as if in a sigh of relief. Charred leaves drifted to the ground.

Using his fingers to brush the tangles from his white hair, Nathan smiled at Nicci’s work, accepting it with little more than a shrug. “Thank you, Sorceress. That could have turned into a bad situation. If I had my gift back, I’d have done it myself.”

“You’ll be restored soon, Nathan. We will find the city.” Bannon remained doggedly optimistic. His hazel eyes sparkled as he looked over at Nicci. “Still, that was very impressive.”

Nicci was not profligate with her compliments, but she was honest. “Your sword work was also very useful.” In fact, she was embarrassed by her own failure to fight with her gift, annoyed to feel helpless. She could relate to Nathan’s plight. “Seeing those branded symbols, I should have guessed earlier that my magic wouldn’t work on the monster.”

Coppery blood and a rank, gamy stink hung around the dead carcass in front of them, overpowering even the smell of smoke. Mrra prowled through the underbrush, keeping her distance from the creature as she guarded against any other attack.

Unabashedly curious, Nathan knelt beside the dead bear, rapped his knuckles on the strange armor shells grafted to its hide. “Dear spirits, what would have created such an appalling creature? And why?” He looked up, blinking. “If a wizard had a gift powerful enough to manipulate flesh, why would anyone use it for such an awful purpose?”

Still staring at the fallen beast, Bannon wiped the tracks of tears from his face, smearing some of the blood on his skin. “Back on Chiriya Island, I knew boys who liked to pull the wings off of flies and roast beetles by dangling them into a flame. Sometimes, they did terrible things to poor cats and puppies.” He shook his head. “There is no answer for why people do terrible things.”

Nathan stood, brushed leaves from his black trousers, adjusted his brown cape. He regarded Nicci, whose face, hair, and black dress were plastered with gore. “You look a mess, Sorceress.”

“I’m sure I do,” she said, arching an eyebrow at him. Turning slowly around, Nicci surveyed the blackened trees, the smoldering trunks, the last smear of smoke that wafted into the air. “The fire would have been visible for miles, and our fight with the creature would have drawn much attention. So much for our attempts at stealth. We seem to have announced our arrival.”

Bannon and Nathan looked around warily.

Farther off through the forest of low oaks and the scattered taller trees, they heard branches breaking, a murmur of voices. Mrra crouched, growling, her ears pressed back. She sniffed the air as if she smelled death. As the voices came nearer, the sand panther bolted away, disappearing into the underbrush.

Bannon stared after the cat. “Mrra didn’t flinch when that monster attacked us. What would scare her now?”

Nathan swung his sword loosely, ready to keep fighting. “Perhaps we should be frightened as well, my boy.”

“Not frightened,” Nicci said, holding up her two daggers. “Prepared.” She stood her ground and waited for the ominous strangers to arrive.

CHAPTER 4

The approaching strangers did not try to hide. Rather, they talked in loud, raucous voices as they came through the woods; one of them let out a rude laugh. They rustled leaves, pushed branches aside, and made their way toward the sooty remnants of the forest fire. Nicci realized they must have seen the cyclone of flames that had roared up into the sky before being snuffed out.

Three colorfully dressed figures came through the thicket—slender, aloof young men who looked poorly prepared for the wilderness.

Nathan actually laughed when he saw them. “They are just youths!”

The strangers looked to be about twenty, no older than Bannon. As if on a casual outing, they strolled through the underbrush dressed in exotic, old-fashioned clothes: billowing shirts with loose front laces that showed off their chests; silk pantaloons dyed dark green, bound at the waist with wide sashes of contrasting colors, red, blue, or purple. Dangling from their shoulders were short half capes lined with exotic spotted furs—utterly impractical for a warrior, or even hard travel, Nicci observed. Each of the newcomers carried a long, wooden cudgel tipped with an iron ball. Such cudgels could be effective weapons, but the youths held them like swagger sticks.

Nicci, Nathan, and Bannon faced them in the clearing near the smoldering ashes and the bloody carcass of the bear monster. The young men paused, surprised to see the bedraggled, blood-encrusted companions.

