The Last of Her Line (The Shorall Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  THE LAST

  OF

  HER

  LINE

  BY

  VALERIE VEDEN

  BOOK 1

  Text copyright © Valerie Veden

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or

  stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any

  form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,

  photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without

  express written permission of the author.

  [email protected]

  CONTENTS

  PART 1

  TRAITOR

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  PART 2

  POSSESSED

  CHAPTER 1

  INTERLUDE 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  INTERLUDE 2

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  INTERLUDE 3

  PART 3

  SACRIFICE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  INTERLUDE 1

  CHAPTER 5

  INTERLUDE 2

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  GLOSSARY

  JOIN THE NEWSLETTER

  Part 1

  TRAITOR

  Chapter 1.

  The high ceiling of the castle was lost in black shadows and the gray of the floor blended with that of the walls. Even the daylight, flowing through the big arched windows, couldn't brighten the gloomy atmosphere. Sometimes dozens of red eyes peered through slits scattered around the walls. They didn't do anything else, though, just watched, cold and disapproving. These eyes had made me shudder at first, but soon I got used to them. Still, it was so lifeless here. Hundreds of times I had gone through these halls and heard nothing but my own steps. The only creatures inhabiting this forsaken place were a couple of human servants, descendants from the Twin Worlds' people, who avoided me whenever they could.

  Eighteen weeks before I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure far ahead in the corridor - the figure of Mervin an'Toel, the owner of the castle. He hadn't come any closer, only stopped for a second, glanced at me over his shoulder and disappeared around the corner. I hadn't seen him since but I wanted to, though the desire seemed wrong after everything that had happened.

  My guess was that Mervin returned whenever he needed the Source to recharge old artifacts or his lab to create something new. His talent in craft magic had made him the youngest taheert, an artifact master, in the last hundred years. Even my father had grudgingly accepted that.

  Upon finishing his work, Mervin usually left by opening the Portal in the Source; it was a process that disturbed the Elements and let me know I was the only el'Tuan left in the castle. Not that such knowledge could make any difference. Never a trusting person, Mervin had both warded all the doors and windows and blocked me out of the Source – the only thing here capable of breaking Mervin's lock on my magic.

  This particular day, marked by another of Mervin's absences, I went down to the castle dungeons again. They were dusty with bare walls devoid of any source of light. It didn't matter, though – like any other el’Tuan I could see in the dark.

  The dungeons were empty, the cells doors were flung open and the locks were flaking with rust. I had already checked all of them thoroughly looking for something useful for an escape, but a girl could still hope.

  The first dozen of the cells were intended for humans and held nothing interesting. Two more cells were for vampires, or el'Ruavvies, damned people who had the audacity to claim that our races had been the same once. When my forefather received tidings of these claims, he ordered those creatures to be killed on the spot. His son, ascending the throne, decreed that law abolished. It appeared the right upbringing turned vampire whelps into excellent soldiers devoted to their masters. As for their sunlight sensitivity, well, our magic had ways of solving such minor problems.

  The rest of the cells were equipped with thickened chains and threads of stahnin inside each collar. These cells were for the beasts, or shyfters, as they called themselves. Most of the time the beasts looked like humans, but they were stronger, faster, deadlier. Not a match for an el'Tuan with a developed Gift, though. Stahnin, a rare metal with unique properties, prevented any shape-changing. The beasts were not as rare and expensive as vampires, but proper training had made them into good and useful slaves.

  The line of the cells ended with the dead-end of the corridor, the exact place where I had to stop each time. Feeling more frustrated than ever, I stepped to the very edge of the wall and hit it with my fists. No impact came. The movement led me further and I caught myself just in time before falling forward: the wall was nothing but an illusion.

  My heart pounding, I stepped through. For an instant, complete darkness covered me. Then a faint silver light glowed in the distance. It must have been a passage leading outside…

  I dashed for the light, but it was not an exit. Instead, I saw a place that looked like a temple hall but was just a reminder of times long past - a gleaming memory globe with a huge fresco on it. The special mixture that covered its surface was the very source of the glowing that had enticed me. In the center of the picture, a black fire-breathing dragon was destroying a city. A huge and terrible beast... But no, I shouldn't have called him that - dragons were among the favorite children of the Creator, and as such, He had given them tremendous powers. We, the el'Tuans, came much later and weren't so blessed.

  Dragons were the only living beings we had accepted as our superiors however unpleasant the idea was. They lived in and ruled the Twin Worlds: residing over the shyfters and vampires who inhabited one of these worlds and overseeing the second world, populated by humans.

  We may have accepted dragons as our superiors, but still used their domain as a source of riches and slaves. Weren't we fair and just, calling dragons our big brothers, admiring their power and beauty, but never shying from robbing their home and taking their playthings, century after century?