The first youth, obviously the leader, sniffed. “By the Keeper’s crotch, who are you?” He stepped forward, self-consciously straightening his fur-lined cape. He had blue-black hair, dusky skin, and deep brown eyes. His generous lips were curved in a confused frown. “We didn’t expect to see anyone else out here.” He wore a loose red shirt with a wide purple sash. Casually, he rested the iron tip of his cudgel on the ground.

“Nevertheless we are here,” Nicci said, still trying to assess whether these out-of-place strangers might be a threat. He spoke with an odd and archaic accent, but his words were still understandable.

More conciliatory, Nathan spoke up. “We are travelers from afar. We’ve come over Kol Adair, and before that, we crossed the desolation, the mountains, the valleys, and even the sea itself.” He paused a moment, drawing out the suspense. “We come from the New World.”

“That’s far away,” said the second young man, who had reddish-brown hair and a smear of similar color on his cheeks, where wisps of thin whiskers made a halfhearted attempt at a beard. “I thought you just came from one of the mountain towns to the north.”

The third young man had a squarish face and dark hair shorn close to his head. He showed no more interest than the other two. “Where are you going? What are your names?”

Nicci interrupted before either of her companions could answer, not wanting to give away too much. “Our destination is wherever our travels take us. We are exploring the Old World. My name is Nicci. My companions are Nathan and Bannon.”

The first young man tapped his swagger stick on the ground, stirring forest detritus. “I’m Amos.” He showed little warmth or welcome—not suspicion, as Nicci might have expected, but simply distance, as if they were of no importance to him. He indicated his two friends. “This is Jed and Brock. Last time the shroud came down, we decided to spend some time outside, and now we have to wait again.”

Brock, the young man with close-cropped dark hair, looked curiously at the mangled mess of the bear carcass, its gouged-out eye, the glistening entrails draped over its abdominal cavity. “Another combat bear got loose.”

Amos snorted. “Chief Handler Ivan is an idiot. My mother and father both say so—one of the only things they’ve ever agreed on.”

Jed scratched the wispy red hair on his cheeks. “We heard it hunting in the hills last night, so we stayed away.” He glanced at the blood-spattered travelers. “You took care of the brute for us.”

“Rather messy,” Brock added.

“Dear spirits, you know what this creature is?” Nathan asked. “You’ve seen such a monstrosity before? You know where it comes from?”

Amos frowned. “Of course. Didn’t you hear what Brock said? It’s a combat bear.”

Nicci struggled to keep the edge from her voice. “And we have never seen a combat bear.”

“Of course you haven’t,” the young man answered in a flippant voice. “And ou

r fleshmancers have created far worse than this thing.”

Jed rubbed a fingertip down the cracked, sooty trunk of one of the blackened trees. “We saw the spreading flames and were worried there might be a wildfire on the hills. We could have been trapped out here, but then we saw the cyclone that extinguished it.”

“Someone has an excellent mastery of magic,” Amos said, looking intently at the three of them. “Who was responsible for that?”

“Nicci did it,” Bannon offered, apparently trying to impress the strangers. “She’s a sorceress, and Nathan is a wizard too … or at least he usually is.”

Now Amos looked at the travelers with a different measure, his aloofness fading. “You’re gifted, then?” He turned to Bannon. “And what about yourself?”

Bannon held up his blood-encrusted sword. “I am a swordsman, and an adventurer.”

“Good to know,” said Brock with a thread of sarcasm.

Bored with the conversation, Amos strolled over to the five statue warriors, who were now smeared with soot from the fire that had washed over them. “Jed thought there might be an encampment up here in the trees. Scouts and spies.”

After taking the measure of the nearest fire-blackened statue, Amos stepped back and with a vicious grimace swung his iron-tipped cudgel. With all his might, he smashed the metal end into the statue’s helmeted face. The loud, ringing crack rang out in the forest. Part of the stone helmet and chiseled nose broke away, leaving a scar of bright, fresh marble.

Nicci was startled by the unexpected violence and readied herself in case they attacked her or her companions. Bannon yelped in surprise.

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