  The picture depicted the fall of the old capital that happened a thousand years ago. A regular raid of our troops to the Twin Worlds ended when a fool of an el'Tuan killed the Lord Dragon's wife and child. Some chronicles even claimed the killer to be a prince of Shorall, brother to my direct ancestor eight generations back. Furious, the Lord Dragon destroyed most of our army and then followed a few fleeing soldiers through the Gate. Half of the country had been burnt to ashes by the time our sorcerers managed to push him out. Since then, we were to open the Gates only when the dragons were busy elsewhere and never to repeat the mistake of hurting their kin.

  Everything could have happened so differently had we followed that old rule.

  Sighing, I looked away from the picture. Feeling sorry about the past couldn't help me now. Touching the stone here and there, I examined all the walls until my hand found emptiness.

  All the illusionary walls seemed to be remnants from the old spells. I wondered if Mervin forgot about the dungeons. Was he sure that I would never realize there was an illusion? Or did he simply know there wasn't anything for me to use as a way of escape? I hoped it wasn't the latter.

  The corridor led me further and furthe
r. The floor sloped down and the narrow passage widened, revealing yet another row of empty cells. A magical residue, which I felt even with my Gift blocked, said clearly: These cells were for the most precious and beloved ‘guests’, for the el'Tuans. I should have been grateful to Mervin for not being held in one of them. Still, el'Tuan prisoners needed something special to keep them docile and obedient, something that I could use.

  All the cell doors were open here, too, and I stepped inside the first in the row. I was right, it still held a kiysta, a hair-band of oblivion, freely hanging from a hook on the wall. Once a kiysta was placed on a prisoner’s head and the magical threads connected, the desire to escape was forgotten. The only drawback was that the procedure had to be repeated each month.

  One little touch and my fingertips tingled pleasantly as kiysta energy resonated with my locked magic, a clear sign the artifact was well charged. There were seven kiystas in the cells. I took them all and hurried back. They had to hold enough power to break through the wards Mervin had set around the Source.

  Working with so many unknown artifacts was dangerous, no doubt about that, especially for me, with my unfinished education, but I had to try.

  The wards began a hundred paces from the Source. The air thickened there, creating an impenetrable wall. It was also possible Mervin had used other Elements apart from the Air to block me out.

  Kneeling on the floor, I put all the artifacts in a line along the invisible wall, making sure they touched each other. The lock on my magic wasn't absolute, otherwise, I supposed, I would have already died: el'Tuans couldn't live without magical power flowing inside, at least not for long.

  If I concentrated hard, I could wield a tiny peck of power, just enough to ignite the reserve kept in the kiystas. At least that was my theory.

  I drew a deep breath, put my hands on the nearest kiystas and focused. My palms tingled unpleasantly, though the feeling subsided quickly. My breathing evened, my concentration grew and I felt a feeble trickle of power being pulled from me into the kiystas. Gradually, it started to feel as if my body stopped being mine. It became too soft, light and puffy. Not a body anymore but a white summer cloud. The walls around me began changing their colors: red into blue into green into yellow and into red again, each of them more pleasant to the eyes than the previous one.

  I didn’t know if this was supposed to happen or if I did something wrong. My sense of self-preservation decided it was high time to kick in and remind me of the main law of artifact wielding: Never use unfamiliar artifacts until you reach the level of master and even then only with a solid backup. I wasn't a master and I didn't have any backup, but I had no choice either. I could give up now and lose the only chance of escape or I could take a risk. I gritted my teeth and continued.

  Anyway, these illusions were nothing but a side-effect of wielding power with a blocked Gift. If something went really wrong, I would have enough time to stop it...

  Chapter 2.

  The first things I became aware of were fragments of memories that made no sense. I remembered blackness, which was devoid of everything. I remembered a starry night where the stars were not only above me but below, too. I remembered the terrifying and fascinating presence of an entity that was neither a living and breathing creature, nor a dead one either. I vaguely recalled some other shreds of images, but they faded away quickly. There was also a strong feeling that I missed something important but I couldn't put my finger on it.

  I opened my eyes and immediately shut them again. My surroundings were much too bright to look at. Blinking a few times, I slowly sat up. I was in my room, or, better to say, in a place that had served as my room for the last six months of imprisonment, and I wasn't alone.

  I felt his presence and the impact of his unshielded power immediately. Of course, when I turned my head, I saw Mervin sitting in the chair, regarding me with grim intensity. The taheert looked as he always did: slim, pale, with raven-black hair and eyes so dark you couldn't distinguish the pupil from the iris. His features might have seemed handsome and strong, but there was a cold sharpness to them. It was not the sort of face people would call friendly or nice. Mervin was the same age as my eldest brother, Kamir, but that sharpness made him look older. His clothes were of black color, and on his right shoulder gleamed a dragon-head seal, embroidered with golden threads.

  I looked at Mervin, feeling a weird desire to reprimand the man for his lack of manners. Really, coming to the bedroom of a noble maiden without an invitation! Even if the said maiden was his prisoner.

  "Of all the stupid things you could have done -" his first words came out in a growl. "What were you thinking?"

  I blinked, having no idea what he was talking about. This was our first conversation in half a year, and he had forgone all courtesy by breaking in my room and immediately attacking me with confusing questions. The nerve of the man!

  "Or did you do that on purpose? Was it just an elaborate way to commit suicide?" Mervin's tone grew colder, filling with contempt.

  "Of course it wasn't!" I disagreed. Then I paused, deciding there was no sense in playing a guessing game, and added, "Though I'm not sure what you're accusing me of."

  Mervin frowned, staring at me intently. "I mean," he said slowly, "your crazy attempt to use kiystas to break the wards on the Source. These artifacts are not suitable for such a purpose. They are suitable for nothing but oblivion and death."

  My hands suddenly itched. I rubbed them and stared, bewildered, at the angry red crescents on both of my palms.

  "You got that from them," Mervin made some vague gesture and the itching subsided. "Though this discomfort is the bare minimum you deserve for your stupidity," he added.

  I clenched my fists, hiding the evidence of whatever I had done, and then, in a sudden flash, the memory came flooding back: my visit to the dungeons, my find, my impromptu escape plan.

  "How did you know?" I asked, feeling simultaneously defeated and relieved. My escape plan failed, but at least I didn't die. Life, even life as a prisoner, was a good thing.

  The taheert smiled.

  "I take it you have remembered. Hasn't it occurred to you that I know everything going on in my house?"

  Right. Of course he did. The absence of visible spying spells didn't mean there weren't any.

  "You spent almost an hour under the kiystas' influence. Do you have any idea how much power I had to waste nullifying the resulting harm?"

  I shook my head, feeling a tiny bit guilty. It was silly, of course, a prisoner wasn't supposed to feel guilty for any inconveniences toward her jailer.

  "I didn't ask you to waste anything," I murmured under my breath not looking at Mervin.

  *****

  Many years ago...

  Mervin was a constant part of my childhood: a dark and silent observer distinguished from the others by his black eyes, black hair, and his taste for dark colors in clothes. He was as out-of-place in the royal court's brightness as a grim raven among tropical birds.

  In those years, I often wondered what made Mervin put up with the sly mockery from my older brothers, my father's querulous displeasure and the masked scorn of the other courtiers. Why didn't he return home? Once when I was twelve, I asked him about that. After a long pause, which made me wonder whether I should repeat the question, he answered.

  "Go ask your father, Princess, he knows."

  I did exactly that.

  "We need him," the king explained, then glanced meaningfully at some important documents on the table in front of him. I preferred not to notice that. I wasn't inclined to understand any hints before getting my answers, and Father knew me well enough, because he went on, though reluctantly.

  "Mervin an'Toel is one of the best taheerts in our country," he said.

  "But Mervin can make artifacts from home!" I exclaimed. "Daddy, don't you see that he suffers here?"

  "There are things more important than the feelings of one -" Father paused before continuing, "one el'Tuan. Besides, some people need to
be kept under surveillance."

  "Why?" I was surprised. "Is Mervin dangerous?"

  "No," Father said, but then amended, "At least not yet. Still, he is half-blood. Who knows what he inherited from those cursed creatures?"

  "Mervin isn't half-blood," I disagreed. "He is only one-eighth… Or, wait, no, my math isn't right. If eight generations back one of his ancestors was a beast, how much of their blood does he have?"

  The king looked at me with dry amusement. "If you have asked everything, Riel, won't you go and entertain yourself somewhere else? I really am busy."

  I wasn't exactly happy with the dismissal but I had received my explanation. Besides, I had enough to do aside from worrying about Mervin. For example, I could play a practical joke on one of my brothers, blame it on another, and then run screaming at the top of my lungs throughout the park, trying to escape them both after they had found out who the real culprit was.

  I was thirteen when Mum, the queen, sent me to the taheerts' laboratory, a punishment for another of my many etiquette breaches. I cried a bit but couldn't change the queen's decision. Mum had some eccentric principles in child upbringing, and in my case she strongly believed that extracurricular study of different branches of magic was the best and most advanced punishment she could inflict, especially compared to old-fashioned confinement to my rooms or deprivation of sweets.

  Creation of artifacts was considered the hardest and most difficult among all crafts. It demanded from its practitioner (apart from wielding a great amount of power, of course) an instant ability to concentrate, as well as precise clarity in using the Gift. I was sure I lacked such qualities. Still, quite soon I, the “most empty-headed princess in the history of the dynasty,” as my combat magic teacher used to say, managed to do something right. Mervin, who had acquired by that time the title of a taheert master, never said praises, but his replies to me became less sharp.